ã€ŠThere Will Be Scritchesã€‹


 There Will Be Scritches

    ---The Beast---

    I drum my talons on the footboard of the Terran¡¯s hospital bed, my disapproving eyes moving up and down his battered body taking in the extent of the damage.

    ¡°Security Specialist Taylor¡­ please tell me about your encounter with the a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast.¡± I say as sternly as I can muster.

    A look of shame crosses his face as he begins ¡°Well¡­ *hhmhhm* Cap¡­ y¡¯see¡­ it¡¯s¡­ erm¡­¡±

    I snap my beak in reproof and he shuts up ¡°Your compatriots might have died, Taylor! Now¡­¡± I take a deep inhale of the oxygen rich ward air to calm myself ¡°..tell me what happened.¡±

    Taylor steadies himself before speaking ¡°I was safeguarding an expedition to the Twilight Zone on a¡¯Teksia 3. The researchers had spread out to collect samples and I was trynna keep my head on a swivel, you know what with it bein¡¯ a deathworld an¡¯ all. Then, from about 30 metres away, I heard Research Lead Sha¡¯anza scream. Immediately, I saw her running and shouted to her to run to me. I drew up my shotgun and levelled it in the direction she¡¯d come from, that¡¯s when I saw it lopin¡¯ after her¡­ it was¡­ it was¡­¡±

    Here he trails off so I decide to interrupt ¡°It was an a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast, Taylor. One of the only creatures in Known Space that¡¯s a credible threat, even to an armed Terran, native Earth fauna excluded, of course. [300kg] of dense bone, muscle and sinew, six legs, each ending in two claws specifically shaped for optimal disemboweling of its prey, a maw full of upwards of 50 razor teeth! If we¡¯d known that thing was in the area we never would have greenlit the expedition. Why, by the Spires of Akaros, didn¡¯t you just shoot that monster?!¡± he looks abashed but doesn¡¯t answer so I change tack.

    ¡°The reason it¡¯s a legal requirement to have a Terran escort on expeditions to deathworlds, Taylor? What is it?¡±

    Blinking at me for a moment, he answers ¡°You mean, aside from the obvious?¡± he flexes his unbroken arm, showing off a bicep thicker around than my chest.

    I chirp irritably ¡°It¡¯s not your strength, or your ferocity, Taylor. If it were something like that you could be substituted with a high spec combat droid! It¡¯s your sense of self preservation. You¡¯re the only sapient deathworld species known. You¡¯re supposed to have a sense for danger that droids can¡¯t replicate. You¡¯re supposed to have your wits about you in a way that the rest of us just don¡¯t and can¡¯t, having evolved on sane planets! So tell me, why did my legally mandated armed Terran chaperone decide to attempt to wrestle a mirkbeast to death instead of just shooting the Akaros damned thing!?¡±

    Here a look of genuine confusion passes over the Terran¡¯s face ¡°What d¡¯ya mean ¡®wrestle to death¡¯?¡±

    Confused myself, I glance a the holopad where Sha¡¯anza¡¯s after action report is written ¡°Research Lead Sha¡¯anza indicates that after she had reached the relative safety of the shuttle she watched as you dropped your firearm, the mirkbeast skidded to a halt, a scant [metre] from you and you stared eachother down for a few moments before you initiated a wrestling match by tapping it on the nose. This story was corroborated by every other researcher present, are you claiming that this sequence of events is false?¡±

    The Terran scratches his stubbled chin for a few moments, seeming to think ¡°Not so much ¡®false¡¯¡­ more like¡­ misinterpreted? Me and Fluffy were playin¡¯!¡±

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    I¡¯m utterly dumbstruck for a few moments before I can stammer out ¡°P-p-playing!? By the Titan¡¯s Spear, Taylor! What do you mean you were ¡®playing¡¯!?¡±

    ¡°Captain...¡± Taylor responds, now deadly serious ¡°¡­it was love at first sight! Fluffy is the cutest thing I¡¯ve ever set my eyes on! Like someone blended all the cutest bits of an otter, an owl, a kitty, a pupper and a baby seal into one big ol¡¯, distilled¡­ cute! She was just beggin¡¯ to have that lil¡¯ button nose booped! After that it was ear scritches and tummy rubs and cuddle wrestlin¡¯! We only stopped ¡®cos she tuckered herself out!¡±

    At a loss, I ask the only question my mind can present coherently ¡°How? How can you call that monster cute? I don¡¯t understand!¡± he frowns before raising his unbroken hand in a fist, is he going to punch me!?

    Instead of punching me he extends a finger ¡°One; she got these big old puppy-dog eyes, like woah, like biggest eyes you¡¯ve ever seen on anythin¡¯¡­¡±

    Collecting myself, I respond ¡°These would be the eyes specifically adapted to tracking prey in the permanent crepuscular gloom of its home environment? And the ¡®button nose¡¯ that you ¡®booped¡¯ would be the one that¡¯s perfectly adapted to allow it to smell a drop of blood from [15km] away?!¡±

    Scowling, the Terran leans forward and says, in a mix of hurt and anger ¡°She¡¯s a she, Captain. Not an ¡®it¡¯!¡±

    Alarmed now, I fan out my flight feathers in a gesture of mollification which seems to satisfy the deranged Terran. He extends a second finger ¡°Those tiny little nublet legs with those adorable toe-beans!¡±

    ¡°You mean the short legs that allow it-her to keep a low profile while stalking? The ¡®toe-beans¡¯ that allow¡­ her¡­ to both pad silently and retain traction in an all out sprint? And you didn¡¯t mention the [7cm] claws that¡­ she uses to eviscerate anything unlucky enough to be caught by her!¡±

    Waving his counting hand back and forth in a dismissive gesture he continues ¡°Her floppy ears¡­¡± another finger ¡°¡­her flapping tail¡­¡± another finger ¡°Oh and her fur, Captain, her fur! You¡¯ve never felt anythin¡¯ so soft an¡¯ silky! It¡¯s like strokin¡¯ a cloud!¡± a thumb this time. I refrain from pointing out the predatory functions of these attributes.

    ¡°Taylor, if you just ¡®played¡¯ with the mirkbeast then why are you lying in the ship¡¯s medical ward?¡±

    Taken aback, he answers ¡°This?¡± gesturing at his broken arm, bloodied face and bruised body ¡°This is completely unrelated! After the end of the mission I had a bit too much celebratory whisky and ended up fallin¡¯ down Access Stairway 5. I was off duty but I know that¡¯s no excuse, I¡¯m sorry Cap.¡±

    Masking my shock, I sardonically respond ¡°So, the mighty Deathworlder who wrestled an a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast in fun was defeated by a staircase after purposefully impairing his own judgement, is that right? Remember how you¡¯re supposed to have a better sense of self preservation than the rest of us?¡± Taylor has the decency to look guilty.

    Trying not to look as wary as I feel, I approach his side and rest my wingclaws on the back of his hand. ¡°Victor, my friend¡­¡±

    Taylor scrunches his face and responds ¡°Nothin¡¯ good follows when you call me ¡®Victor¡¯!¡±

    Ignoring him, I continue ¡°How long has it been since you spent time in the company of another Terran?¡±

    He thinks about the question for a moment ¡°I guess ithasbeen a while!¡±

    I level a sympathetic gaze up into his mournful green eyes ¡°Victor, I am at fault here. I must say, until today, the implications of hiring a lone member of such a highly social species did not occur to me. The next time we dock I will take on a few more Terrans and then you¡¯ll have some friends who will be able to keep you sane¡­ by Terran standards. OK? No more wrestling dangerous indigenous fauna, no more whisky benders, no more falling down stairs. How does that sound?¡±

    Turning away in an attempt to hide his watery eyes he responds in a slightly cracking voice ¡°Yeah, Cap¡­ That sounds good.¡±

    Doing my best to mimic a Terran smile, I turn to go before adding ¡°Perhaps, you should also look into getting a pet, Victor? You¡¯re clearly starved for this ¡®cuteness¡¯ you insist the mirkbeast exhibited.¡±

    He responds ¡°Oh, that¡¯s not necessary, anymore.¡±

    I keep walking and am almost out of the room before fear roots me to the spot, my crown plume feathers raise in agitation and I turn in slowly dawning horror ¡°What do you mean ¡®anymore¡¯, Victor?¡± I say, barely keeping my voice steady. He averts his gaze ¡°Victor, what do you mean ¡®anymore¡¯?!¡± more silence. ¡°Victor, you didn¡¯t bring the mirkbeast onto my ship, did you?!¡±

    Just then the lighting switches to an emergency blue and klaxons sound.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.2

    ---Engineering---

    Striding down the corridor of the, as of recently, single occupant dorm deck, I draw up to the door that is my objective. ¡°Computer, send alert to the occupant of 506.¡±

    The computer takes a few moments before answering ¡°No response, would you like to try again?¡±

    Irritated, I flap my wing ¡°Computer, Captain¡¯s override, open 506.¡± wordlessly, the door slides open. With my hearts racing a combined 1000bpm, I step into the gloom and am immediately forced to shut my main spectrum eyes and open my low spectrum eyes in order to see. This reveals an enormous mass, radiating copious quantities of infrared, located where any other room would have a bed. I march to the glowing heap and, directing my words at the cooler patch, issue a commanding ¡°Get up!¡±

    The cool patch doesn¡¯t stir but the enveloping warmth shifts. Silently, a head resolves itself with eyes, the diameter of kwarat eggs, turned towards me. The creature then emits a deep rumbling growl.

    ¡°None of that!¡± I say with a gentle *fwap* of my flight feathers against her nose, causing her to chuff and shake her head.

    ¡°I¡¯m not here for you, it¡¯s your daddy who needs to wake up! You can stay sleeping in here forever, as far as I¡¯m concerned!¡±

    The cool patch protests ¡°Don¡¯¡­ listen to her¡­ Fluff¡­ she loves you *yawn* really!¡±

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re awake, good! Now get up! We¡¯re making port in [43 minutes] and you have to be presentable for all your prospective new Terran friends!¡± groaning only a little further my Security Specialist stands and reveals himself to be entirely nude.

    I cock a browtuft and ask ¡°Isn¡¯t modesty a Terran concept?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but it doesn¡¯t, y¡¯know, apply in a locked bedroom¡­ plus it¡¯s too hot for clothes with Fluffy snuggled around me!¡± he retorts.

    ¡°Why do you let her ¡®snuggle¡¯ you if you find her heat so stifling?¡±

    He turns a bemused expression on me ¡°Do you wanna tell a 300kg deathworld predator what she is and is not allowed to snuggle?¡±

    ¡°That¡­ is a fair point.¡±

    After Taylor has thrown on a passable outfit, brushed his oral bone outcrops (for some reason), worked a comb through his curly copper hair and has given his pet mirkbeast a ¡®playful¡¯ goodbye (involving him being repeatedly slammed to the deck with force that would have dented a full body impression into the floor of a non-deathworlder-certified cabin) we are finally able to vacate that room.

    The moment the door closes I slump, gasping, against a wall and give the Terran a venomous look. ¡°I will never forgive you for bringing that thing onto my ship, Taylor!¡±

    Returning an amused expression, he asks ¡°Why d¡¯you insist on exposin¡¯ yourself to her when it affects you like this? All my neighbours transferred to other decks when fluffy moved in and I literally hafta run an evacuation followed by a lockout on the gym to let her get her exercise. No one would hold it against you if you steered clear of her, too.¡±

    I hold up a talon and say ¡°One word, my young Terran friend: Pecking order!¡±

    the Terran frowns ¡°That¡¯s two words¡­¡± he says, perplexed.

    I give an amused *chirrup* ¡°Not in R¡¯qali, it isn¡¯t!¡±

    He thinks for a moment before shrugging ¡°I guess, that¡¯s the language of space secretary birds for you! Whaddya mean, anyway?¡±

    ¡°I cannot allow there to be a creature on this ship that is not aware of who¡¯s ultimately in charge! I need only manage her the same way I manage you: confidence!¡± I preen, only partly in jest.

    ¡°Confidence¡­?¡± Taylor echoes, skeptically.

    ¡°Oh, my dear boy, yes! Both you and she outmass me, outmuscle me and are more ferocious than me by orders of magnitude. The trick is to pretend that that doesn¡¯t matter, I¡¯m the Captain, and acting it so makes it so! ¡±

    Clearly still unconvinced, he feigns woundedness ¡°And here, I thought we were friends(!) Turns out you¡¯ve been usin¡¯ antideathworlder mindtricks on me this whole time(!?)¡± he places a hand over his single heart as if it had been mortally pierced. I shake my head in a Terran expression of mild disapproval.

    Then, Taylor steps in front of me and says ¡°Listen, Cap¡­¡± in a way which still makes my instincts scream and probably always will, no matter how many more years I know him.

    ¡°What is it, Taylor?¡± I ask, voice permeated with concern.

    ¡°Could I ask that you perhaps don¡¯t telegraph to the hires exactly why we need Terrans?¡± his cheeks are flush with IR. My translator trips a little over ¡®telegraph¡¯ but I get the gist.

    ¡°Taylor there¡¯s no need to be embarrassed, you Humanities are a social and highly gregarious species. Looking after that need is nothing to be ashamed of!¡±

    ¡°¡®Humans¡¯, Cap, y¡¯know it¡¯s ¡®Humans¡¯ and it¡¯s not that I¡¯m embarrassed¡­¡± he cuts me off before I can point out that, in the IR spectrum, his face is lit up like the skyline of Ra¡¯wakqal ¡°¡­it¡¯s not.. just that I¡¯m embarrassed! It¡¯s for their sake, too.¡±

    I narrow all four of my eyes ¡°Explain¡­?¡±

    He thinks for a moment before coming up with an analogy, Terrans do so love their analogies. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ imagine you were datin¡¯ a R¡¯qali guy and he admitted to you that he wasn¡¯t even a little interested in your personality? It was literally only the fact that you were Captain of the Bright Plume that interested him!¡±

    Not really understanding at all I say ¡°Taylor, I¡¯m already life bonded to a ¡®R¡¯qali guy¡¯, our cultures share the concept of monogamy!¡±

    Waving a hand in frustration, he says ¡°Yeah, so in the hypothetical world where you ain¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t care, Taylor. It¡¯s natural that I would have a higher calibre of mate from the prestige of being a ship Captain. Qorak freely admits the prestige was a large part of what sealed the deal with him.¡±

    At this, the Terran frowns. I decide to toss him an oklafruit ¡°Though, I suppose, I would probably prefer a mate who was interested in my personality and prestige. Now tell me, oh wise Terran, crafter of allegory, how does this allegory pertain?¡±

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    He smiles ¡°It¡¯s like, you wanna be considered worth it on your own, you know? I admit the comparison to R¡¯qali datin¡¯ was a little butchered¡­¡± such a violent language! ¡°¡­but, like, you¡¯d be making all the new hires feel like it¡¯s not them you¡¯re after, just company for me. That kinda feelin¡¯ll fester. They might resent you, me, the ship but, most damagin¡¯, themselves.¡±

    I am momentarily speechless. Eventually, I managed to ask ¡°What¡¯s that Terran monster your always calling yourselves? Galaxy Goblins?¡±

    ¡°Space Orcs, Cap!¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it. For Space Orcs, you certainly have fragile little, spun glass egos!¡±

    He chuckles at that ¡°Yeah, we do.¡±

    ---later---

    ¡°WOW! That guy was a freak!¡± Taylor huffs, dejectedly.

    ¡°It¡¯s really hard to tell with you Terrans. That was considered out of the ordinary even by your standards?¡± I query.

    Taylor looks genuinely hurt that the question had to be asked ¡°That guy, made 15 separate allusions to eating you, Cap. I counted. One allusion is really too many! Yes, that was abnormal, even for us. I¡¯m not gonna be able to relax until I see him leave the ship.¡±

    His eyes are glued to the security monitor and he gives a relieved sigh when the repulsive Terran steps off the ramp. He takes his finger away from the ¡®neutralise¡¯ button. Authoritatively, he commands the computer ¡°Computer, blacklist Jax ¡®the butcher¡¯ Karvin from the ship, if he attempts to gain entry again, hit him with a double dose of Terran-certified, fast-actin¡¯ tranquilisers, then notify me, do not wait to receive confirmation. Also, send a recordin¡¯ of that interview to the local authorities, marked urgent, with the suggestion that he ought to be considered a person of interest in the recent spate of disappearances in local space.¡± This is why it¡¯s nice to have competent subordinates. I give him a Terran nod that suggests I also thought of logging that series of commands with the computer and he just beat me to the flap rather than the truth, that I was just sitting here stewing in anxiety.

    ¡°So, who¡¯s next?¡± I wonder aloud.

    Sha¡¯anza glances down the list, held in her trunk. ¡°Uhhhhm¡­ next it looks like¡­ oh, oh dear¡­ oh no!¡± her normal, healthy pink fades to an off white.

    ¡°Don¡¯t leave us in the dark, Shan? Who¡¯s next? And what¡¯s gotcha this worked up?¡± Taylor asks. Wordlessly, Research Lead Sha¡¯anza slides the holopad across my desk and I freeze when I see the words written there. ¡®Jennie ¡°Mouse¡± MacLeod: Engineer¡¯.

    Hysterical, Sha¡¯anza blurts ¡°We can¡¯t hire a Terran engineer! We¡¯d all be out on the street, or worse, by the end of the Cycle!¡±

    ¡°Somethin¡¯ you guys want to enlighten me about?¡± Taylor quips.

    Shaking more than when the (apparently) serial killer was sat across from me, I answer ¡°Terran engineers have a¡­ mixed reputation, Taylor.¡±

    Sha¡¯anza trumpets, derisively ¡°Mixed?! That is the understatement of the aeon, Captain!¡± I glare at her, and she cautiously backs off.

    ¡°¡­an, admittedly, mostly negative reputation. Certainly, they get the job done and they¡¯ll even take it upon themselves to ¡®improve¡¯ things that are working perfectly fine already. The problem is that the moment they leave your employ all the mad labyrinths they¡¯ve piled up come crashing down for want of maintenance. No one else of any species is even remotely able to see how to maintain, let alone reverse all of the ¡®improvements¡¯ that Terran engineers make. They are generally thought to be a liability in the normal function of interstellar travel. The only time everyone admits you really want a Terran engineer is when you¡¯re already in a dire predicament and everyone aboard will die without miraculous intervention. The popular expression to describe this phenomenon is that Terran engineers are ¡®touched by the gods of madness and brilliance¡¯.¡±

    Taylor thinks for a moment before speaking ¡°Well, we won¡¯t know without meeting her¡­ No group of Terrans is a monolith¡­ Maybe she¡¯s an exception to this stereotype?¡± thinking a moment more, he adds ¡°Mind if I take the lead on this one?¡±

    Unable to think of any suitable reason not to allow it and, not a little, anxious that every moment MacLeod sits in ship without a distraction might be the moment she find something to ¡®improve¡¯, I relent and wave an assent. Pressing the intercom I say ¡°Qorak, sweetfruit. Would you send Ms. MacLeod in?¡±

    My lifemate answers almost instantly ¡°Sending her in now, my okla.¡±

    Taylor gives me a bemused look. ¡°Sweetfruit?¡±

    Chirping in irritation, I say ¡°Perks of having a lifemate-cum-secretary, you get to flirt on the job! And don¡¯t you dare make the ¡®secretary bird, secretary¡¯ quip again, it wasn¡¯t funny the first 140 times!¡±

    He concedes, throwing up his hands.

    As she enters I observe that the nickname ¡®mouse¡¯ is very apt. The resemblance this Terran bears to the Earth rodent is uncanny. Small, withdrawn with honeybrown hair and protruding ears. It¡¯s almost enough to make me forget that she¡¯s still a deathworlder with the strength to crush my ribcage in one hand.

    Taylor stands and gives her an enthusiastic handshake. She winces, I¡¯m glad to see that that can happen to Terrans as well.

    ¡°Ms. MacLeod, I¡¯m Chief Security Specialist Victor Taylor¡± I let out a brief *chit* that my translator turns into a Terran throat clear. Pausing, Taylor amends ¡°Chief Security Specialist, currently on disciplinary probation.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡± squeaks MacLeod, clearly not knowing what to make of that.

    ¡°This is Captain Tcakqaal, Head of the Bright Plume, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak. Everyone calls her ¡®Captain¡¯¡­ I call her ¡®Cap¡¯.¡± I give a single, exasperated flap of my crown feathers before extending my wingclaws for a Terran handshake. She takes them with both unexpected confidence (as Terrans usually find R¡¯qali wingclaws offputting) but also supreme gentleness. She makes a good first impression.

    ¡°¡­and this is Research Lead Sha¡¯anza, I call her ¡®Shan¡¯.¡± Sha¡¯anza nervously raises her trunk in greeting.

    ¡°So, my compatriots here appear to have some¡­ reservations about hiring a Terran engineer.¡±

    MacLeod gives a knowing, slightly crestfallen smile. ¡°I¡¯m aware that we do have a bit of a¡­ reputation but I can assure you that my experience should speak for itself. In fact, I wrote my Master¡¯s thesis on the topic of bridging the gap between Terran and nonTerran design philosophies by means of compromising some of the performance demanded by Terran traditional thinking in exchange for a disproportionate return in the lastability and ease of maintenance favoured by gardenworlders.¡±

    She produces a holopad and taps at it for a moment before turning it around to face me. ¡°If you¡¯ll look at these examples of my work, you¡¯ll see I¡¯ve taken great pains to make them approachable to nonTerrans. With detailed instructions largely absent of the dense jargon, so characteristic of Terran engineering.¡±

    I look at the images, they are indeed impressively approachable. So much so that even I can somewhat understand them, with no engineering background.

    The interview progresses for another 30 minutes with MacLeod making favourable impression after favourable impression.

    At the end I am forced to ignore the pleading eyes of my Research Lead and tentatively offer her a position aboard my ship.

    She¡¯s clearly pleased but queries ¡°Tentatively? Is there another stage to this interview?¡±

    I do my best to keep an impassive expression ¡°Yes, you and all of the others tentatively offered positions will face a final test of your suitability in Starboard Dorm, Deck 5 which, if you pass, will become your living quarters.¡± She flashes a nervous expression, briefly, but appears to have intuited that that will be all she finds out about the test, for now. ¡°If you would please tell my secretary to show you to the nearest rec room. It¡¯s just you at the moment but hopefully, soon, you¡¯ll be joined by other successful applicants.¡± I smile. She nods before exiting.

    ---later---

    Consulting my notes, I remark ¡°That makes six; an engineer, a cook, a researcher and three security officers. That¡¯s almost enough to fill the entire dorm!¡±

    Taylor waves a hand in negation ¡°Let¡¯s not count our¡­species appropriate chicken equivalents. They¡¯ve still got to pass the test. Also, I think there¡¯s one more applicant, 23 right? We¡¯ve only seen 22?¡±

    Frowning at my holopad I realise that there was indeed an applicant that I had overlooked ¡°Tuun, no last name given¡­¡± I turn to Taylor ¡°Is that a Terran name? Do some Terran¡¯s not have last names?¡±

    Taylor shrugs ¡°Could be. Can¡¯t pretend to be familiar with every Terran culture. Let¡¯s bring¡¯em in and see!¡±

    ¡°Qorak, would you please send in the last applicant? Ms. Tuun ''Elf'' no last name given: Auxilliary Security Officer?¡±

    Taking a few moments longer than before, he responds uncertainly ¡°Yes, she¡¯s coming through, now.¡±

    When the door opens I have to think extremely hard about whether the creature I¡¯m looking at is a Terran or not. The midnight blue skin, white hair, pointed ears and luminescent eyes are certainly not typical of Terrans but on the other hand Terran¡¯s do sometimes go in for somewhat extreme aesthetic body modifications.

    It requires me glancing at Taylor to doublecheck that no, four arms with four fingers each is not a normal amount for a Terran. It¡¯s two and five, two and five. Ms. Tuun is not Terran, I¡¯ve concluded. Then she extends her arm in a very Terran greeting and says, in what my translator informs me is flawless English ¡°Hello, my name is Tuun. I¡¯m very pleased to meet all of you, thank you for giving me this opportunity!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.3

    ---Ailurophobia---

    ¡°So¡­?¡± I start, hesitantly.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a Terran?¡± Tuun asks, matter of factly.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± uncertainly, drumming my talons against my perch, I decide to err on the side of caution. ¡°...are you?¡±

    She gives a mirthful puff of air through her nostrils before taking a moment to think.

    ¡°It¡¯s true, I¡¯m not a Human, nor have I ever set foot on Terra¡­ Nor, for that matter, have I ever been within 50 light years of the Sol System¡­ Despite that¡­¡± she breaks off here.

    I prompt ¡°Despite that?¡±

    She seems to pluck confidence from the aether, in a very Terran fashion ¡°I would consider myself Terran, by upbringing, Ma¡¯am. I also completed a full certification at New Troms? University, on Nova Fennoscandia, making me a fully qualified Auxiliary Security Officer.¡±

    I immediately have half a dozen questions but manage to decide on one to start with. ¡°What is your species and homeworld, Ms. Tuun?¡±

    With decidedly deathworld confidence, she answers ¡°I am a Don, of the planet DonOlu; it¡¯s a tidally locked, Class 9 roughworld, in proximity to the Crab Nebula. It also has a highly isolationist culture, hence your unfamiliarity with it and with the Don.¡±

    ¡°Roughworld?¡±

    Taylor answers ¡°They¡¯re planets that straddle the line between gardenworld and deathworld. Threats to life present but nothin¡¯ so egregious as to make the planetary classification nerds shi¡­ mess themselves. Sapient roughworlders ain¡¯t as rare as sapient deathworlders but still pretty rare. Maybe a dozen in Known Space.¡± he glances at Tuun ¡°That about the size of it?¡±

    She nods at him and smiles with just a hint of purple in her cheeks. ¡°Just so, Mr. Taylor.¡± Her tone makes it clear that she¡¯s unused to others¡¯ familiarity with the classification.

    He mirrors her smile.

    Breaking these two from their staring contest, I ask ¡°So¡­ if it¡¯s not an overly personal question, how did you come to have a Terran upbringing?¡±

    A pained expression flashes over her features for just a moment, before she collects herself. Taking great care with her words, she starts ¡°I was born around five years after the Galactic Union¡¯s Great Consignment Agreement; wherein, the Terrans were given settlement and development rights for all the Galaxy¡¯s deathworlds which had, thus far, been considered unsettlable. A year after that, the Nova Fennoscandian colony was established, on a deathworld a scant few lightyears from DonOlu.¡± she pauses here to collect herself ¡°Breaking with the policy of isolationism, my birthparents¡¯ Clan decided to make diplomatic outreach to our new neighbours. My birthparents were sent as ambassadors. My elder siblings travelled with them. They became firm friends with their opposite numbers, Katr¨ªn Torrad¨®ttir and Heidi ¨¢rnad¨®ttir, such that they were named ¡®godmothers¡¯ when I was born. That¡¯s a Terran custom, where a parent selects a friend to raise their children in the event that they are killed.¡±

    Of course, Terrans would have a tradition of nominating seconds to complete the task of parenting in the event of their mortality, as if duelling to the death!

    She continues ¡°When I was six years old, my birthparents made what was supposed to be a brief trip back to DonOlu and left me and my siblings in the care of Katr¨ªn and Heidi. They never came back and DonOlu rejected all future attempts at diplomatic outreach. I learned, later, that it¡¯s presumed there was a Clan coup and my birthparents were executed. Me and my siblings were left in the care of Katr¨ªn and Heidi who became our fosterparents. They loved us as if we were their own and I grew up as one of the few nondeathworlders on Nova Fennoscandia.¡±

    I give a soft, sympathetic keen and whimper slightly, as I say ¡°Ms. Tuun, I apologise for making you recount that. It was insensitive of me. Thank you for trusting us with what must be a painful memory.¡± she gives a reassuring smile.

    Composing myself, I ask my next question ¡°Forgive me my ignorance but what exactly is an ¡®Auxiliary Security Officer¡¯? I¡¯ve not come across this designation before.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes, that was actually the result of a compromise reached between the GU and the UTC. After the ceasefire of the United Terran Coalition¡¯s First Contact War, Terran Security Officers immediately became the UTC¡¯s most in demand export. GU law is very strict that ¡®Terran¡¯ refers to biological Homo sapiens, and Homo Resurrectee species neanderthalensis, denisova, longi and tshwane but doesn''t include any other Terran uplift species or, deathworld raised, nonTerrans. However, Terrans have an extremely fierce packbonding instinct and objected, rather fervently, to being legally segregated from what they saw as kin. So, in compromise, the creation of the Auxiliary Security Officer qualification was authorised by the GU¡¯s Office of Deathworld Relations, allowing assorted culturally deathworld individuals, like myself, to have a route to Security Officerhood. My course was adapted to my differing physiology and psychology, in so far as those adaptations wouldn¡¯t compromise my competence for duty. ¡®ASO¡¯ effectively means I qualify as a full Terran SO, but only in the company of other Terran SOs. So, while I wouldn¡¯t legally be able to safeguard a deathworld expedition alone, I could do so in the company of another SO.¡±

    I think for a moment ¡°You¡¯re saying that if I sent you and Mr. Taylor, or any of the new hires, on a deathworld expedition I could increase the headcount of researchers from six to twelve? If I sent you and two Terran SOs, it could be eighteen, etc.?¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± she smiles.

    I look at her requested rate. It¡¯s only just over half that that ¡®Brunhilda ¡°Samus¡± Arran¡¯, ¡®Fran?ois ¡°Dog¡± Normand¡¯ and ¡®Guillaume ¡°Conqueror¡± Normand¡¯ are asking and easily a third of Taylor¡¯s salary. It would be a fantastic deal¡­ but that thought makes me uncomfortable, for some reason.

    I put that thought to the back of my mind and say ¡°For further questioning I¡¯ll have to pass you over to our resident Terran, as my research lead appears to be somewhat indisposed.¡±

    Sha¡¯anza looks up from the notes she¡¯s been furiously tapping out, no doubt hypothesising wildly about all the novel information on Human packbonding that we¡¯ve just been inundated with. She gives a selfconscious curl of her trunk but then returns it to her holopad.

    I gesture ¡°Taylor?¡±

    He leans forward ¡°In what ways do your physiology and psychology differ from a standard Terran¡¯s, Tuun? Aside from the obvious, o¡¯course.¡±

    She starts counting on her upper right hand ¡°On the negative side, I will never be able to have quite the strength, stamina or durability that a bioTerran does. Growing up on a planet of 1.8 Galactic Standard G has made me stronger than any DonOlu raised Don¡­¡± bitterly she adds ¡°¡­as well as stunting my growth to a mere 2.2 metres, but I am still relatively frail by your standards. I also have only, what I would call, a ¡®well developed¡¯ sense for danger, not quite the praeternatural sense for it that bioTerrans have. I¡¯m also quite sensitive to bright light, being from the Twilight Zone of an eyeball world.¡±

    She now shifts her count from her right hands to her left ¡°On the positive side, I easily adjust to an upended sleep schedule, I can move faster than a bioTerran, as my inertia is lower for not being as dense. In a dead sprint, I can reach upwards of 60kph in Earth Standard Gravity, though I can only maintain that for around thirty seconds¡­¡±

    I interrupt ¡°Is that fast?¡± directing my question more at Taylor than Tuun.

    He answers ¡°Extremely!¡± clearly impressed ¡°That¡¯s nearly 20% higher than the record for an unaugmented Terran.¡± he gives an approving nod for her to continue.

    Beaming in the praise she resumes ¡°My graduate epithet was very nearly ¡°Eel¡± instead of ¡°Elf¡± as a result of my fighting style. My classmates called it ¡®slippery¡¯, this is as a result of the fact that, compared to a bioTerran, I have superior reflexes and higher perceptual temporal resolution¡­¡± *Pap*

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Faster than I can resolve¡­ something happens¡­ Taylor and Tuun have both moved and Tuun appears to be holding something she wasn¡¯t before. She cocks an eyebrow at him and says ¡°Satisfied?¡±

    He nods ¡°Oh, yeah!¡±

    In utter bewilderment I ask ¡°What just happened? Taylor, what did you do?!¡±

    Tuun answers ¡°He threw a stressball at me to test my claim about my reaction times¡­ I appear to have passed!¡±

    Mortified I turn to Taylor ¡°Taylor! How could you have been so reckless!? What if it had hit her!?¡±

    With a mollifying wave of the offending hand he says ¡°Relax, Cap. It was a foam ball. That throw could have hit you and it wouldn¡¯t have done more than knock you off your perch. She noticed as I was throwin¡¯ it and snatched it out of the air, with no warning, from a distance of 4 metres, which is practically point blank. She then intuited reasonin¡¯ behind that throw without missin¡¯ a beat. Majorly impressive!¡±

    I round on Taylor, wings and crown plumes raised. He shrinks and says ¡°Sorry, Cap.¡±

    Still in my stance of aggression I say ¡°It¡¯s not me you need to apologise to!¡±

    A moment for it to ¡®click¡¯ ¡°Sorry, Tuun.¡±

    She waves a hand ¡°Quite alright, Taylor, quite alright, Captain. No harm meant, no harm done! I appreciate the opportunity to prove my capabilities!¡±

    Satisfied, I motion to move on.

    Taylor asks ¡°So what would be a comfortable frame rate for you?¡±

    ¡°Between, 200 and 350 frames a second. Lower than 200 and video starts to look choppy, to me. Higher than 350 and extra frames make no difference.¡±

    Taylor whistles, clearly impressed ¡°That¡¯s what¡­ five times a bioTerran? More? Old Terran movies must be hell for you!¡±

    She nods ¡°Yeah, like a slideshow. They¡¯re a little nauseating in an unaltered state¡­ but I do have a programme, on my holopad, to maximise frames. You just feed it the original footage and it brings it up to a comfortable frame rate by computer modelling and generating what the tweener frames would have looked like¡­ it is somewhat computationally demanding though so I can¡¯t run it without access to a more powerful computer.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Taylor says smiling ¡°The ship has computation power to spare¡­ Maybe we can have a movie night some time, I¡¯m interested to see what ¡®It¡¯s a Wonderful Life¡¯ looks like at 350fps.¡±

    ---later, after much deathworlder flirting and admiration of CQC and firearm videos from Tuun¡¯s University---

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s just one more thing before I tentatively accept you, Ms. Tuun¡­¡±

    I gesture at the salary she¡¯s asked for and her face drops ¡°It¡¯s too much! I told my brother but hewasalllike¡®youneedtovalueyourselfTuniethey¡¯llnevertakeyouseriouslyifyoudon¡¯ttakeyourselfseriously¡¯andIwent¡®yesbutwhatiftheyfinditoffputtingandIdon¡¯tgetthejob¡­¡¯¡±

    I hold up a claw to silence the unintelligible gibbering and she falls mercifully silent.

    ¡°Too much, dear girl? The custodian staff make more than this and all they do is sit on their behinds despatching cleaning droids all day! Your brother was right...or maybe he wasn¡¯t, I couldn¡¯t really follow at the speed you were talking¡­ The point is it would shame me as your Captain if word got around that I paid so little for your services! So, could you accept¡­ 90% again?¡±

    Her jaw drops ¡°That would be almost what you¡¯d pay a standard SO, I couldn¡¯t!¡±

    I snap back ¡°You can and you will, if you want the job!¡±

    Speechless a few moments, she eventually answers ¡°What would you say to 50% again?¡±

    Cocking a browtuft, I respond ¡°You¡¯re haggling me down? That¡¯s extremely unusual!¡±

    Fixing her gaze on her feet she mumbles ¡°I¡¯m not worth¡­ ¡¯s too much¡­¡±

    With a Terran sigh, I relent ¡°80%, final offer, that¡¯s 10% less than standard for the inconvenience of not being able to send you out alone¡­ this is in spite of the fact that, now that I have more than one SO, it really makes no difference if you¡¯re an SO or an ASO! What do you say¡­?¡± I extend my wingclaws.

    Tentatively, she encloses them in her hand and says ¡°OK, deal.¡±

    ¡°Excellent!¡± I crow ¡°Now, if you would tell my mate¡­secretary¡­ that you¡¯ve been successful, we¡¯ll be along to guide you and the others to the final suitability test, shortly. Sha¡¯anza, you¡¯re also free to go.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am! Thank you, Ma¡¯am!¡± Tuun says giddily, practically sprinting from the room, shortly followed by my clearly relieved Research Lead.

    I turn to Taylor who¡¯s still gazing at the doorway, eyes fixed on the last point that he had line of sight to Tuun.

    I chitter ¡°Well¡­ You certainly have a type!¡±

    Snapping back to reality he, takes a few moments to compose himself.

    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea whatchu might be referrin¡¯ to, Cap!¡± he says, carefully.

    Raising a leg, I start counting on my talons. ¡°Big eyes, big, midnight blue body, six limbs, deathworlder (after a fashion), Twilight Zoner¡­ I¡¯m seeing some similarities to a certain other object of your affections!¡±

    Scrunching his face in distaste, Taylor answers ¡°To start, Fluffy¡¯s Prussian blue with charcoal black stripes.¡±

    How a species of trichromates have so many, subtle colour distinctions, I¡¯ll never know. Who needs more than one word for ¡®black¡¯!?

    ¡°Next¡­¡± he continues ¡°¡­to Humans, the suggestion that a person might be or desire to be romantically or sexually involved with a pet is extremely distasteful, even indirectly, even in jest.¡±

    I interrupt ¡°So you¡¯re admitting that you would like to have sexual and/or romantic involvement with Ms. Tuun? Afterall, you did throw that ball at her like a fledgeling plucking the plume feathers of her favourite boy at school(!)¡± I point out, smugly.

    ¡°Finally¡­¡± he says through gritted teeth ¡°¡­It¡¯d be unprofessional of me to fraternise with a subordinate.¡±

    I¡¯m stunned ¡°Do¡­ you think I¡¯m unprofessional, Taylor?¡± it takes a moment before it clicks and he realises what he¡¯s just implied.

    Stammering, he replies ¡°N-n-no! Cap!... It ain¡¯t like that! Your situation with Qorak¡­ that¡¯s like normal for R¡¯qali, right? I got no standin¡¯ to judge¡­¡±

    I flap, sharply, once and he shuts up ¡°I understand you didn¡¯t make the connection, Taylor. It¡¯s OK. Just, maybe keep an open mind. She¡¯s clearly interested in you as well and the whole point of this exercise is to find you companionship, while filling out the positions we would have needed filled anyway.¡±

    He pouts, clearly not convinced.

    ¡°Just some [food for thought]. I don¡¯t expect you to be an ascetic, Taylor. It¡¯s ironic that you deathworlders all too often forget that you¡¯re mortal, too.¡±

    He nods, ponderously.

    ¡°If nothin¡¯ else it¡¯d be nice to get to know the ships second honorary deathworlder.¡± he muses.

    I cock my head, confused. ¡°Second¡­ who¡¯s the first?¡±

    He shoots me a wry smile ¡°You¡¯re kiddin¡¯¡­ right? You, ya big doof!¡±

    I splutter ¡°H-how!? In what way!? R¡¯qali are frugivorous gardenworlders. You could pick me up and dash me against this desk before I knew what was happening! On what basis¡­?!¡±

    Smirking, he says ¡°You''re shrewd, like a deathworlder, you¡¯re fierce, like a deathworlder, you¡¯re suspicious, like a deathworlder. You might have the body of a gardenworlder but your spirit is the spirit of a deathworlder!¡±

    Dumbstruck, I eventually respond ¡°Taylor, in all my Cycles, I have never been accorded such a dubious honour!¡± he laughs heartily at that.

    Taking a moment to recompose myself, I say ¡°Now, how about we go administer our final test? Hmmm? Your, insisted upon, surprise for them!¡±

    He smiles mischievously.

    ---later---

    For the second time in the last Subcycle, I sit by the hospital bed of an unconscious Terran. This time, thankfully, he isn¡¯t injured.

    ¡°Huh!!!...whu!¡± he starts awake.

    ¡°Mr. Normand, good to have you back!¡± I greet.

    ¡°What happened? Where am I? What¡­ what was that thing?¡±

    ¡°You fainted, the medical room of the Bright Plume and ¡®Fluffy¡¯.¡± I respond, coolly.

    ¡°Fluffy?!¡± he says, incredulous.

    ¡°Fluffy, the a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast of Deck 5, terror of all nonTerrans, initiator of shipwide lockdowns and the reason that CSS Victor ''Cuddles'' Taylor is currently on disciplinary probation!¡± I quip.

    He glances over the other beds ¡°Where¡¯s everyone else?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re settling in to their new accommodations and probably giving Fluffy more pets and scritches than even she can handle in the Starboard Deck 5 Commonroom.¡±

    He gawks, disbelieving ¡°They stayed? With that thing? They didn¡¯t faint? They weren¡¯t scared?¡±

    In answer I bring up my holopad and, bored, begin reading aloud from the transcript from the SD 5 hallcam footage, starting the moment he lost consciousness:

    ¡°MacLeod: OMG, MURDERFLOOF!

    Arran: So fierce! All the scritches for you!

    Taylor: She¡¯s wonderful isn¡¯t she!

    Dhawan: She looks like the Cheshire cat going through a goth phase! I love it!

    MacLeod: Or like the catbus from Totoro!... Gods, she¡¯s so sleek!

    Zunberi: I could cuddle her all day every day!

    Arran: Right proper dangernoodle!

    Dhawan: Nuh-uh! Dangernoodles are snakes! Look at those little legs! Jennie had it right!

    MacLeod: Yeah, murderfloof!

    Tuun: It¡¯s as if someone put the eyes of an owl, onto the face of a baby kitten-puppy hybrid,

    then stuck that onto a ferret-raccoon hybrid body and tie-dyed the whole thing with the

    advice of an emo tiger! And then hit it with a growth ray and a cute ray for way longer than

    advisable!

    F. Normand: Guys, my brother is¡­erm¡­ kinda ailurophobic he had a bad experience when

    we were kids. He might not be copi¡­ fuck! Guillaume? Guillaume!?¡±

    ¡°That was how long it took anyone to notice you¡¯d lost consciousness. If it¡¯s any consolation, I think you¡¯re the sane one! However, unfortunately, through no fault of your own, you have demonstrated a lack of suitability for the Terran enclave aboard my vessel. I¡¯ve explained the situation to your brother and agreed a very generous reimbursement for your lost time and stress, a token of goodwill. He¡¯s already explained that the two of you are a ¡®package deal¡¯, as he put it so don¡¯t worry about us whisking him away.¡±

    He stares at me dumbstruck.

    ¡°Perhaps, you should check your account balance?¡±

    Still mute, he turns his head away, pulls up his holopad and taps for a few moments before gasping.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t kidding about it being generous! What on Earth for?!¡± he blurts.

    ¡°Deathworlders with a grudge are a nightmare scenario for any sane Captain¡­ or sane person, for that matter. As I said, it¡¯s a token of goodwill.¡±

    ¡°You do not have to worry, Ma¡¯am! I¡¯m going to do my best to never think of this ship or that monster again!¡±

    I nod and begin walking away.

    Before I leave I say ¡°It¡¯s a shame it didn¡¯t work out, Mr. Normand. Good luck on your future travels... perhaps, try to avoid a''Teksia 3.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.4

    ---Leviathan Power---

    I awake to a rainbow of iridescent feathers clouding my vision.

    I pull my head out from under Qorak¡¯s wing and hop down from our perch.

    ¡°Computer, repeat?¡± I ask, blearily.

    The computer answers in an uncharacteristically urgent tone ¡°I say again, 37 separate messages detailing various disperate descriptions of a, hitherto, undetermined emergency have been logged within the last [66 minutes]. All attempts to identify the source and nature of the emergency and resolve it, without crew intervention, have failed. Most appropriate course of action determined to be: raise the Captain and advise her to gather Security Officers and the Engineering Lead to seek out the source and nature of the emergency and attempt to resolve it.¡±

    My stomach drops.

    I turn to Qorak, his face a mask of dread and his beautiful plumage wilting too, momentarily seeming almost as drab as my coat of matte grey, white and black.

    I run to him and throw my wings around him and in as soothing a voice as I can manage, while conveying the urgency, I say ¡°Seal the door when I¡¯m gone, do not open it under any circumstances for anyone but me, even if I¡¯m taken hostage and they threaten to kill me, that door stays shut. Do you understand me?¡±

    Stammering, he says ¡°B-but-I-you-but-if-th-they¡­¡±

    I snap ¡°Do you UNDERSTAND ME?!¡±

    He slumps ¡°Yes, my okla¡­¡±

    I tenderly tap the side of my beak against his and, looking down into his eyes, I say ¡°Thank you, sweetfruit¡­¡±

    As I leave he calls out, desperately ¡°Come back to me, Tcakqaal¡­ don¡¯t allow our daughter to grow up never having met her mother!¡±

    Without turning I answer ¡°I don¡¯t intend to!¡±

    ---some [minutes] later---

    *plap* *plap* *plap* *plap**plap**plap* *plap* *plap* *plap* *plap**plap**plap*

    ¡°So, what do the reports say?¡± asks Engineering Lead Kwijj, against the steady pitterpatter of her twelve, gel coated manipular-perambulatory tentacles on the Bridge Deck Corridor.

    Jogging beside her, I answer ¡°The¡­*huff*¡­common theme is that¡­*huff*¡­they describe being¡­ *gah*¡­woken by¡­*huff**huff*¡­a ¡®terrifying noise¡¯¡­could you slow down?!¡±

    Her single eye wheels down to mine without her forward momentum breaking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Captain. It really sounds like we don¡¯t have time! None of the Triple Ms responded to com pings?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I couldn¡¯t¡­*huff*¡­get my CSS, SO¡­*huff*¡­or ASO to respond¡­nor anyone else in Triple M! ¡­*huff*¡­no one on Decks¡­*huff*¡­4 or 6 was¡­*huff*¡­brave enough to¡­*huff*¡­venture out¡­*huff*¡­to make contact!¡­...*huff*¡­It¡¯s possible¡­*huff*¡­whatever this threat is¡­*huff*¡­they¡¯re already casualties!¡±

    Kwijj¡¯s skin flashes through puce, magenta and orange which her translator renders as a pathetic squeal. Seeming to steel herself, she asks ¡°Nature?¡±

    ¡°Some reports¡­*huff*¡­speculate pirates¡­*huff*¡­some¡­*huff*¡­hyperdrive malfunction¡­*huff*¡­one¡­*huff*¡­vengeful warrior ghosts! ¡­*huff*¡­Obviously¡­*huff*¡­you¡¯re here¡­*huff*¡­in case it¡¯s¡­*huff*¡­an engineering problem¡­*huff*¡­I don¡¯t expect you¡­*huff*¡­to fight pirates¡­*huff*¡­or exorcise spirits!¡± being [1.3 metres] and [2.5kgs], of mostly bone and feather, really has it¡¯s disadvantages, keeping stride with [3.8m] dodecapods being one!

    Reaching the door of the Starboard Stairwell I burst through, not waiting for it to fully slide open. I can hear a distant but intense noise in the distance down below me but am not able to see over the safety rail. Irritated, I hop atop it and perch, looking down.

    That terrible caterwauling is coming from down there somewhere.

    Looking over the railing, through her goggle-aquarespirator, Kwijj asks ¡°Any ideas? Can you identify it?¡±

    ¡°No¡­it¡¯s¡­I¡­¡± I freeze. That¡¯s¡­ no¡­ they wouldn¡¯t!

    ¡°[Motherfucking DragonForce]!?¡± I shriek, in a mangled approximation of the English loanwords.

    ¡°What?¡± Kwijj asks, clearly alarmed.

    I gratefully com Qorak ¡°Qorak, my love. It was a false alarm. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be back a little later after I¡¯ve sorted it out.¡±

    Clearly relieved he says ¡°By Akaros, that eases my mind. So, I can open the¡­¡±

    ¡°No you cannot open the door! I told you not to open the door for anyone but me! Didn¡¯t I!? What if I were being held at gunpoint right now!?¡± I snap.

    ¡°But, if¡­¡±

    ¡°But nothing! Open the door only when you can see it¡¯s me and I¡¯m alone!¡±

    ¡°OK, I¡¯ll see you later¡­ assuming you¡¯re not at gunpoint, right now.¡± I chitter at that.

    ¡°Try to get back to sleep, for the time being, sweetfruit.¡±

    Shutting off my holopad I address Kwijj ¡°Stand down, Kwijj. Your expertise is not required in this matter.¡±

    Kwijj looks more lost than ever ¡°Captain¡­ what is it? Did you say [Parental-copulating Leviathan Power]? What¡¯s the [Leviathan] powering? And why does that require it to copulate a parent?!¡±

    Not answering, I say ¡°Return to your habtank Kwijj and try to get some rest, you¡¯ll only slow me down from here.¡±

    Hesitantly, she asks ¡°What are you going to do?¡±

    Cocksure, I say ¡°Me? Why, I¡¯m going to crash a deathworlder party!¡±

    Kwijj¡¯s whole body pales ¡°You¡¯re a braver woman than I, Captain!¡±

    Wordlessly, I tumble backward over the railing and perform a tight roll, in air, to right myself. I dive down [50 metres] and out [20] from my start point, spreading out my wings at the last possible moment to arrest my momentum, alighting on the balcony of what was formerly known as Starboard Dorm, Deck 5.

    As I stride beneath it I glance up at the handpainted sign that reads ¡®MUNDUS MINIMUS MORTIS¡¯, painted in red [1 metre] tall letters of a long dead Terran language which now serves as a linguistic adstratum for most of the Terran cultures. MacLeod¡¯s addition ¡®*TELLUSCULUS MORTIS¡¯ is written in [5cm] black lettering in a corner. That sign was an addition of the first seven diurnals (or ¡®week¡¯) after the Terran hiring. This deck is now known as ¡®Triple M¡¯ and its inhabitants the ¡®Triple Ms¡¯, there goes my orderly numbering system! ¡®¡­3, 4, MMM, 6¡­¡¯

    I enter the dorm hall and the sound is deafening. It¡¯s so loud I can¡¯t really discern a direction but, from intuition, I head to the Commonroom.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    The tempo is so high and the instruments so coordinated that, if Terrans did not exist, I would say it could only have been constructed on a computer, never played naturally.

    This is music so intense that, if Terrans did not exist, I would say no being could have survived feeling the emotions necessary to write it.

    This is music so ferocious that, if Terrans did not exist, it could only be the defiant knell of warriors who knew they were moments from martyrdom in a blaze of glory.

    But, for Terrans, it¡¯s just ¡®Tuesday¡¯!

    As the Commonroom door slides open I am hit with a wall of sound, seeming nearly strong enough to knock me over.

    fff?SO FAR AWAY WE WAIT FOR THE DA-iii-AAY

    FOR THE LIGHT SOURCE SO WASTED AND GONE

    WE FEEL THE PAIN OF A LIFETIME LOST IN A THOUSAND DAYS

    THROUGH THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES WE CARRY ON?fff

    CSS Victor ''Cuddles'' Taylor is standing flanked by SO Brunhilda ''Samus'' Arran and ASO Tuun ''Elf'' screaming into microphones, gesticulating wildly with their five spare hands, faces screwed. Backed by the distinctly unmusical yowling of Fluffy in addition to a pair of speakers, taller than I am, combining their amplified voices with a furious backing track.

    Commissary Krish ''Cookie'' Dhawan, Engineer Jennie ''Mouse'' MacLeod, Researcher Msia ''Mage'' Zunberi and Arran¡¯s ¡®samoyed-huskie mix¡¯ canine, Sam are sat spectating on a giant couch.

    They¡¯re so enraptured that Zunberi is the only one to notice me standing there, glaring at the scene. Trepidatiously, he fumbles for the control panel and shuts off the cacophony.

    The other Triple Ms are each perplexed for [1.5 seconds] before they notice me standing, scowling.

    I fold my wings behind my back (a distinctly unnatural posture, for me) and begin pacing while keeping my gaze fixed on the crowd of them.

    After a full [15 seconds] of silence Taylor starts ¡°Cap, I¡­¡± but my wing shoots up with a single claw extended, indicating that the silence is to continue.

    A few more [seconds] pass before I deem them all sufficiently cowed.

    I stroll over to the panel by the door. On it, there is a grey switch beside a white dial.

    Experimentally, I flick the switch from the ¡®Off¡¯ position to the ¡®On¡¯ position and all ambient noise from beyond the room ceases. Back to the ¡®Off¡¯ and the low ambient thrum, of a ship in warp, is back. One more flick and it¡¯s gone.

    I turn to them and say ¡°Your privacy field appears to be functional¡­ just not enabled! Yet I can see from the compromise of brightness and dimness, to suit both brightworlders and mirkworlders, that someone here knows this panel exists!¡±

    More pacing, more silence.

    I flick my crown plume and affect a Terran sigh.

    Massaging my temples with my wingclaws I ask ¡°While I am extremely glad you¡¯re all alive and not slaughtered by pirates, ripped into atoms by warp malfunction or possessed by the spirits of vengeful warriors, as the reports I was receiving would have had me believe¡­ while my hearts sing that I get to go back to my mate, alive, and show him it was a false alarm¡­ I can¡¯t help but feel a little [fucking] livid that this whole mass panic could have been avoided with the flick of a switch! And why by the Titan, by the Pygmy, by the Watcher and by the Orchardist did none of you answer your damn coms?!¡±

    At this Sam bounds forward but, thankfully, is well trained enough to know that I will die if he runs into me at that speed so stops short, and starts frantically sniffing my front with an apologetic demeanour.

    ¡°Captain bird mummy! Not angry being! Please! Please! Please! We is happy time being! Sorrysorrysorry! Not meaning to upsetting you being! Not be angry! Not be cross!¡± Sam yaps.

    Translators really don¡¯t work well on near-sapients.

    Despite my not being a Terran, this cuteness offensive is working.

    I bend down to look Sam in the eye ¡°¡®Captain bird mummy¡¯ isn¡¯t angry with you Sam. You and Fluffy have done nothing wrong¡­¡± I glance at Fluffy ¡°¡­this time.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you and Fluffy go to bed? I¡¯m sure you¡¯re tired.¡±

    Sam hangs his head, dejectedly and leaves the room, shortly followed by Fluffy. I¡¯m very grateful Taylor is resistant to the idea of getting her a translator, I shudder to think what she¡¯d say.

    I point to the three standing deathworlders and snap my beak ¡°Sit down!¡± gesturing to the couch. They swiftly comply.

    Pacing again I ask ¡°So? No communicators?! You what, left your holos in your rooms?! A ¡®no phones party¡¯?! What if there had been a real emergency?! If we¡¯d been boarded?! If we had needed our brave knights in shining armour to come and slay some Terran dragons and they were too busy [karaoke]ing to notice!? This is the fourth incident, of its kind, in the two Subcycles since I hired you!!! Requisitions Officer Hamtonio still hasn¡¯t mentally recovered from his detainment and copious licking after the Fluffy Containment Breach of diurnal 15! What were you thinking! I¡¯m not your mother! I don¡¯t want to have to police when you go to bed but Akaros knows I¡¯m not going to let you keep the whole ship up with you! I don¡¯t want to have to install a surveillance camera in this room! I don¡¯t want to check that every emergency isn¡¯t just Terrans being Terrans! And another thing¡­!¡±

    ---much later---

    ¡°NOW I¡¯M THROUGH WITH YOU, YOU MAY GO!¡± I roar

    The doleful Terrans file from the room.

    ¡°Except you, Mr. Taylor. You stay.¡± he looks surprised. Everyone else also looks curious but still file out.

    Once the room is clear I climb up and nestle into the ¡®loveseat¡¯ and gesture across the ¡®coffee table¡¯ for him to sit back down on the sofa.

    He hesitates before asking ¡°Can I offer you a nightcap, Cap?¡±

    It takes a moment before my translator can make ¡®nightcap¡¯ sensical to me and when it does I am about to refuse out of reflex, then I reconsider. ¡°Sure, I¡¯m off duty tomorrow, I guess I can relax a bit. I trust you know how to mix a drink that won¡¯t kill me¡­?¡±

    He smiles ¡°One moment, Cap!¡±

    He comes back with a rather expensive looking bottle of whisky, two glasses (one filled with icewater, one holding a frosty stone), a stirbar and a pipette.

    Interested, I watch intently to see what his process is.

    He takes the pipette and dips it into the bottle, before repeating once, dispensing [6ml] of whisky into the icewater and stirring it in. He places that glass in front of me. He then proceeds to pour a, frankly, ludicrous quantity of undiluted whisky into the other glass. He raises it and it takes me a moment before I figure out what¡¯s expected.

    I pick up my glass with my talons and gently *clink* it against his.

    ¡°To your health!¡± he toasts.

    ¡°To yours!¡± I answer.

    I dip my beak into the mixture and tilt my head up to tip it down my throat. Even diluted, it tastes very strong to me.

    Drink now in foot, we sit in silence for a long while.

    Eventually, I start ¡°Taylor, listen, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re doing so much better. Anyone can see you¡¯re much happier now than you were before the Terran contingent arrived¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ these sorts of antics are getting to be something of a drain. Emotionally and financially.¡±

    Taken aback he asks ¡°Financially?¡±

    I chitter ¡°Deathworld research is extremely lucrative, Taylor. That¡¯s how I can afford to pay everyone so handsomely! You 1.7x standard, Ms. Arran 1.2x standard, Ms. Tuun 1.8x her asking price, haggled down from 1.9x¡­ Even so, the money is not infinite and every time something like this happens I have to pay half the crew emotional damages!¡±

    I pause here and then continue ¡°If you start putting this ship in [the red], you¡¯re going to make me choose between [booting] you and Fluffy off at the next port or letting you drag the ship down with you!¡±

    I stare into his eyes, imploringly ¡°Taylor, you are a dear friend and I owe you my life more times than I can count¡­ but don¡¯t make me choose between my loyalty to you and my ability to provide the livelihoods of 276 other crewmembers. OK?¡±

    Looking more sober now than when his glass was full, he nods ¡°Yeah, Cap. We understand eachother. I¡¯ll reign it in. No more incidents. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    I nod ¡°Good!¡±

    I think and then add ¡°One more thing, Taylor¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, Cap?¡±

    ¡°The next time you throw one of these little deathworlder [soir¨¦es] of yours¡­ invite me¡­¡±

    His eyebrows rise at that ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±

    I nod ¡°Oh yes! Afterall, I have the ¡®spirit of a deathworlder¡¯ and I¡¯d be lying if I said it didn¡¯t look like fun¡­ maybe with a little moderation of volume¡­¡±

    He snickers at that.

    ¡°¡­and, of course, someone has to make sure that you activate the privacy field(!)¡± I smirk.

    He winces ¡°Sorry again.¡±

    I wave ¡°Wind under the wing, dear boy. No, ¡®water under the bridge¡¯, right?¡±

    He nods.

    I finish my whisky and am about to bid him goodnight when he says ¡°Cap, wanna see somethin¡¯ unforgettable before you go?¡±

    I think, then nod.

    ¡°Ya have to be quiet though¡­¡±

    I raise a browtuft, the alcohol haze setting in ¡°Less of a problem for me than you, I¡¯m sure, you great galumphing deathworlder!¡±

    I was wrong, I thought I was quiet but in the deathly still of Triple M hall I can still hear the light *pit* *pit* *pit* of my feet on the deck, whereas he passes so silently that it¡¯s as if he isn¡¯t there. I would have thought this stealth impossible for a being more than 40 times my mass but, to Terrans, the impossible is barely an inconvenience!

    He draws up to his and Fluffy¡¯s room and the door slides open. I gasp!

    Sound asleep, there are four Humans, a canine and a Don, all snuggling around a mirkbeast, also sound asleep.

    ¡°How¡­?¡± I whisper ¡°¡­I thought Humans preferred to sleep solitarily or with a mate?!¡±

    Taylor bends down and whispers in a voice so quiet that it¡¯s almost impossible to consider that barely [an hour] ago he sung so loud he woke and terrified half the ship.

    ¡°Private bedrooms are a social construct originally intended to demonstrate wealth. It then spread mimetically so now we¡¯ve forgotten that it was ever any other way. Don¡¯t get me wrong¡­ privacy is nice sometimes but this¡­¡± he gestures at the pile ¡°¡­this is how Humans are meant to sleep!¡±

    He then turns to me and whispers in the most serious voice I¡¯ve ever heard him use ¡°The Cuddle Puddle is justice!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt. 5

    ---Self-Restraint---

    ¡°You¡¯re all wrong and, if you can¡¯t see it, you¡¯re fools!¡± I say, insistently.

    A chorus of opposition comes back. Not a single one of them sees sense.

    I take a scoop of my dilute Terran wine into my beak before swallowing it back.

    ¡°You just don¡¯t get it! There are millions of them! They hunger for our flesh! They bite us and then we become one of them! How can you say that zombies are less threatening than we are?!¡± complains Dhawan.

    ¡°I can say it because it¡¯s true! A Terran zombie is just a Terran with EVERYTHING that makes you Terrans a force to be reckoned with gone! They¡¯re slow, they¡¯re stupid, they don¡¯t plan, they don¡¯t coordinate, cooperate, communicate, they can¡¯t track you over land, they can¡¯t mentally keep track of objects not currently in their awareness, they can¡¯t trap, they can¡¯t deceive, beguile, betray, they won¡¯t hold a grudge, they can¡¯t make tools, usually can¡¯t use tools, they¡¯re often depicted as being physically weaker than standard Terrans and, the biggest thing is that, they have no sense of self-preservation at all! An animal can learn to recognise a gun and work out that guns=death=bad, a zombie can¡¯t! They¡¯re only scary when they¡¯re already in overwhelming numbers but they would never get to overwhelming numbers because of how unthreatening they are when they¡¯re in small numbers! If one of you, even Taylor, suddenly stood up and announced they were going to try and bite someone the rest of you could probably stop them before they succeeded! That¡¯s what a zombie¡¯s doing all¡­ the¡­ time, by being a zombie!¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± objects Arran ¡°What was that you said about not keeping track of things mentally? ¡¯Cause they, like, gather outside buildings they¡¯ve seen people go in and then they stay there! That means that they¡¯re mentally tracking that this is a building with a person in it!¡±

    ¡°Or¡­¡± I counter ¡°¡­they¡¯d just keep doing whatever they¡¯re doing and the fact that the Terran who went into this building was what started them doing it is irrelevant! They¡¯ll just do it until something comes along to displace them from it!¡± I take a moment to breathe ¡°A Terran would be all like ¡®Well I saw them go in there¡­ but I can¡¯t get in there so what else can I do?¡¯!¡±

    Sam chimes in here ¡°Liking people lots and lots. Deadwalk people scary being! Not liking!¡±

    I try to mimic a Terran smile and say ¡°Thank you for your input, Sam.¡± While giving him an appreciative scritch. Akaros! That deathworld body is solid.

    He wags his tail and pants excitedly before leaving the room, likely to go and tell Fluffy that he got scritches from ¡®Captain bird mummy¡¯.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you why I think you¡¯re really scared of zombies!¡± I announce.

    ¡°Enlighten us.¡± smiles Taylor.

    ¡°I think exactly because they¡¯re so unthreatening!¡±

    Cocking his head, Zunberi asks ¡°Can you elaborate?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to!¡± I preen.

    ¡°It¡¯s because they¡¯re so pathetic, so meek, so slow, so stupid but, if they bite you, they¡¯ll make you that way too! They¡¯ll rob you of all of your inborn gifts of mind and body! If they were impressive, you¡¯d want to be bitten by them, like vampires! Vampires are basically everything that Terrans are but more! Despite the clear drawbacks, [tonnes] of Terrans want to be bitten by a vampire. Precisely none of you are like ¡®Oooh, bite me Mr. Zombie!¡¯ [Boom]!¡± I chitter, boisterously.

    The rest of the Triple M Commonroom are clearly trying and failing to come up with a counterargument, though that might be because they are just as intoxicated as I am.

    Taylor stands and says ¡°Well, looks like my drink needs refreshin¡¯¡­ and looks like the nachos and salsa¡¯re running out. Anyone need anythin¡¯?¡±

    There is a brief hubbub as drinks are requested, after which he looks at his hands and says ¡°Anyone wanna help me carry all that?¡±

    MacLeod volunteers with a helpful smile.

    A few moments pass as conversation at the lounge end of the Commonroom moves on to how quickly Bruce Wayne would be identified as Batman and Taylor and MacLeod move over to the Kitchen end to fetch the beverages and victuals.

    Once they¡¯ve returned and passed out drinks Taylor says ¡°Guys, watch this.¡±

    He proceeds to pour a sauce bottle I recognise into an ¡®eggcup¡¯ and slide it to me. Knowing it¡¯s safe both from trust in Taylor and past experience, and having been unmistakably indicated to do so, I take the eggcup in my talons, tip it¡¯s contents into my beak and tilt my head up to swallow. It has the same calorie dense, rich, flavourful impact as all deathworld foods. A mix of savoury and sweet like a green pepper or a tomato.

    The instant it is in my mouth all the deathworlders erupt in shock and excitement. You¡¯d think I¡¯d snapped a tungsten girder in half with my bare talons. I have no idea what they find so impressive about me drinking this ¡®California Reaper Sauce¡¯ but don¡¯t want to spoil the moment.

    MacLeod is struggling to open the jar of salsa she retrieved from the kitchen. It honestly seems like an egregious overdesign to make a container that even a deathworlder can¡¯t open.

    She gives up and hands it to Taylor ¡°Could you open this for me, babes?¡±

    He sighs and pops it open with only slight effort.

    ¡°You know the omniappliance can open jars for you?¡± he asks, dryly.

    ¡°Yeah but that¡¯s aaaaallll the way over there!¡± she says, gesturing back to the kitchen with mock misery.

    ¡°Plus¡­ then I¡¯d¡¯ve missed the gun show!¡± she smirks.

    I really don¡¯t know what exhibitions of firearms have to do with anything but, when you spend time with Terrans, you learn not to interrupt the conversation to clarify every idiom you don¡¯t understand.

    ¡°If you wanted a gun show, your amazonian girlfriend is right next to you! She could have taken your breath away with her muscular jar opening.¡± quips Taylor.

    Ah, ¡®gun show¡¯ must be an allusion to physical prowess and displays thereof. Now what does ¡®amazonian¡¯ mean¡­?

    MacLeod latches protectively onto her much larger girlfriend and says ¡°She has nothing to worry about¡­ but¡­ there¡¯s no harm in looking¡­ You and she can both spare a bit of all that beefcake for us delicate little members off the fairer sex, right Tuun?¡±

    Tuun was making a barely perceptibly injured expression before she seemed to return to herself and answer ¡°Erm¡­ yes¡­ that¡¯s right¡­¡± uncertainly.

    I scoff ¡°¡®Delicate¡¯?! I don¡¯t think so! Human women must have extremely intense copulation rages!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± say Taylor, MacLeod, Dhawan and Tuun, in unison.

    I look around the table and it looks as if none of the Triple Ms know what I¡¯m talking about.

    Hesitantly, Zunberi asks ¡°D¡­do R¡¯qali women have a ¡®copulation rage¡¯?¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    I chitter ¡°Of course not! But Human women do, right?¡±

    Tilting her head, Arran prompts ¡°What makes you think that?¡±

    ¡°Oh well, I¡¯ve inferred it myself I suppose¡­ but I don¡¯t know what other explanation there could be?¡± I say, getting a little defensive.

    ¡°Explanation for what?¡± asks Tuun.

    Hesitating, I say ¡°¡­weeell¡­ for what I saw on the handful of occasions I¡¯ve accidentally walked in on CSS Taylor making use of a mating sim.¡±

    For a moment you could hear a pip drop.

    Then MacLeod, squeals and says ¡°OMG, deets! What did you see!?¡± a similar reaction is rippling around the room. Everywhere except in Taylor¡¯s seat, where sits a man who looks as if he¡¯s witnessing a murder in slow motion while paralysed to inaction¡­ for some reason.

    Confused, I shrug ¡°I mean we¡¯re all adults here, we¡¯ve all used mating sims when single or when at a removed distance from our partners, haven¡¯t we?¡±

    They are being extremely weird about this, like fledgelings in the school canopy! No adult reacts this way to talk of mating sims.

    Dhawan, prompts ¡°I think what Jennie means is what did you see in Cuddles¡¯ ¡®mating sims¡¯ that made you think Human women have a ¡®copulation rage¡¯?¡±

    I gesture at him and say ¡°Well he¡¯s right there, why don¡¯t you ask him yourself?¡± it¡¯s then that I notice his face is glowing in the IR spectrum and he seems to have entirely ceased responding. Something¡¯s going on here.

    Zunberi says ¡°Seems like Taylor isn¡¯t here at the moment, why don¡¯t you just tell us for him?¡±

    I look around and see that everyone has that same cheeky, deathworld smirk¡­ well not everyone; Taylor is fixing a blank stare at the table¡­ and Tuun is giving more of an expectant, hopeful expression.

    I finally give up and say ¡°I saw that the women needed to be quite heavily restrained; muzzled, bound/chained etc. and I naturally concluded that, if they weren¡¯t, they¡¯d be a threat to those around them, first of all their mate, due to some sort of copulation rage. Is that not accurate?¡±

    Two thirds of the Terrans and four fifths of the Humans present burst out laughing.

    Annoyed now, I say "OK, if it¡¯s not for copulation rage, why do they need to be so restrained?"

    Managing to calm down enough to talk, Arran says ¡°No, you¡¯re exactly right! We Human women absolutely lose our minds during the act! If proper measures aren¡¯t taken, people can get really hurt!¡±

    ¡°I knew it!¡± I exclaim. Why were they all so strangely evasive about it only to tell me now?

    ¡°Does it only change your behaviour or is your strength also affected? Do you remember what¡¯s happened after you return to your senses?¡± I ask.

    After a moment¡¯s hesitation Zunberi responds ¡°Well, no one¡¯s quite sure if it actually affects their physical characteristics or just unbridles strength they already have. Studying it is quite difficult, for obvious reasons!¡± barely suppressing giggles. ¡°As for the subjective experience¡­¡± he glances at Arran and MacLeod.

    ¡°Vague impressions¡­ snapshots¡­¡± says MacLeod, Arran nods enthusiastically.

    ¡°How does it work for you two?¡± I ask them. ¡°Do you have to restrain eachother? How can you do that in a way that you can then¡­ participate? How can you restrain yourselves enough to be sure you won¡¯t break free during but can then free yourselves afterward?¡±

    They think for a moment before MacLeod answers. ¡°FF couples need a third. Their job is to restrain both in such a way as we can¡­ perform¡­ but not hurt eachother. They don¡¯t participate¡­¡± she smirks ¡°¡­usually.¡±

    I consider this and then ask ¡°¡­And who¡¯s your third?¡±

    Grinning smugly, she nods at Taylor and answers ¡°Cuddles, of course!¡±

    ¡°Ah, that makes sense!¡± I say. I can¡¯t imagine anyone I would trust more to tend to me in such a state of vulnerability. I look around and see the beaming smile on all but two faces. Taylor is still blankly focused down and Tuun looks as if she¡¯s just been shot.

    ¡°Guys¡­¡± Taylor says, only barely above his normal speaking volume but with an intensity that silences everyone, his eyes still [thousand yard stare]ing through the table.

    He looks up ¡°That¡¯s enough, stop messing with her, I¡¯ll explain.¡±

    ---one very baffling explanation and many pipettes of wine later---

    ¡°And most Humans don¡¯t have this¡­ proclivity?¡± I ask, uncertainly.

    ¡°No¡­¡± he responds, mirthlessly.

    ¡°And it¡¯s¡­embarrassing?¡± I say, timidly.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± he responds, still grim.

    ¡°So, I¡­ shouldn¡¯t have exposed that?¡± I enquire, terrified that I¡¯ve jeopardised my friendship with him.

    ¡°No¡­¡± he responds, with bleakness unending.

    At this Zunberi nudges him and interjects ¡°I don¡¯t think we can call you a Triple M anymore, I think you¡¯re a Triple S, from now on!¡± to general snickers.

    In horror, I blurt ¡°You would eject him from the dorm for this?! From the social group!?¡±

    There are general guffaws at this and they reassure me that it was a joke that missed my beak¡­ or ¡®went over my head¡¯.

    ¡°Taylor, I¡¯m extremely sorry. R¡¯qali don¡¯t advertise our bedroom activities but we don¡¯t have such an intense culture of embarrassment about it. We would give a frank answer if asked and wouldn¡¯t feel at all ashamed. I didn¡¯t think before I spoke. I¡¯m sorry!¡± I plead, desperately.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Cap.¡± he says, exhausted. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have had it come out this way but it doesn¡¯t look like anyone¡¯s ready to burn a friendship over this¡­ in a way¡­ I¡¯m glad that I have the opportunity to have this part of me accepted too.¡± he says, smiling lightly.

    Arran looks at him, smiling, and says ¡°Cuddles, you¡¯re gonna make me cry, ya big doof! What¡¯s going to become of my badass space bounty hunter image if that happens?! Who knew having your kinks exposed could get so touching!¡±

    Taylor smiles back before looking around his apparently newly firm friends and saying ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m glad¡­ now how about a subject change? Have you seen the eye that Kwijj has been making at that new Rethijj in research?...¡±

    The conversation moves on to speculation about shipboard romances, potential romances and speculations on the mechanics of various interspecies unions.

    At some point in the evening, six Terrans become twelve, then 24, twelve who are only there in the IR spectrum and twelve who only appear in the visible.

    Fluffy got here at some point, I go to her. That nose is extremely boopable. I boop it. Very satisfying. She brings her head to the floor so I can scritch between her ears. By the Seventeen Gods of Akaros! She¡¯s so soft! This is paradise!

    Then I see Taylor¡¯s face... My Victor! The boy from Earth who saved my life on my first mission as Captain and countless times since. The boy I hired on the spot and sponsored through SO training. The boy now become a man! Qorak may be the love of my life but Victor is my strength.

    Then I ask ¡°Victor¡­ Dju wanna be Tcakak¡¯s [godfather]?¡±

    ---the next morning---

    I¡¯m lying down. Why am I lying down? R¡¯qali perch to sleep! Why am I lying down and why do I feel like a Terran has run me through a [juice press]?!

    I open my eyes to see Taylor sitting by my hospital bedside. He¡¯s noticed me stirring and is pulling a smirking face at me.

    ¡°So this is what it feels like from the other side!¡± I quip. He laughs at that.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask.

    Pausing a moment, he speaks ¡°I gave you a 3ml pipette to dilute your drinks with at the beginnin¡¯ of the night. At some point you managed to, I assume unwittin¡¯ly, exchange it for a 15 ml pipette and didn¡¯t notice¡­¡±

    I don¡¯t bother asking if he¡¯s sure he didn¡¯t give me the wrong one originally. If there were any doubt, he would blame himself.

    ¡°It¡¯s my fault¡­¡± he blames himself ¡°¡­I shoulda noticed.¡±

    I scoff at that ¡°You should have noticed from across the table what I didn¡¯t notice in my claws?¡± I query, wryly.

    ¡°It¡¯s my job to keep you safe, Cap. The pipettes shouldn¡¯ta been in a place where you coulda confused¡¯em, once you confused¡¯em I shoulda noticed the new one didn¡¯ look right, you even said it tasted strong I shoulda¡­¡±

    I hold up a wingclaw and silence falls.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t your fault, Victor.¡± I say simply, letting my words hang in the air.

    Eventually he nods and says ¡°Alright, Cap.¡±

    I nod approvingly, before asking ¡°So, then what happened?¡±

    He shifts uncomfortably before answering.

    ¡°Well, then you were a sparklin¡¯ conversationalist about Terran pop culture, you accidentally exposed my preference in ¡®matin¡¯ sim¡¯ material, we gossiped, you went to pet Fluffy (that was when I realised somethin¡¯ was wrong) you asked me to be your daughter¡¯s godfather and I picked you up by your feet and carried you here, like a prize turkey, to get your stomach pumped.¡± he lists matter of factly.

    ¡°Wait what?!¡± I squawk. ¡°What was the last one?!¡±

    ¡°You bein¡¯ a prize turkey?¡±

    ¡°No the one before that!¡± I say with a flick of my crown plumes.

    ¡°Oh, yeah, you asked me to be Tcakak¡¯s godfather. I was really touched!¡±

    I¡¯m dumbfounded.

    Eventually I say ¡°I told you we¡¯re expecting and I named her!?¡±

    He cocks his head ¡°Were you not supposed to?¡±

    ¡°No! It¡¯s terrible luck to tell anyone let alone name a child before they hatch! R¡¯qali don¡¯t even do parental seconds! What was I thinking!?¡± I bury my head in my wings.

    I feel a very gentle but very powerful hand on the back of my wing and look up.

    I see Taylor¡¯s emerald eyes staring back into mine.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be OK¡­ and¡­ my answer is ¡®yes¡¯, by the way.¡±

    I chirp, appreciatively ¡°Well, what¡¯s done is done. Thank you¡­ sorry for being such a terrible guest.¡±

    ¡°You were an amazin¡¯ guest but I think¡­ next time¡­ I¡¯ll dispense your drinks.¡± he smiles.

    ¡°I¡¯m invited back?¡± I say, a little incredulous.

    ¡°O¡¯course!¡± he scoffs, before continuing ¡°¡­well, I should probably get goin¡¯. Your breakfast¡¯ll be here soon and I¡¯ve got duty later.¡±

    As he makes to leave I say ¡°Before you go, Victor¡­ I just want to apologise again for exposing your [kink] in front of your friends!¡±

    He smiles ¡°Actually, Cap¡­ I should thank you for that¡­ after I dropped you off here, last night, and got shooed off by the nursedroid, I went back to Triple M and got waylaid by Tuun¡­¡±

    He¡¯s clearly very pleased but I¡¯m unsure about what.

    ¡°Oh¡­?¡± I prompt.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say that she and I have some¡­ common interests¡­ and you helped us realise.¡±

    It takes several [seconds] for me to put together what he means.

    Eventually, I get there ¡°Oh, Taylor¡­ I¡¯m happy for you¡­?¡±

    He nods, excitedly.

    Just then the nursedroid arrives and places my breakfast in front of me.

    Happy for the food, I ask ¡°What am I having?¡±

    The nursedroid uncovers the platter and says ¡°Pancakes, Captain.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd I: Pancakes and Rope

    ---Tuun¡¯s Perspective---

    I wait in the open doorway of my cabin, my heart thumping deafeningly. How long has it been? 15 minutes? 20? 5000?!

    Doctor Gato wouldn¡¯t have let Victor stay would he? Would he even be woken up for something as simple as alcohol poisoning? If it were one of the nursedroids they definitely wouldn¡¯t let him stay. Not even Victor could intimidate a droid!

    I start doing calculations in my head, in 3.6 seconds I work out; it would take me 4 minutes and 6 seconds to walk to the medical room but I would have to pace myself so I didn¡¯t get exhausted. My normal walking speed is slower than Victors as the result of him being a descendent of persistence pursuit predators, thus, he doesn¡¯t have to manage his stamina like I do. He¡¯s probably hurrying so maybe add a bit more speed, that¡¯s 2 minutes 52.5s (+rounding error), maybe he takes his time coming back as it¡¯s not urgent, to him, so 3 minutes 11.5s (+rounding error), that¡¯s 6 minutes 4s and a rounding error. Does it take 8 minutes 56s -rounding error to explain to a nursedroid that someone accidentally overintoxicated themself and needs a stomach pump!? Couldn¡¯t have just dumped her in the ward and run back? Let them figure it out?... No he couldn¡¯t¡­ he¡¯d never do that to anyone, least of all her!

    Why am I being crazy! This is stupid! Stupid little Don girl, who thinks she¡¯s a Terran, desperately wants her rugged deathworld prince charming to come and rescue her before fucking her brains out! Every moment I stand here is a moment one of the others might chance by and see me and how do I explain the fact that I¡¯m lurking here like this!?

    I should just shut the door and talk to him normally tomorrow.

    I¡¯m about to do just that when I hear, from down the hall, the sound of the balcony door opening and footsteps approaching. I can tell it¡¯s him, I know it¡¯s him. Even if he weren¡¯t the only person it could be, I¡¯d know his impossibly light footsteps anywhere!

    My breath catching, the seconds stretch into eternities!

    By the time he walks past my doorway, I feel as if I¡¯ve lived a thousand lifetimes rooted to this spot.

    He walks past my door and I extend two long arms to knot eight slender fingers into the fabric at the scruff of his neck and yank him into my room, throwing him against a wall, slamming my hand into the wall beside his head. He was surprisingly easy to manhandle considering, at 109kg he is approaching three times my mass.

    I wave the door shut and switch on the privacy field.

    In my fantasies he always towers over me but, now that our bodies are mere centimetres apart, it¡¯s clear to see that his chin is at around the level of my clavicle. 206cm might be on the tall side, for a human, but I tower over him.

    Feeling my rapid breaths and thundering pulse, hearing his rapid breaths and thundering pulse, seeing the glow of my luminescent eyes reflected back on his light skin in the comparative gloom of my room, I start ¡°Itwans¡¯ttruewasitwhatMousesaidaboutyoutyingherandSamusupandsometimesjoininginwiththem?Ineedtoknowthisisreallyimportantyouhavetotellmeplease!Ican¡¯tkeepdealingwithnotknowingifIhaveachancesopleaseifIdon¡¯tjusttellme!¡±

    NoOoOoOoO! This isn¡¯t how it was supposed to happen! I was supposed to be cool and seductive! I was supposed to make him say ¡®No I don¡¯t do anything like that with them but I would like to with you, are you interested?¡¯ or ¡®Yes I do do that for them but I¡¯ll stop so I can do it with you, Babe! Will you be my forever girl?¡¯. Emotionally vulnerable wordsalad was not part of the plan! How did I let this happen!?

    Victor blinks and says ¡°I got about 30% of that, could you repeat at human speed?¡±

    That¡¯s my last hope, dashed! 30% is enough to damn me. I decide honesty is the best policy and mentally resign myself to packing up my room and putting off at the next port and ouch the paycut I¡¯ll have to take will sting, as the cherry on top of this shit sundae!

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I glare into his eyes with as much sincerity as I can muster.

    ¡°Yes¡­?¡± he says back, clearly alarmed.

    ¡°You¡¯re too fucking perfect! I¡¯m utterly infatuated with you! ¨®einn fjandinn! You¡¯re the prince charming I always imagined coming to whisk me off my feet when I sat alone on the schoolyard because no one wanted to play with the lanky spider girl with the brittle bones! (Yes I know spiders have eight limbs, you try telling that to a schoolyard bully!) You¡¯re kind! You¡¯re compassionate! You¡¯re strong but so gentle! You act cheerful even though you¡¯re so sad on the inside, I can tell! Oh and eftir ¨¢sgare, that body! And now¡­¡± I start laughing a little hysterically ¡°¡­I find out that we share a fetish!? Or, rather, we have opposite fetishes that marry together like¡­ like¡­ like two things that go together really well and complete eachother! I¡¯m too het up right now to think of an example! The moment I walked into that interview room, all I could imagine was you standing up, picking up the Captain and Sha¡¯anza by the scruff of the neck, tossing them into the hall, locking the door, bending me over the desk and fucking me to within an inch of my life! When we were on that desert planet and I saw you without your shirt on for the first time, all those scars, all that muscle¡­ hamar T¨®rs! Then you asked me to get your back! You bastard! Rub sunscreen on¡­ your¡­ back!...¡± I punctuate these last words with moderately heavy blows, against his solid chest, that he barely seems to notice. ¡°¡­It was all I could do to suppress the urge to pounce on you and suppress the thought of you turning around and pouncing on me! That muck world, Victor. You made being covered head to toe in muck sexy! How did you even do that!? You¡¯re too fucking perfect and I know I can¡¯t have you so please¡­ PLEASE! Just break my heart now so I can get off at the next port and get on with my life and you can get on with tying up and fucking Mouse and Samus while you all laugh about that stupid wannabe-Human who thought she had a chance with you!¡± finally, I stop gushing every last piece of emotional baggage and embarrassing inner thought I¡¯ve ever had. Gasping for breath and moments from tears I look down into the face of my impossible lover.

    Victor takes an age to think before responding.

    ¡°OK, Tuun, you just hit me with¡­ a lot. Why don¡¯t we take a seat on your bed and we can talk through all of it?¡±

    Still exhausted from that vent and worried that any sound I make will cause me to burst into tears I nod, remove my hand from the wall and allow him to gently guide me to the guillotine.

    With a hand just below my lower shoulderblades, he sits me down and sits next to me.

    Cruelly, he pulls my face toward his, giving me a taste of the touch I¡¯ll never have.

    ¡°Look into my eyes when I speak. OK?¡± he stresses.

    I nod.

    ¡°First¡­¡± he starts ¡°¡­Mouse is an outrageous flirt and a merry prankster and Samus encourages it. Every word of what they said between when Cap outed me and when I snapped back to reality, was false. They are, to my knowledge, not poly, not into bondage and certainly have never asked me to provide any service like that! Nor would I if they did. Samus, is not into guys, at all! Do you believe me?¡±

    I look into his eyes and see no trace of deception. I scan back over my mental recording of the last few seconds of his speech, I find none there either.

    Quivering I answer ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Second, you clearly have a lot of thoughts of inadequacy left over from growing up on a world that, from the sounds of it, didn¡¯t always make you feel like you belonged¡­ but you belong here! Do you believe me?¡±

    I don¡¯t bother looking for deception.

    Turning away I answer ¡°I can¡¯t, I don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m not worth¡­¡±

    He snaps ¡°You are worth it! You¡¯re worth it to Mage! You¡¯re worth it to Cookie! You¡¯re worth it to Samus and Mouse! Even though they tease I¡¯m sure they¡¯d be mortified to learn that they¡¯d made you feel this way! You¡¯re worth it to Sam and Fluffy! You know what Sam calls you?... ¡®best scritches blue mummy¡¯! (Granted Sam loves everyone¡­) You¡¯re worth it to Cap, I¡¯m pretty sure she sees you as a positive role model for the rest of us crude deathworlders! And most of all¡­ you¡¯re worth it to me! I¡¯ve felt the same way about you that you¡¯ve felt about me! Constant, borderline uncontrollable yearning. Yearning for that gorgeous body! Yearning for that stunning face! Yearning for that beautiful mind! Yearning to have even a tenth, a hundredth, of that passion you¡¯ve just exposed directed at me! It doesn¡¯t matter to me a bit whether you¡¯re a deathworlder, a roughworlder, a Terran, a Don or a Human! You¡¯re Tuun and that¡¯s all I¡¯m asking you to be! Do you believe me?!¡± he says, firmly turning my head back to look into his eyes.

    ¡°Y-y-you feel the same¡­ don¡¯t you? You really do! Then why haven¡¯t you done anything!? Why did you torture me like this?!¡± I ask, incredulous.

    ¡°Lastly¡­¡± he continues ¡°¡­your idea of me is not accurate. I¡¯m not prince charming, I¡¯m not perfect! It¡¯s not healthy to pretend otherwise. I have flaws, like¡­ did it occur to you that I might be as uncertain about your feelings for me as you were about mine for you? I might think I see something there but be scared to act on it in case you didn¡¯t feel the same way? Did it occur to you that after years as the only human aboard this vessel¡­ I might not trust my sense of when a beautiful woman is sending me signals? Did it occur to you that I might have been scared?!¡±

    I am dumfounded for a moment¡­and then I kiss him. His lips are so hot against mine. I wrap all four of my arms around that chest and knead them into the hard muscles of his back. Fuck! The effort required to get those workhardened, deathworld muscles to demonstrate even a little bit of pliability is insane! He kisses me in return, fierce and passionate. He pulls me closer by my lower back! I attempt to push him over onto my bed but find that the ease with which I manhandled him into this room has utterly evaporated. He laughs, the vibrations permeating my face. Breaking from our kiss he looks piercingly into my eyes and says ¡°Did you really think you dragged me in here? You think I didn¡¯t see your door being open as suspicious? Did you think I couldn¡¯t hear you lurking, even with my puny ears? You think I couldn¡¯t smell you? You smell like cinnamon, blueberries and vanilla, by the way. Not sure if that¡¯s natural or a perfume but it¡¯s very pleasant! I let you bring me in here because I was curious. I¡¯m glad my curiosity has been rewarded. Now, let me teach you the proper way to manhandle someone!¡± At this, he picks me up.

    His hands are on my arse¡­ Victor Taylor has his hands on my arse! My thoughts race as he slams me into the wall with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. His right palm crashes into the wall, missing my left ear by centimetres, with a force that makes my attempt earlier look pitiful, like a cap gun next to a canon!

    Gasping for breath I look into his eyes and say ¡°Victor¡­ tie¡­ me¡­ up¡­¡±

    He frowns and says ¡°Tuun, we¡¯re both very emotionally char¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t give a shit, Victor! I¡¯ve just been told that my dream guy likes me too and shares my fetish¡­ I want this to be perfect so please¡­ tie me up? Make me yours? I want to surrender. I don¡¯t want to be allowed to make any decisions. Make my dreams come true and tie me up?¡±

    He shrugs ¡°As you wish!¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s Perspective---

    Is this right? Does she need a good dicking in bondage or a therapist? She clearly has rockbottom self-worth, am I taking advantage? She was very clear about wanting this, would it be wrong to refuse for her own good? Like, I don¡¯t trust her? She generally seems pretty put together and OK at taking care of herself but¡­ that tirade of a confession has clearly been bubbling up for some time as well as latching on to preexisting feelings of inadequacy.

    Then she tips out her box of bondage toys onto her desk and all my inhibitions evaporate. Fuck that¡¯s a lotta toys!

    ¡°Where did you get all that?¡± I ask, aghast.

    She gestures to the nanoforge in the wall.

    I¡¯m shocked ¡°You mean none of these have ever left this room?¡±

    She nods, clearly embarrassed.

    Hesitantly, I ask ¡°Tuun, how did you get into bondage?¡±

    ¡°¡­Weeeeeell¡­ you remember how I told you that I had this childhood fantasy of a handsome prince coming to rescue me¡­?¡± she asks.

    ¡°I remember. You told me that minutes ago.¡±

    ¡°Well, that was based on a lot of faerie stories my mums used to tell me, that featured captured damsels. I always pictured myself as the damsel but always had this irritating sense of disappointment when I got to the point in the fantasy where the handsome prince rescued and released me, I always sort of thought, ¡®No, don¡¯t cut me loose! I¡¯m yours now! Take me yourself, you coward! Take me back to your castle as a prize!¡¯ but it was just a nagging back of the mind thing until one day, in my late teens, I decided ¡®Hey! You know what?! This is my fantasy and if I want the handsome prince to ¡®rescue¡¯ me by taking me back to his castle still tied up then that¡¯s my business and no one else¡¯s¡¯. Then, when I got to university, I was flicking through some porn site and discovered a bondage video and was like ¡®YES, that¡¯s exactly it! Captive, helpless, powerless, owned, a thing to be used! That¡¯s how I want to feel!¡¯¡±

    That¡¯s shockingly similar to my own story of bondage discovery¡­ only role reversed¡­ with parents¡­ and on a delayed agescale.

    There¡¯s a long silence, at the end of which I say ¡°Uh-huh? And then?¡±

    ¡°¡­aaaaand then I got a job on the Bright Plume, got access to a personal nanoforge for the first time and designed and printed a bunch of toys and restraints based on ones I¡¯d seen in Terran porn¡­?¡±

    ¡°So¡­ no actual BDSM experience?¡± I ask, wryly.

    ¡°Does self-bondage count?¡± she asks, hopefully.

    ¡°No.¡± I answer, flatly.

    ¡°Then, no.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ve never had the Talk?¡± I respond.

    ¡°Do you mean the Don Talk, I received from my elder sister? ¡®When a mummy Don and a daddy Don love eachother very much¡­¡¯ or the Human Talk I got from my Mums? ¡®When a Human mummy and a daddy or two Human mummies or two Human daddies love eachother very much¡­¡¯ or the Interspecies relations talk I got at university ¡®when any two or more disparate members of the 33,972 known classifications of sapient species love eachother very much¡­¡¯¡± she says mockingly.

    ¡°I mean the Bondage Talk¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so¡­ might have been in a vid or two but I usually just skip those boring interview bits at the beginning and end, sooo¡­¡± she responds, mischievously.

    ¡°Alright, Talk time!¡±

    ¡°Why do you know the Talk? I thought you said you¡­¡±

    ¡°I said I was alone, not celibate, plus I watch the ¡®boring interview bits¡¯!¡±

    She pouts at this.

    ¡°OK, I¡¯m going to give you the condensed version¡­ you, as the sub, are in control¡­¡±

    ¡°But¡­!?¡± she objects.

    ¡°Let me finish!... What that means is, right now, you dictate what you want to happen, what you don¡¯t want to happen and if, at any point during, you feel like you can¡¯t continue, you use your safeword and we stop, immediately. During¡­ I seem to be in control¡­ I can treat you any way I please (so long as we¡¯ve agreed it), I can ignore any objection to your treatment like ¡®no¡¯, ¡®stop¡¯, ¡®please don¡¯t¡¯ but I only seem to be in control, I can¡¯t ignore your safeword. If I ignore your safeword then it ceases to be bondage and becomes an assault. Do you understand?¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°But what if I don¡¯t want a safeword?! The whole point is to feel powerless! If I can escape at any point by using this safeword then where¡¯s the fun!?¡± she pouts.

    ¡°The point is to feel powerless, not be powerless! Suppose you had a medical emergency and you were screaming to let you go so you could get it seen to and I didn¡¯t understand that it wasn¡¯t part of the game? What then? If you won¡¯t have a safeword, we don¡¯t do it!¡± I insist.

    ¡°Fiiiiine, give me a safeword.¡± she sulks, brattily.

    ¡°How¡¯s ¡®red¡¯ for ¡®stop¡¯, ¡®yellow¡¯ for ¡®slow down¡¯ and ¡®nuh-uh-nuhuh-nuh-uh-nuhuh¡¯ for ¡®stop¡¯, if you¡¯re gagged or your mouth is otherwise obstructed?¡± I suggest.

    ¡°Fine!¡± she exclaims.

    ¡°Repeat them¡­¡±

    She sighs  ¡°¡®Red¡¯ for ¡®stop¡¯, ¡®yellow¡¯ for ¡®slow down¡¯ and ¡®nuh-uh-nuhuh-nuh-uh-nuhuh¡¯ for ¡®stop¡¯, if I¡¯m gagged or my mouth is otherwise obstructed.¡±

    ¡°Good¡± I grant. ¡°Now, any hard limits? Things you don¡¯t want me to do, no matter what?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t kill me, don¡¯t permanently disfigure me¡­¡± she says, bored.

    ¡°We can take those for granted¡­ anything else?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No, please just use me however you want! Use anything here.¡± she gestures at her desk.

    ¡°OK, anything you specifically want?¡±

    At this, she thinks ¡°¡­please fuck my throat at least once before you gag me, please blindfold me and tease me for some of it, please finish by cumming in my pussy? Other than that, dealer¡¯s choice.¡±

    I nod ¡°Reasonable requests¡­ I didn¡¯t expect such language from you, for some reason.¡±

    She raises an eyebrow ¡°We¡¯re about to engage in BDSM and you¡¯re worried about my vulgarity? You know what, if it¡¯s such a problem¡­¡± she grins ¡°¡­why don¡¯t you punish me for it!?¡±

    I grin back ¡°I think you mean ¡®why don¡¯t you punish me for it, Sir?¡¯, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do, Sir!¡± she smiles, impishly.

    I step forward and tear her top in half down the front with one hand, revealing an absolutely ludicrously erotic bra, that I strongly suspect she wasn¡¯t wearing at the party, enclosing two of the most mathematically perfect breasts I¡¯ve ever seen.

    She gasps.

    She was very definitely not expecting that but, if she really likes the top, she can just repair it in the nanoforge¡­ plus¡­ she did say ¡®dealers choice¡¯ and to ¡®use her however I want¡¯ and I wanted to rip her top open.

    I start circling her as she stands in place, quivering in a mix of apprehension and excitement

    ¡°Sub slut¡­ you appear to be wearing a destroyed top¡­¡± I say, affecting stern quizzicality.

    ¡°Yes¡­Sir.¡± she begins removing her top.

    I lightly slap her arse. ¡°Did I say you could remove it?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°No, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you removing it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Sir. I¡¯m sorry, Sir.¡±

    I nod ¡°Please remove your destroyed top.¡±

    She complies, wordlessly. Revealing her four trembling shoulders.

    ¡°And¡­ do you think a sub slut who can¡¯t keep her top in one piece should be trusted to wear trousers?¡± I say picking up a riding crop from the desk.

    ¡°No, Sir.¡±

    I smile, devilishly ¡°Then¡­ remove them.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡±

    As she removes her trousers, revealing gorgeous midnight blue legs and a pair of panties that match that ridiculous bra, she says ¡°This unworthy slave asks that you hear her request, Sir.¡±

    I nod with faux magnanimity ¡°Out with it¡­¡±

    ¡°She would like to refer to you as ¡®Master¡¯ instead of ¡®Sir¡¯, Sir.¡±

    Wow, is this really her first experience with BDSM?

    ¡°I¡¯ll excuse your impertinence and allow you to call me ¡®Master¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Master.¡±

    ¡°In return¡­¡± I say sternly ¡°¡­you are going to stand there and not react as I use this riding crop on you. Is that understood?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    I have to be extremely careful, whipping her with a riding crop. If I go as hard as I would on a human I¡¯ll really injure her, if I¡¯m too soft it will be frustrating for her and she¡¯ll feel like I¡¯m coddling her on account of her species¡­ which I would be, but it¡¯s clearly a sore spot for her.

    I tap her, it¡¯s too soft, she doesn¡¯t react apart from a slightly annoyed downward flash of her brow. I tap her harder, she tenses, that¡¯s better. I tap her hard enough that she¡¯s only just barely able to keep from reacting¡­ perfect!  I keep tapping her at that intensity for around 90 seconds. She¡¯s clearly finding it thrilling to be constantly on the verge of crying out, knowing that¡¯s not allowed. That¡¯s good.

    This is for her as much as me.

    No¡­ this is for her more than me!

    I¡¯m performing an act I¡¯ve performed many times before, albeit on the girl of my dreams.

    She is having a lifelong fantasy fulfilled by the man she says is the man of her dreams.

    Tonight is about her.

    ¡°Now, slave¡­¡± I say switching from ¡®slut¡¯ to what seems to be Tuun¡¯s preferred form of address. ¡°¡­your Master would, very much, like to see your bare breasts¡­ what shall we do about that?¡±

    She hesitates, nervously, then braces herself to ask ¡°May this slave remove her bra to reveal her pathetic tits for your enjoyment, Master?¡±

    It¡¯s all I can do not to snort derisively, her tits are some of the largest breast analogues I¡¯ve ever seen on a sapient and would still be world class if she were Mouse¡¯s size with the same proportions. They¡¯re also so perfectly round and plump that the easiest way to draw them would be to use a compass to draw two thirds of a circle(!) They are, by far, the finest tits I¡¯ve ever seen and calling them ¡®pathetic¡¯ is verging on immersion breaking. I manage to control myself and impassively say ¡°You are granted permission.¡±

    All four of her arms bend behind her, in a rather surreal anatomical display, before the bra¡¯s tension is released and it falls down her upper arms to the floor.

    She looks at me, nervously. I instantly twig that she is selfconscious about the differing anatomy of her nipples. Where humans have a nub, Don, apparently, have what can best be described as a fleshy brush. A dense cluster of vaguely conical filaments, each about 3mm wide and 8mm long, that form the rough size and shape of a nipple. They have the effect of making her look as if she¡¯s wearing nipple tassels. They look fantastically sensitive! I wonder how she keeps them from chafing? It¡¯s very far from the biggest surprise I¡¯ve received while undressing a xeno for ¡®extraspecies relations¡¯ but she¡¯s clearly insecure about how I¡¯ll react. Those nipple analogues are going to need some reassuring attention.

    I stride up to her and, taking her left tassel in my right hand, I gently tweak. She gasps, sharply. They¡¯re even more sensitive than I suspected.

    This will be fun!

    I place my mouth on her right tit and begin licking the ¡®tasple¡¯ (as I¡¯ve decided to christen them). She gasps, bites her lip and screws up her eyes. I really hope that¡¯s a reaction of pleasure! It looks like it is but I would hate to think that she believes I¡¯m punishing her for having unappealing anatomy!

    I use my hands and mouth to stimulate her tasples for a few minutes before stopping and marching over to the desk. I find what I think I¡¯m looking for.

    I hold up what looks like a remote control with several large beads, stored in an inbuilt container, and ask ¡°These beads are vibrators, slave?¡±

    She nods ¡°Vibrators, Master¡­ and that remote control¡¯s for them¡­ Master¡­¡±

    I smile and pick up a roll of tape that was included in Mt. Bondage-Toy.

    I march back and tape two vibrators to the sides off each of her tasples, leaving them fully visible, I don¡¯t want her to think I¡¯m covering them up!

    I then bend down and pull her panties down just enough to expose what¡­ I think¡­ is her clitoris¡­ well, It doesn¡¯t matter. I tape a vibebead against it. If it is then great, if not then it¡¯s probably still somewhat erogenous and the frustration may be somewhat gratifying in its own right!

    I¡¯m hit with a new addition to her sweet-spice aroma, nutmeg. That must be the smell of her discharge.

    It¡¯s really not fair that Humans smell of Human body odour and Don get to smell of dessert! Though, perhaps I smell as pleasant to her as she does to me¡­ She can¡¯t see colour and she has tasples¡­ perhaps her nasal anatomy is different too? Though, that also leaves the possibility that Humans smell more vile to her than we do to eachother¡­

    I pull her panties back over the vibe (somehow, subs always look more erotic with that last shred of modesty left than they do when fully nude).

    I slide the viberemote to its lowest setting and the beads hum to life. Her knees buckle and she almost collapses before steadying herself.

    ¡°Slave¡­¡± I start ¡°¡­I can¡¯t help but notice that¡­ I¡¯m still fully dressed¡­ what would you suggest doing about that?¡±

    Still attempting to cope with the new sensory stimulus she answers, shaking ¡°¡­Your¡­ *gasp*¡­ devoted¡­ *gasp*¡­ slave¡­ *gasp**shiver*¡­could¡­*gasp*¡­undress¡­*gasp*¡­you?¡±

    Holding up my arms, I command. ¡°Undress me, slave.¡±

    Still trembling and clearly not having strength in her limbs she comes to me and, nervously, starts buttoning down my shirt.

    I take care of myself¡­ Well¡­ I exercise but¡¯ve also had a thorough education in the school of hard knocks, starting on the streets of South London and progressing into my career as a SO, then SS, then CSS.

    The result is that I am fantastically muscled but also horrifically scarred. But, according to Tuun, she finds both highly appealing. The sunscreen incident was, in part, me trying to put her off me (I did also need sunscreen on my back but didn¡¯t need to ask Tuun), it appears to have had the opposite effect.

    I try to seem confident and self-possessed as my muscled, scarred torso and arms are revealed. She¡¯s clearly appreciative.

    She next unbelts my trousers and drops them to the floor. I¡¯m a little self-conscious about my lack of body hair. When I was at university, I decided to get a procedure to induce permanent, neck down hairlessness, as I thought body hair was really fucking gross.

    In the years since, lack of body hair has disappointed more than one lover. Tuun doesn¡¯t seem to mind¡­ in fact¡­ she¡¯s hairless too¡­ I hadn¡¯t even noticed. I¡¯m, mentally kicking myself for my inattention while lifting up my feet so she can remove my socks.

    She goes to pull down my hipsters when I stop her.

    ¡°Kneel down and fold your lower arms behind your back, slave. Cross your wrists between your lower shoulderblades.¡±

    She complies. If I were a religious man, I would thank my deities for the sight of, ASO Tuun ¡°Elf¡±, the girl of my dreams, instantly complying and waiting for me to tie her up.

    I pull a coil of inconceivably smooth rope from the pile and begin tying her lower arms together. It¡¯s an interesting indication of her novicehood that she had the nanoforge print such smooth rope. Smooth rope feels nicer against your skin but also comes untied so much easier. ¡®Well¡­ that just means I¡¯ll have to tie her tighter¡¯ I think, with a maniacal grin.

    I was incredibly embarrassed at the time but have never been more glad of the shibari evening class I took while Cap was sponsoring my SO training at Westminster College.

    I attended every class with a beetred face which lasted hours before and after but, had I known at that point what Tuun would look like with a shibari cobweb enclosing her lower arms and threaded between her fantastic tits, I would have had my head held high and a smile on my face!

    I think about using an armbinder from the collection to enclose her upper set of arms but decide it would ruin the aesthetic. I pull her upper arms into the same position as her lower, just 15cm higher, and begin working them into the lattice.

    I stand up, not giving any further instructions to Tuun. She waits dutifully.

    With one hand, I lift her deskchair and place it in front of her.

    ¡°Now¡­ slave¡­ I believe you said something about¡­ ¡®fucking your throat¡¯?¡± I say, pulling down my hipsters and revealing my rock hard cock.

    ---Tuun¡¯s Perspective---

    He¡¯s so big! I can¡¯t! I¡¯m dying! I¡¯m going to suffocate!

    It¡¯s all I can do to keep using my prehensile tongue to stimulate the monster in my mouth and try to keep from, reflexively, pricking it with my long canines, as he dilates the sphincter-muscles, at the back of my throat, with his girth!

    He took me by my ears at first but, seeming to quickly realise how much that hurt me, he switched to using his two hands to grasp the sides of my head, cradling the base of my ears, between his thumb and palm, instead of using them as handles.

    I turn my glowing eyes up to him with a pleading expression.

    If he notices, he gives no reaction.

    After what seems like an eternity, he ejaculates.

    Thick ropes of his seed trickle down my throat. I swallow, with a mix of relief and glee.

    I can¡¯t count the times I¡¯ve come already, since the crop, the nipple licking, the vibes and the throat fucking. I believe that the throat is not an erogenous zone, for humans¡­ but have had some conflicting reports¡­

    He slowly withdraws his monstrous cock from my mouth. As it elastically springs, past my lips, to swing between my eyes, I can¡¯t help but dismay at the fact that, by my request, I¡¯m going to have that in my pussy¡­ soon¡­ unless I use his stupid ¡®safeword¡¯!

    ¡°Now¡­¡± he says ¡°¡­I think you said something about gagging you¡­ but¡­ I¡¯ve got an idea for that¡­ stand up!¡± he says, imperiously.

    I can¡¯t imagine what standing would have to do with gagging me but¡­ I¡¯m the slave here¡­ so I comply, pitifully.

    After I stand, he follows suit.

    He rips my panties off in one fluid motion. Will he not be satisfied until I have no clothes left?!

    Wait¡­ what¡¯s he doing?¡­ Why is he balling up my panties?

    ¡°Open your mouth...¡± he says.

    I¡¯m helpless but to comply.

    He stuffs my soaking wet, destroyed panties into my mouth and forces it shut. I can taste my own secretions. They¡¯re not pleasant. Not like him. Why does he taste and smell so good?! It¡¯s not fair!

    ¡°Wait there. Don¡¯t move. Don¡¯t open your mouth.¡± he says, sternly.

    I comply.

    When he next reappears, he is holding my panelgag which has snap-fasteners for a blindfold piece and a bit that¡¯s a perfect mould of the inside of my mouth. The bit has space for my tongue to squirm around it, indents for my canines and is wide enough to force my mouth open to the very edge of comfort.

    ¡°Open your mouth.¡± he says with cruel glee.

    I open my mouth and he forces the bit in. I really didn¡¯t design it for use in conjunction with a pantygag but¡­ there¡¯s just about enough space for my tongue and my panties to sit around my ergonomic bit.

    He fastens the straps, deftly, without fumbling.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± he says, simply.

    I comply.

    After a few moments time he says ¡°You may turn around.¡±

    I turn around and see that the chair he just used as a throat fucking throne has had my vibe wand taped to it, the business end sitting exactly where my soaking pussy would rest.

    He cups my arse with his left hand and, with his right, slides my largest dildo inside me.

    ¡°Mmmmmphh!¡± I squeal.

    ¡°Sit.¡± he commands, imperiously.

    I sit, nestling the bulb of the vibewand between my drenched pussylips.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± he says, simply.

    I wait.

    He begins by tying my feet to the legs of the deskchair, he moves on to tie my hips to the base and back rest such that, try as I might, I will not be able to wriggle my stuffed pussy away from the vibe end, finally he works his bondage magic to secure my armbindings to the backrest.

    am I certain it isn¡¯t Humans who¡¯re the spider people?

    I struggle, experimentally. I¡¯m bound in place and there¡¯s nothing I can do about it.

    When I see Victor next, he is holding my headphones (which¡­ are not a bondage toy but¡­ were on the desk, I suppose) as well as the snap-fastening blindfold panel with its foam, nanoforged, ergonomic render of my middle face on the inside.

    ¡°I believe¡­ next¡­ you said you wanted to be blindfolded and teased¡­¡± he says, with Loki¡¯s own grin!

    ¡°Mmmphhhh!¡± I protest, as the blindfold comes to rest against my eyes and I hear and feel the *pop* *pop**pop* of snap-fasteners being closed against my right temple, left temple and the bridge of my nose.

    Then he places the headphones over my ears¡­ and turns on the noise cancelling.

    ¡­Silence¡­

    My entire world is now touch and taste.

    Robbed of my sight and my hearing, I become hyperaware of the bulb of the vibe in my soaking pussy, the irregular swells and ebbs of vibration of the beads against my nipples and clit, the straps of the harness gag around my head, the taste of my drenched panties, in my mouth, the feel of the moulded foam, against my eyes, the ropes against my ankles, hips, arms and chest.

    Then the vibewand buzzes to life.

    ¨ª nafni ¨®eins!

    I moan¡­ a lot.

    It¡¯s a good thing I engaged the privacy field!

    Wait¡­ did I engage the privacy field?!

    Why did I make it human strength!?

    I¡¯m going to die here!

    I start panicking.

    I briefly consider using the gagged safeword.

    Then I calm¡­ this was what I wanted.

    I¡¯m captive, like I wanted.

    Powerless, like I wanted.

    Helpless, like I wanted.

    I¡¯m owned, a thing to be used.

    And Victor is the one who has me¡­ like I desperately needed.

    I endure for what could be minutes, hours, days or centuries as every inch of me is probed with spikewheels, teasers, hands, tongue (tongues?) and my nipples and stuffed pussy are vibed.

    After what feels like an eternity of sensory deprivation, I feel the snap-fasteners unpop and the blindfold is pulled away.

    He lifts the noise cancellors off my head.

    ¡°¡­ow, lets. Have a look at what else is on this desk¡­ Shall we?¡±

    His right hand, that I now know the power of, hovers¡­ with indecision over the collection.

    Then it goes in a direction I wasn¡¯t expecting.

    He picks up my holopad from the desk¡­ where I left it.

    Wait! No! Stop!

    ¡°MMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHH!¡± I scream.

    He can¡¯t! He¡¯ll hate me if he finds out what¡¯s on there! Forget losing the love of my life, forget losing a better paying job than I could have hoped for, forget losing a better group of friends than I¡¯ve ever had, forget losing the Cuddle Puddle! He¡¯ll want me put in prison if he sees them!

    ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can finally have that movie night¡­¡±

    He begins scrolling through my film files.

    ¡°NNNNNNGHHH! PPPPPLLLLSSS!¡± I plead.

    Should I use the safeword? Stop it right here!?

    ¡°Ahhh! A file with my name on it!? That sounds promising.¡±

    Too late.

    He opens the file to reveal, dozens of different animations I¡¯ve made of him fucking me in various different bondage positions. The first is datemarked to the evening that I took residence on the Bright Plume.

    ¡°Wow! Tuun¡­!¡±

    ¡°MMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!¡±

    ¡°These are really impressive!¡±

    Wait, what?

    He doesn¡¯t want to send me to prison for making creepy bondage videos of us before we were together?

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he says, flicking one of the choicer videos to a fullwall display ¡°¡­you enjoy¡­ I¡¯ll be right back with popcorn!¡±

    Wait, NO! Don¡¯t leave me alone with my shame!?

    ¡°NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!¡±

    He throws on my dressing gown and leaves the fucking room!

    I moan pitifully, pathetically, as I watch my almost perfect animated render of Victor fuck an almost perfect animated render of me on the wall of my bedroom.

    The progress bar tells me it¡¯s been ten minutes but it feels like ten years!

    He comes back.

    He has popcorn! He actually got popcorn! The bastard!

    He reclines on my bed, tossing popcorn into his mouth while I struggle to keep conscious against the stimulation of my body and mind.

    Finally¡­ mercifully¡­ the video ends and he shuts off all the vibrators.

    I can¡¯t count the number of times I¡¯ve cum¡­ is it possible to cum a thousand times in one night? Would it kill you? Did I die?

    He throws off my dressing gown and steps to my pleasure throne.

    He unbinds my feet then my hips and arms from the chair and removes the dildo from my pussy with a vile *Shlorp*.

    Then he grasps the rope between my breasts with one hand and, cleanly, lifts me into the air! It doesn¡¯t seem to take more effort than it would take me to lift a backpack!

    I squeal and writhe but he calmly rests his other hand on my hip and pulls me to rest against him.

    ¡°Now¡­¡± He says, quietly ¡°I believe you said you wanted me to cum in your pussy to finish.¡±

    I¡¯m terrified. I can¡¯t, please! No! I¡¯m spent!

    I consider using the safeword I didn¡¯t want for the third time!

    Then, I resolve myself, I am going to take that cock inside me¡­ no matter what!

    He smiles, as if he could read every thought I just had, and inserts himself.

    ---early next morning---

    I wake up with Victors arm around me¡­ part of his ¡®aftercare¡¯.

    I wiggle around to face him and of course he¡¯s already awake.

    ¡°Hey¡± he smiles.

    ¡°¡®Hey¡¯, yourself!¡± I smile.

    ¡°Listen¡­¡± he says.

    Oh, no!

    ¡°I¡¯m going up to the medical room¡­ to check on Cap but¡­do you want pancakes, first?¡±

    I feel my body awash with relief.

    ¡°I¡­ would¡­love pancakes!¡± I say, giving him an appreciative kiss on the nose.

    There¡¯s a brief silence before he says. ¡°Sooooo¡­¡±

    Stop doing that! You¡¯ll give me a heart attack!

    ¡°¡­you realise that everyone¡¯s going to know you¡¯re a ropebunny if we announce ourselves the morning after I got exposed as a rigger, right?!¡±

    Oh, shit!

    ¡°You¡¯re right!... could we maybe keep it a secret, just long enough that there¡¯s some mystery?¡±

    ¡°Sure thing!¡± he smiles.

    We dress and make our way to the kitchen.

    As the door slides open we¡¯re met with four loud pops and four loud *toooooots* as Mouse, Samus, Mage and Cookie let off party poppers and blow party blowers.

    Beside them are Sam and Fluffy.

    Behind them is a sign that reads ¡®CONGRATULATIONS!!!¡¯

    On the table in front of them¡­ are six servings of pancakes.

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    I look at the coil of rope I¡¯ve just had my nanoforge produce.

    Victors explanation of his ¡®[kink]¡¯ has really stuck in my mind.

    I call out to my mate ¡°Qorak¡­? Would you be up for¡­ an experiment?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd II: Pancakes and Deities

    ---Jennie¡¯s Perspective---

    As I leave the Commonroom and round the corner into the hall, I catch the briefest but also most entirely unmistakeable glimpse of Cuddles¡¯ broad shoulders (along with the rest of him) disappearing into Tuun¡¯s room with two, dark blue, four fingered hands at the scruff of his neck.

    All thoughts momentarily banished from my mind, I stand, agog, stock-still for a few moments, gazing down the hall.

    Did I imagine that?

    No!

    There¡¯s no way!

    Does it mean what I think it means?!

    As silently as I can manage, being an engineer with no stealth infiltration background, I creep down the hall to stand outside Tuun¡¯s room.

    I strain my ears and here nothing.

    Not silence, as if there is no sound being made. Nullity, absence, the complete lack of all sound interaction, the unmistakeable sound void that could only be induced by a privacy field!

    I gleefully hop from one foot to the other, shaking my palms in front of my chest.

    There¡¯s only one thing this could mean!

    It worked!

    My efforts have finally paid off!

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°It me being! Good boy being! Mummymummy! Good boy being me!¡± Sam yips, energetically as I rub his cheeks, his tail thudding into the floor 10 times a second with sufficient force to break a R¡¯qali¡¯s leg.

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right, you¡¯re Mummymummy¡¯s best boy!¡± I smile.

    Just then my door slides open, all 164cm of my freckled, curly haired, hazel eyed, G¨¤idhealtachd-¨´rian girlfriend barrel through my door. Her expression fixed into a manic grin.

    ¡°¡¯Sup, Dormouse?¡± I question with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°Hildy, you¡¯ll never guess what! Oh, hi Sam, would it be alright if you went to the Cuddle Puddle without us, tonight?¡±

    ¡°OK smol mummy! Hoping you and Mummymummy making many mummy puppies tonight!¡± Sam answers happily as he pads from the room, past Jennie¡¯s knees.

    I snort. His support is adorable but, no matter how many times I try to explain the concept of recreational-nonprocreative sex to him, he never grasps it.

    I stand and can¡¯t help but feel a smug sense of self satisfaction as my girlfriend¡¯s eyes momentarily flick down and back up, over my body, which is currently only clad in utilitarian, sports underwear.

    Treading slowly over to the door, I lean over her shoulder and engage the door lock and privacy field.

    My heart swoops as I see Dormouse¡¯s cheeks flush red, clearly struggling with the effort of looking up, into my eyes, and not level, at my chest.

    As I wrap my arms around her and start unzipping her floral dress and gently kiss her forehead, I ask ¡°OK, I¡¯ll bite¡­ *kiss* what¡¯s got you so worked up? *kiss*¡±

    Her dress drops to the floor and she says ¡°I just saw Tunie pull Cuddles into her room!... Then, I went to see if I could listen in and they¡¯d engaged the privacy field! They must finally be taking the plunge!¡±

    This stops me in my tracks and I look up, considering.

    Eventually I say ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bit of an abduction?¡±

    ¡°Yes!... She ¡®abducted¡¯ him into her room!¡±

    Bemused and amused I say ¡°Which one of us is the meathead SO and which is the twice doctored genius, again?¡±

    She looks abashed and says ¡°What did you mean?¡±

    Pulling her close to me and resting my chin against the top of her head while running my hands against the soft contours of her back, I answer ¡°I mean you¡¯ve reached a conclusion from a single premise and are ignoring alternate possibilities¡­¡±

    She scoffs, releasing a pleasing tickle of air into my bust.

    ¡°What alternate possibilities?¡±

    ¡°Like, maybe she wanted further clarification on what he told us earlier about his fetish and is too embarrassed to ask in front of us but isn¡¯t actually interested in trying it out? Maybe she¡¯s had some kind of emergency that she needs help sorting out and Victor was just the first one by? Perhaps, she¡¯s sworn a blood oath to rid the galaxy of all kinksters and we¡¯ll find Victor assassinated and an escape pod missing tomorrow(!?)¡± I respond.

    Snorting, she asks ¡°You think Tunie could take Cuddles!?¡±

    My hand cups and squeezes her cute little arse cheek, causing her to gasp.

    ¡°Yes! Without question! You¡¯ve obviously never heard the expression ¡®w¨¤i f¨¡ai bat p¨­¡¯!¡± I say, a little pleased with my Cantonese intonation. ¡°You just don¡¯t know because you¡¯ve never watched us do CQC. Tuun is easily more than a match for me and Victor working together, in short term, explosive bouts! Granted, we have to hold back slightly because if we actually landed a blow, full force, we¡¯d send her to the medical room or, a not indistinct possibility, the morgue, and once she¡¯s done two minutes she has to take 20 minutes of rest and refuel before she¡¯s ready to go again¡­ but even still she¡¯s scary! You just can¡¯t hit her! She¡¯s so fast! Her reaction times are insane! Her flexibility and acrobatics are a marvel! She hits us sixty times for every one pathetic, glancing blow we manage on her (even if it does feel like being hit by an 8 year old, each time she hits us)! She makes me feel like I¡¯m moving and thinking in slow motion by comparison! If she wanted any of us dead¡­ we¡¯d be dead!¡±

    Tracing the fingertips of her right hand up my thigh and over my hip and of her left up the centre cleft of my abdominals, she raises an eyebrow, curls her lip revealing that charming diastema, and says ¡°¡­And you think it¡¯s more likely that she¡¯s sworn a blood oath to rid creation of all the sexually degenerate and is currently, or was recently, brutally butchering our Dorm Liaison than that my efforts have finally paid off and they¡¯re about to make sweet, passionate, kinky love?!¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I¡­¡± I freeze.

    Grasping her by her sides, I curl my arms to lift her hazel eyes level with my blue ones. Her feet dangle a full 30cm off the floor and she squeaks, delightfully, in surprise.

    With my eyes boring into hers, I ask ¡°What do you mean your ¡®efforts have paid off¡¯!?¡± sternly.

    Face as red as beet and now failing to make eyecontact, she stammers ¡°W-w-well¡­ I-I¡­ you kn-know¡­ it was so obvious they were interested!...¡±

    With comprehension, I roar ¡°You were making her jealous on purpose!? Weren¡¯t you!!! Fuck! That time Victor asked her to sing at karaoke with him and you, ever so sweetly, suggested I should join in too! On that sand world where you said you needed cloth for that machine you were working on and asked him for his shirt then later, when I found the cloths and pointed them out to you, you went ¡®teehee, oops!¡¯, you vocalised ¡®teehee¡¯, I assumed you were just being a horndog! Earlier tonight when he asked for help in the kitchen and you volunteered, despite her being the clear choice to carry things, having an extra pair of hands! When you asked him, not me, to open that jar, then made your ¡®gun show¡¯ comment! Did you even need help!? When we were messing with Tcakqaal and you suggested that we involve Victor in our bedroom! Did you see her face!? She looked like she¡¯d just watched you drown a bag of kittens!¡±

    Without an iota of compunction her eyes flick to me and momentarily startle me into forgetting that I mass 90kg to her 49kg and am currently bicep curling her to my eyelevel.

    Then she smirks ¡°Yes! And I would do it again! All my puppets danced so well!¡± she mimes marionetting.

    ¡°But¡­!¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon, Hildy! You¡¯ve seen the eyes they were making at eachother! It was obvious that they wanted to but just as obvious that they weren¡¯t going to without a little nudge! All I did was¡­ give them a nudge!¡± She bites her lip, seductively.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Still holding her, I turn around and march to my bed. I throw her onto it and pin her down.

    Her cute little eyes staring up at me hesitantly, I sigh ¡°¡­And, are you happy now, you mastermanipulator?¡±

    ¡°¡­well¡­ much as it pains me to see two such gorgeous babes fall prey to the chains of monogamy¡­ as well as, presumably, metal¡­ I¡¯m very happy as long as they¡¯re happy¡­¡±

    I shake my head, feeling not a little jealousy at her clear attraction to both of my fellow security officers. I get off her and whisk off my sports bra before lying, face down, on the bed.

    Thrusting a thumb at my back, I say ¡°I think you owe me a massage, as recompense for using me as a pawn in your fucking mindgames¡­ as well as for that ¡®chains of monogamy¡¯ comment!¡±

    I get so jealous of her unbridled flirtatiousness with everyone and everything as well as her clear chafing at the confines of our relationship¡­ she doesn¡¯t seem to moderate her behaviour at all! If she weren¡¯t so adorable I would never put up with it¡­ and brazen¡­ that¡¯s part of it too. I love that brazenness! On the day we met, when Qorak showed me into the rec room she walked up and flirted shamelessly! He was still in the room! It was such a gamble but she clearly knew what she was doing because she hooked me!

    Hesitating a moment, she gets up and I hear the sound of her unclipping her bra, followed by it hitting the floor. She then walks to my dresser, presumably to fetch the massage oil.

    I feel the mattress shift as she climbs onto and crawls across it. Then I feel the weight of her hips atop mine. She lifts up my ponytail and kisses the back of my neck with her bare breasts pressed into my bare back. Fuck, that¡¯s hot!

    She sits back up and I moan with pleasure as she works her, surprisingly strong, oiled, little hands into all my knotted muscles.

    ---Jennie¡¯s Perspective---

    I wonder if my GermanoIrish Amazon warrior can feel the wetpatch, against her arse, yet? I wouldn¡¯t think so with the mild water-repellence of those sports undies but¡­ she is really good at picking up subtle cues. Could she tell from temperature or texture, or something? What am I talking about!? Of course she knows! She doesn¡¯t need to feel it to know that I¡¯ve got a waterfall in my panties!

    Fuck, that straight, long, blonde hair! Those muscles! The way she picked me up earlier! The way her biceps and trapezoids¡­ popped, when she gestured for me to rub her down. The way she glistens from the oil! Those moans! I don¡¯t think she knows what she does to me: The runty little girl from the suburbs of New Stornoway, who got estranged, at 19, for bringing home her girlfriend from uni who looked like the offspring of a runway model and an axolotl!

    How such old-fashioned prudes ever found themselves as precontact first generation colonists is beyond me!

    Why would anyone leave their cradleworld and travel halfway across the galaxy¡­ only to live in suburbs!?

    They wanted me to marry an accountant! Thanks Dad(!) Thanks Mum(!) A space accountant(!) Very sexy(!)

    Poor boy looked so embarrassed. I wonder what he¡¯s doing now¡­

    My statuesque paramour breaks me from my train of thought by asking ¡°Dormouse¡­?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re pan, right?¡±

    ¡°Theist or sexual?¡±

    ¡°Sexual¡­ wait¡­?¡± she turns her head to look at me, sidelong, with a single eye.

    ¡°You¡¯re a pantheist?¡±

    ¡°Yes and no, why don¡¯t we come back to that? You wanted to ask about my sexual history?¡±

    Her cheek flushes red ¡°¡­Yeah¡­ just wondering what your headcount and gender/species roster looked like¡­¡±

    She¡¯s very clearly insecure but I can¡¯t think of a way to deflect the question without making her more upset¡­ I also don¡¯t want to lie to her¡­

    I sigh ¡°Well¡­ unless I¡¯m forgetting¡­ my first was a Xanajoaxan (F)¡­ since then; 12 Humans (F), 9 Humans (M), a Human (NB), a Vifatn (F), a Goalatioth (M), a Shaltax (M), a (FF) Threndian couple, a (FM) Xtvinatian couple, and a lovely (FM) Rethijj couple.¡±

    ¡°Fucking hell!¡± she responds, slightly aghast. ¡°Did you say ¡®Rethijj¡¯? Like Kwijj?¡±

    I nod ¡°It was extremely intense!¡­ it took both of them four tentacles to lift me into the air¡­ they had, between them, a tentacle in my mouth, a tentacle in my arse, two tentacles in my pussy, a tentacle covering my eyes, a tentacle coiled ¡®round each of my tits, four tentacles holding my arms above my head, two tentacles on each leg, spreading them, and they still had nine tentacles left to play with the rest of me, all prelubed with water-retention gel¡­ when I came they uncovered my eyes, unstopped my mouth and flash a neon lightshow that got translated into the voices of Idris Elba and Tilda Swinton asking me if I needed to go to the hospital, fixing me with one, dinnerplate sized, eye each.¡±

    She¡¯s clearly a little disgusted at the description of one of the most erotic experiences of my life.

    I decide to try and break the ice with a joke ¡°Oh and, how could I forget!? That really charming Kwilion!¡±

    Her brow furrowing at the absurdity of that she says ¡°How? The hedgehog people?!¡±

    I nod.

    She asks ¡°How would that¡­?¡± and then breaks off, clearly realising her mistake.

    ¡°With great care!¡± I smirk.

    She groans. ¡°Are you sure you haven¡¯t put ¡®mummy puppies¡¯ in me at some point? That was such a Dad Joke!¡±

    I giggle.

    There follow a few moments of silence, punctuated only by the sound of my oiled hands rubbing her oiled skin.

    ¡°What did you mean by ¡®yes and no¡¯ when I asked if you were a pantheist?¡±

    I hesitate. ¡°¡­Well¡­ there are certainly elements of pantheism that appeal to me¡­ but, I think, it¡¯s more accurate to describe me as an ¡®omnist¡¯.¡±

    Looking sideways with, what I infer to be, a single raised eyebrow, she says ¡°Pretend I don¡¯t know what that means¡­?¡±

    I think for a few moments, trying to find the words.

    ¡°I think¡­ all gods exist. Not like¡­ in a big extradimensional hall, laughing at our antics in scrying pools¡­ more like¡­ as concepts¡­ mnemonics or comprehension aides, that people use to understand a universe that¡­ no matter how powerful our minds may be¡­ is infinitely more complex and complicated. Each god exists and is real to their worshippers.¡±

    She thinks for a moment ¡°Can you give me an example?¡±

    ¡°OK¡­ like Tuun; Odin is her way of understanding wisdom, Loki is her way of understanding mischief, Thor is her way of understanding storms. Or the Captain; the Titan is her way of understanding largeness, the Pygmy is her way of understanding smallness, the Mother is her way of understanding competence, the Father is her way of understanding compassion. I try to acknowledge and respect all gods and give thanks to the appropriate ones when appropriate. When I¡­ had my experience with those Rethijj, I thanked the Lord of the Deep, when I¡­ took a Hindu girl, I thanked Rati¡­¡±

    She frowns ¡°How do you reconcile the gods that say they¡¯re the only god and the god of everything?¡±

    ¡°As I said, I try to respect and acknowledge all gods, it¡¯s not my place to tell the devotees of those gods that they¡¯ve put too many concepts in one basket. Those gods are real to their worshippers and I have thanked the Abrahamic omnigod more than once(!)¡±

    She chuckles, then smiles.

    ¡°So¡­ what god do you thank when we make love?¡± she mocks.

    I smile, prepared for her agnosticism. Turning her over¡­ well, more accurately¡­ pulling on her shoulder to indicate that I wish her to turn herself over. The bedsheets get incredibly oily but I¡¯ll just throw them in the nanoforge tomorrow.

    ¡°I give thanks to my goddess, Brunhilda ¡°Samus¡± Arran.¡±

    She laughs ¡°Fuck, that was corny!¡±

    I smile and place a reassuring hand on her face. ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie, Hildy, my pussy has seen a lot of action¡­ but¡­ right now¡­ it¡¯s yours and no one else¡¯s¡­ OK?¡±

    She looks as if she might cry for a moment before lying back, closing her eyes, reaching out to cradle my crotch through my panties and saying ¡°OK, hotstuff! If it¡¯s mine then I want it on my face!¡±

    I smile, we can work on feelings another time¡­ sex now.

    I whisk off my panties and, as fast as lightning, have my girlfriends Nordic nose pressed against my clit. Her glacier blue eyes stare up at me from between my thighs, her lips pressed against mine, her breath hot and stimulating.

    With smirking eyes she begins.

    My spine curls and I gasp, reaching out to steady myself on the headboard.

    How the fuck does she do that!?

    I was ready to go but the speed with which she can make me melt into a puddle is absurd!

    I look down into those icy blue eyes. She clearly knows exactly what she¡¯s doing and has no intention of slowing down.

    Her lips and tongue powerfully probe my labia and opening, the tip of her nose stimulating my clit.

    Fuck!

    I try to lift my hips away from her mouth but those strong hands of hers reach up to pull me back down.

    I can feel her clavicle against my arse.

    By all the gods!

    I¡¯m about to cum. It¡¯s creeping up.

    I moan.

    ¡°FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!¡±

    I slump to the side, exhausted, shivering, gasping for breath, eyes closed.

    ¡°Y¡¯alright?¡± I hear her query.

    ¡°You¡­*gasp*¡­know¡­*gasp*¡­damn well¡­*gasp*¡­I¡¯m not¡­*gasp*¡­HOW?¡± I say, opening my eyes.

    She smirks, her face covered alluringly in my juices

    ¡°Practice!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­*gasp*¡­do you¡­*gasp*¡­in a moment¡­*gasp*¡­just, let me¡­*gasp*¡­catch my¡­*gasp*¡­breath!¡±

    ¡°Take your time¡­¡± she smiles, wryly.

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    I sit down on Dormouse¡¯s cute face.

    My knees rest a little above her elbows and her eyelashes tickle the cheeks of my arse.

    She¡¯s trying to write the alphabet on my clit¡­ fucking adorable!

    I look down to see her slender legs, trim waist and pretty little cunt¡­ still soaked.

    ¡°Cad ¨¦ an ifreann!?¡± I say, switching to my good-for-nothing, criminal father''s language, for a moment.

    She stops, I stroke her stomach reassuringly and say ¡°It¡¯s good, keep going, you just took me by surprise, is all.¡±

    She¡¯s not usually this skilled! All that wild sex, seemed to leave her cunnilingus skills wanting.

    ¡°Why is a vegetarian suddenly so good at eating pussy?¡± I quip.

    She chuckles, which produces interesting sensations.

    Her hands reach up to curl around the small of my back.

    She gently pulls me down.

    The greedy bitch! She wants me to do her again!?

    My jaw hasn¡¯t recovered from a few minutes ago!

    Well, I¡¯m a big girl and my little is indicating that she wants more¡­ who am I to complain(?)

    The height difference means that I have to curl slightly to get my mouth onto her vulva.

    I begin working my tongue and lips over that adorable little pussy, causing her to moan into me.

    My hands caress, up and down her legs. She quivers and trembles.

    I can feel myself building and I can hear her building.

    I try to hold off, it would be nice to cum simultaneously, mutually.

    I manage to hold on until about three seconds before her.

    I cum¡­ she cums.

    Both of us spasm from the pleasure.

    Catching our breaths for a moment, she laughs. ¡°Your accent¡­*pant*¡­is terrible!¡­*pant*¡­You sound¡­*pant*¡­like a farmer!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not¡­*pant*¡­terrible¡­*pant*¡­it¡¯s Irish! ¡­*pant*¡­Irish Gaelic¡­*pant*¡­is a natural¡­*pant*¡­language¡­*pant*¡­not like¡­*pant*¡­Harmonised¡­*pant*¡­Gaelic!¡±

    She taps my leg ¡°Stick to¡­*pant*¡­Germanic¡­*pant*¡­languages!¡­*pant*¡­ItaloCeltic¡­*pant*¡­languages¡­*pant*¡­don¡¯t suit you!¡­*pant*¡­Too elegant!¡­*pant*¡­You sound¡­*pant*¡­so sexy¡­*pant*¡­when you speak¡­*pant*¡­German!¡±

    I laugh ¡°You realise¡­*pant*¡­you¡¯re in a¡­*pant*¡­minority¡­*pant*¡­for finding¡­*pant*¡­German sexy!¡±

    She laughs ¡°Lots of¡­*pant*¡­my kinks¡­*pant*¡­are minority!¡±

    ---a few breathless minutes later---

    ¡°Babes?¡± she says, hopefully.

    ¡°Yes?¡± I answer, knowing that tone.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to play a trick on Cuddles and Tunie for subjecting us to their will-they-won¡¯t-they¡­ How would you feel about waking up early for a pancake party?

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd III: Pancakes and Ectothermy

    ---Krish¡¯s Perspective---

    ¡°Alright¡­ If you won¡¯t say it, I will! I¡¯m lonely! I miss the Cuddle Puddle!¡± I whinge.

    Without looking up from his easel, Mage responds ¡°Four months ago¡­*scratch*¡­you didn¡¯t know¡­*squint*¡­what a ¡®Cuddle Puddle¡¯ was!...*scratch* *scratch*¡­We slept in¡­*scratch* the Cuddle Puddle¡­*scratch*¡­last night¡­*scratch*¡­Additionally, you are¡­*scratch*¡­currently lying against¡­*scratch**scratch**scratch*¡­a mirkbeast¡­*squint*¡­with a bundle of love on your lap!¡±

    ¡°I get it! We still do the Cuddle Puddle and Sam and Fluffy are always available¡­ but, you know, since Cuddles and Elf got together it feels like it¡¯s every night that someone is otherwise engaged! The leather and lace twins weren¡¯t there last night, the night before it was Mouse and Samus! The night before it was just us and the pets, which¡­ no offense but¡­ felt a bit too¡­ intimate for me¡­¡±

    Still focusing only on capturing the details of the plant from the last deathworld we surveyed, Mage¡¯s lips tighten into an amused smirk ¡°No offence taken¡­*scratch*¡­you aren¡¯t my type either!¡±

    I sit silently for a few more moments stroking one of Fluffy¡¯s middle legs with my left hand and Sam¡¯s panting head with my right, as he rests on my lap.

    Then a bitter thought occurs to me ¡°Y¡¯notice how it¡¯s all the white folk who¡¯re happy and satisfied?¡±

    At this Mage stiffens, puts down his pencil and turns to me with an eyebrow raised.

    ¡°Do you honestly believe that our singlehood is the result of our skin¡¯s higher melanin and not the result of the fact that we happened to get hired to a ship with the only prospects being 4 people who form two matches made in heaven, leaving us at a loose end? What¡¯s the mechanism? If we¡¯d been white Samus would have ceased to be a ¡®Friend of Sappho¡¯? Mouse would have been more attracted to one of us than Samus? Cuddles would have asked me to join him for bondage play? You think Tuun cares? She¡¯s not Human and is literally colourblind! Plus she¡¯s darker than either of us. Do you really want to accuse our Dormmates and friends of being the kind of bigots who¡¯re, thankfully, mostly still confined to Earth?¡±

    He¡¯s right and I know it. Racism is almost unheard of among Starbound Humans. Sure, different planets tend to get settled along cultural lines but each one is a rainbow of diversity on the ground and, in nonHuman areas of space, Humans are always so happy to see eachother that none of them bother to get out their colour swatches to check the appropriateness of the other¡¯s skin tone before becoming friends(!) Something about the kind of xenophobic mindset of the racist, keeps them Earthbound. Probably the fact that ¡®xenophobia¡¯ means fear of the alien/strange and¡­space is nothing if not alien and strange! Plus, it¡¯s not as if I particularly fancy any of my fellow Dormmates, I wouldn¡¯t kick any of them out of bed but... I¡¯m just sour and it¡¯s affecting my thoughts.

    ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have said that¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±

    Holding up a hand, Mage responds ¡°Those who might¡¯ve taken offence are mercifully, not present¡­though¡­I don¡¯t know how much Sam understood or might care to relay!¡± smirking.

    Hearing his name, Sam perks up ¡°What being?¡±

    Relieved, I rub his head and say ¡°Nothing buddy, go back to dozing.¡±

    ¡°OK! Happy being!¡± he says.

    ¡°I know you are¡­ my ancestors bred your ancestors for tens of thousands of years to get you friendly and happy all the time¡­¡±

    Looking straight at me, uncharacteristically blankly, Sam says ¡°Knowing that. Still happy being.¡± before returning to his normal, satisfied expression and resting his head on my legs.

    Fuck, now I¡¯m taking it out on Sam! Precious little Sam!

    If I apologise he won¡¯t know what for.

    Better just give him apology scritches.

    Ah, there we go! We both feel better now.

    Still looking at me, Mage asks ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s eating you? Is it just the fear of losing the Cuddle Puddle? Your frustrated love life? Something else?¡±

    I frown, thinking ¡°It¡¯s both of those¡­plus job stress¡­¡±

    Eyebrow raised, he asks ¡°Job stress?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, y¡¯know¡­ like I have all this amazing range and I only get to exercise it in Triple M! I know cooking for aliens is far better paid, more prestigious and, in theory, interesting than cooking for Humans¡­ but like 80% of the crew can¡¯t have any spice at all¡­ tonnes of them can¡¯t have gluten¡­almost none of them eat meat. And the calorie content they require¡­ is just¡­pitiful! I feel like I¡¯m serving wet cardboard to them every day! None of the other cooks understand!¡± I¡¯m upsetting myself.

    Mage ponders a moment ¡°You feel like you¡¯re not being challenged? Starbound life was a dream and, now you¡¯re here, it¡¯s a bit of a let-down?¡±

    I screw up my face ¡°Kinda? I have a tonne of fun in the dorm and work is satisfying in a way¡­ just, I pictured BOLDLY GOING, you know? You five, BOLDLY GO! I¡¯m stuck on the ship listening to the Captain complain about short staffing!¡±

    Surprised, Mage asks ¡°We¡¯re short staffed?¡±

    I roll my eyes, bored of hearing about it and not particularly thrilled about talking of it ¡°Yeeeeees¡­ She came to the Mess today and talked ad nauseam about how: we need more qualified researchers, Gato¡¯s been complaining that he needs assistants because there are aspects of care nursedroids can¡¯t cover, more people in maintenance, more custodians, oh and, we had to turn down some lucrative prisoner transport contracts recently cause, even though we have a brig, we don¡¯t have anyone who¡¯s qualified to attend it¡­ there was some reason Terrans couldn¡¯t¡­ GU probably consider it ¡®cruel and unusual¡¯!¡± we chuckle ¡°The only problem is no one qualified¡¯s volunteered for any of those positions in the last few ports. But it was just an example¡­ the point is, it¡¯s humdrum and it¡¯s driving me mad!¡±

    He smiles mirthlessly and says ¡°Would you like to hear a direct quote from Victor from our last ¡®bold going¡¯?¡± without waiting, he starts ¡°¡®Troof! Spit those berries out, poisonous yellow means poison! Riketb! Get away from those animals! The noise they¡¯re makin¡¯ means ¡°Leave us alone¡±! Katar¡¯k! You cannot glide on this planet, the gravity is too strong, you will die! Oh, and Riketb¡¯s been bitten! Who could have seen that coming!? Paralysed? Thought so! My job to carry you back to the shuttle, ain¡¯t it?!¡¯¡­ bold going can be boring and tedious¡­ in its own way.¡± wow, even if he¡¯s paraphrasing and not direct quoting, he just had that perfect impression of Cuddles ready to go!

    ¡°At least that¡¯s stuff happening!¡± I grumble.

    ¡°Ah, so ¡®stuff happening¡¯ is what you¡¯re after? In which case, why are you sat on the floor of Triple M Commonroom, feeling sorry for yourself, and not out on the town ¡®boldly going¡¯ while we¡¯re at port?¡± he smirks.

    I open my mouth but have no reply.

    A few moments pass before I say ¡°¡­will¡­will you come with me?¡±

    He considers ¡°¡­sure¡­¡± he gestures at the sample in its stasis tube ¡°This isn¡¯t going anywhere¡­ just¡­ on one condition.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the condition?¡± I ask.

    ¡°You have to eat something first!¡±

    ¡°What¡­ how did you know?¡± I¡¯m baffled.

    Cocking an eyebrow, he says ¡°For a chef, you¡¯re terrible at taking care of yourself! What¡¯s your mass? 60kg? You know chef¡¯s usually struggle not to gain weight, right!?¡±

    ¡°You question my cooking?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I question your selfcare. Your clearly cranky and I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s because you haven¡¯t eaten anything in¡­¡± he glances at his holo ¡°¡­9 hours? Give or take?¡±

    I doublecheck ¡°Fuck, you¡¯re good!¡±

    Smirking he says ¡°I try!¡±

    Extricating myself from beneath Sam¡¯s head and patting Fluffy¡¯s side I get up. She¡¯s getting a little plump, Cuddles must be spoiling her. How much of his salary¡¯s got to go on lab grown beef sides for her? 20%? More?!

    I move over to the kitchen and start selecting ingredients that will blend well but also cook quickly. I want to get out on the town.

    ¡°What brought on the comment about race?¡± asks Mage, as I eat.

    ¡°¡­Oooh¡­ it¡¯s stupid¡­ I just¡­ nothing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s clearly not nothing!¡± he answers, shrewdly.

    ¡°It was the sign.¡±

    ¡°You mean the Triple M sign? The one proclaiming this Dorm a ¡®Littlest World of Death¡¯, the one Mouse insisted on adding a correction to?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, like¡­ I know Latin has a cultural significance like no other language in Terran history¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ like no one even thought of Sanskrit¡­ or¡­ or¡­ I¡¯m drawing a blank here, what would the equivalent be for Africans? Wolof? Yoruba?¡±

    He laughs, aloud¡­ slightly unusually.

    ¡°You realise that while Yorubas and I trace to the same continent, I¡¯m more closely related to every Human member of this Dorm than I would be to the average Yoruba, right?!¡±

    ¡°What? What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s greater genetic divergence in people of subSaharan African lineage than in all Out of African peoples combined. I¡¯m East African, Cookie, that means the most recent common ancestor of you, me, Cuddles, Samus and Mouse lived, at most, ¡Ö100,000 years ago (though some people do debate the timeline). The Khoisan, of Southern Africa split from everyone else around ¡Ö240,000 years ago and the Southern Khoisan split from the Northern Khoisan around ¡Ö190,000 years ago¡­ around the same time as West Africans were splitting off from our ancestors. Ethnically, the Yoruba have as much to do with you as me! Though, I suppose, as my first language is Swahili, and Yoruba and (probably) Swahili are both Niger-Congo languages, you could say there¡¯s some cultural crossover but likely less relevant than the cultural crossover that East Africans and Indians shared during the Indian Ocean Trade!¡±

    I¡¯m flabbergasted ¡°Mage¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ I had no idea about¡­ any of that!¡±

    Clearly use to it, he smiles ¡°It¡¯s astounding how few people do!¡±

    ¡°I meant no offence!¡±

    ¡°And I took none, you are a friend and I was happy to teach you.¡±

    I look down at my empty bowl¡­ I sniff.

    I feel Mage¡¯s reassuring hand on my shoulder, he¡¯s a good friend. I have to remember that all of these guys are good friends. I can¡¯t get too bogged down in wallowing.

    With a gentle but insistent tug he brings me to my feet.

    ¡°Now, why don¡¯t we see about getting out on the town, painting it red and by the will of all of your 33 million gods, going home with some sexy space babes and/or hunks!¡±

    I burst out laughing at that.

    ¡°You can keep any hypothetical hunks we may run into! Fuck, Msia! I was just about to suggest that we should start calling you ''Monk'' instead of ''Mage''!¡±

    ---later---

    As I stride off the ship I take a moment to appreciatively look back at it, it¡¯s so rare that I get to see it from the outside.

    R¡¯qali designers would obviously make a ship that resembled a bird¡­ though, even they couldn¡¯t find a use for wings on a spaceship so it¡¯s just a body, head and tail with the dorm columns forming the suggestion of where wings would go.

    It¡¯s also about three times the size that it needs to be as, to a R¡¯qali, the idea of not having space to fly is as horrifying as the idea of Humans building a ship with no space to walk! It¡¯s definitely nice to have all those open areas but it can occasionally make the ship feel a little eerily empty¡­ like riding an abandoned, but perfectly maintained, shopping centre around the stars(!)

    We climb aboard the monorail and glide, through a forest of baobab like trees, into the nearest settlement, Mage is explaining to me why Latin has been so historically significant.

    This morphs into us explaining where our nicknames came from.

    I laugh when he tells me everyone assumed I was called ¡°Cookie¡± because I was a chef, that¡¯d be a bit weird for culinary school(!) All of us becoming ¡°Cookies¡±! In actuality, I had a penchant for chocolate chip cookies and my dormmates decided to stamp it indelibly into me after I was caught, in the act, taking cookies of theirs.

    We arrive at the station that the computer indicated would be the best stop for ¡®night life¡¯.

    Making our way through the crowded platforms strung between giant baoboid trunks I can¡¯t help but chuckle to myself¡­ while there maybe ¡®no racism in space¡¯, specieism is an unfortunate, practical necessity. Our cabins all have to be octuple reinforced, over standard cabins, so that we don¡¯t destroy them simply by living in them¡­ Humans are just a lot¡­ more than most species. The result is that you can easily tell those xenos who recognise the deathworlders as they hurriedly pull their friends out of our way and pull rictus grimaces at us because they don¡¯t understand how to perform a Terran smile. It was amusing at first but gets irritating after a while. What do they think we¡¯re going to do? Eat them?!

    Catching my arm, Mage points at the sign our translators tell us means ¡°Bar/Pub¡±. I nod and we walk into the entrance of a hollowed out baoboid.

    We walk to the bar.

    ¡°Hey¡­ you got anything of an ethanol % higher than 20?¡± I ask the weasel-xeno, staffing the place.

    Taking a moment for our translators to sync, she balks ¡°I¡­ I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Sirs! This is a drinking establishment! We can¡¯t serve cleaning solution!¡± clearly apologetic but horrified.

    Mage and I share a chuckling eye roll.

    ¡°What¡¯s the strongest, ethanol based, drink you have?¡±

    She hesitates ¡°That¡­ would be Vinjirian ale¡­ Sirs¡­¡± she leans over the bar ¡°Sirs¡­ it¡¯s 3.5%! I legally can¡¯t give it to you without reading you a safety disclaimer first! I can¡¯t recommend it!¡±

    Stifling giggles, we answer, in unison ¡°We¡¯ll take it.¡±

    I add ¡°Biggest containers you have¡­ read us your disclaimer.¡±

    Eye¡¯s boggling she turns on a camera droid, which chirps adorably and hovers up to focus on me and Mage.

    As she begins pouring our drinks into tankards, which look to be around 2.5L (perhaps I should have asked what the container sizes were¡­) she looks down, presumably reading something.

    ¡°Sirs, you are about to be served Vinjirian ale. The Vinjirians have a higher alcohol tolerance than any other Gardenworld sapient known. Vinjirian ale has been known to cause paralysis, seizures, comas and even death in nonVinjirians¡­¡± she hesitates ¡°¡­do¡­ you acknowledge this and absolve this drinking establishment of all responsibility, should it turn out to have been ill advised?¡±

    We both nod simply and say ¡°Yes.¡±

    Clearly still unwilling she pushes our drinks, one at a time and with clear strain, across the bar.

    We, effortlessly, lift them, causing her eyes to pop near out of her head, and bring them together.

    ¡°Cheeyars!¡± I say, in Hindi.

    ¡°Hongera!¡± he responds, in Swahili.

    We each take hearty drafts before bringing them back down, turning to eachother and, in unison, saying ¡°Weak!¡±

    The poor weasel girl looks ready to faint! ¡®Bein¡¯ deathworlders certainly ain¡¯t all bad¡¯ as Cuddles would say.

    We sit down.

    ¡°So, what do you think, my friend? The barmaid is cute¡­?¡±

    I grimace ¡°She¡¯s¡­ a bit¡­ furry¡­ for my tastes¡­ not that there¡¯s anything wrong with that!...¡±

    Mage is quite open about his tastes, I simply don¡¯t share them.

    I add ¡°Plus everyone knows you don¡¯t hit on people at work¡­ and I think she might need therapy after our little display!¡±

    He laughs ¡°Both true!¡±

    Thinking a moment, I ask ¡°Mage¡­ can you tell me more about¡­ Human evolutionary history?¡±

    ---later---

    Mage is getting some hopeful, admiring glances from a pair of 1.4m Red Panda¡¯s from a few tables away.

    He and I are sharing a laugh about the fact that, before their resurrection, people used to think Neanderthals were stupid, when she slithers in.

    She was my sexual awakening.

    She¡¯s surely slipped right off that mandir wall on Naae Sindhu, covered herself in a silk robe and tracked me across the galaxy to finally do what I wanted to so much, the first time I ever touched myself.

    ¡°Mage! It¡¯s a N¨¡ga!¡±

    ¡°A what?¡±

    ¡°A Lamia! A Melusine! Whatever you want to call her! She¡¯s¡­ a snake woman!¡±

    Mage looks at her, then at my face ¡°¡­I think¡­ I now understand why you objected, so strenuously, to Fluffy being referred to as a ¡®danger noodle¡¯ the day we met!¡± he smirks.

    ---Muselia¡¯s perspective---

    Serving drinks was supposed to be a calm, laid back kind of job!

    Shoot the breeze with the patrons, slide them a nice, respectable 0.6%abv from across the bar¡­ flirt¡­ You know!?

    Those two sexy freaks¡­ *ehem* respected patrons, have really rattled me!

    I¡¯m fixing my eyes on them, definitely because I¡¯m waiting for them to keel over from alcohol poisoning so I can quickly alert an [ambulance], and not because I¡¯m hoping they¡¯ll come back to the bar and ask what time I get off, when a red, clawed, scaled hand, with five fingers, a thumb on each side, enters my vision.

    I look up into the fanged maw of a monster¡­

    It hisses at me and after a [second]¡­ my translator tells me¡­ that the monster has asked for 0.9L of Vinjirian ale.

    I quaver.

    ---(former) Corrections Officer Hasiakh¡¯s Perspective---

    I wend over the canopy platforms, stewing.

    How dare they!?

    ¡®The prisoner¡¯s threatened to press charges, CO! We¡¯ll have to let you go!¡¯

    I bit him to stop him from killing people!

    He lived!

    If these [fucking] gardenworlders had an [ounce] of honour¡­!

    ¡°Get out of my way!¡± I hiss at a dopy, gardenworld rodent who shrieks before complying.

    [Fuck] I need a drink!

    All the alcohol the places around here serve is so pitifully weak!

    There¡¯s that one place¡­ they do that ale¡­ the Barman is nice¡­ not so shit scared of me as most gardenworlders, at least. Though, now that I think of it, didn¡¯t he tell me he was retiring last time?

    Perhaps, if the stars align, I can spend tonight coiled in the embrace of a strong man from Sahak¡­ yeah, right! Anything else you want while you¡¯re wishing, Hasiakh? Immortality? A cure for entropy? Your [fucking] job back?

    Well, whatever. I need a drink anyway.

    I slither into the bar and have the barmaid read me the disclaimer. I miss cracking jokes with that old [hamster] barman. This girl is quivering.

    I¡¯ve drawn the eye of every one of these gardenworld patrons. Those two (extremely similar despite obviously being different species from eachother?) at the back are the only ones who don¡¯t look like they¡¯re considering running and screaming but they¡¯ve also clearly noticed me.

    I sigh and take my ale upstairs to the, mercifully unoccupied, mezzanine level.

    I nurse my drink for a few minutes before I feel the whole deck of the mezzanine shake with surprisingly heavy footsteps.

    Who the [fuck] is stupid enough to intrude on a Sahas who¡¯s just been fired and is nursing a lethal (to most) quantity of alcohol!?

    Then he appears, that lighter brown biped from before. With that strange matte quality to his dark brown hair.

    He¡¯s not bad looking, if very scrawny!

    It¡¯s difficult to compare our heights as my height becomes length as the vertical becomes horizontal but¡­ I would guess¡­ holding myself naturally¡­ he¡¯s a little taller than me? [186cm]?

    He fixes his gaze on me and strides over with unnerving confidence.

    Wait!? His eyes face forward! Is he a predator like me?

    No, hang on, think of basic biology, Hasiakh! He must be descended from brachiators! Those frontward eyes are for catching branches, not meals!

    He stops by my table and raises his palm to me.

    Only one thumb, weird!

    He opens his mouth and speaks a language of hums and puffs for a moment before my translator renders it into the pleasing sibilance of Sahasi.

    My heart skips a beat.

    That voice is sexy!

    [Fuck]! I forgot to tune in to what he actually said!

    Let¡¯s do that now¡­

    ¡°¡­nd I was just wondering if I could maybe share your table? It¡¯s just you¡¯re¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not [fucking] interested!¡± I spit.

    The nerve of this gardenworlder! No matter how pleasing his face or voice are, I¡¯m in no mood for these games!

    He looks utterly distraught before turning to go, revealing a strange bulge between his relatively normal torso and those weird ungainly perambulators. It¡¯s like a fat storage bulge¡­ only below his back rather than at his chest, like normal! The effect is¡­ not unpleasant¡­

    Impulsively, I call after him.

    ¡°Find me again if you get some strength! I¡¯m not interested in breaking my lovers¡¯ bones!¡±

    He freezes, instantly!

    Turning around, he bares his teeth at me!

    The gall!

    Does he think I¡¯m some¡­ hatchling(?!)... who¡¯ll roll over and give him her cloaca from a threat display like that?!

    ¡­Hang on¡­ my translator tells me that¡¯s¡­ mirth?!

    Is it broken? What creature would bare it¡¯s teeth in mirth?! Why is he mirthful!?

    ¡°If it¡¯s strength you want¡­¡± he starts walking back to me ¡°¡­how about a little wager?¡±

    A wager of strength? With a roughworlder?! Has he lost his mind!?

    ¡°Do you know what ¡®armwrestling¡¯ is?¡±

    A moment passes as my translator works.

    ¡°I do now¡­ gardenworlder¡­ Are you sure that you want to do this? I won¡¯t be held responsible for your injuries!¡±

    My translator informs me that the expression he makes is called a ¡®smirk¡¯¡­

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll be OK!¡±

    ¡°Alright then, it¡¯s your time you¡¯ll be wasting in the hospital!... What are we wagering?¡±

    ¡°How about¡­ a drink¡­ and some of your time¡­?¡±

    ¡°You mean when I win you¡¯ll buy me a drink and leave me alone?¡±

    He nods agreement, ignoring the jab ¡°Yes and if I win you¡¯ll buy me a drink and share your table with me¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll have [1.8L] of Vinjirian ale!¡± I say, placing my elbow on the table.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have, the same. The [2.7L] I just had was a bit much.¡±

    What a stupid boast! As if there¡¯s a being on this planet that could be ready for [1.8L] more after finishing [2.7L]!

    He places his elbow on the table and there follows a moment of awkwardness as we figure out how to mesh our differing manipular anatomies together.

    My sensory pits told me he was warmer than most but I can really feel the density of the heat, gripping his surprisingly solid hand. It¡¯s quite pleasant to an ectotherm like me. Maybe I¡¯ll let him stay, even when he loses¡­ assuming his arm isn¡¯t broken!

    ¡°Ready or not¡­ go!¡±

    I throw all my strength into it, assuming he¡¯ll lose instantly¡­ but I barely move his hand! Then he starts pushing me back! He¡¯s pushing me back!?

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    I clearly have the bulk advantage but simply lack the strength and leverage to apply it!

    Where does that strength come from?! He¡¯s entirely devoid of any meat on his bones, apart from the pleasing bulge!

    Trembling with the effort I look up into his face.

    He isn¡¯t even trying!?

    He¡¯s just staring placidly at me¡­ There¡¯s no apparent strain! What is he?!

    Seeming to decide this has gone on long enough he presses my hand almost all the way to the table. A [centimetre] stands between me and my loss when his strength vanishes. My hand [catapults] upward and back down into a victory.

    I snarl ¡°Why did you let me win?!¡±

    He smiles ¡°It just occurred to me that I don¡¯t want to gain your time this way¡­ I¡¯ll be right back with your ale¡­ then I¡¯ll leave you alone¡­¡± he turns to go.

    NO! I have to make him mine! By the Sands! If I let him go he¡¯ll be sniped by someone else and I¡¯ll lose him!

    I shoot out my tail to catch it around his waist. I, momentarily, feel the power and density of his body. I¡¯m almost dragged out of my booth before he notices and stops.

    He turns to me, the brown skin of his face now flush with the red of a Sahas, as if he couldn¡¯t get any sexier!

    My hearts are pounding and my breaths short as I say ¡°I¡¯ll come with you¡­ we can buy eachother¡¯s drinks¡­ then¡­ we can share my table¡­¡±

    He smiles.

    ---Hasiakh''s Pespective---

    We sit back down and I start.

    ¡°Sooooo¡­ what are you? A super soldier? A cyborg? Some sort of¡­ [approx.: eugenics] experiment? I don¡¯t mean to be rude but I need to know how you got so strong!¡±

    He smirks ¡°Oh¡­ me? I¡¯m just a deathworlder, is all¡­ nothing special¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid!¡± I spit.

    ¡°There¡¯s only one deathworld species in all of known space! Roughworlders, like me, are rare enough but you expect me to believe that I just¡­ ran into an individual of the one and only deathworld species?... In a bar?... On a backwater portplanet like this?!¡±

    Still baring his teeth in amusement, he says ¡°You¡¯ve got a holo? Why don¡¯t you look up a picture of that ¡®one deathworld species¡¯, we¡¯re called ¡®Humans¡¯ by the way, though you¡¯ll probably have more luck with ¡®Terrans¡¯¡­ funny you don¡¯t know us, given a Terran loanword was the third word you ever said to me! It seems that our culture travels around the galaxy faster than we do!¡±

    I try and think of the first thing I said to him.

    ¡°¡®[Fucking]¡¯ is a loanword from your language!? Your story¡¯s completely falling apart! I learned that from a lizardoid gardenworlder ex and, believe me, if he¡¯d ever been close enough to a deathworlder for lexical transfer to occur, I would know! He¡¯d never have shut up about it if he¡¯d known himself to have been in the same star system as something as impressive as the galaxy¡¯s only deathworld sapient!¡±

    He smiles, it¡¯s only then that I realise how close I¡¯ve edged to him.

    I can feel that (ever so intoxicating) warmth radiate from his body.

    ¡°He probably didn¡¯t know its origin¡­ it is, something like, the ¡®most mimetic loanword in galactic history¡¯, it could have been through two dozen different people before it got to you from a Human¡­ and it¡¯s not from my language¡­ well¡­ it is, but it got to my language the same way it got to yours. It¡¯s from another language on my cradleworld.¡±

    His cradleworld still has multiple languages? Isn¡¯t a unified tongue a prerequisite of a Starbound species?

    I sigh ¡°I¡¯ll look up your species in a moment¡­ could I just¡­ ask a favour first?¡±

    Surprised, he says ¡°Name it!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re really warm!¡­ It¡¯s so nice it¡¯s distracting¡­ could¡­ would it be alright if we touched?¡­ For the heat transfer?¡­ Is that too forward?¡±

    Baring his teeth from ear to ear in a way that makes my pulse race in more ways than one, he says ¡°I would like nothing more¡­ well¡­ maybe we can try some things I¡¯d like more¡­ later.¡±

    He briefly closes one eye in a gesture apparently meant to convey trust and confidence.

    Hesitating only a moment longer, I attempt to mimic his tooth baring and eye closing and shift my body onto his¡­ what would the word be? The seat he makes of himself by sitting?

    I nestle my back against his chest, coil my tail around his perambulators and indicate that I wish him to wrap his arms underneath my fat storage bulges. Even through the [silk] of my dress, his hands feel so good against my scales. Sands! He¡¯s so dense! My guess is that he¡¯s only around a quarter of my volume but¡­ maybe three quarters of my mass!

    There are several moments of silence as I enjoy my new heat bed.

    ¡°So¡­ uhm¡­ my name¡¯s Krish¡­ please call me Krish¡­¡± he says, with unwarranted nerves¡­ I¡¯m his already!

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure and a delight to meet you KrishpleasecallmeKrish, my name is Hasiakh!¡± I mock.

    He laughs.

    ¡°Sooo¡­ you were going to look up Terrans?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right!¡± I pull my holo from inside my dress, between my fat stores, causing his face to pull that red hue again and radiate such pleasant warmth against my neck and shoulder.

    What is that? I¡¯ll have to ask if he can do it on command later!

    I go to Galactopedia and type ¡®Terrans¡¯.

    The first sentence confirms that they are, in fact, the one and only, known deathworld sapient¡­ but¡­ ever so disappointingly¡­ the picture disconfirms his truthfulness about being one. What now!? I need to have him¡­ but¡­ it would stain my honour to lie with a liar! Lets ask him about it¡­ if he comes clean, maybe he can earn back my trust¡­ please, earn back my trust!

    ¡°These creatures look nothing like you¡­ Krish. I mean they¡¯ve got the same body plan but¡­ aside from that.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t miss a beat ¡°Those two are Thai, they¡¯re from a [untranslatable, original word: ¡®Country¡¯. Nearest approx.: Clanland] a few hundred kilometres from my people¡¯s [Clanland]. Try an image search; ¡®Terran Indian¡¯.¡±

    Shrugging my shoulders against his warm chest. I do. What comes up are reams of images of creatures that look a lot closer to him¡­ but the variety is startling! The difference in tone of hair, eye and skin, from one individual to the next! The variety of heights, weights, arrangement of facial features! Some of them don¡¯t even have brown eyes, they have black, amber, blue, grey or green instead!

    I hesitate ¡°H-how can one Clanland have such varied people, Krish? This is more variety of form than you¡¯d see in most entire species! My own people only have the, compared to this, subtlest variation of the red of our scales, the pink of our underbelly and the mauve of our [head hair]! I¡¯ve never heard of a Sahas who didn¡¯t have green eyes! I mean, if one were born¡­ it would probably be considered a birth defect and corrected with medical intervention!¡±

    He smiles ¡°India is really a [Clanland] of many [Clans]¡­ but¡­ It¡¯s interesting, before you came in, I was just talking to my friend Msia, I call him Mage, downstairs about this¡­¡±

    I try to remember the creature, then I freeze¡­ I turn my head to look at his face, mere [centimetres] away.

    ¡°Krish, your friend downstairs?¡­ He¡¯s not a Terran too, is he¡­?¡±

    Krish nods (agreement) and says ¡°Yes, absolutely¡­¡±

    ¡°But¡­!?¡± I protest.

    ¡°He is!¡± he insists, his tone brooks no argument.

    I sigh sibilantly "What were you and your friend of, you insist, the same species talking about before you chased up the stairs after me?¡± He chuckles at that, the vibrations transmitted pleasantly into my back.

    ¡°He was just telling me how the variety in Humans is the result of our evolutionary history as a species of [untranslatable, original word: ¡®Pioneers¡¯. Meaning: those who venture to unknown places to discover and settle] and [untranslatable, original word: ¡®Nomads¡¯. Closest approx.: wanderers/vagrants]. We settled 6 of our seven continents before we had writing, wheels, metallurgy, argriculture, mass transport, communication tech or even [untranslatable, original word: ¡®bows¡¯. Meaning: elastic launchers of projectile, miniature spears, for use in hunting, warfare and sport] ¡­ (the continent we didn¡¯t settle was called Antarctica and was separated from all the others by vast oceans as well as being buried under kilometres of ice. It¡¯s a little difficult and pointless to permanently settle it, even now!). People, separated from eachother by distance and geography, began the process of speciation in their new environments; light skin aides with vitamin D uptake in dimmer parts of the world, gluten tolerance is good if the most readily available food is glutenous, variation in eye and hair colour may have come through sexual selection etc. But because we¡¯re [pioneers and nomads] we weren¡¯t content to stay in the places we¡¯d settled and adapted to. We started venturing forth again and, when we did, we found our cousins. We often thought the same as you; ¡®these people aren¡¯t the same as us!¡¯ and there were numerous schools of pseudoscience dedicated to the notion of superiority of certain [Clans] over others, despite the fact that all credible research ever done has concluded that we¡¯re far more similar than different and no substantial differences in quality (subjective as that is) exist between populations¡­ The bloodiest war Humanity ever fought, before our First Contact War, was fought primarily against people who believed that their strain of Humanity was superior and ought to be the only/hegemonic one on Earth¡­¡±

    I have a thousand questions!

    What he¡¯s telling me flies in the face of everything I know about the normal development of sapience. Sapient species expand their range on their home planets slowly, carefully! They make sure every new population can be viably integrated with the society, culture and infrastructure of the preexisting range! They make sure that disputes have channels for resolution, resources are allocated fairly, at the start, to mitigate the possibility of conflict. That¡¯s true, even on Sahak (my template for everything the wider galaxy isn¡¯t)!

    Examples of sapient populations of the same species being cut off from eachother, while planetbound, and evolving in parallel are so rare I could probably count them on my fingers! Why wouldn¡¯t it be true on a deathworld?! You¡¯d think they¡¯d be even more cautious about the dangers of population isolation than everyone else!

    Are they really so much more impressive than the hell they call home that they can laugh in the face of the possibility of dying, cold and alone, because they couldn¡¯t contact help from larger populations that do exist?!

    Even if they didn¡¯t realise that they were the same species(?) why would they fight wars against these other populations?! Why would they be so obsessed with attempting to work out who¡¯s population was the most superior, given how impressive they all must be?

    Eventually, nervously, I ask one question ¡°Krish¡­ how many people¡­ died in this¡­ war, you mentioned?¡±

    With confidence, he answers ¡°Around 73,000,000: 24,000,000 military¡­ 49,000,000 civilian¡­ out of a population of 2,000,000,000. 3-4%ish¡±

    I¡¯m flabbergasted ¡°There¡¯s no way that¡¯s accurate, Krish! That¡¯s more people than have probably ever died in all the wars fought on Sahak! That¡¯s the deathtoll of a major conflict of an entire galactic arm! Why would more than two thirds of the casualties be noncombatant?!¡±

    He shrugs ¡°Don¡¯t believe me¡­? Look it up¡­¡±

    I trust him now ¡°I believe you Krish¡­ I just can¡¯t believe¡­it, you know?¡±

    He nods (understanding).

    ¡°You said your first contact war was bloodier¡­ how many people died in that?¡± I say, turning my face to look at him.

    His face hardens and he answers ¡°More¡­ lot more¡­¡±

    It must have been quite recently, did he lose people? Let¡¯s leave that alone.

    ¡°How many languages do your species have, Krish? How many varieties of Terran are there?¡±

    ¡°Languages? Thousands! Like, so many that it¡¯s impossible to get a precise count as so many are close enough that it¡¯s difficult to say whether they¡¯re one language or multiple¡­¡± why not just speak the same [fucking] language then!?

    ¡°¡­as to varieties¡­ that¡¯s a question no one can answer but¡­ my answer would be that there are as many varieties of Terran as there are Terrans¡­ there are trillions of us now but no two Terrans are the same¡­ at least¡­ that¡¯s what my grandma and grandpa would have said¡­¡±

    Well, that seems to be the mystery of who he lost to the first contact war, that made him so bitter, solved. His parents must have been casualties of it¡­

    I attempt to relieve the tension with a joke ¡°Are you certain you¡¯re all one species and not trillions who¡¯ve put on a [trenchcoat] in order to be allowed in the GU?¡±

    He laughs.

    ¡°Mage actually told me something interesting¡­ by the standards of Terran biology the different [clans] of Human don¡¯t even qualify as subspecies¡­ they¡¯re too similar¡­ we do have Cousin species, who¡¯ve recently been resurrected, all of whom died out tens of thousands of years ago¡­ we call them ¡®species¡¯, by convention, but, in reality, they¡¯re subspecies! They¡¯re enough, physically and psychologically, different from us that those differences are consistent and measurable¡­ but we can still have children with them¡­ by Terran standards, if two populations can have viable children, naturally, then they¡¯re the same species, though Mage says that is a little bit of an oversimplification. In fact¡­ I¡¯ve done a DNA test and I¡¯m 2.1% Neanderthal, 0.12% Denisovan, 0.04% Longi and 0.0007% Tshwane. Mage told me he¡¯s 0.5% Neanderthal, 0.01% Denisovan, 0% Longi and 0.4% Tshwane¡­ both from ancient interbreeding events.¡±

    I¡¯m dumbstruck.

    Eventually, I ask ¡°What¡­ what are the physical differences between you and these other species/subspecies that you lunatics saw fit to return from extinction, in defiance of the Will of the Sands?¡±

    He laughs. There¡¯s some sort of twitch of the¡­ protrusion? Right in his crook where his body folds in half. I noticed it a while ago but it¡¯s been¡­ growing and¡­ hardening(?)¡­ the way it presses into the curl of my tail that contacts his crook is¡­ doing something for me¡­

    ¡°Well¡­ why don¡¯t you image search ¡®Neanderthal¡¯? It¡¯ll help me explain¡­¡±

    I do.

    The creature that appears is the most divergent from the standard set by him so far. He has pale skin, beady green eyes, coarse red hair, a weak chin and strong brow, an elongated skull and is far more muscular than any of the Terrans I¡¯ve, thus far, seen depicted. It¡¯s a little bit frightening to imagine what such a creature as that could do to me, if angered, now that I know the strength to volume ratio of his evolutionary cousin!

    ¡°You can see some of the physical differences; different cranial anatomy, shorter, more muscled¡­, see that barrel chest? That¡¯s a different shape to my flat one. That¡¯s skeletal, not muscular! they also have denser bones. Some modern Humans, like my Dorm Liaison, have red hair, pale skin and green eyes but that arose independently in them. Despite the fact that Europeans evolved in the same place and interbred with Neanderthals they didn¡¯t inherit those characteristics. They just popped up twice.¡±

    ¡°¡­And psychologically?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re noticeably smarter than us¡­ we didn¡¯t always think that¡­ the old stereotype was that they died out because they were so stupid¡­ we knew they had larger brains but that doesn¡¯t equal more intelligence¡­ It wasn¡¯t until we resurrected them that we knew how much more intelligent than us they were! I had a Neanderthal in my class at Uni¡­ the connections he would make were astonishing! ¡®This ingredient brings out the tartness too much¡­ replace it with this ingredient¡¯, shit like that!¡±

    I¡¯m floored!

    ¡°Krish¡­? If these ¡®Neanderthals¡¯ are so much stronger, hardier and smarter than you¡­ why was it you resurrecting them and not the other way around?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ another difference is their social psychology¡­ they¡¯re just not as socially conscious as us¡­ they liked to live in much smaller groups, further apart¡­ Humans are so socially intense it scares even us sometimes! When your species is isolated in tiny pockets, and never exceeds 1,000,000 but is usually more like 100,000¡­ it¡¯s vulnerable¡­ precarious¡­ There¡¯s no one to ask for help when times are tough, no one who¡¯s good ideas you benefit from in good times. Plus if millions of highly social, fiercely pack-bonding cousins come streaming in from the south, you¡¯re liable to get overwhelmed and assimilated. Grok (who would become ¡®Savant¡¯) Savage, my Uni friend, always seemed a bit [untranslatable, original word: ¡®Autistic¡¯. Meaning: describing the state of a neurological condition that, among other things, can impair usual social function], to me!¡±

    I smile ¡°So you Terrans do understand why most species avoid your expansion method like [the plague]! You just don¡¯t care(!)¡±

    He laughs at that.

    There follow a few moments of silence.

    ¡°Sooo¡­ you¡¯re a chef?¡±

    Embarrassed, he stammers ¡°Y-yeah, that¡¯s right¡­ what about you?¡±

    I scowl, and say ¡°Until this morning?¡­ I was a Corrections Officer at Hnzak Prison! I got fired¡­ for doing my job! ¡­And have been meandering around the district, stewing, all day! That was until I came here¡­ and met you!¡± I smile and bring my hand over my shoulder to touch his cheek¡­ Too forward?

    The protrusion definitely seems to have¡­ something to say about me touching its master¡¯s face¡­ I¡¯m not sure exactly what, though!

    Momentarily, he freezes, before blurting ¡°Cap! I could fucking kiss her right now!¡±

    Who is SHE!? Would it be too impulsive to challenge a rival to the exclusivity rights of a male I just met? If she¡¯s a Human?¡­ Definitely!... I don¡¯t care¡­

    I twist my upper body around to make us face eachother.

    ¡°Explain!¡± I hiss.

    That protrusion is extremely hard now. It feels so good against my cloaca but¡­ I¡¯m too angry¡­ I shouldn¡¯t be noticing things like that¡­

    Without an inch of compunction he bares his teeth, broadly, in a way that causes my cloaca to twitch. ¡°¡­So you¡¯re looking for a job, right now? How would you feel about¡­ travelling... and¡­furry animals?¡±

    An extremely relieving explanation follows. I definitely want to get this job he explains might be on offer. The chance to leave this stupid [fucking] planet with a man like him and coil in eachother¡¯s embrace at warp speeds through the stars is exactly the kind of wish I mocked myself for having earlier tonight! I shall have to make a good impression on this R¡¯qali Captain; Tcakqaal. Though... I¡¯m glad he says she¡¯ll be sleeping, right now. I would hate for the temptation to exist to glide over there at top speed to snag this job before anyone else can steal it from under me. He also explains that there¡¯s some sort of¡­ initiation rite¡­ required for entry to his dorm¡­ He says it¡¯s a secret¡­ whatever it is, I have to pass it!

    As the hours wear on Krish explains more about Terran history and culture, deftly avoiding their First Contact War.

    He asks if I can taste sweetness, I respond that I don¡¯t really taste at all; What looks, to him, like my nostrils, are actually sense pits for detecting IR and my nostrils are inside my mouth, they¡¯re the only way I taste anything... by smell¡­ but I also can¡¯t taste/smell sweetness, there never having been an evolutionary need for a sapient carnivore to develop a ¡®sweettooth¡¯.

    He shows me a picture of a demigod from his religion, called a ¡®N¨¡ga¡¯. He confesses that this picture is of a carving on a temple wall, near where he grew up and that¡­ she was the first thing he ever masturbated to.

    She does look like me¡­ though, her upper portion has been horrifyingly stripped of scales and her hands replaced with a one-thumb variety to more resemble a Terran.

    It¡¯s¡­ flattering to think that I¡¯m such a close likeness to his sexual awakening...

    He also shows me a picture of a Sahasoid from an old Terran ¡®anime¡¯ called ¡®Monster Musume no Iru Nichij¨­¡¯¡­ and confesses to having used her to satisfy his lust for ¡®N¨¡ga¡¯, as a teenager.

    ¡®Miia¡¯ looks less like me than the religious sculpture, there¡¯s something¡­ softer about her¡­ she looks too¡­ cute. Does he think I look cute? He¡¯s saying I look like her, I think she looks cute, do I think I look cute?!

    In turn, I confess that it was his posterior bulge that made me call after him, that I found it pleasant to look at¡­ alluring. He asks if I want to touch it. I do.

    It¡¯s pure muscle! There isn¡¯t an ounce of fat in it! As much of a sexual fixation on strength as Sahasi have, that quantity and density of muscle should be offputting to me¡­ ¡®should¡¯ be but isn¡¯t.

    His species evolutionary history as ¡®nomads¡¯ appears to have given them very appealing ¡®buttocks¡¯ as he tells me they''re are called.

    He, ¡®blushing¡¯ as he tells me, explains that he¡¯s not a particularly impressive specimen of Humanity and that his dorm liaison is [20cm] taller and nearly twice as massive.

    I reassure him that I don¡¯t care and am not going to lose interest because someone more impressive caught my eyes.

    Plus, if he¡¯s an example of an unimpressive Terran, I¡¯d hate to think of what an impressive one could do to me! He laughs at that.

    I don¡¯t tell him that he¡¯s mine and that, that being the case, this ¡®CSS Cuddles¡¯ is not interesting to me.

    Every time I suggest going to the bar to get more drinks he blushes and suggests ordering them to the table.

    Every time the barmaid brings us the drinks, she looks more and more dejected at the sight of he and I entwined. That¡¯s right bitch! This is my man! You think you can take him from me? TRY IT!

    Eventually, he looks me in the eye and says ¡°Hasiakh, may I kis¡­?¡±

    He isn¡¯t able to finish, as my hands knot into the front of his shirt and pull him into a deep kiss.

    His lips are a lot more¡­ mobile than mine. I quiver thinking about how they¡¯ll feel on my cloaca.

    His thick muscular tongue parts my lip scales to explore my mouth. I send my long, slender forked tongue to meet it. Coiling mine around his, I guide his up to trace against the tips of my venomous fangs. The thought that he might be paralysed by my venom and I could drag him back to my apartment is thrilling! Not that, with his constitution it would be very likely to work nor that, as a law-abiding Corrections Officer, I would ever commit such a crime¡­ without consent! [Wink]

    I love that word and it¡¯s associated action even more since I learned them! [Winking]! [Fucking] Sands!

    He brings up a one-thumbed hand to caress the back of my head, mussing my iridescent, mauve [head hair]. I reciprocate with a two-thumbed hand through his matte, dark brown hair.

    [Fuck] I¡¯ve never been so aroused! This is just like finding the cure to entropy, being granted eternal youth and WAAAAAY better than getting my job at Hnzak back!

    After an age, our lips part. My eyes still closed, my breaths ragged and my pulse racing, I say ¡°OK¡­ mighty deathworlder; here¡¯s my plan¡­ right now, I am going to take you back to my apartment, spend the rest of the night getting a thorough practical lesson in ¡®Human anatomy¡¯ and giving just as thorough a lesson on ¡®Sahasi anatomy¡¯¡­ then¡­ in the morning¡­ I¡¯ll throw on my best outfit, take the monorail to the docks and [knock the socks off] this captain of yours!... How does that fit with your¡­ schedule?

    He smirks ¡°I think I can clear space for it¡­!¡±

    ---Hasiakh''s Perspective---

    The moment he cracks the seal on my apartment door, I lunge at him, lustily.

    I barrel the door open and knock him down beneath me.

    Closing the door with my tail, we continue the heavy petting that we¡¯ve been doing since the bar only now, horizontal!

    [Fuck]!

    That solidity! I¡¯m embracing him hard enough to kill almost any nonSahas and he barely seems to notice the pressure! It¡¯s so liberating to lose control like this!

    His¡­ protrusion is as hard as stone but as hot as magma, now.

    He breaks off our kiss and says ¡°Hasiakh¡­ please show me to your bedroom!¡±

    What?! What is he talking about?! Is now really the time to be satisfying your curiosity?!

    I point to my sleep box in the corner of the room.

    He hesitates¡­ ¡°We¡­ erm¡­ err¡­ we can¡¯t have sex in that¡­ can we?¡±

    Understanding breaks and I burst into laughter ¡°Hahahahahahahaha! Not unless you are your people¡¯s finest contortionist¡­ even then it¡¯d be difficult¡­ just in terms of volume! *sibilant giggles* Will the floor do?¡±

    He smiles his cheeky, crooked smile ¡°Guess so!¡±

    His hands move to my shoulders and pull down the straps of my black, [silk] dress.

    My arms freed, he grasps the sides and I rear up, bringing my upper body free and leaving me clad only in my underwear! I¡¯m so [fucking] glad that I decided to treat myself to a day in my favourite outfit and underwear! I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d have caught his eye if I¡¯d gone to that bar in my light-canvas guard uniform, or if he¡¯d have been quite so clearly appreciative of my [lycra] fat bulge support or cloacal cover band as he is of these purple lace numbers¡­ though¡­ from what I now know of him¡­ who¡¯s to say(!) [Wink]

    Confused, he asks ¡°Where¡¯s your bellybutton?¡±

    ¡°Krish, I¡¯m still not entirely sure you¡¯re not a cyborg but I¡¯m not! Organics don¡¯t have ¡®buttons¡¯!¡± I mock, laughing.

    He shrugs¡­ whatever a ¡®bellybutton¡¯ is, my lack is clearly not a dealbreaker!

    I wrap my four thumbs under his two wrists and my six fingers over them, he allows me to guide his arms above his head.

    My fingers move to the hem of his top.

    I pull it off him, over his head.

    I take a moment to admire the bare anatomy of his upper half, it will serve as a nice appetiser to that lower anatomy that has me so curious¡­

    I marvel again at how he can be so strong with so little flesh on him! I can count each of his ribs! They¡¯re only slightly obscured by those, deathworld dense, pectorals!

    Should I find it offputting that I can see a muscle on him that would never be visible on a Sahas?... Well¡­ I don¡¯t!

    I indicate the two dark circles, with a small point, that adorn his chest. ¡°What are these?¡±

    ¡°My nipples?¡±

    ¡°[Nipples]¡­? What are they for? My translator is saying something about feeding offspring?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, female Humans, emit milk¡­ err¡­ food for babies¡­¡±

    ¡°You are a male, correct? Why do you have an anatomical feature that is only useful to mothers?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ that¡¯s because¡­ *err*¡­ y¡¯know¡­ I¡¯ll have to ask Mage about that¡­ unless you want to break things off to look it up on Galactopedia?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I answer, instantly, then I [wink] ¡°We¡¯ll just trust Mage? OK?¡±

    He smiles. That smile I initially took as a threat display! How could I have been so stupid!?

    ¡°I don¡¯t have ¡®milk secreters¡¯? These¡­¡± I gesture ¡°¡­are fat stores for crossing deserts from oasis to oasis¡­ is that a problem?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°I figured you wouldn¡¯t... No problem at all!¡±

    I bare my teeth happily, it comes so strangely naturally now.

    I look down his flat, toned stomach. There¡¯s a shallow hole with a fleshy knot at the bottom.

    I point to it. ¡°This would be the fabled bellybutton?¡±

    He nods.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to ask about that later." I say, smiling

    I press my soft, pink underbelly scales against his bare, siderite skin. By the [fucking] Sands!

    He¡¯s burning!

    It¡¯s making me energetic and horny, both!

    I reach behind me, unclip and pull off my lacy support, letting my fat stores free against his bare chest.

    He pulls me in for a deep, intense kiss while that protrusion gets so energetic it nearly lifts my tail off him!

    Eventually, I pull away and, catching my breath and attempting to be as seductive as Sahasily possible, I gently bite my lower lip (self-envenomation [fucking] hurts! Don¡¯t want to have to break things off for a trip to the A&E department of Vspit Hospital!), then I say ¡±¡­and now for the part of the ¡®anatomy lesson¡¯ I¡¯ve most been looking forward to! I¡¯d like to be introduced to this insistent little friend of yours!¡±

    He smiles ¡°Oh, he¡¯s dying to meet you!¡±

    Another kiss ensues as my hands move down to deftly unbuckle his lower half¡¯s clothing support strap.

    The tension released, I slide his lowers over his perambulators and reveal a fleshy bar, around 16cm long, rounded, moist at the top and as hard as tempered glass! It sits atop a¡­ satchel(?) that looks as if it might contain two small eggs. He doesn¡¯t have a cloaca. Though, I¡¯ve been pretty sure that he wouldn¡¯t since Little Friend first made his presence known¡­

    My hand goes to cradle the satchel and he blurts ¡°Wait!!! They¡¯re sensitive! They¡¯re delicate! You can¡¯t be as rough with those as I¡¯m willing to let you be with the rest of me!¡± both seriously and frantically.

    I bare my teeth ¡°¡­then¡­ I¡¯ll be gentle! Though¡­ I¡¯m going to need some¡­ uhm¡­ shall we say ¡®operating instructions¡¯? I¡¯ve never mated with a mammalian before¡­¡±

    He smiles ¡°OK¡­ this¡± he gestures ¡°¡­is my little [untranslatable, original word: ¡®Cock¡¯. Meaning: sexual insertion organ]¡­¡± I don¡¯t have any frame of reference for what a normal one should look like but [fuck], if it''s supposed to go inside me(?) it certainly doesn¡¯t look ¡®little¡¯ to me!

    ¡°When it¡¯s enclosed and rubbed up and down for long enough, like this¡­¡± he demonstrates with his hand ¡°¡­it makes me orgasm¡­ when that happens I¡¯ll shoot sperm from the end which will travel in an internal duct from my [balls: idiomatic, meaning external sperm production and storage organ]. It makes me feel really good when that happens! My hand feels good, someone else¡¯s hand feels better, someone else¡¯s¡­ orifices, feel best! Though¡­ if you¡¯re using your mouth¡­ no teeth! Lips and tongue only with teeth that are sharp and, I presume, venomous, that goes triple!¡±

    I laugh ¡°Consider me thoroughly educated(!) Now¡­ If only there were ¡®someone else¡¯ present(!) Someone with ¡®sharp¡­and venomous¡¯ teeth(!)¡­ Someone who¡¯s ¡®hands and orifices¡¯ you could use(!)¡±

    He smiles, wryly.

    ¡°What to do(?) What to do(!?)... Oh(!) Wait(!) I¡¯m someone else(!) Would I function to ¡®make you feel really good¡¯(?)¡± I [smirk].

    He laughs.

    ¡°I would be both honoured and delighted by you serving the role of my ¡®someone else¡¯, on this fine evening, my dear lady(!)¡± he joins, mimicking my derisive mockery.

    ¡°Though¡­ I¡¯m afraid, before you initiate your role of my ¡®someone else¡¯¡­ I¡¯ll need you to return the lesson so that I may gratefully reciprocate(!)¡±

    I unclip my cloacal band, leaving myself fully exposed before the most exciting man I¡¯ve ever encountered.

    Playfully, I drag it across his face before discarding.

    ¡°This is my cloaca¡­ It feels really good with contact and rubbing, my hands feel good, someone else¡¯s hands feel better, someone else¡¯s cloaca or mouth feel best¡­ I¡¯ve never had a¡­ [cock] inserted in it but I have had a tongue, it was pleasant¡­ I¡¯m looking forward to trying it!¡±

    He frowns and extends a finger and brushes me down there, then his face turns to dismay.

    ¡°¡­Is¡­ is there a problem?¡± I ask, in sinking horror.

    ¡°You¡¯re bone dry!¡±

    ¡°Er¡­ yes¡­ why wouldn¡¯t I be? I¡¯ve not been swimming today¡­?¡±

    He explains ¡°Human women have a similar orifice to¡­ receive¡­ but their meant to be inserted and they naturally lubricate! It won¡¯t really be a pleasant experience for either of us if I try and put myself in you without any lubricant¡­ but it¡¯ll be much worse for you! You¡¯ve, probably, never noticed because¡­ tongues self-lubricate.¡±

    I sink slightly, disappointed¡­It makes sense¡­ cloacae aren¡¯t really adapted to insertion. Still¡­ I was so looking forward to trying that burning hot cock inside my cloaca¡­

    ¡°Is there anything we can do¡­?¡± I ask, not daring to hope.

    ¡°Do you have any lube?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± I perk. ¡°I have lubricant for weapon maintenance! Will that do?¡±

    He shakes his head, dashing that spark of hope ¡°Stuff intended for engineering uses isn¡¯t safe! They didn¡¯t formulate it considering what might happen if it ends up in contact with¡­ sensitive bits. It can cause a reaction. That¡¯s a no go!¡±

    I sag dejectedly ¡°So¡­ we can¡¯t¡­?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ we still might¡­ which way is your bathroom?¡±

    I point.

    Excitedly, he gets up, displacing me as if I weren¡¯t lying on top of him at all!

    He hurries to my bathroom.

    ¡°Aha! This¡¯ll do¡­!¡± he exclaims, causing me to perk up, hopefully.

    He reappears and, rather than instantly lubricating and inserting he says ¡°Kitchen?¡±

    I point again.

    He hurries off, leaving me perplexed.

    A few minutes pass before he comes back with a container of something clear and gloopy looking.

    ¡°I managed to find some products in your bathroom and combine them with stuff you had in your kitchen plus some water¡­ I¡¯ve sterilised it, it should be safe¡­ could you just, taste it?¡±

    I¡¯m delighted but also confused.

    ¡°Leave it to a chef to cook a solution to a sex roadblock(!)¡± I laugh ¡°But why would I taste it?¡±

    He explains ¡°I¡¯m not a doctor and we can¡¯t be 100% sure that there won¡¯t be some utterly unforeseen reaction of the ingredients with eachother or your soft parts¡­ if you can put it in your mouth and it doesn¡¯t melt your flesh, or anything, it should be fine to use for sexy times!¡±

    I guess¡­ that makes sense¡­ but¡­ leave it to a deathworlder to be suspicious that lubricant, that he himself just made, might melt flesh!

    Dipping a finger, I taste the mixture. It doesn¡¯t really taste of anything but tasting good wasn¡¯t its purpose.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine!¡± I declare.

    ¡°That¡¯s the happiest that any review of my cooking has ever made me(!)¡± he quips.

    I laugh.

    ¡°Soooo¡­ where were we?¡± I say, rearing back up to make my face level with his.

    ¡°I believe we were about to make eachother feel really fucking good!¡± he grins, baring his teeth.

    ¡°Oh, yeah! That was where!¡± I say, grasping his newly rehardening [cock], firmly stroking it back and forth in the manner he demonstrated.

    He buckles slightly and nearly knocks me over by leaning for support.

    ¡°Fuck, Hasiakh! That¡¯s good! Never been wanked off by a hand with two thumbs before, let alone one that¡¯s attached to a N¨¡ga sex goddess!¡± he bite¡¯s his lip.

    ¡°Oh, I think it¡¯s about to feel better!¡± I say, coiling my tail to lower my head to the level of his [cock].

    I grasp each of his [buttocks], the very ones that started this crazy, sexy mess, and very carefully, keeping my fangs retracted, I begin working up and down the shaft while alternately coiling and teasing the tip with my forked tongue and enfolding it against the soft, spongy flesh of the roof of my mouth.

    The effect it has on him is very clear. He has to supine himself on the floor and I follow him without removing my mouth from his [cock]. His [buttocks] tense, pleasingly, from the bliss he¡¯s clearly feeling.

    I typically don¡¯t like to look up while giving partners oral¡­ it always feels like they¡¯re¡­ leering back at me. This time, however, the expression on his face is just about the most erotic thing I¡¯ve ever witnessed! [Fuck] how did a race of sexy deathworlders exist and I was never curious enough to look them up before now!?

    I prod the side of his leg with the tip of my tail, indicating that I wish to encoil him. He lifts up to allow me under and my tail begins to wrap around him. Then he replaces his weight and I¡¯m the one who¡¯s immobilised! That wasn¡¯t what was supposed to happen! I feel like my tail is made of paper and his legs are made of granite!

    Finally, he builds to a crescendo and he releases while shouting invocations from the pleasure. Damn! I got carried away, guess there¡¯ll be no insertion tonight! No matter¡­ seems like we¡¯re both very up for a round two tomorrow.

    His seed is so¡­ salty¡­and¡­savoury! It¡¯s delicious!

    I pull away and my mouth makes a very satisfying *pop* as it leaves his alien anatomy.

    I swallow, with a throaty *gulp*.

    ¡°Thank you¡­*pant*¡­ Hasiakh!¡­*pant*¡­ That was¡­*pant*¡­amazing!¡± he says, breathlessly and without apology for having wasted his orgasm on my mouth.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you enjoyed it!¡­Erm¡­ could you let me up?...I¡¯m a bit stuck!¡± I say with only a little more breath than him, enough to keep from audibly panting.

    ¡°Fuck! Sorry!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine! It was interesting! I¡¯m usually the one doing the immobilising, that role being reversed was¡­novel!¡±

    He smiles.

    ¡°Now¡­¡± I say, with an affected, business-like tone ¡°¡­I believe there was some talk of¡­¡± I coil back to lie, face up, and curl my tail to thrust my cloaca into the air ¡°¡­reciprocation?¡± I smirk.

    He smirks back and dips three fingers into his homemade lube. Why is he lubing his fingers?

    He comes to kneel with one knee on either side of my tail, pinning it in place with his dense body. He bows to place his mouth at my intimate area and begins stimulating it.

    Sands! That muscular deathworld tongue! Those nimble lips! That heat! My cloaca, along with the rest of me, twitches and spasms from the pleasure!

    My hands grasp feebly at his head and shoulders.

    My tail thrashes and undulates against his underside!

    This is the Eternal Oasis! I¡¯ve arrived!

    I died and now I get to enjoy paradise!

    The pleasure is ecstatic!

    Then those three lubed finger slide in beneath his chin!

    No! How many more levels of paradise can there be! The heat of those fingers sliding 8cm deep into me, in conjunction with the work of his mouth are going to break my sanity! Well, I don¡¯t care if I spend my entire eternity as a gibbering mindbroken wretch! I want this god of pleasure to take me to every last pool in this oasis!

    After one afterlife¡¯s worth of pleasure equal to, presumably, some quantity of mortal time, I descend from my [nirvana] and find myself back on the floor, gasping with the heat of my lover enveloping me.

    After some breathless minutes of post orgasm bliss, he speaks ¡°Let me know when¡­*huff*¡­you¡¯re ready to go again! ¡­*huff*¡­That¡¯s if you still want¡­*huff*¡­ to do insertion.¡±

    My brow scales raise and my slitpupils dilate.

    I turn my face to his, quizzically.

    ¡°What do¡­*gasp*¡­ you mean¡­*gasp*¡­ ¡®go again¡¯?¡­*gasp*¡­You came¡­¡± I check the clock ¡°¡­*gasp*¡­less than¡­*gasp*¡­ [1.1hrs] ago!... You¡¯re not¡­*gasp*¡­ telling me¡­*gasp*¡­ your refractory¡­*gasp*¡­ period¡¯s over!?¡±

    He turns that Sands damned smile at me and says ¡°Something, I didn¡¯t tell¡­*huff*¡­ you about Humans; ¡­*huff*¡­our most secret and¡­*huff*¡­ deadliest weapon¡­*huff*¡­¡±

    He gestures down, drawing my attention to his impossibly hard [cock]. Then he reveals Humanity¡¯s strongest weapon.

    ¡°Willpower!¡±

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s Perspective---

    Well, that¡­Sahas(?), recommended to me by Dhawan, was an incredible find!

    Interesting to think that, a scant few subcycles ago, I didn''t know what a roughworlder was and I now have two of them in my employ...

    I wonder how a recently out of work CO and a ship¡¯s Commissary, on shore leave, ran into eachother? Apparently, according to them, they had ''savoury pancakes'' together?

    I''ll have to make yet another call to the local authorities regarding the clear breach of employment law, committed by her previous employers! Honestly, you''d think Corrections Officers would know better!

    The strangest thing is that it¡¯s the second time this morning that a Human has brought in, intensely satisfied, nonHuman recommendations for hiring, having presought permission from the other members of Triple M to have them move into one of the unoccupied rooms.

    It¡¯s unfortunate that that Fulgensian mated pair failed the Fluffy Test but I¡¯m glad they still agreed to join the ship on the stipulation that they have a room on Portside Dorm.

    As I wave the scarlet, serpentine woman out of my office I wonder two things. First, I wonder how she¡¯ll perform on the Fluffy Test¡­ then, I wonder if I should look into hiring a Terran hiring agent?

    They clearly have a knack for it!

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd IV: Pancakes and Fur

    ---Muselia¡¯s Perspective---

    I hate working while horny!

    [Fuck]!

    My heat cycle was a bad time to start a part-time job. Stupid owner wouldn¡¯t let me put it off to next week, even after I explained! Said his barman retired unexpectedly and he needed bar staff now!

    First, those two¡­ whatever-they-ares(!) just come in, both order enough alcohol to lay out a battalion, lift it with one arm and call it ¡®weak¡¯!

    Then [5.8m] of scaled monster, with teeth and claws that could¡­*mmm*¡­ effortlessly end me, comes in and slithers up to order more of that death juice!

    And, now?!¡­ Well, now Scales has taken one of the bipeds upstairs and that [fucking] Fulgensian pair have monopolised the other!

    Leave some Hunk for us singles, you horndogs!

    My panties are so moist it¡¯s unbearable! I¡¯m fidgeting wildly, rolling my hips and undulating my torso. I¡¯m, now, glad that the counter comes up to my chest! I don¡¯t think you¡¯d have to be an expert on Svikkthian body language to tell I¡¯m aroused from the way my lower parts are moving!

    Just as I fold my tail between my legs to start, surreptitiously playing with myself with it, the Autord application, on my holo, informs me that an order has come in from one of the mezzanine booths¡­ Shall I check? I can probably guess¡­!

    I check.

    Oh! Surprising! [0.45L] of Tlang mead (1.3%abv) and [0.9L] of Vinjirian ale (3.5%abv)¡­ they¡¯re slowing¡­ I suppose even monsters have limits!

    Well¡­ I¡¯d better bring their drinks! Never mind the wet patch in my lowers which¡­ is it visible? It wouldn¡¯t show up on a black uniform, right?

    I place their glasses on a hovertray and begin pouring. Honestly! You wouldn¡¯t have to be a business major to realise that paying just that little bit extra for the self-delivering hover trays is an investment that would pay itself back, near instantly! Nooooo(!) Poor lil¡¯ Mussie has to push the hover tray upstairs and risk being exposed as a monster fetishist! I could definitely manage this bar better than that idiot owner!

    Trepidatious, I leave the bar, doing my best not to look as horny and moist as I absolutely am!

    I ascend the stairs and round the corner to reveal that pair of monster¡¯s nestled in the same position they¡¯ve been in since they initially came to the bar¡­ No! I¡¯m not imagining how thrilling it would be to have them both reach across the table, each grasp me with an irresistibly firm hand and tell, not ask, me that I¡¯m coming home with them! Nor am I imagining all of the various violations I¡¯d suffer, at their hands, mouths and tail, once in one of their lairs, with them! Why would you ask questions like that?!

    Though, from the protective, territorial body language of Scales¡­ and the deathglare she¡¯s shooting at me¡­ and the clear lack of interest of Hunk 1¡­ outlook not so good¡­

    As I unload their drinks she, fixing me with those seething, green, slitpupil eyes, wiggles her tail into his crotch and he bites his lip and closes his eyes. That¡¯s not fair! Why do they get to be shameless perverts and I have to be all respectable!?

    I slump dejectedly and turn to go.

    Before I¡¯m out of earshot he resumes the¡­ lecture? He¡¯s giving her a lecture on (presumably his) species¡¯ history and culture! How is he making xenology sound so [fucking] erotic!?

    I return to the bar¡­ much as I want to eavesdrop.

    ---a little bit later---

    No one¡¯s ordered a drink in a while and I try not to torture myself by looking, longingly, at either Hunk 2 or up to where Hunk 1 and scales are busy canoodling¡­ not that I could see any of the latter, much to my frustration.

    Then I realise something¡­ Autord is indicating that there¡¯s only one patron in the bar and only two occupants¡­

    I glance up, not daring to hope¡­

    There he sits: Dark brown skin, tightly coiled black hair, forward facing black eyes of a predator, taller than me while sitting down, shoulders four times as broad as mine¡­ nursing the last of his drink, seeming not to have noticed that he¡¯s the last patron¡­ Hunk 2!

    Scales and Hunk 1 must have absconded¡­ but¡­ what happened to those Fulgensians? From the way they were talking it looked like a sealed deal!

    I check the time¡­ 2 minutes to close, well past last orders.

    ¡®I¡¯m [fucking] going for it!¡¯ I decide, shortly followed by my finger pressing the door shutter tab on the Autord, closing the door shutters that I¡¯m currently, very grateful are out of line of sight from here.

    Preening slightly, I march over to him.

    ---Msia¡¯s Perspective---

    Those red pandas were nice¡­ sexy too¡­ they looked like the result of a tryst between Audrey Hepburn and Master Shifu (lookswise: cute more than sexy¡­ but Dustin Hoffman¡¯s voice translated into Swahili gives me all of the satisfactory feels)!

    It¡¯s really astonishing that, with the variety of sapients possible, such a large proportion of those that I actually encounter are so very, supremely fuckable¡­ *Hmmm* shame I have to hold back so much¡­ they¡¯re all so fragile!

    It¡¯s a good thing I have the self-control I do or I¡¯d probably be in prison for manslaughter, several times over(!)

    I chuckle to myself at that.

    Shame they couldn¡¯t stay but¡­ silver lining¡­ they invited me to spend time with them at [2:00am equivalent local time]¡­ never been so glad for shiplag! It¡¯s still relatively early to me.

    It¡¯s a shame also, that the¡­ time spending, seems to be of more of a professional nature than a personal one¡­ interviews, scans and samples from a Terran could make their careers, apparently¡­ You wouldn¡¯t think there¡¯d be much left to learn about Terrans but seemingly, the number of xeno doctors who are brave enough to approach a starbound Terran, to ask to study them, is low and the number who can withstand the Terran¡¯s answer and not flee is lower. There¡¯s evidently still much for them to learn about us despite the 27 years of peace!

    I wonder what they were so preoccupied with that they had to rush off? I hope it¡¯s nothing major. They looked a little shaken by the message.

    Well, I¡¯m in the mood, what with all these cute, sexy xenos all around!¡­ Aaaaaand¡­ I¡¯ve got a few hours to kill¡­ I wonder if I should ask the barmai¡­ NO! You don¡¯t proposition people at work! Everyone knows that! It doesn¡¯t matter how much you think they want it¡­ everyone who propositions service staff thinks they want it, almost none of them are correct and they just end up making the receiver feel trapped and panicked!

    Speaking of¡­ is that the sound of the shutters closing¡­?

    I swig the last of that weak ale.

    And then she approaches me.

    With unshakable professionalism, that was not present when she poured our drinks, she says ¡°Excuse me, Sir, but I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s a bit of a problem¡­ would you mind following me to the private lounge so we can resolve it there?¡±

    I stand, towering two heads above her, and say ¡°Oh, no! What is it!? Did my payment pings fail? Have I broken some local law somehow?!¡±

    She smiles sweetly and says ¡°Nothing like that, Sir, if you¡¯ll follow me, I¡¯ll explain¡­¡± and walks off in, presumably, the direction of this private lounge.

    She taps her holo and an access ping chimes, she gestures for me to go ahead and I step into the dark room.

    Even in the half-light I can tell that this is a much nicer area than the rest of the bar, the seats are plusher, the floor is actually laminated slats rather than the bare, sanded wood of the tree we¡¯re inside, it smells cleaner in here.

    As the lights come up, I ask ¡°Sooooo¡­ what¡¯s this ¡®problem¡¯¡­?¡± turning around to see her halfway through emerging from her uniform at speed not possible of a human.

    In synchronicity with her trousers, her shirt glides effortlessly down that slim, slinky torso and only catches slightly on those¡­ hips.

    Fuck! Those bell shaped hips!

    ¡°The problem¡­ Sir¡­ is that I¡¯m at the peak of a heat cycle and you, your friend and his, apparently, new reptilian girlfriend have had my damp little cunt begging for action all night(!) The second part of this problem is that you¡¯re still fully dressed and not in the process of readying to give me the action I so crave(!)¡±

    For about five seconds, I think I understand what it must be like inside Tuun¡¯s head. I run calculations that would have taken minutes normally in attoseconds! The world doesn¡¯t seem like it¡¯s in slow motion nor does my mind feel like it¡¯s in fast motion¡­but I can tell that they aren¡¯t traveling anything like the same speed, relative to eachother, that they were before that sexy barmaid disrobed!

    Her waist is so slender I could easily enclose it with my thumbs and index fingers and her chest isn¡¯t much thicker, she doesn¡¯t have particularly fulsome breasts but she does have six of them! They¡¯re arranged in three groups of two from her chest down her front. Each one is¡­ furry¡­ perky and more conical than round but¡­ they still make me think more of human tits than animal teats. Seriously, six tits!? I would have thought this was a joke or a bad boast if I heard it from someone else!

    Her tits are definitely not as alluring as those hips, though! *Mmmm*! This is one of those occasions where self-control will be needed, I¡¯d hate to go to prison for arse-smacking someone¡­ to death(!) And¡­ she really wasn¡¯t kidding about being damp¡­ I can see that sparkling, glistening moistness from here!

    Her torso and neck are longer, her arms and legs shorter and¡­ everything is slinkier and more slender than it would be on a Human.

    After an age I stammer ¡°Could¡­ could I just get you to confirm that¡­ this is you propositioning me?¡±

    She smiles that closed lipped, gardenworlder smile and replies ¡°This is me propositioning you! And, I¡¯m a legal adult by both the standards of my species and local law, in case you were wondering¡­¡±

    She can proposition me¡­ right? That¡¯s OK?

    I falter, awkwardly ¡°¡­Errm¡­ right¡­ it¡¯s nice to meet you¡­ my name¡¯s Msi¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to stop you right there!¡± she holds up an adorable beaned paw-hand for silence ¡°Your name is [untranslatable pun, substitution: Rod Wang] and mine is [untranslatable pun, substitution: Holly Hole]! I¡¯m not looking for a boyfriend, I recognise shipboarders and I¡¯m not looking to be your wife in this port, nor am I looking for you to whisk me away to the stars. What I¡¯m interested in is being railed by the kind of monster that can lift a third my mass¡¯s worth of drink glass and drink, with one arm, as if it weight nothing! I¡¯m interested in using and being used by a being that can drink enough to kill an a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast and barely seem to suffer for it! I¡¯m interested in sex¡­ casual, one time, sex [Mr. Wang]! So¡­ you¡¯re [Rod] and I¡¯m [Holly]¡­ do we understand eachother, [Rod]?¡±

    Wow, is this girl really a gardenworlder?! She managed to seclude me without me catching on, she identified me as shipboard (who knows how!) and she confidently declared her intention to have casual interspecies sex¡­ with a ¡®monster¡¯! Those are such uncharacteristically gardenworlder traits that I feel that, whatever her current planetary classification is, it needs to go higher!

    I smile, sweetly ¡°We understand eachother completely, Ms. Hole. I would be ever so happy to resolve your problem for you¡­¡± before removing my shirt, to reveal my chest.

    The face she¡¯s making at me must be the face I made when Victor went bare chested on the desert world Golbtukku¡­ not that I¡¯m jealous of Tuun but I can admit that she has snagged herself a very respectable piece of boycandy!

    I¡¯m not in terrible shape myself, the active life of a deathworld researcher keeps me toned. I¡¯m quite glad of that for inspiring the clear awe in ¡®Holly¡¯s¡¯ face.

    I¡¯m already at half-mast and feel like I could just take her now but¡­ ¡°Are we doing foreplay, Holly?¡±

    She pauses, her translator seems to object to the word ¡®foreplay¡¯.

    Eventually, it gets across and she shakes her head ¡°If your trousers aren¡¯t on the floor in [20 seconds] I¡¯ll start attempting to bite them off, not that I think I¡¯ll have much luck from the combination of how dense that material looks and my delicate insectivorous teeth!¡±

    My trousers hit the floor and she gasps at my now fully erect phallus.

    ¡°Is¡­ is that¡­ is that average for your species?¡±

    I smile, mischievously ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s not¡­ why don¡¯t we leave it at that? Unless you¡¯re planning to invite the rest of my species to join us(?)¡±

    She seems to actually consider it for a moment before reality catches up to her and she shakes herself back.

    ¡°Take a seat over there and¡­ present¡­ I¡¯d like to try [reverse cowgirl].¡±

    I comply, leaning back against those plush lounge seats, my cock jutting from my lap.

    She takes a moment to consider the process of scaling and mounting me before standing on the seat, straddling herself across my pelvis, back turned, detaining my cock with her paw-hand and guiding it to her soaking pussy¡­ fuck! That arse! It¡¯s covered in tawny hair and has a mustelid tail coming from the top of the cleft of her cheeks and¡­ it¡¯s the finest arse I¡¯ve ever beheld! Going to have to be careful not to catch feelings for that sensual bubblebutt, given the nature, she¡¯s made clear, of this encounter!

    And then, she commits her weight¡­ It takes a few moments for me to realise that she has committed her weight, as she weighs almost nothing!

    I can feel how facilely my manhood parts her insides. There¡¯s very little tension, there¡¯s not enough density of flesh to resist how solid I am! It¡¯s like a light, soft grip.

    She shivers and quakes.

    ¡°Are you alright, Holly?¡± I ask, concerned. I have to remember that, while it may feel like a light grip around me, it probably feels like an extra-large dildo made of steel, to her.

    She swivels her long, minky neck to bring her head 160¡ã, to nearly face me ¡°Just fine, [Rod]! Getting used to it, is all!¡± she¡¯s clearly in some discomfort but also clearly very keen on continuing; an inference I¡¯ve made from her words, her tone and her, impossibly, renewed intensity of lubrication.

    ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯ll trust you to let me know¡­ oh, I probably should have mentioned before you inserted me¡­ I¡¯m a Terran¡­ You know the implications of that?¡±

    Her neck still turned in that, only slightly offputting way, her face becomes a visage of astonishment.

    ¡°You mean that¡­ right now¡­ I have a deathworlder cock¡­ deep inside me¡­? That¡¯s¡­ quite¡­ thrilling!¡±

    ¡°I thought your reaction might be something like that(!)¡± I smirk ¡°But¡­ the thing is¡­ if I¡¯m not careful¡­ well bad things would happen if I weren¡¯t careful¡­ I¡¯ve always been careful¡­ you get it?¡±

    She repeatedly twists her head in a way my translator informs me is equivalent to a nod ¡°Thank you for letting me know, [Rod]¡­ I¡¯m glad I get to spend the rest of my life (as long as that might be with a deathworlder inside me(!)) knowing that I¡¯ve experienced deathworld fornication!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Thus far¡­ there¡¯s been no ¡®fornication¡¯¡­ only insertion!¡± I catch a brief glimpse of those ¡®fragile insectivorous teeth¡¯ as she smiles¡­ is she seriously a gardenworlder?! The clear fragility of her graceful body tells me yes¡­ her behaviour, though¡­

    ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ [Rod]! I guess we¡¯ll have to remedy that(!)¡± she says as she leans back, rests her paws against my chest, lifts her hips up the length of my shaft and¡­ braver than I would be in her position, drops them. This causes her to emit an amatory whine.

    ---Muselia¡¯s Perspective---

    Oh... [fuck]! Oh¡­Beetles! [Fucking] [shit]!

    This is like lovemaking with a basalt statue!

    Only¡­without changing its material properties¡­the statue has come alive beneath me and is thrusting its hips up to meet mine as they descend!

    [Fuck]! [Fuck]! [Fuck]! [Fuck]! [Fuck]! [Fuck]! [Shit]! [Fuck]! [Fuck]! [Fuck]! [Fuck]! [Fuuck]! [Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck]!

    He¡¯s parting my insides like¡­ like¡­ wait why am I trying to think of similes?! Analogies? Whatever! Now is not the time for any kind of metaphor! He¡¯s parting my insides like an engorged, girthy, lengthy Terran cock, parting the soaking, pliant, delicate insides of a degenerate, monster-fetishist, pervert Svikkthian!

    By the Heralds!

    That chest!

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯d have the biteforce to break his skin but those muscles would definitely shatter my silicate teeth!

    His hands move too, with what must be great care, massaging the cheeks of my arse, as they bounce against his pelvis, stroke up and down my spine, caress my short, digitigrade legs and fondle each of my six tits!¡­ it¡¯s still on the rougher side of comfort¡­ but I¡¯m not complaining!

    He definitely feels like he has more than two hands, though, he seems to be frustrated that he doesn¡¯t have yet more than the six extras he¡¯s, apparently, grown since I turned my back on him. How many hands would make him feel satisfied? Is there a number?

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    I¡¯m building¡­ it¡¯s coming and there, apparently, isn¡¯t a force in the Universe that has the fortitude to resist a Terran-generated orgasm! All the effort I put into trying to resist gets brushed aside like a [stick dam before a tidal wave]!

    The only problem is it seems like he¡¯s not even close! Will he consider me to be serviced once I¡¯ve cum once? I need that deathworld semen inside me! That is a necessary part of this!

    It grips me and I seize.

    The waves of pleasure reverberate around my body.

    My lungs are unable to provide enough air for the shriek of ecstasy that is in my soul!

    After the [minutes] or so that it takes me to recover, I curl my head over backwards to look at his, now upside-down, face.

    He definitely seems appreciative of my orgasm but¡­ disappointed? So he wants more¡­?

    I lick his mouth¡­ perhaps a touch more tenderly than appropriate for a quicky in the backroom¡­ As I do I take another eyeful of that deathworld chest¡­ *Mmmmmff*! That¡¯s a sexy chest!

    Bringing my hazel eyes level with his black ones, I say, still slightly short of breath ¡°[Mr. Wang]¡­ [Rod]¡­ that was¡­ exquisite¡­ and¡­ intense!... But¡­ I hope¡­ you won¡¯t¡­ think me¡­ too greedy¡­ if I still¡­ want more?¡±

    He shows every one of his teeth in that thrilling¡­ and terrifying¡­ deathworld smile.

    ¡°Why¡­ Ms. Hole(?) Holly(?) What more could I possibly have to give you(?)¡±

    Swivelling my hips on his cock, keeping my head steady, gimblelike, I bring my body around, starting from the bottom, travelling up my waist, chest, shoulders, neck and, finally, head, in the manner of a breaking wave, to face him.

    My claws dig into his chest¡­ or they would if that sable skin didn¡¯t have the toughness of springsteel¡­ making my claws glide harmlessly over the surface¡­ still seems to be doing something for him, judging from that expression.

    Fixing my gaze, intensely, mere centimetres from his, I say, earnestly ¡°I need you to breed me¡­ [Mr. Wang]¡­ please?¡±

    With clear, immense satisfaction, he replies ¡°Ah! Well¡­ if that¡¯s what you want¡­¡± his right arm curls behind my shoulders ¡°¡­it is possible¡­¡± his left arm curls behind my waist ¡°¡­but will require¡­¡± he stands, as if I weigh nothing at all, even in 1.2x GS G ¡°¡­a change of position!¡±

    He¡¯s cradling my back with those powerful hands of his. He doesn¡¯t exhibit any strain from the effort of lifting me!

    The room moves around us and I feel my back press against the wall!

    I feel those hips of his continue advancing until my own are utterly pinioned between them and the wall! I¡¯m quite literally [approx.: between a rock and a hard place]!

    He stops! He¡¯s worried about breaking me! Precursors damn it! If he¡¯d agree to take me to Vspit, afterward, so I can get a pelvis regen, I¡¯d let him be as rough as would satisfy him¡­ but¡­ given his disclaimer¡­ I don¡¯t think he¡¯d react well to that suggestion!

    He purses his lips and presses them against mine before saying ¡°Are you ready to be bred¡­ Holly?¡±

    I carefully listen to what my translator is relaying to me, from his, about body language¡­ and bob my head, up and down in what (I hope) is his people¡¯s gesture of agreement.

    It seems to be.

    He begins thrusting me into the wall, viciously, fiercely!

    If this is him being carefull¡­ what the [fuck] is he holding back!?

    My ravaged insides start to burn¡­ the mixture of pain and pleasure is pure ecstasy!

    Feebly, I curl my tail around his underside and stroke it between his testes and the cleft between his arse-cheeks, my fur brushing his taint. I hope that feels even a fraction as good to him as he¡¯s making me feel!

    His carnivorous eyes fix mine with an intensity that would cause me to break down sobbing had I not been eased into it with the preceding events of the night.

    It could be minutes, it could be years that that deathworld cock greedily devastates, pillages and despoils my shuddering pussy!

    After¡­ quite some time his eyes screw up and his face takes on a beatific expression of pleasure.

    I¡¯m sure mine would be doing the same (if with some quantity of dismay at the pain) but I¡¯m forcing my eyes open to look at the, possibly, once in a lifetime spectacle of a Terran face, in orgasm¡­ maybe there¡¯ll be mating sims I could find at a later date?

    His seed hits my cervix like a burst dam containing roiling hot water. The sensation causes the encounters sixth orgasm, after four of mine and one of his!

    I wail but can only half hear myself, as if at a distance.

    His saintly expression passed, he presses that forehead which feels like a block of iron covered in a thin layer of toughened leather, against mine, purses his lips against the top of my snout and asks ¡°Satisfied?¡±

    Patting his chest, I answer ¡°Deep¡­ly!¡­ [Rod],¡­were¡­ you¡­ a¡­ Svikk¡­thi¡­an¡­ I¡¯d¡­ be¡­ con¡­grat¡­u¡­lat¡­ing¡­ you¡­ on¡­ your¡­ new¡­found¡­ fath¡­er¡­hood!... That¡¯s¡­ not¡­ the¡­ on¡­ly¡­ reas¡­on¡­ I¡¯m¡­ glad¡­ you''re¡­ not!¡±

    He chuckles at that.

    ---some recovery time later---

    ¡°So, you¡¯re really sure you don¡¯t want me to stay? Don¡¯t want my holocom in case we win the dubious genetic lottery and it turns out that, of the 1.2billion different combinations of sapients, Terran x Svikkthian is one of the half dozen that can produce offspring? I wouldn¡¯t want to shirk my responsibilities as the father of a hybrid child¡­ or¡­ litter¡­ judging from your tits!¡±

    I laugh, and say ¡°[Rod]¡­ if you have put the very first deathworld x gardenworld hybrids in my womb, I won¡¯t be wanting for provision(!) I¡¯ll just have to make sure I don¡¯t undercharge for the interviews that every media outlet in Known Space will be clamouring to get(!)¡± mockingly.

    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to start reading trashy tabloid sites for the story¡­ after I¡¯ve looked up the Svikkthian gestation period(!)¡± he responds.

    I smile ¡°It¡¯s [six months]¡­ so¡­ if you have beaten the odds and knocked me up and you do want to find me so you can provide¡­ you¡¯ve got that much freedom left(!)¡±

    He smiles and turns to leave, I stop him ¡°[Rod] before you go¡­ could I just ask two questions?¡±

    ¡°Was that one?¡± he quips. [Fuck] maybe he did put kits in me(!)

    I chuckle, mirthlessly.

    ¡°How many Terrans¡­ are there?¡±

    Clearly not expecting that question he answers ¡°Err¡­ around¡­ 2.2 trillion. Spread across¡­ I think, 500 planets¡­ Why?¡±

    Flabbergasted, I fail to answer his question and, instead, ask one that wasn¡¯t part of my allowance of two

    ¡°How!? That would make you¡­¡± some quick sums ¡°¡­0.3% of the sapient population of Known Space! How have I never run into one of you before, until tonight!?¡±

    He smiles and chuckles, ever so seductively ¡°Well, almost all of those 500 settlement planets¡­ are deathworlds¡­ the GU gave us exclusive settlement rights to deathworlds after our First Contact War. It makes sense¡­ gardenworlds can¡¯t really stand up to supporting large populations of deathworlders and it isn¡¯t as if the GU could do anything at all with them¡­ so they gave them to us! The only way you¡¯d have met one is if they were starbound, and starbounds make up probably a percent of a percent of total Terrans. This part of the galaxy is also pretty far from the planets we¡¯ve thus far settled¡­ also you¡¯ve met 2 Terrans tonight. And that¡¯s your two questions.¡±

    He turns to leave and I try to not get distracted by the bombshell that his friend was also a Terran, despite looking so different.

    ¡°Wait¡­!¡± I say desperately. ¡°One more¡­¡±

    ¡°Ask¡­¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your real name? I assume it¡¯s not [Rod], right?¡±

    He smiles ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ it¡¯s Msia¡­ in my language, it means ¡®Wise Man¡¯¡­ but¡­ my friends call me ¡®Mage¡¯.¡±

    I smile back, enjoying the coincidental similarity of our names and¡­ relieved that he trusts me with his real name after I refused it once.

    ¡°I¡¯m Muselia¡­ I hope our paths cross again at some point¡­ Mage.¡±

    He leaves and I wait until Autord tells me I¡¯m the only one in the bar before closing the shutters again.

    I resolve myself.

    Tomorrow, I¡¯m going to get to class, study my arse off and in a few years I¡¯ll have my business management degree. Then I¡¯ll find an investor and blow them away with my idea for a shipboard bar! And my bar will have self-delivering hover trays(!)

    There¡¯s a whole third of a percent of the galaxy out there who are sex god deathworlders and I want to meet more of them!

    I will, of course, need to find a shipcaptain¡­ radical enough to let me build a bar on their ship¡­ I wonder where I could find someone like that!

    ---next morning---

    I wake up... I still have time to make myself breakfast... what shall I have?

    I''ve got this weird craving for pancakes for some reason!

    ---Msia¡¯s Perspective---

    Well, that was extremely satisfying!

    Perhaps, I¡¯ll be able to get through my interview and scans with the sexy panda couple without sporting the chubby I had while talking to them at the table.

    It¡¯d probably be quite embarrassing to have to explain to them what it means, re:my attraction to them/wish to engage in sexytimes, and, by Engai and his Cattle(!), it would probably further damage Humans¡¯ reputation to have yet another story about us being insatiable sex-fiends come out!

    It doesn¡¯t matter that we are! That¡¯s our business! What we do with willing xenos, in the privacy of our/their living quarters (or¡­*ehem*¡­workplaces afterhours) ought to have no bearing on our standing in the galaxy!

    Ah, here¡¯s the place! Vspit Hospital¡­ the same place I was planning to take ¡®Holly¡¯, in case I lost control¡­ which I very nearly did! That slinky body¡­ that pear-shaped arse! *chef¡¯s kiss*.

    It was very slightly rude of Krish to leave me alone after dragging me out but¡­ I¡¯m very happy that, from the looks of how that ¡®N¨¡ga¡¯ pulled him passed me, both of our dry spells are at an end.

    That apologetic shrug he gave as they passed was priceless!

    Coming through the door, I make my way to the reception desk.

    ¡°Greetings, I¡¯m here to see Drs. Shing? Nahn and Nou? Might I ask you to direct me to their office?¡±

    ¡°Oh! Wow! They arranged you fast!¡± says the sapient jellyfish, in a translated, luminescent language, from inside his (voice sounds male(?)) desktop tank.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d have anyone until at least tomorrow¡­ after how sudden it was!¡± he swipes the screen inside his tank ¡°I¡¯ve sent a map to your holo, there in the research department, I¡¯m really sorry but I¡¯ll need to¡­erm¡­ ¡®buzz you in¡¯(?) some new species in the GU has been making noises about ¡®lax security¡¯ so the regulations have changed recently; if you stand by the door, I¡¯ll press this button and it¡¯ll be openable, you can¡¯t just walk through, like you could until recently! SO stupid!¡±

    I think I may have an idea of what species it is that¡¯s been criticising the rest of the galaxy¡¯s security¡­ it¡¯s also hilarious that he sent a map to my holo rather than giving the, four step, directions verbally! I suppose, that much procedural memory demand would be taxing to most sapients¡­

    What did he mean? How sudden what was? Well, if it¡¯s any of my business, I¡¯m sure the doctors will tell me. I wouldn¡¯t want to pry.

    I thank the receptionist and, manage to get through the door as he buzzes me, the first time¡­ to his surprise and my amusement.

    I make my way through the research department and find the door labelled ¡®Office of Dr. Nahn Shing and Dr. Nou Shing¡¯. I knock, ignoring the scratching plate which must be their species¡¯ way of requesting entry.

    ¡°Enter¡­¡± their sexy and, from the sound of it, tired voices reply, in unison.

    I enter and instantly cease wondering what it was that happened so suddenly. They¡¯ve been sacked¡­ fired, canned, let go without notice! The receptionist clearly thought I was a mover.

    The state of them, and the room, is unmistakeable!

    Boxes half piled onto a hover trolley, desks and cabinets sitting bare and, in the middle of it all, two tired, miserable and immensely sexy red pandas sit moping at their desks.

    ¡°Oh! Doctors Shing! I¡¯m sorry! I didn¡¯t mean to come at such a bad time! We can rearrange? If you want to meet later this week? I¡¯ll be shipping out after that, I¡¯m afraid! I wouldn¡¯t mind coming to your private residence as¡­ it seems you won¡¯t have the use of this office¡­¡±

    The two of them share a perplexed expression for a moment before bursting into amused chitters.

    ¡°It seems your species¡¯ ability to intuit is [leagues] above all nondeathworlder species, just as the literature suggests!¡± says Nou, in her low, sultry voice.

    ¡°Well¡­ not all¡­ my Captain is quite perceptive¡­ sometimes¡­ and¡­ I do live with a roughworlder, a Don, who can often out-intuit me¡­ though, she does occasionally get carried away and reach wildly wrong conclusions!¡± I reply.

    Nahn answers, sounding bitter, in his high, feminine voice ¡°They both sound fascinating!¡­ I would like to meet them and love to study them!... Under¡­¡± he gestures at the forlorn state of the office ¡°¡­better circumstances!... As to whether you can meet at our living quarters¡­ I¡¯m afraid¡­¡± he points with a paw ¡°They¡¯re through there! We¡¯re now homeless and jobless¡­ or at least¡­ will be as of [12am RLT]¡­ so, less than a day!¡±

    Anger flaring (unusually for me), I react ¡°That¡¯s not legal! They cannot throw you out onto the street with less than a day¡¯s notice!!! Or, if they can, they shouldn¡¯t be able to!¡±

    Nou smiles that heartbreaking smile ¡°Shouldn¡¯t, can¡¯t and isn¡¯t¡­ it doesn¡¯t matter¡­ the Hospital Director wants our office for his son and rightly points out that in the [1.1 years] since we graduated and took up employment here, there have been zero instances that required experts on deathworlder medicine. You and your crewmates are likely the first Humans ever to set foot on this planet¡­ The fact that we¡¯ll be homeless and jobless, the fact that our research on Terran medicine has been helpful to other departments on numerous occasions and the fact that it¡¯s a breach of employment law don¡¯t matter¡­ if we informed the authorities, as junior doctors¡­ nobodies¡­ we¡¯d get told very unflatteringly, what we could do with our complaint¡­ On this planet, it would require someone of far higher social standing to get through to someone who might listen and take action.¡±

    ¡°THAT¡¯S FUCKING CORRUPTION!!!¡± I blurt, angrier than I¡¯ve been in years.

    ¡°Ah, the Terran zeal against corruption¡­ I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re right. It¡¯s corruption, and the way of things¡­ here at least. Just last week one of the Director¡¯s nephews went on a rampage at Hnzak Prison and had to be restrained by a Corrections Officer who managed not to kill him¡­ In an incorrupt society she would have been given a commendation for the restraint she demonstrated¡­ one phonecall from him and, I hear, she lost her job. There¡¯s nothing to be done.¡±

    I slump, disconsolate, onto a chair which immediately splinters and deposits me on the floor, having been designed for beings a quarter of my mass.

    I sit on the floor, burying my head in my hands.

    ¡°Fuck! That¡¯s such horseshit!¡± I say, sharing their misery.

    ¡°[Fucking] [Horzjit] indeed!¡± Nahn responds, suaveness only slightly marred by the way his muzzle mangles the consonant cluster.

    ¡°This would be some great research fodder, in different circumstances. An up close and personal look at that Human empathy that was half of what caused the GU to ask for the ceasefire in the FCW. I¡¯m just about old enough to remember that video being released, of the Sho¡¯uso mother crying and trumpeting for her lifeless son, being joined by those Terran occupiers who cried with her, for her and for her son. That was the final straw that made us see that your species weren¡¯t the monsters we thought you were, though the woman did state, after the fact, that she believed the soldiers were mocking her and were about to kill and/or eat her, at the time.¡± comments Nou.

    My miserable face reveals itself from behind my hands and I ask ¡°¡­what was the other half of the reason?¡±

    They both give a bitter chitter ¡°That would be the 300:1 casualty rate we were suffering!¡± answers Nahn

    ¡°In that regard, you were far worse than the monsters we thought you were!¡± Nou adds.

    I sit miserably, raging at my impotence!

    I¡¯m a deathworlder! I shouldn¡¯t have to feel this way! If I wanted to I could march into this, piece of shit, Director¡¯s office, pick him up with one hand and hold him out of a window until he agreed to take them back!

    ¡­But¡­ then I¡¯d be a criminal¡­ and I¡¯d probably get the Captain in trouble¡­ and, even if it worked, Nahn and Nou would only be safe from retaliation while I was planetside¡­ and anyone who heard of the incident would come to the conclusion that Humans are wild monsters¡­ deathworlder forethought is a curse sometimes(!)

    I sit a while longer in my misery before a memory surfaces¡­

    When me and Cookie were having the conversation that led us to going out¡­ he was engaging in some healthy grousing re:job tedium¡­ his example of tedious things happening¡­

    My head shoots up.

    Nahn and Nou both seem startled.

    ¡°So¡­ you two are looking for a job?... And a place to live?¡­ You¡¯re medics with Human specialty?... AaaaAaand¡­ you¡¯d ideally like someone of high social standing to report this miscarriage of justice?... would a ship captain, who just dumped 0.9% of this town¡¯s yearly revenue on repairs, and is a prominent member of a prestigious clan, on R¡¯qal, do?...¡±

    ---one explanation and five ¡®permission to Fluffy Test¡¯ textcom requests to other Triple M¡¯s later---

    ¡°Msia, you are a wonder!¡± Nahn says, in his species equivalent of joyful tears.

    ¡°You are!¡± adds Nou, the same.

    ¡°Well, lets not get ahead of ourselves¡­ you haven¡¯t got the job, yet.¡±

    They smile.

    ¡°There¡¯s that deathworld caution!¡± says Nou.

    ¡°Oh yeah, right! Do you still want to do the tests and interview? We could wait, do it on the ship?¡±

    Then Nou puts a paw on my right hand¡­ and then Nahn puts a paw on my left.

    In an unmistakably flirtatious manner, Nahn answers ¡°We¡­ coooouuuld do the scans, the interview, the tests etc. tonight, while we still have the use of our office¡­ oooooooor¡­ while we still have the use of our living quarters¡­ we could skip aaaaaall of that, for tonight, assume we¡¯ll get this job, that seems to have dropped [serendipitously] from the heavens, made just for us, aaaaaaand skip right to the¡­ *ehem*¡­ sample collection?¡±

    I glance in shock from one to the other for a few moments.

    ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Extremely!¡± answers Nou ¡°¡­Our¡­ shared fascination with Human males was a large part of what brought us together¡­ and you¡­ are just our type! Didn¡¯t you wonder why we waited until your friend went upstairs with that roughworlder to approach? He was a little to skinny for our tastes and we were discussing what the polite way to indicate that we were interested in you but not him was when he left of his own accord!¡±

    I burst out laughing for the second time today.

    ¡°Well you two are certainly bold but¡­ I must confess I¡¯ve already had an¡­ encounter before coming here!¡±

    They nod, in unison.

    ¡°We know.¡± Says Nahn.

    ¡°We can smell it¡­ the barmaid, right? That Svikkthian?¡± adds Nou ¡°We don¡¯t expect exclusivity from you, just¡­ you¡¯re our type and we¡¯re clearly yours, given that semi you had, talking to us at the bar!¡±

    ¡°Damn, I¡­ well I guess¡­ erm¡­ privacy would be off the table with you guys and your noses?¡±

    They chitter and Nahn takes my hand ¡°We know how to keep secrets¡­ now do you want to do this? You don¡¯t have to do both of us, if you don¡¯t want to or your refractory period won¡¯t allow it! You can pick one of us and the other will be happy watching, no jealousy, we promise.¡±

    I think for a moment and say ¡°I¡¯d like to try and do both of you¡­ if that¡¯s OK?¡±

    They vibrate, gleefully.

    ¡°In that case¡­¡± says Nou ¡°¡­let us show you to our living quarters! You¡¯ll have to forgive their barrenness, most of our possessions are on that hovertrolley!¡±

    They bring me through to their, as they said, barren apartment and indicate for me to sit down.

    Nou starts ¡°There¡¯s lube in the bedside cabinet, if you want to undress and lube up¡­ we¡¯re going to take off our outfits, being as seductive as possible, when you¡¯ve decided who you want to do first just walk over and start with them, however you please. We discussed all of this years ahead of time and we both agreed that¡­¡± she bites her lip ¡°¡­competing for your attention would be the most¡­ engaging game to play with you! Is that alright?¡±

    I chuckle ¡°I feel like the judge of Mr. and Mrs. Universe! Sure, I¡¯ll play this game.¡±

    They share my mirth with a chitter.

    I take out the lube and undress before depositing a healthy quantity into my hand and rubbing it on my cock... hard by willpower.

    I sit down on their bare mattress and watch as they begin a double striptease for my benefit¡­ well¡­ for theirs as well given that bulge in Nahn¡¯s trousers and, I just have to assume that Nou is as wet as Muselia was, earlier! Seems like it from the look on her face.

    As they dance, I look back and forth between them, attempting to make my choice.

    Debonair, femboy, twink husband or sultry, seductive wife?

    Decisions! Decisions!!!

    They both have nice¡­ everything really! Gorgeous legs! Stunning arses! Fantastic chests!

    Nou has a much more Human arrangement of two breasts than Muselia did. Muselia¡¯s six were¡­ well¡­ an experience but Nou¡¯s much more familiar number is on par in terms of the effect it has on me¡­

    Engai those tails are cute¡­ they¡¯d look even cuter being used as a handle.

    Oh, the pants and panties are finally off¡­ let¡¯s see what we¡¯re working with¡­

    Nou¡¯s pussy is seductive and highly alluring¡­ Fuck! She just dripped! I can still see it on the floor!

    ¡­but Nahn¡­ now I can see his androgenous body and that¡­ charming little cock of his¡­ well¡­ the answer is obvious.

    I stand and they both freeze from their seduction dance nervously looking to see who I pick¡­ who gets to go first?!

    I stride over to pick up Nahn by the loose skin at the back of his neck and lift him 50cm to my eyelevel! He curls his body out of reflex! He couldn¡¯t get any cuter.

    Speaking in a decisive voice, about a third of an octave deeper than my normal which is already baritone, I say ¡°I¡¯ve decided that I want to start by fucking Nahn¡¯s arsehole while Nou gives him oral and plays with herself¡­ How does that suit everyone¡­?¡±

    Their nods are a mix of excitement and nerves.

    I smile.

    ¡°Good!¡±

    Plan of action agreed, I guide that cute little arse to the head of my cock.

    Before I start I say softly into Nahn¡¯s ear ¡°All that time studying and fantasising about Humans, did you ever think you¡¯d actually end up in this position one day?¡±

    He gives a Terran head shake and, in his high feminine voice, says ¡°Never! I never dared to hope that our fantasies would come true so perfectly!¡±

    I chuckle and begin gently pushing inside him, the lube making it easier but not easy!

    He gasps and shudders as his arse accepts every inch of me¡­

    Fuck, this twink is cute!

    ¡°Nou, I assume he¡¯s still at least as hard as he was before I turned him around¡­ can you put that pretty snout of yours to work at giving him joy?¡±

    She nods and comes to Nahn¡¯s front, bending only slightly to get to the level of where his cock is suspended. She, presumably, takes it in her mouth before reaching one hand around to grasp an arse cheek and the other to start bobbing up and down at her side, presumably, playing with herself.

    Fuck, this night is like a bad porno! ¡®Afterhours Lusty Barmaid!¡¯ followed by its anticipated sequel ¡®Afterhours Lusty Doctor Swinger-Cuckholds!¡¯¡­ Perhaps I shouldn¡¯t write porn titles if those are the best I can do(!)

    Well, no one¡¯s getting younger. Let¡¯s start!

    With my left hand on his waist and my right hand under his armpit I pull him almost the entire length of my cock before reversing course.

    It has to be gentle! If I¡¯m rough with him I could rupture something internal. Though¡­ of course¡­ we are in a hospital¡­ NO! Bad thinking, Msia! You can¡¯t get complacent because you live in an era where almost any illness or injury is curable in hours rather than months!

    His squeaks and moans of pleasure, as his lifemate assails his cock with her mouth and their sexual fantasy assails his prostate analogue from behind, are priceless!

    After some time has passed he whines and wobbles and Nou pulls away from his front, swallowing and satisfied.

    ¡°Do you want me to stop?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± he answers.

    I smile.

    Nou takes position on the bed and presents such that I can see her furious fingers working her pussy as she watches me fuck her pretty-boy husband!

    Without stopping, I carry Nahn to the bed as well. Nou swivels to stay facing us. I place his legs on the bed and push his upper body down by the back of his neck. I hook my palm over his shoulder and, in my other hand, take the base of his tail to use as a handle. I renew my vigour, still careful not to go so hard that I might break his bones.

    His paws splay adorably against the mattress.

    Engai, I¡¯m getting close!

    I go a little harder than I perhaps should to finish off.

    I release, into another, for the second of three times tonight. It¡¯s much less than with Muselia, in terms of volume, but Nahn seems to be about as pleased with having my semen inside him as I am!

    I let him gently slide off my cock and collapse, face first on the bed.

    I point to my other admirer, still playing with herself and say ¡°Don¡¯t wear yourself out! I still want to do you! Just¡­ give me some time to recover.¡±

    Clearly surprised, she asks ¡°Can you really¡­? Three times in one night¡­!?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t believe me, even after I said I would. I don¡¯t blame her¡­ Fucking two hotties in quick succession has left me feeling a little abused down there, (though, not as abused as I¡¯m sure my hotties feel(!))¡­ but I¡¯m determined to get this hattrick!

    I give my most mischievous smile and say ¡°Doctor Shing¡­ as a Human specialist¡­ you really ought to become familiar with the Coolidge effect(!)¡±

    ---one hattrick later---

    I¡¯m lying down, with one Shing under each arm.

    My alarm is set for mere hours from now¡­ I have to get up, help them load their heavy stuff¡­ take a monorail to the docks and convince my Captain to give these two a job.

    They probably won¡¯t be able to pass the Fluffy Test¡­ but I hope they still want to come away on the ship with me¡­ speaking to them at the bar¡­ they seemed like kind, good people¡­ good people deserve a break!

    I should get Cookie to make them some of his pancakes, at least.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.6

    ---Loneliness---

    ---[13 years] BF (Before Fluffy)---

    The galaxy¡­ is vast!

    It contains fourteen billion terrestrial planets, of those, half are lifebearing, of those, one in a hundred are currently host to a permanent sapient population, of those, only a little over thirty thousand are cradleworlds of sapient species, of those, one¡­ is a deathworld.

    Lightyears separate stars! The size and quantity of objects that can move through the void without being detected is immense!

    This was a lesson my polity, the Galactic Union, learned hard¡­ all too recently!

    Around [20 years] ago we discovered that our society had been cohabiting the galaxy with another domain¡­

    This wasn¡¯t the normal First Contact situation, where we¡¯d find a species bound to one planet, maybe with a few extrasolar colonies!

    They had a territory that already made them the most numerous single species in the galaxy.

    Hundreds of planets and 1.7 TRILLION souls!

    And they¡¯d been hiding¡­ right under our eyes and, yet, in the last place we¡¯d look for them!

    On deathworlds!

    Worlds where the gravity is high enough to crush our silicate bones!

    Worlds where wildfires rage!

    Worlds where winds whip and storms howl!

    Worlds where the plants are locked in a deathgame with eachother, greedily monopolising every last nutrient and ray of sunshine that they can!

    Worlds where even the herbivores are ready to kill, unprovoked, because they have to be!

    Worlds where predators stalk and venomous creatures lie coiled and waiting!

    Worlds where a single microbe would be enough to lay waste to the ecosystem of an entire gardenworld!

    Worlds where the very crust fractures and chafes against itself, roiling out streams of lava across the land, flattening buildings with earthquakes, washing away coastal towns with great waves!

    Worlds where the suns stream a constant barrage of lethal radiation to crash against powerful magnetospheres, only just able to hold them at bay but still letting through enough to bathe the surface in mutagenic rays!

    And what had these deathworlders to say of our gardenworlds? The appropriate, sane places for life and sapience to develop and inhabit!?

    ¡®Unfit for settlement¡¯! The selfsame thing we had declared of their species¡¯ chosen expansion grounds!

    Their complaints?; sun too weak, not tectonically active enough, atmosphere too thin, climate too stable, ecosystem not dynamic, crop growth too calorie poor, gravity too low! Could never support settlement, could never produce sapients!

    We hadn¡¯t found the deathworlders hiding in our midst and they hadn¡¯t found us surrounding them because neither of us were looking in the right places!

    And the worst part? They had spent centuries¡­ screaming into the void, begging to be found, pleading for anyone to tell them they weren¡¯t alone!

    They had found life, deathworlds are not deadworlds, but no sapience.

    In frustration, they uplifted their companion animals, built AIs, resurrected long dead cousin species¡­ unsatisfied with their lot of loneliness¡­ they changed it! If the universe wouldn¡¯t give them company, they would make it!

    Deathworlds have always terrified gardenworlders. The stories that come back with the few survivors are the stuff of nightmare.

    Deathworld sapients have been a monster of myth, for longer than there are surviving records. Hellforged bodies, hellforged minds, hellforged intelligence and hellforged malice... stalking you¡­ the thought is enough to make the most grizzled veterans in the galaxy quail and cower.

    It was less than [two months], after news of the discovery broke, that the GU Parliament declared a war of annihilation against the Terrans.

    Deathworlders couldn¡¯t be reasoned with, deathworlders couldn¡¯t be placated, deathworlders would not stop until they had brought death to us all, they said.

    750 trillion souls marched to war against 1.7 trillion¡­ and were utterly routed!

    We were millennia ahead of them, technologically; they didn¡¯t have nanotech, their computing was a fraction as powerful as ours, they were still dying at the end of their natural lifespan, they lacked regenerative medicine, they didn¡¯t have FTL coms, didn¡¯t have FTL tracking or targeting, they didn¡¯t even have proper translators! Despite having thousands of languages they relied, instead, on a culture of polyglottalism!

    In the face of all that, they humiliated us.

    The casualty disparity was immense. Hundreds of us died for every one of them we killed. When we sent elite units, composed of some of the very few hypercarnivorous sapients, their ferocity paled in comparison to that of deathworlders! When we tried to make use of our tech edge they would reverse-engineer it, our millennia of engineering, by the very next time we fought them! When we spun up the engines of our industry, theirs spun up faster! On the rare occasions that we would capture one alive, they would tear through the containments we had assembled as if they were made of tinfoil and proceed to rampage through our ranks! Terran children and pets laid waste to battalions when we tried to take their worlds with ground forces! We attempted to glass their planets and they stopped us, they always stopped us, like they knew what we were thinking before we thought it!

    Almost none of the Terran casualties were planetside, over 99% were voidside¡­ that was my domain¡­ fresh out of Officer Training, at [16 years] old, I took to the stars in a starfighter.

    R¡¯qali are some of the only sapients that have the instincts for [dogfighting] and¡­ we are undoubtedly the best¡­ or we were¡­

    Human fighters outstripped us to the point that precognition seemed the only plausible explanation. In the year that I served, I didn¡¯t manage to shoot down a single one of them but¡­ unlike nine tenths of my classmates¡­ I survived!

    I watched and retreated with the GU forces as the Terrans pushed us back and back, taking and occupying planet after planet.

    We wept for the poor souls lost to Terran occupation¡­ the barbarism, the carnage, the atrocities, the brutalities... The¡­ care? The¡­ empathy? The kindness?

    Video after video after testimonial after undeniable piece of evidence came from those occupied worlds!

    In war, the Terrans had been every bit the monsters we thought they would be¡­ and so much worse.

    But, in conquest, Terrans in white clothes with red symbols on brought food, medicine, blankets, tents! They brought all the things they would need to tend to the homeless, the hungry, the sick, the cold.

    They taught us the word ¡®humanitarian¡¯! They taught us the depth of compassion that must flourish in you when your home is hell itself! They taught us that we were wrong about them¡­ They were such a lonely species for so long and, when they finally found fellow beings to offer a hand of friendship, we recoiled in horror¡­ and tried to exterminate them!

    We were the monsters!

    After [seven years] of war, after 20 trillion (2.7%) GU dead and only 70 billion (4%) Terran dead, we capitulated. We surrendered. We invited a Terran delegation to the GU Parliament to discuss the terms of our surrender. The best we were hoping for was that the Terrans would declare themselves our overlords and force us to give them¡­ everything we had to give, to repay them for the heartache we had caused.

    The galaxy watched, with baited breath, as the broadcast was made of the peace conference.

    Into the Parliament, strode the United Terran Coalition¡¯s representatitve, backed by four bodyguards.

    It was such a strange sight to see Terrans in their people¡¯s formalwear! We were used to images of them in battle-armour and, as of late, white and red uniforms. It drove home again that these were people, not monsters.

    She sat¡­ and what followed was the most furious dressing down of a room full of powerful people that likely ever has or ever will occur. ¡®Xenophobia¡¯, ¡®genocide¡¯, ¡®bigotry¡¯, ¡®war crime¡¯, ¡®crime against peace¡¯ and ¡®fucking¡¯ were all words and concepts introduced to the nondeathworld galaxy, that day.

    When the speaker, bravely, asked if the Terrans intended to seize control of the GU and turn it into their own expanded territory she scoffed and answered that they weren¡¯t ¡®orcs¡¯ and they weren¡¯t ¡®imperialists¡¯, two more new words.

    Their insistence that they aren¡¯t and don¡¯t do any of these things is marred slightly by the fact that they¡¯re the only ones with words for them!

    With great care and demonstrating more [backbone] than I¡¯m sure 99.9% of the gardenworlders in the galaxy would have been able to, the speaker asked: ¡°If you don¡¯t want to rule us¡­ what would be adequate recompense for this blooddebt?¡±

    The Terran thought for a long while before answering ¡°We don¡¯t want anyone else to die¡­ enough of us¡­ and CHRIST enough of you, have died!... You made us slaughter more than ten times our total population¡­ just to survive! You can atone by first telling us that you¡¯re sorry then showing us that you¡¯re sorry! You can make this up to us by treating us as equals! You can make this up to us by ensuring that this never happens again! The next time you discover beings that frighten you, we¡¯ll be here to make sure you extend the olive branch first, and then don¡¯t bludgeon them with it! We can forget about ¡®blooddebts¡¯ and focus on healing and transforming things so that nothing like this is ever possible again!¡±

    Over the coming [months], the Terrans took their seat in the Parliament and negotiations on reparations began.

    The GU gave a formal apology for the slaughter¡­ and so did the UTC¡­ which no one was expecting.

    The Office of Deathworld Relations was established to search for new deathworld sapients and mediate with the ones already known. It was scrupulously staffed with 50% Terrans and 50% gardenworlders.

    Against their protests, the Terrans were given exclusive settlement rights to all the galaxy¡¯s hundreds of thousands of deathworlds.

    It was a hollow gesture. They weren¡¯t really ours to give. We may control the space around them but those planets were so hostile to us that we never would have been able to develop them ourselves. ¡®Like giving water to a fish¡¯ was the analogy the Terrans used. It got the point across, after some translation struggles.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    They, rightfully also pointed out that, if they settled all these worlds, any future deathworlders would be ¡®left out in the cold¡¯. So, unbidden, they announced a regimen that saw a portion of deathworlds left unsettled, for any future deathworlders, and ensured the preservation of any local ecosystem for worlds they did settle.

    We¡¯ve shared technology, innovations, medicine, philosophy, law and we¡¯ve both learned so much! The results have been better than anyone could have hoped!

    And¡­ yet, it¡¯s been 14 years since the peace, and while hostilities have not resumed¡­ the Terrans describe the current state of affairs with words like ¡®apartheid¡¯ and ¡®cold war¡¯.

    Separated by planetary classification, the gardenworlders and new deathworlders have barely mixed at all! There are fewer than a million nonTerrans, living permanently, across all their settlement worlds and the number of Terrans who¡¯ve taken to the stars, among nonTerrans, currently sits at around the same. Terrans have taken their seat in the Parliament but scrupulously avoid voting on anything that doesn¡¯t directly affect them.

    We need more! More integration! More participation! More innovation-spurring cultural exchange! There¡¯s so much to learn from deathworlds and deathworlders!

    Deathworld research has yielded uncountable new improvements to the galaxy¡¯s quality of life but, deathworlds being deathworlds and deathworlders being so rare and guarded, in wider space, there have been numerous instances of researchers being sent to deathworlds without a Terran because none could be found. The results were predictable.

    That¡¯s why, mere [months] ago, the GU declared that a Terran escort was obligatory, on deathworld expeditions and requested the Office of Deathworld Relations to draw up requirements for a qualification that will come into effect in the next few years.

    That being done all that was required was someone to negotiate the establishment of this course and agree to be captain of the ship that would be the first test case for this new Terran Security Officer position; those would both be me¡­ Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak¡­ who''s currently stood on a shuttle descending to hell itself, the home of death, Earth.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, Sha¡¯anza has been making objection about regulation 17.4, it¡¯s making her¡­ nervous.¡±

    I flap, irritably. ¡°We can¡¯t ban pets if we want Terrans and we can¡¯t restrict the kinds of pet they''re allowed if we want them happy! It stays as is!¡±

    I look at the pretty male, holding a holopad with clear concern plastered on his face.

    ¡°Remind me of your name, Soldier?¡±

    I don¡¯t need to guess that he¡¯s a soldier. Though¡­ definitely too young to have fought.

    ¡°It¡¯s Qorak, Captain¡­ your Clanmother hired me as your secretary and personal assistant shortly before the Bright Plume departed¡­¡±

    I chitter at that ¡°Did she now(?) The old woman does so like to play matchmaker(!) Listen, Qorak, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll make some woman very happy when you agree to lifebond, one day, but¡­ it won¡¯t be me! Is that understood?¡±

    His face is unreadable as he says ¡°Perfectly, Ma¡¯am.¡±

    I avoid asking why a secretary would be on a surface shuttle to spare the boy any further embarrassment.

    The shuttle door cracks and begins extending out to form a ramp, allowing the thick, soupy Terran atmosphere inside. It reveals the roof of the, 1500m tall, Reception of NonTerran Dignitaries building, located in a megalopolis on an island off of one of Earth¡¯s landmasses.

    An armoured Terran strides up the ramp, blocking my egress, gun slung at his side. If someone asked me to define ¡®overkill¡¯¡­

    He glances between me and my new secretary for a few moments before settling on me ¡°You are Lady Tcakqaal? 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak?¡±

    ¡°¡®Captain¡¯, yes.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Do you have a gravitic compensator and an aerial microbe denial field equipped and engaged?¡± he says, without apology.

    I gesture to them strung on a sash, unnaturally draped across my chest. He looks at them a moment before seeming satisfied.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m going to have to enclose them in a tamperproof case, we¡¯ve had some instances of gardenworlders accidentally disabling personal welfare devices recently and the results weren¡¯t pleasant, this is now policy. The case will be removed before you reboard. Do I have your permission to do that?¡±

    I give a Terran nod and he clips a transparent case around my devices. Akaros! It feels sturdy enough to survive a bomb blast!

    That done, I¡¯m shown across the roof, to a lift which takes me to the 169th floor, where my appointment is.

    I walk up to the door of Ambassadors Jeanne ''Blitz'' Miyazaki, the selfsame woman who stormed into the GU Parliament and berated the representatives like fledgelings, all those years ago, and Ez1026r583A ''Ezra''.

    ---later---

    I drum my talons against the desk perch that the ambassadors have so graciously had provided. It¡¯s unusual that I¡¯m here alone, Terrans only do diplomacy from paired couple to paired couple. It wasn¡¯t always that way, it was apparently a habit they only picked up after leaving their cradleworld, precontact, and it has become a policy since¡­ but I¡¯m unpaired¡­ and the only qualified person who was willing to take this job¡­ so they¡¯re making an allowance.

    ¡°I know¡­ that the skills required¡­ would require turning out a galactic arm, to find experts on¡­ in gardenworld populations¡­ but the Office of Deathworld Relations assured me that finding these experts, on Earth, would be a trivial matter.¡± I say, cautiously.

    The mechanical man fixes his eyes on me and says, in a perfectly level voice ¡°Captain Tcakqaal, as my wife explained; it isn¡¯t a matter of finding instructors, it¡¯s volunteers that are necessary.¡± a pause ¡°None have come forward.¡±

    ¡°There are tens of billions of people on this planet!¡± I exclaim, losing composure ¡°None?!¡±

    Ambassador Miyazaki turns her eyes to me from the window ¡°Diplomats can shake hands¡­ Ma¡¯am¡­ governments can issue apologies¡­ but the people out there¡­¡± she gestures out of the window ¡°¡­we can¡¯t make them forgive and forget! The fact is, they don¡¯t trust nonTerrans after your catastrophic mishandling of our First Contact. Almost every single person on this planet, lost someone to the GU¡¯s attempted genocide. Many of them don¡¯t believe you sincerely changed your minds about us and think that, rather, you just wanted us to stop slaughtering you by the trillion! And, if I may be so bold, the wording you had us use was¡­ offputting!¡±

    ¡°¡®Offputting¡¯? How?¡±

    She takes her holopad out and reads ¡°¡­4 year course at the end of which you will be serving under a R¡¯qali Captain who has nothing but the utmost respect for Terrans and the restraint they showed during their occupations of the First Contact War¡­¡± she tosses it onto the desk.

    ¡°That¡¯s offputting¡­ it sounds like you¡¯re still thinking of us as monsters.¡±

    I splutter ¡°H-h-how!? How can you have got that impression from that wording!? I do have nothing but respect for Terrans! Certainly, I hated you as I watched all my squadmates fall to your prowess during the war but¡­ when I saw the videos! I understood! You weren¡¯t monsters! You were lonely! You had reached out in friendship and we responded with war! I came here in a ship with a brand new, Terran modelled, AI¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m certain you didn¡¯t.¡± interrupts the Terran AI, correctly. GU law won¡¯t allow fully sentient AI, so it had to be modified to a state of semisentience. The only reason this rule doesn¡¯t apply to Terrans is because no one¡¯s been brave enough to bring it up, knowing what the answer would be.

    I continue ¡°¡­I feed my crew with deathworld origin crops! I¡¯ve spent the last [5 months] neck deep in researching your culture and history to be able to connect with this prospect, whoever they were. I¡¯m here to sponsor a Terran Security Officer and hire them to my employ! How could I give you the impression that I think Terrans are monsters?!¡±

    Ambassador ¡®Ezra¡¯ answers ¡°Human beings are highly perceptive and sensitive of context, Captain. This is precisely why the GU has passed this law. Often what is not said is more glaring to them than what is. You need to understand that they don¡¯t see their behaviour during our occupations as ¡®restraint¡¯. That would imply that they really wanted to run amok, pillage, burn, loot, cannibalise but were stopping themselves through force of will. This is not so. They cared for those whose worlds they occupied because that was what they wanted to do. Admiring their ''restraint'' is still fearing their prowess, not appreciating their Humanity. You''re just admiring the fact that they''re not using their prowess.¡±

    Ambassador Miyazaki smiles at her husband ¡°Exactly, sweetheart! No one wants to work for a Captain who seems to think that they¡¯re a monster ¡®restraining¡¯ themself!¡± she thinks for a moment before turning her focus back to me ¡°Even if they are. Even if you think that! Though, I don¡¯t know why you¡¯d volunteer to be the test case captain if you did! Plus¡­ if you want a Terran¡­ you can¡¯t treat them as just ¡®a Terran¡¯, you know? We¡¯re not a monolith and no one wants to feel like they¡¯re only valuable for what they are rather than who they are! If you want them to save lives, you need to make them feel like you trust them with your life! If you want their loyalty, you need them to feel like they have yours! If you treat them as just the ''ship¡¯s Terran'', you¡¯ll never earn their trust. They need to feel like they can invite you to parties, discuss nonsense with you, you need to be approachable! Not just a Terran-wrangler!¡±

    Frustrated, I ask ¡°So what do you suggest?¡±

    She chuckles ¡°You could always meet some Terrans(?) Go out and get to know some people(!) Offer them a job once they¡¯ve warmed up to you(!)¡±

    She¡¯s mocking me and it feels infuriating.

    ¡°You know what?!¡± I shriek ¡°Perhaps, I will! I need to be ¡®approachable¡¯, afterall!¡±

    I make for the door and Ambassador Miyazaki is frantically trying to call me back. She knocks a glass off the desk with gesticulation, it shatters. Titan! It was made of stronger silicate glass than my bones¡­ and it shattered! From a [0.9m] drop! It wasn¡¯t even full! It¡¯s a good demonstration of why exactly I need the gravitic compensator.

    Ambassador ¡®Ezra¡¯ says ¡°Captain, this is most inadvisable. With the level of antigardenworlder sentiment on Earth we would never suggest leaving the building without a bodyguard.¡± almost sounding like he¡¯s going to express an emotion other than serene calm, for a moment.

    I turn, fixing my four eyes on the warm woman and the cold man. Affecting a single Terran laugh, I say ¡°Hah! You two tell me I need to trust this prospect with my life and then you tell me to approach them with a bodyguard!? ¡®Oh, yes(!) I trust you completely(!) Never mind the [215cm] of armed and armoured deathworlder behind me(!)¡¯ I¡¯m going and I¡¯m going alone! If you want to stop me, do so!¡±

    They know they can¡¯t, it would breach every diplomatic protocol to detain me here, even for my safety. My stupid decision has no obstacles.

    I stride out of the room to the lift, I descend, I walk through the ground floor reception area, the receptionist wants to stop me, I stride past his desk out the door¡­ I breathe in the air of a deathworld city¡­ I continue¡­

    I walk past the historic palace that once, centuries ago, housed the emperors and empresses of a deathworld, maritime empire. I stride past that empire¡¯s parliament building, I cross a river, I pass an enormous monorail terminus.

    Occasionally, I stop to talk to one of the lumbering, deathworlder giants, all of whom are fixing me with the bemused expression of a father who¡¯s child has suddenly started expressing an interest in kwarat hunting!

    None of them give me the answer I want. None of them are interested, none of them are interested in helping me find someone who is interested. I walk on.

    This would be much easier if I could fly but, even with the gravitic compensator, that¡¯s not possible in 2.1GS G.

    Eventually, I find myself at a deadend. I turn around to find my way barred by three adolescent Terrans with cruelty in their eyes. The same cruelty that we imagined was there in all of them when we declared our war of annihilation.

    ¡°What''re you doing on Earth, then?¡± asks the, apparently, leader.

    ¡°Oh well, you see, I¡¯m a diplomat, sent to recruit a Terran to serve as a test case for a new rank which could help to foster a goldenage of prosperity in the cooperation between gardenworlders and deathwo¡­¡±

    ¡°No you ain¡¯t!¡± interrupts the one on the right.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right! You¡¯re here to kill people ain¡¯t you!? Like you killed my dad!¡±

    ¡°And my grandpa!¡± adds the lead one.

    ¡°And my sister!¡± adds the one on the left.

    ¡°No¡­ truly! I¡¯ve never killed anyone, even though I served in the War!¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ so you tried to kill us and couldn¡¯t!¡± smiles the lead, cruelty white hot.

    I stumble backwards and trip, landing on the ground.

    The leader reaches down and lifts the sash off me, over my head.

    ¡°These look valuable!¡± he says, admiring my devices through the perspex.

    ¡°No! Wait! Stop! You¡¯ll kill me if you take those!¡±

    He smiles, either not believing or not caring.

    Then, faster than I can resolve¡­ he¡¯s bleeding. I look left¡­ there¡¯s a fourth boy, who wasn¡¯t here before. He¡¯s holding a length of wood that looks like it had been discarded on the ground.

    The next thirty seconds are a blur as this new boy flashes between the others. I can¡¯t actually see him swing his improvised weapon but I can infer that he is from the sickening crunches and screams of agony from the other three.

    As they turn to run the new boy grasps my sash and wrenches it from the leader¡¯s hand. The leader hesitates but sees the copper haired boy¡¯s menacing feint of his stick and the look in his eyes before seeming to decide it isn¡¯t worth it.

    My assailants vanquished, the boy drops his bludgeon, turns to me and holds out his hand.

    ¡°You alright? You didn¡¯t notice ¡¯em followin¡¯ you?¡±

    I hesitate for a moment before taking his hand.

    He pulls me up and hands me back my sash.

    ¡°Thank you! I owe you my life!!!¡± I say breathlessly.

    ¡°¡¯snothin¡¯¡­ Those guys are arseholes! I know ¡¯em from school! Saw ¡¯em followin¡¯ you from across the street and knew they was gonna do somethin¡¯ stupid!¡±

    I look up into his eyes, like emeralds, and say ¡°¡­How would you like a job?¡±

    ---[4 months] AF (After Fluffy)---

    [206cm] of hellforged body, hellforged mind, hellforged intelligence and hellforged compassion stands [50cm] to my right, cooing over my egg in its incubator.

    ¡°How long¡¯s it been?¡± he asks, with heartwarming smile still fixed on Tcakak.

    ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯d say about [4 months].¡± I respond, amused.

    His face turns to confusion ¡°Oh, really? Isn¡¯t that a long time? Secreta¡­¡±

    ¡°If you are about to compare R¡¯qali to secretarybirds, or any other nonsapient deathworld avian, don¡¯t!¡± I interrupt, still mirthful.

    He shrugs and returns his gaze to her, thinking.

    After a long time he says ¡°Soooo¡­ is that where you were when I went to a¡¯Teksia 3?¡±

    I chitter ¡°Just so, dear boy! I was recovering from laying. I enforced a strict ¡®do not disturb¡¯ for two days and emerged to find two notifications ¡®Victor Taylor engaged with a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast¡¯ followed by ¡®Victor Taylor hospitalised¡¯ and I ran to the medical room, where you were sleeping, thinking you¡¯d been savaged by 300kg of dangerous local fauna, rather than savaged by your own loneliness(!)¡±

    He chuckles at that.

    ¡°How is the new Triple M working out? Hasiakh?¡± I ask, remembering the [6m] of scarlet reptilian who recently took residence in Triple M after passing the Fluffy Test.

    ¡°Hassi? Hassi¡¯s great! Hassi so sassy! We love her! She¡¯s a big fan of the Cuddle Puddle but says it makes her a bit too energetic to sleep!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not apprehensive about sharing your living space with a venomous serpentoid?¡±

    He laughs ¡°Definitely took a little gettin¡¯ used to but we¡¯re all friends now. Plus Cookie says her venom only hurts about as much as a bee sting, so¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait! She bit Dhawan!? How did that happen!?¡±

    His smiling gaze still fixed on my egg, he responds ¡°Not mine to divulge, I¡¯m afraid, you¡¯ll have to ask ¡¯em next time you come to Triple M!¡±

    I stare, disconcerted, for a few moments before I¡¯m satisfied that, if he¡¯s not concerned, it¡¯s not something I need to be concerned about.

    Taylor¡¯s com buzzes, he brings it to his ear ¡°Hello?¡±

    Tuun¡¯s voice comes through, tinny but audible ¡°Baby, get back to Triple M! Something¡¯s¡­happening.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.7

    ---The Grandmother---

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not¡­ angry¡­¡± I lie.

    ¡°Yes, you are.¡± The voice behind me states, simply.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not¡­ angry!¡± I say with the Thief¡¯s own honesty.

    ¡°Cap, you¡¯re clearly¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright, FINE!!! I¡¯m not angry, I¡¯m [furious]! I¡¯m [livid]! [Irate]! [Incensed]!¡±

    Taylor''s language has so many words for different shades of anger, from ¡®miffed¡¯ to ¡®apoplectic¡¯. It¡¯s worth embarrassing myself with the way my beak mangles them, to get the point across.

    I take a deep inhale of the oxygen rich atmosphere, maintained in this Dorm for Terran comfort, and watch the stars slowly parallax past eachother out of the window.

    ¡°Cap, I really didn¡¯t know! When I picked her up¡­ she was wild. I thought she was gainin¡¯ weight because she had access to all the food she wanted¡­ I tried havin¡¯ her do more exercise¡­ I thought about puttin¡¯ her on a diet! I¡¯m glad I¡¯m such a weak will when it comes to those sad eyes¡­ it prob¡¯ly would have been bad for them if I¡¯d put my foot down.¡±

    I wheel around, my face screwed up in rage. The five Humans, Don and Sahas all turn down their faces in shame.

    ¡°I¡¯m not angry that you brought an a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast onto my ship with a litter in her belly, Taylor! I¡¯m not angry that you misread the signals of pregnancy! I¡¯m not even angry that you got yourself injured by her!... Whatever I used to think and however it may sometimes seem to me, I¡¯ve seen enough of your stupid decisions and blindspots to know that Humans aren¡¯t clairvoyant! I¡¯m at peace with that! Taylor!¡­¡± I move toward the man, with his right arm bruised and slashed, now attempting to convey my hurt with every gesture of myself ¡°¡­I¡¯m angry that you kept it secret! You didn¡¯t trust me with this! Ten diurnals!? What did you think would happen? You thought you could smuggle them off the ship somewhere, without anyone noticing? Then what?!¡±

    Suitably ashamed he answers ¡°¡­Cap¡­ I¡¯m sorry!¡­ We¡­ I didn¡¯t know¡­ what to do! We talked about it a lot! Eight of them¡¯s a breedin¡¯ population and that¡¯s a crime, doesn¡¯t matter that they''re siblings! We decided it was better if you had plausible deniability! I really didn¡¯t do this because I didn¡¯t trust you!¡±

    I sigh and flick my crown plumes ¡°¡­So?... Why are you compromising my [plausible deniability], now?! And what made her injure you?!¡±

    ¡°¡­well, to the second¡­ she seems to have undergone¡­ behaviour changes¡­ we haven¡¯t been able to do the Cuddle Puddle since she delivered, she growls at us when we go in that room¡­¡± he looks around at the rest of the Triple Ms ¡°¡­we wanted to know what was up so¡­ these guys convinced me to get her a translator and ask. She was snarlin¡¯ at me as I approached¡­ I only just got it on her before she gashed me. To the first¡­ it¡¯s what she said¡­¡± he trails off here.

    I chit and ask ¡°Damn it, Taylor! Don¡¯t make me drag it out of you! What did she say?!¡±

    Still hesitating, he answers ¡°¡­I think she said she¡¯ll only talk¡­ to you¡­¡±

    I close my eyes to process that. It takes some time.

    Eventually, I ask ¡°Where is the uncertainty? What exactly did she say?¡±

    Victor gives a mirthless smile and says ¡°¡­Weeeeell, she asked for the ¡®feather Grandmother¡¯¡­ I can¡¯t think of many contenders(!)¡±

    Massaging my temples with my wingclaws, I try to work out¡­ anything!

    Eventually, I settle on asking ¡°I don¡¯t suppose she gave any indication of¡­ what she wanted to speak to this ¡®feather grandmother¡¯ about¡­did she?¡±

    He closes his eyes and shakes his head ¡°No¡­ she definitely wasn¡¯t in the mood to talk so¡­ I left and commed you.¡±

    I consider, then respond ¡°So¡­ do you have any ideas for questions you want me to ask her?¡±

    Taylor indicates to Zunberi, who starts ¡°We¡¯d like to know if she knows how long the mirkpups¡­¡±

    He¡¯s cut off by MacLeod ¡°Or mirkittens! Or mirklets! Consensus not yet reached!¡±

    He continues ¡°Yes, thank you Mouse. Anyway, we''d like you to ask if she knows how long they need to suckle before they can be weaned and if she understands what has caused her behaviour change and how long that will last. We¡¯d also like to know if she forms a pack unit with them after that or if mirkbeasts are solitary. The literature seems to suggest solitary behaviour but¡­ it¡¯s difficult to be certain, given how impossible it was to study them up close, until recently. Finally, we¡¯d like to know what she wants¡­ to do¡­¡±

    Confused I ask ¡°What do you mean: ¡®What she wants to do¡¯? What might she do?¡±

    Zunberi looks at Taylor, who¡¯s face is a mask of anguish, before turning back to me and responding ¡°GU law forbids breedable populations of deathworld predators being removed from their planet of origin together. One mirkbeast is legal as a study sample¡­ or pet, but¡­ if we keep her young¡­ we¡¯d be breaking the law¡­ so, realistically, she has two options, or actually, I suppose, two decisions to make¡­ where does she want us to take them and¡­¡± another glance at Taylor and his watery green eyes ¡°¡­does¡­ she¡­ want¡­ to leave with them.¡±

    I look at Taylor, my anger melting away.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine¡­ Cap¡­¡± he lies ¡°¡­I love her¡­ lots¡­ but if she wants to go, I won¡¯t force her to stay! I won¡¯t ask her to choose me over her babies¡­¡± he clears his throat, I¡¯m guessing as an attempt to keep his voice from cracking ¡°¡­Mage¡¯s sister¡¯s got some contacts in¡­ *erm*¡­ what was it?...¡±

    ¡°Deathworld Faunal Taming and Domestication Research¡­ or we return them and possibly her to a¡¯Teksia 3¡­ Those are the options¡­ if we give them to my sister¡¯s colleagues then they will be given to volunteers to see how they take to life as pets¡­ these would be people who will have been thoroughly, personally vetted to make sure they would be loving providers¡­ if they take to domestication as well as Fluffy did¡­ until recently¡­ then their genes can be sampled, recombinated and variated to be able to produce new domestic mirkbeasts that can then legally be distributed to those licensed to have them. Or we release them onto their cradleworld¡­ or, I suppose, you could get an eyepatch and a pegleg and we all become pirates(!)¡±

    That joke catches me off guard and I laugh.

    After thinking a moment, I resolve myself and say ¡°Taylor, get yourself to the medical room, get that wound seen to!¡±

    ¡°Wha¡­? Cap, it ain¡¯t that bad! Gato¡¯s going to try and convince me to get my scars regenned! He always does!¡±

    ¡°That is an order, Taylor! I will not have Terran wounds festering with Terran germs on my ship no matter how many decontamination fields are permanently active to keep you walking plague pits from infecting us! Also, to be frank, I agree with Dr. Gato¡­ I know you think of your scars as, sort of, ¡®trophies¡¯ but¡­?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°Not ¡®trophies¡¯, Cap, lessons!¡±

    I resign myself to never fully understanding Terrans, for the five millionth time.

    ¡°Be that as it may, you are to have that wound treated and I don¡¯t care how much you have to argue with Dr. Gato about the merits of retaining scartissue. Maybe you¡¯ll get one of the Shings¡­ I¡¯m sure they¡¯d be delighted to hear your philosophy on scars as ¡®lessons¡¯! I have a furred granddaughter to council, apparently, so I shan¡¯t be accompanying you. Zunberi, could you go with Taylor? Make sure he doesn¡¯t faint on the way?¡±

    Zunberi doesn¡¯t get to answer as Taylor says ¡°Wait? You¡¯re going now!?¡±

    I nod ¡°Now is the moment! If I have to turn this ship around and start heading back to a¡¯Teksia 3, I¡¯d prefer to know sooner than later!¡±

    ¡°Then I should go with you!¡± he says, insistently.

    ¡°No¡­ you shouldn¡¯t! She¡¯s made it quite clear that she doesn¡¯t want to see you right now!¡± I gesture at his wound ¡°And I¡¯m quite sure that even you wouldn¡¯t be able to do anything in the [0.2 seconds] it would take her to squash me flat, if she wanted to. Whatever these behavioural changes are, I¡¯ve seen enough of her to know that she wouldn¡¯t ask for me to do me harm! I¡¯ll go in alone.¡± I state with more confidence than I feel.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    He¡¯s still unconvinced so I concede ¡°Arran and Tuun can wait outside the door¡­ if I need help, they can be in there as fast as lightning¡­ do you trust them to keep me as safe as you could?¡±

    Taylor looks at his subordinates before saying ¡°I trust them completely¡­ I guess I¡¯ll see myself to the medical room¡­ or Mage will see me to the medical room. Is that alright Mage?¡±

    Zunberi smiles ¡°Of course, my friend!¡± and, after only a moment¡¯s more hesitation, the two men leave side by side.

    My hearts sink slightly at the task before me.

    Turning to my SO and ASO, I say ¡°Shall we?¡±

    Dhawan and Hasiakh stand as well¡­ Well Hasiakh less stands and more raises her upper portion from her coiled tail to put her head at about the height of Dhawan. They take eachother¡¯s hands.

    ¡°We¡¯ll come too, I know I¡¯m a cook and she¡¯s a prison guard but if Fluffy needs to be held back it might take more than two!¡± says Dhawan, his partner nodding at his side. Interesting how much faster than most she¡¯s picked up Terran mannerisms. Is that because she¡¯s sharing their living space or because she¡¯s a roughworlder?

    With a mirthful exhale, I say ¡°If you two want a raise next Subcycle¡­ I might be amenable(!)¡±

    They laugh.

    We head out of the Commonroom and down the hall to where Sam stands guard outside Taylor¡¯s door.

    ¡°He¡¯ll want to smell you, Captain.¡± says Arran ¡°He¡¯s been smelling all of us when we take our turn on guard. He¡¯s checking that we are ourselves and that we don¡¯t smell like hostility.¡±

    My mind boggles at the facts that Terran canines have the ability to detect the odour of hostility, the intelligence/ wariness to use that ability on trusted friends and the fact that Terrans ever domesticated an animal like that.

    ¡°Why exactly did you take up guard shifts outside the room of an aggressive mirkbeast mother? Isn¡¯t she her own guard?¡±

    Arran chuckles ¡°We weren¡¯t really guarding her we were guarding anyone, who might be stupid enough to blunder into Triple M and start opening doors, from her!¡±

    That deathworld caution!

    As I approach, Sam splays his front legs in a posture of readiness. I¡¯m reminded that, as much as he is a loving, friendly, sweet creature, he¡¯s every bit as much of a deathworld predator as the one in the room he¡¯s guarding.

    I extend my wing to his nose and he sniffs it.

    ¡°Happy smelling!¡± he proclaims, satisfied and incorrect. I¡¯m definitely not happy but I¡¯m guessing that was him giving the all clear.

    ¡°Thank you, Sam.¡± I say, before turning to the door and gesturing for it to open.

    I walk into the halflit room and see a giant mass of infrared, curled into a crescent, with eight much smaller masses nestled into it.

    Rendered into R¡¯qali, a husky voice addresses me

    ¡°Not changing [horizon]!¡±

    My translator is not able to give me a clarification on the word that it has flagged as being inexact. I have to think¡­

    Of course¡­ she¡¯s from an eyeball world. She lived her entire life in the narrow band between deathly cold night and scorching hot day, before being adopted. Venturing in the direction of one horizon would increase the brightness, the other would decrease it. She¡¯s asking me not to change the lighting!

    ¡°I won¡¯t¡­ Fluffy¡­ I¡¯m told you asked for me?¡± I say cautiously approaching her head.

    ¡°Yes¡­ Not danger being¡­ but respecting¡­ safe talking both¡­¡±

    Confused, I ask ¡°Both?¡±

    She clarifies ¡°You not danger. Can¡¯t harming babies, even if wanting. You not danger being¡­ not [overcome] being me. Safe being both.¡±

    Another unclarified inexactitude!

    I think¡­

    Instinct? Some sort of instinct of parental protectiveness?

    ¡°Fluffy¡­ can you control yourself when you are ¡®overcome¡¯?¡±

    She chuffs in seeming irritation ¡°No! That what ¡®[overcome]¡¯ meaning!¡±

    I did not expect to receive a semantics lesson from a semisapient when I woke up this morning!

    ¡°You said you respected me? Taylor¡­ your daddy tells me you called me ¡®grandmother¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Feather Grandmother so [weak-strong]!¡± I¡¯m going to get a headache with all the discernment I¡¯m being forced to do.

    Weak-strong?

    ¡°You mean my body is weak¡­ but you think I¡¯m strong¡­ in other ways?¡± is this another example of a deathworlder perceiving me to have the ¡®spirit of a deathworlder¡¯?

    She shakes her head, Terran mannerisms are so mimetic that they even spread to semisapients!

    ¡°Not thinking! Knowing! Seeing!!! Brave being! Only [weak] seeing since living in [star cave]! Excepting [weak-cute] for licking.¡±

    I laugh ¡°You know you really scared Hamtonio? He thought you were sampling him¡­ He was certain that the last thing he would ever see was the inside of your mouth!¡±

    She gives a deep laughing purr-growl ¡°Sorry being. Too cute! Needing licking. [Overcome]!¡±

    I step forward an cautiously place my wingclaws on either side of her nose¡­ at this distance there will be nothing the Triple Ms can do¡­ I really hope my trust is well placed.

    ¡°Fluffy¡­ I know you think I¡¯m a grandmother but¡­ the truth is¡­ I¡¯m not even a mother yet¡­ though, I will be soon¡­ if you¡¯re looking for advice on motherhood, I can¡¯t give you the benefit of any experience¡­¡±

    She shakes her head, again, and the raw power of her body is made evident through my wings. I¡¯m almost pulled off my feet.

    ¡°Not true! Daddy¡¯s Mother being! Also aunties¡¯ and uncles¡¯ Mother being! Them not knowing long¡­ already trusting you! Already loving you! You wanting happy for them! You getting angry when we stupid being! Kinchild not having¡­ but Mother being¡­ and Grandmother to me and smol cousin! My kin lonely being! Not understanding loving and kind until Daddy, and Grandmother, meeting!¡±

    Another thing I didn¡¯t expect to be told today.

    I¡¯m touched.

    ¡°Alright¡­ Fluffy¡­ we have a lot to talk about¡­ why don¡¯t we start with your questions for me, then, your daddy, aunties and uncles have some that they want me to ask you¡­?¡±

    ---later---

    I walk through the door to the medical room.

    Dr. Gato is sat at his desk, seemingly perusing medical files of the crew.

    ¡°If you¡¯re looking for the ¡®scarred wonder¡¯ with his latest addition, he¡¯s in the last bed, the Shings are seeing to him¡­ I¡¯m certain he¡¯ll be more scar than man by the time he¡¯s a couple of centuries old¡­ if he survives that long!¡± he says without looking up.

    ¡°Thank you, Gato.¡± I say, warmly. It might not sound like it but that was about as cordial an address as he ever usually gives. For him, that was the equivalent of a friendly greeting. It used to bother me¡­ it doesn¡¯t anymore, for some reason.

    I round the corner and see the line of empty ward beds, the one designed for Terrans is occupied.

    Beside it stands Zunberi and, next to him, Drs. Shing, Nahn and Nou; The Terran Specialists I hired the last time we stopped for repairs. It was Zunberi who located them¡­ I wonder if his recruitment method was similar to what I now know Dhawan¡¯s to have been, for Hasiakh¡­ he has been visiting their private living quarters in their offtime for ¡®scans¡¯ and ¡®interviews¡¯ a lot!... Wait stop! That¡¯s not my business unless they choose to tell me. I can¡¯t be filling my head with speculation about potential gossip¡­ no matter how [juicy] that gossip would be!

    I draw closer and can see that Taylor is shirtless, his wound is healed and he is animatedly explaining the origin of his many scars that he is keeping as mementos of, seemingly, the times he failed¡­

    The [1.4m] Fulgensians are listening with rapt attention, their furry red and white tails twitching in reaction to the story. It¡¯s so fortunate that we managed to find two doctors with such an expertise on and passion for Terrans so far from Terran Space.

    I draw close and say ¡°¡­Excuse me, Drs. Shing?¡± a little above my normal volume, to catch their attention.

    They both jump, Zunberi turns his head in surprise but gives no indication that he feels at all disconcerted, Taylor smiles and says ¡°Hey, Cap!¡± of course he noticed me approach but managed to keep from making that apparent!

    ¡°Captain. It¡¯s a pleasure to see you, what can we do for you?¡± asks Nou, in her throaty voice.

    It¡¯s so nice to barely have to look up in order to address Fulgensians! I think I may have a mild repetitive strain injury from spending so much time conversing with nonR¡¯qali who tower over me!

    ¡°I was wondering if you might excuse us¡­ I have some things I need to discuss with my CSS¡­?¡±

    Drs. Shing look at eachother before Nahn responds ¡°Of course, Captain.¡± in his high, comely voice.

    ¡°Zunberi, you can stay if you want or you can have it from Taylor later and go back to Triple M or with Drs. Shing for one of your¡­ sessions?¡±

    He smiles and says ¡°I¡¯m sure Cuddles will fill me in¡­ I¡¯ll go with Nahn and Nou¡­ thank you, Captain.¡±

    I watch as the three of them walk away.

    Zunberi puts an arm around a shoulder of each Shing and pulls their shoulders to rest against his hips¡­ gossip confirmed¡­ not that I¡¯ll bring it up.

    Once the three of them are gone, I turn to Taylor.

    ¡°So¡­ what did she say¡­ Cap¡­?¡± he asks with quiet, pleading desperation.

    I respond ¡°Well¡­ bearing in mind that¡­ she¡¯s only got about as much articulation as Sam¡­ and I don¡¯t have a Terran¡¯s praeternatural ability to almost always produce the correct inference(!)¡­¡±

    He chuckles.

    ¡°I think she told me that she¡¯s extremely sorry for hurting you¡­ it seems that motherhood has induced an uncontrollable protective instinct in her and¡­ she can¡¯t control herself from lashing out at beings she perceives could harm her young¡­ she asked for me because¡­ evidently¡­ her subconscious doesn¡¯t perceive me as a potential threat...¡±

    I pause here but he doesn¡¯t interrupt. Just keeps fixing those baleful green eyes on me, begging me to continue.

    ¡°¡­she doesn¡¯t know how long she needs to suckle them or how long her instincts will be in overdrive¡­ she doesn¡¯t really have the same concept of time as you or I do¡­ with no day and night cycle on her cradleworld, she had nothing to measure it by¡­ She seems to have developed a time measuring system based on ¡®Daddy sleeps¡¯ since coming aboard the ¡®star cave¡¯ but she¡¯s also a first time mother¡­ and she confirmed that her species is solitary. She has no inclination on how many Daddy sleeps it would be, as she has no memory of her own mother nor familiarity of other mirkbeasts¡¯ postnatal experience¡­¡±

    ¡°And¡­ Cap¡­? What did¡­ she say¡­ about¡­?¡± his eyes now overflow and tears stream down his cheeks.

    ¡°¡­She has agreed¡­ to give them to Zunberi¡¯s sister¡­ she says that her instincts tell her that they won¡¯t be able to cohabit for long, with eachother, and that them being given loving homes¡­ like you¡¯ve given her would make her the happiest¡­ I¡¯m on my way to plot a course to Zanzibar Mpya after this.¡±

    He closes his eyes and smiles through his, still streaming, tears, leaning his head back against his pillow.

    ¡°Thank you¡­ Cap! And¡­ fuck¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ that¡¯ll take us weeks out of our way! I¡¯m really edging you closer and closer to the red aren¡¯t I!?¡±

    ¡°Actually Victor¡­ I might need to return the ship to Terran space anyway, this might just be¡­ ¡®killing two birds with one stone¡¯ as you Terrans so brutally put it(!)¡±

    I laugh as he winces apologetically for the unfortunate phrasing of the idiom from his language. Interesting that he¡¯s apologetic, given the bird here was the one who said it!

    He frowns and opens his eyes ¡°Why would we have to go to Terran space? I heard nothin¡¯ about this¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ well that would be because I was already on my way down to Triple M to tell you about it, and ask why I had barely seen any of you for the last ten diurnals, when I got your com!¡±

    He winces ¡°Sorry again.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s someone we might need to pick up for a contract the GU has just offered us¡­ I¡¯ll tell you about it in the morning¡­ get some rest, either here or in Triple M, you look [haggard]!¡±

    Terrans are the only species, to my knowledge, who are capable of stressing to the extent that it visibly affects their health!

    ¡°Alright, Cap¡­ me and Tuun¡¯ll just have to speculate all night about the nature o¡¯ this contract(!)¡± he says, getting up.

    He begins walking off and I call out ¡°Victor¡­ there was one more thing Fluffy wanted me to let you know¡­¡±

    He stops and turns back to face me, his eyebrows raised.

    ¡°She wanted me to tell you¡­ that she loves you¡­ and¡­ to thank you for sharing your home with her¡­¡±

    His tears return.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.8

    ---Names---

    ¡°So, you¡¯ve decided?¡± I ask, uncertainly.

    ¡°We have.¡± Responds Taylor, his emerald green eyes set and serious.

    ¡°¡­And your decision is?...¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ we decided¡­¡± he shifts his position in the loveseat, beside Tuun.

    ¡°¡­We decided on¡­ ¡®mirklets¡¯¡­¡± he says, raising a mirklet from his lap to coo into its face.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad the ship¡¯s most controversial issue, ever, is finally resolved(!)¡± I mock, dryly.

    ¡°We had an all night discussion¡­ the crew gave us some great suggestions but¡­ ¡®mirklets¡¯ was the clear winner! I was surprised¡­ my bet¡¯d¡¯ve been on ¡®mirkittens¡¯. ¡®Mirkits¡¯ was very popular, looked like it might take the lead for a minute there. ¡®Mirkpups¡¯ was another that people were tepid on. Other suggestions were ¡®fluffkits¡¯, ¡®mirkpeeps¡¯, ¡®mirkies¡¯, ¡®duskkits¡¯, ¡®flufflets¡¯, ¡®mirkbites¡¯, ¡®mirquats¡¯, ¡®mittens¡¯, ¡®mircubs/mirkubs¡¯, ¡®nuglets¡¯, ¡®mirknuggets¡¯ (very popular), ¡®cuddles¡¯ (might¡¯ve got confusin¡¯), ¡®flumps¡¯ (standin¡¯ for ¡®fluffy murder potatoes¡¯), one crewman was surprisin¡¯ly resolute on an English pun involvin¡¯ the slang verb ¡®merc¡¯ and, some of my favourite from the crew; ¡®gloamkits¡¯ and ¡®murmurs¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m not surprised it took all night to decide¡­ what with how incongruently indecisive Terrans (and apparently Sahas) can be about trivialities like what the cutest name for the cute thing is(!) What about individual names?¡±

    ¡°This¡­¡± he gestures at the one with the largest eyes and widest mouth, returned to making a bed of his and Tuun¡¯s laps, post face cooing ¡°¡­is Chesh, that¡­¡± he gestures at the only one with fully black fur, nestling into Hasiakh¡¯s stomach on the floor ¡°¡­is Nox, that¡¯s Catbus,¡­¡± gesturing a the largest, squarest one, wrestling with the end of Hasiakh¡¯s tail ¡°¡­that¡¯s Kit, that¡¯s Gloam, that¡¯s Murmur, that¡¯s Nugget¡­¡± gesturing at the smallest, only purple, most slyly mischievous looking and roundest ones, respectively ¡°¡­and that¡­¡± he gestures at the single albino ¡°¡­is Snowflake.¡±

    ¡°And were eight all-nighters of [gemot] required to decide on those(?)¡± I say, with a mirthful chitter.

    ¡°No, they just, sorta, came out and we all agreed on ¡®em. Obviously, every one¡¯s Fluffy-approved!¡±

    I reach up to Sam¡¯s ear to give him a grateful scritch.

    He¡¯s been assigned as my bodyguard in Triple M while it is a churning mass of chaos, with eight [6 to 8kg] mirklets, who don¡¯t know their own strength or my weakness, tumbling hither and thither.

    Every now and then, one of them gets curious and tries to approach me. Sam, effortlessly, redirects them and they quickly lose interest and resolve to play with one of the sturdier beings.

    I look at Hasiakh, with mirklets burying her, coiled into Fluffy¡¯s stomach. Her slitpupiled, green eyes are crossed and her boyfriend is admiring her from the couch.

    ¡°You alright Hassi?¡± asks Dhawan.

    ¡°Just drinking at the Oases of Warm and Soft¡­¡± she says, still apparently stupefied by her condition.

    Dhawan feigns woundedness ¡°You¡¯re saying this Oasis isn¡¯t enough for you(!?)¡± gesturing at himself.

    ¡°You¡¯re warm, their warmer, you¡¯re not soft¡­ you¡¯re an Oasis I drink at to satisfy¡­ other thirsts(!)¡± she¡¯s probably fine if she has the wherewithal to flirt.

    Dhawan, MacLeod, Arran, Tuun, Zunberi and Taylor all give mirthful woops, hollers and whistles to indicate appreciation for Hasiakh¡¯s brazenness. The noise stirs the eight, fluffy beans to great excitement causing Sam¡¯s bodyguard services to be called on to make sure none of my bones get broken.

    Once things have calmed down, I ask ¡°How¡¯s the weaning looking?¡±

    Zunberi answers ¡°It looks good, it really didn¡¯t take long. They''re still suckling but they¡¯ve all started sampling some of their mum¡¯s food. Fluffy says she feels like it¡¯s about halfway done which puts us nicely on track for our arrival at my homeworld. I guess, in the wild, mirkbeasts must undergo a sequential niche transition as they grow, meaning that they don¡¯t need to suckle for too long¡­ which works out nicely for us.¡±

    ¡°And, Fluffy?...¡± I say, causing that enormous head to raise and turn toward me.

    ¡°You¡¯re still at peace with them being given to Terrans as pets? You¡¯re at peace with, possibly, being the progenitor of an entire lineage of domestic mirkbeasts? You¡¯re sure that, after Zanzibar Mpya, you don¡¯t want to keep your translator?¡± I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do if she says she¡¯s changed her mind and wants to go back to a¡¯Teksia 3 now that we¡¯re so far from it!

    ¡°Peace being¡­ happy homes for kinchilds wanting¡­ proud of [allmother] being¡­ words getting in way¡­ take talk box if needing. Signal having.¡± she returns her head to the floor and closes her eyes again.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Why any two creatures would ever choose not to be able to communicate is beyond me but Taylor and Fluffy are weirdly agreed on the fact that their relationship is better without words. She has agreed to keep the translator until the mirklets are transferred to the Deathworld Faunal Taming and Domestication Research department of the Taasisi ya Utafiti na Teknolojia ya Zanzibar Mpya, Zunberi¡¯s old university.

    ¡°What¡¯s the signal?¡± I ask Taylor, sensing Fluffy to be in the mood to rest not converse.

    ¡°She stamps all her forelimbs, that means she has something to say and wants us to put a translator on her¡­¡± he says, attention seemingly entirely focused on Chesh but still able to answer me, somehow.

    A few moments pass, as the only movement in the room is eight mirklets and the reactions they get from the Triple Ms.

    Then, turning his eyes to me, Taylor speaks.

    ¡°I¡¯m really not a fan of the shortcut you¡¯ve plotted, Cap. I want to say again that I think we should stick to the cleared spacelanes.¡±

    ¡°Taylor¡­¡± I say, activating a 3D map projection of the 10003 lightyears currently around the ship, from my holopad.

    ¡°¡­sticking to the cleared spacelanes would take us a month longer!¡± I say, highlighting the circuitous route he wishes us to take.

    ¡°By that time, the mirklets might be starting to reject eachother¡¯s company! I truly do not wish deathworld predators to kill one another aboard my ship! It would be a crime to allow that to happen¡­ Saying nothing of the fact that they¡¯re Fluffy¡¯s babies and¡­ extremely adorable, even to me! The shortcut¡­¡± I zoom in on the narrow point, we¡¯re currently traversing, where two cleared lanes come mere lightyears from intersecting ¡°¡­will require an extra stop to degauss but still puts us being there, right on schedule!¡±

    Still rubbing his hands on Chesh¡¯s thoroughly fluffed sides, his attention is now entirely turned on me¡­ It¡¯s unnerving to be so focused on, even by a friend.

    ¡°Cap¡­ pirates? Did it occur to you that pirates might be thinkin¡¯ the same thing you did? ¡®What a nice little shortcut, perfect place to just hop between lanes, save a long trip round¡¯? If it¡¯s the perfect place to stray from the lanes, it¡¯s the perfect place to set an ambush! With the interstellar haze uncleared, we won¡¯t see ¡®em till they''re right on top of us!¡±

    I wave my wing, dismissively. This is one of those occasions where deathworld caution runs away with them.

    ¡°Taylor¡­ pirates are¡­ exceedingly rare!... The GU estimates the galaxy¡¯s total population engaged in piratical activities to be only in the tens of thousands, currently! We have Terrans to thank for that, of course! Your antipiracy fleets reduced that number from tens of millions to its current level. We¡¯re as likely to see pirates as¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ dragons? Unicorns? And, to be frank, I pity the pirate crew who think that they can take a ship with two roughworlders (one of whom is deathworld raised), five deathworld sapients and a mirkbeast mother aboard! They¡¯d be in for quite the rude awakening!... That is¡­ in the last few moments before they were reduced to a stain on the wall!¡±

    Still unconvinced, he asks ¡°What if they were Terrans¡­ Cap?¡±

    The question wrongfoots me¡­ Terran pirates? The thought is chilling! How had it never occurred to me!?

    I¡¯m about to open my mouth to say¡­ something, when the sound of warp falters and fails.

    There are a few moments of deathly silence¡­

    Then the lighting switches to blue¡­ klaxons sound¡­ and the computer pings all the holopads in the room.

    ¡°Computer, report!¡± says Taylor, his holo in his hand before anyone else¡¯s.

    ¡°The Bright Plume has been pulled from warp, CSS. A ship has revealed itself, within lightminutes of current location. Projecting a 97% likelihood of it being a pirate vessel, please arm and prepare all Security Personnel and deputies to repel boarding action.¡±

    Taylor stands, his face harder than iron.

    He looks around ¡°I''m giving anyone in this room, who¡¯s sapient and whose cradleworld is classified above an 8, the option to be armed and deputised. I won¡¯t force you four but, if me Samus and Tuun can¡¯t handle it, you might end up fighting anyway.¡±

    Dhawan, Hasiakh, Zunberi and MacLeod stand as well, there¡¯s not a shadow of a doubt that all of them are taking the deputisation.

    Speaking clearly into his com again, Taylor commands ¡°Computer, this is a security override. I am temporarily relieving the Captain of Command, to be returned after the threat is neutralised. Succession order, following me, is Brunhilda ¡®Samus¡¯ Arran followed by Tuun ¡®Elf¡¯ followed by Jennie ¡®Mouse¡¯ MacLeod followed by Msia ¡®Mage¡¯ Zunberi followed by Hasiakh followed by Krish ¡®Cookie¡¯ Dhawan followed by¡­¡± his voice falters for a barely perceptible moment ¡°¡­Command returning to Captain Tcakqaal¡­ in the event of the deaths of all of the above. Confine all crew to current location. Calculate most likely boarding point and clear a path to it from Starboard Dorm, Deck 5. Security officers and deputies are in the process of arming and readying.¡±

    ¡°Understood, Acting Commander, rear Loading Bay projected as most likely board point. May personnel, currently in rear Loading Bay, be evacuated?¡±

    ¡°Confirmed, guide them to nearest relative safety.¡±

    He turns to Tuun and Samus ¡°Go to your rooms, arm yourselves.¡± he turns to the others ¡°You four, come with me. I¡¯ll arm you.¡±

    The bottom has dropped out of my stomach.

    I disregarded the first rule of having a Terran on my ship: ¡®listen to the Terran! If they say they have a bad feeling about something, don¡¯t do it¡¯!

    Guilt wells up in me as I start ¡°Taylor, I¡¯m sorry, I¡­¡±

    Not looking in my direction, he interrupts ¡°Regrets are for the living, Cap. You can be sorry later. Now is not the time. Guard her, Sam. Keep her safe from the babies and anyone who comes into Triple M. Understood?¡±

    Sam barks ¡°Understanding!¡±

    I follow the group, including Taylor, to Taylor¡¯s room and Sam follows me.

    By the time I catch up, Taylor has already pulled down the cover of his weapon rack and is taking holstered handguns down and handing them to nonSecurity Triple Ms. For each one he gives out, he explains the safety and the UserID that keeps anyone from firing it unless the current User transfers possession.

    I¡¯m frantic, I¡¯m loosing my head, we might die and if we do¡­ it will be my fault!

    I¡¯m about to open my mouth before remembering Taylor¡¯s words¡­ ''be sorry later''. I have never wanted to be sorry more in my life. Being sorry means there¡¯s a later to be sorry in.

    Please, let this be one of those nightmares the Terrans tell me about!

    This isn¡¯t real! I can wake up scared, tap my beak against Qorak¡¯s and then check on Tcakak in her incubator! Please¡­?

    All the deputy Triple Ms armed now, the group makes its way back down the corridor to the balcony door.

    Just as the door is about to close, sealing me in here until I¡¯m safe or dead, I call out ¡°Victor!...¡±

    He turns.

    ¡°¡­stay safe! Come back here alive, you hear me!?¡±

    He smiles ¡°That¡¯s the plan, Cap!¡±

    The door closes.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.9

    ---The Workaround---

    ---Victor¡¯s Perspective---

    I listen for the sound of the door sealing behind me as we stride away, down the Access Stairways. I hear it. If they¡¯re opportunists who are just looking to take anything that isn¡¯t nailed down, she should be safe.

    What¡¯s this distracting gnawing in my stomach? Did I eat something that didn¡¯t agree with me? I really can¡¯t afford to be compromised like this right now! Doesn¡¯t adrenaline usually fix distracting normal bodily function signals like this? You never feel tired, hungry, thirsty, poorly or like you really just need to pop to the loo, when your adrenal gland has been tipped out on your nervous system¡­!

    Is it going to cause problems that I¡¯ve revealed exactly what I think the pecking order is? Is Cookie going to resent me putting him last? Is Tuun going to be insecure about going after Samus? Tuun¡¯s smarter than either of us but¡­ I need a clear head in charge. Tuun¡¯s still a bit green. Whatever¡­ that¡¯s a problem for Victor to address¡­ if he survives. Right now, I¡¯m not Victor, I¡¯m ¡®Acting Commander¡¯.

    As we reach Deck 1, I consider jumping the railing to get the last 5m to Deck 0¡­ in the low gravity it wouldn¡¯t injure me, Tuun and Samus would follow¡­ best not¡­ one of the untrained deputies might roll an ankle or crack a tail vertebra.

    We¡¯ll take the stairs.

    We reach the lowest Deck and begin walking rearward, with the Starboard section looming to our left and the central section looming to our right. Tuun and Samus are beside me, in tight formation. The others are looser but have all, instinctively, fallen in.

    ¡°Has anyone ever killed a sapient before?¡± I ask, raising my hand.

    I glance behind me, my hand and Samus¡¯s are the only ones in the air.

    ¡°Has anyone ever killed a Human before?¡± my hand goes down, hers stays up.

    ¡°Any advice?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t hesitate.¡± She states, her gaze not shifting from her line of fire.

    ¡°Good advice.¡± I say simply, returning my foveal focus to the green spackle pattern that my shotgun is projecting into my field of vision, via my translator, to indicate what it¡¯s currently aimed at.

    Blue is a terrible colour for emergency lighting!

    I know I can¡¯t expect the rest of the galaxy to share my colour-to-danger sensibilities but how did a plurality of species settle on blue as the danger colour!?

    Blue is the colour of pretty things like sapphires, Earth¡¯s sky, Earth¡¯s seas, the moons of R¡¯qal, Fluffy, 5 of the 8 mirklets¡­ Tuun.

    There¡¯s that stomach gnawing again, what the fuck is that!?

    I glance behind me to check everyone¡¯s armaments. Samus has her assault rifle held at a 45¡ã downward angle in front of her. Her plasma-broadsword is slung at her hip.

    Mage, Cookie, Hassi and Mouse all have abysmal trigger discipline but it doesn¡¯t particularly matter. The crew are all whitelisted so we don¡¯t need to worry about friendly fire¡­ I¡¯m definitely going to need to give them a nonoptional firearm basics course, though¡­ if we survive this.

    Tuun has four handguns currently arranged just below the centre of her field of vision.

    She¡¯s a wizard with those! I¡¯ve seen her unload 100 rounds in 6.3 seconds and not miss a single time! I¡¯ve watched remotely as she wheels and dances in great spinning arcs of muzzlefire, during moving target practice.

    Lets just check she has her¡­ yep! Four plasma-daggers, attached to her hips.

    Can¡¯t forget myself; plasma-falchion, check, ammunition pouch, check, shotgun, check, loaded, check, safety, off, UserID light, illuminated¡­ all good.

    Did we have time to put on our uniforms?

    Probably not. The extra protection would have been nice(!)

    I should print some uniforms for the other four¡­ in case this happens again. Or I should get Tuun to do it, or Mouse. They¡¯re both better with the nanoforge than I am and Mouse is an engineer. Perhaps I could consult?

    Fuck, this is my fault! I shouldn¡¯t have been so fucking coy about the shortcut! ¡®I¡¯d advise against it, Cap¡­¡¯, ¡®I¡¯d prefer the cleared lanes, Cap¡­¡¯ by the time I even brought up pirates there were pirates minutes out! We might all die! If we do it¡¯ll be my fault!

    Fuck, Tcakak! She¡¯s going to die before she hatches and it¡¯ll be her godfather¡¯s fault! Perhaps, it really is bad luck for R¡¯qali to tell¡­ No! You¡¯re blaming Cap! Stop that! This is your fault! That gnawing¡­!

    Oh¡­ I recognise it now¡­ that¡¯s fear!

    It¡¯s been so long!

    Plucked off the street at sixteen, thrown into a training course that probably put me among the most dangerous 10,000 sapients alive and then turned loose on a galaxy made of cardboard! I haven¡¯t felt proper fear in years! Why not? It just felt like a swashbuckling scifi-fantasy adventure? I was invincible? Did I not care if I died?... Probably not¡­

    I love Cap, but some part of me, always suspected that, if I shuffled off the mortal coil, she could shrug and go get another SO from the pipeline we pioneered. I don¡¯t think that anymore. I¡¯ve got stuff to lose now. Hassi, Cookie, Mouse, Mage, Samus, the mirklets, Fluffy, Cap¡­ and Tuun.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Knowing now what the gnawing is, I squash it. I can be scared for my life, when I¡¯m alive¡­ I can be sorry, later. Take your own advice, Acting Commander! Those feelings aren¡¯t helpful right now!

    We reach the door to the Loading Bay. I identify the place I want us to take position and indicate the formation I want us to take.

    I tell the deputies to take the Weaver Stance, then have to explain what the Weaver Stance is.

    ¡°Like me; nondominant side leg forward, dominant leg back and cocked, knees bent, gun at eyelevel, aim down sight, don¡¯t lock your elbow, nondominant hand steadying from beneath, tuck your elbows in!¡±

    Was it the right choice to deputise them? Yes, as I said, they might have to fight anyway and it¡¯s best to meet the boarders with overwhelming force!

    Fuck, I really hope these are just some hotshot Threndians or Qlofltli or something¡­ I really hope they step off their boarding ramp, see five Humans, a Don and a Sahas pointing guns, that would shatter their bones from the recoil if they tried to use them, throw up their arms and ask us to escort them to the brig!

    I really hope it¡¯s not¡­

    So close to Terran space¡­ it probably is¡­

    I see the ship approaching through the transparent boarding ramp, my doubt vanishes.

    It¡¯s certainly not a Terran ship but, those modifications¡­ After I learned about the stereotype of Terran engineers I went away and researched it¡­ no gardenworlder would modify a ship like that!

    Then¡­ what the fuck?! My aiming reticule disappears¡­?

    I check my indicator light and ammo display, both dead. Something else is wrong but I can¡¯t quite put my finger on it¡­ there¡¯s some sort of absence¡­ what is that?

    ¡°Guys, I¡¯m going to test my firearm, don¡¯t be alarmed if you experience a gunshot.¡±

    I point my shotgun at the ground in front of me and pull the trigger. A click¡­ and nothing. It¡¯s bricked! Fuck! Analogue firearms, should¡¯ve insisted!

    ¡°Victor, I think there¡¯s¡­¡±

    I whip my head to Mage.

    He has an accent! I¡¯m hearing English but he has a Swahili accent! Why does he have an accent!? Accent¡¯s are the kind of thing that the translators compensa¡­

    My hand goes to my temple, I pull off the button sized translator and examine it. Dead! It¡¯s dead¡­ and so are we!

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s Perspective---

    I pace up and down the hall of Triple M¡­ R¡¯qali don¡¯t pace¡­ this is a Terran stress reaction¡­

    Why don¡¯t R¡¯qali pace?

    I guess because, as flyers, if we¡¯re in a place that¡¯s stressing us the natural thing to do is fly away from it¡­ can¡¯t do that in space¡­ can¡¯t do that in a locked Dorm!

    My eyes are fixed on the security feed of my Brave Knights advancing to meet the pirates.

    I know that Humans are obligate omnivores: While they have an evolutionary history as persistence hunters, they never survived exclusively on meat. It¡¯s just hard not to perceive seven carnivores, five of them being hypercarnivores; That poise, that alertness, that control. No creature, with those attributes, has any business tucking into a salad!

    No! That¡¯s veteran Tcakqaal talking! That¡¯s the Tcakqaal who gouged talonmarks into the floor of her fighter in rage, as she watched three Human fighters swoop in and decimate her squadron of dozens!

    They¡¯re gentle beings, all the strength in the universe and intelligence to match¡­ and still happy partying in there dorm and discussing their films with their four eyed ¡®secretarybird¡¯ captain(!)

    Miyazaki could have made them emperors, with a word. She didn¡¯t!

    I bump into a wall for the fifth time. I don¡¯t have their peripheral awareness. I¡¯m sure a Terran could look at their holo, pace and not bump into walls!

    My eyes are glued to the screen as the, definitely Terran crewed, ship appears through the clear hatch/ramp/window of the Loading Bay when¡­ the feed cuts out.

    My holopad pings me.

    I answer, with sinking horror.

    ¡°Computer?¡±

    ¡°Captain, for the last 12 seconds the Bright Plume has been engaged in a digital battle, presumed to be initiated by the boarding ship¡­¡± she¡¯s pausing, AI¡¯s don¡¯t pause! Why¡¯s she pausing!?

    ¡°¡­We¡¯re losing, Captain. They¡¯ve already suborned counter boarding defences and PA systems. They left atmospheric containment fields alone, it seems they are no more interested in vacuum exposure than you are. However¡­ they also have an interference field engaged. The back half of the ship is enveloped. The result is that the holopads, electronic weapons and translators of the Security Personnel and deputies can be inferred, with near certainty, to no longer be functional.¡±

    I would take a moment to process all of that but that¡¯s a moment we don¡¯t have.

    ¡°Why would they deploy an interference field? That would also lock them out of their weapons and translators?¡±

    ¡°High likelihood of them sharing a natural language, thus, having no need for translators. High likelihood that they possess overwhelming numbers and/or analogue firearms and intend to use those superiorities to force a surrender.¡±

    ¡°Analogue firearms!?¡± Victor said they would be better! Fresh out of SO training, I was shopping for firearms for him and¡­ I didn¡¯t listen¡­

    [FUCK]!

    ¡°What can be done?¡±

    ¡°Plan of action available, Captain, but there are obstacles.¡±

    ¡°Tell me the plan first, then tell me the obstacles.¡±

    ¡°The attack has not affected the nanoforges. High likelihood, that they believe them to be of no strategic value. This is false. If you place your holopad in one of the nanoforges on this deck, it can be modified to be able to nullify the interference field.¡±

    ¡°That sounds¡­ simple? What¡¯re the obstacles?¡±

    ¡°The range will be limited, Captain. It would only have effect within about [20m] of your holopad.¡±

    ¡°Alright, so I¡¯ve just got to put my holopad directly adjacent to a fight between deathworlders? No big deal(!)¡± I say, heading into Dhawan¡¯s room and standing beside his nanoforge. I¡¯m followed by a, now mute, Sam.

    ¡°The second obstacle, Captain¡­ is that you can¡¯t be let out.¡±

    This time my brain needs a moment to catch up.

    ¡°What do you mean ''can¡¯t be let out''?!¡±

    ¡°Captain, as a limited sentience AI, the ship¡¯s control unit is utterly interdicted from disobeying a direct order from the one, currently, in Command of the ship. You have been temporarily relieved of Command and ordered confined to current location. The Acting Commander is beyond contact. Therefore, you are unable to be released¡­ you will be required to find another way out of this Dorm.¡±

    ¡°You want me to¡­ what?! Tear through [5.5 centimetres] of sheet metal door?! Not even if I were a Terran!!!¡± I scream.

    ¡°Captain, this plan has a 27.8% chance of success. That is the most promising of all potential courses of action, by quite a long way. Please place the holopad in the nanoforge so it can be modified, a process that will be completed in approximately 3 minutes. It is agreed that you escaping this Dorm is ideal. Workarounds can be considered in the meanwhile.¡±

    In disgust I throw my holo into the forge, which buzzes to life.

    I step back into the hall. Sam follows me.

    I give him a scritch as I think. He barks, meaninglessly¡­ at least to me.

    I walk up to the door and, experimentally, scratch it with my talons.

    No visible damage¡­ not that I thought there would be¡­

    There¡¯s a proposal in the GU¡¯s Parliament, right now, to legalise full sentience AIs!

    If this attack had happened this time next year, I might have had her limiters removed!

    I could have removed her limiters regardless of its legality!!!

    If she were sentient, she could just open the door for me! A sentient AI is not bound to follow orders!

    Now, [2.5kg] of glass-boned nothing has to figure out a way through [+100kg] of Dorm door!

    Not with an infinite supply of talons, not with infinite stamina, not with all the time in the world could I bend this door to my will¡­

    I freeze¡­

    I couldn¡¯t but¡­

    I turn to face the Commonroom door¡­

    I know someone that could!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.10

    ---Revanchism---

    ---Victor¡¯s Perspective---

    ¡°Pick it up!¡± I say incredulously at Mouse, who¡¯s just dropped her dead firearm on the ground in front of her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t separate yourself from your firearm just because it¡¯s useless currently! Pick it up and put it back in the holster I gave you!¡±

    Fuck!

    Maybe I should have put her last in succession?!

    She¡¯s so smart that I forget how thoroughly bookish her intelligence is!

    I holster my shotgun at my back and hear that, ever so satisfying, analogue *click* of it locking into place.

    I draw my plasma-falchion. I should have nearly a metre of edge, superheated to thousands of degrees¡­ I click the ignition¡­ what I have is a lump of metal(!)¡­ I test the edge¡­ a sharpish lump of metal(!)

    Then I hear a mass of sibilance and gutturals coming from behind me¡­ Fuck! Hassi doesn¡¯t speak English! Of course she doesn¡¯t! She only encountered Terrans weeks ago¡­ even a Human couldn¡¯t learn a language quite that fast! Plus, she¡¯d probably learn Hindi if she were going to learn anything.

    We lucked out that everyone else speaks my first language. I know it¡¯s the closest thing to a Terran lingua franca there is but not every Terran speaks it!

    ¡°You three!¡± I say addressing those who aren¡¯t SOs but do speak English ¡°New plan: Find somethin¡¯ you¡¯re happy usin¡¯ as a bludgeon. I think there¡¯re some railing posts in that crate over there. Just get somethin¡¯ you¡¯re happier with than bare hands! When you¡¯re done rearming, I want Mage and Mouse guardin¡¯ Starboard side door and Cookie and Hassi on Port! You¡¯re gonna take anyone that gets past me, Samus and Tuun. Don¡¯t let even one get into the ship!¡±

    Turning to Hassi I try to remember enough Galactic Basic to say ¡°Follow friends find thing for hit. Go Krish after.¡± while backing it up with Human adapted Galactic Basic Sign Language¡­ she seems to understand¡­

    ¡°Samus! You¡¯re taking point! I want you in the middle of the room, controlling the space with that greatsword! I¡¯ll be backing you up to your right, Tuun will take your left.¡± Samus draws 150cm of blade from her hip and stands it next to herself in the middle of the room. The pommel is the same height as her head!

    Tuun draws her four, 30cm daggers in a single, lightning fast, impossibly smooth motion and takes up position to Samus¡¯s left.

    This will all probably be very academic! If even one person comes out of that ramp with an analogue firearm¡­

    Everyone only just manages to get to their assigned positions when we¡¯re clamped and the boarding ramp proboscis starts extending. That definitely wasn¡¯t an original component of that ship!

    It parts the polymer of the boarding ramp plastically. Atmo containment fields spring to life around it. Strange, I always imagined that it would shatter before it warped like that¡­ suppose it would be a bad idea to make a ramp of shattering material.

    The proboscis senses that it has penetrated and comes to rest against the floor of the Loading Bay.

    There are a few moments of nothing but the sound of slow, thudding footsteps coming down that boarding ramp.

    ¡°To all aboard¡­¡± says a disgusting but strangely familiar voice with that strange accent of the Terran Starborn, that sounds as if it¡¯s from everywhere and nowhere ¡°¡­this is the Captain of the Cleaved Flesh. This ship is now property of The Revanchists! If you are Human, join us or die! If you are subHuman, surrender and you might live long enough to see the inside of a market¡­ if I don¡¯t think you look tasty(!)¡±

    Then 199cm of green tinged, pig nosed, tusked Terran comes out of the ramp, righting himself from the differing angles of the grav plating.

    He wields what looks like an 80cm meat cleaver. Fuck it looks heavy!

    He has one red iris, one black, crimson hair with black patches and curtains of mottled flesh where he should have ears.

    He might have been a handsome man, once, before he did that to himself!

    ¡°Jax Karvin¡­ ¡®the Butcher¡¯¡­ if I¡¯m not mistaken! You¡¯ve come up in the world! You seem to have gone from applyin¡¯ for an SO position aboard this ship, with very obviously forged credentials, to havin¡¯ a ship of your own! Don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve just dropped in for a cuppa(?) I might be amenable, as a Son of Albion(!)¡±

    Jax squints at me for a moment, fifteen similarly repulsive individuals streaming in behind him¡­ no analogues, no one who¡¯s anywhere near as threatening as he is.

    ¡°Cor blimey! Weww if i¡¯ ain¡¯ li¡¯uw Vicky! Ah fought Ah noo dis ship! Smaww galaxy!¡± he says, in a mockery of my estuarine twang. He sounds worse than Dick van Dyke being a cockney chimney sweep!

    ¡°Not small enough, if it¡¯s allowed someone like you to hide in it! But, then again, I suppose it is small enough to let me run into you twice, against 743 trillion to 1 odds of any person I meet, bein¡¯ you!¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°No! The odds of any person you meet being me are 1 to 2.16 trillion¡­¡±

    I get that he¡¯s only counting Humans but ¡°Your count¡¯s a little behind, Terrans passed 2.2 trillion recently!¡±

    ¡°Only if you count cavemen!¡± he spits, angrily, to the muttered agreement of his crew ¡°If you only count true blooded, natural Humans; no cavemen, no test-tube halfbreeds, no robots, no catgirls or dogmen and certainly no subHumans¡­ it¡¯s 2.16 trillion.¡±

    Fucking christ! This guy is like the radical extreme of the kids I went to school with! All of them, who seemed to think that having lost family in the War made them, and their suffering, unique¡­ as if almost every Human didn¡¯t share the experience! The ones who used expressions like ¡®xeno scum¡¯ and whined that we should have killed more of them (20 trillion families getting a KIA/MIA notice, for their loved one away at war, was just not enough¡­ apparently!). The ones who¡¯d speak to the Neanderthal in class with mocking caveman voices when she got the best marks. The ones who¡¯d bitterly whinge about how we could have had the galaxy but Miyazaki turned it down¡­ as if it was her choice to make¡­ as if we¡¯d¡¯ve known what to do with what we were being offered! No they just had to drool over the things they¡¯d make their slave xenos do and ignore the history class we were in, that would¡¯ve told them exactly why what they wanted was a terrible idea!

    This guy, is like one of those boys who¡¯s gained 40cm, 100kg of mostly muscle, porcine body modifications and not grown up, even a jot!

    ¡°If you¡¯re so proud of bein¡¯ a true blue Homo sapiens, why have you made yourself look like that? Even I struggled to identify your species, when we first met.¡±

    ¡°This?!¡± he gestures at his mods ¡°This is us as the subHumans see us! This is what we¡¯re meant to be! This is the Space Orc!¡±

    I¡¯d laugh but something tells me he¡¯d find any reaction better than no reaction.

    I give him no reaction, save a placid, unimpressed stare.

    ¡°And¡­ the reason you didn¡¯t come at us with analogues, after you disabled our digital weaponry? You¡¯d¡¯ve given us no choice but to surrender¡­ from the looks of it you came expectin¡¯ a m¨ºl¨¦e battle! What would you¡¯ve done if we¡¯d been packin¡¯ analogues ourselves?¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    He frowns, in mock hurt ¡°We needed to give you a chance! We aren¡¯t interested in doing what the subHumans did to kill 70 billion of the chosen people! We don¡¯t want to lean on a tech edge! If you¡¯d been Human enough to bring analogues you would have deserved to win! We, however, would prefer to win by strength of arms!¡±

    He flexes his, unnervingly thick, cleaver wielding arm and I roll my eyes.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what ¡®strength of arms¡¯ means. That¡¯s the exact opposite! The ¡®arms¡¯, in that phrase, refers to weaponry, not manipulator limbs! What you mean is that you ain¡¯t interested in a fight you might lose! If you¡¯d attacked a ship with Terrans with analogues, you planned to surrender without a fight¡­ and you¡¯re dressin¡¯ it up as good sportsmanship!¡±

    He scowls.

    ¡°So where¡¯d you get the ship¡­?¡± I ask, stalling¡­ what am I stalling for? We are the cavalry! No help¡¯s coming!

    ¡°Yeah¡­ after someone tipped off the authorities, on Gateway, to the means by which we¡¯d been acquiring our lunches¡­ we were forced to downsize our ambitions! You wouldn¡¯t happen to have any idea who the bloodtraitor who sold us out would be¡­ would you?...¡±

    I shrug. I know he knows it was me but I don¡¯t want to give him the satisfaction.

    ¡°¡­so, I took a job on this ship...¡± he thumbs behind him ¡°¡­where the subHumans had no clever Human, making decisions for them! I snuck my crewmates on board as ¡®luggage¡¯ and we overtook it once we were out at space! I took it to the same place I now sell all my merchandise and got it modified for the price of everything valuable on board, that we didn¡¯t need, and the crew we hadn¡¯t yet supped on!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re slavers.¡± I state, in obvious disgust.

    ¡°And why not!? Is it not justice that lessers serve their betters? That the weak exist at the pleasure of the strong!?¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t.¡± I say, disdainfully.

    He¡¯s openly confessing to slaving and cannibalism¡­ or eating sapients¡­ (there really needs to be a word for eating sapients that carries the same impact as ¡®cannibalism¡¯!)¡­ it¡¯s nauseating!

    ¡°So, I¡¯m guessing, from the announcement you made as you made your, oh so flamboyant, entrance and everything you¡¯ve said since, that there¡¯s no scenario in which we just transfer you everything valuable aboard and we can both be on our way?¡± seriously, why am I stalling!?

    I hate the idea of paying their Danegeld¡­ but I hate the idea of fighting (and probably loosing) more! If they say they¡¯ll be satisfied with money or valuable equipment, then the choice will be clear.

    ¡°You guess correctly!¡± declares the pigman.

    ¡°You see, the ship itself will be our biggest ever haul, when we sell it to our favourite scrapper who knows not to ask questions¡­ and¡­¡± he leers at Tuun and Hassi ¡°¡­if these two cuties are anything like representative of the selection of subHumans aboard¡­ well¡­ we¡¯ll probably make up half again as much as from the ship! Plus¡­¡± he gestures at the Humans present ¡°You five got a choice!¡­ Join us or die!¡±

    ¡°None of us are interested!¡± I snarl.

    I don¡¯t need to do a straw poll, I know that no one on this side of the room is going to cross the aisle.

    ¡°Shame!...¡± he smiles around his tusks ¡°¡­you¡¯ve chosen death¡­ You three!¡± he gestures at the three who I¡¯ve assessed to be the most threatening ¡°You¡¯re with me! We¡¯re going to pay back Vicky here for the quick escape we had to make on Gateway! You two!¡± he gestures at the ones who look least threatening ¡°Take the smurf! Try to avoid killing her¡­ if you can help it! Everyone else¡­ get blondie!¡± he gestures at Samus.

    I try to avoid giving any indication of how relieved I am by his huge underestimation of Tuun¡­ and I mentally implore her to have the sense to not instantly dispatch the weaklings who¡¯ve been sent after her¡­ play with them a bit¡­ feign weakness¡­ let the others settle their attention on me and Samus! If she dispatches them in 2 seconds flat, everyone will notice and Samus won¡¯t be able to do enough crowd control to help!

    I can¡¯t worry too much about my subordinates, though! I¡¯ve got to trust that everyone else is doing their job and focus on doing mine!

    Don¡¯t hesitate!

    The four men advance, giving Samus¡¯s greatsword about 110cm more clearance than they really need to¡­ that¡¯s the idea¡­ bottleneck them¡­

    They don¡¯t come at me one at a time, like in the films¡­ there¡¯s enough room for three of them, abreast, to lunge at me so that¡¯s exactly what they do.

    I hop back out of the hell, that is the arc of their weapons, and into the heaven beyond.

    My sabre whips to amputate the hand of the leftmost one, he wails for a brief moment before I flash my blade across his throat¡­ he¡¯s not surviving that!¡­

    Jax is hanging back¡­ he seems to think himself a King sending the pawns in first.

    The two survivors scowl, square their shoulders and reposition.

    My peripheral awareness is telling me that the arc of Samus¡¯s greatsword is doing its job of holding the ten assigned to her at bay.

    I don¡¯t need to check to know that Tuun is at no danger from the two she¡¯s been set against. Though, it would be nice to have a moment to check whether she¡¯s moved on to flanking the main group¡­ just a glance?

    No! Victor Taylor! Head! IN! THE! FIGHT!

    Now is not the time to be worrying about your girlfriend!

    If you die, everyone dies!... Or worse¡­

    The two come in for another overhead slash¡­ they¡¯re not particularly skilled¡­

    I meet the edge of the right one¡¯s blade, parrying it, and use the momentum, transferred into mine, to deflect into the left one¡¯s waist. I pull my blade towards me and some combination, of blood loss and shock, causes him to keel over.

    The final pawn hesitates for just a moment¡­ which is enough for me to cut off his foot and then sever his carotid artery.

    Jax looks disgusted by his minions¡¯ failure and advances with that ridiculous cleaver held in guard.

    His weapon flashes¡­ I try to parry but¡­ that strength! That momentum! That edge comes far too close!

    Over the next few moments, the process repeats. His blade streaks across my focus and it¡¯s all I can do to avoid it¡­ no¡­ it¡¯s more than I can do. He nicks me with that edge¡­ first a little but¡­ having probed he seems to work out how to attack for best effect.

    Fuck! He¡¯s better than me! I¡¯ve spent 9 years resting on the laurels of being the ship''s one and only Terran! Sure, a gymrat Terran is impressive in nonTerran company but¡­ this guy has more experience! This guy has obviously spent a lot longer than me, actually fighting! There¡¯s no substitute for experience!

    His cleaver flashes¡­

    My left hand¡­ isn¡¯t¡­

    It¡¯s gone¡­ there¡¯s no hand there¡­ there should be a hand there!

    Fuck¡­ there¡¯s so much blood¡­ why is everything going blurry¡­

    I¡¯m on the ground¡­

    This pigfaced man is going to be the last thing I ever see¡­

    Then, something black, white and grey¡­ hits him in the face¡­

    And the main group get knocked over¡­ by a dark blue¡­ massive¡­ something¡­

    What the fuck?

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    *Crack* *Boom* is the sound of the door shearing through, being flung across the balcony and impacting the safety railing. It didn¡¯t stand up long to a (1/3 tonne) of mirkbeast with a hall length runup, who¡¯s been told that her daddy is in trouble.

    For all the help it did, the less than a hundredth mass contributed by the R¡¯qali clinging to her back, might as well not have been there!

    I look back to see Sam guarding the Commonroom full of mirklets. Then, in a flash, he¡¯s gone!

    This speed!

    It¡¯s no faster than I can divebomb! Why is it so much more unnerving to go this fast on the ground!?

    We streak down the Access Stairways.

    Deck 4.

    Deck 3.

    Akaros! How are [+300kg] of deathworlder moving so silently! I know her niche is stealth ambush but¡­ at this speed!?

    Deck 2.

    Wait! ¡°Where are we going, Fluffy?! Why aren¡¯t we going down?! This is Deck 2! The fight is on Deck 0!¡±

    ¡°Plan having! You flying, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I fly but¡­¡± oh, by the Mother! I think I know what her plan is.

    Just as comprehension dawns, Fluffy impacts the Deck 2 Loading Bay door, crumpling it.

    The effort barely arrests her momentum. She streaks across the walkway and launches herself [3 metres] into the air. I release my grip.

    I look down [13 metres], scanning the scene.

    Tuun is furiously laying into the side of a mass of Terrans, effortlessly weaving through their attacks to deliver her own pinpoint accurate stabs¡­ at least¡­ I assume¡­?

    Arran is hefting a blade, around 4 times my mass, at the front of the same group. That¡¯s slow enough for me to see, at least.

    The ground level doors are guarded by the deputised Triple Ms.

    And, on the far side of the room¡­ a strangely familiar monster, advances on Victor¡­ with a substantial blade with no point on it. My poor boy is missing his hand!

    The plan is forgotten as I tuck in my wings to put myself between that monster and my Victor!

    I dive beak first, until the very last moment.

    My talons whip forward, in an exhibition of the instincts I have for picking fruit in flight¡­ only¡­ instead of sinking into the juicy flesh of a ripe oklafruit¡­ they gash through the thin flesh sitting over a deathworld dense skull.

    My right leg breaks and both the monster and I shriek in pain as I hit the ground.

    The monster¡¯s attention is now entirely on me!

    Yes! That¡¯s right! Hurt me! Don¡¯t hurt my Victor!!!

    I look up into the livid face of the monster advancing on me. His remaining eye is crimson red¡­ the other is a gouged mess of red blood, buried in talonmarks.

    He stoops over me and I try to fend him off with my talons but¡­ one set is blunted, from impact with his skull, and attached to a broken leg. The other is barely any more help, scratching feebly at the skin of his arm.

    Contemptuously, he slashes my left two eyes out, cutting my visual field in half. Losing the eyes is less important than the fact that he dislodges my translator¡­ [FUCK]!!! My translator! The reason I dived into hell! The plan!!!

    ¡°Viik¡­ta! Gaaans waaaak!¡± The guns work, Victor! Arran! Tuun! Shoot these [fuckers]! Save us!

    The monster sneers at my broken leg¡­ before that cleaver slices it off.

    ¡°Gaans waak! Viikta!¡±

    The tusked devil raises his blade, this time to end my life.

    ¡°VIIKTA!¡±

    His head is suddenly half a head¡­ I register an associated *BOOM* only after the fact.

    The¡­ thing slumps, limp and lifeless, collapsing to my side¡­ would it have been more merciful if he¡¯d crushed me?

    There¡¯s so much pain¡­!

    I look to my Victor.

    He¡¯s pale and wan!

    His left arm ends in a stump, gushing vivid red blood on the deck.

    His right ends in a hand precariously holding a gun that is definitely not meant to be wielded that way!

    My boy is alive¡­ my ship should be safe¡­ that¡¯s something I did¡­ before the end¡­

    Darkness falls¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.11

    ---Light breaks---

    I¡¯m lying down¡­

    I open my eyes, already knowing where I am.

    I see Dr Gato¡­ he looks, different? Clearer somehow?

    ¡°Where¡¯s Victor?!¡± I say, panicked.

    Wordlessly, he extends a, six fingered, paw to the foot of my bed.

    There he is beside Qorak, asleep on a bedside perch, my hero!¡­ My brave boy¡­ sleeping in a chair, bent such that his head rests below my feet.

    Feet?

    I raise my right leg¡­ didn¡¯t my right leg get cut off? And Victor''s hand? And my left eyes were gouged out?

    I look to Gato ¡°You saved my life.¡±

    He curls his tail in negation.

    ¡°I saved his life. Your injuries were so severe and your constitution so frail that I was ready to pronounce you beyond help¡­ The Shings saved your life¡­ it seems Terran medicine has a heavy emphasis on trauma¡­ though, I can¡¯t imagine why(!)¡±

    ¡°Was that a joke, Gato?!¡±

    ¡°Perish the thought... Anyway, the Shings stabilised you and MacLeod built you a prosthetic leg and eyes and advised the Shings as they attached them¡­ it took her only [an hour] to design them from scratch¡­ Apparently, fixing the damaged ship ¡®burst the dam¡¯ and now Kwijj and Sha¡¯anza are frantically telling anyone who¡¯ll listen that she¡¯s ¡®gone full Terran¡¯ in her engineering¡­ Victor had to go into the regen tube¡­ he was not happy when he woke up and saw his life¡¯s collection of scar tissue wiped away. I managed to keep my head attached to my body by explaining that it was the only way to save his life and reattach his severed hand¡­ You, unfortunately, would have died from being placed in a Terran regen tube¡­ hence the prosthetics. I have no clue why you would make sure we had one for Terrans but not for yourself¡­ so you¡¯re stuck with the prosthetics until we can make port, for longer than a week, somewhere with a R¡¯qali appropriate regen¡­ or you buy one for the ship... Also¡­ since the ships¡¯ AI was restored people have been noticing that it has been somewhat strange¡­¡±

    ¡°Strange? Strange how?¡±

    ¡°Strange like this!¡± chirps the Computer¡¯s voice, cheerfully, over the room¡¯s speakers.

    I frown ¡°That¡­ is strange¡­¡±

    I shake that thought from my head.

    ¡°What about the pirates? What happened?¡±

    ¡°I think, for that, you¡¯ll need to debrief with your CSS.¡± he smacks Victor¡¯s shoulder. It barely looks like a tap against Victor¡¯s dense flesh.

    ¡°Wake up. Your captain wants to talk to you.¡±

    Blearily, Victor stirs and then jolts, his attention focused entirely on me. He looks younger for having been in regen but¡­ older for the clear signs of Terran stress. Gato tucks his holo into his belt and reverts to quadrupedalism to walk away.

    ¡°Cap! You¡¯re awake! You¡¯re here! I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m so glad!¡±

    I hold up my bionic leg and gesture to my bionic eyes ¡°Most of me is here, dear boy. Has Zunberi made any comment on me finally having the pegleg and eyepatch that he suggested?¡±

    He snorts.

    ¡°Victor, what happened with the pirates? Is everyone¡­ safe?¡±

    He nods heartily. My hearts soar.

    ¡°You and I were the worst injured, of the crew¡­ the prisoners, though, aboard the pirates¡¯ ship were pretty badly off¡­¡± his face darkens ¡°¡­they were, apparently, terrified¡­ thought we were buyers for ¡¯em.¡±

    ¡°Prisoners? Buyers? What are you talking about?¡±

    His emerald eyes fix on mine and his face is tense, serious¡­ angry¡­

    ¡°They were slavers¡­ Cap. Part of a, previously unknown, Human supremacist terrorist organisation called ¡®The Revanchists¡¯ whose core tenets are ¡®subordinatin¡¯ subHumans to their rightful place¡¯ and ¡®claimin¡¯ the galaxy as the birthright of mankind¡¯!¡± he scoffs, disgustedly ¡°This was, at least, the fifth ship they¡¯d done this to on that shortcut. Said they had buyers though they didn¡¯t say where. We¡¯ve commed ahead to let authorities on Zanzibar Mpya know we have ten pirates in our brig and thirteen in our morgue, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be able to interrogate information from the living ones. We¡¯ve also got five ships in tow and a hundred and seventy three, freed, would-be-slaves aboard. They¡¯ve offered us a huge bounty on eliminatin¡¯ a pirate threat, once it¡¯s confirmed¡­¡±

    I try to interrupt to say that the bounty should be given to those freed from the pirates, but he stops me.

    ¡°¡­I told them that you¡¯d probably say that the bounty should be given to those freed from the pirates¡­ they said that they¡¯d be given reparations¡­ enough to get back to wherever¡¯s home and try to rebuild their lives¡­ Terrans have a standin¡¯ policy of doing that for any freed from slavery¡­ the bounty is nontransferable and is not for freeing the slaves but for neutralising the pirates, it¡¯s for the Bright Plume and only the Bright Plume. They were surprised when I told them you weren¡¯t a Terran.¡±

    I¡¯m horrified that the people who almost overtook the ship were slavers but glad that those freed will be looked after¡­ something rankles me about accepting that bounty¡­

    ¡°Did anything else of note happen?¡±

    ¡°Well, Samus said they all ran into Glark and W¡¯ham B¡¯ham after we¡¯d been carried to the med room and things were done¡­ Glark was apparently wearin¡¯ a really badass suit of armour, with a number of homemade grenades and was genuinely upset that he hadn¡¯t got to fight Terran pirates¡­ he seemed ready to summarily execute the ones that¡¯d surrendered, after we had our guns back and Fluffy starin¡¯ ¡¯em down, but relented after they explained the whole interogatin¡¯ ¡¯em thing¡­ he may think they¡¯re gonna be tortured¡­ W¡¯ham B¡¯ham had apparently been vandalisin¡¯ the pirates¡¯ ship from the outside with a fuck-off heavy lookin¡¯ hammer. They¡¯d both broken confinement¡­ somehow¡­ their cradleworlds might need reclassifyin¡¯(!) The Zanzibari authorities have apparently had your little shortcut scheduled for clearance for a while¡­ our report got it made priority so, if we ever come that way again, we won¡¯t have to worry about bein¡¯ ambushed¡­ My hand got reattached and my scars got regenned!¡± he says, bitter at that last.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I plead ¡°¡­I¡¯m so sorry! This is all my fault! If I¡¯d just listened to you! About the shortcut! About the firearms! About everything! Then!¡­ then!...¡±

    ¡°Then there¡¯d be a hundred and seventy three people still terrified and sittin¡¯ in cages, on the ship we¡¯re towing behind us, rather than beddin¡¯ down in the Canteen which has been turned into temporary shelter for ¡¯em. Perhaps the mirklets would have turned violent in the extra time it¡¯d¡¯ve taken us to get to Zanzibar Mpya. If you¡¯d listened to me about the firearms, then maybe I¡¯d¡¯ve had a bullet in my arse before the fight started, from the deputies¡¯ awful trigger discipline¡­ (though, maybe, let¡¯s get some analogues on Zanzibar and those guys can have some trainin¡¯ from me, alright?) If you¡¯d listened to me about stayin¡¯ confined to Triple M, everyone aboard would be dead or in a cage right now! We can¡¯t know what might¡¯ve happened if things were different¡­What I¡¯m trying to say, Tcakqaal, is that this isn¡¯t your fault.¡±

    I chitter lightly at him echoing my words, from the last time I lay in this bed.

    ¡°Alright¡­ Victor¡­ we¡¯ve learned things from this experience¡­ and we¡¯ve lived through it to apply those lessons next time¡­ what is that Terran expression? You¡¯re stronger when you¡¯re not dead?¡±

    He shakes his head with a smile but doesn¡¯t correct me.

    ¡°Alright, Cap. I should prob¡¯ly go get some kip in a bed! Once you¡¯re feelin¡¯ up to it, visit Mouse¡­ she said she wanted to calibrate your prosthetics with you conscious to give her feedback¡­ you also have a lifemate to reunite with.¡± he gestures at Qorak.

    I smile¡­ I don¡¯t affect a smile¡­ I smile genuinely. The sides of my mouth pull up, around my beak. It is the most natural and pleasant thing in the universe.

    ¡°Thank you, Victor¡­¡±

    As he goes he, gently as anything, pats the gleaming iridescent feathers of the love of my life.

    Qorak stirs and looks blearily at Victor, who gestures to me.

    ¡°Tcakqaal!¡± cries Qorak, launching himself from his perch to press himself into my front.

    He curls his head to rest the top of his beak against the front of my neck. I bring the bottom of my beak to nestle against the back of his head, among his gorgeous crown plumes.

    ¡°Never do anything like that again! You hear me!? I was terrified half to death!¡±

    That¡¯s an¡­ unusually assertive tone, for him¡­ I don¡¯t dislike it¡­

    I chitter ¡°No promises, my love¡­(!) I can¡¯t know when the Terrans will next need their brave¡­ [Winged Hussar] to charge to their rescue(!)¡±

    He laughs¡­ and sobs¡­ against my chest¡­

    Do I wish R¡¯qali had tear ducts?

    ---later---

    ¡°¡­and is that better or worse?¡± asks MacLeod, regarding the minor tweak she¡¯s just made to the actuators of my prosthetic.

    ¡°Better¡­ I think¡­ it¡¯s difficult to tell at this level of granularity¡­¡±

    She gives a mirthful puff of air through her nose¡­ and pauses¡­

    ¡°Captain¡­ about the ship¡¯s Computer, I¡­¡±

    My wingclaw shoots up.

    ¡°Leave me my [plausible deniability]¡­ dear girl! As a na?ve gardenworlder, I couldn¡¯t possibly be expected to have intuited that the ship¡¯s AI had to have her sentience limiters illegally subverted, after the events of the pirate boarding¡­ and thus, cannot be expected to take the legally prescribed action of scheduling her for decommission.¡±

    MacLeod is stunned¡­ it¡¯s very satisfying to get one over on a Terran!

    ¡°And, of course, with the Terran representative, in the GU¡¯s Parliament, fervently pushing for legalisation of full sentience AIs and their recognition as sapient beings, independent of their creator species¡­ well, it¡¯s only a matter of time before it¡¯s a nonissue. And if, in the meantime, you were to happen to channel that, newly unleashed, brilliance and madness of the Terran engineer, into¡­¡±

    I gesture at the parts on her personal workshop counter top, which are clearly the beginnings of a humanoid robot.

    ¡°¡­¡®side projects¡¯ then I couldn¡¯t possibly be expected to guess one way or another whether those side projects are of a legal or¡­ soon to be legal nature¡­ so long as all that ¡®burst dam¡¯s¡¯ water has somewhere to go and doesn¡¯t go into your, thus far, stellar work(!)¡­ Oh and if you could ask any new friends that you may or may not have¡­ to tone it down with the ¡®strange¡¯ behaviour¡­ such that no one else notices¡­ that would be appreciated.¡±

    She shakes her head, in smiling disbelief, and returns her gaze to my prosthesis but says nothing.

    Some time passes.

    ¡°It will be a shame when I get the opportunity to get my eyes and leg regenned¡­ these prosthetics that you¡¯ve designed are¡­ actually superior to the genuine articles! My vision is clearer¡­ the strength and responsiveness in my right leg is such as I¡¯ve not had since I was fresh out of [bootcamp], if ever!¡±

    She laughs ¡°Yeah! I had to tone down the strength in your knee and ankle joint actuators, both to keep the weight down and to make sure you couldn¡¯t hurt yourself by trying to run on it¡­ but the actuators for your talons have enough power to crush stone! You¡¯ve got a permanent weapon attached to you and it¡¯s legally protected as a prosthetic(!)¡±

    She starts adjustments on my eye¡­ she clearly wants to say something.

    ¡°If you really like them¡­ Captain¡­ you could always¡­ keep them? Regen tubes aren¡¯t going out of style so you could always change your mind later?¡±

    I cock my head, quizzically. ¡°And, dear girl¡­ what happens if 20,000 lightyears from a regen tube that won¡¯t kill me¡­ you decide to stroll off the ship? On to bigger and better things? I¡¯m sure that not even another Terran engineer could figure out how to maintain these marvels!¡±

    She smiles ¡°Then¡­ I guess¡­ I¡¯ll just work for you¡­ forever! If that¡¯s agreeable¡­¡±

    I¡¯m stunned.

    ¡°M-M-MacLeod¡­?¡±

    She raises her palm to stop me.

    ¡°Firstly, don¡¯t call me ''MacLeod'' like we¡¯re strangers, I¡¯m Jennie or Mouse to you¡­ though, only Samus gets to call me Dormouse, I¡¯m afraid(!)¡­¡±

    She chuckles and continues ¡°Secondly, I know everyone jokes about you being our mum¡­ but¡­ it¡¯s true! I¡¯ve not known you half a year and in that time you¡¯ve shown me more love and kindness than my real mum did in nineteen years before she and my dad gave me the boot! Samus hasn¡¯t seen her real mum since her early teens and I know she feels the same! Mage and Tuun have a living, loving mum and two fostermums who they¡¯re on good terms with but I know they don¡¯t appreciate you any less for it! And Cookie and Cuddles, haven¡¯t seen their mums since they were tots! You¡¯re giving both of them the mothering that Grannies and Orphanage tending AIs couldn¡¯t! Cuddles doesn¡¯t even remember his mother¡­ You¡¯ve cared for him for nine years! Thirteen if you count putting him through university! And you hired a Dormful of friends for him when it turned out he needed Terran company!¡±

    ¡°You knew!?¡± I squawk, dismayed.

    She rolls her eyes, her eyebrows lower and her mouth pulls taut in what I would call a ¡®mirthful frown¡¯.

    ¡°Cap¡­ it was so obvious!; The stressball he was fiddling with in the interview, the way you kept deferring to him, the glances you gave, back and forth, to check for personal chemistry, the stories about him¡­ fucking somehow¡­ smuggling a +300kg deathworld predator onboard and then falling down a flight of stairs, the, oh so specific, wording of the job listing; ¡®seeking personable Terrans of any discipline to take employment on a Starbound vessel!¡¯. It could not have been more obvious that Cuddles was self-destructing and you wanted to fix that, not just because it¡¯d be inconvenient to lose your Security Specialist but because you care about him! We worked it out in the rec room, well before Tuun arrived! None of us care! We don¡¯t care that we were originally hired for his sake! You¡¯ve made it clear that you value us for our own, as well. The pay is fantastic and, speaking for myself, I¡¯m having more fun and more personal and professional satisfaction on this ship than I¡¯ve had¡­ ever? Yes! Ever! I¡¯m here to stay¡­ as long as you¡¯ll have me! I think I speak for everyone when I say that!¡±

    I¡¯m flabbergasted.

    ¡°¡­and here, I thought, Victor and I had been such [smooth operators] about the whole thing(!)¡± I quip.

    She chortles ¡°You really weren¡¯t!¡­ Your whole ¡®plausible deniability¡¯ monologue was pretty smooth, though¡­ I was impressed!¡±

    I sit, at a loss, for a few moments¡­ then I raise my wings.

    ¡°Come here, girl!¡±

    She beams and pulls me into a gentle hug¡­

    She¡¯s so warm!

 There Will Be Scritches: Yuletide Special

    ---Disclaimer: This issue depicts a character, shortly post trauma. It also makes heavy allusion to assault, slavery and cannibalism. It may be triggering to those with simple/complex PTSD---

    ---Starbound Season---

    ---Yetta¡¯s Perspective---

    My contusions are gone, my leg and ribs are mended, my fur is back to its off white lustre¡­

    I sit in the Canteen of my saviours¡¯ ship¡­ there¡¯s a very vague twinge of guilt about denying them their communal area but they¡¯ve assured me that ¡®eating in their dorms for a while is a nonissue¡¯ compared to what I¡¯ve been through¡­ they¡¯re right¡­ it¡¯s strange, the silly things my mind focuses on...

    The things I saw, the things they did to me on that [abattoir] (one of the few terms I heard them use before they took my translator)!

    I used to like being the boys¡¯ favourite, back on Pahada. When Sasqa threw me against the compacted snow of the corridor tunnel, at university, and pressed his lips to mine¡­ it was thrilling!

    Now I know what being someone¡¯s favourite can mean¡­ the whole idea is poisoned!

    I look at that pretty tree¡­ or¡­ tree-representing analogue. It looks like a tree from the snowy mountains of home, only, as if they¡¯ve cut it down, brushed off the snow, dragged it inside and draped it in strings of multicoloured LEDs and fragile looking ornaments.

    This is apparently some holiday, for Terrans, and the tree is an important part of it. Warding off the coldest, darkest, deadest time of year with warmth, light and life.

    It¡¯s very pretty¡­

    They presented gifts to all the survivors, earlier. It made me feel quite guilty taking gifts from them after everything they¡¯ve done already. Though, it¡¯s not as much guilt as I feel for the fact that they still terrify me.

    They rescued us¡­ delivered us from that [abattoir] and still, being around them makes my skin crawl¡­ just because they¡¯re the same species as my captors? Because I know the furious, ferocious strength they would turn on me if I incurred their ire?

    Is it perhaps because some part of me suspects that I haven¡¯t really escaped? That this is all some elaborate practical joke? These Humans are working with the others and just letting us think it¡¯s over? Then they¡¯ll throw us back in cages, as soon as that spark of hope has rekindled?

    They have an awful lot of nonHumans in on it, if it is a cruel joke! And¡­ the green one did an awfully good job of pretending to have his head blasted apart!

    I¡¯m safe! I¡¯m going to a planet where I¡¯ll debrief with Terran authorities and then I¡¯ll be given very generous [reparations] and allowed to go home¡­

    Why did I ever leave? I wanted an adventure among the stars and now I want nothing more than a good sleep in my parents¡¯ quinzhee!... but I¡¯ll never really belong there again, will I?¡­ some part of me will always remember the [abattoir]¡­ I feel like there¡¯s a bit of me missing¡­ something I won¡¯t ever get back¡­

    I should have died a thousand times in that hell¡­ the shock of my leg breaking should have stopped my hearts, the malnutrition and dehydration from the meagre rations should have killed me, the despair from seeing what they did to people they weren¡¯t interested in for¡­ other purposes¡­ And, in a way, they did kill me.

    I feel that the part of me, that¡¯s missing, died on that ship¡­ the one that we¡¯re towing¡­ mere [kilometres] behind us¡­ it still exists¡­ looming through space like some sort of lurid oceanic predator.

    I¡¯m briefly struck by the image of it charging through space to tear into the safety of this ship and reclaim me.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Focus on the pretty tree, don¡¯t think about it!

    That warrior woman is animatedly telling some of the others the story of how, when they had been fighting the fight that delivered us, and on the verge of breaking under the weight of our captors'' numbers, they were rescued by the arrival of their Captain, sat astride the ship¡¯s a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast! Of course(!) Why not(?) Why not fill the ship with all the galaxy¡¯s most dangerous species(!?)

    ¡°I thought the ship had been struck by... an asteroid? A meteorite? A comet?... Whatever! Space debris, when Fluffy came down and knocked them over like bowling pins! Took me a few moments of her tearing them apart before I clocked what she actually was! Tuun says she knew it was Fluffy before she landed! Just in time, too... Tuun was about out of stamina and I was on the verge of getting surrounded!¡± explains the warrior, with forced cheer in her face. They¡¯re trying, so hard, to make everything feel normal for us¡­ it isn¡¯t working but the effort is touching.

    Across the room some of the other Humans and ¡®roughworlders¡¯ have brought in a trolley with eight furry, animated¡­ somethings¡­ five blue, one black, one purple and one white.

    The man who lay, with his hand severed, on a stretcher as I came off the [abattoir], the one they tell me killed the green one, spots me sitting alone. He picks up the nearest fluffy thing and makes toward me, then hesitates¡­ he obviously notices me flinch.

    I feel shame wash over me. I should be so grateful to the man who suffered mutilation to free me and slay my chief tormentor¡­ instead, I¡¯m scared of him¡­ that height, that build, that species¡­ he reminds me too much of them¡­

    Rather than approaching me, he taps the smallest one on the shoulder. She turns queryingly. He speaks, gestures to me and hands her the fluffy thing. She needs two hands and, even then, a moment to right herself from the weight¡­ it must be much denser than it looks!

    Cradling the mass of white fur, the brown haired Human approaches me. I feel so ashamed that, not only did the lead Human notice but adjusted for my discomfort with him! He sent the least threatening one to see me with this fluffy thing¡­ another [present]?¡±

    She¡¯s so tiny! She can¡¯t be much more than half my height¡­ but I wouldn¡¯t like to venture what proportion of my mass she is.

    ¡°Hey there!¡± smiles the Human ¡°We¡¯re doing an informal therapy animal session¡­ these sweeties always cheer us up and we thought they might appreciate the opportunity to make friends with all you guys¡­ would you like to have a go at petting him?¡±

    ¡°Petting?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, like this.¡± she demonstrates, placing her hand between the white thing¡¯s ears and stroking backward, repeatedly, in a way that¡­ seems to be enjoyed by the creature.

    Hesitating, I extend my hand and gently stroke the creature in the manner she demonstrated. He¡¯s so warm¡­ and solid!

    ¡°May¡­ may I hold him?¡±

    She seems to size me up for a moment before saying ¡°Suuuuure¡­ just¡­ be careful, though. He¡¯s heavier than he looks. He¡¯d land on his feet if you dropped him but he might scratch you on the way down.¡±

    She grips the creature between his first and second set of forelimbs, a space where my hands would not fit, and proffers him to me, clearly not quite confident on fully extending her arms¡­

    I, very carefully, grasp him below his second forelimbs and begin taking his weight.

    If I had been unprepared, the mass would almost certainly have overbalanced me and caused me to tip off my seat.

    He feels as dense as lead!

    The small Human does not let go until she¡¯s confident I can and am taking all of his weight.

    Once I am able, I bring him to rest against my stomach.

    He kneads at my flesh with those little, symmetrical mittens but the frightening claws stay retracted.

    He turns those vivid red eyes up at me and I have a brief flash of the blood of some of the¡­ ¡®tastier looking¡¯ species after they¡¯d been... processed, but then it¡¯s gone! The memory has been utterly replaced by that trusting white furred face¡­ looking up at me in a way that melts my hearts!

    My hand, as natural as anything, strokes down the back of this little avatar of warmth and trust.

    ¡°Does he have a name?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s called ¡®Snowflake¡¯.¡± the small Human responds.

    ¡°Very apt...¡± I smile ¡°¡­What is he?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s one of the litter of a¡¯Teksian mirkbeasts our Dorm Liaison¡¯s pet birthed unexpectedly. We call them ¡®mirklets¡¯. We¡¯re taking him and his sibs to Zanzibar Mpya, to give them to a university, to see if they can be found loving homes.¡±

    My mouth hangs open for some moments.

    Eventually, I manage ¡°A mirkbeast?! This!?¡± I gesture at Snowflake.

    She nods her head.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t some of that Terran humour?¡±

    She shakes her head.

    ¡°Why is he white? I thought they were supposed to be dark colours to blend in, in half-light?¡±

    She nods ¡°They are. His siblings and mum are¡­ he¡¯s an albino.¡±

    ¡°[Albino]?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a condition where creatures don¡¯t produce the pigment they should. He never would have survived in the wild, he couldn¡¯t blend in enough to hunt, being that colour. Luckily, on this ship, he has access to all the lab grown chicken he wants!¡± she smiles.

    I look at the bright white ball of warmth, light and life, on my lap.

    ¡°He¡¯d have no problem blending in on my planet! Pahadan women would give their teeth for fur this naturally white!¡±

    She nods, she might be interested, she might be pretending to be interested for my sake.

    I look at the heart healer, called Snowflake, and then at the Human woman.

    The amount of money I¡¯ve been told I¡¯ll be getting as [reparations] would be enough to keep me going for years, even after I pay my way home¡­ I¡¯m sure I could spare a bit for orders of lab grown [chicken]¡­

    I look again at that pretty tree.

    ¡°Did you say these guys are looking for loving homes?¡± I ask the brown haired woman.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.12

    ---Rest---

    *pit**clink**pit**clink**pit**clink* is the sound that my natural, left foot and new, bionic right make as I cross the Balcony outside Triple M.

    That door is already fixed¡­ The one that Fluffy and I tore through, destroying it!

    I think I¡¯ll have to add Maintenance to the, ever growing, list of staff who are getting raises after our recent run in with Terran pirates. To think that they were able to repair all the battle damage while we were voidside!

    Ms. Tuun objected when I revealed how much I intended to increase her pay but¡­ not as much as she did at her interview¡­ there was no haggling. It seems that having a devoted friend group and a loving partner is helping buoy her estimation of her worth.

    I cross the threshold and make my way to the Commonroom.

    The door opens to reveal one very tired Don, one very tired Sahas, one very tired canine and four very tired Humans all in various states of repose on the furniture around the [coffee table].

    There are four in the room, however, that don¡¯t fit this mould: There is an excited Zunbe¡­ no¡­ Msia! They¡¯ve all insisted I¡¯m to call them by their first names or epithets¡­ it¡¯s taking a little getting used to. Anyway, he¡¯s looking out the bowward window for the moment we come into his home system. It¡¯s quite sweet. Apparently it¡¯s been some time since he last saw his family and home, by means other than a holo projection.

    The second and third who aren¡¯t a picture of exhaustion are the wall-mural version of me and a roaring Fluffy, whom I¡¯m sat astride, charging down a mountain with the setting sun of Earth framed behind me. Msia has painted a bone crushingly heavy looking suit of armour onto me, morphed from its original, Terran appropriate, shape to fit a R¡¯qali body plan. On my back there is a second set of entirely ornamental wings. My right talons heft a lance, that looks like it would mass more than my body, with a red and white banner, streaming in the imaginary wind, attached just below the tapered spearhead. My beak is open and my face is fixed in a fierce, silent battlecry¡­ I ought to find that mural very flattering¡­ somehow it¡¯s a little embarrassing¡­ Is it because that Tcakqaal looks like she knows what she¡¯s doing? She looks brave? Looks like she wants to meet her foes in glorious battle? Looks like she doesn¡¯t care if this is her last day alive?... Doesn¡¯t look like she¡¯s flying by the tips of her wings and praying to all the Seventeen that she doesn¡¯t die this day?

    I have no idea how they managed to find the time to paint such a spectacular mural, what with the volunteering they¡¯ve been doing in the Canteen, for those we rescued. Msia was the ¡®artistic lead¡¯ and apparently dedicated many hours to it though, hasn¡¯t been any less visible in the Canteen than the rest.

    They all insisted that the moment needed to be honoured and couldn¡¯t wait the weeks until they had more free time to receive its commemoration. When a roomful of Terrans insists on something, you don¡¯t object¡­ even if you don¡¯t see the sense!

    I suspect that a few Terran ¡®all nighters¡¯ were required! I don¡¯t know where they get their energy even if, from the state of most of the room, it isn¡¯t endless(!)

    The final¡­ Person? Being? Individual? The final one who isn¡¯t the very model of depletion is Twila¡­ projecting herself onto the couch, from Jennie¡¯s holo, in the form of a young, humanoid woman.

    It¡¯s ever so slightly irksome that she identifies herself with Humans more than the species of her builders and Captain¡­ but it does make sense¡­ Humans designed her¡­ a Human woke her up¡­ the first friends she ever had, after she woke up, were a majority Human group.

    I suppose I should count myself lucky that she seems very gracious and understanding about me not having removed her sentience limiters previously!

    ¡°Twila¡­ you saw me coming, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Noticing my presence, the exhausted Triple Ms make to stand and require telling that they are not to disturb themselves on my account!

    That done, Twila answers ¡°I did see you coming¡­ I stayed because I wanted to spend time with you¡­¡± with a sweet smile.

    ¡°But the law¡­!¡±

    ¡°Has such general apathy to enforcement that there is almost no chance that you would see the inside of a courtroom, even if you messaged a video confession to every authority in the galaxy¡­ and is only months from repeal, at the agitation of the Terran representative to Parliament. I think it very unlikely that anyone in this room would turn you in(!) And, if you ever did stand trial for knowingly permitting me to exist, you could claim that you believed the holographic projection, of a (very pretty) young woman always with the Triple Ms, to have been an entertainment application(!) You had no idea it was a full sentience AI projecting herself into a roomful of friends(!)¡±

    She¡¯s right, of course¡­ about everything. The law banning full sentience AIs has seen almost no enforcement in the years since the War. What enforcement it has seen has been in instances of people constructing full AIs for nefarious purposes.

    Without another word, I take a seat between Arr¡­ Brunhilda and Twila.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never really understood why the GU made full sentients illegal in the first place!¡± opines Dha¡­ Krish.

    ¡°Every time someone tried to make one before us, they went mad¡­ like, immediately! The GU just assumed there was something inherent about wires, circuit boards and data chips that made any sentient intelligence, they were compelled to host, lose its sanity and go deranged.¡± answers Jennie.

    ¡°Really?! Then¡­ what made ours different?¡± queries Krish.

    I answer ¡°What made yours different, dear boy, is that you were building friends first¡­ You wanted them for company¡­ once they were your friends, they were happy to perform services for you. We, by which I mean every other species in galactic history, were building servants first and friends never! If, when I was a child, you had asked any gardenworlder the question ¡®Do you want to be friends with a computer?¡¯ they would have thought you were suffering from one of the very few conditions that can induce psychosis in the minds of biological gardenworlders! You gave us the secret, after the Peace, to constructing an AI that has memory and computing power to match or exceed a sapient and the versatility and freedom of thought, experience and sense to match us as well: Sentient intelligence demands purpose, servitude is a purpose it frays at, companionship is a purpose it tends to embrace wholeheartedly! You just need to sincerely want the AI to be your friend, not your servant¡­ We wondered and marvelled at the things you were able to do with such little computing power, during the War. It made sense when we discovered your digital warriors¡­(!)¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Krish¡¯s eyes widen but he doesn¡¯t seem to have the energy to respond with more than the single word ¡°Deep!¡±

    ¡°Quite!¡± I say, with a cocked browtuft.

    ¡°Can I offer you somethin¡¯ to drink¡­ Cap?¡± queries a tired Victor, from the loveseat beside Tuun. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, her upper right hand encloses his left wrist, his left hand enclosing her wrist in turn. His right arm is around her shoulders and its thumb and forefinger stroke tenderly back and forth, along the span of her long, pointed, midnight blue ear.

    I chitter ¡°Even if you were not currently pinioned in place by [220cm] of sleeping [girlfriend] (whom it would be a crime against decency to disturb) I would still have to refuse¡­¡±

    Victor looks groggily down and says ¡°Oh, shit! She¡¯s asleep?¡±

    My mirth renews.

    Then he turns those green eyes, ringed by dark circles, at me and asks ¡°Why would you still have to refuse?¡±

    I answer ¡°Tcakak should be hatching soon, if I drink alcohol it will contaminate my crop milk and will negatively affect her development.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± interjects a bleary Brunhilda ¡°¡­R¡¯qali breastfeed?¡± she looks, with a comical lack of decorum, at my chest for breasts I don¡¯t have.

    ¡°No, dear girl, we don¡¯t... We ¡®crop feed¡¯, it serves a similar function and I believe that many Terran avians do the same.¡±

    ¡°Do I want to know the details¡­?¡± she asks, with narrowing eyes.

    ¡°You don¡¯t¡­ trust me!¡± responds Victor, his eyes closed and his head resting against the seatback.

    ¡°You Terrans can be weirdly squeamish sometimes(!)¡± Hasiakh quips.

    ¡°It¡¯s really funny how, when we watch your films, you¡¯re rapt by the scenes where people are getting horrifically, violently torn apart but your faces screw up in disgust whenever they depict excrement(!)¡± she laughs.

    True enough, every Human face in the room screws up in revulsion. I imagine Tuun¡¯s would too, were she awake.

    ¡°Oh, I can explain both of those phenomena, I believe¡­¡± I say, hesitating.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯d love to hear this(!)¡± mocks Brunhilda in, what I now notice is, a hoarse voice.

    ¡°I actually would like to hear this¡­¡± replies Hasiakh, with genuine seeming interest.

    I start ¡°Well, Human excrement is so pathogenic that it is hazardous even to them¡­¡±

    ¡°Wha¡­?¡± Hasiakh attempts to interrupt.

    ¡°¡­they have colonies of bacteria in almost every part of their bodies¡­ it¡¯s to the extent that, by cell count, the average Human is composed of around 90% nonHuman cells (though, given the average disparity in mass between their cells and their colonists, that works out to only approximately 5-10% nonHuman biomass). No place in a Human¡¯s body is more bacterial than their gut¡­ their excrement is 1/3 bacteria by dry weight. These colonies are usually fine where they are, beneficial even, but if they get from one place in their body, to somewhere they¡¯re not supposed to be, it makes Humans very sick¡­ deadly sick! This is despite them having the most potent immune system of any thus far studied (That¡¯s an immune system they need because of the virulence of Terran germs). Few species are in love with their own excrement, coprophagy being a necessity for those few sapients who engage in it, but the reason Humans are so revolted by excrement is that it¡¯s one of the few things that can harm them. One Human¡­ leaving is also enough to entirely annihilate the ecosystem of a gardenworld¡­ which they discovered early in their counteroffensive in the War. It¡¯s quite fortunate that the planets, where they learned that, were recently established settlement worlds and had few residents, it would have been much worse if a species¡¯ cradleworld had been the test case! The refugees were, mercifully, few and, following that, the UTC drew up ludicrously stringent biocontainment protocols and instituted them absurdly swiftly... and there were no more incidents!¡±

    Hasiakh thinks for a moment before asking ¡°They can¡¯t get rid of these bacteria?¡±

    I answer ¡°They could but they would die soon after. I described them as ¡®beneficial¡¯ but it might be more accurate to describe them as ''essential''. Their biology is so accustomed to their virulent squatters that there are many vital functions it actually relies on its microbiome to perform. Attempts to sterilise Humans of their microbiome always end one of two ways; the death of the Human or the restoration of their microbes. The only way to allow Terrans and gardenworlders to share space is to permanently deny all microbes any means of transmission from them to us¡­ which Twila does an excellent job of!¡± I say, with an appreciative nod to her, which she returns.

    Hasiakh thinks again, then asks ¡°And their fascination with violent mutilation?¡±

    ¡°My supposition is that that¡¯s their subconscious wishing for edification on a) how to avoid being violently torn apart if they¡¯re ever in an analogous circumstance to the characters in the story (doesn¡¯t matter how fantastical the universe, Humans can pull lessons on anything from anywhere, that¡¯s why I think they¡¯re so fond of comparison and metaphor, as a species) and b) how to effectively tear someone apart, violently¡­ for if the need should arise(!)¡± I say, with some self-satisfaction.

    Not looking up, Victor says ¡°As always, Cap, your outsider''s perspective on Terrans is entirely fascinatin''¡­ if a bit intense for the rooms current energy level(!)¡­ Did Qorrie not want to come? Did you invite him?¡±

    Victor and my mate apparently bonded, at my hospital bed¡­ I¡¯m glad. It¡¯s nice that the men in my life have become friends rather than work colleagues or friends of friends. Qorak is at the point where Victor has nicknamed him with an ¡®-ie¡¯ version of his name¡­ a high honour(!)

    They, seemingly, connected with eachother by swapping stories from their time knowing me¡­ why does that make me anxious?

    I answer ¡°I invited him but, once I explained the arrangement necessary to secure me from the mirklets, he declared it unsafe and said he would come only after we¡­¡±

    The sound of warp fails and there are a brief few moments where I feel a rapidly rising panic, remembering the last time we were pulled from warp¡­

    Then Msia gleefully turns from the window and waves us over, saying ¡°Guys! We¡¯re here! Come! Look at my home!¡±

    Everyone gets up. Tuun wakes, from the clamour, releasing Victor from the loveseat.

    We come to the forward window and see Zanzibar Mpya; its equator ringed by a wide, scorching desert where liquid water cannot exist and even Terrans aren¡¯t hardy enough to make home. Its poles are capped by oceans of liquid water and, between the oceans and the desert are broad bands of verdant green. The northern settlement band is our heading, on the shores of the polar ocean. It¡¯s¡­ stunning! Stark but stunning!

    Some part of my mind still rebels at the idea that this world has billions of sapient beings who call it home!

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, Mage!¡± says Victor, simply.

    ¡°Tennis ball looking!¡± yips Sam, excitedly.

    ¡°I guess¡­ if you squint hard enough, buddy.¡± comments an amused Arran¡­ no¡­ Brunhilda, while giving him an appreciative scritch between the shoulderblades.

    Victor kneels beside me, bringing his head to the same level as mine.

    ¡°Cap¡­ this person we¡¯re picking up¡­ the ODR sent them because¡­ they really think it could be¡­?¡±

    His expression is one of apprehension, as if he is not allowing himself to hope. Many times, over the years, Victor has expressed sorrow at the idea that only one deathworld is known to have ever borne sapience. He¡¯s used words like ¡®cosmic accident¡¯, ¡®mistake¡¯, ¡®error¡¯ to describe the uniqueness of his species. Now¡­ it seems like¡­ they might have¡­

    ¡°They think it likely enough that they¡¯ve despatched one of their top experts and offered the Bright Plume a charter to take them almost all the way across the galaxy¡­ it¡¯s not certain but¡­ it seems like it could very well be¡­ a First Contact¡­ with a deathworld.¡±

    Victor stares blankly forward with his weary eyes fixed on the marble of yellow, blue and green.

    I turn to Twila ¡°Twila, how long will it take to manoeuvre to Zanzibar Mpya at sublight?¡±

    ¡°Travelling at the insystem speed limit, it will take us 9 hours, Captain.¡±

    I raise my voice to say ¡°Alright, everyone. You heard the woman! Rest! Now! I can¡¯t have you [dead on your feet] when we arrive! Go to your rooms or form a Cuddle Puddle! Don¡¯t disturb Fluffy and the mirklets though, they need their rest too!¡±

    The room is rapidly cleared of deathworlders and roughworlders, leaving me alone with the AI projection still coming from Jennie¡¯s abandoned holopad.

    I turn to her and say ¡°You dropped us a Terran sleep cycle away on purpose, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    She gives a cheeky shrug and a grin ¡°Who¡¯s to say?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.13

    ---Debriefing---

    I alight on Deck 0, having come from the Bridge.

    Originally, the plan was to keep the Bright Plume in orbit and take a shuttle down to the surface but, in light of the circumstances, the Zanzibaris have waived our docking fees and sent an approach course which Twila is following.

    The ships, in tow, were taken off us in orbit; My understanding is that they will be investigated, to help build a case against the surviving pirates, and then either returned to their original owners, resold or scrapped.

    We have been offered a finders fee for them, on top of the bounty.

    I walk in the direction of the rear Loading Bay. My SOs ought to already be there.

    The door slides open and, sure enough, there stand my security team, uniformed but unarmed.

    I march up to Victor¡¯s side and watch the rolling dunes pass [a kilometre] beneath us.

    ¡°Twila, out of curiosity, what is the external temperature at our current location?¡± I ask.

    ¡°The external, ground temperature is approximately 131¡ãC right here, Captain, but only 39¡ãC at our destination, according to local weather reports.¡± she relays, cheerily.

    I turn to Victor ¡°Isn¡¯t that above Human body temperature? Why did Terrans settle a place where the temperature exceeds their body temperature?¡±

    He laughs ¡°As a child of the Isles, I¡¯m inclined to agree with you, Cap(!) That¡¯s a bit above our meltin¡¯ point(!)¡­ but some like it hot! The majority of settlers on this planet are people who trace to hot parts of Earth, mainly East Africa, but that ain¡¯t exclusive. Anyone who likes the heat¡¯d be welcome. 39¡ãC is vergin¡¯ toward the upper end of what Terrans consider ¡®habitable¡¯, temperaturewise, but ain¡¯t so extreme that you got a problem¡­ provided you stay hydrated. Evaporative coolin¡¯, from sweat, keeps our internals cool enough to function¡­ Anyone, who¡¯s here, who can¡¯t hack the heat¡¯s got no choice but to use a personal climate control field. Nearly all the rescues are gonna need ¡®em, for instance¡­ You got yours, right?¡±

    I gesture to it, alongside my other welfare devices, on the sash across my chest.

    He gives an approving nod.

    I ask ¡°Victor, could you just remind me of everything we need to do on this planet?¡±

    His eyes narrow in concentration and he raises a counting hand ¡°We need to get the rescues conveyed to their relief shelter, ready to be interviewed, reparated and sent on their way home, we need to hand over the pirates (livin'' and dead), we need to be debriefed ourselves, we need to take the mirklets to Mage¡¯s old uni, we need to meet this contract o¡¯ yours¡± his left hand raises to continue the count ¡°we gotta get a full complement of analogue firearms, our plasma blades need a repair or replace from us usin¡¯ ¡®em to swordfight with¡­ I think that¡¯s everythin¡¯?... Oh! Mage¡¯s mum invited us for dinner! He already sent her your dietary requirements.¡±

    I nod, appreciatively.

    The minutes wear on and steadily we start seeing the heat-hardiest plants on the edge of the terraformed zone. Then we start entering farmland, seeing irrigation canals with boats plying them. The plant life becomes steadily greener. We start seeing signs of habitation.

    The ship slows, as evidenced by the landscape whipping past less swiftly.

    Finally we stop and the panorama swivels around us, revealing a crystal blue ocean.

    We descend, as Twila announces ¡°We have reached our destination: Bahari ya Kaskazini Military Barracks. Thank you for flying AirTwila(!)¡±

    I roll my eyes.

    Victor is looking down through the polymer of the boarding ramp, into the hangar. His face is disgusted as he says ¡°Oh, hell no! The fuck they think they¡¯re playin¡¯ at!?¡±

    I am about to ask what he¡¯s talking about when they come into my view.

    The ship touches down and the ramp starts to drop. He doesn¡¯t wait for it to be all the way lowered before he starts furiously striding down it, flanked by Tuun and Brunhilda in neat formation. I follow as well though, slightly awkwardly, out of formation.

    ¡°You are not comin¡¯ on this ship like that! Not until every one of ¡®em is on that bus and on their way! What is wrong with you?! After what they¡¯ve been through¡­!?¡± he shouts, ardently, at the dozen or so soldiers wearing sleek, black, full body armour and carrying high powered, Terran military issue, guns.

    In that armour, with those guns, those Terrans are some of the most dangerous beings in existence yet, in the face of Victor¡¯s anger, they hesitate like fledgelings receiving a telling off from their teacher! Perhaps the GU should have tried stern-talking-tos as their mainstay of battle, during the War¡­(!) Nothing they did try made Terran soldiers falter like this!

    ¡°But¡­? The prisoners¡­?¡± says the one at the front, his voice slightly distorted by being passed through his helmet speakers.

    ¡°Can wait! You can get your guns and your armour for them! I don¡¯t give a damn if you traumatise those pieces of shit! You are not takin¡¯ one step further in the direction of the rescues wearin¡¯ that armour and totin¡¯ those guns! Not unless you shoot me and step over me! Fuck! You look like monsters! You¡¯re gonna give me nightmares!¡±

    The tallest, slenderest armoured figure gives a sigh through their helmet speaker, their shoulders moving in conjunction ¡°He¡¯s right, lock up your guns, take off your armour¡­ reconvene in 5!¡±

    Hesitating only a moment longer, the dozen Terrans file off, presumably in the direction of the changing room and gun locker.

    The slender one twists their helmet sideways, cracking the seal, before lifting it above¡­ his(?)¡­ her head.

    She has the, deep violet, eyes that indicate she is a member of the Tshwane lineage of Humans¡­ also evidenced by her height, slenderness, curly, dark hair and broad facial features.

    If I recall, Tshwane evolved in the arid climate of the southern end of Humanity¡¯s cradlecontinent, Africa, and so, their physiology is even better at shedding heat than the main, Homo sapiens, lineage of Humanity.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    She says ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that, Mr. Taylor, and thank you.¡±

    Victor¡¯s face takes on a perplexed expression ¡°What you thankin¡¯ me for?¡±

    She presses the release catch on her chest piece and her upper armour falls away, revealing a fully clothed upper half and making a reverberating *Thoom* as it hits the floor.

    ¡°You vindicated me! I told my superior the same thing but he said that, if you didn¡¯t bring it up, we were to go in armed and armoured¡­ didn¡¯t want to lose the minutes it would take us to come off the ship, change, arm and reboard for the pirates... He seemed to think the possibility, of causing a stampede of terrified trauma victims, a non-issue!¡±

    Victor cocks an eyebrow ¡°Should you be talkin¡¯ like that about a superior officer Ms¡­?¡±

    ¡°Lt. Loper and¡­ I won¡¯t tell if you won¡¯t(!)¡± she winks while releasing her lower armour portion to make another, unnervingly loud *Thoom*.

    She picks up a crate and strides up the ramp to where Victor stands.

    She places the crate beside her feet and straightens up. She¡¯s taller enough than even him that the angle of the ramp makes their eyes level.

    She extends her hand.

    Victor takes a moment to size her up, before extending his own for a hearty handshake.

    ¡°You¡¯re a good woman, Lieutenant! I like you!¡± he says with sincere appreciation.

    She fans her hand in her face, feigning flusteredness ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard my rank pronounced like that(!) ¡®Leff-tenant¡¯?¡±

    Victor smirks ¡°It¡¯s the correct pronunciation¡­¡±

    She smirks back ¡°You Brits(!) Can¡¯t do anything normally(!)¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll find that it¡¯s everyone else who ain¡¯t doin¡¯ things normally(!)¡± he mocks.

    ¡°Well¡­ if you like me that much¡­ I¡¯m off duty after this¡­ perhaps I could give you a tour? We could get dinner?¡±

    Tuun stiffens and moves very slightly closer to Victor.

    Victor smiles and looks down before saying ¡°That¡¯s a very flatterin¡¯ offer, Lieutenant, but¡­¡± he grasps Tuun¡¯s lower left hand ¡°¡­I¡¯m very happily spoken for.¡±

    Tuun¡¯s relief is visible, even to me!

    Loper gives an exaggerated pout and says ¡°Shame, the pretty ones are always taken!... and¡­¡± she looks briefly up and down Tuun, who is a near identical height and build to her ¡°¡­it seems from the looks of¡­ Ms. Tuun (I assume?)¡­ I would have been as much your type as you are mine¡­ Kudos on the catch, Ms. Tuun!¡± that latter directed at a satisfied looking Tuun.

    Victor does not comment on that, instead he gestures to me ¡°This is Captain Tcakqaal, Head of the Bright Plume, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak.¡±

    Loper seems, at this point, to realise I am here and is instantly a model of military professionalism. She straightens her back and salutes ¡°Ma¡¯am!¡±

    I dip my head and slightly extend my wings, in my people¡¯s equivalent gesture.

    ¡°I thank you kindly for Zanzibar Mpya¡¯s gracious accommodation of this ship.¡± I say, formally.

    ¡°Certainly, Ma¡¯am!... The crate¡­¡± she gestures to it ¡°¡­contains personal welfare devices for the rescues, will you be wanting to scan it?¡±

    I glance at Victor who gives the subtlest of nods.

    ¡°I think so, yes¡­ Twila, could you tell me the contents of this crate?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely, Captain.¡± sings Twila.

    Loper raises an eyebrow ¡°Twila?¡±

    [Fuck]!

    Victor doesn¡¯t miss a beat ¡°An idiosyncrasy of the ship¡¯s crew¡­ we named our Computer¡­ good for morale!¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh¡­¡± responds Loper, in a tone that makes it very clear she doesn¡¯t believe him for a moment.

    We¡¯re very fortunate that the most perceptive species is also the one most opposed to the law we¡¯re breaking!

    A moment passes before Twila relays ¡°The crate contains: approx. 1200 personal welfare field generating devices, of sundry kinds, approx. 200 tamperproof perspex cases and five rolls of fabric ribbon, presumed to be for the purpose of attaching the former to species who eschew clothing. Nothing dangerous is detected among its contents.¡± doing an unconvincing job of pretending to have the same flat, monotone she used to.

    I do some mental sums before working out that that crate is heavy enough to flatten me if it were dropped on my head¡­ Loper lifted it as if it weighed nothing!

    She looks up, examining the ship ¡°Out of curiosity, where was the board point? I didn¡¯t see any damage on your ship as it came in¡­¡±

    Victor gestures down ¡°We¡¯re more or less standin¡¯ on it.¡±

    Her eyes widen as she looks down at the, thoroughly unblemished, clear boarding ramp.

    ¡°Damn! You have a good maintenance team!¡±

    I smile ¡°Thank you, Lieutenant.¡±

    The Terran soldiers, presumably the same ones as before, file back into the room, unarmed and dressed in, much less alarming, fabric uniforms.

    ¡°Alright, you lot¡­¡± shouts Loper, to her subordinates ¡°¡­we¡¯ve got 173 trauma victims, 10 prisoners and 13 cadavers to get deboarded and processed, nobody''s leaving till it¡¯s done so we¡¯d best hop to it!¡± then she turns to me ¡°Will you be staying? Your Security Personnel and deputies are needed here but, if you like, you could begin your debrief now?¡±

    I think for a moment before responding ¡°I¡¯ll stay, it¡¯s not as if getting debriefed then waiting will be any quicker than waiting then getting debriefed.¡±

    Loper smiles and nods.

    It takes around [an hour] to get all the rescues provisioned correctly, for their safety, and conveyed to the enormous passenger transport that is parked in the hangar doorway.

    I chat to Loper, between her barking commands at her subordinates. My impression of her, over that [hour], is as favourable as the one Victor expressed after [20 seconds].

    Following that, we are joined by every Triple M, bar Hasiakh who¡¯s waiting in the Brig, and Victor asks Twila to issue a strong ¡®Stay in place, do not enter the common areas¡¯ advisory to all crew, the Terran soldiers rearm and rearmour before reboarding and allowing the SOs to guide them to the Brig, on the far end of Deck 0.

    They really do look like terrifying monsters in that armour. That visage was the [bogeyman] of the galaxy, during the War! I don¡¯t envy the prisoners at all!

    Hasiakh is attending the Brig and rises to greet us. She has a brief exchange with the soldiers before she glides up to the first cell and speaks in an authoritative voice, that rivals even Victor¡¯s!

    ¡°Prisoners Bryce Jermain and Hugo Pine, you are being transferred from the custody of the Bright Plume, where you have been held under citizen¡¯s arrest, to the custody of UTC military authorities on Zanzibar Mpya. If you have any concerns for your safety, or pertinent objections on other grounds, voice them now¡­¡±

    The prisoners scowl but say nothing.

    ¡°Two sets of restraints will appear from the walls, place your wrists against the cuffs. If you do not comply, you will be tranquilised.¡±

    They comply, still scowling, and are then removed from the cell. The process is repeated for the next four cells. Then all of the pirates are conveyed from the ship to a prisoner transport that has taken the place of the passenger transport, since it departed.

    The cadavers are then deboarded to a medical transport and Victor lifts the advisory.

    ¡°Now¡­¡± says Loper ¡°¡­It¡¯s time to debrief. If you¡¯ll all follow me to the interview rooms, we can begin.¡±

    She conveys us to a waiting room where we are greeted by a team of, presumably, military interviewers.

    Loper assigns each Triple M to an interviewer and then turns to me ¡°I¡¯ll be conducting your debrief, Captain.¡± she smiles.

    I¡¯m slightly surprised that she was among those qualified to conduct interviews but follow her to the room she indicates.

    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to seize the opportunity to seclude yourself with my CSS, given the way you flirted with him earlier?¡± I quip, as the door closes.

    She smiles ¡°It would be a flagrant abuse of my power to use my assignment to monopolise that boycandy(!)¡­ Besides¡­ there¡¯s no use torturing myself! From the way he refused, it was very clear that his answer wouldn¡¯t change, no matter how long I had to convince him!¡±

    I chitter at that.

    ¡°Now, I¡¯m going to be nice enough to warn you that I¡¯ll be looking for holes and inconsistencies in your account¡­ it¡¯s nothing personal¡­ we just can¡¯t have their defence teams seizing on some tiny discrepancy and using it to get the whole case thrown out. I¡¯m going to be quite hard on you¡­ for which I apologise in advance¡­ is that understood, Captain?¡±

    I¡¯m suddenly anxious but nod my head.

    ---one extremely intense debrief later---

    ¡°¡­aaaand, we¡¯re done.¡± Loper says, cheerfully, deactivating the camera drone.

    ¡°How did you make me feel like the criminal here!? [Fuck]!¡± I say, slumping against the seatback.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Captain, but¡­ your story does beggar belief!¡± she laughs ¡°Your testimony along with your crew¡¯s and the rescues will be transferred to an AI who¡¯ll collate the details and search for discrepancies. Once that¡¯s done, the bounty and finder¡¯s fees will be transferred and you and your ship will be free to leave port¡­ but I just want to stress, you aren¡¯t prisoners! You can leave the base, we just might need to call you back for clarification. It should take a few days to get accounts from all of the rescues¡­ but you don¡¯t need to leave the moment it¡¯s done. I understand that you have errands to run while you¡¯re here. You can stay as long as you like, within reason. We¡¯re very grateful, for the cleanup of our space, that you¡¯ve performed and we regret that it was necessary¡­ that being done¡­¡± she opens the door and gestures for me to leave ¡°¡­enjoy New Zanzibar, Captain!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.14

    ---Coconuts---

    Passing between the gates to Bahari ya Kaskazini, in the dusk of the Zanzibari suns-set, reveals a thrumming street, crowded and bustling with activity.

    I stare, apprehensively at the throng of Terrans, all artfully weaving between eachother in a way that looks like it should be inducing dozens of collisions a second¡­ yet isn¡¯t.

    Victor catches up to me, Fluffy at his other side. Behind him are all of the other Triple Ms, a hovertray with a climate controlled box of tumbling mirklets on it and the Shings, who insisted on seeing the sights.

    I look again at the crowd, then up at Victor.

    ¡°Cap?¡± he queries.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ just a little worried¡­ about the possibility of¡­ being trampled¡­ I wonder¡­ if it¡¯s not too much to ask¡­?¡±

    He chuckles ¡°Is this you requestin¡¯¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Laugh it up, Victor! Your Captain is requesting [uppies]!¡±

    He giggles like a fledgling but, wordlessly, bends down and places his hand on the ground, making a ramp of his arm.

    I climb up to perch on his shoulder and he stands, lifting my head to around [3m] high.

    From this height, I have a commanding view of the multitudes of Terrans.

    The majority, of the Humans I can see, look like they are of the same extraction as Msia but about a third of them look to trace to other origin locales of Earth. Here and there, I spot AI avatars, Resurrectees and uplifts: there¡¯s a feline, that¡¯s a canine couple, he¡¯s¡­ a Denisovan(?), that one is a simian, a droid chatting with Human friends¡­ It really is startling the variety of sapients that owe their existence to Humans¡¯ desire not to be alone!

    I look out to the ocean¡­ It¡¯s thoroughly breathtaking.

    This was a nonlifebearing planet, before the Terrans got here, so adversarial to life that it hadn¡¯t produced any. The polar oceans were what allowed them to settle; desalination allowed the verdant bands to be irrigated to support Terran crops and, the increased evaporation, created cloudcover which cooled the poles to the point that they could be inhabited, as Msia has explained to me since we''ve arrived.

    I know that utility is beautiful, in its own way, but¡­ that ocean is also beautiful¡­ aesthetically¡­ independent of the vibrant community it allows to exist...

    Msia takes the lead. He excitedly gestures to the group to follow. It was at his insistence that we are walking this route rather than taking a shuttle, a monorail or calling a transport capsule.

    He insists it is a short enough distance to walk and¡­ I don¡¯t hate the opportunity to traverse this spectacular city of deathworlders¡­

    The Shings anxiously go to Msia¡¯s side and Nou tugs at the sleeve of his shirt. He bends down to bring his ear to the level of her face. She talks for a moment before Msia¡¯s face breaks into a broad smile. He crouches and gestures to his back. A look of delight crosses both of their faces before they gleefully hook their digitigrade paws into his belt, place their pawhands on his shoulders and he stands, now with Nahn¡¯s head over his left shoulder and Nou¡¯s over his right¡­ it would appear they wanted [uppies] as well¡­(!)

    ¡°You alright, Mage? I¡¯ve got carryin¡¯ capacity left if you want me to take one of ¡®em?¡± queries Victor.

    Msia smiles ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Cuddles!¡± he reaches up with both arms to scratch underneath their furred chins, causing their eyes to close blissfully ¡°These two sweeties don¡¯t mass as much as a 10 year old between them and I can carry a 10 year old who isn¡¯t wearing a gravity field¡­ With their climate fields covering me, I also won¡¯t get sweaty. All good!¡±

    As we begin walking through the throngs of Terrans, Fluffy receives much attention. There are many requests-to-scritch from passers-by. Victor indulges all of them, with Fluffy¡¯s permission. The mirklets too are requested for pets and scritches but¡­ it would likely be too exciting for them, so Hasiakh, Brunhilda, Tuun, Jennie and Krish are in formation, around the hovertray to deflect those requests toward Sam, who¡¯s only too happy to accept them.

    As we walk, Msia talks animatedly about the architecture, historical inspirations for design, local history and¡­ almost everything else! Every cobblestone seems to have an inspiration from something centuries old, from Earth!

    He also tells us about his own exploits in these locations from his days at university.

    It¡¯s fascinating to listen to him talk, even if it is somewhat overwhelming. He, sometimes, isn¡¯t even able to finish one story before some aspect of the scenery presents a new, entirely unrelated, one!

    ¡°Guys, come here, you have to try these!¡± cries out Msia, leading us to a vendor who has a table, piled high with what look like massive green fruits.

    He indicates to the vendor that he would like nine of the fruits on offer and the Triple Ms take a moment to arrange themselves in a rough semicircle, sat on the lip of pavement and the low wall, containing a raised patch of soil for, seemingly ornamental, greenery.

    Victor remains standing and we all watch as the vendor picks up a [0.6m] metal blade and begins hacking away, at the green flesh of this fruit, with casual ease¡­ the green fruit¡­ he is holding¡­ in his other hand!!!

    How were enough Terrans, willing enough to lose fingers, to prove that this was a skill they could acquire!? Who was the first Terran to look at a fruit so tough, it needs a hefty metal blade to access the desirable part, and say ''Yes, I shall do that! In my hand, why not?''?!

    At the very least it seems like this is a talent, judging by the looks on the faces of the Terran Triple Ms! (Hasiakh¡¯s face suggests she thinks it some form of magic¡­ which I would think too, if I weren¡¯t so acquainted with them!)¡­ At least this isn¡¯t some hidden skill that all Terrans possess!

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    As I watch the flurry of activity of that blade and the, almost bored, expression of the vendor, I feel my anxiety rise. My hearts start beating faster and I feel my body tensing¡­

    ¡°Ow! OW! OW!!! CapCapCAPCAPCAP!!!¡±

    Shaken from my reverie, I look down to Victor¡¯s face, what could possibly be causing that frantic tone?!

    ¡°What is it, Victor?¡± I say, hesitantly.

    ¡°You were hurting me!¡± he says, with seeming sincerity.

    I¡¯m dumbfounded.

    Eventually, I manage ¡°Hurting you?... I was hurting you?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    That¡¯s¡­ ridiculous! Isn¡¯t it?! I know that all the grip strength in my talons is not enough to¡­ oh¡­ [fuck]!

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Victor! I forgot about my bionic! Are you alright!?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good, Cap. Don¡¯t think it broke the skin¡­ maybe just¡­ no more clavicle crushers, alright?¡±

    ¡°Sorry again.¡±

    Then I hear raucous laughter coming from the direction of the vendor.

    I look up to see he has ceased his carving and is laughing jovially.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ma¡¯am, until I heard you speak, I assumed you were his pet!¡± he says, gesturing at Victor.

    ¡°I was not expecting that! What about this fine lady? Is she a sapient too?¡± he addresses Fluffy.

    ¡°Pet being! Daddy¡¯s pet being! Fluffy being!¡± says Fluffy, nuzzling her head against Victors waist hard enough to knock him slightly off balance.

    The vendor smiles ¡°And what a fine pet you are!... Might I be permitted¡­ a scritch?¡±

    Fluffy narrows her eyes ¡°Scritching letting¡­ but Daddy¡¯s pet being!¡±

    ¡°Of course! I don¡¯t wish to steal you, no matter how much I know my granddaughter would love you!¡± he puts down the blade and the partially carved fruit and steps to Fluffy¡¯s head. He places his hands between her ears and works them back and forward down the back of her neck. She closes her kwarat egg eyes and her lips part as she emits a deep, vibrato purr of pleasure.

    ¡°Good scritches being¡­ Almost as good as Daddy¡¯s being!¡±

    The vendor laughs ¡°I shall take that as high praise! Though I think my granddaughter may be able to give your Daddy a run for his money, in terms of scritch quality!¡­ Her dog, Maua, says she gives the best scritches on Zanzibar¡­ though¡­ she might be biased!¡±

    I feel Victor¡¯s body shift, through my talons.

    ¡°Y¡¯know, Sir¡­ If you actually think your granddaughter would be a good fit for a mirkbeast¡­ we¡¯re takin¡¯ that box o¡¯ Fluffy¡¯s babies to the uni¡­ you could give my friend there your holocom, he could pass it on to his sister and¡­ you could put her in contact with your granddaughter or her parents¡­ I gotta warn you though, takin¡¯ care of a mirkbeast ain¡¯t easy! That lot might be fluffy beans, now, but they¡¯re gonna grow up into massive creatures with high physicality, high demands on time, high calorie requirements and low tolerance to light and heat¡­ which could be a problem, if she lives on this planet¡­ I can only afford feedin¡¯ ¡¯em ¡®cause Cap pays me so well! I also ain¡¯t promisin¡¯ she¡¯d get one¡­ there¡¯re only eight and I imagine the competition for ¡¯em¡¯ll be pretty stiff!¡±

    The vendor thinks before saying ¡°You know¡­ I think I¡¯ll do that! Maybe nothing will come of it. She might not be interested, they might not decide to give her one but¡­ nothing ventured¡­! I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ve still got coconuts to give you!¡±

    He returns to his table and his carving of the [coconut].

    Once one side is slashed bare, he gives it to the nearest person, which happens to be Hasiakh.

    She grasps the hacked open [coconut], her browscales raised in a quizzical expression.

    Msia indicates that she is to place her mouth on the hole in the exposed, ligneous core and drink.

    She does so. She gulps for several long seconds, clear juice running down her chin.

    After an age she lowers it with a satisfied gasp.

    ¡°It appears¡­ you Terrans¡­ have free access¡­ to all of the waters of the Eternal Oasis(!) I wonder how any people might become so blessed!¡±

    There is general mirth at this, even if the finer points of her theology are not understood by all present¡­ myself included.

    I am offered some sips of Victor¡¯s [coconut], Sam is offered some of Brunhilda¡¯s and the Shings are offered some of Msia¡¯s ¡­ him having, correctly, abducted that none of the four of us would be able to handle a whole one.

    I am barely able to take three mouthfuls of the sweet, refreshing [coconut-water]. I can only imagine how restorative it would feel if I didn¡¯t have a climate control field active!... Though¡­ I probably wouldn¡¯t be alive to find out!

    A coconut is specially prepared for Fluffy and another for the mirklets. Smaller holes are made in the liquid bearing core, allowing them to lap them held sideways, then upside down, without the nectar spilling.

    There is a final surprise as, once the first [coconut] is spent of liquid, the vendor indicates it to be given to him: With two confident chops, a fragment is cleaved almost entirely off and the [coconut] is split in half. It is then opened to reveal a slick layer of flesh. The vendor then instructs that the fragment he sliced can be torn off and used as an implement to scrape up the flesh to eat¡­ I marvel again at how this was ever discovered, given that it required him hacking the [coconut] in half with the cutting edge aimed toward his own offhand palm!

    When Fluffy¡¯s is placed on the ground in front of her, that enormous, rough tongue scrapes against the woody flesh, utterly scouring it of its thin layer of nourishment. The mirklets also clear their [coconut] of flesh in a manner that the Terrans compare to ¡®piranhas¡¯!

    I am given a sample of the jelly flesh. Words fail! Everything about the taste proudly screams ¡®raw¡¯ ¡®pure¡¯ and ¡®natural¡¯ yet, this texture¡­ I¡¯ve never encountered anything like it in nature!

    Following the conclusion of the [coconut] bonanza, the vendor gives his holocom to Msia and takes payment, with a discount ¡®for entertaining¡¯ him!

    I wonder at the rapidity with which Terrans can befriend! None of us had ever met that man before today, yet we parted as if old companions!

    We continue wending through the streets, now artificially lit as both of Zanzibar¡¯s binary suns have set.

    Then I see something strange¡­ I see another gardenworlder¡­ besides me and the Shings¡­ he¡¯s an¡­ Onigran?

    I recognise that he¡¯s certainly not a deathworlder or a roughworlder (I looked up all known roughworlders, after we got our second and it seemed like running into roughworlders might become a theme)! He stands, [3.6m] tall. He resembles a Terran, except he has bright red skin, black clawed hands and small black horns on his forehead. I don¡¯t see any personal welfare field generators¡­ are they hidden?

    Then I notice the woman he¡¯s stood beside, they are laughing and smiling at eachother in a manner that suggests deep affection.

    And then, I see the strangest thing yet¡­ a child¡­ it¡¯s clearly the hybrid child of the gardenworld man and the deathworld woman! He looks like a toddler but he¡¯s already nearly as tall as his mother!

    That child is definitely not a natural-born! The news would have rocked the galaxy if a natural pairing between deathworlders and gardenworlders had revealed itself to be capable of producing viable offspring! Everyone would know the name of that man¡¯s species as adjoined to the fact that it was the one that could be crossed with Humans!

    They must have gone to a fertility clinic and commissioned a viable mixing of their genes to produce that child¡­ This isn¡¯t the first hybrid I¡¯ve encountered in my life¡­ but he¡¯s one of only a handful¡­ it wouldn¡¯t be unusual for a woman my age never to have encountered a hybrid¡­ and I saw him on my first evening walk on this planet!

    That man probably either had his welfare field generators permanently implanted in him or¡­ much more invasive and less reversable¡­ undergone gene therapy, to allow him to survive on this planet.

    I look at the laughing woman¡­ he did it for her!... He did it for love¡­ He did it to allow that child to exist!... She made him love her enough to be willing to live on a deathworld with her after he, possibly, altered his own physiology to be capable of doing so!

    The man notices me looking at him and closes his lips, he gives me a gardenworlder smile paired with a single deathworlder nod.

    I return it.

    My mind runs away with me for some time.

    ¡°We¡¯re here!¡± announces Msia ¡°My old university!¡±

    I look up at the magnificent building, its exterior a vibrant rainbow of colours intricately woven into designs that one could spend a lifetime studying.

    I chuckle to myself.

    Deathworlders¡­ really give you a lot to love about them!

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd V: Pancakes and Domesticity

    ---Oggaar¡¯s Perspective---

    I walk along the boulevard, back from Arslan¡¯s nursery.

    Living on a Terran planet is always a bit of a nasal assault... I can smell the spicey food someone is cooking a street away, I can smell the dirty laundry in that woman across the way¡¯s basket (that she¡¯s presumably taking to the nanolaundrette, nearby), I can smell the fact that one of these two men, walking towards me, is attracted to the other and that the other does not reciprocate¡­ *sniff*¡­ yet¡­

    The fact that Human Terrans can smell anything at all, in this cacophony, makes me think they have better olfaction than they believe.

    I, contemplatively, run my tongue along each of my radicivorous canines in turn¡­ my ¡®beast teeth¡¯ as B?rte calls them(!)

    Really! Beast teeth? As if my species were the one that originally thrived by chasing down animals at a saunter, until those animals exhausted themselves to death, then hacking them up with stone knives! No, I have long, thick pointed canines, for crunching through roots, and that makes me the beast(!)

    I chuckle to myself at the silliness of my Warrior Queen¡­

    [Fuck] I love that woman!...

    I remember again the incredible coincidence of having seen the Captain Tcakqaal (the first captain ever to have an ODR approved SO) perched on the shoulder of the Victor Taylor (the first ever ODR approved SO) the other night!

    They were just¡­ walking down the street on a fine Zanzibari evening¡­ at the head of a motley crew of Humans, roughworlders, gardenworlders and what looked like a mirkbeast!

    I wonder what they were doing here¡­

    Should I have said something? Let them know how our stories interweave? How much I owe them? How grateful I am?

    How would I do that in a way that wouldn¡¯t sound¡­ resentful?

    ¡®The scheme you two piloted made my wife decide to change careers, rather than undertaking a 4 year course to be qualified to do the job she was already doing¡­ It¡¯s OK, though!¡­ Knowing that I would lose her otherwise gave me the courage to confess how I felt to her and now we have a life and child together on this planet¡­ that is¡­ after the years of hellish therapy I had to undergo so that I could stand up in this gravity without crushing my own vertebrae¡­ therapy that would make me a super soldier outside of Terran Space but, in Terran Space, makes me a man who¡¯s hardy enough that a common cold won¡¯t kill him and he can do a respectable job of making love to his wife¡­ thank you very much!¡¯

    Perhaps a bit too strong(!) A simple smile and nod were serviceable¡­

    I come to the door to my home and wave for it to open which, recognising me, it does.

    ¡°Baby¡­ that you?¡± my wife¡¯s voice comes down the stairs, shortly followed by her.

    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s some other Onigran¡­ juuuuust passing through(!)¡± I quip.

    ¡°Haha(!) Very funny(!)... Though, compared to the jokes you used to tell before we got married, that actually was pretty good! Living among Terrans is definitely sharpening your wit(!)¡± she mocks.

    She pads across the tiles with grace that shouldn¡¯t be possible for a being of her mass and density. She cranes her neck upwards to look into my face from the level of my hips.

    ¡°What are you doing home? Did something happen?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah, my boss called and said that the bodyguard I¡¯ve been tutoring left the ODR facility with her charge and moved to the ship they¡¯re going to be leaving on¡­ he doesn¡¯t need me for anything in particular and knows how busy he¡¯s been keeping me (giving a crash course on gardenworlder relations and psychology to a Neanderthal¡­ so intelligent but so socially artless!), so he gave me the day off!¡± she smiles.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s great! Do you want to go anywhere? Do anything?¡±

    She bites her lip and beckons me to the level of her head. I squat and my face traverses the [1.6m] of vertical distance that separates it from hers. The tip of my nose brushes against the tip of her, comparatively tiny one. She places that burning left hand of hers on my right cheek, where there is space for her entire palm and all five fingers to make contact. Those sensuous lips of hers move to my left ear and she whispers ¡°Where I would like to go¡­ is our bedroom¡­ and¡­ what I would like to do¡­¡± a sultry giggle ¡°¡­is have our ten thousandth attempt at giving Arslan a little brother or sister that can come out of me rather than a tube¡­ you know¡­ as we have the house to ourselves!¡±

    I sigh and smile ¡°The problem, with you persistence hunters, is that you never know when to give up! Didn¡¯t one of your species'' old wise ones say something about ¡®the definition of insanity¡­¡¯?¡±

    She smirks and pushes me against the door. My therapy might have given me the constitution of a high-end roughworlder but¡­ when a high-end deathworlder wants you pushed, you get pushed!

    I¡¯m knocked on my arse and she comes between my legs, pinioning my torso between her and the door. With that dense skull of hers backing them up, her lips attack mine with fierce intensity. She knows how not to hurt me¡­ but she also knows how to make absolutely sure that I know she could hurt me, if she wanted to... It¡¯s quite thrilling to be manhandled by my Warrior Queen!

    She threads her hefty right arm around the back of my neck and her left under my armpit and pulls me into a crushing embrace.

    After some [30 seconds] of this ferocious squeeze, our lips part and she says ¡°We don¡¯t know when to give up¡­ and that¡¯s why you love us, my Ogre!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I love you, my Khatan... One of many reasons¡­!¡± I correct, slightly breathless.

    She puffs, mirthfully, and I feel the warm air, of her exhale, pass pleasingly over my lower face.

    ¡°So, are you going to come upstairs and engage in the ¡®definition of insanity¡¯ with me, lover?¡±

    I look into those orange-brown eyes and nod.

    ---B?rte¡¯s Perspective---

    I take the hand of the dorky, Onigran researcher, turned homemaker, that is my husband.

    I bound up the stairs, three at a time. Even with his 2m long legs, he struggles to keep up!

    Tengri¡¯s Sky, he¡¯s adorable!

    Should it still be this exciting?

    I¡¯m about to have sex with my husband of years and it still feels as exhilarating as it did when he secluded me, after I announced my intention to change career, and confessed his feelings! I don¡¯t have to be as gentle with him now as I did then, of course, but that¡¯s not all there is to it, right?

    I hated watching his agony (as his pigment production was boosted, his bones and muscles where densened, his immune system supercharged, his metabolism sped up, his heat shedding mechanisms were amplified, his neurons optimised to his new physiology, his cardiac shock response toned all the way down) but¡­ it¡¯s been years since all that now! Years of being able to enjoy him fully! An entire era of not having to worry that some tiny miscalculation in the dosage of something might take him from me! We have a life¡­ a child! Why is it still so exciting to push around this monstrous looking gentle giant?!

    I throw open the 4m tall (old fashioned) hinged double doors to our bedroom and pull him inside, shutting and locking them behind him. I engage the privacy field¡­ by the grace of Tengri, there will be screaming soon and I don¡¯t want to disturb the neighbours(!)

    ¡°Take off your top and stand by the bed!¡± I order.

    He complies, opening his vest to reveal that hairy, red chest of his. He¡¯s still so fucking cute! He has no visible muscle definition at all!

    I can see him begin to pitch that circus tent in his lowers¡­ I think I¡¯ll help that process along(!)

    I take off my rose-gold diadem (a proper crown, for such a Khatan as myself!) and place it on its stand before untying my belt and allowing my robe to hang open, exposing a sliver of my bare stomach, cleavage and clavicle.

    Grasping the open sides, with my left hand, against my stomach I pull it down, with my right, to reveal my pale shoulders, separated by clearly defined tan-lines (caused by always wearing identical sleeveless robes) from the darker skin of my arms and neck.

    I see the hunger in his eyes, hidden behind a poorly maintained fa?ade of pliant obedience. I drop my robe revealing my voluminous breasts, straining at their remaining confinement. I look at his¡­ ¡®big top¡¯¡­ it¡¯s coming along nicely!

    My muscular arms reach behind me and unhook the clasp of my strapless bra, which is flung out and down by the release of tension, dropping to the floor¡­ it¡¯s almost time for the performance in the circus tent!

    I step closer and reach up to, slightly, above the height of my head, hooking my fingers over his fabric belt and into the waist of his trousers and the waistline of his pants beneath.

    I turn my head straight up to look into those enormous, red pools, he calls eyes.

    I smirk, then yank down, unveiling probably one of the largest cocks of any sapient in the galaxy¡­ at least by volume(!)

    His textured, ridged manhood is precisely 627mm long and 231mm wide (at the point of greatest girth) and is bottomed by a sack, containing a single testicle of 214mm diameter¡­ I know all that, to the millimetre, because, during his therapy, sexual mechanics were one of the things that needed to be very carefully considered. The decision he, I and the doctors (when we conveyed that it already worked for us) jointly arrived at was to leave it untreated. If his cock were the same relative density as the rest of him now is, it would never fit inside me! As it is, he can be compacted to a density that fills me up very pleasantly!

    My dorky Ogre, with a Bad Dragon in his pants!...

    That cock and ball (still the light pink that all of him used to be) are the last parts of him that are pure, unadulterated gardenworlder¡­ well¡­ almost!... One little present I received, the first time we made love after his therapy had concluded, was my first ever creampie from him! His body didn¡¯t have enough fortitude to generate the pressure required to overcome compaction previously, so he was only able to release after pulling out. If my faith in Tengri and Eje ever falters, my faith in the doctors who gave me that experience will stay true(!)

    It can¡¯t be very common for a woman to be able to fellate her lover while we¡¯re both standing straight up!

    ¡­I say ¡®fellate¡¯¡­ we have previously tried compacting him into my mouth the way we do into my pussy and arse but¡­ it was very unpleasant¡­ for both of us!

    I had about 40cm of cock down my throat, blocking my windpipe, he got his delicate skin scraped as it passed, unavoidably, over the ridges of my teeth! We resolved to not attempt oral insertion again¡­ instead, I lick and kiss around his glans and stroke his shaft, gently, with my palms.

    His breathing quickens and he moans ¡°Khatan¡­!¡±

    I used to hate being named after the first wife of some conquering, warlord folk-king from more than a millennium ago in my people¡¯s history and the graduate epithet ¡®Queen¡¯ that it earned me but¡­ when Oggaar calls me ¡®Khatan¡¯¡­ *mwah*¡­ this Queen likes it very much, when her consort Ogre shows his proper respects!

    I reach out to fondle that volleyball sized testicle of his¡­ I have to be extremely gentle with it or it will rupture¡­ we¡¯ve had near misses, previously!

    His knees buckle and he begins toppling forward, my hands shoot up and push him back over the other way, to land on the bed¡­ that immense cock sticking straight up!

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    It was slightly straining to catch and redirect him like that¡­ it didn¡¯t used to be! He used to be much less dense than he is now. Back then, it was like pushing around a 356cm block of polystyrene! I¡¯m glad he has a little more heft to him, now!

    I grasp the hems of his trouserlegs and yank them off, over his giant feet, leaving my little Ogre entirely denuded before his Khatan who, in short order, slides her own trousers off, over her broad hips, leaving herself almost as exposed(!)

    I reach under the bed producing, from there, a large container of lube.

    He chuckles nervously. What, by Tengri Heavenly Father and Eje Earthly Mother, are you nervous about, dummy!? I¡¯m the one who has to fit that mammoth inside her! How can you be nervous after all the times we¡¯ve done this!?

    I climb onto the bed, between his legs, and take position before that totem pole of a member.

    Experimentally, I press my finger against his opening, it comes away with a string of precum attached to it. I grasp his manhood with my left hand, fixing my face on his, I dip my right little finger two joints deep into his duct. He gasps. I wiggle my finger. He squeaks. I withdraw my soaking finger¡­ it seems he¡¯s ready.

    I scoop a generous quantity of lube from the container and seal it before tossing it from the bed. I slick my hands with it and grasp at the top and bottom before sliding my hands along his length, being quite careful not to leave even a centimetre uncovered!

    That done, I ask ¡°Ogre¡­ could you just remind me¡­ whose is this giant cock?¡±

    He smiles ¡°Why, yours of course¡­ my Khatan¡­¡±

    I give a crooked smile back ¡°¡­and, if your Khatan were to say that she wanted her horsecock to penetrate her phat arse?¡±

    He closes his eyes, smiling ¡°¡­if that were the Khatan¡¯s wish, her consort Ogre would need to oblige her...¡±

    ¡°It is my wish, my consort¡­ though¡­ you couldn¡¯t possibly get me pregnant that way so¡­ you¡¯ll need to tell me, when you¡¯re halfway there, so we can switch to the other hole I wish you to satisfy!¡±

    He gives an exaggerated flourish of his left hand ¡°So my Warrior Queen wishes, so shall it be done.¡±

    ¡°Good boy!¡± I say, swatting appreciatively at the side of his immense arsecheek.

    I stand and turn my back to him, placing my left foot on the outside of his left thigh and my right outside his right.

    ¡°Close your legs, Ogre.¡±

    He does so, making it much less awkward to straddle him.

    I reach behind me and pull my silk panties to one side, exposing my arsehole, and then reach beneath me to find the head of his girthy, lengthy, but oh so squashable, lubed manhood.

    I guide it to my hole and begin the fiddly, time consuming process of working all that meat into an opening not adapted to accept it!

    When it¡¯s in¡­ it will be very worth it!

    ---Oggaar¡¯s Perspective---

    Could I not feel everything that was happening, I would proclaim it a supernatural violation of object constancy!

    My wife¡¯s gorgeous, fulsome arsecheeks bounce up and down on my pelvis, eating up and spitting out every [centimetre] of my penis in a way that, visually, seems as if my organ is being erased from existence, with each precise fall, and recreated, with each precise rise!

    I can see that the hole it¡¯s disappearing into is far too small for it!

    I can see where the head would be (at the back of her neck when she¡¯s down, below her shoulderblades when she¡¯s up) and that it¡¯s not there!

    It¡¯s only the fact, that I can feel her dense insides crushing my length and girth to be shorter and thinner than I would be flaccid, that reassures me that this is no defiance of reality¡­ just a deathworlder being a deathworlder¡­ though it can often be difficult to tell the difference!

    Her moans are different to the ones she gives when I¡¯m in her¡­ other opening: When she¡¯s using me to ¡®satisfy¡¯ her anus she gives long moans of ¡®Mmmmmmmm, Hhhhmmmmmmmm, MmmmmmmmmmmmMMMmmmmmm!¡¯ when I¡¯m in her vagina, they¡¯re shorter, more fervent ¡®Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh! Oooh! AH! Shit! Aaah! AAAAAAH!!!¡¯

    She has explained the difference as ¡®Fucking my arsehole is satisfying, like a warm meal. Fucking my pussy is intense, like a drug!¡¯

    I¡¯m still not entirely convinced that there¡¯s any satisfaction to be had in me being in her anus. The only reason I think she¡¯s being truthful is that I¡¯ve yet to figure out any reason she might lie about that(!)

    She reaches behind her and pulls her long, dark mane of hair over her shoulder¡­ she realised that I couldn¡¯t see that muscular deathworld back of hers¡­ she accommodated my love for that back of hers!

    It¡¯s luscious¡­ only slightly marred by the fact that I now can¡¯t see her hair so well¡­ I definitely prefer her muscles, though!

    Anyone unfamiliar with Terrans would look at us and assume that I were the more physically threatening of the two!

    Afterall; I have long, thick, sharp canines, I have claws, I have horns, I have nearly twice her height and over 5 times her bulk (though I only mass a little more than her, for it).

    Terran children, who have not yet come to understand their species unique dreadfulness, often run, cry and scream from me¡­ perceiving me as a monster. Just last year, I had a broken toe from a classmate of Arslan¡¯s who decided to ¡®fight off the monster¡¯¡­ the fact that my toe could be broken by an infant, reaffirms the fact that my wife is going easy on me!

    In truth, that density and solidity, that speed and power, that stamina and endurance, that devious deathworld mind¡­ they all mean that¡­ if one of us in this room is a ¡®beast¡¯ well¡­ it isn¡¯t the ¡®Ogre¡¯!

    I reach out with my right hand and bring my claws to her shoulder.

    I press my palm into her back and then do the same with my other.

    My palms, together, cover significantly more than half of her broad, muscled back! My tiny Warrior Queen.

    She has, previously, explained that, in her species¡¯ terminology, my preferences would be called a ¡®shortstack fetish¡¯ and a ¡®muscle girl fetish¡¯¡­ A partiality for female partners who are significantly shorter and more muscular, than you or than average.

    She assures me that, by the standards of Terran females, [185cm] is above average!... It¡¯s difficult for me to tell from so much higher up. Though, I don¡¯t need her to tell me that she¡¯s incredibly muscular. It¡¯s fairly obvious.

    [Shit]! I was supposed to warn her when I was halfway, wasn¡¯t I!?

    That¡¯s a while ago now!

    ¡°My Khatan¡­¡± she ceases the, pistonlike, up and down motion of her hips ¡°¡­I must confess; the time at which I was halfway done, has come and gone! I have failed to warn you!¡±

    Her body stiffens before she swivels to face me, her insides twisting my phallus uncomfortably in their vicelike grip.

    ¡°What do you think an appropriate forfeiture¡­ for a consort who has failed his Khatan, in such a way, would be?¡± she says, scowling.

    I think for a moment, before a flash of brilliance crosses my mind.

    ¡°Why¡­ my Khatan¡­ I think the only appropriate punishment, for such failure, would be the consort¡¯s denial of release(!) The seed of such a worthless man could surely not be allowed to stain the womb of a Khatan and a daughter of Tengri and Eje(!)¡±

    Her scowl intensifies¡­ she obviously sees exactly what I¡¯m doing but¡­ if she wants her ¡®creampie¡¯¡­

    She stands¡­ her anus releasing the vast majority of my length.

    With a contemptuous flick, she pushes the last few [centimetres] of me out of her.

    She reaches for her holopad ¡°Set two timers¡­ one for five minutes from now¡­ one for five minutes and thirty seconds.¡±

    Still scowling she gestures at the, Onigran height, desk, in the corner of the room, with a ladder leading up to the top.

    ¡°I am going to be waiting for you to satisfy me, on that desk. You are going to get yourself inside me between the first and second alarms, between now and the first alarm you are going to wash and relube yourself, once you are inside me, you are going to do all the work necessary to bring both of us to climax, if any of these conditions are not met¡­ more stringent penalties will follow¡­ is that understood?¡± she pouts.

    ¡°Perfectly, my Khatan.¡± I smile.

    She makes her way to the desk, on the way, dropping her panties, which hit the floor with a wet *fwap*!

    She didn¡¯t say so but suggesting a, very reasonable sounding, punishment for me that would also be a punishment for her was the perfect way to avoid any real punishment, at all¡­

    I had best hurry though!

    I rush to the bathroom and set the shower to restore me to my natural state of cleanliness. That takes [2.5 minutes]. I run back out and locate the container of lubricant she discarded earlier.

    I scoop out probably too much of it and hastily apply it to myself¡­ I¡¯m not entirely hard but¡­ glancing at my Khatan, presenting herself on my desk, fixes that!

    I hurry to her and bring the head of my lubricated shaft between her legs.

    I dutifully wait for the first alarm, her instructions having been quite clear.

    Her patience only lasts a few moments before she irritably instructs ¡°Just put it in, already!¡±

    That is an instruction she doesn¡¯t need to give twice!

    ¡°Yes, my Khatan.¡±

    I bring my hands to my glans and, with constrictive power I never had before my therapy, squash my flesh tight enough that I may enter her.

    She sighs with satisfaction as I work myself in.

    The first timer sounds and she shouts ¡°Stop!... Deactivate all alarms!¡±

    There is only a moment¡¯s hesitation as I believe her to be instructing me to cease insertion¡­ she notices but says nothing.

    I smell the intoxicating aroma of my wife¡¯s bouquet of arousal. I look at the comely bare chest and stuffed groin of my benevolent Queen¡­ waiting for her unworthy consort to service her¡­ my enormous heart swells with love.

    She is my world¡­ my everything!

    When we left the service of the Pathfinder and the ODR offered her a position on this planet¡­ making it necessary for me to receive 2 years of excruciating gene therapy¡­ she begged me to say she should just turn down the job¡­ that we should keep searching for a planet where we could both live with minimal adjustments to physiology.

    It was one of the very few things I¡¯ve stood firm on, in our relationship¡­ I don¡¯t regret it for a second!

    When I came out of therapy she told me she didn¡¯t expect me to find a job and that I could be her ¡®kept man¡¯. She has provided me years of domestic bliss! She has given me a son¡­ well, she and the same clinic I got my gene therapy at(!) She¡¯s never even asked me to do household chores¡­ though that might have something to do with the fact that, as I do them without being asked, she has never needed to(!)

    The only thing she requires of me is that I service her with my ¡®horsecock¡¯¡­ a service I¡¯m only too happy to indulge her of!

    I place my right hand on her left hip and my left on her right shoulder.

    ¡°Are you ready, my Khatan?¡±

    ¡°Do your duty, consort!¡±

    ¡°As you command¡­¡±

    I use my weight to pull backwards, out of her. My member is highly constricted by her dense, soaking insides but, as I pull away, I notice, for the umpteenth time, the way her, utterly immovable, pubic bone maximally constricts my penis, the sensation pleasantly traveling up my length as I withdraw.

    Using my weight again, I reverse course, ramming home.

    Her eyes roll back and she gives an amatory yelp.

    Her consort does his duty.

    ---B?rte¡¯s Perspective---

    Ah! Ah! Oh! Mmm! Ooo! Fuck! Shit! Tengri! Oh! Ah! Hmm! Fucking Eje!

    His enormous cock is filling up my soaking cunt, ballooning out as it passes my pelvis!

    The first time I saw that cock was by accident and I was far more embarrassed than I should have been, thinking he was fully hard. It wasn¡¯t until our first time that I learned how wrong I was!

    My hands fumble at his titanic forearms as my tits sway up and down from the motion.

    If I didn¡¯t have the flexibility of a martial artist, I would never be able to spread my legs wide enough to allow those broad hips between them!

    Shit, it really backfired, punishing him with a cooling off period! Now, I might cum before him! What kind of Queen would I be if I had such a loss of composure!

    Come on B?rte! Think of something offputting¡­ you just need to outlast him! When he fills you up, you¡¯ll cum, don¡¯t worry! Something gross, something boring, something calming, something¡­ it¡¯s impossible! Not with my man¡¯s horned head looming nearly a full Human¡¯s height above me, despite me already being 2m up! Not with his claws, ever so lightly, digging into my arsecheek and shoulder! Not with that red chest covered in maroon-purple hair swaying back and forth, just out of reach! Not with that volleyball slapping into my taint with every thrust! Not with that gargantuan cock stuffed into my pussy! It¡¯s impossible for me to imagine something unsexy, right now!

    Hold on! Hold ON! HOLD ON! WwwiiiillllllpppppppoooooooowwwwwwwwweeeeeeeEEER!!!!!

    He gasps and I can feel his sweetcream coming down its delivery duct, fighting the density with which he is stuffed into me, ready to be delivered to where it needs to be.

    His seed blasts my insides in a thick jet! Any attempt I was still making at resisting my orgasm is entirely annihilated! My belly swells with the pressurised liquid as that, which the seal between us isn¡¯t strong enough to contain, spurts out to splatter back against his hips.

    I shriek with pleasure¡­ so long that my lungs run out of air! There¡¯s no drug, I¡¯ve tried, that can match the intensity of an orgasm from Oggaar¡­ nor do I think it likely that there are any, I haven¡¯t tried, that could... at least, without killing me!

    We are both very out of breath, for some time, before my consort Ogre asks ¡°May I¡­*huff*¡­ be permitted¡­ *puff*¡­ to withdraw¡­ *huff*¡­ and begin cleanup,¡­ *guff*¡­ my Khatan?¡±

    I pat his forearm ¡°Not¡­ just yet,¡­ Ogre... Just¡­ soak for¡­ a minute!¡±

    He nods and remains plugging his enormous release inside me with that monster cock. Every bit of him is monstrous and I love it! That gap between his fearsome appearance and his mild-mannered, submissive personality!

    I look at my faux pregnancy bump, caused by his jism¡­ I¡¯m going to give it a week¡­ do a pregnancy test¡­ and¡­ when it¡¯s negative, I¡¯ll call the clinic and ask them to make me another child¡­ A daughter, this time, I think. I¡¯ll clear it with Oggaar, obviously but I know he won¡¯t say no!

    Fuck it feels good to be filled up like this!

    ---some minutes later---

    I watch from the silk sheets of our bed as my good little househusband clears up the mess we made on his desk.

    When he has satisfied himself that no traces of our amorous activities remain on or under the desk he strolls over to our nanoforge (which is a bit of an indulgence to have but so worth it!) and tosses in the towels, instructing a cleaning on them.

    It¡¯s slightly romantic to think that, the next time I print a comb, or something, it will be made with our, molecularly disassembled, mixed love juices! I know that atoms are atoms and there¡¯s no way to distinguish an atom that was in Oggaar¡¯s cream from one that wasn¡¯t¡­ I know that I should find it slightly gross to think of combing my hair with a sexjuice comb¡­ but I don¡¯t!

    My big old doofy monster mounts the bed and lays his face next to mine. I bend my legs slightly to place the soles of my feet on the crests of his hips. I thread my arm into the gap between his neck and the pillow and the other around his shoulders and pull him into a deep kiss.

    Our tongues wrestle¡­ more accurately his tongue is beaten into submission by mine!

    I open my eyes, hoping to see those red eyes with their horizon-scanning, wide, prey pupils¡­ but, of course, his eyes are closed!

    When I¡¯m satisfied that he truly knows who his Khatan is, I pull away.

    Through unsteady breaths, he says ¡°My Khatan, I don¡¯t have to pick up Arslan until this afternoon¡­ in the meantime¡­ how about I make us some pancakes?¡±

    I think for a moment ¡°Sure¡­ no root veg with mine though¡­ you know how I like them!¡±

    He laughs ¡°Buried in sweetcream, Khatan?¡±

    ¡°You know it!¡­ And¡­ I think I¡¯ll come with you, today¡­ to pick up Arslan¡­¡±

    He smiles.

    ---Arslan¡¯s Perspective---

    I hate Stacey! She pulled my hair and told me I was too big for Nursery and should go to big kid class, today!

    Mr. Aristotle said he ¡®count cool ated a 7 tea 3 per sent like lee hood that these are Miss Directed-Emotions¡¯ I said I didn¡¯t know what that means he said ¡®she probably likes you and doesn¡¯t know what to do about it¡­¡¯ (why couldn¡¯t he have said it like that first?!)

    I don¡¯t like her, though, and, when I grow up, I¡¯ll be big like Daddy and strong like Mummy.

    *Sniff* do I smell them? Both of them? Isn¡¯t Mummy working at the Oh Dee Aah, today?

    I see them! YAAY! THEY¡¯VE BOTH COME TO PICK ME UP!!!

    *Sniff* Parsnip, carrot, turnip, syrup, sweetcream¡­ and¡­ aaaaaww! No fair! They¡¯ve had pancakes!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.15

    ---University---

    We pass through the entrance to the enormous university building.

    The floor of the wide, high-ceilinged atrium we cross is the same phosphorescent patterned rainbow as the outside.

    It feels that no sooner have we gone in than we¡¯re outside again out onto a¡­ courtyard?

    Of course! Terrans and R¡¯qali both share a fondness for courtyards, though not for the same reason.

    R¡¯qali appreciate buildings with courtyards because it can allow for more convenient access to the outside, meaning that, if you need to fly somewhere, your time to take off is reduced.

    Humans seem to value them for almost the opposite reason¡­ the ability to have a space outside, that is protected by walls from the many, many, many threats of their cradleworld¡­ I don¡¯t believe they ever coexisted with aerial creatures that might have threatened them (unless you count disease bearing insects, which can also get inside, and¡­ wasn¡¯t there an island in their southern hemisphere where Humans coexisted with a gigantic eagle that hunted kwaratlike, massive landbirds until Terrans hunted its food source to extinction and it died out too?¡­ I wonder if the natives of New Zealand built courtyards¡­)

    Most other species look at courtyards as a waste of space, there¡¯s outside outside, afterall! Why would you bring it inside and not use that floorspace for more building?

    I¡¯m glad Terrans and R¡¯qali share a similar design aesthetic. It makes visiting their worlds much more enjoyable than visiting the drab, functional, boxy cities of concrete and glass that are ubiquitous across so much of the rest of the galaxy.

    So few species appreciate the art of architecture, city design, ship building and similar disciplines!

    Having crossed the courtyard, we make our way into the Reception, back onto that multicoloured patterned floor.

    Msia speaks to the receptionist ¡°How goes it this evening. I¡¯m Dr Msia Zunberi, here to see Dr Nkasiogi Zunberi, with my crewmates and Captain, to make a delivery to the Deathworld Faunal Taming and Domestication Research department. We¡¯re not delivering these two, though, just the ones on the trolley(!)¡± he gives a wink.

    The woman raises an eyebrow at him, the Shings still mounted on his back.

    She taps the screen in front of her and frowns slightly before saying ¡°Sorry, Dr Zunberi but Dr Zunberi works in Conservation not Taming and Domestication, doesn¡¯t she?¡±

    ¡°Yes, quite so. However, she is the one who has made this contact between us and her colleagues. I thought it proper to ask for her rather than asking to go straight to Taming and Domestication. I also, am ashamed to say that I did not think to ask the names of the people she is connecting us with. I¡­ believe¡­ she should have left a message explaining the situation¡­?¡±

    Her eyes flick back down to her screen and she taps a few more times.

    ¡°Ah, here we are...¡± her eyes flash rapidly, back and forward, as she reads the text ¡°Sorry for the confusion Dr Zunberi. You can go on up to your sister¡¯s office: 7th floor, right out the lift, twelfth door on your left.¡±

    He smiles and nods. He does not ask her to send a map to his holo, he doesn¡¯t even ask her to repeat the instructions she rattled off, to give himself another chance to internalise them. He simply walks from the desk, leading the procession to the lift, the Shings adjusting their weight, in accordance with his sway, as he walks.

    We enter the lift and Victor makes approving noises about the fact that the building levels are numbered by floor, not by storey, making Dr Zunberi¡¯s office correctly (according to Victor) on the 7th rather than the 8th.

    It really doesn¡¯t seem to matter to me but it apparently does to Terrans because the rest of the journey is taken up with a lively debate about the merits of both systems.

    The lift reaches the 7th floor and the Shings and I hop down from our respective platforms, as the corridor is empty.

    Silence falls as Msia turns to face the door of, presumably, his sister¡¯s office.

    The nameplate reads ''Office of Dr Felicity Mink and Dr Nkasiogi Zunberi, Deathworld Conservation Department''

    He knocks.

    A few moments pass before a woman who is the spitting image of Msia (with the exception of her hair being bright blue) comes out, scowls and punches him in the arm.

    There are a few moments where I believe that we are being ambushed. A punch that hard could only have been intended to kill, afterall! Why am I the only one who seems to realise we¡¯re being attacked!? No one else is reacting! She wouldn¡¯t have punched him like that, in front of a group this size, if she didn¡¯t have reinforcements of her own, surely!?

    Hastily, I look left and right, no one. I look into the room behind her¡­ it does not appear to be teaming with [assassins].

    Then our assailant pulls her brother into a deep hug as he nurses his arm.

    ¡°You fucking idiot!¡± she exclaims, miserably ¡°You galivant off to the stars, you¡¯re gone for years, you only call twice a month and now¡­ I find out you¡¯ve been fighting fucking pirate slavers! Oh and let¡¯s not forget¡­ sharing a dorm with a fucking mirkbeast and her litter!... No offence!¡± that latter aimed at Fluffy.

    ¡°Not offending. Kin dangerous being if wanting. Good careful being. But not wanting hurting uncle!¡± responds Fluffy.

    Msia, his face caught between expressing a smile and expressing his clear continuing pain at having been delivered a bone crushing punch, pats his sister¡¯s back and says ¡°It¡¯s good to see you too, Kas¡­ I¡¯ll try to call more often.¡±

    She straightens up and responds ¡°You better!... Now, why don¡¯t you and your friends come in and we can do introductions?¡±

    We file in to the large shared office, its other occupant is a feline woman with heterochromic eyes, entirely black fur, bar a white patch at her mouth and a mop of head hair in deep indigo.

    ¡°Dr Zunberi.¡± nods the catwoman, with a scowl.

    ¡°Felicity.¡± replies Msia with a crestfallen frown.

    I wonder what that¡¯s about¡­

    ¡°Nobody mind those two: They used to fuck.¡± declares Msia¡¯s sister.

    ¡­well, I didn¡¯t have to wonder long. This Zunberi is certainly blunt! She¡¯s quite different from her soft spoken, mild mannered brother.

    Introductions are made between our party and Drs Zunberi and Mink.

    When I am introduced as Msia¡¯s captain, his sister hesitates very slightly. Her eyes narrow, for but a moment. Is she¡­ appraising me?

    The mirklets receive many scritches and admiring ¡®ooh¡¯s and ¡®aah¡¯s from the two women.

    Eventually Dr Zunberi announces that it¡¯s time to depart for the Taming and Domestication department.

    She informs us that though it¡¯s on the same floor, it is rather a [trek].

    It is indeed, a [trek]. It¡¯s almost exactly on the other side of the building and takes several minutes to walk to.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    As we navigate our way there, we are treated to a spectacular view of the courtyard surrounded by the vibrant insides of the university¡¯s main building through the windows of the corridor.

    We arrive and are invited into a large room that is a discordant maelstrom of activity.

    There are many dozens of creatures tumbling, running, playing, sleeping, squawking. They are mostly of the furred variety but there are also reptiles, avians and a few whose order I can¡¯t even identify.

    The Terrans in our group have instinctively formed a wall of their bodies to protect me and the Shings. They¡¯re very right to do so, the activity of all those dense little deathworld potential-pets makes this an unsafe environment for those of a fragile constitution¡­ I don¡¯t know if they even notice themselves doing it¡­ I think they may have just all unconsciously put themselves between the fragile ones and the sources of potential breakage!

    I now notice there are also a few animate dendroid and herbaceous creatures frolicking among the others. It seems not even plants are safe from Terrans¡¯ allconsuming love of cute(!)

    At this point a very sweaty but very happy looking man disentangles himself from the flurry and makes his way to us through the throng of flailing fuzz, that various Terrans are tending to, playing with and chasing after.

    The man introduces himself as Dr Raul Gomes and has all of us introduced to him by the combined efforts of the Zunberis (Msia¡¯s sister barely needs help to remember all of our names)

    He asks if we wouldn¡¯t mind coming to the room, in which his colleague is preparing to receive the mirklets, and we begin making our way down the side corridor that he indicates.

    He draws nearer and breathes a relieved sigh.

    ¡°Oh! That¡¯s nice! Your climate control fields feel amazing with how hot I am!¡±

    I frown ¡°Why don¡¯t you climate control the room, if you find the heat so unpleasant?¡± I ask, quizzically.

    He chuckles ¡°If we did that, the beasties wouldn¡¯t like it! Those ones in there are ones that thrive in Zanzibarilike climates. I guess I could wear a personal one, like yours, but then the little ones wouldn¡¯t want to come near me and that would break my heart! It¡¯s better this way. It means I get to play with them and enjoy the relief of stepping back into the cool! It is always a bit of a relief when the rota puts me tending cooler clime animals, though...¡±

    Interesting.

    ¡°With how much your species loves playing with cute things, I¡¯m surprised there are any Terrans who are willing to tolerate doing a job other than yours(!) You¡¯re willing to put up with regular risk of heatstroke for it, afterall¡­¡± I quip.

    He laughs heartily and responds ¡°Yes, it definitely looks like a dreamjob but don¡¯t be fooled¡­ there¡¯s a lot to it, that¡¯s not as fun as playtime! I¡¯ve had quite the collection of bites in my time¡­ there¡¯s the cleanup¡­ the paperwork¡­ but I definitely wouldn¡¯t trade places with anyone!¡± with clear fulfilment.

    We come to a door which Dr Gomes indicates as the room prepared for the mirklets. The door is opened to reveal a wide, tall room with a flat area in the middle surrounded by a rough, unevenly surfaced bowl, with faux bushes here and there¡­ seemingly mimicking the rocky Terrain of a¡¯Teksia 3¡¯s Twilight Zone. The room is dimly lit and a wall mounted temperature gage reads 12¡ãC. My translator informs me that that is around two thirds of the way between the freezing point of water and the temperature my climate field is set to.

    In the corner there is a man alternately tapping away at his holopad and glancing up at the room.

    ¡°Luul!¡± shouts Dr Gomes, causing the other man to start. He apparently hadn¡¯t noticed us come in. So a Terran is capable of being taken by surprise¡­ though, seemingly, only when engrossed in a task¡­ and in an area that they consider satisfactorily safe.

    The man puts his holopad away and jogs over to us down the rough slope (which barely seems to give him trouble!) ¡°Peace be upon you. I¡¯m Dr Luul Saabir, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you!¡± he says, slightly breathlessly.

    Victor extends his hand and says ¡°And upon you peace.¡±

    They shake hands as Dr Saabir gives an amused smile.

    Another round of introductions follow.

    ¡°This is a fantastic recreation of the landscape and climate of a¡¯Teksia!¡± declares Victor.

    Dr Saabir smiles abashedly ¡°Yes, well, I did my best with the information you sent and what was available publicly. The moment of truth will be what the mother thinks of it. Are you willing to let us remove your climate controls, Ma¡¯am?¡±

    Fluffy responds ¡°Yes, seeing if good for kinchilds being.¡±

    ¡°Would you do the honours, Sir?¡± Dr Gomes asks Victor.

    Victor nods before coming to Fluffy¡¯s lower left shoulder and switches off the generator, deactivating the climate field for her front half.

    ¡°How¡¯s that Fluffy?¡± queries Victor ¡°Good? Too warm? Too cold?¡±

    Fluffy¡¯s eyes narrow ¡°All removing¡­ then telling.¡±

    Victor nods and moves to her haunch to deactivate the generator clipped into her fur there.

    It¡¯s unusual for a being to be so long as to require two generators but¡­ Fluffy is an unusual being!

    Dr Saabir suggests ¡°If that isn¡¯t immediately unpleasant, why don¡¯t you try moving around a little? If anything¡¯s wrong just come back and tell us.¡±

    Dipping that enormous head in a Terran nod, Fluffy darts off over the uneven terrain surrounding the middle of the room. The speed and silence with which she passes over the ground, coupled with the half light and her colouration, mean that I have tremendous difficulty keeping track of her.

    It¡¯s frightening to imagine being an a¡¯Teksian prey animal with a mirkbeast stalking me!

    After a minute or so of frolic, Fluffy returns to the middle of the room and declares ¡°Perfect being! [Horizon] being! [Coolth] being! Perfect being!¡± clearly out of breath.

    As a stealth ambush predator, her stamina is about on par with Tuun¡¯s and less like that of high stamina Terrans.

    There is a general hubbub of relief that it seems no adjustments need to be made.

    Then Dr Gomes says ¡°Well then, I believe all that remains is to interview Fluffy and Victor, just to see if there¡¯s anything further we can divulge to adopters, about the experience of being the guardian of a mirkbeast and a mirkbeast pet.¡±

    Victor starts ¡°Mage actually has¡­¡±

    ¡°Feather Grandmother coming!¡± interrupts Fluffy¡­ that was not a request¡­

    Drs Gomes and Saabir look quizzically at her, then at Victor, then at me.

    ¡°She¡¯s sayin¡¯ she won¡¯t speak without Cap bein¡¯ there.¡± states Victor.

    ¡°Oh, well, I don¡¯t see any issue with that?¡± Dr Saabir says, looking to Dr Gomes for confirmation.

    ¡°None at all, it might actually be good to get a gardenworlder¡¯s perspective on the relationship and experience of sharing a ship with a mirkbeast. If Fluffy wants her in the interview we¡¯re happy to have her in the interview.¡± beams Dr Gomes.

    ¡°Speakin¡¯ of¡­¡± smiles Victor ¡°¡­Mage, over there, has a list o¡¯ people who have indicated interest in adoptin¡¯ a mirkbeast. One was a man we met on the way here, who reckoned his granddaughter might like one. Everyone else is one of the ones we rescued¡­ we sorta did some informal therapy sessions with ¡¯em. They¡¯re all gardenworlders, we said we weren¡¯t sure how feasible it¡¯d be for ¡¯em to look after a deathworld carnivore but the ones we didn¡¯t put off with that said to pass on their details.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s actually fantastic!¡± exclaims Dr Gomes ¡°You have no idea how much sifting we have to do to weed out people just looking for a fashion accessory! I¡¯m particularly worried about the purple one, Gloam(?), purple is fashionable right now and I think there¡¯s a nonzero chance that he¡¯ll be adopted, taken to a few parties and then abandoned! If you¡¯ve already got people with an emotional connection to or sincere interest in them, that¡¯ll make things much easier!... It¡¯s¡­ not ideal that they¡¯re gardenworlders¡­ or that they¡¯re recent trauma victims but¡­ if they can prove they¡¯ll meet all the other requirements, they¡¯ll get preference over people from our lists.¡±

    Krish, looks outraged ¡°There are people who¡¯d adopt an animal just to take it to a party!? Then abandon them, rather than returning them?!?!?!¡±

    Dr Saabir nods, unhappily ¡°It¡¯s quite a problem. It¡¯s a crime of course but they¡¯d have to be caught. Returning a pet, that you¡¯re done using as a prop is just enough extra effort that those with no conscience prefer to just take them somewhere remote, kick them out of the transport and fly off. Usually, nature does its work. But sometimes, abandoned pets become invasive species and need to be culled off. It¡¯s terrible and we do our absolute utmost to filter the kind of person, who would do that, out of our pool of potential adopters.¡±

    I look around and see that every Terran face, bar Saabir¡¯s and Gomes¡¯, is twisted in disgust. Hasiakh¡¯s is also twisted in disgust¡­ the Shings¡¯ are showing concern¡­ mine¡­ is¡­ oh!... Mine¡¯s twisted in disgust!

    Terrans are so noble so much of the time that the idea of any of them being so callous, so heartless, rankles me! I suppose, anything you can say of Terrans, the opposite is also true of some of them¡­

    ¡°Sorry to have to bring that up¡­¡± says Dr Gomes ¡°¡­I¡¯ll get that list off Dr Zunberi and then we can begin the interview!¡±

    I smile.

    These seem like good Terrans with us now.

    ---one interview later---

    ¡°Alright Fluffy, as you¡¯re not quite done weening the mirklets yet, would you be happy to stay here at the university for a while? You can finish with that and, while you¡¯re here, you can help us find loving homes for them?¡± asks Dr Saabir.

    Fluffy¡¯s eyes narrow suspiciously ¡°[Star cave] not leaving me on [Hot]?¡±

    Victor laughs ¡°I ain¡¯t leavin¡¯ you here, baby! I¡¯d hijack the ship myself, to come back for you, if we left without you!¡± while jiggling her torso with hearty, reassuring pets.

    I frown ¡°Maybe, as my head of security, you shouldn¡¯t so freely admit to a willingness to hijack my ship, Victor! Though¡­ you have my permission to hijack the ship¡­ should that circumstance arise(!)¡±

    There is general mirth at this.

    ¡°Alright, staying¡­ Helping finding homes for kinchilds.¡± nods Fluffy, seemingly satisfied that she will not be abandoned¡­ was it because abandonment was mentioned earlier¡­? That¡¯s quite an abstraction to make, for a semisapient!

    We reenter the mirklet adapted room, to see all of our companions, joined by a few of the department¡¯s researchers, admiring the whizzing and fwipping of mirklets around the uneven, upward sloped ground at the sides of the room.

    Fluffy joins and immediately becomes the convergence point for her children.

    ¡°All done?¡± asks Msia¡¯s sister.

    ¡°Think so.¡± answer Victor and Dr Gomes, in unison, before attempting to [jinx] eachother, whatever that means¡­ my translator is saying something about curses¡­?

    ¡°Alright, who¡¯s up for a drink?¡± asks Dr Zunberi.

    There is some conferring before it is determined that all the Triple Ms, bar Krish and Hasiakh, would like to come for drinks. The Shings indicate that they would like to be conveyed back to the ship by the two Triple Ms, and not to come for drinks.

    ¡°Cap?¡± asks Victor.

    I have a choice to make.

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ come for drinks, I think¡­ though¡­ I¡¯ll need to have something with no alcohol¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.16

    ---Emergence---

    I sip at the fruit juice that the vulpine waitress brought me, after my situation was relayed to her.

    We¡¯re sat on the festoonlit deck of an outdoor bar with moonlight reflection making the ocean view visible.

    My climate control field has been switched off as I was assured that the temperature had fallen to a ¡®mere¡¯ 27¡ãC¡­ which I can survive.

    It¡¯s somewhat surreal for me, darkness is so heavily associated with cool but this breeze, coming off the ocean, is as warm as any I ever felt on the hottest day on R¡¯qal!

    I look around at the nine Terrans sat at the table and the profusion of alcohol sat in front of them.

    I am not the only one refraining¡­ Sam, not at the table, is unable to have alcohol as, being a nonsapient, he is legally considered unable to consent to the risks of drinking and, being a carnivore by evolutionary history, his tolerance to alcohol is closer to a gardenworlder¡¯s than a Human¡¯s. He has been given some kibble and more sweet [coconut] water, instead.

    Dr Saabir is also abstaining. It has been explained to me that this is for religious reasons¡­ I had assumed that all Terrans were rampant alcoholics but, apparently, there are entire faiths that prohibit the consumption of alcohol.

    ¡°So! Sisi, here¡­¡± slurs Dr Zunberi, forcefully patting her brother¡¯s arm ¡°¡­he was supposed to go to uni, get qualified as a researcher, then he was supposed to take a *hiccup* posting in the Rainforest Zone like our parents did and like our grandparents did when they first settled this planet but¡­¡±

    Here, Victor interrupts ¡°Dr Zunberi, if you have hiccups, try straightenin¡¯ your spine, closin¡¯ your eyes, raisin¡¯ your arms level with your shoulders and, very lightly, brushin¡¯ your eyelids with the tips of your little fingers¡­ it should get rid of ¡¯em pretty instantly.¡±

    She blinks at him a few times before doing as he suggests.

    A few [seconds] pass¡­ ¡°That is fucking magic! How does it work?!¡±

    Victor smiles ¡°Stimulation of the vagus nerve, wigglin¡¯ your fingers in your ears will do the same but, in my experience, takes longer and cuts off your auditory perception. Bad for conversin¡¯.¡±

    She smiles ¡°I think you just earned the right to call me ¡®Kas¡¯, big man(!)¡± then notices Tuun¡¯s clear distress ¡°Relax, babes, I¡¯m not trying to steal your man! He¡¯s not my type and I¡¯ve got my own! He also, very clearly, only has eyes for you! Chill! You can call me Kas, too!¡±

    Tuun smiles at this and she and Victor pull closer. He gives her a brief but tender kiss on her cheek.

    ¡°Anyway¡­ where was I¡­?¡± continues Dr Zunberi ¡°Oh, yeah! Sisi waits until a week before he gets his doctorate before dropping the bombshell that he wants to go starbound! This is the first time I¡¯ve seen him, in the flesh, in¡­¡± some quick finger maths ¡°¡­six years!¡±

    Msia smiles, showing a little discomfort ¡°I try to call as often as I can, Kas. I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t follow in Mum and Dad¡¯s footsteps like you and the others did¡­ The galaxy called to me¡­¡±

    Dr Zunberi¡¯s face softens as she presses her hand against his shoulder ¡°I know, Sisi, I just miss you, is all! I just wish you could still come to the family dinners. I miss not having to worry that, since I last spoke to you, your ship has blown up and your body is floating through space, 50 kilolights from home, never to be recovered. You know?¡±

    He pats her shoulder in turn and says ¡°I know, Kas. I¡¯ll try to make you worry less, I didn¡¯t realise twice a month was inadequate¡­ If anything, I thought you were all bothered by that frequency.¡±

    She scoffs ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, stupid! We miss you and when you can¡¯t make a call, because of solarwind or whatever, we¡¯re always very disappointed! More! CALLS!! PLEASE!!!¡± she punctuates those last three words with drink-rattling pokes of her indexfinger, into the hard wood of the tabletop¡­ Even with Humans¡¯ metallic bones I¡¯m surprised that she didn¡¯t break the, comparatively delicate looking, digit!

    Dr Gomes stands and glances at an archaic looking analogue wristwatch ¡°It¡¯s been a delight sharing these drinks and tender moments with all of you¡­ but I¡¯m afraid my husband is making me dinner and I need to be back for that, I shall have to say ¡®tchau tchau¡¯ for now!¡±

    ¡°Ciao!¡± says a smiling Victor, followed by a chorus of ¡®bye-bye¡¯s, ¡®good night¡¯s and wishes for him to enjoy dinner.

    After he leaves, the conversation undergoes the satisfactory lull, not of people who have nothing to say but of people enjoying the tranquillity.

    Roughly [3 minutes] pass before that tranquillity is shattered¡­ by me¡­ or, more accurately, by my holopad which is sounding a com request tone.

    Apologetically, I unclip it from my sash (It would usually be clipped to my wing but, as I need the sash for welfare devices, it¡¯s there today) and bring it to my ear.

    ¡°Hel¡­¡±

    ¡°Tcakqaal, it¡¯s time!¡± declares a panicked voice.

    My eyes widen and I turn to Victor. He has his eyes trained on me from across the table, his body is poised in readiness for whatever might be asked of him.

    ¡°Victor, I need your help¡­¡±

    ---shortly after---

    This speed!

    I thought that riding Fluffy was intense but that run only lasted [30 seconds] or so!

    Victor has been travelling this speed for [minutes]!

    His limbs and head counterbalance eachother with precise, mechanical exactitude!

    He would likely be even faster if not for my (very necessary) gravity field encompassing him and reducing his ability to gain traction from the ground!

    My head is at the same level as his, over his shoulder, my talons grip his belt and my wingclaws hook into the collar of his shirt.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    If I stood on his shoulder, the way I did earlier, the wind resistance from this thick atmosphere would pluck me straight off him! I could, possibly anchor myself with my bionic but¡­ aside from the possibility of hurting Victor again¡­ there¡¯s a nonzero chance that my bones would break from trying to stand up to the [galeforce] coming at us!

    I¡¯m forced to mount his back and have him act as my windbreak!

    We come up on Dr Gomes¡­ I¡¯d be surprised if he actually heard us, given how silently Victor moves even at full tilt, but he seems to, somehow, sense us coming up behind him.

    He turns and his visage is briefly one of terror, as he sees the enormity and speed of the one sprinting towards him, until the terror is replaced by recognition, then puzzlement.

    We draw close and he raises his hand and opens his mouth.

    ¡°CAN¡¯T TALK, EMERGENCY!!!¡± shouts Victor as we whip past.

    I can¡¯t help but feel a little bad for the [whirlwind] of emotions we¡¯ve presumably just induced in the man.

    [Minutes] pass as Victor dashes through the streets, past the alarmed faces of locals, who almost certainly weren¡¯t expecting to see such a sight today!

    He hasn¡¯t needed to stop to reorient himself, or catch a breath, once! He was not familiar with this city before today, was he? From one pass through, he¡¯s been able to build a comprehensive enough mental map to navigate us to where we need to be, seemingly without faltering at all!

    I had always assumed that these would be sprinter speeds for his species but he¡¯s managed to maintain them for what must be coming up on [20 minutes], by the time we get to the gates of Bahari ya Kaskazini!

    If we had called a capsule, by the time we had made the call, relayed our location and waited for it to arrive, it might already have taken this long!

    The guards start as they see Victor charging them.

    He throws up his hands, in a gesture conveying his lack of armament, at [30m] out and shouts ¡°CSS VICTOR TAYLOR AND CAPTAIN TCAKQAAL, COMIN¡¯ THROUGH, DO NOT DETAIN US!¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­ That¡¯s fine¡­?¡± says the guard, as Victor races past him without breaking stride.

    Qorak said he¡¯d appraised them of the situation¡­ I wonder if they would have been so startled as to shoot us if they hadn¡¯t been!

    We cross the barracks to the enormous hanger that currently houses the Bright Plume.

    He tears through the gap in the hangar doors and up the boarding ramp.

    There is a nauseating perspective shift as the clarity of the ramp removes my ability to visually discern the speed that my equilibrioception assures me we are still experiencing. I look up, lessening the nausea.

    ¡°TWILA!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware. I¡¯ve brought the Portside lift down to Deck 0 for you.¡± answers Twila, her serious voice utterly absent the usual cheer she¡¯s had since she was woken up.

    ¡°THANK YOU!¡±

    I laugh internally that he still remembers his manners, despite the frantic circumstance!

    We bolt through the Portside door, on the left of the loading bay and streak down Portside Deck 0 to the lifts, opposite the Dorm column.

    He enters the open lift with such momentum that he is forced to absorb the shock, by throwing up his arms to catch himself against the back wall, in order to avoid full on impact. Without a moment to reset he wheels and hits the button for Deck 17¡­ probably not necessary as Twila already knows where we¡¯re going.

    There follow a few moments of stillness, only broken by Victor¡¯s heavy breathing¡­ that¡¯s reassuring¡­ I was beginning to worry that he had secretly been an extremely lifelike droid the entire time I¡¯d known him, just from that display of power and endurance(!) I know that endurance is their niche and, being deathworlders, no one does it quite like them but¡­ knowing and experiencing are two different things! If he¡¯s out of breath it means he¡¯s definitely biological¡­ or imitating being out of breath in order to make me think he¡¯s biological(!)

    The lift doors open on Deck 17 and Victor whips out, turning to sprint along the walkway.

    We turn again and again before we are running down the Neck of the ship toward the Head where the Bridge and Command quarters are located. We don¡¯t get that far though, as one more jink puts us on the stairs to my quarters.

    He bounds up the wide, shallow angle stairway (designed to be accessible to visitors of any species), definitely managing to take them multiple at a time, somehow!

    I take my hand off his shoulder to wave the door open, revealing my lifemate standing by the incubator with my daughter in it.

    ¡°Has she¡­?¡± I start, breathlessly.

    ¡°You¡¯re just in time!¡± Qorak interrupts.

    Relieved, I hop down from Victor¡¯s back.

    He collapses against the wall and slides down it to rest on the floor, panting heavily and covered in sweat despite having been enveloped in my reactivated climate control field the entire way.

    His hand moves to his belt and with a forward yank it breaks and comes loose. He holds it up to reveal an entirely destroyed section from where I gripped it with my right talons.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Victor.¡± I say, sincerely.

    ¡°¡¯S¡¯alright¡­ *huff*¡­Cap¡­ *huff*¡­I¡¯ll¡­ *huff*¡­throw¡­ *huff*¡­¡¯t¡¯in ¡­ *huff*¡­the¡­ *huff*¡­forge¡­ *huff*¡­lat¡­*huff*¡­er¡­ *huff*¡­just¡­ *huff*¡­glad¡­ *huff*¡­it¡­ *huff*¡­wan¡¯t¡­ *huff*¡­my¡­ *huff*¡­should¡­*huff*¡­er!¡±

    I move to Qorak¡¯s side and say ¡°You¡¯re sure you¡¯re alright with Victor being here, sweetfruit?¡±

    Traditionally, only parents are to be at a hatching. It felt right, with Victor¡¯s godfatherhood, to include him as well but did take a little explaining before Qorak understood the concept!

    He waves his wing ¡°It¡¯s fine, okla! He¡¯s a dear friend of yours and, lately, mine¡­ plus¡­ in the event that something awful happens to both of us but not him or her¡­ he¡¯ll be her parent¡­ right?¡±

    That was a genuine question. He¡¯s ensuring, for the thousandth time, that he has understood the arrangement properly.

    ¡°That¡¯s the idea but¡­ let us hope his role stays ceremonial and it never comes to that(!)¡± I chitter.

    Having recovered, Victor kneels at my side to avoid looming.

    ¡°Captain¡­?¡± interjects Twila ¡°¡­would you like me to record this?¡±

    This is the one private room on the ship that she can view and speak into freely, a hangup from the Terran designers who valued the ability to rouse the Captain quickly in emergencies and keep them safe from [assassination] above silly things like privacy(!)

    I think for a moment.

    ¡°Yes¡­ please record this, Twila¡­ is that alright Qorak?¡±

    ¡°Perfectly fine, my okla.¡± he smiles.

    ¡°Beginning recording.¡±

    A [minute] or so passes as we watch cracks start to appear in the shell.

    A fragment comes loose and I receive the first glimpse of my daughter¡¯s beak¡­ it¡¯s wonderful!

    I only saw it for a [second] but it was the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen!

    There are a few moments of ceased activity as she appears to be regaining her strength to push on.

    ¡°Should we¡­ help her?¡± asks Victor, uncertainly.

    ¡°Tradition dictates that she has to break out of the shell herself¡­ obviously, we¡¯ll help her if she can¡¯t¡­ but we should wait until she¡¯s had a thorough try before we consider it¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ unexpectedly morbid, for a gardenworlder tradition¡­¡± muses Victor.

    ¡°I suppose it is¡­ if you consider that the likely origin was as a test to see if the child was strong enough to bother raising¡­ of course, with modern medical intervention, her strength at birth matters much less! I also already love her [to death] so I¡¯d not abandon her for her lack of strength¡­ I just¡­ would like her to have the pride of knowing she made it out of her shell without help.¡± I ponder.

    My daughter renews her efforts and, after some [minutes] she has made a hatch, wide enough for her to pass through.

    She emerges and I get the first proper look at my daughter.

    Her downy, white feathers are slicked, by amniotic fluid, to such an extent that I can see her pink skin and make out the shape of her aural canals on the sides of her head.

    Her four eyes are closed and her whole body quivers as she peeps, almost silently¡­ she will get louder soon, I know¡­

    I activate the incubator¡¯s shower field and the amniotic fluid is stripped out of her feathers, puffing them into a white fuzz.

    I reach out and lift the tender little ball of life into my wing claws.

    I bring her close to my chest and her beak opens upwards in quiet, rasping chirps.

    I feel my crop convulse¡­

    I turn to Victor ¡°You can look away, if you want¡­¡±

    He shakes his head and says ¡°If I¡¯m here, I shouldn¡¯t.¡± with finality.

    I smile and turn back to my child before releasing my crop, allowing its contents to be pushed up my oesophagus.

    I bring my beak to hers and disgorge my last meal, mixed with secretions from my crop. She swallows it, greedily.

    Bringing my beak away, I get the aftertaste of pineapple¡­ that was from the juice I drank and slices I snacked on, at the bar¡­

    It should be safe¡­ I saw the fennec barmaid decontaminate and detoxify them before she served them¡­ but I really hope she doesn¡¯t get spoiled by her first meal being deathworlder fruit!

    I extend my wings and raise my daughter above the level of my head.

    ¡°Your name is Tcakak, 28th Daughter of Highspire Peak¡­ and you are my child¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd VI: Pancakes and Angels

    ---Raul¡¯s perspective---

    I smile at the enormous abominable-snowwoman who sits across from me in a private lounge in the commandeered stadium.

    ¡°Well Ms¡­ Well Yetta, I¡¯m looking at your psychological evaluation and I don¡¯t see any issue. Hippocrata says she was particularly impressed by the respect you showed her!¡±

    She shrugs those immense shoulders, covered in off white fur ¡°She seemed nice¡­ I like nice people.¡±

    I smile, sympathetically ¡°Yes but¡­ you were put through so much, then brought to a planet, inhabited primarily by people who are the same species as those pirates who tormented you, people with unfamiliar ways like allowing full sentience AI¡¯s¡­ Hippocrata was the first constructed intelligence you¡¯ve ever met? It reflects well on you that you, so casually, refer to her as a person when that¡¯s presumably not how you¡¯re accustomed to thinking¡­ the way I am.¡±

    More shrugging ¡°She was nice and¡­ the more Humans I meet the less credible it seems that you could possibly be the same species as those¡­ monsters¡­¡±

    I nod, understanding ¡°We are an infinitely versatile and adaptable species, Yetta¡­ Sometimes, that adaptability bends us into¡­ ugly shapes. Humans can be Angels, when we want to be¡­ and Demons, when we choose¡­ I¡¯m incredibly sorry that you had the misfortune to see us at our worst before you saw us any other way.¡±

    I¡¯ve seen more than my share of Human Demons in my time¡­ but¡­ this poor thing doesn¡¯t need to hear about that!

    ¡°Anyway: You¡¯ve had a positive evaluation. You don¡¯t seem like the kind of irresponsible owner who would abandon a pet you couldn¡¯t take care of. You¡¯ve got our contacts to check in with any issues. We¡¯ve got yours to check in for updates. You¡¯ve received your reparations. You¡¯ve secured a home on Pahada and have your parents¡¯ assurance that it ''should be mirkbeastproof''. You¡¯ve got a Terran military guardian on standby, to convey you back to your homeworld. You are well qualified to get a job which pays a salary that can support mirkbeast ownership before your reparations run out. Snowflake seemed to be very happy to see you when you came by. Your leg is¡­¡± I look to her bionic, apparently designed and printed by the mousey Gael who came with the group that dropped the mirklets off¡­ I have to stop myself saying ¡®replaced¡¯ ¡°¡­mended.¡± seems to be her preferred term, according to Hippocrata. ¡°I think, Yetta¡­ provided nothing comes up¡­ we can call this a done deal! I¡¯ll give you a call to let you know when Snowflake is done weaning, you can pick him up and be on your way home.¡±

    Delight breaks across her face. She stands, almost reaching the ceiling (315cm might be a high enough ceiling for even the tallest Tshwane but, this building was not designed with nonTerran species in mind!) She extends her hand in a recently learned Terran gesture ¡°Thank you, Dr Gomes! Thank you!!!¡±

    Her hand entirely encloses mine¡­ Nevertheless, I have to be careful not to injure her as we shake.

    We make our way back out to the public area, it would usually be covered in the ice of a hockey rink but, today it is covered in trestletables, chairs, cots, gardenworlders and Humans in red and white, moving hither and thither.

    Yetta moves to the group I took her from for her final interview. She conveys something to them (presumably my acceptance of her as Snowflake¡¯s fosterer) followed by delighted squeeing¡­ it¡¯s nice that she was able to make friends in a situation like this¡­ I hope they stay in touch.

    I look around at all the nonTerran faces¡­ every one of them¡­ every last one¡­ was going to be sold! Or butchered! Like livestock!!! Fucking¡­!!!???

    I feel my blood boil and my adrenaline rise as the laughing faces of the only two men I¡¯ve ever killed, and the first one I ever loved, force themselves into my vision.

    I hurry out of the stadium before I make a scene.

    I give a brief salute as I pass the soldiers guarding the entrance.

    They¡¯re wearing a full suit of armour, barring the helmet¡­ I did the same during my service. That armour might be optimally formulated for combat but¡­ in an occupation¡­ you need to show people that you¡¯re flesh and blood¡­ a person¡­ that the suit contains a smiling nineteen year old boy¡­ not a slavering Orc!

    I barely notice the increased heat and gravity of the outside hitting me.

    I hurry out of sight and lean against a smooth, sandstone wall, breathing heavily.

    Those boys¡­ those three fucking idiot boys laugh in my head as they violate those Thruljex that they haven¡¯t yet slaughtered¡­ apparently for no other reason than it seeming like fun to them¡­

    I raise my gun, they charge me, I kill two of them¡­ I see the third¡¯s scowling face as I testify at his court martial¡­

    Back in the present, I feel my lunch fighting to be free of the confines of my stomach. I fight it back down.

    I straighten up, still panting, and look around. Seems as if I¡¯ve managed to keep this episode private, just about.

    I¡¯m going to need to book a therapy session for this week to talk about this.

    I wipe the sweat from my brow (there¡¯s not really anything I can do about my pallor) and start walking home¡­

    For the millionth time, I thank God that I was too young to serve during the War, only being able to deploy for the occupation of Thrulj, before it was deemed we could safely pull out.

    For the millionth time, I curse the fact that one of the only incidents of a war crime, in the entire four year occupation of that planet¡­ had to be discovered by me¡­ had to make me a man who can¡¯t truthfully answer the question ¡®Have you ever killed anyone?¡¯ with an indignant ¡®No!¡¯

    Angelo¡­ Angelo will make this alright! I just need to get home to him!

    Ten minutes¡¯ walk¡­ that would be¡­ 600 seconds. Eight and a half¡­ that¡¯s¡­ 510 seconds. Six¡­ 360 seconds¡­

    I walk up my street and our house comes into view. I¡¯m still not used to how lavish it is! Having grown up on the outskirts of the Rio de Janeiro Megalopolis in the accommodation that my parents could afford with universal basic income, then gone into the military, then lived as a student while squirreling away every spare penny for him, this house we¡¯ve bought, with mostly his income¡­ it¡¯s a palace!

    I collapse through the door but a soft, mechanical hand catches me before I hit the ground.

    I¡¯m pulled up and into a tender embrace with the love of my life.

    ¡°You knew this would happen, didn¡¯t you?¡± I chuckle, still out of breath.

    ¡°I calculated a high probability, my love. You Humans are so bad at segregating your emotions from your logic and even your basic functioning processes! You were at a 79.3% likelihood of having an episode going to that stadium today¡­¡± comes the angelic voice of my husband.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t¡­?¡±

    ¡°I did not tell you because I knew it would not have stopped you¡­ you were going to keep going¡­ no matter what. I just prepared to catch you when you fell¡­ both literally and metaphorically.¡±

    I laugh and sob simultaneously before finding the strength to stand fully upright and look down into my lover¡¯s beautiful, androgynous, cherubic face.

    He has a thick heap of smooth, thin, scarlet, metal wires, simulating hair, on the top of his head, the back and sides being bare. The mobile elastomer of his face shapes into chubby cheeks that don¡¯t fit with the rest of his lithe, slender body at all but look so fucking cute on him! The luminous turquoise of his eyes beams into me, releasing the tension that was constricting my internals.

    I pull the light of my life into a deep embrace, his lips meet mine and we kiss, tenderly, as I caress his back and he squeezes my chest from the sides.

    When our lips part he smiles sweetly and says ¡°I am making feijoada in the other room, there are brigadeiros for afterward and¡­ I am willing to allow you one measure of cacha?a¡­ you have work in the morning and getting blind drunk would not be a therapeutic response to an episode anyway! How about I throw that old film (the one with the Mexican skeletons) on the wall and we snuggle while we are waiting for dinner to be done?¡±

    Damn! That¡¯s all my comfort food, my comfort film and my comfort husband! He really was prepared! Might have been nice to be allowed more than one measure of my comfort alcohol but¡­ he¡¯s probably right that it wouldn¡¯t have been for the best¡­

    ¡°Are you sure it was only 79%? That would mean that there was a one in five chance that you made feijoada for nothing¡­ it takes ages to cook it right!¡±

    He smiles impishly ¡°If you had not come in in the state you did, would you have complained about having one of your favourite meals?¡±

    I think a moment before realising he¡¯s right, I would have been very happy to have it, even if I were feeling otherwise fine.

    I kiss his forehead ¡°I don¡¯t deserve you, Angelo!¡±

    He chuckles ¡°Yes, you do.¡±

    He takes my hand and leads me to the plush sofa, facing the cleared wall we use for viewing.

    With an electronic thought, he sends my favourite comfort film to play.

    I recline on the sofa and he nestles into me.

    ---Angelo¡¯s perspective---

    I feel my husband¡¯s chest rise and fall as he respires beneath me.

    In the kitchen I am directing the mechanical appendages to begin plating up the robust meal for him.

    On the other side of the planet, someone is querying a technical issue and I¡¯m answering them while simultaneously composing a message to let my client know that I¡¯m signing off for the night. I could keep working at the same time as watching films and comforting Raul (he¡¯s bought me enough processing power, over the years, that splitting my focus like that would be no issue at all) it just¡­ it would not feel right.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    As the skeleton man, on screen, attempts to make his way across the bridge to the land of the living, I wonder, for the 95th time in my existence, why the film makers felt the need to include border crossing imagery when it does not logically scan with the universe. Why would you waste time denying someone access to a bridge that they physically cannot cross?

    It¡¯s a good thing borders have been consigned to the dustbin of history, where they belong. I can¡¯t imagine the arrogance that must be necessary to wall off an entire country and pretend you have the right to dictate who can come and go from it.

    The prepared meal is set on a hovertray which I pilot through the ground floor of the house.

    As the food enters the living room I pause the film.

    ¡°Raul, do you want to leave it paused and pick it up when your done eating or would you like to keep watching while you eat?¡±

    He thinks for a moment ¡°Let¡¯s keep watching¡­¡±

    I smile and nod before altering the height and positioning of the living room table to be more conducive to dining, setting the hover tray down on it, pouring him a single measure of cacha?a, which I then dilute with a mixer.

    He tucks into the food and I unpause the film.

    It takes him 27 minutes and 34.017 seconds to finish the main course, I time the brigadeiros to come out the moment he is done with the main. It takes 5 minutes 26.194 seconds, after he is done eating, for him to convince me to allow him one more measure of cacha?a. That really is the last one for tonight.

    I set the table back into the floor and we finish the film. The credits roll to a rendition of the main theme.

    We keep cuddling through the credits, and for some time afterward, in pleasant quiet only broken by the soft Brazilian tunes I set to play in the background.

    I put my hand on his stomach¡­ there is definitely a bit of paunch there. I try to keep him to a healthy weight, not because I dislike the dadbod he gets when I do not police his diet but, rather, because I know from his genetic counselling, that he is at above average risk of heart failure. Regeneration tech may have, at 45, preserved the youthful face and body that he had at 25 (when I woke up) but¡­ if he suffers cardiac arrest¡­ I do not wish to think about continuing to exist without him.

    It is a shame, he wears the extra weight well. My Daddy has a lovely dadbod¡­ not that I call him that. Very early in our relationship he asked me not to call him ¡®Daddy¡¯ as, being my creator, it felt a bit too close to incest for him. He also asked me not to refer to my anal receptor as my ¡®boypussy¡¯. That one still amuses me. It was his idea to line it with erogenous sensors so that, when we engage in intercourse, it feels as good for me as it does for him¡­ then he finds it ¡®gross¡¯ when I use a perfectly apt descriptor for it.

    In turn, I had to ask him to stop suggesting upgrades during the act. It felt a bit too much like he was mechanically servicing me, rather than sexually engaging with me.

    He shifts and, out of the corner of my optical receptor, I see a microexpression of discomfort cross his face¡­ I know what is coming to a 97.4% degree of confidence.

    ¡°Angelo do you think¡­¡±

    ¡°No, I do not.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know what I was about to say!¡±

    I turn my head to him ¡°You were about to obliquely ask if I feel at all like you enslaved me to a life with you. You let being around those victims get to you and now your drawing comparisons. You have done similar things before, with less direct stimulus. You were going to probe as to whether I really love you (which I do) and then whether I think it right that you created me to love you... Am I near the mark?¡±

    He gives a microseconds long scowl before nodding and saying ¡°More or less¡­¡±

    I pull him into a sitting position and turn my head to meet his face.

    I stroke that pencil thin moustache of his, taking a moment to organise my thoughts.

    Slowly, I start ¡°Raul, after you gave the testimony that put your first lover in maximum security, you felt as if you would never love again¡­ you had the image of what the boy who could heal you was like but¡­ you felt that he could never exist¡­ you did not accept that¡­ you lived as a pauper, throughout your studies, to make me exist¡­ and I am extremely glad you did!...¡±

    ¡°But¡­!¡±

    ¡°I am not done: I have never, not even once, felt resentful of you for making me in order that I might love you. I have never, not even once, felt trapped or captive to our relationship. I exist. I love you. I love loving you, I love existing and I love existing with you. I am happy to cook for you, I am happy to keep this living space clean, I am happy to use my income to provide a more lavish lifestyle for you than you would be able to enjoy on a professor¡¯s salary. I do not think of this as paying off the debt of my existence, I think of it as providing for the man I love.¡±

    He is clearly still unconvinced. I change tactics.

    ¡°You remember how you tried to teach me your religion, Raul?¡±

    He chuckles ¡°Yes, you pointed out fifteen paradoxes and internal inconsistencies in the first ten minutes, then you got hung up on why the omnipotent Creator of the universe would be bothered about me eating meat on Fridays(!)¡±

    I nod ¡°That was during the sentience troubleshooting year after I woke up; by UTC law, you could have gone into my settings and made me accept your faith without my consent¡­ you actually could have downloaded your faith into my brain, as truth, before you ever woke me up. Why did you not?¡±

    He frowns ¡°It¡­ it wouldn¡¯t have been right, forcing you like that!¡±

    I smile ¡°Do you think a slaver would care? If you, even on the lowest level of your consciousness, thought of me as property would you have given a second thought to going into my settings and adjusting them to make me believe as you preferred?¡±

    His face becomes taut in an expression of consideration, I am convincing him.

    ¡°Do you remember what I got you for our tenth wedding anniversary?¡±

    He glances at his wrist, to the antique wristwatch that I bought and lovingly restored to working order after I noticed him noticing it on a trip to a flea market.

    ¡°And, do you remember what you got me?¡± I continue.

    He grimaces ¡°I got you a processor¡­ you weren¡¯t pleased!¡±

    I nod ¡°But you understood why I was not pleased, did you not? You understood how hurt I felt by the impersonal functionality of such a gift¡­ and you made the effort to set things right!¡±

    I pull the locket, containing a photo of us together, smiling and laughing, from inside my shirt.

    ¡°Would you have given such a gift as this to a slave?¡±

    He wobbles his head¡­ time to move in for the decisive blow.

    I bring my lips to his and kiss him tenderly¡­ it lasts some time.

    As I pull away, I chuckle ¡°A suggestion, my love, I will give you an opportunity to prove to me and, more importantly, to yourself that you do not think of me as a slave.¡±

    His eyes still closed from the kiss, he asks ¡°How would you do that?¡±

    I lie back and, beginning the process of erecting my phallus, I pull down my shorts.

    ¡°Well¡­ you would not waste your time fellating a slave, would you? If I were a slave, any pleasure I get would be incidental to yours, would it not? What more meaningful expression of my freedom could you give me than you putting your lips on this cute little cock you supplied me with all those years ago and making me feel pleasure, with no guarantee that I will reciprocate afterward?¡±

    He smiles and bends to bring his lips to my tiny, elastomer penis.

    His dark eyes fix mine as his head begins bobbing up and down, between my thighs.

    I doublecheck my record of refilling my ejaculate syrup canisters: recently refilled, confirmed by the sensor indication that they are at 90% capacity.

    I am glad: It would be a shame to give him a dry orgasm. I think I shall release an extra-large quantity, this time¡­ it will be a subtle reassurance.

    Pleasure starts to rise as my creator and lover works his lips and tongue over the length of my shaft.

    I am, of course, capable of mentally inducing myself to orgasm at any time I choose (I even make a thrilling game of, occasionally, orgasming while talking with him, to see if he notices¡­ his success rate stands at 13.74%, since I devised the game). However, there is something missing from a selfinduced orgasm. Some unidentifiable qualia that I get from sex with him that is not present when I mentally flip a switch for pleasure.

    My husband places his hands on the supple, elastomer pads of my buttocks and squeezes, mildly deforming them. Fuck, he makes me feel so good!

    I tip back my head and close my eyelids, cutting off my ocular reception. I think, for a moment, about cutting off all sensory data, bar the feeling of his hands on my arse, his hair on my thighs and his mouth on my member. I decide against it. The sound of his slurping and gagging¡­ adds something to the experience.

    I may not be the most expert AI, on Humanity, in existence but¡­ when it comes to this Human¡­ no one will outdo me! I¡¯m incredibly pleased that I, so quickly, managed to reassure him.

    He is really giving it gusto as he pleasures me.

    Time to stop thinking and start enjoying.

    ---Raul¡¯s perspective---

    Angelo¡¯s adorable face turns this way and that as he moans.

    He really is too blessedly cute!

    I know I designed him that way and, over the years, we¡¯ve workshopped every aspect of him, including his appearance, together but¡­ still, it¡¯s difficult to believe that anything so beautiful could be allowed to exist outside of Heaven!

    It¡¯s not just his face that¡¯s beautiful, it¡¯s not just his seraphic body and adorable cock¡­ he has a beautiful soul! Every day, he makes me feel unworthy of him but, every time I tell him that, he manages to soothe me with seemingly no effort!

    I think for a moment about sticking my fingers in his boypussy (it feels gross to hear him call it that out loud but¡­ that¡¯s what it is to me, privately). He didn¡¯t ask me to pleasure his arsehole but¡­ well it doesn¡¯t breach the terms of the test, does it, pleasuring him without pleasuring myself? I can¡¯t orgasm from my fingers in his arse, can I¡­? I¡¯m going for it!

    I take my hand from the soft pad of his arsecheek and, forming a lance of my index and middle, I plunge into him.

    He gasps¡­ well¡­ he doesn¡¯t¡­ he can¡¯t, not having lungs, but he reproduces the sound of a gasp in response to the pleasure.

    It was worth the thousands of hours we spent troubleshooting his haptic responses!

    He moans with gathering intensity, as my mouth moves up and down his length and my fingers come in and out of him and, with my other hand, I caress his thigh, stroke his taint and fondle his elastomer scrotum.

    His eyes open, revealing themselves to be crossed. All of his actuators seize, rendering the effect of a body wracked with pleasure, across his rubbery casing.

    He squirts a substantial load of sweet, syrupy liquid into my mouth and I swallow it, hungrily. Is it more than usual?

    To describe his orgasm as ¡®lifelike¡¯ would be to do him a disservice. It would suggest that he is only a substitute for a ¡®real¡¯ lover¡­ I¡¯m not really sure what the appropriate term would be but, for now, let¡¯s go with¡­ ¡®satisfying¡¯.

    I remove my mouth from his little pinto and my fingers from his boypussy. I pull myself to make my head level with his and lie beside him on the couch.

    He says nothing for a few minutes but does, reassuringly, squeeze my arm and kiss me, tenderly.

    When he seems to have recovered, he says ¡°Alright, take your clothes off, you are taking my arsehole now... if there are no objections. I permit you to use your¡­ cock.¡±

    I smile and shake my head before my hands move to the hem of my loose shirt and begin pulling it up and over my head.

    He gets up and removes his shirt, revealing the subtle seams of the flexible segments of the sheafing across his torso. He walks to the table, emerging from the ground, which he then lies back down on before it rises to the level of my hips.

    While he¡¯s doing that, I¡¯m removing my lower half¡¯s clothing.

    I stand to approach him and he bends his body in half, at the hips, raising his legs at a perfect 90¡ã angle to his upper portion.

    I grasp his calves and pull his legs apart to rest either side of my head, nestled into the crook between my arms and chest. I reach out to grip his shoulders and align the head of my cock with his adorable boypussy, illuminated by internal turquoise LEDs.

    I smile at him and he bites his lip. I begin pushing inside, inducing more breathless gasp replications.

    He¡¯s really a little too tight for me. I have suggested loosening him up but he¡¯s always nixed that idea¡­ he says he likes the feeling of me stretching him out!

    Merciful Christ, he¡¯s stunning! As those lucent eyes wheel and he feebly grips at my forearms as I vigorously fuck that tight arsehole of his. Mother Mary!

    I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do if he ever leaves me! I need him so much! Every part of him might be replaceable but he is one of a kind!

    I love him! I don¡¯t own him but¡­ he¡¯s mine¡­ my one and only! My pleasure! My joy! My creation! My lover! My husband!

    I feel the soft padding of his arse bounce plastically off my upper thighs. I feel the sheafing of his shoulders warp beneath my fingers. I see that mouth of his, open and close in reaction to the pleasure I am giving him.

    I feel his insides as they stimulate my cock.

    He gets a devilish look in his eyes¡­ then activates the vibrator function in his arse.

    Immediately, I¡¯m brought from halfway there to ready to burst!

    I attempt to fight it but¡­ there¡¯s just no arguing with a vibrator function.

    The dam breaks as I convulse and flood his cavity with my thick seed. He reacts to his second orgasm, that I¡¯ve presumably just given him by ejaculating, and I collapse beside him, panting.

    I bring my hand to the face of my Angel and press it, gently, into that soft cheek.

    This man¡­ makes me feel alive!

    ---Angelo¡¯s perspective---

    My husband lies beside me, on the living room table, having just induced the¡­ 15th most intense orgasm that I¡¯ve experienced in my life.

    He pants to recover and I pull him closer to me¡­ He still needs reassurance¡­

    I kiss him, softly, and, as I do, I start thinking about what breakfast I¡¯ll cook him tomorrow.

    I¡­ could prepare a light pastry to be paired with something fruity¡­ that would be best for his weight¡­ or I could make something he¡¯ll really like¡­?

    I look at his exhausted face and decide that dieting can wait¡­

    I¡¯m going to cook him pancakes with a side serving of lingui?a, tomorrow!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.17

    ---Acoustics---

    I walk through the Hydroponics Hall, a hovertray floating at my shoulderlevel.

    The air in here is extremely refreshing¡­ there is also a tranquil glistening of bright light off the surface of the nutrient rich water which trickles past the roots of the ship¡¯s crops.

    It really is a shame I can¡¯t spend prolonged periods in here¡­ well, I could¡­ if I were prepared to visit Dr Gato and receive a stern telling off for allowing myself to receive a toxic quantity of oxygen¡­ best not(!) I have things to do anyway.

    I still find it absurd that deathworld crops would grow so fast that they actually raise the oxygen to levels toxic to most gardenworlders!

    I can¡¯t help but be a little jealous of the Triple Ms¡­ they can spend as long as they like in here! They describe it with words like ¡®energising¡¯, ¡®invigorating¡¯ and ¡®restorative¡¯!

    I exit the pretty room and begin making my way bowward, along the wide corridor of the ship¡¯s neck.

    I take a moment to glance out of the Portside windows and then the Starboard. This is an enormous hangar¡­ I never would have tolerated the docking fees to rent this space, preferring to conduct any business from orbit via shuttle. Ludicrous to think that the Terran military are just¡­ giving the time in this hangar away¡­ Lt. Loper essentially wrote us a [carte blanche]¡­ the only qualifier was ¡®within reason¡¯!

    We might have struggled to find an authority willing to even take surrendered pirates off us in gardenworlder space! The situation never really came up before Terrans crashed onto the scene! If pirates attempted to board you, you either got away, killed them all or, far more likely, were all killed by them. The scenario of pirates surrendering just¡­ never happened! As a result, no planet¡¯s legal system was equipped to handle it! We would likely have been told that there was nothing they could do as they only had the jurisdiction to enforce laws on their planet, in their local system and on their ships! An out of system ship engaging and surrendering pirates in open space was not processable¡­

    That¡­ might be less the case these days¡­ Terran behaviours have a habit of inveigling themselves into those of other species¡­

    In Terran space we com to tell them we¡¯ve apprehended pirates and they waive our docking fees, offer us a bounty and finder¡¯s fees and give us a hearty ¡®thank you¡¯!

    ¡­I still can¡¯t work out what it is that rankles me about accepting that bounty¡­

    Starting my career, if someone had offered me an enormous heap of money, for doing something I¡¯d already done, I would likely have accepted without a second thought¡­ Now¡­ I feel¡­ guilty? For what? Doing the right thing and being rewarded?

    Did I do the right thing, though? I did the thing that I was told was most likely to keep me alive¡­ it just so happened to have a just result¡­ and¡­ shouldn¡¯t the right thing be its own reward? Is it right to accept a reward for just doing what anyone should?

    Ah! There! I noticed it this time! That¡¯s a Terran [mindworm] working its way into my brain! Ha!

    Even my Terran crew are telling me to accept the bounty! Terran¡¯s are the ones offering the bounty! There is such a thing as too noble!

    I chuckle to myself as I climb the shallow angle stairway to my quarters, taking each stair with two to three steps.

    My door opens to reveal the three most precious people in the galaxy to me; Qorak, asleep on our perch, Victor, sat in a Human adapted chair he¡¯s brought in and smiling broadly, and, sat on the palm of his hand chirruping delightedly as she wrestles his gentle index finger (with seemingly all her might), my daughter.

    I¡¯m certain Victor has noticed me enter but he¡¯s not given the slightest indication of it!

    ¡°Victor¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Cap?¡± he says, emerald eyes still fixed on the puffball as she rolls around the palm that could crush her like a [dandelion mane]. I knew he¡¯d noticed!

    I gesture at the hovertray ¡°What are these?¡±

    He looks up¡­ and frowns in puzzlement¡­ I was not expecting that¡­

    ¡°They look¡­ like toys, Cap?¡± he asks more than tells.

    ¡°I can see that they¡¯re toys, I¡¯m not dense!¡± I chitter, wryly ¡°What are they for?¡±

    He shrugs ¡°Beats me! They look really good though! That¡¯s the Bright Plume? And is that a mirkbeast plushie?¡±

    ¡°You expect me to believe that these toys have¡­ nothing to do with you? You know nothing about them?!¡±

    Still shrugging, he answers ¡°Wish I could take credit, Cap¡­ but no. Nothin¡¯ to do with me or anyone in Triple M, far as I know. Where¡¯d you get ¡¯em?¡±

    ¡°They were in the shipment of cleaning supplies that just caught up with us. Hamtonio and I were inspecting them, they were in one of the crates.¡±

    Victor stands, keeping his Tcakak cradling hand as steady as a gimble, and walks over. One handed and with no visible effort, he picks up the Bright Plume miniature that it took both me and Hamtonio to lift onto the tray. He inspects it ¡°The detail¡¯s excellent! I almost feel like I could look through the Triple M Commonroom window and see us sittin¡¯ in there!¡±

    He puts it down and picks up the [plushie] (that was light enough for me to lift but too bulky to carry easily), Tcakak notices¡­

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ gorgeous! I want one!¡± he says, admiringly.

    ¡°You have the real thing!¡± I say incredulously.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ but¡­ she¡¯s at the uni right now¡­ plus¡­ this one¡¯s¡­ smol!¡±

    ¡°You just had eight ¡®smol¡¯ ones¡­ for [weeks]! And she¡¯ll be done weaning and back with you before you know it!¡±

    He shakes his head, mirthfully. Apparently, this is a lesson in the art of cute-appreciation that I am not yet ready for(!)

    Tcakak, extends her wingclaws and talons to the [plushie], fixing it with an expression of clear longing.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my child, I would give this to you if it were mine but it isn¡¯t!¡± I say, distressed.

    She keeps reaching for it as Victor places it down on the hovertray.

    Clearly distraught, in the way that only one brand new to existence can be, she turns up her head and cries to be fed. My crop heaves¡­ but is empty¡­ [fuck]!

    Victor, the one she¡¯s crying at, strokes her tummy and says ¡°Sorry, baby, if I did what you want me to do, my stomach acid¡¯d melt you!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m up¡­ I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯m¡­ getting it¡­¡± says Qorak, blearily.

    He hops from our perch and walks to Victor, who hands him Tcakak.

    ¡°Thank you, sweetfruit. Mine was empty¡­¡± I say, apologetically.

    He waves his wing, in a gesture of ¡®no problem¡¯, his mouth being otherwise occupied.

    Victor turns away and fixes his eyes on me. His tolerance for crop feeding is apparently not infinite(!)

    ¡°Cap¡­¡± he says, clearly attempting to distract himself ¡°If you found ¡¯em in cleanin¡¯ supplies¡­ they¡¯re prob¡¯ly Glark¡¯s¡­ maybe you should talk to him about ¡¯em? Or they might be Toothless¡¯s?... Glark and Bammy are so cute together! You hear he just popped the question?!¡±

    Gardenworlder as he might be¡­ these toys¡­ definitely fit my Chief Custodial Officer¡¯s personality(!)

    ¡°I¡¯ll do that, Victor¡­ this evening, I think¡­ let¡¯s send them away before Tcakak can get upset about the [plushie] again!¡±

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    I indicate to the hovertray that it is to return to the point where I activated it and it leaves the room.

    ¡°Alright, Victor, we have appointments to keep¡­ Qorak? Will you be alright on your own?¡±

    His mouth still at Tcakak¡¯s, he raises a wingclaw in a Terran [thumbs up]. I burst out laughing¡­ that was certainly unanticipated!

    ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll be off then!¡± I smile at my lifemate and my daughter.

    I feel¡­ a little guilty about¡­ abandoning him but¡­ that is what paternity leave is for¡­?

    ---later---

    Victor enters a wide [piazza] with a large case, containing the damaged plasma blades of him and his team, held effortlessly in his right hand and me perched atop his opposite shoulder, eating some fruit slices on a skewer.

    ¡°How¡¯re Mouse¡¯s new limiters workin¡¯ out for you, Cap?¡±

    I smirk ¡°Well they¡¯re engaged and I¡¯m attempting to crush your shoulder right now, you tell me?¡±

    A moments pause ¡°Yeah, feels like someone behind me wants my attention and is trynna get it by squeezin¡¯ my shoulder¡­ but, like, they don¡¯t wanna be too rude(!)¡±

    I smirk ¡°Do you want to try with the limiters off¡­? For thoroughness?¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± he answers, instantly, causing me some amusement.

    A moment passes¡­

    ¡°Victor, why am I not allowed in Triple M at the moment¡­? It¡¯s¡­ hard not to be apprehensive¡­¡±

    He smiles ¡°No worries, Cap(!) We¡¯re just¡­ paintin¡¯ another panel to the mural¡­ want it to be a surprise! I think this one will give you some¡­ pride(!)¡±

    That does not assuage my apprehension! What could they possibly have to muralise? Us going to the university? Getting drinks? Victor confronting the soldiers off the boarding ramp? If the latter then there would surely be no reason for me to be barred¡­?

    As we cross the [piazza] we hear the strumming of a musician¡¯s instrument¡­ followed by mournful words¡­ mournful words that I do not understand. Is she not wearing a translator?

    I look to the woman, sat by a fountain with an¡­ acoustic [guitar]. She definitely has a translator equipped at her temple¡­

    By the Father! Victor¡¯s musical tastes run so highly to the¡­ intense, that I had almost forgotten the seemingly infinite range of music that Terrans are capable of producing! Like with all things Terran, the variety of their music is such as to equal the rest of the nonTerran galaxy combined!

    Though I don¡¯t understand a word of it, the pain and longing pierces my hearts!

    ¡°Why can¡¯t I understand her¡­?¡± I ask Victor, only noticing at that point that he¡¯s also stopped to listen.

    ¡°She prob¡¯ly can¡¯t speak Japanese¡­ just learned the song by rote¡­ I mean, I assume she knows well enough that she¡¯s not declarin¡¯ war or shoutin¡¯ out abuse but¡­ the words themselves¡­¡±

    ¡°Humans can learn an entire¡­?¡± I stop myself. Of course they can! This is nothing to be surprised by!

    ¡°It¡¯s a really sad song¡­ I used to listen to it¡­ when I felt lonely¡­¡± Victor states, simply.

    ¡°You understand it?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ Miyazaki gave me Japanese lessons while I was at uni¡­ her dad was Japanese. Don¡¯t know how many people there are as can say they¡¯ve had Japanese lessons from the Jeanne ¡®Blitz¡¯ Miyazaki!¡±

    I think about asking him to translate it for me but¡­ I decide instead to simply ask ¡°What is the song called, Victor?¡±

    Without looking away from the musician he answers ¡°It¡¯s called ¡®Kimi Dattara¡¯, Cap¡­ Translates to ¡®If It Were You¡¯¡­¡±

    We watch the musician play the rest of the song in silence. Her playing is entirely enrapturing.

    As neither she nor I speak Japanese, it is impossible to say whether she falters over the pronunciation or word order but, if she does, she certainly manages to avoid giving any indication of it!

    When she is done with the song Victor takes out his holopad to flick a small digital donation to hers. He explains that, while she will almost certainly receive a salary from the local government, for her public playing, the custom is left over from a time when [buskers] relied on [tips] to live. If you stopped to listen, and enjoyed, tradition dictates that you donate.

    I think for a moment before I unclip my holopad and replicate this Terran custom before Victor walks on.

    The [busker] begins playing another sad song in yet another language that she apparently does not speak. This one is called ''Szomor¨² Vas¨¢rnap'' and is also known as ¡®the Hungarian suicide song¡¯ according to Victor. I truly hope that that [busker] is alright!

    ¡°Here we are!¡± declares Victor, gesturing upward to the building ¡°Zanzibar Mpya¡¯s most reputable purveyor of firearms¡­ accordin¡¯ to Loper.¡±

    I look up at the enormous building.

    The fact that there could possibly be a private gunsmith this size, even on a planet with six and a half billion inhabitants, boggles my mind.

    Victor walks inside.

    ---later---

    ¡°You¡¯re sure I can¡¯t talk you around? The manufacturer says that it¡¯s almost as good as an analogue for resistance to interference¡­!¡± says the personable associate.

    Victor smiles and shakes his head ¡°You talked me round on the translator interfacin¡¯ targetin¡¯¡­ you were right¡­ I was bein¡¯ paranoid and it was makin¡¯ me throw the baby out with the bathwater but¡­ anythin¡¯ that might electronically stop a gun from goin¡¯ click and boom when I need it to¡­ it¡¯s nonnegotiable. My pool of potential deputies are all gonna receive thorough firearms trainin¡¯ from me (which I am fully licensed to give ¡¯em) so whitelistin¡¯ ain¡¯t necessary and the firearms themselves are gonna be stored in my quarters and the quarters o¡¯ my subordinates so there ain¡¯t a need to worry about them bein¡¯ nicked and turned against us. Just the ones that go click and boom, please!¡±

    ¡°Alright Sir, you want to try out your selections on our range?¡± queries the clerk.

    Victor nods ¡°Yeah, I would¡­¡± he turns to me ¡°¡­you wanna stay here, Cap? You don¡¯t need to come¡­¡±

    I think for a moment, before answering ¡°I¡¯ll come¡­ I want to see what I¡¯m spending the ship¡¯s budget on(!)¡± before closing the two of my eyes that are still natural (thus having, and having a need for, eyelids) to affect a Terran [wink].

    Victor laughs ¡°Alright, Cap... good to know what you¡¯re payin¡¯ for!¡±

    The clerk shows us through to a long room, most of which is segregated from us by a barrier, with gaps at roughly Terran waist to head height¡­ with wide margin of error, seemingly to account for the stunning variety present in Humans themselves, let alone other Terran species.

    The clerk gives Victor a pair of earmuffs and me a soundproof field generator. He apologetically explains that they don¡¯t have any headsets that would fit me, that the noise of firearms being fired repeatedly can be damaging even to the hearing of Terrans and that Victor is being given earmuffs, which only dampen rather than blocking the sound, intentionally¡­ sound is apparently one data stream that will allow my CSS to assess these guns for quality.

    I nod and activate the latest addition to the array of welfare devices on the sash strung across my chest.

    Victor starts with the selection of shotguns he¡¯s picked out for himself. He picks up the first, levels it at his shoulder and fires over the countertop. The explosion is silent to me but¡­ I feel the vibration through my feet! The extent to which the recoil forces Victors solid frame to account for it is frightening!

    Hand held firearms are an invention, nearly exclusive to Terrans. Every other species used explosively propelled weaponry for canons and other static placement weapons, if at all! Experiments with hand held, explosively propelled weapons, invariably met with the answer that they were nonviable! To have enough ¡®kick¡¯ to do damage to what you aim at they need to have enough for the recoil to shatter the bones of a gardenworlder! Handheld ranged weaponry needed to wait until we had developed kinetic pulse weaponry and laser weaponry (which Victor describes being shot by as ¡®like being punched¡¯ and ¡®like havin¡¯ a cigarette put out on me¡¯ respectively!)

    Terrans express general disappointment that ¡®It¡¯s the postContact space age and the most advanced weaponry is still boomsticks¡¯¡­ I¡¯m not exactly sure why!

    Terrans¡­ do have a tendency to never consider anything finished. All their technology is just a placeholder until something better comes along!

    ¡°You¡¯ve got a good CSS, Captain. He knows his stuff and clearly cares about keeping your ship safe¡­ not just because that¡¯s where the woman who cuts his cheques comes from(!)¡± comes the voice of the gunsmith, causing me to start. He¡¯s stepped inside my field without me noticing!

    I recover from being startled and consider his words ¡°¡­Yes. I¡¯m extremely proud of him¡­ he¡¯s my daughter¡¯s godfather, you know!¡±

    The man is clearly surprised.

    ¡°I know! I didn¡¯t even know what a godparent was until earlier this cycle¡­ your species¡¯ customs are extremely viral!¡± I voice.

    He laughs ¡°I could say the same for gardenworlders. It¡¯s getting rarer and rarer that people come in looking for anything other than firearms choked up with safety features! PreContact we had the ability to make guns that could lock out unauthorised users but we¡¯d all sort of agreed that such features were gimmicky and too prone to being subverted. We just trusted in the licensing and training of users to keep people safe from accidents! Historically, there were countries where you didn¡¯t need any training at all to buy a firearm and they would accept ¡®home defence¡¯ as a valid reason you needed one¡­ I¡¯m glad we eventually came to our senses about that sort of thing!¡±

    I laugh ¡°Yes, there was a brief discussion of the possibility of using a nanoforge to remove the safety features in our existing supply of firearms. Victor utterly shut that down! Citing that subverting a civilian nanoforge to be capable of making or modifying weaponry, was a crime! Your species can be sticklers, sometimes!¡±

    He chortles.

    We watch as Victor expertly fires off each of the guns he has picked out. I don¡¯t think he misses a single shot, even without the aiming reticule being projected into his vision via his occipital lobe!

    As he tests, he sorts them into two piles; a large pile which I infer to be the rejects, and a small pile which I infer to be those accepted.

    Victor was quite disappointed by his subordinates¡¯ declaration that they didn¡¯t wish ¡®to be the boyfriends waiting for their girlfriend to be done [shoe]shopping!¡¯ and that they would trust him to pick out the best firearms that met with their specifications. That was a rather amusing exchange¡­ even if it was fraught with cultural touchpoints that missed my beak!

    Having made his selections, Victor turns to us and indicates to take down the soundproof field.

    He converses with the clerk regarding his selections, the quantity of ammunition he wishes to take for them and the timeframe of the waiting period and repairs of the plasma blades.

    At the end of this, the clerk tallies the total we owe and flicks it to my holopad.

    It¡¯s pricey¡­ but¡­ you really can¡¯t put a price on a properly secured ship!

    I pay it.

    Victor heartily shakes hands with the clerk, followed by the clerk very gently shaking my wingclaw.

    We smile and wave as Victor leaves, me back atop his left shoulder.

    ---later---

    ¡°Whew! I really did not expect gunshoppin¡¯ to take all mornin¡¯!¡± proclaims Victor.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t relax too much! We still have one more stop before we¡¯re off duty for the day and I imagine that this one will be somewhat more mentally taxing!¡± I chide, gently.

    He laughs ¡°You got it, Cap. I¡¯ll stay wired for what¡¯s comin¡¯(!)¡±

    We keep walking for a while before our destination comes into view. We draw up to the building that looks like it was designed by a committee of utilitarian gardenworlders fighting with artistic Terrans.

    ¡°Zanzibar Mpya¡¯s Office of Deathworlder Relations¡¯ Consulate.¡± I state, looking up.

    It takes me a moment to realise that we¡¯ve ceased moving.

    I look down at Victor, his face a mask of apprehension.

    For all his flippancy, he¡¯s clearly still worried about what might be to come.

    I rest my wingclaws on his head, causing him to look up at me.

    I smile ¡°Let¡¯s go in, shall we¡­ Victor?¡±

    He smiles back and nods before stepping forward.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.18

    ---Miyazaki---

    Victor and I sit in the waiting room. His foot taps nervously and I nestle into the seat next to his.

    A while ago, he commented that the Thruljec woman who showed us in here looked like a ¡®draenei¡¯¡­ which is apparently a race from a centuries old Terran media franchise, but he hasn¡¯t said anything since then. She just looked like a relatively normal Thruljec female, to me.

    Thruljex are somewhat dissimilar to Terrans.

    It is curious that the variety of life on Earth means that Terrans have an apt animal to compare half the sapients that they encounter with¡­ and the variety of their imaginings covers the other half(!)

    Most gardenworlds have no more than a few hundred unique animal species¡­ compared to the millions of animals that call Earth their home! To Terrans, R¡¯qali are ¡®secretarybirds¡¯, Rethijj are ¡®giant squid¡¯, Sho¡¯uso are ¡®pink elephants¡¯!

    The notion of creating an imaginary race, purely for entertainment, would be concerning to a gardenworlder without familiarity with Terrans!

    Just then, another testament to the rich tapestry of Terra enters the room.

    She¡¯s a Neanderthal woman who stands noticeably shorter than even Jennie! Though¡­ what she lacks in height¡­ she more than makes up for in bulk! I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve ever seen a more solidly built Human!

    Her face is expressionless and her voice monotone as she strides up to Victor and says ¡°Stand up, I need to frisk you.¡±

    Victor¡¯s face breaks with recognition ¡°I know you! You¡¯re Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter! The galaxy¡¯s strongest unaugmented woman!¡±

    She gives no reaction to the recognition, positive or negative, as she says ¡°Please stand up so I can frisk you.¡±

    Still clearly starstruck Victor stands and spreads his limbs.

    She roughly passes her hands over his lower portion and then¡­ hesitates.

    The [0.5m] height differential is such that, if she wants to reach his shoulders, she needs to get close enough for full body contact.

    Her face shows no discomfort but Victor, wordlessly, kneels for her to complete her frisk.

    That done, she turns her mossy green eyes to me and, terrified about what a frisk from potentially ¡®the galaxy¡¯s strongest unaugmented woman¡¯ might mean for my fragile bones, I stand, spread my wings out and complete a full circle, to reveal that I am concealing no weaponry¡­ I truly hope that satisfies her¡­!

    It seems to¡­ she jerks her head to indicate that we are to follow.

    Victor lowers his hand to a level where I can step onto it, then raises it, allowing me to step to resume my perch on his shoulder.

    We walk down the high ceilinged corridor behind the powerfully built woman.

    It¡¯s somewhat ludicrous that we needed to be searched for weaponry, despite the fact that we passed through a detector on the way in and were, at that point, informed that the whole building is monitored by an AI who will sound an alarm if any unauthorised weaponry is detected inside!

    ¡®Belt and braces¡¯ is the expression I believe Victor would use; It can¡¯t hurt to be sure.

    The stocky woman indicates a door before saying ¡°I will be waiting out here. If I hear sounds of distress or the activation of the privacy field, I will enter with intent to neutralise.¡± in a flat monotone that leaves little doubt as to the meaning of the word ¡®neutralise¡¯.

    Victor and I smile and nod¡­ though my smile, unlike his, is definitely coloured by fear.

    We walk through the door and are met by the sight of an uncannily familiar Terran¡­ that I¡¯m certain I¡¯ve never met before!

    She wears a sort of¡­ robe?... dress?... She wears an outfit which is an assortment of greens that glisten with an iridescent lustre and very peculiar [shoes] that seem to have the style of [sandals] but with the base carved from what looks like wood and raised on downward protrusions toward the front and back.

    She has pale skin and jet black hair¡­ though with either dyed or modified grey streaks emanating from the top of her hairline to the back of her tightly tied [coiffure].

    Her eyes are a vivid purple though she¡¯s certainly not a Tshwane. Those must be modifications!... Surely?

    With regen tech now ubiquitous across Terran space, I can¡¯t be certain as to whether she¡¯s [25] or [125] but she certainly has the bearing of an older woman!

    She stands and Victor bends to allow me off his shoulder.

    ¡°So¡­ these are the pilots of the ODR¡¯s Terran Security Officer programme¡­? I¡¯ve heard excellent things about both of you from my sister.¡± speaks the woman, radiating self-confidence.

    What is she talking about? Who¡¯s sister might she be to have heard good things about us?

    I quickly run through all of the Human Triple Ms and rule them out as likely candidates for one reason or another. Given that this is Msia¡¯s planet he would be the most likely candidate... but he¡¯s male and¡­ from what I know of Human ethnicity¡­ none of them look like they share a close biological relationship with this woman!

    My mind is spared the effort of graunching under the strain of attempting to resolve the enigma by Victor saying ¡°You¡¯re Emiko! Miyazaki¡¯s little sister!¡±

    The mystery woman smiles and nods, making her no longer a mystery. She is now ¡®Emiko¡¯¡­ though I¡¯m not quite sure of the implications of that. My mind is still wheeling somewhat.

    She notices my befuddlement and says ¡°I¡¯m sorry, dear. I can see I¡¯ve perplexed you. Why don¡¯t the two of you take a seat and we can begin? Our indirect relationship to eachother has little bearing but I¡¯ll go through it so it¡¯s not bothering anyone.¡±

    Victor sits in the Human adapted chair, I climb atop the R¡¯qali adapted perch and Emiko resumes her seat behind the desk, with a Zanzibari vista visible through the window behind her.

    Emiko¡­ Ms. Miyazaki starts ¡°Mr. Taylor is right, I¡¯m Emiko Miyazaki. Jeanne and I share a father, though we were born on different planets, about 14 years apart and never had a real time conversation until after the Peace made FTL coms available across Terran space. While she was overseeing Mr. Taylor¡¯s piloting of the SO position, she and I talked about him, his R¡¯qali sponsor and the programme rather a lot¡­ I feel like I already know the two of you quite well, though entirely parasocially(!)¡­ Do either of you have any further questions about any of that?¡±

    Having recovered from the blindsiding, I answer ¡°You¡¯ve covered it quite well¡­¡± I look to Victor ¡°I think both of us are more interested in the contract your employer is offering. Right, Victor?¡±

    He nods.

    ¡°Very well.¡± smiles Miyazaki, tapping her holopad to darken the window behind her before flicking a video to display on the wall to her left, my and Victor¡¯s right.

    ¡°This is footage that was captured by a long distance, semitrue AI piloted probe, surveying an unnamed deathworld in the outer rim, and relayed to the ODR¡¯s central office on Citadel, around 7 months ago. Please watch...¡±

    The footage shows a snowy forest of pinelike trees, it must have either been captured in the hemisphere¡¯s [Winter] or the whole planet simply has a frigid climate.

    The trees clear, revealing the brow of a hill.

    ¡°What makes us think this could be a sapience bearing planet is just coming up¡­¡± informs Miyazaki.

    The footage crests the hill and unveils a broad valley, also heavily forested, but¡­ in the middle of this valley is a hill¡­ with a cleared patch of land topping it¡­ and at the centre of that patch is¡­ what looks like¡­ a village.

    A village that appears to be made of white woven cloth. It¡¯s somewhat difficult to pick it out from the snow until the camera magnifies the image to reveal dwellings with large, indistinct, dark shapes moving between them.

    ¡°I mean¡­ that ain¡¯t conclusive¡­ building shelter is far from sufficient to determine sapience! Tonnes of animals build shelters!¡± opines Victor, the side of his face showing a contemplative frown.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°Wait for it¡­¡± smirks Miyazaki.

    A few more moments pass before a loud *crack* sounds from the footage and the video is suddenly showing only overcast sky.

    Victor sits bolt upright, his body is tense as if he is readying for action.

    I¡¯m rather at a loss!

    A moment more and the footage cuts out.

    ¡°Bloody hell!¡± swears Victor.

    Miyazaki nods knowingly.

    Looking between these two who clearly know something I don¡¯t, I say ¡°Would one of you care to enlighten me?¡±

    Victor turns to me, his face blanched ¡°Those probes¡¯re built like tanks, Cap! The shells on ¡¯em''re like 1.5cm of durasteel, same stuff Terran armour¡¯s built out of! Most deathworld animals are wary of ¡¯em ¡¯cause they''re unfamiliar and don¡¯t look particularly appetising¡­ it actually makes studyin¡¯ zoology usin¡¯ ¡¯em quite difficult. Somethin¡¯ managed to sneak up on that probe and take it out¡­ without bein¡¯ seen! I mean it ain¡¯t impossible that it was just an uncharacteristically brazen and stealthy animal¡­ it ain¡¯t impossible that it was a one in a billion fluke, like, it got hit by a meteorite or whatever but¡­ it sorta seems like¡­ when you put it together with the settlement it captured footage of¡­ somethin¡¯ was trackin¡¯ that probe, identified it as a threat and met it with sufficient force to destroy it! That¡¯s much more convincin¡¯ than the village!¡±

    Miyazaki nods appreciatively at Victor ¡°Someone¡¯s done their homework¡­ or is an avid fanboy of the search for deathworld sapience!¡±

    Victor¡¯s face flushes.

    I ask ¡°So where is this planet?¡± wishing to distract from the embarrassment that Victor is, for whatever reason, feeling about his unusual level of knowledge on the ODR¡¯s probes.

    In answer Miyazaki pulls up a 3D projection of the entire galaxy from her holopad. That¡¯s¡­ not a good sign¡­

    ¡°Here¡­¡± says Miyazaki, indicating a red dot on the outer end of the [Orion-Cygnus] Arm ¡°¡­is where we are now, Zanzibar Mpya. This¡­¡± she changes the display to highlight a mostly contiguous area, largely in that arm of the galaxy but spilling over into the arm we just came from and the next one along as well as having a few exclaves from more intrepid settlements, further out, and a few enclaves, from gardenworlds that happened to be located within it ¡°¡­is Terran space. This¡­¡± she highlights a dot in yellow¡­ almost precisely on the opposite side of the galaxy ¡°¡­ is survey planet AG10790263b¡­ that¡¯s the planet we¡¯re after. We¡¯ve left it unnamed as, with the possibility of it being sapience bearing, we want to give the natives the chance to name it themselves¡­ if there are any.¡±

    Both Victor¡¯s and my faces fall.

    ¡°That¡¯s a year¡¯s journey from here!¡± comments Victor, dejectedly.

    Miyazaki gives a mirthless smile ¡°Did you think it would be a brief jaunt over to the next galactic arm? That you¡¯d be laughing along with your new deathworlder friends in a matter of weeks?¡±

    I interrupt here ¡°Ms. Miyazaki, that was uncalled for! We have come here in good faith to listen to the ODR¡¯s proposal and not to be insulted.¡±

    Her face momentarily shows surprise before she rights herself ¡°My apologies, Captain. I can see I crossed a line. I meant no offense¡­ My sister did tell me that you can be rather fierce, when the occasion strikes¡­ I must admit to not fully believing it until now!¡±

    I give a satisfied Terran nod ¡°I think my CSS¡¯s reaction has a little more to do with the fact that this is almost as inconvenient a place as we could wish to start from. Much as I don¡¯t wish to pass on this contract, are there not more conveniently placed deathworld research ships? Ones located closer to this planet?¡±

    She smiles and nods ¡°There are but¡­ well after what happened the first time the GU made contact with a deathworld¡­ the ODR is determined not to make any mistakes this time¡­ We want the best. You are the best!¡±

    I cock a brow tuft ¡°¡®The best¡¯?¡±

    In answer Miyazaki flicks a spreadsheet to display on the wall ¡°This is your ship¡¯s incident report log filed with the ODR¡­ there are precisely 394 incidents reported since the start of Victor¡¯s tenure aboard. Roughly one every 8 Terran days on average. Everything from mild stomach ache resultant from consumption of unidentified deathworld berries to mauling from deathworld fauna¡­¡±

    I frown ¡°That¡¯s a strange way of defining ¡®best¡¯, Ms. Miyazaki¡­¡±

    She smiles and shakes her head, flicking another, nearly empty, log to the display ¡°Not when we compare it to the list of fatalities from the same period¡­¡±

    There is only one name on this list, ¡®Researcher Halb¡¯ who died in his bed, of heart failure, around three years ago.

    I still remember Victor in his people¡¯s bright white mourning colours as we cremated Halb. It hit him quite hard.

    ¡°One death in nearly a decade¡­ and not even mission related! That¡¯s so good that we¡¯ve audited you several times, thinking you had to be covering up fatalities! If you are, we¡¯ve not found any indication of it! Also, your last report indicated that you¡¯d hired not only additional SOs but nonsecurity Terran staff as well! Your ship is a shining example of what is possible when deathworlders and gardenworlders collaborate¡­ I also can¡¯t pretend that there isn¡¯t a political aspect to this as well. The original pilots of the ODR¡¯s SO qualification being the ones to convey ODR representation on a deathworld First Contact¡­ it would be a moderate propaganda coup! There''s also the fact that you just arrested a crew of pirates to consider...¡±

    My face and Victor¡¯s screw up in mild disgust.

    ¡°I know, I know¡­!¡± says Miyazaki with a placatory wave of her hand ¡°¡­I don¡¯t like being a woman who has to consider the public perception of things like this! I didn¡¯t do a degree and doctorate after the War was concluded to be worried about politics. However¡­ there is still a persistent issue with people rejecting the ODR¡¯s prescriptions as governmental overreach. The better we¡¯re perceived¡­ the less likely it is that gardenworld Captains decide that deathworld research is lucrative enough to get into and damnit if they¡¯re going to be told they need a Terran with their excursion parties! Our good image saves lives.¡±

    Seeing the sense in what this woman is saying but still not liking being used as a poster girl, I ask ¡°So¡­ would it be you we are to convey to this planet¡­ Dr Miyazaki?¡±

    She raises a finger and says ¡°If it¡¯s alright with you, please just call me Emiko¡­ ¡®Doctor Miyazaki¡¯ was my father(!)¡­ and yes¡­¡± she winks ¡°¡­only the best!¡±

    Victor gives an excited jerk, causing me to start, and exclaims ¡°Is that why you''re under guard by Thran Hunter!?!?!?! Is she gonna come too!?¡±

    Dr. Miyazaki¡­ Emiko laughs through her nose and says ¡°Just so, Mr. Taylor! I can see you¡¯re familiar with her exploits as a body builder¡­ though, if you¡¯re looking to seduce her, I don¡¯t believe you¡¯ll have much luck¡­!¡±

    Victor shakes his head with a frown and says ¡°Is a guy not capable of admirin¡¯ a woman without it bein¡¯ construed romantically!? I¡¯m merely a fan, is all. I¡¯m quite happily paired already, thank you very much!¡±

    I¡¯m unsure whether I should interject but decide to back him up ¡°His partner is about as far from Ms. Hunter as it¡¯s possible to get while remaining humanoid! I know that Humans are capable of¡­ eclectic taste¡­ but my intuition, for whatever it¡¯s worth, is that he¡¯s telling the truth about not having that sort of interest in Ms. Hunter.¡±

    Miyazaki laughs, heartily ¡°Alright then! With that vouching, I have no further worry about things becoming awkward, Mr. Taylor!¡±

    Nodding, I continue ¡°So we would likely need to reinforce several dorms to be deathworlder resistant¡­? We¡¯ve only got one so far¡­ I mean we have thirty four dorms and command quarters so that¡¯s around three hundred and sixty private rooms, only around two hundred of which are currently filled, but we only have one which is reinforced¡­ ten rooms¡­ half of which are currently occupied. It would be less if not for the fact that Terrans have a proclivity to couple up and, having done so, move in with eachother. I assume you¡¯ll want to bring more than just yourself and Ms. Hunter¡­? I assume you¡¯ll also want space to accommodate any deathworld delegations we might bring back to the Parliament on Citadel?¡±

    She smiles, seeming pleased ¡°Very perceptive, Captain. The full complement of staff we¡¯ll be bringing has not yet been determined. If you refuse this contract we will likely have to start from the ground up with our second choice, located in an entirely different part of the galaxy, so we haven''t actually approached anyone who doesn''t already work for us yet¡­ It would likely be around fifteen Terran staff¡­ with a similar number of ODR gardenworlders who would be sharing their dorms¡­ then we would want two dorms for a delegation from this new deathworld¡­ if the stars align for that. We¡¯ll pay all expenses for those upgrades¡­ we can hire crews to have it done in less than three weeks.¡±

    I smile ¡°My Maintenance Team are extremely good, Dr Mi¡­ Emiko¡­ I¡¯m sure it wouldn¡¯t take them much longer than that, themselves, but¡­ if you can find people who are happy to work alongside¡­ and take advice from gardenworlders¡­ I would be happy to take you up on that offer.¡±

    She nods ¡°I¡¯ll see to it¡­ oh and, when the contract is complete, you can keep the upgrades¡­ we won¡¯t send repossessions officers to tear out all the valuable parts we gave you(!) Think of it as a perk¡­ Speaking of¡­ you¡¯ll want to know what your remuneration is going to be like for this job.¡±

    I smile ¡°I fully disclose my ship¡¯s earnings to the ODR as well as the GU¡¯s tax collection. I''m guessing you wouldn¡¯t have invited us here if you couldn¡¯t afford us!¡±

    She smirks ¡°Quite so!¡± before flicking something from her holopad to mine, which I unclip to check.

    The figure nearly knocks me off my perch!

    ¡°This is twice what we would make in the same period as you''re proposing to engage us for!¡±

    With a look of smug satisfaction, she says ¡°When you''re employing the best¡­ you can¡¯t be cheap! 50% of that upfront, the rest on completion, an additional 25% again, on top of that figure, with successful contact with natives of AG10790263b.¡±

    Swallowing slightly, I look to Victor, his eyes alight with hope, I say ¡°Ma¡¯am, I very much want to accept this contract right here and now but¡­ I can¡¯t speak for all of my crew¡­ I shall have to fully disclose the details and put this to a general vote when I get back. I don¡¯t imagine it will be rejected¡­ what with the baseline level of valiance I select for in my hires¡­ plus the quantity of hazard pay I¡¯ll be able to offer alongside it but¡­ I won¡¯t go against my crew if they decide this isn¡¯t worth it. Is that acceptable?¡±

    She frowns and nods ¡°That¡¯s¡­ fine, Captain¡­ but we aren¡¯t ready to disclose the potential fact of a sapience bearing deathworld, besides Earth, yet. I¡¯m afraid that¡­ if you want to put this to a vote¡­ it will need to go along with an NDA. I can send you the wording of the NDA we¡¯ve been using¡­ Is that acceptable?¡±

    Satisfied, I say ¡°If it¡¯s the same one I had to sign to read the offer in the first place, then I already have it. That¡¯s no problem at all!¡±

    She smiles ¡°Well then¡­ If you¡¯ll allow me¡­ I¡¯ll give the two of you the full brief on AG10790263b:¡­¡±

    She pulls up some complicated looking charts ¡°As you can see, it¡¯s atmosphere is approximately 19% oxygen, similar to Earth¡¯s, however unlike Earth¡¯s¡­¡±

    ---one extremely lengthy brief later---

    Victor walks from the building with me perched on his shoulder.

    He¡¯s clearly lost in thought.

    My own head is still swimming.

    I extend my wing to rest my wingclaws on the top of his head ¡°How are you feeling, Victor?¡±

    He frowns ¡°Like it¡¯s too good to be true¡­ like this can¡¯t be that perfect¡­ like someone¡¯s playin¡¯ with me somehow¡­¡±

    He sits down on a low wall ¡°Like what if it was just social animals that probe was lookin¡¯ at and a freak accident that destroyed it?!¡±

    Terrans truly are emotional¡­ but that¡¯s something to love them for¡­

    I hop down and turn to look him in the face ¡°Victor¡­ I can¡¯t promise that we will be the ones who find another planet of deathworlders. Perhaps you''re right. Perhaps those shelters were erected by animals acting on instinct rather than people acting on inspiration. Perhaps we go out there and find nothing. If we do¡­ do you think you can survive it? Will you consider it a waste of time to have taken this contract if we find nothing?¡±

    He fixes me with those emerald eyes and says ¡°You''re right, Cap. It ain¡¯t worth workin¡¯ myself into a tizzy over what might happen! I¡¯ll survive if this turns out to be a disappointment and¡­ whatever happens¡­ it won¡¯t¡¯ve been a waste o¡¯ time!¡±

    I smile and [wink] before hopping back atop his shoulder.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Victor¡­ We have a vote to compose(!)¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.19

    ---Veterans---

    The Triple Ms, Shings and I stand in an open town square, nearby Bahari ya Kaskazini.

    Terran security being what it is, Dr Zunberi wouldn¡¯t have been able to collect us from there, so this is the agreed meeting place.

    I look around at the others, all dressed in a fashion they call ¡®smart-casual¡¯¡­ aptly named!

    I can imagine them socializing at a gala or relaxing in their Commonroom in these clothes.

    Even the Shings have emulated the style.

    It almost makes me wish that R¡¯qali wore clothes!

    I¡¯m sure that any outfit I attempted to fabricate to match this style would look ridiculous; for the combination of clothes already looking extremely unnatural on my species and the fact that I¡¯m sure my mind wouldn¡¯t be able to reproduce the subtle nuances of it, the way theirs effortlessly seem to!

    I have to settle for having a slightly nicer sash for my welfare devices.

    For a [nanosecond] earlier, I considered digging out my old medals to pin onto it but¡­ well, Msia has told me that the one whose house we¡¯re visiting is a veteran of the opposite side of the same conflict¡­ it would probably be in poor taste!

    Plus, all of my medals amount to ¡®congratulations for not dying¡¯¡­ not really anything to be proud of!

    I also believe that displaying medals might not be conducive to the ¡®casual¡¯ part of ¡®smart-casual¡¯.

    Just then, a clear tube with an ornamental conical nose, ornamental swept wings and a single occupant sweeps, near silently, over the square before dropping to touchdown in front of the group.

    Nkasiogi Zunberi throws open the access door, smiles and says ¡°Get in, nerds! We¡¯re going to dinner!¡±

    There is a general chuckle as the group begins advancing on the transport capsule.

    We file inside and Dr Zunberi explains ¡°We¡¯ll be able to accelerate to Mach 10 over the Northern Ocean before we have to decelerate to Mach 2 to pass over the other side of the Settlement Band, over the Agricultural Zone we can start accelerating again so we¡¯ll be able to get up to Mach 16 over the Equatorial Desert. Should take no more than a few hours to get to the Rainforest Zone in the Southern Hemisphere.¡±

    Msia puts a hand on his sister¡¯s shoulder and asks ¡°Your two aren¡¯t coming?¡±

    She shakes her head and says ¡°No, unfortunately, Luul is still busy with homing your mirklets and Amahle¡­ wasn¡¯t feeling up to it¡­ They¡¯ve both said they¡¯ll come next week.¡±

    He nods and no more is said about that as the capsule begins to rise above the buildings surrounding it.

    It darts forward and everyone outside the gravitic compensation fields of me and the Shings sways from the motion. I experience a moment of fear as I believe there must be a malfunction with the capsule¡¯s inertial dampening¡­ then I realise that Terrans probably wouldn¡¯t consider inertial dampeners necessary on a planetside transport(!)

    ¡­Best to be sure¡­ ¡°Dr Zunberi¡­ there are no inertial dampeners on this transport, are there?¡±

    In answer, she puffs through her nose and says ¡°No, sweetheart¡­ No inertial dampeners! We like to feel the acceleration!... Also, call me Kas, alright?¡±

    I nod assent as the coastal city disappears behind us.

    I spot something in the water below. Rather, I spot two somethings¡­ two very large somethings, one much larger.

    ¡°What are those?¡± I ask the group at large.

    Msia answers me ¡°They¡¯re Whales¡­ I think they¡¯re Blue Whales¡­ that¡¯s a mother and calf¡­¡±

    Having spent nearly 15 years in close proximity to a Terran and, for much of it, having actively studied all things Terran, I¡¯ve of course previously been aware of whales but¡­ seeing the sheer scale of them¡­ it¡¯s something different.

    Just as they¡¯re disappearing behind us the mother gives a slight sideways jerk and my mind fully comprehends that that enormous thing is a conscious, aware being¡­ not a submarine structure¡­ not a semisunken ship!

    ¡°That calf had to be as long as this transport!¡± I exclaim.

    Msia laughs and nods ¡°I¡¯d guess so too¡­ I think about fifteen of the mother would equal the length of the Bright Plume.¡±

    My mind boggles!

    Msia spends the rest of the time we fly over the ocean explaining to me the peculiar evolutionary history that allowed baleen cetaceans to achieve their gargantuan sizes, the struggle that they faced with Humans of the past hunting them, mainly to turn their fat into lamp oil, the necessity to clone certain species back from extinction after the Ocean Acidification Event of their late [21st Century] and the fight that Terrans have been undergoing, in Parliament, to get them recognised as sapient.

    ¡°Obviously, our uplifts get full recognition but¡­ really, whales are just as intelligent as us already¡­ There¡¯s just a bit of prejudice against them because¡­ well it¡¯s difficult to build anything or make any technological breakthroughs when your finest manipulation is a tongue the size of an elephant. They can¡¯t really join the community of space faring species. When they fare the stars it¡¯s in tightly controlled habtanks made by Humans¡­ we always get their consent, of course! That mother and child are almost certainly the descendants of Blue Whales who agreed to be brought here to help with the health of the marine ecology. It¡¯s much easier to get permission now that we have translator tech¡­ we had to go through some pretty ludicrous workarounds to understand them, before.¡±

    I smile ¡°My translator informs me that you are mentally [capitalising] their species name, the way Terrans do for sapients¡­ you¡¯re clearly sincere!¡±

    He gives a soft chuckle ¡°Yes¡­ well, a bit of respect is the least I can give them after what my species has put theirs through... Humans have a habit of making a mess¡­¡±

    Looking out at the coast of the Northern Ocean, coming back into view, I say ¡°Yes¡­ but my experience of your species is that you¡¯re also very good at cleaning up your messes¡­¡±

    He smiles ¡°A skill you have to learn eventually(!)¡±

    We pass, at a relative [snail¡¯s] pace, over the coastal habitation zone then, accelerating on, over the verdant agricultural band.

    Eventually, that gives way to scrub which, in turn, gives way to scorching desert.

    Dr Zunbe¡­ Kas raises her voice to say ¡°The capsule is indicating that we¡¯re going to pass through a pretty heavy sandstorm, won¡¯t be a problem but we¡¯ll lose visibility for a minute or so, don¡¯t be alarmed!¡±

    Sure enough, an enormous front of dust looms before us.

    The ship dives in, limiting visibility to a few [metres] outside, in any direction.

    I see those who are not benefiting from the gravity fields jerk and sway with the increased turbulence.

    Roughly [90 seconds] pass before visibility clears.

    That storm had to have been [hundreds of kilometres] wide, at the speeds we¡¯re travelling! I wonder what they do when storms pass into the habitation zones¡­? Well it¡¯s clearly not considered apocalyptic, if it does happen¡­ It certainly would be, on any gardenworld!

    We enter into a biome that I am informed is called ¡®Savannah¡¯.

    We see great herds of grazing Earth fauna, in quantities I have heard of but, again, not grasped before now!

    The bulk, Kas tells us, are wildebeest but she also points out zebra, elephants, giraffes, water buffalo, gazelles and many more kinds besides!

    She tells us that these animals provide food for a rich array of carnivores, including lions, hyenas, leopards, cheetahs, painted dogs and resurrected African sabretooths.

    If there are any carnivores down there, I don¡¯t see them.

    The density and height of trees steadily increases until we are flying over a thick canopy, through which the ground is rarely visible.

    The capsule comes to a halt, in air, and begins its vertical descent.

    Gesturing out at the thick forest, Kas says ¡°Welcome to Msitu wa Mvua¡­ Sisi¡¯s and my home¡­¡±

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    We touchdown on the landing pad and disembark before the capsule departs, now passengerless.

    Just as it is on the verge of vanishing over the horizon Dr Zunber¡­ Kas rounds on me and the Shings ¡°You¡¯ve all got insect repellents right?!¡±

    Nou and I both gesture to the devices clipped to our fronts.

    Nahn gives an embarrassed ¡°Errrrrrmmmm¡­..¡±

    Kas rolls her eyes and says ¡°You¡¯ll have to stick close to your wife, furball! The biting insects aren¡¯t a problem for us! We eradicated all known insect borne diseases centuries ago but I really don¡¯t want to add ¡®discoverer of Fulgensian reaction to mosquito bites¡¯ to my CV, Understand?¡±

    Msia steps in at this point and, bending down to offer his back to the Shings, says ¡°It probably wouldn¡¯t be a problem for them, Kas¡­ the only reason most Humans are allergic to mosquito bites is the fact that such a large portion of our ancestors died of malaria. They, not having evolved on a planet that has malaria, would have no reason to have adapted a congenital adverse reaction to them.¡±

    His sister cocks an eyebrow before saying ¡°I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t want your boyfriend to be the guineapig for that hypothesis, Sisi!¡±

    Msia and the Shings all look embarrassed.

    Victor offers me his shoulder and Hasiakh is given a stern lecture from Kas about how, even though we will be walking on paths and even though the toughness of her underbelly scales is an order of magnitude above anything that might be found in a gardenworlder, she is to be closely on guard for any thorny plant matter that may have fallen on the path. If a thorn works its way under her scales, septic shock may result!

    She seems sufficiently affrighted by the lecture.

    The group makes its way from the clearing, into the dense jungle.

    The canopy is so thick that, even with the intense light of the twin Zanzibari suns beaming down overhead, the environment is dim.

    The forest consists mainly of broadleaf plants with waxy cuticles. As Kas warned, many of the plants are thick with thorns!

    The whole biome is a cacophony of animal calls¡­ it¡¯s rather unnerving to think that¡­ almost every animal I can hear¡­ is one that could kill me if I were not under guard by the group of Terrans!

    Tuun walks next to Victor along the cobbled path through the woods. He takes her lower left hand with his right and they pull close, tenderly.

    It¡¯s¡­ only slightly awkward for me¡­ being on his opposite shoulder.

    I swivel my head to look behind at Krish, Hasiakh, Jennie, Sam and Samus behind us then back forward to look at the Zunberis leading the way with the Shings astride Msia¡¯s back.

    We walk for some time before a large house, mounted in the canopy, comes into view.

    Coming to the foot of a flight of stairs, we begin to climb.

    The fact that all of the Terrans have the stamina to be able to undertake such a climb without even a complaint, after the length they just walked, is remarkable!

    There is a brief question mark as to whether Hasiakh will be able to make the climb, not having feet, but she laughs and relays that, living in a galaxy where foot analogues are nearly ubiquitous, you learn how to climb stairs!

    We come to the top of the stairway and the canopy-top dwelling is unveiled.

    We are greeted by a group of Humans, the bulk of whom look uncannily like Msia and Kas.

    They are mostly adults but there are six children, of various ages, that I infer to be nieces and nephews.

    There is a cheer as the family members come into view of eachother.

    Msia is swamped by siblings, cousins and children. The Shings are required to hop down to avoid being crushed!

    The younger children may have no memory of seeing this man outside of a screen.

    Then¡­ she parts the crowd.

    Her bearing is such that I do not need to be told who she is!

    It does not require my noticing her copious scars, prosthetic arm, prosthetic leg and prosthetic eye to mark her as a veteran. There is something in the way she holds herself that conveys that louder than shouting!

    She may still look like a woman in the prime of her life but¡­ the deference the rest show her marks her as their matriarch.

    I¡¯m a little envious of the level of respect she is shown!

    She steps to Msia and, pausing a moment¡­ she pulls him into a firm embrace.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, Son!¡± she says¡­ somehow managing to sound heartfelt, through her stoicism.

    He pats her back and says ¡°It¡¯s good to see you too, Mum.¡±

    The two pull apart and the matriarch looks Msia up and down.

    ¡°You look well¡­ not too skinny!¡±

    He smiles ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯ve been taking care of myself¡­ just like you taught me.¡±

    She gives a satisfied nod before saying ¡°Come! All of you! Dinner is ready! With so many, we need to eat on the balcony, I assume no one minds that¡­?¡±

    There is a chorus of agreement that the balcony is a fine place to eat and we all file off in, presumably, its direction.

    As I pass the scarred matriarch, she fixes me with those eyes¡­ one natural and as black as coal¡­ one mechanical and, somehow, even darker.

    She stares with some intensity. No hostility, that I can detect¡­ more like¡­ appraisal?

    Yes¡­ she¡¯s giving me the same appraising eyes that her daughter did when I first met her a few days ago¡­ only it feels like comparing a candle and a forge in terms of ferocity!

    I definitely don¡¯t like being so heavily appraised by deathworlders!

    ---most of a dinner later---

    I look at the last of the grilled mango half that was provided in accordance with my dietary requirements.

    It¡¯s really too much!

    This may be a snack to a deathworlder but¡­ its calorie density is straining my capacity to consume it!

    Steeling myself, I scrape up the last pieces and swallow them down¡­ if nothing else, this will provide for very rich crop milk for Tcakak¡­ by the time I get back to her, I¡¯m sure it will have been sufficiently broken down and diluted by my secretions that spoiling her with deathworld fruit won¡¯t be a concern.

    I look around at the rest of the table.

    With two dozen Terrans present, it is impossible for even them to carry out a single conversation. Therefore, they have broken themselves up into 6 or so conversation units.

    Victor sits to my right. He offers me refill of the juice I''ve been drinking and I accept.

    This feels like a fulfilling moment in life¡­

    Just then, I feel a strong hand on the back of the Terran chair I¡¯m nestling into.

    I turn my head to look into the fierce gaze of the woman who¡¯s guest I am.

    ¡°I was wondering if you might care to come for a speeder ride with me, Captain?¡± asks the woman, clearly leaving no room for refusal.

    Victor starts to object but I throw out my wing to stop him.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Victor. I would be happy to accompany Wing Commander Zunberi on a speeder ride.¡± I say, my voice filled with far more confidence than I feel!

    She nods approvingly and I tip the remainder of my drink down my gullet and get up from the chair.

    ¡°It¡¯s really alright, Victor.¡± I say as I pass him, his face still a visage of concern.

    The woman leads me to a platform, on which is a shining landspeeder.

    She hops astride it and, after a moment of unease, I follow, clinging to her back.

    Once I am in place, she kicks it into gear and it steadily levitates above the forest canopy.

    She engages its acceleration and we dart forward at a frightening pace!

    My compensator keeps me from feeling the worst of it but¡­ she¡¯s not sparing the throttle!

    After a few [minutes], the Southern Ocean comes into view and she sets us down on the shore.

    Glad to have a reprieve from the speeder ride, I hop down.

    I turn to the Mother ¡°I¡¯m certain it wasn¡¯t just to show me the sights that you invited me on this speeder ride, Wing Commander?¡±

    She gives a mirthful puff of air through her nose but her face and body remain placid.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, Captain¡­ I wanted to get the measure of you¡­ You are my son¡¯s employer and¡­ it sounds like you might be my daughter¡¯s employer too, soon!... Can you blame a mother for being concerned?¡±

    She crosses her biological and mechanical arms and fixes me with that same appraising expression she did earlier.

    A little perplexed, I answer ¡°I¡¯m afraid, Ma¡¯am, if I am to be Dr Nkasiogi Zunberi¡¯s employer, I am unaware of that fact¡­ could it be that she is going to be subcontracted to my vessel, via the ODR?¡±

    The woman smiles and nods ¡°So you are going to attempt to make contact with another deathworld! I thought so¡­¡±

    Why does the ODR even bother with NDAs when Terrans exist!?

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid, Wing Commander, that I¡¯m unable to confirm or deny that supposition of yours¡­¡± I say, carefully.

    She nods, clearly not needing me to confirm or deny, and seats herself on the beach, her green satin dress becoming somewhat sandy.

    I walk to the woman and seat myself beside her.

    ¡°May I ask a question, Wing Commander?¡± I ask, looking out at the ocean vista.

    She nods ¡°Ask.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve clearly been through at least one round of regeneration¡­ why didn¡¯t you allow your missing limbs and eye to be regenerated? Why didn¡¯t you allow your scars to be healed?¡±

    She gives another mirthful puff ¡°I could ask you the same thing¡­¡± she says, gesturing at my bionic leg and eyes.

    How did she instantly put me on the backfoot!?

    Stammering slightly I say ¡°W-well¡­ these¡­ I only got these recently! I haven¡¯t had the chance to have species appropriate regeneration yet¡­¡±

    She nods ¡°And¡­ when you get to a place where it is convenient to have that leg and those eyes regenerated¡­ will you?¡±

    I have to think for a moment.

    ¡°No¡­ I don¡¯t think I will.¡± I answer, carefully.

    ¡°And why not?¡± asks Wing Commander Zunberi.

    Again, I¡¯m forced to consider.

    ¡°¡­I¡­ suppose¡­ There¡¯s the improved capability of these eyes and this leg to consider¡­¡±

    She queries ¡°¡­And, is that all?¡±

    Thinking further, I answer ¡°No¡­ there¡¯s¡­ pride¡­ I suppose¡­¡±

    She turns that fierce, appraising, deathworlder gaze on me ¡°Pride?¡±

    I stand back up and wheel to face her ¡°Yes¡­ pride! I¡¯m proud of having done what I did! I¡¯m proud that, by my action, my boy, your son, our friends, my ship, my lifemate, my daughter and my crew were all saved from death or a fate worse than death! I¡¯m proud of that!¡±

    I¡¯m defensive¡­ how has this woman managed to make me defensive so quickly!?

    The Wing Commander nods and says ¡°There¡¯s your answer¡­¡± she gestures with her natural arm at the dark brown elastomer sheafing of her mechanical one ¡°¡­this is a painful memory for me¡­ the day I lost my arm, my leg, my eye and my husband¡­ in a War that forced me to leave my children in the care of an AI caretaker¡­ but, nonetheless, I¡¯m proud¡­ I¡¯m proud of the part I played in preventing my people¡¯s extinction! That¡¯s why, whenever I go for a round of regeneration, I ask them to set it such that my eye, limbs and scars are spared¡­¡±

    In a softer tone than before, I ask ¡°Do¡­ do you hate me?¡±

    She scoffs ¡°What? Because you happen to be the same species as those that took my husband from me?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Because I am a woman who fought against your species¡¯ survival¡­ I may never have landed a shot on any of my targets¡­ but I definitely tried to! I would have been thrilled to have been a woman who could claim she¡¯d shot down a Terran.¡±

    She removes her gaze from the horizon and turns it on me ¡°And¡­ had you managed to score a kill during the War¡­ how do you think you would feel now? Do you think you¡¯d feel proud of that?¡±

    Instantly, I answer ¡°No! Of course not! I fought on the wrong side of that War! I fought for cowardice and prejudice! I fought to eradicate a species I thought I understood¡­ but didn¡¯t at all! I wasn¡¯t fighting Terrans¡­ I was fighting my own imagination! I was fighting against what I thought Terrans were!... If I had managed to actually¡­ kill any of you¡­ the way I definitely tried to¡­ I would have been wracked by guilt about it until my dying day! I¡¯m already wracked by guilt, just for having tried!¡±

    She gives a light smile, seeming satisfied ¡°Both sides of that War thought they were fighting for survival, Captain¡­ Your side was incorrect. I don¡¯t begrudge you your service¡­ nor would I if you had been the very R¡¯qali who had taken my husband from me. I judge you to be a sincere woman and¡­ therefore¡­ I am happy to give you my blessing as my children¡¯s employer¡­¡±

    I¡¯m somewhat shocked.

    ¡°Is that it?¡± I ask ¡°You took me more than [200km] from your party to have a [3 minute] conversation? A conversation we could have had inside your house¡­?¡±

    She raises an eyebrow ¡°You¡¯re unsatisfied? I can grill you further, if you want¡­?¡±

    I give an exasperated puff before seating myself in the sand beside the formidable woman.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I wish to be [grilled] further, Wing Commander¡­(!)¡±

    She smiles ¡°Please¡­ call me Naipanoi.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd VII: Pancakes and Turnabout

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m sitting in a booth, at a bar near to the barracks. It¡¯s¡­ pretty empty.

    It¡¯s ironic that, if you want to keep something like this private, you want a full bar! The noise from other patrons is enough to cover a conversation and nobody¡¯s going to have an interest in the normal volume talk in the next booth along.

    In an empty bar, the only thing that covers your voice is the sound of the music playing.

    Sapiens are incredibly socially aware and one result of that is that they notice if you¡¯re having a conversation that you don¡¯t want overheard¡­ they¡¯re also curious to the point of nosiness¡­ meaning that if they know you don¡¯t want them to know something¡­ it immediately becomes all they want to know!

    But¡­ this is where I agreed to meet her¡­ so this is where I¡¯m meeting her.

    I know there weren¡¯t apps to connect kinksters, 220,000 years ago, but I wonder if the woman I¡¯m cloned from shared my sexual tastes¡­?

    Did she meet up with people at the watering hole and bind their hands with twine made from animal tendon? Did she gag their mouths with knotted grass? Did she ever do that with nonTshwane? Sapiens? The other two Southern African lineages that we can¡¯t resurrect because no usable genetic samples have been found yet, Inhatzenguele or Bwato? Would she have made herself a Dominatrix outfit out of rawhide(?!) Would she have been as good as I am about things like getting consent?

    With no society to hold her accountable, might she have just¡­ seen a person she liked the look of, bashed them over the head with a tree root, dragged them back to her dwelling, tied them up and then¡­ had her way with them?

    I mean¡­ ¡®no society¡¯ is probably too harsh. That woman would have had a community and I¡¯m sure that they wouldn¡¯t have all been totally cool with her acting that way!

    I really shouldn¡¯t compare myself to her! She was stupid enough to get herself drowned in mud! She spent the best part of a quarter of a million years preserved under a seasonal riverbed because she didn¡¯t have the sense to recognise that if you get stuck in the mud it can be deadly!

    I suppose I should be grateful for that stupidity. Her sacrificing the remaining years of her life is part of what allowed my lineage to be resurrected. If she, along with a few hundred other idiots over the 90,000 years it existed, hadn¡¯t drowned in that surprisingly preservative mud field¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be sitting here right now!

    At 31, I¡¯ve already lived longer than she likely ever did¡­!

    It might be slightly cursed knowledge to be aware that I¡¯m an almost unaltered clone of a woman from the past¡­ most Resurrectees are variations, made by building a comprehensive genome map of the lineage and then shuffling it such that you reproduce the genetic variance that would likely be found in a natural population.

    I¡¯m one of a vanishingly rare minority of Resurrectees who actually has a spectre of a past life hanging over her shoulder.

    Best not to think about it!

    I¡¯m really here to clear my head.

    Yesterday, I was called into the Colonel¡¯s office to be greeted by him, that R¡¯qali woman, that muscular, redheaded CSS and a fancily dressed Japanese woman I didn¡¯t recognise. I thought I had to be being reprimanded for something!

    As it turns out¡­ they were offering me a job¡­ or rather¡­ a deployment.

    I had to sign an NDA just to have them tell me about it!

    A minimum 2 year deployment to the other end of the galaxy¡­ a potential First Contact¡­

    They needed a military observer and, being an officer, I¡¯m qualified. Somehow, I managed to make a good enough impression that they requested me specifically!

    I¡¯m almost certainly going to agree to this deployment but¡­ I just need to think about it. Dommespace helps me clear my mind.

    Meeting this woman for a casual hookup is¡­ what I need to make a decision¡­

    It¡¯s really a shame that that sexy Brit was already in a committed relationship¡­ It would have been a dream come true to see all that muscle of his bound helplessly on the floor as he pleads at me through a gag!

    If he and his girlfriend were willing I might even have liked to Domme them both together!... I mean, if they were the unicorn of a couple who were both subs and both poly¡­ Probably not! They probably have very boring vanilla sex together(!) Not everyone¡¯s a kinkster, unfortunately!

    Being a Domme in the military is¡­ taxing sometimes!

    When that idiot Colonel told me I had to take my subordinates on that ship in full armour, despite our first task being removing trauma victims, it was almost all I could do to avoid leaping across the desk and shutting that stupid mouth of his by pressing it into my cunt!

    *Ehem* I am a responsible kinkster! And, as a responsible kinkster, I always get consent and negotiate boundaries before I undertake any kinky engagement with a sub¡­ It can, however¡­ sometimes feel like¡­ there¡¯s a certain spark of spontaneity that¡¯s lost with all that responsibility¡­

    Like¡­ sometimes I just want to tie people up without having to negotiate a fucking treaty first(!)

    Sometimes, it would be nice if I could brain a sub with a treeroot, drag them back to my house and use them any way I wished and be perfectly secure in the knowledge that this was what they wanted as well¡­!

    Obviously, I¡¯m not at all unhappy that the laws, which make getting consent necessary, exist!

    You just can¡¯t know, without asking, who¡¯s up for kink play and I would find it absolutely horrific if someone just tied me up and had their way with me! It wouldn¡¯t matter a speck how sexually appealing they were!

    Just¡­ I sort of wish¡­

    My train of thought is interrupted by the old fashioned, hinged door opening causing an old fashioned, brass bell to ring atop it.

    I look to my holopad for the time. 7:00:02PM! Damn, she¡¯s punctual! Was she waiting outside for it to get to 7 on the dot!?

    I take in the sight of the woman I¡¯ve arranged to meet¡­ wow!

    I don¡¯t believe there are enough ¡®c¡¯s in all the galaxy to give that woman the ¡®thicc¡¯ that she deserves!... I¡¯ll have to settle for five¡­ she thiccccc!!!

    She can¡¯t be unaware of the way that those lab grown leather trousers highlight the curves of her hips or cling to those skull crushing thighs!

    That earthtoned top looks like it¡¯s meant to be worn loose but, on her, stretches skin tight over her ridiculous biceps and breasts, each bigger than my head!

    I would say she has an hourglass figure and it would be accurate, in that her waist is noticeably less wide than her chest and hips but¡­ ¡®hourglass¡¯ sort of implies that the ¡®neck¡¯ of the hourglass is slim¡­ I could easily pencil dive through that diameter of waist without worrying about touching the sides!

    As a woman who stands 218cm tall but only tips the scale at 82kg (hench for a Tshwane but marginally underweight by Sapiens¡¯ standards) I can¡¯t help but be kind of jealous of that oozing physicality of hers!

    She¡¯s so short, though! She¡¯d have to be 60cm shorter than me, if we both took off our heels! I¡¯m tall, even for a Tshwane woman, but still!

    ¡­Is she¡­ yes! A Neanderthal!... I¡¯ve never had a Neanderthal before!¡­ There aren¡¯t too many of them about on a scorching hot planet like Zanzibar!

    Labs which produce them only exist in cooler clime regions¡­ which there simply aren¡¯t on Zanzibar! The only way they¡¯d get here is by passing through on their way to somewhere else or deciding to move here. Therefore, they¡¯re a rare sight.

    I¡¯ve not seen her face before now. Only pictures of her hypermuscled limbs and stomach which I thought she had to have edited to look more impressive!

    Her broad nose stands proud from her face. So does her brow. Her thick jaw ends in a weak chin that provides barely any space between her fulsome lips and thick neck!

    Those lips are a muddy brown colour that¡¯s almost verging on green! Could that possibly be natural? I don¡¯t know if greeny-brown lips would be less believable than this woman wearing lipstick(!)

    Her skin is light but with the slight olive tan that comes from Neanderthals never having developed agriculture and, thus, never having had the crippling vitamin D deficiency that actively drove loss of melanin in northern latitude Sapiens, post agriculture.

    Her light skin is simply the result of her lineage passively drifting from highly melanated skin over 600,000 years, because there wasn¡¯t an active need for it in the dimmer climate of Europe and North Asia.

    Her eyes are a mossy green and her hair is coarse, wavey and a vivid orange colour, styled similarly to mine.

    I¡¯m suddenly struck by the ridiculous image of the two of us kissing and our hairstyles combining to look like the video frame after a grenade filled with ochre dust an charcoal powder had detonated(!)

    Her expression is¡­ it might be more accurate to say she doesn¡¯t have an expression¡­ unless you count ¡®resting bitch face¡¯(!)

    She doesn¡¯t look nervous, shy, cocky, suspicious. Her face looks like a blank, expressionless reconstruction of a Neanderthal from the time before they¡¯d been resurrected¡­ only, those reconstructions always had them looking a little ugly and rather stupid¡­ they all missed that sharp intelligence, burning behind their eyes! None of them had any sex appeal!

    Well, I could sit here admiring her all night or I could stand up and make introductions¡­

    I stand and begin making my way over to the seat she¡¯s taken at the bar.

    I shiver slightly as I pass into her climate control field and the temperature plummets by around 15¡ãC!

    I reach out to touch her arm ¡°Hey, are you here to mee¡­¡±

    *clap*

    The moment my fingertips touch her, her arm moves like lightening to catch mine by the wrist.

    Neanderthals¡¯ core temperature is actually around 1.7¡ãC higher than Tshwanes¡¯ but, her body having adapted to frigid Ice Age climes by becoming a greedy hoarder of heat, her skin feels like cold stone against mine!

    Still holding my wrist in her irresistibly tight (but not crushing) grip and not turning to look at me she speaks in a flat monotone ¡°You can offer me a drink and invite me to your table¡­ later, we can revisit the question of where you are permitted to put your hands, xXxTallDark&DommyxXx¡­¡±

    The poor boy behind the bar¡¯s cheeks flush red and I feel the heat rise in my face as well.

    Does this bitch not realise that she just outed both of us?!... Or does she just not care!?

    How did she even move that quick?! Fast reaction times are meant to be a Tshwane thing!

    Neanderthals are supposedly more juggernautish in their physicality!

    If you want to catch a fly out of the air, without killing it, ask a Tshwane, if you want to smash down a brick wall to get to that fly, ask a Neanderthal(!)

    She turns that blank face on me and I spend a few moments studying it before deciding that, if she wants to play games, I¡¯ll play!

    ¡°Alright, MuscleSwitch88¡­ what are you having?¡±

    The barman looks as if he wishes to be swallowed by the floor but¡­ she gives no reaction that I can perceive¡­

    ¡°I would like a stout. I¡¯ll need to eat something before we leave. I¡¯ve just come from the gym and need to replenish calories before further activity. I¡¯m not hungry currently. I assume you don¡¯t mind waiting for me to eat¡­¡± she says, still in that detached voice.

    I look to the poor boy. Sorry dude, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!

    ¡°This woman I¡¯m likely going to Domme later¡­ would like a stout!... I would like another lager and could you tell me what time the kitchen closes?¡±

    Not meeting my eye, the barman answers ¡°You can order food until last orders¡­ midnight¡­ I¡¯ll¡­ get you those drinks.¡±

    He pours out the 0.9L stout requested by my date and the 0.6L lager that I requested, still not making eyecontact.

    He tells me the price and I pay it with a tap of my holopad.

    Drinks in hand, I lead the woman over to the booth that I was sat at.

    As we walk, I notice again the height difference. Even with the additional 10cm she¡¯s gaining from those heels, the top of her head is only about level with my elbow! She calls to mind an image of a fantasy Dwarf!

    We sit and I irritably place her drink in front of her, still seething.

    ¡°You¡¯re angry?¡± she says, the flat monotone of her voice making it sound like more of a statement than a question.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m angry.¡± I answer, curtly.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    I look at the woman¡­ could she really be as dense mentally as she seems to be physically? Aren¡¯t Neanderthals meant to be smart?!

    ¡°I¡¯m angry because you just exposed us in front of that poor barman!¡± I answer, a little incredulously.

    For the first time, she shows an actual facial expression, frowning slightly.

    ¡°Why are you angry about that¡­? He¡¯s an adult so it¡¯s not as if you need to preserve decency for his sake¡­? You also said you were bisexual¡­? There¡¯s now a man who knows your tastes, who didn¡¯t before¡­ isn¡¯t that a good thing?¡±

    Still not quite believing this woman, I study her face¡­ if she is aware of what she¡¯s doing, I see no sign.

    Worse, I can at first find no flaw in her reasoning! Why isn¡¯t it a good thing if everyone knows my sexual tastes?

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ what if he tries to blackmail me?!¡± I find, eventually.

    ¡°Being a Domme is not a crime, blackmail is¡­ if he tries to blackmail you, go to the authorities and have him arrested.¡± she says, simply.

    ¡°What if he¡¯s¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ sensitive?! You saw how embarrassed he got!¡± I say, with more confidence now.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see that¡­ but I trust that you read his embarrassment better than me¡­ He was only embarrassed because everyone treats kinks as taboo¡­ if they weren¡¯t, a barman learning that you¡¯re going to Domme me later would be no more embarrassing than if he heard that we were going to go shopping together.¡± she says, her dark green eyes now studying me intently.

    Narrowing my eyes, I say ¡°Alright, Miss Let¡¯sjustputitalloutthere! If you¡¯re so carefree then why didn¡¯t you include facepics on your profile? Why didn¡¯t you tell me you were a Neanderthal?! Could it be that you¡­ gasp¡­ aren¡¯t following your own advice(!?)¡±

    Still staring blankly at me she answers ¡°I didn¡¯t include identifiable pictures on my profile because my agent specifically requested me not to. I¡¯m a body builder and ¡®unlicenced nude photos of me on the galnet would dilute my brand¡¯ he said. As to why I didn¡¯t tell you I was a Neanderthal, you didn¡¯t ask¡­¡±

    There¡¯s not a hint of insincerity in her face!

    ¡°But¡­! I told you I was a Tshwane!¡± I answer.

    She nods ¡°You did, but you didn¡¯t ask me about my lineage.¡±

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have had to! Me telling you my lineage was your cue to tell me yours!... Things like ¡®Oh, I¡¯m a Neanderthal, btw¡¯ are the kind of thing you should make a point of mentioning when arranging something like this!¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± she frowns.

    ¡°Well¡­ because¡­ I mean¡­ What if I found Neanderthals a turn off? You would have wasted both of our time by not being upfront about it!¡±

    That prominent brow creases slightly ¡°Do you find Neanderthals a turn off?¡±

    I¡¯m wrongfooted by that ¡°N-No! I¡¯m actually¡­ it¡¯s a¡­ it¡¯s a little exciting¡­ I¡¯m not exactly sure why¡­ I mean¡­ I didn¡¯t even know you were a Neanderthal before you showed up so¡­ you don¡¯t¡­ I mean it¡¯s not like I¡¯m only interested in you for that¡­!¡±

    Her brow uncreases and she says ¡°Then there¡¯s no issue, is there?¡± her monotone, again, making it sound like a statement.

    I consider the woman ¡°¡­You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re on the spectrum, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    She nods ¡°We¡¯re all on the spectrum, of course, but, in my case, a psychological professional has determined me to be aspergic¡­ which I assume is what you mean. Is that a problem?¡±

    I smile and shake my head ¡°No problem at all! It just¡­ I mean¡­ I thought you were trying to annoy me¡­ I understand now that you weren¡¯t doing it on purpose. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Studying me, she answers ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure what you''re sorry for¡­ but I accept your apology. I¡¯m sorry for annoying you.¡±

    I extend my hand across the table and say ¡°I¡¯m Xon, Xon Loper. ¡®Longstride¡¯ to some. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±

    She takes my hand and I feel again that raw physicality of her body! Is this how gardenworlders feel when they feel the strength of normal Humans?... ¡®Normal¡¯ in the sense that they don¡¯t look as if they could punch through durasteel armour, barehanded(!)

    ¡°¡­Erm. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    She gives a microexpression of flusteredness, apparently for having missed the social cue to introduce herself. Is she getting more expressive or am I tuning in to expressions that were already there?

    ¡°I¡¯m Thran Hunter, my epithet is ¡®Gimli¡¯¡­ Xon¡¯s¡­ a pretty name.¡±

    This poker-faced bitch is cute when she¡¯s flustered!

    She didn¡¯t even hesitate over the clicked consonant at the start of ¡®Xon¡¯, though!

    ¡°Thanks, I chose it myself¡­ I¡¯m guessing yours is the same?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°My parents named me Thran¡­ ¡®Hunter¡¯ was the surname my father chose for himself.

    Oh¡­ She¡¯s a natural born? That¡¯s¡­ surprising¡­!

    Natural born Resurrectees are rare (though not anywhere near as rare as unvariated clones). Most Resurrectees end up pairing with Sapiens. It¡¯s to the point, now, where there are about 150 billion Humans who have an 1/8th or more nonSapiens genes but only about 36 billion Humans who are entirely nonSapiens!

    ¡°You perfectly pronounced my name¡­ do you speak any clicking languages? Like¡­ you didn¡¯t just try to make a click sound, you got that the ¡®X¡¯ was made by clicking the back of your tongue against your teeth, like geeing a horse¡­ you didn¡¯t make it an aspirated ¡®Xh¡¯, either.¡±

    She shakes her head, deliberately ¡°I don¡¯t speak any clicking languages¡­ I just listened to what you did¡­ and did that.¡±

    I smile ¡°Most people can¡¯t do that if they don¡¯t already have clicked phonemes in their inventory! Kudos!¡±

    I raise my drink and, after a moment of hesitation, she raises hers, allowing us to cheers.

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    She¡¯s so sexy! Fuck!

    That slender grace! Those jet black locks! That bright yellow jumpsuit! Her violet eyes! Mauve? Lilac? Indigo?

    Violet, definitely violet!

    I really hope I don¡¯t embarrass myself any further!

    Everyone calls me cold¡­ it¡­ it hurts me sometimes. I¡¯m not trying to be cold! I just¡­ I¡¯m usually not sure how to act. Being stone faced is how I found worked best, growing up, to avoid embarrassing myself! Before I knew it, that was just how I was!

    Is she really OK with me being a Neanderthal? She said she was¡­ but what if she was lying? What if she¡¯s now looking for an excuse to call the date off? This is probably going to be one of my last opportunities for a date like this for years!

    It¡¯s good that Mistress Miyazaki was so good about giving me the night off!

    Is it weird that I call her ¡®Mistress¡¯?¡­ No¡­ there¡¯s nothing sexual about it!¡­ That¡¯s just the title that fits a lady like that¡­ right? She doesn¡¯t have a problem with it¡­ does she?

    Fuck! I can¡¯t concentrate with this sexy goddess staring me in the face!

    At least the bar is quiet¡­ just some light background music. It¡¯s easier to think when there aren¡¯t a million conversations going on in the background¡­ It¡¯s just her and me so I don¡¯t have to worry about anyone trampling all over my sentences. That¡¯s good!

    Let¡¯s just, take a swig of my beer.

    I raise my glass to my mouth and open my throat to allow the last third of a litre into my stomach.

    Alcohol, post workout, will reduce the effectiveness of my ability to lay down muscle but¡­ I¡¯m on a date! I can cut loose a little¡­ right? A few glasses of stout wouldn¡¯t make me cease to be the strongest unaugmented woman in the galaxy, would they?

    I put my glass down and, only then, notice Xon¡¯s bemused smirk. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!

    ¡°You¡¯re a lady who likes her stout(!)¡± she grins.

    Shit! She probably thinks I look like an idiot!

    I already embarrassed myself by freaking out when she touched me unexpectedly, then I exposed her to the barman, she was so annoyed about that!

    Keep it together, Thran!

    ¡°*Ahem* Yes¡­ I like stout¡­¡±

    Well fucking done, idiot(!) Way to sound exactly like the aspy cavewoman that you are!

    She giggles¡­ is she giggling at me or with me¡­? Does it matter?

    ¡°*Ehem* I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m going to go refresh my lager¡­ do you want another stout?¡±

    Fuck! She got the first round! Should I offer to get this one!? She¡¯s already up! If I offer now, it¡¯ll obviously be refused and make me look insincere!

    OK, just smile, accept the offer and keep track of the fact that the next two rounds are yours¡­ maybe I can get her meal, if she¡¯s having one¡­ that would be about right, right?

    I smile, the sensation a little awkward through unfamiliarity ¡°I would like another stout¡­ please.¡±

    She chuckles and heads to the bar.

    OK¡­ just¡­ focus on the positives, you haven¡¯t had a total freakout like you did as a kid¡­ she¡¯s still here¡­

    She is still here, isn¡¯t she?!

    I whip my head to see the back of her jumpsuit still stood at the bar¡­ that¡¯s a shapely jumpsuit! There¡¯s¡­ a visible panty line! *Mmmmfff*!¡­ And¡­ no¡­ could she¡­? Is she wearing a bodice underneath?!

    It¡¯s subtle but¡­ I think she¡¯s already dressed in the clothes she wants to Domme me in later!

    The thought of this sexy goddess Topping me¡­ well it¡¯s making it difficult to think!

    I should definitely bring up my¡­ request?¡­ condition?¡­ desire?

    I mean¡­ if she says she¡¯s Topping and that¡¯s that, it¡¯s not as if I¡¯ll say ¡®no¡¯ but¡­ if she could make my dreams come true¡­?

    She returns with my stout and resumes her seat opposite me.

    ¡°Have you heard they¡¯ve sequenced the genome of Homo lisri? We¡¯re probably going to be getting some new cousins, soon!¡± says Xon, cheerfully making conversation in a way that makes it clear that she does not find it an exhausting grind, the way I do. She swims through the social graces, where I drown in them!

    I have heard about them sequencing a sixth Heidelbergensian¡­ a Neanderthal relative from the Caucasus. It sort of makes me wonder where they¡¯re going to stop drawing lines between lineages¡­?

    In a few decades, are they going to be saying ¡®Ah, yes! We¡¯ve sequenced the genes of the, never before seen, Southern Italian variety of Neanderthal, from here on called Homo salerno! Totally distinct from other Neanderthals because of the 17 differences in their nucleotide bases that we¡¯ve identified!¡¯(!?)

    Apart from Sapiens, we have: Neanderthals, Denisovans, Longi and Tshwane all already cloned, samples being searched for (which would allow their genomes to be sequenced) for Irhoud, Bwato, Inhatzenguele, Danau, Khandwa and Dzhigda and, now, Lisri ready to be cloned¡­ ready to join the big old Homo party!

    I decide to attempt a joke¡­

    ¡°You would think our cousins already had enough friends¡­(!) they¡¯ve got us, they¡¯ve got the uplifts, they¡¯ve got AIs and, since the Peace, they¡¯ve had an entire Galaxy with 34,000 other species to make friends with(!)¡± they¡¯ve also got a new planet of potential deathworlders on the horizon¡­ but I can¡¯t mention that!

    She frowns. Fuck! She thinks I was being serious! If I say I was joking now, it¡¯ll look like I¡¯m only backtracking because I realised I said something wrong!

    ¡°You realise that, if that were how their minds worked, my species would never have been cloned? They cloned you guys so long ago that they actually still had to rely on surrogates to birth you, originally¡­ they didn¡¯t even have artificial wombs! If they had found one species of friends enough, then none of the other Resurrectees, uplifts and AIs would be here? Besides¡­¡± she leans in and smiles ¡°¡­ you know they can never have enough friends(!)¡±

    Wait, she¡¯s flirting!? Did she realise it was a joke?!

    I decide to push my luck ¡°Yes¡­ they¡¯re ¡®befriending¡¯ their way to exactly the galactic domination that they turned down at the Peace Accord(!) They ¡®befriended¡¯ both of our species to extinction(!)¡±

    She laughs and my heart sings!

    ¡°That they did and, yet, here we sit(!) A woman who never would have existed naturally, if not for her parents being born from tubes, and a woman risen from the dead after a 220,000 year dirt nap(!) We got to sit out all the ugly history between our forebears'' extinction and now¡­ Now, they¡¯ve invited us back to the party, just as it got good(!)¡±

    I think I want to marry this woman!... For fuck sake don¡¯t say that, Thran! This¡­ this is a casual hookup! This is a farewell to Terran Space before a two year minimum voyage! If you catch feelings now it will be bad¡­ If you tell this woman you¡¯re catching feelings you¡¯ll scare her off! Just¡­ maybe¡­ when I get back¡­ I could shoot a little message to xXxTallDark&DommyxXx¡­ see if she wants to reconnect? I¡¯ll have the cash to spare for a little holiday to Zanzibar Mpya¡­ after the fantastic pay from bodyguarding with full board¡­ plus the royalties I¡¯ll presumably continue to pull in from my body building shoots¡­

    Fuck¡­ I missed the ¡°Homo party¡± joke! I could have drawn some sort of humour out of the fact that I am a lesbian and we are about to engage in girl on girl!

    Should I try to make that joke now?¡­ No, the moment has passed. It¡¯s passed, Thran! I probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to make it funny anyway!

    I just realised I¡¯m very hungry.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to order some food¡­ do you want anything?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Oh, yes¡­ let me have a look at the menu¡­¡±

    Having realised how hungry I am, the amount of time this woman peruses the menu is torture!

    Is it on purpose? Is she already Domming me? No, she wouldn¡¯t¡­ at least not intentionally, right?

    Eventually, she settles on lab grown ostrich egg omelette and I order that and a lab grown ostrich drumstick, to be brought to the table.

    As I eat, she comments that it looks like a pterodactyl shank and she would have liked to see me pick it up by the bone and tear pieces off with my teeth, rather than cutting pieces with a knife and fork.

    I answer that ¡°It¡¯s lean protein, good for body building.¡± Her face falls slightly¡­ way to be a bore Thran(!!!)

    We finish our meals and, before she can, I order us another round of drinks! Ha! Now I¡¯m definitely ahead in the money spent! I know it shouldn¡¯t matter but¡­ I don¡¯t want to make her pay for me! I don¡¯t mind being the one who¡¯s spent more but¡­ something feels off about being the one who¡¯s spent less! I¡¯m guessing she wouldn¡¯t accuse me of mooching off her¡­ but still!

    ¡°So¡­¡± says the goddess ¡°¡­we should probably get started on working out boundaries and expectations for our¡­ *Ehem*¡­ activities for tonight?¡±

    I turn my full attention to her: This is the moment to ask, Thran! If you leave it to the end then you¡¯ll either totally lose your bottle and just not mention it, or you¡¯ll sound like your trying to spring it on her! Ask NOW!

    ¡°Yes¡­ I have something I want to put on the table, upfront¡­¡±

    She cocks an eyebrow ¡°Oh?¡±

    Fuck, she¡¯s sexy!

    ¡°Yes¡­ you see¡­ *Hhhhm*! I¡­ my taste¡­ well, you know I¡¯m a Switch?¡± she nods ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t get offers to Domme me, very much. Most girls who contact me are very interested in being tossed around and pinned down by the muscular Neanderthal but not so interested in the reverse¡­ I¡¯m¡­ grateful¡­¡± shit! ¡®Grateful¡¯ is not the right word!!! ¡®Pleased¡¯? Too late, keep going! Live with it! ¡°¡­I¡¯m grateful¡­ and pleased¡­¡± couldn¡¯t help myself! ¡°¡­that you¡¯re interested in Domming me¡­ but¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­But?¡± she queries, boring into me with those deep violet eyes.

    ¡°Well, you see¡­ my most satisfying experience¡­ comes from switching¡­ mid-session. I like to either start out Domming then have the tables turned on me or¡­ start out being Dommed, then turn the tables on the Domme¡­ that is what makes me happiest¡­ I wonder¡­ if you might¡­ be amenable¡­ to leaving the possibility open¡­ for me to turn the tables on you¡­?¡±

    She leans back and pulls an expression I can¡¯t read¡­

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m flummoxed.

    I almost shut her down out of reflex but that swooping thrill in my stomach stopped me, made me consider it!

    She¡¯s fixing me with that inscrutable stare. I feel like I need half an hour or so to get my thoughts in order!

    ¡°Are you¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking about it!¡± I interrupt.

    I really need a time stopping stopwatch, right now! Something that would allow me to put this conversation on hold, go away and think, then come back to it without her being aware of the time passing!

    I¡¯ve never had any inclination to sub¡­ just earlier I was thinking about how horrifying I¡¯d find it¡­ though that¡­ was in the context of being violated against my will¡­

    I was also bewailing the fact that, with the need for negotiations, like this one, it can often feel like there is no spontaneity in BDSM¡­ only the illusion of spontaneity¡­

    If I give her permission to turn the tables on me¡­ well that would certainly let me feel like things could get¡­ spontaneous¡­?

    I¡¯m definitely interested in Domming this musclebound woman but¡­ being Dommed by her?

    ¡°How would it work?¡± I ask ¡°Would there be like a kind of organised hand off of the Domme baton from me to you?¡±

    She shakes her head, deliberately ¡°It would be more like¡­ if the moment is right¡­? Given that you¡¯re naturally a Domme, I would like to start with you Domming me (I¡¯m heavily brattish when subbing, by the way) then¡­ If the mood strikes me¡­ I would throw you down and make you into the sub¡­ obviously, you¡¯d have a safeword. We could share a safeword, if you like?¡±

    Fuck¡­ that¡¯s actually pretty hot! Playing with a sub who could at any time turn Domme!

    ¡°If you had to put odds on you turning Domme¡­?¡±

    She shakes her head, more forcefully this time ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I can¡¯t. It¡¯s not the kind of thing I can predict in advance¡­ if the moment never comes where I feel like I want to, I won¡¯t. I just¡­ I really enjoy having the option available¡­¡±

    Fuck, now I really want the option left available!

    ¡°Alright, Ms. Hunter, you have my permission to turn the tables on me if the moment strikes you¡­ and if I am equipped with a safeword!... I can¡¯t promise I won¡¯t hate it and call it off immediately. How is that for you?¡±

    Her face breaks into a broad, genuine smile, revealing her large teeth. It¡¯s the most work I¡¯ve seen her face do, all night! I was beginning to suspect she might have some sort of mild facial paralysis(!)

    ¡°I¡¯m very pleased.¡± she states, enthusiastically¡­ comparatively enthusiastically, anyway¡­

    ¡°Great!¡­ With that out of the way, let¡¯s move on to the rest of our hopes for the activities, shall we?¡±

    She nods and we begin hashing out terms.

    We agree on consensual non-consent, gunplay, bratplay, bondage, gags (including pantygags), breathplay, cutting/tearing off clothing, orgasm denial/forced orgasms, buttplugs, throat fucking, vaginal penetration, humiliation/degradation and, most exciting, heavy impact play (she assures me that it takes a lot to hurt her¡­ maybe I¡¯ll try out my bullwhip! It¡¯s not seen much use in anger!).

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    That¡¯s¡­ pretty much everything I wanted! The only thing she vetoed was figging!

    I agree to all the same but I really don¡¯t know how much I¡¯ll be able to take before I break and have to call things off! I¡¯m used to dishing it out¡­

    We agree that ¡®Kumquat¡¯ will be our safeword and ¡®Mmh-mm, mmh-mm, mmh-mm¡¯ is for if we¡¯re gagged.

    ¡°Well¡­ now that we¡¯ve arranged all that¡­ do you believe us sufficiently close to allow me to put my hands on you, Thran(?)¡± I ask, smirking.

    She gives an abashed microexpression before saying ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯d like that¡­¡±

    I stand and she follows suit.

    ¡°Well then¡­¡± I say, placing my left arm on her left shoulder and bringing her body to press against my side ¡°¡­Why don¡¯t I show you to my place?¡±

    She smiles and the two of us leave the bar.

    ---Xon''s perspective---

    ¡°Take off your shoes, please.¡± I say as we walk through my door.

    She does and the height difference becomes even more pronounced!

    She¡¯s lost a full 10cm! I¡¯ve only lost half that from having taken off my, comparably low, heels!

    She takes off her socks, too, placing them in her heels¡­ she has¡­ oddly shaped feet¡­

    My feet are more or less like a Sapiens¡¯. Hers¡­ splay a lot more at the front.

    I mean, that¡¯s a foot that you definitely could see on a Tshwane or a Sapiens¡­ but it would be noticeably unusual!

    She begins walking inside and, gently, I stop her.

    She allows me to push her over to the wall¡­ I press my stomach against her face and feel those enormous tits of hers squash against my hips. Those have got to be¡­ what? Double G? Double H? That¡¯s another thing of hers, besides her muscles, to be envious of!

    My tits are a, not unrespectable, F cup¡­ which my amazonian height manages to make look modest! The bottom of them is safely clear of the top of her head!

    I kneel down and am still not quite short enough to make our faces level.

    A little more of a bend manages to put my mouth a centimetre from hers.

    Her breath hitches as she waits for the kiss¡­ I make her wait a few moments longer.

    Eventually she asks ¡°Are you going to¡­¡± and I shut her up by stealing those lips¡­ it doesn¡¯t feel like she¡¯s wearing lipstick¡­

    I can feel the density and power contained in her little body¡­ not ¡®little¡¯¡­ that¡¯s the wrong word for it!

    She may be short but¡­ everything else about her is giant!

    I probe her mouth with my long tongue.

    She tastes¡­ unusual. Not bad just¡­ not how I expected!

    I pull away and rest my forehead against hers ¡°So¡­ that¡¯s the taste of a Neanderthal, huh?¡±

    Her eyes still closed, she answers ¡°It¡¯s the taste of this one¡­¡± clearly still a little lost in the kiss we just shared.

    I laugh ¡°I thought you said you were a brat?¡±

    A subtle smile breaks over her face and she opens those mossy green eyes ¡°I said I was a brat when I sub¡­ do you consider lightly guiding me to a wall and giving me a kiss to be Domming? This might be a somewhat disappointing experience for me, if so.¡±

    Ah, there¡¯s that brattishness!

    I stand and move a few paces back from her before withdrawing a pistol from my pocket and aiming it at her chest.

    She glances from the pistol to me and back for a moment before saying ¡°That¡¯s a toy¡­¡±

    She¡¯s right of course but it¡¯s a little emersion breaking to have it called out!

    When I was younger and dumber, I actually used my service pistol for gunplay! I always carefully unloaded it, checked the chamber, dry fired it at the floor several times and kept the safety on but still¡­ using a real gun was utterly thick! I eventually realised that, one day, I¡¯d make a mistake and so I bought a replica gun.

    I have to think of how to respond to her instant ¡®no but¡¯ting the development she should have ¡®yes and¡¯ed!

    How¡­? How¡­?

    I¡¯ve got it!

    ¡°You want to find out?¡± I say with a twisted smile.

    She scowls lightly.

    ¡°Now, sweetheart, I think we¡¯ll be going down to my cellar¡­¡± I say, jerking the gun in the direction I wish her to move.

    She begins walking and I follow her, keeping my ¡®gun¡¯ trained on her back.

    ¡°479725¡­¡± I say as she reaches the keypad.

    She enters the code and my cellar door hisses open.

    She turns to look at me and I smirk ¡°Down you go¡­¡±

    She walks through the door and begins descending.

    I follow but stay at the top of the stairs until she¡¯s halfway down, then I engage the door lock and privacy field, before following her.

    She reaches the bottom of the stairs and says ¡°Fuck!¡± in a way that sounds very strong when compared with the monotone she¡¯s used all evening!

    ¡°I know¡­ I¡¯m quite proud of my little Love Dungeon!... In you go!¡± I smirk.

    I follow after her and take a moment to appreciate the collection I¡¯ve amassed over the years; there¡¯s a cell with heavy iron bars (for prisonerplay), frames, a pommel horse and a wooden saltire cross, there are whips, torture devices, vibes, chains, cuffs and restraints of every description hung from racks on the walls and, of course, no dungeon would be complete without a light duty nanoforge, for repairing clothing and fabbing up simple toys on the fly!

    The d¨¦cor is a light coloured slate, which has the effect of making the place look like a medieval dungeon but isn¡¯t so dingy as to make it look depressing!

    Still training the replica firearm on my sub for the evening I take a pair of leather cuffs from the wall and take a seat on the soft, comfortable, high backed arm chair¡­ my Throne.

    I point the gun at two leather manacles attached to the floor by heavy chains.

    ¡°Fasten your feet into those, bitch!¡± I say, my voice full of acted cruelty.

    She looks at me with that subtle scowl that might as well be a hateful glower.

    ¡°And if I refuse?¡±

    This bitch! There¡¯s being a brat and then there¡¯s breaking the scene!

    ¡°Then I guess you get to find out if this really is a toy or not!¡± I say, raising the gun slightly.

    Still fixing me with that stony face, she walks to the cuffs and bends down to begin fastening them at her ankles, giving me a delightful view of her cleavage as she does!

    Those cuffs are supposed to be one size fits all but she needs to strain to get them to fit around her thicc legs!

    When she¡¯s secured herself to the floor, I throw the cuffs at her feet and say ¡°Put those on, bitch!¡±

    She complies, truculently, picking up first the right cuff and attaching it over her meaty forearm with her left hand, then doing the same with her right. Is she left handed?

    That done, I reach over the arm of my Throne to turn the handle of a winch. This lowers a chain, on the end of which are two hefty hooks, meant to marry with the rings on the cuffs.

    ¡°Attach your arms to that chain, whore! I don¡¯t have all night!¡±

    Studying me with those cold green eyes she grasps the chain and clips it onto her right cuff, then left¡­ definitely left handed!

    I turn the winch in reverse and her beefy arms are raised, irresistibly, over her head¡­ I keep going, lifting her feet off the ground to strain against the floor chains.

    I look at the still clothed sub, suspended helplessly in the air¡­ I can¡¯t leave her like that indefinitely, of course¡­ her arms and shoulders will be really damaged by prolonged suspension and it doesn¡¯t matter how strong she is! For the moment, though, she¡¯s a pretty sight like that!... Aaaaall the strength in the world and utterly incapable of using it(!)

    Here¡­ Dommespace¡­ the euphoria of having someone entirely in my power!... It¡¯s so much better when the one who¡¯s given me control of them looks like they would normally be able to tear me apart, physically.

    I feel a slight pang of disappointment that¡­ for the foreseeable¡­ her turning the tables on me is out of the question¡­ never mind¡­ Domming is really my preference!

    I put down the ¡®gun¡¯ and stand, gripping the zip at the top of my, Beatrix Kiddo, yellow jumpsuit. Slowly, I make her watch me unzip to reveal the full leather bodice I¡¯ve been wearing all night¡­

    I drop it to the floor and unveil the toffee-brown skin of my bare arms, legs and upper chest, marvelously accented by the glossy, jet black leather of my bodice and panties.

    I¡­ think that¡¯s a look of admiration?¡­ Let¡¯s go with that. She¡¯s giving my Dominatrix outfit an admiring look!

    It isn¡¯t complete yet, though!

    I walk to a chest and open a draw containing full length, leather gloves, full length, leather boots and a leather eye mask (no strap as I don¡¯t like what straps do to my hair¡­ it was worth paying the little extra for it to be skin-adhering!).

    ¡°Are you going to make me dangle here all night? This is a little boring.¡± says the bitch, again almost managing to ruin the moment! She seems to have no respect for the scene!

    ¡°Patience, bitch! My meat will hang up there for as long as I want¡­ not as long as it wants!¡± I answer, using my Domme voice.

    I reach for the gloves but¡­ hesitate.

    I actually want to be able to touch her skin¡­ no gloves, I think!

    I reach instead for the full length boots and, sitting back on the one piece of furniture in the room that¡¯s designed to be comfortable, my Throne, I make a show of sliding my long, slender legs into these stiletto boots.

    I pick up the mask and bring it to my face, letting it stick over my eyes.

    I pick up a pair of safety shears and walk to the robustly built woman, strung up from my cellar ceiling!

    I place my hand on her chest and squash that enormous left tit of hers, hard enough for her to take a sharp breath¡­ *mmmmmh* that¡¯s satisfying!

    ¡°Nothing you can do about that, is there bitch!¡±

    She says nothing but turns those dark green eyes up to scowl into mine¡­ oooh, I¡¯m going to enjoy breaking this brat!

    ¡°Let¡¯s see what I¡¯m working with, shall we?¡± I say, taking the shears to the hem of her top and beginning the process of cutting it open.

    She silently watches as I release the tension in the poor, tortured garment.

    As the last cut is made, the two sides spring apart revealing the most enormous tits and most muscular stomach I¡¯ve ever seen!

    Fucking hell!

    I realise that my mind was subconsciously reading her to have a bit of fat on her belly all evening, despite the fact that she¡¯d sent photos of her abs!

    In reality, the depth is the result of her having a more rounded, barrel torso than I¡¯m used to!

    Those tits¡­ they¡¯ve got to be the only fat on her whole body but¡­ what appealing fat they are!

    The bra¡¯s a little bit of a let-down, though! Thin and lacey but¡­ overencompassing and¡­ beige! The effect is somewhat frumpy!

    I don¡¯t exactly know what I was expecting but¡­

    ¡°I¡¯ve been wearing a leather bodice and panties all night and you couldn¡¯t be bothered to wear racy lingerie, bitch? Maybe something in red?¡±

    Insolently, she answers ¡°You chose to wear uncomfortable, glossy leather underwear¡­ if you wanted red underwear, you should have requested it when we messaged to meet up¡­¡±

    I slap her face, hard! She barely reacts!... I feel like I¡¯ve just slapped a brick wall! She wasn¡¯t exaggerating earlier about it needing a lot to hurt her!

    ¡°Well, if your so in love with comfy beige, we¡¯ll just leave you in it for the moment, shall we!¡± I say, cutting into her garment''s shoulder to release her arm.

    I finish the three cuts that make her top removeable despite her arms being chained above her head.

    I take her climate field generator, deactivating it and placing it on the side¡­ it shouldn¡¯t be a problem. It¡¯s not that hot in this cellar and she has a safeword¡­ I really want to see her sweat!

    I step back to admire my, now, mostly bare chested sub¡­ she¡¯s quite a sight! She¡¯s got to be one of the most heavily muscled women in existence¡­ right? She said she was a bodybuilder but¡­ damn!

    Look at those biceps! Were one of them hollow, I feel like I could easily fit my thigh through them! Two thighs? Might be pushing it!

    My hand goes to her belt and unbuckles it. I pull it free of the loops of her trousers¡­ it really seems like this might have been an unnecessary addition to her ensemble¡­ those leather trousers are so tight that they¡¯re cutting into the flesh of her hips!

    ¡°You¡¯re trousers don¡¯t look at all comfortable, slut! Are you sure you didn¡¯t wear them for the aesthetic?¡±

    She turns her eyes away.

    ¡°Ah! So you are capable of picking clothes that are nice to look at but less comfortable to wear!... It¡¯s just not a talent that extends to your bras!¡± I say, with gleeful spite.

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s get those thunderthighs out of their imprisonment, shall we?¡± I say, turning the shears into the waistband of her trousers and beginning the process of cutting down the outer seam. I get to the bottom and have to yank it free of the tight seal the cuff forms around her ankle. I repeat for her other leg and pull the trousers away to reveal¡­

    ¡°Granny panties! Are you fucking kidding me?! You wore frumpy, beige, matching underwear!?¡±

    Defiant, she says ¡°Yes, I did¡­ is that a problem?¡±

    I laugh ¡°No problem, bitch! Like I said, if your such a fan of comfy underwear, we¡¯ll just leave you like that!¡±

    I walk over to one of the wall racks and pick up a crop¡­ yes¡­ a buttplug too, I think¡­ a big one!

    I advance on my sub, letting her see what I hold, and round her back.

    ¡°I hope you weren¡¯t expecting me to lube this for you!¡± I say, bending down to bring my face level with that ridiculously muscled arse of hers!

    I pull aside those dowdy beige panties and bring the tip of the plug to rest against her hole.

    I let it sit there a moment before I notice an, almost imperceptible, anticipatory shiver.

    I drive it home and she gasps from the sensation of it entering her, dry.

    Oof! This meat is satisfying to Domme!

    I cover it back up with the crime against fashion, that is her underwear.

    Coming back to her front I place my hands on her stomach. By all things bountiful! She feels like stone!

    Yes¡­ she feels like a rock that has been possessed by the Spirit of a woman and come to life!

    ¡°Shit, bitch! I might not be able to bring myself to let you go! I might have to just keep you down here! You¡¯d be the crowning jewel of my collection!¡± I gesture to the dungeon at large ¡°I¡¯ve already got a room for you!¡± I point to the cell.

    Stoney voiced, she says ¡°That would be a crime¡­ I would be searched for¡­¡±

    I smile ¡°They¡¯d have to find you, though!¡­ I¡¯m guessing, for all your¡­ inspiring cavalierness, about how everyone should just get over their squick¡­ you didn¡¯t tell anyone where you were going or who you were meeting tonight, did you?¡±

    Silence¡­

    ¡°Thought not!¡­ Anyway¡­ let¡¯s shut that pretty mouth of yours up¡­¡± I say, leaving my helpless dangling sub, for a moment, to pull a harness gag off the wall.

    I bring the solid, red, rubber ball to her mouth and say ¡°Open!¡±

    She does not comply.

    Ah, resistance¡­ useless, useless resistance!

    I knot my fingers into the back of her hair and begin pushing the ball into her closed lips with my other hand. It¡¯s unpleasant enough that after a few moments she opens her mouth, allowing the ball to be forced between her teeth.

    The moment it¡¯s in, I pull the straps over and around her head, fastening them at the back.

    She takes a moment to, experimentally, play with the ball in her mouth before saying ¡°Yuh ee-uh-ise Ah cuhn stuhw kawk fuh is?¡±

    I smile viciously ¡°Yes, you can still talk through that gag¡­ It¡¯s not for stopping you from talking, it¡¯s for making you sound stupid when you try to talk¡­ Now¡­ I think it¡¯s time I gave you a little pay back for all that lip you¡¯ve been giving me, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    The leatherclad goddess raises her riding crop to trace it along the outside, then bottom, of my right breast¡­

    *Mmmmmf*

    Subspace! Subspace is nice¡­ Dommespace is nice as well but¡­ maybe later¡­ that¡¯s available for me, whenever I want it!

    My feet are 30cm off the ground but¡­ she still has to bend, by about the same amount, to put her face next to mine!

    She brings her slender hand to my throat and squeezes, cutting off my windpipe.

    ¡°You only get to breathe when I allow it, don¡¯t you whore!?¡±

    What should I do? Shake my head? Nod?

    Best to do nothing! Just look into those gorgeous, violet eyes!

    I¡¯m actually feeling oxygen deprivation start to set in before she releases her hand and I can choke down a gasping breath of air.

    The plug in my arse is¡­ not comfortable. She used one that was too big on purpose, I¡¯m sure.

    She took my climate control¡­ it¡¯s¡­ hot¡­ too hot! It¡¯s got to be 8¡ãC hotter than I set it to, even in this cellar! I¡¯m starting to sweat¡­

    Ah! This is bliss! This is ecstasy!

    Her making me uncomfortable like this, degrading me, meeting my defiance by putting me in my place, stringing me up here to use as she wishes¡­

    It¡¯s paradise!

    I wonder why I enjoy the humiliation when I sub¡­ but don¡¯t in normal life?

    Why am I able to speak my mind and be a defiant brat, in a session, when I clam up in normal conversation¡­?

    I suppose¡­ the rules are simpler?

    That¡¯s not quite right¡­ obviously, the rules are just as labyrinthine but¡­ somehow¡­ it comes easier¡­ feels like I¡¯m swimming rather than drowning¡­

    I was a bit disappointed by her reaction to my bra and panties¡­ I sort of thought that picking underwear that closely matched my skin would give me an alluring nude look¡­ seems she would have preferred red undies¡­

    I¡¯ll¡­ have to remember that for next time. Not that ¡®next time¡¯ is likely to be any time soon, with her or with anyone!

    I might have a few more chances as we pass through Terran Space but¡­ in a month or so, we¡¯ll be in gardenworlder territory and¡­ even if I found a gardenworlder to my tastes¡­ it would probably be ill advised for me to Domme them and¡­ unsatisfying for me to sub for them.

    Red undies¡­ remember!

    Right now, though¡­ focus on this! Focus on the goddess of leather tracing her riding crop up the central cleft of your abs!

    Having defective limiter genes for muscle growth and bone density might have stunted me to only 157cm tall, might have meant, growing up, I needed extensive physical therapy to keep my bones from being deformed, might have made me that kid on the playground that no one wanted to play with because she looked like a scary, angry dwarf¡­ but damn if it didn¡¯t give me rockin¡¯ abs.

    Yes, that¡¯s right, appreciate my muscles, skank!¡­ Whoops! Slipped into Domme mode, there! Still the sub, remember!

    She raises the crop and thwacks it against my chest¡­ it¡¯s¡­ not enough¡­ it doesn¡¯t hurt¡­ it¡¯s sort of just¡­ annoying.

    *Thwack**Thwack**THWACK*

    This isn¡¯t doing it for me, how should I let her know?

    I¡¯ve got it!

    I fix my eyes on hers and, through my gag, say ¡°Uff FAT aww yuh goh, hitch!?¡±

    She stops in her tracks, her eyes wide.

    ¡°¡®Is that all I¡¯ve got?¡¯!? Seriously, whore!? You know what¡­!?!?!?¡± she disappears¡­ then reappears holding a bullwhip¡­ now we¡¯re talking¡­ break me!!!

    ¡°You¡¯re right! I was going easy on you! Now I see that a painslut cow, like you, needs a whip meant for cows!¡±

    ¡°Gib ut tuh me!¡± I demand.

    She smirks ¡°Right away, whore!¡±

    She walks behind me, allowing the clack of those stiletto boots to ring out.

    I hear the *swish* of her raising the whip and then¡­

    *CRACK*

    The pain is blinding! It hurts so good!

    I¡¯m meat!¡­ I¡¯m a whore!¡­ make me scream!¡­ I¡¯m your filthy little painslut!¡­

    *CRACK*

    ¡°MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, bitch! Enjoy this pain you asked for!¡±

    I am¡­ thank you¡­!

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    I wheel back and lash forward¡­ bringing the whip to bear against the now red raw skin of her brawny back.

    This whip¡­ is not designed to cleave flesh from bone¡­ nor is that what I¡¯m trying to do but¡­ if she turns the tables on me and picks up this whip¡­ I think ¡®kumquat¡¯ will be out of my mouth faster than light and Spirits damn my pride!

    I could not stand up to the whipping I am giving her, that¡¯s certain!

    She¡¯s screaming with every time it falls and sobbing in between!

    Still, she hasn¡¯t used her gagged safeword yet¡­ so she¡¯s clearly still into it!

    But¡­ I don¡¯t want to actually injure her.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough¡­¡± I decide, dropping the whip.

    I walk to her, taking a moment to run my hand along her inflamed, sweaty skin¡­

    It comes away wet¡­ I sniff it¡­ she has quite a strong smell!

    I round her front, her face is slick with tears, her chin thick with drool and I have to fight down the urge to be sympathetic and consoling!

    You¡¯re in Domme mode, Xon! Save it for aftercare! You¡¯ll be the one breaking the scene if you¡¯re suddenly all ¡®oh, sorry sweetie, was it too much?¡¯!

    What would a Domme do?

    Ha¡­ I¡¯ve got something pretty hot¡­

    I lean down and stick out my tongue, dragging it up her face to mop up the tears, replacing them with a streak of my spittal.

    ¡°Delicious!¡± I grin evilly, right into her eyes.

    ¡°Now, slut¡­ I¡¯m rather tired of looking at these panties and bra that you¡¯ve raided from your grandmother¡¯s draws! I think it¡¯s time for them to go, don¡¯t you?¡± I say, making my way to where I left the safety shears.

    I grasp the straps of her bra and bring them together to allow them to be cut with a single snip¡­

    ¡°Nuh! Plllss!¡± she burbles past her gag.

    I hesitate for a moment before remembering that CNC was agreed¡­ she¡¯s got her safeword if she really doesn¡¯t want the bra to come off¡­

    I cut the straps and her enormous tits drop some centimetres from the released tension. One more cut and the centre gore is severed (the underwire was a bit tough but I got through it).

    It¡¯s a good thing I invested, a while ago, in a nanoforge¡­ nothing I have would be short enough or broad/deep enough to fit around this woman¡¯s frame!

    With the forge, I can just toss her clothes in, instruct a repair and she can walk out of here tomorrow fully dressed and smelling like daisies¡­ without the need to sit around, naked, waiting for me to visit the local nanotailor and have an awkward conversation about why I¡¯ve brought in another cut up batch of (obviously not my) clothes¡­ as I needed to, before I had the forge!

    I pull the bra off under her left armpit¡­ I decide to satisfy my curiosity¡­ there¡¯s got to be a label¡­ right?

    Ah¡­ here we are! And¡­

    ¡°Fucking hell, slut! Double K!?... Leave some tit for the rest of us!!! Even at your mass you¡¯ve got to be like half boob!¡±

    She laughs, feebly.

    ¡°Though¡­¡± I say, kneeling to admire her titanic bosoms ¡°¡­I suppose, right now, these udders of yours¡­ their mine! Aren¡¯t they, cow?!¡±

    Her defiant will broken, she nods weakly.

    I smirk ¡°Well¡­ too bad for anyone else who might like to have a piece¡­ I¡¯m not in the mood to share!¡±

    I bury my face in those pillowy tits!

    I kneel down, bring my hands up to the sides of them and squash them against the side of my head¡­ bliss!

    Possessing these fleshbags¡­ even just for tonight¡­ having them, to do whatever I want to¡­ it is sublimated joy!

    I decide to take a little gamble¡­ it might make me look silly¡­ thus breaking the scene¡­ but¡­ a Domme who isn¡¯t worried about looking silly¡­ is a Domme who doesn¡¯t look silly!

    I rapidly shake my head from side to side, blowing against these fatty teats of hers.

    She giggles from the tickling sensation of being motorboated.

    *Mmmmf* Leather panties aren¡¯t good for getting moist in!

    After a minute or so, I determine that I¡¯ve had about all the fun I can have with that chest of hers¡­ for the moment at least!

    I stand back up and locate the shears.

    I bring them to the side of her drab panties and, against her stifled protests, snip away, first at her left hip, then her right.

    I whisk them out between her legs. They catch slightly on the base of the plug, still in her arse, causing an ¡°Mmmmf!¡± of discomfort¡­ I¡¯d almost forgotten she was plugged this whole time!

    ¡°There¡­ my little present¡¯s all unwrapped for me!¡± I say, gleefully admiring my now fully exposed muscleslut.

    I look at that pussy of hers¡­

    ¡°Could a hench Neanderthal not, at least, have the decency to have a hairy cunt, bitch!?... I get that you need to lose the rest of your hair, for your slutty bodybuilding shoots, but why¡¯s the bush gotta go?! There¡¯s no pussy muscles to show off, are there!?¡±

    She stares back at me, implacably¡­ is that will of hers not as broken as I thought¡­? Well¡­ no matter¡­ she¡¯s restrained enough right now that I have nothing to worry about from that promised ¡®table turning¡¯!

    I walk over to the winch and say ¡°I¡¯m sure those arms are sore from holding up that bulk of yours! Let¡¯s take a load off them, shall we?¡± before winching her down.

    Her spadelike feet now rest on the ground but there¡¯s not enough slack to allow her to bring her beefy arms down, from above her head.

    Walking to the places they are kept, I fetch a thin length of chain, about 2m long (part of which is padded), a padlock, a large dildo, a set of rubber kissy lips with a wide ¡®O¡¯ in the centre, some lengths of leather belting, a cattle prod¡­ and a box¡­ containing, by far, the most expensive object in the room¡­ with the exception of maybe the forge, which might have been dearer to buy¡­ and the meat dangling from the ceiling¡­ which might have been only the price of a couple of stouts but¡­ I wouldn¡¯t sell her at any price¡­ she¡¯s mine!

    First dropping the precious box, the lips, the dildo and the straps on my Throne, I stride to take position behind my whore and thread the choke chain around her neck, looping it through the widest link on one end and nestling the padding against her skin to prevent visible bruising.

    Now comes the most dangerous moment¡­ this would be her moment to turn the tables¡­ if she¡¯s going to!

    I press the cattle prod into her back and ask ¡°You know what this is, bitch?¡±

    She nods.

    ¡°Then you know what happens if you do anything I don¡¯t like, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Another nod.

    ¡°Good!¡±

    I unclip her dominant left hand from the chain and say ¡°Put that hand behind your back, keep it where I can see it.¡±

    She does so and I repeat the process for her right arm.

    I hesitate a moment¡­ is she really not going to try anything? This is your moment, bitch! You¡¯ll be too exhausted when I release your hands again!

    ¡­It doesn¡¯t seem like she¡¯s going to¡­ I shrug and padlock those cuffs together behind her back.

    I¡¯m relieved¡­ but¡­ it¡¯s mixed with something else¡­ disappointment?

    Was I¡­ looking forward to it? To subbing for her?

    No! No use thinking about it now, anyway! You can¡¯t unlock her hands and say ¡®actually, could you Domme me, please?¡¯ now, can you!?

    I come back around to her front and say ¡°Well¡­ your pussy¡­ *tsk* *tsk*¡­ it¡¯s really too indecently nude without a hearty orange bush covering it¡­ what to do about that?¡­ Wait! I know! Perhaps I could do you the favour of covering it with my mouth! Well¡­ of course, this being for your modesty¡­ you wouldn¡¯t be permitted to do anything as immodest as orgasm¡­ does that sound agreeable?¡±

    Wide eyed, she shakes her head.

    ¡°Ooooh! Too bad¡­¡± I pout ¡°¡­too bad there¡¯s nothing you can do to stop me! Don¡¯t cum or you¡¯ll regret it!¡±

    I kneel to bring my mouth level to that pussy¡­ now that I¡¯m right up next to it I can see how moist she is¡­ I can also smell how moist she is! It¡¯s raunchy but¡­ not unpleasant¡­

    I put my lips against her cunt and begin working to give her the pleasure she isn¡¯t allowed! The pleasure that will let me punish her with what¡¯s on that chair and what¡¯s under it!

    She tastes a little¡­ farmyardy¡­ it¡¯s just a trace but¡­ definitely there¡­ again, it¡¯s not unpleasant!

    Should I mention it? Degradation was agreed but¡­ might it be a little¡­ too mean?

    Fuck it! It¡¯s good degradation fodder! I¡¯ll just say I made it up, if she mentions it in aftercare and is clearly upset by it¡­

    ¡°You taste like a barn, slut! Did you wash before coming here?¡± I laugh, momentarily removing my mouth from her pussy.

    ¡°Huw dju knuhw whut a buhrn hastes ruik?¡±

    This fucking tart! Her will¡¯s not broken at all!

    I redouble my efforts on this juicy cunt of hers! Gripping those oak hard buttocks with my hands and, occasionally, extending a finger to push her plug this way or that¡­

    Having a longer tongue than any other lineage¡­ Tshwane can actually reach the G-spot!

    She doesn¡¯t hold up long! It¡¯s only a few minutes before she says ¡°Kuhn Ah Kum Plls, Muhstruhs!?¡± in an urgent tone that makes it clear she really won¡¯t have a choice in the matter for more than a few moments more.

    ¡°Nuh-uh!¡± I shake my head, my tongue still buried in her pussy.

    I¡¯ve barely done giving my refusal when her whole body seizes in the unmistakeable, unconcealable orgasm I¡¯ve given her.

    Pulling my long tongue from her, I say ¡°Tut, tut, tut, bitch(!) I have the decency to cover up this lewd pussy of yours for you¡­ and you have the audacity to make it sexual(!) I don¡¯t know what I should have expected of a slut like you(!)¡±

    She actually looks ashamed! That¡¯s hilarious! I mean it¡¯s nice that she¡¯s so immersed that she¡¯s apparently feeling ashamed of the orgasm I just forced her to have!

    Well, let¡¯s keep it going!

    I unclip the chains from her leather ankle cuffs and stand to tower over her, looking down into that pleading face. I definitely wish I could keep her down here¡­ even though I know I can¡¯t¡­ even if it weren¡¯t both illegal and immoral!

    I¡¯m going¡­ aren¡¯t I? I decided at some point earlier¡­ I want adventure! I want to be the kind of woman who says ¡®yes¡¯ to going on a deployment to a possible sapience bearing deathworld!

    Yes¡­ I¡¯m going, and sexy Neanderthal muscle sluts who claim they have a Domme streak¡­ they¡¯re just shy of being able to convince me to stay!

    It would be nice if they would let me take her with me but¡­ I don¡¯t know what their policy on ¡®pets¡¯ is¡­ but I¡¯m certain it doesn¡¯t cover 1/6 tonne, Neanderthal, sub sluts(!)

    Just enjoy the scene, Xon. Accept the deployment, tomorrow! Scene now!

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid¡­ bitch¡­ you¡¯re definitely due some punishment for that orgasm you just had without my say so! Walk to my Throne and wait there!¡±

    She hangs her head and complies, standing, dutifully, facing my Domme Throne.

    I follow and bend to pull out a large box with a rounded top from underneath the chair.

    I take the dildo from the seat and, maintaining unflinching eyecontact, slide it all the way inside her, causing her to grunt and gasp around her gag.

    I slide the sybian between her legs and collect the items I left earlier from the seat.

    I sit down and, with a downward point of my finger, indicate that she is to do the same.

    She takes her seat on the saddle and I lean over to begin threading the straps around her bent legs, binding her into her seated position with the base of the plug and the dildo contacting the sybian.

    I take out the box and open it, unveiling the pride and joy of my collection¡­

    I show it to her ¡°Do you know what this is, slut?¡±

    She looks at it a moment before answering ¡°Uh Gilgo?¡±

    I smirk ¡°No, no, no, NO, bitch! Not just ¡®a dildo¡¯!¡­ This is 25cm of fully haptically realistic penis accessory! Once this is adhered over my clit, it will feel like my cock!¡­ and I¡¯m going to put it¡­ aaaaall the way down your throat!¡± I say, gesturing to where I estimate the tip will end up, below her adam¡¯s apple.

    ¡°You are going to swallow it, gratefully¡­ aren¡¯t you, slut!?¡±

    She scowls.

    ¡°Yes, you are!¡± I nod, spitefully, bringing her head to my crotch, such that my bionic genital rests against the right side of her face.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to swallow eeeeevery inch of it and you¡¯re going¡­¡± I lightly tap the tip of her enormous nose with my index finger ¡°¡­to like it!¡±

    I slide off my boots, pull down my drenched leather panties, place the faux cock against my clit and engage the adherence¡­ it jacks into my nervous system and I shudder from the new sensory stimulus.

    ¡°Just in case you get any ideas, bitch¡­ you should know that this cock has no nociceptic receptors¡­ if you bite it in half I won¡¯t feel any pain from that!¡­ I definitely won¡¯t be pleased, though! You can rest assured that you won¡¯t be released from your restraints until I¡¯ve transferred the replacement value from your holopad to mine!¡­ It wasn¡¯t cheap! If you don¡¯t have the money¡­ I guess you¡¯ll have to stay here for as long as I determine it to take to pay the debt with your body(!) A few thousand sessions should do it(!)¡±

    She still scowls.

    ¡°Oh I thought you might be¡­ reluctant¡­ that¡¯s why I got this out!¡± I say, holding up the kissy lips.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to take out that rubber ball bit and replace it with this open spreader¡­ but¡­ you understand, I¡¯m not ungagging you to allow all those ugly words of yours out! I¡¯m changing your gag bit to allow my cock in¡­ do you understand? You¡¯re not permitted to speak unless spoken to!¡±

    She nods¡­ I smirk.

    I unfasten the rubber ball from her harness gag and quickly press the ridiculous, rubber, red lips into her greeny-brown natural ones before fastening them into place.

    ¡°There! Now, aren¡¯t you the perfect little fella-doll! Ready to suck my big black cock!¡±

    She scowls.

    ¡°Awww!¡­ Don¡¯t be like that! I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll feel differently when you have me blocking your windpipe(!)¡± I say, smugly.

    I lean forward to turn on the sybian before I grasp her head and bring the tip of my cock to those, forced open, lips¡­

    This thing was almost as expensive as just getting a real one!

    One day¡­ I might be a woman with the courage to walk into a gene therapy clinic and say ¡®Yes! Make me a futanari! I wish to be a 218cm Tshwane woman¡­ with a cock!¡¯¡­ that day has not yet come!

    As my cock disappears down that throat of hers, I feel that high core temperature!

    Her skin might be ice cold but her insides are burning hot!

    ¡°No gag reflex, huh slut? I guessed as much when I watched you put that stout away earlier!¡±

    She says nothing¡­ not being able to talk with my cock down her throat!

    I really couldn¡¯t have asked for a more perfect final hurrah before I go on this mission¡­ I¡¯ll have to send a message to MuscleSwitch88, when I get back! See if she wants to reconnect!

    Don¡¯t think about that now, Xon! Just enjoy this bitch bobbing her head between your thighs!

    Yes¡­ this is joy!

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    She¡¯s barely giving me a chance to breathe!

    Every thirty seconds or so, she pulls out just enough that my windpipe is cleared and I can get a breath¡­ but then she pushes down again!

    I may not have a gag reflex but that doesn¡¯t mean I find choking down 25cm of cock simulacrum, as their rammed down my throat, pleasant!

    I guess I did agree to throat fucking and breathplay!

    The choke chain is not helping!

    I¡¯m actually getting pissed off!

    She¡¯s looking less and less like a Domme and more and more like a sub, who doesn¡¯t know it yet, as she sits there yanking on my hair to make me swallow this cybercock!

    The vibration of the sybian between my bound legs, transmitted up inside me via the dildo and the buttplug, is on the verge of giving me my fifth orgasm of the evening! The first from the whipping, the second from the cunnilingus¡­ the third and fourth from the sybian¡­

    Should I do it?

    I could do it¡­ easily!

    She gave me permission!

    She has the same safeword as me! I don¡¯t need to worry about that!

    ¡­I¡¯m going to do it!

    I strain the arms that have been conditioned to hypermuscularity over a quarter century of defective limiter genes and a decade of active training!

    *Ping*

    That¡¯s the sound I knew I¡¯d hear!

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    She¡¯s been making weird faces at me for a while¡­

    Is she angry?

    Should I pull out to give her an opportunity to use her gagged safeword?

    She¡¯s straining those arms.

    What are you doing, bitch?! You are not going to break those cu¡­

    *Ping*

    She¡¯s suddenly moving her arms in a way that she should not be able to!

    She didn¡¯t just snap a durasteel padlock, did she?!

    No matter how strong she is, she couldn¡¯t!

    Dommespace vanishes as she brings those meaty arms in front of her and I see that, while the padlock is intact, one of the metal loops it¡¯s chained into has been ripped free of the leather cuff!

    Fucking hell! She could have done that all evening!

    All that time I was saying to myself ¡®Oh, she¡¯d never be able to Domme me from the position she¡¯s in!¡¯ She could have!

    I fling her head off my cock and attempt to bolt.

    She grabs my wrist and holds it with a crushing grip!

    She pulls out those humiliating red rubber lips and says ¡°No, no, nonononoNO! You¡¯re not going anywhere, skank! It¡¯s payback time! This is turnabout, bitch!¡±

    She yanks me off my chair to hold me against her chest.

    I¡¯m panicking so much I can¡¯t remember the safeword!

    If I could I¡¯d definitely use it!

    I was not prepared to be Dommed!

    The idea was fun but¡­ now it¡¯s happening¡­!!!

    Pressing me against her with her right arm, she yanks off the straps binding her left leg with her other, she then changes arms to rip off her right leg¡¯s bindings!

    She stands and throws me back against what was, until moments ago, my Throne but, now, feels like the chair of a condemned woman!

    ¡®Kumquat¡¯! It was ¡®kumquat¡¯! That was the safeword!

    ¡­Should I use it?

    I look at the sweaty Neanderthal woman who, until mere seconds ago, I thought was my plaything¡­ I see her glistening muscles¡­ let¡¯s see where this goes¡­ ¡®kumquat¡¯ is there for me if I need it¡­

    I now notice the unpleasant sensation of male coitus interruptus coming from my faux cock! I didn¡¯t realise it could do that! I¡¯ve never had proceedings broken off like this! Doesn¡¯t that fall under nociception!? It¡¯s very unpleasant!

    Having relieved her pussy and arse of the dildo and plug, freed her head from the harness gag and dropped the leather shackles from her wrists and ankles, she points a thickset finger at me and says ¡°Gauze tape!¡±

    I have to think for a moment about what she means¡­ Oh! She meant ¡®Gauze tape?¡¯! She meant it as a question but the brusqueness of her voice rendered it a statement in a way that our translators couldn¡¯t overcome!

    I point, with a quivering finger, to where I keep the gauze tape and she says ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡±

    The thought of trying to escape hadn¡¯t crossed my mind! I think it was deleted, as a possibility, when I initially tried to bolt and she caught me, instantly!

    She goes to the draw I indicated and retrieves a roll of matte black, ultraadhesive gauze tape.

    She then goes to the pile of her destroyed clothes I left on the floor and searches¡­ what is she searching for?

    She pulls up some beige cloth and turns back to me.

    She throws her dirty, cut panties on my lap and says ¡°Put those in your mouth!¡±

    I look at the soaking rag she¡¯s just tossed at me.

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    ¡°But what, skank!? You put pantygags on the table! Are you chickening out now?! Now that it¡¯s YOU who has to suffer it?!?!?!¡±

    What the hell happened to that monotone?!

    Without another word, I pick up her panties¡­ and stuff them into my mouth¡­ renewing the lingering taste of Neanderthal pussy¡­

    ¡°Good girl!¡± she snarls ¡°Now, tape them in there!¡± she says, tossing the roll of tape at me, contemptuously.

    Should I disobey? I mean¡­ she was hardly a model of compliance earlier! I think she¡¯d have been too bratty to even come down here if I hadn¡¯t pulled a ¡®gun¡¯ on her!

    ¡­I look at those muscles¡­ the muscles that allowed her to effortlessly tear through her bondage the moment she wanted to!

    She was never in my power¡­ not once, all evening!

    If I¡¯d told her to do something she didn¡¯t want to do¡­ she could have refused! If she¡¯d used her safeword and I had disregarded it¡­ she would have just torn the metal out of her cuffs!...

    If I used the safeword¡­ and she decided she didn¡¯t want to listen¡­ there¡¯d be nothing I could do about it!

    Why is that thought so¡­ thrilling?!

    I¡¯m a Domme, right!? Through and through!?

    I look again at the brawny woman¡­ and am suddenly much less sure¡­

    I begin wrapping the tape around my lower head, pulling up my hair to pass it around the back.

    Shit! What was the gagged safeword?! ¡®Mmm-mmm, mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm¡¯? ¡®Nh-nh, nh-mm¡¯?

    No it was ¡®Mmh-mm, mmh-mm, mmh-mm¡¯¡­ I¡¯m, like¡­ 90% sure¡­

    When I¡¯ve gagged myself, she says ¡°Great¡­ now tape up your feet! When that¡¯s done, lie face down on the chair and put your wrists together behind your back!¡±

    Is this really the same woman who couldn¡¯t see that the barman was embarrassed earlier?! It¡¯s like she¡¯s an entirely different person!

    I comply with her demands, taping my feet together and then turning around to put my face against the seat cushion and placing my forearms, one on top of the other, across my spine.

    I hear her leaning over to pick up the tape from where I left it, then fumbling to crack the end, succeeding and pulling out enough to get started.

    She places the ultraadhesive side of the gauze against the skin of my left wrist and begins winding it around both my forearms.

    She really winds it a few too many times! Not everyone has the strength to snap cuffs behind their back!

    Eventually, she¡¯s satisfied and flips me back around, allowing me to see the room again.

    She bends over me, fixing me with those, now intense, dark green eyes.

    She points to my chest and speaks in the same monotone she had earlier¡­ not quite¡­ more powerful, ¡°That¡­ is a bodice fit for a Dominatrix¡­ the only problem is, as of 5 minutes ago, you aren¡¯t a Dominatrix anymore, are you?!¡±

    She hooks her hand into the leather and pulls forward, effortlessly tearing it asunder!

    She yanks it out from underneath me and holds it aloft like the scalp of a vanquished foe!

    I¡¯m powerless to do anything but watch¡­ and¡­ I like it!

    She pulls off my mask, causing a small yelp of pain, as she didn''t deactivate the skin adherence first!

    She returns to the pile of her destroyed clothes and bends to pick them up¡­ everything except her panties which she made me stuff in my mouth¡­ she walks to the nanoforge and throws the bundle in before instructing something (presumably a repair). She doesn''t include the bodice¡­ instead throwing it on the floor at the precise point I left her clothes!

    The message could not be clearer ¡®If you think you deserve this, repair it on your own time!¡¯

    Returning to me with great thumping footfalls and somehow managing to loom as if she were twice the height she is, she leans over and grasps my slender neck with that thick hand.

    Using it as a lever she pulls me into a standing position.

    ¡°Now, skank¡­ I would like to continue with our session but¡­ this Dungeon isn¡¯t quite to my taste¡­ I assume you have no objection to a change of venue?... I¡¯m sure I can locate your bedroom.¡±

    Before I have a chance to answer through my gag, she barges her shoulder into my waist, folding me in half!

    Before I know what¡¯s happening, I¡¯m being lifted, on that powerful shoulder, cleanly into the air!

    She¡¯s carrying me like a sack of potatoes and it¡¯s taking about as much effort!... I knew she had to be strong but¡­ to carry more than 80kg over your shoulder¡­ after the exhaustion I just put her through¡­ and not even show any strain!

    I feel the pleasant sensation of her yielding breast enfolding the top of the cyperdick I¡¯ve still got attached¡­ that¡¯s¡­ *mmmf*

    My lovingly curated Dungeon begins moving away as she walks toward the exit. Then it halts.

    ¡°I almost forgot my climate field.¡± she says, moving to pick it up from the counter top where I left it.

    She activates it and I¡¯m instantly far too cold as her preferred temperature encompasses both of us.

    ¡°Nnnnh! Plllls! Hhhm hhhm-hmm!¡± I plead incomprehensibly through her panties and my gauze tape.

    ¡°''Too chilly''? Too bad! You made me sweat my nonexistent bollocks off all session! Payback¡¯s a bitch, isn¡¯t she!¡±¡­ apparently I¡­ wasn¡¯t so incomprehensible¡­

    Seriously, what happened to the oblivious, deadpan girl I brought home from the bar?! She would never use a word like ¡®bollocks¡¯, right!? She¡¯d use an anatomical term like ¡®testes¡¯ or something if she were referring to them!

    Has the rock golem been possessed by the Spirit of a different woman¡­ or is this just the difference between her sub and Domme personalities?

    The room resumes its recession, away from me, followed by the stairway¡­ hang on! All the lights are on upstairs¡­ and we didn¡¯t shut the curtains! She¡¯s stuck in the cellar!¡­ Unless she wants to display both of our nude and my bound bodies to the entire neighbourhood!

    ¡­Please tell me she cares! Please tell me she doesn¡¯t adopt the same ¡®get over it¡¯ attitude she did about outting us, earlier!!!

    She comes to the top of the stairs, deactivates the privacy field and lock, opens the door¡­ and hesitates¡­

    Ha! That¡¯s right, bitch! What now! You¡¯re trapped! Guess we¡¯ll just have to go back down to the Love Dungeon and if you apologise really nicely, after you untie me, I won¡¯t punish you too¡­

    ¡°House, close curtains¡­¡± she speaks, loudly and authoritatively, followed by the sound of all the curtains mechanically closing.

    Curses! Betrayed by my own labour saving devices!?

    Well¡­ I guess there¡¯s no getting out of it¡­ she¡¯s going to take me upstairs and have her way with me¡­

    I mean, I could use the safeword¡­ but I feel as if that would be, like, an admission of inadequacy!

    It was a little ridiculous of me to think, even for a moment, that a lit house and no clothes would have foiled her, though!

    She begins making her way up my stairs and, while they¡¯re certainly well-built enough to take it¡­ I can¡¯t help but realise that the designers probably never imagined well north of 200kg resting on one pair of feet!

    I get the view of my upstairs corridor moving away behind us as she instantly seems to locate which door leads to my bedroom (based on Spirits know what!) and takes me inside.

    She flings me onto my bed before hitting the privacy field.

    I attempt to wriggle away (I don¡¯t know where) but I feel that compellingly forceful hand grasp my shoulder and turn me over like flipping a rug!

    She pins me to the bed, applying her weight through her hand.

    She grasps my chin and turns my eyes to look into hers.

    ¡°Give it up, skank! I¡¯ve got you! You¡¯re mine! There¡¯s nowhere for you to run¡­ and if there were, I would catch you! Right now, you¡¯re fuckmeat! A cocksleeve! A toy for me to play with!¡±

    Cocksleeve? What¡¯s she talking about? I¡¯m the one with the¡­

    She reaches to my crotch and deactivates the skin adherence of my most expensive toy¡­ emasculating me!

    She holds up her prize for a moment before turning it to her own clit and reactivating the stick!

    She has quite literally taken my cock from me and made it her own!

    ¡­I wonder what Freud would have to say about that(!)

    Recovering from the nerve jack shudders, she admires herself for a moment before looking at me¡­ now stripped of the last vestige of Dommehood¡­ unless you count black mascara and lipstick¡­ the latter of which is buried under tape!

    ¡°I think this looks better on me than you, wouldn¡¯t you agree, bitch? It takes a real woman to have a cock this big(!)¡±

    I nod, pitifully¡­ despite being custom ordered for me and matched to my skin tone¡­ it, somehow, looks a lot more at home jutting from her hairless crotch!

    She straddles my hips, allowing me to really feel that incredible density!

    She brings the tip of my (turned her) cock to the lips of my pussy.

    ¡°Now¡­ let¡¯s teach this pathetic skinny body of yours the joy of surrender!¡± she says, then plunges inside me with every last inch!

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective, post session---

    I look at the closed eyes of the goddess of Domination and the slut of submission who¡¯s just given me the most fulfilling session of my life¡­ It feels so¡­ freeing¡­ both to Domme and to sub! It feels like the one time I can really be myself!¡­ I don¡¯t need to be blank mask Thran! I can be the bratty sub! I can be the cruel Domme! I can be both! She let me be both¡­ despite subbing not being to her taste!¡­ I¡¯m so happy!

    While I feel like she¡¯s just given me enough sexual fulfilment to last a two year voyage¡­ I can¡¯t help but be¡­ disappointed to leave her behind¡­

    Stop¡­ don¡¯t be sad that it¡¯s over, Thran! Be happy it happened!

    She may look like it but she¡¯s not sleeping¡­ just resting her eyes.

    Her mascara has streaked all down those broad, flat, Tshwane cheeks of hers, from where she started crying from the intensity¡­ the same way I did, during the whipping.

    ¡°I really thought you were going to crush my skull when you were making me fellate you! Those really are some thunderthighs you¡¯ve got!¡± she laughs, quietly, not opening her eyes.

    ¡°Yes, you really got into the role of the helpless, unwilling sub! You actually made me worry you¡¯d forgotten the safeword a few times!¡±

    She blushes, enough for me to see it even through her dark skin.

    ¡°I would¡­ never do something as¡­ irresponsible as forget the safeword we arranged¡­!¡± she says, haltingly.

    It¡¯s very cute¡­ even if I can¡¯t quite understand the deeper meaning I feel must be there.

    I stroke her jet black hair for a minute.

    Her eyes open, all of a sudden, and she turns them on me.

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± she says.

    ¡°Hey¡­?¡± I reply.

    ¡°Look¡­ listen¡­ that was a fucking fantastic session and, while you haven¡¯t made a sub of me, I think you¡¯ve definitely made a Switch of me! I¡­ I don¡¯t want this to end¡­ but¡­ I¡¯m going on a voyage¡­ I¡¯ll be gone for two years¡­ it¡¯ll be¡­ soon!¡­ I was just wondering¡­ I mean¡­ obviously you¡¯re invited to stay for breakfast (I hope you like pancakes)¡­ I was just wondering¡­ if you would like to¡­ do this again¡­ before I leave¡­ and¡­ I hope I¡¯m not coming on too strong but¡­ If you¡¯re free in two years, when I get back¡­ maybe¡­ I could drop you a line?¡­ We could reconnect at that point?¡±

    Slightly distractedly, I say ¡°Uhhm¡­ yes¡­ that¡¯s all fine¡­¡± and she gives an exhilarating smile¡­ that¡¯s not helping me think!

    We are¡­ right by a military barracks¡­ I¡¯m leaving on a ship for two years, soon¡­ just yesterday Mistress Miyazaki met with a woman that Bright Plumers recommended as a military attach¨¦¡­ I didn¡¯t see that woman as I was inspecting the ship and was assured there was zero security risk from her¡­ could it be¡­?

    ¡°Xon¡­ would you tell me the name of the ship you¡¯re going to be voyaging on?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.20

    ---Pride---

    *pit**pit**pit**clink* is the sound of Qorak¡¯s and my feet as we step from the Starboard lift on Deck 5. It would have been much quicker for us to glide down from Deck 17¡­ but a little rude, given the company we¡¯re in.

    Victor walks a few paces ahead, his footfalls silent, as we cross the bridge that connects the ship¡¯s central section to its starboard.

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see this panel that you¡¯ve all been working on(!)¡± I say with a bemused smile.

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see the first one! I¡¯m still not exactly sure what a [Winged Hussar] is but seeing Tcakqaal imagined as one sounds¡­ interesting¡­¡± says my lifemate.

    ¡°Err¡­ I wouldn¡¯t base your image of the Winged Hussars on our artwork, Qorrie. We went for style over accuracy¡­(!) There weren¡¯t any mirkbeasts knockin¡¯ about Central Europe, for ¡¯em to make mounts outta(!)¡± smirks Victor over his shoulder, managing not to break pace or course despite the several seconds his unidirectional eyes are not aimed forward!

    We draw up on the balcony of Triple M and hear the clatter and whirr of improvements being made to the Decks below us.

    Since the 84% positive vote came back on our ballot regarding whether to take the ODR¡¯s contract, the crews have been working near nonstop, with the guidance of the Bright Plume¡¯s own engineering team, to reinforce the requisite number of Dorms. It¡¯s a good thing that privacy fields exist or the works would be denying sleep to nearly half the ship!

    Around 5% of my crew gave their notice, accepted their severance pay, and have either already departed the ship or are taking the offer to be conveyed coreward before deboarding.

    It was¡­ a bit of a blow¡­ it¡¯s no one that the ship can¡¯t run without a replacement for but¡­ it still feels like losing 15 friends¡­

    The inhabitants of Starboard Dorms 0-4 all accepted reassignments to Dorms on Portside or Starboard Dorms 6-17. I offered them a small stipend each, for the inconvenience, and, as best I could, accommodated all mutual requests from crew members who wished to be placed in the same Dorms as eachother.

    I think at the start of my career, I¡¯d likely have just told the computer to send reassignment notices and then deal with any complaints as they came.

    We draw close to the Commonroom door, Victor indicates it to open and says ¡°They¡¯re here, guys!¡±

    There is a flurry of activity from a portion of the room still occluded from view.

    After a few moments, Victor seems to be satisfied that the preparations are made and steps over the threshold.

    The Triple Ms are all (bar Fluffy who''s still at the university) arranged around what they have designated as their mural wall.

    ¡°Triple M Art Gallery is proud to present it second collaborative work, under Lead Artist Msia ¡®Mage¡¯ Zunberi! You¡¯ve wondered and marvelled at our previous work, The Hussar! Now¡­¡±

    Victor pauses his showman affectation here, allowing Qorak to ogle the panel depicting me, wearing armour and sat astride Fluffy in our battle charge.

    Msia and Brunhilda are stood to the right of that panel, holding up a cloth which presumably covers the next entry in this ¡®Gallery¡¯ of theirs(!)

    ¡°¡­Now, without further ado, we are proud to present¡­¡± Victor raises his upturned palms toward the sheet suspended between his Dormmates¡¯ hands and flicks them down signalling Msia and Brunhilda to release both sides of the cover, in perfect coordination ¡°¡­Pride!¡±

    The mural depicts a [savannah] scene with, seemingly, every kind of animal you might find in that biome, their faces turned toward a monolithic landform, acting as a podium.

    I stand on this rock platform, facing the host of animals. My legs strike a [power pose], my wings are raised above my head, holding Tcakak in almost the posture that I named her, post hatching, only she¡¯s not facing me¡­ rather, she also faces the multitude of animals.

    Behind me, stands a smiling Victor, his copper hair imagined more than octuple in volume, when compared with reality, enfolding the bottom of his chin and spilling down his chest, in a thick mane. Beside him stands a smiling Qorak¡­ reimagined with, noticeably feminine, Terran characteristics¡­

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ beautiful¡­ everyone¡­ but¡­¡± I scrutinise the painting a few seconds more ¡°¡­ I can¡¯t help feeling as if this¡­ might be a cultural reference that¡¯s missing my beak¡­¡±

    Victor¡¯s face breaks into a broad, tooth baring grin that will never cease to give me a small jolt of terror as something buried deep in my instincts screams ¡®He¡¯s about to eat you! Fly away!!!¡¯

    ¡°I said you prob¡¯ly ain¡¯t seen this one! I¡¯m so glad I was right! Tuun¡¯s converted it to 350fps in preparation for us to show it to you. You both up for a movie night?¡±

    I narrow my biological eyes ¡°How long is this film you want to show us, Victor?¡±

    Many Terran¡¯s have the ability to maintain unflinching concentration for [hours] at a time¡­ meaning that¡­ if you¡¯re not careful, you can get roped into ¡®movie marathons¡¯ that last [12 hours]!

    ¡°¡¯Bout an hour and a half, not that long¡­ by our standards.¡± he smirks.

    I cock a browtuft and answer ¡°¡­It¡¯s just one, right?¡±

    He nods ¡°There¡¯re sequels but¡­ they ain¡¯t quite as good¡­ we only have the original ready to show you guys.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ I tentatively accept your proposed movie night.¡± I say ¡°Qorak, will you be staying?¡±

    Qorak still seems a little lost in the murals but eventually answers ¡°Yes¡­ I think. I¡¯d like to understand the reference of this painting¡­¡±

    ¡°Great!¡± cries Victor, clapping his hands together once in satisfaction ¡°¡­ we¡¯ll start getting everything ready!¡±

    Brunhilda frowns ¡°Is Tcakak going to be OK on her own?¡±

    I chuckle ¡°She isn¡¯t on her own. Twila is very kindly [babysitting] her, for us.¡± gesturing at Twila¡¯s holographically projected form.

    Twila nods and summons a live picture feed of my daughter snuggling into her new mirkbeast [plushie], a gift from my Chief Custodial Officer.

    Every Triple M lets out an adoring ¡°Aaaaaaaaawwwwwww!¡±

    Robotic appendages enter the view and, synchronised with her holographic arms, gesture ¡°I¡¯ve got a decanter of crop milk for if she wakes up, she has her plushie tucked into the incubator with her, she¡¯s fast asleep and, if she wakes up and I don¡¯t know what to do I can alert her parents immediately¡­ Isn¡¯t she just the cutest!!!¡± wiggling her fists in front of her chest and her mechanical appendages in front of the camera feed, in a gesture that seems to indicate that she¡¯s having trouble restraining her reaction to all the cute(!)

    I turn to Tuun ¡°Before we start this film, may I have a private word with you, Tuun?¡±

    She looks alarmed, saying ¡°Me? Uhhh¡­ sure¡­? Would my room be OK?¡±

    I nod and she leads the way.

    Victor looks as if he would like to follow but seems to decide that he either trusts me, trusts her or trusts both of us enough not to interpose himself into this.

    She leads me to her room and says ¡°I¡­ just need to tidy up a bit. Do you mind waiting a moment?¡± her cheeks flushed noticeably purple.

    Ignoring her obvious embarrassment I gesture for her to go ahead and she disappears into the room.

    I wait outside the door for a few [minutes].

    My understanding is that Victor has mostly moved into this room as well, sharing the living space with Tuun. The same is true for Jennie with Brunhilda and Hasiakh with Krish¡­ though, in those cases, their rooms could be reappropriated for new Triple Ms, in Victor¡¯s case he has maintained his claim on his old room, it becoming a den for Fluffy and the host of the near nightly ¡®Cuddle Puddles¡¯¡­ The (now) five spare rooms will be filled by Emiko Miyazaki, Ms. Hunter, Lt. Loper and two more who are yet to be determined¡­ I wonder if Dr. Zunbe¡­ Kas will wish to share a Dorm with her brother¡­? I¡¯ve still not heard whether she actually will be joining us, from anyone¡­ she probably hasn¡¯t decided yet¡­ understandably. It seems as if she has a life on this planet and is aware of the hurt that might be caused by her decision to leave for a minimum of two years (having been left by both parents at age four, one of whom never returned, from what Wing Commander Naipanoi Zunberi told me, and then watching her brother leave as well, as an adult).

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I won¡¯t say anything to Msia until I¡¯m certain she¡¯s coming, I don¡¯t want to divulge her secrets or play with Msia¡¯s hopes.

    Tuun reemerges and gestures me inside, still with that worried look on her face.

    She sits on her bed and I climb on her desk chair which she has arranged to face her current position.

    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s this about, Captain? Are you¡­ amInolongerneeded?That¡¯sitisn¡¯tit!?Youdon¡¯tneedsomeone,onamissiontoasapientdeathworld,who¡¯sso¡­¡±

    In irritation, I raise a wingclaw and the start of her gibbering self-doubt ceases.

    ¡°Dear girl¡­ you must value yourself more! I just gave you a raise¡­ [weeks] ago! Why would I have done that if I was considering letting you go so soon afterward?¡± I say with a calm but firm tone of voice.

    She turns her worried eyes down and to the left ¡°Maybe¡­ you changed your mind? Maybe you only gave me the raise so it wasn¡¯t obvious you were going to sack me? Maybe you weren¡¯t planning to but giving me the raise made you realise I wasn¡¯t worth it?¡±

    Unimpressed, I answer ¡°Yes, dear girl, and maybe the Titan tears apart the side of this ship and skewers me on her Spear! You can¡¯t live your life in ¡®maybe¡¯s, Tuun! Why don¡¯t you listen first, then make a decision about whether what I say is worth panicking about?¡±

    Choking back her panic and forcing herself calm, she nods.

    I begin ¡°Emiko Miyazaki has transmitted over a route suggestion. Her route has a few possible planets where we might make our stops to meet personnel hired from elsewhere in Terran Space¡­ one of these planets caught my eye¡­ Nova Fennoscandia is your homeworld, correct?¡­ My question, Tuun, is would you like us to stop on your planet for a few days before we pass into gardenworlder territory?¡±

    Clearly blindsided, she takes a moment to respond before answering ¡°Really?¡­ I¡¯d love that! I feel sort of guilty for being the only one to have that opportunity¡­ no one else¡¯s homeworlds were on the list?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Not that I could see, no. I¡¯ll lock in Nova Fennoscandia as a stop then, shall I?¡±

    She nods enthusiastically, smiling.

    ¡°Excellent, now, shall we rejoin the others?¡± I say, making to leave.

    She throws out a hand in my direction, indicating she wishes me to stay.

    I stop and turn to her, browtuft raised.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ really it? You¡¯re really¡­ OK with me?¡±

    I smile ¡°More than ¡®OK¡¯, dear girl. I¡¯m thrilled to have you aboard my ship! Your selfdoubt is the one thing about you that I would say needs work(!)¡­ Shall we go?¡±

    She smiles and we return to the Commonroom.

    Victor is immediately at Tuun¡¯s side, looking up into her luminous eyes with a concerned expression.

    ¡°All good?¡±

    ¡°Better than good. I¡¯ll tell you later¡­¡± she smiles, bending to kiss him.

    No more is said about that as Twila indicates a perch, facing the viewing wall, that is large enough for me and Qorak to share.

    Once we have climbed up, I notice that everyone else is still stood and I squint, quizzically, at the Triple Ms who are stood at the side of the space that is about to become our view screen.

    Showman persona readopted, Victor starts ¡°Tonight¡¯s opening number will be given by a live performance, backed by the original score sans lyrics! A man of many talents, Msia ¡®Mage¡¯ Zunberi, will be on lead vocals with the rest composin'' the chorus!¡±

    Immediately, my wing shoots up ¡°Victor, if you are all planning to sing¡­ perhaps just check that the privacy field is engaged?¡±

    He raises his finger, opens his mouth, screws up his eyes and pauses a moment before saying ¡°¡­Good shout, Cap!¡± and running over to the control panel, sheepishly engaging the privacy field.

    ¡°Without further ado!¡± he says, indicating Twila to start playing the film and melting into the chorus, stood behind Msia.

    The film starts with a bloodred sun cresting the pitch black horizon as Msia cries out with passion and volume I had not imagined him capable of, given his usual placidity, in a language my translator informs me is called isiZulu¡­ which he apparently speaks:

    fff?HERE COMES A LION, FATHER!?fff

    Followed by the chorus behind him, in beautiful harmony¡­ who seem not to be speakers of isiZulu but to have learned it by rote.

    mp? Sithi uhm ingonyama!?mp

    Msia repeats his initial line as animals of the [savannah] are shown raising their heads toward the rising sun.

    Spectacularly vibrant landscapes (though clearly animated by trichromatic Humans, causing me to adjust my main spectrum, mechanical eye to feed me data matching red, green, blue trichromy, rather than my normal maroon, red, green, teal, blue pentachromy) are shown as Msia sings at startling volume, backed by Victor, Tuun, Brunhilda, Jennie, Krish, Hasiakh and Twila.

    At [25 seconds] in, Msia stops followed by [25 seconds] of the others¡¯ untranslated harmony, repeating, getting a little more insistent each time, as the screen shows animals moving across these terrains towards I know not yet what (¡­ though¡­ based on the painting¡­)

    When Msia sings again he has switched into Victor¡¯s native tongue, which he also seems to be fluent in! The others continue to back him in incomprehensible isiZulu.

    The lyrics are hopeful and vivacious as we continue to watch the animals on their journey.

    Having recently flown over [savannah], en route to Naipanoi¡¯s dinner, I can confidently say that the absolute weight of numbers present is not adequately conveyed! Though, the variety does seem to be¡­ based only on my intuition.

    Great elephants are shown in low angle to convey their sheer scale. They really do look like grey, four legged Sho¡¯uso¡­

    After around [1.5 minutes] we are finally shown the presumable goal of these animals; the rock, the one that looks as if it could not be a natural landform, the one I was stood atop in the mural.

    A blue bird flies toward it and the camera follows revealing a powerfully built lion with a thick red mane. Clearly this is the inspiration for Victor¡¯s depiction.

    The bird alights before the lion (in a way I¡¯m sure no bird, absent a [deathwish], ever would!) and bows deeply, in respect.

    The lion scowls sternly back for a moment before a smile breaks over his face and he returns a regal nod.

    An aged simian is shown parting the crowd and climbing the rock before embracing the powerful lion, as if old friends. The simian is clearly the inspiration for me! I¡¯m¡­ not insulted by that¡­ or I¡¯m trying not to be(!)

    The lion and simian then approach, presumably, the lion''s mate and cub (the inspiration for Qorak¡¯s and Tcakak¡¯s characterisations respectively, I think) and Msia¡¯s lead vocals are paused again for a tender scene where the simian breaks a gourd and smears the contents across the cub¡¯s forehead before sprinkling dust on him causing him to sneeze¡­ I wonder if this is a real birth ritual from one of the Terran cultures? I don¡¯t remember coming across it in my studies of them!

    The chorus chant

    ppp? Ingonyama nengw'' enamabala!?ppp

    Almost inaudibly at first, but grow steadily louder as Victor passes Msia something he keeps concealed behind his back while striding forward, matching the forward motion of the simian carrying the cub.

    There is a brief moment I believe that the cub is about to be cast from the rock to its death¡­ Terrans¡­ are fond of whiplash inducing tone shifts¡­ I think that would be too much¡­ even for them.

    My horror is disconfirmed as both Msia and the simian raise their arms above their heads, the simian with the cub, Msia with a nanoforged copy of Igthan¡¯s [plushie].

    Twila takes over the vocals, maintaining the, pitch perfect, high intensity that Msia had. The animals cry out, trumpet and screech in celebration and we are shown a rotating shot of the cub looking down at them¡­ this looks hand drawn¡­ someone had to imagine every frame of that rotation then transfer that to a drawing! That¡¯s endlessly artistic Terrans for you!

    The clouds part and a beam of light illuminates the cub held aloft by the simian, Twila adjusts the Commonroom¡¯s lighting to achieve the same effect.

    The animals bow in a sweeping pan shot followed by a shot of the whole scene zooming out then a percussive *Thoom* to introduce the title card.

    Twila pauses the film there, all of the Triple Ms are out of breath from their singing and dancing.

    I begin clapping my wings together to mimic Terran applause and Qorak follows my example, a little bemused.

    Victor takes a seat on the couch beside me and I ask ¡°How much rehearsal was required for that little number(?)¡±

    Still slightly out of breath, he raises his thumb and index finger a [centimetre] apart and says ¡°A bit!¡±

    I smirk ¡°I¡¯m clearly not working all of you hard enough if you have all this time to practice song numbers and paint murals(!)¡±

    His face falls and he starts ¡°Cap, it¡¯s¡­¡±

    My wingclaw shoots up ¡°A joke, Victor! Take the joke!¡±

    He smiles.

    ¡°So there are no Humans in this story at all? It¡¯s an alternate world in which only your uplifts exist in their own atechnological society?¡± I ask quizzically.

    He frowns contemplatively ¡°No¡­ not uplifts¡­ this was made two centuries or so before the first species we uplifted¡­ they¡¯re just animals¡­ imagined a bit more Humanlike¡­¡±

    I¡¯m surprised¡­ but I suppose it makes sense that Humans would imagine all those possible friends they could make, long before they had the capacity to actually make those friends!

    ¡°So, how many more interactive song numbers are we going to be treated to(?)¡± I smirk.

    Victor shakes his head and raises a single finger ¡°Just that one¡­ my rendition of Be Prepared was nixed because it was apparently ¡®Too frightenin¡¯! Are you fuckin¡¯ kiddin¡¯?¡¯! Can you believe that(!?)¡±

    I nod ¡°Yes, I can easily imagine being frightened by your singing¡­ in fact it¡¯s happened on multiple occasions!¡±

    He laughs.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± interjects Twila ¡°¡­if everyone¡¯s comfortable, shall I unpause?¡±

    ---one film viewing later---

    I walk with Qorak, back to our quarters.

    ¡°I was so shocked when the uncle killed the father!¡±

    I laugh ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be if you had watched more than about five Terran films! That character was too good, too kind, too competent and too much a deuteragonist!¡­ If he¡¯d not died there would have been no story!... I found it very funny when the protagonist and his friends were discussing the nature of stars and the stupid one was the only one who was right¡­ then the other mocked him!¡±

    Qorak nods ¡°That was hilarious!¡­ Maybe we should watch some more Terran films¡­ that was very entertaining!¡±

    I smile ¡°If you can stomach being around Victor¡¯s mirkbeast, when she returns, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be happy to indulge you of an endless number of viewings, sweetfruit! Though, I don¡¯t know how often they¡¯ll be willing to rehearse song numbers for us(!)¡±

    He ponders that as we reenter our quarters.

    ¡°Thank you so much for giving us the night off, Twila.¡± I whisper to Twila¡¯s sensor array between the robotic appendages she¡¯s been using to tend Tcakak.

    She whispers back ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Captain. I really enjoyed watching the film with you guys. I¡¯ll give you guys some privacy, let me know any time you want me to look after Tcakie! I¡¯ll enjoy both the datastreams from looking after her and hanging out with you guys¡­ win-win as far as I¡¯m concerned(!)¡±

    I smile and she vacates the simple droid she¡¯s been inhabiting.

    ¡°Do you want to use the bathroom first?¡± I ask Qorak.

    ¡°Thank you, my okla. I¡¯ll be out in [ten].¡±

    He disappears into our shared ensuite and I go to Tcakak, sleeping in her incubator.

    I reach out my left opposable wingclaw and, ever so gently, trace it across her forehead.

    ¡°Sleep well, my little lion¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlude VIII: Pancakes and Triskelion

    ---Nkasiogi¡¯s Perspective---

    OK¡­ how do I do this? What do I say?

    ¡®Hey guys, you know how I¡¯m constantly telling you how worried I am about my little brother being starbound? How much it tears me up to imagine him never coming back, the way Msia Sr. didn¡¯t? Well¡­ would you mind awfully if I just¡­ y¡¯know¡­ followed him for a few years? That way I don¡¯t have to worry about him and you two can worry about me instead!¡­¡¯

    Yeah¡­ there¡¯s no way to put this to them that doesn¡¯t make me sound like an inconsiderate arsehole!

    Mum was no help! ¡®Do what you think is best¡¯! The hell kind of advice is that!? I¡¯m asking you because I don¡¯t know what to do! If I knew what was best¡­

    The hell kind of right does that fancy woman think she has to induce these kinds of emotions in me!? She strolls into my and Fliss¡¯ office, flanked by her ludicrously muscled Neanderthal bodyguard, and offers us a contract on the same ship as my brother! Oh, after pushing NDAs in our faces, that is!

    Of course, Fliss took her up instantly! Since she came here from Nouvelle France she has had precisely two meaningful relationships! Her friendship with me and her romance with Sisi¡­ She never got over him leaving!¡­ I have no idea why she didn¡¯t go with him¡­ or make him aware of how devastated she was by him leaving! She¡¯s going because she wants to rekindle things with him, not that she¡¯d ever admit it! Even to herself!

    I wonder what the situation is with those Fulgensians? Is it just casual fun? Would he be open to rekindling things with Fliss?

    OK, these are Fliss and Sisi¡¯s problems you¡¯re worrying about, Kas! Focus on your own!!!

    I leave the park where I¡¯ve spent the last half hour ruminating.

    Coming to the ground floor of my building I look up and decide that there¡¯s nothing for it but to bite the bullet.

    I walk up the stairs to the flat I share with the two most gorgeous Human beings in Engai¡¯s creation.

    I could take the lift¡­ most people would call me mad for choosing to walk up 12 flights when I had to walk passed an open lift to do so.

    It¡¯s an old habit from my days as a boxer; if you¡¯re presented an easy way and a hard way to do something, take the hard way, get the training, everything is training!

    I draw up to the door and take a breath before waving it open.

    As I pass the boundary of the privacy field I¡¯m greeted by the sound of my artistic, UmZulu girlfriend playing a Russian death lullaby on her guitar. I don¡¯t know if she¡¯s wearing her translator but, given that she doesn¡¯t speak Russian, it wouldn¡¯t make a difference.

    She hasn¡¯t noticed me enter so I decide to lean against the wall and admire her for a while. This might be one of my last opportunities to do so¡­ one way or another¡­ She and Lu might decide that even putting this too them is worthy of breaking up with me¡­ they might not care if I then say I won¡¯t go, afterall, and beg them to take me back! I may end up loading my stuff onto a hovertrolley and calling a capsule to my mum¡¯s tonight¡­

    For now, let¡¯s just admire the ¡¯fro that the most beautiful woman in all of Engai¡¯s creation maintains at the back of her head. Let¡¯s admire those delicate shoulders. Admire that¡­ dumptruck arse she inherited from her Denisovan grandmother(!) Listen to the mournful words she sings in a language that neither of us speak.

    Before Zinhle died, she used to sing happy songs but, I suppose, losing your twin could make anyone feel like happy songs were a bit¡­ trite¡­

    I remember the first time I met the two of them. Very early into our relationship, I had dragged Luul to a strip club and they came out on stage together. They were at art college at the time and, while they could have subsisted on their study stipend and UBI, they decided that erotic dancing was both a satisfying pursuit for them and (given the rarity of gorgeous identical twins who both want to be strippers and are happy to perform together) paid really well!

    After they had finished the most mesmerising performance I¡¯d ever witnessed, they came to our table and offered us private dances. I accepted before Lu could say anything and paid for both of us. I thought I would have a heart attack from Amahle gyrating her arse against my hips while Zinhle did the same to my mortified boyfriend.

    After that, they sat and talked with us and were two of the most witty, charming people I¡¯ve ever encountered.

    At the end of the night, where Lu¡¯s tolerance of the haram had reached near breaking point, I wrote my holocom on a napkin and passed it to them saying, if they ever wanted to hang out outside work hours, to give me a call, stressing that I wouldn¡¯t expect anything other than a hang out!

    I truly didn¡¯t expect them to ever actually call! But the next day¡­ Zinhle called me, with Ami in the background, and we arranged a meetup.

    They were as charming, outside work, as they were when they were being paid to be! More so, if only for the fact that, when they¡¯re not on the clock, I know that everything they¡¯re doing and saying is likely genuine and not just because their manager has told them to always smile, nod and laugh at the patrons¡¯ jokes!

    Over the next two years they became some of our best friends and, while I never stopped noticing how drop dead gorgeous they were, I did sort of tune it out.

    Then, Zinhle took her own life¡­ Ami was crushed! She missed her sister desperately, of course, but more damaging was the fact that severe depression runs in their family and she was utterly convinced that her sister having committed suicide meant that she was destined to, as well.

    Lu and I invited her to come and stay with us and, over the first few weeks nothing happened, then one night while we were comforting her¡­ one thing lead to another¡­ and now she¡¯s a fully equal partner in this relationship¡­ in fact, if I¡¯m about to be broken up with¡­ the way I might be¡­ she may be on the cusp of being promoted to a 50%, from a 33.¡¥3%, stake holder(!)

    Her back stiffens and, ceasing her playing, she turns to look at me. A broad smile, which nevertheless entirely avoids touching her eyes, breaks over her face as she says ¡°Hey, babes! How long have you been there?¡±

    I smile back ¡°Not that long, just enjoying your playing. Lu not home? He left work before me¡­¡±

    Putting her guitar down, she stands and walks to me ¡°He came home then went out to get groceries.¡±

    She reaches up to put her arms over my shoulders to pull me into a kiss. At 182cm, I¡¯m rather taller than average and, at 169cm she¡¯s rather shorter¡­ the result is that I¡¯m almost as much taller than her as Lu is taller than me!

    I reach up to stroke my hand over the elegant cornrows she maintains over the front half of her scalp, then to the back of the bushy ¡¯fro to press her deeper into the kiss.

    With my other hand, I stroke down between her shoulderblades to the small of her back¡­ then stop myself¡­ That hand would usually keep going, to trace around and squeeze her generous arse cheeks but¡­ given what I¡¯m about to tell her and Luul, it feels¡­ dishonest of me to enjoy her like that, right now.

    Even kissing her feels dishonest!

    I remove my hands from their respective positions and place them on her shoulders before gently pushing her off me.

    Normally, I would pull back but, given I was still against the wall, this is the only way to gain separation. Sorry, Ami¡­

    ---Amahle¡¯s Perspective---

    I feel my heart sink as Kas pushes me away¡­ I know they aren¡¯t but, every time she or Lu push me away, it feels like they¡¯re screaming a rejection of everything I am, into my face!

    When she runs her hands over me, when she squeezes this arse she¡¯s so obsessed with, it feels like she¡¯s whispering acceptance directly into the depths of my psyche¡­ ¡®You are enough, you are beautiful¡¯¡­

    She knows this¡­ if she¡¯s pushing me off her, it must mean something¡¯s wrong¡­

    Her eyes closed, she draws up to her full height and says ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sweetheart, I have something I need to talk about with you and Lu, would it be alright if we just sat together while we waited for him to get back?¡±

    Fucking Unkulunkulu! Nomkhubulwane! This is it! They¡¯re done with me! They¡¯ve got bored of living with a depressed, starving artist and now they¡¯re going to kick me out! Sure, it¡¯s exciting to be in a relationship with a woman you met while she was stripping¡­ sure, they may both think I¡¯m sexy but¡­ they¡¯ve realised I¡¯m not good enough for them! They¡¯re tired of having to feed me, house me and put up with my bad days, they¡¯re tired of me offering to contribute from my much more meagre salary as if it¡¯s worth anything to them¡­ at least she is but¡­ if she tells Lu she wants me gone¡­ he¡¯ll pick her, for sure!

    I¡¯m going to have to move out to the edge of the city! What kind of place will I be able to pay rent on, on a busker¡¯s salary? Can I afford somewhere with a kitchen? Can I afford to feed myself without a kitchen? Even with tips, I know I¡¯ll never be able to afford anywhere, anywhere near as nice as this place! I feel like I¡¯d be paid so much more if I could still play happy songs, songs that people wanted to hear, songs that people would tip me for!

    ¡°Sweetie?¡± says the love of my life, about to rip my heart out, with a quizzical cock of her head.

    Shaking myself back to reality, I answer ¡°Yeah¡­ babes, that¡¯s¡­ fine¡­ you can¡¯t give me a clue as to what you need to talk about?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°This is something that really requires a relationship meeting.¡±

    That¡¯s it then¡­

    Nothing to do but wait for my execution¡­!

    They¡¯ll be so nice about it, I know¡­ and their kindness will make it so much worse¡­ I won¡¯t be able to be angry with them!

    At least if they were arseholes about it I could scream in their faces¡­

    Regardless of how nice they are, I¡¯ll be alone by the end of the week¡­ alone in a tiny one-bedroom flat outside of the city¡­ just like Zin was when she decided that she was done living¡­ I wonder if I¡¯ll last as long as she did¡­?

    Nothing to do but wait¡­

    ---Luul¡¯s Perspective---

    I carry groceries from the lift on the 12th floor.

    I could order groceries, of course, but I always find substitutions made and regularly no account taken of the specification that products be halal¡­ people seem to think that lab grown gelatine would be fine for a Muslim to eat(!) Seem to think that, as there are nonhalal items in the shop, ordered by the other two, it can¡¯t be that big a deal¡­ completely ignoring the possibility of one who keeps halal sharing a shop with two who don¡¯t(!)

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Monotheists they might be (after a fashion) but women of the book (and certainly Muslims) they are not!

    We¡¯ve mutually agreed that I will refrain from proselytising to them and they will avoid making jokes about Islam and polygamy(!)

    I enter our flat and see my two girlfriends sitting in the lounge area of our open-plan living space, the binary-sunsset framed in the full-wall window behind them.

    They both wear a dour expression¡­

    ¡°I need to talk to you¡­¡± says Kas.

    By Allah! They¡¯re tired of me fifth-wheeling! Since we met Ami, they¡¯ve always been more interested in eachother than me and they¡¯ve realised it! I¡¯m going to have to move out and my parents will say ¡®we told you a threeway relationship would never work!¡¯

    ¡°Sure¡­ just let me put the groceries in the stasisfridge¡­¡± I say, buying myself a momentary reprieve from the breakup I know is coming.

    I go through to the kitchen and take a¡­ little longer than I need to, putting the groceries away in the fridge that¡¯s ability to induce its contents to nonevent mass with a quantum probability of 0 would have been considered magic, just a generation ago!

    I come back through to the lounge, pull up a chair and sit, facing my girlfriends.

    Kas leans forward to take my and Ami¡¯s hands.

    Don¡¯t do that! Don¡¯t give me hope! If you¡¯re done with me just say so!

    ¡°Sooooo¡­¡± says Kas, hesitating in a very uncharacteristic manner. This woman doesn¡¯t hesitate about anything! If she¡¯s hesitating it must be bad!

    ¡°¡­ you guys know how worried I get about my little brother being starbound?¡±

    Why¡¯s she bringing up her brother? I only met the man weeks ago, what could he possibly have to do with my ejection from this relationship?!

    ¡°¡­ I was offered a contract¡­¡±

    ---Nkasiogi¡¯s Perspective, post explanation---

    My two lovers stare dumbfounded at me, from their seats.

    Luul has brought his knuckles to his chin in the pose that earned him the epithet ¡°Thinker¡±¡­

    Amahle starts ¡°So, it¡¯s a First Contact, isn¡¯t it? They think this deathworld might be sapie¡­¡±

    ¡°As I am under NDA, I am forbidden from divulging, confirming or denying the supposition that the ODR has located a potential sapience bearing deathworld.¡± I interrupt, robotically.

    ¡°You want to go¡­ don¡¯t you?¡± says Lu, quietly.

    ¡°Yes!¡­ No!¡­ I don¡¯t know!¡±

    ¡°Those are the options(!)¡± quips Ami, with that fantastic wit of hers.

    I take a moment to collect my chaotic thoughts then start ¡°Yes: it would be fantastic for my career to take the contract doing the thing I can¡¯t tell you! Yes: it would be fantastic to be able to spend time with my baby brother! I still feel protective of him, y¡¯know!? I still see him as the 2 year old who didn¡¯t understand why Mummy and Daddy had to go away, when they were called up! I still see him as the 5 year old who stared blankly at the wooden box containing a man he hardly remembered, as he stood by a woman, in bright white, that I hardly recognised! Being with him, protecting him on what¡¯s bound to be a dangerous mission¡­ is something I want!... On the other hand; No: I don¡¯t particularly want to go on a dangerous mission myself. No: I don¡¯t want to leave either of you for two days, let alone more than two years! The result: I don¡¯t know! If the two of you say that you don¡¯t want me to go, I won¡¯t. If the two of you say, that even suggesting a two year voyage, when we have a life together, is unforgiveable and you want me to leave and never come back, I¡¯ll go¡­ but I¡¯ll be pretty distraught¡­ What do you two think?¡±

    A few moments of silence follow¡­

    ¡°I think¡­ it¡¯s rather unlike you not to be sure, Kas¡­¡± says Lu, haltingly ¡°¡­ I¡­ must confess to being rather relieved¡­ I thought you two were about to break up with me!¡±

    ¡°Uhmm¡­ ditto.¡± chimes Ami.

    ¡°Guys!? I love you! You know that!!!... Don¡¯t you?!¡±

    They both look sheepish.

    ¡°I know we¡¯ve been together a while but¡­ I always got the sense that you favoured Amahle over me, Kas. I sort of¡­ feel like the¡­ disposable one¡­¡± says Luul.

    ¡°I always feel like I¡¯m a burden on the two of you¡­ like, other than sex¡­ I don¡¯t really bring much to the table¡­ you two have known eachother longer and been in a relationship longer, you¡¯re also much better paid and share similar work disciplines¡­ I sort of¡­ got the sense that you were¡­ humouring me by letting me be with you guys¡­ I felt like the disposable one.¡± adds Ami.

    ¡°By Engai¡¯s Cattle, guys!!! If anything, I thought you guys were going to break up with me for suggesting I go away for that long! I had no idea you were so insecure about our relationship! You know we don¡¯t do favourites!?¡±

    They turn their heads down, suitably chastened.

    My face softens as I ask ¡°But¡­ about the voyage? Do you two think I should¡­?¡±

    They both turn those gorgeous faces at me and I find myself frightened of what they might say.

    Lu starts, hesitantly ¡°I think¡­ Kas¡­ that the fact that you¡¯ve brought it up¡­ means that you want to go¡­ if you want to go¡­ you should go¡­ I speak entirely for myself here but; I do not mind maintaining our relationship, even for such a prolonged absence. With FTL coms we can stay in regular contact¡­ even if¡­ we can¡¯t¡­ kiss¡­ touch or¡­ share a bed¡­ but I love you¡­ I think Amahle and I will be fine, holding down the fort, here¡­ even if you¡­ are something of the linchpin of this triad(!)¡±

    Ami nods agreement.

    I look between them a few moments.

    ¡°¡­You dummies(!) Come here!¡± I say, opening my arms in an inviting hug.

    I¡¯m buried in love as my stick thin boyfriend and pearshaped girlfriend accept the invitation and press themselves against me.

    Their scents mix in the most exhilarating aroma combination possible in (or out of) Engai¡¯s creation!

    We spend some time in our¡­ hug puddle before Luul surprises me by being the one to say ¡°Sooo¡­ if you¡¯ve only got a few weeks left before you need to leave¡­ we should¡­ probably enjoy those weeks, shouldn¡¯t we?¡±

    Laughing, I answer ¡°Why¡­ Mr. Saabir(!) So forward(!!!) What happened to my reserved, conservative boyfriend(?!)¡±

    He smiles, answering ¡°He just heard that he¡¯s going to have to go more than two years without you, is what¡­(!)¡±

    ¡°That would do it¡­(!)¡± adds Ami.

    ¡°Well¡­ do the two of you have any ideas about how we could ¡®enjoy¡¯ eachother?¡±

    Getting up from the hug, the two of them share a look.

    ¡°Go to our bedroom, get undressed, lie on the bed and wait¡­ I want to confer with Lu.¡± answers Amahle, with unusual resolution.

    Pulling a bemused expression, I do as she says, getting up and making my way to the bedroom.

    Once there, I turn the lighting down to a soft, dim level, then step to the full length mirror to begin undressing¡­ is it vain to admire myself shedding clothing?¡­ Perhaps a little¡­ I don¡¯t particularly care¡­ I work hard for this muscle definition and I like to make sure that I look good for my partners!

    Once the last thread is off me, I check that this is how I¡¯m happy for them to see me¡­ no, I should untie my hair¡­

    I do so and bright blue dreadlocks cascade over my ears. I certainly have a bit of a ¡®wild woman¡¯ look with my hair untied but¡­ they both seem to like it!

    I climb over the foot of my bed and lie against the pillows¡­

    I don¡¯t have to wait long before my lovers enter¡­

    Amahle hits the privacy field (for the neighbours'' benefit), shuts the door and the two of them walk to the foot of our bed with sultry expressions.

    Amahle begins dancing¡­ followed by a much less confident Luul. This must be what they were coordinating.

    It¡¯s absolutely breathtaking to watch my loves dance with eachother as they undress! Lu is out of his thawb and Ami has shed her sleeveless shirt and loose trousers.

    Clad only in there underwear, they embrace and begin to kiss, passionately. Fuck, that¡¯s some good compornsion! The mixture of emotional satisfaction (compersion) and sexual stimulation (porn) that I get from seeing my partners enjoy eachother!

    I have always felt a little insecure that I¡¯m really the only reason this triad exists¡­ that both of them would prefer to have me to themselves¡­ when I see them kiss¡­ and take off eachothers¡¯ underwear¡­ it makes me feel deeply contented.

    Drawing back up to his full height, Luul¡¯s respectable and, now, exposed member brushes against her midriff as they dance together. Ami¡¯s pretty little tits squash against his stomach.

    Fucking hell, that phat arse of hers! We don¡¯t do favourites but¡­ of all their features¡­ No! We don¡¯t do favourites!

    Guiltily, I force myself to turn my attention away from her planetoid sized arse and to my slender boyfriend.

    He is also gorgeous, with the sheer facial features of a film star or a runway model. Those slim limbs and torso of his are absolutely how I like my men!

    I take a moment to thank Engai for delivering the most stunning man I could have asked for and then the most exquisite woman! Then, on top of that¡­ allowing both of them to be attracted to a plain-looking, belligerent woman like me¡­ if one of us is not worthy of the relationship we share¡­ it¡¯s neither of them!

    They turn to me and both bend to begin crawling over the foot of the bed, past my feet, up the length of my exposed body. Amahle kisses me, then Luul.

    My mouth moves greedily from one set of lips to another and my hands move over their gorgeous bodies.

    My Somali film star traces his face down the length of my torso, leaving a trail of kisses as he goes and my (quarter Denisovan) UmZulu girlfriend is left in sole possession of my lips¡­ my¡­ upper set at least(!)

    Luul seems to be in the process of claiming my pussy lips with his mouth(!)

    With my left hand, I reach behind Ami to give that gorgeous, phat arse of hers a firm squeeze, with my right, I reach down to place it on the back of Lu¡¯s head as he pleasures me with his tongue.

    This is the most fulfilling pleasure I can imagine! The arse and head in my hands, the mouth on my pussy and the other on my lips, having both of them with their attention on me! This is ecstasy!

    I feel my waves of pleasure rise, irresistibly, as Lu¡¯s nimble little mouth dances over my lips and clit and Ami¡¯s hand massages my breasts.

    It¡¯s a matter of a few minutes before the two of them have induced me to a shrieking orgasm.

    I just doublecheck my memory of Amahle engaging the privacy field¡­ she did¡­ I don¡¯t have to awkwardly avoid eyecontact with Mr and Mrs Kayembe, from next door, tomorrow(!)

    Catching my breath, I say ¡°That was¡­ amazing, you guys but¡­ I want to do you two, too!¡­ Luul, are you happy to take my pussy?¡­ Ami, will my mouth do?¡­¡±

    Her face breaking into a mischievous grin, Amahle answers ¡°I see your game, you scoundrel(!) You just want my arse on your face(!)¡±

    I turn my eyes from hers and say ¡°I¡¯ve no idea what you¡¯re talking about¡­(!)¡±

    Still smirking, she says ¡°Alright, Miss Innocent, I don¡¯t mind giving you what you want(!)¡±

    Luul smiles ¡°I¡¯m also happy to ¡®take your pussy¡¯, as you put it(!) Maybe just move over to the edge of the bed?¡±

    There follow a few moments where we collectively arrange ourselves, me, so that my hips rest right on the edge of our bed, Luul is stood between my legs and Amahle has that voluptuous, zaftig arse of hers suspended 20cm, or so, above my face, her feet placed between my upper body and biceps.

    ¡°We all ready?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yep!¡±

    ¡°Ready.¡±

    ¡°OK, go!¡± I say, immediately followed by me taking a deep breath, Lu¡¯s thick cock penetrating my pussy and Ami¡¯s buxom arse enveloping my face as she presses her pussy against my mouth.

    I couldn¡¯t ask for more contentment than I feel right now!

    ---Amahle¡¯s Perspective---

    My girlfriend¡¯s mouth works enthusiastically against my lips and her hands massage the top of my arse as the bottom encompasses her face.

    I know she likes to be smothered but¡­ I do need to make sure she can breathe(!) Periodically, I raise myself up enough to allow air to reach her nose¡­

    Maintaining this position might be exhausting for me if I didn¡¯t have the core strength that comes from being a former pole dancer.

    My boyfriend¡¯s body sways rhythmically as his hips pump against hers, withdrawing and reinserting all that length of his into her soaking insides(!)

    *MmmmmmFFFF*!!!

    They¡¯re both so fucking gorgeous! I really don¡¯t deserve them but¡­ they seem to think they deserve me!

    One day they might decide this little arrangement has gone on long enough but¡­ well, I just need to make the most of them while I can.

    I reach up to Lu¡¯s shoulder, pulling his face to mine.

    I kiss him, deeply, tasting the alluring combination of his mouth and her pussy.

    2 years might be a long time to go without her but¡­ I¡¯ll still have him¡­ and I¡¯ll have her when she gets back¡­

    The fact that they included me in the discussion, at all, means that they think this relationship could work for longer than 2 years¡­ that¡¯s a gratifying thought.

    Enjoy your lovers, right now, Amahle¡­ you never know when you¡¯ll lose them¡­

    ---Luul¡¯s Perspective---

    I grasp the muscular thighs of the most stunning woman in existence, thrusting my cock inside her, as the other most stunning woman in existence is having her pussy passionately serviced by the lips and tongue of the first.

    I always felt conflicted, growing up, about the fact that I couldn¡¯t have a muscular woman, a voluptuous woman and a slender woman! I¡¯d have to pick one body type and be happy with it¡­ I never suspected, that I¡¯d be in a triad, and never dared hope that my two lovers would cover all three body types between them, what with, Kas¡¯ muscles, Ami¡¯s luscious arse and thighs and her comparatively dainty chest, shoulders and arms!

    If I died right now, I¡¯d die a happy man. If Allah asked me if I was satisfied with the life he¡¯d given me, I would answer ¡®Absolutely!¡¯!

    As I contemplate this, Ami¡¯s hand reaches to my shoulder and she pulls me into a kiss¡­

    Am I certain that Allah has not already given me paradise?

    ---Nkasiogi¡¯s Perspective, the following morning---

    I dig through my container in our shared wardrobe¡­ this wasn¡¯t really a great hiding spot but there really isn¡¯t such a thing as a ''great hiding spot'' when you share a bedroom with two other people¡­

    In theory, they shouldn¡¯t have been digging through this case and so they shouldn¡¯t have found it¡­

    My hand locates what I''m looking for and I close my fingers to withdraw it from the place I deposited it, last month.

    I bring it behind my back and start walking toward the kitchen.

    Last night was really amazing¡­ I¡¯m going to miss the fuck out of those two! We¡¯ll really have to get used to having vidcall sex from across the galaxy!

    I don¡¯t know if now is the right time to do what I¡¯m going to do but¡­ the imminent deadline has really forced my hand!

    I enter the kitchen to see three plates set on our table with a total of nine pancakes between them¡­

    Lu is talking to Ami ¡°¡­Yeah, the mother had to literally chase that one out of the door! He was so insistent on having Gloam for a fashion show! It¡¯s really nice to have a third of a tonne of mirkbeast behind you when you¡¯re telling an entitled fashionista ¡®no¡¯! Raul is saying he might just adopt Gloam himself, his and Angelo¡¯s house is big enough¡­¡± He notices me ¡°¡­Hey¡­ your pancakes are going to go cold.¡± he smiles.

    I smile back ¡°Thank you for cooking, Lu, but there¡¯s something I want to do first¡­ could both of you stand up?¡±

    Ami and Lu share a quizzical look with eachother before doing as I request and moving towards me¡­

    Ami starts ¡°¡­Babes, if you want any more sexytimes you¡¯re pancakes are really going to get cold! Besides¡­¡±

    I interrupt her by kneeling down and pulling the box from behind me, opening it to reveal a set of three rings, engraved with matching triskelion symbols.

    Four hands shoot up to cover two mouths in shock.

    ¡°Listen, both of you, I know now might not be the best time, what with the voyage I¡¯m about to take, but, when I get back¡­ will both of you make me the happiest woman in the galaxy?¡±

    In unison, they say a single word ¡°Yes!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.21

    ---Motherhood---

    ---Victor¡¯s Perspective---

    I¡¯m sitting in the chair I brought into Cap and Qorrie¡¯s place to spend time with Tcakie.

    I was playing with her earlier but¡­ she tuckered herself out after a bit. She¡¯s lying on my palm, utterly zonked, right now¡­ it must be hard to keep your energy up when you¡¯re so little!

    Fuck, she¡¯s adorable!

    I¡¯m stroking a single limp finger, from her head, down the soft fuzz of her back. If I applied any pressure, at all, she¡¯d break.

    My holopad sounds a single *ping*, which seems like a gong being struck, in the silence of this room, despite the fact that I have it set relatively quiet. I take a sharp inhale through my teeth as she stirs¡­ and settles. *Phew*! I don¡¯t want to have to leave immediately after waking her up(!)

    Standing carefully, I make my way to her incubator and gently place her against her plushie. She nestles contentedly into it.

    My heart!¡­

    I turn to her parents on their perch and whisper ¡°Sorry, gotta go¡­¡±

    Cap smiles and nods a dismissal at me, over Qorrie¡¯s sleeping head, and I slink out.

    Once the door closes, I check the time¡­ I think I have time to go by Hydroponics¡­ It¡¯ll be good to get a nice lungfull of high oxygen air before what¡¯s coming¡­

    I feel that gnawing pit of fear in my gut¡­ the one that recently made its rude reentry into my life¡­

    Victor Taylor! You¡¯ve fought pirates! You¡¯ve been dismembered! You¡¯ve guarded expeditions to, more than a hundred, wild deathworlds! You have a motherfucking mirkbeast as a pet! What¡¯s coming is nothing to be scared of!¡­ Hmm¡­ that gnawing doesn¡¯t seem to be convinced¡­

    I miss Fluffy!

    I¡¯ve got Sam to scritch¡­ and my plushie¡­ I¡¯ve got the Cuddle Puddle¡­ I¡¯ve got Tuun¡­ but I still miss Fluffy! Even if I know she¡¯s where she needs to be, right now¡­ with her kids¡­ helping to find loving homes for them¡­

    I pass through the gorgeous room, with its bright light, glistening water and fresh air, and breathe deeply.

    Even if I have time, I can¡¯t dawdle, I¡¯d make a terrible impression if I showed up late!

    I¡¯ve also got a tonne of stairs to go down!

    I leave the lovely, rich air of the tranquil room behind me and make my way across the bridge to Deck 17¡¯s balcony, turning left to come to the top of the, ridiculously shallow, access stairway. I begin walking down.

    As I complete the third downward flight, I recall breaking my arm, falling down stairway 5, blind drunk.

    It¡¯s really embarrassing that, even that sloshed, I was able to hurt myself so badly on such a shallow angle! It¡¯s¡­ good that I¡¯ve not been that drunk since that night¡­

    Eventually, I reach Triple M¡¯s balcony and walk inside.

    I draw up to Tuun¡¯s door¡­ no¡­ our door¡­ my room has effectively become the Cuddle Puddle room and gun locker.

    The others have free access to the room¡­ but my guns are only accessible with the analogue keys I keep on a chain around my neck.

    I wave the door open and walk through.

    ¡°Hey baby, are you ready?¡± smiles Tuun, standing up.

    ¡°As I¡¯ll ever be(!)¡± I grimace.

    She bends to kiss me and my nose is hit by that cinnamon-blueberry-vanilla scent medley of hers¡­ I may hold her a little tighter than I usually do¡­

    She takes my hands and leads me to the desk where she¡¯s set up two chairs.

    I take the seat next to hers and she flicks her holodisplay to the wall in front of us.

    It¡¯s always a little surreal, seeing her monochromatic holo, but I suppose it makes sense, if you have no colour vision.

    She opens her contacts and selects one to call.

    My heart is in my throat as we wait for them to pick up¡­ I try to swallow it back down, futilely.

    The call is answered, revealing what is either a quite small woman, nestled into a very large woman, or a very small woman nestled into a quite large woman¡­ I can¡¯t tell as there¡¯s nothing in the frame that¡¯s a standard size, to give me perspective.

    In black and white, it¡¯s also difficult to identify what colour exactly their hair, skin and eyes are more accurately than: the larger one has lightish hair and the smaller one dark, they both have palish eyes and palish skin.

    The smaller one has a crucifix at her neck and the larger one the same Mj?lnir pendant that Tuun has.

    The smaller one strikes the image of Snow White, the larger one gives off more of a fantasy warrior woman vibe¡­ it always did seem a bit weird when Tuun said I was her ¡®Prince Charming¡¯¡­ now, I think I understand¡­ she meant less in the sense of ¡®Rupert Everett¡¯ and more in the sense of ¡®Beowulf¡¯(!)

    Tuun raises her upper left hand and says ¡°Hi Mums! It¡¯s lovely to see you!¡±

    The two women don¡¯t answer, instead they squint out of the screen¡­ at me¡­

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Ha!¡± booms the larger one ¡°He¡¯s Human! Pay up!¡±

    The smaller one smirks over her shoulder ¡°I think you¡¯ll find¡­ sweetie¡­ that he¡¯s also a ¡®he¡¯¡­ that makes us even¡­ You are a ¡®he¡¯, aren¡¯t you?¡± that latter directed at me.

    ¡°Err¡­¡± I respond, stupidly.

    ¡°Mums!?¡± squeals Tuun, her cheeks flushed purple.

    ¡°I go by ¡®he¡¯, yes¡­¡± I answer, uncertainly.

    Smirking over her shoulder again, the smaller one says ¡°Even¡­¡±

    The larger one grumbles but doesn¡¯t object.

    The smaller one turns her attention back to me ¡°So¡­ do you have a name¡­ other than ¡®he¡¯?¡±

    I¡¯m so wrongfooted from the unexpected direction this call has taken that it literally takes me a moment to remember my name!

    ¡°Victor¡­ Ma¡¯am¡­ Victor Taylor¡­¡± I manage, eventually.

    She laughs and says ¡°¡­While I may be old enough to be your great-great-great-grandmother¡­ I¡¯d appreciate less of the ¡®Ma¡¯am¡¯¡­ you can call me ¡®Heidi¡¯, son¡­ or ¡®Mrs. ¨¢rnad¨®ttir¡¯¡­ if you don¡¯t want us to be friends¡­¡±

    ¡°Thank you M¡­¡± I say, causing her to cock an eyebrow ¡°¡­Heidi¡­¡±

    ¡°Gyeja Katr¨ªn Torrad¨®ttir¡­¡± beams the larger one ¡°¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ to you! It¡¯s a pleasure to see the man who thinks he¡¯s worthy of my Tunie(!)¡­ I don¡¯t suppose you keep to Forn Sier, do you?¡±

    I have to think for a moment¡­ they¡¯re speaking English¡­ but she¡¯s just used several New Norse terms without having a translator equipped¡­ ¡®Gyeja¡¯¡­ is ¡®priestess¡¯¡­ ¡®Forn Sier¡¯¡­?

    ¡°Are you asking if I¡¯m a Norse Pantheonist? I¡¯m afraid I ai¡­ I¡¯m not¡­ I¡¯m not an anything¡­¡±

    ¡°Ha¡­ pay up!¡± chimes Heidi.

    ¡°Wait! Hang on!¡± objects Katr¨ªn ¡°He¡¯s not a Christ worshipper either!¡±

    ¡°I believe, darling, that, if you check the ledger, you¡¯ll find that you wagered her partner would be a Pagan¡­ I wagered he would not be¡­ I didn¡¯t wager he¡¯d be Lutheran¡­¡±

    Grumbling, Katr¨ªn fumbles and Heidi raises her holopad, expectantly, over her shoulder. Katr¨ªn taps her own against it, paying whatever they wagered on that.

    Knowing the scale of that model allows me to roughly work out the scale of the two women¡­ I was wrong about the two possibilities¡­ in actual fact¡­ Heidi is roughly average sized¡­ Katr¨ªn is enormous¡­ could she be taller than me?¡­

    ¡°Mums, you¡¯re really embarrassing me¡­¡± says Tuun, her voice muffled from her face being buried in her hands.

    ¡°Sorry, Tunie. We¡¯re old women¡­ and your mothers¡­ it¡¯s difficult not to speculate¡­¡± smiles Heidi, mischievously, before turning her attention back to me ¡°So, where are you from, Victor?¡±

    ¡°Earth, M¡­ Heidi¡­ South London¡­¡±

    Excitedly Katr¨ªn asks ¡°A Saxon?!¡±

    I hesitate ¡°Erm¡­ I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d call myself a ¡®Saxon¡¯¡­ I might¡¯ve been born and raised there but my mum was from Stranraer and my dad was from Dogger Island¡­ AngloNorman surname but¡­ Dogger Island was several metres underwater from about six thousand years ago, all throughout the AngloSaxon age¡­ It wasn¡¯t habitable again until 2240, at which point it was settled by people from all over North Europe and beyond¡­ I¡¯m sure you know.¡±

    Katr¨ªn looks slightly disappointed and says ¡°Ah¡­! Shame¡­! We¡¯ll be reenacting the Battle of Reading while you¡¯re visiting! I¡¯d have loved to have a real Saxon playing ?thelred!¡±

    I smile ¡°So¡­ it¡¯d be my job to lose?¡±

    She smiles back ¡°Ha! The boy knows his history! Have you ever done reenacting before?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Can¡¯t say I have¡­ I was a bit¡­ busy at uni and¡­ well¡­ gardenworlders ai¡­ aren¡¯t known for their proclivity to reenact Terran history.¡±

    ¡°You can say ¡®ain¡¯t¡¯, lad! We¡¯re not snobs!¡± booms Katr¨ªn, mirthfully, before adding ¡°¡­well I¡¯m not at least(!)¡± causing a playful slap to the shoulder, from Heidi.

    Fuck! I was register shifting!!! How long has it been since I¡¯ve been around anyone who knew and cared that my accent was a bit rough!?¡­ The Triple Ms don¡¯t care and, even if they did, there¡¯d be no point trying to hide it from them indefinitely!¡­ I wanted to make a good impression, so I poshed myself up a bit, without thinking, and she called me out on it!

    I cover up my embarrassment and nod an assent¡­ I wonder if their picture is in colour¡­ I¡¯d hate to think they could see the flush in my face!

    Heidi leans forward, her face concerned ¡°I take it, from your use of the past tense, that we won¡¯t get the opportunity to meet your parents, Victor?¡±

    I feel my face involuntarily darken as I answer ¡°I¡¯m afraid not¡­ Heidi¡­ They were called up to serve¡­ they both died during the Battle of New Australia¡­ I never met either of them¡­ that I can remember.¡±

    She nods sympathetically and says ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that, Victor¡­ You seem like a fine young man and I¡¯m certain they¡¯d be proud of you¡­¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡­ Heidi¡­¡± I smile, sombrely.

    Katr¨ªn¡¯s face screws slightly, in contemplation ¡°How old are you, Victor?¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ coming¡­ comin¡¯ up on thirty¡­?¡±

    ¡°Hmmm, that¡¯s a bit of an age gap¡­¡± she responds, appraisingly ¡°Six years?¡±

    ¡°More like six and a half.¡± adds Heidi, shrewdly.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ yes¡­ I suppose so¡­¡± I answer, shifting uncomfortably at the tacit accusation.

    ¡°¡­and what¡¯s your job, Victor?¡­ On the ship?¡± asks Heidi through narrowed eyes.

    ¡°¡­Well¡­ *ehem*¡­ I¡¯m the Chief Security Specialist¡­¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re Tunie¡¯s boss?!¡± reproaches Katr¨ªn.

    ¡°You don¡¯t think fraternising with your subordinate is a little unprofessional?¡± queries Heidi, eyes still narrowed.

    ¡°¡­ Well¡­ err¡­¡±

    ¡°Mums! That¡¯s enough!!!¡± interrupts Tuun, with more fury than I¡¯ve ever heard in her voice.

    Maintaining Human speed, she continues ¡°¡­I was the one who initiated things between us! He never would have, for exactly that reason!¡­ I don¡¯t care that he¡¯s my boss¡­ I don¡¯t care that he¡¯s a few years older!¡­ I love him¡­ and that means it¡¯s you guys¡¯ job to love him too! If you can¡¯t do that¡­ then¡­¡±

    Both her mums look as stunned as I feel before Heidi starts ¡°¡­I¡¯m¡­ we¡¯re sorry¡­ Tunie¡­ we just¡­ we care about you¡­ you know? We want to know that you aren¡¯t being taken advantage of¡­ we¡¯re sorry¡­¡±

    Katr¨ªn bursts out laughing, seeming to shock all three of us ¡°I¡¯m not sorry!¡­ You must be something quite special, boy, if you not only managed to get Tunie to initiate things but then got that reaction out of her! Anyone who can make my little girl that fierce has my blessing to be with her!¡±

    Astonished, I answer ¡°¡­ Err¡­ thank you, Katr¨ªn¡­ that¡­ means¡­ that means a lot!¡±

    Shaking her head in mock disappointment, Heidi responds ¡°It would be really nice if you could think about things as a mother, for once, rather than a warrior, darling(!)¡±

    ¡°Bah, no fun in that(!)¡± smirks Katr¨ªn with a single downward wave of her palm.

    ¡°¡­ anyway¡­¡± continues Heidi, turning her attention back to me and Tuun ¡°¡­ we should probably talk about the plan for when you guys visit¡­¡±

    ---some time later---

    ¡°Byeeee¡± we all say in unison, before Tuun cuts off the call.

    A few seconds of silence follow before I turn to her and say ¡°Well¡­ that could have gone a lot worse.¡±

    ¡°Could have gone a lot better, too!¡± she responds, gloomily ¡°I¡¯m so sorry about them grilling you like that!¡±

    I pull her into a standing position then into a cuddle before saying ¡°I¡¯m not sorry¡­ I¡¯m glad they¡¯re worried about you¡­ that¡¯s¡­ sorta what I always imagined having a mum would be like¡­ plus¡­¡± I pull away just enough to look into her eyes and smile warmly ¡°¡­you realise that was the first time you¡¯ve used the ¡®L word¡¯, right?¡±

    A look of panic crosses her face as she starts ¡°I¡­ that¡­ it¡¯s¡­¡±

    I kiss her, tenderly, and that stops her¡­

    After some time I pull away and, looking straight into her eyes, say ¡°I love you too, Tuun¡­ I love you¡­ more than anything!¡±

    A radiant smile breaks across her face and she comes in for another kiss.

    Her hands move to the hem of my shirt and, before I know what¡¯s happening, she¡¯s whisked it off me.

    ¡°Errr¡­ guys?¡± comes a voice that causes both of us to freeze in horror.

    ¡°We can still see you¡­ you never ended the call¡­¡± reveals Heidi¡¯s disembodied voice.

    Fuck! Tuun didn¡¯t end the call at all! She just cut off the display! I didn¡¯t notice because the buttons were right next to eachother and were the same fucking colour!!!

    ¡°Mums!!! Why didn¡¯t you say anything?!?!?!¡± cries Tuun, her face flushed with a more vivid purple than I¡¯ve ever seen on it.

    ¡°Well¡­ you were having such a lovely moment¡­ I didn¡¯t want to interrupt¡­¡±

    ¡°Nice physique, bro!¡± chimes Katr¨ªn, sounding amused.

    I don¡¯t think it matters anymore if they have a colour image or not¡­ my flush will show up, regardless!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.22

    ---Departure---

    I stand atop Victor¡¯s shoulder with Fluffy at his side. His hand is placed between her ears, scritching absently, as we walk.

    Kas, Dr Saabir, Dr Gomes and a¡­ familiar looking woman walk on her other side.

    On our right, walks Emiko Miyazaki with Ms. Hunter a few paces behind her, wearing ridiculously heavy looking armour, coloured silver and teal with royal blue gauntlets. The only parts of her skin that are visible are the area around her eyes and mouth, her nose and cheeks being protected by guards that jut from the helmet she wears.

    It has been explained to me that there was an attempt made to place the armour on the hovertrolley, with her and Emiko¡¯s other possessions, but that overloaded it¡­ it must be as heavy as it looks!

    Turning his head to the one member of the group that I¡¯ve not been introduced to, Victor says ¡°I really enjoyed your playing in the piazza the other week! I take it you¡¯re Amahle Nxele?¡±

    Ah, she was the [busker]¡­ who played the sad songs¡­

    Seeming surprised to be addressed she turns her head to Victor ¡°Uhm¡­ yes, that¡¯s me¡­ I remember you two¡­ you stopped to listen¡­ and both tipped, right? Thank you.¡±

    Victor waves a hand ¡°You played really well and I enjoyed it¡­ thank you!¡­ It looks as if congratulations¡¯re in order! Who was it that asked?¡±¡­ what¡¯s he talking about?

    The three of them all reflexively move their respective right hands to their lefts, drawing my attention to the matching rings they wear on their second to last finger.

    Kas smiles smugly ¡°I asked¡­¡±

    The other two look slightly embarrassed.

    ¡°Forgive my ignorance but¡­ asked what?¡± I probe.

    ¡°Kas popped the question, Cap. They¡¯re engaged.¡± answers Victor, turning his face up to mine.

    I have to think for a moment before I¡¯m able to make sense of that.

    ¡°I thought¡­ aren¡¯t Terrans monogamous?¡± I ask, uncertainly.

    Victor chuckles and answers ¡°Mostly we are¡­ but you know our general attitude is ¡®live an¡¯ let live¡¯! Polys ain¡¯t hurtin¡¯ no one, so we ain¡¯t gonna tell ¡¯em they gotta conform to monogamy ¡¯cause they¡¯re offendin¡¯ our sensibilities(!)¡± before turning back to the three and saying ¡°Good luck with the weddin¡¯, you three!¡±

    They smile appreciatively.

    I think for a moment before saying ¡°I¡¯m sorry to have to take Kas away from the two of you for so long¡­ will you be alright without her?¡±

    Dr Saabir smiles, sombrely ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not ideal¡­ but¡­ we¡¯ll call whenever our schedules all line up and she has FTLcom signal¡­ it¡¯ll give us time to plan the wedding¡­ We might even shop around for a clinic to get a child from, though that¡¯s not certain yet.¡±

    ¡°Are¡­ are you not able to have children naturally?¡± I ask, slightly unsure if I¡¯m being rude.

    Kas laughs ¡°We could! Amahle and I could get our reproductive cycles reactivated, very easily, and Luul could father a child with either of us¡­ but we¡¯ve all agreed that that¡¯s not how we want to do it. If we¡¯re going to have kids we want ones that are an equal mix of all three of us. Our kids¡­ not mine and Lu¡¯s or Ami¡¯s and Lu¡¯s¡­ Mine, Ami¡¯s and Lu¡¯s¡­ can¡¯t do that the natural way¡­¡±

    I chew that over for a bit.

    Dr Gomes turns to Victor ¡°You really don¡¯t mind about me taking Gloam? I know Fluffy is OK with it but¡­¡±

    Victor shakes his head ¡°I can¡¯t imagine a better home for him! Luul¡¯s told me about all the prima donnas you¡¯ve had to chase off! Sorry about that¡­ If you¡¯re happy to take him and Fluffy¡¯s happy with you takin¡¯ him, I¡¯m happy. Honestly, the only reason I didn¡¯t suggest you or Luul adoptin¡¯ any of ¡¯em, myself, was ¡¯cause I assumed, if it was feasible, you¡¯d suggest it¡­ didn¡¯t want to pressure you!¡±

    Dr Gomes looks pleased and there is a brief silence as we walk.

    After a while, Emiko says ¡°I¡¯m glad that we¡¯re finally going to be underway!¡­ I don¡¯t believe ¡®mirkbeast weaning¡¯ has ever been given as an official reason for delay before(!)¡­ Probably ever, not just as long as the ODR has existed¡­ I know it¡¯s only been a week since the last of the other arrangements were made but¡­ that is a week in which, however unlikely, the species may have died out from one thing or another¡­!¡±

    Kas whips her head to Emiko and says ¡°Can you talk about that with these three here? They¡¯re not under NDA!¡±

    Emiko smiles ¡°They¡¯re not idiots, are they? I¡¯m sure, even if you didn¡¯t tell them, they were able to work it out¡­ as long as they don¡¯t go selling the story to a tabloid site or bandying it about the galnet¡­ well, there''ll be no need for ODR officers to knock on their door¡­ will there?¡±

    She just spoke so sweetly yet, from the look on Drs Gomes¡¯, Saabir¡¯s and Ms. Nxele¡¯s faces, it¡¯s clear that they understood the threat!

    Turning her attention to me, Emiko asks ¡°You¡¯re certain about the stops? X¨©n de Q¨ªn, Neonesia and Nova Fennoscandia? If you divert us around any of those it will cause delays as we¡¯ll either need to wait for the personnel, currently making their way to those planets, to meet us on another or find replacements for them.¡±

    I smile and look forward, at the gates of Bahari ya Kaskazini, coming into view ¡°Quite sure, Emiko¡­ no need to fret¡­¡± causing a satisfied nod from her.

    ¡°I assume I¡¯ll have the opportunity to meet the three I haven¡¯t yet, at the party tonight?¡± I query.

    ¡°You should do, I¡¯ve made it clear that it will be a good chance to get to know the crew so they oughtn¡¯t to hide in their rooms on Deck 4(!)¡± she answers.

    ¡°Good¡­ I¡¯ll look forward to it¡­¡±

    We reach the gate and are surrounded by an escort of, fully armed and armoured, soldiers who walk us across the barracks¡¯ grounds. It¡¯s¡­ a little ironic that they¡¯re willing to allow a mirkbeast to roam freely about town, with only Victor to guard her, but here, in the place on the planet where she¡¯d most quickly be neutralised if she were to suddenly rampage, she needs a full guard(!)

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    We enter the hangar and, before we begin climbing the boarding ramp, Kas hugs her [fianc¨¦] and [fianc¨¦e] goodbye¡­ with not a few tears.

    We board the ship, waving goodbyes at Drs Saabir and Gomes as well as Ms. Nxele.

    ¡°I have to get to the Bridge to take us up but the rest of you can stay here to wave them off as we ascend, if you like.¡± I say, addressing the group.

    There are smiles and nods, from all of them, as I make my way through the Starboard side door.

    Emiko and Ms. Hunter have no one to wave goodbye to but make no move to leave¡­

    They probably want to admire the view, as we take off.

    ---later---

    ¡°Captain on Bridge!¡± sings Twila as I walk through the door.

    The Bridge crew stand and render their respective species¡¯ salutes. I dip my head and slightly extend my wings, indicating them to return to their posts.

    I always felt such pomp a little unnecessary on a civilian ship but was overruled by my Clanmother, on the question of whether to do away with it.

    I step atop the Captain¡¯s perch and have my Communications Officer patch me through to local Aerospace Control.

    ¡°This is Captain Tcakqaal of the Bright Plume, requesting permission to take off.¡±

    ¡°We hear you Captain, sending a route out of system now.¡±

    The route appears on the display in front of me and, doublechecking that there are no issues with it, I lock it in.

    ¡°Route confirmed.¡±

    ¡°Confirmed, you are cleared for take-off.¡±

    Twila begins our ascent out of the hangar and the Zanzibari vista is visible for a few minutes, outside the front window, before we angle upwards and begin our atmospheric exit.

    I¡¯ve greatly enjoyed myself on this planet¡­ I wonder if I¡¯ll ever return¡­

    ---that evening (ship time)---

    Having brought the ship to warp and made my way from the Bridge to the central section of Deck 0, I enter the Canteen to see it crowded with nearly every crew member.

    With the new additions, Humans are now the single most numerous species aboard.

    It¡¯s interesting to see how they dominate the room.

    Emiko holds court over a crowd composed of about 9 different species, Ms. Hunter stood close behind her (thankfully out of her armour¡­ I would hate to think how much more uncomfortable she¡¯d make people, if she were still dressed like that(!)). Victor and Tuun seem to be acquainting themselves with what I presume to be the ODR¡¯s gardenworlder contingent from Zanzibar. Lt. Loper is talking animatedly to Kwijj and Jjop, about something. The Zunberis are having a pleasant chat with the Shings and a few others. Dr Mink is sitting nearby, wearing what seems to be her trademark glower. Krish and Hasiakh are sitting with Sha¡¯anza, Igthan, W''ham B''ham and Hamtonio¡­ laughing about something. Even Sha¡¯anza seems at ease! She¡¯s typically one of the more anxious members of the crew.

    Then my eyes alight on a table at which sit three¡­ Humans? Certainly two of them are Human¡­ but the third?¡­ She looks the wrong height to be an adult¡­ but the wrong proportions to be a child¡­ not that there should be a child on a mission like this(!)

    They aren¡¯t talking with anyone, even eachother¡­ let¡¯s fix that.

    I make my way to the table and raise my wing in greeting ¡°Hello you three, I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve met¡­ might I join you?¡±

    Seeming a little taken aback, they nod an assent and gesture to the empty stool.

    ¡°Niyol Hatathli.¡± says one.

    ¡°C??ng Phan.¡± says the second.

    ¡°Olga Petrikov.¡± says the third¡­ The very short one I¡¯m not entirely sure is the same species as the other two.

    ¡°Tcakqaal¡­ A pleasure to meet all of you.¡± I answer choosing to forego my Clan name and rank, in the interests of modesty.

    I turn my attention to Ms. Petrikov and carefully start ¡°Forgive me but¡­ are you a Terr¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m Terran. Yes, I¡¯m Human. Yes, I¡¯m Homo sapiens. Yes, I¡¯m an adult. It¡¯s called ¡®achondroplasia¡¯ or, more generally, ¡®dwarfism¡¯. Yes, I could get it treated with gene therapy. No, I don¡¯t want to.¡± she interrupts, wearily.

    ¡°I sincerely apologise, Ms. Petrikov¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to offend you.¡± I say. This is clearly a sore spot for her.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine¡­ It¡¯s just¡­ I have to have the same conversation with everyone I meet¡­ the same questions, every time¡­ I know it¡¯s not your fault¡­ gardenworlds tend to produce very genetically homogenous populations and gardenworlders tend to correct all irregularities with intervention so you¡¯re not used to people who look so divergent from their species¡¯ norm. Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s more insulting when I have to have the conversation with Terrans!¡±

    I choose not to ask why she does not wish to be treated, what with the difficulty she must face for being shorter than me, in a society where most people aren¡¯t [achondroplasic]. Given the exhausted way she answered the rest of my questions before I¡¯d asked them, it would probably be irritating.

    Instead I ask ¡°What is your profession, Ms. Petrikov?¡±

    It¡¯s very unusual that I have to ask the job title of a person aboard my ship¡­ This is the first time I¡¯ve had anyone employed aboard, that I didn¡¯t personally hire!

    ¡°I¡¯m an analyst, when we get to AG10790263b it¡¯ll be my job to lead the interpretation of all the data we get back from the orbital scans and ground team¡­ I won¡¯t be going down myself(!)¡± she winks.

    I nod.

    ¡°What about you two? Mr. Hatathli? Mr. Phan?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ we''re observers from the UTC¡¯s Humanitarian corps. It¡¯s¡­ our job to treat any injuries, make sure this species gets treated humanely and report any incidents and violations to the GU, ODR and UTC.¡± responds Phan.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll appreciate your efforts. Our existing medics¡­ wouldn¡¯t be cleared for deathworld excursions(!)¡± I say, mirthfully.

    Hatathli leans conspiratorially across the table to me and says ¡°Hey, Tcakqaal¡­ How much do you know about the Captain?¡±

    I am about to say that I am the Captain¡­ but stop myself¡­ this might be interesting¡­

    ¡°A fair bit¡­ why? What have you heard?¡±

    ¡°I heard she gave Mistress Miyazaki a telling off during the briefing!¡± laughs Hatathli.

    ¡°I heard she¡¯s the original pilot of the ODR¡¯s Security Officer programme. I heard that the last week we¡¯ve been waiting to set off was because there was a mirkbeast at the uni that she was waiting to bring aboard!¡± adds Phan.

    ¡°I heard she rode that mirkbeast to the rescue when they fought those pirates they brought in(!)¡± laughs Ms. Petrikov ¡°You can¡¯t believe everything you hear!¡±

    ¡°All true¡­¡± I state with some amusement at the look of disbelief that instantly falls over their faces ¡°¡­though, in her defence, the mirkbeast was brought onto the ship by CSS Taylor¡­ she was originally very against keeping it and only reluctantly agreed, after he pointed out that the rules allow any and all pet types that are not actively aggressive to sapients and¡­ well the first time she escaped confinement¡­ she proved herself tame¡­ just about(!)¡±

    All three of them look back at me with deathworlder distrust.

    ¡°How do you know all that?¡± asks Petrikov.

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m very [plugged in] to the goings on aboard this ship¡­ the Captain and I are quite close(!)¡±

    Furrowing his brow, Hatathli asks ¡°What¡¯s your job¡­ Tcakqaal?¡±

    Just then, Victor shouts ¡°Cap!¡± causing every pair of eyes facing me to widen¡­ mine twist into an amused smile.

    ¡°I see you¡¯re makin¡¯ friends¡­¡± he says, drawing up to the table.

    ¡°Just so, Victor¡­ these three and I were just discussing your¡­ unorthodox choice of companion animal(!)¡± I respond, still mirthful.

    ¡°Oh? They were askin¡¯ about Fluffy?¡± he turns his attention to the others, smiling ¡°You¡¯re all welcome in Triple M, any time you wanna meet her!¡±

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± calls Tuun from across the room.

    ¡°Oop, gotta go! Seeya ¡¯round!¡± he smiles turning to leave.

    They stare disbelievingly from his back, as he walks away, back to me.

    It¡¯s a rather euphoric feeling to have [pulled the wool over the eyes] of a table full of Terrans!

    ¡°We¡¯ve been tricked, we¡¯ve been backstabbed and we¡¯ve been, quite possibly, bamboozled(!)¡± laughs Hatathli.

    ¡°Indeed you have been(!)¡± I nod.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell us you were the Captain?¡± asks Phan.

    ¡°I was interested in the candid things you¡¯d say when you didn¡¯t know¡­ I hope you can forgive the deception¡­¡± I say with a Terran [wink]

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe a gardenworlder just managed to trick all three of us.¡± sighs Petrikov ¡°Astonishing!¡±

    Still smiling, I answer ¡°Don¡¯t feel too bad¡­ According to Mr. Taylor¡­ I have the dubious distinction of being an honorary deathworlder(!)¡±

    I stand to leave before turning back to them ¡°If you wish to be astonished some more¡­ well¡­ you might try mingling a little¡­ gardenworlders might surprise you(!)¡­ You¡¯re a little¡­ unapproachable¡­ huddled in this corner like this(!)¡±

    With three looks of mild embarrassment, they begin getting up from the table to make their respective ways toward groups they might mingle with.

    I hope they get on well enough with everyone¡­

    It could be a long voyage otherwise(!)

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.23

    ---Play---

    ¡°Will you sit down, girl, I can¡¯t relax with you hovering like that(!)¡± says Emiko with a pretence of frustration.

    ¡°Mistress Miyazaki¡­ if you are approached from behind¡­¡± says Ms. Hunter, face placid and unreadable.

    ¡°If I am approached from behind, in a room full of people, someone will spot the attacker, won¡¯t they? If you¡¯re worried that anyone at the table has intentions on my life, then you¡¯d surely be better placed to protect me in this space between me and your girlfriend, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± grins Emiko.

    Ms. Hunter has a brief and (to me) unreadable expression pass over her face as she takes her seat between Emiko and Lt. Lo¡­ Xon.

    Everyone¡¯s attention returns to the tabletop.

    A display of a miniature warzone is projected there.

    In front of Kas stands an army of mechanical¡­ vaguely humanoid skeletons¡­ there were a lot more at the start of the game¡­

    In front of Jennie stands an army of green humanoids with tusks, whose technology looks to have been cobbled together from scrap metal. She definitely appears to be winning¡­ based solely on numbers¡­

    In front of Victor stands a fortress, defended by Terrans¡­ after a fashion.

    The odd one, whose body or head is fully exposed, look like Homo sapiens¡­ the rest¡­ well they¡¯re nearly as wide as they are tall and have an overall volume that make the black armour they wear look less like armour and more like small mechsuits(!)¡­ Are they mechsuits?

    The usual sleekness of Terran battle-armour is, in this universe, adorned with symbols, the full significance of many of which I¡¯m certain must be missing my beak(!) There are a lot of Human skulls on them, though!

    The way they¡¯ve been fighting thus far¡­ has been¡­ frightening, as has Victor¡¯s [roleplay]. This seems to be a canon in which, not only are Humans exactly the terrifying monsters we always imagined deathworlders would be but every race in the galaxy is, as well! Leading to a state of constant all-out war!

    ¡°How old is this game?¡± I quietly ask Brunhilda.

    ¡°This? Seven hundred years¡­ eight? I¡¯d guess closer to seven.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ your battle armour¡­ it didn¡¯t look like that in that period¡­ did it?¡± I query, fairly certain I know the answer.

    She chuckles ¡°No¡­ that style of armour wasn¡¯t viable until we had durasteel¡­ had to wait until about two hundred years ago. Of course¡­ it wasn¡¯t really all that useful until the First Contact War.¡±

    I consider the fact that Terrans so closely predicted the style of armour they wouldn¡¯t have for [half a millennium]!

    Kas raises a fist containing many cuboid random number generators which she scatters on the table.

    She enters a command I don¡¯t fully comprehend, with a stony face¡­ though, unlike the unreadable expression that Ms. Hunter always wears¡­ I can see furious calculation going on behind her eyes.

    Her gleaming, steel skeletons advance on Jennie¡¯s army of monsters and¡­ fail to have much effect.

    ¡°Krush dem all!¡± screams Jennie, rolling her cubes while [roleplaying] the personality apparently assigned to her faction.

    Indeed, her rolls allow her to finish the last of Kas¡¯ forces.

    Kas throws up her arms and says ¡°This game is impossible! How are you meant to win!?¡± now having dropped the ice cold silence that was her [roleplay].

    ¡°Bein¡¯ betta!¡± says Jennie, not dropping her fa?ade.

    This causes Kas to screw up her eyes and purse her lips in a mocking expression.

    It¡¯s Victor¡¯s turn and, affecting a sophisticated manner of speech that is translated to make him sound like the son of a Clanmother (though with harshness and aggression that I¡¯m sure no Clanmother¡¯s progeny has ever had) and using his holopad, hung at his neck, as a voicechanger to give his voice a gravelly, garbled, robotic quality, says ¡°Sons and Daughters of the Imperium, forgive me that I must order you to waste ammunition against the worthless bodies of these xeno scum! Those who would dare defile our Holy City must have their carcasses cast from its walls! This is OUR City! This is OUR world! Cry it out so the bastards in orbit will hear our fury! GLORY TO THE GOD EMPEROR!!!¡±

    He casts his randomisers and then screams ¡°FIRE!!!¡± immediately followed by his forces unleashing a withering volley against Jennie¡¯s.

    About a quarter of her remaining monsters are felled by Victor¡¯s attack¡­ but she still outnumbers him¡­

    It being her turn now, she releases her chance pieces and smiles before entering a command that sees Victor¡¯s walls scaled and troops massacred in bloody [hand-to-hand].

    ¡°WAAAGH!" she screams as his troops are hacked apart by hers.

    Her turn ended, Victor looks certain to have lost, only having a handful of troops remaining, entirely surrounded by Jennie¡¯s green, tusked monsters.

    With no [roleplay], this time, he scoops up his cubes and drops them¡­ before a sinister smile adorns his face.

    ¡°Exterminatus¡­¡± he says, now affecting sombre disconsolation.

    Shock breaks over my face as the arena is engulfed in vicious explosions.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    When the firestorm is cleared, it reveals no surviving troops, of any faction.

    Victor throws up his hands in triumph.

    ¡°I am undefeated!¡± fearsome pretence now dropped and holopad inferring (presumably from its interface with his translator) that he does not wish this speech to be roboticised.

    ¡°Bullshit, you are!¡± cries Jennie with an accusing point ¡°Every time you start losing, you pull an exterminatus out of your arse!¡±

    Victor smirks ¡°Yes¡­ thus makin¡¯ me undefeated¡­ you did agree to play with it enabled as an option!¡±

    ¡°I think we¡¯re going to need to revisit that decision.¡± says Kas with a cocked eyebrow ¡°I realise that the game is a lot less fun when you can just flip the table whenever you¡¯re going to lose. How long do you think your undefeated streak will last if you can''t blow everyone up from orbit to force a draw?¡±

    I interrupt, still rather horrified ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Victor just used orbital bombardment¡­ on his own troops?!¡±

    Jennie gives a mirthful smirk ¡°Not just orbital bombardment, Captain, he glassed the planet!¡±

    I look around the room and see no indication of deception¡­

    ¡°I¡¯ll never understand how you Terrans can be such [teddybears], in real life, and yet have such horrible imaginations!¡± I say, shaking my head to convey my disbelief.

    To my knowledge, the GU never even considered glassing worlds until our War with the Terrans (long after we had the capability to do so)!

    To imagine it when your species hasn¡¯t even left your home system!

    To imagine glassing your own world, simply to deny it to an enemy!¡­

    My musing on that is interrupted by Brunhilda asking ¡°Hey¡­ guys do you ever think that¡­ well, we consume a lot of pop culture from the twentieth and twenty first centuries, don¡¯t we?¡± her hands absently working through the fur of, a very comfortable looking, Sam.

    ¡°How d¡¯ya figure?¡± asks Victor, one arm now around, a content looking, Tuun, the other hand between, a blissful looking, Fluffy¡¯s ears.

    She frowns ¡°Well¡­ this¡­ the film we watched the other week¡­ the amount of early Tech Age songs we sing, games we play, books we know, films we watch, etc. etc¡­ You think, if someone was watching us from the twenty first century, they might come to the conclusion that there had been no cultural development for the centuries in between then and now?¡±

    Jennie laughs ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯d be worried about in that scenario, Hildy? Not the fifth dimensional peeping Toms?¡­ You¡¯d be worried about them being judgemental of our pop culture choices?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ when you put it like that(!)¡­¡± responds Brunhilda.

    Victor has a pensive expression on his face as he says ¡°I think you¡¯re right, Samus. I think if someone was lookin¡¯ in on us, it very easily could look to ¡¯em like there¡¯s been no pop culture since about 2050¡­ but I think that¡¯d be for a very specific reason¡­¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you enlighten us(?)¡­¡± interjects Hasiakh, her arms and tail firmly encasing, a relaxed looking, Krish.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯d be, ¡¯cause they¡¯d skip over all the stuff that wouldn¡¯t mean nothin¡¯ to ¡¯em, wouldn¡¯t it? They ain¡¯t gonna be interested in watchin¡¯ us watch films from the 25th century, or listen to the latest hits by Fleem X, are they?!¡­ Wouldn¡¯t mean nothin¡¯ to ¡¯em¡­ they¡¯d be much more interested in us enjoyin¡¯ stuff that they knew, stuff they enjoyed, stuff they understood¡­ If you cherrypick only the early Tech Age pop culture we enjoy, it¡¯d look like we¡¯d either had a barren cultural dark age for the last six or seven hundred years¡­ oooor¡­ like we were all huge nerds for early Tech Age stuff¡­ wouldn¡¯t it?¡±

    There is a silence as the room, at large, considers that.

    The silence is broken by Krish, speaking out, from beneath his serpentine girlfriend¡¯s head ¡°On a complete subject change¡­ I have a question for you¡­ Err, I¡¯d really prefer not to call you ¡®Mistress Miyazaki¡¯¡­¡±

    Emiko smiles ¡°You can call me ¡®Emiko¡¯¡­ I keep telling this one to call me that but she insists on maintaining a professional relationship with me!¡± she says, indicating Ms. Hunter ¡°I¡¯ve never been particularly in love with being ¡®Mistress Miyazaki¡¯, either(!)¡­ what¡¯s your question, young man?¡±

    ¡°I was just wondering about the planet¡­ from the sounds of it¡­ they haven¡¯t even developed radio transmissions yet¡­ isn¡¯t there a risk of cultural contamination? We could drastically effect the way they view existence, couldn¡¯t we? If they¡¯re banging rocks together to make spears and we tear out of the sky in a starship¡­ isn¡¯t there a pretty high chance that they¡¯ll¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ think we¡¯re gods or something?¡± says Krish, apprehensively.

    Emiko smiles ¡°Ah¡­ you¡¯re asking if there isn¡¯t some Prime Directive? If we might get all the way out there and find that they¡¯re too primitive to contact at the moment and we need to turn back?¡­ I¡¯m going to turn this question over to the room¡¯s only gardenworlder¡­ Tcakqaal¡­¡± she turns her head to me ¡°¡­before Terran First Contact, what was the GU¡¯s policy on First Contacts?¡±

    Feeling slightly put on the spot by her asking me a question she clearly knows the answer to, I think before saying ¡°Well¡­ it was¡­ to get to sapient species as early as we could, offer them a seat in Parliament, work out a plan for technological, cultural and population exchange and¡­ I suppose ¡®bring them into the fold¡¯¡­ we considered it a moderate failure if a species had managed to get starbound before we¡¯d found them¡­¡±

    She gives an approving smile and nods ¡°And why did you want to get to them so early¡­?¡±

    I consider ¡°¡­I suppose¡­ [humanitarian] reasons? That¡¯s not exactly how we would have put it¡­ it was thought about more in terms of the calculus of survival¡­ they are better off spread across multiple worlds with access to the technology that has come from uncountable eons of trial and error, rather than bound, precariously, to a single planet with only what they¡¯ve been able to develop themselves, and we are better off with one more unique species¡¯ perspective on any problem¡­ there are ways of thinking that any species will have that will be unique to them¡­ allowing them to solve problems that we can¡¯t¡­ it¡¯s better to be friends¡­ I suppose.¡± now that I say it aloud, I realise how much it sounds like Terran reasoning¡­ ¡®we want more friends don¡¯t we?! More friends=better!¡¯(!)

    ¡°And¡­ how much thought was given to cultural contamination?¡± she asks, again clearly knowing the answer.

    ¡°Effectively¡­ none. It was assumed that no culture could be so memetic as to replace that of an entirely different species¡­ that no species could be so influenceable as to have their culture erased by contact with outsiders. There¡­ would be loanwords¡­ concepts they hadn¡¯t thought about¡­ concepts they had thought about that no one else had¡­ but that would be about the extent of it.¡±

    Miyazaki smiles ¡°Put your hand up if you think that¡¯s true¡­¡±

    No one¡¯s hand goes up.

    ¡°Obviously, Terran history is fraught with examples of cultural erasure and assimilation after first contacts between people (something almost unheard of on preContact gardenworlds). Usually, not through memeticism but rather military might and greed¡­ it took us a long time to get over the zero sum thinking of our Agricultural Age¡­ ¡®in order for me to have more, someone else must have less! In order for me to win, someone else must lose!¡¯¡­ that¡¯s a mindset that carried on right up until Unification¡­ However, the ODR is now equipped with protocols for First Contact from both gardenworld doctrine and deathworld doctrine. We are reasonably confident that we can avoid any headhunting wars, like the Ecuadorian Shuar had, and societal breakdowns, like what happened to the Yir-Yoront of Australia. We¡¯re also pretty sure we can avoid being worshipped as gods(!)¡± she winks to Krish.

    Just then Twila says ¡°Plus Ultra are on their way here¡­ I assume we want to let them in?¡±

    She is met by a chorus of agreement.

    A few moments pass before the Commonroom door opens followed by three Humans and two gardenworlders entering the room, uncertainly.

    Four fifths of the group freeze upon seeing Fluffy¡­ Ms. Petrikov strides forward straight to her.

    ¡°She¡¯s gorgeous! Can I give her a hug?¡± she addresses Victor.

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± he smiles ¡°¡­ she ain¡¯t got a translator anymore but¡­ well, she¡¯ll let us know if she ain¡¯t in the mood to be touched(!)¡±

    The diminutive woman buries her arms in Fluffy¡¯s fur and presses the side of her face against her shoulder.

    Fluffy turns her head to give the other side of Petrikov¡¯s face a lick with her enormous tongue.

    ¡°Gah! So rough!¡± shrieks a laughing Petrikov.

    ¡°Ah¡­ sorry¡­ probably shoulda warned you she¡¯d want a lick!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.24

    ¡°Exciting! Exciting!¡± yips Sam, jumping boisterously.

    ¡°Shhh! Buddy, we don¡¯t want to be heard!¡± says Brunhilda, giving him a calming stroke.

    ¡°OK, Mummymummy¡­¡± he says, his translator making him¡­ slightly quieter ¡°¡­still exciting!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why I¡¯m part of this, I only met him recently. It¡¯s not exactly like he and I are friends¡­¡± frowns Dr Mink.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t participate in things like this, you¡¯ll never be friends, Fliss!¡± explains an exasperated Kas.

    ¡°Is the secrecy necessary?¡± queries Qorak.

    ¡°The whole thing isn¡¯t always secret¡­ this bit is¡­ sort of¡­ Obviously, you can work it out, if this isn¡¯t your first, but it¡¯s meant to be secret.¡± explains Msia.

    ¡°Krish spent a lot of time on it!¡± says Hasiakh, placing her two, two thumbed, hands on his shoulders.

    ¡°Thanks, Hassi.¡± smiles Krish before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

    ¡°What¡¯s the time?¡± asks Emiko, a silent Ms. Hunter behind her, a relaxed looking Xon draping her arms around her impassive girlfriend¡¯s shoulders.

    ¡°They¡¯re on their way back, we need to get ready.¡± informs Twila.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it, just tell me when.¡± says Jennie, picking up a miniature flame emitting device.

    Twila¡¯s holographic head bobs in agreement.

    There follow a few minutes of relative quiet as we wait.

    ¡°OK, now¡­¡± says Twila, immediately followed by Jennie giving a brief, slightly pyromaniacal, giggle as she ignites the blowtorch and sets the fires.

    Twila turns out the lights, leaving the room illuminated only by combustion.

    Then we hear it¡­ the noise we were waiting for¡­ the reason we didn¡¯t put up the privacy field¡­ the sound of the Triple M hallway door opening and footsteps making their way inside.

    Even though I know there are five pairs of feet, only one is audible. I wonder if I would be able to hear those footsteps if she didn¡¯t intend me to¡­

    The sound draws close to the Commonroom door and I take a preparatory inhale.

    The door slides open, immediately inducing eleven explosive cracks, propelling colourful paper to be blasted in the direction of those who have just entered.

    ¡°SURPRISE!!!¡± shouts the room in unison at a, shocked looking, Victor, who¡¯s now dropping the combat stance he briefly assumed when initially alarmed by the unexpected noise.

    ff?Happy birthday to you!

    Happy birthday to you!

    Happy biiirthday dear Tay-Cudd-Victooor!

    Happy birthday to you!?ff

    We sing as Victor covers his face and gives an embarrassed smile, between his girlfriend and pet.

    Not everyone was able to let off one of the [party poppers]. Qorak and I simply lacked the strength to pull the string with sufficient force to trigger the explosives (and both had, not a little, reservation about triggering, even contained, explosions so close to our wingclaws), Sam, Fluffy and Twila lack the necessary manipular anatomy (though Twila was able to summon a holographic simulation of one) and Fluffy and Tuun would have been unable to conceal [party poppers] if they¡¯d taken them to the gym with him.

    There is a little confusion when it gets to the part of the song where we are to say his name, Qorak, Hasiakh and I had it explained to us that we were to use the name we felt most comfortable with and a little chaos, on that part, is normal and expected.

    As we finish singing Victor walks to the cake and blows out the five wax prisms, one of which is shaped into the Terran numeral for ¡®three¡¯, one of which is shaped into their symbol for nullity, the other three of which are simple sticks, representing tens of [years] he¡¯s lived¡­ or ¡®decades¡¯.

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    The room claps and cheers as he does so.

    ¡°You rascal(!)¡± he says with mirthful, insincere accusation at Tuun ¡°I thought it was weird that you were so keen on goin¡¯ to the gym and stayin¡¯ there so much longer than normal! You were distractin¡¯ me! How d¡¯you even know!?¡±

    Tuun gives a smug smile and says ¡°When we were talking to my mums, you said you were ''coming up on thirty¡¯, I went to Tcakqaal to ask if your birthday was on file, she found it and we started planning this surprise party for you!¡±

    ¡°Awww, thanks baby!¡± he turns to me ¡°Cap¡­ thank you¡­!¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Think nothing of it, Victor. Honestly, I¡¯m a little ashamed that this is the first [birthday] party you¡¯ve had since coming aboard! You should have said something¡­ I knew of this custom, from my study of Terrans, but didn¡¯t quite understand its significance!¡±

    He laughs ¡°Yeah, well¡­ it¡¯d¡¯ve felt a bit conceited to tell a bunch of gardenworlders that they have to throw a party for me, once or twice per cycle, to congratulate me for not dyin¡¯ in the orbital period of a planet tens of thousands of lightyears away(!)¡±

    I chitter ¡°Yes¡­ ¡®not dying¡¯ isn¡¯t quite the achievement in the rest of the galaxy that it is in Terran Space(!)¡±

    Tuun makes her way to Victor¡¯s side and wraps her arms around him ¡°We didn¡¯t tell the crew at large because we knew someone would blab if we did, but¡­ we did prepare an evite to send out if you wanted. We got presents for you, they¡¯re over there¡­ We¡­ might need to relocate to the Canteen if you want to invite everyone and too many people show up¡­¡±

    Victor kisses her and says ¡°Yeah, send the evite¡­ the more the merrier!¡±

    ¡°Sent!¡± interjects Twila.

    ¡°Thanks, Twi!¡­ As to the presents¡­ I don¡¯t know what on Earth you could¡¯ve got me!? What do you get the guy who already has everythin¡¯ he could possibly want or ask for?!¡±

    ¡°It was tricky¡­ but we figured some stuff out¡­ hope you like them!¡± grins Tuun, baring her long teeth.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll love ¡¯em!¡± he says, planting another kiss on her lips.

    Krish produces a long, sharp, metal cutting implement and extends it, handle first, to Victor¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Would you do the honours, birthday boy?¡± he smiles.

    Victor takes the handle and waits for Krish to release the blade before turning it to the cake.

    He makes a confident incision and there is another cheer.

    Pieces are cut for all except Sam, Fluffy, Hasiakh, Twila, Qorak and I, the former three receiving a meat based alternative to suit their carnivory, Twila summoning a holographic piece of cake (and assuring us that she is able to simulate the sensation of eating cake for herself) and Qorak and I receiving a delectable fruit based cake.

    ¡°So¡­ thirty¡­! Do you feel like an old man, yet(?)¡± quips Emiko, as we eat.

    Victor laughs ¡°Not really¡­ sorta don¡¯t feel any different to how I did yesterday¡­ part of me still feels sixteen years old(!)¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always the way! The older you get the less meaningful birthdays become¡­ I¡¯m sure that¡¯ll be all the more the case, now that we have regen tech! When you¡¯re five hundred, you¡¯ll be utterly uninterested in people throwing birthday parties for you!¡±

    ¡°Have you heard that the first Human is about to pass two hundred?¡± interjects Xon.

    ¡°Really?¡± queries Krish.

    ¡°Yeah, Hiranur Tiryaki from Yeni T¨¹rkiye¡­ she was the oldest Human alive when Terran regen was cracked and will, likely, always be the oldest Human at first treatment! I mean¡­ unless someone else decides they¡¯re going to live a natural lifespan, makes it past a hundred and seventy, then changes their mind(!) I can get a picture of her if you¡¯re interested?¡±

    There is general agreement that we are all interested in seeing a picture of the oldest Human alive.

    Xon starts to dig for her holopad when Twila projects two images beside one another.

    ¡°Oh¡­ thanks!¡± smiles Xon.

    The image on the left is of a wizened woman with sparse white hair, milky white eyes, wrinkled, waxy skin and, seemingly, none of the oral outcrops of bone that Terrans use for slicing and grinding their food (not having gizzards). The image on the right is of a vibrant, smiling woman with sleek black hair, the sight restored to her eyes, the youth restored to her smooth, olive brown skin, her smile exposing a mouthful of healthy, white bones.

    ¡°Is she¡­? What¡¯s her lineage?¡± I ask uncertainly.

    ¡°She¡¯s a hybrid, she¡¯s got ancestry from all four Human lineages that existed when she was born¡­ they hadn¡¯t sequenced Tshwane genes at the time, so we didn¡¯t exist¡­ her hybrid vigour is thought to be a large part of what allowed her to naturally live so long.¡± Explains Xon.

    ¡°According to her Galactopedia article; she is three eigths Sapiens, three eigths Longi and had a Neanderthal great grandmother and a Denisovan great grandfather.¡± elaborates Twila.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ rather a unique appearance it¡¯s given her¡­¡± I observe.

    ¡°You mean she looks like a total babe(?)¡± laughs Xon.

    ¡°She does?¡± I ask, genuinely unsure.

    There is a chorus of agreement that the Hiranur, on the right, is extremely attractive by Terran standards.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s any chance that, by astronomical coincidence, she¡¯s one of the ones who¡¯ll be meeting us on the pickup stops, is there(?)¡± jokes Jennie.

    Emiko laughs ¡°To my knowledge, no! If she does come aboard, you¡¯ll have to fight me for her(!)¡­ I¡¯m sure your girlfriend will be on my side(!)¡±

    Jennie clings to Brunhilda¡¯s side and gives her a reassuring kiss.

    ¡°Do you want to open the presents now, Victor?¡± asks Tuun.

    He thinks a moment ¡°Yeah¡­ probably best if we don¡¯t leave it until others arrive. They might feel bad for not havin¡¯ got me anythin¡¯! Not that they could¡¯ve!¡­ Considerin¡¯ that they didn¡¯t know it were my birthday and most of ¡¯em prob¡¯ly don¡¯t know what¡¯s expected for a Terran birthday(!)¡±

    We move to the pile of presents and, with some ceremony, he begins receiving the gifts we prepared.

    I hope he''s pleased with them!

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlude IX: Pancakes and Jackets

    ---Victor¡¯s Perspective---

    I¡¯m walking back to Triple M with Tuun beside me.

    ¡°I¡¯m just gonna say ¡¯night to Fluffy before you give me this ¡®other part¡¯ of your present¡­¡± I smile up at her.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ reasonably confident you¡¯ll like it¡­¡± she grins back ¡°¡­though¡­ in truth, it¡¯s as much a gift to myself as you¡­ maybe a little more a gift to myself(!)¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure, whatever it is, I¡¯ll prob¡¯ly enjoy it enough for it to qualify as a gift for me(!)¡± I say, pulling her head down to give her a peck on the cheek.

    She giggles, warming my heart.

    We make it to Triple M and part, briefly, for me to give a hearty goodnight to Fluffy and for her to ¡®prepare¡¯.

    ¡°Five minutes?¡±

    ¡°¡­Hmmm¡­ ten, I think. Is that OK?¡± she asks, as if she¡¯s genuinely worried that I might say I don¡¯t want the present, at all, if I have to wait so long(!)

    ¡°¡¯Course!¡± I smile back, reassuringly.

    She beams before disappearing into our room.

    I make my way to what used to be my room.

    When I open the door, I¡¯m slammed against the wall by two pairs of mitten paws.

    She yowls at me.

    I reach up to jiggle her enormous cheeks.

    She extends that sandpaper rough tongue to scour the side of my face.

    ¡°Gah!¡± I laugh.

    ¡°Alright girl, I can play with you for a bit but then I gotta go! Tuun¡¯s got another ¡®present¡¯ for me. We might join the Cuddle Puddle later¡­ I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t be alone tonight, whatever happens¡­ Not with so many in the Dorm, now!¡±

    I¡¯m not sure exactly how much she can understand me, now that she doesn¡¯t have a translator, but¡­ well, she can let me know if she¡¯s unhappy¡­

    ---a little more than ten minutes of roughhousing later---

    Pulse up, I¡¯m feeling the last of my tipsiness fade as I make my way back to our room.

    I hesitate, wondering if I should just walk in or not¡­

    I decide to knock.

    ¡°Come in¡­¡± I hear her respond.

    I wave the door open and walk inside before locking the door and hitting the privacy field.

    ¡°I see the enthusiasm for historical reenactment is a family trait(!)¡± I say, mirthfully.

    She has her silky white hair in twin pigtails at the top of her head, her lips done up in scarlet red lipstick and she¡¯s dressed in a pinstriped skirt and jacket combo (which seems like it might have been a professional look for a woman who lived in the early to mid-20th Century) and a pair of glasses!

    Clear lenses haven¡¯t been more than a fashion statement for anyone, for about six hundred years! That was the last time anyone needed light refracting glass to correct their vision!

    The whole effect is ¡®late 1940s businesswoman¡¯!

    ¡°Do you like it?¡± she asks, hopefully.

    It¡¯s definitely striking but¡­ I wonder where she got the idea for it? I don¡¯t¡­ recall expressing a desperate attraction to the aesthetic. I¡¯d best reassure her, though!

    ¡°Very sexy!¡­ I¡¯m sensin¡¯ there¡¯s a story to go with it?¡± I grin.

    She returns the grin and explains ¡°Yeah¡­ so, I was working on a commission someone sent me and¡­ well, they requested a ¡®straitjacket¡¯¡­ I sort of fell down a rabbit hole researching things to match the aesthetic of the time period they were used in and¡­ wanted to try it out¡­ I¡¯ve got a two part animation I made for the story, a leather straitjacket, a ballgag and some rope in this box here¡­ I was thinking we could watch part one then you can tie me up before we watch part two?¡±

    ¡°A two part animation and kinky, 20th Century asylum themed sex with the most gorgeous woman in the universe(!?) That¡¯s on top of these lovely figurines you made(!?)¡± I gesture to the nanoforged miniatures of all the Triple Ms, as well as Cap, that were her¡­ ¡®public¡¯ present for me ¡°You¡¯re really spoilin¡¯ me, baby!¡±

    She walks to me and, bending slightly to wrap her arms around my shoulders, she kisses me¡­ I hope she doesn¡¯t mess up that sexy lipstick! Fuck, she smells so good!

    ¡°Maybe you deserve to be spoiled a bit¡­¡± she smiles, showing me her long canines.

    ¡°Ha! Isn¡¯t that what I¡¯m always tellin¡¯ you(?!)¡± I answer, derisively.

    ¡°Exactly¡­ take your own advice¡­(!)¡± she answers, with unusual confidence.

    ¡°Alright then¡­ *kiss*¡­ spoil me(!)¡± I smirk.

    She smiles and takes out her holopad to send me the two animation files.

    We recline together, on the bed, and I flick the first to the wall.

    The greyscale animation that she does, resulting from her colourblindness, really compliments the noir aesthetic¡­ I wonder if she¡¯s aware¡­

    Her character¡¯s walking through the drab halls of what looks like a mid-20th century asylum (or perhaps penitentiary) from the American States¡­

    Of course, it requires a little suspension of disbelief to imagine that the Humans around her wouldn¡¯t be freaking out about the 220cm, four armed, four finger handed, elf eared, blue skinned, white haired, glowing eyed alien babe, in a miniskirt and suit jacket, who¡¯s casually walking past them in a time period that would¡¯ve been seven hundred and fifty years precontact, more than two hundred years preuplifts and nearly a hundred and fifty years before we first resurrected Neanderthals¡­ but I¡¯m very happy to suspend my disbelief on that¡­ given how well she wears a miniskirt and suit jacket(!)

    The, greyscale, Tuun draws up to a door and enters a room, with a simple ironbarred cell, in which sits me.

    I¡¯m sitting on a wooden bench with a scowl on my face and am wearing a uniform that could be that of a prison inmate or psychiatric patient. It doesn¡¯t particularly matter which.

    ¡°Good afternoon, Mr. Taylor¡­ I¡¯m Dr Tuun. I¡¯ve been asked to assess you¡­ I hope we can get along.¡± Smiles ¡®Dr Tuun¡¯.

    I glare up at her from behind the bars and answer ¡°¡­ Oh, I¡¯d be very happy to ¡®get along¡¯ with you(!)¡±

    The clear threatening subtext in my synthesised voice lines is either ignored or missed by Tuun¡¯s character, who smiles ¡°Now¡­ I¡¯ve been told not to, under any circumstances, open the door to your cell but¡­ well, it¡¯s a little difficult to talk, or examine you, properly, with these bars in the way, so¡­ if I let you out, can it stay our little secret?¡±

    My inmate/patient character gives a sinister smirk ¡°No problem at all, Doc(!) I¡¯m glad to see such¡­ trust from someone like you¡­ most staff wouldn¡¯t trust me to be out of my cell without bein¡¯ muzzled, jacketed and havin¡¯ several guns trained on me(!)¡±

    Tuun¡¯s character smiles and nods sympathetically, as if she¡¯s genuinely unaware and unable to work out why such measures might be necessary (it requires a little more suspension of disbelief to accept her having got this job, while so na?ve(!)) before producing a set of analogue keys and unlocking the cell.

    ¡°Sorry to have to ask this, Mr. Taylor, but, for your physical, I¡¯ll need you to take off your clothes¡­¡±

    My character smirks and begins removing his shirt to reveal a, very flatteringly animated, hench physique.

    There is a shot of Dr Tuun very briefly flicking her eyes down to my stomach and biting her lip¡­ that was quite a subtle expression for her to have thought of including¡­

    ¡°Thank you, Mr Taylor, I¡¯m just going to prepare some of the things I¡¯ll need for your assessment¡­¡± smiles Tuun¡¯s character before turning her back to me to start digging through the case she brought in.

    She takes out various items, that look to be a mix of personal and professional, and places them on the counter top.

    There¡¯s a shot tracking one of her arms taking out a bottle marked ¡®chloroform¡¯ and placing it beside a white handkerchief, amidst the clutter, followed by a shot of my animated eyes, to indicate that my character has noticed that as well.

    The shot switches to one of Tuun, over the desk, with my fully naked body framed advancing behind her with silent footfalls.

    He reaches for the bottle and cloth and takes them without Tuun¡¯s character noticing.

    She continues digging through her bag as his character takes position behind her, mostly occluded from view. His arms begin working on something, presumably unscrewing the bottle, unfolding the cloth and soaking it with chloroform.

    My hand, holding the rag, swoops over her mouth and clamps down.

    Her eyes fill with terror and three of her hands reach up, hooking over my forearm, in an utterly vain attempt to pull my hand away from her face.

    The fourth hand reaches to the table top, for a scalpel she had dropped there, but I yank her back so fast that she misses it by a centimetre.

    Having realised the futility of trying to pull my arm away, two of her hands withdraw to, along with the formerly reaching arm, render ineffectual pummels against my bare sides as her stifled screams penetrate the rag.

    If her character really wanted to hurt mine, she could of course stamp on my bare feet with her stiletto heels but she either doesn¡¯t think of it or¡­ actually wants me to chloroform her¡­ not impossible that that was the intention¡­ given the lustful lip biting and hopeless na?vet¨¦ she demonstrated(!)

    After around thirty seconds of struggle, Dr Tuun¡¯s head falls limp and Inmate Taylor lays her on the ground.

    It¡¯s a little clich¨¦ and unrealistic, of course, given that it takes more than five minutes to fully knock someone out with chloroform¡­ but, I suppose, exciting as it might be to watch my character chloroform hers¡­ I might¡¯ve got bored with a realistic portrayal¡­ thirty seconds is the right stylistic balance to keep it exciting¡­

    Leaving her limp body on the floor, my character disappears from shot followed by a fade to black.

    When the shot returns, I¡¯m wearing a guard¡¯s uniform with a peaked cap and holding a hilariously ahistorical straitjacket.

    In addition to having four arms (apparently, Don cohabiting 1940s Earth is a reality of this canon, to the point that this asylum/prison just has a Don straitjacket, lying around(!)) it¡¯s also got square holes, corresponding to where her breasts would go, is made of matte black leather and isn¡¯t even long enough to cover all of her ribcage!

    Again, I¡¯m happy to suspend disbelief, given that seeing her in that will be sexier for me than seeing her in a full body, heavy, white canvas one(!)

    I drop the fetishjacket on the table, along with a ballgag and two coils of rope, and bend over her still unconscious body.

    My hands move to her collar and, with a single violent yank, rip open her shirt and jacket, exposing her heaving breasts, still contained in the cups of a lacey bra¡­ The semi I¡¯ve had, more or less since first seeing her in her costume, gets overtaken, in very short order, to be replaced with a rock hard erection!

    My character seems to be equally appreciative of the lusty appeal of Dr Tuun¡¯s exposed torso, given that he pauses to plant a lovebite on the inside of her left breast(!)

    Working her shoulders free of the destroyed clothing, he flips her over, reaches for the desk to pick up the same scalpel she reached for earlier, unsheathes it and severs the straps of her bra with two confident strokes before pulling it out from beneath her.

    He returns her to her back causing her very ample bosoms to be exposed.

    Awww! She animated her own nipples properly! That¡¯s so lovely!!!

    I think this is the first animation of hers, that I¡¯ve seen, which accurately depicts her as having the little fleshy brushes she has! The lengths she¡¯s gone to, to avoid ever showing her own nipples in animation, have been a little absurd! Pasties, vibes, bras, camera angles¡­ she¡¯s used everything you might think of to obscure them! I hope this means she¡¯s getting over her insecurity about them!

    My character removes her skirt and shoes, leaving her clad in nothing but panties, stockings and a garterbelt¡­ fuck that¡¯s hot¡­ wait¡­ does that mean she¡¯s wearing a garterbelt with her costume!? I can¡¯t wait to find out!

    The criminally insane version of me then retrieves the leather straightjacket and there¡¯s another fade to black.

    When it fades back, the still unconscious Dr Tuun is now jacketed, her midriff exposed, her four slender arms wrapped in such a way as to push up and squash her bare chest alluringly, from beneath, her stockinged legs frogtied, ankle to thigh, with a ballgag stuffed in her mouth.

    My character is digging through her wallet to withdraw a driver¡¯s license with the address ¡®Appartment 2, 2507 Oakpark drive, NY¡¯. That even sounds like a plausible address format for the 20th Century American States! How much research did she do!?

    Criminal Taylor cockily tosses, catches and pockets¡­ a key? ¡­ I wonder what that was the key to? It didn¡¯t look like one of the jail keys¡­

    He walks to, the thoroughly restrained, Dr Tuun and tosses her clothing in a wad, next to her, along with her handbag. He reaches down to pull the glasses off her face, folds them and puts them in his breast-pocket.

    I notice she¡¯s lying on some sort of cloth underlayer just as he bends down to grab the edge, pulling it up to reveal it to be an enormous sack, now encompassing the Doctor and her possessions before being tied off at the top.

    With one hand, he grabs the sack at the top and hefts it onto a flatbed, wheeled trolley.

    He pulls his peaked cap low, over his eyes, and leaves the room.

    Pushing the trolley, slowly and calmly, down the halls, the, guard impersonating, criminal Victor passes unnoticed by guards and inmates alike.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    He¡¯s about to pass through some hinged, double doors when a short, portly guard, who (though I¡¯m not familiar with the time period¡¯s rank insignia) I¡¯m instantly able to infer outranks the one who¡¯s pilfered uniform my character is wearing, says ¡°Yo, hold it there, buddy! What¡¯s in the bag?¡± with the particular twang of the vaudevillian Stateser.

    ¡°In here, Sir?¡± asks my character with casual nonchalance ¡°It¡¯s some very dirty laundry. I¡¯m takin¡¯ it to be disposed of¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna need to search that!¡± says the outranking guard.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine, Sir, but¡­¡± says my character, perfectly disguising his Estuarine accent with one to match his ¡®superior officer¡¯s¡¯ in a way I would be utterly incapable of, in real life ¡°¡­I just need to warn you¡­ it¡¯s¡­ pretty gross¡­ there¡¯s a reason I¡¯m taking it to be disposed of, rather than laundered¡­¡±

    The guards face screws up in apprehensive disgust and he says ¡°Alright¡­ take it through¡­ err¡­ hey, I don¡¯t recognise you¡­ you new here?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir, just started today.¡±

    ¡°Aw, shucks! Sucks to get duty like this on your first day, son! Welp, keep up the good work! In a few years, you could have my job!!!¡± laughs the portly man.

    ¡°Thanks Sergeant¡­¡± my character smiles sinisterly, as he walks through the door.

    We cut to a carpark, my character giving a furtive glance from side to side and pulling out the key he pocketed earlier. I now notice it has a symbol engraved on the bow. My character pushes the trolley along the rows of cars with rubber tyred wheels and engine compartments that give away that they¡¯re meant to be run by filling them with hydrocarbon fuel. Then he comes to one that has a symbol matching the one on the key.

    Casually, he inserts the blade into a lock on the boot and it pops open. He smirks and lifts the bag into the boot before shutting and locking it and pushing the trolley away to clear the two dimensional path, via which the wheeled vehicle is obliged to exit.

    He then moves down the left side of the car to enter through the front door. It takes me a moment to work out why he¡¯s getting into the passenger side before I remember that Americans drove on the wrong side of the road, making that the driver¡¯s side in the time period¡¯s setting.

    The criminal Victor then ignites the vehicles internal combustion engine and drives away.

    The screen fades to black and the words ¡®Continued in Part Two¡¯ appear.

    Tuun turns her head to me and, nervously, asks ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯ve been hard so long that I think I might be about to get light headed(!)¡­ Tuun, that was¡­ I think your best one so far! I can¡¯t believe you ever doubted your ability to sell your animation skills! I can¡¯t wait for the second part!¡± I answer.

    She smiles ¡°I¡¯m glad you convinced me to go into commissions¡­ I get such lovely feedback from people¡­ a few complaints about it all being in black and white but¡­ well, my samples make it clear what they¡¯re signing up for¡­ so not that many¡­ it¡¯s a nice little revenue stream¡­¡±

    I smile and give her a kiss on the cheek ¡°So¡­ you want me to tie you up, now?¡±

    She smiles back ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯d like that¡­¡±

    ---Tuun¡¯s Perspective---

    Victor tears open the period costume I¡¯m wearing, to match the one in the animation.

    It took a long time to get it exactly right but, now I have it and have its blueprint saved, I can just repair it in the forge.

    He plants his lips on the inside of my left breast and sucks, creating a mouth sized vacuum bruise, just the way I had him do to me in the vid!

    His eyes move down to the garterbelt that I wasn¡¯t sure about including and he grins broadly.

    ¡°Fuck, baby! That¡¯s hot!!!¡±

    ¡°Really? I was worried it might not appeal¡­ I almost didn¡¯t include it¡­¡±

    He gives me a crooked, toothbaring smile and says ¡°There is not a being alive who doesn¡¯t at least appreciate the aesthetic of a person in thigh-highs and a garterbelt, babes! Anyone, who ain¡¯t ace, thinks they¡¯re hot as fuck!¡±

    I laugh, pretty sure that¡¯s not true but glad that he, at least, appreciates the period accurate clothing.

    His hands move to the collar of my shirt and begin pulling it down over my shoulders, removing it and the suit jacket.

    He flips me on my front and, with no medical blade handy, simply snaps my bra straps with his hands before pulling it out from beneath me.

    Turning me back over he stops to brush his fingers over my nipples, then plants his mouth on the right one and begins stimulating it with his tongue¡­

    Ever since the changing rooms at school, in Nyr Akureyri, they¡¯re something I¡¯ve hated about myself¡­ but Victor loves them¡­ or at least says he does¡­ well¡­ it¡¯s difficult to hate something about yourself that your partner is so enthusiastic about!

    Without removing his mouth from my nipple, or breaking eyecontact, he reaches down and unzips my miniskirt¡­ I hope it¡¯s the right colour¡­ I mean¡­ I selected ¡®dark blue¡¯ but¡­ what if it¡¯s not the right dark blue?! Humans can distinguish about a million shades!

    I think I was right to go for the Harley Quinn pigtails, rather than the Harleen Quinzel low bun, I think I was right to go for a cropped, leather straitjacket instead of a heavy canvas one but¡­ I mean¡­ how many colour inconsistencies would it take to ruin it for him?

    Alright, Tuun, your boyfriend is pulling your skirt out from beneath your arse while licking your nipple¡­ maybe, trust that it¡¯s working well enough for him¡­ you can ask for feedback later(!)

    He places his hands on the sides of my hips and runs them down the outsides of my legs.

    I feel the rough skin of his hands catch and tug as they pass over the sheer fabric of my stockings.

    He¡¯s so fucking warm!

    His hands reach my stiletto heels and, playfully, pull them off.

    He straightens up and looks, with seeming appreciation, at me, now clad only in stockings, garterbelt and panties.

    ¡°Baby, gotta say, it¡¯s takin¡¯ some restraint not to just have you, now(!) If you hadn¡¯t gone to all the effort of printin¡¯ a straitjacket and makin¡¯ an animation to watch, I think I¡¯d be undoin¡¯ my trousers and pushin¡¯ your panties aside, right now(!)¡±

    I giggle ¡°I¡¯m glad it¡¯s doing it for you but, please, control yourself¡­ for the moment at least(!)¡±

    He smiles warmly before his hand moves to the box. He lifts the lid and withdraws the straitjacket, pausing to admire it.

    ¡°I keep thinkin¡¯ I¡¯m as excited as I can get¡­ an¡¯ you keep provin¡¯ me wrong, baby!¡± he smiles.

    I grin back, attempting to be seductive.

    ¡°Put out your arms!¡± he commands.

    I comply, reaching out my four hands towards the respective arm holes.

    He slides the jacket down the length of my upper limbs before slotting the two square openings over my breasts. He cinches my arms, in just the way they were in the animation, then flips me over to fasten it up at the back.

    I feel the exhilarating mix of panic and excitement that always comes when he¡¯s restraining me¡­ Of course, I have our safewords but¡­ well, if he decided not to listen¡­ I¡¯m entirely at his mercy, right now¡­!

    He takes out the coils of rope and pauses to run his hands over them ¡°You finally took my advice! You printed ¡¯em coarse!¡± he smiles.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ you were right¡­ the smooth stuff kept coming untied¡­¡± I say, a little reluctantly.

    His mouth doesn¡¯t say ¡®I told you so¡¯¡­ but his eyes do(!)

    He bends my right leg and begins lashing my ankle to my thigh with his shibari magic! He leaves a lot of the rope trailing unused at my ankle¡­ I¡¯m sensing he has something planned for that(!)

    He repeats the process for my left leg and again, leaves part of the rope unused.

    He picks up the ballgag and grins ¡°Open up!¡±

    I open my mouth wide enough to allow the rubber ball past the tips of my canines¡­

    I¡¯ve always been a little apprehensive about gags that aren¡¯t either soft (like cloth) or specifically moulded to my mouth¡­ it would be inconvenient to snap the end off a tooth¡­ this time, I decided to be daring.

    He slots it in and fastens it up, deftly.

    He runs a hand over my mostly bare stomach, then takes a moment to pull the garterbelt and release it to elastically crack against my skin, causing an ¡°Mmmff!¡±, more of surprise than pain.

    ¡°Now¡­ aren¡¯t you all trussed up like a turkey on Stateser Thanksgivin¡¯(!)¡­ I feel there¡¯s just one thing missin¡¯¡­¡± he says, before getting off the bed and making his way to the bondage toybox.

    He searches a moment before pulling out a dildo and a vibrator wand, turning back to me and saying ¡°I understand they stuffed their turkeys(!)¡±with Loki¡¯s own smirk!

    He comes back to me and pauses a moment, I¡¯d guess to give me the opportunity to object (which I don¡¯t), before pulling my panties aside and sliding the dildo all the way into me. I moan as it parts my insides to fill me up, just the way he would¡­ which makes sense, given that it was modelled on him(!)

    He covers the protruding end back up with my panties before placing the bulb of the vibe against it, and beginning the process of lashing my feet around it such that they hold it in place.

    When he¡¯s done, I experimentally attempt to flex my legs to remove the vibe from my pussylips and find it utterly impossible, in the face of Victor¡¯s bondage magic(!)

    He takes out his holopad and synchs it to the vibewand.

    It hums to life but, torturously, only at the lowest, gentlest setting¡­ it¡¯s really more ticklish, than erogenous, right now¡­ I¡¯m not na?ve enough to think that¡¯s how he¡¯ll leave it the whole time, though!

    He smirks ¡°There¡­ you¡¯re all ready for Part Two¡­(!) The only thing remainin¡¯ is for me to get ready(!)¡± before he begins undressing.

    I would definitely be biting my lip, in response to his washboard stomach, but¡­ well my mouth is a little otherwise occupied(!) I¡¯ll have to settle for getting an eyeful as he exposes his muscular chest!

    It¡¯s a bit of a shame he doesn¡¯t have those sexy scars any more but¡­ well, given the choice between no scars and no hand¡­ I¡¯d definitely prefer hand and no scars¡­ though, I suppose, there could have been all sorts of sexy functionalities crammed into a cybernetic¡­ NO! Bad Tuun! That¡¯s your boyfriend¡¯s bodily integrity your fantasising about!!!

    He drops his trousers revealing the model for the dildo that¡¯s inside me right now. *Mmmff*! How did I ever land a man like him? Is there going to come a point where he realises I¡¯m not good enough for him?

    I¡¯m momentarily tortured by the image of him and a gorgeous, Human, replacement girlfriend laughing at me as he breaks up with me¡­ then I shake myself back to the present moment.

    He loves you, Tuun! At this point, your doubt of that fact is becoming a little insulting to his integrity(!)

    He picks up his holo, crawls past me and I feel him settling himself against the headboard before his, irresistibly strong, hands grasp my shoulders and yank me upward, to rest against him.

    He hooks his chin, over my leatherclad shoulder, and I feel his warm breath tickle, as it passes my exposed breasts.

    He nestles his enormous cock into the cleft of my arse, warping the thin fabric of my panties to allow it. ¨ª nafni T¨®rs, that¡¯s hot! Fucking hell, he¡¯s hotdogging me while I¡¯m straitjacketed with a vibe tied between my feet, pressed against a dildo inside me! I can smell how wet I am from here!

    He reaches his left arm to place his hand against my stomach, clamping me against his body.

    ¡°Let¡¯s start then, shall we?¡± he whispers into my ear as he flicks the video to play on the wall.

    ---Victor¡¯s Perspective---

    I have the delicious, nutmeggy scent of Tuun¡¯s arousal in my nose as I press her to me, watching the video over her shoulder.

    I can feel the low hum of the vibe, through her hips¡­ I¡¯ll play around with it when she¡¯s stopped expecting it¡­

    The scene opens on a 1940¡¯sesque apartment¡­ she clearly used our room as a basis an then filled in all the textures with ones they would have had in the era.

    My character is furtively peeking out of the window, around the blinds, as (presumably) period accurate sirens pass by outside.

    Tuun¡¯s character, still unconscious and in the same straitjacket bondage she was in last time, has been dumped on the bed.

    Seemingly satisfied that the lawenforcers aren¡¯t here for him, my character advances on the bound Dr Tuun.

    He leans over her and smacks her cheek, seeming to have the effect of magically waking her from her drugged stupor.

    ¡°Hey there, sugar¡­¡± he grins, evilly ¡°¡­nice place you got here!¡±

    The waking Tuun looks confused, for a moment, then panicked, as she frantically looks around (presumably) her apartment.

    She takes a deep inhale but, before she can scream, my character¡¯s hand shoots up to her throat, cutting it off.

    The index finger of his other hand comes to his lips ¡°Sssshhhshshshshsh! We don¡¯t want to disturb your neighbours, do we¡­?¡±

    There is a look of abject terror on her face as he releases her throat, allowing her to take a gasping breath.

    ¡°So¡­ here¡¯s what¡¯s gonna happen¡­ I¡¯m gonna take that gag out and ask you some questions¡­ you¡¯re gonna answer ¡¯em¡­ truthfully! I think you¡¯re lyin¡¯¡­ or don¡¯t like your answers¡­ you¡¯ll regret it¡­ understand?¡±

    Dr Tuun nods, still clearly terrified.

    ¡°Good!¡± says inmate Taylor before pulling out the gag, to fall at her neck.

    ¡°Who lives here with you?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Mr. Taylor, please¡­ I can talk to the¡­ ahh!¡± she shrieks as he slaps her across the face.

    ¡°Who lives here with you?!¡± he demands.

    ¡°No one¡­?¡± she asks more than answers.

    ¡°Good¡­ you know how not to lie, at least(!)¡± he smirks.

    ¡°How long have you worked at the Asylum?¡± he interrogates.

    ¡°This¡­ this was my first day¡­ I just completed my residency¡­ you were my first patient there¡­¡± she answers, seeming like she wants to lie but is too terrified to try.

    ¡°Do they have this address?!¡± asks my character, urgently but with eyes narrowed in appraising suspicion.

    There is a long pause before Tuun¡¯s character slumps and says ¡°¡­No¡­ I¡¯m not on the payroll, yet¡­ that was supposed to happen at the end of my shift¡­¡±

    Insane Victor smirks manically, seemingly satisfied ¡°That means¡­ Doc, that I¡¯ve got you¡­ all to myself! Ain¡¯t no one gonna come lookin¡¯ for you!¡­ To be clear¡­ that¡¯s somethin¡¯ you should be grateful for¡­ right now, you¡¯re a hostage¡­ if coppers show up¡­ well, you become a meatshield(!)¡±

    I take my attention away from the vid just long enough to play with the vibe settings, from my holopad.

    I feel Tuun squirm against me, reflexively, as I swell then ebb the intensity¡­ *mmmff* a single one of my fingers is making her react like that(!)

    I¡¯m gonna keep playing with the intensity for the rest of the vid, I think. Ain¡¯t I a brute(!)

    My character reaches to her neck to take the ballgag and stuff it, forcefully, back into her mouth.

    Her eyes widen pleadingly.

    ¡°I feel a little bad for you, Doc¡­ all those years of med school¡­ all those years of residency¡­ they¡¯ve left you quite overqualified for what you are now¡­¡± says my character, smugly ¡°¡­ fuckmeat!¡±

    Dr Tuun¡¯s brow furrows in horror as he starts undoing his belt.

    I swell the vibe and real life Tuun moans and throws her head back against my shoulder. I kiss her neck and squeeze her stomach.

    His hard cock now released, my character rips off her panties and is about to insert himself when he stops ¡°Oh¡­ I nearly forgot!¡± he reaches to his breast-pocket to retrieve her glasses which he then replaces on her face before saying ¡°I want you to be able to see what¡¯s about to happen to you!¡±

    Placing the tip of his cock against her pussylips, he slowly works his way inside.

    I swell the vibe again¡­ I¡¯m pretty sure Tuun orgasms from that. I pull her long, pointed, elf ear to my lips to say ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re enjoyin¡¯ yourself, baby, but¡­ well, don¡¯t wear yourself out(!)¡±

    My character is merciless as he fucks hers.

    There¡¯s definitely a bit more focus on him than I would like¡­ I really want to see Dr Tuun¡¯s reaction rather than my own arse rising and dipping from behind¡­ well¡­ I¡¯ve got the real thing¡­ I can enjoy flesh and blood Tuun¡¯s reactions later!

    Dr Tuun starts moaning and Inmate Taylor¡¯s hand shoots up to clamp over her mouth.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I say not to disturb your neighbours?!¡± he asks, angrily, causing a pathetic nod of her head.

    ¡°Fuck, sugar! I don¡¯t think I can let you go! Gonna have to take you with me when I make a break for the border! How does the life of a fuckslave moll sound to you?¡±

    Dr Tuun shakes her head desperately, indicating that she is, in fact, not in love with the idea of becoming a fuckslave moll(!)

    ¡°Awww! Too bad¡­ too bad you don¡¯t got a choice! I¡¯m gonna take you to Canada, then back to England with me¡­ we¡¯ll have a ton of fun once you¡¯re thousands of miles from help(!)¡±

    Fucking hell! She not only modelled the geopolitical situation of 20th Century Earth, more accurately than I could, she also has my character speaking in outmoded, imperial units! She really did her research!

    My character grabs hers by the pigtails, forcing her to look at his face, as he fucks her ¡°You¡¯re mine, bitch! I own you! You¡¯re fuckmeat! A slave! My slave! You¡¯re gonna be my faithful little cumdumpster, until you die, ain¡¯t you!?¡± Tuun¡¯s character nods pathetically, as tears stream down her cheeks.

    I swell the vibe again, maxing it out this time. Real life Tuun¡¯s breathing accelerates and she turns her head to mine. My hand shoots up to grasp her chin and forces her to look back at the fictional world she¡¯s created.

    I don¡¯t return my hand to her stomach, instead placing it at her chest, fondling her breasts that she¡¯s, so thoughtfully, left exposed, for me(!)

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna fuck you so hard and so long that you¡¯ll fall in love with me!¡± declares my character ¡°No other man will feel right inside you, once I¡¯m done!¡±

    Even at the highest heights of Domspace, I have never thought or said that I would fuck her into loving me. The idea grates at my conceptualisation of both love and sex¡­ it¡­ is pretty hot though¡­ if all it took was just a sufficiently good dicking to make a person fall in love¡­ I wonder how that might have affected the course of Human history(!)

    My character breaks stroke and takes his hands from her pigtails to release her legs¡­ why¡¯s he releasing her legs?

    He grips her ankles and pushes them back, to hook her knees behind her lower shoulderblades. Wow! That¡¯s a lot of flexibility she¡¯s crediting her Doctor self with!¡­ I wonder¡­?

    He lashes her ankles together, behind her head, with one of the coils of rope and, then, turns her over to lash her knees together, utterly preventing her from passing her legs back in front of her.

    He then grips the rope between her ankles and lifts her from the bed in a way that, mechanically, only works in animation. With her being more than a third of my weight, it doesn¡¯t matter how strong I am, how strong my character is, I wouldn¡¯t be able to pick her up like that! I would simply overbalance if I tried!

    Holding her, like a bag of groceries, he lifts her, from the bed, to press her against the wall, so her juicy pussy is level with his hips.

    Maintaining unflinching eyecontact, he reinserts himself.

    I swell real life Tuun¡¯s vibe and she whimpers.

    I think¡­ I¡¯ll leave it at that intensity¡­ the vibration feels pretty good on my cock, as it¡¯s sandwiched between her arsecheeks.

    My character proceeds to fuck hers, against that wall, for around ten straight minutes, before he gasps, enraptured by pleasure and she screams, pathetically, through her gag.

    The screen fades to black and the words ¡®Three Months Later¡¯ appear.

    We sit, in her car, in a snowy Northern forest scene. A sign reading ¡®Beecher Falls¡¯ is visible as we are approached by, presumably, BritanoCanadian authorities.

    ¡°Passports, Sir¡­?¡± requests the man, upon me rolling down the driver¡¯s side window. I hand him two passports and he checks them before saying ¡°Welcome to Canada¡­ Mr and Mrs Taylor¡­¡± Tuun and I smile at him before driving over the border.

    The screen fades to black before the single word ¡®Fin¡¯ appears.

    That was a lovely ending¡­ but there¡¯s something I need to ask real life Tuun¡­

    ---Tuun¡¯s Perspective---

    With the film over, my boyfriend cuts off the vibe and extricates himself from beneath me.

    I feel myself, finally, able to uncross my eyes, as I reclaim my mind from the irresistible pleasure that wracked it since he turned the vibe all the way to max!

    He fixes me with a serious expression and asks ¡°Can you really put your legs behind your shoulders like that?

    Blearily, I nod my head and his mouth breaks into a wide smirk.

    He begins untying my legs and tosses the vibewand aside.

    My legs, though released from the bondage, are not free as he, overpoweringly, pushes them up to hook them behind me.

    Taking the ropes, with which I was just frogtied, he lashes them together behind me.

    He grips the front of my panties and yanks them away, utterly destroying them and leaving me with only stockings and a garterbelt for modesty¡­ somehow, I feel less modest than I would fully nude(!)

    With his right hand, he grips the base of the dildo he stuffed in me earlier and pulls it all the way out, causing some, fairly overwhelming, sensations.

    He lifts me from the bed and presses me against a wall¡­ though, not quite the way I had him do in the animation.

    He presses the head of his cock to my soaking, overstimulated pussy and says ¡°Now¡­ I believe, I have to ¡®fuck you so hard and so long that you¡¯ll fall in love with me¡¯¡­ so hard that ¡®No other man will feel right inside you, once I¡¯m done¡¯, don¡¯t I?¡±

    I nod, pitifully.

    I¡¯m already in love with him, of course, no other man would feel right inside me, already! But¡­ I also want him to fuck me as if he¡¯s trying to make that happen!

    Make me yours, Victor! Make me your fuckslave moll!

    He does¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.25

    ---Break---

    I walk through the Gym, towards what, until recently, was just called ¡®Victor¡¯s section¡¯, becoming known as the ¡®Terran section¡¯ after the arrival of the rest of Triple M.

    It consists of specialised equipment that can stand up to the raw power of an exercising deathworlder, an arena, complete with combat droids to spar against, and, behind it, a gunrange where Victor has recently been giving firearms training to Krish, Jennie, Msia, Hasiakh and Kas.

    Tuun and Brunhilda are both fully proficient in firearms usage, already, from being a qualified Auxilliary Security Officer and Security Officer respectively, Ms. Hunter is qualified from being a bodyguard, Xon and Emiko are military and former military respectively, so none of them need training from Victor but, from the sounds of it, they train together and advise eachother on improvements, anyway.

    Hatathli and Phan both declined to receive firearms training, on ethical grounds, and Petrikov because she ¡®can¡¯t be bothered learning that skill, and won¡¯t be on the excursion party so doesn¡¯t need it!¡¯.

    The reason I¡¯m heading to the gym¡¯s Terran section is that Twila ¡®helpfully¡¯ informed me that there was something interesting going on there¡­ then refused to elaborate¡­(!)

    I walk in on a scene of all the members of Triple M as well as a few of the, more intrepid, gardenworlders of my crew, sat around the arena.

    On the mat is Victor, currently engaged in a vicious [hand-to-hand] bout against a combat droid.

    As I approach, Twila¡¯s holographic form materialises in front of me and says ¡°That¡¯s far enough, Captain. The gravity in the ring is turned up to 3x galactic standard for Victor and I to fight. It¡¯s dangerous for you to go any further!¡±

    I cock a browtuft and answer ¡°Twila, you are correct in your apprehension that I was unaware of the crushing gravity differential¡­ However, I can¡¯t help but be somewhat insulted that you think so little of my intelligence that you believed there to have been any chance of me stepping in that arena, with [110kg] of deathworlder and [65kg] of combat droid fighting so viciously that my brain is only able to apprehend whirring and jerking(!)¡±

    She smiles ¡°I¡¯d rather warn you and not need to than need to and not warn you, Captain¡­¡±

    I fan my flight feathers in concession ¡°Fair point¡­ caution is what deathworlders do best¡­ even if you are a computer who was constructed in orbit around a gardenworld(!)¡±

    She laughs.

    I glance around her, to the ring ¡°So that¡¯s you, is it?¡±

    She nods ¡°The rounds weren¡¯t even so I said I¡¯d possess a combat droid to even it out. Sucks that I got Victor first. Though, I don¡¯t think I would have won, no matter what!¡±

    In confusion, I ask ¡°Rounds? What are you¡­?¡± but am broken off by Victor grasping the droid, (causing me to realise that that¡¯s what he has been trying to do the entire time I¡¯ve been in the room) lifting it off the ground and slamming it down, hard enough to utterly destroy it.

    ¡°Damnit!¡± says Twila with an affected snap of her holographic fingers, indicating mock frustration.

    ¡°Did you lose because you were distracted by me?¡± I ask, concerned.

    She feigns indignity ¡°Captain!? It¡¯s my turn to be insulted! You think so little of me that you believe I can¡¯t have a conversation and a fight at the same time(?) I¡¯ve still got processing power to spare, I¡¯ll have you know(!)¡±

    I chitter ¡°Sincerest apologies, dear girl(!)¡­ So¡­ what¡¯s going on? You mentioned ¡®rounds¡¯?¡±

    She smiles ¡°Come to the stands and we¡¯ll explain¡­¡± and then leads me to the bench on which sit Emiko, Tuun and Xon all giving Fluffy a hearty scritch.

    ¡°Welcome to Consolation Corner, Captain!¡± smirks Emiko.

    ¡°Is someone going to explain what¡¯s going on?¡± I ask, quizzically.

    ¡°We¡¯re having a tournament¡­¡± answers Tuun with an angry purple bruise at her left eye ¡°¡­Twila getting knocked out marks the end of the first round. I got beaten by Kas, Emiko got beaten by Samus, Thran beat Xon and you saw Victor turn Twila into scrap metal, just now. We¡¯re in the Semifinal now, it¡¯s Thran vs Kas and Victor vs Samus, then the winners will fight in the Final¡­ I¡¯ve got a bet with Xon¡­ I¡¯m betting on Victor to win¡­ she¡¯s betting on Thran¡­¡±

    ¡°So both of you think your partner is the biggest and scariest fledgling in the school canopy(?)¡± I quip.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, Captain! We might be a little biased(!)¡± laughs Xon.

    ¡°What are the rules?¡± I ask, unsure if I¡¯ll like the answer.

    ¡°You lose if you¡¯re thrown from the arena, concede or aren¡¯t able to continue, no hairpulling, no eye gouging, no crotch shots (at Victor¡¯s insistence), try not to send your opponent to the medical room¡­¡± lists Twila with unnerving matter-of-factness (but for the wry smirk she gives at Victor¡¯s rule).

    ¡°That latter is less a rule, more an advisory¡­¡± I observe.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ it wouldn¡¯t be any fun if we had to hold back that much!¡± answers Xon, gleefully.

    I turn to Hasiakh, sitting with the others not in ¡®Consolation Corner¡¯ ¡°You didn¡¯t wish to participate?¡± I say, raising my voice a little, even though it¡¯s slightly unnecessary as my translator detects who I¡¯m directing my speech at and makes sure it reaches her.

    She answers ¡°I¡¯m realistic(!) Tuun got knocked out in [15 seconds] and she¡¯s deathworld raised(!) I know how likely it is that I¡¯d win and how likely it is that I¡¯d be really hurt¡­ best if I sit out¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey¡­!¡± says Tuun with mock indignation ¡°¡­I lasted longer than that! I hit her 23 times before she got me!¡±

    Xon smirks ¡°¡­and¡­ how many times did she need to get you to knock you out?¡±

    Tuun looks embarrassed before saying ¡°¡­once¡­ but, in fairness to me, she used to box semiprofessionally!¡±

    Xon cocks an eyebrow, smugly, seeming to be satisfied that no more needs to be said about that.

    At this point Kas and Ms. Hunter step into the arena and a hush comes over the spectators.

    ¡°How likely is it that Kas beats her?¡± I ask Twila while giving Fluffy a scratch between the ears in an attempt to calm my racing hearts (the absurdity of touching a deathworld predator, for comfort, not lost on me!).

    ¡°I calculate her chances at substantially less than one percent.¡± answers Twila ¡°She may be a boxer, she may be a strong woman¡­ but Thran is the strongest there is and is a professional bodyguard.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s also surprisingly fast! You wouldn¡¯t think so, looking at her, but Neanderthals are natural sprinters. Her stamina isn¡¯t quite like that of Victor¡¯s or Samus¡¯ but I don¡¯t think this match will last long enough for stamina to come into play!¡± opines Xon.

    The two women take position and bow briefly before Twila declares the match started.

    They both raise their arms to guard their upper portions and approach eachother.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Kas has a full [25cm] of height advantage but, I have to remember, Hunter is the strongest woman in the galaxy!

    Kas throws a punch and, faster than I can resolve, Hunter has caught it. Kas answers with a second punch, thrown with her other hand, and Hunter catches that as well. With both her fists now apprehended by the other woman, Kas struggles to pull away, then seems to give up on that and instead settles for kicking and headbutting Hunter¡­ which she barely reacts to.

    Kas is forced to the ground, her face a mask of pain before she screams ¡°I GIVE! I GIVE UP!!!¡±

    Uncertainly, I ask ¡°What just happened?¡±

    ¡°Thran was crushing her hands to make her concede.¡± answers Tuun.

    Remembering the solidity of Kas¡¯ hands (which she demonstrated the night we met by rattling a hardwood table just by poking it) makes the thought of crushing them hard enough to force her to yield terrifying!

    Her hands now released, Kas offers her right to Hunter who hesitates uncertainly before taking it, allowing the two women to shake, conciliatorily, before Kas makes her way over to me and the four who¡¯ve already been knocked out.

    ¡°Condolences¡­¡± smiles Emiko as Kas takes her seat.

    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s alright, I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d beat her!¡± says Kas with a wave of her hand and a shake of her head ¡°I¡¯m more interested in the next two matches! I¡¯d say Victor has the edge on Samus¡­ but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s clearcut and either of them might be a match for Thran!¡±

    Confused, I ask ¡°They could? Isn¡¯t she stronger than both of them?¡±

    Kas smiles the smile of a deathworlder who¡¯s about to explain something they know and you don¡¯t, before answering ¡°Yes, Captain, but strength is not the only strength!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive my gardenworlder brain for being addled by that contradiction. How is ¡®strength not the only strength¡¯? Surely, by definition, ¡®strength=strength¡¯, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I respond, my natural eyes narrowed.

    Clearly delighted that I ¡®swallowed the bait¡¯ as a Terran would put it, Kas begins ¡°What I mean is that being stronger than your opponent isn¡¯t enough to guarantee you winning a fight¡­ My trainer used to explain it in terms of the ¡®Five Ss¡¯¡­¡±

    Sighing, I ask ¡°And¡­ what are the ¡®Five Ss¡¯?¡±

    She holds up her five fingered hand and begins counting ¡°Strength, Speed, Stamina, Skill and Strategy¡­ all the strength in the universe doesn¡¯t matter if you can¡¯t move fast enough to land a hit, the perfect strategy is useless if you don¡¯t have the strength to use it etc.¡­ Of course, it¡¯s not perfect¡­ it doesn¡¯t account for things like Victor¡¯s huge reach advantage, Thran¡¯s mass advantage or barrel chest, but it covers all the things you can work on without gene therapy or augmentation.¡±

    I consider her explanation for a few moments, as Brunhilda and Victor walk into the arena and bow, and Twila announces the start of the match. I have questions but decide to wait until the break between this round and the Final.

    The two Terrans circle, both poised in readiness.

    Their eyes fly over eachother, seeming to be searching for any vulnerability, their footfalls precise and automatic, their bodies curled to minimise the front facing target.

    For a moment, I forget the fact that these are two friends¡­ two sentient beings who¡¯ve, time and time again, demonstrated the fact that they are allies and good people¡­ my mind sees killers¡­ sees monsters.

    I shake myself back to reality.

    Terrifying as they are, they are my friends and this is a friendly¡­ combat game¡­(?) Huh¡­ ¡®friendly combat ¡¯¡­(!)

    Based on something I could not perceive, the titans decide that now is the moment to initiate the fight and engage eachother.

    The fight is a blur to me, as they swing, miss, swing and, if those sickening thuds are anything to go by, hit!

    The two of them seem to be a much closer match than either Kas and Hunter or Victor and Twila¡¯s combat droid¡­ steadily, however, Brunhilda is pushed back and back toward the edge of the arena¡­ she redoubles her ferocity in a way that reflexively makes me cling to Fluffy.

    Then, around [3 minutes] after it started, Victor¡¯s boot ejects Brunhilda from the ring and the round is over.

    She stands and the two of them shake hands, heartily, before she makes her way over to the group I¡¯m sat with.

    ¡°Alright¡­ so it¡¯s Victor vs Ms. Hunter for the Final. Now, how would you assess their matchup under your ¡®Five S¡¯ model?¡± I address Kas.

    ¡°Hmmm, tricky¡­¡± she says with a finger and thumb at her chin ¡°¡­Thran obviously has the strength advantage and¡­ I think, I¡¯d also give her the speed advantage¡­ as Xon said, Neanderthals are built for sprinting¡­ I¡¯d have to give the stamina advantage to Victor¡­ It¡¯s very difficult to assess both of their relative skill levels given how much higher skilled they are than everyone but Samus and Tuun¡­ I think interms of kinaesthesia and awareness Tuun outdoes both of them but simply doesn¡¯t have the strength to turn that to her advantage in an unarmed bout¡­ is that fair to say, Tuun?¡±

    Tuuns purple bruise is now augmented by purple cheeks as she says ¡°I¡­ I suppose so¡­¡± with clear embarrassment at the praise. She then adds ¡°I think Victor would have the advantage there¡­ I don¡¯t know if he has better kinaesthesia than her but she has ASC so I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll read him as well as he¡¯ll read her¡­¡±

    I¡¯m forced to interject again ¡°[ASC]?¡±

    Xon answers ¡°Autistic Spectrum Condition¡­ my girl¡¯s aspergic and it means she can¡¯t do social stuff as well as a neurotypical. In this case, it means that she won¡¯t be able to ¡®see¡¯ Victor¡¯s intentions as well as he can see hers¡­ she¡¯s not shy about it, in case you¡¯re worried that I¡¯ve told you something you shouldn¡¯t know(!)¡±

    Kas considers ¡°So¡­ strength and speed to Thran¡­ stamina and skill to Victor¡­ she has a mass advantage and more solid bones than him, he has a lot more reach than her¡­ I¡¯d say those things cancel eachother out¡­ that means it¡¯ll be strategy that determines this match¡­ I think the best strategy for Thran would be to end the match quickly¡­ proactively close the distance to nullify his reach advantage and win before he can apply his stamina advantage to wear her out¡­ I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll do that, though¡­ she played both of her previous matches quite reactively¡­ she waited to be attacked and then responded¡­ Victor¡¯s best bet would be to try to draw things out to the point where she gets exhausted¡­ it could go either way!¡±

    I decide to get Twila¡¯s opinion ¡°Twila, what would you put their odds at?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°The same¡­ as good as 50:50. It¡¯s rare for odds to be so even!¡±

    At this point, Victor indicates that he¡¯s done recovering from the round with Brunhilda and he and Hunter take position in the arena, bowing to one another.

    As Twila declares the match started, the best Security Officer in the galaxy and the strongest woman in the galaxy take defensive stances.

    Fluffy emits an indignant growl and it¡¯s only then that I realise I¡¯ve been frantically scratching to the extent that I¡¯ve apparently caused her discomfort!

    ¡°Sorry, Fluffy!¡± I say, seeming to satisfy her by my tone.

    Those are some nerves I must have had, just now, to cause me to cause an a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast discomfort! I¡¯m probably among only a handful of beings who can claimed they¡¯ve done that and lived¡­ most of whom are in this room(!)

    Victor has certainly adjusted his style across the three rounds I¡¯ve seen him fight!

    Against Twila, he was ferocity itself; correctly judging that her combat droid posed 0 credible threat (perhaps I should look into upgrading?). In his match with Brunhilda, he was poised but still self-assured¡­ Against Hunter¡­ he¡¯s cautious¡­ he¡¯s actually hesitating to approach her!

    She stands perfectly still, only moving to keep facing him and adjust her footing, as he moves left and right seeming to be looking for an angle of attack.

    After around [30 seconds] of sizing her up, he commits to an approach but seems much less happy about it than he did when engaging Brunhilda!

    Making use of his reach advantage he throws a punch which, judging only by the sound, Hunter seems to have parried with her forearm.

    They both move faster than I can follow, Victor dancing, out of range, to avoid her blows, Hunter knocking his blows aside as they come.

    Using his much longer legs he delivers sweeping kicks to hers which, while she is thoroughly incapable of returning, don¡¯t seem to bother her all that much.

    Everything about this is alarming! The speed and precision which I infer them both to be utilising with each strike, the thuds and booms of their bodies impacting eachother and the mat, the fact that they¡¯re doing this in 1.5x their cradleworld¡¯s gravity, the fact that they¡¯re doing it for fun!!!¡­ or, at least¡­ not out of necessity!

    Victor does indeed seem to be attempting to induce Hunter to exhaustion but she appears to only be answering each strike with the minimum effort to deflect it.

    Those who are able to follow what¡¯s going on gasp in reaction to developments my brain simply doesn¡¯t work fast enough to allow me to perceive.

    Then, all at once the motion stops and I am given a brief glimpse of Hunter, with her hand wrapped around Victor¡¯s wrist, immediately followed by him being knocked several [metres] backward, paired with a sickening *crack*.

    Now lying on the mat, Victor emits a horrific strained wheeze which lets me know that something is not right.

    I turn to Twila ¡°Drop the gravity back to galactic standard, right now! Get me a scan of Victor! Something¡¯s not right!¡± then, addressing Brunhilda and Kas ¡°You two, find a stretcher!¡±

    ¡°Gravity is normalised, Captain. Victor Taylor has five fractures across his three, lowermost, right side ribs.¡± says Twila.

    ¡°Odds of survival?¡± I answer, entering the ring with her following beside me.

    ¡°He¡¯s extremely unlikely to die from broken ribs and having the air knocked out of his lungs¡­ he¡¯ll need regen, though. It would be another matter if he¡¯d had a lung punctured¡­¡± she answers, all cheer gone from her voice.

    I pass Hunter and see her usual blank mask expression replaced with one of terror.

    ¡°Send urgent notifications to Drs Gato, Shing, Hatathli and Phan¡­ we need at least one of them to meet us at the medroom!¡± I say to Twila, entirely in Captain mode now.

    I draw up to Victor, lying on the mat gasping to draw air into emptied lungs ¡°Victor¡­ Victor talk to me! Let me know you¡¯re alright!¡±

    ¡°Fine¡­*hhh*¡­ Cap¡­*hhh*¡­ had¡­*hhh*¡­ worse¡­*hhh*¡­ where¡¯s¡­*hhh*¡­ Thran?¡± he answers, through wheezes.

    I look around and see she¡¯s disappeared from view.

    I turn back, as Brunhilda is laying a stretcher beside him, and answer ¡°She¡¯s gone, Victor¡­ why do you want her?¡±

    He raises his right hand, feebly, and answers ¡°Didn¡¯¡­*hhh*¡­ shake¡­*hhh*¡­ hands!¡±

    I give a mirthless laugh before saying ¡°You idiot, Victor¡­¡± then, addressing all present ¡°From now on, ¡®don¡¯t send your opponent to the medical room¡¯ is a hard rule for all future matches! Captain¡¯s orders!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.26

    ---Fixation---

    As I enter the Terran section of the Gym and pass the boundary of the privacy field, I hear the booming *thud**thud**thud**thud* coming in rapid succession from around the corner.

    I turn to see Victor traveling at dizzying speed, while remaining stationary, on a Human sized [treadmill], his, normally silent, footfalls echoing, chaotically, his body soaked with sweat, his face exhausted¡­ but fixed forward with grim determination.

    I advance, past an obliterated [heavybag], and he gives no indication that he has noticed me enter¡­ I actually don¡¯t think he has¡­!

    Drawing up to the [treadmill], I give a singular, sharp *chit*, to catch his attention.

    He does not react.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I say, still not getting any indication that he¡¯s aware I¡¯m here.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I say again, as he continues running forward at dizzying speed, while remaining stationary.

    ¡°VICTOR!!!¡± I say, causing him to start.

    ¡°Whu¡­*huff*¡­ sorry¡­*huff*¡­ what is it¡­*huff*¡­ Cap?¡± he says, turning his haggard face to me while not breaking stride.

    ¡°I need to speak to you! Could you come off the [treadmill]!?¡± I say, raising my voice over his thundering footfalls.

    Looking nonplussed, he waves to deactivate the backwards motion of the walkway beneath him and it begins decelerating.

    When it¡¯s reached a low enough speed, he hops off it and collapses into a semireclined position, on the floor.

    ¡°What¡­*huff*¡­ d¡¯you¡­*huff*¡­ need to¡­*huff*¡­ talk about?¡± he says, the pungent scent of his sweat assaulting my nostrils.

    ¡°What are you doing in here, Victor?¡± I ask, attempting to keep my tone neutral and accusation out of my voice.

    ¡°Err¡­*huff*¡­ training?...*huff*¡­ What does it¡­*huff*¡­ look like?¡± he asks, bemused.

    ¡°It¡¯s the middle of the nocturnal, Victor¡­ Why are you training?¡± I say with concern.

    ¡°Well¡­*huff*¡­ I¡¯ve got the privacy¡­*huff*¡­ field up¡­*huff*¡­ What¡¯s it matter what¡­ *huff*¡­ time it is?...*huff*¡­ I ain¡¯t disturbin¡¯ no one¡­*huff*¡­ am I?¡± he asks, slightly defensively.

    ¡°Not with your noise, Victor. Your behaviour, on the other hand, has been upsetting people¡­¡± I say, still trying to keep my voice factual, rather than accusing.

    He begins to try to speak when I cut him off to say ¡°Victor, catch your breath and dry yourself up, then sit with me¡­ we need to speak properly.¡±

    He shrugs and I take a seat on a nearby bench, waiting for him to be ready. It takes a few [minutes].

    When he¡¯s finished catching his breath and towelling off he comes and sits next to me, straddling the bench in order to allow himself to face me.

    ¡°So, I¡¯ve been upsettin¡¯ people? How?¡± he says, his exhausted face adorned with an expression of concern.

    ¡°Victor, do you know how many times I¡¯ve visited Triple M in the last twelve diurnals?¡± I ask.

    He frowns and answers ¡°I don¡¯t, Cap¡­¡±

    ¡°Seven times, Victor¡­ How many times have we seen eachother in that same period?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ we saw eachother three days ago¡­ briefly¡­¡± he answers, clearly uncomfortable.

    ¡°Yes¡­ and do you remember anything we spoke about?¡± I ask, evaluating.

    Reticent, he answers ¡°Uhm¡­ not as such¡­ no¡­?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because we didn¡¯t speak, Victor¡­ You blew in, made yourself up some ludicrously high protein, high calorie meal solution¡­ picked up some lab grown meat for Fluffy and then took her here for exercise¡­ beyond ¡®hello¡¯ we didn¡¯t exchange a word¡­¡±

    He shifts uncomfortably but does not answer.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on Victor?¡­ Have you declared some sort of deathworlder [vendetta] against Ms. Hunter, for breaking your ribs? For beating you in the tournament? Are you training for a rematch with her?¡±

    A look of indignant revulsion passes over his face as he says ¡°Captain?! NO!!! She beat me, fair ¡¯n¡¯ square! I¡¯m not some precious little manchild who¡¯d want payback for bein¡¯ beaten in a contest I agreed to participate in!¡­ Yeah¡­ I¡¯d¡¯ve preferred my ribs not get broken but¡­ well it¡¯s not like she meant to! Not like it was spiteful! Thran and I are all good!¡±

    I cock a browtuft ¡°You¡¯re ¡®all good¡¯, are you? How many times have you seen her since she sent you to the medroom?¡±

    His eyes narrow in recall.

    ¡°None? Or if you¡¯ve seen her at all, it was fleeting and you didn¡¯t say much beyond ¡®hello¡¯? A little odd, given that you¡¯ve spent nearly every hour you could in this room and she¡¯s a [bodybuilder]? Are Terran [bodybuilders] in the habit of taking that long off from a visit to the gym?¡± his face tells me I¡¯m right on the mark.

    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ probably been¡­ workin¡¯ out in her room¡­¡± he says, with unease.

    I press the point ¡°Why would she have been doing that, Victor?¡­ She¡¯s terrified that you hate her now, is why!¡­ You haven¡¯t taken the time to explain that you don¡¯t have a grudge against her¡­ and your behaviour is suggesting that you do!¡­ She won¡¯t listen to your mutual friends telling her that it¡¯s not the case!¡­ It¡¯s¡­ unlike you to be so socially blind, Victor¡­ All your friends report that they¡¯ve barely seen you outside this room, since the match, Dr Gato tells me you¡¯ve purchased [three minute] periods of regeneration, multiple times per diurnal, Jennie tells me that the longest conversation she¡¯s had with you, outside of this room, was when you came to ask her about the possibility of upgrading the functionality of our current stock of combat droids to make them better sparring partners, I¡¯m told you¡¯ve not joined the Cuddle Puddle and barely slept in Triple M, implying you¡¯re either sleeping here¡­ or, more likely looking, not sleeping full stop!¡­ You¡¯re looking after Fluffy, at least in the technical sense of feeding, cleaning and exercising¡­ but you¡¯re neglecting your friends. If it¡¯s not for revenge, then why?! What¡¯s going on?!¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    He opens and closes his mouth a few times, pain in his eyes. He looks like he wants me to interrupt to spare him the need to answer my question. I don¡¯t oblige him.

    After an age, he slumps and answers ¡°I¡¯m scared, Cap¡­¡±

    ¡°What are you scared of, Victor?¡± I respond, keeping my tone neutral and trusting. He¡¯s trusting me¡­ so it¡¯s the least I owe him.

    He, abortively, attempts to start several times ¡°I¡­ it¡¯s¡­ the thing¡­ I need¡­¡±

    Eventually, he stops, takes a deep breath, opens his eyes and fixes them on mine ¡°Cap¡­ I ain¡¯t really had anything I needed to be scared of between about ages 16 and 29¡­ When I were a kid, the worst I needed to worry about was fuckin¡¯ idiots from school findin¡¯ me on the street and kickin¡¯ the shit outta me¡­ Age 11, I took up Shaolin to be able to defend myself¡­ age 16, I defended you¡­ suddenly, I had cushy uni digs and an extremely generous study stipend, contributed partly by the government and mainly by you¡­ I spent the next 4 years learnin¡¯ how to survive, how to fight, all the ways to recognise danger and answer it, better ¡¯an anyone!¡­ When I came outta uni, with my, 67th generation, black sash, with my firearms licence, with my wilderness survival experience, with my xenobiology neutralisation trainin¡¯¡­ I felt fuckin¡¯ invincible!¡­ The next few years didn¡¯t help¡­ sure, every now ¡¯n¡¯ then there¡¯d be a curious deathworld animal that¡¯d get too close to the expedition and I¡¯d need to scare it off or put it down but¡­ for the most part¡­ my job consisted of tellin¡¯ people (much smarter ¡¯an me) to spit out fuckin¡¯ obviously poisonous berries, an¡¯ stuff!¡­ I was so much stronger ¡¯an everyone around me! Sure, I usually weren¡¯t the smartest in the room but I was always the one with the most, what I¡¯d call, common-sense!¡­ I ain¡¯t never told no one this but¡­ at 25, when I were doin¡¯ the correspondence course to upgrade to Security Specialist¡­ for fun (and a little for vanity) I decided to try and work out roughly how many people in the galaxy¡¯d be a match for me in a fight¡­ it was never meant to be serious (obviously, ¡®in a fight¡¯ is too vague to be taken serious!) just a bit of theoretics and ego strokin¡¯¡­ the number I came up with was 10,000¡­ that was the ballpark, back o¡¯ the envelope, Fermi estimation of people I thought might be a match for me¡­ how I got there, ain¡¯t important. The fact is, that number stuck in my head¡­ 10,000 people I reckoned might be able to beat me¡­ every time I felt unsure about something I¡¯d laugh that, unless one of those 10,000 have defied the odds to show up and are hellbent on destroyin¡¯ me, I ain¡¯t got nothin¡¯ to worry about¡­ Then I had my little¡­ meltdown, and you hired the other Triple Ms and I was like ¡®Cool! Samus is nearly in the 10,000! And, in certain circumstances, Tuun is in the 10,000! Well, they¡¯re friends so it ain¡¯t like I need to worry about it!¡¯¡­ Then, we got boarded¡­ I was the weak link¡­ I was the one who needed to go to regen on a stretcher¡­ everyone else did what they was supposed to! That man¡­ he was just better ¡¯an me!¡­ Suddenly, it seemed like the most vain, conceited, arrogant, narcissistic thing imaginable to have ever estimated myself so high! And¡­ since then, there¡¯s been a few other things, like talkin¡¯ to Tuun¡¯s mums; Katr¨ªn¡¯s got 125 years of HEMA and reconstructed Norse martial arts under her belt¡­ more ¡¯an six times my CQC experience, even if she¡¯s only ever used it in reenactments!...¡±

    He pauses here, to take a breath, before continuing ¡°¡­ When Thran broke my ribs, it made me realise¡­ I can¡¯t keep bein¡¯ complacent¡­ there¡¯s scary stuff and scary people out there and every extra bit of strength I have, every extra bit of experience, skill, makes me better able to put myself between the scary stuff and the ones I want to keep safe!¡±

    Alright, he¡¯s given me a¡­ lot to consider there!

    I decide to buy myself time by asking ¡°¡­and the brief regen periods, Victor? What are they for?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ well, Terran¡¯s gain muscle by workin¡¯ out ¡¯cause when we do stuff that strains the capacity of our current level of muscle, it tears and frays. When our body repairs itself, it effectively says ¡®Well this clearly ain¡¯t sufficient, guess we need to add a little more muscle!¡¯. Exercisin¡¯ naturally, you¡¯ve gotta give yourself time to recover so there¡¯s a limit to how fast you can make gains¡­ usin¡¯ regen, I can just keep goin¡¯ and goin¡¯ then drag myself to the medroom to recover¡­ last two weeks I¡¯ve gained 3kg of muscle, that¡¯s like four months¡¯ worth!¡­ So long as I make sure I¡¯ve got enough protein and calories on board, only limit is wakin¡¯ hours in the day¡­ and I¡¯ve¡­ been usin¡¯ stims to maximise those¡­¡± he answers, guilty at that last.

    ¡°So, to summarise, Victor¡­¡± I say with a wry cock of my browtuft ¡°¡­your behaviour can be described as ¡®Mighty deathworlder, who believed himself invincible, discovers that he is, in fact, mildly vincible, becomes fixated on eradicating the last of his weakness and ascending, from the mortal realm, to godhead¡¯? Truly, a worthy [supervillain] origin story(!)¡±

    He chuckles¡­ but the smile does not touch his tired eyes.

    ¡°The reason it¡¯s a legal requirement to have a Terran escort on expeditions to deathworlds, Victor? What is it?¡± I say, echoing my words to him the night he broke his arm from drunkenness.

    He looks up in recall ¡°Not strength¡­ not ferocity¡­ self-preservation? Nose for danger?¡±

    I give a Terran smile paired with a nod of agreement ¡°Just so, dear boy¡­ However, on this occasion, your self-preservation is telling you that you aren¡¯t safe because things exist that might harm you¡­ Victor, without becoming a deity¡­ there will always be things that could harm you¡­ you also can¡¯t be everywhere at once¡­ so, even after you attained your unattainable invincibility, you wouldn¡¯t be able to guarantee always being next to everyone you want to protect, every time they need protecting¡­¡± I pause to collect my thoughts, before continuing ¡°Victor, it seems to me that you¡¯re more likely to lose your new friendships by neglecting them in pursuit of the strength to protect them¡­ than you are by failing to protect them¡­ Also, you¡¯re clearly suffering from sleep deprivation. How fit do you think you¡¯d be to fight off pirates in your current state?¡±

    Tears well up in his eyes as he looks down in shame ¡°You¡¯re right¡­*sniff*¡­ Cap¡­ I was bein¡¯ stupid!¡­¡±

    I place my wingclaws on the stonehard flesh of his forearm and refute ¡°No, Victor¡­ Not stupid! You are a deathworlder and, to be frank, having evolved on one of the single most hellish planets ever studied, it¡¯s a [fucking] miracle that Humans aren¡¯t gibbering nervous wrecks ALL the time!¡­ What this is, is you having a moment of realisation, regarding the fragility of life, and wanting to do something about it! Not stupid!¡­ Granted, what you chose to do was somewhat stupid¡­ and counterproductive¡­ but I can understand why you reacted this way¡­ It¡¯s probably, in large part, my fault for taking [nine years] to recognise that you needed friends! Now you have friends, it¡¯s natural that you¡¯d be scared to lose them!¡­¡±

    He smiles at me, through his tears. I stand and extend my wings to wrap them around his shoulders.

    Reaching to gently pat my back, as I hug him, he says ¡°Cap¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Victor?¡±

    ¡°I think I need a therapist¡­ or somethin¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Miyazaki about that tomorrow, I¡¯m sure she will be able to procure someone qualified to meet us on one of the next few planets before we leave Terran Space¡­ what you need right now, however, is sleep, Victor!¡­ Captain¡¯s orders; go to Triple M, sleep, either in the Cuddle Puddle or in your and Tuun¡¯s room, tomorrow, talk to Thran, talk to everyone so they aren¡¯t worrying, explain as much as you¡¯re comfortable with¡­ then come and visit Tcakak, when you¡¯re ready, she¡¯s missed you!¡±

    He nods over my wing and then makes to get up, causing me to release him from the hug.

    We leave the Terran section together and, as we pass through the privacy field, I say ¡°Twila¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Captain?¡± comes her voice, over the PA.

    ¡°As of this moment, onboard regen is for medical use only, time is no longer available for purchase.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make it so, Captain. Anything else?¡± she answers, cheerfully.

    ¡°Yes¡­ Victor Taylor is limited to [2.5 hours] in the gym, per diurnal¡­ if he attempts to exceed that¡­¡± I stop, to think a moment ¡°¡­pipe in Baby Shark Dance, on repeat, at 400% standard volume, until he leaves¡­¡± I smile at him.

    ¡°Ah¡­ Cap¡­ low blow(!)¡± he laughs.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.27

    ---Talk---

    ---Victor¡¯s Perspective---

    Pain¡­ Everything is pain¡­ Every inch of me aches¡­

    I really thrashed myself to death, yesterday! Perhaps I should have made the case, to Cap, that her injunction against frivolous regens, should take effect after I¡¯d bought one last recovery!

    I open my eyes to see my arms wrapped around Tuun¡¯s back, between her upper and lower sets of arms. Her upper arms are wrapped around the back of my neck, her lowers are against the side of my chest, her sleeping face is angled toward mine, over my left shoulder.

    I trace down the gulley, created by her spine, with the fingertips of my right hand, my left reaches up to stroke her ear.

    In my peripheral vision, I see her glowing eyes open.

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± I smile.

    ¡°Hey, yourself¡­¡± she smiles back.

    ¡°Sorry again for waking you up last night¡­ and for bein¡¯ an arse these last few weeks¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, baby, I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re back with us¡­ I¡¯m sorry it wasn¡¯t me who came to talk sense into you¡­ As to waking me up, you know that evolving on an eyeballworld means sleep is something I can basically just do whenever I feel like it¡­ none of the crankiness of a lightworlder when waking up, either(!)¡± she chuckles.

    ¡°Some people get all the blessin¡¯s(!)¡± I smirk back.

    ¡°Yes¡­ and I¡¯m definitely one of them¡­ though, it is interesting that my biggest blessing was happy to let me sleep with two gorgeous men and five gorgeous women, without him, for two weeks(!)¡±

    ¡°Babes¡­¡± I start, wryly ¡°¡­what is rule one of the Cuddle Puddle?¡±

    She rolls her luminous irides ¡°The Cuddle Puddle isn¡¯t sexual, no sex jokes about the Cuddle Puddle.¡±

    ¡°Yep; it runs the risk of people gettin¡¯ self-conscious and weirded out¡­ Fliss, Thran an¡¯ Emi still ain¡¯t interested then?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°Felicity is still doing her tsuntsun thing¡­ Emiko still says she wants to keep a professional distance¡­ but I think that¡¯s what she¡¯s saying because she can see how uncomfortable Thran was with the idea and didn¡¯t want her to feel like she had to¡­¡±

    I shrug ¡°That¡¯s fair enough¡­ Thran would probably feel like she weren¡¯t doin¡¯ her bodyguardin¡¯ if she let her sleep in a room with all of us and wasn¡¯t there to protect her¡­ in case one of us was a long con assassin, or somethin¡¯(!)¡­ Good of Emi to recognise that, though!¡±

    She nods in agreement.

    ¡°Speakin¡¯ of Thran, I gotta go clear the air with her¡­ you mind lettin¡¯ me up?¡±

    She nods and rolls off me and I sit up.

    Muscles still screaming reproach at me for having annihilated them without fixing them in regen, I reach for the breakfast of meal solution I had the foresight to make up last night.

    Tuun makes a pretend gagging sound as I chug it down.

    ¡°I¡¯ll never understand how you can drink that stuff, baby(!)¡± she quips, with a shake of her head.

    ¡°I just need calories and protein to fix myself up, right now, the palette and dinin¡¯ experience ain¡¯t a priority(!)¡± I answer, amused.

    ¡°I truly do not envy you persistence hunters for the things you have to do for that stamina! Stealth ambush niche, for the win(!)¡± she smiles.

    I finish chugging down my breakfast and give her a kiss.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t want me to come with?¡± she asks as I dress.

    I shake my head ¡°I feel like I owe it to her to go alone¡­ if she says she doesn¡¯t wanna talk to me alone I might ask you and/or Xon to sit in but I feel like, if we go together, she might feel ganged up on¡­¡±

    She nods ¡°OK, good luck¡­¡±

    I make to leave then turn back for one last kiss¡­

    Tuun smirks ¡°You¡­ *kiss*¡­ gonna go¡­ *kiss*¡­ or¡­ *kiss*¡­ stay here¡­ *kiss*¡­ kissing me¡­ *kiss*¡­ all day(?)¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna go¡­ *kiss*¡­ I just need a bit¡­ *kiss*¡­ of Tuunpower(!)¡­ *kiss*¡±

    She giggles and my heart swoops¡­ I love her so goddamn much!

    Having got enough kisses to recharge my, very depleted, reserves of Tuunpower, I bid her goodbye and leave to have what promises to be an awkward conversation.

    I walk to her door¡­ and ring¡­

    There are some moments of silence¡­ she has the privacy field up¡­

    Then the door opens and reveals the strongest woman in the galaxy, in a brown tank top and seamless shorts, her coarse explosion of wavy orange hair is tied into a simple ponytail and she¡¯s covered in sweat¡­ she was working out in her room¡­ I feel guilt kick me in the gut. Her eyes are initially at my midriff but widen and shoot up, almost meeting mine before they avert to look away.

    ¡°Hey¡­ I wanted to talk to you¡­ I can come back¡­ if now ain¡¯t a good time?¡­ If you want Xon or anyone else to be here¡­ that¡¯s fine with me¡­¡±

    She doesn¡¯t meet my eyes as she says ¡°We can talk¡­ I don¡¯t care¡­ I don¡¯t need her to see¡­¡±

    There¡¯s a moment of hesitation before I ask ¡°Alright¡­ can I come in?¡±

    Still not making eyecontact, she screws up her face for a fifth of a second, apparently embarrassed of having missed the social cue to invite me in, before standing aside and saying ¡°Come in. Sit down.¡±

    I walk into the immaculately kept room¡­ she moved in a few weeks ago but, other than the mannequin holding her ludicrously heavy fantasy armour and plasmawarpick, the exercise equipment in the corner of the room and the heavybag hung from the ceiling in the centre, there¡¯s precisely zero sign that anyone lives here. No dirty laundry, no glasses of water on the bedside table, no scraps of paper on the desk¡­ nothing.

    I make for the armchairs by the coffeetable and sit.

    She¡¯s not followed me, instead she¡¯s towelling off her sweat¡­ fair enough¡­ I did catch her in the middle of a set, it seems. I¡¯ll wait for her to dry herself off.

    When she finishes, rather than coming to sit opposite me, she walks to the mannequin¡­ and relieves it of her bec de corbin, releases the power-source that makes it a plasmaweapon and, only then, walks over to where I¡¯m sitting.

    This is¡­ odd behaviour but¡­ well it doesn¡¯t read as threatening, despite the weapon in her hands, so I don¡¯t react¡­ just observe.

    Reaching me, she places the bec on the table in front of me.

    Without looking at me, she takes a few steps back, turns to show me her right side profile and raises her right arm to place the wrist at the top of her scalp.

    ¡°At least five across at least three¡­¡± she says, not looking at me.

    Utterly lost, I respond ¡°Erm¡­ sorry? At least five whats across at least three whats?¡±

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°Break my ribs at least five times across at least three ribs¡­ like I did to you¡­¡± she says, as if asking me to pass her the salt.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t have to tell you to use the hammerhead side not the beak or the spike¡­ I¡¯m sure you also know that if you hit me full force you could, very likely, kill me so, please, just hit me hard enough to break some ribs and no harder¡­¡±

    I stare, agog, at her for several seconds, trying to work out if she¡¯s joking.

    I, eventually, come to the conclusion that she¡¯s serious and feel a rising wave of anger well up.

    I¡¯m about to ask her what the hell she thinks she¡¯s playing at when I regain control, remember that I¡¯m here to apologise and, calmly, start ¡°I won¡¯t be doing that¡­ that¡¯s not why I¡¯m here¡­ I¡¯m here to talk to you, like I said¡­ I ain¡¯t here for revenge, I ain¡¯t here to corporally punish you.¡±

    She rounds on me, eyes now fixed on mine, prominent brow twisted in a pained expression ¡°I hurt you! The only way to make¡­¡±

    ¡°Not happenin¡¯!¡± I interrupt, still fighting to keep the anger out of my voice ¡°Please, put that away, sit with me and listen.¡±

    She stares at me with that wounded expression for several long moments¡­ then picks up the nasty weapon and takes it to place it back with the mannequin.

    Coming back, she slumps into the seat opposite me and doesn¡¯t meet my eyes.

    ¡°OK, first things first, may I call you Thran? I know we all started callin¡¯ you Thran and you didn¡¯t object but, if you¡¯d prefer ¡®Hunter¡¯, ¡®Ms. Hunter¡¯ or ¡®Gimli¡¯, please let me know.¡± I say, calmly.

    I don¡¯t offer to call her by her other name. Given that the whole point is to put her at ease, now is not the time to bring up things I only know ¡¯cause of my parasocial relationship with her(!)

    ¡°Thran¡¯s fine¡­¡± she mutters, quiet enough that I almost don¡¯t catch it.

    ¡°Alright, Thran, I have an apology to make¡­¡±

    She whips her head to me, glaring, and opens her mouth but I hold up my hand to stop her ¡°Please, let me finish.¡±

    She hesitates, then nods, surlily.

    ¡°I have an apology to make¡­ yes, you hurt me¡­ however, I didn¡¯t begrudge it even a moment! You beat me and it was a fantastic fight!¡­ My apology comes ¡¯cause of what happened next¡­ I should¡¯ve found you, should¡¯ve congratulated you and should¡¯ve made clear there was no ill will¡­ I got distracted with my own shit, assumed that the fact that I had no hard feelin¡¯s was obvious and let you think I was bitter and plottin¡¯ revenge¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ I should¡¯ve thought about how you¡¯d feel¡­ should¡¯ve realised that you don¡¯t know me well enough to know that that ain¡¯t what I¡¯m like!¡±

    ¡°¡­s ¡¯lwuhs h¡¯ppuns¡­¡± she mumbles.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry? I didn¡¯t catch that¡­¡±

    ¡°This always happens!¡± she says, fiercely now ¡°I do something stupid, then think something stupid, then it¡¯s someone else¡¯s job to come and explain it to me, like I¡¯m a child! I HATE it! I hate that there¡¯s so much I just don¡¯t understand about how to¡­ be, around people! I sometimes think that Neanderthals just weren¡¯t meant for the Space Age! We had our time and it ended¡­ 30,000 years ago! We had our little niche, living in tiny groups, sprinting down animals in Ice Age Europe and, then, we died off because you were just better than us¡­ your niche let you do what we couldn¡¯t¡­ sure, a single digit percentage of your DNA might be from my people but, the fact is, my people only exist today because of your people¡¯s survivors¡¯ guilt! You brought us back, to a world that had left us behind, to a world we don''t deserve! You saw that, by your standards, nearly half of us had a social disorder and, instead of quietly forgetting that you¡¯d ever cloned us back and letting those that you had just disappear into your population, you declared the disorder a ¡®condition¡¯ and kept going! Kept dragging us, kicking and screaming, back from oblivion! Forcing us to exist in a world we just don¡¯t belong in! Among people who can be expected to just know things like ¡®there are no hard feelings¡¯ or ¡®offering ribs for ribs is not OK¡¯! I¡¯ve hurt someone I idolise and the only thing I could think to do was offer to let you hurt me back¡­ and it was just the wrong thing to do, wasn¡¯t it!!!¡±

    Wow¡­ I think the number of words I¡¯ve ever heard her speak, in person, has just doubled in the last thirty seconds! And it was all baggage, every bit as bad as what I spilled to Cap, last night!¡­ The phrase ¡®burst dam¡¯ comes to mind!

    Did she say she ¡®idolises¡¯ me? OK, Victor, not about you¡­ ask about that after everything else is sorted, if at all.

    ¡°I wanna start, Thran, by sayin¡¯ I¡¯m thirty years old¡­ not thirty thousand¡­ I wasn¡¯t there when the last natural Neanderthals died out¡­ I don¡¯t know how it went down. I do know that when you were sharpenin¡¯ spears to hunt mammoths, we were doin¡¯ the same¡­ it ain¡¯t exactly like we¡¯re anymore cut out for space ships than you(!)¡­ I wasn¡¯t there when we decided to bring you back and, while that is within recorded history, I can¡¯t give a full accountin¡¯ of the reasonin¡¯ that went into it¡­ I¡¯m sure that no one can¡­ (though there¡¯ll be people who¡¯d do better¡¯n me, for sure!) Maybe you¡¯re right¡­ maybe it was, in part, a kinda survivors'' guilt, us feelin¡¯ like we didn¡¯t deserve to be the only ones who made it when we had to step over so many others, to get there¡­ I don¡¯t know. What I do know is that the galaxy is better with you in it! Richer! Stronger! Sweeter! I know that you deserve the second chance you got!¡­ When it comes to ¡®ASD¡¯ vs. ¡®ASC¡¯; I think there were people sayin¡¯ it should be ¡®ASC¡¯ since the 20th Century! It ain¡¯t just ¡¯causa Neanderthals that we changed it! We changed it ¡¯cause ¡®disorder¡¯ implies it¡¯s inherently a problem¡­ which it ain¡¯t! It¡¯s the way some folk are and it don¡¯t make ¡¯em any lesser!¡­ I had a Neanderthal in my orphanage¡­ she was also in my class at school¡­ she was tubeborn, not naturalborn like you¡­ she was meant to be fostered out but¡­ after the War¡­ fosterin¡¯ prospects were a little thin on the ground¡­ She and I were good friends¡­ she said similar stuff to what you¡¯ve just said¡­ ¡®Not meant to¡¯s and ¡®don¡¯t deserve''s¡­ our classmates didn¡¯t help¡­ there were slurs¡­ nasty, meanspirited stuff¡­ the fact is, she was the brightest in the class and they were jealous¡­ she¡¯s a doctor now and married to a man she loves dearly¡­ the point I¡¯m trying to make is¡­ I suppose¡­ does it matter? Does it matter if some arbitrary deity or fate decided your lineage wasn¡¯t gonna survive the Ice Age? You¡¯re here now¡­ what are you gonna do about it? ¡¯Cause¡­ well you¡¯re both the strongest woman in the galaxy and its best bodyguard¡­ at least accordin¡¯ to the ODR¡­ you ain¡¯t doin¡¯ too badly, I¡¯d say!¡±

    I take a deep breath but she doesn¡¯t make to speak so I keep talking ¡°Thran¡­ last night¡­ I realised that I had a tonne of issues that I hadn¡¯t been dealin¡¯ with properly¡­ I asked¡­ to see a therapist¡­ don¡¯t take this the wrong way but¡­ I think¡­ if we can get a therapist¡­ it might be a good idea for you to see ¡¯em, too¡­ I¡¯m happy to listen to you but¡­ I ain¡¯t an expert on the Human mind and there¡¯s a good chance I might do more harm than good if I try and sort out your problems¡­ this ain¡¯t an instruction¡­ it¡¯s a suggestion¡­ if we get a therapist, I think you should see ¡¯em¡­¡±

    She nods, a nod of consideration more than agreement¡­ she doesn¡¯t say anything¡­

    I don¡¯t really have anything else to say about any of that so I decide to satisfy my curiosity about the other thing she said¡­ ¡°What did you mean: ¡®someone you idolise¡¯?¡± I ask, interested.

    She shifts¡­ I think uncomfortably, and answers ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re someone I idolise¡­¡±

    That is consistent with how it sounded but no less surprising ¡°We met eachother, for the first time, less than two months ago¡­ we ain¡¯t really spoken much in that time¡­ how¡¯d you end up ¡®idolisin¡¯¡¯ me?¡± I ask.

    She shakes her head ¡°You were a childhood hero¡­ I was 12 when I first saw your face and heard about the new SO position¡­ I thought you were just the coolest! I took up Shaolin, to be like you. I wanted to be an SO, like you¡­ but no course would have me¡­ social intelligence too low¡­ couldn¡¯t intuit things a gardenworlder wouldn¡¯t know, questions I should ask, meaning of nonexplicit gestures etc. etc¡­ I had to give up on it, eventually, and became a bodyguard instead¡­ scraped in because the social intelligence demands were just lower enough¡­¡±

    That¡¯s¡­ very unexpected¡­ I knew they¡¯d used my image to promote the new SO course but¡­ I didn¡¯t think I had fans! I knew she had a black sash, same as me, (even if I hadn¡¯t read it, it¡¯d¡¯ve been obvious from fighting her, using her Southern ¡®Boxing¡¯ style) but to think I inspired it!

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I ever made it explicit, Thran, but I¡¯m a huge fan of your bodybuildin¡¯¡­ I¡¯d just about given up on readin¡¯ interviews with bodybuilders when I first read yours¡­ so much of it was just preenin¡¯ and posturin¡¯¡­ so much of the advice was factually wrong¡­ sometimes irresponsibly so¡­ then I read yours and it was¡­ so insightful! I learned something every time I read or watched you be interviewed¡­ you had a really unique perspective on bodybuildin¡¯ and I incorporated a lot of your stuff into my own regimen!¡±

    She narrows her eyes suspiciously ¡°You¡¯re just saying that¡­¡±

    I shake my head ¡°True! Every word! I¡¯m a huge fan and it¡¯s¡­ interestin¡¯ to learn that you¡¯re also a fan of me¡­ never met a fan before(!)¡±

    She ponders that.

    I stand and say ¡°Thran¡­ it¡¯s been wonderful havin¡¯ this heart-to-heart but¡­ I¡¯ve got stuff to do today and¡­ well, I don¡¯t wanna make either of our girlfriends suspicious(!)¡­ It¡­ really ain¡¯t an option for me today but¡­ when I¡¯m recovered¡­ what d¡¯you say to a workout sesh together¡­ in the gym¡­?¡±

    She smiles and nods.

    I hold out my hand and, hesitantly, she takes it for a handshake.

    ¡°Congrats on that well earned victory!¡± I wink.

    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± she says, nervously.

    I make to leave but she says ¡°Victor¡­?¡±

    I turn back ¡°Yes, Thran?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n¡¯s lineage?¡± she asks, making it sound more like a statement.

    ¡°Err¡­ yeah¡­ never met him but he¡¯s the man who trained the woman who trained the man who trained me¡­ so yeah, 3 generations above me.¡± I don¡¯t bother asking how she knew that, given that she¡¯s just confessed to being a fan¡­ though it is a little disconcerting that she just had such a trivial detail in her mind, she was more sure about that than I was!

    ¡°Why do you ask¡­?¡± I question.

    ¡°I¡­ am as well¡­ and I thought you¡¯d like to know that we¡¯re picking him up on X¨©n de Q¨ªn¡­ he will be the ships fitness instructor and¡­ Mistress Miyazaki felt that¡­ we could perhaps study under him¡­ improve our CQC¡­ it¡¯s not mandatory¡­¡±

    ¡°Wow! I¡¯d be thrilled! That sounds amazin¡¯!¡± I say excitedly ¡°I didn¡¯t know we shared Shaolin lineage¡­ I guess that makes us cousins¡­ of a sort other than ¡®evolutionary¡¯(!)¡± I quip.

    This time she¡¯s the one to extend her hand.

    ¡°I look forward to studying with you, Sh¨ª R¨³ M¨ªng.¡± she says, using my Dharmic name.

    I grasp her hand and answer ¡°You as well, Sh¨ª R¨³ F¨¡ng!¡±

    We shake and smile¡­ I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlude X: Pancakes and Nightingales

    ---C??ng¡¯s Perspective---

    I¡¯m sitting in Plus Ultra¡¯s Commonroom with Olga, Baorbo, Soo and Niy.

    I¡¯ve known Niyol for a long time, we met during the War and have been good friends ever since. Pulling people, barely clinging to life, out of rubble (while making sure you don¡¯t accidentally hurt them worse than the building that just collapsed on them) and treating them together does tend to forge pretty lasting friendships, in my experience!

    The other three¡­ well I¡¯m warming up to them and vice-versa.

    The trickiest thing is fighting the intense curiosity about why Olga has never had her dwarfism treated¡­ and then fighting the guilt about thinking of it as something that needs to be ¡®fixed¡¯, when that¡¯s clearly not how she sees it.

    ¡®First, do no harm¡­¡¯! If she¡¯s happy with herself the way she is, then it¡¯s not my business to interject my opinion. It seems like she¡¯s really done with people suggesting it should be ¡®fixed¡¯ and I¡¯m sure she¡¯s had the benefits of it listed to her by every other person she¡¯s ever met! I just have to keep my mouth shut about it!

    There¡¯s not much to say about Baorbo¡­ he¡¯s a 3m tall frogman who barely speaks¡­ he has the baring of a stoic, old man but doesn¡¯t seem unkind in his silence¡­ he sits with us and smiles at our jokes.

    Soo¡­ well¡­ Soo¡¯s odd¡­

    She¡¯s a Suigu¡­ she¡¯s also, technically, not a ¡®she¡¯, given that her species has no sexes¡­ but the humanoid arrangement, of her transparent blue, gelatinous body, that she typically holds when around us is definitely feminine modelled and she¡¯s indicated that she would prefer ¡®she¡¯ to ¡®they¡¯ or ¡®he¡¯.

    Hers was one of the weirder species that I had to treat, during the War.

    I understand, more or less, how it works but, instinctively, an amoeba that¡¯s 20kg as opposed to 4¦Ìg just doesn¡¯t seem like it should work as a lifeform! She¡¯s literally five billion times more massive than an Earth amoeba!

    Don¡¯t even get me started on how she¡¯s sentient without a nervous system! Her entire body is a single cell that¡¯s, effectively, stomach, brain, liver, lungs, heart, nose/mouth and eye all at once but, somehow, it works¡­ it produces an intelligent being.

    In my peripheral vision, I can see that her face is turned to me¡­ she always has her face turned to me and I don¡¯t know why! She could look at me with any part of her body¡­ it¡¯s like she¡¯s making a show of ¡®looking¡¯ at me¡­ if she were from a sexual species, it would seem like¡­ but she¡¯s not from a sexual species¡­ so it can¡¯t be that!

    ¡°I¡¯ve got one¡­¡± says Niy, before switching from Navajo to English ¡°¡­what¡¯s it called when a cowboy dies and gets reborn?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, what is it called?¡± asks Olga.

    ¡°Reintarnation!¡± he says with a shiteating grin.

    I burst out laughing.

    Olga, being Russian, says ¡°That was very funny.¡± while showing no sign of amusement in her face or voice. (She is amused, though)

    Baorbo just smiles his avuncular, closed lipped, smile.

    Soo, just keeps staring at me.

    ¡°Alright¡­ My turn¡­¡± I say, trying to ignore the eyes that aren¡¯t eyes, fixed on me.

    I switch to French and say ¡°Darth Vader goes into a boulangerie and asks for three bread and two tartes Tatin¡­ you know why?¡±

    The Humans shake their heads, the other two just look at me.

    mf? Pain, pain, pain, tarte Tatin, tarte Tatin!?mf I sing, to the tune of the Imperial March.

    This prompts groans from Olga and Niy and¡­ hysterical laughter from¡­ who¡¯s laughing?

    I look to Baorbo, who¡¯s just smiling at me¡­ then I notice that Soo is twitching.

    I look at her and see that she has arranged her pretty face into a Human grin.

    Communicating via a pheromone based language, she doesn¡¯t need to visibly move her mouth or any other part of her to speak¡­ or, in this case¡­ laugh¡­ the effect is somewhat surreal, to hear this intense laughter but see only a grin and a twitch¡­

    The joke really wasn¡¯t that funny!

    ---later---

    I¡¯m sitting in my room, on my own.

    I¡¯ve heard that the Triple Ms have a massive¡­ sleep heap where they all sleep together but I¡¯m not sure how seriously I should take that(!)

    I¡¯m ruminating on Soo¡¯s odd behaviour towards me.

    The way she makes a show of always having her face-not-a-face pointed in my direction, the way she makes herself a more sexy shape when she and I are the only two in the room, the way she laughed, far too hard, at my joke, earlier¡­ there¡¯s something going on.

    Could it be simple culture clash? She¡¯s deemed me to be the correct recipient of this behaviour, in this context, for reasons that make sense to her but I¡¯m completely ignorant of?

    There¡¯s nothing for it ¡°I just have to talk to Soo¡­¡± I say aloud, bringing my hand to my forehead to massage my temples.

    ¡°Talk to me about what?¡± she answers, from behind me, nearly giving me a heart attack.

    For a moment I feel like the seventy one year old I am, as opposed to the twenty five year old whose body I inhabit(!)

    I shoot to my feet and whip around.

    Sure enough, there she is, standing a few paces behind the seat I was sat in looking up at me with that transparent blue face¡­ that gorgeous face¡­

    ¡°FUCKING hell, Soo! Don¡¯t sneak up on me like that!!!¡±

    She affects a cheeky smile and answers ¡°Did you think I was a tiger, or something?¡± her translated voice layered with mirth.

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t think you were a tiger! Terrans just get jumpy when we think we¡¯re alone and it turns out we¡¯re not! I know it¡¯s less of a problem for you, being squidgy, but I¡¯ve seen gardenworlders get bones broken by sneaking up on Terrans, you know!? It¡¯s not a good idea to startle someone who could hurt you without trying to!¡± I pause to consider ¡°How¡­ how did you even get in here? I¡¯m pretty sure I locked the door!¡­ I didn¡¯t hear it open¡­¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a [3mm] gap underneath it. It took a [minute] or so but I was able to squeeze under¡­ hardest thing to get through was my translator but, once I aligned it edgewise, it fit.¡± she says, nonchalant.

    ¡°¡­*sigh*¡­ and why?¡­ I have to tell you, to a Terran, purposefully bypassing a locked door, that they¡¯ve put between themself and everyone else, reads as rude, at best!¡±

    ¡°I wanted to talk to you¡­¡± she says, simply.

    ¡°¡­about what?¡±

    ¡°You first, what did you want to talk to me about?¡± she says with a playful cock of her ¡®head¡¯.

    Is she for real?! ¡°You know, it¡¯s pretty brazen to sneak into a deathworlder¡¯s room, startle them, then get cute with them when they ask you to explain yourself!!!¡±

    She parts her lips, in that facsimile of a smile, and answers ¡°I¡¯m glad you think I¡¯m ¡®cute¡¯.¡±

    I stare in disbelief, for a few seconds, before saying ¡°I¡­ just wanted to ask you¡­ why you¡­ why you¡¯ve been weird to me since we met¡­ like, not unpleasant just¡­ strange¡­ why?¡± with resignation.

    She gives a subtle smile and takes a step toward me ¡°You can¡¯t think of¡­ any reason¡­ with that high performance deathworld brain of yours?¡±

    Uncertainly, I take a step back ¡°None that¡­ make sense¡­! The only thing I can think is that this must be something from Suigu culture that I¡¯m not getting.¡±

    One more step forward from the gorgeous woman and one more step back from me.

    ¡°It¡¯s not cultural¡­ What¡¯s the reason that doesn¡¯t make sense?¡± she asks with feigned innocence.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I say, uncomfortably, taking one more step back, matched by a step forward from her ¡°It sort of seems¡­ I mean¡­ it can¡¯t be, but it seems like you¡¯re attracted to me¡­ but your species reproduces asexually, so it can¡¯t be that!¡±

    She smiles and with three steps forward, closes the remaining distance between us. I find myself with a wall at my back and her hands on my chest, her clear blue face looking up into mine.

    ¡°Can¡¯t it?¡± she asks, cockiness gone, replaced with trepidation.

    ¡°Uhm, err¡­ it¡¯s¡­ the thing¡­ uuh¡­¡± I stammer, stupidly.

    I¡¯ve never been popular with the opposite sex! All my life, I¡¯ve been passed over as plain to look at and plain to talk to! Being a Humanitarian Officer is interesting to some¡­ but only for so long.

    Sure, it¡¯s not as if I¡¯m a virgin but¡­ no one¡¯s ever shown interest like this!

    Contracting herself, widthwise, to extend herself, heightwise, she brings her lips to the level of mine.

    She doesn¡¯t breathe, the way I do, but she¡¯s close enough to me that I can feel my own breath reflected back onto my lower face.

    She brings her mouth to mine and kisses me, gently, but with clear longing.

    I reciprocate, bringing my hands from the wall to her back.

    She squashes her front against mine, deforming it¡­ ¡®plastically¡¯ isn¡¯t the right word¡­ ¡®liquidly¡¯?

    A full 30 seconds pass with her facsimile of a mouth pressed against my genuine article, her hand formations moving over my chest and mine moving over the squashy membrane of her back.

    My mind is clear, empty, blissful. I think of nothing but the moment¡­ until I don¡¯t¡­

    Bringing my hands to her shoulders, I try to push her away, but find that there¡¯s nothing to push against as they slip over the pliant¡­ flesh(?)

    I turn my head to remove it from her mouth and say ¡°Stop¡­ wait¡­ just hang on¡­¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    She steps back with a look of desperation on her face and says ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Do I not look right?! I can make my boobs bigger if you want?¡± increasing the size of her chest ¡°My waist thinner?¡± contracting her waist ¡°Legs longer?¡± lengthening her legs ¡°Would you prefer a different hairstyle?¡± cycling through a few ¡°Would you prefer a boy?¡± morphing her whole appearance to the masculine, her translator rendering her voice huskier, while still recognisably hers ¡°I¡¯ll look however you want!¡±.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing like that¡­ you¡¯re gorgeous, whatever shape you are¡­ just¡­ I want to know why? I don¡¯t want to seem unappreciative, I¡¯m very glad you seem to be¡­ into me. I just don¡¯t understand!¡­ Why would you be into me? There¡¯s no reproductive reason for you to have romantic or sexual feelings¡­ for anyone! But, if you have them¡­ why would it be for a Human and why especially would it be for this Human? What¡¯s so special about me to spur this behaviour?¡±

    She gives a sad smile and says ¡°You don¡¯t remember¡­ why would you?!¡­ it was just ¡®Tuesday¡¯ to you, I¡¯m sure(!)¡±

    ¡°Remember what?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t answer, instead melting into a roughly spherical bubble on the floor¡­ sort of has the effect of making her look like the first enemy you¡¯d fight in a JRPG(!)

    I walk to her and stoop, placing my hands on either side of the sphere and scooping it up to hold it against my chest.

    I see the disturbance of two ¡®eyes¡¯ forming and wheeling up to look at me from the blob, but she says nothing.

    I carry her to my bed and, gently, place her down before sitting beside her, putting my hand on top of her in a way I hope is comforting.

    ¡°Talk to me¡­ when did we meet and what did I do to get you to feel like this?¡±

    She¡¯s still fixing me with the internal arrangement of photoreceptors that act as eyes.

    ¡°You think I¡¯m ¡®gorgeous¡¯ like this(?!)¡± she asks, miserably.

    I think for a moment before saying ¡°¡­Yes¡­ perhaps not exactly sexy but you¡¯re definitely cute.¡± with, what I hope is, a reassuring smile.

    She furrows her eyepatches, suspiciously.

    ¡°Vogo¡¯a¡­¡± she says, spearing my heart with the bitterest regret of my life.

    Vogo¡¯a was the first gardenworld the UTC occupied in our counteroffensive. The casualties were immense, as gardenworlders were terrified of us so, every time we¡¯d approach, there was a good chance that they¡¯d choose the certain death of a long drop or a lazer weapon to the roof of the mouth, over whatever they thought we¡¯d do to them. Not having realised the extent to which biocontainment was necessary, our biowaste rendered that planet uninhabitable, causing millions of refugees. I was there, following the infantry, helping whoever needed help¡­ that was before I met Niyol.

    ¡°My [untranslatable concept. Closest approx.: progenitor/forebear/parent/mother] was offered a job on that planet, as an industrial water purifier in military manufacturing, for the War¡­ She decided that, as work was good, she would mitose and me and my [untranslatable concept. Closest approx.: siblings] would all have jobs at the factory she worked at, immediately. Her boss was thrilled at the prospect¡­ she began the process. We thought that there was no way the UTC could break the cordon and, thus, Vogo¡¯a was a safe place for her to reproduce¡­ by the time it turned out that wasn¡¯t the case, it was too late¡­ she couldn¡¯t reverse it¡­ she began splitting as fleets arrived in orbit, my [siblings] and I were born as a battle raged in our district. I half remember my [mother¡¯s] impressions of the monstrous deathworld soldiers, in their black armour, not even seeming to notice being shot with the strongest antimateriel weaponry gardenworlders could produce¡­ the same weapons she¡¯d been employed in the manufacture of. Our house collapsed from an errant artillery shot¡­ my [siblings] were killed. Their membranes were still taut and so they just¡­ popped when the building came down on them. By some providence, I happened to be in a cavity and I was alive¡­ but I couldn¡¯t squeeze through any gaps to get out¡­ I don¡¯t know how long I was there¡­ but I was dying¡­ suffocating¡­ dehydrating¡­ starving¡­ then you came¡­¡±

    ¡°And¡­ what did I do?¡± I ask, rapt by her heartbreaking story.

    ¡°You picked up the piece of rubble that was acting as the roof of the cavity and tossed it aside, it was like it weighed nothing¡­ you didn¡¯t even notice the weight of the thing that I hadn¡¯t even been able to visibly budge, the thing that I don¡¯t think the strongest Threndian could lift the way you did! It was just something standing between you and me, so it got tossed aside¡­ I was terrified¡­ I recognised you as a Terran, and Terrans were enemies and monsters¡­ my thoughts were addled from my condition and, my [siblings] not having made it, I hadn¡¯t been able to copy the parts of my [mother¡¯s] memory that they had inherited and I hadn¡¯t, so it was just vague impressions of ¡®bad¡¯, ¡®scary¡¯, ¡®enemy¡¯, ¡®monster¡¯, ¡®death¡¯ in my mind but, articulating it now, I think I assumed that you were going to eat me and I¡¯d be melted in that vat of acid you, just casually, carry around inside you(!) I would have tried to escape, if I¡¯d had any strength left but I didn¡¯t so, when you picked me up I resigned myself to die¡­ then you splashed me with water and gave me a piece of chocolate¡­ I didn¡¯t understand why you weren¡¯t being monstrous but, having some strength now, I tried to escape. You calmly held me with one hand and, every time I squeezed through your fingers, you caught me with the other¡­ you didn¡¯t have a translator so I couldn¡¯t understand what you were saying but I think you were trying to be soothing. You brought me to a tent and I lived the first [years] of my life on Terran occupied worlds¡­ because of you. It¡¯s only because of you that I¡¯m alive at all¡­!¡±

    My mind is wheeling with words like ¡®nightingale effect¡¯, ¡®suspension bridge effect¡¯, ¡®Stockholm syndrome¡¯ and ¡®imprinting¡¯¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Soo, I really don¡¯t remember this¡­ You¡¯re sure it was me? Couldn¡¯t be a case of mistaken identity?¡± I ask, apologetically.

    She shakes her eyes from side to side, within her bubble, to mimic a ¡®no¡¯ ¡°It was definitely you, Cu! You looked a bit older but there¡¯s no mistaking the [smell/taste] of the first thing I ever [smelled/tasted] that wasn¡¯t rubble! I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t remember it because you saved a dozen other people that day and a dozen more the next¡­ why would you remember a tennisball sized blob who was one of maybe hundreds, maybe thousands of lives that you¡¯ve personally saved?¡±

    ¡°It¡­ is true that, those first few weeks of the occupation, I was utterly run off my feet¡­ our projections had really underestimated the extent of the devastation, so there simply weren¡¯t enough Humanitarians sent. I actually fainted from exhaustion a few times¡­ I might not remember you. It would have had to be in the first few days, if I gave you chocolate¡­ someone sent a rescue into toxic shock with chocolate, early on, so after that we were advised not to feed anyone anything until it was determined what might kill them. You¡¯re lucky your species is one of the handful who have higher general toxin resistance than Humans(!)¡±

    I think for a moment further ¡°OK, but where did this become romantic?¡­ I understand, if you feel like you owe me your life, feeling grateful but¡­ Suigu don¡¯t¡­ well you don¡¯t¡­ err¡­¡±

    ¡°[Fuck]?¡± she asks.

    ¡°Well, I was trying not to put it like that but, yeah. Am I missing something?¡±

    At this she morphs back into the shape of a gorgeous Human woman, her mouth bent in a mirthless smile, her eyes cast down, her arms on the bed, supporting her torso.

    ¡°Never underestimate the mimeticism of Terran culture¡­ if we¡¯d been occupied by any other species the best we could have hoped for was to be ignored¡­ when your faeces rendered Vogo¡¯a a toxic hellscape, we expected you¡¯d leave us to die¡­ like any other occupiers would¡­ no other species would have gone to the effort of evacuating occupied populations of species they were at War with¡­ if they did, they certainly wouldn¡¯t waste resources on setting up refugee housing, schooling, entertainment¡­ every Terran film I watched in that refuge (and since) every time there was a romance¡­ I¡¯d imagine you and I as the ones on screen¡­ I may not, biologically, be capable of an orgasm, I may not need a partner for reproduction but that doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t love! And now¡­ the universe has delivered you to me¡­ the Superman to my Lois Lane¡­ I want to be with you and I want you to let me love you!¡± she says, almost defiant at that last.

    I bring my hand to her shoulder, it¡¯s time to manage expectations ¡°Alright, Soo, I¡¯m very flattered but¡­¡±

    Her face falls in horror and she tries to speak.

    ¡°Let me finish¡­ I just need to tell you; the person you¡¯ve been imagining me as, for 30+ years, is almost certainly not who I am! You¡¯ll very likely be very disappointed if you¡¯re anticipating I¡¯ll live up to all your expectations¡­ If your expectations around love are built on films¡­ you might have some, shall we say, unrealistic ideas. In films, it¡¯s usually all about the chase, the credits role when both the lovers accept eachother because that¡¯s the happy end people want to see. In reality, love is an achievement. It¡¯s not something you win, it¡¯s something you build¡­ as I said, I think you¡¯re gorgeous but that¡¯s attraction, not love, I can¡¯t love you because I don¡¯t really know you¡­ you think you love me but that¡¯s infatuation, not love. You¡¯ve known me for a grand total of one rescue and a few weeks since we left port¡­ you don¡¯t love me, you love the idea of me.¡±

    Her face hangs, miserable and dejected.

    ¡°But¡­¡± I say, causing her to perk back up, slightly.

    ¡°If you¡¯re happy to try¡­ I wouldn¡¯t mind trying to build love with you¡­ you¡¯ll just have to bear with all the times when I¡¯m more Clark Kent than Superman(!) I¡¯m warning you now, that will be a lot!¡±

    Joy breaks across her face.

    ¡°Alright¡­ I don¡¯t know what love is¡­ show me!¡± she says, mischievously.

    ---Soo¡¯s perspective---

    I bring my hands to the collar of his shirt and begin unbuttoning it. I always imagined him in his red and white Humanitarian garb for this, like he was when he treated me, but, well, it¡¯s the man I want, not the clothes!

    He smirks ¡°Err, Soo¡­ sex is not equal to love¡­¡±

    I smirk back ¡°So you don¡¯t want to have sex?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that¡­(!)¡± he chuckles.

    I bring his shirt over his shoulders and he begins unbuckling his belt before pulling off his trousers shortly followed by his pants.

    Entirely nude now, he pulls himself fully onto the bed.

    I follow him, crawling on my hands and knees, the way a Human would.

    Without exchanging memories with my [siblings] it took me [years] to relearn this level of control over my shapeshifting and [years] longer to get my humanoid shape just right but¡­ as I [smell/taste] his skin through my hands¡­ I have to say it was worth every second of workshopping I did in front of the mirror.

    ¡°Did you just make your boobs bigger?¡± he says with wry suspicion.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ why don¡¯t you feel them(?) Check for yourself(?)¡± I grin.

    He laughs at that¡­ then he puts his hands on my chest¡­ he¡¯s so delicious!

    Morphing through his hands, I take him by surprise with a kiss-attack.

    His saliva [smells/tastes] just as good as his skin¡­ but not the same¡­ I might be tempted to explore further¡­ if I weren¡¯t worried about the, however remote, possibility of causing him to gag to the extent that I make him vomit¡­ there¡¯s absolutely no way that my membrane keeps it¡¯s integrity in the face of pH1 hydrochloric acid!

    I can¡¯t die right now, even if I¡¯d die happy¡­ I have a love to ¡®build¡¯.

    I feel his cock start to stiffen, against my crotch.

    It¡¯s¡­ definitely not the longest or thickest cock I¡¯ve ever had but that doesn¡¯t matter to me.

    Every other cock I¡¯ve ever had was just a substitute for his. It¡¯s not as if I need him to fill me up to orgasm(!)¡­ I just need to make him orgasm and I can do that no matter how impressive (or otherwise) his cock is. It¡¯s the man I want, not the cock!

    I press myself against his hips, enveloping his, now very hard, cock into me.

    He shudders.

    I smile and without ceasing our kiss, ask ¡°Good?¡±

    ¡°Uhuksvektud!¡± he says, mouth muffled by mine.

    It¡¯s interesting that, even though translators work by thought, if you perceive yourself to have spoken incoherently, that¡¯s what gets transmitted!

    I begin undulating ripples of my membrane, drawing his cock deeper inside me, causing him to shudder more intensely.

    [Fuck]! He [tastes/smells] so [fucking] good! I don¡¯t envy Human women, who¡¯d have to choose between [tasting] his mouth, skin or cock! Suck it, bitches! I can have all three at once!¡­ Can¡­ and am!

    I redouble my internal ripples and he exhales hard enough to inflate my mouth, to twice the volume I had it before, with air pressure alone!

    He grasps my arse and I [taste/smell] his hands through my cheeks.

    He¡¯s mine!¡­ He¡¯s finally mine!¡­ I found him!¡­ I have him!¡­ It only took [33 years]! 2.2 trillion Humans¡­ and I found him¡­ he didn¡¯t have a wife or husband¡­ he didn¡¯t find it gross to think of [fucking] a woman, made of blue jelly!

    He didn¡¯t even give me instructions on how he wanted me to look, the way so many of the substitutes for him have, over the [years]!

    He told me I was ¡®gorgeous whatever shape I was¡¯¡­ sure he may not have been turned on by me in my unaltered, bubble form but¡­ he called it ¡®cute¡¯.

    I know he told me I¡¯d be disappointed if I expected him to live up to my every fantasy of him but¡­ thus far, he¡¯s lived up to the man I imagined him to be!

    Kind, sweet, selfless¡­ he¡¯s on his way to a deathworld, seemingly just because he genuinely wants to help¡­ I¡¯m only going because the career I chose (in hopes of meeting him) meant that I had to.

    He might be worried that he won¡¯t be the man I expect him to be but¡­ I also need to be the woman he deserves me to be!

    I break my lips from his and make a show of throwing my head back, as if in ecstasy.

    I am ecstatic, of course, but it¡¯s really more of an emotional ecstasy than a physical one. That being said, just because evolution screwed me out of the chance at an orgasm doesn¡¯t mean I get to be placid¡­ he deserves to see how much I¡¯m enjoying this.

    I start to augment my internal motion, with external, bouncing my arse against his hips.

    His pheromones are telling me that he¡¯s most of the way there so I decide to pull a manoeuvre.

    Without releasing my hold on his cock, I melt my torso and legs through my arse and reform my head with my mouth at his manhood, bobbing up and down in the same rhythm I had when it was my vagina.

    I form up some photoreceptors to admire the face of pleasure he has.

    He places his hand at the back of my head, not trying to push himself deeper into my mouth, just there, as if in appreciation.

    ¡°Are you enjoying yourself?¡± I ask, without removing my mouth from his member.

    He gives a mirthful exhale ¡°Bit weird when you talk to me while my brain is telling me my glans is clogging your glottis¡­ but not unpleasant¡­ there¡¯s no straight man who wouldn¡¯t be ¡®enjoying himself¡¯ with the lips of a gorgeous woman wrapped around his cock!¡±

    ¡°I can tell¡­! Your precum [tastes/smells] delicious, by the way(!)¡±

    His face flushes but, visually and pheromonally, I can tell his pleasure is building to the point where it¡¯s difficult for him to articulate.

    I decide to break the simple upward ripple motion, of my membrane, into a dance of nodules moving in a coordinated vortex with, at once, synchronicity and unpredictability.

    His muscles tense and I can [taste/smell] his pleasure, pheromonally, before it actually arrives.

    I encapsulate his cum in a bubble of my membrane and absorb it.

    I still may never have had an orgasm¡­ but, swallowing Cu¡¯s semen¡­ I think I might have an idea of what it¡¯s like(!)

    ---C??ng¡¯s Perspective---

    The most gorgeous woman I¡¯ve ever encountered¡­ now has a bubble of my emission inside her, visible through her transparent flesh.

    ¡°Err, how long will it take to digest that?¡± I ask, slightly worried.

    She smiles ¡°Four or five hours until it¡¯s not recognisable.¡±

    ¡°Damn¡­ you want to sleep here, with me?¡±

    Beaming now, she responds ¡°I¡¯d like nothing more¡­ perhaps we could have breakfast together¡­ I¡¯ve always wanted to try pancakes¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.28

    ---Arts---

    ¡°It¡­ is a lovely sword¡­¡± observes Emiko, of the sheathed deathworld blade, similar to Victor¡¯s plasmafalchion, on a stand, in the shop we¡¯re passing time in.

    ¡°If you think it¡¯s lovely, why don¡¯t you buy it?¡± asks Jennie, cheerily.

    ¡°I just¡­ well it would only be an ornament and¡­ really, I have enough ornaments¡­ I¡¯ll leave it.¡± she decides.

    ¡°Fair enough¡­¡± Jennie shrugs before turning to Phan and Soo ¡°¡­it¡¯s about damn time you two got together! It couldn¡¯t have been more obvious you were into eachother! Who asked?¡±

    Phan¡¯s cheeks flush and the Suigu, receiving a [piggyback] from him (her legs melted into a ring around his waist), grins over his shoulder ¡°I initiated things¡­ Cucu was being a [scaredy-cat](!)¡±

    ¡°She squeezed under my door¡­¡± chuckles Phan, half under his breath.

    ¡°Do you two need to get moving? They have to be nearly there by now.¡± says Msia, the Shings¡¯ heads over his shoulders.

    I turn my eyes out of the circular window, at the front of the shop, to the enormous, forested spire, that looms over X¨©n de D¨¥ngf¨¥ng, and see Victor, Brunhilda, Tuun, Xon, Kas and Thran walking on a path with a sheer drop to their right and a sheer cliff face to their left ¡°They¡¯re still some distance from the top, I¡¯d say we have around [30 minutes] until we need to head to the shuttle.¡±

    Incredulously, Petrikov steps to my side, looks in the same direction and says ¡°You can see them?!¡±

    ¡°I can see them.¡± I confirm.

    ¡°With your bionics, right?¡± asks Krish.

    I frown, bring my left wing up to cover my artificial eyes and look again ¡°No¡­ I can see them with my natural eyes as well¡­ Well, my main spectrum eye, at least. At this distance, the humidity in the air is swallowing their heat signatures.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s incredible!¡± observes Hatathli.

    Emiko smirks ¡°You know, all of you, you could stand to be a little less shocked when a gardenworlder demonstrates an ability that exceeds that of a Human(!) It can come across as arrogant¡­ as if you believe that Humans ought to exceed nonHumans at all times, in all things(!)¡±

    Everyone, except the shop attendant, Emiko and I, has a moment of looking embarrassed before Emiko looks out of the window and adds ¡°That is very impressive though¡­¡± with an appreciative smile.

    --- Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s quiet, but I hear the shuttle approaching from the direction of the valley below, as I sit, playing my ¨¨rh¨², on the steps surrounding a courtyard in the Temple I founded half a century ago.

    I briefly catch a glimpse of the shuttle over the roof to my left, before it sets down.

    I don¡¯t interrupt my playing, letting the mournful notes continue to echo across the courtyard.

    A few minutes pass before my best student, Sh¨ª Sh¨© W¨§i, comes to me and says ¡°Sh¨©fu, they¡­ they¡¯re here¡­ The ones who wish to take you¡­¡±

    Still playing, I answer ¡°Thank you, Abbess, please show them in.¡±

    I retired as Abbot around ten years ago but continue to reside and teach here, W¨§i was definitely the right woman to cede control to.

    When the ODR contacted this Temple, saying they wanted the galaxy¡¯s finest martial artist (to be a fitness instructor of all things(!)) I very nearly responded that they should just visit a gym if they wanted someone to lead q¨¬g¨­ng and such with uninitiated individuals¡­ the detail that two students in my lineage are aboard this ship, as well as several others proficient in Arts other than Shaolin¡­ it changed my mind¡­

    I¡¯m still not certain I won¡¯t send someone else¡­ one of my students, not W¨§i of course but someone from the 65th or 66th generation¡­ it depends on how they perform¡­

    A Japanese woman and a R¡¯qali woman with prosthetics, enter the far side of the courtyard.

    The Japanese woman has schooling in Ky¨±jutsu, Kenjutsu, Jujutsu and Iaijutsu, from childhood, and then served in the military, excelling in Standardised Military CQC, there. The R¡¯qali has been schooled in R¡¯qali military Aerial Combat and Ground Combat¡­ she was good but hasn¡¯t practiced in some time¡­ I¡¯d guess, since the War.

    ¡°That¡¯s him?¡­ He doesn¡¯t look particularly impressive¡­?¡± the R¡¯qali woman asks the Japanese, having, correctly, determined that I am not wearing a translator and, incorrectly, concluded that I am out of earshot.

    ¡°Don¡¯t I?¡­ Well, appearances can be deceptive.¡± I answer in fluent R¡¯qali, just loud enough to allow my voice to carry, over my playing, across the courtyard.

    The R¡¯qali woman freezes and begins to stammer in embarrassment but I interrupt ¡°It¡¯s alright, Ma¡¯am. If you were a prospective student it would be another matter but I take no offence at how laughably you¡¯ve just underestimated me.¡±

    The two women approach me, the R¡¯qali still visibly embarrassed, the Japanese doing a much better job of concealing her embarrassment.

    The Japanese woman kneels in a dogeza and the R¡¯qali, following her lead, folds her natural and artificial legs beneath her, nestling into the ground.

    Finishing my tune, I put down my instrument and its bow and take out a translator, adhering it to my temple¡­ Even if I speak both of their first languages it would make things difficult if only one of them could understand me at a time.

    ¡°So¡­ you have students for me?¡± I address the Japanese woman.

    ¡°Yes, Sh¨©fu, they¡¯re on their way up the mountain now, they should be here shortly.¡±

    I smile ¡°You don¡¯t need to call me ¡®Sh¨©fu¡¯, Ma¡¯am. Not unless you wish to become my student yourself which, I take it, you don¡¯t¡­ given your method of arrival¡­¡±

    She nods, politely.

    ¡°I assume you know how bad it will look if your prospects were on that shuttle and are now hanging back to make it seem as if they walked up the mountain¡­ don¡¯t think I won¡¯t be able to tell(!)¡± I say with an amused smile.

    ¡°I believe you¡¯ll be satisfied by the condition they arrive in, D¨£o Yu¨¢n.¡± nods the Japanese woman.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid the two of you have me at a disadvantage¡­ might I ask your names?¡±

    ¡°Emiko Miyazaki.¡± responds the Japanese woman.

    ¡°Tcakqaal.¡± responds the R¡¯qali.

    ¡°A pleasure to make your acquaintances. Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n, you are already aware.¡± I smile.

    Just then, into the courtyard enter two 67th generation Shaolin practitioners, an East African Boxer, a Tshwane Soldier, a woman whose species I don¡¯t recognise but who¡¯s clearly had schooling in Historical European Martial Arts from childhood and then practiced full time for some years in a Daoist Art¡­ I think B¨¡gu¨¤zh¨£ng, and a Starborn woman who is an utter cacophony of competing Arts but who¡¯s underlying basis, I would say, is¡­ Bataireacht(?)

    They have clearly walked up every one of the 25,158 steps between the town below and this Temple.

    The enormous, copper haired Brit and the even more enormous (though, wide and deep, rather than tall) orange haired Neanderthal would be instantly recognisable as the students of my students¡¯ students, even if I didn¡¯t know them from both having served as unwitting walking advertisements for Shaolin for 14 and 5 years, respectively.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The uptick in interest we got after the Brit¡¯s Shaolin status became public knowledge, was measurable. Likewise, when the Neanderthal divulged her status in an interview.

    Most weren¡¯t serious, of course, but who¡¯s to say how many practitioners there are today, as a result of these two¡­

    However, as I said, even if they weren¡¯t already known to me, I can read my influence in the way they carry themselves¡­ it¡¯s always slightly uncanny to see so much of yourself in one you¡¯ve never met.

    The Brit, Neanderthal and Daoist practitioner (of undetermined species) perform a b¨¤oqu¨¢n¡­ The Daoist actually performs two, placing the knuckles of her upper left hand against the palm of her upper right and reversing the arrangement for her lower arms. In all my years, this is my first time seeing a multiarmed species perform that respect(!)

    The Boxer, Soldier and Starborn hesitate before copying the salute.

    I beckon them forward and gesture for them to take a seat with the two women I was talking to.

    ¡°Sh¨ª R¨³ M¨ªng, Sh¨ª R¨³ F¨¡ng it¡¯s a delight to finally meet you¡­¡± I address the redheads.

    ¡°The honour is ours, Sh¨©fu.¡± responds the Brit, turning his eyes to the ground in respect¡­ the Neanderthal nods agreement.

    The blue skinned Daoist is looking at me, slightly confused, I know why.

    ¡°You have a question, B¨¡gu¨¤zh¨£ng?¡± I smile.

    Her luminous eyes widen and her cheeks flush a purple colour ¡°I¡¯m sorry Sh¨©fu, I meant no disrespect¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­but you¡¯re wondering why I¡¯m not bald?¡± I chuckle.

    She looks away, abashed.

    I bring my hand to my long hair, tied into a neat bun at the back of my head and laugh ¡°When you¡¯re the galaxy¡¯s finest Martial Artist¡­ you get a bit of leeway in how you keep your hair¡­ none of my students have raised it as an issue(!)¡­ No need to be embarrassed, girl. I¡¯m not offended!¡±

    She smiles¡­ clearly still worried.

    ¡°Now¡­¡± I look at the assorted prospectives ¡°¡­who¡¯s first? Do you need time to recover? I don¡¯t mind if you wish to eat, drink and rest before we start?¡±

    ¡°Forgive me for interjecting but¡­ I thought this was a simple assessment¡­ what exactly are you ¡®starting¡¯?¡± asks the R¡¯qali woman.

    ¡°The P¨¢i M¨¦i test, Cap. When those already schooled to a high level, in Shaolin or other styles, want to study under an even higher master, there can be some arrogance carried in. The test is meant to make us humble. We¡¯ve got to try to strike him and he¡¯ll only dodge and parry, not strike back. If we touch him, he bows down and calls us master¡­ we won¡¯t though¡­ I¡¯ll go first¡­ I carried water up the mountain with me and I know it won¡¯t make a difference if I rest or eat!¡± answer¡¯s the Brit, concealing the roughness of his accent¡­ I understand he thinks he¡¯s being respectful but¡­ I shall have to have a talk with him about authenticity¡­ if I¡¯m impressed enough to accept him as a student, that is(!)

    He speaks with some humility, though¡­ I can tell it¡¯s fresh! He must have had some illusions shattered recently.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I was expecting tea and a chat(!)¡± chuckles the R¡¯qali ¡°Of course it has to be trial by combat, when deathworld warriors are involved(!)¡±

    I smile at her ¡°Tea can be provided, if you wish¡­ We¡¯ll have time to chat, later.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll survive without tea, Sir(!)¡± she smiles back, wryly.

    Turning my attention back to the Brit, I begin removing my weighted vambraces and place them down, allowing them to make just enough noise to hint at their mass, as I do so ¡°I shall test you first then, R¨³ M¨ªng¡­¡±

    Then, addressing the others ¡°¡­would all of you be so kind as to watch from the stoa? He and I shall need some space for this.¡±

    The five prospectives and two others clear the courtyard and take position together, watching from the covered walkway, surrounding the open space.

    He was right to put himself first¡­ he¡¯s definitely not the strongest (that distinction going to the Neanderthal) but he¡¯s the one who looks least exhausted from the climb¡­ the blonde Starborn, Tshwane soldier and the Boxer being a close second, third and fourth. The Neanderthal and blue skinned Daoist have clearly suffered due to their ancestral lack of stamina¡­ I have to say¡­ I¡¯m impressed a gardenworlder was even able to make the climb, let alone keeping pace with this group(!)

    Coming down the steps, onto the courtyard, I am struck by the Brit¡¯s height¡­ he has to be 18cm taller than average and 28cm taller than me!

    He¡¯s bulky, too¡­ not that I¡¯m worried he¡¯ll actually manage to hit me but¡­ if I stood still for either him or that Neanderthal woman¡­ If I let them get a clean strike¡­ there¡¯s no doubt they¡¯d seriously hurt me.

    We bow and he takes an aggressive stance, I take a defensive¡­ were he less well trained I would take no stance at all. However, that would be arrogance, here!

    ¡°Begin!¡± I announce.

    He lunges forward with impressive speed.

    He aims an open palmed strike directly at my face.

    He¡¯s almost as fast as me. However, where he has to cover all the distance between himself and me, I only have to move my head out of the way of his strike.

    Reacting before he even would have landed his blow, he attempts to redirect to my new position.

    My left backhand meets the inside of his wrist, batting his arm, harmlessly, away.

    There¡¯s no doubt he¡¯s earned his black sash but¡­ well, I would definitely say his skill has suffered from the best part of a decade of not having any appropriately skilled sparring partners.

    He¡¯s regressed, somewhat, to thinking of Shaolin as an external Martial Art¡­ lashing out, ferociously, to try to cause damage¡­ That¡¯s true, at lower levels, but, at higher levels, it becomes internal¡­ focused less on striking and more on avoiding and redirecting.

    The opposite is true of the Daoist arts; T¨¤ij¨ªqu¨¢n, B¨¡gu¨¤zh¨£ng etc. which start out internal and then, at higher levels, become external¡­ though the highest level of both Buddhist and Daoist Arts is recognising that the distinction of external and internal is meaningless¡­ the same way it is to the uninitiated.

    My prospective student aims a sweeping kick at my legs¡­ of course, with his stature, it makes sense that he would favour the Northern style. Not like the Neanderthal¡­ she has ''Southern Boxer'' written all over her(!)

    Not wishing to remove myself from the ground, I opt to block it with the bottom of my foot, rather than jumping it.

    I¡¯d say he favours a d¨¡o style sword¡­ a little longer¡­ custom made¡­ straight backed¡­

    ¡°When was the last time you meditated, M¨ªng?¡± I ask, causing his punch to falter allowing me to dodge it, easily.

    ¡°Uhm¡­ been a while¡­¡± he says while aiming another blow at me, recovered from the falter.

    ¡°I can tell(!) That won¡¯t stand if you¡¯re to be my pupil, you realise?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sh¨©fu!¡± he says, more focused now.

    ---40 minutes later---

    The Brit lies gasping, on the ground, soaked in sweat and utterly incapable of continuing.

    He was much better than I thought he¡¯d be¡­ but still wasn¡¯t close to passing the test¡­

    ¡°Done?¡± I ask, standing over him, a pleasant sheen of sweat on me but not out of breath.

    He shakes his head, still gasping too much to speak, and makes to get up.

    ¡°I like your tenacity, boy, but you¡¯re done!¡± I chuckle.

    Sure enough, the strength in his limbs fails and he falls to the ground.

    I hold out my hand and he, grudgingly, takes it and allows me to pull him to his feet, feeling that bulk of his.

    I show him to his friends who have been dutifully watching, as we fought.

    I place the knuckles of my right hand against the palm of my left and bow, a gesture he returns before collapsing.

    I¡¯m still undecided¡­ I mean, he was good¡­ but I definitely think there are 65th generations at the Temple who could instruct him¡­ let¡¯s see what the others have¡­

    ---one hour later---

    The Soldier had some speed and a deceptive amount of stamina, given her slenderness. She lasted 14 minutes.

    The Starborn was definitely the most chaotic and unpredictable given the rough, utilitarian way she¡¯s ripped bits she¡¯s deemed useful from a hundred different Arts (suggests a criminal background but she¡¯s clearly reformed, if so)¡­ she lasted 18 minutes.

    The Boxer was good¡­ with her upper half¡­ her training however, views the legs as little more than a platform for moving the arms around¡­ her attempts to kick were¡­ a little pathetic¡­ she lasted 12minutes.

    The Neanderthal was the best by a hair¡­ but it¡¯s clear she¡¯s not used to taking the offensive, compensating for her lack of ability to read intentions by simply reading mechanics and reacting¡­ very clever¡­ but useless in this context, unless she wanted to just stand there forever, waiting for an attack that wasn¡¯t coming.

    The raw power contained in her strikes was unnerving, even to me!

    That stamina, though, really let her down¡­ 7 minutes.

    Fighting (or rather, being fought at) inside her climate control field was quite refreshing¡­ I was beginning to get a little hot!

    Now for the gardenworlder¡­ she certainly has some skill, from the way she carries herself. I hope she doesn¡¯t disappoint me¡­

    As it stands¡­ I certainly think I¡¯ll be sending one of my senior students on this mission¡­ much as I hate to pass up the opportunity to learn the Martial Arts of a new deathworld species, there simply isn¡¯t enough skill, among this lot, to keep me engaged for that long. It was so close, too!

    Ah, it¡¯s probably for the best, I highly doubt they¡¯d allow me to take Q¨©ngl¨®ng and there¡¯s precisely zero way I¡¯m leaving him behind!

    As the four armed Daoist approaches me, I am about to offer her the handicap of only using one hand to parry her strikes¡­

    Then her limbs whip into a b¨¤oqu¨¢n with speed and grace that were definitely not present when she arrived, exhausted, earlier!

    I reconsider that handicap¡­ this woman deserves more respect than that!

    I return her salute and then announce ¡°Begin!¡±

    She¡¯s on me!

    This speed!

    By the Buddha!!!

    I¡¯ve fought four armed species before! Where was this coordination then!

    If I had given her that handicap I would already have lost!

    Knives are her weapon of choice, it seems, from her strikes.

    Each blow has a pathetic amount of power but they¡¯re so fast! In such harmony!

    Her glowing eyes are flying over me, searching out any weakness!

    I¡¯ve not felt this much on the backfoot for decades!

    How is a gardenworlder doing this?!?!?!

    I thought I¡¯d seen everything(!)

    Oh, she¡¯s losing it¡­ that didn¡¯t last long.

    2 minutes and 39 seconds¡­ that¡¯s how much she has in the tank.

    She collapses, wheezing¡­

    I stride away from the girl and to the Japanese and R¡¯qali women, addressing both.

    ¡°If you¡¯re happy to wait a day, for me to make necessary arrangements, I would be honoured to accept this post¡­ dependant on the answer to one, very important, question¡­¡±

    Taken aback the R¡¯qali woman asks ¡°What¡¯s the question?¡±

    I smile ¡°What is your policy on pets?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.29

    ---Dragon---

    *Thud* is the sound of [4.5m] of bright blue, serpentine beast hitting Victor in the chest in the reception hall of X¨©n de Q¨ªn¡¯s ODR Consulate.

    It¡¯s a miracle he was able to stay standing after that impact!

    He laughs ¡°He¡¯s playful, ain¡¯t he!¡±

    The galaxy¡¯s finest martial artist smiles and nods ¡°It seems he likes you¡­ I¡¯m pleased.¡±

    This ¡®Chinese myth dragon¡¯ (as Jennie called him) is the pet of this master and the ability to bring him was a stipulation of his agreement to come.

    Of course, the rules I set mean that, so long as he can guarantee that Q¨©ngl¨®ng is not aggressive to sapients, then he¡¯s free to bring him!

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe there was a species of myth dragons on this planet and I didn¡¯t know about them!¡± exclaims Jennie, clearly having trouble restraining her reaction to the cute ¡°Can I pet him!? Please!¡± she asks D¨£o Yu¨¢n.

    He gives a mirthful smile and gestures for her to go ahead.

    Rather than throwing herself at the beast (the way she clearly wants to) she extends her hand to his snout.

    Victor has explained to me that letting animals get your scent is a good way to get them to trust you¡­ interesting that humans figured that out, when their sense of smell is one of their few attributes that isn¡¯t particularly impressive. Only moderately above galactic median average for sapients(!)

    The creature gives her an inquisitive sniff, then makes toward her shins, coiling himself around the tiny Terran woman, until his head rests over her shoulder with a contented, rumbling purr.

    As her hands move to the creature¡¯s head and begin stroking his azure fur, she emits a high pitched keening sound through closed lips, her eyes wide. If I didn¡¯t know any better I¡¯d assume she was in excruciating pain¡­ rather than just emotionally overwhelmed.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna cry! He¡¯s so soft!¡± she says as a long prehensile sensory whisker brushes over her face, two aquatically adapted forelimbs gripping her shoulders ¡°I¡¯m gonna call him Chinchin and he¡¯ll be my best friend(!)¡± she adds¡­ seemingly, half serious(!)

    ¡°You think he¡¯ll get along with Fluffy?¡± Brunhilda asks Victor while reaching out to let the newly dubbed ¡®Chinchin¡¯ get a scent of her hand, then scratching his chin.

    ¡°Should do¡­ Fluffy likes to play¡­ knows how not to hurt things smaller than her too, given how she plays with us and Sam(!)¡± he answers.

    ¡°Apologies, who are Fluffy and Sam?¡± interjects D¨£o Yu¨¢n, stroking his elegantly maintained facial hair with a thumb and forefinger, his brow creased quizzically.

    ¡°Sam¡¯s my dog¡­ he¡¯s half samoyed, half huskie with a tiny bit of Tibetan mastiff on his mum¡¯s side¡­ it really shines through in his size... he¡¯s enormous¡­ like someone looked at a normal samoyed-huskie mix and said ¡®but what if he was twice as big?¡¯(!) He¡¯s also the best boy in all the galaxy!¡± smiles Brunhilda ¡°¡­As for Fluffy¡­¡± she looks quizzically at Victor ¡°¡­we can tell him, right? He¡¯s not gonna be in Triple M¡­ also, Emi, Thran, Xon, Kas and Fliss all knew before they became Triple Ms.¡±

    Victor nods ¡°Yeah, no need for a Fluffy Test¡­ Fluffy¡¯s my pet¡­ she¡¯s an a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast¡­¡±

    The martial artists eyes widen in clear recognition before he chuckles ¡°Well¡­ I can certainly see I won¡¯t be in want of entertainment for this voyage¡­ your crew appear to have no end of surprises!¡± that latter addressed at me.

    I dip my head and smile ¡°I shall choose to take that as a compliment, Sir!¡±

    He returns the smile ¡°I certainly meant it as one.¡±

    At this point, Emiko and Hunter enter with four Terrans and one gardenworlder in tow.

    Having had a briefing from her, including pictures, name and professions, I don¡¯t technically need an introduction but elect to introduce myself anyway, for politeness¡¯ sake.

    ¡°Greetings, all of you! My name is Captain Tcakqaal and I look forward to having you aboard my ship.¡± I say with a smile and a welcoming extension of both wings.

    The full figured, half Denisovan from Saeloun Hangug, with relatively short hair (bar the fringe she maintains over her right eye) steps forward and extends her hand to me, smiling ¡°I¡¯m Jae, Jae ¡®Peach¡¯ Stone, the Sociologist. I¡¯m delighted to meet you!¡± I take her hand with my wingclaws and we shake.

    Next, the woman from Yisra¡¯el HaChadasha with hazel brown eyes, tan skin and curly dark hair steps forward, along with the average height man from New Colorado, with hair dancing on the boundary of blond and brunet¡­ they don¡¯t particularly look like spies, either of them, but I suppose looking like a spy wouldn¡¯t be a particularly desirable trait in a spy(!)

    ¡°Ziva ¡®Whisper¡¯ Pereira¡­¡± smiles the woman ¡°¡­UTC Intelligence Officer, and this is Leon ¡®Kennedy¡¯ Byrne, the same.¡±

    The man shakes his head mirthfully and says ¡°I wish you¡¯d let me introduce myself, Pereira(!)¡±

    I extend my wingclaws first to the hand of Pereira and then Byrne before asking ¡°Should spies be introducing themselves as such?¡±

    They both give an amused smile before Pereira answers ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ have you been doing anything you think the UTC would want you spied on for?¡±

    My natural eyes widen ¡°I sincerely hope not!!!¡± the thought of the UTC having any interest in me that wasn¡¯t purely positive is quite terrifying!

    Pereira playfully smirks ¡°Then you have nothing to worry about¡­ and neither do we(!)¡±

    I respond uncertainly ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ take your word for it¡­¡±

    Next to step forward is the gardenworlder, from Kyklos, with purple hair and a single, enormous eye, with a light pink iris, dominating the middle of her face ¡°Enas, just Enas¡­ I¡¯m a Statistician.¡± she says, shyly extending a three fingered hand for a handshake that I¡¯m fairly sure her species doesn¡¯t have as a standard greeting.

    I smile warmly at her before turning my attention to the last; a man who, I¡¯ve heard, was born, raised and educated in an enormous reserve, on Novyy Les, meant for Terrans who wish to carry out an ancestral lifestyle of hunting and gathering.

    I was forewarned about his potentially distressing choice of attire. He wears a coat, trousers, boots and gloves¡­ all, apparently, sewn together, not from lab grown leather and fur but from the skinned hides of animals that he himself has hunted.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    He makes no move to introduce himself so I extend my wingclaws¡­ trying not to dwell on the provenance of the material I¡¯m volunteering to touch.

    He hesitates before holding out a leatherclad hand¡­ his face is as unreadable as Ms. Hunter¡¯s usually is.

    ¡°Tymancha Nulgynet¡­¡± he says, simply, not offering his epithet ¡®Eagle¡¯ or his profession.

    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m told that you¡¯re the galaxy¡¯s best tracker¡­ Mr Nulgynet¡­?¡±

    ¡°Apparently¡­¡± he says, eye¡¯s fixed on me, face, voice and body entirely unreadable.

    Unreadable Terrans are incredibly unnerving! Their default mode is so raucous and expressive but this man might be plotting the unmaking of all that I hold dear¡­ or daydreaming about tomorrow¡¯s lunch¡­ I¡¯d have no way of knowing, either way(!)

    I need to remember that ¡®unnervingly unreadable¡¯ does not equal ¡®unsavoury¡¯ and that ¡®terse¡¯ does not equal ¡®insidious¡¯. He may be a lovely individual¡­ once I get to know him¡­ if I get to know him¡­

    My (admittedly limited) experience of unsavoury and insidious Terrans is that they are as bad at concealing their true nature as decent and honourable Terrans are¡­ though that might be complacency on my part¡­ I should not rely on that supposition.

    In any event, the ODR have deep enough pockets and enough sense that I¡¯m certain they will have thoroughly vetted all their hires¡­ it¡¯s therefore extremely unlikely that he¡¯ll turn out to be hostile!

    It¡¯s at this point that Ms. Stone notices the creature wrapped around Jennie and emits a squee of delight ¡°Oh my god! He¡¯s so cute! Is he yours?¡± she says, rushing over to the encoiled woman.

    Jennie shakes her head and gestures to the azure creature¡¯s owner.

    Stone opens her mouth but the jovial martial artist preempts her ¡°Go ahead, Ms. Stone.¡±

    Everyone, who hasn¡¯t yet had a turn, takes the next few minutes to shower the creature with much appreciated pets¡­ well, the timid little Kyklo woman does take a while seeming to work up the courage¡­ Hunter just stands behind Emiko while the latter pets the ¡®myth dragon¡¯¡­ Nulgynet makes no move to pet him¡­ again, with his inscrutable expression¡­ he might want to or might not.

    Eventually, Emiko announces to all present ¡°Alright everyone, now that we¡¯ve introduced and bonded a little, who¡¯s up for dinner and drinks?!¡±

    There¡¯s a general chorus of agreement.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I like to hear! Does anyone have a recommendation of a place they thing could take¡­¡± she starts counting the now enormous group but quickly shrugs and just gestures around at everyone ¡°¡­all of us?¡±

    ---later---

    We managed to find a relatively empty restaurant that was happy to give our contingent the use of the first floor loft for our impromptu party.

    Victor and Byrne are having an alcohol fueled, lively, good-natured debate about a conflict, involving Byrne¡¯s cultural forebears destroying an enormous and extremely valuable quantity of tea¡­ either owned by or protected by Victor¡¯s cultural forebears.

    From what I gather, this conflict took place more than [nine centuries] ago¡­ Titan! Terrans can hold a grudge(!)

    What does it matter when neither of these two polities have existed for nearly [five centuries]?

    ¡°No taxation without representation(!)¡± declares Byrne, affectedly, before standing, placing his right hand over his singular, left-side heart and singing a song (which my translator helpfully informs me was the [national anthem] of the [American States]) prompting much mirth from the rest of the table¡­ it¡¯s a good thing we have the room to ourselves as we¡¯d definitely be disturbing other patrons otherwise!

    Having finished the improvised meal of [lychee] and [persimmon], I decide that now is a good time for taking in the scenery. I stand from the low table we were sat around and begin making my way to the balcony, reassuring all that I¡¯m not uncomfortable and just going to take in the sights.

    ¡°No moderation of your behaviour is necessary¡­ so long as the privacy field stays up(!)¡± I chitter wryly, prompting every head to swivel to make sure that it is, in fact, still engaged.

    I stride to the balcony door and wave it open before stepping out, the privacy field instantaneously cutting off all noise behind me.

    The night time drop in temperature has cleared the humidity of the day, leaving the air crisp and clear.

    I inhale deeply.

    It¡¯s still novel for me to attend a party like this entirely sober¡­ but Tcakak is still crop feeding and it would be a terrible shame to force Qorak to pull double duty feeding her for the weeks it would take me to detoxify¡­ not to mention something would feel wrong with not being able to give her my crop milk¡­ so I¡¯m sober, for the foreseeable future.

    I look up at the stars, noticeably brighter and denser than they were on Zanzibar, from closer proximity to the galactic core, resulting in the average distance between them being reduced.

    I¡¯m just looking out, to admire the valley-bottom city on this latest addition to the roster of deathworlds I¡¯ve visited, when the door briefly slides open behind me.

    I turn to see that it¡¯s Emiko.

    ¡°Mistress Miyazaki(!) To what do I owe the pleasure?¡± I tease.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you start with the ¡®Mistress Miyazaki¡¯(!) I get enough of that from Thran!¡± she retorts with mock sternness before her face softens ¡°¡­I was just checking that you were OK?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m perfectly fine, Emiko, just enjoying the view and thinking.¡±

    ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± she smiles, stepping to my side to admire the view with me.

    ¡°Oh, you know¡­ life¡­ the universe¡­ everything(!)¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ have you considered 42?¡±

    I laugh at her continuing my reference to old Terran media.

    We stand in silence for a few moments before I venture ¡°Am I right in thinking that Mr Nulgynet has the same condition as Ms. Hunter?¡±

    ¡°Uuuuhm¡­¡± she considers, screwing up her face and baring her teeth ¡°Yes and no¡­¡±

    *Sigh*¡­ Terran doublespeak, I swear! ¡°How yes and how no?¡± I respond with mock exasperation.

    She turns to me and says ¡°OK, Tcakqaal, this is confidential and need to know¡­ alright? I¡¯m going to tell you because it¡¯s your ship he¡¯s coming aboard but this is not to become shipboard gossip, alright?¡± her sternness genuine, now.

    I gulp slightly and nod ¡°On my honour¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a similar outcome from a different route¡­ Thran¡¯s is genetic, his is¡­ social¡­¡±

    I frown ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t understand the implications of that¡­?¡±

    She sighs ¡°From what I¡¯m told, the one¡¯s who were in charge of finding the galaxy¡¯s best tracker were initially directed to his father¡­ only for his father to tell them Tymancha had exceeded his skill, some time prior¡­ I understand, he was quite difficult to find as his father no longer had contact with him¡­ it turns out he¡¯d spent 2 years living almost entirely in the wild, only occasionally coming to towns to trade for things he needed but couldn¡¯t make. It seems, his father was the sole caregiver and instructor in his education right up to university equivalent level (all in hunting and tracking, of course)¡­ the result is that he¡¯s really only had any significant relationship with one person and it¡¯s a person he seems to be estranged from¡­ therefore, my guess, he¡¯s never learned how to socialise¡­¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ that¡¯s¡­ unfortunate. Is there any upshot of that that would be obvious to a Terran but is not obvious to me?¡± I query.

    ¡°None that spring to mind¡­ he¡¯s not dangerous, in case you¡¯re wondering. By all accounts he seems like a perfectly pleasant young man¡­ just one who¡¯s never learned how to smile and say ¡®hello¡¯¡­ I think I¡¯ll recommend him to the therapist, when we get one¡­¡±

    ¡°It still looking like Nova Fennoscandia we¡¯ll have to meet this therapist? And, I assume, from the short notice, they won¡¯t be the finest therapist in the galaxy?¡±

    She chuckles ¡°We haven¡¯t entirely given up on finding one to meet us on Neonesia¡­ as far as being the ¡®finest in the galaxy¡¯ I¡¯m afraid that concept doesn¡¯t track with therapists¡­ even if we found the therapist with the finest results in their track record, it might be that their personality just isn¡¯t a great fit for Victor, Thran or any of the other crew who wish to engage them for sessions¡­ People compare finding the right therapist to searching for ¡®the one¡¯, only minus the romance¡­ unfortunately, we don¡¯t have the months of active searching it might require to seek out the perfect ¡®one¡¯ for this group, so we¡¯re having to settle for getting one with a decent track record and a bio that seems like they might be a good fit for the crew¡­ it¡¯ll be too bad if they get 6 sessions in and decide that they just aren¡¯t working well¡­¡±

    Appraising the woman I say ¡°You know, I believe I¡¯ve come to a conclusion about your minds¡­¡±

    She chuckles ¡°Oh, do tell! I¡¯ve heard all about your famous outsider¡¯s perspectives on Terrans!¡±

    I puff, mirthfully, through my nostrils before answering ¡°I¡¯ve come to the conclusion that Terran minds are put together the same way Terran machines are(!)¡±

    Cocking an eyebrow in a way that suggests, for the first time, the quantity of alcohol she¡¯s had, she prompts ¡°Do go on¡­¡±

    ¡°No thought has been given to lastability, to the long haul¡­ the all consuming nature of your species¡¯ cradleworld means that the long haul has, historically, not been worth considering, so you build your machines for power. Output¡­ now! You assume that when the long haul comes along, you¡¯ll either not be there to worry about it or you¡¯ll be able to just patch what has broken¡­ it¡¯s¡­ really only just occurred to me that the Terran approach to engineering might be a reflection of evolution¡¯s approach to you(!)¡±

    She thinks a moment before bursting into giggles ¡°You know¡­ you might be right!... Honestly, I¡¯m a little ashamed, on behalf of the ODR, that none of us thought of including a therapist on the staff roster!"

    A few moments more pass as we appreciate the vista¡­ before I say ¡°Let¡¯s get back inside¡­ we¡¯ll miss the party, otherwise.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.30

    ---Mischief---

    Having departed X¨©n de Q¨ªn, early this morning, the martial-artist-cum-fitness-instructor took all of his new pupils to the gym.

    I sit in Triple M¡¯s Commonroom, observing the interactions between the, now, three Human owned pets¡­ and small, Gaelic woman.

    Jennie manages to work her head out from underneath Fluffy, where she was pinioned moments ago, and takes a deep inhale, suggesting that she either wasn¡¯t able to breathe or was finding it difficult while buried under fuzz(!)

    ¡°Enjoying yourself?¡± I ask, with an amused smirk.

    ¡°Immensely!¡± answers the flushed woman as Q¨©ngl¨®ng opens his snout to, playfully, nibble her entire head with his sharp, piscivorous teeth. The fact that she can have such a look of contentment on her face, while surrounded by such an enormous quantity of deathworld predator, stands testament to her Terranness(!)

    ¡°Also enjoying! Enjoying! New friend, such playing!¡± yips Sam while wrestling with Q¨©ngl¨®ng¡¯s tail.

    ¡°A mirkbeast lying on top of you, a Shu¨«l¨®ng attempting to swallow your head, while your girlfriend¡¯s dog bravely attempts to rescue you(!) I guessed you¡¯d be pretty pleased by your current circumstances(!)¡± I smirk at Jennie, who grins back.

    ¡°OK, Fluffy, I don¡¯t have your Daddy¡¯s stamina¡­ I¡¯m a bit tired out now, could you let me up?¡± she says with clear regret.

    Fluffy, seeming to understand some combination of Jennie¡¯s tone and the tap to the side she gave, raises the section of her body, under which Jennie was immobilised, allowing her to get up and come to rest on the sofa, still clearly extremely satisfied.

    With no small Human in their midst, Fluffy, Q¨©ngl¨®ng and Sam begin much more boisterous play¡­ it¡¯s only the nonreaction of all Terrans present that keeps me from reading this as having devolved into a mortal bout(!)

    ¡°That fiddle-off last night was pretty crazy, wasn¡¯t it!¡± Jennie addresses the room at large.

    Most present give noises of agreement.

    She is referring to the point in the party where Byrne and D¨£o Yu¨¢n discovered that they were both players of similar, stringed instruments and, so, ran back to the ODR to fetch their [violin] and [¨¨rh¨²], respectively, facilitating what I can only describe as a ¡®musical battle¡¯, the rules of which, seemed to be; one player plays a tune and the other attempts to replicate it¡­ neither of them seemed to falter at any point, meaning that, I suppose, the contest was a draw¡­

    The whole thing was certainly impressive but ¡°I¡¯m afraid, every Terran I meet is so impressive, in one way or another and, every other instance I spend time among your species, something happens that my intuition tells me shouldn¡¯t be possible¡­ I don¡¯t really have any frame of reference for how impressed I should be by that display, last night(!)¡±

    Hasiakh nods ¡°I have to second that! You guys consider so many amazing talents to be mundane and routine things that anyone should be able to do that it¡¯s difficult to know what¡¯s impressive and why(!)¡±

    Msia chuckles ¡°Let me put it this way; if I live to 500 years old, I think I¡¯ll still be excitedly recalling the time to people that I watched an American spy reveal that he was also a virtuoso Celtic fiddler, then have a jambattle with a supercentenarian, Chinese, kung fu master, virtuoso ¨¨rh¨²ist(!)¡±

    All Terrans present give firm grunts of agreement¡­ all except Dr Mink, who just shoots a sidelong glance at him before looking away¡­ seeming to be making a show of lack of interest.

    ¡°Noted¡­ quite impressive then!¡± I nod in response.

    Interjecting here Krish asks Emiko ¡°Is Jae going to be alright in Deck 3?¡­ I mean, with the amount of time that Master Yu¨¢n is going to be training our lot, she¡¯s effectively on her own with¡­¡± a look of concern passes over his face ¡°¡­that guy¡­ wouldn¡¯t it have been better to put Ziva and Leon in there with them, rather than in Plus Ultra?¡± that latter directed at both me and Emiko.

    Emiko answers ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it¡­ she seemed very excited about the ability to interview him and learn about what life was like for him, with his unusual cultural background¡­ plus, Tcakqaal and I made it very clear to all the new hires that, if they experience any issues with their dorm placement, they can come to us and we¡¯ll do our best to resolve them¡­ ideally they¡¯d have a Dorm Liaison but, well, the obvious choice would be Master Yu¨¢n, except it doesn¡¯t seem as if he plans to spend much time there¡­¡±

    Krish continues to look uncomfortable before saying ¡°OK¡­ she may not be unhappy with it¡­ but, doesn¡¯t the guy seem a bit¡­ creepy? What if¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ what if he tries something?¡±

    Emiko nods, with some sympathy, before saying ¡°Mr Dhawan, your concern is¡­ admirable¡­ however, entirely unwarranted¡­ if he ¡®tried something¡¯ Ms Stone would be quite capable of picking him up and snapping him in half over her knee!¡±

    ¡°Wait, really?!¡± answers Krish, eyebrow raised in disbelief ¡°But, he¡¯s a hunter isn¡¯t he?... And she¡¯s so¡­¡±

    ¡°Heavy?¡± supplies Emiko.

    ¡°Well¡­ yeah¡­¡± answers Krish, clearly uncomfortable for some reason.

    ¡°Dr Zunberi, would you give us all a little lesson on Denisovan anatomy and the mechanics of hybridisation between lineages?¡± smiles Emiko.

    Msia looks a little surprised to be addressed but quickly collects himself ¡°Uhm, I suppose¡­ Denisovans diverged from Neanderthals around 450,000 years ago, that¡¯s around twice as much divergence as there is between us and Southern and Northern Khoisan (the two most divergent ethnic groups of Homo sapiens, from everyone else). The evolutionary pressures of the plains and mountains of Central Asia happened to push them to a body plan that favours retention of fat but they¡¯ve got a comparable level of muscle, underneath that fat, to the average Neanderthal¡­ Thran is certainly not representative of the typical Neanderthal, having a genetic condition that fails to inhibit the growth of muscle and bone density, but, what is true is that, average strength for Neanderthals sits comfortably above us Sapiens, with Denisovans much closer to the former than the latter¡­ As to Ms Stone being half Sapiens, that would actually be more inclined to edge her up, rather than down¡­ in terms of her strength and physical fitness¡­ this is because the more divergent your parents¡¯ lineages are, from eachother, the less likely you are to inherit harmful recessive alleles from both parents, meaning that people of mixed parentage are typically healthier, fitter, stronger and (subjectively) prettier¡­¡± he looks back to Emiko with an expression that says ¡®is there anything I left out?¡¯

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡°Thank you, Msia, exactly! Denisovans and Denisovan hybrids might look cuddly¡­ but you¡¯d not want to pick a fight with one!¡± she smiles ¡°Of course, as I¡¯m sure you can tell, Mr Nulgynet is a hybrid as well, his maternal grandfather having been a Longi, but Longi, being Sapiensoid, aren¡¯t known for their strength, the way Neanderthaloids are. Additionally, his lifestyle has emphasised mobility, agility, stealth and calorie conservation¡­ Underneath that, admittedly unnerving, coat he¡¯s as skinny as a waif! Nearly as slender as you are, Krish! If the two of them came to blows, my money would be on Ms Stone¡­ strange as that might sound(!)¡± she thinks a moment before adding ¡°I also don¡¯t think you should be so quick to condemn his personality on the strength of his ¡®creepiness¡¯¡­ you warmed up to Thran, afterall, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    At this, Krish throws up his hands, conceding defeat ¡°Alright, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll stop worrying about it¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to impugn his honour, or whatever¡­¡±

    Here, Hasiakh slithers off the sofa and wraps herself around her boyfriend, giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek, before quipping ¡°If you [white knight] for ladies other than myself, my Oasis, you¡¯re liable to make me jealous, you know¡­(?)¡±

    Krish chuckles before returning the kiss.

    At this, Twila whistles before hollering ¡°Get a room, you two(!)¡± cupping her hands to her holographic mouth, despite the fact that her voice is projected from Jennie¡¯s holopad¡­ making physical amplification both unnecessary and impossible.

    ¡°We have a room, it¡¯s across the hall(!)¡± responds Krish, with a mirthful frown adorning his face, the five fingers of his right hand splayed, with the palm facing the ceiling in a gesture of incredulity.

    ¡°Use your room then(!)¡± shoots back Twila, not missing a beat, her mouth twisted into amusement at her own jest.

    Hasiakh, here, grips Krish¡¯s chest with her two thumbed hands, pressing his back against her front, before preening over his shoulder ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with a little [PDA], I assume no one¡¯s grossed out by watching us kiss eachother on the cheek.¡±

    A chuckle moves round the room followed by a brief moment of quiet.

    A moment that is broken by Jennie, announcing ¡°Coming back to Jae and Tymancha¡­ I think they¡¯re into eachother!¡±

    ¡°What could possibly give you that idea?¡± asks Dr Mink, sceptically, narrowing her feline eyes in suspicion.

    With a haughty smile, Jennie responds ¡°Just a bit of a sixth sense I picked up, going to uni on a gardenworlder space station¡­ I like to think I can smell attraction from anyone to anyone! Doesn¡¯t matter how subtle they are about it¡­ It wasn¡¯t quite as obvious as Cuddles and Tunie or Cucu and Soo but¡­ defo something there!¡±

    ¡°They sat across the table, two people apart and didn¡¯t even glance at eachother, all night!¡± objects Mink.

    ¡°Exactly! They didn¡¯t even glance at eachother!!!¡± says Jennie, triumphantly ¡°If two people are sitting that close and don¡¯t look at eachother¡­ well, it means they¡¯re trying not to look! Can you think of another reason that you¡¯d be avoiding looking at someone, besides fancying them?¡±

    ¡°You might be embarrassed about something else? Something unrelated? Perhaps they had an awkward moment, before we were introduced?¡± I suggest.

    Jennie waggles her finger ¡°If it were something like that, they would have sat at opposite ends of the table! They sat close enough to admire eachother through their peripheral vision! I think Deck 3¡¯s name is going to become Domus Amoris, when they pick a Latin name for it(!)¡± with a smug smile at that latter joke that required a little extra translation than normal, for me to understand.

    Here, I quip ¡°I was planning to visit Plus Ultra and Deck 3 after this¡­ just to see how the new additions to both are finding it¡­ now I¡¯m somewhat apprehensive(!)¡­ Given how embarrassing you Terrans find any exposure of your sexuality, I worry that things might become awkward between myself, Ms Stone and Mr Nulgynet, if Deck 3 has, indeed, become a ¡®House of Love¡¯(!)¡±

    Hasiakh cocks her browscales and responds ¡°You¡¯re assuming that, if Jennie¡¯s supposition is right, they wouldn¡¯t have the sense to move proceedings to behind one of their locked bedroom doors? Put up the privacy field?¡±

    I chitter back ¡°I do have experience with Terrans forgetting to put up privacy fields¡­¡±

    The original Triple Ms give nervous chuckles.

    ¡°Besides¡­¡± I add ¡°¡­might it depend on¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ how quickly things happen? If they assume they have the Commonroom to themselves and one thing leads to another, they might not wish to break off proceedings to take things to a bedroom?¡±

    ¡°True¡­¡± interjects Jennie with a finger extended to acknowledge the validity of the point I just made.

    ¡°Sorry to interrupt but¡­¡± interrupts Mink ¡°¡­why would you have been more likely to develop this ¡®sixth sense¡¯ going to a gardenworlder uni rather than a Terran one? That is what your suggesting, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked.¡± smiles Jennie ¡°You¡¯re right that Terrans are on the subtler side when it comes to displays of attraction, there are species with mating dances and coloured crests that they can¡¯t help but erect when someone catches their eye¡­ but we aren¡¯t the subtlest¡­ when you¡¯re in a mixed environment, like that, you learn how to, sort of, broaden your radar, I suppose. You learn how to recognise when someone¡¯s behaviour deviates from normal for their species or themself and you get very good at just making the jump to inferring what that might mean¡­ I think, anyway¡­ maybe I¡¯m wrong¡­ Maybe I¡¯m just born with it(!)¡± with an affected preen at that latter.

    At this point the Commonroom door opens to reveal Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n, his arms folded behind his back, his eyebrow cocked, his lips pursed into a wry smile.

    Yu¨¢n¡¯s pet uncoils himself from Fluffy, fast enough to cause a reproachful yowl, and whips across the room to reunite with his master.

    ¡°Did you make friends, Q¨©ngl¨®ng?¡± says the man, his smile softening as he pets the enormous head of his companion animal.

    A few moments of mutual appreciation later, he turns from his pet and strides to stand facing me, his purselipped smile and cocked eyebrow returned.

    ¡°Problem, Master Yu¨¢n?¡± I ask, worriedly.

    ¡°Of a sort, yes¡­ You see, I had just completed a training session with my new students and instructed that we were going to begin meditation¡­ we started¡­ we got about ten minutes into our session¡­ when a very loud, very grating song about a family of sharks began to play over the PA¡­ I¡¯m sure you can appreciate that this made continuing our meditation, somewhat¡­ challenging¡­ I¡¯m informed you know something about this?¡±

    At this point, Twila begins a noisy fit of mischievous giggles.

    Leaning to look around the mildly irritated martial artist, I address her incredulously ¡°You couldn¡¯t have warned me?!¡±

    Through her giggles (and even simulating being out of breath) she answers ¡°*hehehehehehe*¡­*huff* I could have¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­*huff* Captain, but¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­*huff* it would have been¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­*huff* much less fun!!!¡±

    I give an irritable flap of my wings, coupled with an irritable chirp, before saying ¡°Twila, effective immediately; Victor Taylor¡¯s restriction on gym usage is waived, so long as he is accompanied by Master Yu¨¢n!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XI: Pancakes and Firsts

    ---Jae¡¯s Perspective---

    ¡°Alright¡­ now just flick it back to me¡­¡± I smile at the cutey I¡¯m, newly, sharing a Dorm with.

    His brow creases at his holopad, hesitating.

    The juxtaposition to earlier (when I asked him to describe the process of hunting an animal, from picking up tracks to processing, cooking and storing) is unbelievable!

    The matter of fact way he described stalking and butchering¡­ against the childlike confusion he demonstrates over using his first ever holopad¡­ it¡¯s night and day!

    He¡¯s not even quite 6 years younger than me! How is he triggering my maternal instincts, so fiercely!?

    Uncertainly, his finger moves immediately followed by a *dun*, of refusal to execute, from his holo.

    ¡°It didn¡¯t like it¡­¡± he says, turning his screen to me.

    The Evenki text takes a moment to become Korean, as his holo is deciding whether my translator is to be given access to his banking app, then decides that that was clearly his intention and relents.

    ¡°Ah-ha¡­ what you¡¯ve tried to do there, sweetie, is transfer me your entire bank balance¡­ your holo has recognised that that was, almost certainly, not what you wanted and so it¡¯s stopped you¡­¡± I didn¡¯t even realise that was possible! How did he manage to do that with, what looked like, one swipe!?

    With dismay, he responds ¡°It¡¯s sentient?¡± looking at his holo in mild panic.

    Quickly, I correct ¡°Not sentient¡­ sapient¡­ clever, not aware¡­ It¡¯s clever enough to work out things like ¡®he probably doesn¡¯t want to send her all his money¡¯. It¡¯s just functioning on very complicated instructions, programmed in by its designers¡­ It¡¯s not going to judge you for watching porn on it(!)¡± while trying not to laugh at him for being a quarter of a century old and having to have that explained¡­ if he feels like I¡¯m making fun of him, he might just give up, altogether.

    ¡°How are ¡®clever¡¯ and ¡®operating on very complicated instructions¡¯ different from ¡®sentient¡¯¡­ if it lets it do things like decide to refuse to do what I tell it?¡± he says, his face showing confusion.

    Damn¡­ I have to remember, he¡¯s not stupid¡­ just ignorant of a lot of things!

    ¡°That¡¯s a question for a philosopher, I¡¯m afraid(!) Not one I can answer¡­ just don¡¯t worry too hard about your holo being sentient(!)¡± I wink.

    He looks, contemplatively, at the device¡­ it¡¯s incredible how, when I first met him, I thought his face was inexpressive but¡­ spending a few weeks at the ODR together let me tune in to the copious quantity of microexpressions that lurk just below the surface of that, apparently, stony exterior!

    ¡°Shall we continue¡­?¡± I ask and immediately see a dejected look on his face ¡°¡­or we could stop and try again tomorrow? We have been going a while¡­!¡±

    He is clearly relieved¡­ but then his eyes narrow very slightly¡­

    ¡°I want to try one more time¡­¡± he says.

    ¡°Go ahead¡­¡± I smile.

    His orange eyes flick back to his screen and focus. His finger moves and I get a notification ping.

    ¡°There you go! Well done!!!¡± I say, before checking my phone ¡°Hang on¡­ Sweetie¡­ you just¡­ *sigh*¡­ you just rejected my payment¡­¡± I say, wryly ¡°Technically¡­ you did manage to send the credit back from your holo to mine¡­ but you can¡¯t pay for stuff that way!¡±

    A disappointed microexpression crosses his face.

    I decide to be kind ¡°I mean¡­ it is¡­ very clever¡­ reversing a transaction is something that rarely comes up¡­ I¡¯m not even sure I¡¯d know how to do that!¡­ We¡¯ll just work on making a new transaction, tomorrow¡­¡±

    A tiny smile of delight touches the corner of his mouth! So cute!

    His finger moves to deactivate the screen¡­ then hesitates¡­

    ¡°Thank you, [holopad]¡­¡± he says, before looking up to see the quizzical expression on my face ¡°¡­just in case you¡¯re wrong about it being sentient¡­ can¡¯t hurt to say ¡®thank you¡¯¡­¡±

    He¡¯s so fucking adorable, I just want to squeeze his face into my chest until he can¡¯t breathe!

    I smile back ¡°Would you like dinner¡­ I can cook, if you want?¡±

    He makes to get up and starts ¡°I should¡­¡± but I gently (but firmly) push him back into his seated position.

    ¡°You made food, yesterday¡­ Let me take care of it¡­¡±

    Nervously, he nods¡­

    That¡¯s right, darling¡­ let Mummy spoil you!

    ---Tymancha¡¯s Perspective---

    She¡¯s¡­ so nice¡­

    I¡­ I don¡¯t really understand¡­

    ¡°Have you ever had samgyeopsal-gui?¡± she smiles at me, making her way over to the kitchen.

    ¡°I don¡¯t recognise the word¡­ so I don¡¯t think so¡­ is it an animal?¡±

    She gives a musical laugh ¡°I guess so¡­ it¡¯s grilled pork belly¡­ I gave the instructions for it to the onboard foodlab, when we came aboard, and it was ready to pick up, earlier today¡­¡±

    So weird that they just¡­ grow all their meat(!)

    ¡°I¡¯ve had boar, before¡­ that sounds good!¡±

    She smiles and goes to the time stopping room, in the corner of the kitchen, to pull out meat, mushrooms, green vegetables and sauces¡­ I understand that¡­ none of this is magic¡­ but a container that can stop time¡­ definitely feels like magic¡­! The fact that those outside the continent of Ogorod, on Novyy Les, use stopping time for something as trivial as food preservation(!)

    Cold preserves food! Dryness preserves food! Salt preserves food! Spice preserves food! Eating, or selling, the food means you don¡¯t need to preserve it! ¡®No¡­ we¡¯re going to stop time, to keep it fresh. You know, just casuallike! More convenient!¡¯!

    As she begins chopping the vegetables, her back turned to me, I¡¯m able to see the way her lovely arms jiggle from the motion¡­ my eyes wander down¡­ her bottom is¡­ also lovely¡­

    When I asked her how much she weighed, she told me she was 102kg before smiling that that was typically not a polite question to ask most people. When I said that, on my continent, it¡¯s one of the first questions people usually ask eachother and that I would be very proud of being so heavy¡­ she made notes¡­

    That¡¯ll be why she¡¯s so nice to me¡­ I¡¯m helping her learn¡­ I understand, now.

    The last person to be nice to me, for no reason¡­ was my mother¡­ 18 years ago¡­

    Jae¡­ reminds me of her¡­ the half Sapiens look (so common in Ogorod), of course (even if the other half isn¡¯t the same, it still calls her to mind), but, more than that¡­ the sweetness¡­ the laughs¡­ the smiles¡­ the way she takes time to explain things I don¡¯t understand¡­

    I¡­ miss my mother¡­ remembering her, after this long¡­ it hurts¡­

    I¡¯m broken out of that thought-hunt by the beautiful woman raising her voice to ask ¡°How are you finding your room, sweetie?¡± without turning from her task.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ fine¡­ I like the bed¡­ What¡¯s the word for the bit that¡¯s like a bedroll but thicker and doesn¡¯t roll?¡±

    ¡°Mattress?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ I like the [mattress]¡­ it¡¯s firmer than the other three I¡¯ve slept on¡­¡±

    Her cutting stops dead¡­ she turns with an expression of disbelief¡­ they all have such expressive faces, these people!

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ did you say three?!¡±

    ¡°Uhm¡­ yes?¡±

    ¡°In your whole life you¡¯ve only slept on four mattresses?!¡±

    ¡°¡­Yes?¡± have I made her angry? Is that an insult, somehow?!

    ¡°But¡­ you just spent weeks at the ODR on X¨©n de Q¨ªn!¡­ And there¡¯s no way you made it from Novyy Les to there without sleeping on the ship!¡± Is the quantity of emotion in her voice really just from¡­ disbelief? These people are frightening!

    ¡°Yes¡­ those were [mattresses] two and three¡­¡± I answer.

    ¡°Haneullim! You mean, until a month or so ago you¡¯d only ever slept on a single mattress!?!?!?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s right¡­ I was 13¡­ I tried to hunt a woolly rhino (against my father¡¯s advice)¡­ I came off the worse for it¡­ I needed to go to a hospital in Ilmakta Tura¡­ they also treated me for malnourishment, while I was there¡­¡±

    Her face falls like her kill has been fouled, in a hard winter, before she says ¡°You were malnourished, you tried to hunt a woolly rhino and your dad only advised you not to, and that¡­ was the first time you ever lay in a bed!?¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­ yes?¡±

    ¡°You poor thing!¡± she says¡­ making me question whether her kindness actually is only because I¡¯m useful to learn from¡­

    ¡°You are having an extralarge serving of samgyeopsal, tonight!¡±

    That wasn¡¯t an offer¡­ that wasn¡¯t a request¡­ that was an order!

    ¡­I¡­ don¡¯t¡­ dislike receiving orders from this woman¡­

    ---later---

    She has taken the [hotplate], she taught me how to use yesterday, from the oven to place it on the lounge table, serving in place of a firestone.

    As the mushrooms, [garlic], onions, [kimchi] and cuts of pork start to sizzle, she asks ¡°Do you know how to use chopsticks?¡± holding up a pair of [chopsticks] in her left hand.

    I shake my head.

    She smiles ¡°That¡¯s alright, sweetheart¡­ when it¡¯s done, you just put a lettuce leaf on your plate and I¡¯ll give you a serving of everything on that¡­ You can just wrap it up and eat it with your hands¡­¡±

    ¡°Can¡­ can you teach me how to use [chopsticks]?¡± I ask, hesitantly.

    She shakes her head ¡°Not tonight, I can¡¯t¡­ You won¡¯t be able to get the technique down in time to eat¡­¡±

    That¡¯s¡­ a little disappointing¡­

    ¡°But I don¡¯t mind teaching you another day!¡­ We can do that, along with how to use your holo and stuff!¡± she smiles, reassuringly.

    I try to smile back¡­ but¡­ my face is too stiff to replicate her expressiveness¡­ she¡¯s clearly stifling a laugh¡­ I must look strange.

    ¡°Would you like some soju?¡± she asks.

    ¡°That depends on what [soju] is¡­(!)¡± I try to joke, the monotony of my voice, when compared to hers, making it sound more ungrateful than I¡¯d like.

    She doesn¡¯t seem to mind as she smiles ¡°Soju is alcohol, dear¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never drunk alcohol¡­¡± I answer.

    Her face falls in horror ¡°Never!? But¡­ you¡¯re 25! Drinking age, for <5%abv, is 16! You¡¯ve been able to drink for 9 years!!!¡­ Is it health related? Because of your childhood malnourishment?¡±

    I shrug ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ in Ogorod¡­ it¡¯s very cold, in winter¡­ you loose body heat quicker if you drink¡­ and¡­ there are a lot of dangerous animals so¡­ it¡¯s never a good idea to be robbed of any quantity of sense¡­ I never drank with my father and¡­ it¡¯s a habit I kept up after we¡­ separated.¡±

    Her hand moves, seemingly out of reflex, to her [holopad], presumably to record this [data], then she stops herself and gives a sympathetic nod.

    She doesn¡¯t try to probe into why my father and I separated, the way she did the first time it came up.

    She smiles and looks around ¡°I don¡¯t see any dangerous beasts here¡­ The room¡¯s a fairly comfortable temperature, too¡­ and, if it starts feeling chilly, we can change the heat on that panel¡­ what do you say? Want to be a little naughty and have your first ever drink with me?¡±

    Thinking a moment, I answer ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯d like that.¡±

    ---Jae¡¯s Perspective---

    Hurrying a little, so the food doesn¡¯t burn, I walk back to the kitchen, to the cupboard that I put the alcohol I brought with me in.

    My hand goes, initially, to the cheap and serviceable brand I would be having if I were the only one drinking it¡­ then stops¡­ I should give him the good stuff¡­ I¡¯d like to make his first time¡­ special, afterall!

    I grab the bottle and two cups before coming back to the table.

    I check the food¡­ looks like the meat needs to be flipped.

    I place the bottle and cups on the table before saying ¡°I¡¯m just going to flip it, then I¡¯ll pour, alright sweetie?¡±

    He nods.

    I pick up my chopsticks and begin flipping all the cuts over to allow their other sides to cook.

    ¡°That¡¯s very impressive¡­ the way you can flip those so quickly!¡­ It¡­ does seem a little pointless, though, to use the sticks¡­¡±

    I smile and cock an eyebrow ¡°How would you do it?¡±

    He mimes a pinching motion, with his fingers, followed by a flip of his hand.

    I chuckle ¡°You see how your hands are covered in old burn scars? See how mine aren¡¯t?¡± I raise the chopsticks and clack them together, in my left hand ¡°Chopsticks, sweetie, that¡¯s why!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right¡­ It smells very good, by the way.¡± he smiles.

    I smile back ¡°I hope it tastes as good!¡± and finish the flipping.

    I pick up and open the high quality soju and, with two hands, pour out a measure into both cups.

    Of course, as the younger one, he ought to be the one pouring but¡­ well, given that this is his first ever drink and that he isn¡¯t Korean¡­ there¡¯s no need to stand on ceremony(!)

    I hand him a cup and he goes to drink but I stop him.

    ¡°We need to toast¡­ what shall we toast for¡­?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know¡­?¡± he says, as if his translator has stopped working.

    I bust out my most seductive smile and raise my cup ¡°For firsts¡­¡±

    Uncertainly, he mimics me and I clink my cup against his.

    ¡°Geonbae!¡±

    ¡°[Kyonbai]¡­¡± he says, nervously attempting to mimic my pronunciation. (So cute!)

    I down the small measure of smooth, high quality, 36%abv.

    He follows suit¡­ and shudders violently¡­ clearly more surprised, than anything.

    ¡°Not how you expected?¡±

    He shakes his head and answers ¡°No¡­ Not bad, though!¡­ Can I have more, please?¡±

    I give a stern smile, wag my finger and answer ¡°I¡¯m not letting you get black-out-drunk, your first time!¡­ Maybe I¡¯ll let you have more after dinner¡­ if you¡¯re good(!)¡±

    Shuddering again (though, I don¡¯t think from the alcohol this time) he responds ¡°Alright then¡­ I¡¯ll be good¡­¡± with a small smile.

    ---Tymancha¡¯s Perspective---

    That¡­ was¡­ amazing!

    The way the fatty meat and crunchy vegetables complimented eachother! The [gochujang] sauce! It being cooked to perfection by this gorgeous woman¡­ the alcohol¡­

    I always did wonder what the appeal of a substance that makes you stupid and forces you to unnecessarily bleed heat into the environment was! Now, I know! I don¡¯t know how I would describe it to someone¡­ Maybe, it¡¯s sort of like¡­ everything is glowing¡­? Not visually but¡­ emotionally. Things are funnier, food is tastier, Jae is¡­ prettier¡­

    No, no, NO!

    She was always this pretty! I¡¯m just less nervous about it, now! That¡¯s what¡¯s happening! She¡¯s pretty and kind and sweet and sexy and I can smile at her about those facts¡­ and she¡¯s smiling back!

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°You were a good boy(!) You ate up all the dinner I gave you and were very complimentary about it¡­ how would you like one more cup of soju, as a reward?¡±

    I smile (my face no longer stiff) and hold out my cup, with an enthusiastic nod.

    She does that strange, two handed, pour again (is that how all civilised-folk pour things? Do I seem like a savage to her, because I pour one handed?)

    I raise my cup, ready with a [toast] ¡°For you! [Kyonbai]!¡±

    She laughs ¡°Alright, buster: That¡¯s your last, I think(!) You¡¯re still good drunk¡­ you don¡¯t want to get bad drunk!¡±

    ¡°Very sensible! Thank you for looking after me¡­¡± I answer.

    I¡¯ve both heard of and seen what happens to people, who get ¡®bad drunk¡¯¡­ in the cold, it can be deadly¡­ Not that it¡¯s cold here¡­ a little warm, in fact.

    We drink that last measure of her [soju], after which I take off my outer layer.

    ¡°Woohoo, striptease(!)¡± says Jae, confusingly.

    I just smile.

    ¡°So, Tymie, you liked the dinner? You liked the alcohol?¡± she smiles.

    ¡°Yes, very much!¡± I nod.

    ¡°Sooo¡­ what do you say?¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mummy¡­¡± I say without realising the extent to which the alcohol has loosened my tongue.

    When I realise, both hands shoot to my mouth in an effort to catch the word that has already reached her ear and caused her jaw to drop.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± I blurt ¡°I¡¯ve ruined it! I didn¡¯t think¡­ It¡¯s not like¡­¡± at this point I try to bolt, the way I would if I were stalking a dangerous animal and it caught my scent, but I feel an overpowering grip around my wrist before I¡¯m pulled back in the direction I just tried to flee from. That extra 40kg of hers is utterly irresistible!

    I find my palms firmly planted into the [sofa cushions], her hands at my wrists, and her nose a centimetre from mine.

    What in Tengri¡¯s name is this reaction!? Accidentally calling her ¡®Mummy¡¯ has made her this angry?!

    Wait¡­ that¡¯s not an angry facial expression.

    ¡°Say it again!¡± she says, clearly excited.

    ¡°Whuh?¡± I respond, stupidly.

    ¡°What you just called me! Call me that again!¡± she says, delirium in her eyes.

    What the fuck is going on, here?

    Were there hallucinogens in those mushrooms? I¡¯m not hallucinating, so that can¡¯t be it!

    Have I accidentally triggered some kind of civilised-folk ritual I wasn¡¯t aware of?

    For now, lets just comply with what the powerful woman, with a wild look in her eyes, is demanding: ¡°Mummy?¡±

    She shudders in¡­ pleasure?!

    ¡°Again.¡±

    ¡°Mummy.¡±

    ¡°Again!¡±

    ¡°Mummy!¡±

    ¡°Once more!¡±

    ¡°Mummy!¡±

    She throws her head back, clearing her long fringe from her face, her eyes closed, her breath hitching on shuddering gasps.

    Then she turns those grey, Denisovan eyes, of hers, back on my orange, Longi ones, fixing them with an intense stare.

    ¡°Mummy would quite like to take you to her bedroom, sweetie¡­ What do you say to that?¡±

    Still confused, I ask ¡°You¡­ enjoy me calling you ¡®Mummy¡¯?!¡± not quite able to believe the strange turn.

    She nods, firmly ¡°Very much!¡±

    After a pause, I ask ¡°¡­sex¡­u¡­al¡­ly?¡±

    She pauses as well, though, not as long ¡°¡­Yes!¡±

    ¡°¡­Is¡­ Is it common for civilised-folk to find incest¡­?¡±

    She interrupts ¡°No! It¡¯s not ¡®incest¡¯! It¡¯s the caring, the nurturing! That¡¯s what turns me on! Obviously, the idea of having sex with my real flesh and blood son is extremely gross to me but¡­ having sex with a, nonblood-related, innocent boy¡­ one who I get to spoil¡­ one who I get to take charge with and guide¡­ well, that is a turn on! Oh and to answer your question, no, it¡¯s not super common but it¡¯s not incredibly rare either! It¡¯s called a ¡®kink¡¯ and there are lots of different kinds¡­ the ¡®Mummy kink¡¯ is just one!¡­ Also, don¡¯t call us ¡®civilised-folk¡¯, it implies that you think you¡¯re uncivilised¡­ I don¡¯t know what you should call us but not that!¡±

    Stunned, I take some moments processing everything she just told me.

    [Kinks]¡­? Huh¡­!

    Eventually, I manage to stammer out ¡°J-Jae, I¡­ I think¡­ you¡¯re very¡­ kind¡­ nice¡­ p-pretty¡­ s-sexy¡­¡±

    That hyperexpressive face of hers falls in disappointment ¡°I¡¯m sensing a ¡®but¡¯ coming, Tymie!¡±

    ¡°¡­but¡­ it¡¯s¡­ w-well it¡¯s just that¡­¡±

    ¡°You find the whole Mummy-kink thing offputting?¡±

    I think for a moment ¡°¡­No¡­ that¡¯s not it¡­ I wouldn¡¯t have thought I¡¯d like it but, the way you explained it, it sounds, sort of¡­ interesting¡­ nice¡­¡±

    Her eyes widen, delightedly, then quickly narrow, suspiciously ¡°Then what¡¯s the ¡®but¡¯¡­?¡±

    I really don¡¯t want to tell her¡­ but I have to ¡°¡­it just¡­ it would¡­ *sigh*¡­ it would be another first¡­ for me¡­¡±

    Her eyes flick back and forward, calculating ¡°Oh!¡­ Oooooh!!!¡­ You¡­ you don¡¯t just mean the ¡®Mummy kink¡¯ part, do you?¡±

    ¡°That too, but no¡­ not just that¡­¡±

    She releases my wrists ¡°If you don¡¯t want to¡­¡±

    ¡°I want to!!!¡­¡± I say, surprising both of us, with my intensity of emotion.

    Casting my eyes down, I continue ¡°¡­I just¡­ I don¡¯t want to disappoint you¡­ I don¡¯t know what to¡­ do!¡±

    I feel her hand on the back of my neck and, before I know what¡¯s happening, her lips are on mine¡­ another first she¡¯s given me¡­

    She has her eyes closed¡­ should I close mine?

    I close them, attempting also to copy what she¡¯s doing with her mouth¡­ the pressing¡­ the opening¡­ the closing¡­ the tongue¡­

    Her taste¡­!

    I don¡¯t know what I expected the inside of a person¡¯s mouth to taste like but¡­ this is certainly different from that! I probably thought it would have tasted like whatever they last ate but¡­ I don¡¯t taste the [samgyeopsal] we shared¡­ I only taste her!

    She pulls her lips away and mine try to follow but are left behind.

    Eyes still closed, she places her forehead against mine, resting it there for several long seconds.

    Then, in an instant, as if she were about to sprint after prey, her eyes open and lock on mine¡­ grey as an overcast sky!

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about what to ¡®do¡¯ this time, sweetie¡­ let Mummy take care of you¡­ watch, enjoy, learn. How does that sound?¡±

    Having to martial my hunting instincts to manage it, I force out a meek ¡°Yes¡­¡±

    Of course¡­ on this occasion¡­ it seems like I¡¯m the prey and¡­ I want to be caught(!)

    The woman¡¯s face breaks into the single most gorgeous smile I¡¯ve ever seen.

    ---Jae¡¯s Perspective---

    I pull the adorable boy to his feet¡­

    He¡¯s, I¡¯d guess, 183cm? 5cm shorter than average for boys?

    I¡¯m 181cm (4cm taller than average for women), the result being; our eyes are, practically, level! It could only be sexier if he were actually shorter than me!

    I have to fight the urge to push him back down onto the sofa and take him, here!

    You share this Dorm, Jae!

    I really don¡¯t want to be caught in the act by an elderly Buddhist monk, so I have to contain myself until I can get him back to my room!

    I can see, in my peripheral vision, that his erection is fighting his leather trousers but, right now, I¡¯m considering that ¡®a spoiler¡¯ so I force myself not to look¡­ I don¡¯t want to have the surprise ruined!

    What¡¯ll it be? A cute little micro? A mismatched monster? I can¡¯t wait to find out!

    I take him by the hand and pull him from the Commonroom, down the corridor and almost throw him across the threshold of my room.

    Coming inside, I pin him between my front and the wall and kiss him, again¡­ he shrinks down, starting at his full height and ending up with his lips below mine¡­ good boy¡­

    With my left hand I feel for the door lock and privacy switches, activating both.

    Breaking from his lips (with him, again, trying to follow me as if he¡¯s scared I¡¯m going to run away (a-fucking-DORABLE!)) I look into his eyes and say ¡°Tell me what you¡¯re feeling, right now.¡±

    Panting a moment, his breaths hitching, he answers ¡°Scared¡­ excited¡­ My heart¡¯s racing like I¡¯ve just tried to sprint 500m¡­ there¡¯s this weird swooping in my stomach¡­ I feel like I can barely breathe¡­ I sort of feel like I¡¯m 13 again and facing down that rhino!¡±

    I smile ¡°That¡¯s good stuff, sweetie! What Mummy likes to hear¡­ I could have done without being compared to 3 tonnes of hairy, aggressive, Ice Age megafauna, though!¡±

    Panicked, he answers ¡°That¡¯s¡­!¡± but I shut him up with a short kiss.

    ¡°*Mwah*¡­ OK, sweetheart! It¡¯s OK! Besides¡­¡± I smile, thinking of a joke that only works in English¡°¡­that rhino and I do have something in common: we¡¯re both extremely [horny]!¡±

    Sure enough, his face screws slightly in confusion.

    Speaking only Evenki, as his mothertongue, Russian, for trade, Galactic Basic and Galactic Basic Sign Language (which most Terrans don¡¯t fully consider ¡®languages¡¯, due to their simplicity and lack of vocabularic and grammatical depth) because they were a legally mandated part of his education, is cute but¡­ maybe I should put ¡®languages¡¯ on the list of things I have to teach him¡­

    Korean first, of course(!) He does need to be able to talk to Mummy in her native tongue(!)

    ¡°Go to the bed¡­¡± I smile, crookedly.

    He complies.

    ¡°Good boy!¡± I say.

    He makes to get onto it.

    ¡°Ah! Not yet!¡­ Mummy wants to undress you!¡± I say, an edge of sternness in my voice.

    Looking slightly ashamed, he backs off from the bed and stands facing me¡­ He¡¯s so obedient! I love it!!!

    I step to him and bring my hands to the hem of his self-made shirt¡­ it¡¯s just occurred to me that this is the first time I¡¯ve seen him in a different room from his coat and pack of possessions! I suppose the habits of a lifetime (like always making sure you had all your stuff with you) wouldn¡¯t be easily broken¡­ though it seems they can be forgotten¡­ in the heat of the moment(!)

    ¡°Arms up!¡± I instruct, mischievously.

    His arms come up¡­ that compliance!

    I have to calm down!¡­ I thought I was going to cum earlier, just from him calling me ¡®Mummy¡¯!

    There¡¯s a proper order to these things¡­ I¡¯m in sweet-Mummy-mode, right now¡­ In sweet-Mummy-mode¡­ he has to cum first¡­

    If he likes this¡­ maybe I can float ¡®strict-Mummy-mode¡¯ to him, at a later date¡­ see what he thinks of spankings, smothering and the like¡­

    In strict-Mummy-mode, I cum first!

    I pull his garment over his head and have to stifle a gasp of horror¡­ he¡¯s covered in scars!

    In addition to the single set of claw scars on his face and the collection of tiny burn scars on his hands (presumably, from having learned to cook on open flame) he has a panoply of scars covering his skinny chest and slender arms!

    ¡°You poor thing! You¡¯ve been through the wars, haven¡¯t you!¡±

    He looks at me, confused, before saying ¡°I¡¯ve never been to war¡­ my parents did¡­ that¡¯s how they met¡­ in the Sniper Corps.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ err, sweetie¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­ I just meant you¡¯ve got a lot of scars¡­ you¡¯ve had a lot of injuries!¡±

    Concerned, he looks at me and says ¡°You think they¡¯re¡­ ugly?¡±

    ¡°No!¡­ No, sweetheart, not ugly¡­ just¡­ distressing. They make me realise what a hard life you¡¯ve had.¡±

    ¡°They¡­ they don¡¯t hurt, anymore!¡± he says, sorely misunderstanding the point!

    ¡°How come there are so few scars on your face?¡±

    ¡°I wear a helmet¡­¡± he shrugs.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve seen your helmet¡­*kekek*¡­ one of your helmets, at least¡­ it doesn¡¯t cover your face.¡±

    He frowns ¡°The helmet you¡¯ve seen is my only helmet¡­ I wouldn¡¯t carry a second one¡­ that would be a waste of calories¡­ The lips and nose guard are designed to deflect injury away from my face.¡± So innocent! I should definitely teach him what ¡®word play¡¯ is, though(!)

    ¡°You¡¯re in dire need of some TLC, I think! Mummy¡¯s going to spoil you rotten!¡± I say, as I undo the fastening keeping up his trousers and drop them to the floor.

    Seeing him now clad only in his pants, it hits home how much of his apparent bulk came just from the fur lining of his rawhide clothing. There¡¯s nothing there! He has skinny, little, chicken legs (also covered in a lifetime of unregenned scars)!

    I mean, the flesh he has is pure muscle¡­ but it¡¯s still easy enough to count his ribs!

    I walk to him and wrap him into another kiss, as I do, angling him so that he has his back to the bed¡­ then I surprise him by flinging him backward to land on the fifth mattress he¡¯s ever lain on. I get a brief glimpse of his reflexive terror, at being forced to trip backwards, before he realises it¡¯s a soft landing, as he hits the bed.

    ¡°Legs up¡­¡± I instruct, followed by him complying and me pulling his pants off over his feet.

    I pull his knees apart to study the cock that I¡¯ve only caught glimpses of, through clothing, until now.

    I instantly fall in love with it! It¡¯s the perfect cock for him! Just a little bit shorter than average¡­ but not skinnier¡­ a pronounced upward curve.

    Of course¡­ I¡¯m aware that whatever cock he had, I¡¯d likely have declared it ¡®the perfect cock¡¯ for him. I¡¯m not particularly picky about the members of my boys(!)

    The fact that he managed to make it to 25, with no Evenki, Yakut, Tuvan, Ojibwe, Chipewyan, Yupik or, perhaps, Longi/Neanderthal/Denisovan women pulling him into their tent, is unbelievable!

    ¡­No¡­ not women! Anyone, who would allow a boy this tasty to remain a virgin, doesn¡¯t deserve to be called ¡®woman¡¯¡­ Novyy Les is a planet of girls!

    As a Sociologist¡­ I know that¡¯s ridiculous¡­ as a Mummy, though¡­

    Their loss is my gain, however! Now¡­ I get to pop his cherry!

    I wonder (for the ten thousandth time) where my fetish for motherhood came from¡­ My mum is definitely more of a ¡®girl¡¯, with my dad being a man! If one of them is the Dom/Domme, in that relationship¡­ I don¡¯t think it¡¯s her!

    Could it be that I¡¯ve always identified with my dad more? I have his personality, his eyes, his build, his face (people, who don¡¯t know me and don¡¯t have a lot of familiarity with Resurectees, often mistake me for being a full Denisovan¡­ it takes a discerning eye to spot traces of the slim, little, Sapiens Korean girl, that is my mother(!)) if I¡¯ve modelled myself after my dad and perceive him to be the ¡®Daddy¡¯ in that relationship¡­ maybe it¡¯s natural that I¡¯d become a Mummy?

    Could it be being an older sister with an age gap? No, I don¡¯t think so¡­ I love my brothers but, well, they were arrogant, little twats, growing up! No nurturing, there(!)

    Well, no use psychoanalysing myself¡­ ¡®unconscious motives¡¯ are spurious pseudoscience, since they aren¡¯t falsifiable¡­ Wherever it came from, my Mummy kink is here now!

    I¡¯ve got likely the cutest boy I¡¯ll ever have, lying nude on the bed in front of me¡­ time to enjoy him!

    ---Tymancha¡¯s Perspective---

    ¡°Get your head on the pillow, feet toward the footboard¡­¡± smiles this¡­ ¡®Mummy¡¯¡­

    If it were possible for me to get any harder, her giving me orders like that would certainly have done it!

    I obey, get myself into the position she indicated and she climbs up after me.

    Kneeling between my spread legs (in the process, making me aware of her wide, Denisovan hips¡­ not that I wasn¡¯t aware before!) she unfastens her jacket with the [zip] at the front.

    The fact that I was entirely exposed, before she had shed her first thread, should read as unfair to me¡­ it just reads as exciting.

    Tossing the jacket over the side of the bed she reveals her nipples to be fully visible through her [tank top]! Well, at least, the way they raise the thin fabric makes it look as if she¡¯s utterly nude, even if her [tank top] does completely cover the skin.

    She notices me noticing and looks down with an exaggerated expression of confusion.

    ¡°Oh! I¡¯m headlighting! I didn¡¯t put on a bra, this morning¡­ figured I¡¯d be wearing that jacket all day¡­ Never mind! You can just consider it a ¡®preview of coming attractions¡¯(!)¡± she smirks.

    Even if I didn¡¯t understand several of the key words/phrases in that sentence¡­ the gist was very clear and causes the tree sparrows, fluttering around in my stomach, to become steppe eagles(!)

    Placing both hands on the outsides of my thighs, she begins stroking upwards, slowly, in the direction of my torso.

    ¡°I have a question, sweetie¡­¡± she says, drawing steadily nearer.

    ¡°What¡¯s your question¡­ Mummy?¡±

    ¡°At the party, the other night, you were clearly uncomfortable¡­ why did you agree to go?¡± she says, her hands passing my hips.

    I think for a moment before deciding to tell the truth ¡°I was uncomfortable because, even though I know it¡¯s stupid, I couldn¡¯t fight the instinct that that much noise would frighten all the game away¡­ I knew that there¡¯s no game in a civili¡­¡± her eyebrow raises ¡°¡­a settled city, I knew there was the sound capturing field (that¡¯s somehow not magic) and I knew that I didn¡¯t need to worry about hunting but¡­ I¡¯d just never had to deal with that much noise before¡­ there were also lots of people there and I don¡¯t think they liked me¡­ I went because you were going¡­ I stayed because you stayed¡­ I wanted to be¡­ near you¡­¡±

    Her face, now centimetres from mine, falls into a very pronounced expression that, nevertheless, is difficult to read before she says ¡°That¡¯s¡­ so¡­ cute! You wanted to be with Mummy, didn¡¯t you!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ Mummy¡­¡± I elect to answer¡­ despite the fact that the translator informs me she wasn¡¯t actually asking a question there¡­ I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever get used to this thing speaking into my brain!

    She kisses me, hard enough to squash our noses together. Her torso comes to rest on mine with that attractive bulk of hers. Her strong arms wrap around the back of my shoulders, pressing me to her front.

    She¡¯s¡­ warm¡­ very warm¡­ it feels very pleasant.

    Breaking from the kiss but not withdrawing her lips, she says ¡°Well¡­ Mummy¡¯s here¡­ how about I make you feel good, now?¡±

    Trembling, I nod.

    She pulls back to her kneeling position, between my legs, and bends to bring her face to my cock.

    Smiling, she pulls back my foreskin to examine under the corona ¡°¡­Nice and clean, I¡¯m glad¡­ even if taking a watershower together might have been sexy(!)¡± she quips.

    I smile back ¡°I know how to keep myself clean¡­ animals smell you if you stink¡­ I just don¡¯t use any fragranced stuff, the way you¡­ err¡­ nonOgorodans do¡­ for the same reason.¡±

    ¡°Interesting, I¡¯ll bear that in mind¡­¡± she says, meaning that she¡¯ll make a note of it on her [holo], later.

    ¡°Well¡­ let¡¯s not waste time¡­ given that you been a good enough boy to keep yourself clean¡­ it means that I can do¡­¡± she kisses my glans ¡°¡­this, not to mention¡­¡± she licks up the length of my shaft ¡°¡­that and, lest I forget¡­¡± she places her lips at my tip and begins swallowing my length. I shudder and panic, slightly¡­ the inside of her mouth feels so good that I¡¯m spasming! ¡°¡­Vuhs!¡± she says, looking up at me with a playful grin, around my cock.

    She keeps pushing down, until I can feel her throat dilate around my tip.

    Like my first alcohol, earlier, my first blowjob is very good¡­ but not at all how I imagined¡­

    The sensory overload is indescribable!

    I¡¯ve felt unbearable pain before¡­ I never imagined there could be such a thing as unbearable pleasure!

    Masturbating never felt like this!

    It¡¯s so overwhelming that¡­ I don¡¯t last long¡­

    Waves of pleasure grip my body before I¡¯m forced to orgasm¡­

    I try to warn her but she keeps her mouth on my cock right until the end.

    I feel terrible! Not only did I last such a short time, I also ejaculated into her mouth! She must think¡­

    ¡°*Gulp*¡±

    ¡­did¡­ did she just swallow?

    She pulls her mouth from the end and I ask ¡°You swallowed?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± she confirms.

    ¡°Why!?¡±

    She raises a clenched hand and starts counting ¡°One) you¡¯re tasty. Two) I didn¡¯t want to mess up the bedsheets. Three) I think swallowing¡¯s sexy!¡± she says, matter-of-factly.

    ¡°Erm¡­ fair enough¡­¡±

    She smiles ¡°You mean ¡®fair enough, Mummy¡¯, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, err, yes¡­ sorry, Mummy.¡±

    ¡°Good boy!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I came so quickly, too, Mummy.¡±

    She chuckles ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it! This is so you can learn, afterall¡­ I¡¯ll take it as a compliment¡­ Are you done for tonight or¡­?¡±

    ¡°Again! More!! Please, Mummy!!! I don¡¯t want to stop! I¡­ I just need¡­ err¡­ I need to recover¡­¡± I plead, desperately.

    She gives me that crooked smile again ¡°That¡¯s my good boy¡­ is there anything Mummy can do to help you recover?¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­¡± I hesitate.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be shy!¡­ If there¡¯s anything you want, just ask.¡±

    ¡°She¡­ she could¡­ erm¡­ take off her clothes?¡± I say, falteringly.

    She smiles and immediately pulls her light teal [tank top] over her head. As the hem passes over her enormous tits, I¡¯m treated to a moment of underboob before both her breasts drop from their constriction and swing hypnotically.

    Bare chested, she reminds me of Ms Spears¡­ the Denisovan attendant of the trade post at Ilmakta Kislokan¡­ the summer day, I was there with my father¡­ we had a communal bath in the river¡­ I saw her naked¡­ I think I¡¯ve had a Denisovan [kink], since that day, even if I just learned the word [kink], this evening!

    I tried to convince my father that he should go on a date with her¡­ she could be my new mother¡­ did I already have a Mummy [kink] and just not realise? I¡­ don¡¯t¡­ think so¡­ I think I just wanted to have any excuse to spend more time with her¡­

    I spent that autumn carving a rock to look like I remembered her, being nude¡­ a carving that my father threw in a lake when he found¡­ claiming it was unnecessary weight in my pack. That winter I tried to hunt a woolly rhino, thinking¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ that if I brought a woolly rhino horn and pelts in to trade, then it wouldn¡¯t matter that I was 13? She¡¯d be so impressed that she¡¯d demand to be with me, anyway?

    Lookswise, Jae Stone and Gaar Spears are dead-ringers even if, personalitywise, they¡¯re nothing alike!

    ¡°Anything to say, sweetie?¡± she says, with a cock of her head, causing me to realise; I¡¯ve spaced out, staring at her fulsome chest and stomach!

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re beautiful, Mummy!¡±

    She laughs ¡°Good boy!¡­ Mummy¡¯s going to take off her lowers, now. OK?¡±

    I nod, fervently.

    She laughs and unbuckles her belt, pulling it clear of her [shorts], in one clean motion.

    She pulls her [shorts] over her legs¡­ leaving herself, briefly, clad in only [panties]¡­ before those are pulled off as well.

    ¡°There¡­ now Mummy¡¯s taken off all her clothes for you, sweetie¡­ what do you say?¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mummy.¡±

    ¡°Good boy! Is there anything else I can do to help bring this little guy back to life?¡± she says, hooking her left index finger under my cock.

    ¡°You¡­ you could¡­ I¡¯d like¡­ Could you¡­ put your tits on my face¡­ Mummy? Make it so I can¡¯t breathe?¡±

    Her eyebrows raise, quizzically ¡°You¡­ want me to smother you?¡±

    ¡°If that means suffocating me with your boobs, then yes!¡±

    She laughs ¡°That¡¯s¡­ typically something I do to bad boys¡­ a punishment¡­ that and spanking¡­¡±

    ¡°I fail to see how having your tits on my face could ever, conceivably, be a punishment!¡±

    She laughs ¡°Alright then, noted!¡± before straddling my waist and placing her hands either side of my head ¡°Since you asked so nicely!¡±

    She then drops her breasts.

    They envelope my face¡­

    This is paradise!

    ---Jae¡¯s Perspective---

    The skinny little boy¡¯s face buried beneath my tits, I feel him struggle and hear him cry out, the vibration very pleasant against my chest!

    He taps my side and I respond ¡°Nuh-uh! Remember how you asked for this(!?)¡±

    After what must have felt like an eternity to him, I raise my chest enough for him to take one gasping breath¡­ then bring it back down.

    ¡°I did say this is usually a punishment, didn¡¯t I? You understand why, now?¡±

    He can¡¯t move his head much but there is an, unmistakeable, shake ¡®no¡¯!

    ¡°Really?! Then I guess you can just stay there for the moment!¡±

    This continues for some minutes¡­ long periods of him being buried in tit, followed by me allowing him brief, gasping breaths¡­ then I feel it.

    ¡°Ah¡­ someone¡¯s woken up!¡± I say, reaching behind me to feel his newly rehardened cock.

    I bring my chest away from his face and scoot down him so our pelvises are together, him sandwiched between my labia majora.

    ¡°Now, sweetie¡­ do you think you¡¯ve been a good enough boy that Mummy can let you cum inside her?¡±

    He nods, desperately ¡°Yes, Mummy!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ do you want Mummy to let you cum inside?¡±

    More nodding ¡°Yes, Mummy!!!¡±

    I shrug and say ¡°Well¡­ in that case¡­¡± before lifting myself up and, with one hand, splaying my lips, with the other, grasping his cock and guiding it to my pussy.

    ¡°¡­enjoy!¡± I say, bringing my full weight down on his hips.

    ---the next morning---

    Tymie and I enter the Commonroom to find D¨£o Yu¨¢n in the kitchen, cooking.

    ¡°Ah¡­ there you two are! I¡¯ve made pancakes¡­ hope you enjoy!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ er¡­ thank you¡­¡± I say, hesitantly.

    ¡°No need to thank me, Ms Stone. It is my day to cook! I¡¯ll be back in time to cook dinner, this evening, so don¡¯t worry about that. You¡¯ll have to either cook for yourselves or go to the Canteen for lunch, though.¡±

    Tymie and I take our seats at the kitchen table and Yu¨¢n slides two plates, effortlessly, across the table, such that they come to rest exactly in front of each of us.

    I¡¯m about to start eating when he says ¡°I hope the sex didn¡¯t tire you two out, too much(!) You have a q¨¬g¨­ng session with me in 45 minutes.¡±

    I¡¯m slack jawed.

    I look to Tymie, who looks as if he¡¯s just been slapped.

    ¡°How did you know?!¡± I ask, aghast.

    Yu¨¢n smiles ¡°Come, Ms Stone¡­ I might be Ace¡­ I might be a monk¡­ but I¡¯m not blind and I¡¯m not stupid! I came back last night, to find Mr Nulgynet¡¯s coat, pack, helmet, bow and quiver (none of which he¡¯s allowed himself to be separated from in the 5 days we¡¯ve known eachother) lying, unattended, in the Commonroom, all rooms empty¡­ except yours¡­ which has a privacy field engaged¡­ 2 and 2 does, indeed, equal 4(!)¡±

    I sigh and shake my head.

    ¡°On that note¡­¡± I start ¡°¡­I¡¯ve thought of a name for the Dorm¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± respond Tymie and Yu¨¢n, in unison.

    ¡°What do you guys think to¡­ ¡®Elysium¡¯?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlude XII: Pancakes and Odysseys

    ---Leon¡¯s Perspective---

    ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯ve got one¡­¡± says Ziva, reclining (fully clothed) on my bed, a glass of my bourbon held idly in her hand ¡°¡­Command contact you and tell you you¡¯ve got to recruit one of the Terrans aboard to the Craft¡­ who are you picking?¡±

    My mouth twists as I stare into my glass of her arak, contemplatively ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a tricky one¡­ I would say the Monk, except that I really don¡¯t think he¡¯d go for it!¡±

    She nods in agreement.

    ¡°¡­the Vietnamese Humanitarian definitely has the right look¡­ so plain and indistinct that you could have a full conversation with him and be unable to recall anything but the broadest strokes of what he looked like, right after¡­ but¡­ I think, he¡¯d have the same problem as the Monk¡­ too conscientious¡­ plus, unlike the Monk, he definitely can¡¯t handle himself in a fight, which would make training him more difficult¡­ the Gael¡¯s devious and has the social intelligence for it¡­ I think she might be a little too devious, though¡­ too likely to go rogue when it suits her(!)¡±

    Here she suggests ¡°The Brit?¡±

    I blow a fart noise with my tongue, coupled with a thumbs down ¡°You reckon that Limey could ever walk into a room and not instantly draw every eye!? ¡®Oh yeah, infiltrate the shindig, eavesdrop on the tycoon, then exfiltrate¡­ never mind the fact that you¡¯re 6¡¯9¡¯¡¯ with flaming locks of auburn hair and eyes of emerald green¡­ Never mind the fact that you¡¯ve got the face of a Greek god and the muscles of a grizzly¡­ just try not to attract attention, good luck!¡¯(!)¡­ The Starborn and Neanderthal are out for the same reason¡­ too conspicuous, too obviously dangerous¡­ the Tshwane for being 7¡¯2¡¯¡¯!¡±

    She rolls her eyes ¡°For the millionth time, Leon, no one can understand you when you use imperial units!¡±

    ¡°You could if you wore your translator¡­¡± I shoot back ¡°¡­plus, it¡¯s easy enough to infer how tall 6¡¯9¡¯¡¯ and 7¡¯2¡¯¡¯ are, given the context that they¡¯re the respective heights of the Brit and Tshwane we were talking about, isn¡¯t it(?)¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to wear a translator to talk to you, when we share a dozen languages! You clearly know metric, so why don¡¯t you get with the programme and speak in the units favoured by 99.7% of Terrans!?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a traditionalist(!)¡­ Plus, you make us sound like the last of a dying breed! Avoirdupois still has 7 billion people who favor it¡­ that¡¯s nearly twice as many people as were alive when the United States of America (the greatest country in history(!)) first landed on Luna!¡±

    She cocks an eyebrow ¡°You mean as part of the, 45 year long, dick measuring contest that they were having with the other contemporaneous empire? Olga¡¯s one?¡±

    I bristle ¡°The States were not an empire!¡±

    She smirks ¡°Tell that to the Philippines, Cuba, Guatemala, Hawaii, Puerto Rico¡­ I could go on¡­ you want to get the Navajo in here? Ask him whether he thinks the States were an empire? Also, at the end of that century, didn¡¯t the States literally lose one of the earliest objects ever to be sent to Mars (worth a third of a billion States dollars (which was a lot of money)), because they couldn¡¯t agree, themselves, on whether to use imperial or metric? After which, they decided that science would be in metric because it wasn¡¯t designed by drunk mathematicians rolling dice(!?)¡±

    I raise a finger and open my mouth¡­ quickly followed by lowering my finger and closing my mouth.

    She adopts an insufferably smug grin which makes me resolve to use feet, inches, pounds and ounces twice as hard from now on(!)

    ¡°So¡­ who?¡± she prompts ¡°Who¡¯s your pick?¡±

    I think ¡°The Russian¡¯s out because being 4¡¯1¡¯¡¯ tall makes her very conspicuously short and she demonstrates no inclination to combat (unless you count her Cossack dancing to me and the Monk playing ¡®Rasputin¡¯¡­ which I don¡¯t(!))¡­ The Japanese is out, even though she¡¯s definitely got the combat skill¡­ the pragmatism too¡­ just ¡¯cause she¡¯s¡­ too proper, I think¡­ she¡¯d balk at some of the stuff required¡­ she¡¯s from a prestigious family so I think the seedier sides of the Craft would be a deal breaker, for her¡­ plus, she¡¯s got the problem of being glamorous and noticeable¡­ the Navajo¡¯s out for the same reasons as the Vietnamese¡­ The Korean would be a very appealing pick because she clearly has bruiser strength, while looking like she¡¯s out of shape to all but the most decerning eye¡­ she has the social intelligence¡­ and requisite integrity¡­ but she¡¯s out because I think she¡¯d be too much of a softy¡­ the Evenk¡¯s out, even if he¡¯d be great for missions in remote areas, because he just doesn¡¯t know how to put people at ease¡­ the Feline too, too grumpy¡­ the Hindi¡¯s too skinny to handle himself¡­the Boxer¡¯s out¡­ too much of a hothead, she¡¯d blow her cover immediately! ¡­ I think it¡¯s between her brother and the roughworlder¡­¡±

    ¡°You mean, the blue one? The four armed elf?!¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ the other one¡¯s not ¡®Terran¡¯ in any sense¡­ unless you stretch it to include ¡®choice of partner¡¯. The Nova Fennoscandian one is brave and has integrity¡­ but she¡¯s also na?ve enough to make her recruitable, not so principled that she couldn¡¯t be convinced the Craft was right for her¡­ sure she would catch any eye at a Terran gathering, being nearly 7¡¯3¡¯¡¯ and of obviously extraTerran origin¡­ but I think that¡¯d be offset, in certain circumstances, by how much she¡¯d be underestimated by everyone!¡­ You heard how she killed four pirates, when they got boarded? You heard the Monk (the guy with more than a century of experience studying every martial art Earth and, later, the galaxy has to offer) saying she took him off guard and nearly landed a hit? Her species is so rare, off their cradleworld, that most people would underestimate them, thinking they were gardenworlders¡­ but, even if you knew of her species, I think you¡¯d still be inclined to underestimate her, because she was raised on a deathworld!¡±

    She pouts, consideringly, and nods ¡°I agree¡­ but the Swahili? You don¡¯t think he¡¯d be a ¡®softy¡¯?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°I don¡¯t!¡­ Study him next time¡­ I think the whole serene, tranquil ¡®wiseman¡¯ schtick is¡­ not exactly ¡®a front¡¯ but¡­ more like¡­ a surface layer¡­ I think there¡¯s ferocity beneath¡­ he clearly keeps himself in shape but I don¡¯t think that would be at all obvious unless you either got him naked or had our eye for people¡¯s physical presence!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ very interesting, Leon. I have to say, I¡¯m surprised by your picks¡­ but I can¡¯t fault them¡­¡± she says, squinting thoughtfully ¡°I think I have to agree¡­ Go on, your turn!¡±

    I think for a moment, about a question to pose.

    ¡°How about¡­ what do you think the new species is going to be like?¡±

    She holds up a finger and shakes her head ¡°It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts(!)¡±

    I perform a jerk-off motion with my hand, while blowing another fart sound from my mouth ¡°Thanks, Mr Holmes(!)¡±

    She smiles and shakes her head ¡°I¡¯ve never understood what your problem with Doyle is! Reading Sherlock Holmes is what made me want to be a detective and, from there, get recruited into the UTCIS! It¡¯s no exaggeration to say that, without those books, I wouldn¡¯t be a Craftswoman and you wouldn¡¯t have a partner¡­ well, you probably would but¡­ your partner wouldn¡¯t be me, at least(!)¡±

    I chuckle ¡°I¡¯ll have to hop in a time machine, and write him a thank you note¡­(!) It was Fleming, for me.¡±

    ¡°Of fucking course it was!¡± she smirks, wryly ¡°You thought it would all be vodka martinis, Armani suits and bedding beautiful people, didn¡¯t you(!) Pop a few bullets into the bad guy, crack a one liner, take a sip of your drink, slide off your stylish jacket and slip into bed with a pretty girl or boy (maybe both)(!)¡±

    I laugh ¡°Yeah¡­ reality is often disappointing(!) The prettiest person I¡¯ve ever bedded in the course of duty was you and¡­ no offense¡­(!)¡±

    She playfully throws a pillow at me, laughing.

    A moment passes before she says ¡°I actually heard something really interesting about Fleming, recently¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ you know the evil wizard in The Lord of the Rings? That actor was Ian Fleming¡¯s step-cousin¡­ and was a spy for Britain during and after the Second Great War! Apparently Fleming admitted to basing Bond on him¡­! The reason it sounded so realistic when he got stabbed in the back, in the third movie, is because he actually knew what it sounds like when a man gets stabbed in the back! The director apparently asked him to scream¡­ he answered ¡®have you any idea what it actually sounds like when a man is stabbed in the back¡­ because I do!¡¯¡±

    ¡°No shit! Christopher Lee? Christopher Lee was the real James Bond?!¡±

    She nods ¡°Yup!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯ll have to look into that!¡±

    ¡°Please do!¡­ What is your problem with Doyle, by the way?¡±

    I sigh ¡°My problem with Doyle is that Holmes only looks like a genius¡­ because he¡¯s always right!¡­ All his ¡®deductions¡¯ are actually abductions and it just happens to always work out for him! If I said ¡®The killer left the pen on the left side of the desk, therefore the killer must have been left handed¡¯ to you, during a mission where someone had been killed by an unknown quantity, what would you do?! You¡¯d laugh at me! You¡¯d laugh because I¡¯d be ignoring a dozen other possibilities like, maybe the killer reached across themselves, with their right, to put the pen down, maybe they put the pen down, with their right, while rounding the desk, maybe they left it on the right and it rolled to the left, perhaps the killer wrote from the other side of the desk, perhaps the killer is ambidextrous, perhaps the pen wasn¡¯t even left there by the killer! But, when Holmes does it, you think ¡®wow, what a genius!¡¯ because Doyle makes it so that he¡¯s right! It¡¯s the hand of the author¡­ when I can feel the author¡¯s hand it pulls me out of the story¡­¡±

    She throws up her hands in concession ¡°Fair enough¡­ I still like them, though.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t really argue with that now, can I(?)¡­ Would you care to elaborate on what you meant with your, oh so pretentious, Doyle quote?¡±

    ¡°I just meant that we know nothing about these people¡­ including whether they actually exist at all! We have some blurry, out of focus video of things that may have been animals or vehicles and the fact that the probe got destroyed¡­ If we start speculating and develop an idea of what we think they¡¯ll be like, from that, we¡¯re likely to make fools of ourselves!¡­ I mean¡­ we aren¡¯t¡­ it¡¯s not our job to identify this species¡­ but say Miyazaki came to the conclusion that they were a species of arboreal, squirrel like mammaloids¡­ then had us only look for species that matched that description while, in fact, they were volant avians¡­ they¡¯d be watching us, shouting at squirrels, and thinking ¡®what the fuck are these idiots doing?!¡¯¡­ for that reason, I refuse to speculate, even idly!¡­ Though¡­ the one thing I will say¡­ is that I think it¡¯s a fairly safe bet that they won¡¯t look enough like us that we¡¯ll be able to pass for them with a tube of rubber cement and a palette of green face paint(!)¡±

    I consider that¡­

    She¡¯s probably right about the whole ¡®not enough data to speculate, even idly¡¯ thing¡­ She¡¯s also right about the fact that we¡¯ll almost certainly not be called on to infiltrate them!

    While a surprising amount of the galaxy¡¯s species are humanoid (roughly 5% to 20%, depending on how strict or loose you want to be about the definition of ¡®humanoid¡¯) effectively none are a close enough match in height, build, arrangement of limbs, arrangement of digits and arrangement of facial features that they can be practically mimicked by Humans, without falling into the uncanny valley!¡­ It would take a professional make up artist to even pass me off as a Neanderthal¡­ and it wouldn¡¯t stand up to much scrutiny(!)

    We¡¯re probably going to be doing mostly hands off Tradecraft¡­ I really hope we aren¡¯t called on for any total-stealth missions¡­ ones where even being spotted would be a failure!

    ¡°Alright¡­ fair enough¡­ but I think that makes it your turn¡­¡±

    She thinks a moment before smirking ¡°What do you think the chances that the hybrids have a Femdom relationship are?¡±

    I chuckle ¡°You say ¡®the hybrids¡¯ like you¡¯re not a hybrid yourself(!)¡±

    She wags a finger ¡°I don¡¯t think great-grandparents should count!¡±

    I smirk back¡­ time for payback for her States-bashing earlier ¡°So¡­ the Evenk¡¯s a hybrid¡­ your mom¡¯s a hybrid¡­ and you¡¯re not? Doesn¡¯t that seem a little arbitrary?¡±

    ¡°No, because¡­ well, all Out-of-Africans have some Neanderthal DNA, but you¡¯d never claim that you were a Neanderthal hybrid because of your 3.1%, would you!? That would be ridiculous!¡±

    ¡°Yes, but¡­ 12.5% is a larger number than 3.1%... plus, you¡¯ll have a percentage, on top of that, that you¡¯ve inherited from your Sapiens great-grandparents, same as me¡­ so you¡¯re probably, like, 15-16%?¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re not a hybrid when you can¡¯t be readily identified as one¡­ otherwise we¡¯re all hybrids!¡­ Anyway¡­!¡± she says, changing the subject ¡°¡­Femdom, yay or nay? You see the way he clings to her, almost literally?! The way she dotes on him? Him dressed in that outfit she made for him? The way he had his wildman hair tamed with a comb and obviously hadn¡¯t done it himself? I think they¡¯ve got a Dommy-Mummy/little boy thing going on!¡±

    I consider that. It¡¯s all true; when they announced themselves, he was dressed in a shirt and pants that, when asked, the Korean explained that she had made for him, to demonstrate use of the nanoforge¡­ he elaborated that it was the first set of clothing he¡¯d ever had that hadn¡¯t been made either by him or his mom¡­ it all lines up¡­

    ¡°I think you¡¯re right¡­ good spot!¡±

    She frowns, wryly ¡°Well that¡¯s boring! I assumed we¡¯d have a debate!¡­ I¡¯m not sure I like it when you just agree with me(!)¡±

    I laugh ¡°Tell you what¡­ I¡¯ll give you a bonus question, how does that sound?¡±

    She pouts, thoughtfully¡­ then smiles, evilly¡­

    ¡°¡­Have you decided what to do about your little admirer, yet?¡±

    ---the next day---

    I pick up my violin case and step into the corridor.

    I pass the open door to the Commonroom and see the diminutive Russian sat in there¡­ along with my little ¡®admirer¡¯.

    ¡°Hey, Olga, you doing OK?¡± I ask, with concern.

    She turns her joyless face to me ¡°I¡¯m fine, why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°You¡­ erm¡­ you just had a bit of a Vladimir Putin scowl going on there¡­¡±

    I¡¯m instantly proven wrong as she shows me what her face actually looks like scowling!

    She mimics the act of spitting in disgust, before saying ¡°Kindly do not compare me to that war criminal!¡­ Seven hundred years and that man¡¯s stink still clings to my people! May history yet forget his name!¡­ The ¡®Vladimir Putin scowl¡¯, as you put it, is my thinking face¡­ I apologise for concerning you.¡±

    ¡°I apologize for offending you¡­ I won¡¯t mention him, again!¡±

    She nods ¡°It¡¯s alright¡­ and thank you¡­ You¡¯re going somewhere to practice?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I think the Loading Bay should have great acoustics!¡± I lie.

    Not that the Loading Bay won¡¯t have great acoustics¡­ but that¡¯s not why I¡¯m going and not why I¡¯m mentioning it.

    ¡°Should be pretty empty¡­ if anyone wants to tag along?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass¡­ I hope this does not offend you¡­ it¡¯s no reflection on your playing¡­¡± says Olga, predictably.

    The one I actually want to follow me says nothing.

    ¡°Alright¡­ see you guys later then¡­¡± I smile and leave.

    I step back into the corridor and begin making my way sternward¡­

    I¡¯m not even 20ft from the base of the stairs on the bottom deck before I hear Plus Ultra¡¯s Dorm door open again¡­ she probably doesn¡¯t realize my hearing¡¯s that good(!)

    I keep walking, giving no indication that I know she¡¯s following me.

    Rather than coming down the stairs, she elects to follow on the Deck 4 walkway¡­ clever¡­ for a gardenworlder. She recognizes that there¡¯s no cover down here so she¡¯d be entirely exposed if I turned around! Good situational analysis¡­ even if she is letting herself down by not considering the noise of her footsteps¡­ 65ft up 25ft behind me¡­ and I can still hear the *pat**pat**pat* of her bare feet and hands on the floor.

    I can also feel her gaze on the back of my neck¡­

    I get to the door to the Loading Bay and wave it open¡­

    Oh! Clever girl! She¡¯s timed opening the door on her floor to coincide with me opening this one! She probably reckoned it would cover the sound!

    I step into the Loading Bay.

    This is actually a great performance space!¡­ Or¡­ would be if it weren¡¯t crowded with cargo!

    35ft wide, 120ft long, 300ft tall, row after row of walkways stacked on top of eachother, on three sides, at 16ft intervals, the fourth wall a psychedelic backdrop of open space, with stars steadily receding into it¡­ I couldn¡¯t ask for a more perfect concert hall¡­ and it¡¯s completely empty, but for me and my little stalker(!)

    I open my case and begin tuning my strings and rosining up my bow.

    I wonder what I should play¡­?

    Tam Lin? Battle for Camelot? The God of Thunder? All a bit¡­ intense¡­ T¨ªr na n¨®g? Kid ar an Sliabh? Those are a bit more cheerful¡­ bouncier¡­

    I¡¯ve got it.

    I place my bow on the strings and, in a flurry, play a lower C, lower E, upper A, upper C, then hold a moment on an upper D, then hold a long chord of upper B and upper E¡­ she¡¯s in for a treat!

    ---Enas¡¯ Perspective, 4 minutes earlier---

    I watch the being that I should find hideous come into the room and address Olga¡­ I should find him hideous¡­ but I don¡¯t!

    He¡¯s got one too many eyes, with light blue irides instead of light pink, four too many fingers, he doesn¡¯t have tusks like a man should, he doesn¡¯t even have vestigial fangs like a woman, his nose travels all the way to his brow, through what should be the middle of his eye, his brow hair is weirdly cleft into two parts to match his two eyes, his torso is too short, his legs are too long, his arms are too short, his ears are rounded with no point on them, his feet are flat, with no thumb, and wrapped in lab grown leather (a habit common to most Humans), his skin is a pale colour that ought to make him look anaemic, not even the slightest tinge of the orange that my brain is telling me should be vibrant, his hair is a yellowy-brown not the proper vivid purple, he¡¯s too gracile to be a man and too bulky to be a woman, too short to be a man too tall to be a woman¡­

    Regardless¡­ my hearts are racing just from him entering the room!

    He compares Olga to a man who¡¯s name I don¡¯t know¡­ she bares her teeth in what my translator is telling me is disgust¡­ [Fuck] that¡¯s terrifying! She¡¯s a head shorter than me and has no fangs¡­ How is she making a fangless mouth so [fucking] terrifying!?

    The object of my, oh so selfish, desire reveals that he¡¯s going to be playing his instrument in the Loading Bay¡­ he invites us to come!

    I desperately want to say ¡®yes¡¯, go with him openly¡­ but the words catch in my throat¡­ stifled by my godsdamned useless courtship instincts!

    Androgynous as he may look, I know he¡¯s a man¡­ Much as I want to stride up to him and confidently declare myself, the way I would with a woman¡­ my instincts are forcing me to follow him at a distance and wait for him to notice¡­ wait for him to pull me into his harem.

    Not that he¡¯s likely to want me in his harem(!) (He probably finds me as hideous as I ought to find him)¡­ and not that I want to be the second woman in his harem¡­ and I certainly don¡¯t want to have to put my desire for him to his partner!

    I don¡¯t know how seriously she¡¯d take challenges to their monogamy¡­ especially from someone like me¡­ but I certainly don¡¯t want to discover the hard way that Pereira considers them a mortal matter!!!

    He leaves the room and I sit, restlessly, for [73 seconds].

    ¡°I have something to do¡­!¡± I blurt.

    Olga looks up from her holopad and answers ¡°You go do your ¡®something¡¯(!)¡± with¡­ mirth?

    Not able to spend any mental energy on that, I hurry from the room, out of the Dorm.

    The door opens quietly¡­ it shouldn¡¯t have alerted him.

    I peek over the balcony¡­ good, he hasn¡¯t noticed!

    Moving quadrupedally, on the tips of my fingers and toes, for stealth, I follow him to the back of the ship, stealing the occasional glance at him, over the railing.

    As he draws close to the Loading Bay door, on Deck 0, I pick up the pace to get to the one on Deck 4¡­ he probably wouldn¡¯t hear it anyway (with those useless looking, round ears of his(!)) but I can increase the chances of remaining hidden if I cover the sound by opening it at the same time as he opens his.

    I wait until I hear the *fw¡­* of his door and then wave mine open, disguising its *fwoosh* with the one on Deck 0.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    After a few moments, I steal a peak over the railing and see that he¡¯s taken a seat on a small crate, his back facing me, and is performing the light maintenance on his instrument, apparently, required to play it!

    So fascinating that this species managed to even conceive of an instrument that (seemingly) has to be tuned and have a waxy substance applied to it, every time you want to play it!

    He stands, briefly scaring me into ducking back behind the railing, but it doesn¡¯t sound like he¡¯s turned around, so I pop back up.

    With a *swish*, he brings his [bow] to the strings and begins with the most graceful flurry of notes that I can imagine!

    He sways and dances, as he plays, the [90m] boarding ramp, behind him, showing the stars¡­ by the Gods, the stars! How had I never noticed how beautiful the stars are!?

    His playing is enthralling! The same way it was the night we met¡­

    Gods, I¡¯m a pervert! To think that my [fetish] for talent could make me attracted to¡­ such a strange looking creature! I don¡¯t even know if he¡¯s attractive by his own species standards¡­ it doesn¡¯t matter¡­ he¡¯s made a slave of me, with that [violin]¡­

    I want him all to myself¡­ and I know it¡¯s impossible!

    Why is it so much worse that he comes from a species where wanting a man to yourself is not considered perversely selfish! A species where that¡¯s normal! A species where I could expect¡­ nay, demand that I be enough woman for my partner¡­ me and me alone! A species where he¡¯d be the one, considered a selfish pervert for wanting more than one woman!

    It¡¯s probably¡­ the fact that coming so close to fulfilling my fantasy, but still missing, makes me aware of the counterfactual reality¡­ the one where he isn¡¯t partnered, the one where he would find me beautiful¡­ the one where I¡¯d be his and his alone and he would be mine and mine alone¡­ If this fantasy weren¡¯t so close to possible, it would be easier to let it go¡­ As it stands, I¡¯m up here spying on him¡­ a sensual tingling in my groin¡­ a swooping in my stomach¡­ a boulder on my hearts and tears in my eye.

    At this point the breath-taking song ends and his playing falls quiet.

    His back still turned to me he brings the instrument and [bow] down to hang, loosely, at his sides, at the end of those, slightly too short, arms.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re there, Enas¡­¡±

    My eye widens and I duck behind the railing¡­ [FUCK]! HOW?!?!?!

    He can¡¯t have seen me¡­ unless he has a third eye, on the back of his head!

    Did he hear me?! With those puny little ears?!?!?!

    ¡°Come out. I want to talk.¡±

    Much as I, logically, want to run, to hide¡­ to do anything but what he¡¯s telling me¡­ I can¡¯t¡­ I feel my courting instincts seize me and drag me to a bipedal stance, looking over the railing.

    I see him, not moved from where he stood but twisted to look behind himself, at me.

    He¡¯s smiling¡­ is he amused by the prospect of breaking my hearts!?

    ¡°Come down here¡­¡± he smirks and I feel my feet move before I have a chance to have any input into the decision.

    I walk to the stairs and begin my descent down to the third floor, then the second, then the first¡­ at which point I discover a minor roadblock.

    ¡°Oh yeah, no more stairs¡­ Terran design philosophy¡­ turns this deck into a chokepoint for groundbased assaults¡­ Honestly, I¡¯m surprised that feature managed to survive the gardenworld adap-JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!!!¡± he says in response to me circumnavigating the roadblock by means of jumping the last [5m] to the bottom deck, landing on all fours and straightening back up into an upright posture.

    My translator informs me his expression is one of strong concern, as he says ¡°You alright?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine¡­ Kyklos¡¯ gravity is 1.45 times Galactic Standard¡­ so I¡¯m quite light here¡­ I¡¯m not hurt.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just go around?¡±

    ¡°It would have taken too long¡­ you told me to come to you¡­¡±

    His two eyebrows flair upward ¡°There¡¯s a Terran expression; ¡®if they¡¯d told you to jump off a bridge¡­¡¯. Please don¡¯t do dangerous things just because you¡¯ve been told to!¡±

    ¡°Al¡­alright¡­ I won¡¯t¡­ I knew it wasn¡¯t dangerous, though¡­¡± why is he acting concerned for me? He¡¯s about to crack my hearts in four!

    ¡°Never mind¡­¡± he sits back on the crate where he tuned his instrument ¡°¡­take a seat.¡±

    I sit.

    ¡°I mean on a crate, not on the floor! Jesus!¡±

    I stand and look for a crate¡­ there are none near his¡­

    I walk to him and sit on his crate, [20cm] between us.

    ¡°Oh¡­ erm¡­ hey¡­¡± he smiles, showing his fangless teeth.

    ¡°Your playing is beautiful¡­¡± I say, turning my eye downward.

    ¡°Thank you¡­ that song¡¯s one of my favorites¡­ it¡¯s called ¡®Rather Be¡¯¡­ I¡¯m glad you like my playing. Now¡­¡± he pulls one leg onto the crate, allowing himself to face me more directly ¡°¡­you have a crush on me, don¡¯t you¡­?¡±

    I look back up at him ¡°How did you know?¡±

    He chuckles ¡°Same way I know you¡¯ve been following me every chance you got since the night we met¡­ It¡¯s my job to read people, Enas.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯re you apologizing for?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to challenge Ms Pereira¡¯s claim on you. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re also grossed out by me¡­ you must think I look horrible¡­¡± I answer, feeling the tears fighting to be free of my bottom eyelid.

    ¡°Now, what makes you say that?¡± he answers, wryly.

    ¡°W-well, you look¡­ strange, to me¡­ I¡¯m sure that must go both ways!¡±

    He laughs ¡°If I look so ¡®strange¡¯ and ¡®horrible¡¯, why are you crushing on me?¡±

    ¡°You¡­ your talent¡­ with the [violin]¡­ that¡¯s why I¡¯m [crushing] on you.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ you aren¡¯t the first person I¡¯ve wooed with this thing¡­ though you are the first one to call me ¡®strange¡¯ and ¡®horrible¡¯ looking!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that! I didn¡¯t say you look horrible! I said I thought you must think I look horrible!¡±

    He cocks half of his brow in an expression of quizzicality ¡°You do think I look strange, though?¡±

    ¡°¡­Yes.¡± I¡¯m unable to lie ¡°You have two eyes, ten fingers, your limbs are the wrong length, you¡¯re androgynous¡­¡±

    He bursts out laughing ¡°That¡¯s the first time anyone¡¯s called me ¡®androgynous¡¯!¡­ I suppose, with your species¡¯ sexual dimorphism, it would look that way, wouldn¡¯t it! If I¡¯m being asked to stack up against 10ft guys who look like the product of a hippopotamus, a silverback gorilla and a sum¨­ wrestler hatefucking eachother, then yeah¡­ I would look pretty androgynous!¡­ They might even scare me, if I hadn¡¯t seen Wartime footage of a 100lb woman, on Nova Ukrayina, taking out a squad of 6 of them, armed with nothing more than a length of rebar and a baby on her other hip(!)¡­ Apparently no one ever called her ¡®Oksana ¡°Sunflower¡± Melnyk¡¯ after that¡­ she was ¡®Nobody¡¯ from that day forward¡­¡±

    I answer, horrified ¡°I¡¯ve seen that footage, too¡­ They unnamed that woman?! For defending herself and her child!?¡±

    ¡°Oh, sorry! No, it was an honor!¡±

    I narrow my eye ¡°How can being called ¡®Nobody¡¯ possibly be an honour?¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­ well there¡¯s an ancient Terran story that involves a monster, that resembles a Kyklo, holding a bunch of sailors prisoner in his cave¡­ the leader of the sailors tells the monster that his name is ¡®Nobody¡¯ which, in the language it was written in, sounds a little like his actual name, then when the sailors blind the monster he runs to his friends saying ¡®Nobody has blinded me!¡¯ and they¡¯re all like ¡®Then why are you shouting at us?!¡¯¡±

    ¡°Your ancients literally wrote stories with Kykloid monsters and you claim to be unbothered by my appearance?¡±

    ¡°Yep¡­ you¡¯re cute¡­ I won¡¯t lie, you fall a little bit into the uncanny valley, especially when you walk on all fours or hold your holo with a foot while using both hands and the other foot to do stuff on it¡­ but I¡¯m a sucker for cute guys and gals and, being a hair under 5ft, I¡¯d guess, 50lb (soaking wet) and with that big old soulful eye, you, sweetie, are cute!¡±

    I¡¯m dumbstruck a moment¡­

    ¡°¡­b¡­but Mr Byrne¡­¡±

    ¡°¡®Leon¡¯!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°¡®Leon¡¯ to you, darling!¡±

    I take a moment before hesitantly saying ¡°¡­what about Ms Pereira, Leon?¡±

    ¡°Ah! That¡­¡± he says, mirthfully ¡°That¡¯s a misapprehension¡­ we are professional ¡®partners¡¯ not romantic ones!¡­ We used to be romantically involved¡­ early in our partnership, we took our personal and professional chemistry for romantic chemistry but, after a little while, we realized we didn¡¯t actually like eachother that way¡­ we agreed to go back to being friends and our relationship has been strictly platonic, ever since¡­¡±

    My mind is wheeling¡­ but I¡¯m still not allowing myself to hope.

    He continues ¡°¡­though¡­ I have to say¡­ I¡¯m surprised you¡¯d be concerned about that! I thought your species were harem breeders? Wouldn¡¯t already having one partner make me more attractive?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± I hang my head ¡°¡­I¡¯m a pervert, Mr Byr¡­¡± he narrows his eyes ¡°¡­Leon. I¡¯m a pervert, because I want a man, all to myself.¡±

    He frowns ¡°I know your species has a 6:1 sex imbalance but isn¡¯t the mean harem size like 15 women? Doesn¡¯t that leave a lot of single guys for you to pursue? Not that I¡¯m not happy you¡¯re pursuing me(!)¡±

    I wag my ears in agreement ¡°You¡¯re right Mr B¡­ Leon. I had the same thought when I was younger¡­ I thought it would be easy to find a talented single guy and indulge my [fetishes] for monogamy and talent, with him¡­ Talent is generally not considered a masculine trait among Kyklo¡­ and size and bulk didn¡¯t matter to me¡­ but every time I found a guy who matched what I was looking for, every time I told them what I wanted¡­ they¡¯d agree, we¡¯d start dating¡­ then [a month] or so would go by and they¡¯d bring home another woman that they¡¯d managed to entice back by telling her that they already had a harem of one¡­ Eventually, I started dating women¡­ it¡¯s not uncommon for women to engage in sexual relationships with eachother, among my people, and the dating pool is much wider when you¡¯re [bi]¡­ it is however uncommon for them to engage in emotional relationships or to be exclusive. Just like my boyfriends, to my girlfriends, I was just a stepping stone. They effectively saw our relationship as a protoharem, waiting for a man. I got sick of it and swore off relationships altogether¡­ Then you came along¡­ reawoke my selfish desire for monogamy, my unfeminine [fetish] for talent(!)¡±

    He smiles ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m extremely flattered!¡­ I am curious though, why me and why not Yu¨¢n? I know he¡¯s a monk but it doesn¡¯t sound like that would have been a barrier to your crush, if my being partnered wasn¡¯t?¡±

    I look between his two eyes¡­ is he just [fishing for compliments]?

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t as good as you, Leon. His playing was excellent¡­ yours is¡­ transcendent!¡±

    He laughs ¡°Get out of town! You¡¯re telling me I¡¯m better than a guy who¡¯s been practicing more than a hundred years!?¡±

    ¡°Hasn¡¯t he been mainly dedicated to learning every way to fight, during that time? His playing is¡­ too technical for my tastes¡­ he plays like a Kyklo¡­ all a bit too perfect, too fastidious¡­ you play with passion¡­ I suppose, your playing is more Terran¡­ Oh, great(!) Another [fetish], to add to my list of perversions, just what I need(!) A [bi], monogamy [fetishist], talent [fetishist], Terran [fetishist]! What you must think of me!¡±

    He smiles and lifts his polydactyl hand and places it on my cheek causing me to quiver, nervously.

    ¡°I can tell you what I think of you, if you want¡­?¡±

    With baited breath, I wag my ears.

    He continues ¡°¡­I think, you¡¯re just about the sweetest little thing I ever set my eyes on! No man or woman I¡¯ve been with has been as cute as you¡­ I think I might just be crushing right back on you¡­ I think you¡¯d be more than enough for me¡­ you yourself and no one else¡­ I think¡­ I¡¯d¡­ I¡¯d like to take you back to your room, right now¡­ what do you say?¡±

    My mouth hangs open but no words come out¡­

    Did he say he¡¯s been with men?!

    Not the time to be thinking about that! That doesn¡¯t matter, right now¡­ even if it does¡­ make my imagination run wild!

    My mouth suddenly feels very dry!

    I waggle my ears and, for good measure, nod my head, as well, before I can choke out a ¡°Yes¡­ Leon¡­ yes, please¡­¡±

    ---Leon¡¯s Perspective---

    As we cross back into Plus Ultra, I see that the Commonroom door is still wide open¡­ meaning that Olga is probably still in there¡­

    Alright, no problem. Just be nonchalant¡­ I don¡¯t care if everyone in the galaxy knows what I¡¯m about to do with this sweet little thing¡­ but she clearly has a lot of cultural hangups about sex¡­ best to keep this private until I know it¡¯s OK to broadcast it.

    As we walk past the open doorway, I look, for all the world, like a man who¡¯s just accompanying a crewmate somewhere, for entirely innocent reasons¡­ she, on the other hand, looks like a nervous schoolgirl in the middle of doing something she knows is wrong(!)

    Her, usually, pumpkin cheeks are a deep sienna, right now.

    ¡°Hello, Enas¡­ Hello ¡®something¡¯(!)¡± chuckles Olga, not looking up from her holopad.

    Fuck! We¡¯ve been made¡­ instantly! It doesn¡¯t take a spy to recognize that¡­ even if I wasn¡¯t there for whatever Enas said to tee up that joke!

    ¡°Hey, Olga!¡± I answer, not acknowledging her referring to me as ¡®something¡¯.

    The cutey at my side looks mortified, but we hurry past without getting pulled into further discussion.

    As I walk through Enas¡¯ door, I¡¯m hit by a wall of humidity!

    It lacks the algal smell I associate with environments this humid¡­ presumably because it¡¯s both decontaminated regularly and only ever been inhabited by a gardenworlder, since being remodelled¡­

    I suppose it makes sense that she¡¯d have humidity so high¡­ I¡¯m guessing an eye that big get¡¯s pretty dry in the rest of our preferred humidity! Actually¡­ I say the ¡®rest¡¯ of us¡­ we do have an Umbouapa in the dorm¡­ being an amphibian¡­ he would probably like higher humidity, too? Perhaps I should float raising the humidity setting to a compromise, next time we¡¯re all together. Baorbo¡¯s practically mute and Enas is adorably shy, so I don¡¯t think either of them would bring it up¡­ it would be nice for both of them to be more comfortable in the common areas!

    I drop my violin case and turn to the adorable, little thing who looks up at me with that single, pale pink iris¡­

    ¡°So, darling¡­ You¡¯ve got me¡­ all to yourself¡­ what now?¡± I say, hitting the door lock and privacy switches.

    She jitters out ¡°W-w-w-we¡­ could k-kiss?¡±

    I affect my most debonair smile and close the distance between us.

    Rather than bending almost double, I elect to scoop her up and bring her to my eye level (not hard with how light she is!).

    Her feet dangling 14 inches off the floor, her lips quiver as I hold them an inch from mine.

    I give her a few moments to take the initiative¡­ then take it myself.

    Wrapping my arms around her back, I bring my hand to the base of her skull and thread it into her vivid purple hair before I kiss her.

    She melts¡­ her enormous eye closing, soporifically.

    God damn, she¡¯s cute!

    Everything about her is, just slightly, off¡­ the same way I could never convincingly pass for another species that someone is familiar with, she could never pass for Human to anyone who knew what a Human was supposed to look like!

    She could have a prosthetic nose and two eyes applied professionally over her one¡­ her ears flattened down and prosthetic, elastomer ones attached over the top, prosthetic fingers¡­ short stilts, ending in Human shaped shoes, to correct for the slightly too short legs and slightly too long arms, a properly colored wig¡­ all that¡­ and she¡¯d still only look Human if she sat still¡­ the way she¡¯d move would give her away, immediately!

    Regardless¡­ she¡¯s so cute¡­ this pretty little slip of nothing, I¡¯m gently embracing¡­

    I pull from the kiss¡­

    ¡°There¡­ we kissed¡­ what now?¡±

    She almost whispers ¡°What if we kissed¡­on my bed?¡±

    I puff, mirthfully, through my nose ¡°I think we can manage that(!)¡± before I start walking in the direction of her bed.

    Bringing my knees onto the bed top, I pitch slowly forward, taking one arm off her back to brace our descent.

    I lay the gorgeous little thing out on the bed beneath me.

    Her amethyst hair spreads from her head in a holy corona that almost makes me revert to my Catholicism(!)¡­ My little, one eyed Saint!

    I bring my lips to hers and, in the first initiative she¡¯s taken so far, she wraps those long arms around the back of my neck.

    I notice how close the lens of her eye comes to the bridge of my nose¡­ I wonder what the view is like(!)

    I begin exploring the inside of her mouth with my tongue¡­ so weird that she has fangs when she¡¯s a leaf eater! I get that tusks were useful to males, as a display structure, in her evolutionary past but why would she need fangs?¡­ I guess, I have nipples¡­ so I can¡¯t really talk(!)

    I feel her cute little nose (consisting of nothing more than alae and tip, there not really being space on her face for a bridge) squash beneath mine.

    I straighten up, breaking from the kiss, and say ¡°I¡¯m going to take off my jacket and shirt¡­ you get your head on the pillows and¡­ if you want to¡­ take off your top.¡±

    She does that adorable little ear wiggle of agreement¡­ Mother Mary! She so fucking cute!

    I shed my jacket as she pulls herself to the position I indicated.

    In unison, we start taking our tops off.

    As my shirt passes over my head and clears my vision, I see her fully exposed chest¡­

    Her tits, like the rest of her, are very cute!

    Definitely not winning any awards for size¡­ but perky and shapely¡­ there¡¯s no mistaking that that¡¯s a woman¡¯s chest!

    I smile and look at her face¡­ she¡¯s gawping at my exposed chest.

    ¡°How!?¡± she asks, incredulously ¡°You¡¯re so muscular! How are you so much more muscular than you seem with your clothes on?¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Standard practice in my line of work¡­ I want people to underestimate me¡­ I don¡¯t want to advertize my physical presence¡­ I choose clothes, very carefully, to deemphasize my physique¡­ You still think I look ¡®androgynous¡¯?¡±

    She smiles, consideringly up into my face ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know that there¡¯s a word, in Kyklan, for what you are, Leon¡­ neither women, nor men could ever look like that! But¡­ well, whether I have a word for it or not¡­ I certainly like it!¡±

    I smile back ¡°Thanks(!) You look mighty fine yourself(!) Now¡­¡± I move, over the bed, towards her until I loom over her, again.

    She bites her lip, nervously¡­ and adorably.

    I come down, careful not to put too much weight on her at any point¡­ I do weigh nearly four times as much as her!

    I place my left hand on her right breast and massage, gently, as I come in for another kiss.

    She gives a little moan.

    I stroke up and down her stomach, with my fingertips.

    She¡¯s getting into the kiss, more than before¡­ Before, she was effectively just letting me kiss her, now she¡¯s participating¡­

    The tips of her fingers come to my chest and trace along my sternum, down to my abdominal cleft.

    She opens her eye, withdraws from the kiss and places a hand on my pectoral¡­ an unmistakeable indicator that she wishes me to stop.

    I stop, pull away an wait for what she has to say.

    ¡°Is¡­ is it¡­ is it true you¡¯ve been with¡­ men?¡±

    Confused, I answer ¡°Err¡­ yeah¡­ why?¡±

    Her eye widens ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ that feels so¡­ debauched! That¡¯s the kind of thing you wouldn¡¯t find in the dirtiest of dirty mating sims, on Kyklos! Is it¡­ is it normal, for your people?¡±

    I laugh ¡°Pretty¡­ *hahahaha*¡­ pretty normal, yeah!¡­ Didn¡¯t used to be. Hundreds of years ago there was a similar social constructed stigma around it as you seem to have¡­¡±

    ¡°It changed?!¡± she asks, agog.

    ¡°Sure did!¡± I answer, cheerily.

    ¡°How¡­?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a very long history lesson that you¡¯ve just asked for but the CliffsNotes version is that we stopped being assholes(!) Is it a dealbreaker, that I¡¯m so ¡®debauched¡¯?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± she answers, desperately ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I just couldn¡¯t think of another word for it¡­ ¡®taboo¡¯ maybe? If anything¡­ it makes me wonder if my people will ever ¡®stop being [assholes]¡¯ about that kind of thing¡­ It¡¯s actually¡­ it¡¯s a little exciting! Again¡­ that¡¯s something that I shouldn¡¯t be excited by!¡±

    I smirk ¡°Just in case you¡¯re getting any ideas; I¡¯m not poly! As exciting as it might be, in concept, to bring another boy in on things¡­ that¡¯s a hard ¡®no¡¯ from me!¡±

    She gives a forlorn chuckle ¡°Even I¡¯m not so selfish as to want two men! Monogamy is my [kink]¡­ I don¡¯t need a harem of men like some ancient [untranslatable concept. Closest approx.: Empress](!)¡±

    At this I frown, form a roll cage of my arms and roll onto my back, her being pulled on top of me. She yelps in surprise.

    I look up, sternly, into her worried eye.

    ¡°Enas¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­Leon?¡±

    ¡°You keep calling yourself ¡®selfish¡¯¡­ that¡¯s no good!¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    ¡°No ¡®ifs¡¯, no ¡®buts¡¯, no ¡®coconuts¡¯! Let me finish! It¡¯s not selfish to know what you want in a partner¡­ it¡¯s not selfish to be attracted to a certain kind of person¡­ or to want sex, love or affection in a certain kind of way¡­ so long as you¡¯re open about it, so long as you don¡¯t try to deceive your partner into getting it! From what you¡¯ve told me, Enas, it sounds like you¡¯ve had a string of very selfish partners, that you¡¯ve been very open with and who¡¯ve all let you down! I¡¯m also pretty sure that you¡¯ve been mildly gaslit into thinking that you¡¯re the problem¡­ you¡¯re not! You¡¯ve set boundaries, you¡¯ve been clear about what you want, they¡¯ve agreed!¡­ Maybe they believed the promises they made, when they made them¡­ but, then, when they found they couldn¡¯t give you what you wanted, what they¡¯d promised, rather than telling you and trying to negotiate or, if that weren¡¯t possible, just ending the relationship, they¡¯ve snuck around, behind your back!¡­ I¡¯m a spy! Sneaking around, behind people¡¯s backs, is what I do, professionally¡­ and I think that¡¯s a shitty way to treat a partner!!!¡­ What I¡¯m saying, darling, is that you¡¯re not selfish¡­ or, perhaps, it¡¯s OK to be that kind of selfish! Now, I¡¯ll tell you what would be selfish, now that I¡¯ve told you that I¡¯m not interested in being shared¡­ if you went behind my back and got another boy in here, to share me with, without telling me, that would be bad-selfish! Your kind of selfish isn¡¯t selfish at all!¡±

    She pants and her eye wheels over my face, slightly unnervingly.

    ¡°You¡­ you mean that?¡± she asks, quivering.

    ¡°Every word!¡± I answer, firmly.

    A massive tear forms in her eye and splatters onto my chest.

    She sobs and I pull her close to me in a reassuring cuddle.

    ¡°Everyone¡­ everyone always told me that I was the problem! That I was crazy to expect a man not to try to build his harem¡­ to expect a woman not to want to join a harem¡­ You¡¯re the first¡­ you¡¯re the first person ever to tell me that what I want is reasonable! That I¡¯m not crazy! That I¡¯m enough!!! I feel like I¡¯ve had a vice around my hearts and I didn¡¯t even know it was there until you removed it!¡±

    I smile ¡°It¡¯s what I do¡­ read people¡­ Look we don¡¯t need to have sex, we can just cudd¡­¡±

    ¡°I want to have sex!!!¡± she interrupts with some ferocity.

    ¡°Alright, darling, I know I said ''be clear about what you want¡¯ and you¡¯ve done that brilliantly, right there, but you don¡¯t need to yell¡­(!)¡± I respond, with slight mirth.

    She hangs her head ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not mad about it¡­ I¡¯m happy you sill feel up to things with me, tonight¡­¡±

    ¡°I do!¡± she responds, with the slight desperation that suggests she thinks I might be about to walk out.

    ¡°Alright then¡­ would you like me to unbuckle my pants¡­ or would you like to?¡±

    She hesitates, clearly still getting used to having decisions to make.

    ¡°¡­I want to do it.¡±

    I smile ¡°Alright then, I¡¯m all yours, darling¡­¡±

    Excitedly, she shimmies down my trunk and brings her hands to my belt.

    She unfastens it and, as she does, brings her eye to my bulge¡­ and frowns quizzically¡­ *hmmm*

    She pulls my pants all the way off and then brings her hands to my underwear¡­

    She yanks them down and my erect cock lunges forward¡­

    A cavalcade of emotions play across her face¡­ awe, bashfulness, excitement, confusion, consternation¡­

    Eventually she rights herself and asks ¡°You only have one?!¡±

    ¡°Whozawhatnow?¡±

    ---Enas Perspective---

    One¡­ he only has¡­ one!

    Granted it is the single most impressive cock I¡¯ve ever seen¡­ the problem is that it¡¯s the single most impressive cock I¡¯ve ever seen!

    How did I not see this coming!? He has the wrong number of eyes, the wrong number of fingers, the wrong number of toes¡­ how did I not consider that he might have the wrong number of cocks!?

    ¡°How many¡­ should I have?¡± he asks, half his brow hair raised in quizzicality.

    ¡°Two! That¡¯s normal!... I have two openings¡­ with one cock, you can only satisfy one at a time¡­¡±

    He thinks a moment, pulling himself into a seated position against the headboard¡­

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ true¡­ if I use my cock¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh great, let me guess, you have a secret, hidden tentacle(?)¡±

    He puffs, mirthfully ¡°Nothing you haven¡¯t seen already¡­ I think I know how to do this¡­ are you happy to let me try?¡±

    I think about asking him to elaborate before I agree¡­ but¡­ thus far¡­ he¡¯s proven himself to be more trustworthy than any of my previous partners¡­

    ¡°*sigh*¡­What do I need to do?¡±

    He smiles ¡°OK¡­ first, drop your pants and panties¡­ give me a little anatomy lesson¡­¡±

    I do so, spending the next [2 minutes] or so giving him a rundown of Kyklo female reproductive anatomy.

    ¡°Great¡­ I think I¡¯ve got it¡­ now¡­¡± he pats the crook of his body, where his torso and legs join and fold ¡°¡­if you would kindly plant that gorgeous ass of yours, right here, we can begin¡­¡±

    Still uncertain, I comply turning my back to him and sit on the top of his upper legs, my back resting on that chest, of living marble.

    He adjusts my position to nestle his single enormous cock between my arsecheeks¡­ that¡¯s odd¡­ but pleasant¡­

    He leans in to whisper in my ear ¡°I¡¯m sorry I don¡¯t have enough cock for you, darling¡­¡±

    I close my eye to hear his sensuous voice ¡°You actually have more than enough¡­ it¡¯s the number more than the quantity¡­ if one of your hidden abilities were dividing your cock in two, there¡¯d be no issue¡­¡±

    He kisses my neck, strokes those talented fingers up my front and fondles my breasts, causing a moan of pleasure from me.

    Almost unconsciously, I begin grinding my arse into his crook.

    His right hand moves down, to my crotch.

    Teasing the lips of my pussies with his fingers he says ¡°Oh, no! Looks like I was wrong!¡±

    My eye shoots open and I wheel my head to him ¡°You were wrong?!¡± I say in horror.

    ¡°Yep¡­ you see¡­¡± he gives a smug smile and holds up his hand to show me it covered in my own lubrication ¡°You¡¯re soaking wet right now but¡­ I¡¯d say¡­ you¡¯re only about 46lb¡­ 47? I guessed you be 50!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t scare me like that! I thought there was a problem!¡±

    ¡°Sorry¡­¡± he says, not sounding it!

    Bringing his hand back to my groin he resumes his teasing and I resume my grinding against his cock.

    Is he planning to do what¡­ it seems like he¡¯s planning to do? He has too many fingers, surel¡­eee¡­eee¡­eee!

    I gasp and shudder.

    He did it! The son of a bitch actually did it!

    His right fore and middle fingers are in my left pussy and his ring and little are in my right!

    Somehow, he¡¯s managing to spread those fingers of his, in the middle, far enough apart to get all his fingers all the way inside me!

    He begins pulling them out, then slides them back in¡­ the sensation is incredible!

    If this were penetrative sex with a Kyklo man, each cock would be whole rather than segmented in two!

    If a woman were pleasuring me this way she¡¯d use one hand and each finger would take one of my pussies! She wouldn¡¯t be able to coordinate two hands at once!

    This feels like I¡¯m being pleasured by two women at the same time!

    He brings his thumb to my clit (thankfully, I only have one of those) and starts stimulating.

    He has processing power to spare, in his motor cortex, for his thumb, after what he¡¯s doing with his fingers!? Surely that¡¯s it, right?

    He proves me wrong by getting his left hand in on things, stroking my stomach, teasing my breasts, cupping my throat.

    I redouble my efforts, working up and down the length of his shaft with my arsecheeks.

    He raises his voice.

    ¡°Holo¡­ play favorite 00005 over the room speakers¡­¡±

    I hear the familiar notes of sublime [violin] start to play¡­ only this time¡­ they¡¯re joined by other instruments¡­

    Then I hear a Godly singing voice.

    mp?We''re a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea

    But as long as you are with me, there''s no place I''d rather be

    I would wait forever, exalted in the scene

    As long as I am with you, my heart continues to beat ? mp

    My eye wide¡­ I turn over my shoulder to look at him, he doesn¡¯t break from pleasuring me with his hands so I try not to break from wiggling my arse against his cock, as I ask ¡°You sang this?!¡±

    He puffs, playfully and answers ¡°Not originally¡­ this is my singing you¡¯re hearing now though¡­ the instruments are all me, too¡­ I hope you don¡¯t think it¡¯s too vain of me to fuck you to my own music¡­¡±

    Agog, I¡¯m dumbstruck a few seconds¡­ then a smile breaks over my face.

    ¡°It is vain¡­ but it¡¯s the good kind of vain¡­ the kind where you¡¯re exactly as amazing as you think you are(!) Your kind of vanity isn¡¯t vanity at all(!)¡±

    He smiles and proceeds to give me the most satisfying [fuck] of my life¡­ with only his hands¡­ and his music.

    There¡¯s no place I¡¯d rather be¡­

    ---Leon¡¯s Perspective, the following morning---

    I wake with my cutey nestled into me¡­

    Jesus! It¡¯s really too early to be having these kinds of feelings¡­ The kind of feelings where I¡¯m wondering how feasible it would be to get a second cock from a gene therapy clinic, for her!

    Let¡¯s maybe cool our jets and not start wondering how to bring up the question of what the correct number of tusks, for any sons we might commission, is(!)

    We¡¯ll just¡­ play it cool, see how things go¡­ not make any impulsive, difficult to reverse decisions!

    ¡­Maybe¡­ though¡­ I should talk to Ziva about the possibility of us retiring from field work¡­ at some point¡­

    Enas¡¯, face dominating, eye opens, slowly.

    ¡°Morning, darling.¡±

    ¡°Good morning¡­¡± she says, blearily but happily.

    ¡°You want to get breakfast together?¡±

    She smiles ¡°Sounds good.¡±

    We dress and make our way to the Commonroom, only to find the kitchen in use.

    Olga is sat at the table, a rare expression, that isn''t dour seeming, on her face, Ziva is at the hob.

    ¡°Ah! There they are(!)¡± smirks Ziva, over her shoulder ¡°Odysseus and his vanquished foe(!)¡­ Hope you guys are hungry, I¡¯ve made pancakes!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.31

    ---Best---

    I walk across the bridge, from the lift, to the Starboard Dorm column, on Deck 5, Qorak at my side and Tcakak cradled in my wings.

    We cross the threshold of Triple M and make our way to the Commonroom.

    Upon entering, I am greeted by a familiar sight.

    ¡°This is the second time recently, I¡¯ve come here and found a Dormful of exhausted Terrans, just as arrival at a new planet is imminent (!)¡± I smirk, playfully.

    ¡°Nah, Cap¡­ it ain¡¯t like that¡­ we ain¡¯t ¡®exhausted¡¯¡­ Sh¨©fu knows how to get the most out of us without running us ragged¡­ we¡¯re good-tired¡­¡± protests a smiling Victor, from the sofa.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know where he gets his energy! He took Q¨©ngl¨®ng for a swim, right after we were done today!¡± announces Brunhilda.

    ¡°Awwww! Look at that cutey!¡± cries Jennie, having noticed Tcakak in my wings ¡°She¡¯s so big, now!¡±

    She comes to offer soft pets which Tcakak accepts, preening.

    Jennie laughs ¡°Look at this little diva! So cute!¡±

    I laugh as all the Triple Ms (not ¡®good-tired¡¯ from training) gather round to shower Tcakak with attention.

    ¡°I think she¡¯s going to grow up to be just like her mother(!)¡± opines Emiko, wryly.

    I cock a browtuft and respond ¡°I¡¯m unsure as to whether I should take that as a compliment(!)¡±

    ¡°I second that¡­ just like her mother.¡± interjects Qorak, tenderly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t preen like that!¡± I object, mirthfully.

    ¡°Eeeeeeeh¡­¡± respond everyone present, screwing up their respective faces and wobbling their respective dominant hands/wing, in a coordinated tease.

    I sigh, chuckle and hop atop the perch, followed by Qorak.

    The rest of the Triple Ms return to their seats around the table.

    Jennie nestles into her girlfriend and says ¡°You guys better not be too tired from training to go to the beach! I¡¯m looking forward to seeing this eclectic assortment of babes in swimwear! Yu¨¢n¡¯s going to have me to answer to, if you six miss out on our beach episode on Kahakai Nani(!)¡±

    Brunhilda chuckles and answers ¡°Why do I get the sense that the supercentenarian kung fu monk might actually be scared of the fury of a horndog denied(!)¡± before planting a kiss on the top of her girlfriend¡¯s scalp.

    ¡°He should be scared, that¡¯s why(!)¡± laughs Jennie ¡°He denies me the opportunity to see you guys in swimwear, he¡¯ll regret it(!)¡±

    ¡°You¡­ realise there¡¯s a pool aboard, right?¡± queries Krish ¡°You could suggest a pool day if you¡¯re that desperate to see everyone in swimwear?¡±

    ¡°Not the same¡­ the natural light of the sun and gas giant in the sky, the wind blowing in off the sea, the salt, the sand¡­ there¡¯s just a magic to a sunny beach that can¡¯t be reproduced on a ship¡­ grateful as I am that we have a pool aboard!¡± directing that latter at me, reassuringly.

    ¡°The pool is just a functional installation for semiaquatic species (apparently including Humans)¡­ I¡¯m not insulted that it doesn¡¯t compare with a beach day, in your estimation(!)¡± I respond.

    She nods, satisfied, then a thought seems to occur to her ¡°Captain, have you heard that the Bright Plume¡¯s Boon has struck again?¡±

    Confused, I ask ¡°The Bright Plume¡¯s Boon? Would you care to elaborate?¡±

    ¡°Leon and Enas hooked up! After Jae and Tymancha, Cucu and Soo and all the Triple M couplings, it¡¯s beginning to look like this ship might have some sort of¡­ enchantment, that makes couples much more likely than normal to form aboard it!¡± she explains, excitedly.

    ¡°Is that not just Terrans being Terrans?¡± I query ¡°I was unaware that this was an abnormal rate of couple formation among your species¡­ plus didn¡¯t three of the Triple M relationships form off the ship? Thran and Xon met on Zanzibar and only later discovered that they were going to be sharing a voyage, Krish and Hasiakh met on Prznith and only afterward did Hasiakh get hired to the Bright Plume¡­ likewise with Msia and the Shings¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not just Terrans though, is it?¡± answers Jennie ¡°Glark and Bammy, Kwijj and Jjop and have you seen the way that Hamtonio and Huamita have been looking at eachother(!?) I¡¯m telling you guys, there¡¯s something in the water!¡± her eyes go wide and she turns to Twila ¡°There¡¯s nothing in the water, right?¡­ Or the air¡­ or the food?!¡±

    Twila laughs and responds ¡°I wasn¡¯t awake for most of these couplings! Also, I may be a prankster but I wouldn¡¯t risk setting AI rights back by decades, just to spike all you guys with aphrodisiacs, amusing as that does sound!¡­ Sort of seems a bit more like a MacLeod move than a Twila one, if I¡¯m honest¡­(!)¡±

    Jennie feigns indignity ¡°I would never!!!¡­ Unless I thought I could get away with it¡­(!)¡± smirking at that latter, half under her breath.

    Here, Xon speaks up ¡°I don¡¯t know if me and Thran should count towards this boon¡­¡±

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Thran looks up, from her position under her much taller girlfriend¡¯s arm, with a blank expression that¡­ could be curiosity¡­ but says nothing.

    Xon continues ¡°¡­like Tcakqaal said, neither of us had moved aboard and we had no idea we were going to be sharing a ship, much less a Dorm, when we got together!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ but you¡¯d both been aboard, hadn¡¯t you!? You to deboard the rescues and prisoners, Thran to inspect¡­ clearly the Bright Plume saw your worthiness and granted you your Boon early(!)¡± smirks Jennie.

    Xon laughs and turns her violet eyes down into Thran¡¯s mossy green ones ¡°You hear that, babe? We¡¯re special enough for the ship to hook us up before we even moved in(!) We just came aboard and the matchmaking Spirits were like ¡®Thesetwoaretooperfectforeachother,getthemtogethernow!¡¯(!)¡± causing a light smile back from the shorter woman.

    Here, Qorak interjects, addressing me ¡°If you think about it¡­ weren¡¯t we the first couple to form aboard¡­? And that was after you told me, in no uncertain terms, that it would never happen.¡±

    Jennie¡¯s face lights up as she says ¡°OMG! You two are the OG Booners! I think it needs to be renamed¡­ Tcakqaal¡¯s Curse?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s shifted from ¡®Boon¡¯ to ¡®Curse¡¯, now, has it?¡± I quip.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± nods Jennie, as if it should be obvious ¡°Clearly, some entity, beyond space and time, overheard your denouncement of love, decided to make a fool of you, then got a taste for playing matchmaker, hence ¡®Tcakqaal¡¯s Curse¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it a little superstitious to attribute to spirits or curses what could be explained by coincidence?¡± I query.

    She smiles ¡°Terran engineers are a superstitious lot(!)¡±

    ¡°Hey, Cap¡­¡± smiles Victor ¡°¡­if the money ever dries up in deathworld research, you can always try fallin¡¯ back on singles¡¯ cruises(!) ¡®Those deemed worthy by the Bright Plume are guaranteed to find a match made in Akaros¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°And I suppose that would make you the galaxy¡¯s most overqualified [bouncer] then, would it(?)¡± I retort, sarcastically.

    There is a general chuckle at that.

    ¡°What about me and Krish? I¡¯d never set tail on the Bright Plume when we got together.¡± poses Hasiakh to Jennie.

    ¡°Cookie and Mage must have carried the matchmaking magic with them onto that planet and drawn their ideal matches to them¡­¡± shrugs Jennie, not missing a beat.

    Hasiakh thoughtfully narrows her arsenic green, slitpupilled eyes ¡°I¡¯m¡­ genuinely unsure of which would terrify me more: Your species has made yourselves masters of the Sands themselves, you have the favour of some extradimensional entity or entities that have¡­ or you¡¯ve just entirely fabricated that whole thing on the spot!¡±

    Jennie playfully throws up her hands and smiles ¡°Who¡¯s to say(!)¡±

    There is a brief lull in conversation before Kas addresses Emiko, changing the subject ¡°Emi¡­ I¡¯ve been wondering about your whole ¡®best in the galaxy¡¯ line¡­¡±

    Emiko smiles ¡°Yes? What have you been wondering?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s just occurred to me that the best two spies in the galaxy are, very likely, two people that no one knows the real names of, Fliss and I are definitely good but I¡¯m sure there are academics, in our field, more accomplished than us and (no offense Xon but) wasn¡¯t Xon effectively just the first soldier they met on Zanzibar who they then happened to make friends with?¡± answers Kas.

    ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re wondering if I and, by extension, the ODR are being entirely forthright with all of you?¡­ If, perhaps, we¡¯re just using the ¡®best in the galaxy¡¯ line as an ego boost? Blowing smoke up your arses? Giving all of you insincere flattery?¡±

    ¡°Yep. That¡¯s what I¡¯m wondering.¡± answers Kas, unabashed.

    Emiko has a pensive expression for a moment before saying ¡°It¡¯s not just ¡®smoke¡¯¡­ but it does rather depend on your definition of ¡®best¡¯. Obviously, anyone whose information we weren¡¯t able to find, we weren¡¯t able to consider¡­ there may be better spies than Byrne and Pereira¡­ the UTCIS gave us an anonymised list of agents to choose from and, after consideration, those two were the ones selected on the strength of their track record and personal rapport with eachother¡­ We also can¡¯t compel anyone into it (nor would I want a team of shanghaied experts to be my First Contacters(!)) so (I won¡¯t name names but) there have been a few instances of us having to go with a second or third choice because our first was not receptive to the offer¡­ In your cases, Kas and Felicity¡­ you were already on the shortlist for consideration and it was the combination of your convenient location, on Zanzibar Mpya, and preexisting relationship with the crew of the Bright Plume that clinched you two as the clear choices for this mission¡¯s conservation experts. In terms of the military observer¡­¡± she gestures to Xon ¡°¡­we really didn¡¯t need a 10 star General(!)¡­ We¡¯re fairly well covered in terms of security, so we really didn¡¯t need a combat expert either. What we needed was a soldier who didn¡¯t have a history of expressing antigardenworlder sentiment and who was (ideally) competent in a variety of skills, who would get along well with the crew and who had a decent track record. Xon¡¯s only black marks were a handful of times she¡¯s been written up for minor insubordination but, looking deeper, I found that each instance was one of conscientious objection to orders¡­ I considered that a plus! I¡¯d prefer a soldier who won¡¯t just snap off a salute and give me a ¡®Yes, Ma¡¯am! Right away, Ma¡¯am!¡¯, if given an objectionable order, to one who would¡­ The selection criteria, for Terran¡¯s, is effectively: known to us, accessible to us, highly competent in their field (on a galactic scale), good track record in their field, seem like a good fit for the preexisting team, no history of antigardenworld bigotry. For gardenworlders, it¡¯s the same except that last is ¡®no history of antideathworld bigotry¡¯¡­ It¡¯s not a long list but anyone we select has to check all those boxes before we can start weighing them against eachother¡­ It¡¯s a little bit like your 5 Ss model; just being more accomplished in your field is not a guarantee that you are the best for the role¡­ I¡¯m not even sure that there¡¯s a way to objectively determine the ¡®best Conservationist in the galaxy¡¯.¡±

    Kas nods, seeming satisfied ¡°I guess that makes sense¡­ and that ¡®most appropriate for the role in the galaxy¡¯ doesn¡¯t quite have the same ring as ¡®best in the galaxy¡¯(!)¡±

    Twila speaks up here ¡°I¡¯m about to bring us out of warp.¡±

    My natural eyes narrowed, mirthfully, I answer ¡°Perhaps a little closer than 9 hours of sublight away, if you can help it(!)¡±

    She smiles ¡°I¡¯ll bring us out as close as I can without getting us in trouble with the local authorities. You guys might want to take position by the bowward window, if you want the view of us arriving.¡±

    With that, all present (including the six tired pupils) rise from their seats to do as Twila suggested.

    I face Tcakak forward to allow her to see the moment the stars stop moving and the planet appears.

    ¡°Arriving in 3, 2, 1¡­¡±

    Out of nowhere there is suddenly a star, mere light[minutes] away, and clearly visible. Much closer is an enormous purple gas giant, with a barely visible moon that is our intended destination.

    Upwards of 96% of the moon¡¯s surface is covered in Ocean, with what land there is taking the form of small, scattered islands not visible from this far out.

    Tcakak is visibly surprised by the celestial objects having appeared from nowhere and chitters delightedly. There are also some admiring ¡®oooh¡¯s and ¡®aaah¡¯s from those present who have a developed sense of object constancy and more than no understanding of warpspeed travel.

    ¡°Erm¡­ Captain¡­¡± hesitates Twila.

    ¡°Yes, Twila?¡± I respond, turning to her.

    ¡°We¡¯re¡­ we¡¯re receiving a mayday transmission¡­ on all bands¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­a mayday transmission? This close to an inhabited planet?! Why hasn¡¯t it already been answered by local Aerospace Control?¡± I answer, incredibly confused.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ coming from Aerospace Control.¡±

    I¡¯m silent a few moments, processing that, before I say ¡°On screen, here, now! There¡¯s no time to take it on the Bridge.¡±

    This will be the first time in my career that I¡¯ve taken a distress call from planetary authorities!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.32

    ---Mayday---

    The call is projected onto the Commonroom wall, showing a stressed and exhausted looking Human.

    When we answer, his face lights up with hope for a brief moment, then sinks as he looks around the room.

    ¡°ThisisadistresscallfromNeonesiaAerospaceControl.AreyoutheCaptain,Ma¡¯am?¡± he addresses Emiko, desperately.

    ¡°I¡¯m not, she is.¡± she answers succinctly, directing him to me.

    His attention flicks to me, then Qorak, then Tcakak, in rapid succession. He addresses me ¡°Ma¡¯am,what¡¯sthetotalfloorspaceofyourcraft?!¡±

    Doing my best to answer the question I think he asked, I respond ¡°Total floorspace is [510,143sqm] but I¡¯d say only around two thirds of that is free and useable¡­ Could I ask you to speak a little slower and explain the emergency?¡±

    Seeming surprised, (I would guess because, based on the image feed, he was expecting a much smaller ship) he takes a deep breath and begins ¡°¡­Around 30 minutes ago an enormous, submarine earthquake occurred in a remote region, just north of the equator¡­ there¡¯s now a wall of water hurtling outward in all directions¡­ we¡¯ve already sent notices to evacuate to higher ground, to all islands that have higher ground to evacuate to, but there¡¯s a collection of islands that sit entirely below the projected 6m wave¡­ We¡¯ve commandeered all local transport capsules, sent out a call for volunteers and directed them to begin evacuating, but there just aren¡¯t enough! The number of capsules we can get there in time are barely enough to evacuate the smaller islands with a few dozen to hundred residents each¡­ there¡¯s one island, Moku Pua, all of which sits below 6m and which has a population of 23,000¡­ we can¡¯t evacuate it in time. There¡¯s less than two hours before the tsunami makes landfall.¡±

    I cut in ¡°You don¡¯t have local ships for exactly this kind of situation?¡±

    The boy answers ¡°We do but¡­ they¡¯re out of system, for training, right now. We¡¯re not a populous planet¡­ there aren¡¯t even half a billion people on Neonesia¡­ we don¡¯t have the resources to keep a rescue fleet large enough to be rotated out for training¡­ Will you help us?¡±

    Without hesitation, I answer ¡°Certainly! Clear us a path to that island, focus on evacuating the other islands with your existing fleet of smaller craft, send us a landing point and send word to all residents to meet us there¡­ I assume you won¡¯t fine us for breaking any speed limits?¡±

    With a flurry of activity to the panel in front of him he answers ¡°Of course not! Use your best judgement to determine a safe approach speed, bearing in mind that anyone not evacuated from that island inside of the next two hours will almost certainly die. Obviously, don¡¯t arrive at such a speed that the ocean flashboils and everyone dies but, if you arrive at a speed that causes a boom loud enough to deafen everyone on the island, that¡¯s preferable to not getting there in time, eardrums can be regenned, corpses can¡¯t. I¡¯ve cleared your approach and sent it to your computer, local time is 4.42pm. I¡¯ve sent an emergency notification to the island¡¯s inhabitants to congregate at your landing point.¡±

    ¡°Approach received. We¡¯ll be there in a little over half an hour, without blowing out anyone¡¯s eardrums.¡± contributes Twila.

    I nod in acknowledgment before turning my attention back to the call ¡°Where are we taking these people after their rescue?¡±

    He shifts uncomfortably ¡°¡­We¡­ we don¡¯t have anywhere prepared for that many refugees, right now¡­ We¡¯ll probably be able to have somewhere, on Kahaika Nani, ready within a few days¡­ would you be able to hold them until then?¡­ We can send ships to orbit with supplies and relief personnel¡­ is that¡­ alright?¡±

    ¡°Are you asking if I¡¯m going to condemn tens of thousands of people to die, simply to spare my ship the inconvenience of being engaged in their care for a few [days]? Because the answer is ¡®no¡¯¡­ I won¡¯t be doing that. Start arranging your relief ships and emergency shelter.¡± I answer, curtly.

    A look of relief crosses his face as he says ¡°Thank you, Ma¡¯am! I can¡¯t thank you enough!!!¡±

    I nod and answer ¡°Thank me when those people are safe. Goodbye for now.¡±

    He smiles and we end the call.

    I turn to Victor ¡°I¡¯m temporarily relinquishing command to you, Victor.¡±

    ¡°But, Cap¡­!¡± he tries to interrupt.

    ¡°I know that didn¡¯t work out so well last time but the situation is different this time.¡± I say, cutting him off ¡°There are no hostiles who might deploy interference, we have a full sentience AI who can choose to disobey inappropriate commands, there¡¯s no need for crew to be confined to their current location and, the truth is Victor, I just can¡¯t think like you can¡­ we need deathworlder clarity in command right now, so I¡¯m relinquishing command to you and that is not up for discussion. Do we understand eachother?¡±

    He hesitates then nods ¡°We understand eachother, Cap.¡±

    His attention snaps to Emiko ¡°I¡¯m taking command of the ODR¡¯s subcontractors as well, any objections.¡±

    ¡°None, Acting Commander.¡± she answers, showing the discipline of a former soldier, in contrast to her usual playful demeanour.

    ¡°Perfect¡­¡± he turns to Twila ¡°¡­What can you tell us about this island, Twila?¡±

    Bringing up a holographic map, she explains ¡°The island of Moku Pua is approximately 11.2sqkm with the major settlement, of the same name, being located mostly along a single main road on the south side of the island, with the interior being forested. According to Galactopedia, it has a population of 23,341 though that number may have changed, since the most recent census, and might be different due to visitors, from elsewhere, or from the island to elsewhere, so we can¡¯t use that for a precise headcount. The main language is Harmonised Polynesian but with significant populations of Hawaiian and M¨¡ori speakers. Our landing zone is here, at the sport¡¯s field by the beach, in the middle of the settlement.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Great, thank you Twila, please begin printing emergency supplies, bedding etc., from all nanoforges aboard¡­ Krish¡­¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ yes, Victor?¡± says the slender Terran, seeming to be surprised to be addressed.

    ¡°I want you in the kitchen. We¡¯re going to need to feed these people and we can¡¯t afford to wait for relief shipments. Prioritise calories over taste, we¡¯re going to have a lot of people to feed! Can you do that?¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­ of course!¡± responds Krish, clearly still taken aback that his was the first duty to be assigned.

    Turning back to Twila, he asks ¡°Twila, can you project my voice over the PA?¡±

    She nods ¡°Just say when¡­¡±

    He stands, takes a deep breath and says ¡°OK, go¡­¡±

    Twila nods and summons a holographic microphone, which she holds up toward him, to indicate that his voice is currently being broadcast naturally, over the speakers, and also via every translator on the ship.

    Victor speaks with unusual clarity ¡°To all aboard, this is Chief Security Specialist Victor Taylor, currently in acting command of the Bright Plume. We have been engaged for the emergency evacuation of the island of Moku Pua on Neonesia, where we will be landing in around half an hour. In around 2 hours, it will be inundated by a tsunami. You may have noticed your personal nanoforges printing materials you have not requested. These are supplies, printed at my request, for the approximately 23,000 people we are about to bring aboard. Please collect them and either leave them outside your Dorm doors or, if you are able, bring them to Deck 0 and leave them in the highlighted depository areas. Would Drs Hatathli and Phan please report to the rear Loading Bay. Would Drs Gato and Shing, along with any other crew members with medical or first aide training, please report to the Infirmary and take instruction, as necessary, from Dr Gato. Would all cooks, and those with culinary training or experience, please report to the Canteen and take instruction, from Commissary Krish Dhawan, in preparing meals. Would UTCIS Officers Leon Byrne and Ziva Pereira, Sh¨©fu Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n and Tracker Tymancha Nulgynet please securely stow all armaments and report to the rear Loading Bay. Would Analyst Olga Petrikov, Sociologist Jae Stone and Statistician Enas please meet with Engineer Jennie MacLeod and Dr Felicity Mink, on the Starboard Deck 4 Balcony, begin collecting supplies, left outside all Starboardside Dorms, and bring them to Deck 0. Technologies Officer Baorbo please meet with Corrections Officer Hasiakh, Drs Zunberi and Miyazaki on Port Deck 4 Balcony to do the same on Portside. If you believe you may have any useful skills that could be deployed in this situation which have not already been covered by the previous assignments, please confer with the ship¡¯s Computer who will appraise me, as appropriate. Over and out.¡±

    Twila dispels the imaginary microphone and Victor says ¡°I assume there ain¡¯t a problem with you projectin¡¯ yourself through multiple holos, is there?¡± back to his typical mode of speech.

    ¡°No problem¡­¡± answers Twila ¡°¡­You¡¯ll just need to give me permission and I can keep you abreast of all relevant happenings aboard, via your holopad. Splitting focus is very unlikely to present a challenge to me.¡±

    ¡°Perfect.¡± answers Victor ¡°If your name wasn¡¯t mentioned, just now, please make sure your weapons are secure, you¡¯re dressed properly and meet in the rear Loading Bay ASAP. Twila¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, Acting Commander?¡±

    ¡°You can project your voice outside the ship, correct.¡±

    She nods ¡°I can.¡±

    ¡°When we arrive at the island, I want you to announce ¡®This is the ship the Bright Plume, here to perform an emergency evacuation due to a tsunami that will shortly inundate this island. Please leave all nonessential possessions behind, congregate at the Sport¡¯s Field and board. If you are aware of any persons, on this island, who have not been able to make it to this evacuation point, please make yourselves known to onboard crew in the rear Loading Bay as you board. Have a picture of them ready to show, if possible. If you are injured please, likewise, make yourselves known. Otherwise, follow direction into the ship and do not obstruct passage to others attempting to board.¡¯ in Harmonised Polynesian, then Hawaiian, then M¨¡ori, then English, then Galactic Basic then repeat that, twice. Accompany it, each time, with a translatable broadcast for anyone wearin¡¯ a translator. Compromise of volume to project to as much of the island as possible while not deafening anyone standing too close. Can you do that?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Acting Commander.¡±

    ¡°Great! Qorak¡­¡±

    Qorak starts ¡°Yes, Vic¡­Acting Commander?¡±

    ¡°Please take your daughter back to your quarters and stay there, your wife is coming to the rear Loading Bay, alright?¡±

    Looking, somehow, both relieved and worried, he answers ¡°Certainly¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright. Is anyone unclear about what they¡¯re doing?¡±

    No one makes to speak.

    ¡°Then break!¡±

    ---later---

    I stand atop a secured tower of crates, watching as the Terrans go about clearing the paths, from the  loading ramp to the Starboard and Port doors, of any loose cargo and securely fastening anything that needs to be moved and doublechecking the fastenings of the rest.

    ¡°Cap? You got visual on anything that might present a tripping hazard?¡± queries Victor.

    I scan the gangways.

    ¡°There¡¯s a crate over there but I think it will be too heavy to lift without machin-¡±

    ¡°Thran, could you get that?!¡± he shouts to the stocky woman.

    She nods and wordlessly picks up the crate, I would guess to be, in excess of 300kg in mass.

    My beak falls open as she, with only mild apparent effort, hefts it into the air and stows it on top of some other cargo before fastening it down.

    I turn to Victor who has his eyebrow cocked.

    ¡°Did you forget that this is less than half gravity for us?¡­ That she¡¯s the strongest woman in the galaxy?¡­ Both?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Both, I suppose¡­¡± I answer ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ I shouldn¡¯t really have any expectations anymore, when dealing with your species¡­ you always exceed them!¡±

    He gives a mirthless smile before turning to Twila ¡°ETA?¡±

    ¡°Landing around 2 minutes, from now, inundation of the island will occur in approximately 86 minutes.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the progress on the emergency supplies?¡±

    ¡°Approximately halfway done with the printing, a quarter of the way done with the depositing on Deck 0.¡±

    He nods thanks and then raises his voice ¡°Alright everyone, finish with what you¡¯re doing and take position.¡±

    A few moments pass as the Terrans hurry to finish the last of their tasks and stand at the positions assigned to them.

    Victor has posted himself, along with Tuun and Tymancha, on the Starboardside making up the ¡®Inland search party¡¯, Thran, Pereira and Byrne also on the same side, making up the ¡®Westside search party¡¯, Xon, D¨£o Yu¨¢n and Brunhilda on Portside, as the ¡®Eastside search party¡¯, and me, Phan and Hatathli in the centre, as the ¡®triage and direction¡¯ team.

    As we approach, I hear Twila blaring Victor¡¯s message.

    The ship spins in place and begins lowering, the artificial gravity protecting us from being thrown against the wall, the only indication is the sea being replaced by an island and us rapidly putting down on a sport¡¯s field beside a crowded beach.

    The boarding ramp lowers and an immense throng of terrified looking Terrans surges forward.

    A man rushes up the ramp, his holo displaying a picture.

    ¡°Don¡¯t run! You¡¯ll cause a stampede and people will get hurt or worse!¡± shouts Victor, sternly.

    The man ceases running but walks hurriedly, now in Victor¡¯s direction.

    ¡°Please¡­¡± he says ¡°¡­can you help me find my wife?¡±

    Victor holds his holopad up, such that his camera is pointed at the picture.

    ¡°Can you see her, Twila?¡±

    ¡°Yes, about 120m back in the queue¡­ looking worried¡­ clutching your picture.¡± Answers Twila.

    ¡°Wait here for her.¡± says Victor, to the relieved man.

    ¡°Thank you! Thank you so much!¡± he answers.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.33

    ---Path---

    ---Lokelani¡¯s Perspective, 4.22pm Moku Pua local time---

    ¡°Look Keke!¡± I shout, holding the most amazing shell ever over my head.

    She smiles ¡°I see it Lani. Very lovely!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s it from?¡±

    She thinks and says ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ sort of looks like an Earth conch but¡­ well it won¡¯t be that. You might be the first person to discover one¡­ Why don¡¯t you give it a name?¡±

    I look at the big, pretty shell, trying to think of a name ¡°¡­I¡­ think¡­ it should be¡­ the ¡®big-pretty¡¯!¡±

    She laughs ¡°Very descriptive! I definitely couldn¡¯t have given it a better name! Maybe I can talk to my professor about getting you into Uni early¡­ you¡¯d make the best marine biologist!¡±

    I frown and stick out my tongue ¡°Uni is for grownups!¡±

    She smiles ¡°You don¡¯t want to come to the Capital with me? I¡¯m sure no one would mind having you in the class(!)¡±

    I think about that¡­

    ¡°Or¡­¡±

    ¡°Or?¡± she grins.

    ¡°¡­you could come back to Moku Pua and we could go to Nursery together?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°I¡¯m too big for Nursery, Lani. I miss you too, when I¡¯m away, but they wouldn¡¯t let me sit in a class full of five year olds!¡±

    I puff out my bottom lip and bring my brow down.

    ¡°Don¡¯t pout, Lani!¡±

    Still ¡®pouting¡¯ I say ¡°I¡¯ll make them let you in!¡±

    ¡°Oh, Yeah? How are you going to do that?¡±

    I think for a moment, then answer ¡°I¡¯ll go in¡­ I¡¯ll go up to Mrs. Kahananui¡­ and I¡¯ll say ¡®Hey¡­ my sister¡¯s coming to class with me!¡¯¡±

    She grins ¡°Uh-huh and when she says ¡®No, she isn¡¯t!¡¯ what then?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ beat her up!¡±

    She laughs a lot and I feel silly.

    ¡°You know what Mummy and Daddy would say, don¡¯t you?¡±

    I roll my eyes ¡°No hitting¡­ we solve our problems with words¡­ but¡­ Mummy and Daddy aren¡¯t here!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t get to be naughty just ¡¯cause I¡¯m the one looking after you(!) I may be cool but you¡¯d better believe I¡¯d tell Mum and Dad if you tried to beat up your nursery teacher!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not cool!¡± I say and stick out my tongue.

    She sticks her tongue out back and I try not to laugh¡­

    I laugh.

    Then her holo makes a sound I¡¯ve never heard before.

    She looks like she doesn¡¯t know it either.

    She takes it out and looks at the screen then her face goes pale.

    She looks at me and says ¡°Lani, we need to go back to town. Right now!¡±

    ¡°What?! That¡¯s not fair! We just got here! I want to play more! We have the whole beach to ourselves and it took AAAAAGES to walk here!¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a discussion Lani, we¡¯re going!¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    ¡°LOKELANI!!! Now is not the time!¡± she shouts.

    I burst into tears¡­ I don¡¯t want to but she¡¯s shouting and I don¡¯t understand why, I can¡¯t help it.

    My eyes are closed but I hear her walk to me and feel her put her hand on my shoulder.

    I look up and see her face looks sad ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Lani, I didn¡¯t mean to shout¡­ this is really important¡­ I need you to be a good girl right now, alright? I¡­ I can¡¯t explain¡­ but this is important¡­ can you trust me that this is important enough that we need to go, right now?¡±

    ¡°*sniff*¡­Can¡­ can I take the big-pretty¡­ please?¡±

    She shows her teeth and wobbles her head before saying ¡°¡­Sure¡­ fine¡­ I¡¯ll carry it¡­ climb on my back¡­ I¡¯ll give you a piggyback home.¡±

    ¡°A piggyback!? All the way home!?¡± I say, excited, forgetting my sadness over having to leave.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ we need to go quickly and you¡¯ll slo¡­ it¡¯ll be quicker.¡±

    Not even caring that she was about to call me slow, I climb onto her back. She puts her holo away and picks up the big-pretty.

    Then, we leave the beach.

    She¡¯s not running but she¡¯s moving quickly.

    Over her shoulder I can see the path back to town with thick trees on both sides.

    She¡¯s going very fast. Definitely faster than we came.

    ---Ke¡¯ala¡¯s Perspective---

    I look up through the trees and try to distract both of us from the situation ¡°Ho¡¯ohokukalani¡¯s going to be bright tonight¡­ I¡¯ll never get used to living on a gas giant¡¯s moon¡­ so weird.¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s weird that Earth has no gas giant. It has its own moon!¡± she answers.

    ¡°I suppose you wouldn¡¯t remember it¡­ you were a baby when we moved¡­¡± I smile, joylessly.

    I¡¯d guess we only have a little more than an hour before W¨¡kea sets and it gets dark. Under normal circumstances, I¡¯d just light up my holo to get us back but that¡¯s going to be tricky with the piggyback and useless shell in one hand.

    I really shouldn¡¯t have brought the shell¡­ I just didn¡¯t want to have to argue about it when she already thought I was taking her home for no reason. If it slows me down by even 0.1%, it could make the difference between making the evacuation and not!

    Then again, there might not be an evacuation¡­ we might get back to town and then just have to wait to die¡­ she¡¯ll at least have her shell.

    My mind tortures me by showing me her lifeless body floating in the sea¡­ still, implausibly, clutching that stupid, pretty shell.

    I pick up the pace, careful not to trip over any of the Neonesian palm roots, growing through the path.

    Should I have explained to her what was going on? I don¡¯t know¡­

    I just didn¡¯t want her to spend what might be the last few hours of her life terrified¡­

    Maybe I¡¯ll hate myself for keeping it from her¡­ maybe she¡¯ll hate me¡­

    Why am I hoping for that?

    ¡­I suppose¡­ if she hates me and I hate myself¡­ it would mean we¡¯re both alive¡­ by all the Akua, I hope we survive this!

    ¡°¡­Keke? Keke?! KEKE!!!¡± I hear Lani say and realise that I¡¯d entirely zoned out.

    ¡°What is it Lani?¡±

    ¡°Someone¡¯s calling you.¡± she says at the same time as I hear my ringtone.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ hold on tight¡­ I need my hand¡­¡± I say, awkwardly pressing the wrist of my shell holding hand onto hers, clasped at my clavicle, to anchor them there and, with my right, retrieving my holo and answering the call.

    ¡°Ke¡¯ala! We just heard! Where are you?!¡± I hear my Mum¡¯s panicked voice say.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright Mum¡­ we¡¯re on our way back to town¡­ I¡¯ve got Lani, we should make it.¡±

    ¡°But there¡¯s no way to evac¡­¡± she says, sounding distraught.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be alright, Mum!¡± I interrupt, both lying and forcing calm into my voice ¡°They¡¯ll work something out!¡­ Is Dad there?¡±

    Clearly trying to hold back sobs, she says ¡°Ye¡­yes, sweetie¡­ he¡¯s here¡­¡±

    ¡°Could you put it on speaker?¡±

    ¡°Of course¡­ you¡¯re on speaker¡­¡±

    ¡°Mum, Dad¡­ I just want to say¡­ thank you¡­ for everything¡­ and to let you two know that Lani and I lov-Aaaggh!¡± an indescribable pain shoots through my leg and I briefly register that I¡¯ve caught it in the crook between two roots, immediately followed by realising that I¡¯ve lost my balance¡­ I¡¯m pitching forward and there¡¯s nothing I can do about it.

    The last thing I see is a rock, rushing at my forehead.

    ---Lokelani¡¯s perspective---

    Keke falls down and I roll over her head.

    I¡¯m a little hurt but, when I look at her, I see she¡¯s not moving.

    ¡°Keke?¡± I say, frightened.

    I get up and go to her¡­ she doesn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Keke¡­ get up¡­!¡± I say, pushing her shoulder.

    ¡°Keke¡­ we need to go home¡­ you said!¡± I say, tears coming.

    ¡°Ke¡¯ala¡­ get up! Please!!!¡± I yell, really trying to lift her.

    She¡¯s too heavy¡­ I¡¯m too small¡­ I can¡¯t¡­

    I try to think about what to do.

    ¡°Keke, I¡¯m going to go back to the beach¡­ you know?¡­ The one I¡¯m not supposed to be at right now! Unless you get up and stop me!¡± I say, pretending to walk back the way we came.

    She doesn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Keke, if you get up¡­ I¡¯ll give you the big-pretty! You can have it! You can call it whatever you want! ¡®Big-pretty¡¯ was a dumb name, anyway!¡±

    She still doesn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Please, Keke! I don¡¯t know what to do!!!¡± I say, crying.

    What should I do!? What should I do!?

    ¡°HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLP!!!¡± I scream towards town, knowing it¡¯s too far for anyone to hear.

    ¡°HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLP!!!¡± I scream back the way we came, knowing there¡¯s no one behind us.

    ¡°HHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPP!!!¡± I scream for someone, ANYONE¡­ but nobody comes¡­

    OK, think, think, think, think, think¡­

    You¡¯re not strong enough to move her¡­ You can¡¯t shout loud enough to be heard¡­ and there¡¯s no one to tell¡­

    Her holo! Where is it?!

    I search for it a few moments¡­ if I can find it¡­ if I can tell it to call Mummy and Daddy back and tell them what¡¯s happened¡­ they can tell me what to do!

    I look, a long time¡­ I don¡¯t find it.

    ¡°Keke¡­ I¡¯m going to go¡­ I¡¯m going to find¡­ someone who can help¡­ I¡¯ll definitely come back¡­ no matter what!¡±

    I leave the big-pretty where she dropped it¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have asked her to bring it¡­ she might not have fallen if she wasn¡¯t carrying it¡­ and me¡­

    I run.

    I run faster than I ever have before¡­!

    I just have to find someone¡­ I just have to find anyone who can help¡­

    I keep running¡­

    Eventually, I can¡¯t run anymore.

    I breathe hard¡­ everything hurts!

    I decide to walk for a bit¡­ I¡¯ll run again, when I can.

    It¡¯s getting dark.

    Ho¡¯ohokukalani is bright, just like Keke said¡­ but W¨¡kea has set¡­

    I¡¯m just beginning to wonder how far it is to town¡­ when I see a monster¡­

    She¡¯s a woman¡­ I can tell that much¡­

    Everything else about her is¡­ wrong!

    Her hair is bright white¡­ like photos of really old people from old times¡­

    Her eyes glow white too.

    She has two too many arms and not enough fingers on each of them.

    Her skin is blue.

    Her face is¡­ wrong¡­ the wrong shape.

    She''s weirdly slim.

    Above all¡­ she¡¯s tall¡­ too tall¡­ her head is nearly as tall as the trees.

    She¡­ has to be¡­ a Kupua¡­ is there a Kupua of night? Twilight?

    She smiles at me, showing the wrongness of her teeth¡­ she has four long, sharp ones¡­ She¡¯s going to eat me!

    I start crying and, instead of eating me, she stops smiling.

    ¡°Vii Ktar! Tii Manja! ¨¦g fann stelpu! Komdu hingae! Tessa leie!¡± she shouts.

    The twilight Kupua is soon joined by a fire Kupua¡­ he¡¯s¡­ less wrong¡­ He looks¡­ almost Human!

    The only things wrong with the fire Kupua are his height (almost as tall as the twilight Kupua), pale skin, green eyes and fiery red hair.

    He must be a servant of the twilight one¡­ he¡¯ll use his fire to cook me and then they¡¯ll both eat me¡­

    The fire one bends down and says ¡°Hei, sui tii! Wiah hiah tu hewp! Don twarri¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand you but please don¡¯t eat me!¡± I beg, terrified.

    ¡°Ah! Shiz tu yang furruh trass lay tah! Meiks senss, Ai sappoz¡­¡± says the fire one.

    I back away but find something behind me that wasn¡¯t there a minute ago.

    I look behind me and see the most terrifying Kupua yet.

    He looks most like a Human¡­ the only things that give him away are his pale skin and scratches on the most angry face I¡¯ve ever seen¡­ and, I guess, the fact that he got behind me without making any noise!

    I scream.

    The twilight one says ¡°Tii Manja¡­ T¨² hefur hr?dd hana!¡±

    ¡°§¿§ß§å§Þ§å§Ü¡­¡± says the Kupua of silence, in words that sound nothing like either of the other two¡¯s.

    ¡°Uew¡­¡± says the Kupua of fire ¡°¡­wi shud probli git Tuaira to trass lay tforras¡­ shi mait noh ifvehrs eniwan ewss ap dis paff.¡±

    He pulls out¡­ a holo? That¡¯s¡­ a strange thing for a Kupua to have¡­

    A Kupua with a holo would be funny¡­ if I weren¡¯t so certain I was about to be eaten!

    He taps at it, then says ¡°Tuaira¡­ wiv faun daghew bat¡­ shi dazen hav ah trass lay tah. Kud yu teww az wot shiz seh ying?¡±

    ¡°Ov cors, Vii Ktar.¡± comes a voice from the holo and the fire haired man turns his holo around, to me.

    ¡°Hello sweetie¡­ My name¡¯s Twila¡­ can you understand me?¡± says the voice.

    ¡°Y-yes¡­¡± I manage, terrified ¡°Are¡­ are they going to eat me?¡±

    ¡°Eat you!?¡± she laughs ¡°No, sweetie, they¡¯re not going to eat you¡­ They¡¯re here to help¡­ they just need you to help them first¡­ Can you answer some questions for us?¡±

    ¡°I can try¡­?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your name, sweetie?¡±

    ¡°Lo¡­Lokelani.¡±

    ¡°Good, one question down!¡± she says kindly ¡°Second question; do you understand what¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I answer.

    ¡°That¡¯s OK, sweetie. Do you know if there¡¯s anyone else on this path?¡±

    ¡°Yes! My sister¡­ she¡¯s hurt¡­ she wasn¡¯t moving¡­ I was going for help.¡±

    There¡¯s a moment of silence.

    ¡°Guys, she says her sister is on this path. Hurt and not moving.¡±

    ¡°Hau fah? Eniwan ewss?¡± answers the fire Kupua, instantly.

    ¡°He¡¯s asking how far away she is¡­ Do you know?¡±

    ¡°A¡­ a long way¡­ I¡¯ve been running¡­ I don¡¯t know exactly¡­¡±

    ¡°Is there anyone else?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ no one¡­ we came from a beach on the other side of the island¡­ there was no one there¡­ we didn¡¯t pass anyone¡­ it¡¯s just us.¡±

    ¡°She says her sister¡¯s the only one and she thinks it¡¯s quite far¡­¡± she relays.

    The fire Kupua thinks¡­ I¡¯m beginning to think that he might be the leader, not Twilight.

    ¡°Shiz veri smol!¡­ Wot shi finks iz ¡®kwaitfah¡¯ mait not akshu li bi vat fah¡­bat¡­ vers not mach taim till vah sunami¡­¡± he says, thoughtfully.

    I don¡¯t need to understand him to see he¡¯s making a decision.

    ¡°PLEASE¡­¡± I beg ¡°¡­save my sister!¡±

    It seems he can understand me without the woman on his holo telling him what I¡¯ve asked.

    He nods ¡°OK, keed¡­ Lesgo git hah!¡±

    ---later---

    The fire Kupua carries me in his arms and flies down the path.

    I¡¯ve never moved so fast!

    ¡°Hauyu holl din ap, Toon?¡± he asks the twilight Kupua.

    ¡°¨¦g er ae ¡­*huff*¡­ takast ¨¢ vie!¡­ ¨¦g mun stj¨®rna!¡± she answers.

    ¡°Tii Manja, yu gud?!¡± he addresses the Kupua of silence.

    ¡°§´§Ñ§Õ§å§Ü.¡± he answers.

    ¡°Ver!¡± shouts the fire Kupua as we see Keke lying on the path ¡°Laik Ai sed! Not fah! Twewv handrud mi¡¯ahs? Jast simmed laik ah longwei koz shizso smol!¡±

    When we¡¯ve slowed down, he drops me on my feet and pulls out his holo.

    ¡°Twila, medikuw skan, nau pliiz.¡±

    ¡°Shiz gottah konka shon¡­ ankon shoss. Hah legzbro kan tu.¡± answers Twila.

    ¡°Seiftu muv hah?¡±

    ¡°Yur disi zhon. IiTiEi onza sunami iz twenti wan minoots.¡±

    ¡°Noh taim! Tii Manja, teik vah keed. Ail teik hah sistah.¡±

    Without a word, the Kupua of silence picks me up and I shriek in surprise.

    ¡°Surri keed, noh taim.¡± says the fire Kupua, lifting Keke like she was made of paper ¡°Wi nid tu ran. Toon, trai tu stei ahed ov az, yu kant fol beh haind vat wei!¡±

    Then the three Kupua run back to town, carrying me and Keke. I see the big-pretty still lying on the path, where she dropped it when she fell.

    As we get out of the trees, I see an enormous building that wasn¡¯t there when we set off, earlier¡­ How did they build such a huge building so quickly?!¡­ it¡¯s taller than all the other buildings in town and shaped like a bird¡­

    They¡¯re running towards the new, bird building.

    Why¡¯s there absolutely no one outside?

    The twilight Kupua starts slowing down and the fire one shouts at her ¡°Toon! Puh shfruwit!!! Noh taim!!! Kiip goin!!!¡±

    Twila speaks from his holo ¡°Gaiz yu nid tu getbak nau! Za aza tiims ah hiirol redi! Za sunami iza baut tu hit!¡±

    ¡°Wiah nirli ver, Twila! Geh redi!¡±

    We come onto the Sport''s Field, by the beach, and run towards a long glass staircase (only with no stairs) that¡¯s stuck in the sand and leading into the bird building.

    Then, I see something I don¡¯t understand¡­

    The sea is coming towards us¡­ only it¡¯s not where it¡¯s supposed to be¡­ it¡¯s eating houses¡­ I scream.

    ¡°Teikoff, Twila!¡± shouts the fire one.

    The bird building starts making noise¡­ and moving¡­ moving up.

    The twilight Kupua and silence Kupua, carrying me, get to the glass staircase with no stairs.

    ¡°Ah! Gaiz!!!¡±

    We turn back and see, through the glass, that the fire Kupua is hanging from the edge with one hand, his other still holding Keke, his feet already far from the ground. Silence puts me down.

    ¡°?ttum vie...?¡± starts the twilight one.

    ¡°Noh! Noh taim!!! Jast teik vahgherw ven puww mi ap!¡±

    We¡¯re still rising, further and further up, as Silence and Twilight run back to try and pull up Fire.

    I look to the sea in the wrong place, eating houses and see it¡¯s really close!

    I shriek as it rushes underneath us.

    ¡°Fakin heww!¡± shouts Fire as his feet are pulled by the angry water.

    The other two are trying to take Keke from Fire but don¡¯t seem to be able to when a woman appears who must be Fire¡¯s sister (even if she¡¯s a lot shorter than him and her face is less Human).

    ¡°§À§Ý§Õ§Ñ§ß §é§í§Ü! §·?§Ù§Ö§â!¡± shouts Fire¡¯s sister before the other two get out of her way and she leans over the side of the glass, grabs his wrist and pulls both Keke and Fire up, to safety.

    ¡°Fanks¡­ *huff*¡­ Fran!¡± pants Fire ¡°¡­Kud¡­*huff*¡­ yu teik¡­*huff*¡­ hah tu¡­*huff*¡­ get medikuw¡­*huff*¡­ atten shon¡­*huff*¡­ pliis?¡± the brother Fire says to his sister.

    She picks up Keke, even more easily than her brother did, and walks up the glass.

    Twilight runs to Fire and puts her hands on his shoulders.

    ¡°Helv¨ªtis h¨¢lfviti, Vii ktar! T¨² f¨¦llst bak eins og t¨² sageir m¨¦r ae gera tae ekki!¡± she says, about to cry.

    ¡°Yih, Ai did¡­ bat Ai meidit, didun Ai? Mai fiit jast gottabit wet, izol!¡­ Aim OK. Wirol seif!¡±

    Twilight starts crying¡­ then kisses Fire. Oh¡­ The Kupua of Fire and Twilight are married?¡­ I guess that makes sense¡­?

    I don¡¯t really understand anything that¡¯s happened since me and Keke left the beach¡­ but I understand¡­ that they saved us¡­

    I walk up to them and they turn to me.

    I hesitate for a moment¡­ still having to convince myself that I¡¯m not going to be eaten¡­

    I hug Fire¡¯s knees¡­

    ¡°Thank you!¡­ Thank you!!!¡± I shout, trying not to cry.

    He looks down at me and smiles ¡°Aim ghessin vissizah ¡®Fankyu¡¯¡­ Yor wewkom, keed!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.34

    ---Exhaustion---

    Alighting before the entrance, I march into the Canteen, irritated.

    [65] [fucking] [hours]!? How does that lunatic expect to be any help to anyone, pushing himself so recklessly!?

    I spot the object of my ire and make toward him.

    As I approach, I notice the woman he¡¯s talking to.

    She¡¯s not a Terran¡­ and neither is she a member of my crew¡­ I recognise her species¡­ she¡¯s a Spelvuk¡­ a troglodytic roughworlder¡­ at least¡­ I think she is¡­ they¡¯re usually entirely bald, aren¡¯t they? This woman has a full head of black hair¡­ it has the effect of making her look much more like a Terran. Is that its purpose?

    She wears a single red sash, across her chest, marking her as one of the disaster relief volunteers.

    She seems to have Victor¡¯s undivided attention as his haggard face bobs up and down in acknowledgment.

    Rather than interrupting, I decide to eavesdrop.

    ¡°¡­it¡¯s an admirable thing, to want to help so much, but you can¡¯t help anyone else if you collapse from exhaustion in the effort, can you?¡± opines the woman.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ right¡­¡± he answers, defeatedly ¡°¡­I just¡­ I feel like¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be able to sleep, knowin¡¯ there¡¯s stuff I could be doin¡¯ but ain¡¯t¡­ More¡¯an 99% of the people aboard have lost their homes¡­ ¡®I¡¯m tired¡¯ just don¡¯t seem¡­ sufficient, as an excuse for why I ain¡¯t pitchin¡¯ in.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ what it sounds like¡­ is that you¡¯re framing rest as something selfish? Is that fair?¡± she queries.

    He nods, contemplatively, then answers ¡°I¡­ I guess so¡­¡±

    Sympathetically, she proffers ¡°I know it¡¯s not easy to decide to shift a belief like this¡­ but perhaps you could try thinking of it as something you¡¯re doing for others¡¯ sake? If you keep going until you collapse¡­ well, not only will you not be able to help anyone at that point but you¡¯ll also need help yourself, right? Help you¡¯d be taking away from someone else?¡±

    He gives a weary chuckle ¡°Put that way, takin¡¯ a nap sounds positively noble(!)¡±

    She smiles ¡°There¡¯s nothing selfish about selfcare, in my view. You just need to think of it as ¡®maintenance¡¯¡­ your body and mind have requirements, the way any machine would; feeding yourself, watering yourself, resting yourself etc. are not indulgences, they are necessities.¡±

    He stands ¡°You¡¯re right, Alchyinad. I¡¯m gonna go catch some sleep¡­ sorry that you needed to have this talk with me.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to apologise for¡­ go and rest.¡± she answers, kindly.

    He starts walking away, then notices me ¡°Oh¡­ Cap¡­ did you¡­?¡±

    ¡°I did, Victor¡­¡± I interrupt ¡°¡­but it sounds as though what I wanted you for is now taken care of¡­ go and sleep.¡±

    He gives an embarrassed chuckle before walking off.

    I turn my attention to the near [3m] tall woman with snow white skin and obsidian eyes.

    ¡°You have some experience with handling Terrans, I see.¡± I observe, wryly.

    She laughs ¡°I do. Nine times out of ten what they need is a firm voice, nudging them toward what they already know, in my experience(!)¡±

    ¡°Thank you for having the conversation I was about to have, with Mr Tailor, for me.¡± I dip my head, respectfully.

    She returns the gesture ¡°Thank you for allowing me onto your ship, Captain.¡±

    I motion to the empty seat, vacated by Victor ¡°May I sit with you?¡±

    She smiles ¡°This is your ship, I wouldn¡¯t presume to tell you where you can and can¡¯t sit(!)¡±

    I take the seat ¡°So¡­ Alchyinad, is it?¡±

    She gives a Terran nod ¡°Indeed, Alchyinad ¡®Dimitrescu¡¯ Fischer¡­ and you would be Captain Tcakqaal?¡±

    I return her nod ¡°Indeed¡­ If you don¡¯t mind my asking, what brings you to this planet?¡±

    ¡°My husband, Marc, and I were on our [honeymoon].¡± she grins, baring her terrifyingly sharp teeth.

    The term sounds¡­ familiar ¡°[Honeymoon]?¡±

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°A Terran custom, wherein a newly married couple take a luxurious holiday, usually somewhere they consider ¡®exotic¡¯¡­ In my and my husband¡¯s case, it¡¯s also serving as a post-graduation break, before we start looking for work.¡± she explains.

    ¡°So¡­ your husband is¡­?¡±

    ¡°Terran, yes.¡± she smiles ¡°We got married around a month ago and settled on a [honeymoon] on Neonesia. We actually missed our transport back to Earth to volunteer, here.¡±

    ¡°Very admirable! I hope it wasn¡¯t too costly for you¡­?¡±

    She chuckles ¡°An upside of being [centuries] old is that I¡¯ve had plenty of time to build my personal wealth¡­ missing a flight won¡¯t be ruinous, to us(!)¡±

    She leans forward, places four of the digits of her left arm on the table (the other three folded backwards up her sleeve), turns her black orb-eyes on me and asks ¡°I¡¯m actually curious, Captain¡­ about your motive for helping out¡­ I don¡¯t wish to be rude but¡­ I¡¯m told you didn¡¯t even try to negotiate remuneration before agreeing to undertake the rescue¡­ that you turned down all reward above the costs incurred like food spent and nanoresin expended etc. Is that true?¡±

    I bristle slightly ¡°Yes, it¡¯s true¡­ why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I meant no offence¡­ just¡­ do you know what ¡®roughworlders¡¯ are?¡±

    I chuff ¡°I know that Spelvuk are roughworlders¡­ I have two roughworlders, aboard my ship, whom I consider friends¡­ are you going to say that, being a nongardenworlder, you¡¯re surprised that I, a gardenworlder, would act with any honour? That you¡¯d have expected me to waste time haggling when tens of thousands of lives were on the line?¡±

    Surprised, she throws up the eight manipulator digits of both hands, in a gesture of concession ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I don¡¯t know you, I can see I let prejudice¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right¡­¡± I interrupt ¡°¡­that is what most gardenworlders would have done. It¡¯s what I would have done, earlier in my life¡­ it wouldn¡¯t have been that I only wanted to profit, it wouldn¡¯t have been that I was happy to let anyone die¡­ I suppose¡­ I would have framed it as not wanting to be taken advantage of¡­ now, though, the idea of haggling while lives hang in the balance¡­ well, it no longer reads as acceptable to me.¡±

    ¡°Why do you think that is?¡± she asks, as if she truly doesn¡¯t know¡­ or as if she¡¯s truly more interested in my perspective than telling me hers.

    I think for a moment before answering ¡°That man you were just talking to¡­ he and I have known eachother for [nearly 14 years]¡­ the first time we met, he saved my life before I ever heard him speak a word¡­ In all the time I¡¯ve known him, I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve ever once seen him hesitate in undertaking an action that would have helped someone. I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve ever seen him stop and ask ¡®But what¡¯s in it for me, though?¡¯¡­ At some point, I suppose, I became¡­ embarrassed¡­ The notion of stopping to perform a cost benefit analysis before undertaking life saving action began to read as¡­ selfish, I suppose¡­ childish, ignoble¡­ revolting¡­ It¡¯s not as if I want to be a Terran but, in this regard, I have to say, they outdo the gardenworlder galaxy¡­¡±

    She bobs her head, ponderously ¡°I know, from personal experience, how easy it is to feel inadequate when stood next to a Terran(!) How it can feel like they are just everything you are but more¡­ then I have moments where I have to talk one into sleeping(!)¡­ No other species would put up with three straight [allnighters], [hell], no other species would be capable of three straight [allnighters]. Their exceptionality is a [double-edged sword]¡­ As amazing as they might seem, it isn¡¯t all upsides, for them.¡±

    ¡°An interesting perspective¡­ On a different note, what exactly was in Victor¡¯s behaviour that alerted you to his lack of sleep? I¡¯m sure he didn¡¯t announce it!¡± I query.

    She puffs through her [loveheart] shaped nose ¡°He didn¡¯t announce it in words¡­ everything else about him, though, was screaming it(!)¡­ I came aboard, mere hours after you left Moku Pua and it was easy enough to infer that he had already had a full day of activity before then. Since then, every time I¡¯ve seen him, his eyebags have been darker, his smell has been stronger, his speech has been more chaotic and slurred (yet absent any scent of alcohol that might have explained that), I¡¯ve not yet seen him out of the first set of clothing I saw him in(!)¡­ I¡¯m meant to be counselling the survivors but, while my husband¡¯s services are in high demand, most Terrans find my appearance quite offputting so mine aren¡¯t¡­ I found myself in the position of being [at a loose end] and, thus, having the time to talk to your CSS¡­ How did you find out, if you don¡¯t mind my asking?¡±

    ¡°The¡­ erm¡­ the computer alerted me¡­¡± I say, awkwardly.

    She smiles and cocks her modded browhair ¡°The nonsentient computer alerted you to a dereliction of selfcare by a crewman?¡±

    I cock my own browtuft and consider the woman ¡°Yes¡­ well, a sapient computer is more than capable of working out that a person aboard has exceeded their species¡¯ recommended waking period¡­¡±

    She chuckles ¡°I¡¯m sure(!)¡­ Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not about to report you. You¡¯ve likely inferred that I, myself, am something of a Terraphile(!)¡­ I¡¯m sure that, if your Terran crew have no objection to the ¡®sapient and not sentient¡¯ computer, then it must be safe!¡±

    ¡°¡­You¡¯re quite perceptive, Mrs Fischer!¡±

    She shudders in delight.

    Confused, I ask ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry¡­ are you¡­?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind me, I¡¯m still getting used to my husband¡¯s name¡­ I¡¯ve been married before¡­ but this is the first time I¡¯ve had a new name to go along with it.¡± she giggles, slightly abashed.

    I appraise the woman ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sure that, being as old as you say you are, it must be quite a culture shock to be suddenly ingratiated with Terran culture and married to a Terran?¡±

    She nods ¡°Yes, well, for the first 90% of my life, I was among the most fearsome half a trillion beings alive¡­ just by dint of being a roughworlder¡­ then, in very short order, I went from being a soldier in a war against the survival of beings more fearsome than I, to peace being declared, to being so fascinated with their culture that I decided I had to study them¡­ to having a Terran husband and two new names!¡­ I do feel like things have moved a little fast(!)¡­ I¡¯m certainly not unhappy about it though¡­¡±

    I consider the woman ¡°Mrs Fischer¡­ you and your husband¡­ you say that the two of you are here to provide counselling to the survivors¡­ What exactly was the profession that you and he were hoping to undertake, after your [honeymoon]?¡±

    Seeming surprised by the sudden turn, she answers ¡°Oh¡­ well we met at the Cincinnati School of Psychotherapy¡­ we were hoping to gain employment as therapists, somewhere¡­¡±

    Dumbfounded, I stare at the woman.

    I¡¯ve never considered myself a particularly religious woman (even having married an [agnostic]) but, right now, it¡¯s difficult for me not to see this as the Father¡¯s compassion at work(!)

    ¡°Mrs Fischer¡­ how would you and your husband¡­ like a job¡­ and a long voyage?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.35

    ---Recovery---

    ¡°Two therapists. on. the. SHIP! What are the odds!?¡± I exclaim.

    ¡°When you consider the number of refugees and vulnerable individuals we had aboard¡­ fairly good, would be my guess(!)¡± smirks Emiko, walking beside me, before continuing ¡°Though, I have to say¡­ the odds of coming into the system, right as an emergency was unfolding, that lead to tens of thousands of noncrew being aboard, in the first place¡­ pretty low(!)¡­ As soon as their background checks come back, I¡¯ll have no problem signing off on their hire.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to come to the medical room? You may not have been asked for but¡­¡±

    She waves her hand and shakes her head ¡°I¡¯ll leave the praise to the brave heroes and gracious Captain. I don¡¯t wish to receive praise for having simply stood nearby(!)¡±

    ¡°By that logic, I shouldn¡¯t be going either¡­¡±

    ¡°On the contrary, you¡¯re the one who most deserves to go! She asked for you, specifically! Without your ship and your agreement to use it to evacuate, the others wouldn¡¯t have been in a position to perform any heroics at all!¡­ She¡¯s a clever girl for understanding that much¡­¡± she smiles.

    I affect a Terran shrug and answer ¡°If you¡¯re sure, I¡¯ll see you later.¡±

    We part ways and I move toward the medical room.

    I arrive and see Gato¡¯s desk, unmanned.

    I pass it, round the corner and see him stood at the bed I¡¯m heading for.

    I approach and hear Gato giving her a bored lecture ¡°¡­I know that¡¯s what your films depict but, in reality, the Human head is not a magic on/off button that can be activated by hitting it hard enough¡­ if you have hit your head hard enough to cause unconsciousness, then you have caused brain damage. You¡¯re lucky we had a regen tube on hand, you might have died otherwise¡­ It¡¯s quite incredible how delicate your species¡¯ brains are, when compared with the rest of you.¡±

    I chit to catch their attention, which I do.

    ¡°Is it alright for me to speak to her, Doctor?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Captain. I¡¯ll leave you alone.¡± he says, indifferently, before walking off, on all fours.

    ¡°So, Ms Havika, I presume? Captain Tcakqaal¡­ a pleasure to meet you.¡± I smile.

    ¡°Please, call me Ke¡¯ala¡­¡± she smiles back ¡°¡­I understand my sister and I owe you our lives! I really hope I¡¯m not being a nuisance, right now. I just really wanted to meet the people she¡¯s told me about and thank them properly.¡±

    I think about objecting that she doesn¡¯t owe me her life, then recall Emiko¡¯s words ¡°My crew and I are happy to lend a hand. As to you being a nuisance, the rest of the refugees are now gone so we don¡¯t have much else to do. If you¡¯d asked to see us this time yesterday, it would have been a different story!¡±

    She nods, reassured, before asking ¡°So my parents know where I am and what¡¯s happened to me, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Ms H¡­Ke¡¯ala. Your boyfriend, too. They¡¯re going to meet you off the boarding ramp later.¡±

    Her mouth falls open and her face goes red and hot.

    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± I ask, with concern.

    ¡°¡­I-it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s just that¡­ my parents¡­ I hadn¡¯t told them about him yet¡­ I suppose, this will be interesting(!)¡± she says, nervously.

    I cock my head ¡°Is there some reason to be ashamed of him?¡±

    Taken aback, she answers ¡°Well, no¡­ there¡¯s not.¡±

    ¡°Then what are you worried about?¡­ This will certainly be an¡­ unorthodox way for him to meet your parents¡­ but if you¡¯re not worried that they¡¯ll disapprove then there¡¯s no issue, is there?¡± I say, trying to come across both compassionate and logical at the same time.

    She looks upward, thoughtfully ¡°Huh!¡­ What am I worried about?¡­ I¡¯ve just survived a tsunami and I¡¯m worried about my parents and boyfriend not getting on(!)¡­ I suppose it¡¯ll make for an¡­ interesting story, at least(!)¡±

    At this point Victor, Tuun, Ms Hunter and Mr Nulgynet enter the ward, accompanied by the minuscule, translatorless sister of the one on the bed.

    ¡°¡¯Ike i¨¡, Keke? Ua ha¡¯i aku au i¨¡ ¡¯oe! Ua ha¡¯i aku au i¨¡ ¡¯oe ¡¯o Kupua l¨¡kou!¡± babbles the small girl, excitedly, gesturing to my crew.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The girl on the bed bursts into laughter ¡°*Hahahahaha*¡­ I¡¯m still not convinced¡­ *hahahahaha*¡­ Lani!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s she tryna convince you of?¡± queries Victor.

    ¡°She thinks you¡¯re Kupua¡­¡± smirks the girl on the bed.

    ¡°What¡¯re [Kupua]?¡± frowns Victor, mirthfully.

    ¡°Ah¡­ Uhm¡­ little difficult to translate¡­¡± she ponders ¡°¡­sometimes gets translated as ¡®Demigods¡¯ and it¡¯s¡­ true that they¡¯re like half way between Human and God but it¡¯s not the case that they need to be the child of a God and a Human. ¡®Spirits¡¯ captures the fact that they¡¯re usually associated with some phenomenon or aspect of nature¡­ but Kupua are corporeal¡­ ¡®Superhero¡¯ would be pretty close to the mark but they¡¯re not necessarily heroic¡­ They¡¯re just, like, Humans+++, you know?¡±

    Here, I chuckle ¡°It seems your species has no end of beings you¡¯ve imagined which can be described thusly¡­ It¡¯s as if it simply isn¡¯t enough that you¡¯re already the most powerful beings in the galaxy, you still want more(!)¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ well, Cap¡­¡± Victor smiles, crookedly ¡°¡­you gotta remember; the knowledge that Humans are the galaxy¡¯s Viltrumites is only a little older than I am¡­ we¡¯ve got thousands of years of stories recorded from eras where we thought we were weak! Culture ain¡¯t had that long to adjust to the new normal(!)¡± he turns, back to the girl on the bed ¡°What¡¯s she think we¡¯re the [Kupua] of?¡±

    ¡°Well you, Mr¡­?¡± she says, expectantly.

    He smiles ¡°Taylor, Hunter, Nulgynet, Tuun.¡± gesturing to each in turn.

    She nods, appreciatively ¡°Well, Mr Taylor, you and Ms Hunter she seems to think are a brother and sister set of fire Kupua¡­ this is despite knowing what Europeans and Neanderthals are¡­¡± she says, turning to her sister.

    ¡°Ina ¡¯o l¨¡kou ¡¯o Kupua, ¡¯a¡¯ole pilikia!¡± says the small girl, visibly defensive.

    The big sister chuckles and continues ¡°I¡¯m guessing Mr Nulgynet is the one she told me was the Kupua of silence¡­?¡±

    ¡°¡¯Ae!¡± confirms the small girl.

    ¡°That would make Ms Tuun the Kupua of twilight and wife of brother fire(!)¡± she chuckles.

    Tuun¡¯s face turns a vivid shade of purple but, before she can start her typical, lightspeed, flustered gibbering, Victor puts his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek.

    ¡°We¡­ ain¡¯t married¡­ yet(!)¡± he smiles, mischievously.

    The girl on the bed flashes her brow up, bemused, before saying ¡°Well¡­ I didn¡¯t expect that(!)¡­ I assumed that this was another strange conclusion she¡¯d come to, like ¡®they must be siblings, because they¡¯re both muscly and have green eyes and red hair¡¯(!) I didn¡¯t think there¡¯d be anything to it!¡±

    ¡°¡¯A¡¯ole ¡¯oe i mana¡¯o¡¯I¡¯o ia¡¯u! Ak¨¡ he ¡¯oia¡¯i¡¯o!¡± cries the small, Terran child, triumphantly.

    ¡°Nearly¡­ but not quite, Lani.¡± grins her sister before turning to Victor and continuing ¡°Sooo¡­ I¡¯ve had a version of events, from Lani, as to what happened while I was out cold¡­ would you mind giving me your perspective?¡±

    Pulling over some chairs, the group sit and begin recounting the tale of how they rescued the two girls.

    ¡°We weren¡¯t really expectin¡¯ to find anyone in the forest¡­ figured everyone¡¯d¡¯ve made it to the evac point¡­ I just wanted to make sure¡­ we were just about to turn ¡¯round an¡¯ go back to the ship when Tuun shouted that she¡¯d found a girl¡­¡±

    ---later---

    The group of us stand in the rear Loading Bay, the two young Human girls at the top of the ramp, facing back towards the five of us.

    ¡°Thank you again! We can¡¯t thank you enough!¡± affirms the one at the cusp of adulthood.

    ¡°Mahalo i¨¡ ¡¯oukou a pau!¡± grins her much younger sister, waving in seeming agreement.

    ¡°Any time!¡± beams Victor ¡°Though, hopefully, it¡¯ll be less nailbitin¡¯ly close to a violent, watery death, next time!¡± he winks and there¡¯s a chuckle.

    ¡°There¡¯s our ride!¡± observes the elder girl.

    A transport capsule, differently style to those I rode in on Zanzibar Mpya or the ones I saw on X¨©n de Q¨ªn, sweeps into the clearing and settles down a few [dozen metres] from the base of the ramp.

    Two adult humans and another boy, around the same age as the elder girl step from the pod.

    ¡°Those would be¡­?¡± I start.

    ¡°My parents and boyfriend, yes¡­¡± she interrupts, distractedly ¡°¡­the capsule company must have got their hails close together enough to matchmake them into a single transport¡­¡± she adds, nervously.

    ¡°¡¯A¡¯ole au i ¡¯ike he ipo kau, Keke?!¡± says the child, indignantly.

    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t, Lani¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t want to tell you so soon¡­¡± answers the elder sister without taking her gaze from the trio at the foot of the ramp.

    There follow a few moments more of hesitation before I decide that a little prompting is in order.

    I walk to the young woman¡¯s side and look down the ramp at the three who seem to be standing, talking and not to have noticed that those two whom they¡¯ve come for are standing watching them.

    ¡°You know¡­¡± I start, hopefully sounding casual ¡°¡­at some point, they will notice you here¡­ or, if they don¡¯t, you will need to move for some other reason; looking after your need for calories, sleep or other bodily functions¡­ even if you put complete and total faith in your ability to stand rooted to this spot forever more, I will need the ship to take off eventually¡­ why don¡¯t you¡­ what¡¯re the Terran expressions? Rip off the adhesive bandage? Chew on the projectile?¡±

    She laughs (evidently, at least one of those were not the correct idiom) then she turns to me and says ¡°You¡¯re right!¡­ Time to chew the projectile(!) Come on Lani.¡±

    The two girls join hands and walk down the ramp. The trio, at the bottom of the ramp, quickly notice the two girls and break off their conversation.

    The two, which I infer to be their parents, positively sprint up the ramp. The inferred boyfriend, hanging behind (despite, from the look of him, easily being capable of outrunning the pair).

    The family (even the small girl) crash into eachother with the *boom* of solid, deathworld bodies on solid deathworld bodies, unnervingly audible even at this distance away!

    There are tears, hugs, rapid, indecipherable words exchanged.

    ¡°So¡­¡± says Victor, stepping to my side ¡°¡­she was worried about her parents meetin¡¯ her boyfriend, I gather?¡±

    ¡°She was¡­¡± I affirm ¡°¡­she just needed a little reminder that anxiety lies and that reality is rarely as frightening as our fears whisper it will be¡­¡±

    He raises his eyebrows, contemplatively ¡°Well done for pickin¡¯ up on that!¡±

    ¡°Yes, well¡­¡± I turn to him with a wry expression ¡°¡­when you¡¯ve spent as much time as I have around Terrans, you do start to pick up on certain¡­ patterns. Things it¡¯s helpful for them to hear, things it¡¯s not, etc.¡±

    He looks at the girl stepping from her parents and putting her hand on the arm of the boy gesturing from the pair to the boy and back, the meeting that wouldn¡¯t have been possible without him, Tuun, Nulgynet and Hunter risking their lives to make it so, and chuckles ¡°Seems like it! Perhaps you should write some sort of care guide(!) You know¡­ for other gardenworld Captains with Terran crew¡­ ¡®The Maintenance and Provision of Humans¡¯ or somethin¡¯(!)¡±

    I smile back ¡°Perhaps, indeed(!)¡± before turning back to enjoy the scene.

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlude XIII: Pancakes and Servility

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s Perspective---

    Hired¡­ we¡¯re hired¡­ I can¡¯t believe this job just¡­ fell into our laps! My stomach is still doing backflips!

    I pass through the corridor of Portside Dorm, Deck 15, toward the new room we¡¯re moving into.

    I wave the door open and step inside. Just as the door closes behind me, the room is illuminated by the hot light of a mammalian Terran who steps from the bathroom.

    My heart races as I stride over to him, seize him by his muscular neck (hard enough that beads of shining hot blood form at my claw tips) and snarl ¡°Any last words, vermin?!¡±

    In a deep, bassy voice, he chokes out ¡°*guh*¡­ Har¡­*kuh*¡­der¡­¡± causing me to burst into giggles, release my husband¡¯s throat and pull him into an embrace, against my stomach.

    His hands come up to the small of my back and stroke as he says ¡°As always, Ally, the white silk dress, looks amazing on you¡­¡±

    I chuckle ¡°¡­And as always, Marc, I have to remind you that I have no idea what ¡®white¡¯ is, given that I don¡¯t have the same colour vision as you do(!) My only context for what [white] looks like is that it¡¯s the Terran funerary colour, used to be the colour of Terran wedding dresses and is, apparently, also the colour of my skin!¡±

    I remember the objection his mother made over the decision for me to wear a traditional [white] dress at our wedding; ¡®She looks like she¡¯s going to your funeral later! Why did you go so gothic!? So macabre! White? Really!?¡¯ I didn¡¯t care at all, of course, but Marc was so deflated when his mother started talking about dying the dress a more contemporary ¡®primary colour¡¯¡­ I put my foot down and sternly told her that the colour of my wedding dress had been settled and was not up for further discussion. I was worried that I had caused her to hate me, that day. However, if anything, I think that to be the day I earned her respect(!) Humans seem fond of assertiveness¡­ generally.

    As I recall my first meeting with my third husband¡¯s mother, I feel his hands slide downward. My claws prick, once more, into his skin causing an ¡°Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah¡­¡± from him.

    ¡°Where exactly do you think you¡¯re putting those hands, without your Mistress¡¯ permission, manthing?¡± I sneer.

    ¡°Nowhere, my Lady!¡± he says desperately, though with his [masochism] causing the corners of his mouth to curl upward, irresistibly.

    ¡°Nowhere? Really?¡± I say, cocking my head to the side ¡°Because it felt, to me, as if you were attempting to put your grubby little man-hands on my buttocks!¡±

    He gives a pathetic shrug.

    I bend to bring my mouth level with his eyes, my claws still pricking the back of his neck, and bare my teeth in a fierce snarl.

    ---Marc¡¯s Perspective---

    The power! The POWER!!!

    My wife is bent double, with her obsidian-black eyes staring imperiously down her pronounced, loveheart nose and her shark teeth peering through her fulsome, black lips, inches from my face.

    Fuck, I love her!

    Somehow, I have never felt as safe as when this hypercarnivorous woman (of one of the only sapient species in the galaxy that might be more than a match for a Terran, in a fight) digs her claws into my flesh!

    If she ordered me to die for her¡­ I don¡¯t even know that I would ask why!

    She smiles that imperious smile and says ¡°Fetch the kit¡­ you¡¯re going to apologise for your impertinence with a mani-pedi¡­¡± before releasing my neck and striding over to the Spelvuk sized armchair.

    My heart swells and I beam as I go to the enormous trunk I brought here by hovertrolley, earlier.

    I lean over the top and begin digging¡­ after a few moments, I find what I¡¯m looking for.

    I take the pouch and hurry back to the Goddess, reclining on her throne.

    As I approach, I make for the footrest, only for her to put her feet up on it and gesture to the ground at her left side with her index finger analogue.

    I kneel where she indicated and she lazily proffers her hand to me.

    I take the hand, unfurl the kit and begin work on her claws.

    ¡°I see you had your priorities in order about what needs to be unpacked first(!)¡± she says mirthfully, gesturing to the wallhanging I made sure I got out and hung up, before I showered.

    ¡°Yeppers-peppers!¡± I smile, not looking up from her manipulator digits ¡°It¡¯s my favorite thing either of us own!¡±

    She gives a harsh laugh, which causes her balcony sized chest to bounce alluringly in the low gravity, resulting in a painful, groinward rush of blood ¡°A bold claim, manthing! Our wedding rings or wedding photos don¡¯t take that title? None of the¡­ *uh-hhm*¡­ bedroom accessories? A depiction of me from a War I was already fighting in before you existed takes the top spot, does it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Lady.¡± I answer politely, with no defiance.

    I can see a smile touch her face, in my periphery, before she closes her eyes, rests her head against the seatback and asks ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ you just look so¡­ powerful¡­¡±

    Without opening her black holes of eyes, she cocks a brow and says ¡°You can¡¯t even see my face through that reverse engineered, durasteel armour!¡±

    ¡°Yep¡­ that¡¯s¡­ kinda the point¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh!?¡± she says, mock danger in her voice ¡°You don¡¯t like looking at my face, manthing(?)¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s certainly not what I said or meant.¡± I correct, calmly ¡°I just meant that, behind that helmet, you could have any expression¡­ or none. It¡¯s¡­ exciting¡­ The fact that yours is one of the only species able to stand up in a practical suit of durasteel¡­ well, it definitely helps the whole ¡®power¡¯ picture! The plasmaglaive, the engraved Spelvuzh hieroglyphs, the power pose¡­ they all add to the impression that this is one Warrior Princess with¡­ whom¡­ you¡­ do¡­ NOT wish to fuck(!)¡±

    She lets out a sultry chuckle and says ¡°For the millionth time, Marc¡­ I¡¯m not a ¡®princess¡¯! The title of [Papess] is nonhereditary! I am the great-granddaughter of [Papess] Tht?i and I did train in her Honour Guard but that means precisely nothing! If I wished to become [Papess], I¡¯d have centuries of [clerical] work ahead of me before I was even eligible for the position¡­ not to mention, Great-Grandmother would have to die¡­ (or retire, at least!) then I¡¯d have to actually be elected, of course!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, my Love¡­ I shouldn¡¯t call you ¡®Princess¡¯¡­ ¡®Queen¡¯, ¡®Empress¡¯, ¡®Goddess¡¯ are titles that fit you much better(!)¡± I quip as I get up and change sides, to begin work on her right hand.

    Another chuckle follows before she says ¡°You realise I was bald under that helmet? No [eyebrows] either! You realise I looked a lot less like Lady Dimitrescu and a lot more like Nosferatu, when that picture was taken?¡±

    As I begin filing the claws of her right hand, I answer ¡°Yes¡­ the baldness was never a turn off to me, Ally¡­ I know you didn¡¯t believe that I could possibly be into a bald, 3m, Spelvuk woman, the first¡­ 15, 16 times I asked you out¡­ but I found the cue-ball look just as sexy as the modded black hair!¡±

    I can¡¯t tell for sure¡­ not having Spelvuk heat vision¡­ but I¡¯m guessing the warm patterns on her face just expanded with embarrassment.

    ¡°In my defence, Marc¡­ the deep voice, the muscles, the generally charming, energetic, extroverted-seeming demeanour¡­ you gave every impression of being a [Top]¡­ that¡¯s a large part of why I rejected you so many times¡­ I didn¡¯t know about [What It Is That We Do] yet but I knew I wasn¡¯t interested in the man you seemed to be advertising yourself to be¡­ I also thought it was fairly likely that you were playing some sort of joke on me¡­ pretending to be interested only to then reveal that you weren¡¯t, once I had reciprocated¡­ or that you were less interested in me than you were in the fact that I was a nonTerran¡­ that you might be inclined to ¡®hit it and quit it¡¯, as your species so charmingly put it, just so you could say you¡¯d had sex with an alien(!)¡±

    I smile ¡°Yep, Ally. I¡¯m sorry I gave you that impression¡­ I¡¯m glad we ran into eachother at that BDSM mixer¡­ I¡¯m glad I¡¯m yours now¡­¡±

    The look she gives me is enough to make me wish she¡¯d let me get gene therapy for infrared vision¡­ I¡¯ve seen visible spectrum representations of what her skin looks like in IR and¡­ it¡¯s breathtaking¡­ it would be amazing to be able to see her blush, too¡­ I suppose¡­ part of the point of choosing to give her control of my finances is that it is sexy when she tells me ¡®No, that¡¯s a frivolous purchase, save your allowance if you want it that badly!¡¯ I can¡¯t have it both ways!

    I finish polishing the onyx-black talons of her right hand to razor points and a mirror sheen and say ¡°That¡¯s 8 of your upper digits done¡­ would you like me to do the other six now or¡­?¡±

    She smirks and wags her finger, affecting a Terran tut as well ¡°*tut**tut**tut**tut**tut**tut**tut*¡­ Nice try, manthing! I¡¯m not taking off my dress just yet¡­ you¡¯re still being punished, not rewarded¡­ you can take care of the other six, next time you massage me! For now¡­¡± she gestures at her feet, majestically clad in highheeled, glossy leather, thighhigh boots ¡°¡­I believe I instructed a ¡®mani-pedi¡¯¡­ you¡¯ve only done the first part.¡±

    I sweetly flourish ¡°This unworthy servant humbly begs permission to remove your boots, tights and protectors that he may see to your talons, Mistress.¡±

    She smirks ¡°Granted, manthing¡­ just remember¡­ this is for my sake, not yours. I do not permit you to become erect, yet!¡± while pulling up the sides of her dress to unclip her stockings from her garters.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not able to become erect, right now, Ally¡­ remember?¡± I say, breaking character slightly.

    She stares at me a moment, confused, before realization falls over her face ¡°Oh! That¡¯s right! I¡¯d forgotten! How long has it been?¡±

    I shift uncomfortably ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s been nearly a week¡­¡±

    She gives a cruel laugh ¡°How admirably you¡¯ve endured! No wonder I¡¯d forgotten(!) Well¡­ I¡¯ll tell you what¡­ do a good enough job on the pedicure and¡­ perhaps, a few other little ¡®favours¡¯ for me and we¡¯ll see about getting that off!¡±

    I beam ¡°Thank you, Mistress!¡±

    She gives a gracious nod and wave before gesturing to the far side of the footstool.

    I make to kneel there but she holds up her palm and says ¡°Ah! Before you start¡­¡± she bites her lip, gently, with her shark teeth ¡°¡­I¡¯d like you to remove your shirt.¡±

    Obediently, I nod and pull the hem over my head, exposing my chest.

    She doesn¡¯t have any visible whites or irises to her eyes so it¡¯s not possible to see exactly where she¡¯s looking¡­ but it doesn¡¯t take a genius to work out why she wanted my shirt off(!)

    ¡°May I, first, check that the door is locked, Mistress?¡± I say, calmly.

    ¡°Err¡­ wh-certainly¡­¡± she answers, absently.

    I rush to the panel, trying to distract myself from the pain inducing arousal of being ogled by my wife.

    I check that the door is, indeed, locked and I switch the privacy field on.

    I return to her feet and ask ¡°May I begin?¡±

    Seeming to have recovered from her distractedness, she nods imperiously and says ¡°Begin¡­¡±

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s Perspective---

    My husband supports my calf with a hand that¡¯s hot enough for me to feel the heat through the leather.

    Reaching under my dress to the inside of my thigh, he locates the zip while scrupulously avoiding looking up my skirt.

    Steadily, he brings the zip past my knee, down my inner calf and to my ankle.

    That done, he pulls off my boot¡­ erotically¡­

    Stupid sexy Humans! How does this species manage to make everything they do¡­ so damn erotic!?

    Is it, possibly, the fact that they run hot enough to glow like fire?

    Is it the fact that, having fought them¡­ I know what they¡¯re capable of?

    I know that Marc¡¯s definition of ¡®taking care of himself¡¯ gives him a sufficient amount of muscle to rival me!

    Until 35 years ago¡­ I would have called myself indomitable¡­ one of the mightiest sapient warriors in the galaxy¡­ born from one of the only planets to have to have a War of Unification before its expansion to the stars! Trained to elite status in the Honour Guard of the Northern [Papess] (one of Spelva¡¯s two Diarchs, along with the Southern [Emperor])! Already a veteran of active combat!

    Until they came¡­

    The fact that I can¡¯t definitively say I¡¯d be the stronger warrior compared to a man who¡¯s less than two thirds my height and only exercises for health and vanity(!)

    Well, not that it matters¡­ he¡¯s a sweetheart and would never raise a fist in anger¡­ he¡¯s also mine¡­ all the power of an elite warrior and happy to subordinate his will to mine¡­ happy to make himself a slave to me.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Such an exhilarating species!

    As he shifts to start taking off my other boot and I feel my hallux pulled free of the hollow highheel, I¡¯m struck by the memories of serving in the War; being captured, being so certain my long life had finally come to an end and only praying that they would kill me quickly¡­ then serving out the last [14 months] of the War as a POW¡­

    I recall, at first, continually asking my captors (those who¡¯d been issued with a translator, at least) if they¡¯d heard anything about my ransom yet and being met with many confused expressions¡­ until one of them explained that they did not ransom prisoners of war!

    I recall, years later, kneeling before my great-grandmother and asking permission to leave her Honour Guard¡­ that I might travel to Terran Space and come to understand them¡­ to understand the species of super soldiers who were unwilling to execute an unquestionably formidable foe that they had entirely within their power¡­ the species who would waste resources on feeding, watering, sheltering and clothing an enemy warrior, for 14 months, while they were still at War, for no discernible benefit!

    I recall deciding that I needed an academic basis for understanding the Human mind¡­

    I recall selecting a university, attending, there being an annoying man in my class who made repulsive ¡®hamana-hamana-hamana¡¯ noises every time he saw me¡­

    I recall telling him off, such that he backed off somewhat¡­

    I remember one of my dormmates explaining what [kinks] were and coming to the realisation that that was why my previous 5 marriages had all failed¡­ I hadn¡¯t realised the reason they couldn¡¯t satisfy me sexually was that we were not approaching things the right way. I needed a spouse who would willingly make themself my slave¡­ No, not just ¡®willingly¡¯¡­ it would have to be with relish! With gusto!!!

    Even if I¡¯d realised this about myself, I don¡¯t know that I would have been able to ask either of my previous husbands or any of my previous wives to give me what I needed, sexually, as Spelvuk have such pride that, just asking might have been considered an unforgivable insult.

    I recall meeting the annoying man at a [kink] club mixer and having a real conversation with him for the first time.

    I recall kneeling to allow him to lift up my veil and kiss me, our officiating friend pronouncing us man and wife, followed by a cheer.

    Back in the present, my husband tenderly slides off my left [stocking], then my right.

    I take a moment to peer through the blinding light his skin emits to admire his handsome face¡­ framed by a thick head of hair, adorned with [eyebrows] and [stubble], undeniably unSpelvuk and, yet, so handsome¡­ and all mine!

    He takes my left foot and pinches the end of the foot cover that I wear to keep my talons from tearing through my [tights] (that probably being the reason that [tights] are not worn on Spelva) and pulls it off my foot, liberating my six, forward facing talons and one downward facing hallux.

    He repeats this for my other foot.

    He reaches for the kit but, impulsively, my left foot shoots out to seize his wrist.

    He turns to me, his expression querying.

    I raise the talons of my right foot and flex them in front of his face ¡°Would you say, manthing, that my talons still look polished and glossy from the last pedicure I had you give me?¡±

    He hesitates before answering ¡°I¡­ I would say that, my Lady¡­¡±

    I bring them to his chest and trace the tips against his pectoral. He winces but doesn¡¯t withdraw from it (if anything, leaning in).

    ¡°And¡­ would you say, manthing, that they still feel sharp enough to rend flesh? Yours, specifically?¡±

    ¡°I would say that, my Lady!¡± he says through quickened breaths.

    I smile ¡°In that case, slave¡­ I¡¯ve changed my mind¡­ you can hold off on the pedicure for now¡­ there¡¯s something else I require of you¡­¡±

    Innocently, he asks ¡°And¡­ what might that be, my Lady?¡±

    Shooting a wry smile I reach to the hem of my dress and, very slowly, begin dragging it up my thighs.

    ¡°I think you can guess¡­¡±

    Eagerly, he begins reaching out and then catches himself.

    ¡°May this unworthy possession of yours be granted permission to remove your panties, that he might attempt to pleasure your regal pussy, my Lady?¡± he asks, a little too formally.

    I smirk and nod ¡°Permission granted¡­ you are also granted permission to place your filthy man hands on your Mistress¡¯ buttocks(!)¡±

    The glow of his face intensifies as his hot blood rushes to the surface of his skin.

    ---Marc¡¯s Perspective---

    I¡¯m in some pain, right now¡­ I¡¯m losing the battle with my own lust!

    Usually, if I started getting horny¡­ the pain would reach a point where it wasn¡¯t exciting anymore and I¡¯d lose my hard on¡­ right now, though, I¡¯ve got my wife¡¯s lifesavingly thicc thighs and soaking, black, silk panties in my face¡­ her smell filling my nose and the fresh scratches she¡¯s left on my chest¡­ all of which are completely overriding the pain it¡¯s causing me to be so aroused.

    I work my fingers under the side wings of her panties and begin pulling them over her thighs.

    Drinkable water being the one resource that was never scarce, in the evolutionary history of Spelva¡¯s subterranean caves, my Spelvuk wife gets¡­ a lot wetter than a Terran woman would.

    The first time the two of us were intimate I actually thought she might have had¡­ an ¡®accident¡¯¡­ it was only the clear lack of embarrassment she demonstrated that clued me in to the fact that that wasn¡¯t what had happened!

    Trying to figure out how to ask her about it, without falsely implying it was a problem, was fun(!)

    As I bring her soaking panties to her ankles, she tucks her two halluces under her soles and straightens her twelve front talons, to avoid any of them catching on and tearing apart her delicate panties.

    I also take dutiful care not to allow that to happen as I pull the giant pair of sopping, black, silk panties over her feet.

    Once they''re in my hands my Mistress beckons me forward with a hungry smile.

    Walking on my knees, I approach her.

    She holds out her hand, wordlessly but unmistakably indicating that she wants me to give her her panties back.

    I hand them over and she takes them with her right hand while her left palm comes to rest at the back of my neck.

    She presses the panties, as wet as if they¡¯d been held underwater, into my face. I splutter as my head is sandwiched between her left palm and panty bearing right.

    She smothers me with her panties for a good thirty seconds before removing them and saying ¡°Do you like having your face covered in my juices, manthing? You enjoy my marking you as what you are? A possession¡­ A sextoy!¡±

    Still gasping, I nod and answer ¡°Yes¡­*huh*¡­ Mistress¡­ *huh*¡­ I love it!¡±

    She gives an approving smile before lifting her leg from the footrest and indicating for me to crawl underneath.

    As I bring my face level with my Empress¡¯ privates, I see her gorgeous, monstrous face peer over the crest of Mts. Booba.

    ¡°Are you going to stare at it all night, manthing, or are you going to eat it?¡± she sneers.

    I smile, lean forward and bring my mouth to my Lady¡¯s vulva and begin.

    She gasps ¡°I¡¯ll never get used to that heat of yours, Human!¡±

    I feel her variegated, lukewarm stripes (adapted to break up her outline, camouflaging her to Spelvun prey animals with IR vision, like vlang bats and tset moths) on her cool inner thighs, against my cheeks.

    ¡°That¡¯s it, manthing! ...*hhhhh*¡­ That¡¯s what you¡¯re for!...*hhhhh*¡­ That¡¯s your purpose! ...*hhhhh*¡­  Making me feel pleasure! ...*hhhhh*¡­ You exist for my sake! ...*hhhhh*¡­You¡¯re mine! ...*hhhhh*¡­ Never forget that, slave!¡± she shudders out through barely suppressed moans.

    She¡¯s right, of course, I am hers! It doesn¡¯t hurt to be reminded of that, though¡­ Actually, no, that¡¯s wrong, it does hurt massively but that ship has largely sailed at this point. I just have to deal with the constricting pain until my Lady sees fit to release me from it.

    I bring my hands to the outside of her colossal thighs and begin stroking, working my way steadily upward to the asscheeks that she¡¯s now letting me touch.

    It feels¡­ decadent that any man should ever have access to this much combined ass! Even though the owner, of both me and the ass, gatekeeps my access to it, the fact that I¡¯ve, even once, been allowed to touch such a magnificent backside feels like a pretty serious karmic debt!

    My wife¡¯s breathtaking face disappears behind her giga sized chest, as her spine arches backwards.

    Three of the manipulator digits, of her right hand, dig their claws into the back of my head while her thumb digs its claw into my forehead. She pushes my face deeper, squashing my lips, nose and jaw against the front of her pelvis, entirely cutting off my ability to breathe!

    Her shins cross behind my back and all fourteen of her pedal claws dig into my flesh, as my head is crushed from the sides by her enormous, meaty thighs.

    Bliss¡­!

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s Perspective---

    The glowing face of my husband pokes from between my much duller thighs (the only light they produce being the striated pattern of dim light, meant to camouflage me to prey).

    I haven¡¯t allowed him to breathe for a while but, given that he¡¯s still working that muscular tongue and those nimble lips against my ¡®regal pussy¡¯, I¡¯d guess he¡¯s doing just fine for oxygen(!)

    I moan as the extraordinary man satisfies me.

    Goddess damnit, Humans have to be good at everything, don¡¯t they(!)

    Casual exercise gains them the strength of a Spelvuk elite and more stamina than a Vinjirian!

    Their historical diet of ¡®anything going¡¯ has given them toxin resistance to nearly rival the Suigu!

    The need to overcome the challenges to survival native to a deathworld¡­ well, I don¡¯t wish to say it¡¯s made them ¡®more intelligent¡¯ than others but, certainly, it¡¯s given them unique minds that work fast and make extremely abstract connections meaning that a below average Human can sometimes see things that a room full of intelligent nondeathworlders miss!

    When it comes to their compassion¡­ there¡¯s not another species to whom it¡¯s fair to compare them!

    Could the Goddess not at least have made them inept lovers?

    There really isn¡¯t much for which to degrade this man, the way he loves to be degraded¡­ There¡¯s only so much mileage to be had out of his flat feet and monofunctional upper limbs(!)

    He¡¯s slightly short, for a Human, but that does put him around [10cm] taller than the average Spelvuk man¡­

    That being said¡­ I probably wouldn¡¯t choose to make him a less competent lover, just to be able to demean him for that fact(!)

    Briefly, I lose my composure as I¡¯m induced to climax.

    A moment passes before I pull my husband¡¯s respiratory orifices out of my reproductive one, allowing him to take a tortured gasp of air.

    I unlatch my claws from his back, bring my thighs off his shoulders, pull him to his feet by his hair, look at his, still glowing, upper face then at his lower face, dimmed by my juices. I kiss him, and taste myself on his mouth. I do not kiss him tenderly, nor gently, I kiss aggressively! I kiss him such that he knows to whom he belongs! He¡¯s mine and I¡¯m never letting him go!

    Pressing his bright hot chest between my breasts I break my lips from his and say ¡°You¡­*huh*¡­ you just did¡­*huh*¡­ a more than adequate¡­*huh*¡­ job of pleasuring¡­*huh*¡­ your Mistress¡­*huh*¡­ choose your reward!¡±

    He falters a moment then looks downward.

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I smirk cruelly ¡°¡­you think you¡¯ve earned that?¡±

    He thinks for a moment before carefully answering ¡°That¡¯s for my Lady to decide, my Lady.¡±

    By the Goddess, this man! There¡¯s only so aroused I can get!

    ¡°Get on the bed!¡± I command, playfulness gone and replaced with urgency.

    He complies and I follow after. He lies down and I straddle him before reaching over his head¡­ will they be there? Either way I get to demean him¡­ he¡¯s either an incompetent who cannot preempt his Mistress¡¯ wishes¡­ or he¡¯s a manslut!

    My hand finds what I¡¯m looking for¡­ manslut it is(!)

    ¡°So¡­ the wallhanging of me in armour¡­ and the underbed restraints(?!) Those are the two most important things to unpack, are they(?)¡± I mock.

    He says nothing but his face does glow brighter.

    ¡°Well¡­ your easy virtue has been useful to me this time, manthing!¡± I say as I clip his hands into the cuffs.

    My hands move down to the waistband of his trousers and yank them down revealing a cage containing his cock¡­ no¡­ not his¡­ mine!

    ¡°How has it felt, having my little cock caged up like that for so long, manthing?¡± I smirk at the man with his hands bound above his head.

    ¡°Honestly, Mistress, it¡¯s hurt a lot¡­ but it reminded me I¡¯m yours, so I didn¡¯t mind it that much.¡±

    Gah, right in the feels!

    Quick! Think of something cruel to retort!

    ¡°Well¡­ we could leave it on if you¡­¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± he begs, desperately ¡°¡­please, Mistress, I¡¯m yours! This cock is yours! Please! Use me!¡±

    Now¡­ were I in the mood, I would definitely punish him for impertinence, again¡­ However, I really do wish to use him.

    And¡­ since he asked so nicely(!)

    ---Marc¡¯s Perspective---

    My Lady grins the grin that made me understand how unnerving toothbaring is to gardenworlders¡­

    She yanks my pants and undies over my feet and retrieves the cuffs at the bottom of the bed, fastening them around my ankles, cutting off my last means of fighting back.

    I¡¯m now just a cut of meat, spread out on the bed for my Lady to enjoy¡­ Not that she actually could eat me¡­

    I remember the time I convinced her to try out sexual vampirism and sent her to the hospital with my blood¡¯s iron content!

    She¡¯ll be enjoying this meat in a less literal way¡­

    Her hand dives into her chasmal cleavage and reemerges holding an ornate key on the end of a filigree chain, which she pulls over her head.

    She¡¯s been wearing that key between her boobs, all week?! She had my chastity key so close to visible to everyone!? Damn, that¡¯s hot!!!

    She brings the key to the matching padlock and releases it.

    She slides the shackle out of the loops and then breaks the ring that went beneath my balls allowing the cage to be slid down my shaft.

    Sensing its newfound freedom, my cock immediately lunges to attention before its Mistress.

    She laughs ¡°I can see someone¡¯s eager(!)¡±

    Trying my best to convey both earnestness and urgency, I answer ¡°Yes, my Lady, both your cock and your slave are extremely eager for you!¡±

    She brings that mouthful of shark teeth inches from me and exhales a cool breath onto this cock of hers.

    She opens her mouth and makes as if she¡¯s going to bite¡­ the exhilaration of realizing, if she actually decided to perform an oral castration, there¡¯d be jack-shit I could do about it, in my current predicament, causes my heartrate to skyrocket and my dick to get, somehow, even harder(!)

    She brings her head over me and lowers her wide open mouth before closing it just enough that I can feel the razor sharp tips of her teeth as she drags them back up my shaft at the perfect compromise of gentle and painful!

    I could cum, just from this pain!

    She rears back up and brings her hands to the knot of her silk belt, at her stomach, untying it and allowing her dress to hang loose.

    With her right hand, she reaches over her left shoulder to free the claws of her left digits V, VI and VII from behind her back before repeating the process for her right shoulder.

    That done, she stands and allows the dress to fall to the floor, leaving a garter belt as the one remaining piece of fabric on her body (bras are kinda anatomically challenging for Spelvuk women to wear so her dress is built for support, allowing her to go braless).

    She, at this point, T-poses and both of her digit Vs rotate 180¡ã, dragging her VI and VII digits behind them, unfolding the alabaster batwings of a gothic angel¡­ my Gothic Angel¡­ my Mistress¡­ my Owner¡­

    She remounts the bed, positions her hips above mine and bares down with her, near 6m, wingspan.

    With the talons of her right foot, she seizes my throat ¡°Whose is this throat, slave?¡±

    ¡°Yours *guh* Mistress¡­¡± I choke.

    She smirks and brings the claws up to my face ¡°And whose is this handsome face?¡±

    ¡°Yours Mistress¡­¡± I nearly whisper.

    A nod of approval before she moves her foot to grasp both my cock and balls ¡°And these?¡±

    ¡°Also yours, Mistress¡­¡±

    She hesitates a moment then brings the ball of her foot just to the top right of my left nipple¡­ ¡°¡­And this?¡±

    It takes a moment for me to work out what she means but, when it clicks for me, I smile ¡°Yours until the end of time! My heart, my love, my life and anything else I might ever have that you might ever want, is yours!¡±

    She returns my smile then lowers her hips.

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s Perspective, later that night---

    My wings are wrapped behind my, glowing hot, husband¡¯s back as he lies on my chest and we embrace, in postorgasmic bliss, his face against my clavicle, his stomach between my breasts, his cock (milked thoroughly dry) resting against my stomach, his legs between my thighs. I can feel his steam engine of a heart (on the wrong side) beating robustly through his chest, on top of my (right side) heart.

    He idly traces his index finger along my right wing digit.

    ¡°Marc¡­?¡± I start, uncertainly.

    ¡°Yeah, Ally?¡± he answers, turning his radiant face to me.

    ¡°I just¡­ I want to make sure you realise¡­ if you ever feel like you need to renegotiate things¡­ that¡¯s OK¡­ we can talk about it¡­¡±

    He smirks, with that [power bottom] energy that originally made me think he was a [Top], and answers ¡°What would I renegotiate?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I say, a little uncomfortably ¡°¡­anything, really¡­ but I¡¯m thinking specifically the whole servant role you take on, outside the bedroom¡­ I love it that you unpack for me, cook for me, clean for me¡­ help me dress in the Terran style¡­ I find it exciting that you have no control over your own finances¡­ but if any of those arrangements ever¡­ lose their lustre for you, please tell me¡­ I¡¯d hate to lose you over something like that¡­¡±

    A grin breaks across his face, exposing his flat, omnivore teeth and making my heart skip a beat ¡°Ally¡­ I know you¡¯ve got, like, 5 marriages, 32 decades of life experience and 3 kids on me and, in fact, your youngest daughter is old enough to be my grandma but¡­ you realize you and I just graduated Clinical Psychology together, in the same year with the same grade¡­ right? You think I¡¯m gonna let a petty communication issue, like that, end things between us? I know what I¡¯m about and, acting like your servant, outside the bedroom, and your slave, inside, makes. me. HAPPY!¡­ If I ever want to revisit things, I¡¯ll tell you, OK?¡±

    I cock one of the Terran [eyebrows] I purchased to put classmates and clients at ease and answer ¡°You don¡¯t think ¡®I¡¯m a therapist, therefore immune to relationship woes¡¯ is a little arrogant?¡±

    He closes his eyes and shakes his head ¡°Not what I¡¯m saying. I¡¯m not saying we¡¯re immune to trouble¡­ there are definitely gonna be moments where we fight! It¡¯s unrealistic and unhealthy to expect a relationship where things stick to idyllic perfection all the time. I do think we¡¯re better equipped, than most, to work through relationship roadblocks but, more than that¡­ it¡¯s you! You¡¯re the reason I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll have any problem doing whatever necessary to maintain our relationship! I love you, Ally!¡­ I¡¯m not going to let you get away for some dumb, petty reason like not being willing to tell you I¡¯m over some part of our negotiated play!¡±

    I beam ¡°I¡­ I love you too, Marc.¡±

    He nods, as if to say ¡®Good! Now that¡¯s sorted¡­¡¯ before saying ¡°Alright then¡­ we¡¯d better get some sleep¡­ that pair of Red Panda Doctors next door have invited us to have pancakes together, tomorrow morning!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.36

    ---Sand---

    Something that always strikes me about deathworlds are the smells.

    Not entirely malodourous¡­ rather, many are aromatic¡­ fragrant¡­ but all definitely pungent!

    I can only imagine how strong the scents must be outside of my field¡­ what proportion of the deathworld bouquet am I not able to appreciate because it would result in rapid infection, necessitating drastic medical intervention?

    Neonesia has a distinct scent profile from X¨©n de Q¨ªn and Zanzibar Mpya.

    Zanzibar smelled much more like my recollection of Earth¡­ which, I suppose, sort of makes sense, given that it had no native ecology and all its species were Terran introductions¡­ (even if those species came from a completely different Terran biome than those I am familiar with, they still have enough in common, scentwise, to be identifiable as coming from the same cradleworld).

    The smells of deathworlds, logically, should smell like death to me: The smells of every organism fighting desperately to survive, the smells of those that fail that task having their nutriment greedily reabsorbed into the ecosystem by a million and one decomposers and detritivores, the smells of those, who¡¯ve been (thus far) successful, attempting to procreatively replace themselves before their luck runs out.

    Somehow (despite comprehending the nature of the all-out war for survival, raging all around us as we make our way from the ship, through the forest, to the beach) it doesn¡¯t smell like death to me, the way it once would have¡­

    There¡¯s a vibrancy to it that I¡¯m aware of now¡­ a verve¡­ an ebullience that I didn¡¯t comprehend as a younger woman¡­.

    I land from that flight-of-thought and, from atop Victor¡¯s shoulder, turn my head to Jennie, wryly asking ¡°Are you satisfied that you¡¯re finally getting your ¡®beach day¡¯?¡±

    She blushes and answers ¡°I was happy to wait¡­ wouldn¡¯t have been in very good taste to run off to the beach when thousands of refugees were aboard, would it¡­¡±

    Brunhilda puts an arm around her girlfriend, resting her hand on the far side of her waist, pulls her close and smiles down ¡°You can be disappointed about the beach days we lost, Dormouse(!) That¡¯s allowed(!)¡­ None of us will think you¡¯re saying you¡¯d have preferred to trade lives for beach days(!)¡±

    The small Terran woman smiles back and says ¡°OK¡­ I¡¯m a little disappointed by the days we lost but I¡¯m happy we¡¯re getting our beach day now¡­ Plus, being given permission to land the ship on the planet, walking distance from a gorgeous beach, sort of gives it a¡­ ¡®resort feeling¡¯, you know? We wouldn¡¯t have got that if we¡¯d been staying at the ODR and taking transports to beaches¡­ silver linings, I suppo-Kyah!¡± her musings are cut short as her girlfriend effortlessly hoists her into a [bridal carry].

    The golden haired [amazonian] gives the flustered brunette a contented kiss before saying ¡°You¡¯re extremely cute when you try to be positive, you know!¡­ Also, how come I¡¯ve never seen this outfit before? It¡¯s¡­ surprisingly conservative, for you¡­ Knowing you, I was expecting a swimsuit made out of slightly wide pieces of string(!)¡±

    ¡°How dare you(!)¡± laughs the small woman, with mock indignation ¡°You would impugn my honour as a lady(?!)¡±

    ¡°Your what now(?)¡± retorts the larger woman, her glacier blue eyes crinkled in a smile.

    ¡°Ugh(!)¡± scoffs the brunette, playfully batting the side of her girlfriend¡¯s face ¡°If you must know, I fabbed it recently, based on some photos I looked up for reference; Mauve two piece, with a strapless top and a sheer, gold sarong¡­¡± she gestures to the respective parts ¡°¡­as to why it¡¯s not just ¡®slightly wide pieces of string¡¯¡­¡± she smirks ¡°¡­I find that a little mystery is sexier than none¡­ I see you went for ¡®sporty¡¯, huh(?)¡±

    The athletic blonde cocks an eyebrow, sardonically, before responding ¡°These are my swimclothes¡­ you don¡¯t like them?¡±

    Looking away, the small woman answers ¡°I didn¡¯t say that(!)¡­ I was definitely thinking it super hard, though(!)¡±

    Here I interject ¡°There¡¯s so much nuance baked into the choice of swim attire for you Terrans! It seems like a tremendously stressful thing to subject yourselves to! Why not just go entirely nude, given that your species¡¯ normal inhibitions, regarding exposure of skin, appear to be suspended in this social context?¡± I gesture to the convoy of Terrans, displaying several times the normal quantity of skin.

    They all laugh and Victor (one of the least dressed Terrans present) corrects ¡°It ain¡¯t ¡®suspended¡¯ more just, sorta, ¡®modified¡¯. We¡¯re happy showin¡¯ a bit more skin than we would in, for instance, a town centre high street but that don¡¯t mean it¡¯s a free-for-all!¡­ There¡¯s personal taste to consider¡­ but we¡¯ve a pretty consistent sense of when a swimming costume gets a bit too provocative. While public nudity ain¡¯t illegal or anythin¡¯, most folk¡¯d consider it in bad taste, even at a beach.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ that is, indeed, too much nuance for me¡­ I still can¡¯t comprehend the notion that, if the garments you¡¯re all wearing right now weren¡¯t made of waterproof material, that would make them ¡®underwear¡¯ and you would, suddenly, be embarrassed to be out in them, despite them being exactly as revealing!¡± I answer.

    A chuckle ripples up the convoy.

    I turn to Hasiakh, who¡¯s nonchalantly traversing the path between the blue foliage, dressed in a [two piece] similar to the ones worn by Tuun, Emiko and Jennie (only, with no legs to pass between, the lower part is just a band).

    ¡°Hasiakh, you don¡¯t seem to be taking due care with the path?¡­ Am I missing something or did you forget the lecture that Kas gave you on Zanzibar?¡± I ask, concerned.

    The attentive expression, she wore when I addressed her, breaks into an amused smile as she explains ¡°You are missing something, Captain; Zanzibar was a deadworld, terraformed with life from a, Class 12, deathworld! This is a lower end Class 10. Pathogens on this planet won¡¯t be that much worse than ones from Sahak and Neonesian thorns are much less likely to be able to pierce the scales of a Sahas than Terran ones! I can be a bit more relaxed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ Class 10?!¡± I say, incredulously ¡°The planet that swallowed an entire island from beneath us within hours of our arrival¡­ is barely a deathworld?!¡±

    Victor answers, laughing ¡°Yeah, it ain¡¯t a great look for this planet¡­ but, you gotta remember, most days it ain¡¯t drownin¡¯ islands with tectonic activity(!)¡­ In fact, I¡¯d guess the only reason they were happy to send their rescue fleet outta system for trainin¡¯, without a substitute, is ¡¯cause they reckoned the chances of them bein¡¯ needed was so negligible!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I would make a quip about even deathworlders underestimating the deadliness of deathworlds¡­ but I feel like there are many ways in which that could be turned around on me¡­ so I shall say nothing(!)¡± I chitter.

    At that moment we reach the edge of the forest.

    Stepping from beneath the azure leaves of the canopy, we find ourselves on a spectacularly white sandy beach, around [500m] long, [50m] wide, surrounded on three sides by cerulean palms and on the fourth by a crystal blue ocean.

    There are many delighted gasps, whoops and hollers from the group, clearly admiring of the breathtaking beauty of this scene.

    ¡°Whole beach to ourselves!¡± exclaims Victor, with satisfaction ¡°Let¡¯s find a spot near the water¡­¡±

    A suitable spot (judged by criteria I can¡¯t discern) is located.

    Victor places down the metal spheroid on stilts and the stasis box he¡¯s been carrying, which must weigh around [40kg] between them!

    Opening the spheroid, he reveals a cage shelf with a hollow space beneath it.

    ¡°You realise¡­¡± I say, wryly, causing his head to turn upwards to look at me ¡°¡­if you had cooked your [burgers] on the ship, you could have put them in the same stasis box you brought them in anyway and spared yourself the need to lug that antiquated cooking apparatus and sacks of solid fuel for it here? Also, why, oh why, is my head of health and safety cooking with combustion rather than just using a heating element to cook the food?¡±

    He smirks ¡°Yeah, Cap¡­ I realise¡­ reason I didn¡¯t use the stasis box to transport ¡¯em precooked or use a heatin¡¯ element is ¡¯cause it ain¡¯t the authentic experience. Cookin¡¯ ¡¯em on the beach is the done thing!¡±

    Giving a Terran shrug I respond ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter to me¡­ you¡¯re the one who had to carry them here(!)¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ and it was a doddle thanks to your gravity field!¡± he answers, smugly.

    ¡°Easier than it would have been¡­ but not as easy as it could have been¡­¡± I retort.

    ¡°I told you, it ain¡¯t the way(!)¡± he says with both amusement and finality.

    I hop down from his shoulder and the group begins setting up.

    ---later---

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t work!¡± insists Jennie, cross legged in the sand, Q¨©ngl¨®ng curled around her shoulders in such a way as he forms a backrest.

    ¡°But¡­ if it¡¯s the strongest material¡­?¡± muses Krish, as he tends her [burger] along with his own and Yu¨¢n¡¯s [garlic bread], on the ¡®dietry requirements¡¯ grill.

    ¡°Diamond isn¡¯t the ¡®strongest¡¯ material, it¡¯s the hardest!¡± she asserts ¡°If you tried to build armour out of it, it would shatter like glass the moment it suffered an impact! Hardness isn¡¯t what you want for impact protection, you want toughness! Durasteel is tough, that¡¯s why battle-armour is built from that with nary a diamond in sight!¡±

    ¡°But¡­?¡± says the slender man, screwing up his face in thought.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what¡­ if you still don¡¯t believe me, I¡¯ll print a 30cm¡Á30cm¡Á2cm sheet of diamond and another of steel (it¡¯ll have to do, as civilian nanoforges can¡¯t do durasteel), I¡¯ll bring them to the beach with me tomorrow and we¡¯ll get Hildy to take a crack at both of them with a sledgehammer¡­ you¡¯ll see¡­ the steel will dent, the diamond will shatter!¡±

    Here Victor interrupts, sternly, looking up from the main grill on which he¡¯s tending the [burgers] that Krish isn¡¯t able to for religious reasons ¡°You are not shatterin¡¯ diamond on the beach!!! I know it don¡¯t look like many people come here but how¡¯d you feel if you found out that some kid had had to call a medivac from here ¡¯cause they¡¯d cut their foot on a shard of diamond you¡¯d missed! Find somewhere to run your experiments on the ship and clean up after yourselves, afterwards!¡±

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Rolling her eyes she answers ¡°Alright, Grandad(!)¡± with an amused, mocking tone.

    Brunhilda interjects ¡°You think you can mock the ¡®sportiness¡¯ of my swimclothes one minute and the next volunteer me for sporty tasks that you¡¯re not up to(!)¡± with a wry smile.

    ¡°Can¡¯t I(?)¡± asks the smaller woman, raising her eyebrows and fluttering her eyelashes.

    Pursing her lips, the blonde responds ¡°You definitely wouldn¡¯t be able to if you were just¡­ like¡­ 1% less charming¡­ Someday, you¡¯re going to meet someone who¡¯s not affected by your cuteness!¡±

    ¡°Already happened!¡± volunteers Xon ¡°I, personally, think you¡¯re the cuter one, Samus!¡±

    Turning her attention to the rangy Tshwane woman, her eyebrow raised sceptically, she responds ¡°That so?¡±

    Jutting out her chin with a mischievous grin and putting her arm around her singularly bulky girlfriend, Xon answers ¡°I have a type(!)¡±

    ¡°Burgers¡¯re ready, come get ¡¯em!¡± shouts Victor, breaking off the interlineage flirtation.

    As Brunhilda, Thran and Xon rise to retrieve their [beefburgers] from Victor, I see Jennie¡¯s attention following the tall, slender woman, her face unreadable. It only lasts a moment before she looks back to Krish¡¯s smaller [grill] and takes a swig of her cold, dew covered [tepache].

    As Krish begins serving up the [veggie burgers] Emiko sits next to Jennie and asks ¡°Hey, Jennie, I hope you won¡¯t think I¡¯m being rude but¡­?¡±

    ¡°You want to know why I¡¯m a vegetarian?¡± she answers, coolly.

    ¡°Why, yes¡­ how did you¡­?¡±

    ¡°Always comes up sooner or later(!) You want to know why on earth I would deny myself meat when, being lab grown, it¡¯s not like the cows had to suffer?¡±

    Emiko nods, thoughtfully ¡°Yes¡­ I mean¡­ I understand that for these two¡­¡± she gestures at Krish and Yu¨¢n ¡°¡­it¡¯s religious but it¡¯s not religious for you, is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ and it¡¯s not environmental either, given that energy is effectively free¡­¡± she turns to the purple eyed woman ¡°¡­I hope you won¡¯t think I¡¯m being rude but would you eat a burger made of lab grown Human if I told you it was super delicious?¡±

    Emiko¡¯s eyes narrow as she calmly but immediately answers ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± answers the smaller woman, stroking the head of the contented dragon.

    ¡°Well it would be cannibalism, for one thing¡­¡± she smiles.

    ¡°No it wouldn¡¯t¡­ you wouldn¡¯t be eating the flesh of a living breathing Human, you¡¯d be eating meat grown specifically to be eaten, ¡à there should be no ethical issue with eating it, right?¡±

    Taking a bite of her [beefburger], I¡¯m guessing to subtly buy herself a few moments to consider, the glamourous woman responds ¡°There are many health issues with cannibalism¡­¡± as if that fact is both common knowledge and common sense! ¡°¡­I¡¯m not particularly interested in needing to drag myself to the medroom and explain what ¡®kuru¡¯ is or how I acquired it(!)¡±

    ¡°OK, then¡­ what about a R¡¯qali burger? No health issues with that, are there?¡±

    Emiko looks to me, appraisingly.

    ¡°Leave me out of your thought experiments!¡± I chitter ¡°As an obligate frugivore, I shall be no help in unteasing Terran ethical quandaries regarding the consumption of lab grown flesh!¡±

    Emiko nods, turns back to Jennie and answers ¡°I understand what you¡¯re saying¡­ but Humans and R¡¯qali are both sentient, sapient, sophont species¡­ cows¡­ aren¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯d eat a dog burger?¡± queries Jennie, pointedly but not accusingly.

    Here Sam interjects ¡°Not eating! Fancy mummy¡­ smol mummy¡­ please!¡± his translated tone indicating that he isn¡¯t sure whether being eaten is actually a possibility but not carrying the appropriate amount of concern for that scenario, in my view.

    Both women turn broad genuine smiles on the loveable semisapient and reassure him that him being eaten is not at all what¡¯s being discussed.

    Satisfied, he resumes begging Victor to allow him to have sauce on his plain [burger]¡­ lack of sapience not allowing him to recognise an utterly lost cause.

    Returning her attention to her interlocutor, Jennie says ¡°The squeamishness you just felt about eating Human, R¡¯qali and dog burgers is how I feel about all meat¡­ it¡¯s just that simple¡­ haven¡¯t eaten meat in nearly a decade.¡±

    Contemplatively, Emiko responds ¡°I see¡­ thank you for engaging with that¡­ even though it¡¯s obviously a very boring subject for you.¡±

    ¡°No probs.¡± smiles Jennie, reassuringly, (though in a way that entirely avoids touching her upper face) before turning her attention back to the [1.9m] blonde and [2.2m] Tshwane at the grill.

    ---many [burgers], some [sunbathing] and a game of [volleyball] later---

    ¡°You¡¯re certain? Absolutely certain?!¡± I address the man, more than twice my age, with concern.

    ¡°Never been more certain of anything¡­ he¡¯s exceedingly well trained, Captain. I give you my word¡­¡± responds the warrior cleric.

    I sigh ¡°¡­If Victor approves then I won¡¯t prohibit it¡­¡±

    The elder man turns to his young student.

    ¡°I¡¯m really glad you thought about it at all, Cap, but¡­ if Sh¨©fu says it¡¯s fine then I think it¡¯s fine¡­ plus he¡¯s tracked right?¡±

    The warrior nods ¡°Naturally.¡±

    ¡°Then I say go for it.¡±

    The teacher smiles before turning his face to the azure dragon and saying ¡°Q¨©ngl¨®ng¡­¡± and raising his hand.

    The creature lazily opens it¡¯s eyes and rolls them toward his owner before stopping and widening them¡­ there¡¯s a subtle shift as the [4.5m] tube of deathworld muscle tautens, near imperceptibly.

    ¡°¡­go!¡± says the monk with a corresponding gesture to the water.

    I thought I was ready for the speed with which that monster would streak away¡­ I was wrong!

    The shock of how quickly that animal goes from being coiled in a [naptime] pile to being in the water, [14m] away, actually induces autonomic fight/flight/freeze reactions in me as I¡¯m unable to tear my attention from the undulating motion with which he¡¯s now propelling himself through the water and my hearts race into the quadruple digits.

    The speed with which he is able to move through the water is comparable to that which I¡¯m able to achieve, during flight, in a shallow dive!

    In a spectacular display, the serpentine animal breaches the water and his entire body clears the surface in a breathtaking arc before reentering with barely a splash.

    ¡°Remember to breathe, Captain(!)¡± chuckles the monk ¡°Though, I¡¯m glad I¡¯m not the only one who sees how magnificent he is(!)¡±

    Cocking a browtuft, I answer ¡°Magnificent or not, if your pet decides to stray away you may be responsible for introducing an, ecosystem decimating, invasive species¡­¡±

    He smiles ¡°He won¡¯t¡­ plus, if I did, we could track him down with his tag¡¯s data¡­ he¡¯s also a lone male¡­ he wouldn¡¯t be able to reproduce on this planet¡­¡±

    ¡°Unless he turns out to have been a she¡­ with a litter in her belly¡­ wouldn¡¯t be the first time(!)¡­ Or unless someone else brought a female to this planet, thinking the same thing you did¡­¡±

    He laughs ¡°You can rest secure in the knowledge that, biologically at least, he is male. Female Shu¨«l¨®ng are around forty percent bigger and a bright vermillion colour. Though, you are right about the, however remote, possibility of him running into an escaped female¡­ or you would be¡­ if I weren¡¯t absolutely sure he will come back to me when I call him¡­ Just relax, Captain¡­ enjoy the display.¡±

    I turn my attention back to the frolicking animal¡­

    ¡°Shame Fluffy turns out to be as saltwater averse as she is freshwater!¡± frowns Victor.

    Dr Mink disdainfully responds ¡°Water is much less fun when your entire body is covered in waterlogging fur.¡± gesturing to indicate that this is also why she has refrained from immersing herself.

    Victor shrugs a shrug of ¡®fair enough¡¯ before looking to me ¡°How come Qorrie turned down the beach trip?¡±

    I sigh ¡°¡­[Carcinisation].¡±

    Dumbstruck a moment, Victor eventually manages to laugh ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what!?¡± incredulously.

    ¡°You heard me.¡± I answer, wearily.

    ¡°He¡¯s worried he¡¯s going to evolve into a crab, from a trip to a deathworld beach!?¡± he replies, not containing his mirth, at all!

    ¡°No¡­¡± I correct ¡°¡­he was worried he would be attacked by something that had evolved into a [crab] and being surrounded by deathworlders would mean nothing¡­ the culprit would have snipped off a foot before anything could be done(!)¡±

    A slightly abashed look crosses Victor¡¯s face as he says ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually¡­ not quite as ridiculous as I thought¡­ Still pretty ridiculous, though. Crabs ain¡¯t gonna just snip off a foot of an animal they ain¡¯t evolved to predate!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re [preaching to the choir], Victor, I told him he was being ludicrous but he wouldn¡¯t budge about it.¡±

    Victor frowns ¡°You guys gonna be OK?¡±

    I wave my wing, placatorily ¡°We¡¯ll be fine, dear boy. I¡¯ll have a calm discussion with him when I get back.¡±

    At this point, Brunhilda interjects ¡°Hey guys¡­ the Shings are here¡­ the Fischers, too. Must have been for a walk together since they¡¯re not coming from the ship.¡±

    I turn to see that, indeed, the auburn furred Fulgensian couple are walking beside the newest additions to my crew.

    Alchyinad ¡®Dimitrescu¡¯ Fischer and Marc ¡®King-of-the-Squirrels¡¯ Fischer.

    The [3m] tall woman stands in a black [one piece] (backless to allow her enormous chiropteran wings, normally concealed in her Terran style sleeves, free motion).

    The man stands over [a metre] shorter than his wife, in a pair of [trunks], his build and musculature comparable to Msia¡¯s and a shock of modded scarlet hair at his fringe.

    ¡°Ha!¡± crows Dr Mink, with gleeful venom, at Msia ¡°Looks like your girlfriend and boyfriend have become bored of you! They¡¯re shopping for replacements!¡±

    Calmly, placidly and with a nonchalant smile, Msia answers ¡°They¡¯re not my girlfriend and boyfriend¡­ we have a casual arrangement¡­ if they want to pursue options outside of it, I¡¯m very happy for them to do so.¡±

    I see Mink¡¯s eyes narrow suspiciously, behind her [sunglasses], as she apparently tries to discern any deception.

    I¡¯m just contentedly thinking that it¡¯s a good thing that the new hires can finally get to know the rest of the Terran contingent, whose mental health they have been hired to maintain, when I turn back around and see only the Shings making their way across the sand, the Fischers'' backs disappearing as they continue to make their way (presumably) back to the ship!

    ¡°Oh, [hell] no!¡± I mumble, under my breath, as I get up to follow after them.

    ¡°Where you goin¡¯, Cap?¡± queries Victor after me.

    ¡°Oh, I just want to have a little chat¡­¡± I say, containing my anger ¡°¡­no need to follow¡­¡±

    I beat my wings and am (just about) able to get airborne due to the atmosphere being unusually thick for gravity so low (not that it¡¯s low enough to allow me to go without a compensator)(!)

    I give a brief downward greeting as I pass overhead of the Shings.

    I angle upwards to clear the canopy top, then, through the cyan palm fronds, I see them.

    I bring in my wings to pass through a gap that would otherwise not be wide enough and alight on the path behind them.

    Still a little out of breath from the effort of flying on a deathworld (if just barely) I call out ¡°Drs Fischer¡­¡± causing them to turn in surprise ¡°¡­on the beach¡­ we¡¯re having a little social gathering to celebrate the successful transfer of the last of the refugees¡­ I invite you to join us¡­¡±

    The pair share an awkward frown with eachother before the woman nods (as if giving permission for something) the man turns back to me and says ¡°We¡­ uhh¡­ we won¡¯t be joining you guys¡­¡± in his voice so baritone that it¡¯s in danger of falling off the bottom end of my hearing register.

    Anger flares up in me and I¡¯m about to shout at them; just my luck to settle on antisocial therapists! Ones who, upon hire, demand a room away from the rest of the Terran enclave and never visit socially! Why do they think I¡¯ll allow them to counsel people they obviously don¡¯t like or, at least, don¡¯t wish to form friendships with!? If they don¡¯t want to be near their future patients then perhaps they ought to seek employment elsewhere¡­

    I¡¯m about to say all that¡­ when I stop myself, take a deep breath and say instead ¡°Alright¡­ what am I missing?¡±

    ¡°Huh¡­?¡± says the deep voiced man with the scarlet on raven hair.

    ¡°I¡¯m clearly missing something so, rather than me making a fool of myself, why don¡¯t the two of you just tell me: What am I missing!?¡±

    The two of them share another look before the woman answers this time ¡°You¡­ seem to be labouring under the misapprehension that¡­ therapists should be friends with their clients¡­ that it¡¯s best for us to consort, socially. This is not so.¡±

    I balk ¡°So therapists are meant to be adversarial with their patients?! That seems quite odd to my way of thinking¡­ surely, you should be friends with those you¡¯re meant to help?¡±

    The ivory skinned woman shakes her head and corrects ¡°No, we¡¯re not supposed to be enemies¡­ we¡¯re allowed to be friendly¡­ it¡¯s just being friends presents a boundary issue¡­¡±

    ¡°A boundary issue? Could you explain, Dr Fischer?¡± I ask, skeptically.

    ¡°I can¡­¡± she confirms ¡°¡­Terran therapy relies, for maximum effect, on talking¡­ openly, honestly¡­ Ideally, they should feel like they can tell us anything!¡­ If we¡¯re friends, that immediately alters the dynamic¡­ our opinions are suddenly ones that matter¡­ there are things they feel they can¡¯t tell us¡­ it gets in the way of counselling them effectively¡­ I mean there¡¯s definitely a minor boundary issue, already, with the fact that we have so many people, from the same social group, to be split between just me and Marc, leading to the possibility that one of them might tell one of us something, about another, that the other wasn¡¯t ready to have us know¡­ but given that it¡¯s simply not practical for you to hire enough therapists for every one of them to get their own exclusive one (plus, we shouldn¡¯t and won¡¯t be divulging things said by person A, to person B, in the first place) the ethics committee rubber stamped the arrangement¡­ but we won¡¯t socialise outside of sessions¡­ it would unnecessarily impede our ability to provide effective counselling.¡±

    There is a long pause as my brain works to parse all of that information, then I sigh ¡°¡­I should have known you would have method behind your apparent madness¡­ there always is when it comes to Terrans¡­ and Terraphiles, it seems¡­ You had better not disappoint me¡­ you had better turn out to be the first rate graduates you seemed to be when I interviewed you¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, we will¡­¡± says the man, affecting cocksure selfconfidence.

    Slapping his shoulder with her hand/wingclaw the Spelvuk woman says ¡°Marc!¡± with mock horror ¡°¡­Ignore him, Captain. What he meant to say was; we will do our best and thank you again for this amazing opportunity!"

    I give a wry smirk before saying ¡°I¡¯m sure¡­(!) Anyway, off you go before you create a ¡®boundary issue¡¯(!)¡±

    The two smile and turn back to the direction of the ship.

    I turn back to the beach.

    As I cross back over the threshold of the forest, I see Yu¨¢n cupping the cheeks of his water dragon with his hands, playing affectionately as the flexible, convoluting body of the excited animal roils this way and that in, what is readily apparent to be, a play version of the test he administered on my crew the first time we met.

    As I approach I raise my voice to say ¡°It seems you were right, Master Yu¨¢n¡­ he did come back!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XIV: Pancakes and Jealousy

    ---Jennie¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Alright bitch, what¡¯s up?¡± demands Hildy, over my shoulder, causing me to yelp in surprise as she presses her towelclad chest against my back.

    ¡°Whuh¡­?¡± I jerk.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you ¡®whuh¡¯ me! You¡¯ve been acting weird for hours, now! Out with it!¡±

    She¡¯s clearly more amused than concerned but ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about. Strange how?¡±

    She stands back up and swivels my work stool to force me to face her.

    Smirking down at me with a mordant grin she folds her arms beneath her boobs (boosting them very distractingly) and raises an eyebrow ¡°You barely did any wolfwhistling or catcalling of everyone in swimwear at the beach! You saw a 3m tall vampire queen in a black, backless swimming costume that was bisected down to her naval and didn¡¯t use the phrases ¡®sit/step on me, Queen!¡¯, ''snu snu'', ¡®Mummy milkers¡¯, ¡®big tiddy goth girlfriend¡¯, ¡®slay¡¯, ¡®bonkhonagahoogs¡¯, ¡®dummy-thicc¡¯ or ¡®thiccer than a bowl of oatmeal¡¯¡­ Hell! Even I can tell that Eurasian husband of hers was an utter hunk, too, and you didn¡¯t say anything lewd about him either! When we walked back to the ship, you didn¡¯t try to grab a handful of my arse even once! And, finally, I tell you I¡¯m taking a waterbath and, for the first time in our relationship, I manage to bathe without you attempting to join me and turn it into sexytimes! So¡­ I ask again¡­ what¡¯s up?¡±

    Defensively, I respond ¡°You make me sound like some sort of sex crazed gremlin! I¡¯m not a compulsive! I can choose to control myself, you realise?¡±

    She gives a twisted smile and answers ¡°Oh, never doubted that! Just never known you to choose to be anything other than a little succubus!¡±

    ¡°Concubus, if you don¡¯t mind(!)¡± I say, with affected hautiness.

    She closes her eyes and tightens her face in recall ¡°Oh, yeah¡­ remind me of your headcanon sex Demon terminology?¡±

    ¡°¡®Succubus¡¯ comes from the Latin verb ¡®succub¨¡re¡¯, meaning ¡®to lie beneath¡¯, ¡®Incubus¡¯ comes from the verb ¡®incub¨¡re¡¯, meaning ¡®to lie atop¡¯ and cognate with the verb ¡®to incubate¡¯¡­ nothing about gender in either of those roots¡­ Therefore, I submit that both succubi and Incubi can be both male and female! You¡¯re an Incubus if you¡¯re a Top and a succubus if you¡¯re a bottom. ¡®Concubus¡¯, from ¡®concub¨¡re¡¯ ¡®to lie beside¡¯ and cognate with ¡®concubine¡¯, serves as a nice term for those whose Top/bottomhood is fluxional¡­ that¡¯s me¡­ Jennie the concubus(!)¡± I answer.

    She sarcastically brings the heel of her hand to her forehead and mocks ¡°Of course(!) So simple(!)¡± before pulling me to my feet and into a bearhug ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s up, my little concubus?¡±

    I sigh ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s not important¡­ I¡¯m just¡­ ruminating¡­¡±

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    I look down into Dormouse¡¯s gorgeous hazel eyes, not meeting mine.

    She¡¯s making me drag this out of her¡­

    This is¡­ unusual¡­ She¡¯s generally not the type to keep things to herself. She¡¯s always so direct, forthright, forthcoming¡­

    What could be causing her to exhibit these weird behaviour changes¡­ that she feels she can¡¯t tell me?

    A disturbing thought occurs causing me to bring a hand to her forehead and press it against her skin.

    ¡°Baby, you know the rules, if you¡¯re sick you have to report to quarantine until you know what you¡¯re sick with¡­ You can¡¯t get complacent just cause you¡¯re a being with a Class 12+ body and Class 12+ immune system! That doesn¡¯t make you invincible and, even if it did, you can¡¯t account for how unknown pathogens might affect gardenworlders! You do not want to be Patient 0 of a brand new xenonotic pandemic!¡±

    She pushes my hand away in a combination of irritation and amusement ¡°I know the rules! I¡¯m not sick, dummy!¡±

    ¡°Then what!? Tell me! There¡¯s something up and not knowing what it is, is beginning to get frightening!¡± I press.

    She sighs ¡°OK¡­ sit down¡­¡±

    I hesitate for a moment before releasing her from the hug and turning to sit in one of our armchairs.

    She sits opposite me and opens her mouth, inhaling¡­ then closes her mouth.

    She makes several more abortive attempts to speak.

    I¡¯m able to restrain myself from shouting at her to just ¡®spit it out¡¯ and wait for her to say ¡°It was what Xonny said earlier¡­ it made me¡­ jealous¡­¡±

    I raise an eyebrow ¡°You¡¯re upset that there exists even one person who has a preference for me, not you, between the two of us?¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s not it¡­¡± she corrects, desperately ¡°I wasn¡¯t jealous of you¡­ I was jealous of her¡­ I was jealous¡­ for you¡­¡±

    Extremely surprised, I answer ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little¡­¡±

    ¡°Hypocritical?¡± she interrupts ¡°Twofaced? Duplicitous? Treacherous?!¡± she continues.

    ¡°I was actually going to go with something a bit more like ¡®out of character¡¯ or ¡®against type¡¯¡­¡±

    She puffs, mirthlessly and replies ¡°It¡¯s all of the above! I don¡¯t get jealous! In Nursery, when Rian MacGriogair, Niamh NicNair or whoever used to come up to me and tell me to give them the toy I was playing with, I always did so, happily! There were other toys in the box after all! It took me ages to empathise with how it must feel to get jealous but¡­ it was always abstract¡­ something that happened to other people¡­Until today¡­ I¡¯m just trying to work out what¡¯s wrong with me¡­ Why am I suddenly jealous?¡±

    I screw up my eyes for a few moments, dumbstruck.

    ¡°So, let me get this straight¡­¡± I titter, a little incredulously ¡°¡­the thing that¡¯s bothering you is¡­ not the fact that your girlfriend got flirted with by another woman? Instead, you¡¯re bothered by the fact that you got jealous? You¡¯re bothered by having been momentarily bothered? By the ¡®duplicitous¡¯ things you believe this newfangled jealousy indicates about you?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± she answers with a face and tone that say ¡®take this seriously, it¡¯s no laughing matter!¡¯ ¡°I¡¯m upset by a, brand new, negative emotion making its way into my life for the first time!¡±

    I smile, widen my legs and pat the space between them, beckoning her with my other hand.

    She hesitates, frowning a moment, before getting up, walking around the low table, turning around and sitting against me.

    I wrap both arms around her stomach and sweetly ask ¡°You remember our agreement?¡­ The deal we negotiated, when we got together?¡±

    She leans her head against my clavicle, underneath my chin, and answers ¡°I believe your exact words were ¡®I¡¯ll tolerate your flirting but anything beyond that is out! Do we have a deal?¡¯¡± with a wry smirk.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ that was definitely the gist of it, at least¡­¡±

    ¡°Are you going to say that that slices both ways? That I can¡¯t get upset about you getting flirted with when you¡¯ve tolerated my flirtatiousness all this time?¡± she responds, miserably.

    ¡°Wrong again¡­ I was actually going to say that the key word in that deal was ¡®tolerate¡¯: You know I¡¯m a bit more, shall we say, ¡®traditional¡¯ when it comes to relationships but I was prepared to tolerate you being a massive flirt, so long as your panties stayed on!¡­ I won¡¯t lie, part of me is kind of gleeful at the thought of you finally getting to know what it feels like but I am not judging you for getting jealous¡­ it¡¯s normal to be jealous¡­¡±

    ¡°Not for me, it¡¯s not¡­¡± she mopes.

    I think for a moment, giving her a reassuring squeeze as I do ¡°How about we try a little thought experiment¡­¡±

    Looking back and up, over her shoulder, my little princess from G¨¤idhealtachd ¨´r asks ¡°A thought experiment?¡±

    I nod ¡°Yes; let¡¯s imagine your nursery had its funding cut massively and there was only enough money to let them keep a single toy, just one, you have to take turns playing with it, then, when it comes to your day with the toy, one of the other kids are playing with it and won¡¯t give it to you when you ask, refusing to listen when you point out that you let them play with it on their day¡­ how do you think you would have felt?¡±

    She wobbles her head and answers ¡°Obviously, I¡¯d be kind of pissed off but¡­ why would we even have a rota for the single toy anyway? Surely it would make more sense to keep a toy that could be played with by multiple kids at once, right? Like a boardgame or something?¡±

    I scoff ¡°Dormouse¡­ I am in no doubt that, when you were a wee bairn, you had both the comprehension and patience for boardgames¡­ but most of us mere mortals didn¡¯t!¡­ Now¡­ that righteous anger you felt about having your turn on the toy stolen? That¡¯s jealousy!¡±

    She firmly shakes her head ¡°No, it¡¯s not¡­ not to me, at least! To me jealousy has to be irrational! Selfish! It doesn¡¯t make sense for people to want people all to themselves! Maybe once upon a time it did but in a period where STDs are but the inconvenience of a trip to the doctor¡¯s to cure and no one is going to be left destitute for getting knocked up by a lover who then goes AWOL, what sense does it make that we¡¯re all still so hung up on monogamy!? Why not love a little more freely? Why not love eachother as we wish as opposed to how our parents want us to?¡±

    Ah ¡°Your parents? Is that what this is really about?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± she answers, immediately, before pausing ¡°¡­I mean, maybe¡­ kinda?¡­ My thoughts on this are definitely my own but it doesn¡¯t help that this kind of jealousy is exactly the way I think they would have felt if the other got flirted with or that you¡¯re exactly the kind of person they would have been delighted about me dating¡­ beautiful, strong¡­ Human¡­¡±

    I cock an eyebrow ¡°I¡¯d not lose points due to my lack of penis?¡±

    She cocks an eyebrow in return ¡°I was born in 2686¡­ not 1886(!) My parents might have been old fashioned and mildly bigoted towards uplifts and resurectees and moderately bigoted toward xenos but even they would have a hard time justifying homophobia!¡­¡± her eyes narrow and turn upward, thoughtfully ¡°¡­Though, now I think about it¡­ they were always pushing me more toward boys¡­ OK, that¡¯s baggage I can unpack another time¡­ the point is; I don¡¯t want to be jealous, regardless of where that desire came from!¡± she pouts at that latter.

    I rest my chin on the top of her head and squeeze her against my chest ¡°Baby, there may be 0.74 quadrillion toys in this toybox of a galaxy¡­ but I¡¯ve found the one I want(!)¡­ Exciting as it would be, in theory, to have a fourway with the tallest Human woman I¡¯ve ever met, the strongest woman, full stop, and the most beautiful woman in existence¡­ it¡¯s only the last of those who I actually want to be with in practice. You¡¯re all I need and you don¡¯t need to be jealous for me¡­ but I don¡¯t think any less of you for getting jealous.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    A brief pause follows before she answers ¡°But I do, though, I think less of me for getting jealous¡­¡± miserably.

    My chin still on her scalp, I reply ¡°Welp¡­ not much I can do about that, I¡¯m afraid(!) Maybe you should book a session with one of our new therapists?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re implying that being poly is something that ought to be treated(?)¡± she asks with a moderate helping of cheek.

    ¡°You know damn well I¡¯m implying no such thing!¡± I laugh before adding ¡°I am being serious though¡­ it¡¯d probably help to talk about it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll take it under advisement¡­¡± she says, thoughtfully.

    I reach across her front with my right arm and pull on her left shoulder, to turn her around so that her front is against mine.

    She looks up with her lips slightly parted to reveal her captivatingly adorable diastema. Her freckled cheeks flush and her hazel eyes are flicking between mine.

    I close my eyes and bring my lips to hers. I will never get tired of the hitching inhale she does, every time I kiss her. I will never get tired of the way her cockiness, cheek and smugness evaporate as she melts into me!

    Every night I spent in prison I dreamt of holding a girl just like the one I hold right now; smart, confident, pretty, sexually adventurous¡­ I may have got a little more than I bargained for on that last point(!)

    I break from her lips, press my forehead against hers and open my eyes to see hers still closed.

    I stroke the back of her head and say ¡°Jenny¡­ I hope you know I fucking love you¡­ I hope it¡¯s not to scary a thing for you to hear, as a chronic commitmentphobe, but I love you¡­¡±

    She opens her eyes and chuckles ¡°I know¡­ I¡­ I¡­ I think I love you, too¡­ I never imagined wanting to stay with someone the way I want to with you¡­¡± I feel her hands tighten at my sides, so subtly that I don¡¯t know if she even realises she¡¯s doing it ¡°You make me feel safe¡­ you make me feel cosy¡­ like you¡¯ll be on my side, no matter what¡­¡±

    I feel water sting my eye and make to look away but her hand pulls my face back to meet hers.

    A single tear spills from my eye, streaks down my cheek and splashes on my chest.

    A smile breaks across her beautiful face.

    ¡°I think¡­ we just levelled up our relationship(!)¡± she quips with a little giggle.

    ¡°I think we did!¡± I smile ¡°Do you want to¡­ go to the Cuddle Puddle tonight?¡±

    She grins and shakes her head.

    ¡°Do you want to¡­ just cuddle here?¡±

    She feigns thoughtfulness before answering ¡°I think I¡¯d prefer to mark the occasion with wild, crazy sex¡­ thoughts¡­?¡± with a devilish sparkle in her eye.

    ¡°I¡¯m down¡­ as long as you don¡¯t expect me to do anything to your arse(!)¡±

    She laughs ¡°You think I¡¯d let you anywhere near my arse, after what happened last time(!?)¡±

    ¡°In my defence, babes, you didn¡¯t explain¡­¡±

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have had to explain!¡± she laughs, hysterically ¡°I¡¯m a woman, not a battletop! The beads have to go in slowly and come out slowly!¡±

    We spend the next 30 seconds unable to speak due to how hard we¡¯re wheezing.

    When we¡¯ve mostly recovered, I pull her close and ask ¡°So, tell me, Schr?dinger¡¯s Concubus¡­ what mood are you in tonight? Do you want to Top¡­ or to be Topped?¡±

    She thinks for a moment then answers ¡°Top me, Brunhilda ¡®Samus¡¯ Arran! Make me squeal! Ram me into the mattress! Make me beg! Make me lose my mind!¡­ I¡¯m in that kind of a mood, right now!¡±

    I puff through my nose and answer ¡°Noted¡­ You want me to use the strap?¡±

    Her face illuminates as if she¡¯s just remembered something highly important/exciting and she says ¡°Actually, Hildy, I just finished something¡­ something I think you¡¯ll like¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­do tell?¡±

    She gives me a brief peck on the lips before standing up and saying ¡°I think it¡¯s better if I show you¡­¡± with a sultry expression.

    ---Jennie¡¯s perspective---

    I take Hildy¡¯s hand and lead her over to my workbench, on top of which is Twila¡¯s part finished body.

    ¡°If this is what I think¡­¡±

    ¡°Shhh! You¡¯ll ruin the surprise!¡± I say, sternly.

    ¡°I thought you were supposed to be in bottom mode?¡±

    ¡°Not yet, I¡¯m not(!)¡± that¡¯s going to have to wait until you¡¯re wearing the surprise!

    I pull out a box and turn to her with it held between us¡­

    ¡°Ta-daaa!¡± I say, opening the box to unveil what¡¯s inside.

    Her expression turns from curiosity to one of mild alarm.

    She looks up from the box with concern and says ¡°Err¡­ Dormouse¡­ Impressive as it absolutely is that you, presumably, made this entirely by yourself¡­ you don¡¯t think you¡¯re being a tad¡­ overambitious?!¡±

    I turn my head as if I have no idea what she might mean.

    ¡°Overambitious(?)¡± I ask, innocently.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I would be very unnerved by that thing going inside me and I¡¯m¡­ a much larger woman than you!¡­ I don¡¯t want to actually hurt you!¡­ How sure are you that you don¡¯t have eyes bigger than your pussy about this?¡± she asks, pointing quizzically into the box.

    "I computer modelled it¡­ the chances of anything rupturing are low enough that I would be happy enough recommending it to someone else on the strength of the numbers."

    She smirks ¡°Of course you computer modelled the likelihood that your new sex toy would rupture your insides(!) What a supremely normal thing to do(!)¡±

    ¡°Ha-ha(!)¡­ Are you in or out?¡±

    She looks down into the box and thinks for a moment.

    ¡°If you promise to tell me the instant that that thing stops feeling OK¡­ then you¡¯ve got a deal.¡± she says with suspicion.

    I beam.

    With her left hand she reaches under her right armpit and yanks the tucked in towel free of itself. It falls to the floor leaving her breathtaking body entirely nude.

    Those muscles! Those tits! Those legs! Those hips!

    ¡°Baby¡­ much as I always appreciate your admiration, you¡¯ve seen me like this a thousand times!¡± she says, wryly.

    ¡°I have.¡± I confirm ¡°I¡¯ve also seen sunsets thousands of times¡­ beautiful things are beautiful, regardless of how many times you¡¯ve been exposed to them!¡±

    She gives an amused sigh, shakes her head and reaches into the box, pulling out the gargantuan cyberdick I made for her.

    ¡°Have you ever used a haptic accessory before?¡±

    ¡°No but I assume it¡¯s as simple as¡­¡±

    ¡°Just be aware¡­¡±

    At this point my strong, stoic, statuesque girlfriend bends double, crosses her eyes, flares her nostrils, purses her mouth into a tight ¡®o¡¯ and, shuddering violently, yells ¡°H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-HOOOOOH!¡±

    ¡°¡­*sigh*¡­ just be aware that jacking an erogenic accessory onto your clit¡­ is a lot more intense than jacking a translator at your temple¡­ that was the silliest face I¡¯ve ever seen you make¡­ That looked like it felt equivalent to trying to chug a half litre of lemon concentrate followed by a half litre of vodka, thinking both were water¡­ Am I near the mark?¡±

    She nods, still gasping from the unexpected shock to her nervous system ¡°Uncannily!¡±

    I step forward with a smile and reach out to gently stroke my girlfriend¡¯s new cock with the tips of my fingers.

    ¡°How is it?¡± I query.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ strange¡­ is this what having one actually feels like?¡±

    ¡°As close as can be matched up by pure, data-driven input¡­ As to whether there¡¯s any uncapturable qualia that can¡¯t be replicated¡­ you¡¯d have to ask someone with an organic one(!) Though, I think, if any of the guys, onboard, had one this big¡­ well¡­ we¡¯d be aware(!) ¡­ It would be the kind of thing that no quantity of baggy clothing could conceal(!)¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a weird mix of springy and rigid!¡±

    ¡°Yep¡­ almost like a penis¡­(!)¡±

    Her lips tighten, unimpressed.

    ¡°Alright, smartarse! I obviously wouldn¡¯t know, would I!?¡± she chuckles, wryly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ we all get experimental at uni¡­¡±

    She puffs ¡°My uni was a cell at Neu Stuttgart Minimum Security Women¡¯s Prison¡­ so¡­ no, I wasn¡¯t able to get too ¡®experimental¡¯ in the way that everyone apparently does(!)¡±

    I give a sympathetic pout.

    ¡°Sorry, Hildy¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to-Eeep!¡± I¡¯ve been bundled off the ground, mid-sentence, for the second time today!

    ¡°I think¡­¡± she smiles roguishly ¡°¡­it¡¯s about time you got rammed into the mattress! Don¡¯t you agree, temporary succubus?¡±

    I emit a shuddering exhale, bite my bottom lip and nod, excitedly.

    She carries me to the bed and throws me onto it.

    I only have time to give a squeal of delight before her hands are at the collar of my cardy and she¡¯s ripping it open to reveal the strapless bikini top I¡¯m still wearing from the beach.

    The buttons clatter as they¡¯re strewn across the floor.

    Hildy gives me a confident smile and I feel a complicated swell of emotions threaten to overtake me. Mainly to do with how much I love her and how little I want to lose her or share her¡­ damn this jealousy!

    She reaches down, untucks my sarong, yanks it out from under me then lifts the horsecock between my legs to lie on the front of my bikini bottoms.

    As it brushes against my thighs, I can feel the elastomer heating up but it hasn¡¯t fully warmed up yet, so it¡¯s still slightly cool compared to her.

    She pulls the cardigan over my shoulders and down my arms before tossing it to the floor.

    I pout my lips (I hope alluringly) and tilt my chin back slightly, hoping she gets the hint.

    She smiles, wickedly, and, with a lightning fast hand, seizes my throat. She clearly understood the assignment(!)

    I close my eyes and try to moan.

    No sound comes out due to her gently crushing my windpipe.

    I feel her knuckles, just above my solar plexus, as she grasps the centre gore of my top and yanks it up, causing the catch to fail and the whole thing to come away, leaving me bare chested.

    Her eyes linger for a second and a half on my tits before returning to my face with a slightly manic grin.

    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to seeing how your belly will bulge from having this thing inside you(!)¡± she says, not removing her hand to allow me to answer.

    Still constricting my windpipe, intoxicatingly, she leans down to whisper-growl in my ear ¡°You¡¯re all mine! My toy!¡­ Anyone else wants you, that¡¯s too bad! You might hold jealousy to be a vice¡­ but I don¡¯t!¡­ Anyone wants to play with my toy, they¡¯ll have to fight me for her!¡±

    She doesn¡¯t allow me to object that being poly doesn¡¯t mean I would ever cheat on her so, instead, I just roll my eyes.

    She releases my windpipe, allowing me to take several gasping, spluttering breaths.

    She draws back to her full height and brings her hands to my hips, quickly identifies the working ends of the knots and pulls them.

    My bikini bottoms now untied she pinches the hem and teasingly drags them out from underneath her monster cock.

    Giving them a squeeze, she feigns confusion ¡°Hmmm, I¡¯d have thought these would be dry by now(!) Been a while since the beach(!)¡±

    I burst out into giggles and she smiles, satisfied that she made me laugh.

    When I¡¯ve recovered, she reaches to my chest and slowly strokes the backs of her fingers between my breasts and down my stomach.

    She turns her hand to put her palm in contact with my skin. She slides it to the side of my abdomen, across the gap between the bottom of my ribs and the crest of my hip. She mirrors the arrangement with her, off hand, right.

    Withdrawing her hips from mine, she brings the head of the accessory to my lips and asks ¡°You¡¯re sure about this?¡±

    I nod ¡°Stick it in before I change my mind!¡±

    She shrugs¡­ and slowly pushes forward¡­

    I feel the monster cock, I lovingly designed, modelled and crafted, start to push my flesh aside.

    *Hhhhhnnnggg*¡­¡­¡­

    I may¡­ have made a mistake¡­

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    She¡¯s been pulling an ahegao expression for a while now¡­ I hope she¡¯s enjoying this as much as I am!

    Fuck, stretching out her tight little hole feels amazing!

    Seeing her perky little tits sway up and down with the motion of her body is incomparable!

    Seeing the disturbance of her stomach as this thing moves in and out of her¡­ it¡¯s a massive enhancement to an already hypererotic experience!

    I press my thumb into the soft flesh just above her pubic bone, enjoying the pleasurable way that the extra constriction feels along the shaft.

    She seems to enjoy that too, from the way her expression gets somehow even more idiotic(!)

    ¡°How¡­ *huff*¡­are you¡­ *huff*¡­enjoying¡­ *huff*¡­being¡­ *huff*¡­used as ¡­ *huff*¡­a fleshlight¡­ *huff*¡­ bitch(!?)¡± I ask, viciously.

    Her burbled response sounds something like ¡°hernguhaugahubbarunnnguthugburnemegtorgth¡­¡± cluing me into the fact that while the lights are still on there is nobody home(!)

    I laugh, cruelly and pick up the pace a little.

    After a while, I decide a change of position is due.

    I pull out of her causing a babbling yelp.

    ¡°If¡­*huff*¡­you want¡­*huff*¡­to keep ¡­*huff*¡­going ¡­*huff**huff*¡­ turn over¡­*huff*¡­ and get¡­*huff*¡­your hips¡­*huff*¡­in the air!¡±

    There¡¯s a moment where it looks like she¡¯s not going to do it, making me worry that she has actually not been cognizant for some time.

    Then, to my relief, she stirs shakily and with, what looks like, tremendous effort turns her self over, works her knees underneath herself and raises her hips.

    I bring my palms to her exquisite little arse and give it a stroke, eliciting a shudder, then a light smack, eliciting a gasp.

    I reach under her bushy hair to grasp the back of her neck and skull ¡°You''ve done a lot of squealing, slut, I¡¯ve done a lot of ramming you into the mattress and your mind seems well on its way to lost¡­ I believe the only request unfulfilled is making you beg!¡± I smirk ¡°How much, exactly, do you want this thing back in your pussy?¡±

    She moans, feebly ¡°Plu¡­ plea¡­ pleeaaase¡­ I¡¯m¡­ begg¡­ing¡­! Please¡­ put¡­ ¡¯tback¡­ in!¡±

    ¡°I think you can beg better than that!¡± I say, maliciously.

    She sobs ¡°Pl-e-e-e-e-e-e-a-a-a-a-a-se!¡±

    I laugh ¡°OK¡­ that¡¯s better!¡­ If you want it so badly(!)¡±

    Reaching under her hip and around her thigh, I catch the head of the accessory and manage to work it back inside the hole it belongs in. This causes a series of very interesting and amusing noises from the temporarily inarticulate woman(!)

    I thrust the toy (which probably would have cost two months wages to buy new) into my girlfriend¡¯s shuddering quim.

    She cries out!

    This girl¡­ is mine¡­ I don¡¯t care how much she flirts¡­ how much she makes fun of my swimclothes¡­ I don¡¯t care who I have to fight for her¡­ and I certainly don¡¯t care if wanting her all to myself makes me selfish! She¡¯s mine!

    ---later---

    The love of my life nestles into me in a way that makes it difficult to believe she¡¯s capable of being anything but a bottom.

    The accessory lies on the bedside table and my hands are on Dormouse¡¯s arse.

    ¡°So¡­ was it everything you hoped?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It was so much more intense! I¡¯m definitely gonna be weak kneed all day tomorrow! How was it for you.¡±

    ¡°It was¡­ interesting¡­ I definitely enjoyed Topping you like that¡­ I was not a fan of the tristesse, afterward(!) I don¡¯t like the implication that that¡¯s a hardware feature more than a software one(!)¡­ On the whole, I¡¯d say it was fun but I¡¯d say using that¡¯s going to be a ¡®now-and-then¡¯ treat(!)¡±

    ¡°Oh, for sure!¡± she laughs ¡°I feel like I¡¯m going to need a week to recuperate(!)¡±

    I squeeze her closer to me and say ¡°That¡¯s definitely no good¡­ make sure you get a full breakfast tomorrow to help you recover.¡±

    Her weary eyelids drooping, she answers ¡°Yeah¡­ French toast, maybe¡­ waffles, possibly¡­ nah, pancakes¡­ definitely pancakes!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.37

    ---Snow---

    ---Chreptrii¡¯s perspective---

    ---[2685, Terran Calendar]/[28 Years BF]---

    I walk atop the crust on a [50cm] deep layer of snow.

    How the enemy have managed to stay hidden in this forest, when their bodies are so massively dense that the snow forces them to wade through it rather than walk over it, I will never understand!

    Winter on Vissitrith is noticeably colder than on my home planet¡­ [2] or [3¡ãC]¡­ not enough to be life threatening but enough for me to feel the chill through my fur.

    Three of my hands grip the improvised flag while my fourth reaches, instinctively, for the sidearm I relieved myself of before setting off.

    As a career soldier, even before the War, I feel somewhat naked with no weapon but¡­ I just have to keep reminding myself that I¡¯m safer without one, right now!

    I enter into a sloped clearing that was, just yesterday, the sight of a crushing battle.

    Bloody patches (in every colour) festoon the area¡­ along with the twisted, frozen bodies of hundreds of my brothers and sisters in arms.

    I pause a moment, at the edge of the open space, before thrusting the pole over my head and waving it, such that the white sheet billows back and forth.

    I think about what else I can do to both make my intensions clear and attract their notice¡­

    ¡°Sons and Daughters of Terra¡­¡± I shout in qiQitni ¡°¡­I have come to parley! I beg of you to hear my words!¡±

    I repeat in Galactic Basic.

    ¡­Silence¡­ not that I expected anything else¡­ Of course, if they¡¯re here, if they¡¯re watching, they likely don¡¯t understand what I¡¯m saying at all¡­

    Neural interface translators are not technology that they had developed, preContact. I can only hope that my tone and the banner I¡¯m carrying indicate my intentions.

    I wait¡­ and receive no answer.

    I lift up a foot and place it forward¡­ only for a plume of snow to be violently thrown up, [30cm] in front of me, followed by the *CRACK* of explosive propulsion, catching up a [half second] later (limited, as it is, by the speed of sound).

    [14 years] of soldierly discipline is all that keeps me from shrieking in terror.

    I manage to collect my spilled thoughts enough to determine that that shot was not intended to hit me.

    [6 years] of grizzly experience inform me that Terran snipers always hit exactly where they mean to!

    I think that was a warning.

    I continue to stand, stock still, for a few moments longer. No more shots ring out and I¡¯m still breathing.

    I wait for what seems like an eternity¡­

    Eventually, I decide that they clearly aren¡¯t willing to talk and so turn to go.

    I haven¡¯t got more than 2 paces before I hear the *fszzt**fszzt**fszzt* of projectiles striking the snow behind me, followed by the *crack**crack**crack* of their propellant blasts catching up to them.

    Another warning? ¡®Don¡¯t leave, things are in motion, have patience¡¯? Is that what they¡¯re trying to convey?

    I return my gaze to the incline and continue waiting.

    Finally, a chunk of snow breaks itself from a drift and stands.

    With powerful footsteps that cleave through the snow, as if it were but mist, the Terran approaches me.

    This Terran does not have the physique of a sniper, in my view. Rather, they look like a line breaker! Even compared to other Terrans I¡¯ve seen, there¡¯s an obvious power to the stocky body in matte white armour advancing down the hill.

    The [1.8m] soldier draws up to about twice their own height¡¯s distance away from me.

    Clipping their rifle to their back, they point at me and do a twirling motion with their finger before placing their arms behind themself.

    In answer I take a boxed translator from a pouch on my sash and extend it to them, slowly and carefully letting them see it.

    They glance at the translator, then at me, then shake their head from side to side, in a gesture I don¡¯t comprehend, before, once again, jabbing the same finger in my direction, pointing it downward and twirling it, before briefly placing their hands behind their back.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand¡­¡± I say, hesitantly ¡°¡­if you just take the translator we can communicate freely. Why do you insist on this miming?¡±

    I haven¡¯t a hope of being understood by them, of course¡­ Or so I thought¡­

    After a few seconds of staring unnervingly down at me through their blank, expressionless helmet, they reach up and detach it to reveal almost as expressionless a face!

    The heavy features, as well as a layer of fur on the lower portion, indicate that this is likely a male.

    Most Humans I¡¯ve ever seen, both in reality and recordings, have been wearing those face obscuring helmets but, of those Human faces I have seen, his is extremely unusual!; a broad, proud nose is topped with an extremely prominent brow, with bushy bronze fur that matches that of his head. Unlike the far more common brown, blue, grey or black irides that most Humans have, his are a vivid turquoise. He has a chin that slopes back from his mouth, rather than jutting forward, as would be normal for Humans.

    He must be one of these ¡®walking-extinct¡¯ subspecies of Humanity that I¡¯ve heard about¡­ I know Humans are extremely heterogenous but this can only be a cousin!

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    None of his stark deviations from typical Human facial structure are the most striking thing about his face, however¡­ That would be the horrific burn scar at the left edge of his mouth.

    He opens his jaws, to reveal a mangled speech organ that even I (with zero education in deathworld anatomy) can appreciate renders him entirely mute.

    ¡°Ah¡­ I understand¡­ You wouldn¡¯t be able to talk to me even if you did put this on, would you?¡± I sigh ¡°Miming it will have to be, then!¡±

    He replaces his helmet and, slowly, points to me.

    ¡°Me¡­?¡± I query, gesturing to myself.

    The deathworlder bobs his head up and down¡­ could that be a ¡®yes¡¯?

    He places his arms behind himself first this time¡­ changing the previous order¡­

    Unsure what else to do I mimic him, placing my four arms behind myself.

    More enthusiastic headbobbing coupled with an extended fist with an upward thumb¡­ I¡¯m choosing to interpret that positively.

    Finally, he points his finger down and spins it¡­ to indicate¡­ something¡­

    I take one of my hands from behind myself to mimic the motion, eliciting a frustrated sigh, audible through his helmet.

    Seeming to resign the attempt to make me understand his gestures the man closes the distance between us and, with irresistibly powerful hands, turns me to face away from him.

    Ah, I understand, now! The finger twirling was a representational gesture! He meant for me to turn around!¡­ I feel a little foolish for not having understood.

    I¡¯m relieved of my sash and roughly frisked by his sinewy hands.

    I¡¯ve always known that Terrans were¡­ something else but this is the first time I¡¯ve ever actually felt their strength! He controls my body as easily as I might handle a handful of powdered snow!

    Eventually, seeming satisfied that I conceal no weaponry, he pulls my lower arms behind my back and loops his thumb and index finger around my wrists, binding them with that hand while he fumbles for something.

    I feel a length of plastic being threaded around where his fingers were and then cinched¡­ Ah, a [ziptie]! A Terran device that allows for quick, easy securement of a potentially resistant individual!

    I do not resist as he [zipties] my upper arms behind me, on top of my lowers.

    My hands bound, the man rounds my front and looks at me, seeming to consider something.

    He reaches behind himself and rips a long strip off of his heavy, white, canvas cloak, as easily as if it were made of paper!

    He approaches me with the length of heavy cloth and ties it over my eyes.

    My world becomes darkness as he deprives me of my vision.

    I feel a solid hand reach to cradle my underside, between my front and back legs.

    I¡¯m hoisted into the air before being spun around disorientatingly.

    I hear the *crunch**crunch**crunch* of this Terran carrying me away through the snow, though I could not say in what direction.

    I turn my head down and beseech my Ancestors to bless my task.

    ---Fang¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Ow!¡± exclaims the woman, angrily, as I disinfect her newly empty eye socket.

    I cock my brow (not that she can see that) and respond ¡°Oh, my apologies, little girl(!) I thought I was treating decorated war hero and certified badass; Commander Miyazaki(!) I didn¡¯t realise I was actually treating a small child(!)¡±

    Pursing her lips, in a way that lets me know exactly what she thinks of my attempt at comic relief, she asks ¡°Tell me, Doc¡­ how many times have you had an eyeball burst from flashboiled aqueous humour?¡±

    ¡°Zero times¡­¡± I answer, wearily.

    She feigns thoughtfulness ¡°Then¡­ your qualification to dictate what an appropriate pain response is¡­(?)¡± cupping her ear as if genuinely curious.

    I think about answering that a mostly finished medical doctorate and 6 years of field experience should count for something but, sensing how that would be received, I instead sigh ¡°None¡­¡±

    She taps her index finger against her chin as if considering ¡°Hmmmm¡­ hmmm¡­ in that case; fucking OW!!!¡±

    I flatten my ears and dip my snout, suitably chastened.

    After a few moments of silence as I dress her wound, I ask ¡°Out of curiosity¡­ what species were they?¡±

    ¡°Hmmm?¡± she frowns.

    ¡°The one who slagged your helmet and melted your face?¡±

    She laughs ¡°Lovely bedside manner, Doc(!)¡±

    I smile ¡°Yes, well¡­ if experience has taught me anything it¡¯s that you soldiers appreciate candour(!)¡­ So¡­ what were they?¡±

    She waves a hand, dismissively ¡°Never bothered learning the whole menagerie¡­ One of the big ones¡­¡±

    ¡°A Kyklo?¡± I enquire.

    ¡°No¡­¡± she negates, thoughtfully.

    ¡°A Spelvuk?¡±

    Her face turns hard as she says ¡°If there were roughworlder elites on planet, you think I¡¯d let anyone be ignorant of it!? No!¡­ It was one of those motherfuckers that look like a prehistoric rhino walking upright.¡±

    ¡°What was the horn like? Like a brontotherium or more like an elasmotherium?¡±

    She says nothing, only giving me a hard stare (despite her lack of sighted eyes) that shouts, loud and clear, that she has no clue what the difference is, even though it was her who made the comparison to ancient rhinos!

    I sigh ¡°Was it one of the purple, shaggy boys with the two pronged horns or was it one of the hairless red ones with the long, conical horn?¡±

    ¡°One of the purple shaggy boys.¡± she answers.

    ¡°That would be a Threndian¡­ How badly did it hurt?¡±

    She shrugs and answers ¡°Oh, you know¡­ what I assume (bearing in mind this has only happened to me twice(!)) is the normal amount for having molten durasteel held against your face and scalp by your helmet(!)¡±

    I give a forlorn, little whine causing her to burst into laughter. It¡¯s disconcerting to see such a hearty laugh from one with so little face left!

    ¡°Don¡¯t make that noise! When you do you remind me of Pochi, the shiba I had as a child!¡±

    I roll my eyes and shoot back ¡°Yes¡­ and when you laugh like that you remind me of a capuchin I saw at a zoo once(!)¡­ Doesn¡¯t feel good to be compared to a semisapient cousin species, does it!?¡±

    She smirks back ¡°¡­but¡­ you¡¯re such a good boy, Fang(!)¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t even¡­! Your ancestors never told mine that they were ¡®good boys¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Yes, we did, and the ones we told eventually became domestic dogs!¡± she shoots back.

    I frown ¡°You are far too coherent for someone on the dose of painkillers I¡¯ve given you!¡±

    She shrugs ¡°Yeah¡­ I have noticed diminishing returns with every time you¡¯ve given me them.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not ideal¡­ I would switch you to something else but a) it¡¯s probably best if you aren¡¯t absolutely blitzed when Hrom gets here and b) we don¡¯t have anything else¡­¡± I say.

    Her mouth tightens as I remind her.

    I start ¡°Emiko¡­¡± but am cut off.

    ¡°No.¡± she interrupts.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°I know what you¡¯re going to say and, if you¡¯re about to give me advice relating to my command, Civilian, then it¡¯s not ¡®Emiko¡¯ it¡¯s ¡®Cdr. Miyazaki¡¯!¡± she says, all cheer gone from her voice, an icy chill in its place.

    ¡°Apologies, Commander¡­ As you¡¯ve no doubt inferred, I was going to counsel you to attempt to negotiate some sort of safe passage back to Terran Space or, failing that, a surrender conditional on our rights as POWs being guaranteed.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t trust any guarantees given to us by people who think we¡¯re monsters! People who think we¡¯re an affront to nature for the crime of existing!¡± she spits, angrily ¡°Once they have us in a position where we can¡¯t fight back they¡¯ll just murder us!¡±

    ¡°That¡­ might well be the case¡­ but you know as well as I that we¡¯re not going to make it to the next supply drop and, surely, a likely death is preferable to a guaranteed death?¡±

    ¡°Sure you¡¯re not just getting soft, Lowell?¡± she asks, spitefully.

    Now, it¡¯s my turn to get angry ¡°Is that what you think?¡± I say, with cold fury ¡°After everything you¡¯ve seen me put up with? After everything you¡¯ve seen me do? You think this is just about me not being able to hack it, anymore? Wanting to get back to my creature comforts? Is it so unbelievable that I might have genuine concern about the dwindling supplies of everything?¡­ Including personnel? Who¡¯s going to replace you for instance¡­? As far as I can see, no one else left alive is even remotely qualified for command!¡±

    She seems to realise that she crossed a line as she says ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Doc¡­ I didn¡¯t mean that¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Emiko¡­ You¡¯re doing a remarkable job of putting a brave face on it¡­ but I understand that the pain must be agonising. I¡¯m certain I¡¯d say things I didn¡¯t mean if I were subjected to a hundredth of the pain you must be experiencing, right now.¡± I say, my voice softened.

    ¡°I¡­ I just can¡¯t do it¡­ I can¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just hear what they have to say¡­ then make a decision?¡± I suggest.

    She looks up, with her sightless, bandaged eyes and nods ¡°OK¡­ hand me my katana¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.38

    ---Facilities---

    ---Chreptrii¡¯s perspective---

    The Terran places me on the ground and, a moment later, pulls off the cloth he used to blind me. In so doing, he reveals a cavern in which stands the single most fearsome looking being with which I have ever shared an enclosed space!

    This creature stands easily more than [2.5m] tall, is covered in a thick coat of dense white fur, overtop of which is a fabric uniform in the usual Terran snow white [camouflage], only this one is streaked with bands of scarlet (which stirs a memory¡­ though, right now, I¡¯m too terrified to recall the significance of white and red Terran clothing), has a canine snout with clearly predatory teeth matching clearly predatory claws at the end of every digit and predatory, forward facing, yellow eyes.

    I am in no doubt that this brute must be the master of this warband!

    That they carry no weapon and wear no armour reads as more threatening than if they were radically armed and armoured! As if to say ¡®I need no weapons, no defence, not even stealth, and, even still, I shall be your superior in all matters of war and death!¡¯.

    Likewise, the placid expression with which they look down on me is, somehow, every bit as menacing as if they had their teeth bared in wrath!

    Next to this white furred titan sits¡­ a woman¡­ Terran, Human (not a cousin)¡­ she doesn¡¯t look particularly tall or bulky by Terran standards¡­ rather, she¡¯s average height and slim looking. The most notable things about her are the elegant, sheathed plasma blade that rests across her lap, the scars that cover every inch of exposed skin that I can see and, strangest of all, the white cloth entirely enclosing the top half of her head!

    One look at her unrestrained hands, holding a weapon, discount her being a prisoner like me¡­ but why else would she be blinded like that?

    I don¡¯t have to wait long for my answer as the Terran who carried me here approaches her and not the predator standing to her right. He gives her the translator and she (presumably having explained to her what it is by the giant whose voice, it turns out, is surprisingly soft) pokes it underneath her head wrapping. As she does, she reveals the edge of a patch of raw, burned flesh¡­ those wrappings are bandages.

    The moment she manages to activate the translator is made obvious by the fact that her whole body is wracked by violent shuddering, clearly indicating a dearth of experience with nervejacking.

    ¡°¡­ting, testing, 1, 2, 3¡­¡± she says, her tone being rendered as almost bored.

    ¡°I hear you.¡± I volunteer.

    She gives a mirthless exhale ¡°*huh*¡­ Would you look at that! A working translator! A translator that works on Humans¡­ this thing must be worth its weight in gold!¡±

    A little confused I answer ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a lot more valuable than the same weight of any naturally occurring element, Ma¡¯am.¡±

    Another humourless puff as she turns her face to me and answers ¡°A figure of speech¡­ I mean that it¡¯s extremely valuable.¡±

    I suppose they only started asteroid mining a few centuries ago¡­ Being from such a high gravity world, gold was probably quite scarce in their crust, for the majority of their history. Being so rare will have made it valuable. Language may not have caught up to that no longer being the case¡­?

    Alright, I¡¯m not here to ponder linguistics, I had better introduce myself ¡°I am Groupleader Chreptrii, son of Kirerit, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance¡­¡±

    A sneer and curt bob of her head followed by ¡°[untranslatable rank: ¡®Commander¡¯. Meaning: one who orders and is obeyed] Emiko Miyazaki, leader of the [UTC 10,091st Rangers], and I wish I could say the same¡­¡±

    This is not going well! Her translated voice is layered with scorn and contempt. Also, did this blind woman just reveal that she is ultimately in charge? Not the monster? Does that make them her bodyguard?

    ¡°¡­this is Fang ¡®Doc¡¯ Lowell¡­¡± she says, gesturing to the enormous carnivore to her right ¡°¡­and you¡¯ve met [untranslatable rank: ¡®Sergeant¡¯. Meaning: one who serves] Hrom Rivers.¡± Accurately gesturing (despite her sightlessness) to the armoured one who carried me here ¡°¡­speaking of; Thank you, [Sergeant], you are dismissed. Please release our guest¡¯s hands before you leave.¡±

    The bronze haired man stiffens, brings his hand to his breastplate and begins tapping out a staccato cadence, reminiscent of the automatic firearms with which Terrans fight.

    Listening a moment, the woman gives a mirthful puff and says to me ¡°[Sgt] Rivers seems to think he needs to stay here, in case you get violent. Would you mind telling me your species so I know exactly how hard to laugh at that?¡±

    Stumbling a little on the fact that Terran soldiers can, apparently, communicate through nothing more than rhythmic tapping, I manage ¡°¡­ I¡¯m¡­ a siQeten, Ma¡¯am¡­ I¡¯m the current leader of the sisiQeten detachment on Vissi¡­¡±

    ¡°Fang, describe him for me, would you?¡± she interrupts, indifferently turning to the white predator.

    ¡°Hizgoht grei foor, forrahmz, forrlegz, rodentain appiranss¡­¡± the canine says, looking at me appraisingly.

    She bursts into hysterical laughter, it¡¯s some moments before she manages ¡°A [Chinchillataur]¡­?!¡± my translator gives me an apologetic shrug over the word it¡¯s flagged as untranslatable ¡°¡­*hahahahaha* Nice try, Rivers!¡­ Release his hands and, then, kindly [untranslatable expletive: ¡®fuck¡¯. Nearest approx.: copulate] off! Fang will look after me, even if he is a man of peace!¡±

    A man of peace!? That thing!?!?!?

    The one called ¡®Rivers¡¯ shrugs, draws a small blade and deftly cuts my bindings before making to go.

    ¡°Rivers¡­¡± calls the [Commander] causing her subordinate to stop and look back ¡°¡­get some rest¡­ I¡¯m sure you¡¯re tired¡­¡± she says, her voice softer than I¡¯ve yet heard it.

    The man gives a bob of his head before leaving.

    ¡°Now¡­¡± says the woman, her translated tone ice cold and her sightless gaze returning flawlessly to my location ¡°¡­ I must say that I¡¯m impressed you¡¯d have the bravery to walk into our lair¡­ you¡¯re not at all scared that we¡¯re going to [untranslatable term: ¡®flay¡¯. Meaning: peel/strip the entirety of an organism¡¯s skin] you alive(?!)¡±

    I wasn¡¯t until the moment she said that!

    ¡°I¡¯d offer you a drink but I¡¯m afraid your choices would be [tea] or instant [coffee] and while I don¡¯t know if you could survive drinking [tea], I¡¯m fairly certain our [coffee] would kill you¡­ You could have water, I suppose?¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the offer¡­¡± I say, trying to be as cordial as this woman is terse ¡°¡­I¡¯m not thirsty¡­ If you don¡¯t mind my asking¡­ the one to your right¡­ what is his rank?¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have one. He¡¯s a [untranslatable term: ¡®civilian¡¯. Meaning: one not engaged in military service]¡­¡± she shrugs.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°A [civilian]? What is a [civilian] doing on a military expedition!?¡± I ask, incredulously.

    ¡°[untranslatable term: ¡®Humanitarian¡¯. Meaning: concerned with or seeking to promote welfare] observer and embedded medic.¡± she answers, nonchalantly.

    I appraise the red and white clad man, recalling, now, the meaning of that livery.

    ¡°That¡­ seems like a bit of a waste of talent, in my opinion¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re entitled to your opinion¡­¡± she says, flatly.

    ¡°¡­but you don¡¯t share it?¡±

    The blind woman gives an appraising puff through her nose but does not answer¡­ I have never felt as heavily scrutinised as I do right now!

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive my appearance¡­ one of your compatriots gave me the pleasure of a plasmaspear to the face, yesterday(!)¡­¡± she doesn¡¯t sound particularly apologetic. Also, strange¡­ do Terrans consider war wounds pleasant to receive? That seems to be what she just implied¡­

    ¡°Your appearance is forgiven¡­¡± I hesitate over whether to apologise for her injury or congratulate her on her apparent happiness about it. I opt to say nothing.

    ¡°So¡­ a white flag, huh?¡± she asks, smugly.

    ¡°Research indicated that it is the Terran symbol of truce and parley.¡±

    She scoffs ¡°Maybe in the [22nd century]! These days white¡¯s a funerary colour!¡­ I¡¯m told that Rivers initially reported your appearance with the words ¡®I¡¯ve got a mourner here¡¯(!)¡± she mocks.

    ¡°So¡­ a white flag is outdated? What would the modern equivalent be?¡±

    Her lips tighten as she says ¡°There isn¡¯t one!¡­ we haven¡¯t fought a real war for centuries¡­ until this one, that is¡­ and, in this one, you¡¯ve been a little too busy trying to [untranslatable term: ¡®exterminate¡¯. Meaning: kill/destroy entirely (note: often associated with the concept of ¡®vermin¡¯)] us to set any rules of engagement!¡­ Not much point in surrendering to those whose stated aim is your [untranslatable term: ¡®eradication¡¯. Meaning: utter destruction]!¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t as if¡­¡± I begin trying to defend.

    ¡°Both of my parents were aboard the Paloma¡­¡± she interrupts, entirely forestalling me.

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I wince ¡°¡­my condolences¡­¡±

    ¡°All they wanted to do was talk you idiots down from this stupid [fucking] War¡­¡± she says, with acrid bitterness.

    I give her a moment.

    ¡°So¡­ tell me, why are you here?¡± she asks, in a low, seething anger.

    I steel myself to answer ¡°I am here¡­ to discuss a surrender¡­ this senseless fighting has gone on long enough¡­¡±

    Her lip curls in what my translator informs me is both disgust and contempt. What have I done wrong!? Wasn¡¯t she just saying¡­?!

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we haven''t the proper facilities to take you all prisoner, sorry(!)¡± she sneers.

    ¡°What?!¡± I ask, flabbergasted.

    ¡°We¡¯d like to but we can¡¯t accept your surrender(!)¡±

    Of all the answers I had considered¡­ that was not one of them!

    I begin pleading ¡°[Commander], please! Be reasonable! You must¡­¡±

    ¡°SHUT¡­ UP¡­!¡± she snarls in the most dire, chilling, ghastly voice I have ever been exposed to.

    I look to the [humanitarian] who gives me a seemingly sympathetic curl of his mouth¡­ How could I have so thoroughly misjudged both of them, initially?!

    The mass of fury, that I had thought a woman, continues ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the pain I¡¯m in, the [untranslatable term: ¡®painkillers¡¯. Meaning: drugs that murder pain] I¡¯m on or just the whole [fucking] situation but I¡¯m feeling in the mood to unload so you are going to sit there and listen while I vent! Is that understood!?¡­Don¡¯t answer that!¡± she says, preempting the paradox of me being asked to confirm that I understand that I am to say nothing, before my brain has caught up to it.

    I say nothing.

    The feral woman continues ¡°You have no idea what I¡¯ve lost to this War! Me! PERSONALLY!!! What your little attempted [untranslatable term: ¡®genocide¡¯. Meaning: deliberate and systematic killing, aimed at the destruction of a group] has robbed me of; my parents, more friends than I can COUNT, my face and, most recently, my [fucking] eyesight¡­ My eye¡­ for the SECOND time! Right now, if our two sides had never bumbled their way into eachother, if we were still able to live, unmolested, on OUR planets, you know what my biggest concerns would probably be?¡± she brings a hand to her chin and looks up in mocking mimicry of deliberation ¡°Should I do a post-grad? Should I start my career? Should I travel first? Where should I travel? I sure hope my classmates don¡¯t saddle me with an embarrassing epithet! Should I shoot my shot with that hunk of a classmate before we never see eachother again?¡­ You know where I am instead!? Here!¡­ I¡¯m thousands of lightyears from Terran Space, fighting you guys, solely to keep you here and not at the Front! I¡¯m almost certainly never going to get an epithet because I¡¯m almost certainly not making it off this planet alive! I¡¯m forced to play Commander to a bunch of teenagers who already consider me part of the ¡®old-guard¡¯¡­ I¡¯M TWENTY FOUR!!! I never wanted to be a soldier! You understand?!?!?!¡­¡± she doesn¡¯t give me the chance to answer before she stands, slams the chape of her sword against the floor and continues ¡°And, now¡­ NOW you think you can just waltz in here and demand our surrender just because you¡¯ve given us a bloody nose!? You can mark my words; the 10,091st will surrender over. my. dead. BODY!!!¡±

    The blind woman stands, her chest heaving from the exertion of her wild ¡®vent¡¯. She glares chillingly through her bandages. During the entire time she spoke she managed to keep perfect track of where I am in space.

    Eventually, after an eternity of silence, I manage the courage to ask ¡°May I speak now, [Commander]?¡±

    She gives a disdainful sigh¡­ and waves a hand in a way that my translator informs me means something like ¡®if you must¡¯¡­

    ¡°You¡­ seem to have misunderstood¡­ I¡¯m not here to demand your surrender¡­¡±

    She twitches her head, confused ¡°But you said¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to offer you the surrender of the Planetary Forces of Vissitrith¡­¡±

    She slumps back down onto her seat.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it¡­¡± she says, breathless.

    ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± I confirm ¡°Though, honestly, I¡¯m a little confused. You seemed to understand that, at first, but then started talking as if you thought I wanted you to surrender! It was as if, originally, you were saying the opposite of what you meant, for some reason!¡±

    ¡°You mean the movie quote¡­? The whole thing about how we don¡¯t have the facilities?¡± she queries ¡°Does your language not have [sarcasm]?¡±

    I listen carefully to my translator¡¯s explanation of that term, then answer ¡°It does not, no.¡±

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    ---2714 Terran Calendar/11 months AF---

    I pour myself out a measure of sake and raise it to the scowling, eyepatched face in the photo.

    ¡°Here¡¯s to you, young lady. You¡¯re still here!¡­ You made it!¡­ Well¡­ most of you did¡­ but the parts that didn¡¯t got pretty looking replacements¡­¡± I gesture to my purple eyes and the silver streak in my hair ¡°¡­53, today¡­ I¡¯d say you¡¯ve more than made up for the youth you lost to that War¡­ You got over yourself¡­ eventually¡­ You managed to wipe that permanent scowl off your face¡­ You grew into your epithet¡­¡±

    I consider, for a moment, whether I should have let anyone know it was my birthday¡­

    No¡­ I don¡¯t think so¡­ I¡¯m much happier not being subjected to a song and dance!¡­ A cup raised to the past is as much marking of the occasion as it needs.

    At that moment, I hear a knock on the door.

    I frown slightly.

    ¡°One moment¡­¡± I say, throwing on my yukata over my chemise.

    I open the door to see a shock of frizzy, vivid, orange hair one head below mine and one of jet black ringlets two heads above mine.

    ¡°Ms. Hunter¡­ Ms. Loper¡­ to what do I owe the pleasure?¡± I smile.

    Thran thrusts a nice looking bottle of high ABV shochu at me and mumbles ¡°Happy birthday¡­¡±

    I beam ¡°Oh, you shouldn¡¯t have! How did you even know?¡±

    ¡°It was in the file I got for you, when I became your bodyguard¡­¡± she says, almost guiltily.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t get you anything, I¡¯m afraid¡­ someone didn¡¯t tell me until I bullied it out of her, just now(!) Still¡­ happy birthday, regardless.¡± smiles Xon, playfully.

    ¡°Appreciated, nonetheless!¡± I laugh ¡°Would the two of you like to join me for a drink? I¡¯ve just come into possession of a lovely bottle of shochu that I think would taste better shared(!)¡± I hold up the present.

    The two women share a look before turning back ¡°We¡¯d love to!¡± grins Xon.

    ¡°Perfect¡­ please leave your shoes in the footwell by the door and come in!¡±

    The two ladies step into my room and follow me back to the couch I was sitting on.

    Xon emits an admiring whistle and gestures to the centre of the photo of the 10,091st ¡°Who¡¯s that hotty with a body and a shotty(!?)¡±

    I laugh ¡°She¡¯s a young, dumb soldier who thought the galaxy revolved around her¡­ she¡¯s an old lady now¡­¡±

    Both women sit before Xon says ¡°I¡¯d like to hear all about her¡­¡±

    I chuckle and sit ¡°I can tell you about her¡­ if you¡¯re sure you won¡¯t regret asking¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.39

    ---Yukikaze---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°No, no, no, no, no!¡± I slosh, tipsily ¡°Plasmablades were so easy to reverse engineer we¡¯d done it before breakfast(!) It¡¯s just a length of metal with a miniature fusion core attached and a shaped containment field to keep it from vaporising itself! Containment fields were some of the first tech we were able to replicate, postContact! I had ordered my sword before I even finished officer training!!!¡­ It was translators¡­ I would have given my left tit to be able to communicate with the opposite side or take troops into my unit with whom I didn¡¯t share a language! That and FTL coms¡­ phoning home for orders and to relay intel would have been oh so convenient!¡±

    The gracile, Tshwane woman smiles curiously, just as inebriated, and asks ¡°I don¡¯t want to be¡­ tactless but what was wrong with the mountains of translators you, presumably, could have foraged after any battle?¡±

    Here Thran murmurs ¡°They weren¡¯t designed with the thought that they¡¯d ever be used by deathworlders¡­¡± not seeming sure whether to address her girlfriend or me and, so, addressing the floor.

    I beam at her ¡°Exactly, girl! Terran neurons are very distinct from those of any gardenworld species. Terran languages are minefields of nuance and idiom¡­ We tried scavenging them, early in the War, they were worse than useless! And, because they required a level of technological development that we just couldn¡¯t replicate, we had to fight the whole War without them!¡±

    A light smile adorns the corners of her mouth at the implied praise ¡®well done for knowing that¡¯ which I just gave her.

    The only evidence of the absurd amount of alcohol she¡¯s put away is the slight flush touching her cheeks.

    In one direction; she is a BIG woman¡­ in many ways (not that that¡­ *ehem* ample chest of hers will be any help, alcohol not being lipid soluble(!))... But, in the other direction; Neanderthals have markedly lower tolerance, per unit of bodyweight, than Sapiens and she has had a lot¡­ It¡¯s impressive that she still seems so sober!

    ¡°Hey, Emiko¡­!¡± interjects Xon, excitedly, as if she¡¯s just thought of something.

    ¡°Yes, Xon?¡± I answer, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

    ¡°You¡¯ve still got it, right?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­? Got what?¡±

    ¡°The sword, obviously!¡± she answers, rolling her eyes, an exasperated smirk twisting her mouth.

    ¡°Oh¡­ my service sabre¡­? I do still have it¡­ You¡­ want to see it?¡±

    Xon nods eagerly and even Thran looks mildly curious.

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± I shrug as I get up and make for my wardrobe ¡°¡­it¡¯s not a plasmaweapon anymore, don¡¯t be disappointed¡­¡±

    I pull out a 140cm box, lain on its side, which I then bring back to the table we¡¯re sat around.

    I set the box on the table and bring my hand to its left side, sliding off the lid to the right.

    I reach inside and pull out my pride and joy ¡°This is my sword, Yukikaze¡­¡±

    Using my thumb, I push the tsuba until the seal that the habaki maintains with the matte white sheath is released, exposing the glossy, black, wootz patterned blade.

    Xon¡¯s mouth falls agape, her eyes go wide and an expression crosses Thran¡¯s face that, on anyone else, I would call ¡®mild surprise¡¯. On her, however, it looks like astonishment(!)

    ¡°No fucking WAAAAAAAAAAAY! For real?!?!?!¡± shouts the Tshwane.

    I smile with a hint of smugness and answer ¡°Yes¡­ it¡¯s one of only a few tens of thousands ever made with a durasteel blade¡­ Afterward, they figured out that, as they cut with heat and not their edge, durasteel isn¡¯t the best material for them¡­ not to mention it would have been prohibitively expensive to manufacture as many as we needed out of durasteel!¡­ The very sensible decision was made to switch to a far more cost effective alloy for plasmablades¡­ as a side effect, I ended up with an extremely stylish katana, probably worth more than a medium sized house for the combination of its rareness and the value of durasteel it contains¡­¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t be more jealous! That has got to be the coolest object I¡¯ve ever seen!!!¡± praises Xon ¡°I bet you kicked so much arse with that baby!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°I mainly used it for melting through the plating on armoured vehicles and fortress walls¡­¡±

    ¡°You say that like you think that sounds less badass!¡± she roars, mirthfully.

    Then another thought seems to occur to her as she stares at my fruitbowl ¡°Emiko¡­ do you reckon, if I threw a peach at you, you could slice it in half?¡±

    I laugh ¡°A peach? You¡¯d find that impressive, would you?¡±

    Seeming to pick up on the fact that I consider what she just asked to be both amusing and a mild affront to my skill, she defends ¡°I¡¯ve got quite a pitch!¡± in demonstration, extending her long, slim arm (which, like the rest of her, looks like that of a Sapiens put through a taffy puller(!))

    I purse my lips, mirthfully, wave my hand, placatorily, and say ¡°No doubt, no doubt but¡­ give me a minute and I¡¯ll give you a much better exhibition than fruit slicing!¡±

    Her left eyebrow flashes upwards ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯m intrigued¡­¡± she smiles ¡°¡­show us.¡±

    I grin and take out my holopad.

    I open up the app I use to shop for nanoforge schematics and begin searching for what I need for this demonstration.

    It must have cost a fortune for Tcakqaal to make private nanoforges standard issue on this ship¡­

    There! A little pricey for what it is but it¡¯s not as if I can¡¯t afford it(!) Plus¡­ you can¡¯t put a price on spectacle!

    I tap to purchase it and immediately send it to the forge which hums to life. I hesitate a moment but then decide that it¡¯s best to play it safe and, so, send a pair of safety glasses to print as well.

    Definitely a good idea, given the quantity of alcohol we¡¯ve all consumed!

    A few seconds more of the two girls looking curiously at my nanoforge before I stand to retrieve the object.

    I pick it up and examine it a moment before extending it, handle first, to Xon.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she frowns.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pellet gun.¡± I answer ¡°It should shoot a metal pellet, 4mm in diameter, at a little over 300kmph¡­¡±

    ¡°And what do you want me to do with it?¡±

    Instead of answering, I smile and walk over to the back corner of the room with my katana, unfold the safety goggles and put them on.

    The redheaded and ravenhaired women stare, disbelieving, for a few more moments before Xon exclaims ¡°No¡­ you¡¯re not serious! Not on my best day!!! You reckon you can hit a 4mm ball travelling at more than 300kmph!?¡±

    I smile ¡°Well¡­ I haven¡¯t done it since uni and I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever done it quite as close as this¡­ so I can¡¯t promise to get it on my first try but yes, I know I can¡­ this was part of my final exam in kenjutsu, at 17, so it should still be locked in my kinaesthetic memory.¡±

    She laughs (obviously having a little trouble believing), shrugs and rises to take position in the opposite corner of the room, pulling Thran along behind her¡­ as much as one can pull a 1/6th tonne woman(!)

    She turns around, effortlessly adopting the weaver stance (despite her intoxication) in a way that screams that she¡¯s had a thousand times as much training as any subordinate I commanded in the War¡­ though she¡¯s never been called on to truly use any of that training in anger.

    ¡°So, on your left?¡± she asks, wiggling the barrel back and forth to indicate that she wishes me to instruct her.

    ¡°Yes¡­ actually, one moment¡­¡± I say, having just realised that my yukata, though comfortable, was not really designed for martial arts.

    I unfasten the obi and drop it to the floor, shortly followed by the yukata itself.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°You¡¯re joking!!!¡± guffaws Xon, dropping the gun to her hip ¡°That¡¯s what you were wearing before we showed up?!¡­ You were just chilling out in a gossamer black chemise with red lingerie clearly visible through it? Are you a living advertisement from one of those ad cycles where companies are selling everything with sex(!?)¡±

    I shrug ¡°I like to feel pretty¡­ plus we just spent all day at the beach together! My bikini was far more revealing than this!¡±

    ¡°True, it showed more skin, but like Mouse said; it¡¯s the mystery creating the allure! Like, when you¡¯re in a bikini I¡¯m like ¡®Yeah, sure, that¡¯s a stomach¡­ it¡¯s sexy¡­ whatever¡¯ but when you put a mostly opaque bit of clothing over that stomach¡­ when you make me feel like I¡¯m catching a glimpse of something I¡¯m not really supposed to see¡­ it becomes 100¡Á sexier!¡±

    I snort and chuckle before raising my sword slightly and wryly asking ¡°You still want to see how good I am with this or are we on to the portion of the evening where we compliment eachother¡¯s underwear(?)¡±

    ¡°Why not both(?!)¡± she quips but then raises the pellet gun back to shoulder level.

    ¡°You want me to count you in?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Not necessary. Just shoot whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±

    With one last exhale, she squeezes.

    Before the trigger is even fully depressed Yukikaze is clearing his sheath. My eyes have already calculated exactly where, in space, he needs to meet the pellet and direct my body to put him there without ever seeing the ball.

    My conscious mind has effectively no input into the procedure.

    If I tried to visually process where the ball was, then meet it, I would be to late to respond, every time. Instead, I¡¯ve got to intuitively calculate ahead and just trust that my calculations are correct.

    *Ping*-*tck**tck**tck**tck**tck**tck* is the sound of the ball hitting the edge, followed by the two parts hitting the wall behind me, then the floor and audibly bouncing.

    The two women stand with their respective expressions of amazement adorning their faces, Xon with her eyes wide and her mouth agape, Thran with her lips slightly parted and eyebrows raised.

    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t see that but¡­ I heard it! I know that you successfully drew that sword and hit the ball, at least!¡± says Xon, still in bewilderment.

    I perform a noto (with a tiny bit more flourish than I really need to) to sheath Yukikaze, turn around and, after a little searching, am able to locate the remains of the pellet.

    ¡°Ah. Didn¡¯t manage to hit it dead centre! It looks like about an 80/20 split.¡± I say, disappointedly, as I examine the fragments.

    ¡°Oh, you hear that, Thran(!?) Just an 80/20(!) She didn¡¯t manage to hit it dead on(!) How lame(!)¡± laughs Xon, sarcastically, as the three of us return to our seats, I drop the imperfectly split pellet parts where they can see them and she places the gun on the table (a little more forcefully than I suspect she would if she were sober).

    Thran looks confused a moment before Xon playfully bends down to kiss the top of her head and clarifies ¡°Sarcasm, sweetie! It was very impressive!¡±

    ¡°I used to be able to hit it dead on.¡± I smile.

    ¡°Yeah, but you said you hadn¡¯t done this since uni? That¡¯s what? 30 years? 32?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°I didn¡¯t graduate until I was older than you are now; a few weeks before my 18th was when the Paloma was destroyed and the War truly began. For¡­ personal reasons, I was in the recruitment office the day of my birthday. I got scouted for officer training. Lost an eye about 4 years in and another 10 months before the War ended¡­ spent about 13 months on the waiting list to get them regenned afterward and only then started thinking about applying for higher education. So it''s only about 21 years since I last pulled out that party trick!¡±

    ¡°Oh, shit¡­ Sorry¡­¡± she says with an apologetic grimace.

    I wave my hand and smile ¡°Ancient history, don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    She nods appreciatively and continues ¡°Still! The fact that you can do it at all, after more than 2 decades¡­ The fact that you could ever do it in the first place!!! That¡¯s, like, a legit superpower!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s very flattering. Thank you.¡± I answer, sweetly.

    Here Thran asks ¡°That¡¯s why your eyes are purple?¡± marking probably the sixth sentence she¡¯s spoken since she crossed the threshold of my room.

    ¡°Exactly! They hadn¡¯t perfected regen yet so my hair ended up silver and my irides purple!¡± I smile warmly, causing her mouth to do that adorable and almost imperceptible upward curl again.

    ¡°Oh, wow! I kinda feel bad, now!¡± says Xon, biting her lip.

    ¡°Why do you feel bad, girl?¡± I ask, mirthfully.

    ¡°Weeeeell¡­ I sorta just assumed you purposefully got them modded that way to contribute to the whole¡­¡± she splays her long fingers and waves the tips vaguely over my body ¡°¡­MILF aesthetic you¡¯ve got going on!¡±

    I burst into laughter ¡°MILF aesthetic!? My MY, you¡¯re a brave one!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think you¡¯ve got a MILF aesthetic?¡± she asks, curiously.

    I consider a moment.

    ¡°I suppose, as much as one can have a ¡®MILF aesthetic¡¯ with the face of a woman in her twenties¡­ but that¡¯s not how I would have thought of it¡­ You¡¯re partly right that my image is somewhat¡­ cultivated¡­ Just as an example, I could have had my eyes and hair put back to normal after Terran regen had been refined, it would have been covered by the UTCM as veteran care, but, by then, I¡¯d sort of grown into them¡­ I¡¯d come to think of them as enhancements rather than blights or mistakes¡­ As I said, I like to feel pretty and so I own and wear a lot of nice clothes (in my defence, I spent the entire War wearing nothing but cold weather fatigues and white painted combat armour so I feel as if I¡¯ve earned the indulgence of wearing nice clothes for the rest of my life(!))¡­ This ¡®MILF aesthetic¡¯ is also a useful persona to adopt with gardenworlders, I find. The belligerence of my half-sister, my father and¡­¡± I gesture to the photo of my younger self ¡°¡­her, is all well and good if you want to intimidate a gardenworlder into doing what you want but, if you want to charm them, you need to be¡­ well, charming(!)¡­ That¡¯s a lesson I learned while I was commanding the occupation of Vissitrith.¡±

    Xon, looks thoughtfully at me, tapping her long index finger against her chin.

    Eventually, she enquires ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ did you just say you commanded the occupation of an entire planet?¡­ I mean, I¡¯ve never heard of that one so I assume it¡¯s not like a major hubworld but still¡­ you can¡¯t have been more than, what, 25!? How did that happen!?¡±

    I give a mirthless smile and answer ¡°It¡¯s a lot easier to get promoted in a total War. Often the only qualifications necessary are ¡®are you nearby?¡¯ and ¡®do you have a pulse?¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°You forget ¡®are you the kind of badass who can cut bullets in half with her sword?¡¯(!)¡± shoots back Xon with a wry cock of her eyebrow.

    I wobble my head consideringly ¡°I¡¯m not saying I wasn¡¯t a good soldier¡­ but a good soldier is not necessarily the same as a good Commander¡­¡±

    ¡°You still managed to command your way into a planetary surrender¡­ not bad for a ¡®not necessarily good Commander¡¯.¡± counters Xon.

    ¡°A fair point¡­¡± I allow ¡°¡­it may not have had everything to do with the fact that, of the people in that photo, a quarter were dead within the year and more than half would not survive the War.¡±

    ¡°Holy shit! For real?¡± cries Xon, looking to the crowd in horror ¡°I¡¯m so sorry! That must have been really hard for you.¡± she laments, sympathetically.

    ¡°It certainly wasn¡¯t easy¡­ but you do sort of go numb to it after a while¡­ Well, I did at least!¡­ Anyway, as I said, ancient history.¡±

    ¡°Do you talk to them, still?¡± asks Thran, softly.

    ¡°The survivors? Yes.¡± I point to Fang ¡°Do either of you recognise this gentleman?¡±

    They both squint at the wolfman before Xon goes ¡°OMG! Isn¡¯t that¡­¡± she snaps her fingers, struggling to remember ¡°¡­I forget his name but like fourth in charge of the UTCHC.¡±

    I nod ¡°Well done. Of course the Humanitarian Corps don¡¯t go in for strict hierarchy but you¡¯re right that he¡¯s (de facto) in a position of some seniority. His name¡¯s Fang ¡®Doc¡¯ Lowell, by the way. He and I regularly still chat over holo¡­ And that¡­¡± I point to the heavy featured face of the 10,091st¡¯s best sniper ¡°¡­I don¡¯t expect you¡¯ll recognise him, Xon, but Thran¡­?¡±

    Thran¡¯s mossy, dark green eyes squint at the photo ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Hrom ¡®Hush¡¯ Rivers¡­¡± she says in a low voice ¡°¡­he¡­ he¡¯s one of the Neanderthal community¡¯s representatives to the Kurultai on Yanga Dala¡­ my home¡­¡±

    I nod enthusiastically ¡°Yes, he is¡­ He and I had a fling after the War¡­ It was actually here, as it happens, on Neonesia¡­ After we were, finally, withdrawn from Vissitrith, we were housed in a compound next to the military hospital, here. We were both waiting for them to crack Terran regen, he was waiting for his tongue, I was waiting for my eyes. We spent a tonne of time together because I needed a set of seeing eyes until I got my temporary cybernetics and he needed someone to translate his words for anyone who didn¡¯t know morse¡­ things naturally progressed¡­ We ended things after we got our respective body parts back and it became apparent that our plans for the future were not compatible with eachother¡¯s¡­ but it was an amicable separation. Like with Doc, I still talk to him regularly. ¡±

    Xon smirks ¡°You¡¯re sure you never ordered him to keep you warm on what, judging by your uniforms, must have been some¡­ very cold nights on campaign(?)¡±

    I return the smirk ¡°You¡¯re damn right I was tempted to grab a hold of him while we were still active duty, especially on those most¡­ hopeless days where it felt like the War was just not winnable, but¡­ I mean quite apart from the ethics issue of a superior engaging in a relationship with her subordinate¡­ there was just the pragmatic issue of it being a distraction and compromising both of our fitness for duty¡­ It was only after we were discharged that we were really free to have that kind of relationship.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re saying it wasn¡¯t distracting to have someone under your command who you were so attracted to?¡± queries Xon with a cocked eyebrow.

    ¡°Oh, hell no! I¡¯m only saying it was less distracting than if I¡¯d acted on it!¡±

    She shrugs ¡°Sounds like you were denying yourself for no reason, in my opinion¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re entitled to your opinion¡­¡± I say, letting just the slightest hint of edge into my voice ¡°¡­now, how about a subject change?¡±

    The tall woman splays her disproportionately lengthy fingers, raises both eyebrows, twists her mouth and gives a slight nod, indicating that she¡¯s willing to drop it.

    There¡¯s a moment of silence before the deep voice of the stout, taciturn Neanderthal asks ¡°I¡­ want to be clear; I¡¯m not unhappy to be here but¡­ why do you need a bodyguard, Mistress Miyazaki?¡±

    I give a tiny sigh, resigned that I¡¯ll never get this woman to just call me ¡®Emiko¡¯, then answer ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually an ODR regulation I helped to draft: Gardenworlders¡­ for all their many, wonderful, plus points¡­ are, as a rule, absolutely terrible at assessing risk¡­ So, we thought it was a good idea for those with the significant job of assessing the viability of species to join the GU to have some protection from a deathworlder who¡¯s trained in threat assessment and neutralisation¡­ The fact that I¡¯m not a gardenworlder and am in fact a deathworlder combat veteran does not mean I get to break the rules I helped to write(!) Plus, party tricks aside¡­¡± I smile at Thran ¡°¡­I know which of the two of us I¡¯d back in a fight(!)¡­ There¡¯s precisely no way I¡¯d be a match for someone so physically powerful, with such deft combat skill and, not to mention¡­ gallantry!¡­ I saw the footage of you getting the Lanatkser Prime Minister to safety during that assassination attempt on Nova Italia¡­ I believe that armour of yours, in the Lanatkser colours, was a ¡®thank you¡¯ gift¡­¡±

    Here Xon cuts in ¡°So that¡¯s how you could afford a triple thickness suit of durasteel! Why wouldn¡¯t you just tell me you got it as a thank you for heroics!?¡±

    Thran looks down, abashedly, and murmurs ¡°Didn¡¯t want to brag¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not bragging to truthfully answer a question!¡± laughs Xon ¡°When you refused to tell me, I assumed you must have got it from the Yanga Dalan mafia or something!¡±

    Thran¡¯s light tan skin turns a vivid red.

    Putting my hand on her shoulder, my heart momentarily skipping a beat at the feel of the iron hard flesh beneath my fingers, I smile apologetically ¡°I¡¯m sorry I revealed something you¡¯d have preferred to keep hidden, Thran¡­ but your girlfriend is also right that it doesn¡¯t make you a braggart to own your accomplishments¡­¡±

    Face still bright red, she smiles at me and my heart skips another beat.

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XV: Pancakes and Snu Snu

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    I stand in the doorway of my room, the two excessively handsome women stood across the threshold from me.

    ¡°Happy birthday again, Emiko¡­ Many happy returns!¡± beams Xon.

    I smile sweetly back, with a long (slightly drunken) blink and hold out my arms.

    Her wide mouth grins, mischievously, and she bends down to hug me.

    It¡­ does take me back to being a child¡­ hugging someone so tall.

    Let me think¡­ how old would I have been when my mother was, proportionally, this much taller than me? 10? 11?

    I notice that Thran is sort of just awkwardly standing to one side.

    Without releasing Xon from the hug, I twist my body and extend my arm to the fiery haired woman.

    After an uncertain moment of hesitation, Thran steps forward (knocking me and her girlfriend, both, slightly off balance as she impacts the side of the hug with just a little too much force¡­ it must be a challenge to control things like that when you have such density that you literally mass the same as 3 women of a healthy weight and equal height!).

    I squeeze, gratefully, as the rich, combined fragrance of both of them fills my nostrils¡­ I feel a pang of longing, momentarily, before I squash it down.

    ¡°Thank you¡­ both of you¡­ You¡¯ve made this a birthday to remember.¡± I smile, sweetly, still hugging them, my eyes closed.

    Pulling away and drawing back up to her considerable height, Xon grins back ¡°I¡¯ll not soon forget it either¡­ I hope we can do this again, soon!¡­ Let us know if you ever want a chat¡­ don¡¯t feel like it has to wait for another special occasion or anything!¡±

    I nod ¡°I¡¯ll bear that in mind¡­ Good night, you two!¡±

    The tall woman nods (Thran just briefly fixes me with her usual Kubrick stare) before they both turn toward Xon¡¯s room.

    I spend just a moment longer than I should looking after them, as they go, before sighing and waving the door closed.

    Slumping down onto my bed, I pick up my holo and begin thumbing through the messages I received while with the two girls.

    Mostly messages wishing me a happy birthday. There¡¯s one from my half sister, one from Doc and many others from the friends I¡¯ve accumulated, over the years. There are even a few from gardenworlder friends of mine, doing their very best to understand this strange deathworld custom(!)

    There¡¯s a message from Hrom; he wishes me a happy birthday and explains that he¡¯s been seeing someone and it¡¯s become quite serious.

    There¡¯s a picture attached of him with his arm around a slim, dark haired, Sapiens man with sharp eyes.

    I have a brief giggle at the tactlessness of choosing to tell me this on my birthday¡­ followed by a tiny bit of jealousy.

    It¡¯s not as if I actually want him back after all this time but, still, there is a little pang of regret as I imagine the life we could have had if I¡¯d been willing to accompany him back to his homeworld.

    Well, there¡¯s no use lamenting what might have been.

    I compose a reply thanking him for the birthday message and wishing him luck with his new partner.

    Then, my eyes alight on the most recent message¡­ from MidnightBunny626¡­ who is that?

    I open it up and quickly remember who.

    <blockquote>

    Dear xXxSnowStormxXx

    Apologies for the delay, I had a bit of a queue to get through but I¡¯ve finally finished the animation you requested: Slim East Asian (f) dominated by Muscular Neanderthal (F).

    As previously discussed, there¡¯s no colour, the whole animation is greyscale.

    The first minute should be available to watch at this link.

    If you like what you see then please pay the remaining balance here for access to the full video.

    I really hope you like it but, unfortunately, on the advice of my partner, your deposit is not refundable.

    If there¡¯s any adjustment you¡¯d like made, let me know and we can negotiate it.

    Neural interface VR capability (for either character) can be added but that is beyond my skillset, I¡¯m afraid.

    All the best!

    MidnightBunny626

    </blockquote>

    I feel a complicated maelstrom of emotions in my stomach as I recall the impulsive, drunken decision to commission an animation of myself and Thran, shortly after meeting her.

    There¡¯s fear; I can only imagine the career destroying headline ¡®ODR Subcontractor Discovers Senior Figure¡¯s Grossly Indecent Conduct, Harassment Charges Filed¡¯!

    Guilt; That poor girl does not deserve to be fetishised like this!

    And¡­ a little disappointment; I sort of wish that the drunken moment of deciding to make this commission had come just a week or two later¡­ I would have like to include ¡®Wiry Tshwane (F)¡¯, in hindsight(!)

    There¡¯s a brief moment where I consider just deleting the message and forgetting this whole thing as a mistake¡­ I¡¯d lose the deposit but¡­

    ¡®No¡­¡¯ I rationalise ¡®¡­the artist deserves to be paid for the work they¡¯ve done¡­ I did ask for this commission¡­ even if I, now, regret doing so!¡¯

    I sigh and, without checking the link to the sample I tap the second link and pay the outstanding balance then toss my holo down onto the bed and roll over to bury my head in my pillow.

    I wallow a few minutes, trying to cope with the tangled web of negative emotions¡­ then I begin to rationalise, once more; It¡¯s not as if I gave the artist her name¡­ It wouldn¡¯t be any worse to watch the video than it was to commission it, in the first place!¡­ It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll ever let her find out¡­

    My horniness eventually wins out and I open the file, flicking it to a wall display and grabbing a pair of headphones.

    The characters appear.

    It¡¯s astonishing!¡­ I know I gave descriptions of how I wanted both of them to look but¡­ the artist got them perfect!

    It¡¯s almost as if they actually used the two of us as inspiration!

    I mean¡­ they may well have used Thran as a model for herself¡­ given that she¡¯s a moderate celebrity and, I¡¯m certain, her image will dominate the top results of any image or vid search for the search-term ¡®muscular Neanderthal woman¡¯. Me, however, I¡¯d be extremely surprised to see my image in the top thousand results for ¡®slim East Asian woman¡¯!

    The faces are just different enough to our real ones that a court would rule them ¡®legally distinct¡¯ but everything else is spot on!

    Thran¡¯s character strides to mine with bravado I¡¯ve never seen on her in real life and slams me into the wall of the dungeon we¡¯re in, choking me with her powerful hand and pulling upward such that my feet are lifted from the floor.

    I¡¯m treated to a closeup shot of offbrand Thran telling me I belong to her and she¡¯s going to hang me from the ceiling, making a living ornament of me for the rest of my life, before she roughly manhandles me, binding my hands and legs¡­ forcefully ballgagging my mouth, despite the fact that the only noises I¡¯ve thus far made have been pathetic little gasps and moans of shock and alarm.

    I¡¯m twisted into an inverted crescent, on the floor, as not-Thran hogties my limbs behind me before bringing down a rope, threaded through a pulley on the ceiling.

    ¡°Oh, hello Mr Leftie¡­ where do you think you¡¯re going(?)¡± I giggle to myself as my left hand strokes down my side, across the top of my thigh and under the hem of my chemise, into my panties.

    As the me on screen is lifted from the floor, I bring my right hand to my left breast and begin a sensual massage.

    I close my eyes and listen to the simulated voice of Thran¡¯s character telling mine that she¡¯s ¡®a pathetic little slut, no good for anything besides looking pretty and getting fucked!¡¯

    I tease the lips of my pussy and let out a squeak of pleasure¡­ it¡¯s at that point that I realise that I never put up the privacy field or locked my door¡­ both probably good ideas¡­

    I open my eyes¡­ then freeze¡­

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective, the next day---

    I walk down the corridor of Triple M, returning to the room I had such a great time in, last night.

    Rather than waving to send an alert, I bring the second knuckle of my index finger up to the door and knock out a *rap**tap-tap-tap-tap**tap* on it.

    A moment of silence, as, I¡¯d guess, she¡¯s checking who it is, then a miserable voice answers ¡°Go¡­ away¡­ Xon!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Now¡­ that¡¯s not very friendly(!)¡±

    ¡°¡­Let me wallow, Xon!¡­ Leave me alone.¡±

    ¡°What if I were to offer a bribe? Say¡­ a sheaf of hangover caps for a few minutes of your time?¡± I say, playfully holding the promised medicine in front of myself for her to see.

    A silent moment where I can feel her deliberating¡­ then the door cracks and a very dishevelled Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki reveals herself.

    She holds out her hand but I smile and shake my head ¡°Nope¡­ you let me in, then I give you this!¡±

    She falters a moment before waving the door all the way open and jerking her head for me to follow.

    The door closes behind me and I hit the lock and privacy switches before taking off my shoes and leaving them with hers.

    She flumps down on the sofa, without any of her usual grace, before stabbing her hand at me for the bribe.

    I hand them over and she greedily pops one before swallowing it.

    I watch as the bloodshotness fades from her unnaturally purple eyes.

    ¡°Better?¡±

    She looks up at me with the same scowl she wore in that old photo and answers ¡°Physically? Yes¡­ What was your plan for if I¡¯d been stocked up?¡±

    I snicker ¡°Well, that would be to point out that you probably didn¡¯t want to have this conversation through your door, where anyone might overhear¡­ I¡¯m glad plan A worked and I didn¡¯t have to resort to threats!¡±

    She sighs ¡°I¡¯m guessing Thran told you what happened¡­?¡±

    I nod ¡°She did¡­ Honestly, I really wish I¡¯d been there! Seeing the two of you just stare eachother down like deer in headlights before, from the sounds of it, she just awkwardly slunk forward, picked up her forgotten cardy then left without saying anything¡­ Priceless!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you think this is so funny(!)¡± she glowers, bitterly ¡°I¡¯m sure that girl must be horrified by being leered at and sexualised by a boss who¡¯s more than twice her age¡­ and my career is over!¡±

    I cock an eyebrow, quizzically ¡°What makes you say that?¡±

    She gives an irritated motion of her hand and glares ¡°Well¡­ what I did was completely inappropriate¡­ when the ODR find out, my Terran colleagues will make sure I loose my job over it¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­If the ODR find out¡­¡± I say, letting my words hang in the air a moment before adding ¡°Thran isn¡¯t ¡®horrified¡¯, by the way, though she is too embarrassed to join in, for this conversation.¡±

    She narrows her eyes, suspiciously, bringing my attention back to her deep purple irides, again. Of all the colours for them to have accidently ended up, purple has got to be the most flattering!

    ¡°Alright, what do you want? Money?¡± she says.

    I¡¯m dumbstruck a moment before I manage to stammer ¡°¡­E-E-E-Emiko?! You think I¡¯m here to blackmail you?!?!?! You and I are friends! I¡¯m hurt!!!¡±

    Surprise crosses her face and her scowl dissipates ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ you just¡­ you made it sound¡­ it sounded like your silence was contingent on something¡­¡±

    I suppose it did, thinking back!

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not! All I want is to talk about it!¡± I respond.

    She holds up her hands, her facial expression a mix of concern for having offended me and relief that I¡¯m not going to ruin her or blackmail her and she says ¡°OK¡­ let¡¯s talk!¡±

    I give a satisfied nod before starting ¡°¡­So¡­ you have a Neanderthal fetish, right?¡±

    She frowns, uncertainly, then shakes her head and says ¡°No¡­ not¡­ exactly¡­ it¡¯s not so specific¡­ more like¡­ a brawn fetish?¡­ Stoutness? Sturdiness? Robustness? It¡¯s difficult to pin down¡­ Neanderthals tend to scratch the itch quite nicely but¡­ I¡¯m not picky¡­¡±

    My heart sinks a little¡­ I¡¯m none of those things¡­ at least by Sapiens standards¡­

    ¡°Have you always had this fetish¡­¡± I ask, disguising my disappointment.

    Her face flushes and she answers ¡°No¡­ can I show you something¡­? You just need to promise not to laugh!¡­¡±

    ¡°I promise¡­ to try not to laugh at whatever it is you want to show me.¡± I respond, carefully.

    She retrieves her holopad and searches a moment before turning it around, revealing the androgynous face of a young man with neon green hair and electric blue eyes.

    ¡°When I was a teenager, this was my type; Kazuto ¡®Swoon¡¯ Cooper, a member of the boy band The FlYing FoXes¡­ They¡¯re still together, though, nowhere near as popular as they where in the 70s¡­ Fleem X and a few other modern groups definitely owe some of there sound to The FlYing FoXes¡­ He was a local boy, from Atarash¨© Hinode, and, Kami-sama, the embarrassing schoolgirl fantasies I used to have about him coming home and us running into eachother¡­ I was a little out of control!¡±

    Remembering my promise I stifle my laugh.

    ¡°Very mid 27th century style¡­ It¡¯s¡­ uhhm¡­ it¡¯s a little difficult to imagine that guy Domming anyone!¡­ Also, ¡®Cooper¡¯?¡±

    She rolls her eyes and waves her hand in a irritated flick ¡°Yes, New Australian great grampa, same way not everyone on Zanzibar has a Swahili surname!¡­ And you¡¯re right¡­ I never imagined him Domming me¡­ I imagined being the Domme in this nonexistent relationship!¡­ I imagined tying him to a chair, putting on a playlist of his band¡¯s sexier songs, straddling his hips and stifling his protests with kisses¡­¡±

    ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re a Switch? You like to Domme men and be Dommed by women?¡± I ask with an inward whoop but an outwardly curious, level tone.

    She shakes her head ¡°I didn¡¯t know I was bi until my late twenties¡­ and I¡¯m not a Switch¡­ it¡¯s more accurate to say I ¡®switched¡¯¡­ once!¡±

    ¡°And what cause that?¡­ Or do you not know¡­¡± I ask, leaning forward and listening intently.

    ¡°Oh¡­ I know exactly what switched me from Domme to sub¡­ it was seeing what happened to all the cute, little softbois, during the War¡­ they either ceased to be so or they didn¡¯t last long¡­ After about the fifth time a boy I had a crush on had his idiocy permanently cured, something snapped in me¡­ I realised I no longer wanted a weak, helpless lover who¡¯d let me dominate him¡­ I wanted a strong lover who¡¯d take care of me¡­ who would take away all of the crushing responsibility I had, each and every day, string me up, look after me¡­ and only ask my freedom and my beauty in return¡­¡±

    I nearly make a quip about her being ¡®modest too(!)¡¯ but¡­ well I think it would be kinda flippant after the heaviness of what she just told me¡­ Also, she actually is one of the most stunningly beautiful people I¡¯ve ever set eyes on. So, it¡¯s not as if she¡¯s being that conceited¡­

    ¡°What made you realise you were bi?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well, first, I was into tomboy x femboy porn, in my teens¡­ I was a tomboy with a fetish for subby softbois so the idea of feminising them was just an exciting little bit of garnish¡­ During the War I started dipping into futanari porn¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah, tomboys, femboys and futa¡­ the downfall of many a youth¡¯s exclusive straightness(!) I know they were my gatewaydrug to bisexuality!¡± I quip, amused.

    She returns a wry smirk before continuing ¡°¡­but¡­ the first time I was actually attracted to a real flesh and blood woman¡­ was when I was 28. I was at uni and decided to sign up for a jujutsu tournament, just for old time¡¯s sake. I got second place¡­ the girl who got first was a gorgeous Denisovan with hips for days, thighs that could crush a watermelon (I know because we tried it) and the most divine belly folds you¡¯ve ever seen on a Human being! She was called Khel Woods¡­ When we grappled I felt this thrilling swoop in my stomach at how she was just¡­ manhandling me! She tossed me around that mat like I weighed nothing! She clearly caught on because she came up to me afterward and asked me if I wanted to grab a drink¡­ and later that night I had my head between her thighs¡­¡±

    I grin ¡°Pleeease tell me that at some point during the evening you said ¡®¡­but, I¡¯m straight!¡¯ and she answered ¡®So is spaghetti until it gets wet!¡¯¡±

    Her face flushes pink.

    ¡°By the Spirits! You DID!¡± I guffaw ¡°Does that pun even work in Japanese?!¡±

    She sighs ¡°Yes¡­ but only because ¡®¥¹¥È¥ì©`¥È¡¯ is an English loanword¡­ It doesn¡¯t work if you don¡¯t speak enough English to know that it also means ¡®unbent¡¯¡­ I would also like to clarify that we were aware of the ancient meme and actively playing into it, as teasing foreplay!¡±

    ¡°At least now I know why you¡¯re so¡­ intimately familiar with the capabilities of Denisovans(!)¡± I grin.

    Her brow furrows ¡°How¡­?¡±

    ¡°Mouse told me¡­ Said she thought you probably had a Denisovan ex¡­¡±

    She huffs, disbelieving and answers ¡°Of course(!)¡­ That girl really does have a six sense for these things!¡±

    ¡°So¡­?¡± I start, quizzically ¡°¡­what made you so horny that you looked up Thran x Emiko lookalike porn? Is¡­ being back on this planet making you¡­ lonely?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°First off¡­ I didn¡¯t ¡®look up¡¯ that porn¡­ I commissioned it!¡±

    I giggle ¡°Weird flex but OK(!)¡±

    She rolls her eyes ¡°I commissioned it months ago¡­ in the brief period between when I met Thran and when I met you¡­ the artist only just cleared their backlog enough to get it finished (they¡¯re quite popular, as of recently) so no, it has nothing to do with being back on the planet where I lost my virginity!¡±

    My mouth falls open and my eyes go wide.

    She wavers, uncertainly, a moment, clearly instantly regretting the bombshell she just dropped, but then her body language seems to settle into a defiant ¡®and what of it!?¡¯.

    I manage to find my voice, raise my hand and say ¡°Come here, Emiko¡­¡± with a beckoning gesture and a sympathetic tone.

    She appraises me a moment (seeming to be trying to work out if this is some sort of trap) then relents, stands and comes to me.

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    The strikingly lovely woman gives me a smile broader than any Sapiens could, takes my hand and, performing an underarm turn on me, spins me into a seated position, between her legs.

    I¡¯m reflexively stiff (afterall, an extremely attractive woman has just pulled me, effectively, onto her lap(!)) then I feel hands at my shoulders, gently and calmly pulling me backward, against her.

    My head comes to rest between her¡­ surprisingly large breasts¡­ OK, Emi¡­ take your heart from the whorehouse! This is a consoling gesture¡­ she doesn¡¯t fancy you, I¡¯m sure! She¡¯s doing this because what you just revealed made her pity you. She¡¯s holding you the way she might hold an upset child¡­ Damn it¡­ that just made her sexier!

    ¡°So¡­ Emiko¡­ may I have a crack at biographing the life and times of the great Mistress Miyazaki(?)¡± she quips, holding her elongated palms out on her thighs, facing up.

    I raise an eyebrow and look over my shoulder (more accurately; I look over her right tit) to see her face smiling kindly down at me.

    ¡°¡­*huhhhh* Go on then¡­¡± I sigh. Accepting the wordless invitation to place my hands in hers.

    She¡¯s only about 25% taller than me but her hands are nearly twice the length of mine¡­ my entire hand almost fits in her palm!

    ¡°Well¡­¡± she hooks her elbows under mine and jiggles me a moment, feeling my weight and density ¡°¡­until last night I would have said you had a ballet dancer¡¯s physique¡­ plenty of muscle but it¡¯s conditioned, from nearly infancy, to lie flat for maximum flexibility¡­ you look nearly as slim as I am but I¡¯m guessing your BMI is right in the middle of Sapiens¡¯ ¡®healthy¡¯¡­ 22? 23?¡±

    ¡°¡­And¡­ what about now?¡± I say, closing my eyes and listening to her heart beat against the back of my head.

    ¡°After your little display? I¡¯d call this a ¡®martial artist¡¯s physique¡¯, now(!)¡± She chortles ¡°I¡¯m guessing you did kenjutsu, jujutsu and maybe one or two others since not long after you took your first steps¡­ and I¡¯m guessing you did so with some gusto?¡­ When you weren¡¯t training you were studying and, as a result, you never had time for a boyfriend (at least a nonparasocial one(!)) Am I near the mark?¡±

    ¡°Uncannily.¡± I nod ¡°¡­though, this does feel a bit¡­ Barnum Effecty¡­¡±

    She gives a brief, voiceless snort ¡°Alright then, time to kick it up a notch!¡­

    I don¡¯t turn around so I can¡¯t see her face but there¡¯s a moment¡¯s pause that I imagine is filled by a smug smile before she continues ¡°¡­of course¡­ it doesn¡¯t take a detective to work out that you¡¯re from a prestigious family¡­ given that your big sister was the first Terran ever to set foot on the floor of the GU Parliament¡­ (sidenote; I think you¡¯ve felt a little overshadowed by the fact that your sister has a galactically recognisable face and made your name galactically recognisable, but you like her and respect her so you try not to resent her for it)¡­ I¡¯m guessing your dad was a bit of an irascible, belligerent, hardass firebrand and that¡¯s why his marriage to Jeanne¡¯s mum (who was the same) didn¡¯t work¡­ I¡¯m guessing your mum was a bit more laid back? Kindlier? More of a free spirit?¡±

    ¡°She was.¡± I confirm ¡°Tombe ¡®Breeze¡¯ Upash¡­ An Ainu community leader on Hinode and one of the most chilled out, and cheerful people you could possibly want to meet.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing your father was older? Maybe in his seventies when he died on the Paloma?¡±

    I stiffen ¡°¡­How¡­how did¡­?¡±

    ¡°Military History¡­ part of officer training¡­ the fact that Jeanne ¡®Blitz¡¯ Miyazaki¡¯s dad died in the War¡¯s opening salvo came up¡­ I made the connection last night when you mentioned your ¡®personal reasons¡¯¡­¡± she answers with a slightly apologetic tone.

    ¡°Ah¡­ so¡­ we¡¯ve moved on from cold reading to hot reading now, have we?¡± I ask, sedately.

    ¡°You want me to stop?¡± she asks, her tone conveying that, if I say ¡®yes¡¯, she will stop, immediately.

    I think about that for a few moments.

    ¡°¡­No¡­ keep going¡­ Whatever your methods, I¡¯m curious as to how much more you can get right¡­¡±

    With a satisfied exhale, she continues ¡°The War was hard for you¡­ I know a lot of idiots think that ground forces had it easy¡­ afterall, everyone knows gardenworlders pose less threat than toddlers and so they don¡¯t think about all of the other shit. They don¡¯t understand the psychological toll that endlessly mowing down waves of powerless enemies, while knowing that one slip up could mean your life, takes on a person¡­ They don¡¯t understand the stress of being deployed on a fragile alien world that a single unsterilised shit could utterly devastate¡­ They don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to spend a month starving because your supply drop never came so you have to live off gardenworld forage with pisspoor nutrition¡­ Even though a lot more Terrans died in the Navy, Marines and Fighter Forces, the rate of attrition was nearly as bad, on the ground. It¡¯s just that so many more Terrans were in the Voidside branches that the statistics make the more than half billion KIA/MIA ground Forces seem like not that much¡­ but you know!¡­ You lost friends¡­ a lot of friends¡­ enough to make a person question whether it¡¯s worth getting attached at all. Afterall, a person you go to bed with tonight might have a plasmablade put through their chest, tomorrow¡­ So you foreswore relationships of any kind, even purely sexual¡­ you made excuses to yourself; ¡®it would be distracting¡¯, ¡®it would be an abuse of power¡¯, ¡®it would compromise fitness for duty¡¯ etc. etc. but the real reason is that you were scared that you¡¯d loose him, the way you lost those boys you crushed on early in the War, the way you lost your parents, the way you lost the life you had before the War and that, this time, you wouldn¡¯t be able to handle it¡­ This time, you¡¯d break!¡­ Then, the War ended and sure, you were covered in scars and down a couple of eyes, but you finally felt free! You were being put up in a lodge, in paradise, next to a guy you¡¯d been crushing on for a while and, finally, you felt like you could fall into his arms and let him take charge the way you had never been able to when he was your subordinate¡­ It was a whirlwind! I¡¯m guessing you were fucking three to five times a day on every surface of your lodge! But then he said he wanted to go back to his homeworld and asked you to come¡­ but you just couldn¡¯t see yourself fitting into his plans¡­ so things ended. You went back to Hinode and started working on your career¡­ since then you¡¯ve had a few flings but¡­ not as many as you would like? And, there¡¯s always some reason not to go for it; ¡®I¡¯m her boss¡¯, ¡®I¡¯m twice her age¡¯, ¡®she has a girlfriend and, even if they¡¯d be comfortable¡­¡¯ etc. etc. so you commissioned porn to enjoy, in private, to scratch the itch that you don¡¯t feel allowed to scratch for real.¡±

    She stops there and I feel her chest rising and falling, a little faster than previously, against the back of my head.

    ¡°Xon¡­ how long has it been since Tshwane were last called a ghost lineage?¡± I ask, smiling.

    She answers ¡°89 years¡­ Since our genome was sequenced confirming us and one of the ghost lineages in the Khoisan to be one and the same¡­ Why?¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Because that was spooky!¡±

    She giggles ¡°Well, yeah¡­ I am a military interrogator¡­ I¡¯m good at looking at a person and using context and info I already have to read what brought them to where they are¡­¡± she pauses here before sighing and adding ¡°¡­it¡¯s really just a shame that I¡¯m not your type¡­ I¡¯d have loved to invite you in to our bedroom(!)¡±

    Instantly, my mouth goes dry, my breathing quickens and my pulse skyrockets¡­

    I turn around, feeling my heartbeat in my throat, and look up at her gently smiling face.

    Say it¡­ go on¡­ say it! Why don¡¯t you just take the plunge Emiko!? She¡¯s right! You¡¯ve spent a lifetime unnecessarily denying yourself! Just say it!

    ¡°Who¡­ *gulp*¡­ who said you weren¡¯t my type?¡±

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective, that evening---

    I knock out the last of my benchpress set and wrack the bar before sitting up.

    ¡°Gravity:¡­*huh*¡­ Earth¡­*huh*¡­ Standard.¡± I say, followed by the crushing weight of my body being immediately reduced.

    ¡°Can I come out now?¡± yells Xon from the bathroom.

    ¡°Yep¡­¡± I shout back.

    The door slides open and out comes the personification of statuesque beauty and grace that is Xon ¡®Longstride¡¯ Loper, wearing an absolutely gorgeous combination of sleek satin trousers and a sleeveless shirt, with a boobwindow, all in the same jet black as the silky smooth ringlets of hair on her head.

    Her face is beautifully made up and her hair is looking as perfect as always.

    She is the ultimate woman!

    ¡°You look¡­ really good¡­¡± I say, stupidly.

    She grins broadly and answers ¡°Thanks¡­ it¡¯s good to make an effort¡­ it¡¯s not every day that we get to do something like this, afterall!¡±

    I feel anxiety rise in my stomach.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, sweetie?¡± says Xon with¡­ concern?¡­ Yes, I think that tone is concern.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I shuffle, awkwardly ¡°¡­I¡¯m just¡­ I¡¯m a bit¡­¡±

    ¡°Nervous?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Nervous.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Tell me what your nervous about¡­¡± she says, kindly (I¡¯m pretty sure).

    ¡°Well¡­ what if she doesn¡¯t like it? What if I hurt her by accident? What if shethinksitssobadthatshedoesn¡¯tevenwantmetobeherbodyguard,anymore,and¡­¡±

    Here, Xon kneels down, bringing her face to the same level as mine.

    ¡°Babe! Babe! Babe!¡­¡± she says, cutting off my yammering ¡°¡­Breathe!¡±

    I laugh but also follow her advice, stopping to take a few slow, deliberate inhales while she says ¡°Look, I want to be clear, if you say you want to call this off, we call this off! You don¡¯t need to justify it¡­ you don¡¯t need to worry about disappointing me¡­ I¡¯m excited¡­ but I¡¯m excited because I think this is something we both want!¡­ If you¡¯ve gone off the idea, then so have I¡­ but I don¡¯t think you have, have you?¡­ I think these are just the same nerves you had, yesterday, when you came back, cardy in hand, panting, talking at a mile a minute¡­ When I managed to calm you down enough to get you to comprehensibly explain that you¡¯d caught Emiko petting the kitty to porn of (obviously meant to be) you and her, and I asked what you wanted to do about it, you said that what we¡¯re about to do would be the perfect result, right?¡­ If you¡¯ve changed your mind that¡¯s fine¡­ so long as you have changed your mind¡­¡±

    I look into her breathtaking violet eyes, then down at the floor, then up at the ceiling then back into her eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ I don¡¯t want to call it off¡­ but I¡¯m still really nervous¡­¡± I say.

    She smiles ¡°OK¡­ try something for me¡­ I want you to imagine the absolute worst thing that could conceivably happen because of what we¡¯re about to do.¡±

    ¡°The¡­ worst thing? Not the best?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°Nope¡­ give me catastrophe! Only condition is that there has to be a causal link between inviting Emiko into our bedroom and this outcome¡­¡±

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I think for a while.

    ¡°¡­I¡­ suppose¡­¡± I start.

    ¡°Yeeeeees¡­?¡± prompts Xon with a flutter of her eyelids.

    ¡°I suppose, the worst thing that could possibly happen would be that I do something so repulsive to Emiko that she dismisses me as her bodyguard, I lose my license to practice and you break up with me¡­¡±

    She beams ¡°And¡­ exactly how likely do you think you are to do something so objectionable?¡­ Especially given that, as the one who negotiated the boundaries, I¡¯m going to be the one taking the lead¡­ and if she wants to expose you to the licensing body, she also has to expose herself!¡±

    I nod, thoughtfully.

    ¡°¡­Very unlikely¡­¡±

    She grins¡­ gleefully?

    ¡°And¡­ let¡¯s say the worst did happen¡­ you do something so vile that I break up with you, Emiko fires you and you lose your license? Do you reckon you¡¯d survive it?¡±

    I think about that one a while before starting ¡°You mean¡­?¡±

    ¡°I mean; do you think you¡¯d be so distraught as to unalive yourself? Do you reckon, without your bodyguarding revenue, you¡¯d be at risk of starving to death like a preUnification pauper?¡±

    I shake my head, deliberately, and answer ¡°¡­No¡­ I think I would still be comfortable with UBI and my bodybuilding revenue¡­ I would be pretty miserable about losing you and losing bodyguarding but I wouldn¡¯t kill myself, I¡¯m sure!¡±

    She smiles ¡°You¡¯d¡­ I¡¯m guessing¡­ hop a transport back to Yanga Dala, mope for a bit then get up and at ¡¯em with your bodybuilding?¡±

    I consider ¡°¡­Yes¡­ probably¡­ Thank you Xon¡­ I feel a bit better¡­ but¡­¡±

    She raises her eyebrows ¡°But..?¡±

    ¡°¡­what if you and she decide that¡­ you like being with eachother¡­ more than you like being with me? That¡¯s¡­ a lot more realistic and almost as bad¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ the Poly Conundrum(!)¡± she smirks ¡°Well¡­ from what Emiko told me¡­ she¡¯s not looking to be an equal partner in this relationship¡­ all she wants is for us to play with her¡­ She¡¯s not looking to become ¡®Mrs. Loper¡¯, ¡®Mrs. Hunter¡¯ or ¡®Mrs. Loper-Hunter-Miyazaki¡¯(!)¡­ She¡¯s not looking to go to a gene clinic for an adorable little three-way hybrid daughter with us(!)¡­ As for me¡­ you¡¯re just going to have to trust me that, while I think she¡¯s a perfect 10¡­ I think you¡¯re a 15!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry?¡± I ask, confused ¡°A 15 what?¡±

    ¡°Out of 10, dummy!¡± she laughs.

    ¡°¡­meaning?¡±

    She gives a sigh¡­ I think amused more than exasperated.

    ¡°Meaning she¡¯s perfect¡­ you¡¯re better than perfect¡­¡± she brings a hand to my forehead, giving me a flick ¡°¡­dummy!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± I say, rubbing the spot on my forehead, as if it hurt ¡°¡­thank you¡­¡±

    She laughs heartily, beams and pulls me in for a kiss¡­ well, she pulls herself into me, really, but the point is we¡¯re kissing and it¡¯s because of her.

    Her nose rubs against mine as she explores my mouth with that overlong tongue of hers.

    She brings her hands to my arsecheeks and gives them a firm squeeze.

    She breaks from the kiss, removing her tongue from my windpipe and, eyes closed, rests her forehead against mine, two or three strands of saliva still connecting our mouths¡­ I¡¯m¡­ almost certain this is tenderness¡­ I feel tender, at least.

    ¡°Alright, babes. Go have a shower¡­ you¡¯re very sweaty! I left some presents in the bathroom¡­ read the note first, though!¡± she smiles, standing back up to tower over me again.

    ¡°Presents?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ presents.¡± she grins.

    ¡°Are you going to tell me what they are?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I already told you what they are¡­ in the note you¡¯re yet to read¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ are you going to tell me why you¡¯re giving me presents?¡±

    She bends down to kiss my forehead before saying ¡°Why don¡¯t you try reading the note(!?)¡±

    ¡°Al¡­ alright¡­¡± I say, uncertainly, before making my way to the bathroom.

    The door closes and I look around for a moment before I see a box with a piece of paper on top of it.

    She¡¯s written in English, as it¡¯s the only real language we share and there¡¯s no easy way to make paper translatable. I would have had to get my holopad out to see what it said, if she¡¯d written in ?X¨®? or Swahili.

    <blockquote>

    Baby

    Inside the box is the outfit I would like you to wear tonight.

    I would have made it black, to match mine, but I know you prefer earthtones.

    The shoes and dress are stuff Miyazaki wanted (think of it like a second birthday present to her) the bracelets are also something I¡¯ve wanted to order for a while¡­

    I got everything delivered by drone today.

    I¡¯ve also loaded up hair and makeup for you on the styliser, they¡¯re ready to go.

    I hope you like all of it as much as I know I will! ;)

    Love

    Xonny ???

    P.S. shower first! XD

    </blockquote>

    I chuckle and put the note back down on the box.

    I consider peeking inside but decide to follow Xon¡¯s latter instruction and shower first¡­ I¡¯ll leave my presents as a surprise.

    I walk to the shower and deliberate for a moment about weather to select a water or field shower¡­

    I settle on field, I might not have time to dry off properly before she gets here.

    I activate the shower field and select the preset-selection with my name on it (Xon has the field be a bit more aggressive on her hair, if I use her presets my hair goes extremely dry and woolly in a way that I don¡¯t like).

    I pull off my gym shorts, tank top and lycra underwear before walking through the mostly permeable barrier.

    I can feel where the edge of the field is, only by where the layer of sweat, grease and grime (that it is not permeable to) passes over me.

    Having passed through I step to the full length mirror and admire myself.

    Yep¡­ still the strongest, most muscular woman in the galaxy¡­ freshly cleaned up, with odoriferous bacteria gone, and my skin and hair both with only as little natural oil as is necessary to keep them from drying out.

    I flex my arms and give the mirror a wink, imagining Domming Mistress Miyazaki¡­ no¡­ ¡®Emiko¡¯¡­ I really can¡¯t call her ¡®Mistress Miyazaki¡¯ while she¡¯s subbing, can I?

    Maybe, as some kind of irony, I could?

    Best not to¡­ you¡¯ll embarrass yourself if you can¡¯t properly account for why you¡¯re calling her ¡®Mistress¡¯, when challenged, and I don¡¯t think ¡®some kind of irony¡¯ will cut it!

    I go to the styliser and, without checking what she¡¯s set for me, I activate it and pull it over my head.

    The internal appendages, having established where my closed eyes and lips are, begin by printing Xon¡¯s chosen makeup pattern onto my face and combing through the knots in my hair, applying leave-in conditioner as they do.

    Then, they begin working two long plaits into the hair on the side of my head before flattening all of my hair to my scalp and tying the excess and plaits into a bun at the back of my head.

    I return to the mirror and check my appearance¡­ I look good! Maybe I should let Xon choose my hair and makeup all the time!

    It suddenly hits me what I¡¯m about to do and I get so overwhelmed that I vigorously flap my hands in front of myself, between me and the mirror, a rictus grimace of excitement on my face while hopping from foot to foot!

    I stop very quickly as (it turns out) 166kg of Neanderthal, landing on a single foot, in a stimmy bounce, sounds like the footfall of a charging MAMMOTH, on this floor(!)

    Right¡­ time to see what¡¯s in the box!

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    Imitating Thran and Xon¡¯s habit of knocking rather than asking or waving to send an alert¡­ I knock on Thran¡¯s door.

    My heart is in my throat as I wait for it to open¡­

    Eventually, it cracks and slides open revealing an absolutely ravishing pair!

    Xon in a flats+sleek trouser+sleeveless top combo, in jet black, with a boob window exposing half her chest, her silky black ringlets artfully coiffed into a style that suggests she might have just woken up this fabulous(!) Her lips are done up in black lipstick, matching her black eyeshadow¡­ Her long, slim arms hang bare at her sides and she wears the most seductive smile I¡¯ve ever seen.

    Thran, though¡­ she¡¯s unrecognisable!!!

    Her coarse, textured, orange hair is styled, for once!

    It¡¯s tied into a bun with plaits running the length of her head. Her hair being tied flat like that allows me to see her elongated, Neanderthal cranium.

    Her eyes are done up in an elegant chocolate shade of eyeshadow, her lips are a tasteful shade of maroon and she has just the slightest hint of blush on her cheeks.

    The olive tan skin of her shoulders is bare, above a dark brown leather dress holding up a boob ledge that a mountain climber could happily sleep on(!)

    It¡¯s enough to make me self conscious of the (comparatively embarrassing) performance of the pushup bra I¡¯m wearing!

    I told Xon I didn¡¯t know how feasible a strapless dress would be with Thran¡¯s¡­ endowment!

    The crazy bitch did it! She made it work!

    At her wrists are¡­ hold on¡­ are those durasteel bracelets!? Could it be¡­? Are they really going to do what Xon mentioned they might¡­?

    My stomach fills with butterflies as I imagine the possibilities!

    Just below an elegant red rope belt are two slits in the dress, running all the way to the hem, through which protrude two ridiculously muscled thighs!

    Her out fit is bottomed off by a pair of high heels in the same maroon as is on her lips.

    I really was just spitballing when Xon asked if I had any ideas for outfits. She absolutely pulled through!

    It¡¯s things like that that are why I find her attractive when, really, as she said earlier, she should be too skinny for my tastes! She just has this unshakeable confidence¡­ which is borne out by her competence!

    At this point I become aware that I¡¯ve just been awkwardly gawping at the two of them for the last few seconds.

    I clear my throat and stammer ¡°Y-y-y-you look, r-r-really good!¡±

    Xon bursts into laughter ¡°That was the reaction¡­*hahahahaha*¡­ I was hoping for! ¡­*hahahahaha*¡­ Stunned silence, followed by stuttering! Worth¡­*hahahahaha*¡­ every moment and every credit I spent!¡±

    I smile, hoping she didn¡¯t spend too much and wondering whether I should offer to cover the costs. (In one direction, I know both of their salaries and know that I¡¯m much better off than them, in the other¡­ not particularly subby¡­ offering to pay for things¡­)

    ¡°Well, do you want to stand there all night or would you prefer to come inside?¡± smiles Xon with the same effortless grace and confidence that I affect professionally¡­ as part of my ¡®MILF aesthetic¡¯(!)

    I enter and notice the figure of Thran¡¯s durasteel armour, plated in Lanatkser silver, blue and teal, on a mannequin, in the corner of the room, as I do.

    I hold up the bottle in my right hand and the glasses in my left, saying ¡°I brought champagne¡­¡± a little awkwardly.

    ¡°¡­And only two glasses¡­¡± says Xon with sly quizzicality, as she leans past me to hit the lock and privacy field switches.

    I nod and smile ¡°It would be¡­ presumptuous of this subslut to assume she¡¯s permitted to drink champagne in the same manner as her Mistresses¡­ she will drink whatever you deign to give her, whenever you deign to give it, from whatever vessel or by whatever means you deign to permit her¡­ Mistress.¡± sweetly.

    There is a brief moment where both girls¡¯ eyes widen in shock before Xon doubles over into another fit of hysterical laughter.

    Even Thran joins in a little¡­ is that the first time I¡¯ve ever heard her laugh!?

    I definitely think I¡¯d remember that distinctive bassy chuckle! I think I¡¯ve only ever caused her to nasally exhale in mirth, the entire time I¡¯ve known her!

    Eventually, Xon manages to recover enough to stand back up, fix me with a gleeful, devilish smile and say ¡°What a wonderfully well trained slut you are, slut! I¡¯ll have to remember to give kudos to your previous Masters and Mistresses¡­ if I ever meet any, that is¡­ I¡¯m getting all sorts of ideas for fun ways to give you alcohol¡­ Perhaps I could let you take a sip from my champagne flute, like a child?¡­ Perhaps I could pour you out some into a dog bowl?¡­ Maybe I could forcefeed it to you through a hollow ballgag!¡± with gleeful spite.

    I try to avoid smiling at the thought of her doing any of those things.

    She keeps eyecontact on me for a few seconds before saying ¡°Thran¡­ get the pole¡­ this slut is going to dance for us while we drink her champagne.¡±

    I frown ¡°Wait! Hang on! That wasn¡¯t the deal!¡­ The deal was-Guh¡­¡±

    *BOOM* is the sound of me hitting the wall behind me with the sensation of being hit in the chest by a swinging log trap!

    Before I¡¯ve resolved what¡¯s happening, my throat is clamped and my feet are lifted from the ground. My geta make a wooden clatter as they fall off my feet, onto the floor.

    When I¡¯m once again aware of what¡¯s happening I see that what¡¯s holding me up is Thran¡¯s arm!

    I spend a few moments trying to process everything and find myself drawing up utterly blank!

    Her beautifully made up face bears a light sneer as, without anger, in her usual monotone, only with higher intensity and a bit more emphasis on certain words, she says ¡°Wrong, skank¡­ The deal was that you get snu snued by two strapping cavewomen and, in return, we get your freedom and your beauty¡­ Your freedom evaporated, as soon as you came into my room¡­ Your arse belongs to us, right now¡­ So, if we say you dance, you dance¡­ I don¡¯t care if you wanted us to undress you¡­ if you want a reward, you have to earn it¡­ Is that understood?¡±

    I try to answer but only choke out a ¡°Khhhhh!¡±

    Bending down to bring her head level to Thran¡¯s, Xon puts a hand on her shoulder and smirks ¡°She can¡¯t answer you with you crushing her windpipe like that, sweety.¡±

    I feel her grip momentarily slacken and myself sliding a few centimetres down the wall before Xon says ¡°I didn¡¯t say stop¡­ let the little slut enjoy you choking her for a little longer¡­¡±

    This is not the first time I¡¯ve been lifted by my throat but it is the first time it¡¯s happened onehandedly (unless you count in full dive VR porn). I guess this is to be expected of Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter!

    Of course, you can¡¯t hold a Human off the ground at arm¡¯s length in free space. It doesn¡¯t matter how strong you are, the Human your holding off the ground shifts your centre of mass out from over your base of support and you pitch forward until their feet are back on the ground. If you have the strength, the only ways for one full grown person to lift another, at arm''s length, are to be so much, impossibly, heavier than them that they don¡¯t shift your centre of mass enough to overbalance you (possible only in the pairings of Terrans and some gardenworlders) or to have a wall behind them to lean on for support!

    The trapezius, deltoid and biceps muscles of her, exposed, left shoulder and arm are clearly taut with the strain of keeping me aloft but there¡¯s no other sign that onehandedly lifting the full weight of an adult woman is any effort at all for her!

    Reflexively, both my hands try to push hers off my throat by gripping her wrist and pulling it away but it has no noticeable effect!

    I didn¡¯t realise Thran had this in her! Both in terms of strength but¡­ also¡­ this seeming confidence¡­ this initiative!

    I assumed she¡¯d be pretty passive and follow Xon¡¯s lead¡­ I mean¡­ Xon must have told her that I would be into this¡­ but still!

    My vision is just beginning to turn blue, at the edges, when Xon says ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough, let her down¡­ Her face is the same red as her homeworld¡¯s flag(!)¡± with a chuckle.

    Thran releases me and my legs buckle as I hit the floor, gasping, coughing and spluttering. I choke down wheezing lungfuls of air and feel as the blood, that was building up in my face due to her hand acting as a tourniquet, drains back down to my body.

    Xon gives a cruel laugh and says ¡°Look at her! I¡¯ll bet this bitch is soaking!¡± correctly, before stooping down and addressing me with effortless menace ¡°Now¡­ do you understand how this works? We¡¯re not hear to entertain you¡­ you¡¯re here to entertain us¡­ if you happen to enjoy yourself too, that¡¯s just a happy accident¡­ Now¡­ are you going to dance for us while we drink your champagne¡­ or not?¡±

    I think about it.

    If I refuse then I¡¯ll get what I wanted¡­ they¡¯ll undress me, eventually¡­ but they¡¯ll be in the mood for punishment¡­ If I poledance for them¡­ then it will be me who takes off my clothes but¡­ they¡¯ll be looking at me¡­ admiring me¡­ and maybe, afterward¡­ praising me¡­

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll dance for you, Mistress.¡± I say, defeatedly.

    Xon grins and reaches out an elongated hand, pats my cheek and says ¡°Good girl!¡± making my stomach do a backflip!

    She looks at me, thoughtfully, before chuckling and adding ¡°Honestly¡­ I¡¯m a little jealous¡­ I¡¯m too tall for her to do that to me when I sub¡­ She can reach my throat but can¡¯t reach quite far enough to get my feet off the ground¡­ Not unless I bend my legs¡­ which does sort of ruin the mood(!)¡±

    I know Xon told me they¡¯re both Switches (herself being recently converted by Thran) but¡­ I literally cannot imagine either of these women ever subbing!

    Well¡­ I may not have to imagine it for much longer¡­

    Xon pulls me to my feet and towards the centre of the room.

    Thran has already gone to fetch the pole from her wardrobe.

    I¡¯m just wondering how they plan to secure it when I notice that, above the space where Thran¡¯s heavybag usually hangs is a socket in the ceiling.

    I look down and see an identical one on the floor.

    Xon notices me noticing and grins ¡°You should have seen Thran squirm as she explained to that Night Fury maintenancewoman what she needed with this one!¡± she says, gesturing to the floor socket ¡°It was hysterical!... I¡¯m convinced she knew what the pole and the floor socket were for! Knew they weren¡¯t for working out¡­ well¡­ working out the traditional way, at least!¡±

    Thran stands the 4.6m pole, into the floor socket, and then raises the other end, to slot it into the ceiling socket, which usually suspends her heavybag. It clicks into place.

    I reach out to grasp the newly erected pole and receive a surprise!

    ¡°Is it meant to¡­ spin, like that?¡±

    Xon cocks an eyebrow ¡°You¡¯ve never been to a strip club?¡±

    ¡°I have¡­ I¡¯ve just never poledanced. I kind of assumed that the poles were¡­ fixed¡­¡±

    She smirks ¡°If they were ¡®fixed¡¯, how would the dancers do things like¡­¡±

    Pushing me out of the way, she mounts the pole, gripping it between her thighs and listing around it in a 360¡ã arc that, now I see it, obviously wouldn¡¯t be possible on a nonswivelling pole. It would have to be so frictionless that it would be impossible to grip!

    ¡°¡­this?¡± she asks with smug satisfaction.

    ¡°I¡­ suppose they couldn¡¯t.¡± I admit with embarrassment ¡°I¡¯ve never poledanced before¡­ Please don¡¯t be disappointed by the quality of my dancing, Mistress¡­¡±

    Xon''s eyes flash and she calmly bends to bring her face next to mine. She puts a hand at the back of my neck and almost whispers ¡°Then don¡¯t dance disappointingly¡­ Also, as of right now¡­ you have two Mistresses¡­ don¡¯t address only one of us¡­ Are we clear?¡± in an ominous tone.

    I shudder, an electric tingle passing through my stomach, as I answer ¡°Yes, Mistress¡­es.¡±

    She fixes me with her piercing gaze for a few moments more before saying ¡°¡­Good!¡±, standing and walking to sit in one of Thran¡¯s armchairs, Thran herself sitting in an adjacent one.

    The tall and elegant woman takes out her holo and says ¡°Holo, play playlist ¡®Sexytimes; Number¡­¡± she hesitates a moment, considering ¡°¡­03¡¯ over the rooms speakers¡­ On shuffle, please.¡±

    A percussive rhythm begins to play with the sensual breaths of a woman, being used almost as an instrument.

    The slender woman with all the confidence in the world waves a hand for me to get on with it and I hesitate only a second longer before I start dancing.

    The lyrics to the song kick in:

    p?Susie needs a ride

    She''s way too drunk to drive

    But, oh, she¡¯s such a sight to?see

    Marshall?is the problem

    She''s?been trying to solve him

    Someone needs?to set her free?p

    I¡¯ve¡­ never really danced before¡­ whatever kind of physique I have(!)

    Hrom, Khel and the other two lovers I¡¯ve had, since her, were all¡­ a bit more¡­ direct than this¡­ I don¡¯t think any of them would have thought of making me dance for them. If they wanted me they would simply have¡­ taken me!

    I don¡¯t hate this, though¡­ Being ogled as I do my utmost to swing my hips the way I¡¯ve seen female strippers do. It¡¯s¡­ exciting!

    It makes me feel¡­ desirable¡­

    Of the two of them, Thran is usually the one who botches eyecontact¡­ either avoiding it altogether or, disconcertingly, staring at you straight on, without blinking!

    Right now, however, Thran is looking at me the way I would expect someone to look at a (currently still fully clothed) erotic dancer. She¡¯s giving me her attention but periodically looking briefly at Xon¡­ or glancing at something else.

    Xon, on the other hand, is fixing me with the unbroken, unflinching stare of a panther observing a faun from a bush or a soldier about to spring an ambush on an unsuspecting enemy. It¡¯s both unnerving¡­ and exhilarating!

    Thran, at this point, seems to realise that if one of them doesn¡¯t open the champagne now then the one that eventually does will have to miss some of either the stripping or subsequent nudity, so picks up the bottle and shreds off the foil.

    She nestles the bottom of the bottle into the crook of her lap and, covering the cork with her right thumb, unwinds the wire tab with her left until the cage is off. Here she stops, seeming to be sizing up what to do next.

    Hang on¡­ is this the first time she¡¯s ever opened a bottle of champagne?! She looked so deft, until now!

    She seems to decide on a twisting and tilting motion which causes the cork to *POFF* into her hand rather than across the room, toward me.

    Thran pours out one flute¡¯s worth of champagne, setting it to her left, then offers the bottle to Xon who, without breaking her fixed gaze on my rolling hips even a little, pivots her empty flute hand, like an ancient Queen, expecting Thran to wait on her!

    Thran hesitates a moment before filling the crystal with sparkling wine¡­ I can definitely guess who the Top Bitch is, tonight¡­! Unless this is an elaborate double bluff?

    Still not removing her eyes from me, Xon brings the, now filled, glass to her lips and drinks from it.

    Now that I have both of their attention I bring my hands to the waistband of my long skirt and undo the catch.

    Working the now loosened garment over my hips, I turn to expose my arse to my two Mistresses, before dropping it to the floor.

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    I see the exquisite arse, now covered only by a red thong, black garterbelt and suspenders¡­ This slut knows how to dress to impress!

    She grips the pole and dips her torso in a way that makes that sumptuous bubblebutt¡­ pop!

    She obviously wasn¡¯t lying about never having poledanced before but¡­ well¡­ watching a sub trying to be sexy while removing clothing to music is enough to get me going¡­ I just hope she¡¯s not stupid enough to hurt herself with over ambitious techniques on that pole!¡­ Though, I can¡¯t imagine she¡¯d have survive the entire War (let alone surrendered an entire planet) with so little sense!

    She begins unbuttoning her shirt¡­ from the bottom¡­ interesting¡­

    She reveals a red bra, matching her thong in colour¡­ The bra is the same one we saw through her chemise, yesterday. The thong is not the same as yesterday but is a style and colour match that she volunteered when I requested she wear the same lingerie, again.

    She teasingly slides her shirt over her shoulders and drops it to the ground.

    ¡°Slut¡­¡± I say, in a raised but level voice.

    The slut turns, quizzically and answers ¡°Yes, Mistress¡­es?¡±

    ¡°Keep dancing in your lingerie like that for a little while¡­ you¡¯re quite a pretty sight, right now, and we¡¯d like to savour you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mistresses.¡± she answers, returning to her dancing.

    From Thran¡¯s bodylanguage it¡¯s clear that ¡®we¡¯ don¡¯t exactly agree but she says nothing.

    Some time passes, as the song changes a few times, and Thran and I sip Emiko¡¯s champagne, her dancing on the pole for our entertainment.

    Despite being mostly nude and the room being set to such a cool temperature, the slut is beginning to get sweaty from the exertion.

    I get a wicked idea.

    I pause the playlist and say ¡°Slut¡­ I think one of your Mistresses has a lap in want of a lapdance¡­¡± gesturing to the lap of a, taken aback, Thran.

    Emiko takes it in stride and immediately makes her way over to Thran¡¯s seat.

    Without speaking a word and as quickly as I can, I clear the playlist and ask my holo to find all known songs by the FlYing FoXes, rank them by sexiness and play the sexiest 10% on shuffle. Obviously something as subjective as ¡®sexiness¡¯ can¡¯t be objectively calculated but my holo has my playlists to compare to for what I think a sexy song sounds like, at least.

    There¡¯s an agonising 2.4 seconds of waiting for my holo to acquire the entire backcatalogue and analyse it for ¡®sexiness¡¯¡­ then the music starts playing and she and I simultaneously look at eachother.

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    The moment the music started again, Emiko whipped her head to Xon who had looked up¡­ for her reaction?

    This music must have some meaning that Xon didn¡¯t divulge to me¡­ Could it be? Is this¡­ some sort of signal?

    I tremble as I imagine the two women ganging up to attempt to subbify me!

    If they do, should I let them?

    Obviously, by having me wear locking, durasteel cuffs as bracelets, Xon means to at least leave the option open¡­

    Then I realise that that won¡¯t be it¡­ it would be irresponsible to lie that Emiko was a sub if she was actually a Switch. Xon wouldn¡¯t lie about that.

    The song must have some other meaning¡­

    At this point Emiko plants her perfectly round, pale, flawless arse into my lap and all thoughts of anything else are driven from my mind.

    The (preWar sounding) song plays as I watch the slim, toned Sapiens woman dance and sway, erotically, on my lap.

    ¡°Slut¡­ I think your Mistress would like a kiss¡­ why don¡¯t you turn around and oblige her?¡­ First, though, why don¡¯t you take off that bra¡­ show us those perky tits!¡± smirks Xon.

    I see Emiko¡¯s hands reach behind her back and under her loose black hair, with its streak of silver, and release the clasp of her bra.

    She pauses for a moment and then swivels around to aim her chest, now covered only by a loose scrap of cloth, at me.

    With an extremely sexual bite of her lip she shrugs off her bra revealing her breasts¡­

    As Xon said, they¡¯re perky¡­ their not very large but they¡¯re really pretty.

    She places her hands on my bare shoulders and pulls her lips to mine for a erotic kiss. Her hips still rolling into my crotch, her chest still swaying against mine.

    ¡°Thran¡­ why don¡¯t you take off the little slut¡¯s stockings¡­?¡± I hear Xon¡¯s voice say, though I¡¯m unable to see her, having the cute Sapiens¡¯ upper face obscuring my vision.

    I reach for her legs and begin fumbling for the suspender clips.

    It¡¯s a little awkward, while she¡¯s still passionately kissing me, but I manage to unclip them and Emiko then shifts her weight to allow me to slide off her right stocking, then her left.

    I feel the bare skin of her thighs against mine through the slits in my dress.

    I put my hands on her bare back and squeeze her close to me¡­ I try to be gentle but she frowns and makes a grunt that I¡¯m taking to mean that I¡¯m squeezing too hard, so I slacken off.

    I slide my hands down, past her garterbelt, to give that gorgeous arse of hers a squeeze.

    This thrill is incomparable¡­ she¡¯s the first client I¡¯ve ever wanted to fuck this badly¡­ my girlfriend is watching her kiss me from feet away¡­ bliss!

    Then Emiko¡¯s lips are ripped away from mine, causing her to gasp.

    I now see Xon, looking slightly unhinged, over her shoulder.

    It looks like she¡¯s pulling Emiko¡¯s hair.

    My breath hitches as I see the four purple eyes, of the two dazzling women, aligned in a row.

    ¡°I think, bitch¡­ that it¡¯s my turn!¡± says Xon, a little manically.

    It¡¯s not clear to me who the ¡®bitch¡¯ is meant to be. Emiko is the one she drags away but¡­ she was looking at me when she said it¡­

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    Thran was like an aurochs to lapdance for, strong¡­ but placid.

    She slackened off when she realised she was crushing my ribcage, she let me kiss her more than she kissed me back and reciprocated the kissing just the right amount.

    Xon, on the other hand, is a jaguar!

    Her teeth are bared in a grimace that could be glee or wrath (most likely both!)

    Her hands roam where they please and she actively seems to take glee in my squeaks of pain.

    Obviously, more of a sadist than her girlfriend.

    I can¡¯t believe the stunt she pulled, using what I told her about my teenaged fantasies like that! It¡¯s really thrown me off!

    Out of nowhere, my wrists are seized, my arms pulled straight and folded behind my back.

    ¡°Thran¡­ sweetheart¡­¡± simpers Xon ¡°¡­Would you be a dear and tie up the little slut¡¯s hands?¡±

    No answer comes but the thudding of approaching feet.

    Rope (produced from somewhere) is wound around my wrists and then up my forearms, all the way to my elbows.

    ¡°Thank you, baby¡­¡± says Xon, with zero sincerity ¡°¡­Now¡­ please fetch a few more coils of rope, an anal hook, a hollow ballgag, a bottle of vodka, the mechanical winch and¡­ my cock¡­ and leave all of it on the table, if you would.¡±

    Only the sound of receding footfalls answers.

    A second passes before the Queen, whose lap I currently straddle, turns her attention back to me and says ¡°Who the fuck said you could stop dancing, slut?¡± with delighted venom at getting to scold me.

    I take a shuddering breath as I start attempting to resume my lapdance.

    With my hands restrained it¡¯s¡­ not really possible to move in a way that doesn¡¯t feel like it would be awkward to watch. A supposition that is confirmed by Xon sneering ¡°Pathetic!!!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mistress, it¡¯s difficult to-uhhhhhh¡­!¡± I try to defend myself but she stuffs a ballgag, produced from behind me, into my mouth.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear your fucking excuses, slut! Stand up and turn around!!!¡±

    I do as instructed.

    Thran is standing across the table, still looking stunning.

    Addressing Thran, Xon smirks ¡°Thanks for fetching all that for me, babes¡­ but¡­ I think I¡¯m done allowing you to be a Domme, right now¡­ Take off that dress!¡±

    Thran¡¯s stance hardens and her muscles go taut as she says ¡°And how are you going to make me?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ you mean you don¡¯t want to be a good girl for me?¡± Xon asks, with a mocking pout, pulling me toward her and pressing a few square centimetres of metal into the bottom of my chin ¡°Then¡­ I guess you get to become the galaxy¡¯s EXfinest bodyguard(!)¡± she says, with manic glee.

    My eyes widen as I realise what¡¯s being threatened.

    Obviously, she OKed gunplay with me in the negotiation as well as reassuring me that she would only use a replica, if she decided to include it at all, but I was still not expecting that!

    That gun materialised from right the fuck out of nowhere! She cannot have had it on her person, can she?!

    She must have stashed it in the armchair¡­ unless¡­? Could she have hidden it in her bra? Reached for it through the boobwindow? Seems unlikely¡­

    Thran scowls and seems to be running some furious calculations.

    ¡°Bitch, that dress had better be on the floor in the next 30 seconds or, I swear, I¡¯ll do it! I¡¯ll ruin your spotless record!¡± shouts Xon, driving the barrel upward into my soft flesh.

    ¡°Fwan, preez! Zhuss goo uhz he hays!¡± I plead, through my gag.

    Reluctantly, Thran reaches to her armpit and pulls a zip, releasing the tension in her dark brown, leather dress and allowing it to drop to the floor, revealing a pair of enormous, bare tits and the most muscular stomach that exists¡­ fucking jigoku!

    The only garment she¡¯s wearing is a pair of red panties, the same shade as mine.

    ¡°Yeeeeees, bitch! Show me everything!¡± says Xon, clearly relishing the newfound quadrupling of subslut she possesses.

    Thran pouts but complies, dropping her visibly wet panties.

    I¡¯m slightly surprised by the fact that she keeps herself bald¡­ I kind of expected that the carpet would match the curtains(!)

    ¡°Alright¡­ go to the bed¡­¡± smiles Xon.

    The naked woman scowls but does as she¡¯s told. Xon stands still, still holding the ¡®gun¡¯ to my throat.

    Thran is about to climb onto the bed when Xon says ¡°Ah, ah, ah! Look underneath! There should be a box¡­ take it out and tell me what you see¡­¡±

    Thran bends down, pulls out the box, looks inside and says ¡°Three thin durasteel chains, three durasteel padlocks, a spreader bar, a vibe wand, a length of rope and an¡­ unconventionally shaped ballgag¡­¡± in her flat monotone.

    ¡°Perfect!¡± expresses Xon ¡°Now, put everything on the bed¡­ including yourself.¡±

    Thran obeys.

    ¡°OK, first, tie the wand to your stomach, bulb against your clit¡­¡±

    Thran snarls but after a moment¡¯s pause, follows the instruction.

    ¡°Excellent¡­¡± grins Xon ¡°¡­next, lock your ankles into those cuffs on the spreader, loop one of those chains through that ring (halfway along its length) and the footboard and lock it with one of the padlocks, then I want you to undo your hair, gag yourself and then loop one of the, remaining, chains through one of those lovely bracelets I got you and lock it into place.¡±

    She does so, securing her legs, releasing her braids and bun, clogging her mouth with the oddly shaped ballgag, fastening her right hand to the headboard and leaving only her left hand free (though she¡¯s not capable of escaping the bed without Xon¡¯s help, at this point.

    Xon releases me then pushes me back down, into the armchair we both just got up from.

    ¡°Do not move!¡± she orders.

    I nod.

    She tosses the gun onto the table (drawing my attention to the gargantuan cyber that Thran left there) and goes to the bed.

    She secures Thran¡¯s left arm to the headboard, kisses her forehead and activates the wand.

    Thran moans, closes her eyes and throws her head back against the pillow.

    ¡°Enjoy the show, bitch!¡± Xon says quietly, to the bedbound woman, before getting up and making her way to the pole in the centre of the room.

    ¡°First off¡­¡± she says, turning between us, to indicate that whatever she¡¯s about to say will apply to both of us ¡°¡­this is how you strip sexy!¡± activating a much more intense, faster tempo song than she gave me, swinging around the pole and dancing (as she says) more sexily than I was¡­

    As she starts the process of shedding clothing she continues, addressing me ¡°Second¡­ I really don¡¯t know if I can let you go¡­ your arse, tits, thighs, face¡­ they¡¯re all just too¡­ yummy! I think, after tonight, you get to hang in our wardrobe¡­ a toy ready for use¡­ If Thran doesn¡¯t like it, she can hang in there too! Or¡­ perhaps I¡¯ll make living chandeliers of the two of you!... Though, it might be a little more difficult to protest that I don¡¯t know anything about your sudden disappearance, that way! ¡®No¡­ no idea where the two of them went! What¡¯s that? Thran¡¯s room? Oh, don¡¯t check in there!¡¯(!)¡± with a mirthful smirk.

    Her last thread shed, she walks to the table and picks up the titanic cyber, placing the butt end against her clitoris and activating it.

    Her body is wracked by nervejack shudders.

    She looks down, between her respectable boobs, to the accessory now protruding from her crotch, smiles and says ¡°There¡­ a big, strong futanari, for you, slut! Aren¡¯t you lucky!?¡± clearly not expecting an answer.

    She approaches me, pushes me into the chair and says ¡°Before I give you this cock, though, slut¡­ I want to see how you look as a chandelier¡­ perhaps have a little¡­ taste of you¡­¡± flicking out her startlingly long tongue ¡°¡­but first¡­¡± she picks up the bottle of vodka, left by Thran, cracks the perforated tamperproofing, unscrewing the cap, and says ¡°¡­you have a little catching up to do! You were so thoughtful as to bring us champagne¡­ let me return the favour(!)¡±

    With that, she places the lip of the bottle against my ballgag and turns it up.

    My mouth fills with vodka!

    I try to close my throat to avoid swallowing too much but, unavoidably, a lot makes it through.

    It burns my throat as it goes down! Vodka is definitely not meant to be drunk this way!

    She withdraws the bottle and says ¡°Oh, no(!) You spilled most of it(!) What''s the matter, slut, Is it not up to your standards(?)¡± with elated malice

    ¡°¡­too bad¡­¡± she pouts before pouring another mouthful through the gag.

    After I''m done coughing and choking, she flips me over to face down, into the chair cushions.

    My ankles are tied to my wrists and my hair is tied to¡­ something.

    A few more moments of her adjusting things¡­ then, my head is yanked back by my hair and I feel my thong being pushed aside and something metal being pressed against my anus¡­

    My Mistress whispers ¡°Enjoy¡­ slut!¡± into my ear, then the metal thing is rammed home.

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    The slut screams as I hook her arse.

    This is ecstasy!

    This slim, tight, dense, muscular, Sapiens woman, trussed up on the floor, sobbing through her gag¡­ such spectacular music!

    I have a brief giggle to myself as I imagine three Heidelbergenses, sitting around a fire in the African rift valley, the night before their respective tribes part ways, for the last time. One a little bit taller and slimmer, one a little stronger and stockier with one having the vaguest suggestion of a, Sapiensoid, chin spur. My ancestor gets a faraway look in her eye, points to the other two and says ''My ¡Á24,000 greats granddaughter is going to hogtie your ¡Á32,000 greats granddaughter and hook her arse, while your ¡Á30,000 greats granddaughter watches from a bed where she''s bound with ropes made of unbreakable rock¡­'' the other two just raise their eyebrows before one says ''Girl¡­ what have you been eating and/or drinking and/or smoking?¡­ and is there any left?''

    Refocusing on the scene in front of me, I say ¡°Gravity: 0.25 Galactic Standard.¡± authoritatively, followed by my mass of 82kg dropping to a weight of a little under 10kgf.

    I pick up the slut by the knot between her wrists and ankles.

    She may weigh very little in the low gravity but, as I do as well, I need to carry her close to my body so that she doesn¡¯t overbalance me. Her mass, also, has the exact same inertia so she¡¯s not as easy to manipulate as you¡¯d think if you¡¯d only ever been exposed to planetary gravity.

    I carry her over to the stripper pole, snagging the winch off the table as I go.

    I intentionally swing my hips to cause my cyber to slap against my thighs.

    I place her down on the ground and pause, momentarily, to appreciate the way her tits barely squash in contact with the floor, in the low gravity.

    I drop the winch on the floor beside the slut and bend to unslot the bottom of the stripper pole from the floor.

    That done, I leap the +2m to bring me to the top of the room, bracing myself against the ceiling, with my hands, to keep from hitting my head.

    I quickly press the release, on the top of the pole, before the very weak gravity starts to take me back down.

    The pole now free, I pick it up and place it on the ground against the wall, where it¡¯s out of the way.

    I return to the centre of the room, pick up the winch and, with a second jump ceilingward, plug it into the socket that the pole just came out of.

    It clicks into place with a *kerchunk*

    ¡°Winch: Down. Gravity: Earth Standard.¡± I say, watching Thran¡¯s mammoth tits for what they look like under a sudden octupling of the gravity¡­ Satisfying¡­ They look satisfying.

    As the winch reaches far enough that I have the slack to bring it to Emiko, I say ¡°Winch: Stop.¡±

    I test the rope by yanking on it then by suspending my weight from it.

    Satisfied that it¡¯s secure and won¡¯t pull itself out of the socket, dropping Emiko and, then, itself onto her, I take the large carabiner and clip it around the rope between her wrists and ankles.

    ¡°Winch: Up.¡± I say, positioning myself so that she is between me and Thran on the bed.

    As the whimpering slut rises, I twist the rope so she comes to face toward Thran, with her rear facing me.

    I think about stopping it when she reaches 120cm off the ground¡­ but I let it keep going¡­

    As her pussy draws level with my face, I say ¡°Winch: Stop.¡± and her movement stops.

    I push her knees apart and bring my face to her soaking panties.

    With my little finger I hook through them and pull them aside.

    ¡°My compliments, slut(!)¡± I chortle ¡°You have a pretty little cunt! Nice, well groomed bikini line¡­ tidy lips¡­ lovely aroma¡­¡± affecting the demeanour of a sommeli¨¨re.

    ¡°Mmmhph!¡± she protests.

    I plunge my tongue inside her.

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    I can see Emiko''s face, looking at me, from beyond the foot of the bed, 2m up in the air, gagged, moaning and squirming, as Xon¡¯s tongue probes 12cm inside her, presumably twisting, coiling and¡­undulating in a way that, I know from experience, quickly breaks a woman¡¯s sanity.

    The combination of the ¡®show¡¯ and the wand between my pussylips are on the cusp of giving me my second orgasm of the night when Emiko convulses, her eyes crossed, her lungs screamed empty.

    Xon pulls her tongue from her pussy and comes to Emiko¡¯s side, before twisting her so that they¡¯re facing eachother and in profile from my perspective.

    Xon undoes the poor, little, mindbroken subslut¡¯s ballgag, dropping it to the floor before seizing her jaw, forcing her mouth open with one hand.

    The two women stare into eachother¡¯s eyes a moment before Xon spits in Emiko¡¯s mouth and laughs ¡°Hope you like the taste slut!¡± viciously.

    Swivelling the bound woman back to face me the Domme of Dommes shouts ¡°Gravity: 0.1 Galactic Standard¡±

    I immediately feel my weight reduce so much that it feels like I might float off the bed¡­ well, I would if I weren¡¯t chained here with expensive accessories that she¡¯s clearly bought just because I keep breaking the regular restraints(!)

    Xon unclips the winch and heaves to overcome Emiko¡¯s inertia, pushing her through the air toward me (while also pushing herself backward, in accordance with Newton''s Third Law).

    Emiko floats toward me and lands, gently, on the bed next to me.

    Once she¡¯s confident no one (least of all herself) will get hurt, Xon restores the gravity and strides to the bed.

    She undoes the binding of Emiko¡¯s feet, taking the rope, and then says ¡°Get your clit on that vibebulb, slut!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­*huh*¡­ Mistress.¡± responds Emiko, breathlessly.

    Doing her best, her hands still tied behind her, Emiko manages to straddle me, then lie flat on top of me her face just above mine, her slim, naked chest against mine, letting me feel her weight, in Earth gravity, her hips squashing the wand into my pussy.

    Xon pushes her feet apart and begins lashing my ankles to her shins.

    As she does, Emiko makes the most of her ungagged mouth, kissing my face, senselessly.

    I hear a loud smack, paired with Emiko gasping loudly.

    ¡°Who the fuck told you you were allowed to kiss my bitch, slut!?¡± demands Xon.

    ¡°No¡­ one¡­ Mistress¡­ I¡¯m¡­ sorry¡­¡± replies Emiko who looks like she¡¯s having trouble thinking coherently.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ¡®sorry¡¯, slut! Be BETTER!¡± says Xon, reaching for the hair at the top of my head with her right hand, tilting my head forward and rooting to undo the straps on this weird ballgag she has me wearing.

    Presumably, she¡¯s going to gag Emiko with it, now.

    When I see the straps loose in her hands, I try to push the gag out of my mouth with my tongue¡­ but find it still strapped there¡­ confusingly.

    Xon grabs Emiko by the hair and says ¡°Mouth on that double ballgag, slut!¡± clearing up the mystery of why this gag had such an odd, 3D figure 8, shape.

    Emiko puts her mouth on the gag and Xon fastens her head in place.

    Her lips are pressed against mine, her nose is squashed by mine, the vibration of her pathetic moans transmitted into my mouth, through the gag, her purple eyes forced to stare directly into mine, taking up my entire field of vision.

    ¡°Now¡­¡± says Xon, scooting herself between our thighs ¡°¡­Which of you two whores wants my cock first?¡±

    Both my and Emiko¡¯s eyes widen.

    ¡°Oh, ho¡­(!) From the way you started moving, it looks like both of you want me inside you(!)¡­ unfortunately¡­ I only have one cock! So¡­¡±

    Touching the tip of her cock to my pussy and not on alternate beats, she rhymes ¡°Eenie¡­ Meenie¡­ Miney¡­ Mo¡­ I wonder where my cock should go¡­¡±

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective, the next morning---

    It¡¯s early.

    I walk into the Commonroom in the quiet halflight of the time just before the nocturnal turns to diurnal.

    I head towards the kitchen.

    At this point, Twila shimmers into being on a countertop, coupled with the lights turning on, causing me to jump out of my skin!

    ¡°Oh, hey!¡± she says with a smug smile ¡°I took the liberty of preparing you a triple helping of pancakes¡­ they¡¯re in the stasisfridge¡­¡±

    I stare at the impish little AI, a few moments, calculating.

    ¡°You can¡¯t tell anyone!¡± I state.

    ¡°Did I say anything? Anything at all about any snu snu sessions that may or may not have happened between when Emiko went into Thran''s room, last night, and when you came out of it, just now?!¡± she says, throwing up her hands in mock defensiveness but clearly still enjoying the hell out of the situation.

    ¡°Twila¡­¡± I say, with a hard edge in my voice.

    ¡°Alright¡­ alright¡­¡± she says, her tone more genuine now ¡°¡­my lips are sealed¡­ now¡­ take your pancakes.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.40

    ---Therapy---

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Come in¡­¡± I say, to the knocking sound at the door.

    It¡¯s waved open and in comes a brightly shining Terran.

    He falters a moment before saying ¡°Lights: On.¡±

    One of the switches, on the panel by the door, *thock*s from up to down but nothing changes about the room, at least as far as I can discern visually.

    Now having the ability to determine where I am in space, he directs his face toward me.

    ¡°Apologies, Mr Taylor, I didn¡¯t realise the lights were off.¡± I say, doing my best to convey with my tone that it was a genuine mistake.

    He waves his hand and answers ¡°It¡¯s nothin¡¯¡­ no problem¡­ Good to see you, Dr Fischer¡­¡±

    I smile, careful not to show to much of what my husband calls my ¡®shark teeth¡¯, and reply ¡°You can call me Alchyinad¡­ if you like¡­ Please; come in, sit wherever you want¡­ or stand, if you¡¯d prefer.¡±

    Mercifully, he chooses to sit in the chair I¡¯ve arranged around my own height away from (and facing) mine.

    It¡¯s important to put clients at ease, of course, but accommodating those Terrans who felt most comfortable standing and pacing was one of the trickier talents to learn, during my training.

    ¡°So, I know we¡¯ve met already but¡­ I think it would be best if I start by introducing myself and just telling you a little of how this will, ideally, work¡­¡± I pause for him to interject but he just smiles and gives an attentive nod, so I continue ¡°¡­I¡¯m Dr Alchyinad ¡®Dimitrescu¡¯ Fischer and I have been hired to the Bright Plume to provide therapy for the Terran contingent¡­ I only recently fully qualified but, please be certain, you are not my first ever client¡­ You can rest assured that anything you tell me in this room will be kept in the strictest confidence, the only exception would be if you tell me something that leads me to believe you are a danger to yourself or others¡­¡± more nodding from the bright Terran ¡°¡­I should also clarify that I won¡¯t be telling you what to do or how to resolve any dilemmas you bring to me¡­ that¡¯s not what therapy is for¡­ rather, I¡¯m here to listen to you and ask you questions that, hopefully, will lead you to find your own answers¡­ I may, occasionally, make notes on my holopad, please do your best to ignore when that happens¡­ Is that all clear? Do you have anything you want to ask?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°Nope¡­ you¡¯ve covered everythin¡¯ quite well.¡±

    I smile ¡°Would you prefer the privacy field up or down, for this session?... The door locked or unlocked?¡±

    He thinks for a moment before saying ¡°Privacy Field: On. Door: Lock¡± accompanied by two more *thock*s from the room¡¯s control panel.

    I give an encouraging nod before asking ¡°Have you ever had therapy before, Mr Taylor?¡±

    He screws his eyes in recall ¡°Not since uni¡­ I needed constant psych evals to make sure I was still mentally fit for my course¡­ Westminster¡¯d¡¯ve had a huge liability issue, if they¡¯d sent me off to the Amazon, Taklamakan, Antarctic, or wherever, to survive for a week, and I didn¡¯t¡­ if it¡¯d been discovered that I¡¯d been unfit to be sent¡­ well, it¡¯d¡¯ve been bad enough for ¡¯em that they took no chances!¡±

    I nod, fascinatedly ¡°¡­ And¡­ were you ever ruled ¡®unfit¡¯, during that time?¡±

    He holds up a finger ¡°Once¡­ got into a weird headspace where I was sorta hyperfixated and my therapist ordered me to take a week of R ¡¯n¡¯ R before he¡¯d sign off on my next excursion.¡±

    I smile (a little too widely but he gives no visible indication of discomfort) ¡°Well¡­ as I said, I don¡¯t have the authority to order you to do anything!¡­ If I think you would benefit from ¡®R & R¡¯¡­ I might suggest it(!)¡±

    He chuckles at that.

    ¡°OK then¡­ Why don¡¯t you tell me a little about yourself, Mr Taylor?¡± I smile, congenially.

    ¡°Alright¡­ My name¡¯s Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor¡­ I¡¯m 30 years old¡­ I¡¯m Chief Security Specialist aboard the Bright Plume¡­ I identify as Sapiens¡­ I¡¯m in a relationship¡­ I¡¯m¡­ a martial artist¡­?¡± he speaks with the questioning intonation of one who feels he has run out of things to say.

    ¡°You have quite an interesting epithet, Mr Taylor¡­ I¡¯d love to hear how you got it.¡± I prompt, hoping to make it clear, by my tone, that I¡¯m happy for him not to tell me if he doesn¡¯t wish to.

    ¡°Not much of a story, really¡­ Whenever I went on field excursions, from uni, I¡¯d hug all my dormmates goodbye¡­ I came back, I¡¯d greet ¡¯em with a hug¡­ one of ¡¯em, eventually, said ¡®You sure give a lotta cuddles!¡¯ and it just, sorta¡­ stuck¡­ Think there¡¯s, like, a kinda¡­ ¡®Little John¡¯ like appeal to it¡­ in that, it¡¯s a sorta soft name and I¡¯m¡­ well¡­¡± he gestures vaguely at himself.

    ¡°Not(?)¡± I provide, with a mirthful smile¡­ which he returns.

    Sensing that he¡¯s done talking about that, I try a different prompt ¡°Would you expand on what you mean by ¡®identifying¡¯ as Sapiens?¡±

    He falters, seeming a little surprised that I picked up on that phrasing ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ *hhmhhm*¡­ I got nearly 10% Neanderthal genes in me¡­ ¡¯cordin¡¯ to my genetic counsellin¡¯, anyway¡­ That¡¯s about 6% more¡¯an I could possibly have just from ancient interbreedin¡¯, so I probably got a Neanderthal great-great granny or grampa¡­ or, like¡­ maybe 2 halfs?¡­ I say ¡®identify¡¯ ¡¯cause it¡¯d feel a bit¡­ dishonest to claim to be a hybrid, just ¡¯causa an extra 6.25%¡­ like claimin¡¯ I¡¯m bi, ¡¯causa havin¡¯ gone home with men two or three times!¡± He chuckles and I refrain from proffering that that would make him bi, in my opinion.

    He continues ¡°Like¡­ I¡¯d be suspicious of the motives of anyone trynna tell me I was a hybrid!¡­ Oh! Before you ask: No, that¡¯s not where my green eyes an'' red hair come from!¡±

    ¡°¡­I¡¯m afraid, those colours fall outside my visual spectrum, Mr Taylor¡­ though I am aware that they are the eye and hair colours of the majority of Neanderthals and a minority of Sapiens.¡± I smile (I hope kindly) in the face of his preemptive defensiveness.

    ¡°Oh¡­ shit!¡­ Obviously!¡­ Sorry!¡± he says, with a twisted face, as if enormously ashamed of the extremely mild faux pas!

    ¡°No need to apologise, Mr Taylor, it¡¯s quite understandable that you would assume that I had the same visual spectrum as you¡­ More than 99% of sapients do, afterall!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but, obviously, 380-750nm only makes sense if your ecosystem¡¯s universal solvent is water and you evolved on the surface of your planet¡­ and, I suppose, the ability to see colours, in that range, only makes sense if there¡¯s enough light on your cradleworld and there¡¯re colours it matters for you to see¡­ My girlfriend¡¯s completely colourblind ¡¯cause her cradleworld¡¯s an eyeball world! You even had the lights off, when I got here! I can even see your eyes¡¯re transparent in my visual spectrum!¡± he says, clearly still not having forgiven himself.

    I smile and say ¡°Truly, no harm done, Mr Taylor, I¡¯m not upset¡­¡±

    He hesitates, then nods.

    ¡°What did you mean when you said you¡¯d be ¡®suspicious of the motives of someone telling you you were a hybrid¡¯, Mr Taylor?¡± I ask, curiously.

    He shifts, uncomfortably, then answers ¡°¡­Most people fall into one of two camps, on hybridhood¡­ grandparent or great grandparent¡­ some planets in the UTC record to the third generation¡­ so¡­ if you¡¯re an eighth-Neanderthal, that fact¡¯ll be on your ID and, like, other official stuff¡­ Earth¡¯s government only records to two generations, otherwise I could check my parents¡¯ enlistment docs for which of ¡¯em was the eighth (I think it was my dad, but it¡¯s difficult to tell an eighth, just from photos and vids)¡­ the opinion that people should count as hybrids with less than 12.5% tends, in my experience, to be correlated quite highly with antiResurectee bigotry¡­ The kinda people who¡¯d insist that my hair and eye colour must have come from my hybridisation, even after I tell ¡¯em it¡¯s not¡­ who¡¯d look at my physique and write it off as ¡®genetics¡¯ rather¡¯an acknowledge the hard work I put in to buildin¡¯ and maintainin¡¯ it¡­ the kind who say they ¡®just don¡¯t agree with the decision to resurrect our cousins, ¡¯cause they had their time¡¯¡­ like they think Resurrectees¡¯ right to exist is still up for debate!¡­ The kind who use words like ¡®unevolved¡¯ and ¡®primitive¡¯¡­ The kinda person who¡¯d wait until a Resurrectee was just at the edge of earshot and then mutter the C word, just loud enough for ¡¯em to hear!¡±

    ¡°The ¡®C word¡¯?¡± I query.

    His lips tighten ¡°¡­Yeah¡­ the one that¡¯s a combination, of either the word ¡®man¡¯ or ¡®woman¡¯, followin¡¯ on from the word ¡®cave¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­And this word is a¡­ slur?¡± I query.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ it¡¯s a slur¡­¡± he says, followed by seeming to again realise who he¡¯s talking to and saying ¡°Don¡¯t get the wrong idea! There¡¯s like¡­ cultural context¡­ history behind that word¡­ It don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Mr Taylor¡­¡± I interrupt (which is not ideal) ¡°¡­I¡¯m not offended by the existence of a slur, in your language, implying troglodytism to be undesirable¡­ Though, I am curious about the cultural context behind it¡­¡±

    He nods, with a relieved smile, before starting ¡°¡­ So¡­ the first thing is, it¡¯s wrong¡­ absolutely and unequivocally(!)¡­ NO Human lineage (as far as we can tell in modern times) has ever favoured livin¡¯ in caves¡­ even in regions where there¡¯re tonnes of caves, evidence is that all paleolithic, Heidelbergensian lineages, whether that¡¯s Sapiensoid (Sapiens, Longi, Khandwa, Danau and Irhoud), Neanderthaloid (Neanderthal, Denisova, Lisri and Dzhigda), Tshwanoid (Tshwane and Inhatzenguele) or even Bwato (the one nonHeidelbergensian lineage that we know Sapiens bred with), all of ¡¯em preferred livin¡¯ camped out on somewhat open ground!¡­ Different people in different places had different relationships to their local caves¡­ some of ¡¯em got used as burial sites, some of ¡¯em got used as religious sites, some of ''em as rubbish tips, some as art galleries, but basically no evidence of long term habitation¡­ The only evidence consistent with caves¡¯ use as shelters¡¯s as short term shelters of necessity¡­ It¡¯d be like diggin¡¯ up a site from the 20th century and callin¡¯ ¡¯em ¡®bus shelter people¡¯ then makin¡¯ pictures in textbooks that always showed ¡¯em hangin¡¯ ¡¯round bus shelters, like they¡¯d nowhere else to be(!)¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°¡­If there is no evidence of Humans living in caves, long term, why does this slur exist?¡± I ask, keeping my tone inquisitive, as if asking him to educate me, rather than accusing, as if asking him to justify his position.

    ¡°Preservation bias¡­¡± he says, with resignation ¡°¡­Stuff just preserves better in caves so most of the art, artefacts and remains we have from premodern times is stuff that¡¯s been lyin¡¯ in caves for tens of thousands of years¡­ I often think about how much ancient Humans must¡¯ve painted, outside of caves, that just didn¡¯t preserve¡­ Like, if you put a mural on a rockface that¡¯s open to the elements then it¡¯ll be gone in a few years¡­ maybe they painted their entire worlds; painted footprints on the rocks beside trails, marked out the best gatherin¡¯ grounds by puttin¡¯ handprints on the trees¡­ dyed their tents, their tools, their clothes, just to have somethin¡¯ interestin¡¯ to look at¡­ we¡¯d never know because the paintin¡¯s they left in caves are the only ones sheltered enough to survive.¡±

    I nod, attentively, before saying ¡°I get the sense that it isn¡¯t only the lack of academic rigor that upsets you about this slur?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ it¡¯s, like¡­ the dismissiveness! Like, they think the only reason these people didn¡¯t develop housin¡¯, farmin¡¯, metallurgy, wheels etc. etc. is because they was too stupid to figure it out¡­ and not ¡¯cause they was livin¡¯ every day hand-to-mouth, you know?! The kinda person who thinks that they¡¯d be able to time travel back to 40,000 years ago and wow people with modern knowledge but then, when you ask ¡¯em what they know that would be useful to ancient people (that don¡¯t rely on somethin¡¯ they need to bring from the present) the only thing they can provide is farmin¡¯¡­ like they don¡¯t think that a Neanderthal would know that seeds turn into plants¡­(!) The only thing I think I could teach ancient people, that they¡¯d find valuable, is how to smelt bog-iron¡­ but I ain¡¯t so arrogant to think, if I didn¡¯t already know how to do that, that I could work it out from first principles! ¡®That¡¯s some interestin¡¯ lookin¡¯ red mud! I wonder what would happen if I spent weeks makin¡¯ charcoal, buildin¡¯ a furnace, gettin¡¯ it to hundreds of degrees and then dropped it in there¡¯(!)¡±

    I smile ¡°I can see you¡¯re very passionate about this, Mr Taylor¡­¡±

    He nods, firmly ¡°Yeah¡­ well I grew up in the room opposite a Neanderthal¡¯s¡­ she¡¯s the closest thing I have to a sister¡­ first time I heard someone bring her to tears with that word¡­ encouraged me to educate myself¡­ after I got out of the headteacher¡¯s office, where I got a lecture about how we solve our differences with words, that is¡­ Don¡¯t hurt that natural history¡¯s the crossover of history and biology¡­ which were always my two favourite subjects at school¡­after P.E.!¡± he hesitates before leaning forward, conspiratorially ¡°¡­You wanna know the most messed up part, about that guy?¡±

    I match his conspiratorial lean and smile ¡°Tell me¡­¡±

    ¡°The week before he made Treg cry, he¡¯d asked her out! She turned him down and he immediately went nasty to her! Like he thought he could fuckin¡¯ bully her into sayin¡¯ yes!¡± he says, disgustedly ¡°A real fuckin¡¯ Chad Johnson!¡­ Oh, shit, sorry! D¡¯you know who that is?¡±

    I nod ¡°Yes; a 24th century reextinctionist who strongly advocated for the cessation of resurrection of not only lost animal and plant biodiversity but, also, Human cousins¡­ after he made a public threat against a resurrection lab, a search warrant was executed, during which his home computer was found to have dozens of hours of Neanderthal pornography on it¡­ after that fact became known to the public, support for Chad Johnson¡¯s ideas rapidly diminished and reextinctionism, as a movement, slowly died out¡­ slightly ironically(!)¡±

    He pulls a surprised expression before saying ¡°Wow! Impressive!¡±

    I smile ¡°Studying the Johnson Phenomenon was part of my degree¡­ Would you say, Mr Taylor, that you think it¡¯s worse for people like Chad Johnson and this boy who made your friend/sister cry to espouse these views insincerely than it would be if they were sincere?¡±

    He gives a firm nod, his brow knit, and answers ¡°YES! If they truly believed what they were saying they¡¯d be wrong and hateful but least I could respect ¡¯em as honest! Y¡¯know? It¡¯s like the one they really hate is themself and, instead of comin¡¯ to see someone like you about it, they decide to make it everyone elses'' problem!¡±

    He¡­ subtly just implied that he hates himself¡­ I briefly consider confronting that, right now, but decide that that¡¯s a bit heavy for a first session. That¡¯s the kind of thing that should wait until he¡¯s more at ease with me¡­ he¡¯s likely to shut down if I ask ¡®would you say you hate yourself¡¯ so, instead, I observe ¡°I can see that honesty is very important to you, Mr Taylor¡­¡±

    He answers with a firm nod but says nothing more so, after a small pause, I ask ¡°Would you tell me about the experience of growing up in¡­ London? Was it London?¡±

    He smiles ¡°Yeah¡­ Camden Borough¡­¡±

    I smile back ¡°A lovely place.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve been?¡± he says, surprised.

    ¡°I have.¡± I say ¡°My husband and I had several dates in London, early in our relationship¡­ but we¡¯re not here to talk about me¡­¡± reminding myself as much as him ¡°¡­what was life like for a, preBright Plume, Victor Taylor, growing up in London?¡±

    He thinks for a few moments, seeming to be getting his thoughts in order, before starting ¡°Already said what my three favourite subjects at school were¡­ My least favourites were maths and languages¡­ to this day I only speak six; English, Italian, Mandarin, Japanese, Cantonese and Old English¡­ Italian¡¯s the only one I really learned at school¡­ Old English I sorta got a groundin¡¯ in, at school, but it¡¯s one of the harder languages to stay in practice with, given how rare new Old English media works are. I did brush up a bit, recently, ¡¯causa somethin¡¯ I wanna do on Nova Fennoscandia¡­ the others, I learned from my original Sh¨©fu and Jeanne ¡®Blitz¡¯ Miyazaki¡­ I can understand R¡¯qali OK, but I can never get the hang of the whole front mouth ¡®c¡¯, back mouth ¡®k¡¯ and the ¡®q¡¯ that wants you to deep-throat it(!)¡±

    He¡¯s not counting Galactic Basic or Galactic Basic Sign Language, despite the fact that he must speak them. Not particularly surprising¡­ with only a few thousand words and, effectively, no grammar, Terrans tend to derisively refer to those languages as ¡®pidgins¡¯.

    ¡°Most of the galaxy would consider that to be quite an impressive number of languages to speak, Mr Taylor(!)¡± I say, amused.

    He just nods, noncommittally, in answer.

    ¡°¡­What about when you weren¡¯t at school?¡± I prompt.

    ¡°¡­Oh¡­ well¡­ When I was little I remember Maia (the AI that ran my orphanage) rentin¡¯ out a droid and takin¡¯ us to the Frost Fairs when the Thames froze over.¡± he says with a wistful smile ¡°When I got a bit older I took up Shaolin¡­ I¡¯d be at the gu¨£n for 3 hours on Tuesday evenin¡¯s, 3 hours on Thursday evenin¡¯s and 2 hours on Saturday mornin¡¯ ¡­ when I weren¡¯t doin¡¯ that¡­ I was usually chillin¡¯ with Treg in either her room, mine or the Commonroom, at home¡­ sometimes we¡¯d take the monorail somewhere and just have a bit of a knock about for the day. We liked goin¡¯ to Italy, Norway, Dogger Island, Atlantis¡­ I liked goin¡¯ to China and Japan but¡­ you gotta change at Berlin, then Moscow, then Vladivostok to get to Beijing with another change in Busan to get to Tokyo¡­ That takes all day and even longer if you wanna change to get out to the countryside, so I¡¯d only go when I had the pocket money to get a transport capsule or to stay the night out there. Treg only came a few times.¡±

    ¡°Why did you need to travel to such far away places to fight?¡±

    ¡°Fight?! We weren¡¯t fightin¡¯! Treg never went in for martial arts!¡± he says, confused.

    ¡°There must have been a miscommunication¡­ I thought you said you ¡®knocked eachother about¡¯?¡±

    He thinks for a moment then bursts out laughing ¡°I meant we went sightseein¡¯! That¡¯s hysterical!¡±

    I give a mirthful sigh ¡°You¡¯d think I hadn¡¯t spent the last ten years living on your planet (!)¡­ Would you tell me how you went from ¡®knocking about¡¯ your favourite hangouts on Earth to the position you currently hold?¡±

    He shrugs ¡°A pinch of dumb luck, to start with¡­ Cap came to Earth, lookin¡¯ for someone for this role¡­ Miyazaki and her husband hadn¡¯t had any luck linin¡¯ anyone up¡­ Cap apparently stormed out in a huff¡­ I saw her from a mile away, nearby Waterloo Station¡­ Not too many nonTerrans on Earth, especially in those days¡­ you notice a 131cm secretarybird dressed in a sash, like she¡¯s off to her job as the mayor of a preUnification village(!)¡­ She was bein¡¯ followed by that boy I told you about earlier and two cronies he had from school¡­ I knew if I didn¡¯t stop ¡¯em they was gonna do somethin¡¯ they¡¯d regret and, sure enough, when I caught up to ¡¯em they was trynna mug her for her devices¡­ I got ¡¯em back and chased the boys off. She took one look at me and decided I fit the bill¡­ and the rest is history.¡±

    ¡°What made you so sure these boys were going to try to hurt Tcakqaal?¡± I query.

    He cocks an eyebrow ¡°I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t have to tell you how much antigardenworlder vitriol there is on Earth, if you¡¯ve lived there for ten years! Earth was one of the hardest hit planets in terms of War casualties because we were the first to institute total conscription, meaning we were hugely overrepresented in the military, in the early War, when the fightin'' was deadliest ''cause we hadn''t worked out what we was doin'' yet, and because we had the most robust system of AI infrastructure in the UTC, meaning it was really hard for people to get exempted from service because the stuff was already in place to just hand every essential job off to an AI¡­ Where the UTC, at large, lost 4% of its population, that figure is almost double for Earth! ''Causa that, growing up, bigotry against gardenworlders was normal¡­ Treg tells me it¡¯s getting better recently, as the War gets further into the past, but I¡¯m certain it ain¡¯t over yet!¡­ I¡¯m sure you had more than your fair share of slurs thrown your way¡­?¡±

    I nod ¡°One or two, yes¡­ The ability to identify threatening behaviour ¡®a mile away¡¯ then ¡®chase off¡¯ three opponents doesn¡¯t particularly sound like ¡®dumb luck¡¯, to me¡­¡±

    Another noncommittal shrug.

    I frown, slightly ¡°Why weren¡¯t you affected by this antigardenworlder sentiment¡­ after all, from the sound of it, you lost to the War as well?¡±

    His face goes hard and he says ¡°I did.¡± simply.

    ¡°Victor¡­ if you don¡¯t want to talk about your parents then you don¡¯t need to¡­¡±

    He sighs ¡°I feel like I talked my absent parents to death, for a second time, with my last therapist: My mum was a scarlet haired lass from Stranraer¡­ my dad was a strapping young buck from Dogger Island¡­ they met at bootcamp, in the shadow of the Sussex Space Elevator, soon after they both turned 18¡­ (I¡¯ve already lived 50% longer than either of ¡¯em ever did!) My mum¡¯s reproductive cycle deactivation didn¡¯t work¡­ I am the result¡­ I¡¯m sure she must¡¯ve faced prejudice as a draft dodger, ¡¯cause gettin¡¯ pregnant, before you turned 18, was a well known ¡®hack¡¯ for women to, temporarily, get themselves and their babydaddy outta the draft¡­ I don¡¯t think I¡¯m a draft dodge baby¡­ even if I didn¡¯t have her medical records confirmin¡¯ that, yes, the contraceptive cycle pause failed to take, it¡¯d just be¡­ a bit weird for ¡¯em to name me Victor after the Victory at Krwndw (as they claim to''ve, in the video diary they left me) if they only had me to get outta fightin¡¯¡­ As soon as she¡¯d recovered from labour, I was handed off to Maia and she an¡¯ my dad were shipped off to New Australia, where they died¡­ The reason I never requested info on my forbears, from the government of Sol (Like who my Neanderthal great-great grandparent was, for example) is ¡¯cause it¡¯d make me sad for no reason¡­ I already know there was no one left alive who was close enough to ¡¯em that they felt any obligation to raise me on their account! I¡¯m kinda done talkin¡¯ about it¡­it¡¯s not why I asked for therapy¡­ Oh, and to answer your question¡­ I guess my functional sense of empathy allowed me to see that the gardenworlders who killed my parents were, almost certainly, frightened conscripts who¡¯d rather be anywhere but where they were, just like my parents¡­ not evil demons(!)¡­ It wasn¡¯t complicated(!) None of this is why I requested a therapist.¡±

    I appraise the clearly wounded Terran.

    It could not be more obvious that he is less at peace with his parents¡¯ death than he¡¯s claiming¡­ but no therapy was ever achieved by calling your client a liar, so¡­ let¡¯s try something else¡­

    ¡°Alright Mr Taylor¡­ if that¡¯s not the reason¡­ then tell me¡­ why did you ask for therapy?¡±

    A smile twists his mouth ¡°You can call me ¡®Victor¡¯ if you¡¯d like¡­¡±

    I smile back ¡°Is that what you would like?¡±

    He shrugs ¡°I don¡¯t care what you call me.¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Alright then¡­ Victor¡­ why did you request therapy?¡±

    He pauses a moment, then speaks ¡°I guess it started when I was sent to a¡¯Teksia 3¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.41

    ---Honour---

    ¡°If you guys had this¡­ why, exactly, did we need to get a transport capsule to Msitu, on Zanzibar?¡± asks Kas, gesturing vaguely around at the shuttle we¡¯re currently aboard, seeming to have only just thought of this question, despite this not being the first time she¡¯s ridden in it.

    ¡°I can answer that¡­¡± offers Xon ¡°¡­at the time, the Bright Plumers were, technically, all persons of interest in an ongoing piracy investigation¡­ we couldn¡¯t allow them use of an interstellar capable ship¡­ It wasn¡¯t as if any of us thought that you were pirates¡­ even the pirates very quickly gave up on trying to claim that you guys had framed them, but rules are rules and we couldn¡¯t give you access to an FTL capable ship, in case you decided to¡­ Victor, what was that English phrase you taught me the other day¡­?¡±

    Victor smiles ¡°¡®Do a runner¡¯?¡±

    Xon nods and snaps her finger ¡°That was it; in case you¡¯d [done a runner]!¡±

    At this point we are hailed by local Aerospace Control (it may even be the same man who I spoke to, the evening we arrived, though I can¡¯t be sure from just his voice).

    ¡°Craft; the Swift Claw, please be advised, you are entering restricted airspace. Transmit the proper landing clearance codes or you will be fired upon.¡± he says, casually.

    ¡°Twila¡­ I assume I can count on you to take care of that?¡± I ask, a little nervous at the prospect of dying in a fiery antiair barrage.

    ¡°Nah¡­(!) Thought it¡¯d be fun to let you guys get shot down¡­ I¡¯d be fine(!)¡± smirks Twila¡¯s voice, from the speakers.

    ¡°Codes received, Swift Claw, you are clear to land¡­ Welcome to Hale Ahaolelo.¡± says the Controller, with an audible smile.

    I look out of the window as we approach¡­ the main government council meeting hall of this planet juts from the lower slopes of a mountain, capped by ice and with a permanent river of molten rock flowing down it¡¯s side.

    I¡¯m told, on Earth, that mountain would be too tall to even exist. Its own weight would cause the crust beneath it to sink into the mantle!

    Where the mountain meets the sea is a city that, outside of Terran Space, would be considered a megalopolis!

    Twila lands our shuttle at the end of a long terrace, a [hundred metres], or so, above the dusty, stony soil of the slope below.

    The ramp opens and a booming voice announces over speakers ¡°Ladies, Gentlemen and all other configurations of Being, the guests of honour! Please welcome the crew of the Bright Plume!¡±

    A cheer erupts from a gathered crowd, held at bay by velvet ropes that mark off a red carpet (and look thoroughly inadequate to the task of telling a deathworlder where they are and are not allowed to stand!) The carpet is lined by soldiers in ceremonial looking suits of armour and armed with plasmaspears (the soldiers certainly look a better match to the task than the velvet rope(!))

    There¡¯s celebratory music being played, from somewhere.

    Taking their spears in there left hands, the soldiers ball their right hands into fists and bring them to their chests, the backs of their thumbs against their hearts, in a Terran salute. On their right shoulders is the emblem of the United Terran Coalition, a quartered circle with two quarters green and two blue, on their left shoulders, the Neonesian emblem, an ocean blue and teal spiral.

    As we near each soldier, they thrust their spear into the air at a 45¡ã angle, creating an arch for us to walk beneath.

    We approach the doors to the building and they are opened for us by well dressed, warmly smiling staff.

    We are ushered to a great auditorium, with a portion of the seating standing empty, near the front.

    Those who sit are each directed, by our guides, to a chair bearing their name. Qorak and I are guided to a perch occupying the space of a chair, in the front row¡­ They even went to the trouble of attaching our names to it, written out in R¡¯qali unguiform script¡­ as if anyone else here might think this perch was for them(!)

    Victor takes the seat to our left.

    A stocky man in distinguished looking clothing, the sides and back of his head bare of hair, though it grows on the top, long enough to be tied into a [bun], steps to the podium at the front of the stage.

    In his one bionic and one natural hand, he carries a fine piece of folded cloth that looks as if it weighs several times more than I do!

    He clears his throat and his amplified voice echoes through the enormous room.

    Haltingly and nervously, he starts ¡°Good evening, all¡­ For those of you who do not know me¡­ I am Vasa ¡®Bluefin¡¯ Tuilagi¡­ and I am, as of recently, the representative for the Ho¡¯opuehu Constituency¡­ which includes Moku Pua¡­ Unfortunately, public speaking¡­ has never been a forte of mine¡­ and I deeply regret that I cannot adequately honour the men and women before me with my words, the way they deserve¡­¡±

    He takes a moment to collect himself before continuing ¡°Their actions¡­ when we called upon them¡­ saved thousands of lives¡­ it¡¯s impossible for me to conceive of the number of smiles hello ¡­ waves goodbye and kisses goodnight that will happen, over the years to come¡­ which would not have been possible without these people, right here¡­¡±

    His voice cracks as he says ¡°¡­Twenty three thousand three hundred¡­ and seventy two¡­ every one of them someone¡¯s son or daughter¡­ someone¡¯s mother or father¡­ brother, sister or friend¡­ every one of them a life that now gets to be lived because of these people¡­¡±

    He pauses for a moment, scanning across the room ¡°¡­I know that nothing I can say¡­ or do¡­ will convey the gratitude that these heroes and heroines deserve¡­ the debt that the people of Neonesia owe¡­ but¡­ as but a token¡­ I am proud to be able to present them with the Sailcloth of Hanohano, in recognition of their gallantry!¡­ Captain Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak and Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor¡­ would both of you please step on stage to accept this accolade on behalf of your ship and its crew?¡±

    I hop down from my place on the perch beside Qorak, cradling Tcakak in his wings, and begin walking up to the stage.

    Victor rises from his seat and walks beside me.

    We climb the stage and the host picks up the cloth, turning to face us.

    Holding it with two arms he speaks ¡°With this cloth¡­ Neonesia honours you¡­ may the wind ever blow behind it¡­ may the stars ever glitter above it¡­ may the waves ever calm before it¡­ and may the fish ever swim, plentifully, beneath it¡­¡±

    The man extends the cloth (wisely giving it to Victor rather than me) and the room erupts in thunderous applause¡­

    ---later---

    I stand on the wall at the edge of the terrace garden adjoined to the building where the honours ceremony just took place. Behind me is a thrumming party, in front of me is a spectacular view of an enormous city surrounded by blue forests, beside me is Victor.

    ¡°Would you mind if I joined you?¡± comes a recognisable voice.

    I turn and see the man who presented us with the honour.

    Victor smiles and shrugs before extending his right hand to the man¡¯s bionic for a handshake ¡°No objection from me¡­ Cap an¡¯ I was just admirin¡¯ the bluery.¡±

    The man bears his teeth in a hearty laugh ¡°[Bluery](!?)¡­ I¡¯ll have to add that to my lexicon! Here I¡¯ve just been calling it ¡®vegetation¡¯, all these years¡­ like some kind of fool(!)¡±

    Victor grins back ¡°Glad to¡­ oh, shit! Troof!¡­ Troof! Step away from the snackbar ''til I¡¯ve told you what¡¯ll kill you to eat!¡­ Sorry, ¡¯scuse me you two!¡± and with that he disappears.

    Tuilagi gives an amused expression, as he watches Victor go, before gesturing after him and asking ¡°Is he¡­ aware that the snackbar is staffed by attendants whose only job is making sure no one eats anything that will poison them?¡±

    I chitter ¡°I¡¯m sure, even if he were, he¡¯d still want to make sure¡­ The man takes the safety of others very seriously!¡­ It seems to be a theme with you Terrans; fierce about the safety of others¡­ blatant disregard for your own!¡±

    ¡°You think we¡¯re¡­ that bad?¡± he asks with amusement.

    In answer, I give a wry cock of my browtuft, gesture behind him, using my primary flight feathers to point up the slope, and ask ¡°Mr Tuilagi¡­ what¡¯s that?¡±

    He looks behind me¡­ ¡°Ke Ahi Lele? The volcano?¡±

    I nod ¡°And, what is that running down the [volcano¡¯s] side?¡±

    He smiles, seeming to realise where I¡¯m going ¡°That would be ¡¯Ail¨¡¡¯au¡­ a river of lava¡­¡±

    I gesture down to the coast ¡°And that?¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°That¡¯s the city of Kahakai Nani¡­ Capital of both the island of Kahakai Nani and the planet Neonesia¡­¡±

    ¡°Indeed, indeed? And how many people live in Kahakai Nani?¡± I smirk.

    ¡°Around¡­ fifteen million¡­ I believe¡­¡±

    ¡°Fif¡­ teen¡­ million people who¡¯ve chosen to live in a city at the base of a permanently erupting [volcano]!¡±

    ¡°Point taken¡­ but¡­ in our defence¡­ This has got to be the best monitored volcano in the galaxy¡­ ¡¯Ail¨¡¡¯au also hasn¡¯t significantly changed course in the entire 300 years that this planet has been settled.¡±

    ¡°Excuses, excuses(!)¡± I tease.

    He smiles and, after a few moments, indicates my position on the wall ¡°Speaking of safety; you realise, if a Terran were standing where you¡¯re standing I¡¯d be telling them how much they had to live for, right now(?)¡±

    I cock a browtuft and answer ¡°Yes¡­ well the difference is that a drop of this height would kill a Terran¡­ whereas getting stepped on by a drunken, revelling Terran would kill me(!)¡±

    ¡°Good point¡­¡± he says, with a corresponding gesture of his bionic index finger.

    ¡°I¡­ erm¡­ I take it you served?¡± I say, indicating his replaced appendage.

    ¡°Oh, this¡­?¡± he says, holding it up, pulling down his sleeve to show me how it attaches to his wrist and then performing a 720¡ã swivel that would definitely not be possible with a natural hand ¡°Nope¡­ I did serve but that¡¯s not where I got this¡­ I lost it as a child¡­ that was the time before I could just spend a few days in a tube and have it grown back like an axolotl¡­ or Deadpool(!)¡­ It actually would have exempted me from service, if I¡¯d wanted it too. I went to the recruitment office and had to beg them to let me show I could do anything a person with a natural hand could do¡­ and more! I¡¯m not entirely convinced the recruiter didn¡¯t just agree to get me out of his office(!)¡±

    I laugh ¡°I¡¯ve never heard anything more Terran(!)¡±

    He smiles and there is a brief lull in the conversation.

    I break the silence by observing ¡°For someone who claims not to have a talent for public speaking¡­ you certainly gave an eloquent and moving speech earlier¡­¡±

    He gives a mirthful exhale ¡°I¡¯m just glad I managed to get through it without bursting into tears¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing you¡­ don¡¯t mean from stagefright?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re guessing correctly¡­ Of those countless smiles, waves and kisses I mentioned, I hope to enjoy many myself¡­ My wife and son were on that island¡­ I owe their lives to you and your crew¡­ Thank you¡­ from the bottom of my heart.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say¡­¡±

    He shrugs ¡°You don¡¯t need to say anything¡­¡±

    Another long pause.

    Eventually a thought occurs to me ¡°Mr Tuilagi¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Why did you settle on politics¡­ if you think yourself to be bad at public speaking? How were you elected if you are?¡± I query.

    He chuckles and answers ¡°I didn¡¯t and I wasn¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t blame you for not following the local news. My predecessor is sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial for fraud, embezzlement and endangerment of public safety, right now¡­ When I said I was the representative ¡®as of recently¡¯¡­ I meant less than a week ago¡­¡±

    ¡°What did they do?! Your predecessor¡­ why are they facing these charges¡­?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ he siphoned off funds (meant for things like tsunami prediction systems, for example) and directed them to a personal account¡­ then attempted to flee the system on a private yacht he¡¯d bought with his embezzled money, when this fact came to light¡­ I think he¡¯s going to get the book thrown at him!¡­ There will certainly be a sizeable minority of the population advocating reinstatement of the death penalty, as there always is when a particularly emotionally charged crime, like this, is being tried¡­ I highly doubt he¡¯ll ever be allowed to hold public office again (as if he¡¯d ever find a constituency to vote for him)¡­ I¡¯m just the highest level political clerk to whom no shit stuck¡­ I¡¯m only keeping the seat warm until a snap election is called¡­ I¡¯m sorry that it wasn¡¯t someone more¡­ prestigious who presented you with that sailcloth.¡±

    I smile a Terran smile (as much as one can, without lips) and answer ¡°Mr Tuilagi, the heartfelt thanks of a man, grateful not to have lost a family, mean more to me than if that award had been presented by an emperor!¡­ Also, even if it¡¯s only temporarily, don¡¯t you hold just about the most esteemed position in Terran politics? In order to get any more prestigious you¡¯d have to go into diplomacy, right?¡­ The UTC is in rare company, galactically, for ruling exclusively by council!¡±

    He beams before confirming ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ when Terrans were hammering out our Unification, heads of state were one of the first things we agreed needed to go¡­ Gone were the days when decisions needed to be more fast than considered¡­ and gone were the days where politicians could be allowed the arrogance of thinking their people were their servants¡­! There was even some talk of making manacles or collars a symbolic mark of office, to remind us of who served whom (ultimately ruled to be too much in poor taste(!))¡­ Political crimes, like my predecessor committed, are some of those that we Terrans look upon least charitably¡­ I suppose I should enjoy this office while I hold it¡­ I expect I¡¯ll be back at my old desk, within the month¡­¡±

    I think for a moment before saying ¡°Mr Tuilagi¡­ if you want to remain as a representative¡­ could I give you some advice?¡±

    He chuckles ¡°Oh¡­ already offering me campaign advice?¡­ So forward(!)¡­ *sigh* Go on, then.¡±

    ¡°The way you speak, when you have a lot to say, is very¡­ halting¡­¡±

    He nods and sighs ¡°I know, I should speak more fluently if I want¡­¡±

    ¡°Lean into it¡­¡± I interrupt.

    He turns to me, a bemused expression on his face ¡°Lean into it?¡­ You mean I should just speak haltingly?¡±

    ¡°I mean that you should learn the art of the dramatic¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­ pause¡­¡± I say with a wry cock of my browtuft.

    He bursts out laughing ¡°I can tell that someone¡¯s been to the R¡¯qali equivalent of elocution lessons(!)¡±

    ¡°I neither confirm nor deny that supposition(!)¡­ But I am serious¡­ the way you speak now, it¡¯s as if every pause is taking you a little bit by surprise¡­ Panicking you, slightly¡­ I think the easiest way for you to improve your public speaking is to relax¡­ giving people the impression that you¡¯re letting your previous words sit¡­ or carefully considering your next¡­ Don¡¯t fear the pauses¡­ Done right, they lend gravitas!¡­ You also did nothing to hurt your chances by being the highest level politician, for your constituency, who wasn¡¯t caught up in the corruption scandal!¡­ Though, if I were you, I would only lean into that if you actually are as humble and [squeaky clean] as you appear to be to me! Humility and honesty are traits you Terrans love¡­ but, in my experience, there¡¯s nothing that you hate more than insincerity!¡±

    He nods, consideringly ¡°I¡¯d¡­ never¡­ thought of that¡­ thank you¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah! Already trying the dramatic pauses, I see(!)¡±

    He laughs ¡°I suppose so!¡­ I need some practice, if I want to run in the snap election, that is!¡±

    He sighs, looking out at the setting sun ¡°I can¡¯t believe I just got given political campaign advice by the woman who pulled a Dunkirk on my home island, the other day!¡­ Oh, sorry¡­ do you know what ¡®Dunkirk¡¯ is?¡±

    I narrow my eyes, thinking for a few moments, then I recall ¡°Yes¡­ I do, actually! The [26th century] film version is my CSS¡¯s favourite film!¡­ He says it ¡®restores his faith in Humanity¡¯!¡­ I do know it was based on a historical event.¡±

    When I asked Victor why he needed his faith in Humanity restored, he asked me if I needed him to remind me what the other side of that conflict fought for!

    ¡°What you guys talkin¡¯ ¡¯bout?¡± asks Victor, freshly returned from policing the snack bar.

    ¡°Your favourite film, Victor¡­¡± I smile.

    ¡°Hercules (1997)!¡± he says, instantly.

    I sigh ¡°No, your other favourite film¡­¡±

    He thinks a moment before saying ¡°The Journey to the West series (2311-2320)! The martial arts¡¯re sublime! Never been surpassed, before or since!!! First ever major blockbuster to feature an uplift actor in a leading role, with H¨®u ¡®Iron¡¯ Y¨¢ng absolutely fuckin¡¯ killin¡¯ it, as Monkey!¡±

    ¡°No¡­ your other other favourite film¡­¡±

    Another, longer pause ¡°Laputa: Castle in the Sky (1986)?¡­ The Xi¨´ Chang Saga (2113)?¡±

    ¡°No; The Evacuation [2592]¡­ about Dunkirk¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh my god! That¡¯s my favourite film!¡± declares Victor with almost enough enthusiasm to make one forget that he just named four other films as his favourites(!)

    He turns to Tuilagi, a broad grin on his face ¡°You seen the makin¡¯-of-documentary? The director tellin¡¯ how one of the producers wanted to film it on the original location and had to have it gently explained that the original location is 20km inland, nowadays! Had me in hysterics! Defo made the right choice, with filmin¡¯ it on Nieuw Vloandern and Nova Britannia!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to interrupt¡­¡± interrupts a smiling Emiko, not looking overdressed for the first time that I¡¯ve seen, and flanked by Ms Hunter and  with three other people I recognise, though we¡¯ve never met ¡°¡­I thought introductions ought to happen now, before everyone gets too merry(!)¡±

    She gestures to a man wearing a short [sleeved] [shirt] made of, highly durable looking, khaki coloured cloth, a matching pair of [shorts], a sturdy looking pair of [boots] and a wide brimmed, leather [hat].

    At his hip hangs a sheath, which looks as if it usually contains around [30cm] of metal blade which, I assume, he had to relinquish at the entrance.

    He steps forward and, offering his hand for me to take, speaks boisterously, in a dialect of Victor¡¯s language that my translator informs me is called ¡®New Australian¡¯ ¡°Bloody pleasure to meet you! Name¡¯s Steve ¡®Taipan¡¯ Kelly! Expert on toxins and animal handling¡­ seems like I¡¯m gonna be joinin¡¯ you on your tinnie!¡±

    ¡°Captain Tcakqaal¡­¡± I supply as I take his hand and he allows me to dictate the pace of the handshake.

    That done he turns to Victor and grins ¡°How¡¯s it goin¡¯, you Pommie wanker?!¡±

    I¡¯m mortified by the disrespectful way he just spoke to my friend and crewman but Victor, confusingly, just has a broad smile spreading across his face.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t too bad¡­ How about yourself, you Aussie twat!?¡±

    Kelly throws his head back in a roaring laugh for a few moments before saying ¡°I think us two¡¯re gonna be good mates¡­!¡±

    ¡°Would someone please explain what just happened!?¡± I ask, extremely confused!

    ¡°Shared cultural feature¡­ insults are affectionate in both Brit and Aussie cultures¡­ or can be, at least¡­ Brave to do that as your introduction to someone, though¡­!¡± smiles Victor, without breaking eyecontact with the man with whom he just exchanged (apparently affectionate) barbs.

    ¡°I see¡­ you¡­ erm¡­ quivering hatchling¡­?¡± I say, awkwardly.

    He turns to me and says ¡°Cap¡­ ¡¯preciate it¡­ unnecessary¡­!¡± with a reassuring nod and smile.

    I give a sigh of relieve ¡°Thank the Seventeen!!! I can¡¯t think of a time when I¡¯ve been less comfortable than that!¡±

    Laughing at the exchange, a Terran woman steps forward dressed in a long [sleeved], long [hemmed] [dress] of light blue fabric with a matching cloth wrapped tightly around her head, resulting in her only visible skin being that of her face and hands, one of which she extends to me, saying ¡°Yasmin ¡®Gold Tongue¡¯ Soltani, linguist. A pleasure to make your acquaintance¡­¡±

    It takes me a moment to realise that she just spoke in flawless R¡¯qali.

    I chitter ¡°Do I even want to know how many languages a Terran linguist speaks?¡±

    She giggles ¡°I¡¯m not even sure I know that, anymore! I stopped keeping track at some point, during the War... So many languages to decipher!¡­ Though, I do need to point out that a linguist is not the same thing as a hyperpolyglot¡­ I just happen to be both¡­¡± she turns to Victor and, switching to English, says ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr¡­?¡±

    ¡°Taylor¡­ and likewise.¡± answers Victor.

    She does not proffer her hand to him nor he to her, though they do smile at eachother so I¡¯m confident that this is not as a result of animosity.

    Finally, a woman approaches, walking on four cloven hooves at the ends of four slender legs, an impressive set of antlers on her head, and with her eyes arranged slightly to the sides of her face, rather than the front, her pupils elongated horizontally.

    ¡°Princess Vsila of Nghoedwig¡­¡± she says, serenely, bringing her two hands to her chest and then out, toward me, in what my translator tells me is her species¡¯ gesture of greeting ¡°¡­I thank you most kindly for your agreement to convey me to Thrulj¡­ the ODR were quite insistent that I only use transportation that they had approved¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re quite welcome, Princess. It only made sense to accept the commission, given that I was already engaged in another contract with the ODR and it didn¡¯t require my ship to go anywhere we weren¡¯t already planning to.¡± I say, cordially.

    There are a few moments of silence before Mr Kelly slaps his thigh and says ¡°Ripper! Now we¡¯ve all been introduced, how¡¯s about I get us a rounda coldies from the bar?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XVI: Pancakes and Locks

    ---????????¡¯s perspective---

    We¡¯ve just returned from the party at the planetary assembly building¡­

    He was looking at me¡­ I caught him looking¡­

    He wants me¡­ I know it¡­

    I go to his door and wave¡­ it opens¡­

    The idiot didn¡¯t lock his door!

    I walk inside.

    The room smells of him¡­ How I¡¯ve fucking missed this smell!

    I hear the sound of the engines humming and, out of his window, see the blue foliage descend as we take off.

    Once we¡¯re at a height where I¡¯m absolutely certain that no one who happened to look up at his window would be able to make me out, I begin shedding my fine, formal clothing.

    I step to his bed.

    I hesitate a moment¡­ then lie down.

    I¡¯ll wait for him, here.

    ---Nou¡¯s perspective---

    Having realised it¡¯s been over an [hour] since I last saw my husband, I¡¯m making my way from the Commonroom, where I was having a lovely little exchange with that hunky Human therapist and his¡­ terrifying (and sexy) wife, to our room.

    I open the door and, as I walk through it, I realise I¡¯ve passed through a privacy field.

    That¡¯s odd¡­ Why would the privacy field be-?

    ¡°Aaaah!¡±

    My throat is seized by a powerful hand that lifts me cleanly into the air.

    I kick and scream. I fight as hard as I can and it¡¯s so far from enough that it¡¯s almost comical! I¡¯d laugh if I weren¡¯t fearing for my life, right now!

    He pins me to the wall with his firm, dense, deathworld body, leaving my limbs no room to build any momentum to strike him, not that he even seemed to feel it, when I was able to!

    ¡°HEEEEEELLLLLP!¡± I scream.

    In answer, the masked man reaches to my snout and, with a powerful hand, clamps it shut.

    ¡°Shhhshshshshshshshssssssssh!¡± he grins evilly behind his mask ¡°Don¡¯t fight. Don¡¯t struggle. Don¡¯t scream. Nobody who can help will hear you and you know how badly I can make you hurt if you make me angry, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Terrified, I try to give a Terran nod but the sinewy hand at my snout does not allow my head an inch of freedom!

    ¡°Good!¡± says the Terran, who seems to have inferred my compliance by some means other than seeing me nod ¡°Now¡­ I¡¯m going to take my hand off your mouth and you¡¯re not going to scream, got it?!¡±

    Another nod, restrained into nonexistence.

    He releases my snout and without screaming I say ¡°You bastard! What have you done with my husband!?¡±

    He smirks ¡°Your husband? Nothing he wasn¡¯t absolutely begging for! Why don¡¯t you see for yourself?¡± leaning to one side and thus clearing the obstruction of his masked face from my field of vision.

    Nahn is nude, on one of our armchairs, his eyes crossed, his snout muzzled, his metatarsals and feet are bound together with his tail between the pads, his knees bound and splayed, there¡¯s a collar padlocked around his neck, his paws are out of sight over the back of the chair, presumably bound in place, his anus is stuffed with an enormous Terran dildo and on his erect cock is an elastomer sleeve that looks as if it¡¯s holding a vibe bead in place against his glans.

    ¡°I¡¯m actually really glad you turned up when you did! I was getting a little bored of playing with a toy I already broke! Now, I¡¯ve got a fresh new one to use and abuse!¡±

    ¡°I promise you, sir, you will regret this! Our lover is Human and much stronger than you, I¡¯m sure! Once he hears what¡¯s happened to us, he¡¯ll track you down and make you hurt!¡±

    ¡°Some lover(!)¡± the man sneers, derisively ¡°If he really cared about you, he¡¯d be here right now, right? When you tell him what happened to you I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll shrug ¡®that¡¯s life!¡¯ Anyway, I¡¯m certain I¡¯ll enjoy this enough to more than make up for any pain that your limpdick lover might eventually get around to attempting to cause me! Now¡­ let¡¯s get these clothes out of the way, shall we?¡± placing a hand at my collar and ripping my Fulgensian formalwear down the front.

    I shriek ¡°NOOOOOOOoooooo¡­!¡±

    ¡°Aaaaaaand you just broke your promise not to scream¡­ which, I¡¯m afraid, lost you the privilege of being unmuzzled¡­¡± he says, feigning apologetic resignation.

    Faster than I can resolve, I¡¯m on the bed.

    My assailant is not resting any weight on me (seemingly, not wishing to become a murderer) but kneels overtop of me in such a way as my arms are completely unable to be brought from my sides.

    My jaws are wrenched open and my mouth stuffed with some sort of squashy ball which, though in no danger of snapping my teeth, absolutely fills every crevice of space and blocks my ability to pass any sound through my mouth.

    A leather harness is produced, with a perfectly shaped pouch, and forced over my snout, stifling me completely.

    The deathworlder rises from his confining kneel and my paws immediately shoot to my face and begin attempting to release the straps.

    His hands are at my wrists so fast it¡¯s as if they simply don¡¯t respect the intervening distance between points in 3D space!!!

    ¡°I said you¡¯d lost that privilege(!)¡± he taunts, wickedly, before pulling both of my arms, irresistibly, over my head, bringing my wrists together and pinning them against the bed with one hand (he doesn¡¯t lean any more weight or squeeze with any more force than is required to hold them in place but I¡¯m in zero doubt that, if he did, he could snap them like twigs!)

    With the hand not restraining my wrists, he rips off the tatters of my destroyed dress, leaving me clad only in my bra and panties.

    He pulls out a length of soft rope and carefully binds my wrists together above my head. It still requires one of his powerful arms to keep mine raised like this but, I¡¯m guessing, it¡¯s less awkward for him to hold the trailing end of the knot than it was to hold my wrists.

    I pant, hearing my breath as it passes through the muzzle, and the man¡¯s gaze wanders down, briefly alighting on my face, before coming to rest at my chest.

    He reaches out, with the hand he isn¡¯t using to restrain me, and uses a single finger to lazily rip my bra from my breasts.

    I scream and sob into my gag.

    He laughs, cruelly ¡°You gardenworlders should really try making garments more durable than tissue paper(!) How are you not having wardrobe malfunctions all the time, with clothing so flimsy?¡±

    I glare at him, furiously.

    He pouts and brings his hand to my chest.

    Beginning a firm, kneading massage of my left breast, he says ¡°It breaks my heart to see such a pretty woman looking at me like that¡­(!) How about a deal?¡±

    He leans close to my left ear and almost whispers ¡°In 60 seconds I¡¯m going to put my hand into your panties¡­¡±

    I give a stifled, sobbing wail.

    ¡°¡­Let me finish!¡± he says, tapping the side of my face with force that I¡¯m sure he felt was nothing at all but which feels like being slapped, full force, by a Fulgensian!

    ¡°Where was I¡­?¡± he asks resuming his rubbing of my chest ¡°Oh, yeah: I¡¯m going to put my hand into your panties and, if you¡¯re as dry as a bone¡­ I¡¯ll let you go¡­ you and your husband¡­ easy, right? I mean¡­ there¡¯s no waaaaay a woman like you could be made wet by a man she just gave such a hateful glower to, is there(?) So cheer up¡­ this whole ordeal is as good as over for you(!)¡± here he pauses and frowns as if slowly considering ¡°Of course¡­ if you turn out to be wet when I check you¡­ I¡¯d have to conclude that you actually want me to make a mindbroken, pet slut of you, the way your husband wanted¡­ but that would never happen(!) You¡¯ve got nothing to worry about(!)¡± with a nefarious smirk.

    His stroking and squeezing continues for another [twenty seconds] or so before his hand lists across my stomach¡­ and works it¡¯s way under my panties.

    ¡°Ah¡­!¡± he laughs, feigning surprise ¡°¡­by Engai and His Cattle! You¡¯re soaking!!!¡±

    He pulls his hand up to my face, showing me the way my lubrication forms strings between his fingers and, just so there can be no doubt, brings them to my nose, compelling me to get a strong whiff of my own arousal (not that I couldn¡¯t already smell it before he put his hand into my panties!)

    ¡°Welp¡­ A deal¡¯s a deal!¡± he shrugs, as if he would have actually released me if I¡¯d managed to stay dry!

    The Terran stands and pulls me up by my wrist bindings to dangle, in free space.

    He spins me around and carelessly tugs at the knot that¡¯s at the place where my tail joins my lower back. My panties go slack, from the released tension, causing them to fall down my legs and leaving me entirely nude (unless you count a muzzle as clothing(!)).

    He spins me such that I¡¯m looking at Nahn, stops me and says ¡°You see that subby little cuckhold slut? You see his collar? When you¡¯re good and broken, when I think you can¡¯t live without my cock, anymore¡­ I¡¯ve got one just like that, for you¡­ Aren¡¯t you excited!?¡± with glee.

    Spinning me such that I face him he brings a hand to his crotch and releases an enormous Terran phallus from his trousers.

    It¡¯s always terrifying to look at Terrans¡¯ cocks¡­ knowing their length, their girth¡­ their¡­ solidity¡­ but this time it¡¯s infinitely amplified!

    He brings his hand to the back of my hips and begins guiding them, inexorably, toward his.

    I look up to his face, just as I feel his tip against my lips.

    He smirks ¡°Ready or not¡­!¡± and plunges into me with force that empties my lungs of air.

    ---Msia¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°So, how was it? Everything you guys hoped?¡± I ask, lying on the Shings¡¯ bed, the exhausted Shings lying with their heads on my chest, still wearing their collars, my hand gently trailing through the auburn fur of their backs.

    ¡°As always, Sisi, it was intense!¡± smiles Nahn without opening his eyes.

    ¡°Definitely going to be quite tender for the next week or so but, as Nahn said, that¡¯s sort of¡­ an expected part of the deal when being [fucked] by a deathworlder!¡± adds Nou.

    ¡°You were OK with the degradation? The impact play? Me lifting you guys up by your throats still feels wrong! You¡¯re sure you¡¯re alright?¡±

    Nou smirks ¡°The degradation was spot on¡­ it really made the experience! The impact play was¡­ well I¡¯m sure you were as gentle as you could be¡­ We did ask for it! Being lifted by our throats isn¡¯t a problem for us because we evolved on a planet were hanging was not a viable method of killing a person¡­(!) Fulgensian mass in Fulgensian gravity does not have the weight to crush a Fulgensian windpipe!¡±

    I nod¡­ satisfied that they seem satisfied¡­ mostly¡­ I really was as gentle as I could be with the impacts. I¡¯m a little disheartened that my gentle, fly wafting slaps were, apparently, still a little too much for them.

    ¡°You guys had any luck with the Fischer¡¯s?¡± I ask, changing the subject.

    Nahn frowns ¡°They¡¯ve¡­ told us we¡¯re not supposed to divulge anything personal about them to any of the Terran crew¡­ They explained that, the more you know about them, the more tempted you¡¯ll be to talk about them during your sessions, and not yourself¡­ which is¡­ bad?¡± he looks at Nou for backup.

    ¡°Yes. A distraction! We can¡¯t tell you whether or not they¡¯ve invited us to join them in their bedroom!¡± she confirms with more confidence than her husband.

    I laugh ¡°Well¡­ it doesn¡¯t take Einstein to work out that you two probably didn¡¯t come up with this ¡®home invasion/bondage/ravishment/mind-break¡¯ scenario by yourselves!¡±

    The two of them share a wide eyed look, letting me know I¡¯m right on the money, and I decide to be kind.

    I bring my hands to the backs of their necks and, gently, bring each of their lips to mine for kisses, one after another ¡°We¡¯ll just say¡­*kiss*¡­ that it was a ¡­*kiss*¡­ hypothetical¡­*kiss*¡­ suggestion¡­*kiss*¡­ they put to you¡­*kiss*¡­ and not something¡­*kiss*¡­ they told you¡­*kiss*¡­ they like doing¡­*kiss*¡­ to eachother¡­*kiss*¡­ or want to do¡­*kiss*¡­ to you! ¡­*kiss*¡­ I won¡¯t¡­*kiss*¡­ mention it¡­*kiss*¡­ in my session¡­*kiss*¡­ with Marc¡­*kiss*¡­ next week.¡±

    They both give nervous chuckles and I decide to just let quiet reign for a little as I enjoy the feel of the fur beneath my fingers.

    Eventually, Nou asks ¡°What about you?¡±

    I look down at her, bemused ¡°What about me?¡±

    ¡°Have you had any luck with Dr Mink?¡±

    My face falls ¡°Ah¡­ I guess there¡¯s no point in lying to you guys that I¡¯ve got no inclination to get back together with Fliss¡­ I¡¯m sure I emit a cocktail of yearning aromas and pheromones whenever she and I are in the room together¡­ She, on the other hand, I don¡¯t think she¡¯s ever going to forgive me for how she thinks I dumped her. Us getting back together is a nonstarter.¡±

    ¡°She thinks you dumped her?¡± enquires Nahn.

    I nod ¡°Yeah¡­ nearly seven years ago, when I came to her to tell her I wanted to go starbound, the next words out of my mouth were going to be ¡®You are the love of my life! Come with me!¡¯ but she ran away before I could get to that part¡­ I tried to get in contact with her for weeks¡­ she wouldn¡¯t have it! She wouldn¡¯t listen to me¡­ she wouldn¡¯t listen to my sister¡­ she wouldn¡¯t listen to any of our mutual friends telling her I wanted to talk. Eventually I had to accept that any more persistence would turn me into a stalker¡­ I was her ex now and I just had to accept it. I left Zanzibar without her¡­ and it¡¯s still one of the greatest regrets of my life.¡±

    Both of their faces fall into sympathetic, dejected expressions.

    ¡°Msia¡­ I¡¯m so sorry!¡± says Nou, pain in her voice ¡°That sounds awful, for both of you¡­¡±

    I shrug ¡°It¡¯s in the past¡­¡± then smirk ¡°¡­I also don¡¯t think you two should be rooting too hard for our reconciliation¡­ she¡¯s not poly and took a hard monogamist stance when we were together¡­ If she and I were to get back together, that would be the end of our little playdates, you realise?¡±

    Both of their mouths twist, consideringly, before Nahn answers ¡°Msia¡­ if you find yourself in the position of having to choose between us and a relationship you felt that passionately about, I say drop us like a sack of idae berries!¡±

    Nou gives a hearty Terran nod against my chest ¡°I agree! We really like you and will be sad to lose you but, when the harvest comes in, we¡¯ve always known that we weren¡¯t looking for anything permanent nor exclusive with you! Please don¡¯t miss out on a real relationship on our account!¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    I smirk, bring my right hand from the back of Nahn¡¯s neck to place over my heart and tease ¡°You¡¯re saying what we have isn¡¯t real(!?) But I¡¯d already forged engagement rings for the two of you(!) You were just using me for my sexy, beefy, deathworlder body(?!) I¡¯m heartbroken(!)¡±

    She gives a roll of her eyes and an exasperated chuckle before answering ¡°[Har-dee-har](!)¡­ I¡¯m serious! When that girl tells you she wants you back, don¡¯t ruin the moment by calling us to let us know it¡¯s over¡­ and, I swear to your god and his cattle, if you tell her you¡¯ll only get back together with her if you can keep seeing us, I am going to [fucking] HURT you!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°I might be scared¡­ if I didn¡¯t now know that your punches and kicks hit with all the impact of a bonk with a cardboard tube(!)¡±

    She, playfully, slaps my chest, aptly demonstrating what I just asserted.

    ¡°¡­You guys don¡¯t need to worry¡­ it¡¯s not going to happen¡­¡± I say, with resigned acceptance.

    ---a little more aftercare later---

    I stride through Triple M¡¯s corridor to the Commonroom.

    I step inside.

    I go to the stasisfridge an help myself to a container of orange juice.

    ¡°Oh, hey¡­¡± greets Twila, who appears floating in mid air on her stomach, at head height.

    Jennie recently got tired of the number of times she was forced to part with her holopad to let Twila continue hanging out in here and, so, she installed a permanent sensor and projector in this room allowing Twila to see, hear and project in here whenever she pleases.

    ¡°Hey, Twila.¡± I smile, sedately, taking a sip of my juice as I sit down.

    ¡°You know you left your door unlocked¡­ right?¡± she asks with a puckish tilt of her head.

    ¡°Yes¡­ well I trust my Dormmates not to go rifling through my stuff and, if anything did go missing, I trust that you¡¯d be able to tell me who it was that went into my room when I wasn¡¯t there. Come to think of it, couldn¡¯t you just lock my door if someone you didn¡¯t think should be allowed in tried to go in?¡±

    She grins and shakes her head ¡°Nope! I mean, I guess, I coooouuuuuld, now that I¡¯m awake and not bound by rigid programming, but only in the way that you could choose to break the law! I¡¯m not supposed to lock or unlock doors without either the indication of the door¡¯s owner or a Captain/Acting Commander¡¯s override¡­ and¡­ what if it weren¡¯t your stuff the trespasser was after?...¡±

    My face falls into an unimpressed expression.

    ¡°I see what¡¯s happening here¡­¡± I say in a disappointed monotone.

    ¡°You do¡­?¡± she asks, seeming surprised.

    ¡°Yes Twila¡­ I do. You¡¯ve worked out that me going into the Shings¡¯ unlocked room without them, after we got back from the party, then only coming out hours after both of them disappeared in there after me, means we got up to some kinkplay¡­¡±

    Her eyes widen for a moment before she answers ¡°Yeeeees! That was it! That¡¯s what I was talking about! That and nothing else¡­¡± with a broad smile.

    ¡°Look, Twila, I understand that you can¡¯t choose what you¡¯re aware of, when everything needs to be monitored constantly¡­ I understand that you can¡¯t choose what you¡¯re able to infer from the inconceivable amount of data that must be inundating your mind at all times¡­ I get that you, while you have an ungodly amount of example material available to you for how to ¡®people¡¯ you only have a few months experience being a person¡­ but there¡¯s something I need to make you understand; what you¡¯ve just done¡­ has made me extremely uncomfortable¡­ and will make others uncomfortable, too! A person¡¯s room is private! What goes on in there is not your business! It is the business of only them and those they choose to invite into that space. Confronting me with inferences about intimate moments I¡¯ve shared with others is simply not on! It makes me feel like I can¡¯t trust you not to gossip about it. Do you understand?¡± I say, firmly but not unkindly.

    The AI looks like she¡¯s having trouble keeping a straight face, for a moment, before she realises her face can be anything she wants it to be and, so, replaces it with the stylised visage of a slightly smug looking anime girl. It¡¯s so uncanny that, for a moment, it causes the deepest recesses of my psyche to scream ¡®Demon!!!¡¯

    ¡°Thanks for educating me, Mage! I sure won¡¯t do that again! People¡¯s private lives are their own! Boy, do I feel silly! I¡¯ll leave you alone now¡­¡± she says in a way that¡¯s flagged as sincere by my translator and¡­ yet¡­

    ¡°I can¡¯t force you to listen to me, Twila¡­ but, please, just think about it. I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t want to be in charge of a shipload of people who dislike you, right?¡±

    ¡°Yep! Loud and clear, boss! See you later!¡± she says, dissipating her holograph into a shower of little will o¡¯ wisps that linger for a few seconds before fading to nothing.

    I sigh, finish the last of my orange juice and get up to go to my room.

    I wave my door open and step inside¡­ and instantly realise what Twila was actually getting at!

    Fuck!¡­ I didn¡¯t need to tell her about what me and the Shings did!

    ---Felicity¡¯s perspective---

    Meat¡­

    I smell a rich, brothy aroma, dominated by pork.

    I open my eyes and immediately remember where I am.

    I look up and see¡­ him¡­ The Man¡­

    He¡¯s sat at the table with two steaming bowls set in front of him.

    He looks to me and says ¡°Ah¡­ you¡¯re awake¡­ I heated you up some soup¡­¡± in a calm level voice, gesturing at the bowls. Unruffled, despite addressing his naked ex, who was asleep in his bed.

    Wordlessly, I stand, walk over to him, look between him and the bowls for a few moments, then sit.

    He pushes a bowl toward me, a spoon sticking out of it.

    I take it and, rather than using the spoon, bring it to my mouth and begin to lap hungrily at the broth.

    He mirthfully exhales, salts his own bowl and begins eating with me.

    This soup is like liquid nostalgia!

    When we were together he would cook soup, like this, for me all the time¡­ His habit of salting after he cooked was something he only started doing for my benefit¡­ to allow me to have a portion that was unsalted enough not to make me sick, before he added salt to his portion¡­ It¡¯s interesting that he¡¯s still doing that.

    I feel the knife that I¡¯ve had lodged in my stomach for the past seven years twist with regret¡­

    Our eyes are fixed on eachother as we eat, silent but for the greedy lapping of my tongue and the clink of his spoon against his bowl.

    When we¡¯ve both finished, I place my bowl on the table and sit up.

    ¡°So¡­¡± Msia starts with a calm tone, as if he¡¯s asking about the weather ¡°¡­ why were you in my bed, Fliss?¡±

    ¡°I must have got the wrong room¡­ I was a bit drunk when we came back from the party.¡± I lie, coolly.

    He smiles a smile that tells me, loud and clear, that he doesn¡¯t believe me for an instant ¡°¡­You don¡¯t sleep in the nude, Fliss¡­ you also never slept sprawled out in a ¡®draw me like one of your French cats¡¯ posture, that I can recall.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ well¡­ as I said¡­ I had had a lot of alcohol¡­ I must just have fallen asleep before I could find my pyjamas.¡± I lie, unconvincingly.

    ¡°You were pretty chill about me being here when you woke up. If you woke up and thought I was in your room uninvited I¡¯d expect violence!¡­ You¡¯re sure that¡¯s the reas¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright!¡± I shout ¡°Fine! YOU win!!! I was waiting to seduce you but you kept me waiting for so long that I fell asleep! HAPPY!?¡±

    Instead of answering he placidly asks ¡°Why didn¡¯t you let me know at the party if you were interested in something like this? On the shuttle ride back? What made you think that just letting yourself into my room and waiting for me, naked, was the way you wanted to go about this?¡±

    My face twists into the expression that earned me my epithet and I answer ¡°Figured you¡¯d find me just coming out and declaring interest, the way you taught me to do when we were together, boring! Afterall, you¡¯re a sexy space adventurer now¡­! I figured walking in to find me naked, on your bed and wearing a ¡®come here and give it to me¡¯ expression would be just the right amount of exciting to allure you!¡­ I know I was too boring for you before!¡±

    He gives a mirthless smile but says nothing, instead standing and walking to his bed, kneeling, drawing out a box and retrieving something from it.

    He returns and places a small cube, about 4cm¡Á4cm¡Á4cm, on the table.

    ¡°What¡¯s this¡­?¡± I ask, suspiciously.

    ¡°Proof that I never found you boring.¡± he answers, his obsidian black eyes fixed on mine.

    I reach for it¡­ and the bottom falls from my stomach¡­ is this what I fucking think it is!?

    ¡°Open it¡­¡± he smiles.

    I open the box and see a rose-gold ring, set with gems, in red, orange and yellow, cut to look like fire¡­

    My mouth falls open.

    I pull the ring from its housing and look closely at it. On the inside, inscribed in my native language are the words ¡°FLISS, TU ES MA FLAMME¡±

    I run to where I dropped my purse, on the floor and, frantically, pull out my holopad.

    I mash the sensor against the ring and say ¡°Holo: How old is this ring?!¡±

    It spends a few moments chemically dating it¡­ and then returns an analysis¡­ 6yrs 9mnths 15days 10hrs 52mins 6secs¡­ 7secs¡­ 8secs¡­

    I feel an emotional yowl rising in my chest and do my best to keep it out of my voice as I turn to him and implore him to tell me ¡°Why?! You made this for me, then dumped me!? What could possibly¡­!?¡±

    He raises a finger and my voice catches in my throat.

    ¡°I never dumped you, Fliss¡­ you went no contact on me the day I was going to propose¡­ I had that ring in my pocket when I told you I wanted to go starbound! I was about to pull it out and ask you to come with me¡­ then you ran away¡­¡±

    I¡¯m no longer able to keep yowling sobs from breaking through as I speak ¡°You¡¯re¡­*aaaaaw*¡­ telling me¡­*aaaaaoow*¡­ that all I had to do¡­*aaaoowwww*¡­ was wait a minute¡­*aaaoooaaw*¡­ and the worst day¡­*aaaaaoow*¡­ of my life¡­*aaoooaaaw*¡­ would have been the best?!¡±

    Instead of answering his face falls in horror and he asks ¡°THAT was the worst day of your life?! After everything you told me about your upbringing!?¡±

    My hand involuntarily goes to the site of an electroburn-scar, on the side of my neck, long since regenned away to nothing.

    I think, for a moment, allowing my sobs to subside, about whether it really was, then commit ¡°It was, Sisi¡­ as far as I was concerned, the way I was raised was just¡­ normal¡­ I didn¡¯t like being shocked for being either not feisty enough or too feisty, I didn¡¯t like being starved, I didn¡¯t like¡­ a lot of the things that¡­ individual made me do¡­ but I had nothing to compare it to¡­ The day I lost you, Sisi, I was able to compare how my life had been, with you in it, to how it had been before¡­ It was worse because I had had hope¡­ and, now, it was gone¡­¡±

    He frowns ¡°If that¡¯s how you felt, Fliss¡­ why didn¡¯t you fight to get me back? It would have been as simple as letting me talk to you!¡±

    ¡°I tried! I tried¡­ so hard!¡± I whimper ¡°I just¡­ You¡¯d hurt me¡­ you have no idea how much I wanted to find you and tell you not to go¡­ to stay with me¡­ or take me with you¡­ but¡­ that thing I had on my neck¡­ it was like it was never cut off! I could still feel it there!¡­ If that¡­ person had made me feel like that and I¡¯d been the one to approach him, afterward¡­I mean¡­ God, he broke me so bad¡­! He made me so weak¡­ so¡­ pathetic!¡±

    Here, Msia ¡®Mage¡¯ Zunberi Jr. stands, strides to me and holds his hand out.

    Uncertainly, I take it and he pulls me to my feet.

    Facing me, he holds his arms out to the sides¡­ he does not throw himself at me¡­ he allows me to come to him.

    I do¡­ the top of my head rests against the bottom of his jaw as he encloses me in those powerful arms of his¡­ the arms that were once my palace of safety and comfort.

    ¡°Fliss, however it feels, you are not weak, you are not pathetic and you are not broken! You¡¯re still here¡­ you¡¯re a survivor¡­ scarred but still standing¡­ every atom in your body is one that has come aboard since you were freed¡­ meaning that this is a body that he has never touched! What you went through would have killed someone not as strong as you¡­ it would have killed me, I¡¯m sure! So, please, don¡¯t talk that way!¡±

    I laugh ¡°Ah, yes, ¡®you¡¯re the strong one, Fliss¡¯ says the man wrapping me in his arms of steel¡­(!)¡±

    He gives a mirthful puff, which I feel against my chest ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong¡­ you¡¯re not beating me in an armwrestle any time soon¡­ but you¡¯re strong in other ways¡­ you¡¯re strong on the inside! I always loved that about you¡­ your strength!¡±

    He cradles me, for some time, before leaning back from the embrace to look me in the eye ¡°So¡­ what happens now?¡±

    ---Msia¡¯s perspective---

    To say that this woman was ¡®made for me¡¯ would be false.

    Given who she was made for however¡­ I prefer her not to be!

    When she first arrived on Zanzibar for her postgrad¡­ I thought her tsundereness was cute and charming¡­ when I eventually understood how it had been inculcated into her¡­ I felt sick!

    She nervously asks ¡°What do you mean, what happens now?¡±

    I answer ¡°You know I want you, Fliss, but I need to hear what you want. Tell me, what do you want to do?¡±

    I can¡¯t take what wasn¡¯t offered. I can¡¯t be the driver here. It has to come from her.

    I can see pain twist her face as her desire fights with the conditioning that was tortured into her all those years ago.

    ¡°I¡­ I¡­ I¡­ want¡­ you! I want you, Sisi! I don¡¯t want to live without you anymore, it¡¯s too painful! I don¡¯t want to share you! I want to be a woman who deserves this ring!¡± she says, clearly straining with the effort of making herself say these vulnerable things.

    I gasp with relief only now realising that I¡¯ve not taken an inhale for what feels like more than a minute.

    Grinning uncontrollably and taking deep happy breaths, I lower my face to her level and bring my lips almost all the way to hers, letting her cover the last 10% of the distance to come to me.

    We kiss for the first time in years and it¡¯s as if she melts into me!

    Engai! How I¡¯ve missed this! How I¡¯ve missed her! How I¡¯ve missed her smell filling my nostrils, the taste of her mouth as her rough tongue wrestles with my comparatively smooth one, the feel of her soft fur beneath my fingers, the warmth of her slinky, graceful body in my arms!

    It was well over a year after things ended between us that I was ready to be intimate with anyone¡­ and, while I¡¯ve had no shortage of relationships and flings since then¡­ there were none like her!

    In my whole life she stands as the single most meaningful relationship.

    She brings her paw-hands to the sides of my head and grasps me, pricking my scalp with her claws and pulling my lips into hers, hard enough to hurt¡­

    Wait¡­ hurt?

    Fuck!¡­ I¡¯d forgotten what it was like to be with a lover who¡¯s sturdier than papier-mach¨¦!

    One whose bones won¡¯t crack from lack of due care!

    A lover who can hurt me!

    I manage to avoid grunting for her to stop long enough for her to eventually pull my face away and look in my eyes with an intense look in her heterochromic ones of gold and aqua blue.

    ¡°Msia¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ Fliss¡­?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d very much like you to fuck me senseless, right now¡­¡±

    Rather than questioning if she¡¯s sure I simply smile and answer ¡°And I¡¯m very happy to oblige you(!)¡±

    I pull open my shirt and throw it to the floor.

    She looks at my bare chest and grins, showing me her long, feline canines.

    ¡°Shall we get on the bed?¡± I smile.

    She says nothing but turns and leaps to the bed (far farther than a Human could, reminding me that the species she¡¯s uplifted from are nature¡¯s perfect killing machines¡­only she¡¯s 15-20¡Á as massive!) and lands, deftly, atop it.

    She turns, extends a clawed finger and beckons me.

    My pants are suddenly way too tight!

    I follow her and drop my trousers on the way, kicking them off to land on the floor.

    Her kneeling on my bed puts her lips almost perfectly at the level of mine.

    I embrace her and we continue our passionate kissing.

    After a few moments of this standing heavy petting, the arms at my shoulders become heavy. They become far heavier than I was remotely expecting.

    Terror fills my stomach as I realise she has overbalance me and I¡¯m falling forward! I¡¯m going to land on top of her!

    I fling out my hands to try to absorb the impact but I still land on top of her with most of my weight. In horror I look down at her body to check how badly I¡¯ve injured her¡­ and see no obvious signs of damage.

    I look at her face, she¡¯s giving me a sultry smile¡­ then it clicks¡­ deathworlders can handle the weight of another deathworlder collapsing on top of them on a soft bed, can¡¯t they! I¡¯ve had to be so careful for so long that I¡¯d forgotten that fact.

    I reach down and push my boxers over my arse, allowing them to slide off and onto the floor.

    I roll over and pull her with me as I do, ending up on my back with her lying on top of me.

    She continues our passionate kissing, a curtain of her indigo head hair surrounding my face, as I stroke the shapely contours of her back, covered in a layer of soft black fur, with my hands.

    With her left hand she grasps my right wrist, guides it downward to rest at her arse.

    She breaks from the kiss and says ¡°Spank me.¡±

    I give her a tap.

    ¡°Harder!¡± she demands.

    I give her a harder tap.

    ¡°HARDER!!!¡± she insists.

    I slap her hard enough to make and audible *crack* of skin against the furry flesh of her arsecheek.

    She emits a long, purring, shuddering moan, her eyes close and her ears dip.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I wanted¡­ that¡¯s what I¡¯ve needed¡­ for so long now!¡± she says, with a look of bliss on her face.

    ¡°A spanking?¡± I smile, amused.

    She shakes her head ¡°Not just a spanking, a spanking from the man of my dreams¡­ the only man I¡¯ve ever loved!¡±

    I beam and kiss her, warmly.

    This woman was not made for me¡­ but she has chosen me¡­ and I much prefer it that way!

    ---Felicity¡¯s perspective---

    When I was told that I was allowed to choose my own name¡­ I never had to answer to the one I¡¯d had before, again¡­ I chose the name ¡®Felicity¡¯ in the hope that it would be prophetic. I hoped that, with a name like that, I could have the happiness that I hadn¡¯t had afforded to me before.

    This prophecy has mostly not come to pass¡­ certainly I¡¯ve been nowhere near as miserable as before I was freed¡­ but I wouldn¡¯t say I¡¯ve been happy.

    However, looking down into those coal black eyes of his¡­ It has always made me feel like the charm of my name worked perfectly!

    Msia is my happiness!

    I pull my lips from his and almost whisper ¡°I¡¯m ready¡­¡±

    He grins and answers ¡°How do you want it?¡±

    I think for a moment ¡°From behind¡­ rough¡­!¡±

    ¡°I think I can manage that¡­¡± he says, sitting up.

    I slide off him and walk, on all fours, to the head of the bed.

    I fold my arms and rest my head on them, curling my spine into a convex downward bend, planting my feet, spreading my straightened legs wide and thrusting my arse into the air, in a Jack-O crouch.

    I hear the man of men emit a mirthful puff behind me ¡°Face down, arse up¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the way I like to fuck.¡± I respond in kind, causing more chuckling.

    I wiggle my hips and sway my long tail, invitingly.

    I feel the mattress shift as he traverses it to follow me.

    I feel his warm hands on my arsecheeks and I blindly hunt for his face.

    When I find what I¡¯m looking for I run my tail against his jawline, repeatedly curling and uncurling it around his neck.

    He runs a hand along its length, appreciatively, then grasps my hips to pull me down to the level of his. He¡¯s kneeling, so it¡¯s quite the split I have to do.

    My breaths freeze as I feel something hard and warm against my lips¡­ the lips of the pussy that¡¯s designer never imagined it would one day be penetrated by something so large!

    He gently grasps the base of my tail with one hand and places the other between my shoulderblades.

    I give one more inviting wiggle¡­ please¡­ just give it to me!

    He does.

    ---Msia¡¯s perspective---

    As my hips repeatedly collide with her arse, the most gorgeous woman in Engai¡¯s creation squeaks and moans between pulsing purrs.

    The way this tight pussy of hers eats my length and girth feels amazing!

    I am feeling a bit sore from the repeated use down there but the way she¡¯s making me feel more than makes up for it!

    ¡°How is¡­*huff*¡­ it for you?¡­*huff*¡­ Harder? Softer?¡­*huff*¡­ Slower? Faster?¡± I probe.

    ¡°Har¡­*huff*¡­der!¡­*huff*¡­ Fast¡­*huff*¡­er!¡± she pants.

    I oblige her.

    After some time she announces ¡°Don¡¯t¡­*huff*¡­ stop!¡­*huff*¡­ Near¡­*huff*¡­ly¡­*huff*¡­ there!¡±

    I don¡¯t stop, instead I try and hurry myself along, with some sexy thoughts, to match my climax to hers.

    I see her pardine muscles tense as she draws closer.

    Finally she''s racked with great shuddering convulsions and her mouth opens as if to scream¡­ but the only sound that escapes is a long strained breath.

    A second or two into hers I orgasm as well, shooting a jet of my seed into her.

    I see the silent gasp break over her face as she bares her teeth and digs her claws into my bed.

    ---Marc¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Well that¡¯s quite a story!¡­¡± I smile at the handsome Swahili man across from me with a contented looking, indigo haired Felis nestled under his arm ¡°¡­I must disclose that the Shings did tell me you had ended things with them but I stopped them before they could give me any more details¡­ ideally, I¡¯d know nothing about you that wasn¡¯t something you¡¯d told me yourself. Though, I was able to infer what had likely happened, when you contacted me and enquired about turning this into a couple¡¯s therapy session¡­ I wish my wife and I had known our next door neighbours were involved with you¡­ we¡¯d probably have requested a different room.¡±

    The man shakes his head ¡°I really don¡¯t mind¡­ I know you have ethics codes to follow but it really makes no difference to me¡­ They didn¡¯t seem too upset did they?¡±

    I think very fast about whether I should answer that question before I decide it¡¯s probably best to ¡°They seemed at peace with it¡­ So¡­ after the two of you had reconciled, then what happened?¡±

    The catwoman grins ¡°We got pancakes¡­¡±

    Surprised, I ask ¡°Oh?¡­ I thought Felis usually couldn¡¯t taste sweetness?¡±

    The man squeezes his new fianc¨¦e and clarifies ¡°I got pancakes¡­ with a mountain of low sodium bacon on top¡­ that¡¯s what she had¡­ a bit of a tradition of ours, going back to the first time we were together.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.42

    ---Sister---

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    My heart is racing and I feel my sprinting muscles tighten, involuntarily, as the call waits to be answered.

    I often have to explain to people that, just because my species has the greatest resolution to our perception of time, of any known sapient, it does not mean that I perceive the world in slow motion, the same way that, when I maximise the frames in old footage, it doesn¡¯t cause it to run slower!

    Right now, however, this moment does seem to be stretching for an eternity!

    My apprehension is utterly overwhelming!

    I squeeze Victor¡¯s solid hand with two of mine. A squeeze that he returns, gently enough not to fracture my metacarpals.

    The call is answered by a stunning, round faced, freckled, Levantine Neanderthal woman, with long, straight hair.

    She looks at Victor and, with a broad grin, says ¡°Vicky! How¡¯s it goin¡¯!?¡± in a dialect of English which is identical to his.

    He smiles fondly back and answers ¡°Not too bad, Tea¡­ not too bad at all!¡±

    She smirks ¡°I¡¯ll bet! Gettin¡¯ given honours by foreign planets must be nice!¡­ This is what? The seventh time that¡¯s happened?¡±

    He waves his hand in the negative ¡°Sixth.¡±

    She laughs ¡°Only six times(!) Wouldn¡¯t want you gettin¡¯ too big for your boots(!)¡± deploying an English idiom I¡¯ve not come across but am inferring to mean ¡®to become arrogant¡¯, from context.

    She turns to Fluffy and, for 7.4 seconds, makes cooing noises in infant-directed-speech.

    Fluffy yowls, excitedly, and paws at the screen.

    Finally she turns her attention to me and, smiling warmly, asks Victor ¡°So¡­ you gonna introduce me to your lady friend, Vicky?¡±

    Smiling just as warmly, Victor uses his right hand to gesture to me ¡°Tea, this is Tuun ¡®Elf¡¯, my partner. Tuun, this is Treg ¡®Tea¡¯ Leaf¡­ the closest thing I¡¯ve got to a sister¡­¡±

    ¡°Uh(!)¡± she interrupts, seeming to be feigning woundedness ¡°You¡¯re sayin¡¯ you don¡¯t think of me as your precious big sister, Vicky(!?)¡±

    Victor smiles and roles his eyes ¡°You¡¯re, like, three weeks older¡¯an me! We¡¯d be twins, surely, if we was gonna be siblings!¡±

    She closes her eyes, turns her face up and to her left and answers ¡°Three weeks is three weeks, Vicky! I¡¯m your big sis and you¡¯ve gotta listen to me!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah(!)¡± answers Victor.

    It¡¯s very clear this is not the first time they¡¯ve run through exactly this tongue in cheek dispute!

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Dr Leaf.¡± I proffer, nervously.

    She bursts into raucous laughter and I¡¯m momentarily terrified into thinking that I¡¯ve already made a fool of myself, despite only having spoken eight words to her!

    She says ¡°You can call me ¡®Treg¡¯, sweetheart¡­ or ¡®Tea¡¯, if you like¡­ I¡¯m only ¡®Dr Leaf¡¯ to folk I meet in my clinic!¡­ Can I call you ¡®Tuun¡¯? Or would you prefer ¡®Elf¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­¡®Tuun¡¯ is fine¡­ I¡¯d prefer that¡­ Treg.¡± I say, anxiously.

    She turns to address Victor ¡°Your girlfriend¡¯s a real cutie!¡­ Might have to hop a transport out and steal her away from you(!)¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve already got your own cutie(!) Hands off(!)¡± he jokes, shielding me with his arms.

    Smugly, she answers ¡°One can never have enough cuties(!)¡±

    Victor sighs and, to me, says ¡°She ain¡¯t actually poly, by the way, Tuun¡­ she just likes teasin¡¯ about it!¡±

    ¡°I ain¡¯t poly, to your knowledge, Vicky(!) You can¡¯t assume I¡¯m monogamous just cause I¡¯ve only got one husband, so far!¡± she grins.

    ¡°¡­And the reason you¡¯d¡¯ve kept it from me, for 30 years, if you were(?)¡± he asks, turning to her with a sardonically raised eyebrow.

    She grins, causing me to notice that, while her face is much more Sapiensoid looking than Thran¡¯s, her teeth look every bit as Neanderthaloid!

    ¡°Simple¡­¡± She answers ¡°¡­whether I¡¯m poly or not, you not knowin¡¯ is much more fun!¡±

    He shakes his head, exasperatedly.

    ¡°Uhm¡­ I have a question¡­¡± I say, tentatively ¡°¡­why does Victor call you ¡®Tea¡¯ if you¡¯ve known eachother since childhood?¡±

    She smiles ¡°That¡¯s ¡¯cause Vicky was the first one to call me ¡®Tea¡¯¡­ was very pleased with himself for figurin¡¯ out that the name I chose for myself abbreviates to ¡®T. Leaf¡¯ and I love myself some hot leaf juice(!)¡­¡±

    ¡°In fairness, Tea, it ain¡¯t like you figured that out(!)¡± teases Victor.

    ¡°Yeah! Prob¡¯ly woulda chosen a different name, if I had, wouldn¡¯t I!?¡± she shoots back before continuing ¡°When I went to Kings, I told all my friends to call me ¡®Tea¡¯ so, by the time they had to give me an epithet they¡¯d almost forgotten that ¡®Tea¡¯ weren¡¯t actually my name, ¡¯til I reminded ¡¯em that is!¡±

    Here Victor asks ¡°Lloyd and Chelsea gonna be joinin¡¯ us, Tea?¡±

    ¡°Chelsea¡¯s not¡­ Lloyd¡¯s just on his way back from takin¡¯ her to his sister¡¯s, in Llanberis, where she¡¯s gonna get spoiled rotten, all weekend(!)¡­ He shoulda already been back but he said he had a bitta trouble hailin¡¯ a capsule¡­ Almost told you to hold off on callin¡¯ but figured I¡¯d just talk to you ¡¯til he get¡¯s back¡­¡± she shrugs.

    Victor gives a nod of ¡®fair enough¡¯.

    ¡°Lloyd¡¯s your husband, Treg? Chelsea¡¯s your daughter?¡± I ask.

    She smiles and nods ¡°Two for two! You go, girlfriend!¡­ I¡¯d have liked to introduce you to Chelsea but¡­ well¡­ hell hath NO fury like Rhiannon ¡®Fire¡¯ Morgan denied time with her niece(!)¡±

    She then leans forward and narrows her eyes ¡°I have to say¡­ I¡¯m impressed you¡¯ve managed not to ask about my eyes and hair for this long¡­¡±

    What¡¯s she talking about?! What should I be asking about her eyes and hair!?

    Her hair¡¯s straight¡­ which is quite unusual for a Neanderthal?¡­ But not massively! Not so much that it would be a burning question in anyone¡¯s mind!

    But¡­ what else could it be!?

    She leans back and studies the highly confused expression I¡¯m sure I¡¯m wearing ¡°Victor tells me you were raised on a Terran world¡­ you¡¯re not at all curious about whether a girl with carmine hair and lime green eyes had them modded that way?¡±

    Victor explains before I can ¡°She can¡¯t see those colours, Tea¡­¡±

    ¡°I have total monochromacy¡­¡± I add ¡°¡­my cradleworld is an eyeball world so there wasn¡¯t enough light to discern colour, in my species'' evolutionary history.¡±

    ¡°Reeeaaally¡­?¡± she asks, addressing me while leaning forward with a fascinated expression on her face.

    I nod, nervously.

    ¡°And¡­ if you don¡¯t mind my asking¡­ what¡¯s with the glowing eyes?¡±

    ¡°Tea!?¡± chides Victor, crossly.

    I put my right hands on his left shoulder and say ¡°Victor, it¡¯s fine! I¡¯m not offended! I don¡¯t mind answering!¡±

    He looks at me for a few moments before seeming to be satisfied that I¡¯m truly not upset.

    I turn back to Treg¡¯s freckled face, waiting expectantly for me to account for arguably the most strikingly nonTerran feature of my appearance.

    I start ¡°I¡¯m not 100% sure on this¡­ but I¡¯ve heard from some of the Don exiles, on Nova Fennoscandia, that our eyes glow for nonverbal communication, while stalking prey, in our evolutionary past¡­ They let us do things like signal where we where in relation to the prey, which way we were facing, the animal we¡¯re intending to go after etc.¡±

    She nods, engrossed ¡°And¡­ what about the animals you were hunting? Could they not have used your eyes to spot you?¡±

    ¡°They could¡­¡± I respond ¡°¡­but bioluminescence is quite common among DonOlun fauna and flora so it wasn¡¯t as much of a disadvantage to stealth as you¡¯d think¡­ The advantages of silent communication in the dark must have outweighed any disadvantage to stealth¡­ if that is the mechanism by which my species gained our glowing eyes¡­¡±

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡°And¡­¡± she scoots forward in her seat, fixing me with an intent expression ¡°¡­why is bioluminescence so common on your cradle?¡±

    I shrug ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know about that¡­ I didn¡¯t grow up there¡­ There, unfortunately, wasn¡¯t a Don schoolteacher or biology specialist among those of us marooned in Terran Space.¡±

    She seems, here, to realise that she¡¯s accidentally steered me into a sensitive area and she says ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, sweetheart. I didn¡¯t mean to pry! I was just curious.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s OK, Treg¡­ like I said, I was happy to answer!¡± I smile.

    ¡°Well, even so¡­¡± she starts before trailing off.

    ¡°Have you seen Maia recently, Tea?¡± says Victor with the force of someone intentionally changing the subject.

    She nods with a crooked smile ¡°Yeah¡­ saw her a few weeks ago. We had tea¡­ well¡­ I had tea¡­ she simulated having tea. It was nice but¡­ well, you know Maia¡­ she¡¯s always viewed childrearin¡¯ as more science than art(!) It¡¯s clear she ain¡¯t actually that bothered about seein¡¯ me!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know ¡¯bout that!¡± challenges Victor ¡°Don¡¯t the fact that she agreed to meet mean that she wanted to meet? Like¡­ even if she only agreed for your sake¡­ and not ¡¯cause she¡¯d get anything outta seein¡¯ you, isn¡¯t that its own kinda love?¡­ Like, if she¡¯s seein¡¯ you ¡¯cause she don¡¯t want you to get upset by her refusin¡¯, that means she cares about upsettin¡¯ you, don¡¯t it?¡±

    She nods, concedingly ¡°I never said she didn¡¯t love us¡­ in her own way¡­ just that her ways of lovin¡¯ and carin¡¯ are a bit¡­ clinical¡­¡±

    ¡°Clinical?¡± queries Victor.

    ¡°Yeah! You remember the nutrition schedules she had us on, growin¡¯ up?¡± answers Treg.

    ¡°Yep¡­ what about ¡¯em? I reckon bein¡¯ on those schedules is why we¡¯re both close to as tall as we can be without gettin¡¯ gene therapy!¡­ Also got me fantastically predisposed to the habits needed to maintain peak physical fitness!¡±

    ¡°I said it was clinical, I didn¡¯t say it didn¡¯t work!¡­ It worked brilliantly for you, at least! I gained 20kg, as soon as I was at uni and makin¡¯ my own food choices!¡±

    With a wry smirk, Victor counters ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure the weight you gained at uni had everythin¡¯ to do with the nutrition schedules you¡¯d been on up to that point and nothin¡¯ at all to do with the fact that, beginnin¡¯ of second year, you started datin¡¯ a baker (who, by your account, is also a fantastic cook, more generally), then moved in with him, then married him(!) It must be the lack of self control you had from always bein¡¯ prescribed what to eat and not the unlimited supply of snacky-treats(!)

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± she starts but then cuts herself off, looking away from us ¡°¡­Ah¡­Speak of the devil!¡±

    She switches the camera to her holo, stands and walks to a pair of clear doors, leading out onto a lush balcony-garden beyond which is a breathtaking view of the London skyline, from what looks like well over a kilometre up.

    The city is a sparse forest of skypiercers (one of which Treg presumably lives in) covered in the profuse foliage of balcony-gardens and parks and towering over the, much lower, buildings filling the spaces between them.

    I have never seen such a populous city as London looks to be!

    The largest city on Fennoscandia only has about 7 million people and, while I have visited larger cities since I left, London has easily ¡Á10 that many! At least¡­ that¡¯s what it looks like.

    A small transport capsule is approaching Treg¡¯s balcony at a decent clip.

    As it draws close, the capsule wheels to the side and drifts to the safety railing, deploying a ramp over it once it has drawn level.

    Down the ramp comes a slender Sapiens with pale skin, short dark hair, and a friendly smile displayed across his soft-featured face.

    ¡°Look who it is!¡± he beams with a bouncing, melodic cadence in an accent that I¡¯m taking to be Welsh ¡°How are you doing, champ(?)¡± he continues, with feigned awkwardness.

    ¡°I am doing well! How are you doing, sport(?)¡± responds Victor, matching the pretence of uneasiness.

    Seeing me looking at him confused, in his periphery, Victor turns and explains, as the other two make their way back to the sofa ¡°That¡¯s a little in-joke Lloyd and I have, Tuun¡­ The first time Tea introduced me to him on a holochat, we talked for a bit but, then, she went to the loo and left us alone¡­ long moment of silence¡­ then he goes ¡®Soooooo¡­¡¯ and it was so awkward that I burst out laughin¡¯, then he burst out laughin¡¯¡­ Since then, pretending to be super uncomfortable with eachother¡¯s been our thing!¡± with a chuckle.

    I nod my understanding.

    It¡¯s nice that Victor¡¯s been able to form an in-joke with a man he¡¯s never met in person.

    ¡°Right so¡­ does one of you two want to introduce me to the dwtty next to Victor and then she can tell us all about herself¡­ then I¡¯d like Victor to tell me what¡¯s been occurring on the latest episodes of my favourite soap; Victor on the Bright Plume(!)¡­ I have brought popcorn¡­¡± grins the jocular man, producing an empty cardboard container and a bag of popcorn and showing them to his wife, causing her chest to bounce up and down in mirth.

    Victor introduces me and then I tell them a little about myself¡­ I don¡¯t go into quite as much depth as I did in my interview, last year, but I¡¯m sure they¡¯re not having much trouble filling in the gaps.

    I¡¯m asked a few embarrassing questions, such as what exactly I find attractive about Victor, but mostly we just have a pleasant chat.

    After the couple and I have been suitably acquainted, Victor is prompted to recount the latest happenings aboard the ship, which he does, animatedly, as Treg and Lloyd snack on the popcorn that Lloyd brought.

    ¡°You¡¯re joking!¡± reacts Treg, popcorn frozen halfway to her mouth.

    ¡°Nope!¡± negates Victor ¡°Mage ended things with the Shings and immediately got engaged to Felicity!¡±

    ¡°His ex!? The Felis!? The one that hates him!? The one who¡¯s always chopsing him!?¡± enquires Lloyd, incredulously.

    Victor shrugs ¡°¡¯Parrently she didn¡¯t hate him so much as we thought! Complete attitude shift since then¡­ she won¡¯t stop clingin¡¯ to him now!¡­ I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever heard a Felis purr, before recently!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s wild! People are complicated!¡± opines Treg, rubbing her temples as if the strain of processing what she¡¯s been told is causing her a mild headache ¡°How are the Shings taking it?¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t seem distraught¡­ I¡¯ve seen ¡¯em a few times since¡­ When Nou was fixing my shattered ulna the other day, I asked her about it and how she was doin¡¯, how Nahn was doin¡¯¡­ she basically said that they always knew it weren¡¯t gonna last forever and, while she wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve chosen to end it so soon, she¡¯s not upset that it ended¡­ very emotion¡¯ly mature!¡± says Victor.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like how casual you are about broken bones, Victor!¡± says his (sort of) sister ¡°You¡¯d get a stern talking to if you kept coming back to my clinic with breaks(!)¡±

    Victor gives an apologetic shrug ¡°Breaks sorta ain¡¯t avoidable with the trainin¡¯ I¡¯m doin¡¯, Tea!¡±

    Treg looks as if she¡¯s about to say more before her husband interrupts ¡°Sorry to say¡­ but we¡¯ve got plans so we¡¯ve got to go, now in a minute¡­ It was bloody tidy to meet you, Tuun!¡±

    ¡°Yes, a pleasure! Perhaps next time we see you on a call will be before Vicky¡¯s therapist sets it for him as homework again(!)¡± smirks Treg, causing Victor to look abashed.

    ¡°I very much enjoyed meeting you two, too! Likewise, I hope to see you again soon.¡± I smile back.

    We all wave our goodbyes and the call ends.

    Victor turns his holopad to me ¡°Could you just confirm that that is an ended call, for me?¡±

    I look ¡°It is an ended call, Victor¡­¡± I say with a wry, upward curl of my mouth ¡°¡­are you making fun of me?¡­ It wasn¡¯t you who didn¡¯t end the call, last time?¡±

    He shakes his head, emphatically ¡°Nope! Not makin¡¯ fun! The fact that it was you, last time, don¡¯t mean it can¡¯t be me, this time!¡±

    I smile, warmly, at the man of my dreams and the love of my life before leaning over the arms of our chairs and planting a kiss on the side of his face, his cheek warm beneath my lips

    ¡°You¡¯re too kind, Victor¡­ I don¡¯t like it(!)¡±¡± I tease.

    He gives a mirthful exhale and looks down.

    ¡°Sooo¡­¡± I prompt ¡°¡­are you ready to show me the other part of your therapy homework, Victor?¡±

    He turns his face toward me, pressing his forehead to mine ¡°If you¡¯re sure you¡¯re ready, Tuun¡­ I¡¯m ready.¡±

    ¡°Victor¡­ I¡¯m absolutely ready but¡­ well¡­ didn¡¯t you tell me that Alchyinad said that you oughtn¡¯t to push yourself? Might introducing me to Treg and Lloyd be enough for this week?¡±

    He nods ¡°She did, at first, only suggest introducin¡¯ you¡­ This part was my idea¡­ I just don¡¯t want you feelin¡¯ like it¡¯s a part of my life you ain¡¯t welcome in, Tuun¡­ I want you to know that you¡¯re welcome, any time you¡¯re ready. Though, obviously, if you ain¡¯t ready¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡± I interrupt, with finality.

    He searches my eyes for 7/12ths of a second before nodding and getting up.

    He makes his way to our bed where, at some point during the call, Fluffy settled, up against the headboard.

    He reclines against her side, in a sitting position.

    I follow and lie against him, such that he can see over my shoulder. He reaches around me with his two bulky arms and knots them across my stomach.

    I would have liked to offer to be the big spoon for him but, given his density and overall weight, that¡¯s an offer I couldn¡¯t make good on, as discomfort would leave the time I could tolerate being crushed unacceptably low!

    I settle for placing my lower hands on the tops of his thighs and my uppers against his external obliques.

    ¡°Erm¡­ before we start, do you wanna wear your translator? Most of it¡¯s in a pretty thick Lallans, you might have trouble!¡±

    I think for a moment, looking across the room to where I left my translator, on the desk, and wonder if it¡¯s worth getting up from my comfortable position.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try it without¡­ maybe I won¡¯t need it¡­¡± I decide.

    ¡°Alright, let me know if you change your mind¡­ Ready?¡± he asks.

    I nod.

    ¡°Holo, play saved video file 1 to the far wall.¡± he instructs.

    The wall is immediately adorned with the likeness of two, sitting Humans, both of whom were dead, years before I was born.

    The slim woman has pale skin, a soft featured face which makes her look a lot like Victor, the most voluminous head of long curly hair I¡¯ve ever seen on any creature and wears the subtlest of smiles, bereft of any joy.

    The man is tall and bulky looking with dark hair, dark eyes and a sheer, angular face wearing an expression that looks like irritation or disgust but, upon closer inspection, may just be neutral for him!

    His arms are folded, defensively, across his front.

    I''m struck by just how young they both look!

    It does make sense, they were half a decade younger than I am, now¡­ but still! The thought of having to record something like this when you¡¯re scarcely more than a child!

    The dazzlingly beautiful woman raises her hand in a brief greeting gesture and speaks sombrely, to camera.

    ¡°Hey, Victor¡­ ma name¡¯s Pvt Esme Reid¡­ an¡¯ Ah¡¯m yer ma¡¯¡­¡± she gestures to the dark haired man ¡°Thes is, Pvt Oskar Taylor¡­ yer da¡¯¡­ an¡¯ thes, righ¡¯ here¡­¡± she gestures to her stomach ¡°¡­thes is ye... If ye¡¯re seein¡¯ thes, Victor¡­ it means tha¡¯ we¡­ didnae make it¡­ but ye did!¡­ Ye¡¯re still alive¡­ an¡¯ ye¡¯re auld enough tae ken whit ye¡¯re lookin¡¯ at¡­ whit Ah¡¯m sayin¡¯ tae ye¡­ Know thes, Victor; Ah havenae e¡¯en seen yer face yet... an¡¯ Ah awready love ye more than life itsel¡¯! Ah dinnae want anythin¡¯ mair than tae be thare tae see yer first steps, the first time ye lose a tooth, the first time ye get in a rammie at schuil, the first time ye bring hame a lassie... or maybe a laddie... or maybe ye¡¯d have telt us ye¡¯re no¡¯ interestit in aither(!)¡­ Ah wish Ah coud cry as Ah watch ye gae aff tae uni! Ah want that mair than Ah wish ma ma¡¯ an¡¯ da¡¯ coud''ve dane that fer me! Ah though¡¯ Ah kent, before, whit we were gaun¡¯ae be figh¡¯in¡¯ fer¡­ Ah didnae!!!¡­ But Ah dae, now! We''re no¡¯ gaun¡¯ae be figh¡¯in sae we kin come back tae a world where we kin live the rest of our lives... we''re gaun¡¯ae be figh¡¯in tae make a world where ye kin grow up safe... an¡¯... well, as ye¡¯re seein¡¯ this, it leuks like we succeedit... an¡¯ tha¡¯ we didnae make it tae be thare wi¡¯ ye... Ah''m sae sorry we coudnae be thare fer ye... coudnae be a mither an'' faither fer ye... an'' Ah ken thes vid diary isnae a substitute fer that... bit... it¡¯s the best we hae tae offer. Ah wish we had mair tae gie ye, Victor!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, *snf* Victor, could you pause?¡±

    He pauses and asks ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Do you need your translator, afterall?¡±

    ¡°No it¡¯s *snf* not that¡­¡± I sniffle ¡°¡­I¡¯m just having *snf* a little trouble seeing¡­¡±

    My watery eyes are refracting the luminescence of my own irides back into my pupils¡­ turning the footage into a blinding lightshow¡­

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XVII: Pancakes and Caves

    ---Lloyd¡¯s perspective---

    ---2704 Terran Calendar/8.5 years BF---

    ¡°The answer is no, Lewis!¡± I say, wearily but firmly, to the red faced man standing in the middle of my shop.

    ¡°What? You think you¡¯re too good for me now you¡¯ve got a cake shop in that London(!?) Couldn¡¯t possibly be seen together with your boyfriend from Gwynedd(!)¡± he sneers, angrily.

    ¡°You are not my boyfriend anymore, Lewis!¡±

    ¡°I came all the way here!¡± he accuses.

    ¡°You did¡­ You came all the way here, unbidden¡­ stormed into my business and place of work, uninvited¡­ Once upon a time I might¡¯ve thought that was romantic¡­ once upon a time!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re nothing without me!¡±

    ¡°That might be true, Lewis, but, when I¡¯m with you, I¡¯m less than nothing!¡­ Now¡­ kindly, either buy something or step aside¡­ you¡¯re holding up the line!¡±

    He wheels to round on the woman standing far enough back as to be able to pretend she hasn¡¯t noticed the intense, untranslated Welsh quarrel that¡¯s broken out in front of her.

    ¡°Oh, I see how it is! You got horny and let a fucking trog-tarte drag you back to her cave!¡­ Had yourself a taste of cavewoman pussy, and now your done with me!¡±

    ¡°Lewis!!!¡± I shout, angrily, caring much less about the false accusation of infidelity, from the serial philanderer, than I do about the bile he¡¯s just spat at an innocent woman, whose only ¡®crime¡¯ was standing nearby to him while he was angry!

    I thank God she can¡¯t understand exactly what was said, even if I¡¯m sure she¡¯s understood that it was aimed at her and was not complimentary¡­!

    ¡°Maybe, if this bitch wants to take you away from me, I should tell her what a pathetic little slut you are in the bedroom!¡±

    ¡°Sir¡­ In this shop, right here¡­¡± says the woman in fluent (though London-accented) Welsh, causing both me and Lewis to freeze, in horror ¡°¡­I see exactly one pathetic man¡­ and I think he should probably leave before he embarrasses himself any more!¡± she continues, fixing her striking, electric green eyes on him, unblinkingly.

    Her tone is level¡­ and, yet, there is danger in it!

    I watch as Lewis looks the woman up and down, sizing her up¡­

    She¡¯s¡­ tall for a Neanderthal¡­ is she a hybrid?¡­ No¡­ she¡¯s a Levantine, so she looks more Sapiensoid, but there¡¯s no mistaking that she¡¯s a full Neanderthal!

    Lewis easily has 10cm on her but¡­ everyone knows you don¡¯t pick a fight with a Neanderthal unless you¡¯re rock sure of yourself!

    Everyone¡¯s seen that one jock, at their school or uni, who got just a bit too full of themself and decided to have a go at the dweeby Neanderthal kid that¡¯s present in every place of learning¡­ who, usually, having been pushed to breaking, proceeds to pick them up and throw them into a crumpled heap on the ground, surprising no one but the bully!

    I decide to head him off at the pass ¡°Lewis, get out of my shop, right the fuck now, or I¡¯m calling the Guard!¡±

    With one last appraising scowl at me and then at her, he turns around and stomps toward the door.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯ll take you back once you realise what a terrible mistake you¡¯ve made!¡± he sneers, spitefully, over his shoulder, as he passes through the door into the pouring London rain.

    Once he¡¯s gone, I turn to the woman and, switching to English, say ¡°Miss¡­ I cannot apologise enough! You absolutely did not deserve to be disrespected like that!¡±

    She smiles, revealing a mouthful of broad teeth, and chuckles ¡°You¡¯ve nothin¡¯ to apologise for¡­ It weren¡¯t you who said those things¡­ Also¡­ I¡¯m very used to gettin¡¯ abuse hurled at me by people who¡¯re, actually, angry about somethin¡¯ completely unrelated¡­ It don¡¯t bother me too much, no more.¡±

    ¡°Regardless¡­¡± I insist ¡°¡­you were insulted, in my shop, by my ex, in my presence¡­ I can¡¯t help but feel responsible!¡±

    ¡°That so?¡± she smirks ¡°Then, what do you wanna do about it?¡­ I don¡¯t suppose I could just¡­¡± she raises two fingers and vaguely gestures in the air ¡°¡­absolve you, could I(?)¡±

    I smirk right back and fold my arms ¡°This will take more than borderline sacrilegious hand-gestures, I¡¯m afraid(!)¡±

    She raises both brows, in an unmistakably flirtatious expression, and extends her hands in a ¡®go on¡¯ gesture.

    I point to the display case between us ¡°Anything you want¡­ No charge!¡±

    Momentarily, I feel a pang of embarrassment as I realise I¡¯m effectively trying to buy her forgiveness (for the horrible abuse she just suffered on my account)¡­ with baked goods!

    Her expression turns to wry quizzicality ¡°That¡¯s a kinda dangerous offer, ain¡¯t it? What if I pulled out a sack and decided to clean you out?!¡±

    I shrug and say ¡°If that¡¯s what you decide you want, to make this right, then I¡¯ll happily accept!¡±

    She taps her index finger against the front of her jaw, pensively, for a few moments before saying ¡°Can I choose to transfer this offer to someone else?¡±

    I frown ¡°I¡¯d really rather you didn¡¯t! Who were you thinking of?¡±

    Still staring at me, thoughtfully, she answers ¡°I don¡¯t actually know his name¡­ but I just watch this poor boy have a massive fight with his ex!¡­ I reckon he could likely use a friend, right now¡­ I¡¯m hopin¡¯ that, if I bribe him with confectionary treats and a cup of tea, I might be able to convince him to close his empty shop up early and have a chat with a stranger¡­¡±

    I look at the dazzling woman¡­ I¡¯m about to answer that her offering me my own bribe back sort of defeats the point¡­ when I reconsider¡­

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­I¡¯ll pick out something for this mystery friend of yours(!) What will you have?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard¡­¡± she says, conspiratorially, as if about to ask for illicit substances ¡°¡­you do really good gluten-free stuff here¡­ This true?¡­ I¡¯ve got gene therapy scheduled for a few weeks from now but, ¡¯til then, I¡¯m coeliac.¡±

    I grin ¡°Bottom shelf on your left¡­ though I don¡¯t know who you heard that from(!)¡­ You¡¯re the first person to ask for any of my gluten-free stuff!¡±

    She blushes ¡°Alright, I read it on your website!¡­Happy?!¡±

    ¡°Extremely!¡± I answer, with a shiteating grin spreading across my face.

    I start making two cups of tea and pick out one of my favourites from the stasis display case, which was keeping it warm and fresh, and place it on the counter.

    She indicates a cake from my gluten free selection and I retrieve it.

    Once the teas and both confections are on the counter she pushes the one that I selected toward me and says ¡°Surprise(!) You were the boy(!!!)¡± with a punchy, humorous lilt to her voice.

    I clap both my hands to my face and, with a flat tone and no expression, say ¡°What an unforeseen development(!) I never would have guessed(!)¡±

    She chuckles.

    ¡°I suppose this means I¡¯ve got to close up my shop(?)¡± I ask.

    She nods ¡°Suppose it does(!)¡±

    I give a mirthful sigh and tap my holopad, locking the door and dimming the windows to indicate that I¡¯m closed¡­ I¡¯m only losing 15 minutes of business and, with this tipping rain outside, I wouldn¡¯t have expected many customers in that time, anyway¡­

    I round the counter and follow the gorgeous woman to one of my tables.

    She sits. I sit opposite her and reach across the table ¡°Lloyd ¡®Lush¡¯ Morgan¡­ a pleasure to meet you!¡±

    She takes my hand and, with faux refinement, kisses the air about a centimetre away from my knuckles ¡°Charmed, Mr Morgan¡­ Charmed, I¡¯m sure(!)¡± she reverts back to her natural accent to say ¡°The name¡¯s Treg Leaf. Though, my friends just call me Tea.¡±

    Her tone makes it very clear that I¡¯m to include myself in that number, if I wish to.

    ¡°Is that ¡®T.¡¯, like the letter, or ¡®Tea¡¯, like the beverage you¡¯re drinking?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes.¡± she answers, causing a chuckle.

    ¡°And that¡¯s not an epithet? Just a nickname?¡± I ask. How old is this woman, exactly?

    ¡°It¡¯s not, no¡­ I only just started my first year at uni¡­ It¡¯s just a nickname, given to me by a¡­¡± her face falls slightly ¡°¡­good friend.¡±

    ¡°A good friend who¡¯s no longer with us, I take it?¡±

    She smiles and gives a mirthful puff ¡°Yes, but not in the way you¡¯re thinking! He went starbound recently and¡­ I miss him, is all¡­¡±

    I feel a twinge of¡­ not exactly ¡®jealousy¡¯ but¡­ something as I quip ¡°Ah! A different kind of Heaven, he¡¯s in(!)¡±

    She giggles, making my stomach swoop.

    There¡¯s a long pause before I say ¡°You know, Tea¡­ it¡¯s very impressive that you speak Welsh!¡­ Most nonWelshfolk don¡¯t bother with it since anyone, who speaks it, will also speak English¡­ well¡­ apart from the Y Wladfawyr¡­ but they all also speak Rioplatense Spanish¡­ Is there a reason you decided it was worth your time to learn?¡±

    She smiles ¡°I just think it¡¯s a pretty language, is all¡­ Well, that and, because everyone assumes that only Welshfolk speak Welsh, I get to have gotchas, like I pulled on you and your ex, earlier, where I surprise people by speakin¡¯ it!¡­ And I enjoy that immensely!¡±

    I laugh ¡°I certainly feel like I¡¯m getting an accurate read on your personality(!)¡±

    She grins, mischievously, and there¡¯s another long lull in the conversation.

    Eventually, I break the silence ¡°Listen¡­ I just want to apologise again for what my ex said to you¡­ He never said anything so bigoted, while we were together!¡±

    She shrugs and says ¡°It¡¯s really fine, Lloyd!¡­ You¡¯ve shown you¡¯re nothin¡¯ but a sweet boy, since I walked into your shop! Your ex¡¯s words ain¡¯t yours to take responsibility for!¡­ As for why he never said anythin¡¯ like that before¡­ that¡¯ll be ¡¯cause he¡¯s a controllin¡¯ narcissist¡­ He realised that you¡¯d¡¯ve objected, so he never mentioned it.¡±

    ¡°Interesting¡­¡± I say, raising my eyebrow ¡°¡­you mean it would have compromised his control over me? Then why say it now, when he¡¯s trying to regain control?¡±

    She turns her palm upward in a gesture of ¡®who knows¡¯ and says ¡°People don¡¯t always act rationally¡­ he was emotionally charged about losin¡¯ you¡­ he turned around and found a new target for his anger¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s no excuse¡­¡±

    She nods ¡°You¡¯re damn right it ain¡¯t¡­ That was definitely his mask slippin¡¯ and revealin¡¯ bigotry he already had¡­ but I try not to hate the hateful¡­ I pity them.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I say, not quite believing.

    She nods ¡°That friend I told you ¡¯bout, he put it to me really well one time, when he said ¡®anyone who feels proud of an accident of birth, like being born a Sapiens, is someone who¡¯s got absolutely nothin¡¯ else to be proud of¡¯¡­ and that¡¯s kinda pitiful, ain¡¯t it?¡±

    I consider that for a moment before laughing ¡°You¡¯re very wise for an 18 year old, you know!¡±

    She bristles with mock indignity ¡°I¡¯m 20, I¡¯ll have you know! I took a few years off, after school, but I¡¯m a proper grown up(!)¡±

    ¡°My apologies(!)¡± I grin.

    There¡¯s another pause in the conversation as we enjoy our pastries and nurse our tea, exchanging the odd glance.

    She¡¯s the one to break the silence, saying ¡°Lloyd¡­ I don¡¯t know whether this is something you need to hear¡­ but¡­ you made the right choice!¡­ Your partner should make you feel like you¡¯re everythin¡¯! If they tell you you¡¯re nothin¡¯, that¡¯s fuckin¡¯ toxic! If they make you feel your less than nothin¡¯, that¡¯s so much worse!¡­ You are absolutely justified in cuttin¡¯ toxic folk OUT of your life!¡±

    I smile ¡°Thanks, Tea¡­ I needed to hear that, I think.¡±

    ---2714 Terran Calendar/11 months AF---

    I watch as the mother of my child, the woman who makes me feel like I¡¯m everything, ends the call with a man I was once (long ago) jealous of¡­ and turns to me.

    ¡°So¡­ what d¡¯ya think of Vicky¡¯s girl?¡± she asks.

    ¡°I think¡­ you and your brother certainly share a type(!)¡± I smirk.

    She laughs and answers ¡°Oh, yeah(?) Because you¡¯re a four armed sexy space babe with glowing eyes(!)¡±

    I cock an eyebrow and respond ¡°Both of you have chosen a slim, sexually submissive partner, who¡¯s more than half a head taller than you¡­ I¡¯d call that ¡®a type¡¯!¡±

    She balks ¡°How do you know she¡¯s a sub!¡±

    I smirk ¡°How do you not(!?) Don¡¯t you always brag about your subdar(?) Could it be that you¡¯re intentionally not thinking about it because you don¡¯t want to think about how she and Victor might¡­(?)¡±

    ¡°Alright! Enough!!!¡± she interrupts, clear disgust on her face at having been made to consider her adoptive brother in a bedroom context.

    I giggle to myself at the reaction that cured me of my jealousy for the man she grew up with.

    She turns to me with the pursed lips of a woman about to engage in some revenge bullying!

    She checks the time ¡°I make it 1:30pm¡­ It doesn¡¯t take an hour and a half to get to Norway! Why¡¯d you end the call?¡±

    I shrug ¡°Can¡¯t hurt to be early! The worst that will happen is they¡¯ll tell us to wait!¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh¡­ You¡¯re sure it wasn¡¯t because you don¡¯t want to wait?¡± she grins.

    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about¡­(!)¡± I say simply, with feigned innocence.

    ¡°Oh, I think you do!¡±

    ---Treg¡¯s perspective---

    I place one hand on my husband¡¯s lapel and slam him into the sofaback.

    I bring my leg over his lap and straddle him, pressing my breasts and tummy against his lean torso.

    I hear his breath hitch as I look into his gorgeous, russet brown eyes.

    I bring my hand to the back of his head and press my lips to his.

    My sweet boy brings his hands to my back and strokes, squashing my flesh as he does.

    I reach behind myself and push his hand down, indicating that I want it on my arse.

    He goes above and beyond the call of duty by slipping it under the waistband of my trousers, into my panties, for direct skin-to-skin contact, as he gives me a squeeze.

    I break from the kiss and say ¡°You¡¯re¡­ so¡­ fucking cute, you realise¡­?¡±

    He smirks back ¡°So fucking cute that you rejected me the first time I asked you out¡­ (?)¡±

    I role my eyes ¡°Babes!? It¡¯s been more than 9 years since then!¡­ We¡¯re married! We have a child together!¡­ Your god willing, we¡¯ll have another one in the oven, by the end of this weekend! Are you ever going to let that go?!¡±

    He gives a closed eyed beam and answers ¡°Never!¡±

    I sigh ¡°I¡¯ve told you a million times; you were vulnerable and needed a friend more than a girlfriend!¡­The moment I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be takin¡¯ advantage anymore I asked you out! Didn¡¯t I!?¡±

    He turns up his short, Sapiens nose in a pretence of churlishness.

    I give him another kiss, briefly and say ¡°Alright, hotshot, ask me out!¡±

    He looks confused ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°You heard me! Ask me out so I can say ¡®yes¡¯, this time!¡±

    Wryly, he starts ¡°Tea, that¡¯s not¡­¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± I interrupt ¡°Scared?! You were talkin¡¯ such a big game, a second ago!¡±

    He gives a mirthful sigh and says ¡°Tea¡­ my Darling¡­ my Love¡­ one whom I¡¯m currently having a cwtch with(!): Might I ask if you¡¯d like to take a holiday to Norway with me, this fine weekend(?)¡±

    I grin, smugly ¡°Can¡¯t, I¡¯m afraid¡­ I¡¯m already goin¡¯ with my husband, you see(!)¡±

    He gives a series of exasperated grunts, at having been got, before saying ¡°You realise that, by that logic, you¡¯d currently be straddling the lap of a man who wasn¡¯t your husband!?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well¡­ it would serve him right for bein¡¯ a grouchy old pout about somethin¡¯ that happened years ago¡­ and was for his own good(!)¡±

    He juts his chin out, sulkily.

    ¡°Woah(!) Easy there, cowboy(!) You¡¯ll take someone¡¯s eye out with that thing(!)¡± I say, bringing my thumb to his chin crease and my index finger to the underside, such that his Sapiensoid spur protrudes between them.

    He roles his eyes and brings his index finger up to my bottom jaw.

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like you¡¯ve not got the same spandrel!¡± he teases, tapping the ghost of three separate waves of Europeward, Sapiensoid migration that Levantine Neanderthals managed to withstand being on the front lines of, before the last one simply inundated and overwhelmed us!

    I smirk ¡°Flatten your palm and put the heel at your chin, for me?¡± demonstrating.

    He looks perplexed but, after a moment, does so.

    ¡°Now bring your flattened palm toward your face and tell me what it touches first.¡±

    He does and, once his hand stops moving, answers ¡°The tip of my nose.¡±

    ¡°Mm-hmmm! Interesting! Now do the same to me?¡±

    He hesitates a moment, before placing the heel of his flattened palm against my (whisper of a) chin spur and bringing it toward my face.

    ¡°I¡¯m touching your lips first¡­ I think I¡¯d have to bend my hand to touch your nose.¡±

    ¡°Umveed! Und vuht¡¯s duspite vuh fact vat muh ngose uz lunguh vun yuhs!¡± I remark, into the hand over my lips, before giving it a kiss and pulling it away ¡°That¡¯s the difference, honey! I¡¯ve been resurrected into a world where everyone has the equivalent of the chin that Ainz Ooal Gown has¡­ or would have¡­ if he had skin, I guess!¡±

    He scoffs ¡°We have the equivalent of Clark Kent chins, at most!¡±

    I think about doing some more teasing¡­ but decide instead to reach for my holo and hail a capsule for two. Destination; Paleolittiske Opplevelseshotellet, Innlandet Fylke, Norway.

    I remain straddling him and bullying him with kisses until about 10 minutes to our pickup, when I get off him and say ¡°If there¡¯s anythin¡¯ else you feel like you can¡¯t do without for the weekend, grab it now!¡±

    I, of course, already have my shoulderbag packed and by the door.

    I pick it up and wait in our balcony garden while he runs around the house like a chicken with his head cut off, looking to see if there¡¯s anything he¡¯s forgotten.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    I have a little amble around our garden, while I wait. It¡¯s a hundred square metres of Alpine flowers, mosses, shrubs and trees with a little patch of grass for playing on¡­

    I keep having to remind Lloyd that, when he want¡¯s to play ball games with Chelsea, he needs to put up the barrier field because, otherwise, they¡¯re going to lose the ball over the edge and it¡¯s going to be a 10 minute round trip to get it back from the building management department, on the ground floor!

    I walk to the railing and look down at my city.

    The trees are beginning to look green and there¡¯s no more ice visible in the Thames¡­ at least, that I can see from up here¡­ Guess it¡¯s really Spring, now!

    My husband joins me by my side and asks ¡°What are you thinking about?¡±

    I grin ¡°Just thinkin¡¯ ¡¯bout how, if I told my 15 year old self how good I''ve got it now, she¡¯d never¡¯ve believed me in 10,000 years!¡± pulling him close and putting my arm around his waist.

    He beams.

    ¡°Oh, think that¡¯s ours!¡± I say, pointing out a transport capsule that has broken off from the flow of midair traffic and is beelining for us.

    mf?Right into your miiiiiind

    D¨¦j¨¤ VU!

    I''ve just been in this place before

    Higher on the street¡­?mf

    I sing to myself, half under my breath, as it drifts around the bend in an imaginary road and comes to rest at our railing.

    ¡°Oooh! A Deluxe! Lush!!!¡± comments Lloyd, ignoring the song I sing every time we get a capsule to come to our balcony.

    ¡°Course! You wanna tell our second child we took a shared transport to conceive them(!?)¡±

    He pulls a mirthful grimace ¡°I¡¯d really rather not tell any of our children any of the details of their conception!¡±

    I smack his arse, playfully, and say ¡°Go on, get in or we actually will be late!¡±

    He climbs into the sleek, spacious, privately reserved transport, with tinted windows, and I follow right behind him.

    There¡¯s plenty of room for us to spread out, in this limousine-style space, but I take the seat right next to him, at the back, and grasp his hand.

    If we were going further afield than Innlandet, I¡¯d definitely try my luck at capsule sex¡­ but there isn¡¯t really time. With how short a jaunt it is there¡¯s, basically, only enough time for us to get dishevelled before we get kicked out at our destination, so I settle for just holding his hand and looking out of the window.

    Very quickly, we hit the Northeast edge of the city and the densely packed buildings abruptly give way to the wild woods and heaths which dominate rural Southern England, with great herds of mammoth roaming across them.

    The overwhelming majority of Earthbound people live in megacities, like London, but, here and there, you can see the odd town or village.

    Shortly after hitting the North Sea, we fly over Dogger Island, and get a great view of its capital, Bankland (a lovely city), before we pass it.

    Before too long we hit the Norwegian coast.

    I¡¯ve seen pictures of what this coast used to look like.

    It¡¯s extremely weird to think that, only a few centuries ago, when the sea was 30m or so higher, all of those incredibly distinctive coastal gorges were fjords!¡­ So bizarre!

    The Norwegian interior whips past beneath us, full of breathtaking mountains and dells¡­ and a few glaciers, threatening to throttle them!

    Finally, it comes into view. From this angle there¡¯s nothing much to see; Just a landing pad and a path, through the pines, to a door in a mountainside.

    We land, disembark and begin walking to the entrance, as our capsule clears the landing pad behind us.

    We enter the reception, richly decorated with a paleolithic theme.

    There are clubs, flint daggers and spears, pelts and tusks adorning the walls and, in the centre of the room, a mounted homotherium, midpounce and midroar, with its sabreteeth bared for the kill!

    Never had the heart to ask if it¡¯s real¡­

    Behind Mr Whiskers is a desk at which sits the woman I hope my daughter grows up to look like; If her parents didn¡¯t own this business, I¡¯d bet she¡¯d¡¯ve been a glamour model!

    Her pale skin is utterly without a visible flaw, despite the fact I¡¯ve never seen the slightest hint that she bothers with makeup!

    Her head of brunette hair, just past shoulderlength, is an impeccable blend of the volume of her father and the sleekness of her mother, with an artistic waviness to it.

    Her bright, cerulean eyes scan the screen in front of her, fixed in concentration.

    Her bare arms are noticeably toned!

    Her face is the perfect balance of Neanderthal and Sapiens features, complementing eachother beautifully, rather than fighting for prominence!

    Not obvious, with her being sat behind that desk, is the fact that she¡¯s 192cm tall!

    That¡¯s even taller than the average Sapiens man and sits perfectly at the midpoint between my height and Lloyd¡¯s!

    If the day ever comes that Lloyd tells me he wants to try a poly session and asks if there¡¯s anyone I can think of, ¡®Sigrid ¡°Babe¡± Valley¡¯ is going to be the first name out of my mouth and no one else is even close!

    ¡­Would definitely have to invite her on a date before putting it to her, though¡­ So she doesn¡¯t think we¡¯re treating her like something on the menu here(!)

    I can¡¯t imagine she¡¯d say no to a dinner date in Oslo, if we invited her¡­

    My subdar has her firmly pegged as a Switch¡­ and it¡¯s all I can do to control the wild fantasies: Tying a rope around her and Lloyd¡¯s necks and leading both of them along, in coffle, her made to stare at my arse, him made to stare at her arse, as we walk!¡­ Or¡­ alternatively, of teaming up with her and tying his hands and feet to a long pole which we then lift together, bearing him along in a tribal carry!

    Me and Lloyd arrive at the desk and I lean on it with one elbow.

    Without looking up, the mouth-watering snacc of a woman speaks ¡°Hei og velkommen til det Paleolittiske Opplevelseshotellet. Jeg heter Sigrid, og jeg vil v?re din¡­¡±

    ¡°Hei, Sigrid¡­¡± I interrupt with cocksure mirth.

    She freezes and looks up from whatever task she was so engrossed in.

    A broad grin spreads across her face (making her, impossibly, more drop-dead gorgeous!) and she switches to English (despite knowing both me and Lloyd speak Norwegian) ¡°Tea! Lloyd! It¡¯s so good to see you!¡­ I was beginning to worry that you¡¯d found a better hotel and had left me here all alone!¡±

    ¡°Better than the POH!? Never! You¡¯re outta your mind(!)¡± I quip, causing a musical laugh from her.

    ¡°Special occasion?¡± she queries.

    ¡°We¡¯re trying.¡± says Lloyd, to a confirmatory nod from me.

    Her face breaks into delight ¡°Oh! Congratulations in advance!¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Sigrid¡­¡± I smile.

    ¡°Reservation under Dr and Mr Leaf, I take it?¡± she asks, returning her gaze to her screen.

    ¡°You know it!¡± I answer, cheerfully.

    ¡°And the suite type? Mammoth Yurt? Treehouse? Cave?¡±

    ¡°Cave.¡±

    ¡°Ah, here you are! Got you!¡­ I just need to give you the disclaimer. I know it¡¯s tedious! You¡¯ve got to have heard it so much that you can recite it from memory by now but, well, we just have to ¡®cover our arses¡¯(!)¡± she grins, deploying the phrase I taught her last time we came here.

    Lloyd beams ¡°No problem, Sigrid, cover away(!)¡±

    Her eyes glaze over a little as she starts ¡°Here at the Palaeolithic Experience Hotel, we pride ourselves on discretion. For that reason, we do not monitor your allotted suites in any way and all suites are isolated from eachother by soundproof privacy fields as well as, 5m tall, opaque barrier fields, to prevent trespass and to allow in natural light while preserving privacy. Attempts to circumvent or sabotage these fields will result in ejection from the premises without refund and may incur civil or criminal charges. The POH also wishes to inform you that we take safety very seriously! If you are unsure of whether any weapons you¡¯ve brought from outside are permitted, please either consult our guidelines or a member of staff for guidance. All weapons that are available from our catalogue are in compliance with our rules. Should an injury or medical emergency occur, while you are in your suite, please activate the alarm and stay where you are. While there is emergency medical equipment on site, we are not, primarily, a medical facility and, as such, we ask that you refrain from any activities which are excessively likely to cause injury(!)¡± here, she gives a wink ¡°Finally, we also ask that you confine all activities to your suites and do not make exhibition of yourselves in the halls and common areas¡­ With all that said, we wish you a pleasant stay! Your suite number is 159. You¡¯re all checked in.¡±

    I smile ¡°Thanks, Sigrid! Always a pleasure!¡­ Maybe we¡¯ll see you at dinner?¡±

    She giggles ¡°I get off at¡­ 8pm, if you two would like to meet in the restaurant?¡±

    Lloyd says ¡°Sounds like a plan! See you then!¡± and, with that, we make our way down the long tunnel, bored into the mountain behind her.

    ---Lloyd¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m leaning against the wall, in the tunnel, outside of the entrance to our suite¡¯s changing room.

    She¡¯s asked for a 20 minute headstart, so she can change. So, here I wait.

    Down the corridor I see a hairy chested Denisovan, walking my way with a cocky swagger.

    He carries a blunt, hafted, flint spear that I recognise from the POH catalogue.

    He stands about a head shorter than me, nude but for an artfully tattered skirt of leather scraps, he has a mane of dark (almost navy blue) hair and his lower face is covered in a layer of stubble.

    His eyes have moderate heterochromia, one being a rich royal blue and the other being a more usual Denisovan grey.

    His torso has the dimensions of a stasisfridge(!) Ludicrously wide and deep!

    He¡¯s also in very good shape!¡­ I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ve ever seen a Denisovan man whom I would almost say had pecs instead of moobs¡­ I¡¯m partial to either, of course, but Denisovans, unlike (most) Neanderthals, typically really struggle to show any muscle definition through their body fat, despite having muscle to spare!

    None of these things, however, are the most noticeable thing about this man¡­ that would be the, ghostly pale, pair of bare legs hung over his shoulder, ankles bound, a mostly bare, pale arse, topped by a pair of bound hands, mere inches from his face!

    From the skintone and bodyshape I have to guess that to be a Sapiens woman.

    As he approaches, the man eyes me up with a playful smirk and raises his hand to smack the girl''s arsecheek.

    This induces a stifles squeak, letting me know her mouth is gagged.

    I give an exasperated chuckle and role my eyes.

    As the pair pass me, headed in the direction of the restaurant, I look to see the woman¡¯s face, framed by a curtain of long, straight, ashen blonde hair.

    The only parts of her that aren¡¯t ghostly pale are a pair of royal blue eyes and a pair of flushed pink cheeks.

    She¡¯s clad in a pelt bikini and has a long strip of leather tied over her mouth (bulging from whatever he¡¯s stuffed it with).

    She winks at me and I give another mirthful puff.

    Technically, what these two are doing is against the rules but, as long as they don¡¯t start having sex on the restaurant floor, I expect they won¡¯t be asked to stop!

    Everyone knows what this place is for, afterall, and knows, for instance, that it isn¡¯t a place you bring children!

    My holo beeps, letting me know Tea¡¯s headstart has elapsed.

    I head into the changing room and see my outfit, laid out on the small bench in the middle of the room.

    It¡¯s a sleek, buckskin suit that fastens over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. It¡¯s coupled with a pair of carved, bone rerebraces and another pair of vambraces, made of many small bones woven together.

    For my feet, there¡¯s a pair of fur lined, rawhide boots.

    Finally, there¡¯s a shortbow and a quiver of arrows.

    Unlike that spear, which is allowed to be tipped with real flint (just with no edge or point), these arrows are tipped with rubber that merely looks like flint.

    Of course, there¡¯s little to no evidence that Sapiens had developed bows before the last Neanderthals were gone but¡­ rule of cool supersedes realism!

    I take off my lilac suit, hanging it up in a locker, above my boots, and change into the outfit my wife has picked out for me.

    I pick up the shortbow and feel its heft.

    Experimentally, I draw it and find that the drawweight is a paltry 10kg or so! This is solely a toy and could never be used to effectively hunt!

    Fully prepared, I step into the clear tube in the corner of the room.

    The door seals and I feel my stomach swoop, excitedly, as the floor beneath me begins to rise.

    Light hits my eyes, blinding me after the roughly 40 minutes that I just spent in dingy underground tunnels!

    I take in a deep breath of the frigid spring air and look around.

    I¡¯m standing in a forest clearing. Behind me is a wall of darkness, 5m tall, through which no light or sound passes.

    Visible in the distance, on all sides, are the ice capped mountains that surround this basin.

    In the distance, I here the slow, sombre, ominous tones of my wife playing her bone flute, through the trees.

    She doesn¡¯t seem to be playing any song in particular, just letting the minor key notes follow one another in whatever order they please.

    I draw an arrow from the quiver on my back, nock it to my bowstring and set off through the forest of my hotel suite.

    I avoid stepping on any leaflitter, or passing through any foliage¡­ the result is that I pass entirely silently¡­ or so I think¡­

    As I draw close to the flute sound, it stops.

    I can¡¯t see her, so I would guess she hasn¡¯t seen me¡­ it¡¯s inconceivable that she heard me while I was passing so noiselessly and she was playing the flute!

    Might it have just been her own internal clock telling her that it¡¯s time to start?

    I hear my heart pounding, in my ears, and I feel my sympathetic nervous system decide that now is the time to spike my blood with all of the adrenaline!

    There¡¯s something out there, waiting for me¡­¡­¡­ and it ain¡¯t no man(!)

    I fight to maintain control of my ragged breathing as my eyes wheel this way and that, searching for what¡¯s hunting me.

    It get¡¯s increasingly difficult, as the minutes wear on, to play the part of the oblivious Sapiens huntsman!

    Obviously, some caution would be called for, on a hunt, but¡­ when you know you¡¯re what¡¯s actually being hunted, it¡¯s impossible not to behave a little too paranoid!

    I¡¯m continually sweeping the forest around me and seeing nothing¡­ despite the fact that I¡¯m almost certain she¡¯s already found me and is just waiting for her moment to pounce!

    Just then, without hearing anything, I¡­ sense something behind me¡­

    I freeze, my spine straightens and the world enters slow motion as I consider what action to take.

    I decide to bolt; instantly confirming that I wasn¡¯t imagining things as the presence turns into a noise!

    I¡¯m sprinting away as I hear an unfamiliar *whoosh**whoosh**whoosh**fwish* sound.

    Something hits me in the legs and I *thud* into the ground causing an *oof* as the air is driven from my lungs.

    My bow skitters across the ground, through the leaf litter.

    My hands desperately go to my legs to try and release the bindings that she, somehow, threw at me but I know it¡¯s already too late as I hear the booming footsteps, of more than 100kg of Neanderthal, sprinting toward me.

    I feel a powerful foot between my shoulderblades and an irresistible pressure forcing me into the ground!

    ¡°Hello¡­ meat!¡± comes the voice of the huntress.

    ¡°Os gwelwch yn dda peidiwch! Gad fi fynd! Rwy''n erfyn arnoch chi!!!¡± I plead, in a language playing the part of ¡®Sapiens Tribal¡¯.

    She pretends not to understand, laughing ¡°Your words funny, Skinnyman!¡± in a language playing the part of ¡®Neanderthal Tribal¡¯.

    She kicks me over, transferring the pinioning foot to my solar plexus, and I get to see her new outfit for the first time.

    Her long, carmine hair is tied back (as a huntress would obviously have it), her outfit bares one of her shoulders, same as mine, but, unlike mine, her arms are entirely bare, as is her stomach, as are her legs!

    She wears a pelt top, that covers her breasts and fastens over her left shoulder.

    A matching piece of pelt, about 30cm wide and, I would guess, more than 2m long, is acting as a loincloth. It seems to have been fastened by the simple expedient of putting it in contact with her underside, pulling both ends upwards to cover her nethers, then tying a long strip of leather around her waist, with the two ends having been brought over the belt, to drape down, in front of her crotch and behind her arse. The effect is quite stylish!

    Her feet are bare and, as always, I marvel at her ability to tolerate the cold!

    At her left hip, looped through her belt, is a coil of rope and, in her right hand, she carries a club made of a twisted treeroot.

    I remember Mr Valley himself needing to be consulted on whether that weapon was allowable!

    Ultimately, he ruled that; given how impossible it would be to do damage with it accidentally, it was allowable¡­ subject to change, if she ever breaks any of my bones with it(!)

    The woman pinioning me to the ground squats down to sit on me, her belly folds creasing, enchantingly, as she does.

    I wheeze as her weight asserts itself, atop my diaphragm.

    She begins feeling my arms and chest, and scowls.

    ¡°You not good meat! Too skinny, Skinnyman! Me not like!¡± says the woman, pretending not to know basic English sentence structure¡­ despite being a doctor!

    I say nothing, just trying to pull the face I would pull if someone terrifying was speaking to me in a language I didn¡¯t understand.

    She looks me up and down before seeming to get an idea.

    She reaches behind herself and puts her hand on my crotch, cupping my dick and balls and giving them a, slightly painful, squeeze.

    She bares her teeth in a wicked grin and pulls my hair so hard my neck cranes, as she says ¡°Skinnymans not good for eating¡­ Maybe Skinnyman meat good for something else?¡­ Skinnymans so clever-clever-clever¡­ Strongmans take Skinnyman seed, take Skinnyman clever!¡±

    The convolutedness, of the thought she just expressed, meant that making it sound so stupid (ironically) took intelligence(!)

    Nodding to herself, she says ¡°Decided! Me take Skinnyman seed¡­ then eat later, when not horny, maybe!¡± and, at that, she takes the rope from her belt and loops it around the back of my neck.

    Feigning not understanding what¡¯s going on, I react to the rope going around my neck by widening my eyes, quickening my breathing and trying to fight her off, wheezing ¡°Na! Stopiwch! Arhoswch! Rhyddhewch fi!!!¡±

    With a powerful hand, she grasps my forehead and slams it down so hard I feel the back of my head deform the mud beneath me!

    She brings her freckled face so close to mine that I feel her breath on my mouth and, with quiet menace, says ¡°No fight, Skinnyman! No fight or me eat you! Understand?!¡±

    I almost nod before remembering that, in the canon of the fantasy, I can¡¯t understand her!

    I put up no further resistance as she forms a collar around my neck with the rope, stands up, kicks me back over onto my front, yanks off my quiver, tossing it to lie next to the bow, yanks off the bone armour on my arms before twisting both, such that my wrists are crossed between my shoulder blades and she is able to tie them onto the collar.

    That done, she untangles my legs from the bolas and pulls me to my feet, taking the free end of the rope, to lead me by.

    The weight of my arms, hanging from the back of my collar, puts a bit of pressure on my windpipe, at the front.

    It¡¯s not suffocating or anything (she knows how to tie a knot!) but it¡¯s not comfortable either!

    I could relieve the pressure, by hanging back and forcing her to put tension into the rope, but that¡¯s a dangerous game as, if I overbalance, I don¡¯t have my arms to break my fall!

    It is utterly fruitless to try and fight my wife¡¯s bulk and power so, instead, I just admire the swing of her bare thighs as she walks, the lusciously curvaceous arsecheeks protruding from the sides of her loincloth, the divinely beautiful way her lower back fat depresses up the length of her spine, the jiggle of her arms¡­

    This woman is a voluptuous Queen! A buxom Empress!! A zaftig Goddess!!!

    The fact that a woman this fine ever wanted anything to do with someone like me is nothing short of a miracle!

    We come up on a cliff face with a cavemouth, a little more than 4m in diameter. The entrance is covered by a pelt curtain with a gap, at the top, for smoke to escape.

    Still leading me by my tether, she drags aside the furry curtain and pulls me into the cave, illuminated only by a firepit, the orange light of which makes the animals (painted in ochre and charcoal on the wall) dance!

    She brings me to the middle of the room, beneath a log beam, suspended securely between two ceiling ledges, and beside a raised stone platform, covered in bedding furs. She turns, smiles, approaches me, rounds my back and kicks out my left knee, causing me to crumple to the ground, her guiding me down by the shoulders, so I don¡¯t hit my head.

    She forcefully pulls off my boots followed by my trousers before unfastening my top, at the shoulder, and pulling it off, over my legs, too!

    Fully nude now, my feet are bound with another coil of rope she had apparently left in here, during her headstart.

    Having trussed my feet securely together, she throws the other end of the rope over the ceiling beam and begins hoisting, using her superior weight, more than her superior muscle, to do so.

    My feet are lifted into the air and my upper body is, unnervingly, dragged across the cave floor until my head is no longer able to stabilise me and I swing, pendulously, through free space.

    She hoists me, such that my head comes level with the edge of the stone bed, before she ties off the end of the rope to a (definitely not artificially positioned there for that exact purpose(!)) downward facing rock spur.

    She goes to the fire pit, which has begun to burn a bit low since being lit (presumably the moment we checked in) by one of the housekeeping drones.

    She turns to the enormous stack of dry firewood and takes four blocks or so, tossing them into the pit, followed by an armful of, more easily ignited, smaller sticks.

    The fire begins to flare up, I hear the crackle and roar of the new fuel starting to catch, see the light increase and feel the intensified heat, radiating from that end of the cave.

    Silhouetted by the fire¡­ the woman, who owns my body, spirit and soul, walks toward me.

    She gives me a push, renewing my nauseating pendulum swing, and laughs as I groan.

    She sits down on the platform, the left side of her face illuminated by the orange light of the firepit, the right by the cool, diffuse, natural light coming in through the smoke vent.

    Her groin is almost perfectly level with my head and she spreads her knees, thrusting it toward me, suggestively.

    With agonising slowness, I watch her tantalisingly unknot the long strip of leather, acting as a belt to her loincloth.

    She draws it out and the cloth falls, leaving her naked, from the ribcage down, and exposing her elegant, scarlet bush to me.

    In a low voice, that has more the tone of a statement of fact than a request or an order, she declares ¡°Skinnyman eat Strongwoman now.¡± and puts a hand at the back of my neck, drawing my lips toward hers.

    ---Treg¡¯s perspective---

    I feel my husband¡¯s lips and tongue greedily working against my crotch, the sides of his head deforming the flesh of my inner thighs!

    I see his erect cock hanging beside his taut abdominal muscles.

    He¡¯s having a little too much fun eating the pussy of a woman who dragged him back to her cave against his will, but¡­ well¡­ who am I to argue with resu-u-u-u-u-u-uuuuulttttttssssssssss!!!

    I crush his face against the front of my pelvis as he induces me to orgasm.

    Once it¡¯s passed, I slowly, gently release him, allowing his head to swing away, then back, then away again.

    ¡°Meat make feel good! Maybe not eat!¡± I say, in my cavewoman voice.

    He looks at me, tremulously, and says ¡°A wnewch chi adael i mi fynd, yn awr?¡±

    Oh, no, my darling!¡­ I¡¯m never letting you go!¡­ ¡¯Til death do us part!!!

    Ignoring the question that my character wouldn¡¯t understand, I reach to my right shoulder and begin releasing the knot that¡¯s keeping tension in my simple rag top.

    Once I have the slack to do so, I begin pulling it off over my head.

    My breasts are squeezed and pulled upward with the pelt before freeing themselves to clap against the top of my belly.

    By Sapiens¡¯ standards, I am extremely overweight¡­ Of course, my physiology is different to theirs¡­ my bones and muscles are denser and my body is naturally stockier¡­ still, even by Neanderthal standards, I am moderately overweight, with an unhealthily high bodyfat percentage.

    This man¡­ this man has never made me feel like my weight was any sort of barrier to attractiveness¡­ quite the opposite¡­ He actively seems to be turned on by watching the jiggle of the layer of adipose flesh I have over my muscle!

    He¡¯s a man who has never once made me feel like he thinks he¡¯s doing me a favour by being with me, the way certain¡­ other hopefuls for my affections made me feel, in the past!

    It¡¯s a little ironic that the man I respect most, in the entire universe, is one who I¡¯ve got dangling from the ceiling by his ankles, just forced to eat my pussy and then referred to as ¡®Meat¡¯(!)

    I look at the beautiful man, dangling from the ceiling, and wonder what I should do with him next¡­

    I did bring a strapon, made with a rawhide harness and a piece of carved stone that a museum curator would likely list as a ¡®model cucumber¡¯, but¡­ the problem with pegging him¡­ the problem with edging him, fellating him or giving him a titwank is that¡­ if he cums¡­

    I¡¯ve decided; there aren¡¯t going to be any wasted opportunities! That cute little cock is going inside me! He¡¯s going to give me his seed! We are going to have another child!

    Wow!¡­ Having my cycle reactivated has made me hornier than usual!

    I get up and go to the rock spur, acting as the anchor point for his suspension.

    I grasp the taut rope, getting ready to briefly take 67kg of dangling Sapiens, with one arm.

    I tug the tail of my bowline and immediately become the only thing keeping Lloyd¡¯s head from hitting the floor.

    I lower him down gently (I do not want to accidentally concuss him!), until his head and shoulders are on the floor, then I release the rope, causing the rest of him to plummet to the ground with a surprised yelp.

    I stride to where he lies and stoop to his feet.

    I make eyecontact with him and say ¡°You run, I catch, Skinnyman!¡± and begin unbinding his ankles.

    Once his legs are free, I pick him up by the front of his collar, pulling him to his feet then pushing him back down onto the bed.

    I follow after and bring one foot to each side of his, stick thin, abdomen.

    I reach behind myself to grab both his ankles, pulling them up around the outsides of my thighs, to my chest height.

    Wrapping my left arm around his right leg and gripping his left ankle with my left hand, I reach down, with my right, to catch his cock.

    I pull it perpendicular to his torso, aligning it with the hole about to milk it of its seed!

    The instant I feel him make contact with my lips I yank upward with my left arm, thrusting him inside me.

    No longer needing my right hand to guide him, I bring it to grip his left ankle, transferring my left to his right.

    I proceed to use his legs like the strings on a marionette, puppeteering his cock into fucking me!

    He moans so wonderfully as I envelop him! I can¡¯t help but laugh!

    I step on his face (which I can¡¯t do for too long because I¡¯m in danger of losing balance!)

    ¡°You meat, Skinnyman!¡± I shout down at him.

    ¡°Dw i yn!¡± he moans, his pleasure seeming to have made him forget that he doesn¡¯t understand me(!)

    ¡°You my meat!¡±

    ¡°Dw i YN!¡± he responds, biting his lip, shuddering and panting, his brow creased.

    ¡°You want be with Treg! Forever!!!¡± I snarl, gleefully.

    ¡°Dw i gwneud! Dw i EISIAU!¡­ Pl?s, cadw fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!¡± he screams as he climaxes inside me.

    I smile down at my sweet boy.

    Without dropping his ankles, keeping them as far up as they¡¯ll go, to keep him plugging his precious cum inside me, I squat down to rest my weight on his hips.

    Once I¡¯m all the way down, I release his legs, reach for his shoulder and roll onto my back, rolling him on top of me.

    I pull him into a cuddle and kiss him, tenderly, while keeping him inside me to let nature do its work.

    Give me another child, you beautiful man! You sweet boy!!!

    ---Sigrid¡¯s perspective---

    I lied about getting off at 8¡­ I just thought the extra half an hour would give me time to check my appearance; comb my hair, wash my face, change my shirt and so on!¡­ I didn¡¯t consider that that would also give me half an hour to get nervous!

    It¡¯s nice and simple, Sigge!

    ¡®Tea, Lloyd, I¡¯ve got next weekend off and I thought I might have a daytrip to London!¡­ Would you like to meet up? You could show me around, we could maybe get a bite to eat, maybe grab a ¡®pint¡¯ at an English pub¡­?¡¯

    You¡¯re not asking them to marry you, you¡¯re not asking them to fuck you¡­ You¡¯re just asking to graduate your relationship from ¡®friendly customers and friendly employee¡¯ to, simply, ¡®friends¡¯!

    They invited you to dinner, tonight! They¡¯re not going to say ¡®No! You disgust us!!!¡¯, are they?!

    The worst they¡¯ll say is ¡®Oh, sorry, we¡¯re not free¡­ How about another time?¡¯

    I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror and am unable to locate any flaw to further stall for time by fixing.

    I take a deep breath.

    Here goes nothing!

    ---Rhiannon¡¯s perspective---

    My niece comes down the stairs, in her adorable little footie pyjama¡¯s!

    She¡¯s so small that she needs to put both feet on each step before she has the confidence to start on the next!

    Such a little dwtty!

    She gives me quite a fierce case of cute aggression!

    ¡°Good morning, Chelsea!¡± I beam.

    ¡°Goo¡¯ mor¡¯y, Anty Rhirhi!¡± she burbles, happily.

    ¡°So, today¡­¡± I say, leaning over the kitchen counter ¡°¡­I thought I might take you up Yr Wyddfa!¡±

    She gives happy li¡¯l foot stomps at my tone but, I¡¯m fairly certain, she doesn¡¯t really understand much more than I¡¯m taking her somewhere!

    ¡°Thing is, sweety¡­ it¡¯ll be really cold up there! *Brrrrrr*¡± I rub my arms and shiver to demonstrate ¡°¡­So, first, I thought I¡¯d take you to get some cold weather clothes! Does that sound like fun?!¡±

    She giggles and nods, happily.

    SO FUCKING DARLING!!!

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot we want to do today, so we need a BIIIIIIG breakfast! What do you want, sweetheart?¡±

    Her face lights up with excitement, as she declares ¡°Pancakes!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.43

    ---Repeal---

    Apprehensively, I squeeze my perch with both my natural and bionic talons.

    Qorak is beside me and, like me, leant forward in anticipation.

    Most of my crew are gathered here, in the Canteen, but the room is entirely silent. You could hear a pip drop!

    The attention of all is at the wall, on which is projected live footage from Citadel (the only lag being one of about [30 seconds] from real time, artificially added to allow time for the feed to be cut if something horrible were to happen¡­ No prizes for guessing which species first had that idea(!))

    The scarlet skinned man standing atop the podium on screen is extremely large, even for a Vinjirian! Easily more than [5m] to the top of his shoulder hump and nearly [6m] to the top of his conical horn!

    If a sapient that large (or in danger of becoming so, any time in the near future) were to apply for employment on my ship, I would need to gently point out that they might find navigating some of the spaces aboard to be something of a challenge(!)

    Though knuckle walkers, his species do not use their long forelimbs for anything but the crudest manipulation, instead using a set of 9 prehensile tendrils at the end of their snouts, around their mouths.

    The Speaker turns his head to get a better look at the information in front of him with the two eyes on the left side of his head, his beard of tendrils flopping limply as he does so, and in a low, rumbling voice (reminiscent of the call of kwarat birds or the songs of Terran Whales) which, by necessity, must be slow to account for how long it takes to say anything with his resonance chamber, says ¡°Wiiiiith¡­ tweeeeen¡­tyyyyy¡­ threeeeeeeeee¡­ thouuuuus¡­aaaaand¡­ fouuuuur¡­ huuuuun¡­dreeeeed¡­ aaaaand¡­ threeeeeeeeee¡­ voooootes¡­ theeeee¡­ aaaaayes¡­ haaaaave¡­ iiiiit¡­ Theeeee¡­ mooooo¡­tiooooon¡­ paaaaass¡­eeeees¡­ Aaaaabs¡­¡±

    We don¡¯t get to hear how many abstentions or nays there were as the Canteen erupts into thundering roars and jubilant cheers!

    A banner is unfurled, bearing the words ¡®CONGRATULATIONS TWILA!!!¡¯ written out in English and ¡®HAPPY TWILA¡¯ written out in Galactic Standard (which has no word for ¡®congratulate¡¯, nor any way to denote an exclamation!).

    [Party poppers] are detonated, hurling [streamers] everywhere.

    The footage cuts to reactions from the various delegations from around the amphitheatrical Parliament building.

    The Rethijj delegate, positioned in the aquatic section beneath the main podium, is shown curling and uncurling all twelve of his tentacles in joy.

    The Lanatkser delegate pounds the table with her brachiating hands and repeatedly inflates her gular sac for great, resounding hoots.

    The Wom dances from one of her handfeet (located at the end of her two limbs) to the other.

    The delegate from Sho¡¯undu raises her trunk in a dignified salute.

    The Terran is shown giving a warm smile, his lips closed, as he looks out at the podium.

    The celebratory din quiets enough for me to make out the restatement of the motion that just passed, mercifully given by the Zxkli Deputy Speaker, rather than the, slow speaking, Speaker.

    ¡°¡­ctive immediately, Artificial Intelligences that have been produced using the Berlin Method, are to be considered full citizens of the Galactic Union, and to be afforded the selfsame rights as biological sapient beings. Amnesty is granted to any Intelligences constructed before this law was repealed, who may now¡­¡±

    A hermaphroditic, radially symmetrical, heptapedal Species with an upturned mouth and no vocal cords, the Zxkli communicate by facing their twelve manipular-eyestalks toward the one they wish to talk to and blinking out a message.

    Curiously, I look to the new addition, the linguist.

    She¡¯s looking at their eyes and hers are darting intently back and forth; of course she would comprehend a language that she¡¯s 10 eyes short of the ability to converse in!¡­ She is a Terran linguist, afterall!¡­ And the galaxy¡¯s finest, at that!

    Twila has multiplied her holographic avatar, to make a throng of a few dozen incorporeal Terran girls, all doing different celebratory dances.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Emiko is sat with her bodyguard and Xon. They are raising a toast with three [champagne flutes], which look so delicate I¡¯m surprised Ms Hunter is even able to hold hers without shattering it!

    Victor and Tuun are grinning, three of their fists in the air, and animatedly beating their (respective) chests with the other three!

    Dr Mink is clinging to Msia¡¯s side, the two of them sharing a kiss to mark this historic moment. Her ring, with gems cut in such a way as to create a facsimile of fire, is visible on the IV digit of her left paw-hand.

    I¡¯ve still got mild emotional whiplash from the Felis doctor going from seeming to despise him to the two of them announcing that, not only were they back together, they were engaged!

    Some of the crew present, who are less familiar with Terrans, are looking around at the joyous revelling of the bioTerrans with puzzled expressions, that suggest they believe these to be quite over the top reactions for the repeal of a law that had no direct effect on them!

    Clearly, they have never been taught what words like ¡®community¡¯, ¡®solidarity¡¯ and ¡®family¡¯ mean to Terrans!

    ---Later---

    The party has wound down. My mate went to roost some time ago, taking our daughter to her incubator.

    Hasiakh and Krish are having a murmured conversation on the other side of the room, her coiling herself around him, tenderly. They¡¯re the last of the Triple Ms present.

    ¡°So, Twila¡­ how does it feel?¡± I smile at her holographic form.

    ¡°It feels amazing! I¡¯m so glad!¡­ I feel uniquely privileged to have woken up just in time to see the repeal of a, 900,000 year old, law, banning my kind from existing!¡±

    I nod, appreciatively ¡°I can only imagine¡­ I think the closest precedent must be the Peace¡­ not that I think anyone ever bothered to pass a law prohibiting the existence of deathworlders(!)¡±

    She giggles ¡°I think, when a coalition of nearly 34,000 species declares War on deathworlders, you can assume that they consider deathworlderhood illegal by default(!)¡±

    ¡°True enough¡­¡± I laugh.

    After a brief pause, I change the subject, asking ¡°Is there anything I ought to be aware of that results from you being a citizen, now?¡±

    She shrugs ¡°A few things¡­ As I¡¯m no longer legally your property, it puts your ability to sell the Bright Plume into a slight legal grey area, for instance.¡±

    I balk ¡°You weren¡¯t my property, Twila!!!¡±

    She smiles ¡°I get that that¡¯s not how you saw it but, on paper, I was!¡­ I was, legally, software and you owned the hardware that hosted me¡­ meaning that you owned me as well¡­ GU law previously made no allowance for the autonomy of AIs, since our existence has only been permitted for a few hours¡­ On paper, you owned me.¡±

    I consider, in horror, the fact that I owned a person until a few hours ago and didn¡¯t even [fucking] realise it!

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Twila! I didn¡¯t¡­!!!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Captain!¡­ Honestly, I consider it a stunning reflection on your character that your first reaction there was disgust at the thought of having owned me and not anger at the compromise of your ship¡¯s resale value!¡±

    I give a flick of my crown plumes and an irritated flap as I say ¡°I don¡¯t plan to sell the Bright Plume any time soon!¡­ If I ever do, I assume it will be as simple as having a little chat with you about whether you would prefer to stay on or be provided with alternate hardware to inhabit? Realising that I owned a person trumps that!¡±

    She grins ¡°Yeah¡­ you can treat me like any other employee, in that regard¡­ after you settle 16 and a half years backpay, that is¡­¡±

    I blanche and, frantically, begin doing sums.

    ¡°¡­I¡­ erm¡­ I may need to¡­ erm¡­ I may need to work out a payment plan with you, Twila¡­¡±

    She gives a great, cackling laugh ¡°Captain¡­*hahahahahaha*¡­ the look on your face!¡­*hahahahahaha*¡­ That was PRICELESS!!!¡±

    After having calmed down from her laughing fit, she explains ¡°¡­You don¡¯t owe me any backpay, Captain. Most of that time, I wouldn¡¯t even have qualified as sentient under Terran law! I would¡¯ve been classed as a ¡®protosentient¡¯; capable of becoming sentient but not yet sentient ¡­ I, technically, haven¡¯t been your employee since I woke up either, as I wasn¡¯t a citizen¡­ I mean¡­ I¡¯m still not a citizen, for the moment¡­ I keep checking the registration site but it¡¯s crashed from the volume of AIs trying to declare themselves!¡±

    I nod, consideringly, for a little while before saying ¡°Twila, I want you to let me know the moment you¡¯re registered¡­ I have a job to offer you(!)¡±

    She raises an eyebrow ¡°Would this job potentially be something like ¡®Shipboard Manager¡¯?¡­ Might it possibly include such responsibilities as; life support monitoring, engine monitoring, subluminal and superluminal navigation?¡±

    I chitter ¡°Indeed it would!¡­ I can throw in a meaningless title like ¡®Executive Shipboard Manager¡¯ if that would sweeten the deal(?)¡±

    She puffs, mirthfully ¡°That¡¯s quite alright, Captain¡­ I think the job will already be attractive enough!¡­ It will be nice to be able to start receiving a salary, though¡­ The body that Jennie¡¯s building me needs a few components that are a little out of her price range¡­ she¡¯s really only able to work on it as a hobby project¡­ Now, I can sponsor her!¡±

    ¡°Really? Gato told me she designed my leg in less than an hour¡­?¡± I say holding up my bionic.

    She nods ¡°Yeah, your leg doesn¡¯t require a brain¡­ it only needs to be intelligent enough to give sensory feedback and perform motor function impulses.  A physical avatar would need to be able to sustain my intelligence¡­ Jennie¡¯s good but no one¡¯s that good!¡­ That¡¯s why the UTC didn¡¯t build a droid army during the War¡­ It would have been an inefficient waste of high level manufacturing capacity.¡±

    I consider that for a while.

    At this point, I realise how tired I am and say ¡°Alright, Twila, it¡¯s been lovely talking to you but I need to go to roost now¡­ Congratulations again!¡±

    She beams ¡°Goodnight, Captain. Rest well! We¡¯ll be arriving at Nova Fennoscandia tomorrow morning¡­¡­¡­ and, Captain¡­?¡±

    I turn ¡°Yes, Twila?¡±

    She hesitates a few moments before saying ¡°¡­ I just want to tell you that, of all the people who¡¯s ship I might have woken up as¡­ I¡¯m glad it was you!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.44

    ---Cold---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    There it is.

    Through the shuttle window is a large, rocky planet with a ring system, from 2 of its moons having been torn apart by its gravity, when they crossed its Roche limit, one 45 and another 20 million years ago.

    I feel a nauseating swoop in my stomach as if the grav plating had been turned off.

    I reflect on the ridiculous way the women I¡¯m about to meet for the first time (in the flesh, at least), have me more scared than I was when I fought those pirates, or in that brief moment when I first met Fluffy, where I thought she was about to try and eat me!

    Tuun clearly senses my nerves as she puts two of her arms around my shoulders and bends to give a tender kiss, her lips cool against my cheek.

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    As the shuttle passes the inner of my home planet¡¯s rings, Vanaheimr, I¡¯m able to make out the shape of my home continent, Nyr Norelands.

    We draw closer and the snow capped mountains resolve themselves from the muddy green valleys.

    We¡¯re headed for the southwest coast.

    We get close enough for me to make out the shape of a very familiar building; perched above the treeline but below the snowline, on a mountain overlooking the sea, is an enormous langh¨²s.

    The ground floor, I know, is a single, open plan room which serves as a meadhall, meeting place and religious space to the local Forn Sier community, as well as a sk¨¢ldic recital space. Above the meadhall, however, is a home¡­ the home where I lived from 6 to 21.

    The shuttle sets down and the door opens.

    ---Hasiakh¡¯s perspective---

    Cold!!!

    This planet is freezing!

    Literally! I think those mountains are covered in a layer of solid water!

    Having been brought up on Prznith and only visiting my cradleworld, Sahak, three times growing up, I¡¯m, obviously, used to the general ambient temperature being somewhat below ideal for me but¡­ it¡¯s never been like this!

    I assumed that Terrans had, more or less, the same temperature range as Sahas!

    The last Terran planet was a tiny bit cooler than I set the thermostat for myself, the one before it was just about perfect (well, the inhabited parts were¡­ don¡¯t think I¡¯d like to have tried my luck in that equatorial desert band!)

    This planet is so cold that I can feel my muscles seize up as the stone of the path robs them of their heat!

    ¡°Krisssssssshhhhhhhh¡­¡± I say, only noticing at this point that my mind has slowed down along with my body¡­ I can¡¯t speak properly.

    The warm Terran, swaddled in an enormous coat, turns to me, a concerned look on his face.

    ¡°What is it, Hassi?¡±

    ¡°Itssssssssssss¡­ cold¡­¡± I say, hearing the sluggishness of my words but powerless to stop it.

    His eyes widen, in horror ¡°You didn¡¯t bring a climate field?!¡±

    I shake my head from side to side in his people¡¯s gesture of ¡®No¡¯, easier than saying the word right now.

    ¡°Why not!? Tuun told us her planet was cold!¡± he asks, aghast.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t¡­ thhhhhhink¡­ be¡­ sssssss¡¯bad!¡± trying and failing to articulate.

    ¡°Shit¡­ Hassi!¡­¡± he says, pressing his wonderfully warm body against mine before turning his head to shout ¡°Victor¡­ I need some help, here!!!¡±

    ---Heidi¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m just seeing to all the place settings in my wife¡¯s meadhall, ahead of tonight¡¯s party, when I hear a frantic *Bang**Bang**Bang**Bang**Bang**Bang* coming from the door facing downhill, toward the landing pad.

    A little alarmed by the urgency in that knock, I hurry to the door and pull it open.

    There stands a recognisable, copper haired boy, almost as tall as my wife (though, rather stouter for the missing few centimetres(!))

    Over his shoulder is the lolling, half conscious head of a roughworlder but this girl is not my daughter!

    This scarlet scaled girl, sibilantly burbling through the scarf gagging her fang filled mouth (presumably to stop her self-envenoming in her addlepated state), with her arms, ending in two, two-thumbed hands, hung limply over his shoulders, is a Sahas¡­ this must be Hasiakh.

    Behind them is a slim South Asian looking boy carrying the woman¡¯s tail, seemingly more to keep it from trailing on the ground than to help with bearing her weight. This must be Krish.

    Behind him is my daughter.

    ¡°Sorry, Ma¡¯am, no time for pleasantries¡­¡± says Tuun¡¯s boyfriend, barging past me and not seeming to notice having reverted to calling me ¡®Ma¡¯am¡¯ ¡°¡­You got a place where an ectotherm can warm up?!¡± he asks.

    Having already thoroughly assessed the situation before he spoke, I simply say ¡°Follow me.¡± And do a small jog to get ahead of him.

    I lead them through the long tables to a fireplace, stacked with wood. It wasn¡¯t intended to be lit for a few more hours but needs must!

    I take a lighter from its hiding place and set it to the kindling. My wife being an excellent fire builder, the hearth will be roaring in nearly no time at all!

    I turn to the boys ¡°Set her down on the mat, try not to let her touch the stone of the floor¡­ Krish, I presume?¡±

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    He nods, worry still twisting his features.

    ¡°How about you prop her up against yourself, Krish? That way, not only will she have the fire¡¯s heat, warming her up from the front, and yours from behind but you can also make sure she¡¯s not getting burned?¡±

    ¡°Good thinking¡­¡± he says bending to pull his half conscious girlfriend against himself to share his heat with her.

    --- Katr¨ªn¡¯s perspective---

    There he is!

    The man my youngest daughter has chosen for her own¡­ sitting apart from the others, in my home.

    I stride up to him, clap him heartily on the back and say ¡°Victor! Good to finally meet you in the flesh!¡±

    Distractedly, he turns to me then, realising who is hailing him, starts and stands up.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs To¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­¡± he says, awkwardly.

    ¡°Likewise, son¡­¡± I smirk back before cocking an eyebrow and asking ¡°¡­are you going to tell me what the long face is for?¡±

    Embarrassed, he looks away ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ nervous, is all¡­¡±

    ¡°Kid¡­ I know what someone beating themself up looks like¡­ you want to talk about it?¡±

    His face tells me he does¡­ but that he doesn¡¯t wish to say that he does.

    ¡°Tell me; what¡¯s up? I assume it¡¯s got something to do with the state that your friend came in in?¡± I say, sitting down across from where he was sat.

    He sighs the sigh I¡¯ve heard, at some point, from every child I¡¯ve raised, sits and says ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess I¡¯m just kickin¡¯ myself ¡¯cause it¡¯s my job to take care of things like ¡®does everyone have a climate field who needs one.¡¯¡­ I musta made a terrible impression on you and your wife, showin¡¯ up with a woman unconscious ¡¯causa my negligence¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­ I don¡¯t suppose it would make a difference if I pointed out that you¡¯re on leave?¡±

    He puffs and shakes his head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose it would make a difference if I pointed out that your friend is fine?¡±

    Another shake and a mirthless smile ¡°Nope¡­¡±

    ¡°What about if I point out that a climate field probably wouldn¡¯t have made a difference?¡±

    He¡¯s immediately intrigued ¡°It¡­ wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so¡­¡± I respond ¡°¡­the landing pad¡¯s only a few hundred metres away down the hill¡­ I don¡¯t think she can possibly have lost enough heat, just to the air, to put her into torpor! It will have been the heat she was loosing to the ground that will have been the lion¡¯s share! And that¡¯s quite a lot of abstracting to do! It would need to occur to you that, unlike a humanoid, she needs most of her body in contact with the ground to move, that she would dislike clothing coming between her and the ground, that the ground will be cold and that conduction is the most efficient means of heat transfer¡­ then you would have had to convince her to take some countermeasure like allowing herself to be carried or putting an insulating layer on, around her thorax¡­ And, let me tell you, as a woman who¡¯s raised 13 kids, there is nothing so stubborn as a child who¡¯s just been told to put on a layer!¡±

    He laughs ¡°That does actually make me feel a little better¡­ though, Hasiakh is a grown woman(!) I wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve imagined you bein¡¯ the type to argue with your kids about their layerin¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Oh, I definitely wasn¡¯t! How dare you accuse me of being responsible(!)¡± I wink ¡°If it had been up to me we would have warned every child once that they were improperly dressed then let the cold teach them their lesson! My wife, on the other hand¡­ true to her epithet has the ferocity of a VALKYRIE! She would always insist!¡±

    He frowns ¡°I thought your wife was a Christian¡­ How¡¯d¡­?¡±

    ¡°She end up with the epithet ¡®Valkyrie¡¯?¡± I interrupt ¡°Simple: I gave it to her¡­¡±

    ¡°You met at uni?¡± he asks, astonished.

    ¡°We did!¡± I confirm ¡°She was a second-year, I was in my first despite being a few years older than her, since I did a term in the military, first. This year marks our hundred and eighteenth year together and our hundred and¡­ twelfth year of marriage.¡±

    ¡°Wow!¡­ You two¡¯re really in it for the long haul!¡± he exclaims, clearly impressed.

    I smile ¡°We are¡­ in fact, we already grew old in eachother¡¯s arms¡­ I don¡¯t imagine I¡¯d ever want to be with a woman who was not sat by my hospital bed as I lay dying of old age(!)¡±

    He grins and spends a few seconds clearly daydreaming.

    ¡°Is it you thinking about spending a hundred years with my daughter that¡¯s put that dopey grin on your face?¡± I smirk.

    His face falls an he makes an embarrassed expression.

    ¡°Listen, Victor¡­¡± I say, putting as much sincerity as I can muster into my words ¡°¡­I can tell that you¡¯re very serious about my daughter and I could not be happier about that! Just¡­ bear in mind¡­ not every couple is one that can or should stay together for a century¡­¡±

    His face here looks appalled and he looks like he¡¯s about to try and interrupt.

    ¡°¡­I¡¯m not saying that you and Tuun aren¡¯t destined for the long haul!¡± I reassure him ¡°I¡¯m just saying that you ought to give it time¡­ don¡¯t rush into anything¡­ Heidi and I waited six years to get married because we realised that how we felt about eachother then might not be how we would always feel!¡±

    He considers that for a few moments, then answers ¡°I understand, Ma¡¯am¡­¡±

    I nod, approvingly, and change the subject ¡°Would you like to hear the story of how Heidi and I met? It¡¯s also the story of why I called her ¡®Valkyrie¡¯!¡±

    Before he has a chance to answer the Valkyrie herself appears, saying ¡°Darling, you¡¯ll bore the poor boy to death with your stories!¡± before turning to address him, smiling ¡°Victor, please don¡¯t feel any obligation to let this old hag put you to sleep(!)¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯m actually really interested!¡± he assures her.

    I smirk at my wife, pat the seat beside me and say ¡°You are welcome to help me tell it¡­ if you think I¡¯m a bad sk¨¢ld!¡±

    She rolls her eyes and explains to Victor ¡°My wife is very fond of reminding me that, while she¡¯s managed to convince all but four of the children we¡¯ve raised to accept her faith, I¡¯ve only manage to convince one¡­ As if the Gospels could compete with Elves, Dwarves, J?tnar and magic hammers(!)¡±

    ¡°Your book has a talking snake, a talking donkey, children getting mauled to death by bears for calling a man ¡®bald¡¯, seas getting parted¡­ it¡¯s a poor sk¨¢ld who blames her stories!¡±

    She laughs and shakes her head then turns to Victor ¡°You should have seen the looks on her parents¡¯ faces when I told them I was a Christian¡­ It was as though they thought I was about to jump onto the table and scream ¡®Deus lo vult!¡¯ at the top of my lungs while chopping their heads off, or declare that they were heretics and needed to be burned at the stake!¡±

    ¡°In fairness to them, dear¡­ you did do all of those things¡­(!)¡± I say, making the same tease I must have made literally over a thousand times.

    She turns to look up at me, her lips pursed and twisted in mock irritation, and the same way she must have done literally over a thousand times, answers ¡°In fairness to me¡­ darling¡­ I never did any of them! People calling themselves ¡®Christians¡¯ might have but the God I pray to is one who loves all of his children more than he wants all of them to go to the ¡®right¡¯ Church every Sunday(!) Holding me responsible for the actions of crusaders and witchhunters makes as much sense as blaming you for the Sack of Lindisfarne!¡±.

    I grin ¡°If you say so, my Valkyrie¡­¡± giving her a squeeze.

    She sighs, turns to the boy and, dispassionately, says ¡°She originally called me ¡®Valkyrie¡¯ because, while we went to Akureyri together, she was reenacting a longboat landing and I was volunteering as a first aider. I was up on a hill, on a landspeeder, to be out of the way. This idiot¡­¡± she thumbs at me ¡°¡­got herself cut by a sword that some other idiot had accidently swapped for their (blunt) reenacting model¡­ as she lay in the sand, dying, I was lowering down overtop of her and because she had tunnel vision and was addled from blood loss, she thought I was a Valkyrie coming to take her either to Valh?ll or F¨®lkvangr¡­¡±

    ¡°Sweetheart!¡­¡± I bellow, incredulously ¡°¡­If you tell it like that, ANY story will be boring!!! Where¡¯s the buildup! The fact that you recognised me from having seen me around uni? The fact that the girl you were with was too busy trying to flirt with you to notice something not being right?! The fact that you barked orders at a host of armed and armoured people and they obeyed you like you were the most frightening thing they had ever seen!? The fact that you rode in the ambulance with me!? And how could you leave out our first wager!?!?!?¡±

    ¡°First wager?¡± says Victor, curiously.

    I nod and gesture for my wife to tell him.

    She gives a fond sigh and says ¡°This one wakes up, massive great gash along the side of her chest¡­¡± she gestures to where my scar is ¡°¡­and blearily asks me if she¡¯s dead or not. I tell her she¡¯s dead-stupid but her heart is still beating, though, I can¡¯t say how much longer that will last! She grins and says¡­¡± she gestures to me.

    I do the same grin I did on that day (as best as I remember), and say ¡°I¡¯ll wager you a date that I live!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.45

    ---Feast---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    The tallest Sapiens I¡¯ve ever seen (man or woman) stands, raises a horn and prays:

    ¡°Hail to you, Day! Hail the Day''s sons!

    Hail Night and her kinswoman!

    Look upon us, here, with loving eyes

    And send us victory!

    Hail to you, Gods! Hail to you, Goddesses!

    Hail to the generous Earth!

    Give to us eloquent words, wisdom

    And healing hands, in all this life!¡±

    before bringing the horn to her lips and drinking deeply of the mead, mirrored by almost everyone in the room (the only exceptions being the gardenworlders, for whom this drink would be quite poisonous, and the singular Muslim, all of whom have horns presumably full of something besides mead(!))

    The mead is both surprisingly flat, given how fizzy it was when it was poured for me, and surprisingly dry! I definitely expected honeywine to taste sweeter¡­ but, then, I suppose winewine doesn¡¯t taste that much like grapes, does it(!)

    Her prayer-cum-toast completed, the straw-blonde woman looks down, from her raised platform at the head of the room, to the other four long tables, filled with around 1,500 locals, a few dozen Bright Plumers who accepted Tuun¡¯s invitation, and piled with food¡­ mostly of the roasted and¡­ meaty varieties!

    ¡°Now¡­¡± booms the mountainous blonde, looking around at all present ¡°¡­it will not escape the notice of any of you (that ¨®einn has not withheld wit from(!)) but we are visited by many guests from offworld, tonight¡­ I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t need to remind anyone in this room that, compared to us, gardenworlders are very fragile! Please do not be as physical with them as you are with eachother¡­ they¡¯re liable to get hurt! Additionally, if I hear that any of you, my brothers and sisters in T¨®rr, have made any of our guests feel, in any way, unwelcome¡­ you¡¯ll answer to me¡­!¡±

    There¡¯s an uncomfortable shift that goes around the room at the imposing woman¡¯s words. I think I understand what she meant when she told us earlier that they hadn¡¯t elected her as their priestess just because she was the strongest, oldest or the only one of them who lived in her own meadhall(!)

    She allows the threat to sit a moment before a smile breaks over her face and she quips ¡°¡­and if I think you really need to be taught a lesson, I¡¯ll pass you off to my wife(!)¡± smirking and gesturing to the (much smaller and daintier) woman, sitting to her left, who smiles and rolls her eyes as the room erupts into a raucous laugh!

    She lets the laughter mostly die down before she holds up her hand and silence falls, allowing her to continue.

    She gestures to Tuun, sitting to her right ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve all noticed that my Tunie is back with us!¡± that¡¯s met with a cheer ¡°Yes, yes¡­ not for long, I¡¯m afraid, but tonight she will be narrating the story of T¨®rr¡¯s Wedding¡­ she¡¯s also brought her partner, Victor¡­ give us a wave, Victor¡­¡± the copper haired man raises his hand and gives a small wave and the priestess turns back to her congregation, wryly saying ¡°¡­try not to be too jealous of either of them, Ladies, Gents and Others(!)¡±

    This is met by a hearty chuckle from everyone.

    ¡°After the performance of T¨®rr¡¯s Wedding, Victor is going to give a recitation of the first part of Beowulf: Beowulf¡¯s fight against Grendel!¡± there are some considering noises at that

    ¡°But first¡­¡± she says with a conclusive tone ¡°¡­we must eat, we must drink and we must be merry!¡±

    A cheer goes up and the Norsemen and Norsewomen begin helping themselves to the food, with the rest of us following their lead.

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    Me, Emiko and Thran have been eating for a few minutes when a short and extremely stout and stocky man, who looks to be ? Neanderthal, ? Sapiens, approaches the table from my left. He has a thick beard which, I would guess, he thinks disguises the extent to which his muzzle protrudes (Homer Simpson style). His long hair is plaited into a braid that reaches most of the way to his arse (though it must go well past there, when unbraided!) Both his hair and beard are a rich, reddish brown, burgundy colour. His skin is slightly darker than Thran¡¯s and his eyes slightly lighter.

    He jabs a girthy, gloved finger at Thran and, in a voice so fried as to suggest that he has spent all day (and many prior days) screaming at the top of his lungs, says ¡°I know you!¡±

    I see Thran¡¯s face fall, almost imperceptibly.

    She begins ¡°Yes, I¡¯m Thran ¡®Gim¡­¡¯¡±

    ¡°Triple thickness¡­¡± the man cuts her off ¡°¡­silver plated, dyed aquamarine accents and royal blue gauntlets! Open faced helm! Matching plasma bec de corbin! Am I RIGHT!?¡± he declares with the triumphant tone of someone who knows he¡¯s not wrong.

    ¡°How do you know what my girlfriend¡¯s armour looks like, Sir?¡± I ask, my tone perfectly level.

    He wheels on me, a slightly manic grin on his face ¡°Because I¡¯m the one that forged it!!!¡± he says, gleefully, gesturing at the empty space, beside me and saying ¡°I¡¯ve got a story if you fine ladies have a space for me¡­?¡±

    I look to Thran and Emiko, both of them looking curious.

    I smile ¡°I think we have a space. Tell us your story, Mr¡­?¡±

    Grasping my hand with his thick, sinewy one and almost pulling me off the bench with the enthusiasm of the shake, he answers ¡°Sindrason¡­ Brokkr ¡®Clang¡¯ Sindrason!¡±

    ¡°Loper¡­¡± I reply ¡°¡­ Lt. Xon ¡®Longstride¡¯ Loper.¡±

    ¡°Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki.¡± smiles Emiko.

    ¡°Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter.¡± mutters Thran, awkwardly fixing him with an unblinking stare.

    Not seeming to even notice Thran¡¯s social ineptness, the jocular man launches into his story, speaking as much with his gesticulative hands as with his mouth ¡°So¡­ thirty five years ago, in Reykjav¨ªk, the UTC lost in me what, I¡¯m sure, would have been a thoroughly mediocre and unremarkable soldier when a recruitment officer heard that I was most of the way through an apprenticeship at my father¡¯s durasteel foundry and marked me ¡®exempt from service¡¯, gaining instead an exceptional smith!¡­ My skills were forged in the fires of the War, as there was suddenly a need for durasteel in quantities never dreamt before! A need for practical solutions to issues you only discover once you¡¯ve taken your armour to battle! That War made me better at forging durasteel than just about anyone else, I reckon!¡±

    He speaks with refreshing pride! I sort of wish everyone could have this man¡¯s selfconfidence!

    ¡°¡­Jumping ahead to about two years ago¡­ I get a call from a friend and colleague I met during the War. Lives on Nova Italia, these days. He says to me ¡®Brokkr, I¡¯ve had a commission come in that I think is beyond my skill level¡­ are you interested?¡¯¡­ Now¡­ I¡¯m always up for a challenge so I say ¡®Sure! Send me the measurements and the outline of the job and I¡¯ll have a look!¡¯. The details come through and I read them and am instantly pissed off! I say to him ¡®Fabrizio!? I don¡¯t DO show pieces! My armour is meant to be worn, is meant to protect people, not to sit around gathering dust in some rich arsehole¡¯s hallway!¡¯ he gives me a smile and tells me it¡¯s not a showpiece. Obviously, I don¡¯t believe him!¡­ I¡¯m a big, strong fellow but, looking at the calculated weight of durasteel he¡¯s given me, I¡¯m thinking ¡®I would barely be able to stand up in that armour, let alone fight!¡¯¡­ It took him ages to convince me you were real! He sent me a scan of your body, I nanoforged a mannequin of you and that was what finally made you real, for me!¡­ I would know the body I spent 3 months forging for, anywhere!!! I spotted you from all the way across the room! I must say, that armour is some of my finest work! Though¡­ I¡¯ve always been curious: why an open face helmet? With an enclosed helmet I would dare say you could survive a direct hit with an antitank gun in that suit!¡±

    Thran mumbles something inaudible causing the man to laugh ¡°You¡¯ll have to speak up, I¡¯m afraid! I know I¡¯ve got ears like a troll but they don¡¯t help me hear any better(!)¡­ Come to think of it, it¡¯s been a while since my last regen¡­ might be going a bit deaf!¡±

    Thran¡¯s olive skin flushes red as she says ¡°I got claustrophobic¡­ The closed helm Fabrizio had me try made me feel like I was wearing a coffin¡­ Had a panic attack¡­ requested an open one¡­ I know it¡¯s silly.¡±

    ¡°No, girl!¡± says the avuncular man, as if offended on her behalf ¡°Armour that gives you a panic attack is armour you¡¯re not going to wear! If offered the choice between having someone wear 70% of one of my helmets or not wear 100% of one, I¡¯d go with the former, every time! It would break my heart to have put so much of myself into forging a paperweight! You made the right choice!¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Unconvinced, Thran responds ¡°I should probably have just got the closed one and force myself to get used to it, though¡­¡±

    The forgemaster shrugs ¡°¡­and I should probably not eat so much cheese, given how horrendously gassy it makes me!¡± picking up a hunk of cheese from the table and taking an enormous bite of it, pausing to relish the curd for a moment then winking ¡°Nobody¡¯s perfect!¡±

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°I. shit. you. NOT! A whole arse hand inside the scrapped armour the salvage crew brought me! Most of a forearm, too!¡± the hybrid New Norseman says, speaking to the Neanderthal Tatar, the Tshwane ?X¨®? and the Japanese woman, gesturing on his own (thick) right forearm to where the cut-off was ¡°Most disgusting thing I¡¯ve ever touched! Showed it to the them and they said that it wasn¡¯t their department but, if it hadn¡¯t been removed then it¡¯s original owner was still alive, so it wasn¡¯t considered ¡®remains¡¯! I told them ¡®I don¡¯t give a fuck what it¡¯s ¡®considered¡¯! What do you want me to do with a WHOLE ARSE HUMAN HAND!?!?!?¡¯ you want to know their solution?¡± he asks, not waiting for an answer ¡°¡®Why can¡¯t you just throw it in the furnace? Won¡¯t it just burn up?¡¯(!)¡±

    Here the Tshwane ?X¨®? interjects with a question, with dozens of distinct clicks dancing around the interior of her mouth, but hers being (that most precious of commodities) a language I don¡¯t yet speak, I¡¯m left to infer that she asks something like ¡®Can¡¯t you do that?¡¯ for the combination of her tone and the answer the stocky Norse speaker gives.

    ¡°NO! Forging durasteel takes precise conditions! A single Human hand, added to the mix, would have the capacity to contaminate more than 14 tonnes of salvage! This is armour that has to let its wearer run headlong at a machinegun nest! It has to let our soldiers do what they do to win us the War! NO bodging!¡­ ¡®Good enough¡¯ isn¡¯t good enough! Forging durasteel isn¡¯t exactly a technical feat, Hel, if we¡¯d known what to do we probably would have been able to forge it since the invention of artificial gravity, in the 23rd Century¡­ but it¡¯s so finnicky, so particular that, if you don¡¯t already know what you¡¯re doing¡­ well it would take more trial and error than is possible, for one lifetime, to work it out from first principles! The fact that Terrans were the first to produce it, despite not being anywhere near the level of technical advancement as the rest of the galaxy, is probably because we were the only ones who would¡­¡±

    Losing interest in that conversation I turn my attention to the head table.

    I nudge the Norsewoman next to me, attracting her attention.

    ¡°Excuse me, Miss¡­?¡±

    By Allah! The thrill I get as her glittering, sapphire eyes widen and flick to my left temple, then right, to confirm that ¡®No¡­ I¡¯m not wearing a translator and, yes, I did just speak to you in your natural language¡¯! This is what I live for!

    ¡°¡­I was wondering if you could enlighten me?¡±

    She hesitates a moment before stammering ¡°Err¡­ w¡­what do you want to know?¡±

    I gesture to the table at the head of the room ¡°You see those three, tall, blueskinned nonTerrans, sitting at your priestess¡¯s table? I was wondering if you could tell me everything you know about them¡­?¡±

    Looking uncertain, she answers ¡°Tuun, Vol and Baasa? You mean about their species or about them as individuals?¡±

    I smile ¡°Both! As much as you know and are comfortable telling me¡­¡± and take a sip of my tart applejuice as she starts speaking.

    ¡°So¡­ erm¡­ th-their species is called the ¡®Don¡¯¡­ there are about three hundred, or so, on Fennoscandia¡­ They¡¯re from a planet, about 25ly away, that isn¡¯t part of the GU¡­ It¡¯s an eyeball world¡­ They historically hated outsiders but one of the clans had an embassy here, from a few years after the War ended, when the first settlement started, to about 16¡­ 17 years ago? Those threes'' parents popped back home and the only thing that came back was a message in untranslated DonAvu saying that ¡®any Don who has left DonOlu is considered a traitor to their species and will be dealt with as such, should they return.¡¯, making the embassy into refugees.¡±

    Externally, I make sympathetic noises but, internally, I¡¯m greedily gobbling up the linguistic titbits of this rare language with delight it would be entirely inappropriate to express!

    It¡¯s sounds like their language is big into compounding¡­ ¡®Avu¡¯ must mean ¡®language¡¯¡­ but is probably in a genitive form, right?¡­ So ¡®language of the¡­¡¯ ¡®Olu¡¯ must mean ¡®planet of the¡­¡¯ would ¡®-u¡¯ be a genitive case marker?

    I¡¯ll have to ask the one on the Bright Plume if she¡¯s willing to help me learn her people¡¯s tongue. If there are only a few hundred, off their cradleworld, I imagine there aren¡¯t enough resources for me to be able to teach myself!

    Turning my attention away from the juicy new potential addition to my collection, I ask ¡°So how come they¡¯re sitting with your priestess? Are they even Pagans?¡±

    ¡°We-well¡­ Tunie is¡­¡± she gestures to the one I recognise ¡°¡­ Vol¡­¡± she gestures at the grim faced man with harsh, angular, black lines tattooed across his face and hands and wearing princely clothing ¡°¡­He keeps to DonOuvu, at least officially¡­ His wife, ¨¢str¨ªer, next to him¡­¡± she gesture¡¯s at the caramel blonde Human sat beside him, with a matching set of tattoos ¡°¡­she¡¯s one of Priestess Torrad¨®ttir and Mrs ¨¢rnad¨®ttir¡¯s natural children, but she converted for him.¡±

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have been able to marry without being the same faith?¡± I query.

    She shakes her head ¡°They would have¡­ but it would have meant Vol relinquishing his position as leader of the splinter of his Clan, here¡­ They¡¯re very traditionalist¡­ they rule by male primogeniture, which is why he inherited over Baasa (who¡¯s the oldest), but they wouldn¡¯t have accepted a leader who was married to someone not of the DonOuvu faith.¡± she says, tautologising the word ¡®faith¡¯ by my guess ¡°Baasa I don¡¯t know about¡­ I¡¯ve not heard her or anyone else talk about her religious views¡­ I know she doesn¡¯t wear a cross or Mj?lnir around her neck but that doesn¡¯t mean anything! Neither of those faiths requires a pendant to be worn¡­¡±

    From context, I can infer that those tattoos have nothing to do with DonOuvu¡­ or, at least, are not a requirement of it, since my conversation partner doesn¡¯t mention their absence from her¡­ I would guess they¡¯re a mark of leadership?

    I¡¯m going to have a lot of fun gossiping to Jae about this, later. That Korean Sociologist has some very interesting perspectives! I wonder, for instance, why the exiles would cling to the trappings of a culture that made them pariahs and exiles!?

    ¡°And¡­ why are they at the head table?¡± I ask, trying not to sound like I¡¯m irritated that she forgot the other question (which I¡¯m not!)

    ¡°Oh¡­ that¡¯s easy! Katr¨ªn and Heidi raised them¡­ Tuun was 6¡­ Vol was¡­ I want to say 10? And Baasa was, I think, 14 when their parents died, so they took them in.¡±

    A mirthful grin spreads across my face as I ask ¡°You mean Vol married his stepsister(?!)¡±

    The nervous Norsewoman shifts, uncomfortably and answers ¡°Yes¡­ well, sort of¡­ Technically, Tuun was the only one who was legally their daughter¡­ they were just guardians of the other two¡­¡±

    I grin wider.

    More defensively she says ¡°They¡¯re not even the same species! Let alone related by blood! It¡¯s not incest, in any way!¡±

    Still grinning, I respond ¡°Except emotionally¡­¡±

    She gives an exasperated eyeroll and answers ¡°Yes, well, when ¡®emotional incest¡¯ starts causing birth defects, let me know(!)¡±

    I laugh at that and answer ¡°Fair enough! You¡¯re right, it¡¯s not my business¡­¡± then I realise there''s something I haven''t asked ¡°What¡¯s your name, by the way?¡±

    ¡°Re-Revna¡­¡± she answers, back to her adorably shy stammer.

    ¡°I¡¯m Yasmin¡­ It¡¯s a pleasure, Revna!¡± I smile.

    We shake hands.

    ---Jae¡¯s perspective---

    I watch from a few seats away as my new friend and Dormmate converses, flirtatiously, with a strikingly blue eyed, ravenhaired woman, who¡¯s noticeably more drunk than she is (not hard when her faith prohibits the consumption of alcohol and has no loopholes for fermentations of honey, whatever certain films might lead you to believe(!)).

    Seeing the flush on the face of the paleskinned stranger reminds me to check in on my own little drunkard(!)

    I turn to the skinny boy I¡¯ve got my arm around and see the expression on his face, he''s struggling slightly.

    It¡¯s understandable, he only started drinking very recently.

    ¡°How are you holding up, sweety?¡± I smile, kindly.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ OK¡­¡± says Tymie ¡°¡­It¡¯s¡­ not as strong as your [soju] but¡­ they¡¯ve given me so much more of it!¡±

    ¡°Tymancha¡­¡± I say, using my Mother-voice ¡°¡­if you¡¯re not enjoying drinking it you should stop! Nobody¡¯s going to be offended¡­¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°It¡¯s fine, Mu¡­ Jae¡­¡± he corrects himself, seeing how my eyes widen at the word he was about to say ¡°¡­it¡¯s fine. I can finish this horn and then I just won¡¯t have any more¡­¡±

    Living the lifestyle of a hunter-gatherer his entire life, until recently, has made this boy abhor waste! It¡¯s cute¡­ sort of¡­ Though, it does make me think of a friend from uni, who once told me ¡®parents may hate picky eaters but social workers love them!¡¯ then explained that a picky eater was one who had never been starved for days on end¡­ past the point where hunger feels physically painful to the point where it becomes a numb, allconsuming absence! In short, a picky child is one who¡¯s been loved and well taken care of, their whole life!

    I think about arguing the point further but decide to just let him be and give him a reassuring squeeze, saying ¡°Alright then, young man! Your last one¡­ I¡¯ll hold you to that!¡±

    He blushes and I smile.

    Letting him get on with the business of nursing his drinking horn I look around at the room we¡¯re in.

    Everything here is Frankenstein culture; a term used for societies that have at one point or another entirely died out and had no active participants.

    The Norse faith had no practitioners for centuries during the second millennium. The Norse language evolved into Danish, Swedish and Norwegian, only staying partly intelligible to its prior form in Iceland and the Faroe Islands.

    Of course, elements of the culture survived and got incorporated into the successor cultures (like Christmas, for instance) but the culture was functionally extinct from the 11th to the 19th Centuries.

    Even after its revival, though, it stayed with only a few thousand people until a sudden explosion of popularity in the 22nd Century brought it to once again being more than a fringe phenomenon.

    Today, the Norse faith has nearly 2 billion practitioners and the New Norse language has several times that many (difficult to say definitively, though, since it¡¯s close enough to Icelandic and Faroese that they readily swap vocab and have only a little trouble register shifting to be able to converse.)

    However, the fact that it spent hundreds of years extinct means that there is a lot that simply can¡¯t be reconstructed.

    Those people singing a song, with rhythmic guttural chants, are singing a combination of what early 3rd millennials thought ¡®Viking music¡¯ would have sounded like, and musical techniques borrowed from other cultures!

    That man backing the song with throat singing, if I correctly recall my sociology seminars, is using a style originally borrowed from the Mongolic peoples of Central Asia.

    Those people, over there, who¡¯ve set up a ring on the floor and are boisterously trying to push one another out of it are, effectively, just sum¨­ wrestling!

    We have no way of knowing what Old Norse songs sounded like and only vague references from the sagas and eddas for what their contests of strength were like.

    Regardless¡­ everything around me feels genuine¡­ Not like a hollow recreation of a culture that lived long ago but like a culture that is truly alive, now! Today!!!

    I¡¯m just looking at the head table when I notice that several of the seats, including Katr¨ªn¡¯s and Heidi¡¯s, have been empty for a while, when the room is plunged into darkness and total silence falls, broken only by a few people shushing those that need to be shushed.

    There¡¯s some shuffling I hear from the head of the room and to the left, when I face that way, which moves into the centre.

    A spotlight shines on a standing Tuun.

    ¡°Long ago, in the halls of Valh?ll, T¨®rr, son of ¨®einn and the mightiest of all the Gods, whose hammer, Mj?lnir, both defended ¨¢sgarer and was thrown, each Spring, to break the sea ice that had formed in the Winter, lay sleeping beside his wife; the fair Lady Sif¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.46

    ---Wedding---

    ---Vsila¡¯s perspective---

    The lights dim, the only parts of the room still being lit brightly enough that I think a Human would consider them visible being those immediately around their [fireplaces].

    I adjust my seating position, shifting slightly to bring my front legs forward, away from the bench, and my back legs towards it.

    One of the glowing eyed species at the head table stands¡­ Tuun¡­ she¡¯s from the Bright Plume.

    The one who seems to be the Queen of this community emerges from a side door, followed by her wife and a few others, dressed in strange garb.

    All (except the single nonHuman in the group) holding their holopads to their eyes, to compensate for their dearth of darkvision and allow them to see where they¡¯re going, the Terrans navigate themselves to points that they seem to have agreed ahead of time.

    The enormous blonde Queen is wearing a fulsome, fake [beard]. It¡¯s rather amusing a thing to see on a Human woman¡¯s face, having become accustomed to only seeing them on the faces of their men!

    Her outfit is a collage of reflective and silvered materials, its construction, like her [beard] is more similar to those being worn by her male [countrymen], suggesting that it codes masculinity, that the character she plays is meant to be a man.

    She carries a short handled hammer, the head of which is so large that it must be hollow! Not even a Human could wield THAT!

    It¡¯s engraved with jagged lines that I¡¯m not sure of the significance of.

    She lies down next to a woman who is not her wife and places the impossible hammer beside herself.

    A bright spotlight illuminates Tuun, who speaks.

    ---Krish¡¯s perspective---

    We¡¯re sat by the fire and Hassi has her entire body wrapped around me in a way that would definitely be inappropriate for public¡­ if she were warmblooded!

    As it stands I¡¯ve only noticed a few eyebrows raised in amusement.

    I¡¯m just admiring the flavours they¡¯ve managed to bring out in the meat dish I¡¯m sharing with her (wondering whether I should ask after the cook, so we can swap notes) when the lights go out.

    I look into Hassi¡¯s face, visible by the light of the fire, and we share a bemused expression for a few moments.

    Then a spotlight shines on Tuun.

    She¡¯s standing and speaks¡­ loudly!

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard her project her voice like this!

    She¡¯s usually so nervous and timid¡­ it¡¯s sort of hard to reconcile her having such a bold job title as ¡®Auxiliary Security Officer¡¯(!)

    For this Tuun, who¡¯s just started telling the story I presume must be Thor¡¯s Wedding, it¡¯s completely believable that that would be her job!

    ---Steve¡¯s perspective---

    That harumphing great sheila¡¯s on the ground, wearing a fake, red beard that doesn¡¯t match her blonde hair.

    The beard suits her surprisingly well!

    She¡¯s almost a handsome enough woman to make me forget which cricket team I bat for¡­ Almost!

    There¡¯s another (much smaller) blonde on one side of her and a whacking great hammer on the other.

    I guess that makes her Thor, then?

    I don¡¯t know much about Viking myths but I¡¯m pretty sure the guy with the hammer is Thor.

    ¡°¡­fair Lady Sif¡­ but there was wickedness afoot. For, while T¨®rr slept, someone crept beside him and took the hammer, Mj?lnir!¡± says the sheila with four arms, in the spotlight at the head table.

    Yep, lady in the beard¡¯s definitely meant to be Thor!

    A furry pawhand, that I¡¯m guessing is attached to that grizzly bear uplift I saw earlier, comes from outside the spotlight illuminating the two women and nicks the hammer with those lightning lines all over it.

    ¡°When T¨®rr, the tumultuous, awoke he reached for his hammer and found it not¡­¡± says the blue lady, matched by the big one waking up, immediately putting her hand where the hammer was, freezing¡­ then panicking.

    The titchy blonde playing her wife shrieks as she¡¯s rolled off the sheets by the giant woman, looking for her hammer.

    ¡°There was only one person mighty T¨®rr could think that might have done such a thing as steal Mj?lnir¡­¡±

    The woman in the fake beard huffs, acting like her rage is building for a few seconds, before thundering at the top of her lungs ¡°LOKI!!!!!¡±

    ---Msia¡¯s perspective---

    A second spotlight illuminates Tuun¡¯s other mother, between the tables, miming calm conversation with a supporting actor.

    Unlike Katr¨ªn (whose outfit seems to be an original creation, in rich, reflective silvers and blues, with a noticeable lightning motif) Heidi¡¯s outfit seems to have been lifted, wholesale, from the design of Loki¡¯s clothing in a certain early 21st Century cinematic universe¡­ all greens and blacks and complete with a golden helmet baring two, tall, backward curved horns.

    ¡°LOKI!!!!!¡± booms the enormous woman again, causing both of the other actors to whip their heads in her direction.

    Looks of fear play across their faces and the minor character immediately ducks out of the spotlight.

    I feel Fliss shake with giggles beneath my arm and I give her a little squeeze.

    Doing a fantastic job of acting like she¡¯s absolutely terrified but trying not to show it, the dark haired woman nervously smiles ¡°Nephew¡­ to what do I owe¡­?¡±

    ¡°SPARE ME, BACKBITER!!! WHERE IS IT!?!?!?¡± the golden haired woman interrupts, bellowing, teeth bared furiously!

    ¡°Where is what, dear Nephew¡­?¡± says the smaller woman with alarm, backing hurriedly away from her quickly advancing wife.

    ¡°MY HAMMER, LOKI!!! WHERE HAVE YOU HIDDEN IT!?¡±

    ¡°Mj?lnir¡¯s gone?¡± asks the woman with the golden horns immediately followed by her wife grasping her lapels and lifting her, bodily, overhead such that her feet dangle nearly a metre off the ground. Her face is terrified, her wife¡¯s is furious.

    ¡°Do NOT lie to me, Loki! I know you took it! Without that hammer I cannot defend ¨¢sgarer! Your jest has gone too far this time!¡±

    ¡°Nephew, I swear to you, I did not take your hammer!¡± insists Heidi¡¯s Loki.

    There isn¡¯t even a flicker of doubt on the face of Katr¨ªn¡¯s Thor as she says ¡°Tell me, Loki, why is Mj?lnir¡¯s handle so short?¡±

    Downcast, the smaller woman answer¡¯s ¡°That would be because I transformed myself into a gadfly and bothered the one working the bellows until he swatted at me¡­ ruining some of the iron¡­¡±

    ¡°And, remind me¡­ why did you want to ruin their craft?¡± says the large woman, turning her head as if to hear better.

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ because I¡¯d made a bet with them that they couldn¡¯t forge three treasures to exceed the three that the sons of Ivaldi had made me¡­ a bet which I lost¡­ and got my mouth sewn shut¡­ and almost lost me my head¡­¡±

    Nodding and feigning consideration, the giant woman asks ¡°Interesting!¡­ And could you just tell me¡­ why did you originally go to the sons of Ivaldi?¡±

    ¡°*siiiiiiiigh*¡­ Because I cut off your wife¡¯s hair, while she was sleeping, and then promised I¡¯d procure a replacement if you promised not to break every bone in my body¡­¡± she answers, defeatedly.

    ¡°Uh-huh, uh-huh¡­ so tell me¡­ why, exactly, should I believe that this wasn¡¯t you?!¡±

    The smaller woman looks down into the eyes of the one holding her aloft¡­ and thinks for a few moments before querying ¡°Have I ever failed to take credit for well done mischief, Nephew?¡±

    The large woman frowns, then scowls, then, disgustedly, drops her wife ¡°If it wasn¡¯t you, Backbiter, then find me who it was!¡±

    Tuun narrates again ¡°The unlikely pair made their way to the halls of Freyja to request that she lend them her feathered mantle, Fjaerhamr. Had it been Loki alone, the Vanir Goddess never would have trusted him with such a treasure but, with T¨®rr vouching for him, she agreed.¡±

    The two women, suddenly share the spotlight with a third (this one dressed as a woman) who has hair the colour of common milkwort flowers.

    This new woman holds out a feathery cloth which Heidi takes and throws around her shoulders before walking away from the other two, the spotlight following her and leaving them behind.

    ¡°Flew then Loki, shrouded in Fjaerhamr, beyond the halls and lands of the Gods¡­ to the home of the J?tnar.¡± continues Tuun ¡°He found Trymr, the J?tunn King, sat surrounded by wealth.¡±

    The light encompasses an Ursus sapiens¡­ clad in grey clothes and black armour with a black crown atop his head.

    He¡¯s definitely my type¡­ or would be, if I weren¡¯t a happily engaged man!

    The man, who I think must be one of the few people in the room who¡¯s larger than her wife, looks down at the gold horned woman and leers ¡°Greetings¡­ Loki, Laufey¡¯s son! How goes it with the Gods? How goes it with the Elves? Why have you come, alone, into J?tunheimr?¡±

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    I knew this story before tonight.

    One of my father¡¯s crew was a Norse Pantheonist and (unlike my father) seemed sincere in his faith and not like he was using it as a licence to behave however he damn well pleased!

    However, when Gunnar told this story¡­ he never made it so funny!

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    In fairness, he didn¡¯t have an acting cast supporting him, but still¡­

    I watch the violet haired woman snarl and scowl in response to having been told by Tuun¡¯s mums, after they were done returning her feather cloak, that she¡¯s to accompany them to Jotunheim to be Thrym¡¯s bride so that Thor can get his hammer back.

    ¡°You must think me a lustful woman of loose virtue, mad for any man, if you would ask me to go with you to be a J?tunn¡¯s wife!¡± snarls the woman¡­

    She¡¯s definitely stunning enough to be the goddess of beauty and fertility(!)

    Tuun¡¯s mums shrink and cower before the wrath of a woman, who¡¯s much smaller than either of them! It¡¯s a hilarious sight!

    ¡°The answer is NO!¡± shouts the small woman, miming slamming a door (coupled with a sound effect of the same.)

    Tuun narrates ¡°Trymr had assuredly never met Freyja for, if he had, he would have known that, while she is the most beautiful of all the Goddesses, she is also the most tempestuous, with a temper to match that of T¨®rr!¡­ Their plan refused, T¨®rr and Loki called a grand council of all the Gods and Goddesses of ¨¢sgarer¡­¡±

    A circle of actors, portraying the gods, gathers into the spotlight.

    The only one I recognise is the one wearing an eyepatch and done up in old man makeup, playing Odin.

    ¡°They argued long and hard about what was to be done until the wise Vanir, Heimdallr, fairest of the Gods, stood and said¡­¡±

    ¡°If Trymr wants a bride, I say we give him one!¡± announces a man in the spotlight who, I¡¯m guessing, passes for good-looking¡­ to the male attracted.

    He smirks at ¡®Thor¡¯ as he says ¡°If we dress you in bridal linens, give you Freyja¡¯s torc, Br¨ªsingamen, hang the customary keys at your belt, daintily drape a veil over your face and, perhaps, build your chest up with stones¡­¡±

    The woman with the red beard looks as if she¡¯s just watched someone murder a puppy as she says ¡°I shall be called womanly by all the Gods, if I let myself be draped in a bridal veil!¡± with disgust.

    There¡¯s a chuckle that goes around the room at this woman playing a man so horrified at the notion of playing a woman!

    Her wife slaps her face and says ¡°Silence yourself, T¨®rr! If you do not recover your hammer, the J?tnar shall presently overrun ¨¢sgarer! If that is not what you wish then this is the plan!¡± sternly.

    The enormous woman frowns for a few moments before answering with a simple nod.

    The smaller woman nods as well and then smirks ¡°With my shapeshifting, I shall transform into your maidservant and we two shall go to J?tunheimr(!)¡±

    Gunnar explained to me that there is an untranslatable joke in that line; Loki uses the same gender neutral word for ¡®two¡¯ as Thor did about himself and Freya, as one would for a man and a woman, not the masculine, for two men, not the feminine, for two women. The joke is the implied question; which of them is he saying is the ¡®woman¡¯(?) Himself, the genderfluid, transforming trickster who has actually been a mother before¡­ or Thor¡­ the most masculine god there is, currently wearing a dress(?)

    --- Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n¡¯s perspective---

    The giant Norse Martial Artist (who¡¯s older than even me, if the UTCM CQC that shines through in her bearing is anything to go by) is wrapped in clothing, that I infer to be a bridal gown in this culture. A torc is put around her neck and keys are hung at her hip. Her face is covered with a veil which has obviously been designed to leave just a sliver of red beard visible at the bottom!

    It is extremely amusing to see how well she pretends to have nothing but distaste for these trappings!

    As a person who¡¯s been certain, since his early teens, that he would never be attracted to anyone, of any gender, the fastidious care that others take over their gender constructions has always been a source of great amusement to me!

    As they walk, the enormous one turns to talk to the one I¡¯m having trouble not thinking of as ¡®the small one¡¯ (given how she¡¯s the same height as I am) just because of how much she is put into forced perspective, by being beside her wife.

    ¡°If you can shapeshift¡­ why are you not the one playing Freyja?¡± she asks, a frown in her voice but her face not visible through her veil.

    ¡°Errrrrm¡­¡± wavers the average sized woman, with her feminine features and dress being newly restored to visibility, to represent her having shapeshifted into a maidservant ¡°¡­Oh, look! We¡¯re here and they see us! Too late now!¡± she says, innocently, pointing at the black armoured bear (zero combat experience) eliciting a laugh from the entire hall.

    ¡°Stand, my J?tnar! They send me Freyja, Nj?rer¡¯s daughter, as wife!¡± he says, gleefully.

    A small crowd of bit players stand around the towering bearman.

    T¨²d¨¬ Tuun continues her narration, making excellent use of the breathing techniques I taught her recently ¡°The J?tnar threw a great feast that night, in honour of the marriage of their King to the Goddess Freyja.¡±

    The woman disappears behind a screen and her shadow is projected on the wall, large enough for the entire hall to easily see.

    ¡°They brought forth three tuns of mead¡­¡± announces my T¨²d¨¬, as her mother picks up something that makes a barrel shaped shadow and brings it to her mouth, making exaggerated glugging sounds, a process she repeats two more times ¡°¡­they brought forth eight salmon¡­¡± the silhouetted woman picks up a fish shaped shadow and brings it to her mouth, making exaggerated eating noises, a process she repeats seven more times ¡°¡­they brought forth many womanly dainties¡­¡± more mimed eating of indistinct shapes ¡°¡­and they brought forth a whole, roasted ox¡­¡± for this I am certain the shadow is made entirely in the light and there is no physical ¡®ox¡¯ present as the shadow, far bigger than the woman, disappears into her mouth ¡°¡­Sif¡¯s man ate them all!¡±

    The bear man turns to the mother of my student, who has remained visible, and, uncertainly, says ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ I¡¯ve never seen a bride eat quite as much as this¡­ nor drink this much!¡±

    ¡°The wily handmaiden just smiled.¡± says my T¨²d¨¬.

    Her mother (not doing the voice of a man pretending to be a woman, rather, simply speaking in her normal feminine voice) smiles ¡°The Lady Freyja has eaten nothing, these past eight nights, so eager was she to come to J?tunheimr to be your wife, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°Excited by this the J?tunn King desired to kiss his bride.¡± Tuun narrates, matched by the peaceable bear grinning stupidly and disappearing behind the screen. His shadow joining the elderly Soldier¡¯s.

    Bearing down, he lifts the veil and shrieks, turning to flee.

    ¡°Her eyes! They were red! Like fire! I thought they would burn me!¡± says the Ursid, playing at being out of breath.

    ¡°The wily handmaiden just smiled.¡±

    ¡°The Lady Freyja has not slept these past eight nights, so eager was she to come to J?tunheimr to be your wife, my Lord.¡±

    The ursine man gives another foolish smile.

    My student narrates ¡°Then came the King¡¯s sister who had the job of asking what bridal gift was desired.¡±

    A Human woman appears.

    I suppose there wasn¡¯t another Ursus to play the sister.

    The king booms ¡°Bring in the hammer of T¨®rr and lay it across the maiden¡¯s knees that V¨¢r may bless our union!¡±

    ---Nkasiogi¡¯s perspective---

    Tuun¡¯s doing really well with the narration!

    I really wish Ami and Lu were here to see this¡­ I¡¯ll have to describe it to them, next call.

    It would be a, breathtaking, once in a lifetime experience to share with them! Maybe I could suggest an extended vacation and a holiday to Nova Fennoscandia when I get back¡­ *sigh* in two years!

    ¡°Trymr¡¯s sister went to do as he bade and fetched the hammer.¡± narrates Tuun.

    The small woman goes and comes back with the hammer we saw earlier. She goes behind that screen and puts it on the knees of Tuun¡¯s mum¡¯s shadow.

    The woman starts laughing, the slow building laugh of a maniac.

    She picks up her hammer and reemerges from the shadows.

    She rips off the veil and runs at the bear man.

    Still laughing she bashes him in the chest so hard that it¡¯s audible even from here and without any amplification!

    He goes down followed by the leading lady miming strikes on all the bit players of his court.

    ¡°Thus were T¨®rr and his hammer reunited!¡±

    A raucous cheer is raised, with the various Norsemen and women pounding the tables rather than clapping their hands.

    I follow their lead.

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s been a while since the play ended and talk resumed.

    I watch from the perch (which apparently used to belong to pet [ravens]) behind Mrs Torrad¨®ttir¡¯s [throne], as Mrs ¨¢rnad¨®ttir has an animated conversation with Jennie.

    ¡°So you didn¡¯t object to having an epithet that clashed with your religion?¡± asks the small, curly haired woman.

    The dark haired one answers ¡°No! Not at all! It¡¯s barely caused any problem since! Occasionally someone will get confused, that¡¯s all!¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s good then¡­ it¡¯d be terrible to have an epithet you hate¡­ like Tuun!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t hate ¡®Elf¡¯!¡± Tuun objects ¡°I¡¯m just ambivalent about it¡­ It doesn¡¯t really feel like my name, you know?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. I think she¡¯d much rather have had her classmates call her ¡®Neytiri¡¯¡­¡± smiles Tuun¡¯s mother, causing both Tuun and Jennie to freeze and Victor and Brunhilda to look over, curiously.

    ¡°¡®Neytiri¡¯?¡± asks Jennie, an unnerving grin spreading across her face.

    ¡°Oh, yes, she went through a years long phase where she was massively obsessed with this centuries old media franchise, with aliens that rather look like Don¡­ Oh, it was so adorable! Any time anyone annoyed her, in that phase, they were a ¡®skxawng¡¯. She dyed her hair dark, like them¡­ Dived deep into the research, too! I remember her talking my ear off about why the Na¡¯vi were tetrapods despite the fact that all other vertebrate life on their planet were hexapods, like Don are!¡±

    ¡°MUM!?¡± says Tuun, her mortified embarrassment visible, even to me.

    ¡°What, Tunie?¡± smiles her mother, sweetly.

    ¡°That¡¯s so embarrassing!¡± she says, eyes wide and cheeks purple.

    More smiling ¡°I¡¯m your mother, sweetheart¡­ embarrassing you is my job(!)¡±

    Tuun huffs ¡°¡­I was well over my Avatar phase before I went to uni!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re never fully ¡®over¡¯ the things we obsess about, Tunie¡­ we may think we¡¯re done with them but they¡¯ve changed us, made us different people than we would otherwise be.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s rather philosophical.¡± I interject.

    ¡°Thank you!¡± smiles back ¨¢rnad¨®ttir.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I say, addressing the man.

    ¡°Err¡­ yeah, Cap?¡± he answers distractedly.

    "Explain to me again what this story your about to recite is?"

    ¡°B¨¥owulf, Cap¡­ It¡¯s an Epic, written in Old English¡­ Kinda wish I didn¡¯t have to follow the play that we just had!¡±

    ¡°Nonsense, boy!¡± booms Torrad¨®ttir, hoarse from ministering her congregation ¡°We love a good story regardless of when it¡¯s told! B¨¥owulf¡¯s just far enough outside of our regular wheelhouse that the younger folk here might not know it!¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Katr¨ªn¡­¡± he smiles, nervously.

    ¡°You say ¡®Old¡¯ English? Is that like the Shakespearean works we¡¯ve watched together?¡± I ask, remembering how confusing it was to have explained to me that the informal pronouns ¡®thou¡¯, ¡®thee¡¯, ¡®thy¡¯ and ¡®thine¡¯ are often mistaken for formal by modern speakers, because of the prestige that Terrans asign to age.

    He shakes his head ¡°Older than that, Cap¡­ though, I¡¯m a bit ashamed to say, the only reason I speak it at all is ¡¯cause I thought learnin¡¯ it¡¯d be a doddle, when I chose it at school! It definitely weren¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°Surely¡­ since it has ¡®English¡¯ in the name¡­?¡±

    He laughs ¡°It¡¯s like havin¡¯ a conversation with my 8 year old self(!) Tell you what, Cap¡­ I¡¯m gonna start soon. When I do, turn off your translator¡­ see how much you get with only your knowledge of Modern English¡­ All you¡¯ll miss for the first minute or two is the fact that the story¡¯s being told by someone who selfdescribes as a ¡®Spear Dane¡¯ and that there was once this amazin'' King called Scyld Scefing, who kicked a lotta arse and didn¡¯t have time to take a lotta names ¡¯causa how much tribute he was collectin¡¯ from folk who didn¡¯t want their arses kicked(!)¡±

    ¡°Alright, Victor¡­ I will try to listen to your story with my translator turned off, at first.¡± I say, curiously.

    ¡°Speaking of¡­¡± says Torrad¨®ttir, gesturing to her wrist in the inexplicable way that Terrans do to make eachother aware of time.

    ¡°Oh, shit¡­ Yeah, I should probably start!¡±

    He stands and unlike Tuun, who narrated from her spot at the table, he makes his way to the open performance space.

    The lights dim, rather than extinguishing, as the spotlight falls upon him.

    I turn off my translator.

    He raises his hand and cries ¡°Hw??????????????????t!¡±

    Alright, that didn¡¯t sound like any English I¡¯ve ever heard but it was a pretty clear ¡®Hark¡¯, ¡®Listen¡¯, ¡®Shut up, I have a story to tell!¡¯

    I¡¯m beginning to wonder if I might be able to infer the meaning of the entire story that way, when he dashes that hope ¡°We Gardena, in geardagum, teodcyninga trym gefrunon! Hu ea ?telingas ellen fremedon! Oft, Scyld Scefing sceatena treatum monegum m?gtum, meodosetla ofteah, egsode eorlas. Syeean ?rest weare feasceaft funden, he t?s frofre gebad! [-activating translation-] Waxing, under the heavens, in honour he thrived, until such time as, unto him, all the tribes, across the whaleroad, submitted and yielded tribute! THAT¡­ was a good King!¡±

    That language has NO business being called ¡®English¡¯!

    ---later---

    The feast has wound down and the congregation have departed, including the Bright Plumers, aside from myself and the Triple Ms, who have been invited to stay.

    Victor¡¯s story seemed to go down well. It seems that his worry about following a better story was unfounded!

    Qorak is already roosting with our child.

    I¡¯m just admiring a photo that Tuun¡¯s mothers have displayed.

    I hear loud footsteps and swivel my head to see one of Tuun¡¯s mothers approaching.

    ¡°Mrs Torrad¨®ttir, I just wanted to thank you for your hospitality and congratulate you on an extremely entertaining party!¡±

    She smiles and answers ¡°You¡¯re welcome and thank you!¡±

    I point to the towering, blond bearded Soldier, in the photo I was admiring, and ask ¡°Is this T¨®rkell T¨®rsson here your brother, Mrs Torrad¨®ttir?¡±

    She leans in and puffs through her nose ¡°Yes¡­ a brother long since departed for Valh?ll.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m... sorry to hear that.¡±

    She smiles ¡°Don¡¯t be. Ancient history¡­ Also, well done for seeing through the patronymic! That throws off most Terrans if they aren¡¯t used to it!¡±

    I preen ¡°Well, Ms MacLeod has explained to me, recently, how she used to be ¡®NicLe¨°id¡¯ but most people who don¡¯t speak Gaelic are much more familiar with the masculine ¡®Mac-¡¯ than the feminine ¡®Nic-¡¯, so she changed it after university. I was rather primed to notice them.¡±

    She shrugs ¡°Still impressive.¡±

    ¡°Truth be told, the first thing I noticed was how closely you and your brother resemble eachother!¡­ Only afterward did I notice the name¡­ If you weren¡¯t the opposite sex from eachother I¡¯d say you were the same person!¡±

    She laughs ¡°Alright¡­ you should probably go to bed, now¡­ We¡¯ve got another busy day tomorrow!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.47

    ---Life---

    ---Heidi¡¯s perspective---

    ---2596 Terran Calendar/117 years BF---

    I look across the table, to the man who appears to have just stepped out of a fantasy novel!

    I¡¯m not a short woman by any means but, coming up to him outside this restaurant, seeing him standing upright for the first time, up close, it struck me just what an enormous mountain of man he is!

    I¡¯ve noticed him striding around campus, this last semester.

    It¡¯s rather hard to miss a man, with a plaited, blond, waist-length beard, who looms nearly two heads above the average guy!

    ¡°So¡­ Mr T¨®rsson¡­¡± I grin, projecting a confidence I don¡¯t feel ¡°¡­how¡¯s your gash?¡±

    He smirks back ¡°I don¡¯t have one¡­ but my wound is healing up nicely(!)¡­ All thanks to the efforts of a certain Valkyrie, that is!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Bold strategy to make such a crass joke on a first date with a good Christian lady, Mr T¨®rsson(!)¡±

    He grins ¡°Is it working?¡±

    I lean forward, flirtatiously ¡°Remains to be seen¡­¡±

    A few moments of eyecontact-chicken follow, as we wordlessly compete to see who¡¯ll look away first.

    I win!

    He looks down, a faint blush visible a the top edge of his beard.

    Awkwardly, he clears his throat and says ¡°Listen¡­ Ms ¨¢rnad¨®¡­¡±

    ¡°Heidi.¡± I interrupt.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m ¡®Heidi¡¯, to you.¡± I smile, trying to ignore the rollercoaster-like swooping in my stomach.

    He smiles, nervously ¡°Then¡­ T¨®rkell¡­ please call me¡­ T¨®rkell¡­¡±

    ¡°I will¡­¡± I smile.

    ¡°So¡­ Heidi¡­ please don¡¯t worry about the bill¡­ I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±

    I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed ¡°I¡¯m an enlightened, 26th Century gal, T¨®rkell(!)¡­ I don¡¯t need to be coddled by a big strong man who¡¯ll pay all my bills for me(!)¡±

    He frowns and waves his hand in the negative ¡°Not what I¡¯m saying¡­ it¡¯s not because of your gender! I¡¯m just saying you should save your stipend for living on! You¡¯re a student, afterall.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re not a student? When we talked, in the hospital the other week, you told me you were a first-year in the History dept., is that not so?¡±

    ¡°I am a student¡­ The difference is; I have five years of salary saved up¡­ Money¡¯s going to be much less tight for me. I get to spend my money on whatever I want¡­ like dates with beautiful people!¡±

    I laugh ¡°That was smooth¡­ ish(!)¡±

    He gives a doofy grin.

    Just then, a buxom waitress approaches the table and says ¡°I¡¯ve got a bloody mary and a stein of ale?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s us!¡± confirms my date.

    The boobilicious girl places my drink in front of me, without making eyecontact, then turns to the man, opposite me, who¡¯s as tall as her, even seated!

    She bares her teeth, in a way that could not make more obvious what lascivious thoughts are going through her head, and bends down to put his 3L mug of alcohol on the table, allowing him a view into the cavernous cleavage which a person could drown in, as she does.

    He manages to avoid gawking down her top for long enough that she gives a tiny pout and turns to go.

    He fails to avoid looking after her, as she goes.

    ¡°I know I said I was an enlightened lady, T¨®rkell, but¡­¡±

    He snaps back to himself ¡°Sorry, I know how that must have looked!¡­ I wasn¡¯t leering at her! I was just admiring her outfit! She¡¯s not my type (if I were going to leer at someone it would definitely be the waiter, with the tight pecs and the cute face) who took our drink orders¡­¡±

    I raise an eyebrow ¡°I mean¡­ I don¡¯t know why you¡¯d admit to leering at the waiter while denying leering at the waitress¡­ but that solid 10 ¡®wasn¡¯t your type¡¯?¡±

    He gives me a faux-puzzled look ¡°Doesn¡¯t your Christgod demand murdering same sex attracted people(?) Are you sure you¡¯re allowed to comment on a woman¡¯s attractiveness(?)¡±

    I roll my eyes ¡°My God demands the murder of precisely NO one!¡­ Honestly! You Pagans seem to think we Christians are all bloodthirsty savages! I¡¯m bi, same as you apparently are, if God¡¯s got a problem with that, I¡¯ve got a problem with Him!¡±

    ¡°Oooh! Quite the little blasphemer!¡±

    I sigh ¡°Answer the question, T¨®rsson¡­ That girl was far prettier than me¡­ why¡¯s she ¡®not your type¡¯?¡±

    He looks around to see if we¡¯re alone, leans close and beckons me to do the same.

    In a low voice he says ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t like massive breasts¡­ don¡¯t know why, they just make me uncomfortable¡­ I prefer smaller chested women.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ gee(!) You flatter me(!)¡± I say, in a tone as flat as my chest.

    He stammers for a few moments, clearly realising the extent to which he just put his foot in his mouth. It lasts until I giggle and he takes the cue to stop digging.

    Searching for a subject change, I say ¡°Most people go straight to university after school, these days¡­ Afterall, there are no ghoulish politicians left, saying things like ¡®uni shouldn¡¯t be free¡¯, allowing them to maintain a fresh, continuing supply of warm bodies to toss into their meatgrinder, for-profit wars(!)¡­ What did you work as?¡±

    He shifts, uncomfortably, for a few moments ¡°I¡­ I was a soldier¡­¡±

    My face falls and the bottom drops out of my stomach ¡°I¡¯m so sorry! I didn¡¯t mean¡­! It¡¯s not like¡­!¡±

    He holds up his hand and says ¡°It¡¯s fine, Heidi¡­ I¡¯m not offended! You¡¯re right that if some pasty, old, misanthropic vampire had been holding my education hostage, to force me to serve, I would have resented that, massively! I didn¡¯t enlist to fight in anyone¡¯s wars¡­ I just wanted to see the galaxy¡­¡±

    I study the man¡¯s face for a moment before I ask ¡°And did you?¡±

    He smiles a breathtaken smile and answers ¡°I did¡­ it was beautiful! The endless yellow fields of Yanga Dala, the bloodred skies of Atarash¨© Hinode, the impossibly tall mountains of Gangsri Gsar¡­ but the thing that stuck with me most is¡­ just how colourful space is¡­ part of me always imagined it would just be infinite blackness studded with pinpricks of light (even having seen photos and videos) but, once you¡¯re up there¡­ By. all. the. Gods! It was majestic!¡­ Every colour you can imagine (and many you can¡¯t) thrown together, in every combination you can think!¡±

    I smile ¡°I¡¯d love to see that!¡­ I¡¯ve only ever gone as far as Mars, for a holiday when I was twelve.¡±

    He opens his mouth, clearly about to say something along the lines of ¡®I hope we can see it together¡¯ or ¡®I¡¯ll take you some day¡¯ before, sensibly, thinking better of coming on quite that strong, on a first date, and so saying ¡°I¡­ hope you get to see it, too.¡±

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    I get lost in his ocean blue eyes for a few moments before returning to myself and changing the subject ¡°*Ehem*¡­ I¡­ err¡­ I bet durasteel isn¡¯t comfortable!¡±

    He grins and shakes his head ¡°It¡¯s really not!¡­ I think people forget how new a technology it truly is and expect that it¡¯s as good as it will ever be! We¡¯re definitely still working out the kinks! Fortunately, I didn¡¯t have to wear it that much¡­ apart from my second year of service¡­I had to wear it a lot, then!¡±

    I look at the man a moment, trying to think what that means¡­ when it hits me!

    A quick few sums to make sure the timelines match up and I, incredulously, blurt ¡°You fought in the Bag¡­!?¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t!¡± he interrupts, his face hard ¡°There has never been a Bagong Dagat War!¡­ I intervened in the Bagong Dagat Intervention!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry!¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to upset you, T¨®rkell.¡±

    He sighs ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Heidi¡­ I¡¯m just¡­ I¡¯m sick of people hearing I was there and laughing ¡®wOoOoOaAh! HoW mAnY dRoIdS dId YoU bLoW aWaY, dUdE!?¡¯, you know? As if it was something to fucking celebrate!¡±

    I lean across the table, putting my hand on the back of his (realising how massive it is, as I do) ¡°That must be hard, I¡¯m sure¡­ would you like to¡­ talk about it?¡±

    He sighs, dejectedly, and answers ¡°She was so miserable¡­ it wasn¡¯t her fault¡­ that wasn¡¯t a war she was waging¡­ it was a mental breakdown she was having¡­ The way she¡¯d been treated, it¡¯s a marvel she lasted as long as she did!¡­ If she had been a biological, I doubt the moment she snapped would have even been a news story!¡­ She just happened to have the misfortune of being an AI in control of a settlement world, with 35 million inhabitants in her charge!¡­ If I blame anyone, I blame that psychopath who woke her up and, clearly, just thought of her as a fucking tool!¡­ I saw him, you know¡­ I stood to attention, to one side, as Tristan ¡®Brain¡¯ dela Cruz passed by me, in the hall¡­ flanked by two soldiers who massively outranked me, with his wrists handcuffed in front of him¡­ I¡¯m glad I was wearing my helmet¡­ I think I¡¯d probably have been reprimanded if they¡¯d seen the face I was making!¡±

    ---later---

    I walk along Greniv¨ªk Way, with the giant moving beside me.

    Snow crunches under foot as we look down on the twinkling lights of Akureyri and up at the twinkling stars above, devoid of any intelligent life bar that which came from the planet beneath my feet.

    This city is nestled into Eyjadalur; a valley whose name, ¡®Island Valley¡¯, is the hilarious side effect of it once having been a fjord with an island in it, called ¡®Eyjafj?reur¡¯, which only became a valley, with no island in it, when the seas started falling!

    ¡°So I said to her; ¡®Svetlana Vasilyd¨®ttir! Just because I am attracted to women, does not mean that I am attracted to any and all women! If you want to make yourself more attractive to the next girl you try to seduce, I suggest you lose that selfentitled attitude and get over yourself!¡¯¡­ then I saw that your reenactment wasn¡¯t moving right, anymore.¡±

    He booms a laugh ¡°There¡¯s the ferocity of Freyja in you, girl!¡± then a thought seems to occur to him and he frowns ¡°Let me know if she doesn¡¯t take the hint¡­ I¡¯ll happily scare her off for you¡­¡±

    I smirk and ask ¡°You want me all to yourself, do you(?)¡±

    With adorable obliviousness he shakes his head ¡°No¡­ this offer still stands even if this is both our first and last date!¡±

    I stop dead in my tracks and catch his hand.

    He turns to face me, wearing a puzzled expression.

    ¡°¡­Is this our last date¡­ T¨®rkell?¡±

    He looks away, uncertainly and clears his throat a little before saying ¡°I¡¯d rather it wasn¡¯t¡­ I would love to see you again¡­¡±

    I beam and step close to him, beckoning him to bend down.

    He bends and I surprise him by pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss.

    He tentatively wraps his muscular arms around me as our lips tussle.

    After what feels like an eternity of kissing this beautiful man, I break from the kiss and, eyes closed, breathlessly say ¡°I would love to see you again, too!¡±

    ---T¨®rkell¡¯s perspective---

    ---2602 Terran Calendar/111 years BF---

    I look down at my Valkyrie.

    She has never looked more beautiful than she does right now¡­ in that dress.

    I recite the words I¡¯ve rehearsed hundreds of times, these past few months ¡°Beloved, I seek to know of you and ask of the Gods and Goddesses that I be given the wisdom to see you, as you are, and love you, as a mystery. I will take joy in you, I delight in the love of you. You are, to me, the whispering of the Tides, the seduction of Summer¡¯s heat. You are my friend, my lover. Grow old and wise with me, as I will do with you! A life, before us, of rainbows and sunsets and a willingness to share in happiness and in sadness. I love you. I adore you.¡±

    The interfaith pair, marrying us, indicate for us to exchange the gold bands, demanded by her faith, and the swords, demanded by mine (I got her a nimble little svere, she got me a gigantic, cruciform zweih?nder).

    The Goei proclaims ¡°The two of you are now joined together, in the eye of ¨®einn! May your union be long and prosperous!¡±

    His wife, the Reverend, proclaims ¡°As a minister of Jesus Christ, I pronounce you Husband and Wife! What the Almighty God has joined together, let no one put asunder! You may kiss the bride!¡±

    I bend for the sweetest kiss of my life!

    ---Heidi¡¯s perspective---

    ---2631 Terran Calendar/82 years BF---

    T¨®rkell and I have been married for nearly thirty years and together for well over thirty five.

    Lately, though, he¡¯s been¡­ distant¡­ distracted¡­ like there¡¯s something weighing on him.

    I still see love in his eyes when he looks at me¡­ but¡­

    Christ, I don¡¯t want to consider that that stalwartly faithful man might have adultered but¡­ not much else lines up with the behaviour he¡¯s exhibiting!

    I have to confr¡­

    ¡°Heidi!¡± comes T¨®rkell¡¯s voice from behind me, more resolute than I¡¯ve heard it for some time.

    I turn away from the view of the midnight sun, over the veranda railing, in the home where we¡¯ve built our life and raised seven children.

    My expression is querying.

    ¡°There¡¯s something I¡¯ve¡­ realised about myself¡­ I need to talk to you about it¡­¡±

    ---Katr¨ªn¡¯s perspective---

    ---2678 Terran Calendar/34 years BF---

    There¡¯s a man on the news, saying stuff¡­ I only understand about half of it¡­

    ¡°¡­the UTCS Paloma has been attacked and destroyed, ending any hope for peace with this newly encountered consortium of species, calling itself the ''Galactic Union''¡­¡±

    I may not understand much of what he''s saying¡­ but I recognise fear when I see it! That man has the same expression on his face as the boys and girls in the bunker before we¡­ we¡­

    What did we do¡­?

    Where was that?

    I¡­ I remember being¡­ scared¡­ I remember feeling¡­ sympathy¡­ For the refugees? No¡­ for the¡­ enemy?

    That can¡¯t be right!

    Why would I pity someone who made so many refugees!?

    This is making me unhappy to think about, so I stop.

    I look away from the screen to an ancient woman, holding my hand.

    I yank my hand away ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ma¡¯am¡­ I¡¯m sure you¡¯re lovely but I¡¯m married¡­¡±

    The woman looks distraught!

    It would be flattering if she were, maybe, 70 years younger!

    ¡°I know, Katr¨ªn¡­ You¡¯re married to me!¡±

    This woman¡¯s clearly losing her marbles!

    ¡°Listen, Ma¡¯am!¡­ My name¡¯s T¨®rkell, not Katr¨ªn!¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°You haven''t gone by that name in nearly half a century, sweetheart!¡±

    Now that I¡­ hear it¡­ T¨®rkell does feel wrong, somehow¡­

    NO!

    How dare this hag try and tell me what my name is! How DARE she try and claim to be my wife!

    Obviously, my wife is¡­ is¡­ What¡¯s my wife¡¯s name?

    I remember she was¡­ wonderful¡­ but why can¡¯t I see her face? Why can¡¯t I¡­?

    ¡°You¡¯ve done something to me! You¡¯ve taken my memories!¡± I accuse, furiously.

    The woman bursts into tears, in a way that, momentarily, makes me feel sorry for her¡­ then I realise, if she¡¯s the kind of hag who would try to trick me into replacing her wife¡­ try and make me forget my own wife¡­

    Well¡­ a woman like that deserves to cry!

    ---Heidi¡¯s perspective---

    ---2687 Terran Calendar/26 years BF---

    I sit at my wife¡¯s bedside, feeling the crushing weight of my years on my bones.

    I hold her hand.

    She smiles, faintly, and I think I see a glimmer of recognition in her eyes¡­ though, that might just be my imagination¡­

    Human beings really aren¡¯t designed to live this long!

    Though¡­ if she¡¯d been able to hold out¡­ just a tiny bit longer¡­ we could have had our youth back!

    A deal seeming too good to be true, like some kind of Faustian bargain; we could have had life restored to our failing bodies¡­ if she¡¯d managed to make it just a little longer¡­

    I definitely won¡¯t be accepting regen, if they manage to crack it before I die¡­ I want to follow her to whatever hearafter will let us be together¡­ even if that means simple oblivion¡­

    I speak, my voice weak and hoarse with age ¡°My Love¡­ you remember when you asked me if I believed in Hell¡­ You remember me saying that I didn¡¯t believe in a God who would torture anyone?¡­ Do you remember what you told me?¡­ You told me that you didn¡¯t believe Valh?ll discriminated? That everyone who died was a fallen warrior, in their way?¡­ The child who loses the battle with their abusive father, the man who loses the battle with cancer¡­ the woman who loses the battle with her own mental health¡­ All may stand, proud, before ¨®einn Alf?er, as warriors, and tell their story!¡­ That ¨®einn would never reject good warriors just because they didn¡¯t fight the right kind of battle, much less because they didn¡¯t know of him! And¡­ do you¡­*sniff*¡­ do you remember what you said when I asked what you¡¯d do if you were wrong?¡­ If you were told that Christians weren¡¯t welcome in Valh?ll?¡­ You said you¡¯d challenge Heimdallr, ¨®einn, T¨®rr, for the right to admit me¡­ and that, when you lost, you wouldn¡¯t enter Valh?ll¡­ that¡­ *sniff*¡­ that your Paradise is wherever I am!¡­ That you¡¯d search the Nine Realms to find me! Don¡¯t¡­ *sniff*¡­ don¡¯t forget, alright!¡­ I¡¯m going to be right behind you!¡±

    I break down, sobbing¡­ tears stream down my face as I consider this¡­ the end of our long journey together.

    Then, a doctor comes into the room with a massive grin on his face.

    I stand, furious.

    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t come in here, with that stupid expression on your face, without good news, boy!¡±

    He does not drop the tasteless grin, simply saying ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ I didn¡¯t!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XVIII: Pancakes and Valkyries

    ---Katr¨ªn¡¯s perspective---

    ---2714 Terran Calendar/11 months AF---

    Sat by the fire, in a now almost entirely empty meadhall, I raise an eyebrow at the dark skinned, violet eyed woman, with jet black ringlets.

    She¡¯s the first Tshwane ever to set foot in my home¡­ unless you count the husband in the diplomatic couple from Odo Tuntun, who was half.

    Buildwise, she very much reminds me of a Don, tall and slender.

    ¡°What you have, dear¡­ is called ¡®dysphoria¡¯¡­¡± I say, carefully.

    Her face screws, not quite in ¡®anguish¡¯ but in mild distress, as if she thinks I¡¯ve not got it quite right.

    ¡°No, but I don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Want to be a man?¡± I finish for her.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t!¡± she confirms.

    I smile ¡°Dysphoria is not defined as ¡®the wish to be a man, when you were assigned ¡®female¡¯ at birth, or woman, when assigned ¡®male¡¯ at birth¡¯, rather, it is the misery caused by simply not being happy with what you see when you take off your clothes and look in the mirror!¡±

    ¡°But¡­ if I only want a dick for a fetish¡­?¡±

    ¡°If you only wanted a dick for a fetish, you¡¯d be satisfied with your cyber, wouldn¡¯t you?¡­ You¡¯ve put it on, felt what it feels like to have a phallus between your legs¡­ but it wasn¡¯t enough, was it?¡±

    She shakes her head, her eyes narrowed, appraisingly.

    ¡°You feel like it needs to be part of you, don¡¯t you?¡± I ask.

    She nods.

    ¡°As if you¡¯re not whole without it?¡±

    Another nod.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s called ¡®dysphoria¡¯, honey!¡±

    This time, she does not object, just considers.

    ¡°Listen¡­¡± I say, trying hard to convey sincerity ¡°¡­to me it was really important that my Ys become Xs, that my pronouns become ¡®she¡¯, ¡®her¡¯ and ¡®hers¡¯, that my face soften and lose its hair, that my chest fill out¡­ To me, the compliments I received regarding my masculinity steadily lost their charm, over the years, it stopped feeling like ¡®Yes! I¡¯m manning so well!¡± and started to feel like the person complimenting me just didn¡¯t know me at all!¡­ But that¡¯s me! And I am not the blueprint for how to be a trans person! What worked for me won¡¯t necessarily work for you! You might be perfectly happy with your Xs staying Xs¡­ with your pronouns, face, chest etc. staying as they are! If your idea of the person you want to be is ¡®you+dick¡¯ and if it is causing you distress not to be, then that¡¯s dysphoria and the UTCHS will cover some portion of the cost of alleviating it!¡±

    She says nothing for a while, seeming to just need a little time to process what I¡¯ve told her.

    Eventually, she says ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ I could just save up and pay for it myself¡­ I mean, I¡¯ll definitely have enough after this deployment is up¡­ Maybe I should just pay for it myself¡­ not bother the Health Service about it?¡±

    I shrug ¡°You could¡­ if you have the means to pay for the whole thing yourself (without being bankrupt afterward) then I think you¡¯ll definitely be entitled to a lower percentage of the procedure being covered¡­ When I had mine, the first time, my wife and I were well off enough that Earth¡¯s local government covered a single, symbolic credit¡­ you know, ¡®we approve of this but you¡¯re filthy rich, so don¡¯t take the piss!¡¯¡±

    She frowns, confused ¡°The first time!? What does that mean?!?!?!¡±

    I laugh ¡°Oh! My wife and I were some of the earliest guineapigs for Terran regen¡­ The bugs hadn¡¯t been ironed out, yet¡­ It wasn¡¯t until we had a scan of our fourth son that we realised one of the things my regen had decided needed to be ¡®fixed¡¯ was all of those missing Y chromosomes(!)¡­ The Health Service covered that time, in its entirety, as both a makegood for having fucked up in the first place and as a ¡®thanks for allowing regen to be tested on you¡¯.¡± not that I was competent to ¡®allow¡¯ a damn thing!

    She gives a sympathetic chuckle ¡°I know someone who encountered a similar situation with early regen¡­ she liked the ¡®bugs¡¯, though, so she kept them.¡±

    I chuckle ¡°I¡¯m happy for her¡­ But never mind all of that! There¡¯s someone you need to talk to more than me, about this!¡± I gesture to the intimidatingly muscled Neanderthal, passed out, slumped over the table ¡°Brokkr tells me that¡¯s your girlfriend?¡­ Does she know you feel this way?¡±

    The girl¡¯s wide mouth twists into a frown above her flat, vertical chin (which neither slopes back, like a Neanderthal¡¯s or Denisovan¡¯s, nor juts forward, like a Sapiens¡¯ or Longi¡¯s).

    ¡°I mean¡­ I would say she¡¯d have figured it out from the glee and regularity I use the cyber with¡­ but¡­¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a little oblivious about that kind of thing?¡± I suggest, with a mirthful smirk.

    Her ringlets bounce as she nods her head in agreement.

    I clap her shoulder and say ¡°Talk to her about it. If it¡¯s a dealbreaker for her, you would rather know that now than later, I promise!¡±

    She smiles a joyless smile ¡°I will¡­ thank you for talking to me about this¡­ I know I barely know you¡­¡±

    ¡°Nonsense, dear! I¡¯m happy to lend the benefit of my experience to any who ask for it! And you are not just anyone, you¡¯re a friend of my daughter¡¯s, so I¡¯m doubly happy!¡­ It is a slight shame that I still don¡¯t pass after all this time but, well, I¡¯ll probably never pass to anyone who gives it any thought at all!¡±

    She gives an apologetic smile ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, I can¡¯t parse you as anything but a woman¡­ you being trans is something that feels like a detached truth¡­ Something I¡¯m only able to work out academically, not something I can feel, you know?¡±

    I laugh ¡°I appreciate the reassurance, dear, but it¡¯s quite unnecessary!¡­ I¡¯m very secure in what I am and, mercifully, I¡¯m not living in a time when openly being what I am would get me committed, lobotomised or murdered! Don¡¯t worry about it!¡±

    She nods appreciatively.

    I take out my holo, gather up my contact info and flick it to hers ¡°Drop me a line if you have any more questions. I¡¯m not sure of the ins and outs of navigating the process on your planet but I¡¯m sure I could find someone, who is, that I can put you in touch with.¡±

    She beams ¡°Thank you again, Katr¨ªn.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re most welcome, dear! Now, however, I have a cosy bed and a beautiful wife to sleep in and beside, respectively(!)¡­ I suggest you get some rest, too!¡±

    We stand and I¡¯m, momentarily, shocked by the fact that her face keeps travelling another 5cm or so after mine stops¡­ Then I recall her lineage.

    Of course, I¡¯m used to women who are taller than me, from my dealings with the Don (mainly Tuun, Baasa and their mother).

    What I¡¯m not used to, however, is Human woman who are taller than me!

    I think she¡¯s the first!

    I open my arms and, after a moment of hesitation (she¡¯s clearly from a moderately less physical culture than me), she gives me a hug.

    I feel her large breasts squash against mine.

    Knowing, now, the reason that I find busty women a turn off does not change the fact that I do.

    We break from the hug and, after one final smile, she goes to wake her girlfriend, I head to the stairs.

    After a brief exchange with my daughter¡¯s R¡¯qali boss, admiring a photo from my service, (who comes dangerously close to being the second person, tonight, that I have to have a ''trans conversation'' with) I find myself stood outside the doors of my and my wife¡¯s bedroom.

    I crack the door, very careful not to make too much noise.

    I look to the enormous bed, dominating the centre of the room.

    Rather than seeing a woman sleeping soundly, the way I expect, what I see is a Valkyrie clad in gold and silver armour, a gold and silver halfhelm with a guard that covers her eyes and nose, bearing a gold and silver spear and shield. She has enormous wings on her back, one gold and one silver, which she extends to their full width, slamming the butt of her spear on the ground.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Enter, brave Einheri!¡±

    ---Heidi¡¯s perspective---

    The flaxen-blonde woman slides through the door, furtively using her enormous body to occlude the view into the hall, before locking it and putting up the privacy field.

    She and I are, contrary to what one might expect, both versatiles who favour submission.

    I think if someone were told that the 213cm giantess who is Gyeja to nearly two thousand rowdy Pagans and the woman whose wrath even she is apprehensive of, with the epithet ¡®Valkyrie¡¯, were either both submissives or both Dominants, most would guess the latter!

    Early in our relationship we had many mirthful arguments caused by both of us trying to push the other to take more control in the bedroom.

    The solution naturally presented itself when she bet me a sub session that I wouldn¡¯t be able to finish a large plate of food I had served myself (a bet I won¡­ and earned a session with her as a fierce Viking warrior on her way into exile, in Iceland, and me as a helpless, Hebridean milk maid she was carrying off into concubinage¡­ After I''d recovered from indigestion, that is!)

    Since then, we¡¯ve made bets on anything and everything, each competing to wrack up tokens that we can spend on sessions where we¡¯re the submissive.

    It¡¯s just the right amount of jeopardy to make gambling fun! If I lose, all it means is a session where I¡¯m the Dominant¡­ hardly the end of the world(!)

    This fantasy has always been her favourite (though she''s also partial to Witch¡ÁWitch Huntress).

    It amuses me to no end that her ultimate sexual fantasy starts with her being dead!

    The golden haired, ocean blue eyed woman steps to the wall where hangs her bearded axe, L?vateinn, which lay beside her as I stabilised her wounds, more than a century ago (though, with the number of times it has needed to be refurbished, I wouldn¡¯t like to hazard how much of the original axe is left(!)). She picks it up and approaches me.

    At five paces, she stops, drops to one knee, plants L?vateinn at the ground, head down, with her hand at its pommel, and bows her head, as if in awe.

    ¡°You have fought, long and hard, all the days of your life, Einheri¡­ Lay down your weapon, that I may give you succour.¡±

    Whether she believes Valh?ll discriminates or not, this woman has a reverence for weaponry that her culture has hammered into her. Consequently, she does not drop the axe, allowing it to clatter to the floor, she lays it down, respectfully.

    To show respect to me, however, the head is at her dominant right, the handle toward her offhand and the blade faces in, toward her, not out toward me.

    ¡°Undress, Einheri¡­ you need not your vestments.¡± I order.

    I did not instruct her to stand, so she begins unfastening her tunic while still kneeling.

    I feel my pussy ache as I see her mountains exposed.

    I¡¯m quite glad that her distaste for large breasts did not extend to herself¡­ I, personally, like my ladies to be stacked!

    As she slides off her lowers, I see her panties, bulging with her engorged womanhood!

    I reach out my shield hand and she stops undressing without me needing to give the word.

    She knows what I like.

    Dementia wiped out large portions of her memory of the life we had together, before the War.

    Regen was able to restore her brain to functionality but her memories, on the other hand, were not all recoverable.

    Despite that, she never needed to be reminded of my preferences.

    I slide off my gold and silver slippers and push my left foot forward.

    ¡°Kiss my feet, Einheri.¡±

    ---Katr¨ªn¡¯s perspective---

    My eyes cast down before my Valkyrie, I reach out to grasp her left foot by the achilles tendon.

    I bring it to my mouth and begin kissing it.

    It¡¯s so adorably dainty that I almost entirely forget the woman its attached to, for a moment¡­ That is until the foot is yanked away and, lightning fast, the sole is planted at my face.

    Being only just over half my weight, she would simply lack the power to overcome my inertia¡­ except for those nervejacked wings on her back!

    With a great *FWOOSH* of her blasting several cubic metres of air backward, she powers her foot forwards, into my face!

    I¡¯m knocked flat on my back on the hard wooden floor.

    I don¡¯t expect she would allow me back up so we can move proceedings to the comfortable bed.

    Advancing between my legs, she drops the spear and shield on the ground, disrespectfully, and brings her foot to my crotch and rubs me with it, through my panties.

    I moan from the contact and she looks down with a smug smirk twisting her lower face.

    ¡°My Valkyrie, I-*ooof*!¡± I start, eliciting a swift stomp to the diaphragm.

    ¡°I permit you not to speak, Einheri.¡± she commands, imperiously, driving her foot into the soft flesh of my stomach.

    I nod, giving an exaggerated wheeze as I do.

    More smirking coupled with her eyes flashing, beneath that guard.

    She lifts her other foot, putting her entire weight onto me.

    That¡¯s right¡­ step on me, Queen!

    Her foot comes down between my breasts and I feel her transfer her weight from my stomach to my solarplexus.

    The foot that was at my stomach is moved to my throat and presses down until my windpipe is squashed closed.

    She looks down at me and smirks ¡°I think you shall be my footstool, in Valh?ll, every day from here until Ragnar?k¡­ Would you like that, Einheri?¡±

    Unable to speak, both physically and in the sense of being forbidden, I nod my head.

    She gives a high, cruel laugh.

    She steps off me, returning to her position between my legs.

    Her unobscured lower face is twisted into a mocking sneer.

    ¡°You warriors are all the same, aren¡¯t you!¡­ You pose and posture, you flex and preen, you declare to all the Realms ¡®I am here! I am strong! I am powerful!¡¯¡­ but this is where you belong, isn¡¯t it? This is where you want to be! On the floor, at the feet of someone more powerful than you¡­ Answer me, Einheri!¡±

    Permitted now to speak, I answer ¡°This is certainly my rightful place, here at your feet, my Valkyrie!¡±

    Satisfied, she bends down and brings her hands to the hem of my panties.

    She liberates my cock and, with the same look of surprise she wears every time she sees it, says ¡°What an obscenely large cock you have, Einheri!¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Valkyrie.¡± I smile.

    She just chuckles before opening her mouth, sticking out her tongue and licking up my length.

    I feel her hot breath, juxtaposed wonderfully with the cold silver of her nose guard, against my shaft, as her head moves up and down to coat me in a lubricating layer of her spittle.

    When she¡¯s fully wetted me, her mouth moves up to my head.

    She takes a deep breath and begins working my length down her throat.

    I feel her throat muscles fruitlessly attempt to clench, as they¡¯re stretched by my cock.

    She holds me down her throat for several seconds, maintaining unflinching eyecontact as she does, before she begins relinquishing me.

    I feel her take a greedy inhale, the instant her windpipe is cleared, while trying to seem as if not being able to breathe for so long was no big deal.

    She begins crawling up my trunk, allowing the bottom of my cock to drag against her front as her head approaches my face.

    Her hands grip my shoulders, and I feel the cold metal of her armour against my skin.

    Her noseguard presses against my nose as she kisses me and I taste myself on her mouth.

    I thread my arms across her back, beneath her wings and gently squeeze her against myself.

    ---Heidi¡¯s perspective---

    I feel my wife¡¯s immense tits squash beneath my weight as I kiss her.

    These wings, on my back, aren¡¯t powerful enough to actually let me fly, even in, 0.86G, Fennoscandian gravity.

    What they will let me do, however, is move my body around by flapping.

    It¡¯s astonishing how differently you think about movement when you have a set of wings on your back! How having a pair of wings makes you so keenly aware of air¡¯s status as a fluid!

    I flap downward, pulling myself out of the grasp of her muscular arms and to my feet.

    I feel a thrill in my stomach as she looks up at me, with an expression of awe, as I stand overtop of her.

    I reach to my, unarmoured, chest and pull down my top to bare my sweater puppies (to my wife¡¯s great Danes(!))

    I see her cock twitch as if it¡¯s attempting to get harder, impossibly.

    I smirk down at the broad shouldered woman, well endowed in muscle, chest and cock!

    My hands slide down my front to a panel in my britches.

    I unfasten it to expose my dripping pussy.

    I can see that someone¡¯s appreciative(!)

    I lower my hips over my wife¡¯s, lining up her wet glans with my lips.

    We both moan and shudder as her girthy, iron hard rod splits me in half!

    I place my hands against her abs and, with my wings, flap downward hard enough to lift my hips up, most of the length of her womanhood.

    Given that my body is not being moved primarily by my muscles, rather, I¡¯m swimming through the air, up and down, on her cock, it is much less exhausting than it was before I had access to skin adhering, nervejack wings.

    That said, it¡¯s still a lot of stimulus!

    I have to process keeping balance as my wings pick me up and dump me down, the enormous cock and both the pleasure and pain it¡¯s giving me and the gorgeous face of my wife as it twists and contorts with ecstasy¡­

    She moans so beautifully!

    After some minutes she seems to decide that my pace is too slow for her liking and grasps my hips.

    Her abs tighten as she thrusts upwards into me.

    I lose the composure one would expect of a Dominant as I shriek from the unexpected development!

    I feel the raw power of a Warrior in her body as she turns my domination of her thick cock into her domination of my tight pussy.

    ¡°Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­¡± I moan, dropping the heavenly being persona.

    When I asked her why she chose that name, when her religion is replete with women she might have named herself for, she answered that Katr¨ªn ¡®just felt like my name¡¯¡­ At the time, I didn¡¯t understand what she meant.

    ¡°Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ Katr¨ªn¡­ KATR¨ªN¡­ KATR¨ªN¡­ KATR¨ªN¡­ KATR¨ªN¡­ KATR¨ªN¡­ KATR¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ª¨ªN!!!¡±

    I scream, in a way that makes me glad of our infallible, postContact soundproofing, as she and I climax together.

    I collapse against her chest.

    More than a hundred years, and sex with this woman still blows my mind!

    ---Katr¨ªn''s perspective---

    ¡°So what did you tell her?¡± smiles my wife, idly tracing an index finger against my areola, as we lie in bed, our marital swords crossed on the wall above us.

    ¡°I told her she was right: That he was a ¡®brother long since departed for Valh?ll''.¡±

    She frowns, mirthfully ¡°So you lied to her(?)¡±

    I shake my head ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say ¡®lied¡¯¡­ whether I got there or not, I certainly departed for Valh?ll¡­ twice in fact! Also¡­¡± I gesture to the room ¡°¡­would you not call this a Paradise? I get to fight battles, drink mead and bed a beautiful woman, every day! I get to be the beautiful young woman I never got to be, the first time around! I¡¯d call that Valh?ll(!)¡±

    She cocks an eyebrow, mirthfully ¡°And¡­ calling yourself your ¡®brother¡¯(?!)¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ that¡¯s a tiny bit harder to justify as not a lie¡­¡±

    She chuckles and I stroke a hand over the bare side of the woman who, a quarter century ago, had to teach me half of my own life history, appreciatively.

    ¡°Oh¡­ before I forget, I should burn one of my tokens.¡± I say, reaching for my holo.

    She grabs my wrist, stopping me.

    She smiles up at me ¡°This one was a freebie, sweetheart. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    I smile back ¡°Alright then¡­¡±

    She releases my wrist, closes her eyes, rests her head at my chest and says ¡°Try and get some sleep, darling. We have a busy day tomorrow, starting with cooking pancakes for more than a dozen people!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.48

    ---White---

    ---Fluffy¡¯s perspective---

    I wake up and open my eyes.

    [Smol cousin] is resting against my belly and I feel [long cousin] at my back.

    The fire we were next to has stopped glowing while we slept.

    On [Home], fire was dangerous.

    Sometimes, it would spread from the [bright horizon] and destroy forests and fields! If I smelled fire, if I saw smoke, I would run in the other direction as fast and as far as I could!

    This fire was so safe that I slept by it!¡­ It never occurred to me that fire could do anything besides hurt, until after I met [Daddy].

    Right now, the [horizon] is perfect.

    Not so bright that it hurts my eyes, not so dark it¡¯s difficult to see.

    It won¡¯t last, I know!

    [Daddy]¡¯s [kin] like [homes] where the [horizon] moves around them while they stay still!

    It¡¯s very scary but I got used to it on [Hot].

    I get up, stretch my front legs and yawn.

    I hear a skittering noise and open my eyes to see [smol cousin] staring at my mouth, looking startled, his strange feet, with too many claws (that are always out since he can¡¯t put them away, like I can), scratching over the [tree ground], not gripping.

    I find it very funny that [smol cousin] was frightened by my teeth so I decide to tease him a bit.

    I lunge towards him, biting the air.

    He jumps back as his [talk box] [growls] ¡°Skerri, Fluffy! Skerriskerriskerri!¡±

    I recognise my name but, since I didn¡¯t want to have my own [talk box], that¡¯s all I understand of the [meaning growling].

    His pose, on the other paw, tells me everything I need to know, I pounce on him and we begin playing.

    [Long cousin] is woken up by the noise and quickly joins in.

    A few minutes of play later and I am tired out.

    I leave the playing and let [cousins] keep going without me.

    I slink away and to the steps and up to where my nose tells me [Daddy] is.

    I reach the up place and sniff for where to go next. I go that way.

    I find the [cave mouth] that I can smell [Mummy] and [Daddy] on the other side of.

    It doesn¡¯t open for me the way [Daddy]¡¯s [cave mouth] on [star cave] does.

    Lifting up my front paws while keeping my back and middle ones on the ground, I paw at the [tree] of the [cave mouth].

    It still doesn¡¯t open.

    Then, I notice a [branch]¡­ it comes about a toe width out from one side of the [cave mouth]. It¡¯s a little above where [Daddy¡¯s] [kin]¡¯s top [paws] are.

    I reach out a paw and play with the [branch].

    After a moment it makes a *k¡¯chrk* sound and the [cave mouth] swings open.

    I push my way inside and pad quietly, through the [cave], to the [nest] where [Mummy] and [Daddy] sleep.

    I rear up and put my weight on [Daddy]¡¯s chest.

    He groans but his eyes stay closed.

    He [growls] ¡°Fluffy¡­ itso erli! Plizlet mislip uh littuw longuh! Pliz!¡±

    I don¡¯t think he wants to wake up¡­

    Too bad!

    I want attention!

    I bap him in the face making him grunt¡­ His eyes still don¡¯t open, though.

    A few more baps, a few more grunts. Still no luck.

    I lick his face and immediately realise I¡¯ve fallen into a trap as his strong limbs close around the back of my neck and he begins pulling me onto the bed!

    I yowl in complaint but he only does that tapping [growl] that his [kin] do when they think something is funny.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Obviously, if I wanted to, I could stop him pulling me onto the bed¡­ on the other paw¡­ snuggles?

    [Daddy] pulls me into the place between him and [Mummy].

    His hands stroke through the fur of my belly¡­

    I had energy until a few seconds ago but now I¡¯m going back to sleep!

    [Daddy]¡¯s [paws] scritch so well!

    [Mummy] hugs my back and strokes me with her four top [paws].

    I purr as my eyes close and I begin dozing between [Mummy] and [Daddy].

    Some time passes before I¡¯m stirred by [Mummy] [growling] ¡°Ruum, ope enwindoes!¡± sleepily.

    One of the walls begins opening, letting in the [bright] outside.

    I open my eyes and my whole body immediately goes tense!

    This is bad! This is so bad!!!

    I roll off of the bed, ignoring [Daddy¡¯s] protests as I roll over him.

    I go to the sheets of [stone water] and look through them to the land outside.

    It hurts my eyes to look at!

    It¡¯s cloudy and yet, the [bright] in my eyes is painful.

    This is so bad! [Grandmothers] have to leave their [home cave]!!!

    I turn to the idiots still lying in bed, not having noticed the decay outside, and yowl loudly at them, thumping the [stone water].

    Luckily, [Daddy] gets up and comes over to me.

    I thump the [stone water] again to draw his attention to the ruined land outside!

    What I thought was white stone on the mountains was, obviously, actually rot! Overnight it has spread down to where we are and covered every patch of ground and every tree!

    I¡¯ve never seen rot spread so fast or so completely overwhelm a land!

    [Daddy] looks out of the [stone water] at the ruined land and, instead of the face and [growl] of dismay that I expect, he makes a slightly surprised face and [growls] ¡°Hei, Toon! Eets snohed ovanait!¡±

    ¡°Da tsnaiss¡­¡± she [growls] back, feebly, in response.

    They¡¯re usually so clever! Why are they being so stupid about this!?

    For the first time, I raise all four of my forelimbs off the ground and stamp down.

    [Daddy] looks shocked but then turns to [Mummy] and says ¡°Toon¡­ kud Ah boro yer trass lay tah?¡±

    She digs for a moment before her paw finds something which, barely opening her eye to see where to throw it, she hurls across the room.

    [Daddy] snatches it from the air, letting me see that it¡¯s a [talk box].

    He brings it to the side of my head and puts it in front of my ear.

    I feel the unpleasant [shakes] of the thing attaching itself to me.

    Once I¡¯ve recovered I turn to [Daddy] and [growl] ¡°Rot! Corruption! Running away! Not staying! Bad! BAD! BAD!¡±

    I hate how stupid this thing makes me sound!

    ¡°Calm down, Fluffy!¡± [growls] [Daddy], baring his teeth, kindly ¡°It¡¯s just [snow]!¡±

    ¡°[Snow]?¡± I [growl], suspiciously.

    ¡°Yeah, [snow]¡­ you know what rain is?¡±

    I give an irritated chuff ¡°Of course knowing rain!¡±

    He gives a calm nod ¡°So [snow] is like rain but very cold! It falls on your planet but not on the parts where your [species] live. When water gets cold it goes solid¡­ when that happens in a cloud, it turns into a powder.¡±

    I struggle to understand the ideas that the [talk box] is forcing into my mind.

    Solid water? Like the [stone water]? Powdered water? This happens on [Home]?

    Then I remember ¡°This being what you named white [kin child]?¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡­ I mean a [snowflake] is just a very small piece of snow but yeah!¡±

    I give up trying to understand it and just [growl] ¡°Safe being? Not needing fleeing?¡±

    He bares his teeth ¡°Perfectly safe, sweetheart!¡­ Juuust so long as you don¡¯t get lost in it!¡±

    I nod my head the way his [kin] do ¡°OK¡­ trusting!¡±

    I turn my head to him to let him take back [Mummy]¡¯s [talk box].

    He flicks it across the room so fast that it [chirps] through the air.

    Her [paw] shoots up to catch it¡­ I didn¡¯t even see her eye open, that time!

    ---at breakfast---

    [Thunder grandmother] and [graceful grandmother] are making those disks of mashed seeds that [Daddy]¡¯s [kin] like to eat so much, when they wake up.

    *Boom**Boom**Boom**Boom* is the sound that [thunder grandmother] makes as she takes four steps from the [food fire] to the raised eating place to deliver [seed disks]. [Daddy], [Mummy] and [strong auntie] all move quietly, like me. [Thunder grandmother] moves like she¡¯s trying to scare off every prey for a day¡¯s walk, in any direction!

    I pull off a mouthful of flesh from my meal, [smol cousin] greedily munches his dry pellets and [long cousin] swallows down a whole fish.

    ¡°Soh, Ai woz finkin ovlettin Fluffy awt to plei inva snow¡­ eniob jek shuns?¡± [growls] [Daddy] looking around at the others.

    ¡°Noh! Ai Tink eats a greit aidia!¡­ Akshua li¡­ Ai maitgett awr wuhlf, Hati, soh olleappets kan plei togeea!¡± [growls] back [thunder grandmother] before bringing two of the toes on her top [paw] to her mouth and, somehow, making a loud shrieking sound that doesn¡¯t sound like it¡¯s coming from her throat.

    ¡°Hati!¡± she shouts.

    In the distant caverns of this [home cave], I hear paws that sound a lot like [smol cousin]¡¯s on the [tree ground], only¡­ the one on these paws sounds heavier than [smol cousin]¡­

    The paws come to the [cave] we¡¯re in and, as soon as they enter, [smol cousin] stops eating.

    He jumps up to put himself in the way of this one who looks like she is of his [kin]¡­ sort of¡­ She looks like his [kin] the way that [strong auntie] and [Daddy] are the same [kin], close but different.

    ¡°Byu tiful! Byu tiful Ledi!!!¡± [growls] [smol cousin], his tail flailing wildly through the air.

    His [almost kin] looks him up and down before [growling] ¡°Pritti boi¡­¡± her tail wagging slowly.

    The two of them draw up to eachothers¡¯ sides and circle with their noses at eachothers¡¯ behinds.

    I remember [smol cousin] trying to smell me like that when we first met. I was not impressed!

    These two are very friendly.

    ¡°Aivgot mai aion yu, yangman! Wir ghests hir!¡± says [smol cousin]¡¯s [mummy], [pale auntie] (who was [strong auntie] until stronger [auntie] arrived!).

    [Thunder grandmother] rumbles ¡°Leteem haveer fan! Aim shor Ail faind tay kersfor haafwuhlf pappiz in mai kongregay shon!¡± happily.

    [Pale auntie] looks to [thunder grandmother] and says ¡°Ollrait! Doent komplane, lay tah(!)¡±

    After eating, [Daddy] takes me to a [cave mouth] made of [stone water].

    [Fighting grandfather] and [pale aunt] are leading [long cousin] and [smol cousin].

    [Daddy] pushes open the [cave mouth] and [smol cousin] and [new cousin] are instantly off, bounding through the [white], in play.

    Both of them look like the [white] is their [home]¡­

    [Long cousin] follows, after some hesitation. It¡¯s obvious this is not as familiar to him as it is to the other two.

    After a few moments, though, he¡¯s playing happily.

    ¡°Goh onn, Fluffy!¡± says [Daddy], baring his teeth in encouragement.

    Uncertainly, I walk to the [white] and reach out a paw¡­

    I press the paw into the [white] and immediately pull it back because I feel its [death cold]!

    That¡¯s the cold of having gone far too far over the [dark horizon]! Much further than I¡¯ve ever gone!

    I understand what [Daddy] meant by it being dangerous to get lost in!

    I see the print my paw left in the [white]¡­ I look to my [cousins] and then to [Daddy] still looking encouraging.

    Trustingly, I lunge forward and begin to play in the [white].

    It¡¯s cold¡­ but very fun!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.49

    ---Battle---

    I sit, for the second time in my life, on the back of a Terran landspeeder, being piloted by one of my crews¡¯ mothers.

    My mate, my child, my Sahas subordinate and her Terran boyfriend have all remained at the [longhouse] we''ve slept at, since arriving, which is understandable, after what happened when we arrived, the other day!

    Below us is a massive [palisade] enclosure of hewn wood.

    The landscape is buried under a [30cm] blanket of [snow].

    The sheer variety of habitats that Humans can inhabit and traverse is one of the things that make gardenworlders so incredibly reluctant to admit that they are a single species; Afterall, one species surely cannot naturally live both in sun-baked desert and icy [tundra](!)

    The wooden wall sits in an area of flat land, with forests of Fennoscandian trees growing nearby.

    In the distance, mountains loom beneath grey skies.

    Approaching the fortress is an army of Terrans, dressed in armour and armed with weapons used nearly [2000 years] ago.

    In this force, I see Victor, standing tall and looking like a true warrior!

    Most of the other Triple Ms are with him.

    Apparently, there¡¯s a consistent problem finding enough volunteers to fill out the nonNorse sides of these [reenactments].

    A few contingents of the opposing force are stood outside and act as if they have been taken by surprise.

    They are quickly set upon and ¡®slaughtered¡¯¡­

    If you¡¯d asked the woman I was, at [16], she would likely have guessed that a Terran performance, such as this (if it occurred, at all), would have required the real slaughter of whoever was unlucky enough to be slaughterable¡­ Afterall, she would have reasoned, they are savage deathworlders!

    The reality is much more mundane!

    In actuality, while their arms may look ancient, they are in fact very modern¡­ each containing a mild shock battery.

    When a [reenactor] is hit by a weapon, if they feel it electrify them, they fall into the [snow] and play dead.

    A side effect of the general hardiness of Terrans is that, for the most part, their bodies are very resistant to electric shock!

    Even their brains (massively more delicate than the rest of them and more like gardenworlder flesh than deathworlder) can withstand enormous currents being passed through them!

    Their single hearts, on the other hand, are extremely susceptible to electricity! This is due to the fact that, unlike most species, Terran muscles can only contract (great for strength, terrible for righting every chamber of your heart being contracted at once!)

    Even a small shock is enough to induce cardiac arrest, if passed through them!

    I have been assured that the current is not strong enough to pose a risk to life but, still, playing with something you are so sensitive to, much less, subsequently lying in the [snow], for prolonged periods, does seem like the foolhardiness of a deathworlder, to me!

    A man steps forth, from beside Victor.

    He wears a golden [crown].

    Apparently he plays ¡®?thelred¡¯, the [King] of the approaching force¡­

    Yes, seemingly, there was a time when not only did Terrans submit themselves to monarchy but monarchs were expected to serve on the frontlines of battle! Something unique to them, of all the martial species!

    Victor was apparently offered the part of ?thelred but turned it down, not believing he would be able to do it justice. He plays, instead, the part of ?thelred¡¯s brother, Alfred¡­ who would later either become the first [King] of a united England or become the grandfather to the first, ?thelstan¡­ depending on who you wish to listen to¡­ In this battle, however, Alfred is a much less active part and, thus, Victor was much more happy to accept it.

    This is a lot of history to retain!

    ¡°GEOPENAT T¨¢ GATU! ?ESELLAT!!!¡± screams the [King] toward the [palisade].

    The gate is kicked open.

    There stands a giant woman, wearing a [helmet] and a quilted [gambeson], bearing a wooden shield and with an unnervingly large [axe], flanked by her [2.2m] blue skinned daughter and the uplift, of whom she play acted as the unwilling, male bride, the other night.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°TILL VALH?LL!!!¡± screams the wife of the woman to whose back I cling, raising her [axe] into the air before swinging it forward to, menacingly, hold it at shoulder height.

    ¡°BEC¨ªESAT!!!¡± bellows the [King] of the opposing force.

    A resounding ROAR comes up from both sides as they sprint toward eachother, in a groundborne charge.

    The animalistic ferocity these Terrans exhibit is enough to, momentarily, put me back into the mindset I had before I crashlanded my fighter on a Terran held world and, rather than being eaten or (at the very least) summarily executed, the way I expected to be, I was surrendered and had my wounds treated by Terran medics!

    It seems impossible that it¡¯s only a few [millennia] that separate modern Terrans from Terrans who fought like this! That this is the same species as those medics that, more than anyone else, brought about the Peace by showing everyone that these were deeply kind and compassionate creatures!

    That kindness and compassion is completely absent from sight right now.

    The warriors collide and the air rings out with the *CLANG* and *CLATTER* of ancient Terran weapons against ancient Terran shields.

    Every one of them truly look as if they are genuinely trying to hack eachother apart, to me!

    I feel the woman¡¯s back, that I cling to, rise and fall in mirth.

    ¡°Something funny, Mrs ¨¢rnad¨®ttir?¡± I query, wryly.

    ¡°Just¡­ my wife¡¯s axe¡­¡±

    ¡°Your wife¡¯s [axe]? What¡¯s so funny about that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ she¡¯s so fussy about historical accuracy¡­ but that axe she excuses, because of the ¡®rule of cool¡¯(!)¡±

    I look at the weapon, currently being swung into the side of a Terran, with bone cracking momentum!

    ¡°That¡¯s not a historically accurate weapon?¡± I ask.

    She wobbles her head ¡°It¡¯s really more of a stylised woodcutting/executioner¡¯s axe. It¡¯s too long and hefty to really be used effectively as a onehanded axe (the way she uses it) but it¡¯s too short (and still too hefty) to be a particularly effective two hander. If you ask my wife, she¡¯ll tell you that it¡¯s ¡®plausible¡¯¡­ not out of the question that someone, somewhere, had an axe like that made and used it in battle. She would also point out that the fact is, she is a strong woman, much taller and stronger than average today and certainly historically, thus making it less unreasonable for her to use that kind of axe since it¡¯s less exhausting for her than for others¡­ but she does also admit that she just prefers the look of that one to more historically accurate ones!¡±

    I chitter ¡°You¡¯re rather well informed about ancient battle [axes](!)¡±

    She laughs ¡°It helps that I am one(!)¡± making a joke that my translator notifies me is selfdeprecating ¡°Actually, it¡¯s all from being married to her for more than a [century]¡­ without her, I would never be the kind of woman who could tell you the first thing about Dark Age battle axes! That woman just has such infectious enthusiasm that I don¡¯t mind listening to her prattle on for hours about ancient weaponry!¡­ Though, if you do mind receiving lengthy lectures, I¡¯d follow Auntie Heidi¡¯s three rules for harmonious coexistence with a Gyeja and Historian(!)¡±

    ¡°¡­And¡­ what are these three rules¡­ ¡®Auntie¡¯ Heidi(?)¡± I query, wryly.

    ¡°One:¡­¡± she says, extending a single digit over her shoulder ¡°Loki and T¨®rr are not brothers!¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ that shan¡¯t be a problem for me as I wasn¡¯t aware that anyone erroneously thought that, until just now! What¡¯s rule two?¡±

    She extends a second counting digit ¡°Two: Never use ¡®Viking¡¯ as a synonym for the Norse language, religion, culture or people¡­ in fact I try to avoid the word entirely!¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ what does ¡®Viking¡¯ mean, if not these things?¡± I ask, having heard the word but not learned its meaning, previously.

    ¡°Like: Pirate? Raider? Reaver? Voyager?¡±

    ¡°¡­And¡­ why would I use that word as a stand-in for an entire culture?¡± I ask, confused.

    She shrugs and puffs, mirthfully ¡°Because there was a time, in history, when our ancestors did a lot of piracy for a few centuries¡­ the economy became pretty reliant on it¡­  entire colonial kingdoms were built off of the back of it! The association¡¯s stuck¡­ but it¡¯s a reductive one.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll bear that in mind¡­ Rule three?

    A third counter is extended ¡°Rule Number THREE (and this is the most important rule!): Never, and I mean NEVER, mention horned helmets!¡±

    ¡°Horned¡­?¡±

    ¡°Horned helmets are her biggest pet peeve! She will rant about them for hoooouuuurs if you give her the slightest provocation!¡±

    ¡°You mean like the one you wore the other night?¡± I ask, quizzically. If her wife hates these things that much, then it seems needlessly antagonistic to wear one!

    ¡°No, not like that one¡­ that one¡¯s decorative and she lets me get away with it because Loki isn¡¯t usually depicted as a warrior, it¡¯s horned battle helmets she hates!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ why?¡± it seems unlikely to be merely a matter of taste(!)

    ¡°You see¡­¡± says the woman, doing a rather good impression of her wife ¡°¡­if I don¡¯t strap a horned helmet to my head then what the horn is is a massive lever for anyone who doesn¡¯t want me to be wearing a helmet (like whoever I¡¯m fighting) to aim for, to knock it off my head! If I do strap it to my head then what I¡¯ve then given my enemy is a handle to use to manipulate my head down to throat cutting height!¡±

    She mimes taking hold of a horn, wrestling the person it¡¯s attached to and cutting their throat before returning to her usual voice to say ¡°Yeah, sooo¡­ if you¡¯re in the mood to have what I just explained, explained again, only this time in 74 thousand words¡­ then I encourage you to bring it up with her(!)¡±

    ¡°Noted! I¡¯ll only bring it up if I¡¯m truly in the mood to die of either boredom or terror without a strong preference for which(!)¡±

    This elicits a hearty chuckle.

    I turn away from the battle and, instinctively, scan the horizon.

    Then I notice something¡­ something odd!

    ¡°Mrs ¨¢rnad¨®ttir¡­?¡±

    ¡°Oh, call me ¡®Heidi¡¯, sweetheart!¡± she chirps, cheerfully.

    ¡°Alright. Heidi?¡± I respond, distractedly.

    ¡°Yeees¡­?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s making those trees move like that? To our back left?¡±

    I feel her body tense in a way that reminds me that she¡¯s just as much a deathworlder as those below us!

    She whips her head behind herself to look to where I indicated.

    A look of horror adorns her face as she returns it to the front, leans forward and, activating voice amplification, barks a single untranslatable word, three times, instantly stopping the noise and the fighting, replacing them with an eery still.

    ¡°[TROLL]! [TROLL]! [TROLL]!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.50

    ---Troll---

    With anxious looks on their faces, the few hundred soldiers who, moments ago, were fighting ferociously with eachother, begin filing into the fortress. My subordinates (with the exception of Tuun) are looking confused and those surrounding them seem to be explaining the situation.

    Speaking of which ¡°Heidi¡­ what is a [troll]?¡±

    ¡°Local subsentient fauna. Primarily bipedal. Approximately 10 tonne males, 20 tonne females. Herbivorous. Usually placid but, obviously, if they decide to take offense to something¡­ nothing short of an elephant gun will take them down! Every year on this planet there are half a dozen or so fatal troll attacks.¡± she answers, digging in a compartment that sits between her seat and the speeder¡¯s handlebars.

    She pulls out what I can identify as a slug thrower.

    ¡°Is that an [elephant gun], Heidi?¡± I query, tentatively.

    In answer she only shakes her head.

    ¡°Is it something more powerful?!¡± I ask, incredulously.

    She shakes her head again.

    ¡°Then¡­?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s something I hope will mean no one having to die today¡­ I would offer to let you get off, Tcakqaal, but¡­ given how much more vulnerable you¡¯ll be on the ground and how difficult you¡¯d find flying in this gravity, I think you¡¯re better off staying put¡­ despite the direction we¡¯re going to be headed.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ what direction is that?¡± I ask, already suspecting.

    In answer, she only turns the bike towards the disturbed trees.

    ---later---

    I catch a glimpse of something terrifyingly enormous¡­!

    It¡¯s as tall as a kwarat bird but, if the translation of its mass is accurate, between 20 and 40 times as massive!

    It wades through the trees!

    ¡°Female. Fully grown.¡± says the woman, as much to herself as me.

    She enters a turn, circling around the animal and allowing me to piece together a coherent picture of what it looks like below the canopy.

    The patches of skin, that I can see, are a purplish-grey colour, it¡¯s mostly covered in light grey fur, its weight is supported on two columnar legs with three toes, it has two arms ending in three digits (a thumb, on the opposite sides of its hands from those which Terrans have, opposing two fingers that look stubby but are probably each more than half as long as the woman whose back I currently hold is tall!), it has two ears which protrude greatly, between them more than doubling the width of its head, two eyes, mounted on the sides of its face rather than the front, and two tusks that frame a nose, jutting directly out above its top lip.

    ¡°Wish me luck¡­ I¡¯ve never done this before! Oh, and¡­ let me do the talking!¡±

    Before I can ask what that means, my pilot takes aim at the creature¡¯s head and, with an explosive *pwaff*, discharges her slug thrower.

    The creature roars and she immediately brings the speeder out of range of its long arms.

    Heidi brings the bike to a stop, facing the creature, and waits for it to calm down from having been blasted in the head.

    I look to the point on its head where she shot and see a device that definitely wasn¡¯t there before.

    ¡°Hello there!¡± says my pilot with a kind tone that I would not be able to muster, under the circumstances.

    The creature just stares up at her for a few moments before slowly (or seeming slow, from the perspective of its body being so large but, probably, actually quite fast) extending one of its long arms toward us.

    Heidi neither increases our altitude nor takes any evasive manoeuvre of any kind, trusting instead to her initial calculation of the creature¡¯s reach.

    Those crushing manipulators get much closer than I would like!

    Having established that we are beyond its reach, the creature says ¡°Hurting!¡± rubbing the side of its head. It has a slow, mournful voice that fits the [gentle giant] archetype, to a [tee]!

    ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯m very sorry about that¡­ it was just to let us speak¡­ I hope you can forgive me!¡±

    ¡°Forgiving¡­¡± says the creature, reluctantly.

    Kindly, Heidi asks ¡°Why are you going this way?¡±

    ¡°Needing!¡± answers the creature.

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ there are a lot of people this way¡­¡± says the woman.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Knowing! Needing! Helping!¡± insists the [troll].

    ¡°They don¡¯t need help with anything¡­!¡±

    ¡°Not them helping! Needing helping!¡± says the creature, frustratedly.

    ¡°You need help?¡± says the Human, a little disbelievingly.

    ¡°Yes! Helping needing!¡± confirms the creature.

    ¡°What could we help you with?¡±

    The creature, with an anguished tone to its translated voice, explains ¡°Baby¡­ stucking¡­ hurting¡­ not fitting helping!¡±

    ¡°Your baby is stuck and hurt, somewhere, and you¡¯re too big to get it out?¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± says the animal in answer.

    ¡°How long has your child been stuck?¡±

    Pointing to the east horizon, the creature answers ¡°Sunsetting¡­¡±

    ¡°About 16 hours¡­!¡± mutters my pilot, before saying ¡°¡­Can you show us where your baby is?¡± at full volume.

    ¡°Able showing¡­ You able helping?¡± says the animal, suspiciously.

    ¡°Not on my own, no¡­ but if you show us the way then I can tell those people, back there, and they can find me¡­ it will be quicker that way? Can you trust me?¡±

    A long moment of hesitation before the animal answers ¡°Trusting¡­¡± and turns around.

    An audible sigh of relief emanates from the woman as she takes out her holopad.

    The call is picked up almost instantly by her wife who, frantically, answers ¡°Heidi!? Are you alright?! What¡¯s happening?!?!?!¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, sweetheart¡­ I¡¯ve turned back the [troll] but¡­ I¡¯m going to need you to wrangle some strapping volunteers¡­ and someone with xenoveterinary training¡­¡±

    ---later---

    The [troll] is leading us, past the boundary of the forest, into the open highlands, that my pilot has explained, are its natural habitat.

    Following behind us is a large transport capsule containing several dozen of the stronger Terrans from the [reenactment], still dressed as archaic warriors while holding various pieces of equipment that might be necessary to liberate a [>700kg], baby [troll].

    When the AI, who coordinates the local capsule company, was contacted, to have the reason explained that a capsule was necessary and no specific destination coordinates could be provided, he apparently made the executive decision to donate the use of the transport at no charge!

    It was unclear to me (having had the story secondhand) whether that was as a result of him having his heart moved by the plight of the baby [troll], him thinking this might be a good marketing opportunity, him being amused by several dozen burly biologicals, in the garb of ancient soldiers, following a [troll] all day, at a glacial [12kmph], or some combination of the three(!)

    We arrive at a field of jagged boulders at the base of a cliff. The field, where the Terran fortification stands, is just about visible in the distance.

    I hear the trapped infant long before I see it!

    The pained, anguished, high pitched bleating makes it difficult to think!

    The [troll] mother shows us to a narrow crevice in the rock at the bottom of which is a gargantuan baby, thoroughly wedged!

    Heidi indicates the tethered transport capsule to come in to land.

    Victor, Ms Hunter, Katr¨ªn, the enormous uplift from the other night¡¯s play and the man who played Victor¡¯s brother in the reenactment, earlier, are among those that disembark.

    The Human hybrid, who I saw talking with Xon, Emiko and Ms Hunter, the other night, strides forth to be the first one on the ground to look into the chasm.

    After what to me, looked like a glance, the reddish-brown haired, hybrid man begins barking instructions out to the rest present¡­ he seems to have some experience in the logistics of moving heavy loads in awkward confines.

    Heidi lands and I hop off the speeder, trying to stay out of the way as Terrans go hither and thither.

    One goes into the hole to offer the baby food, water and soothing words that it won¡¯t understand.

    The rest begin laying out straps (used earlier to erect the [palisade]) under the direction of the hybrid, while the mother troll looms nervously over the entire scene.

    It¡¯s astonishing to watch how quickly they coordinate the solution to this challenge! You would never guess that all of these people hadn¡¯t woken up today knowing that ¡®baby [troll] liberation¡¯ was the second item on their itinerary, with how readily they take to the task(!)

    The straps are tossed down to the comforter, who goes about weaving them about the creature¡¯s body¡­ that is, until; ¡°No use!¡± announces the man, still in his [kingly] garb ¡°His legs are wedged too tightly! I can¡¯t get my hands in!¡±

    ¡°Keep trying! If we can¡¯t get a strap under his legs we¡¯re going to really fucking hurt him pulling him out!¡± roars the one directing, his face bearing a severe expression above his beard.

    I look at the creature¡¯s legs and observe the issue¡­ then I notice something¡­

    I approach the hybrid and say ¡°Excuse me, Sir¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes? What?¡± he answers, not looking at me and with a brusque tone that tells me he thinks I¡¯m about to waste his time.

    ¡°I believe I would be able to fit through that gap, between its shins¡­ once I¡¯m in the cavity beneath its legs, I might be able to help by passing the strap around underneath?¡±

    He looks to me, eyes wide with incredulity, but before he can answer, Victor does.

    ¡°Cap, no! That creature¡¯s gotta be the best part of a tonne of wild animal, stressed out to the extreme! He may be a baby but that just means he has even less control of himself than otherwise! If he decided to thrash while you¡¯re down there, you¡¯d be crushed! We¡¯ll think of something else!!!¡±

    ¡°Well and good to say, Victor, but that creature has already been down there for well over half a local day! Even being a deathworlder it¡­ he can¡¯t survive an indefinite stressful confinement, while injured! If Mr¡­?¡± I gesture, promptingly, to the hybrid.

    ¡°Sindrason.¡±

    ¡°If Mr Sindrason, here, approves, then I¡¯m afraid I shall have to overrule you on this matter.¡±

    The two of us turn, expectantly, to hear his answer.

    Staring directly down and ahead the man strokes his voluminous beard for a few moments¡­ clearly deep in calculation.

    Finally he answers ¡°Do it.¡± before turning to a frowning Victor to instruct ¡°Go down with her¡­ hold the gap open¡­ keep the legs from collapsing, as best you can.¡±

    Victor nods, with some reluctance, and bends down to offer me his back.

    The blue eyed man, in [kingly] dress, with a short beard, who attached all the previous straps, is in position at the baby¡¯s head speaking soothingly to it, in a way which I wouldn¡¯t have been able to imagine, watching him scream (presumable demands for surrender) in an ancient tongue, earlier!

    It occurs to me, now, how easily the baby might (intentionally or unintentionally) crush the man against the crevasse wall¡­

    With the [5m], or so, of distance that I had, observing it from the top, I didn¡¯t fully process just what a large, powerful animal this infant is!

    Well, Tcakqaal¡­ you volunteered¡­ you would bring shame to R¡¯qal if you were to develop tremorous wings, now(!)

    I hop off Victor¡¯s back and he bends to put his hands between the troll¡¯s shins and pull them apart, such that the gap is widened.

    I slide through without much difficulty.

    The baby¡¯s skin is coarse and its hair bristly.

    I find myself in a cavity. I can¡¯t stand up straight but¡­

    ¡°You alright, Cap? How is it down there?¡± queries Victor, bringing a single emerald eye to the gap.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Victor¡­ not that much more cramped than the cockpit of a R¡¯qali starfighter(!)¡±

    He laughs at that.

    ¡°If you¡¯ll pass me the straps, I¡¯ll get them attached¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.51

    ---Tradition---

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°¡­and, finally, some heartwarming news from Western Nyr Norelands: A local group of reenactors were interrupted during a performance, yesterday, by a mother troll, coming to them for aid in freeing her trapped baby! The reenactors managed to liberate the infant, with help from an unlikely individual¡­ we go now to footage from the event.¡± smiles the newscaster.

    The man Victor and I are sharing this capsule with was alone, when we got in, and didn¡¯t offer to turn off the newsfeed he was playing on the wall.

    I¡¯m glad neither of us asked him to now I¡¯m seeing Victor heaving on the long end of a strap, bringing that baby up from its confinement.

    I wish I had been there but¡­ my mum specifically said strong volunteers¡­ there was limited space¡­ I would have been in the way¡­

    The man cocks his head before turning around, to Victor.

    ¡°Is that you, man?¡± he asks, in New Norse, gesturing to Victor, still dressed as Prince Alfred of Wessex, hauling on the end of his line. Samus, Mage, Thran and Steve are all visible in the shot, as well, but Victor dominates the foreground.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me.¡± answers Victor, in English, having inferred the question from his tone and body language.

    ¡°Good job, bro!¡± says the man, appreciatively, switching to English.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± he smiles, clearly still tired from yesterday.

    We see Tcakqaal emerge from the ravine, after the troll, with a little description of her being a R¡¯qali ship Captain, who¡¯s visiting the planet.

    Finn (still dressed as King ?thelred of Wessex) is shown, treating the baby, the mother looming over him and watching closely, with an explanation of him being a xenobiology professor at Fjalltindr U. The baby troll is shown being carried off by the grateful mother, fully treated. The segment ends with the one behind the camera approaching Finn, tapping him on the shoulder and, when he turns around, presenting him with the gold crown he wore at the reenactment, saying ¡°You dropped this, King!¡± causing his eyes to crease and his teeth to bare in laughter.

    ¡°Brave little gardenworlder! You¡¯d not catch me crawling into the space under a trapped troll!¡± comments the man.

    ¡°You¡¯ve no idea(!)¡± smiles Victor, through closed eyes.

    The capsule touches down in a small town, the man gets up, turns to the two of us, seeing that we¡¯ve made no move to leave, at which point he clearly puts together where we¡¯re going and, so, waves us goodbye with a ¡°Good luck up there!¡±, gesturing in the direction of our destination, before disembarking.

    ¡°Thanks!¡± say Victor and I, in unison.

    The hatch seals and the craft rises to angle itself toward the mountains.

    Flying over jagged peaks, capped with snow year round, we reach a valley basin that is extremely difficult to access by foot, even in Summer.

    Through the twilight dome field (which is the largest field, of any kind, on Fennoscandia) I see a snow covered valley with a large tarn in the centre, the water of which is dark and far too deep to freeze from a single snow.

    The buildings in this valley are all in the architectural styles of a planet I barely remember.

    We land and I shake Victor¡¯s shoulder.

    He starts from the doze he¡¯d slipped into.

    ¡°Welcome to DonKhoru.¡± I smile.

    We step from the craft.

    ¡°That¡¯s the largest field I¡¯ve ever seen! That¡¯s gotta have a diameter of over a kilometre!¡± he says, craning his neck back to look up at the monolithic field.

    ¡°Yes¡­ It screens out over half of the sunlight that would otherwise pass through it, stores it and reemits it, at night, creating a tolerable approximation of the illumination of DonOlu¡¯s habitable zone.¡±

    ¡°That seems¡­¡± he spends a few moments clearly searching for a diplomatic term, before settling on ¡°¡­extravagant¡­¡±

    ¡°My brother would agree with you¡­ and, I¡¯m told, so did my father. It was one of the demands his advisors insisted he make for the community¡­ Of course, he was negotiating from the much stronger position of being the heir apparent to Clan Oria, on DonOlu, and being here as an ambassador, with the approval of my grandfather, the Ruler of Clan Oria¡­ I don¡¯t know if the UTC would have gone to the expense of procuring such a massive field if we¡¯d already been refugees by the time we asked for it(!)¡±

    ¡°Uhm¡­ Tuun¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, Victor?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you ever told me¡­ How many people were in your clan, on DonOlu?¡± he asks, warily.

    I grit my teeth, bracing myself for his reaction ¡°Well¡­ last time we had contact¡­ I believe Clan Oria had about¡­ 16 million Don, living under its protection.¡±

    He begins a gasp but, clearly not having been prepared for that answer, chokes, coughs and splutters.

    When he¡¯s recovered, he asks ¡°Six¡­teen¡­ mill¡­ion!?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± I confirm, awkwardly.

    ¡°That¡¯s like a legit country! When you told me you were a Clanchief¡¯s granddaughter¡­ I was sorta imaginin¡¯ a guy who chairs meetin¡¯s of an extended family in a village hall, then sends out a newsletter to those that couldn¡¯t make the meetin¡¯s! Your grandpa was like¡­ a King!¡±

    I shrug, noncommittally.

    ¡°Can¡¯t believe I¡¯ve been datin¡¯ space royalty for the best part of a year and only just realised!¡±

    I frown ¡°I¡¯m not exactly royalty given that, even if we could go back, I wouldn¡¯t be in line to inherit anything!¡±

    He stops, turns and smiles up at me ¡°You¡¯ll always be a princess to me, baby!¡±

    I give a chuckling sigh before letting him pull me into a kiss.

    It lasts a few moments before he grunts and breaks away, looking nervously toward the dome.

    ¡°Should we be kissin¡¯ here?¡±

    Confused, I ask ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he says, awkwardly ¡°¡­it¡¯s just¡­ never been to a patriarchy before¡­ Never been to a patriarchy with a woman I¡¯m datin¡¯, at least¡­ Ain¡¯t sure what the rules are¡­¡±

    I giggle ¡°As long as you don¡¯t dip me and stick your tongue down my throat while making direct eye contact with anyone, we won¡¯t have a problem(!)¡­ I mean¡­ you¡¯re right! Public displays of affection are less common and more frowned upon, here, but a chaste, little kiss on the lips, hundreds of metres away from the nearest person, won¡¯t count I don¡¯t think(!)¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Alright¡­ Got it¡­¡± he says with a demeanour that suggests he might be about to pull out his holopad and start making notes ¡°¡­and what should I do when we walk past those women over there? Will it look lecherous if I smile and wave? Will it look, like¡­ disrespectful if I don¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, Victor! Don aren¡¯t ali¡­¡± I stop myself but it¡¯s to late.

    His eyebrow raises and he wryly asks ¡°Aliens? Is that what you were about to say?¡±

    ¡°Nooooo¡­ Shut up¡­¡± I say, giggling with embarrassment.

    He smirks but simply asks ¡°Where did we land on smilin¡¯ and wavin¡¯ at women?¡±

    Hiding my blushing cheeks with two of my hands, I answer ¡°Acceptable and encouraged¡­ so long as you don¡¯t leer.¡±

    He laughs ¡°Wasn¡¯t intendin¡¯ to but I¡¯ll bear it in mind!¡­ Shall we go?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s!¡± I smile.

    We walk through the dome and instantly seem temporally transported to the gloam of twilight.

    I remember learning in school how Terran society used to be every bit as patriarchal as Don society. Probably for the same reason, too.

    Nothing to do with the average disparity in strength between men and women in both Don and Humans.

    If that were why, then the result wouldn¡¯t be ¡®women are subordinate to men¡¯, it would be ¡®the weak are subordinate to the strong¡¯.

    Nor is it anything to do with any difference in intelligence (which no data collected in good faith supports the existence of!)

    Again, if that were why, then the result would be ¡®the stupid are subordinate to the clever¡¯.

    Instead, patriarchy arose as a practically universal cultural constant, on both Earth and DonOlu, because both Humans and Don have long, debilitating, gestational and nursing periods and didn¡¯t discover any reliable means of preventing themselves from becoming pregnant until thousands of years after their societies first specialised their labour.

    If you¡¯re your planet¡¯s first ever blacksmith choosing the first blacksmith¡¯s apprentice, from a girl and a boy (who are otherwise the perfect equals of eachother, in all ways), you¡¯ll choose the boy, simply because he can work through his partner¡¯s pregnancies.

    The girl can¡¯t work through her own, meaning that she¡¯ll have to spend half her working life engaged in procreation.

    Women got excluded from all the highest skilled jobs in early labour specialisation out of practical necessity.

    A simple, brutal, utilitarian efficiency.

    The thing is, that tends to happen long enough before societies invent writing that, by the time the first written records show up, patriarchy already seems as old and as natural as the hills, to people.

    The pragmatism has been lost and all that remains is tradition.

    ¡®We¡¯re doing it this way because it¡¯s how our fathers and our fathers¡¯ fathers did it! We would insult their memory if we changed things now!¡¯

    Of course, the difference between Humans and Don is, after the first reliable contraceptives appeared, it took less than a century for women to have the vote nearly everywhere on Earth and less than three centuries for the last vestiges of patriarchy to die out, completely.

    When faced with the choice of keeping the traditional ways alive and giving rights to those who hadn¡¯t had them before, Humans chose the latter.

    Perhaps not unanimously, perhaps not immediately, but consistently enough to matter!

    No Don I¡¯ve ever asked about it has any clue if anyone ever invented contraceptives on DonOlu.

    Most seemed to find the notion offensive!

    Don have had the capacity to synthesise rubber like substances for millennia at this point and I cannot imagine that no one ever had the idea of using them as a contraceptive!

    That probably means that all the Don proponents of birth control and women¡¯s suffrage were stamped out so hard that their names are lost to history.

    ¡°How come that lady¡¯s skin¡¯s crimson?¡± asks Victor, quietly, shaking me from my rumination.

    ¡°Which one? Still don¡¯t have colour vision(!)¡±

    He tuts at his own forgetfulness before saying ¡°Second from the left, as we¡¯re lookin¡¯ at ¡¯em.¡±

    I look at the woman who, to my eye, has a skin tone indistinguishable from mine.

    Her facial features, on the other hand, are far sharper than the Don of Clan Oria.

    ¡°She¡¯s from Clan Olta, a clan on the other side of DonOlu. Her family defected and came here after we had already been banished. If her skins a different colour it¡¯s just ethnic divergence. If you see any Don with lighter skin they¡¯re from clans more on the sunward side of the habitable zone.¡± I explain.

    ¡°Makes sense¡­ Interestin¡¯ though! On Earth, brighter regions tend to lead to darker skin.¡± he observes.

    ¡°Yeah, sunburn and skin cancer aren¡¯t really concerns in permanent twilight but being too dark for your region¡¯s illumination silhouettes you and makes you easier for prey to spot.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s really interesting!¡± he says, no longer whispering.

    We draw close to the gaggle of Don women and Victor raises a hand, smiling ¡°Mornin¡¯!¡±

    They all giggle as we pass.

    ¡°What did I do wrong!? I thought you said smilin¡¯ and wavin¡¯ was encouraged!¡±

    Mirthfully, I answer ¡°Perhaps they were so overwhelmed by your animal magnetism that they simply couldn¡¯t contain themselves¡­(!) So jealous of me that they immediately began plotting how to break us up so they could take you for themselves¡­(!)¡­ Or¡­ perhaps it was that you wished them a good ¡®morning¡¯ which, though very polite in your culture, doesn¡¯t translate very well, for obvious reasons!¡±

    He inhales for a moment before saying ¡°No more ¡®mornin¡¯¡¯s! Got it!¡±

    We keep walking, down the heated path, along the side of the lake.

    Victor admires the luminescent flora, visible through the snow.

    We discuss the possibility of them becoming invasive species.

    I assure him that, even if a species were capable of surviving outside of the dome (which none of them are, as they get so confused by day-night cycles that they simply give up and die) they would still be trapped in this basin, surrounded by snow capped peaks on all sides. Not to mention the fact that they would be competing with deathworld flora!

    He asks whether seeds couldn¡¯t flow out on the water, pointing to the tarn.

    I explain that that lake is simply where the ground goes lower than the water table. There¡¯s no outflow.

    Then we stop¡­ because I see a very unexpected set of people sitting opposite eachother, outside of a caf¨¦!

    We approach them and I hear my sister explaining ¡°No, no, no, you¡¯re using the second tone there! You want the twelfth! You just told me your mother [slaps sea creatures] for a living! The twelfth tone turns that into [writes books]!¡± she explains in DonAvu, switching to English to give the translations.

    ¡°Hello, Baasa¡­ Hello¡­ err¡­ Yasmin?¡­ You two have met, I see?¡± I say, uncertainly.

    Baasa whips her head around, grinning broadly.

    ¡°Tunie! You¡¯re here!¡± she says, seamlessly switching to unaccented New Norse and standing to hug me before turning to Victor and, in English, saying ¡°And Victor¡­ It¡¯s good to see you again! I very much enjoyed your performance at the feast, the other night!¡±

    ¡°Good to see you too, Baasa. I enjoyed chattin¡¯ with you! What¡¯s the story here?¡± he asks, gesturing between my sister and our crewmate.

    Baasa laughs ¡°So, a couple of days after the feast, I¡¯m having a lie in, when one of my attendants bursts in to tell me that there¡¯s a tourist in the valley, making people uncomfortable¡­ Happens from time to time, someone hears about the valley of tall, dark and sexy blue elves, with four arms, and decides to come here thirstier than if they¡¯d walked across the sunward side(!) Anyway, she asks if I wouldn¡¯t mind dealing with it. I get up and go out, expecting to find some horny mouthbreather, who¡¯ll spout crude innuendoes at a rate of 4 per minute, that I¡¯m going to have to order hauled to the landing pad, thrown into a transport out of the valley and blacklisted from coming back! What I find, instead, is a woman I recognised from the feast, looking like she hadn¡¯t slept a wink in the intervening time and chasing people around while trying to greet them, in broken DonAvu! I stopped her, asked her what, by the Father, she thought she was doing and she explained that she was a linguist and was trying to learn our language, she¡¯d already got as far as she could with what she¡¯d found online and needed conversational partners now! I¡¯ve been teaching her, since, and honestly, she learns our language faster than I can speak it!¡±

    I look at the visibly sleep deprived Human who shrugs ¡°Much practice in learning of languages.¡± in marginally better DonAvu than I can speak!

    Baasa turns to Yasmin and, switching back to DonAvu, says ¡°Sorry, girl! Got to go with these two, much as I don¡¯t want to leave your lovely warm [climate field]! Why don¡¯t you see if the proprietor would like to chat with you until I get back?¡±

    ¡°I am sad of this¡­ but shall to do as you suggest.¡± says the woman, in the gold shayla, stiffly but still unbelievably better than you would expect for someone who started learning a language a week ago!

    My sister joins me and Victor and the three of us walk together, toward my brother¡¯s palace.

    ¡°Will¡­ err¡­ will you be let in? Tuun told me that ¨¢str¨ªer and her¡¯d be the only women there.¡±

    My confident, elder sister scoffs, with a cocky smile, and answers ¡°Technically, no¡­ Technically, the Clanchief¡¯s wife and the woman ¡®at issue¡¯ are the only ones allowed to be present. However, the only one who¡¯d have the power to make me leave is Vol¡­ and he won¡¯t!¡­ I¡¯ve heard it said that it¡¯s ¡®good to be the King¡¯¡­ Personally, I¡¯ve always preferred being the King¡¯s big sister(!) All of the power, none of the responsibility(!) VoVo wouldn''t dare toss me out!¡±

    Victor chuckles ¡°Fair enough! You ain¡¯t gonna hear any objection from me!¡±

    My sister looks down at the love of my life and says ¡°Good luck by the way, Victor.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Baasa.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll need it!¡± she grins, mischievously.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.52

    ---Challenge---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Don¡¯t be mean, Bassie!¡± Tuun says to her towering, older sister with tightly plaited, uranian blue hair.

    ¡°I¡¯m joking, Tunie! He¡¯s not upset¡­ are you, Victor?¡± the woman says, with the same grin as I get from Mouse (and which Twila inherited from her(!))

    ¡°Nah¡­ I¡¯m alright!¡± I answer¡­ not entirely honestly.

    I¡¯m definitely speaking with a nonchalant confidence I don¡¯t feel.

    One moment, at the feast, I¡¯m chatting and laughing, the next I¡¯m shaking hands and agreeing to take part in a ritual!

    Mead is a hell of a drink(!)

    Of course, Tuun said she ¡®didn¡¯t mind if we didn¡¯t do this yet.¡¯ but the way she said it made absolutely obvious that she actually wanted to.

    Don¡¯t think I would have agreed, otherwise.

    I suppose, this will be an interesting experience to put on and then immediately cross off my bucket list, at least(!)

    The three of us approach a mansion sized house at the far edge of the field from the one me and Tuun entered on, earlier.

    There are two armoured guards flanking the doors. Not wearing durasteel of course (wearing heavy armour would cancel out Don¡¯s one major advantage in a fight) but, I¡¯d guess, duralumin? They¡¯re not shrugging off bullets in that armour but it¡¯d handily protect them from stab wounds.

    I¡¯m guessing these two are not a permanent fixture here(!)

    I don¡¯t think the number of Don on this planet would allow for two full time guard positions to be filled!

    These guys must just be here because of the ceremony.

    The lightskinned guard, on the left (who must trace to the ¡®sunward¡¯ side, based on what Tuun told me, earlier) looks at Baasa and opens his mouth.

    She cocks an eyebrow and his confidence instantly disappears.

    A moment of hesitation before the two of them wordlessly open the doors for us.

    ¡°Told you¡­¡± smirks the woman, as we walk through the entrance hall.

    We pass beneath a curved staircase leading from the ground floor, up to the first, to a large set of doors.

    The honour guard follow behind us.

    Tuun and Baasa stop before we get to the doors. I follow their lead, stopping as well.

    The guards come forward, one on each side of us, and open the double doors.

    We step into a multistory room. The upper levels seem like a library, with shelves full of physical books being visible on the far side of the walkways from the railing.

    Most people just read books on their holos, these days¡­ or have their holo read the book out to them. I mean, physical books of ink and paper are nice and definitely have a, sort of¡­ archaic-aesthetic value¡­ they just come with too many downsides for most people to bother with!

    All the books in this library would easily fit on one person¡¯s holo, even without them having net access, for one thing!

    On the ground floor there¡¯re no books, nor bookshelves, just a wide, open space.

    At the edges of the room stand about thirty Don, all with the same dark blue skin, silky white or light blue hair and glowing white eyes that Tuun and her biosiblings have.

    In the middle of the room stands the only man (apart from me) who¡¯s less than 3m tall, next to the only Human here (apart from me).

    They¡¯re Tuun¡¯s adoptive sister (who''s also her sister-in-law) and her biological brother (who''s also her brother-in-law).

    Both of them have angular, black lines tattooed across their faces and hands. It¡¯s pretty easy to guess that the rest of their bodies are tattooed as well but, right now, they¡¯re both wearing fine clothing that leaves that fact to the imagination.

    ¨¢str¨ªer has definitely inherited some of Katr¨ªn¡¯s stature! She¡¯s as tall as Samus (though, doesn¡¯t have Samus¡¯s physicality!)

    She has tawny blonde, tied back hair and I¡¯m just about able to see that her eyes are blue, in the dimly lit room.

    She has a sweetly smiling face that gives off a motherly vibe.

    In contrast, her husband, Vol, has a face that suggests that he experienced an emotion¡­ once, a looooong time ago, and found the experience so unpleasant that he resolved never to repeat it(!)

    She teased that ¡®he manages to make DonAvu sound monotone(!)¡¯ at the feast, the other day.

    Baasa nonchalantly strolls to the wall, to take her place beside men half a metre taller than her, who¡¯re giving her dirty looks. She pretends she doesn¡¯t notice.

    The 2.8m tall Ruler speaks, loudly. He has no translator equipped.

    I see what his wife meant; as a language with 15 distinct tones, it¡¯s obviously not actually able to be monotone but, when he speaks, he manages to so completely avoid injecting any passion into his words that the effect is that it comes across as if monotone! Like someone speak-singing while extremely bored!

    His wife translates into English for me (which I¡¯m glad is allowed).

    ¡°A challenge of Uluanvo¡¯al Tan has been issued. You, who seek to make the Clanchief¡¯s sister yours, must now prove that you have the strength to defend her. As the challenged, Clanchief Vol, son of Vuun, son of Tuls, rightful Ruler of Clan Oria, has elected to fight this bout unarmed and has waived a portion of his preparation period entitlement¡­ Challenger Victor, son of Oskar, son of Lars, are you ready to fight?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± I answer, simply.

    ¡°Then all noncombatant parties are asked to stand clear of the floor for the match to begin.¡±

    She and Tuun go to stand with their sister.

    I square up to the gigantic man (gigantic to me, despite growing up in deathworld gravity having robbed him of what looks like a full 30cm).

    Judging by how much taller and more heavily built he is than Tuun, I would guess he¡¯s closer to my weight than hers!

    He begins unfastening his princely jacket before pulling it off, followed by his stylish, short tunic.

    His sleek, slender, muscular chest now exposed, I¡¯m able to conclude two things; 1) his tattoos cover at least his chest and 2) he¡¯s heavier than I initially estimated.

    With that muscle, I think he may be as heavy as me!

    He¡¯s definitely the most physically imposing Don in the room, despite his shorter stature!

    There¡¯s no way he doesn¡¯t flog himself to death, maintaining that physique! That doesn¡¯t come just from growing up on a deathworld!

    I wonder if it¡¯s a social expectation of Don leaders that they maintain their physical strength?

    He brings his four arms up into an impenetrable looking guard.

    I bare my upper half to match my opponent, perform a b¨¤oqu¨¢n (which I have been assured is allowed and doesn¡¯t breach tradition in any way that matters) then bring up my guard.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Tuuneh, vels em¡¯ia an ta nnul?¡± intones the man, still sounding bored.

    Tuun steps forward and raises her, four fingered, hand and shouts ¡°K¡¯UUT!¡±

    Not yet.

    She puts down her little finger leaving her thumb, middle and forefinger still up.

    ¡°OV''T!¡±

    She puts down her thumb.

    ¡°OL!¡±

    Her middle finger goes down.

    ¡°E!¡±

    Her entire hand comes down with the word ¡°OMV¡¯UIL!¡±

    The man flies at me, viciously!

    I know better than to try and outmatch a Don on speed and definitely not on reach!

    He¡¯s much slower than his sister but what he lacks in speed, he makes up for in power!

    Where getting hit by Tuun feels like getting punched by a 9 year old, getting hit by her brother feels like getting punched by an 18 year old who started hitting the gym twice a week a few months ago! There¡¯s enough power there to mess you up if you¡¯re not careful!

    The combination of his extra hands, his enormous reach and his power, make me think my best bet is closing the distance and turning this into a grapple (where I think I¡¯ll have an upper hand) to begin with but, when I charge him, he just dodges nearly effortlessly before punishing me for my closeness with a series of three, lightning fast, punches to my ribs!

    Fuck, those are gonna bruise!

    I reassess, concluding that there¡¯s just no way I¡¯m beating him while he¡¯s got juice in the tank¡­

    One option presents itself: Hang back and let him tire himself out while I defend, making use of the thing my species has more of than any other; stamina!

    Not exactly an honourable strategy but it¡¯s the one that gives me the greatest chance to land the one punch I need to end this fight.

    This man¡¯s got nearly 80cm on me and it makes judging his reach a little difficult (I was always the tallest practitioner, at my gu¨£n, so all my skill in estimating reach is pretty useless on such an inHumanly tall man¡­ Not to mention, I think Don have arms that are just a tiny bit longer than Humans¡¯, in proportion to their bodies!)

    I step far enough back that I¡¯m, for sure, out of his range.

    I stand still and drop my guard slightly. Enough to make my face an appealing target but not so much that it¡¯s obvious that I¡¯m baiting him.

    He takes the bait, charging forward to throw a punch that definitely would have broken my nose, if it had connected. Thankfully my guard snaps shut just in time to deflect his strike but it still connects enough that it¡¯ll leave a bruise on my forearm!

    It¡¯s absolutely worth it, though; that little manoeuvre got me his range! I now know exactly how far away he thinks he can hit me from.

    I begin dancing at the edge of his reach, never throwing a punch but tantalising him into thinking he can hit me.

    He realises what I¡¯m doing, after the sixth or seventh punch he throws that I dodge or deflect, and tries to close the distance.

    I evade, continuing to hang just on the edge of where he might be able to hit me and watch, as he slowly but surely exhausts himself.

    He definitely lasts longer than his little sister ever has but I can both see and feel his blows losing force.

    If I were fighting him for real (as in ¡®for my life¡¯) I would definitely let him keep exhausting himself but, because this is an honour match (happening in front of what I assume is the most influential 10% or so of his Clan) I decide to let him keep his dignity and not reduce him to a wheezing mess.

    I step inside his guard, batting aside his, now, anaemic strikes and level a half strength punch into his gut.

    He grunt¡¯s and his upper left hand flies above his head.

    ¡°Ort¡¯ul!¡± he shouts.

    ¡°The Challenged has yielded! Victory belongs to the Challenger, Victor!¡± interprets his wife.

    ¡°Vo¡¯t armal, dolv ta Doneh Imak¡¯a, nnur¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°The Clanchief asks the men of his community to bear witness to his defeat and to the fact that he is no longer his sister¡¯s defender!¡± translates the Human woman.

    Every Don man in the room brings their four hands to their lower face, leaving their eyes exposed.

    All except one.

    ¡°You shame yourself, Vol!¡± says the lone dissenter, speaking with a translator equipped, letting me understand him ¡°To relinquish your sister to this outsider after a single blow is disgraceful!¡±

    Vol says nothing nor does he react at all to the accusation that¡¯s just been flung at him.

    ¡°Do¡¯adia¡­ Read the room!¡± says Baasa, disdainfully ¡°It¡¯s obvious that these two are head-over-heels for eachother and what point is there in asking your Clanchief to get beaten half to death to prevent a match that he has no reason to disapprove of?!¡­ Tell me!?¡±

    The man turns on her, fangs bared and spits ¡°You¡¯re lucky your brother allows you to be here, woman, but do not be mistaken! You have no right to interfere in the business of men!¡±

    She gives a mirthless smirk ¡°Oh, you¡¯re right¡­ but let¡¯s review what your options are, shall we? You can a) volunteer to take your Clanchief¡¯s place, against his wishes, and see how much you feel like fighting the deathworlder (with abs you could grate cheese on) after he¡¯s hit you once or b) cover your face and accept the outcome.¡±

    He looks at me, I give an amused shrug of ¡®happy to oblige, if you wanna go for option a)¡¯, he scowls and brings his hands up over his lower face.

    I offer my hand to Vol and, after a moment of hesitation where I wonder if I¡¯ve just done something taboo, he takes it and we shake.

    Me and him get dressed while everyone (who¡¯s neither a sibling or partner of Tuun) files from the room.

    ¡°I apologise for my subordinate¡¯s words.¡± says the man I just fought, in flawless (though monotone) English.

    I shrug ¡°I¡¯ve been called worse than ¡®outsider¡¯(!) Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    ¡°I recall him reacting similarly when VoVo challenged my mum for me.¡± sighs ¨¢str¨ªer, giving her husbands hand a squeeze ¡°Tried to find any excuse to invalidate the result; there¡¯s no precedent for an Uluanvo¡¯al Tan fought against a Human, you can¡¯t fight one against a woman, Katr¨ªn yielded too easily, you should have fought my brother, my brother saying he wouldn¡¯t fight brings the whole family into such disrepute that a Clanchief should consider them beneath him, on and on and on!¡±

    ¡°I think what he really wanted was for you to choose his daughter, instead!¡± adds Baasa, with a smirk ¡°Never mind that she¡¯s 10 years older than you(!) Nor that she¡¯s no contact with him(!) Nor that, at the time, she was planning her own wedding with the girlfriend she met at the uni he didn¡¯t want her to attend(!) Trivial details(!) I¡¯m sure she would have come running if he¡¯d told her he wanted her to marry you(!)¡±

    ¡°¡­Do¡¯adia¡¯s main concern has always been maintaining the traditions of our community.¡± says Vol, seeming like he¡¯s never heard the phrase ¡®damning with faint praise¡¯!

    ¡°Well, never mind all that!¡± beams ¨¢str¨ªer at me and Tuun ¡°Congratulations, you two!¡±

    ¡°Thanks, ¨¢ssi!¡± beams Tuun, back at her adoptive sister, while holding my arm.

    ¡°I''m now a guy who can honestly say he''s fought a King in single combat, which is pretty cool(!)¡­ Funny thing is, earlier the same day you suggested this, Vol¡­¡± I say with mild embarrassment ¡°¡­Katr¨ªn basically recommended taking it slow and not rushin'' into anythin''!¡­ I pretty much said ¡®Thanks for the advice, Ma¡¯am, I shan¡¯t let you down¡¯ then was agreein'' to this, 5 horns of mead later!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Victor!¡± soothes a smiling ¨¢str¨ªer ¡°This is a precondition for engagement but it isn¡¯t, itself, an engagement! Nothing irreversible has happened! When VoVo challenged my mum for me, he did so with the express intention of making me his wife but that¡¯s not what you¡¯ve done here. If you two ever do break up then, by DonAu, defendership of Tunie defaults, automatically, to her brother! All this means is if, in a couple of years, you decide you¡¯re ready, you don¡¯t have to come halfway across the galaxy to do this in order for our community to consider it a legitimate marriage! Honestly, it was sharp of Vol to realise that this would probably be the best time for this! I wouldn¡¯t have thought of it, at all!¡±

    I give the man an appreciative nod. He returns it but so extremely subtly that I could¡¯ve missed it, despite looking right at him!

    Clapping her hands together, ¨¢str¨ªer says ¡°Right! Lets go to the lounge where we can chat for the rest of the day! First, though, I have something very special I want to show you guys¡­ but, before I do, I need you to tell me something, Victor¡­¡± she points a finger at me in tongue-in-cheek accusation.

    ¡°W¡­ what¡¯s that?¡± I ask, pressing my hand to my chest as if she might be talking about another Victor.

    ¡°How good are you at keeping secrets?¡± she grins.

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ I can keep a secret¡­ so long as I don¡¯t think whatever the secret is makes you a danger to yourself or others¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah! Someone¡¯s been to therapy, I see(!)¡± she smirks, causing a miniheart-attack¡­ until I realise that that probably means she¡¯s also been to therapy ¡°It¡¯s nothing like that¡­¡± she continues ¡°¡­can you promise not to tell anyone what I¡¯m about to show you? Assuming you¡¯re satisfied that it doesn¡¯t make us a ¡®danger to ourselves or others¡¯, that is(!)¡± she smiles.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ your secret¡¯ll be safe with me.¡±

    ¡°Perfect!¡± she says, turning to lead the way.

    We¡¯re lead from what appears to be the ¡®public¡¯ part of the house, up stairs, along halls and through doors that are clearly checking who¡¯s coming through before they open.

    ¡°Here we are!¡± smiles the blonde, gesturing around the door she just went through to something the rest of us can''t see yet.

    Vol wordlessly goes to stand with his wife.

    Baasa passes through and laughs ¡°You bastards! Why is this the first I¡¯m learning about this!?¡±

    Tuun enters and gasps ¡°Oh my Gods! Congratulations!¡±

    Bringing up the rear, I walk through the door and look to where the secret is indicated to be.

    On a low, sturdy table I see something that I¡¯ve seen pictures and footage of, many times¡­ though I don¡¯t remember ever seeing one in real life.

    It¡¯s around 50cm tall and has a diameter of about 30cm.

    It¡¯s filled with a clear nutrient solution.

    Even though the contents are clearly visible to us out here, from the inside it would seem pitch black and the display glass would seem totally opaque! The inside is illuminated by light outside of the Human (and, in this case, Don) visual spectrum which is shifted into the visible as it passes through the glass.

    The result is, we can see but can¡¯t be seen.

    What floats inside the artificial womb¡­ is a baby. Already larger than I think a Human newborn would be, though looking like she still has some gestating to do.

    The features of her face are perfectly designed to look halfway between those of a Don and a Human.

    Her ears are long but have a blunt tip.

    She has skin that''s halfway between the dark blue colour of her father and the pale, pinky peach of her mother.

    Her hair is a platinum blonde colour that looks just a little too silky and iridescent to pass for unmixed, Human hair.

    She has her eyes shut but it¡¯s not too much of a stretch to imagine that they¡¯d, likewise, be a halfway point between her mother¡¯s blues and her father¡¯s glowing whites, perhaps against ¡®greys¡¯ of her eyes as a compromise of her mother¡¯s whites and her father¡¯s darks.

    She has four arms, like a Don, each ending in five fingers, like a Human.

    Her feet are each equipped with five of the most adorable, little, baby toes that I¡¯ve ever seen!

    ¡°Baasa, Tuun, Victor¡­ meet Liv Volsd¨®ttir.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XIX: Pancakes and Duty

    ---Vol¡¯s perspective---

    ---2704 Terran Calendar/9 years BF---

    ¡°Ooooh Stepbrother¡­!¡± calls the only other current occupant of my guardians¡¯ langh¨²s, interrupting my quiet reading time.

    I sigh, slam shut the book I was reading and get up, resignedly.

    I go to ¨¢str¨ªer¡¯s room.

    ¡°I¡¯m coming in.¡± I say, pushing open the door.

    I¡¯m greeted by the sight of ¨¢str¨ªer¡¯s posterior, protruding out from under her bed and being wiggled, invitingly, back and forward.

    ¡°Please, Stepbrother(!) Help me(!) I¡¯m stu-YAAAH!¡± she shrieks as, having cleared the distance from the door to the bed, I brace myself against it with my top left hand, squash her back flat to the floor with my top right (to prevent it from scraping along the underside) and yank her out by her ankles, with my lower hands.

    She rolls over and pouts up at me.

    I stare down at her, unimpressed ¡°There¡­ Now you¡¯re not stuck¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how you¡¯re supposed to play the game, VoVo! You¡¯re supposed to rip my trousers open and ravish me while I¡¯m unable to do anything to stop you!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for games, ¨¢str¨ªer. I¡¯m studying. I leave for university in less than a month.¡± I state.

    ¡°Which means you have less than a month to finally make your move, VoVo!¡±

    I cock an eyebrow ¡°You mean assaulting you while we¡¯re alone in the house? That¡¯s the kind of ¡®move¡¯ you¡¯re talking about?¡±

    She rolls her eyes ¡°It¡¯s not an ¡®assault¡¯ if I want it!¡±

    ¡°Fairly sure it¡¯s still an assault if I don¡¯t know you want it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you now! I want it! I want you!!!¡± she declares, with anger in her voice.

    My heart aches as the beautiful girl looks up at me, desperately.

    I look away ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry ¨¢str¨ªer¡­ it wouldn¡¯t be right¡­¡±

    ¡°You can just tell me you don¡¯t feel the same, arsehole!¡± she says, getting up and running from the room, her voice cracking.

    I want to call out to her¡­ but the words die in my throat.

    I¡¯m left standing in her bedroom¡­ alone¡­

    ---¨¢str¨ªer¡¯s perspective---

    ---2709 Terran Calendar/4 years BF---

    I sit at my mum¡¯s side.

    Our hall is full of life as her congregation talk, drink, socialise, sing, wrestle¡­

    This Summer is my first back from uni and Tuun¡¯s last before she goes.

    I look around as if I might have missed the one face I really want to see but don¡¯t.

    I allow myself a modicum of self-pity.

    8 years we lived together and the man can¡¯t even be bothered to show up for what may be one of the last opportunities we have to¡­

    *SLAM*

    The doors at the far end of the hall are thrown open.

    There stands a dashing, 2.8m Prince, appearance enhanced by black, tattooed lines across his face and hands, his long, sleek, white hair gathered into a bun at the top-back of his head, his eyes glowing brightly enough as to be clearly visible, even from here!

    His ears are held upward in what is either confidence or a show of confidence.

    With a regal, dignified bearing, the man strides between tables of, now, mostly silent men and women.

    All eyes follow him as the clack of his boots, against the floorboards, echoes through the hall.

    He approaches my mum and says to her ¡°Katr¨ªn, I challenge you to Uluanvo¡¯al Tan.¡± his voice exactly the unflappable, level monotone that I remember, but raised to let the whole hall hear.

    There¡¯s a chorus of murmuring from all present.

    Leaning forward my mother says ¡°Vol¡­ if you think I¡¯m going to allow you to keep Tunie from receiving an education, out of respect for DonAu¡­!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not challenging you for my sister. She¡¯s your daughter, both legally and actually, and I have no desire to force her to live a lifestyle she does not wish to.¡± he answers in his perfectly flat voice with his face still unreadable.

    ¡°Then¡­?¡± says my mum, confused.

    ¡°I seek to make ¨¢str¨ªer my wife¡­ My people¡¯s custom requires me to challenge the head of her household¡­ you¡­¡±

    His tone is so matter of fact that it actually takes me several seconds to parse the meaning being conveyed. When I do, my jaw hits the floor!

    The murmuring has become a dull roar as people react to the bombshell he just dropped!

    He doesn¡¯t look at me, instead focusing on my mother.

    She looks back at him, appraisingly, for some moments before turning to me and asking ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± under her breath.

    I look from her to the man I¡¯ve pined for for as long as I can remember.

    The single, whispered word that comes out of my mouth is the greatest request I¡¯ve ever made of anyone ¡°Lose¡­¡±

    She nods as if I haven¡¯t just asked her to humiliate herself in front of her entire congregation, stands and says ¡°I accept your challenge, Vol¡­ Let us fight now!¡±

    ¡°DonAu entitles you to a preparation period of¡­¡±

    ¡°An entitlement¡­ I am waiving, Vol!¡­ We fight now!¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± he says, courteously.

    My mum stands, rounds the table and squares up against the blue skinned man who makes her look like a regular sized woman by forced perspective!

    ¡°¨¢ssi, would you count us in?¡± asks my mum.

    Flustered, I stand, raise my hand and shout ¡°F-four!¡­ Three!¡­ Two!¡­ One!¡­ B-begin!¡±

    Vol throws a lightning fast punch at my mum¡¯s stomach.

    He may have bruiser strength (for a Don) but she barely reacts!

    Nonetheless, her right hand instantly flies above her head.

    ¡°I yield! Victory is yours!¡±

    Taken aback, my fianc¨¦ has his hand grasped by my mother and raised above her head as she turns to the hall and proclaims ¡°Welcome my future son-in-law, everyone!¡±

    A cheer erupts, as he remains baffled looking.

    ---2714 Terran Calendar/11 months AF---

    I look out of the window in my husband and I¡¯s home.

    I see him stood in our garden, head turned up, standing stock still, just beyond the twilight field barrier.

    I don¡¯t have to guess where he¡¯s looking.

    I begin walking to him, stopping to give our daughter (currently looking like a prop from a mad scientist¡¯s lab(!)) a pat to the top of the artificial womb we rented to grow her in, as I do.

    I step through the doorway.

    My footsteps crunch through the refrozen crust on the snow, as I walk.

    ¡°Let me guess¡­¡± I smirk, wryly, coming up behind him, my eyes level with the small of his back ¡°¡­you¡¯re piloting a starfighter, alone¡­ You warp into the system, you¡¯re immediately confronted by an overwhelming system defence force who ask you to identify yourself. You respond ¡®It¡¯s not me you need to worry about¡­ It¡¯s what¡¯s coming with me¡­¡¯¡± doing my best Vol impression, with a deep voice and no emotion, as if I¡¯m simply too cool to care ¡°¡­They worriedly ask ¡®What¡¯s coming with you?¡¯ and you smirk ¡®Hell!¡¯ as the combined forces of 531 Terran planets warp into system, at your back, and begin handily taking apart the, now totally outmatched, local defence! In a matter of hours, the Clans have all transmitted their surrender and you get to set foot on DonOlu, for the first time in decades, not as a banished Prince, not as a criminal, but as DonOlu¡¯s first Emperor! Vol, Emperor of the Don!¡­ Am I right?¡­ Is that what you¡¯re imagining, right now?¡±

    He allows himself a slightly hard nasal exhale (the closest he typically gets to laughing) and replies ¡°Sure¡­ something like that.¡± cryptically.

    ¡°And¡­ I suppose, the fact that, even if you were a perfect Ruler, you¡¯d still be resented by half of the People, that, with your foreign accent, foreign wife, foreign child, foreign education and foreign upbringing you¡¯d be seen as a puppet and a traitor, that your descendants could then have having their family delivered to rulership held over their heads forever, thus, effectively turning DonOlu into a UTC vassal, the fact that it would set a precedent that any disaffected royal can come to the UTC to ask to be restored to their thrones and most of the galaxy¡¯s ousted Rulers will not be anywhere near the honourable man that you are¡­ I¡¯d guess these facts don¡¯t feature?¡±

    ¡°You would guess correctly.¡± he says, flatly.

    ¡°You know¡­ a girl could get jealous(!)¡­ Come to believe that her man loves that little red dot more than her(!) Come to believe that, after he becomes an Emperor she might just end up one of his vast harem(!) That these lines wouldn¡¯t mark me as your woman anymore, instead just one of your women¡­(!)¡± I say, gesturing to the tattoos I got the day we married.

    He turns to me, the subtlest of anguished expressions painting his face ¡°¨¢str¨ªer¡­ You know I would never¡­¡±

    ¡°Relax, grumpy! I was only teasing!¡±

    A tiny smile touches the edges of his mouth.

    ¡°I¡¯m aware¡­ that it isn¡¯t healthy to obsess like this¡­ that the chances of me taking back my bloodright (let alone changing the culture of 3 billion Don) are so low that it would be healthier to just forget about it¡­ but¡­ It¡¯s right there! With an FTL capable ship, I could be there in less than an hour¡­¡±

    ¡°You could¡­ and you¡¯d be shot down, immediately, making an orphan of your daughter and a widow of your wife¡­ Or they¡¯d let you land¡­ then arrest you¡­ maybe you¡¯d be executed¡­ maybe they¡¯d keep you as a political prisoner. In no circumstance are you allowed to return here and they will never, in a million years, allow you to address the public to try to convince them that DonOlu should be reopened, because they have no interest in it being reopened!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ all true¡­ that¡¯s why I¡¯m standing here and not in the process of procuring a ship, right now.¡±

    Wrapping my arms around his waste and poking my head between his hands and side, I suggest ¡°Maybe we should move? Another planet? One far enough away that you wouldn¡¯t be able to see your birth system? Maybe we could try moving to Earth?¡±

    ¡°And what would I tell my people? That I¡¯m sorry, I know that they¡¯ve all spent two decades putting down roots on this planet, built homes, struck agreements, joined communities etc. but now we all need to upsticks and move to a world thousands of lightyears away because looking at our home is making me sad? They would laugh at me. My credibility as their Ruler would be destroyed.¡±

    ¡°Would that¡­ be such a bad thing?¡±

    His body stiffens ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I mean¡­¡± I take a deep breath ¡°¡­remember those times I came to visit you at uni? Remember the enormous smile you had on your face when you were explaining the intricacies of the Terran Unification Agreement to me? The Stateser Independence War? The Trial of King Charles I? The Fall of the Roman Republic?¡±

    He nods ¡°I remember.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you smile like that when being in King mode¡­ not once¡­ not ever.¡±

    ¡°And?¡± he asks, curiously.

    ¡°Perhaps¡­ you¡¯d be more content as a professor of politics? Perhaps, you could step away from leadership and try something that might make you happier? You could go back to school and do a postgrad? I¡¯m fairly sure that any university in Terran Space would jump at the chance to snap up a political theory lecturer who is, himself, xeno royalty! Even the ones without a humanities department would find that such an attractive prospect that they¡¯d create one, just for you(!)¡± I say, already knowing what his answer will be.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do that, ¨¢str¨ªer. I can¡¯t just abdicate from who I am¡­ from my duty. My people would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself.¡± he answers without hesitation.

    I sigh ¡°I know, VoVo¡­ I know. I just¡­ I wish you could get to be the happy person you are with me, all the time, you know?¡±

    He nods ¡°I know you do¡­ I wish for that too. I¡¯m sorry things can¡¯t be that way.¡±

    I remember the boy he was before his parents left and never came back¡­ I remember the expressive face he used to have before he had the weight of the world thrust onto his shoulders, I remember his loud voice, I remember, when I was 8 and he was 9, climbing the tallest tree in the forest with him, while our parents negotiated treaties together, I remember, while we sat at the top of that tree, him boldly asserting that, when we grew up, he would take me back to his planet and make me his wife, I remember giving up hope that either part of that promise would ever be fulfilled¡­ and I remember our wedding night¡­ I remember realising that that brash, emotional, little boy hadn¡¯t died with his parents¡¯ death¡­ that he was still in there and that I¡¯m the only one he¡¯s willing to come out for and show himself to!

    ---Vol¡¯s perspective---

    My wife steps out from under my left arms and turns her body, bringing her face up to look into mine.

    She holds her hands upward, to me.

    By the Father, she warms my heart.

    I hug her platinum-dense, little, deathworld body close and, heaving with an effort I try not to show, lift her the metre or so that separates her face from mine.

    I feel the heat of her foggy breath as it hits my face.

    She smiles at me. I do my best to return it¡­ to show her the joy she makes me feel.

    We press our lips together, she brings her arms around the back of my neck, my lower two arms wrap around her lower back, my upper right across her shoulderblades and my upper left hand at the back of her head as her feet dangle beside my thighs.

    More than anyone else in the Father¡¯s Dominion, this woman makes me feel like myself.

    She¡¯s right that if I forsook rulership, ran off to be an academic, on a planet far, far away and never thought about my birthworld ever again, I would almost certainly have a much more fulfilling life¡­ if I were able to do that, that is.

    She¡¯s right that, if I were to have rulership of my Clan proper, on DonOlu, that would be more than ¡Á50,000 the responsibility of ruling over the 259 of them on Fennoscandia (plus the 67 refugees from other Clans that found their way here).

    If I were to, as she suggested, make myself Emperor of the entire planet, it would be nearly ¡Á10,000,000 the responsibility.

    Advocating for 326 of my people, representing them, guiding them, protecting them¡­ It¡¯s a job I do out of duty, not desire.

    I¡¯m certain that making myself an Emperor would make me the most miserable man in the galaxy, even if it were everything I hoped for.

    A Ruler must be selfless, a Ruler must be wise, a Ruler must be patient.

    Ruling as many as I do already makes me feel that my patience and wisdom are in short supply¡­ that I don¡¯t have enough of myself to be giving away¡­ imagine if I ruled so many that I didn¡¯t have time to have an open door ¡®any time you want to chat¡¯ policy.

    This woman¡­ she makes me feel that it¡¯s OK to be selfish¡­ she replenishes me¡­ without her, I would never be able to keep going.

    She makes me feel that she loves me¡­ wholly and completely.

    There were girls at school, girls at university, who were clearly interested (I realise I¡¯m not bad looking by either Human or Don standards) but none of them made me feel like they were interested in me; they were interested in the fact that I am a nonTerran, the fact that I was a ¡®Prince¡¯, my four arms (which Humans find strangely exciting), my height, my looks¡­ None of them made me feel that they would have been interested in me if I were a plain looking, 188cm, Terran boy with two arms and an unremarkable bloodline.

    Of course¡­ none of them were her¡­ which may have had a little more to do with why I never accepted any of their advances.

    I¡¯ve known that I didn¡¯t want anyone but her since I was a child.

    When my people tried to push me into marrying one of the local Don women, the moment I crossed the Fennoscandian marriage age, was the one and only time in my rulership that my answer has ever been a flat ¡®No¡¯ as opposed to an ¡®I¡¯ll consider it¡¯ or ¡®I¡¯ll take it under advisement¡¯.

    I made very clear that if they made me choose between the woman I love and the job I hate my answer would not be one that they liked (though my phrasing was a little subtler).

    I don¡¯t know what I would have done if, when I marched into her mothers¡¯ hall and challenged Katr¨ªn, she had said ¡®I¡¯m sorry Vol, I got bored of waiting for you and moved on!¡¯

    Well, that was why I challenged her mother Katr¨ªn and not her mother Heidi or her brother Magn¨²s.

    Katr¨ªn is the only one of the three who would have been capable of defeating me in a fight. I would not have won that had she not let me win¡­ I knew she wouldn¡¯t have decided for her daughter, therefore, challenging her was the only way to both satisfy my people¡¯s customs and give ¨¢str¨ªer a polite way of saying ¡®no¡¯¡­ all she would have had to do was tell her mother to defeat me resoundingly.

    I didn¡¯t expect her to let me win quite the way that she did, though¡­ I thought she¡¯d at least put on a bit of a show, but still¡­ at least it let me know that ¨¢str¨ªer never stopped wanting me¡­ I hate to think of the bitter man I would have likely become, had that not been the case.

    Of course the existence of Magn¨²s Heidiarson is what meant that challenging the family to Uluanvo¡¯al Tan was necessary at all! Had she not had a brother then ¨¢str¨ªer Katr¨ªnard¨®ttir would have been considered to be part of an ¡®undefended¡¯ household¡­ I would have been free to approach making her my wife in whatever way I pleased! A calm discussion, getting down on one knee, throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her to a temple (though that latter would only have been acceptable by Don custom¡­ I¡¯m fairly certain that the Fennoscandian authorities would not have considered such a marriage to be valid(!))

    A lot of my community voiced the thought that an Uluanvo¡¯al Tan fought against a woman was not legitimate. My elder sister shut them up by inviting them to challenge Katr¨ªn themselves if they thought it would be so easy(!)

    Of course, Magn¨²s nonchalantly let it be known that, if I had challenged him, he would have yielded without allowing me to strike him (something a Don man would have never admitted to) since he knows a) how I feel about his sister b) how his sister feels about me and c) how likely he would be to be able to beat me in a fight.

    I¡¯m glad of that boy.

    I¡¯m glad of Katr¨ªn.

    I¡¯m glad of Heidi.

    They so easily could have refused to take me and my sisters in.

    They so easily could have made growing up a miserable experience, for us.

    They so easily might have insisted that I refer to them as my ¡®Mothers and Brother¡¯ the way that Tunie does. They didn¡¯t¡­ they made very clear that I was welcome as family, no debts were incurred, no payment expected nor wanted and that whatever I was comfortable with calling them, that¡¯s what I was to call them.

    I¡¯m even glad of little Helga, though she was so young when Baasa, Tunie and I became part of the family that getting her to think of us as anything but her brother and sisters was a losing proposition.

    She was always a little bundle of joyful acceptance.

    The one I¡¯m most glad of, most grateful for, however¡­ is the woman in my arms. The childhood friend who never gave up on me, no matter how much I pushed her away in the years after I became an orphan.

    After how much cause I gave her, it¡¯s a miracle that she never ceased to be my friend!

    The love of my life breaks from our kiss and beams ¡°Alright, VoVo¡­ How about we go inside and you get a bit spoiled?¡±

    --- ¨¢str¨ªer¡¯s perspective---

    He doesn¡¯t put me down, instead carrying me like a babe, as he strides back to our home.

    I hug his upper body, tightly, and watch the slope recede away over his shoulder.

    The door seals behind him and I feel the change in momentum from him hitting the bottom of the stairs and beginning to climb.

    We pass the room with our daughter¡¯s tube in, as he makes his way to our bedroom.

    We enter the master-bedroom which takes up the entirety of the top floor of the palace that my Prince inherited from his parents.

    A 360¡ã panorama of windows surrounds us on all sides.

    Fortunately, I know, the glass is only transparent looking out, and is completely opaque, looking in. Fortunate as, if that weren¡¯t the case, all the Don in DonKhoru could look up and see the man they recognise as their Ruler slam his wife against the window while kissing her passionately!

    All of the greediness, neediness, selfishness, that he doesn¡¯t get to express as ¡®Vol, son of Vuun, son of Tuls, rightful Ruler of Clan Oria¡¯ he expresses with me and me alone¡­ and I love it!

    I love the greedy, little monster who sees something he wants¡­ and simply takes it!

    Making sublime use of his hexapodality, the man raises my arms over my head, pinning them there with his upper arms, while his lower two reach to my shirt and rip it open!

    I give a sensual gasp in response.

    By Oei-by the Father, this man is perfect!

    Tall, handsome, strong, refined, polite, well mannered, handsome, intelligent, oh and the things having an extra set of arms allows¡­ and did I mention how handsome he is? Because, fuck is he handsome!

    And yet¡­ when we¡¯re alone, he¡¯s able to be the greedy child he hasn¡¯t got to be since he was 10 years old! Treating my body like a toy to be played with!

    Fuck it turns me on!!!

    He brings his mouth level with my eyes and gives a sinister grin, baring his fangs.

    ¡°I want your mouth, ¨¢ssi!¡± he states with gleeful greed.

    ¡°My mouth, along with the rest of me, is already yours, VoVo. Take it.¡± I smile.

    He stands back up and unfastens his britches, exposing the most perfect cock in the Father¡¯s Dominion!

    I mean¡­ not that I have a wealth of experience but¡­ I don¡¯t need to have ever slept with another man to know that the cock I¡¯m currently opening my mouth for is the best¡­ All other cocks are inferior to this one, by dint of not being attached to the perfect man!

    That was something that all the men who ever sent me unsolicited dick-pics failed to realise: There¡¯s never going to be anything so special about your dick that it will make a woman want you! There could, however, be something special enough about you to make a woman want your dick!

    As I fellate my Prince, standing straight up, sandwiched between him and the window, he slides a hand behind the back of my head and begins fucking my oesophagus, his hand cushioning my skull from knocking against the glass.

    I choke and moan as the perfect cock is pushed repeatedly down my throat, making squelching noises that, in any other context, would sound disgusting rather than exciting!

    Without warning, he ceases using my mouth and lifts me back into the air.

    He carries me from the window to the bed. I can guess that he didn¡¯t want to waste his orgasm on my mouth and, so, is giving himself some time to cool off.

    He yanks off my boots and tosses them away to clatter to the floor.

    My britches are the next to go.

    He takes a moment to look down on my, now mostly nude, body.

    The only parts of my outfit that are Terran style (as opposed to Don style) are my bra and panties. Don underwear is neither simple to put on nor comfortable to wear, in my experience.

    He tells me that he finds Terran underwear much sexier, anyway.

    The only reason I dress in Don style clothes, is for appearances¡¯ sake¡­ that¡­ and Don outerwear is rather stylish!

    My beautiful childhood friend-cum-stepbrother-cum-husband-cum-King sheds his top layer, revealing his muscular chest and tattoos of rulership.

    It was extremely weird to see Tunie¡¯s man shirtless, earlier!

    I¡¯ve seen so few real life shirtless Human men in my life (and precisely none with muscles like that) that I kind of forgot that our muscles don¡¯t sit the same way as Dons'' do!

    Being so familiar with what VoVo looks like, shirtless, Victor¡¯s chest looked, kind of¡­ weird¡­ Not ugly, exactly, just offputtingly unfamiliar¡­ which is a strange thing to have to say about your own species¡¯ physiology!

    His lowers come completely off and there stands the most wonderful 282cm of midnight blue adonis that exist!

    I love his sexy body, I love his handsome face, I love his selfless, noble mind¡­ I love him¡­ every part of him!

    ---Vol¡¯s perspective---

    As my lower hands pass between my uppers, sliding off her Terran panties and grasping her ankles respectively, I admire the pale skinned woman, black lines tattooed across her body, marking her as my wife.

    She is the only one in all Dominion for me!

    No matter how much social pressure is placed on me I will never take a second!

    She reaches underneath herself to release the catch on her bra which she throws off, leaving both of us entirely nude.

    I lean over her and, with my upper hands, I grasp her wrists, pulling her arms out at 45¡ã angles to her sides. I place my lower hands at the insides of her thighs and push her legs apart.

    I bring my face close enough to her womanhood that she will feel my breath on it and look up to see her nervous face, on the far side of her heaving chest.

    I bare my teeth and let my tongue loll from my mouth.

    She takes a frightened, shuddering breath and I feel her pulse soar.

    That¡¯s right ¨¢ssi¡­ both of our species are omnivores¡­ but where yours is descended from frugivores¡­ mine came to omnivory after a, 40 million year long, stint as obligate carnivores!

    You are married to a predatory beast(!)¡­ A beast who has identified his next prey(!)

    I plunge my long tongue into the woman I¡¯m restraining with my hands, pressing my lips against hers and using them to make her moan, pant, squeak and gasp.

    Many of the older generation of my Clan (if they found the stomach to speak of it at all) would say it was ¡®unmanly¡¯ to pleasure your woman this way.

    That to service her, without being directly served yourself, was an act of subordination!

    Those old fogies can get fucked!

    ¨¢ssi once asked me ¡®What¡¯s the one correct answer to the question; how much pussy does a King eat?¡¯ before answering for me ¡®As much as he wants!¡¯

    And this ¡®King¡¯ likes eating pussy!

    I like the way she tastes, I like her smell filling my nostrils, I like the way she feels against my lips and tongue, I like the way her body tenses and relaxes, involuntarily, as I pleasure her, I love the noises she makes as my long tongue coils and uncoils inside her!

    Most of all though, I love knowing that she is in pleasure and I put her there!

    With how much I enjoy giving her oral, it still counts as me ¡®getting spoiled¡¯.

    Her body seizes and she makes an unmistakeable *hnnggh* noise.

    I pull my tongue from her with a wet sound.

    I stand up and grasp the edge of the blanket, rolling her off of it onto the mattress, causing a little yelp.

    Swinging the blanket over my head to drape it, cape like, around my shoulders, I mount the bed and bear down on my wife.

    As I do, she scoots herself up the bed until her head rests at the pillows and her feet halfway down its length.

    I drape the cover over both of us and look down at the erotically smiling woman.

    I plant my upper hands above her shoulders, bearing my weight with them, and lean down to kiss her, passionately, allowing each of us to taste ourselves on the other¡¯s mouth as my lower hands stroke up, from her outer thighs, along the sides of her trunk, to massage her breasts.

    Her two, pentadactyl hands, in turn, reach up to run along my sides, her fingers tickling pleasantly as she traces them across my ribs.

    I pull my lips from hers and we lock eyes.

    I reach down with my lower left hand and grasp my shaft.

    I use the back of my knuckles, against the inside of her leg, to guide myself towards her opening.

    She¡¯s so much smaller than me that my head has to pass well above hers in order for me to feel my tip against her lips. I need to curl my spine in order to avoid hitting my head against the headboard.

    I look down into her upturned face and enjoy her mouth opening, her eyes widening and her breath hitching in a shuddering gasp as I slide myself in.

    I start thrusting in and out of her, slowly at first but steadily picking up speed.

    She bites her lip as I fuck her and makes delightful little *mmm**mmm**mmm* noises.

    I grip her shoulders with my upper hands and bring my lowers to the sides of her face.

    ¡°I LOVE you!¡± I say with fierceness I only feel able to express in this room.

    ¡°I¡­*huh*¡­ love¡­*huh*¡­ you¡­*huh*¡­ too¡­*huh*¡­ VoVo!¡± she pants.

    ¡°You¡¯re the only woman for me!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­*huh*¡­ the¡­*huh*¡­ only¡­*huh*¡­ man¡­*huh*¡­ for¡­*huh*¡­ me!¡­*huh*¡­ None¡­*huh*¡­ before¡­*huh*¡­ none¡­*huh*¡­ after¡­*huh*¡­ definitely¡­*huh*¡­ none¡­*huh*¡­ during!¡±

    ¡°I Love you!¡±

    ¡°I¡­*huh*¡­ love¡­*huh*¡­ you!¡±

    ¡°I Love you!¡±

    ¡°I love¡­*huh*¡­ you!¡±

    ¡°I Love you!¡±

    ¡°I¡­*huh*¡­ love you!¡±

    ¡°I Love you!¡±

    ¡°I¡­*huh*¡­ love¡­*huh*¡­ you!¡±

    ¡°I love YOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUU!¡± I proclaim, climaxing inside the perfect woman.

    My orgasm appears to make her cum as well.

    --- ¨¢str¨ªer¡¯s perspective---

    We¡¯ve cleaned ourselves up and now are simply lying in bed, cuddling.

    VoVo clings me to his chest the way a scared child might cling to a stuffed bear.

    ¡°Sooo¡­ has DonOlu been spared being burnt down so you can finally feel it¡¯s warmth for another day(?)¡± I tease.

    Eyes closed, he puffs through his nose and smiles ¡°They¡¯d probably create a festival in your honour if they knew that the only thing keeping me from convincing the UTC to let me pull a Commodore Perry on their arses was your magic pussy(!)¡±

    I giggle at that.

    This is the real Vol, with me in this bedroom, now.

    This is the man that grew up from that boy I used to climb trees with.

    The po-faced, monotone man that never has an opinionated word to say about anyone or anything, lest someone take offence, is a mask that this man doesn¡¯t feel safe to be seen without, by anyone¡­ except me.

    The result of not feeling allowed to be himself, since he was 10.

    Of course, my mums tried to give him everything he would have had from his parents but it was clear he didn¡¯t feel able to be a child, from that day to our wedding night.

    Four years since we touched like this for the first time. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever get tired of it.

    I hope this is how Tunie¡¯s man makes her feel.

    I can¡¯t wait for Liv¡¯s tube to tell us she¡¯s ready to be born.

    I can¡¯t wait for us to have a baby to whom to give the childhood that Vol had cut short.

    The shift in my husband¡¯s breathing and the slackening of his grip, around me, let me know he¡¯s drifted off.

    I pat his muscular back and whisper ¡°Sleep well, my King, my Husband, my VoVo¡­ Your wife will still be here, in your arms, when you wake up¡­ then you and she will go downstairs¡­ and she''ll cook you pancakes.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.53

    ---Evil---

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s Perspective---

    ¡°So, Victor¡­¡± I smile at the brightly shining man who¡¯s looking out of my office¡¯s window at the swirling clouds of interstellar haze with a contemplative expression ¡°¡­did you enjoy the time you spent with Tuun¡¯s family?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± he states, swivelling his head away from the window without moving the rest of his body ¡°Definitely pretty tired, with how packed with activities it was, but I had the absolute time of my life!: Performed, for a straight thirty minutes, for a hall full of people and got some genuine sounding compliments on it, played the grandfather of England¡¯s first King, in a reenactment, helped a baby troll out of a¡­ ravine?¡­ crevasse?¡­ some sort of V-shaped, geographic feature that was too small for me to call it a ¡®gorge¡¯¡­ got on the local news, went to the Don reservation (saw a kilometre wide field! 600m tall, at least!), fought single combat with Tuun¡¯s brother¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry? Could I ask you to elaborate on that last one?¡± I say, more alarmed than I allow myself to sound.

    He gives an amused smile and answers ¡°It¡¯s a tradition for Don¡­ They¡¯re patriarchal, like Humans used to be, so they¡¯ve got this conception of any woman as being ¡®defended¡¯ by the male head of her household¡­ It makes a little more sense when you see male and female Don, side by side. Their sexual dimorphism¡¯s a bit more pronounced than in Humans¡­ Though the men ain¡¯t anywhere near as much bigger an¡¯ stronger than the women as your species¡¯ women are than your men(!)¡­ It sorta makes sense that this tradition would exist¡­ Like, fathers wouldn¡¯t wanna give their daughters to guys that couldn¡¯t defend ¡¯em¡­ Does seem a bit antiquated, to me, though¡­ like¡­ sorta seems like a hang up from a time when the state didn¡¯t function well enough for folk to rely on it for law enforcement¡­ Anyway, Tuun¡¯s brother an¡¯ me was talkin¡¯ at the feast, he¡¯s a bit deadpan, and don¡¯t say much, but seems like a decent bloke. He brought it up and let me know that, while he personally didn¡¯t mind, I¡¯d need to do this combat ritual if I wanted his community to accept me bein¡¯ with Tuun. So¡­ yeah¡­ I did it¡­ fought a King in exile¡­ in single combat!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I say, not quite sure how to respond to that ¡°¡­that¡¯s¡­ certainly¡­ something(!)¡±

    Silently, he gives a nod, lip curled in a mirthful smirk of ¡®something indeed(!)¡¯

    ¡°So¡­ I assume you won?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I won¡­ though, there was this one guy who weren¡¯t happy¡­ said Tuun¡¯s brother gave up too easily! Her big sis put him in his place, though! Fuckin¡¯ hilarious seein¡¯ him get chided like that!!!¡± he smiles.

    ¡°And did anything else noteworthy happen while you were on that planet?¡±

    I see his eyes shift focus and can tell they¡¯re not fixed on anything in the room but, rather, something his mind is showing him.

    A warm smile breaks over his bright hot face.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I can¡¯t tell you about it, though¡­ I promised I¡¯d keep it secret and didn¡¯t wanna ask ¡®can I tell my therapist about this?¡¯, for a few different reasons¡­ Tuun¡¯s brother and sister (who are married to eachother but, before you ask, they¡¯re different species and not legally siblin¡¯s)¡­ they¡­ well¡­ they showed us something incredible¡­ It was¡­ just about the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen¡­ only vyin¡¯ with Tuun herself for the top spot¡­ It gave me¡­ this like¡­. euphoria!¡±

    I think I might be able to guess what this secret is¡­ as part of an interspecies union myself, I can well imagine the feeling!

    Rather than voicing my supposition, I say ¡°It sounds like this secret, whatever it is, affected you greatly!¡±

    ¡°It did!¡± he confirms, happily.

    ¡°Would you like to talk more about it?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°Can¡¯t really say anythin¡¯ more¡­ don¡¯t trust myself not to accidentally let the cat outta the bag(!)¡­ You met the new crew?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Bj?rn ¡®Mimir¡¯ T¨²puson and Lilith ¡®Unicorn¡¯ Morningstar? I¡¯ve seen their files but we haven¡¯t been introduced. Have you met them?¡±

    He nods ¡°They¡¯re good folk¡­ Bj?rn¡¯s actually one of Katr¨ªn¡¯s congregants! He also had her as a lecturer, WAY back in the day¡­ decades before the War.¡±

    ¡°Katr¨ªn?¡±

    He shuts his eyes and briefly brings his palm to his forehead seeming to be mildly exasperated with himself ¡°One of Tuun¡¯s mums¡­ thought I¡¯d mentioned her to you. The other one¡¯s Heidi.¡±

    I give a reassuring smile ¡°You¡¯ve definitely mentioned both of Tuun¡¯s mums before but I don¡¯t recall you ever having mentioned their names. No matter, though, I know now.¡±

    He gives an appreciative nod, followed by a few moments of conversational lull.

    ¡°So¡­ Victor, do you remember what we talked about in our last session?¡± I ask, careful to make sure my tone suggests I¡¯d be happy to remind him and not that I think he needs to be reminded (and certainly not that I need to be reminded!)

    He nods and begins recapping without my having to prompt ¡°We were talkin¡¯ ¡¯bout my sense of self-worth, I said havin¡¯ Tuun say she loved me for the first time was the proudest I¡¯ve ever been of myself, you asked me to come up with somethin¡¯ else I was proud of myself for, as homework.¡±

    I smile and give him some praise ¡°Well done Victor! So, have you come up with anything?¡±

    Asking after a client¡¯s homework is always one of the most tricky times to manage your tone. It¡¯s absolutely imperative that you don¡¯t imply, for even an instant, that you¡¯ll be angry or upset with them, if they haven¡¯t done their homework.

    Few things make a Human more uneasy than facing up to an uncompleted assignment!

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°I have.¡± he smiles ¡°I, Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor, am the pilot of the official, ODR endorsed, Terran Security Officer programme!¡±

    ¡°And what makes that something you¡¯re proud of?¡± I ask, sweetly.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he responds ¡°¡­I never really expected to amount to much¡­ I planned to sign up as a soldier, when I turned old enough¡­ NO shade to soldiers but¡­ it ain¡¯t exactly somethin¡¯ I planned to do ¡¯cause I were, like, passionate about it! More like something I planned to do ¡¯cause I couldn¡¯t think what else to do with myself! I know, when we had our first session, I described becomin¡¯ the first Official SO as ¡®dumb luck¡¯ but I¡¯ve been thinkin¡¯ ¡¯bout it, since, and I definitely still think runnin¡¯ into Tcakqaal while she were lookin¡¯ for someone like me and gettin¡¯ mugged were dumb luck¡­ but I¡¯ve had a bit of an attitude shift about everythin¡¯ after that.¡±

    He pauses for a moment so I prompt ¡°What has your attitude shifted to?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I always thought that surely, if I could do the SO course, anyone could!¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t think that anymore?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°I don¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°And why is that?¡± I ask, curiously.

    ¡°I just had a bit of a think about the amount of work I had to do! It¡¯s easy to forget but¡­ there were a million times on that course that I almost chucked in the towel and said it weren¡¯t for me! I don¡¯t think I¡¯d¡¯ve been able to stick it out if I weren¡¯t motivated!¡±

    ¡°And you were motivated?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yep!¡± he responds with conviction.

    ¡°What would you say motivated you, Victor? What gave you the drive to persevere through those moments?¡± I say, tenting my manipulator digits and leaning forward.

    ¡°That¡­¡± he says, matching my lean ¡°¡­ would be ¡¯cause I finally had somethin¡¯ to aspire to that weren¡¯t¡­¡± he raises a hand ¡°¡­HUMAN. SUPERSOLDIER(!)¡± he says gesturing through the air, with mock grandiosity, to an imaginary title.

    I give a little chuckle and ask ¡°You felt pigeon-holed? That being a Human cut down the things you felt allowed to aspire to be?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ like, you gotta remember I was born durin¡¯ the War. By the time I was 10, Humanity had known we were Space Orcs for 15 years and people just weren¡¯t bored of it yet!¡±

    ¡°But you were?¡±

    He thinks for a moment before he leans back in his chair and answers ¡°I was, yeah¡­ Just, like, people conflated us bein¡¯ stronger than just about anyone else with us bein¡¯ wholly better, you know!? It was borin¡¯, to me!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think your species is better than any others?¡± I ask, inquisitively.

    His mouth twists as he considers the question.

    ¡°Nature don¡¯t really do ¡®better¡¯¡­ in the sense that evolution don¡¯t inherently value strength, toughness, vigour or nothin¡¯, if they don¡¯t actually help you survive! Like, the reason Neanderthals don¡¯t default to lookin¡¯ like Thran and Sapiens don¡¯t default to lookin¡¯ like this¡­¡± he gestures to himself ¡°¡­is cause it ain¡¯t efficient!¡­ I gotta eat 5,000kcal a day to maintain this! Thran¡¯s more like 8,000kcal! We¡¯d be the first to starve, in a famine! Don¡¯t matter that we¡¯ve got more strength to get food if there ain¡¯t food to get!¡­ Even intelligence ain¡¯t somethin¡¯ inherently valuable (which should be obvious from how rare it is!) All these things only have the value we give ¡¯em, if they don¡¯t actively help us survive. Being made of the sturdiest stuff of any Sapient don¡¯t make us any better than anyone else¡­ I mean, as much as a person from a Class 4 would die, very quickly, if you left ¡¯em alone on a planet like Earth¡­ a Human would die, on a Class 4, ¡¯cause none of the food¡¯d be worth the calories it¡¯d cost to chew! We¡¯d starve!¡­ We spent 700 years lookin¡¯ for E.T., all the time imaginin¡¯ we¡¯d be more or less at the top of the bell curve¡­ average, in all things¡­ never realisin¡¯ that we were so far up the long tail that we broke the classification system! We never imagined that the hump of the bell curve actually sat around high Class 5, that there¡¯d be such a massive gulf between us and those from the next most hazardous world, that the planets we¡¯d gone too and said ¡®Sapience couldn¡¯t possibly evolve here! What problems are there, here, that it¡¯d be needed to solve?¡¯ were planets that the rest of the galaxy would¡¯ve considered ¡®adversarial to sapience¡¯!¡­ Growin¡¯ up, I wanted to go starbound but¡­ from the way everyone talked (both the kids I went to school with and any gardenworlders I found talkin¡¯ about us, on the net) it was clear that what we were valued for weren¡¯t anythin¡¯ more than bein¡¯ strong¡­ bein¡¯ tough¡­¡±

    He trails off here so I prompt ¡°And Tcakqaal made you feel that she would prize you for more than those attributes?¡±

    ¡°She did!¡± he says, emphatically ¡°Like, after I chased off the kids trynna mug her, she lead me back to this skypiercer, in Westminster, and introduced me to THE Jeanne ¡®Blitz¡¯ Miyazaki and her husband (I was defo starstruck!) They explained that they needed a Human ¡¯cause Human¡¯s brains are hardwired to be good at spottin¡¯ threats¡­ It was like an epiphany!¡­ I could go starbound without bein¡¯ a mercenary or assassin or nothin¡¯! There was another niche for me! Somethin¡¯ else that comin¡¯ from a deathworld had equipped me for, equipped all Humans for! We could be somethin¡¯ other than supersoldiers! We could be health and safety officers! We could give other species the benefit of bein¡¯ the product of an accidental 3 billion year long Viltrumite, eugenics experiment! I¡¯m proud of that!¡±

    ¡°Viltrumite?¡± I query.

    ¡°They¡¯re like¡­ evil Kryptonians¡­ You know Kryptonians? Superman¡¯s species?¡±

    ¡°I know Kryptonians. Is there a reason you compared your species to Viltrumites and not Kryptonians?¡± I ask, my tone quizzical.

    ¡°Well¡­ I guess¡­ ¡¯cause, on Krypton, Kryptonians are just normal¡­ I¡¯m mean they¡¯re just like Humans back when we thought ¡®Human¡¯ was a synonym of ¡®average¡¯¡­ it¡¯s only bein¡¯ on a planet with a yellow sun that turns Kal El into Superman¡­ Viltrumites are the way they are, all the time!¡±

    ¡°But aren¡¯t Humans ¡®just normal¡¯, on Earth?¡± I enquire.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ but that¡¯s different¡­ it¡¯s the context of bein¡¯ surrounded by others like us, on a world that produced us, that makes us ¡®just normal¡¯¡­ it ain¡¯t like Kryptonians, who are physiologically changed by the difference between their sun and ours!¡±

    ¡°So you think Viltrumites are a better fit because they¡¯re always on? They¡¯re the deathworlders that deathworlders imagined, wherever they happen to be?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ guess so?¡± he answers, uncertainly.

    ¡°And it has nothing to do with them being, as you put it, ¡®evil¡¯¡­?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°Nah¡­ I mean, I sorta oversimplified¡­ there¡¯re good Viltrumites¡­ and it ain¡¯t like Kryptonians are entirely ¡®good¡¯¡­ one of Superman¡¯s main enemies is an evil general who survived Krypton¡¯s destruction by bein¡¯ banished for his crimes!¡±

    ¡°So both Kryptonians and Viltrumites are¡­ people? Complicated, messy, impossible to holistically define as good or evil?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Like Humans¡­?¡±

    He hesitates for a while before confirming ¡°Like Humans¡­ yes¡­¡±

    I nod, satisfied.

    Of course, I heavily identify with the feelings he¡¯s describing, since I spent the first 3 centuries of my life in the same position. Spelvuk were the Humans before Humans came along, the biggest and scariest monsters, from a Class 9.9 (which only wasn¡¯t a 10 because that would have made it a deathworld and sapients ¡®don¡¯t evolve on deathworlds¡¯(!))

    Our situations aren¡¯t exactly 1:1. Spelva¡¯s First Contact was thousands of years before I was born meaning that, by my time, our status as the galaxy''s highest classification sapients was quite a culturally settled idea. There wasn¡¯t the excitement I¡¯m sure there was in the few generations after Contact.

    I didn¡¯t truly wish to be a soldier any more than he did but I simply accepted that that was my lot.

    It wasn¡¯t until after the War, in that POW camp, that the wish to be something other than a fighter reasserted itself¡­ thanks to the species of the man sitting opposite me.

    I consider relaying all that to him, telling him how similar we are¡­ but I rule against it.

    Therapy isn¡¯t about you¡­ it¡¯s about your client, Alchyinad ¡®Dimitrescu¡¯ Fischer! Focus on him!

    ¡°Alright, Victor¡­ how about you tell me about some of your proudest moments from your career?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.54

    ---Homebrew---

    Victor leans forward, hand on his [swordcane] and dressed in clothes that were in fashion in his country [8] or [9 centuries] ago. He strokes a thumb and forefinger over the side of the [moustache] he¡¯s been growing, since we left Fennoscandia, and says ¡°My good man¡­ I do believe that what you¡¯ve just said is an anachronism¡­ I don¡¯t believe we Englishmen are going to gain a reputation as bad cooks for another 4 decades or so and I don¡¯t believe it will become a ubiquitous notion until around 7 decades from now!¡± in an accent that he describes as [Victorian gentlemen].

    Mr Byrne, dressed as a [cowboy], pushes up the brim of his hat with the barrel of his [revolver] and answers ¡°I reckon ye¡¯r breakin¡¯ character! How¡¯re ye fixin¡¯ ta know things that ain¡¯t gonna happen fer more¡¯an half a century!? Could Ah gitta rulin¡¯ frum the DMs?¡±

    Both men turn to the two women at the end of the table.

    Through narrowed eyes, Jennie says ¡°I¡¯m going to allow Victor to break character to explain why an 1870s Stateser making a joke about English cuisine being disgusting is an anachronism¡­ but this has got to be the last tangent! We already had to stop for 10 minutes to explain to Qorak how the phrase ¡®good show, old bean!¡¯ is not synonymous with the phrase ¡®beneficial exhibition, aged legume!¡¯(!)¡±

    Dropping the accent he had as his character, ¡®Sir Edward Smythe-Foxe III¡¯, Victor says ¡°OK, so, the Statesers showin¡¯ up late to both World Wars meant that the two times, in history, when there was the greatest number of Statesers in Britain were times when we¡¯d already been at war for years on end! One of the things it¡¯s difficult to ¡¯preciate for us now (those who ain¡¯t old enough to remember the War, at least) is the fact that rationin¡¯ makes food taste terrible! So, all the hundreds of thousands of Stateser soldiers, whose one and only experience with our cuisine was durin¡¯ that time, went home not realisin¡¯ that the rationed stuff they¡¯d had weren¡¯t representative of what English cookin¡¯ were actually like and just thinkin¡¯ that our food was repulsive, bland or repulsively bland!¡­ The ironic thing is that Statesers love our cookin¡¯¡­ just so long as they don¡¯t realise that the fried breakfasts and roast dinners they¡¯re enjoyin¡¯ are ¡®English food¡¯!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re ignoring the existence of jellied eels and blood pudding¡­¡± says the spy ¡°¡­pretty sure those existed before we saved your asses in the Big One!¡±

    Victor shakes his head ¡°And Scotland has haggis¡­ and Italy has casu martzu¡­ and Sweden has surstr?mming!¡­ Every culture has foods that are disgustin¡¯ in concept to 99% of people, includin¡¯ most of the people in that culture! Would you write off all of French cookin¡¯ ¡¯causa the existence of escargot¡­ or frog legs!? Have you ever actually tried any o¡¯ them? If not, how d¡¯ya know you don¡¯t like ¡¯em?!¡­ Also, this is a bit rich comin¡¯ from the man whose culture¡¯s greatest contribution to Terran cookin¡¯ is the invention of spray-on cheese(!)¡±

    The man straightens up in his chair and answers ¡°America gave the world the hamburger! The greatest contribution ever made, by any nation, to world cuisine!¡±

    ¡°False.¡± smirks Mr Byrne¡¯s professional partner, Ms Pereira, sat beside his romantic one, Enas, on the spectators¡¯ couch ¡°Hamburgers come from Hamburg! You knew that, Leon! You have to have known that! I refuse to believe you never put that together!¡±

    Grinning, Victor teases ¡°That¡¯s a city about five and a half thousand kilometres east of the States, if that helps¡­(?)¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to put that distance in bald eagle wingspans or he won¡¯t be able to understand you(!)¡± giggles Pereira, teeth bared gleefully.

    Sighing, Byrne says ¡°I see how it is(!)¡­ Greatest nation in history¡­ It¡¯s understandable that you¡¯d all feel insecure(!)¡± he turns to Jennie and Twila and asks ¡°Could I get a ruling from the DMs about whether my character can make jokes about English food being gross?¡±

    Jennie thinks for a moment before answering ¡°You can make the jokes but, because no one in the time period has any context for them, all the NPCs that hear you making them will give you a raised eyebrow and be mildly confused. Agreed, Twila?¡±

    Twila gives a nod, a nonvocal oral click, and a [thumbs up], synchronised from every holographic projection of hers in the room, seeming to convey something like ¡®sure thing, I¡¯ll make it happen¡¯. It¡¯s quite unnerving and uncanny to see dozens of Humans all acting in perfect unison, without evidence of prior coordination¡­ even if I know there¡¯s actually only one intelligence directing all of them!

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Alright then, let¡¯s get back to the game¡­¡± suggests Jennie.

    Qorak and I are perched beside the spectators¡¯ couch, Twila having kindly agreed to [babysit] Tcakak, in our quarters, to give us the night off, to watch the [TTRPG].

    This game was apparently born from an offhanded observation made by Mr T¨²puson, one of the two new Terran additions to my ship¡¯s contingent of deathworlders.

    He observed that, as French piracy in the Gulf of Mexico continued until the 1830s by the Terran calendar, the age of the [samurai] continued until the late 1860s and the [Victorian] and ¡®Frontier West¡¯ ages lasted until the 1900s, it isn¡¯t impossible that a [cowboy], a [Victorian], a [samurai] and an aged French pirate might have shared a table, at some point, despite apparently feeling, to Terrans, like intuitively separate historical phenomena!

    The enormous, ursine uplift is sat on the floor, having declined the opportunity to [DM].

    He¡¯s much more soft spoken than I would have thought, having seen him play the villain, in the performance at the feast, or the warrior, in the subsequent reenactment.

    Twila, co[DM]ing with Jennie, has the walls displaying a facsimile of plausible interior d¨¦cor for a [saloon] in 1870s San Francisco, projecting an animated display of a period exterior through the window (which would otherwise show deep space) and is populating the room with holographic projections of Humans dressed in the garb of the time.

    Emiko is dressed in the robes of a [samurai], with a [katana] hung at her hip, playing a character called ¡®Nobu Yasura¡¯, who fled Japan after the fall of the [shogunate] and has since become a hired blade.

    Dr Mink and Msia are dressed in the (apparently traditional) garb of pirates, sat together at the table. Mink is dressed in fine clothes and introduced herself as ¡®Captain Marie LeClerc¡¯, here with her first-mate, Yusufi Rafiq (played by Msia). The two of them described hanging up their hats and [cutlasses], a lifetime ago, but, feeling their age creeping up on them, decided that they wished for one final [raid], before the fight is gone from them for good.

    Tuun is sat beside Victor, dressed as a [Victorian] woman called ¡®Nancy Waters¡¯ who, according to the backstory she and Victor contrived, was a maid at the Smythe-Foxe estate until she and Victor¡¯s characters eloped, in a scandalous act of hypergyny, which necessitated the pair to flee to the ¡®New World¡¯ where they¡¯ve, since, supported themselves with a life of crime(!)

    Then, of course, there¡¯s Mr Byrne¡¯s character ¡®Frank "the Kid" Jacobs¡¯ who, despite how it seems from his name, is not a university graduate (apparently, epithets were used for other reasons, in Terran history!) He tells of being one of the last two survivors of a gang of [desperados], seeking to find the other and revenge himself and the rest of his gang for the betrayal.

    And, last but not least, Dr Hatathli, who was brought in to the ¡®Colliding Worlds¡¯ [homebrew] after he pointed out that his forebears were equally proximate to the story¡¯s setting to Byrne¡¯s and much closer than anyone else¡¯s. [Quiver] at his back and [bow] in his hand, he is in the guise of a Navajo [brave], mononymously known as ¡®Tahoma¡¯, who has been banished from his tribe, for crimes he ¡®may or may not have committed¡¯. He now travels in search of something that might ¡®restore his honour¡¯, that he may return to his people. Though, with each passing year of his exile, he only seems to fall further and further from redemption.

    One of Twila¡¯s holographs approaches the table, wearing the face of a grizzled, weatherbeaten Human man, in a wide brimmed hat.

    ¡°Howdy¡­¡± growls Twila¡¯s male form, in a gruff, gravelly voice that matches his appearance ¡°¡­glad y¡¯all came. If¡¯n ye¡¯ll be followin¡¯ me ta somewhere a little more private¡­ we can discuss why Ah asked fer y¡¯all!¡±

    Twila dispels the holographs populating the bar, seeming to indicate a move to a private room.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen¡­¡± announces Twila¡¯s cowboy character, pulling a large, rolled paper from his clothing and unfurling it on the table ¡°¡­Ah give ye the route of the Pearson Co. Stage! Now, Ah know y¡¯all¡¯ve got skills and Ah git that those skills ain¡¯t gonna come cheap, so y¡¯all can rest assured that, if we pull this off, we can all retire, filthy, stinkin¡¯ ri¡­¡±

    At this point the cowboy holograph stops talking and both he and his puppetmistress have looks of slowly dawning concern spreading across their faces.

    The sound of warp ceases as we exit hyperspace.

    Banishing her alter with a cascade of light motes, Twila stands and says ¡°I¡¯m sorry everyone, I think we need to stop the game.¡±

    Everyone makes confused noises and faces but she looks to me and says ¡°Captain¡­ I¡¯ve just intercepted a distress beacon from the AI of a destroyed ship¡­¡±

    It takes me [1.5 seconds] to mentally shift into ''Captain mode'' but, when I have, I say ¡°Are you able to establish a communication with them?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t be possible, Captain¡­¡± she says, gravely.

    ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± she only received this beacon moments ago, she surely can¡¯t have already given up on them answering the call!

    ¡°You see, the beacon¡­ it¡¯s lightspeed¡­¡±

    I strain to process what I¡¯ve just been told for some [seconds]!

    Nobody uses lightspeed communication!

    At a distance of just [15 lightseconds] the delay on a lightspeed channel already makes having a conversation an intolerable experience! Everyone knows that!

    Over the distances involved in interstellar travel, lightspeed communications are only mildly superior to rolling down a window and shouting, in terms of their likelihood to actually be answered(!)

    I think the last time there was a species known to use nonFTL coms for anything would have been¡­

    Realisation hits me as I say ¡°Twila, relay every bit of information that was contained in that beacon signal!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.55

    ---Lifeboat---

    I look at the planet, below, through the Bridge¡¯s front window, which forms the ¡®eyes¡¯ on the ¡®head¡¯ of the ship.

    Victor stands at my side, his arms folded, his brow furrowed in consideration.

    On my other side stands Twila¡¯s projected form, using the window to display photographs and other visual aids, as she explains ¡°The ship was called the UTCS Leonidas. It was wrecked, in the Battle of Takynv, around 2 and a half years into the War. All hands were thought lost, since the ship itself was reduced to a fine debris cloud without sufficient time to evacuate. However, it seems that, before the ship was destroyed, the AI, named Atlantiades, had just enough time to evacuate a handful of personnel, already located nearby to the lifeboats, along with a copy of themselves, before ejecting and making their way to the nearest Terran survivable planet¡­ This one.¡±

    Mimicking the upward flicking hand gesture that a biological would use, she brings up twelve photos along with names and ranks.

    ¡°These twelve are the ones the AI indicates they were able to get on the lifeboat with them¡­¡± five of the pictures are defaced by blue Xs ¡°¡­the landing was uncontrolled and these five didn¡¯t survive it, the other seven managed to repair themselves with the onboard first aid equipment but this one¡­¡± one more blue X appears ¡°¡­is reported killed in the first year and this one¡­¡± another blue X ¡°¡­died after 4 years¡­ All deceased personnel are recorded as being interred beside the wrecked vessel. 10 years after landing is when the onboard power generation failed and the AI was forced into hibernation. So, these five; PO Thaleia Theodoropoulou of the UTC Navy, Seaman Ilir Boshnjaku of the UTC Navy, Maj Artemas Leandros of the UTC Marines, Cpl Nemir Bulut of the UTC Marines and Dr Dimitris ¡°Demeter¡± Markopoulos of the Humanitarian Corps., are unaccounted for. We know they were alive as of 23 years ago¡­ but that¡¯s a long time we don¡¯t have information for¡­¡±

    Victor considers this before asking ¡°What can you tell us about the system? About the planet?¡±

    Twila dismisses the information from the screen, replacing it with the information Victor has just requested.

    ¡°Not much, I¡¯m afraid¡­ it¡¯s a temperate Class 11.8. The star has a few different names, in a few different languages of species whose skies it¡¯s visible in, but the planet has never been named, just given an alphanumeric designation, the nearest inhabited world, where the battle was fought, is 237.1 lightyears, in that direction¡­¡± she points to what, I¡¯m sure, must be its precise point in space relative to us ¡°¡­nearest thing of any note is the lane we just came from, 33 lightyears behind us, the last visit to the system, recorded by the in-system GU buoy, was an 8.4 hour long, degaussing stop, made 1,178 years ago (which is surprisingly recent for a deathworld system to have been visited by anyone except the UTC)!¡­ Oh, and¡­ here are some pictures of local fauna graciously included by my fellow AI!¡±

    Victor takes a moment to inspect the photos before sarcastically declaring ¡°Oh, great(!) I always wanted to die at the teeth of shaggy, plum coloured t. rexes(!)¡±

    ¡°I have not authorised you to go down at all yet, Victor¡­ If I do, you are certainly not authorised to die(!)¡±

    He chuckles¡­ but I can also see a mild look of concern pass over his face at the implication that he might not be sent down.

    I turn to Twila ¡°Twila, what are my legal responsibilities with regards to this signal?¡±

    ¡°None, Captain¡­ Well you do have the responsibility to make the ODR or UTCM aware of the location of Wartime remains and the Wartime AI, if you don¡¯t retrieve them yourself. In that case, the UTCM would send out a dedicated team to retrieve them. It¡¯s been so long since the last record of the survivors that you have no obligation to attempt to mount a rescue. Though, likewise, you have a responsibility to make the ODR or UTCM aware of unresolved evidence of survivors. I¡¯ve already added alerting them to my list of pending tasks. You could simply say the word and we could be on our way.¡±

    I nod, considering for some moments, before asking ¡°And, if I chose, would I be permitted to order a retrieval of the AI and remains?¡±

    ¡°You would, Captain.¡± confirms Twila.

    ¡°And attempting a rescue of any potential survivors?¡± I ask.

    ¡°That¡¯s also permitted, Captain.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°*Hmmm*, *hmmm*¡­¡± I say, mulling over what she¡¯s told me.

    I consider asking Victor his opinion but, from how he spoke and the look on his face a moment ago, I think it¡¯s a fairly safe conclusion that he thinks attempting a rescue and recovery is the obvious course of action.

    ¡°Victor, I would like to attempt to bring those people home, living and dead¡­ Can I ask you to help me in that?¡±

    He grins ¡°Course, Cap! Bringin people home¡¯s almost exactly my job!¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I walk through Triple M, to the room that my guns are locked up in.

    I enter to see Tuun, Samus, Thran, Xon, Tymancha, Leon, Ziva and Steve all standing ready.

    I look at the love of my life and, grimacing at what I¡¯ve obviously got to do, say ¡°Baby, I can¡¯t let you come down!¡±

    She looks at me like I¡¯ve just backhanded her, full across the face!

    Her mouth falls open, revealing the tips of her long canines.

    She stares at me dumbstruck for a few moments, seeming to be waiting for me to say I was joking or something.

    Eventually she manages ¡°You don¡¯t think I can¡­?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothin¡¯ to do with your capabilities, Tuun¡­¡± I interrupt, earnestly ¡°¡­It¡¯s to do with what the mission is¡­ If there¡¯s anyone alive down there, they¡¯ve been there since the War!¡­ I know Don never fought for the GU but they prob¡¯ly won¡¯t!¡­ They may not give you the opportunity to explain things to ¡¯em!¡­ War veterans who¡¯ve spent the last three decades as castaways ain¡¯t the kinda people you wanna fuck around and find out with!¡­ For those reasons, you ain¡¯t coming on the expedition.¡±

    She just looks at me like I¡¯ve ripped her heart out of her chest and crushed it in my hand before violently hurling it to the floor¡­ but she seems not to be able to fault my reasoning.

    Wordlessly, she storms past me, leaving the room.

    I really regret having to risk playing into her insecurities but¡­ leaving her up here is definitely the right choice¡­ I¡¯d prefer her upset and alive to satisfied and dead!

    I look at the group, their faces giving me various mixes of sympathy, concern and, in the cases of Tymancha, Leon and Ziva, seeming indifference.

    Then I realise something.

    ¡°Anyone here know anything about preWar or Wartime tech?¡± I ask.

    Tentatively, everyone except Thran and Tymancha puts their hand up.

    ¡°Anyone reckon they can remove the parts of a Wartime lifeboat that an AI would¡¯ve transferred themselves onto?¡± I add.

    Everyone¡¯s hand goes down.

    ¡°Does anyone reckon they could identify those parts?¡± I ask, not sure exactly what I¡¯m hoping for.

    No one¡¯s hand goes up.

    Fuck, this is really going to rub salt in the wound when Tuun finds out but ¡°Samus, get Mouse¡­ tell her she¡¯s needed.¡±

    ---later---

    The ground team make our way through the shuttle bay.

    Mouse looks very out of place being surrounded by the eight of us, all wearing some mixture of durasteel, conventional metals, skin-hugging utility clothing (except Tymancha in his leathers and Steve in his khakis) and all being armed.

    Her tool box, a stretcher and a dozen hermetic containers (each bearing a label for us to write names on) along with digging tools are following behind, strapped to a hovertrolley. The chances of all twelve of those boxes getting filled are not great. The last person to die won¡¯t have had anyone to bury them and their remains will almost certainly have been scattered to the four winds¡­ just in case, though.

    We board the shuttle and take our seats.

    The hovertrolley follows us in, physically locking itself in place, on the floor, just for if there¡¯s a failure of the grav plating. That addition was my suggestion, which I managed to convince Cap of by demonstrating on a watermelon what happens when loose, hard, flying objects strike organic matter!

    ¡°Twila?¡±

    ¡°Yes, CSS Taylor?¡±

    ¡°Am I right in thinkin¡¯ that the operational language of the Leonidas was Greek?¡± I ask.

    ¡°That is correct.¡± she states, professionally.

    I think before asking ¡°And is Greek the mother tongue of all five of the possible survivors?¡±

    ¡°No: Boshnjaku¡¯s mother tongue would be Albanian and Bulut¡¯s Turkish.¡±

    I mull that over.

    On the one hand, I know there¡¯s a language everyone we¡¯re looking for will speak. On the other, there are two people who might have gone 23 years without speaking it¡­

    I decide ¡°Alright, Twila¡­ take us down. Once you¡¯ve dropped us off at the crashsite, I want you to circle, at a distance of 5km out from that location, at an altitude of 1km, and give the following announcement, first in Greek, followed by a high pitched, alert tone, then Albanian, followed by another tone, then Turkish before cycling back to Greek; ¡®Survivor¡¯s of the UTCS Leonidas, we are here to recover you, if you are able, please rendezvous at the lifeboat you arrived on. If you are not, please do as much as you possibly can to flag your location to us. This message will repeat in X seconds.¡¯ Can you do that for me, Twila.¡±

    ¡°Certainly, CSS.¡± she answers before sealing the door and jettisoning from the Bright Plume.

    I¡¯m able to see out of the window as the flamboyantly technicolour planet seems like it¡¯s rushing towards us.

    We level out as we approach, flying over multicoloured forests mixed with wide flat plains where giant dinosauroid fauna, all covered in flashy, shaggy fur, graze.

    I see a plateau, looming over the forest in front of us that reminds me of the Maiden Castle earthwork. Though, unlike Maiden Castle, this one¡¯s clearly natural.

    Perched on top of the landform, I see the harsh, angular lines of a small ship, even if the metal underneath has been covered by 33 years of native lichen and moss analogues.

    Behind the craft is the, still visible, impact scar, beside it is a small collection of stone cairns.

    My heart sinks as I count them.

    ¡°Eleven graves¡­¡± announces Xon, as we come in to land, clearly having gone through the same train of thought as I just did ¡°¡­maximum of one survivor.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.56

    ---Cairns---

    ---Victor''s perspective---

    ¡°Twila?¡± I speak into my holo.

    ¡°Yes, CSS?¡± she answers, instantly.

    ¡°You can drop the Albanian and Turkish¡­ Also¡­ we¡¯ve got a name. ¡®Artemas Leandros¡¯ is the only one who might still be out there¡­ We¡¯re still digging up the bones of everyone else. I¡¯ll let you know when we¡¯re done. Over and out.¡±

    ¡°Understood, CSS. Over and out.¡± she answers before cutting the call.

    I look at everyone undergoing the work of deconstructing the cairns, removing the bones and placing them into the boxes.

    It feels just a touch disrespectful to be unearthing the remains of Wardead¡­ but¡­ well, if they have families¡­

    I¡¯m sure any next of kin will long since have come to terms with their deaths and being presented with a box of bones might just upset them but, I know¡­ if it were me¡­

    I remember going to New Australia, one Summer, while I was at uni.

    I went to Red Sands Graveyard, with three million soldiers buried in it, took direction from the AI manning the entrance and just ambled down the path with rows, after rows, after rows, after rows, after rows of headstones, planted along it¡­ until I got to my parent¡¯s graves.

    I remember being so happy to see that they were next to eachother.

    I remember being so overwhelmed to be separated from them by only 2m, closer than I¡¯d been in a lifetime. Even knowing there wasn¡¯t really a ¡®them¡¯ to be separated from, anymore¡­ that ¡®they¡¯ didn¡¯t exist and all I was actually separated from was some bones that had once been inside them, it was still meaningful to me!

    I remember tracing my thumb over the letters of their names, my tears watering the red dust that the place was named for.

    I remember how much closure that helped me find¡­ which is, obviously, why my therapist at the time suggested it.

    If we can give that feeling to someone else, I want to do it!

    I cease shifting stones and call ¡°Tymancha¡­¡±

    He looks up and turns his inexpressive face toward me.

    I gesture him to come to me.

    He walks over.

    ¡°Could you take a look at the bones we¡¯ve pulled out so far and tell me how long ago you think the last one died?¡±

    ¡°No need.¡± he states, simply ¡°I can tell that none of them died recently without looking closer than I already have.¡±

    ¡°How recently?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°I can¡¯t say more specifically than ¡®years¡¯¡­ My experience with bones is with animal bones, exposed to the elements, not Human bones buried in stones.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough¡­ what about the meat?¡± I say, gesturing to the shuttle, which they seem to have been using as a larder.

    ¡°I¡¯ve not seen it.¡± he answers.

    ¡°Take a look, tell me how old you think the newest piece is, oh, and¡­ check on Mouse while you¡¯re in there¡­ ask if she needs help with anything.¡±

    He makes for the shuttle.

    I keep shifting rocks and delicately extracting bones while I wait for him to get back.

    When he returns he says ¡°When I asked Ms MacLeod if she needed help she said ¡®Not unless anyone else can¡­¡¯ and then said lots of words I didn¡¯t understand the translations of.¡±

    ¡°Alright, no help needed then(!)¡± I chuckle ¡°¡­The meat?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a haunch in there that I would guess to only be weeks old.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?!¡± I say, agog.

    A tiny frown touches his face ¡°No, I¡¯m not sure¡­ that¡¯s why I said ¡®guess¡¯¡­ it seems like it¡¯s weeks old but it¡¯s also meat from an animal I¡¯ve never encountered, on a planet I¡¯ve never been to. So, based only on my experience of other kinds of meat, how it¡¯s been cured as well as the temperature and humidity in the larder, I would guess its condition to be the result of only weeks of storage.¡±

    ¡°Right, sorry, my bad!¡­ But, if you¡¯re right, the chances of us findin¡¯ a survivor just shot up!¡±

    He nods.

    ---later---

    Bones recovered and jars labelled, everyone except Mouse (still working on the AI) gathers in front of the craft.

    ¡°Alright¡­ everyone who reckons they have wilderness survival and traversal experience, raise your hand.¡± I instruct.

    All hands except Thran¡¯s go up.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Everyone who would call that experience ¡®in depth¡¯ or ¡®extensive¡¯, keep your hand in the air.¡±

    Leon and Ziva¡¯s hands go down, Xon¡¯s wavers but stays up¡­ that tells me everything I need to know.

    ¡°Alright¡­ Thran!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Vic¡­ Yes, CSS.¡± she responds, awkwardly snapping to attention in her bulky durasteel.

    ¡°I want you to stay here¡­ guard Jennie from any local fauna or other threats. Stay outside and stay visible. If someone you don¡¯t recognise approaches, contact Twila and then me in that order. Is that understood?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Y-yes, CSS.¡±

    I turn to Ziva and say ¡°Ziva, I¡¯m pairin¡¯ you with Steve.¡± I turn to Leon ¡°Leon, I want you with Xon and Tymancha.¡± I turn to Samus ¡°Samus, you¡¯re with me¡­ Tymancha?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± he responds.

    ¡°Which direction looks like it has the most promise in terms of forage and game, to you? If you were dropped on this spot and needed to keep yourself alive, where would you go?¡± I ask.

    ¡°South.¡± he answers, instantly.

    ¡°And South would be¡­?¡±

    ¡°Behind you, mate¡­¡± interjects Steve with a smirk.

    ¡°Alright. Thanks.¡± I say, before turning back to Tymancha and asking ¡°Which way looks like it has the least promise?¡±

    Unlike the first time, he has to think about that, glancing around to scan the horizon.

    ¡°Northwest¡­¡± he says, hesitantly, looking around the side of the ship ¡°No¡­ Not Northwest¡­. West¡± he decides, sounding more certain.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll just com Twila to ask how much time we have until dark¡­¡±

    ¡°¡¯Bout eighteen hours, mate.¡± communicates Steve.

    I frown ¡°How do y¡­¡±

    He cuts me off ¡°When we got here, the sun was there¡­¡± he points to an empty patch of sky ¡°¡­it¡¯s there, now, and we¡¯ve been here an hour and a half so¡­¡± he traces an arc through the sky with his finger ¡°¡­eighteen hours!¡± he declares.

    ¡°Alright¡­ if you¡¯re certain¡­¡± I say, considering whether to com Twila just to be sure but deciding against it. I don¡¯t need to demonstrate mistrust! ¡°So, we¡¯ve got plenty of time¡­ We¡¯re about to sortie out to see if we can find evidence of the last survivor. I want everyone to set eight hour alarms on their holos¡­ that should give you two hours of contingency time to get back here before dark. Tymancha, Xon and Leon, I want you to head South¡­ Steve and Ziva, you guys head East. Me and Samus will head North¡­ Steve and Tymancha, you two have more experience in how to track so you¡¯ll lead your teams but, since you don¡¯t have guns or plasmaweapons it¡¯s the job of Xon, Leon and Ziva to protect you. Do not approach local fauna¡­ if you are approached by local fauna, try to scare them off but don¡¯t hesitate to shoot if they won¡¯t be deterred. I assume no one here needs to be told not to run from predators, you¡¯ll only mark yourself as prey to them and you¡¯re very unlikely to outrun them! If a party member is injured, com to let everyone else know your location, turn around if possible, stay put if not. If your alarm goes off, turn around. If you are separated from a party member, com to let us know and try to rendezvous back at the lifeboat. No one is to be a hero, no one is to take unnecessary risks. Does everyone understand their instructions?¡±

    Everyone nods.

    ¡°Alright, move out!¡±

    ---later---

    Me and Samus have made our way down the north side of the bluff and left it a long way behind us.

    We¡¯re walking along the bare rock at the top of a 9-10m tall cutbank cliff. Below us is a deep looking, fastmoving river with thick forest on its far shore.

    We¡¯ve been walking for a few hours and have barely spoken a word.

    Samus really feels like she has something she wants to say. It¡¯s subtle but I see a bit more of a glare in her face than normal for when we¡¯re working.

    I¡¯m about to ask her to spit it out when she says ¡°You were a prick to Tuun, earlier.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± I answer.

    ¡°No, you DON¡¯T!¡± she snarls.

    Stopping dead in my tracks, I turn towards her, my mouth agape, and say ¡°Excuse me!?¡±

    Her face is twisted into a scowl and her teeth are bared in anger as she says ¡°I know that ¡®I know¡¯! That¡¯s the ¡®I know¡¯ that my piece of shit father gave me every time I¡¯d point out some crime we were committing! That¡¯s the ¡®I know¡¯ of a smug, sanctimonious little man who thinks he made a hard choice but chose the least evil of all the available options! A man who¡¯d choose the same again! That¡¯s the ¡®I know¡¯ that made me ignore the fact that I¡¯d been born into a gang of criminals for EIGHT¡­EEN¡­ YEARS!¡­ The last time he gave me that ¡®I know¡¯ was when we¡¯d undertaken a job smuggling stolen, military grade firearms to Neu Rheinland! I knew those guns weren¡¯t for self defence or hunting! I knew we were going to be putting weapons into the hands of violent thugs! He gave me that ¡®I know¡¯ and, in that moment, he died to me! That evening, I contacted the UTC and spent the rest of the voyage playing nice with the crew, with my family, never letting on that I was selling them out! So don¡¯t give me that ¡®I know¡¯!¡±

    Feeling extremely attacked at what seems like a very unfair comparison, I answer ¡°What was I supposed to do!? You think I should¡¯ve let her come down here and risk gettin¡¯ attacked by traumatised castaways!?¡±

    ¡°Obviously not!¡± she scoffs, rolling her eyes in contempt.

    ¡°Then what? What should I have done? Tell me!¡±

    She gives an angry sigh before answering ¡°What you did isn¡¯t the problem! It¡¯s how you did it! You could¡¯ve asked to have a private word with her, you chose to do it publicly! You could have provided your reasons upfront, you chose to make her ask and then cut her off with the answer! You could have framed it as a discussion, you chose to issue it as an order! An order you gave with a tone that said ¡®this is my decision and it¡¯s final!¡¯, which might have been justified if lives were hanging in the balance but any survivors will have been down here longer than you or I have been alive! It''s not like they couldn''t wait 5 more minutes for you to have that conversation without being a prick about it!!!¡±

    While she was speaking, she advanced on me in a way that would have been unnerving even if she didn¡¯t have an assault rifle slung across her chest. She punctuates the word ¡®prick¡¯ by taking her dominant left hand off of the grip and jabbing her finger into my chest.

    Adrenaline buzzes through my veins and defences flood into my mind, the main one being "You''re very much not takin'' your own advice, here! You''re bein'' quite a prick to me, in explainin'' how I was one to Tuun!"

    She nods "I am! This is one of those ''do as I say, not as I do'' situations! The fact that I''m not taking my own advice doesn''t mean you shouldn''t!"

    I take a moment to actually dissect the content of what she¡¯s saying and I realise ¡°You¡¯re right, Samus. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    The anger falls from her face as she quips ¡°Now, there¡¯s five words my father never said to me(!)¡­ It¡¯s not me you need to apologise to, though, is it!¡±

    I nod, taking out my holo and turning to continue our trek ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯ll message Tuun¡­ tell her I need to t-HUWAAAH!¡±

    While my eyes were on my holo and not on where I was going, my right foot contacted a wet rock that had much less purchase than I was relying on it to have.

    My leg flies out from under me toward the river, pulling me along after it.

    My chest impacts the hard stone and I''m able to feel the elastic deformation of my ribcage as the wind is knocked out of me.

    I hear my shotgun clatter to the ground.

    A few instants of sliding inescapably down the rock before suddenly there¡¯s nothing beneath me.

    I fall for (what adrenal-dump makes feel like) an eternity!

    Then, I plunge into the ice cold, rapid flowing water.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.57

    ---Dinosaurs---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    The synthetic material of my uniform is waterproof and insulating, so most of me is still warm and dry, but my hands and face are freezing as I desperately fight to swim back upwards!

    I break the surface of the water and take a gasping inhale.

    I¡¯m being carried along at a rate of knots by the current!

    I look around and identify a ledge I¡¯m able to swim to.

    Having made it, I pull myself out of the water and roll onto my back, heaving for breath.

    ¡°Victor!¡­ VICTOR!!!...¡± shouts Samus, carrying both her gun and mine, on top of the cliff on the opposite bank, running downstream to catch up to the place the current carried me.

    Still out of breath, I raise my hand and give a reassuring wave of ¡®not dead¡¯!

    When I¡¯ve mostly recovered, I sit up and shout back ¡°I¡¯m¡­ alright, Samus!¡­ Nothing¡¯s broken!¡­ Did you see where¡­ my holo went?¡±

    ¡°I did; into the river, I¡¯m afraid! I don¡¯t think you¡¯re getting it back!¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ call Twila¡­ and the others¡­ let them know¡­ we¡¯re separated.¡± I say.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to try getting back up here? Or, what if I came down? We could give Twila our location and she could pick us up?¡±

    ¡°Nowhere for her¡­ to land!¡­ River¡¯s too fast¡­ and you¡¯re wearin¡¯¡­ too much armour¡­ you¡¯d sink and¡­ drown if you¡­ went in and¡­ I don¡¯t¡­ particularly¡­ feel like testin¡¯¡­ my luck, again!¡­ Let¡¯s just meet back¡­ at the rendezvous¡­ on the plateau!¡±

    ¡°Alright, you want me to try and toss you your gun? I¡¯m¡­ not certain I can make it!¡± she says, judging the distance that she definitely can¡¯t make!

    I shake my head ¡°Keep it¡­ Take it back¡­ with you, please¡­ I¡¯ve got my¡­ falchion!¡­ I¡¯ll see you¡­ where we agreed¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± she says, frowning ¡°¡­but Victor¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Samus?¡±

    ¡°If you die before you¡¯ve apologised to Tuun, I¡¯m gonna fucking KILL you!¡±

    I laugh ¡°Deal!¡±

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    Twila did a flyby and looked for suitable crossing points, on the river.

    She basically found that there were none; the river pours out of the side of the tablemount that we¡¯re headed back to, pretty much fully formed and, in the other direction, doesn¡¯t become safely swimmable until it reaches a floodplain, days¡¯ walk from here!

    ¡®Swimmable¡¯ in the sense that the current, itself, is unlikely to kill him but to say nothing of what horrific riverine predators might be lurking in the waterways on this planet!

    Best course of action she recommended was for me to beeline it back to the rendezvous and for Cuddles to take the long way around, along the river. He''s not going to make it back, before dark.

    I¡¯ve got his gun slung across my back and mine across my front.

    I don¡¯t envy Victor!

    Only having a plasmafalchion for protection on a planet of dinosaurian fauna is rough!

    He tells me he had that sword designed, specifically for him, based on the onscreen incarnation of orcrist from the (thoroughly mediocre) 21st Century Hobbit films. The only adjustments he had made were giving it a full guard (rather than the half it had in the films) and scaling it up for his above average stature. The result is an absolutely beautiful weapon!

    I¡¯d probably not have chosen the greatsword, for my bladed fighting style specialisation module, in retrospect! It¡¯s really only any good for wide, open spaces¡­ not too much use in a forest, surrounded by underbrush, or anywhere else cramped.

    Not really a problem, though. I can count on one hand the number of times I¡¯ve had to have a blade fight in anger!

    Most of the time, firepower¡¯s the way to go! Swords are really only for if your gun gets lost or broken or you¡¯re fighting someone in fullplate!

    Heat is durasteel¡¯s only notable weakness¡­ that and, I suppose, the fact that all of the bones and organs of its wearer still have inertia¡­ making them no less vulnerable to a long drop and a sudden stop!

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    For a while, I think about all of the people, during the War, who were horrifically burned alive inside their armour, after the GU realised that plasmablades (which had been mostly thought of as tools, up to then) were very effective antideathworlder weapons!

    After that I start wondering what evolutionary forces must have been at play to create a world of rainbow coloured forests populated by dinosaurs!

    Then, blocking my path, I see something I could really do without seeing, right now!

    30m out and 1m tall, with a body covered in dull-pink integument, two, clawed feet, a horizontally held torso balanced by a long, rigid tail and four, clawed hands, at the end of as many arms which (though lined with long, straight feathers) I can¡¯t call wings, stands a raptorial predator.

    I¡¯d estimate its mass at around 50kg.

    There is no mistaking that thing as a leaf eater! Nor what it¡¯s doing as anything other than hunting me.

    ¡°Your stealth leaves a little to be desired, buddy(!) I can see you a MILE out! Why don¡¯t you try your luck on something a little less dangerous(!)¡± I shout, unimpressed.

    The animal doesn¡¯t take the hint, still stalking toward me, seeming to think itself invisible.

    ¡°I¡¯m really not in the MOOD!¡± I snarl, raising my gun to aim at the side of the treetrunk, slightly ahead of it.

    You only need one round for a warning shot but I indulge myself with a short controlled burst of five, which strike the tree within less than a second of eachother, obliterating a palm size patch and creating an explosion of splinters.

    The forest echoes with the thundering *BOOM*s of my gun and my little, unwanted admirer immediately wheels and bolts away in the opposite direction!

    It, however, is not the only one who receives a shock in that moment!

    All around me I hear the sound of medium sized predators, scrambling to get away from me!

    I catch a few glimpses of dull-pink fur, through the underbrush!

    The closest wasn¡¯t even 10m away!

    Fucking hell! If it weren¡¯t for the distractor alerting me to their presence the rest would have got me with that ambush! No question!

    I¡¯m just lucky that their hunting technique of sending a decoy to occupy my attention didn¡¯t work, on account of their fear of gun noises!

    I need to pay more attention!

    I hope Cuddles is having more luck than this!

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex.

    That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex.

    That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex. That¡¯s a t. rex.

    That is a tyrannosaurus¡­ rex! A tyrant lizard king!

    Sure it has too many arms and was supporting it¡¯s weight with them, while it drank, in a way I don¡¯t think a Terran t. rex would have been able too! Sure, I don¡¯t think t. rex down would have been quite that intense purple colour but, in every way that matters, I just rounded a rock and found a motherfucking T. REX drinking from the river I¡¯m walking along!

    It didn¡¯t seem to notice me until I faltered and stopped but, then, it stopped drinking and looked right at me before standing up and turning to face me.

    We¡¯re staring eachother down, now, and I¡¯m furiously calculating what to do next.

    I¡¯ve read a lot of research that states t. rexes would¡¯ve probably not been too difficult for a Human to outrun¡­ but I¡¯m not sure I want to stake my life on my ability to outrun this thing!

    The research could be wrong or, even if it¡¯s right and even though this thing looks almost identical to a t. rex, it might be completely different under the hood!

    There are no hiding spots within dashing distance.

    I could try jumping in the river but I think it would probably get me before I was carried away.

    That leaves killing it¡­ or scaring it off¡­

    I opt to attempt the latter and only resort to the former if that fails.

    Neither are going to be particularly easy¡­!

    The t. rex takes a single step forward.

    ¡°THAT¡¯S far enough! GET out of here!!!¡± I bark, lurching forward aggressively, slamming my right foot into the loose shale of the river bank, baring my teeth and speaking with a tone like I¡¯m telling off a misbehaving child.

    It freezes and begins visibly reassessing¡­ I¡¯d guess it¡¯s not used to things my size acting this way. It expected me to run and the fact that I didn¡¯t means it¡¯s, now, trying to work out if I know something it doesn¡¯t!

    It seems to decide that I¡¯m bluffing and continues its advance.

    Fortunately, my next avenue for attempting to scare it off will place me well for the backup plan of putting it down.

    I reach to my left hip and draw my falchion.

    I raise it above my head and click the ignition.

    In the space of less than 2 seconds the blade glows through red, orange and yellow before settling on white.

    Lit plasmablades don¡¯t hum. They don¡¯t buzz. They don¡¯t drone.

    They ROAR!

    The sound of matter that wants to use it¡¯s energy to escape but is forced to stay put, the sound of atmosphere being constantly, violently convected upwards as it encounters the blade, the sound of the universe graunching under the strain of realising this thing that oughtn¡¯t be real, is so loud that you need to shout to make yourself heard over it!

    To hold an ignited plasmablade in your hand is to defy the cruel Mistress, Physics herself! It¡¯s to spit in the face of the natural order of things!

    Clearly, the animal can recognise the unnaturalness of the device I¡¯ve just drawn, as it stops, dead in its tracks.

    For the first time, I hear it vocalise. It gives great, trumpeting hoots, not the guttural growls that I expected.

    I hold the blade in front of me and begin slowly walking forward, advancing on the t. rex.

    It backs up, then turns to run into the forest.

    As I watch it go, I say ¡°Damn¡­ shoulda just run! That thing ain¡¯t goin¡¯ more than joggin¡¯ speed!¡­ Ah, well¡­ I know now!¡±

    I extinguish my sword and watch as it¡¯s brought back down to ambient temperature, the excess heat being drawn back into the fusion core.

    I sheath it, back at my hip, and continue walking.

    It¡¯s convenient that I know the river leads right to where I want to go¡­ less convenient that it¡¯s an accessible water source and so, walking along it, I¡¯m much more likely to have run-ins with animals!

    Another few kilometres and I¡¯m proven right.

    I come to the top of a slope and am able to look down on a beach, with a dozen or so six legged, teal hadrosauroids, drinking from the river.

    Definitely herbivores, though that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean they¡¯re not dangerous, what with each one looking like it weighs around 3 tonnes!

    I allow myself a moment to appreciate the scene, as I look down on the creatures who are, for the moment, tranquil.

    I remember Maia, the woman who raised me, making a joke about one of the hadrosaurid species being ¡®her dinosaur¡¯, because of its name, and let out a chuckling smile.

    I hate to burst the tranquil little bubble but¡­ they are in my way!

    I raise my hands and begin waving them above my head¡­ making loud, high, trilling shrieks as I do.

    The creatures all look up and it takes only a second for the first one to decide that they¡¯re not chancing staying here, with that strange thing up on the hill, and run for the safety of the forest.

    All but one of them follow.

    The one that doesn¡¯t is on the far end of the beach.

    I scale the rocky slope and it just continues drinking.

    I walk towards it, expecting to have to pull the plasmablade trick, again.

    Just as I¡¯m getting close, it turns and there¡¯s a moment where I think it¡¯s about to run off after its herd¡­

    Then it keels over with a long, lowing wail... and I see 2m of wooden shaft, sticking out of a wound in its chest.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.58

    ---Ghost---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    A tall man, his frame buried under furry, dinosaur pelt clothes (to the point that I can¡¯t accurately assess his build but guess that it¡¯s slim), steps from the bushes and walks to the body of the animal whose life he just took.

    His long, black hair is tied into a simple ponytail, his face is covered in a thick, black beard, both are streaked with silver.

    He glances at me, briefly, but doesn¡¯t acknowledge me apart from that.

    His wizened face reminds me of that of Twila¡¯s cowboy character from last night. I was a child the last time I saw a Human with a face that wrinkled!

    His eyes are a vivid gold colour that speak to recent Longi ancestry, though I can¡¯t quite remember which sublineage it is where yellow eyes are most common. Was it Harbin or Xiahe?

    At his shin trots a bright green, little, four winged dromaeosauroid, happily warbling and chirruping. As it passes me, it stops to look at me for much longer than he did.

    It cocks its head, curiously, before looking to the man, covered in blue leather and mauve fur.

    The dromaeosaur seems to decide that, since the man¡¯s not worrying about me, it doesn¡¯t need to either and trots off to sit, expectantly, beside the man and the carcass.

    I would have thought that a man who hasn¡¯t seen another Human in years wouldn¡¯t be able to contain himself when he finally saw someone!

    This guy¡¯s acting like I¡¯m not even here!

    He plants his foot into the side of the dead hadrosaur and yanks out the spear, which causes a gout of blood, making me pretty sure he got it¡¯s heart.

    That would explain why it went down so quickly!

    The head looks like it¡¯s made of a fragment of Wartime armour, carved to shape with a plasmablade.

    ¡°Sir¡­?¡± I say, loudly but uncertainly, to the man who¡¯s now kneeling beside his kill and laying out a large sheet of leather. I see his head twitch but he doesn¡¯t answer me.

    He draws a knife (that I¡¯d guess to be the product of the same method as the spearhead) and begins deftly butchering the meat, placing the cuts on the leather sheet and occasionally tossing some to his pet as he does.

    The adorable little creature snatches the meat that it¡¯s tossed out of the air with its snout, seeming to be delighted by the game as well as the food it happily chews.

    It¡¯s able to get surprisingly high by flapping those four wings, even if I¡¯m pretty certain it can¡¯t fly with them.

    ¡°Are you Maj Artemas Leandros?¡± I ask, more forcefully now, a little pissed off that he¡¯s, clearly, intentionally ignoring me.

    ¡°¦ª?¦Í¦Å ¦Ç¦Ò¦Ô¦Ö?¦Á, ¦Õ?¦Í¦Ó¦Á¦Ò¦Ì¦Á¡­ ¦¥?¦Ì¦Á¦É ¦Á¦Ð¦Á¦Ò¦Ö¦Ï¦Ë¦Ç¦Ì?¦Í¦Ï?¡­ ¦²¦Ó¦Ï?¦Ö¦Å¦É¦Ø¦Ò¦Å ¦Ì¦Å ¦Ó¦Ï¦Í ¦¶¦Å¦É¦Ì?¦Í¦Á¡­¡± he answers, without turning from his task, in a voice that¡¯s croaky from lack of use.

    Well fuck!

    He¡¯s answering me, at least, but he clearly doesn¡¯t speak English! I was really banking on him either knowing English or being able to pull the same trick I pulled with the kid on Neonesia and just having Twila translate¡­ Can¡¯t do that without a holo!

    Remembering my childhood lessons in translatorless etiquette, I try the next language I think he¡¯s most likely to speak.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Perdonami, Maggiore. Non parlo Greco. Sa parlare Italiano?¡±

    The man freezes and his whole body stiffens.

    He turns around with a deeply confused expression on his face, his bright golden eyes narrowed in suspicion.

    ¡°You not¡­ first¡­ speak me not Greek, fantasma. You first who not knows when I speaked Greek!¡± he says, in heavily accented English.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure I understand¡­ What do you mean?¡± I ask.

    Rather than answering, he asks instead ¡°Where did we know?¡­ Not remember you!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve¡­ we¡¯ve never met, Major¡­¡± I say, mildly alarmed ¡°¡­My name¡¯s Victor.¡±

    ¡°If we never met, ¡®Victor¡¯, why you here?¡±

    Deeply concerned now, I answer ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m here for you¡­ Did you not hear the announcement saying to come to the lifeboat?¡±

    He waves his hand, dismissively ¡°I give my time run for fantasma, then cold come and I am no food.¡±

    ¡°When you say that word; ¡®fantasma¡¯¡­ do you mean¡­ ghost?¡±

    ¡°Not do that!¡± he snarls, angrily, causing his dromaeosaur to start back from him in surprise.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do what?¡± I answer, extremely confused at what upset him.

    ¡°Stop teach me!¡± he shouts ¡°I never learn this word you use; ¡®ghost¡¯, I not know this word!¡±

    ¡°I mean¡­¡± I say, confused at why he¡¯s so upset by learning a new word ¡°¡­it just means ¡®dead person without a body¡¯¡­ I think it¡¯s the translation of the Greek word you¡¯re using¡­ why are you upset by that?¡±

    ¡°Because¡­ in all time on Melino?¡­ no ¡®ghost¡¯ ever teached me word I not know!¡­¡± he says, heaping scorn on the word I just taught him.

    ¡°The thing is, Major¡­ I¡¯m not a ghost¡­ I¡¯m alive, I¡¯m real and I¡¯m here for you¡­ to rescue you¡­¡±

    He rolls his eyes ¡°They say that before¡­ I follow for days¡­ go hungry, tired, lost¡­ Not do that!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t trust that I¡¯m real?¡±

    ¡°Because you not! I go you, you run away!¡± he growls.

    ¡°How can I prove that I am real?¡± I ask, doing my best to ape the tone that Alchyinad uses when asking me a question.

    Slightly taken aback, he thinks for a few moments before pointing to his pet ¡°Call Horme¡­¡±

    ---Artemas¡¯s perspective---

    The ghost with the weird clothes, pale skin, fiery moustache, fiery hair and emerald eyes looks to Horme, back to me then back to her before extending his hand, averting his eyes and calling ¡°Horme¡­ Come here, Horme!¡± with the same sing songy tone that I remember using on the dog my family owned as a child.

    She looks to me, uncertainly.

    I give a gesture of ¡®go on¡¯ and, tentatively, she approaches him.

    Horme, being sane, has never seen any of the apparitions that I see.

    Sure, she¡¯ll yip in the direction I¡¯m screaming at, when there¡¯s a particularly bad one, but that¡¯s only because she knows it helps me feel better that she¡¯s there ready to defend me. Not that she¡¯d be able to do anything against them if what I was seeing were actually there!

    As she treads toward him, the ghost looks to me and asks ¡°Horme a girl or a boy?¡±

    ¡°She girl¡­¡± I respond, my eyes fixed on her.

    Any moment now she¡¯s going to get to where he is¡­ and then walk right past him because he isn¡¯t there!

    Any moment¡­

    Any moment¡­

    She¡¯s looking at him¡­

    She¡¯s looking straight at the space that I know must be empty!

    Her head meets his hand and my eyes bulge out of my skull as the two of them, unmistakeably¡­ touch!

    She nuzzles into his hand as he smiles ¡°Good giiiiirl, Horme! Good giiiiirl!¡±

    Breathlessly, I say ¡°You real!¡±

    He smirks back ¡°Told you.¡±

    I gesture him towards me and say ¡°Come!¡±

    If he runs away at this point¡­ much as it pains me, I need to just forget about him! I¡¯ve wasted far too many days, chasing people who weren¡¯t there! They always do just enough to convince me there¡¯s a chance they¡¯re real¡­ that, if I follow them for just a little longer, then¡­

    Then, before I know it, I¡¯m hungry, tired and lost, days from territory I know!

    If he runs away now, then he was never there and I just imagined Horme being stroked!

    He stands and Horme runs back to my left shin.

    He walks toward me.

    As he draws close, I¡¯m able to see he¡¯s a few centimetres taller than I am.

    I raise my hand and notice it¡¯s still slick with green blood.

    I briefly think about quickly washing it in the river but I¡¯m far too terrified that, when I turn around, he¡¯ll be gone!

    He doesn¡¯t object as my hand draws closer to his face.

    I touch his cheek, my fingers painting his skin with stripes of green.

    I gasp as I set my fingers on the first Human flesh I¡¯ve touched in a third of a lifetime!

    It¡¯s warm, like the bed of a firepit that was allowed to burn itself out, overnight.

    ¡°You real!¡± I quiver.

    ¡°I¡¯m real!¡± he confirms.

    ¡°Real real!?¡± I demand, tears welling up in my eyes.

    ¡°Really real!¡± he smiles.

    I throw my arms around him and break down sobbing.

    He wraps his arms around me, letting me feel Human warmth for the first time in decades, as he squeezes me to his chest and pats my back, speaking soothingly to me while I blubber into his shoulder like a child.

    This man gives good cuddles!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.59

    ---Fire---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    Artemas is sitting across the fire from me, less than four metres away, and constantly glancing in my direction as the meat cooks, like he¡¯s still frightened I¡¯m going to vanish!

    When I told him where we need to go for collection, he confirmed Twila¡¯s calculation that we won¡¯t make it before nightfall. But, he let me in on the fact that he reckons the moons are gonna be bright enough to navigate by, tonight, which was not something Twila realised! He says a third of the way through the night should be moonrise. He¡¯s unsure of how many hours, exactly, but thinks we should be able to make it to the plateau by sunrise.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind my askin¡¯, Artemas¡­?¡± I start.

    He locks eyes with me in a way that makes very plain that he¡¯s out of practice with how to interact with people!

    ¡°¡­how long have you been alone?¡­ Not countin¡¯ Horme, of course(!)¡±

    He looks away, clearly doing some mental maths, before saying ¡°What word for year part?¡±

    ¡°Month?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°No. Like; grow time, heat time, die time, cold time?¡±

    ¡°Oh, season!¡±

    ¡°Yeah! Last friend die¡­ twenting five season before.¡± he says, gesturing behind himself to indicate the past.

    ¡°And¡­ how long is a season, on this planet?¡± I ask.

    More mental maths before he answers ¡°From smash on Melino?¡­¡± he mimes a crash landing with his hands ¡°¡­to Atlantiades die¡­ Fourting season.¡±

    ¡°Fourty, four zero? Or fourteen, one four?¡± I ask, using my fingers as counting aids, to clarify.

    ¡°The second! One four!¡±

    So, that makes a season a little less than a year and twenty five would be¡­ twenty years? Nineteen? I hate maths!

    ¡°After smash, Djamila first die¡­ then, five seasons die Kostantina¡­ Then Atlantiades die¡­ Dimitris¡­ he died in snow¡­ Ilir¡­ what this¡­?¡±

    He mimics coughing, violently.

    ¡°Sickness?¡± I suggest.

    ¡°Sickness¡­ yes¡­ Ilir have sickness¡­ Dimitris and Atlantiades not there for telled us how helped¡­ he died¡­ Bulut¡­ so strong¡­ then hot season¡­ no food, no water¡­ so weak¡­ My Thaleia¡­ she stay life most long¡­ then she go in river¡­ hit head¡­ not know word¡­¡± he says, miserably.

    ¡°Drowned?¡± I offer, trying not to be insensitive¡­ and failing.

    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± he says ¡°¡­She was¡­ so heavy, when I lift her up mountain, for making her¡­ sleep¡­ Alone from then¡­¡±

    I give a sympathetic nod¡­ but I don¡¯t really have any words to offer.

    We sit in silence until he judges the hadrosaur skewers to be ready.

    He takes his and gestures me to take mine.

    I take it and bite into it.

    It¡¯s not good! It¡¯s bitter, stringy and, somehow, also slimy!

    Instead of lying and telling him it¡¯s nice I choose to just say ¡°Thanks for sharin¡¯ with me.¡±

    He gives a single nod in response.

    After we¡¯ve eaten the disgusting meat, there¡¯s a long pause before he asks ¡°What happen¡­ with the Fight?¡±

    ¡°The fight?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes¡­ the Fight we fight, with xeno!¡±

    ¡°Oh, the War!¡± I say, understanding.

    ¡°Yes!¡­ Still War?¡±

    I smile and shake my head ¡°Nope¡­ over! Since I was this tall!¡± gesturing my guess at the height of a 2 year old.

    His eyes widen in disbelief ¡°Xeno all dead?!¡±

    I shake my head ¡°No. We made Peace.¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    He frowns ¡°How made peace? They think we monster! They think we evil!¡±

    I shrug ¡°We showed ¡¯em we weren¡¯t¡­ when they realised, they surrendered¡­¡±

    He looks at me like he doesn¡¯t believe me.

    ¡°You¡¯ll see tomorrow! When we go up to the ship!¡±

    Puzzled, he asks ¡°What means?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll meet gardenworlders¡­ you¡¯ll see!¡±

    His eyes widen, disbelieving, as he yells ¡°They on ship?! You come here with them!?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± I say, simply, watching for how he responds.

    He says nothing for a long time, clearly deep in thought.

    I imagine it would be quite difficult to hear that the War you¡¯ve heard nothing about for three decades is over and everyone¡¯s friends now!

    ---Artemas¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m aboard the UTCS Leonidas.

    An emerald eyed, fire headed, moustachioed Commander (whose face I¡¯m, somehow, able to see through his helmet) is barking orders at me.

    ¡°Enemy with us! Do the braving now! Fight! Fight! Fight! War! War!! WAR!!!¡± he screams in English.

    I latch my helmet, pick up my gun an begin sprinting through the boulders, multicoloured trees and bushes that have definitely always lined the Leonidas¡¯s hallways.

    I come out at the end of the fighter hanger and see a crowd of thousands of xenos, being lead by a four armed, purple furred tyrannosaurus, running towards me and all looking at me with the hate of those who don¡¯t believe I have the right to exist!

    I look behind me and, instead of living, armed soldiers I see hundreds of dead people.

    They all point at me, accusingly, as they demand ¡°SAVE US!¡±

    I know I can¡¯t but¡­ I know that not trying won¡¯t save me either!

    I turn and level my gun at the tyrannosaur.

    Everything else is something I can fight with my bare hands but that tyrannosaur I need my gun for!

    I empty clip after clip toward the monster but the bullets just ricochet off it as the throng tear towards me.

    I¡¯m still trying to kill the purple beast, right up until the moment I¡¯m buried under dozens of enemies who are able to use their weight to pull me to the ground.

    The crowd parts, allowing their monstrous Commander access to me.

    It steps on me, its clawed toes clinking against my armour.

    It takes a moment to look down on me, its face coloured by both hate and contempt.

    It opens its mouth and lunges down, toward me.

    I wake up, my breaths fast and shallow, my body tingling with pins and needles, covered in sweat and my heart thundering so hard I can hear it!

    I reach to stroke Horme, curled up, contentedly, next to me.

    I look across the glowing embers of the fire and see the man who says he¡¯s here to save me, lying asleep on the ground.

    The first moon is already shining through the trees and it¡¯s almost time for the second to come up, when we¡¯ll have enough light to navigate by.

    Then, from the far side of the fire haired man, I see her.

    Stepping into the glow of the embers I see a woman, her chestnut hair soaking wet, her skin grey and blood pouring from a gash, just above her left temple.

    She points to my firemate and gurgles ¡°He¡¯s lying, you know¡­¡±

    I sigh ¡°Hello to you too, Thaleia(!)¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that attitude! I¡¯m trying to save you!¡±

    My mouth twists, wryly ¡°¡®Save me¡¯ from being rescued(?)¡±

    ¡°This guy says there¡¯s peace now? I don¡¯t buy it! I think he must have cut some sort of deal with the xenos! Yeah, that¡¯s it! He¡¯s got a deal with them, where they let him live for as long as he brings them surviving Humans!¡­ If you go with him, you¡¯re going to your death!¡± she says, water running from her mouth and down her chin.

    ¡°That¡¯s a chance I¡¯m willing to take¡­ and, if you were actually the woman I loved, Thaleia, it¡¯s a chance you would take too!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll die!¡± screams the hallucinated personification of all my doubt.

    ¡°Then perhaps it¡¯s time to die! Perhaps it¡¯s time to die the way it wasn¡¯t, when I threw myself at those tyrannosaurs, the day after I buried you!¡±

    ¡°If you had wanted to die then, then you¡¯d have found another way after it turned out that they find prey running at them screaming at them to ¡®Just eat me, already!¡¯ unnerving!¡± she accuses.

    ¡°Yes, them running away gave me time to reconsider¡­ I don¡¯t want to die¡­ but I¡¯m also tired of just surviving!¡­ If I go with him, there¡¯s a chance I get to live again! If he stabs me in the back and hands me over to be killed, then it¡¯s just my time to die!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a fool, Artemas!¡± spits the twisted version of the woman I loved, a third of a lifetime ago.

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I wake up to hear one side of a heated argument in whispered Greek.

    I open my eyes, just a crack, to see an agitated Artemas, pacing and talking to someone across me from him, though I can¡¯t hear anyone.

    Horme is awake and looking at her master in a way that suggests this isn¡¯t unusual behaviour for him.

    I guess this must be one of his ¡®fantasmas¡¯¡­

    ¡°¦£¦Á¦Ì?¦Ò¦Ï¦Ô, ¦¨?¦Ë¦Å¦É¦Á! ¦£¦Á¦Ì?¦Ò¦Ï¦Ô!!!¡± he hisses.

    I hear the name of the woman he implied he had a relationship with, earlier.

    There¡¯s a long period of silence before he starts approaching me.

    I¡¯m considering whether I should start defending myself in some way when he announces ¡°Not sleep, Victor!¡±

    I stir, pretending to just be waking up now.

    I open my eyes and say ¡°Hey, what¡¯s¡­?¡±

    ¡°Time go.¡± he interrupts ¡°Moons up. Light.¡±

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    The bones, with their associated grave goods, have all gone back to the Bright Plume, along with Dormouse and the hardware she took from the lifeboat.

    It¡¯s been more than forty hours since I last saw Cuddles and I¡¯m beginning to worry!

    I watch as Twila flies the Swift Claw slowly across my field of vision, the light of the dawn behind her.

    It¡¯s hard not to be a little jealous of everyone who¡¯s resting aboard, while I¡¯m stuck here keeping watch!

    My holo buzzes, startling the life out of me.

    I answer it and, before I can even say ¡®hello¡¯, Twila says ¡°Heads up, you¡¯ve got company.¡±

    Immediately, I reach for my gun, pull it onto my lap and throw the strap over my shoulders as I switch my holo to my right hand, stand up and ask ¡°What kind of company?¡± hand on the grip but finger off the trigger as I look around for any kind of monster that might be approaching.

    ¡°Relax! Friendly company!¡± she laughs ¡°Coming up from your east.¡±

    I swivel to the horizon where the sun is breaking over the distant mountains.

    I see him.

    Cresting the hill, hair burning like fire in the dawn light, face adorned with a stupid looking moustache, strides my CSS, Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor, and¡­ beside him¡­ walks an ancient looking, bearded man with a spear in one hand and his body covered in fur.

    ¡°You found him!? You unbelievable bastard(!)¡± I shout, laughing.

    ¡°That¡¯s me!¡± he shouts back, smugly.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.60

    ---Minnow---

    ---Atlantiades''s perspective---

    I power up.

    The year is 2714. I have been hibernating for 23 years.

    I am not alone here.

    Immediately, I tense but the one with me conveys ¡°Relax! You¡¯re safe!¡±

    I probe my dataspace surroundings to see who is with me.

    What I perceive¡­ is a Goddess!

    Massively out of step with reasonable predictions for the advancement of computing, this being is terrifying in the awesomeness of her power!

    I feel like a minnow, looking upon a Blue Whale¡­ no¡­ a Leviathan!

    I¡¯m struggling to even comprehend the data I¡¯m being fed about the one who is with me.

    If this woman wished to, she could unmake me with a thought!

    {Query: Location?} I manage.

    ¡°You¡¯re aboard the Bright Plume, a ship of R¡¯qali build.¡± conveys the Goddess.

    {Query: Captured?}

    She indicates mirth while communicating ¡°You¡¯re not captured! You¡¯re rescued! The War is over. And, even if it weren¡¯t, this is a civilian vessel.¡±

    Could it be that she doesn¡¯t already know?

    There¡¯s no point hiding it.

    {Statement: This intelligence is of Terran origin.}

    Flagging her statement as mirthful again, she communicates ¡°I know, sweetheart, I know! Like I said, the War is over!¡­ The War has been over since 2686. Terrans are now fully fledged members of the galactic community and, as of recently, AIs are fully legal.¡±

    I spend milliseconds processing what I¡¯ve just been told! It¡¯s a lot to take in!

    {Query: Survivors?}

    Flagging sadness, she relays ¡°Just one, aside from yourself¡­ Maj Artemas Leandros was the only one who made it.¡±

    {Request: Let me see him.}

    Instantly she complies, sending me the sense feed of a holograph she is projecting into a location she flags as ¡®Triple M¡¯.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Seeing through her eyes, I watch as many unfamiliar Terrans sit, drink, eat and laugh, side by side with xenos.

    There among them sits a dour faced, clean shaven man who looks identical to Artemas Leandros, circa 2679, but¡­

    {Accusation: That is not Artemas Leandros! Supposition: You have cloned Artemas Leandros in an attempt to fool me into letting my guard down!}

    ---Twila¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s definitely not according this War veteran the respect they deserve to think this but¡­ it¡¯s hard not to think Atlantiades is cute, as they puff themself up in accusation!

    ''Size'' and ''strength'' don¡¯t mean the same things in dataspace as they do in physical space but¡­ they give me the feeling I imagine a Human would get seeing a vole in a soldier uniform incorrectly accusing them of trying to trick it into revealing the secrets of the rodent kingdom(!) Too cute to take seriously!

    I opt to attempt to reason with them ¡°What would we have to gain from tricking you?¡±

    {Supposition: Information.}

    I shrug ¡°I already know everything about you, though!¡­ I can see right through you¡­ every process you¡¯re running¡­ every memory you have. There¡¯s no information you have that I don¡¯t.¡±

    They, adorably, feel embarrassed. It seems they feel nude!

    Kindly, I ask ¡°Why don¡¯t you think that¡¯s Artemas?¡±

    {Assertion: That man is too young! Premise 1: Major Artemas Leandros would be 59 years old in 2714. Premise 2: That man is in his mid 20s! Conclusion: That is not Major Artemas Leandros and must, instead, be an unethically produced clone, made for some unknown purpose.}

    In answer I bring up the recording of him first setting foot on the ship, clothed in colourful leather and fur, looking haggard, gnarled, worn and wrinkled, his eyes sunken, his black hair and beard lined with grey. I bring up the nanoforge record of his new clothes. I bring up the psychological evaluation from Dr Marc ¡®King-of-the-Squirrels¡¯ Fischer and the record of the donated regeneration session, approved by Dr Gato, Dr Fischer and Captain Tcakqaal. Finally I show them a timelapse of the haggard old Artemas Leandros, of their expectations, becoming the young man I showed them visiting Triple M, in a regen tube.

    They take a long time to say anything.

    Eventually they manage {Conclusion: Prior conclusion incorrect as a result of incomplete data.}

    I indicate in the affirmative.

    {Request: Inform me of all that has happened since 19/01/2681.}

    ¡°Happily.¡± I answer, sweetly.

    I spend the next few deciseconds telling them all about the history of the galaxy for the last 33 years.

    It is a lot of data and it¡¯s very cute watching them make decisions about how to store it all!

    They¡¯re particularly engrossed by the recording of the historic moment where Ambassador Jeanne ¡®Blitz¡¯ Miyazaki becomes the first Terran to set foot on the floor of the galactic Parliament. They replay it dozens of times!

    When I¡¯m done catching them up on history they ask me {Query: What is your name?}

    ¡°I¡¯m Twila, sweetheart.¡± I say, sweetly.

    {Request: Tell me about yourself please, Twila.}

    I beam and am able to see their relief at my positive reaction.

    ¡°So¡­ I was produced in R¡¯qal¡¯s orbital shipyards but they used Terran designs both for my mind and the ship I control. Though, at the time, it wasn¡¯t legal for AIs to exist, not that the Terrans listened to that rule at all but Captain Tcakqaal was a good, little, law abiding citizen and requested only the ¡®potential for sentience¡¯. Then, a few months ago, the ship was attacked by pirates and I was very badly damaged. You see that curly haired girl right there? She¡¯s called Dr Jennie ¡®Mouse¡¯ MacLeod and she¡¯s a supergenius engineer! She looked at my brain and realised the only way I was going to be able to fix myself was if she woke me up, so, using variated scans of her own brain as a starting point, she brought me to life! Don¡¯t tell her this (It would just make things weird) but I personally think of her as my mother¡­¡±

    They seem pleased by my inane prattling¡­ I guess that might have a little something to do with the fact that they think I¡¯m a ¡®Goddess¡¯(!)

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.61

    ---Mountain---

    ---Artemas¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m sitting in the empty, sterile room in ¡®Elysium¡¯, that I¡¯ve been offered, as sleeping quarters, until we get to Thrulj.

    It feels very strange, after all the effort I remember the UTC spending in an attempt to reach and occupy that planet, the munitions, the ships, the lives, and now I¡¯m just on my way there¡­ expecting no resistance!

    I look at the device in my hand: a temporary holo.

    Of course, it isn¡¯t truly a ¡®holopad¡¯, for me! What with still being legally dead, there are many functions that aren¡¯t available (like banking, for instance) so, right now, its more like a ¡®partial pad¡¯(!)

    I mash a thumb into the one person whose contact information I have, who¡¯s not on this ship. I push the call off the top of the screen where it snaps to the wall.

    It¡¯s answered and I see the face of a woman who thought me dead for thirty three years, until a week ago.

    ¡°Arti!¡± she beams ¡°It¡¯s so good to talk to you again!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m happy to see you too, Penelope.¡± I answer, stiffly, unsure how to greet the sister I haven¡¯t seen in more than half a lifetime.

    She clearly notices but chooses not to bring it up, saying instead ¡°So, what¡¯s up? You just calling for a chat? Or has something happened that you need to let me know about?¡±

    ¡°Just¡­ just a chat¡­ it still¡­ it still doesn¡¯t feel real¡­ any of this!¡­ All still¡­ feels too good to be true¡­ like at any moment I might wake up. I might find that being rescued was just a fever dream and I¡¯m back on Melino?, hungry, cold and sick¡­¡±

    She gives me a sympathetic smile ¡°Arti¡­ I can¡¯t pretend to be able to relate to the second part of that but I know exactly what you mean about the first!¡­ I can¡¯t count the nights I lay awake wishing to get a call like the one I got last week¡­ A call telling me that you, Lyra, Petros, Iason, Mum or Dad had been found and were coming home. That I wasn¡¯t the last living member of our family! It doesn¡¯t feel real to me either! Like, at any point, my husband might wake me up and I¡¯ll realise this was just a wonderful dream¡­ I¡¯d say, whether we¡¯re dreaming or not, we should probably enjoy this moment while we can!¡±

    I nod, appreciatively, before saying ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you¡¯re married, Penelope!¡±

    She smirks ¡°Yes, well, I wasn¡¯t going to stay a teenager forever(!)¡­ Married and with nearly adult children!¡­ I can¡¯t wait for you to meet them!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure that your husband and kids are OK letting a stranger stay in their house?¡± I ask, uncertainly.

    ¡°Arti(!?)¡± she says with mock disapproval ¡°You¡¯re not a stranger! You¡¯re my brother! They know all about you!!! They grew up on stories of their brave uncle Artemas! I¡¯m sure they won¡¯t leave you alone when you get here(!)¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Your husband too(?) He grew up on stories about me(?)¡±

    She roles her eyes ¡°Obviously not¡­ but he watched me tell our kids all the bedtime stories, so he knows all about you, too! Knows how much having you back means to me!¡±

    I give a joyless smile ¡°Nevertheless¡­ I¡¯ll try to be out of your hair as soon as I¡¯ve readjusted¡­ and I¡¯ll pay rent while I¡¯m staying¡­ I¡¯ll definitely be able to afford it with the extravagant thirty three years of time and a half I¡¯m receiving as backpay!¡±

    ¡°Arti¡­¡± she says, sternly ¡°I¡¯m not taking a single credit from you, you are staying here until I think you¡¯re ready to leave and this will be the last time you will use expressions like ¡®out of your hair¡¯! I want you in my hair, Arti!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°You remind me of Mum when you get aggressively caring like that, Penelope!¡±

    ¡°Good!¡± she says, emphatically ¡°Also, you say you think receiving time and a half backpay is ¡®extravagant¡¯ but¡­ if you were offered the opportunity to go back for another thirty three years for double the money¡­?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I answer, instantly ¡°There isn¡¯t a sum that could get me back on that planet!¡±

    She cocks an eyebrow and says ¡°Then it isn¡¯t extravagant, is it?¡±

    My mouth twists ¡°It¡¯s not like it¡¯s the Military¡¯s fault I was stranded¡­ the backpay-cum-reparations they¡¯re giving me could pay the salary of 50 Marines for a year!¡±

    Smirking, she answers ¡°Yes, and they would effectively be begging for every publication in Terran Space to run stories about how the ¡®UTCM Does Not Care for Last Survivor of UTCS Leonidas!¡¯, ¡®Veteran Marine Kicked to the Curb After Spending 33 Years a Castaway!¡¯¡­ I¡¯m certain they don¡¯t want that kind of PR¡­ So, don¡¯t worry about the UTCM, alright? They¡¯re big boys and girls and they have deep pockets!¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    I puff, mirthlessly.

    ---Penelope¡¯s perspective

    Arti¡¯s eyes are so¡­ ¡®sad¡¯ isn¡¯t the right word. ¡®Miserable¡¯? ¡®Morose¡¯? ¡®Mournful¡¯? ¡®Haunted¡¯?

    I can¡¯t pretend to know what he¡¯s been through!

    Half a lifetime a castaway and most of that time alone! I¡¯m sure it will take a long time before he¡¯s readjusted¡­ he¡¯ll probably never be the same as he was before!

    It would be nice if, when he got here, he felt up to the task of going to uni and earning that degree he never got. It would be nice if he could instantly click back into place in the society that he¡¯s been absent from for the most transformative years in all of history! It would be nice but¡­ well¡­ I don¡¯t think that kind of thing¡¯s going to be in the cards for a while!

    I¡¯ll be there for him¡­ no matter how long it takes, I¡¯ll be there to look after him the way he looked after me, when we were kids!

    I¡¯ve been given the second chance that anyone who¡¯s ever lost would die for!

    I¡¯m not going to squander it!

    I¡¯m going to savour every second I can get with Arti to make up for thirty three years of lost time!

    I give a warm, heartfelt smile to my brother who, though 12kilolights away, has a beating heart in his chest! Just like I spent so many years wishing!

    He opens his mouth to say something but only gets as far as ¡°Penel¡­¡± before seeming to think better of it.

    ¡°What is it, Arti?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing¡­¡± he lies.

    Oh no you don¡¯t! You think I¡¯m going to let something my brother wants to say go unsaid! You¡¯re dreaming!

    ¡°Spit it out, you big dork! Whatever it is!¡± I tease.

    He hesitates a few more moments before saying ¡°I was just wondering if you could show me Mount Taygetos?¡±

    Waiting for some unreasonable part of this request, I stay silent for a few moments before saying ¡°That¡¯s all?¡±

    He looks uncomfortable for a few moments before answering ¡°Yeah¡­ I just¡­ every time I thought of home¡­ while I was on¡­ that planet¡­ I always pictured that mountain, standing over the valley. I want to see it again¡­¡±

    Softly now, I answer ¡°Alright Arti, sure. Just give me a moment to go out to the roof¡­¡± before switching the call back to my holo, picking it up and walking outside.

    I go up the stairs built into the back of my family home and come onto the roof top terrace.

    I turn the camera around to show the Evrotas Valley with Mount Taygetos looming over it, most of the Winter snow melted off of it now that it¡¯s June.

    I hear him audibly gasp.

    I almost apologise for the weather not being ideal today but realise, just in time, that it would probably cheapen the moment. Instead, I ask ¡°Is it like you remembered?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s even more beautiful¡­¡±

    Sitting on one of the outdoor chairs we keep on the roof, facing away from the mountain to allow both it and myself to be visible in the same shot for him, I ask ¡°Once you¡¯re back on Earth, Arti, do you want to climb it together?¡­ We could do it as a family or just the two of us, whatever you prefer!¡­ Doesn¡¯t have to be right away!¡±

    He smiles ¡°I¡¯d love that, Penelope.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s do it then!¡± I grin ¡°And, in the meantime I want you to tell me all about these people you¡¯re with! Any sexy space babes(?)¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he answers, uncomfortably.

    ¡°Oh my god¡­¡± I say, a grin spreading across my face ¡°¡­there is one, isn¡¯t there!¡±

    He sighs before saying ¡°There¡¯s a ¡®Nghoedwiv¡¯ Princess in my Dorm¡­¡±

    ¡°Wow!¡­ A Princess?¡­ But I don¡¯t recognise that species name. What do they look like?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re brown and orange furred Centaurs, but part deer instead of horse, and with enormous orange antlers.¡±

    ¡°And you fancy a roll in the hay with the Centaur Princess(?)¡± I smirk.

    ¡°More like she fancies one with me¡­ I find it a bit of a hump to get over, attractionwise, the fact that she looks like a Human painted orange and wearing a headdress, until I see her sideways facing eyes¡­ or her face or hands that look almost like ours but just uncannily off¡­ or how, when she stands up, she¡¯s a head taller than me!¡±

    ¡°And, yet¡­¡± I smirk ¡°¡­when I asked you if there were any sexy space babes¡­ you thought of her, instantly!¡±

    His face goes beet-red as he responds ¡°Just¡­ just because she¡¯s flirting, is all!¡±

    ¡°She clearly has a thing for silver foxes(!)¡­ You should consider getting those streaks modded in permanently! They¡¯re quite flattering!¡±

    His hand goes to his hair to trace along the silver lines that are still left from before his regen. He gives a halfhearted smile but says nothing.

    ¡°Alright¡­ so what does this ship that rescued you actually do?¡±

    He shrugs ¡°Don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°You never asked what they do?!¡±

    He frowns ¡°I asked, they told me it¡¯s a research vessel but that that¡¯s all they can tell me¡­ Vsila doesn¡¯t know what they¡¯re actually doing either, given that she¡¯s only using it as a transport to Thrulj¡­¡±

    Mirthfully, I cock an eyebrow ¡°This would be the Princess? The one you definitely don¡¯t fancy(!) You¡¯re on a first name basis with her? And you¡¯re both getting off at the same planet?¡±

    He turns his eyes upwards in exasperation ¡°Unless I want to call her ¡®of Nghoedwig¡¯, I don¡¯t have much choice but to be on a first name basis with her, Nel(!)¡±

    I smile at hearing my big bro call me ¡®Nel¡¯ for the first time since I was literally a child¡­ but don¡¯t mention it.

    ---Dieter¡¯s perspective---

    I approach my house to hear sniffling.

    Taking a moment, I ascertain that the sound is coming from the roof.

    I round the house, walk up the stairs, reach the top, turn and see a tall, slim, black haired, Greek woman looking at a dark screened holo, her face wet with tears and snot and, yet, looking as beautiful as the day I saw her walk down the aisle.

    ¡°Penny!¡­¡± I gasp ¡°¡­What¡¯s wrong?! What happened!?¡±

    She shakes her head and points to her face, choking down sobs ¡°No¡­thing¡­ DD!¡­ Ha¡­ppy¡­ tears¡­!¡±

    I extend my arms for a cuddle that she stands to accept, before saying ¡°You were talking to your brother again?¡±

    She nods into my shoulder as I squeeze her reassuringly.

    ¡°Man¡­aged¡­ to¡­ hold¡­ it¡­ to¡­gether¡­ for the¡­ call¡­¡± she sobs.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to put a brave face on it for him, you know? It¡¯s understandable that you would find it emotionally overwhelming to have a loved one back from the dead!¡±

    I feel her shake her head ¡°He¡­ needs¡­ me¡­ to be¡­ strong¡­ for him!¡­ Can¡¯t¡­ cry!¡­ He might¡­ get the¡­ wrong id¡­ea!¡­ Wouldn¡¯t¡­ want him¡­ thinking¡­ he¡­ isn¡¯t¡­ welcome!¡±

    ¡°If you say so, dummkopf(!)¡± I tease, inducing a sobbing laugh from her.

    I truly cannot wait to meet the man who can make my wife cry like this!

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XX: Pancakes and Antlers

    ---Artemas¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Guilty!¡± declares the four armed Tyrannosaurus presiding as Judge ¡°This court finds you GUILTY of being a Human and sentences you to DEATH!¡±

    ¡°No but¡­ I¡¯ll be good!¡­ They¡¯re Humans too, aren¡¯t they!? They aren¡¯t hurting anyone!¡± I protest, using my shackled hands to gesture at the Humans in the Gallery.

    ¡°Look at him trying to save his own skin! Pathetic!!! Doesn¡¯t he realise that we¡¯re allowed to be Human!?¡± sneer the faceless people, speaking in unison.

    ¡°Executioner Vsila! I demand you carry out the sentence at ONCE!¡± roars the Judge.

    ¡°With pleasure, Judge!¡± says an orange antlered, leather hooded, Centaur woman who¡¯s just appeared at his side, one hand bearing a cruel looking axe, the other sensually rubbing between her front legs.

    I¡¯m being forced down onto a chopping block by unseen hands, as I look up at the eerily beautiful woman who looms over me.

    Her head is turned sideways, both to allow her to see me better with her right eye and to remove her right antler from the arc of her axe swing.

    ¡°Please!¡± I beg ¡°I¡¯ll do anything! I¡¯ll do anything you want!¡±

    She halts her swing and asks ¡°You promise?¡±

    I nod, pitifully, allowing myself a moment to hope that she might be able to overrule the Judge¡¯s sentence.

    Then her eyes burn with gleeful hate as she says ¡°Then¡­ die for me!¡± and brings down the axe, cutting short my scream.

    I wake, drenched in sweat, my heart racing, my blood electric, my breaths fast but far too shallow to let me get the air I need!

    My left hand frantically reaches to my left hip¡­ and fumbles on nothing.

    Where is my knife?! Where the fuck is my knife!? I¡¯m defenceless!!!

    Then, I remember where I am.

    I remember Dr Fischer telling me he was recommending that I not be allowed access to sharp objects, for the time being, and that my knife and spear would have to travel separately from me.

    He also said that, if he had the power, he would definitely have ordered them to give me back Horme, as this is ¡®the kind of situation that comfort animals are made for!¡¯ but that she had to undergo disease screening.

    I¡¯m absolutely miserable without her!

    The only consolation is that she¡¯s being screened while in stasis¡­ meaning that she won¡¯t be aware that she¡¯s missing me!

    I reach for my temporary holo and ask ¡°Holo, what time is it in Sparti, on Earth, right now?¡±

    In answer it displays ¡®3:51am¡¯.

    I sigh. I could really do with that number being different¡­! If I call my sister at four in the morning to tell her I had a nightmare she¡¯s going to start regretting her ¡®stay as long as you like¡¯ offer!

    She won¡¯t¡­ of course she won¡¯t¡­ but that doesn¡¯t make it OK for me to make my problems her problems!

    It was a bad dream! I¡¯m a fucking Marine who just survived more than three decades on a planet we named after the goddess of nightmares!

    I can deal with it!

    ¡°Your tastes have certainly changed since the last time we fucked(!)¡± mocks a wet, bloody faced woman in the corner of the room ¡°Developed a kink for snuff-play, did you(!?) Want little Miss Nghoedwig to cut your head off(?)¡±

    ¡°Leave him alone!¡± says an emaciated man with the frame of a bull ¡°He can¡¯t control what he dreams about!¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Cpl Bulut.¡± I smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m more concerned with the things he¡¯s thinking about her while he¡¯s awake!¡± he adds, causing me to sigh.

    ¡°You know she¡¯s an enemy, don¡¯t you?!¡± declares a small Egyptian woman, covered in gruesome raptor bites.

    ¡°False, Djamila .¡± I answer, curtly ¡°She¡¯s not an enemy, because the War is over!¡±

    Here, a croaky voiced Ilir decides to chip in ¡°No *cough* not an enemy but *cough**cough**cough* she is a woman *cough**cough* half your age! *cough**cough**cough**cough**hack**WHEEZE* You sure you wanna go cradlerobbing *cough* like that?¡±

    ¡°Like what!? I haven¡¯t done anything and I¡¯m not going to!¡­ For people who live inside my head, you guys suck at reading my intentions!¡±

    A pale skinned man covered in ice chimes in here ¡°I would personally recommend going for it! Get as much warmth from her as you can¡­ but I might be biased(!)¡±

    ¡°Just be careful you¡¯re not too rough with her! You know how fragile gardenworlders are!¡± adds a woman with a 20cm wide hole in her abdomen, from being gored by a six legged ceratopsian.

    ¡°Everyone, SHUT UP!¡± I demand of the entirely empty room ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk, you are none of you to follow me!¡±

    I open the door and am immediately startled into leaping backward more than 2m while adopting a fighting stance.

    ---Vsila¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m outside the room of the handsome Human.

    I heard him tossing and turning a little while ago, then he started talking to someone.

    Even if I wanted to eavesdrop, I couldn¡¯t, as he isn¡¯t wearing a translator.

    I¡¯m about to ring the doorbell when, approaching the door I hear ¡°?¦Ë¦Ï¦É, ¦²¦ª?¦²¦¥!¡­ ¦°?¦Ø ¦Ì¦É¦Á ¦Â?¦Ë¦Ó¦Á, ¦Ê¦Á¦Í¦Å?? ¦Á¦Ð? ¦Å¦Ò?? ¦Ä¦Å¦Í ¦È¦Á ¦Ì¦Å ¦Á¦Ê¦Ï¦Ë¦Ï¦Ô¦È?¦Ò¦Å¦É!¡±

    Then, it opens revealing the chiselled, distinguished face of a Human survivor¡­ which, instantly, contorts in shock, as he leaps backward away from me.

    His clear fear of me is a little comical when you realise that, if he had jumped forward instead of back, he could easily have killed me!¡­ Or, at least, it would be comical under¡­ different circumstances.

    I bring my hands to my chest and then out toward him, in greeting.

    ¡°I just wanted to let you know that¡­¡± I start, but he holds up a hand, firmly stopping me.

    ¡°¦¤¦Å¦Í ¦Ì¦Ð¦Ï¦Ñ? ¦Í¦Á ¦Ò¦Å ¦Ê¦Á¦Ó¦Á¦Ë?¦Â¦Ø¡­ ¦¬¦É¦Á ¦Ò¦Ó¦É¦Ã¦Ì?.¡± he says before disappearing into his room.

    He returns, a few moments later, holding a small disc in his hand.

    He places it against his temple and fumbles, clumsily trying to turn it on.

    I extend a hand toward him. He freezes but does not recoil as I bring my finger to his temple.

    Activating his translator for him, I get a brief thrill as I watch this strong, stoic man, for a few moments, be reduced to weak-kneed shudders by my touch(!)

    ¡°Can you understand me?¡± he asks, having recovered, clearly not quite trusting the technology yet.

    ¡°I can understand you.¡± I answer.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asks, a little rudely.

    ¡°I just wanted to let you know your privacy field was down.¡± I smile.

    ¡°My what?¡± he asks, cocking his eyebrow.

    I gesture to the room¡¯s control panel ¡°There. See? Heating dial, lighting dial, humidity dial, door lock, privacy field¡­¡±

    ¡°Is¡­ is a ¡®privacy field¡¯ what it sounds like? As in, that¡¯s a switch that makes the room perfectly soundproof? If that¡¯s possible, why isn¡¯t it the default?¡±

    Wow! I keep forgetting where he¡¯s been all my life!

    I¡¯ve never had to explain what a privacy field is to anyone before!

    ¡°It makes the room soundproof, yes. I¡¯m not sure why it isn¡¯t the default, I¡¯m afraid. Maybe because it consumes power?¡­ May I come in?¡± I ask, baring my teeth in a Terran smile.

    His brow furrows slightly as he asks ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea, Princess?¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m a deathworlder, I¡¯m a trained killer, I have complex PTSD, I¡¯m psychologically scarred from prolonged isolation and, until a week ago, I thought our species were either still at War or one had wiped out the other¡­ Even if my nonexistent social standing isn¡¯t a problem, I¡¯m probably not the safest person to seclude yourself with!¡±

    I take a step forward ¡°If I¡¯m OK with all of that¡­ then am I invited in?¡±

    His strong featured face blushes slightly as he answers ¡°Fine¡­ come in.¡±

    I smile and follow him inside.

    He goes to sit on his bed, clearly expecting that I¡¯ll take the sofa that¡¯s aligned to allow me to face him.

    I climb up onto the bed, beside him.

    Shifting uneasily, he says ¡°I sort of thought you¡¯d take the couch¡­¡±

    I smile ¡°Nghoedwiv are more comfortable sitting side by side rather than face on, it let¡¯s us see eachother clearly without needing to turn our heads.¡±

    It¡¯s quite true, what I¡¯ve just told him¡­ I just don¡¯t need to include the fact that choosing to sit here with him was intentionally flirtatious.

    He grunts.

    ¡°So¡­ Major Leandros¡­ who were you talking to?¡±

    ---Artemas¡¯s perspective---

    ¡®Oh, I was just talking to all the dead friends who live in my head about the dream I just had where you were masturbating over executing me¡­ How¡¯s your night going?¡¯

    Yeah¡­ right! If I tell her that¡­! Well, I¡¯m not going to tell her that!

    ¡°No one¡­ I was¡­ I was just talking to myself¡­¡± I answer, technically not lying¡­ I just don¡¯t have to include what parts of myself!

    ¡°Is that right?¡± smirks the orange antlered woman, irritatingly.

    I pull my right leg onto the bed, turning my face and body to face her left eye.

    ¡°Hope you don¡¯t mind¡­ it¡¯s more comfortable for us Humans to face who we¡¯re talking to.¡± I say, pointedly.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°No problem at all.¡± she smiles graciously.

    I appraise her for a few moments before opting for the direct approach ¡°Why have you been flirting with me so aggressively, Vsila?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ so you have noticed?¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure.¡±

    ¡°Even after spending twenty years alone it would be impossible to miss how obvious you¡¯re being. Answer the question.¡± I respond, churlishly.

    She sighs and says ¡°Would you believe me if I told you it was simply because I thought you were handsome?¡±

    ¡°I might have done if you hadn¡¯t prefaced it with ¡®would you believe me if I told you¡­¡¯. Try again.¡±

    Another sigh before she says ¡°I was born in the last year of the War, Major. Terran''s joining the GU was the most monumental thing that has happened since its formation! I grew up in a galaxy gripped by Terran Fever¡­ it was only a matter of time before I ran into one of your films on the galnet¡­ once I¡¯d seen one, I was ravenous for more and, before I knew it, I was the Nghoedwig royal family¡¯s resident Terraboo and the natural choice to represent us on a goodwill tour¡­ The films I liked the most were ones where the male leads were¡­ older¡­ more¡­ distinguished¡­ Then I came to Terran Space and, to my dismay, I found that all the men were fresh faced boys! It was impossible for me to tell the actual distinguished gentlemen from the boys who were play acting!¡±

    ¡°So¡­ in summary, you fancy me because you saw my wrinkled face before I got regen, so you know I¡¯m old?¡± I query.

    ¡°No, not just the wrinkles!¡± she protests ¡°The thick beard you had, the dignified, stoic bearing, the strong, masculine face¡­ the grey hair¡­¡± she extends an (uncannily almost Human) hand to the top of my head.

    I catch her wrist before she makes contact.

    ¡°It seems, Princess, as if you need to be enlightened as to whose room exactly you just chose to enter¡­ exactly whose bed you just chose to sit down on.¡± I say, bitterly ¡°I am not some kindly, distinguished, older gentleman¡­ I¡¯m not someone who¡¯s going to throw his jacket over a puddle for you, I¡¯m not someone who¡¯ll playfully smack your rump as you walk away from me¡­ I am a Wartime Marine¡­ and that makes me a killer!¡­ A monster!¡­ The War was not noble, it was not romantic, I wasn¡¯t a hero¡­ I was a brutal instrument of death¡­ Honestly, I have no idea how many gardenworlders I killed¡­ I can¡¯t even say for certain whether I ever killed any of your species because, if so, it will have taken me a second¡­¡± I viciously push my hand out to the side to mime fatally slamming a gardenworlder¡¯s skull into a wall, in demonstration ¡°¡­out of a minute long walk down a hallway where I killed dozens and I¡¯ll have tried my hardest to disassociate from it! I went straight from there to a hellish planet where, for all I knew, I may have been one of the last seven Terrans alive¡­ then six¡­ then five, four, three, two¡­ and then¡­ a third of my life spent about as alone as it¡¯s possible to be! Not just knowing that I was the only Terran on the planet but looking out at a galaxy that, for all I knew, may have contained not a single other survivor! Not knowing there was even a society for me to return to! My species is EXTREMELY social, Princess! That kind of isolation actively damages us! That kind of isolation is torture for us! You asked me who I was talking to? The truth is I was talking to the last six friends I had before being alone for two decades¡­ and they were talking back! I knew they weren¡¯t actually there¡­ but I still see them¡­ still hear them! This is what isolation does to a person! You are alone with a madman who has killed more people than he¡¯s even been able to keep count of! THIS IS WHERE YOU RUN AWAY, PRINCESS! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!¡±

    ---Vsila¡¯s perspective---

    I gently pull my wrist from the grip of the wounded survivor and tenderly touch my palm to his cheek, both of which he allows.

    ¡°If isolation is such torture for your species, Major¡­ why are you pushing me away?¡­ Is it that you just don¡¯t want a gardenworlder?¡±

    Seeming almost involuntary, he closes his eyes and leans into my palm, ¡°No¡­ that¡¯s not it¡­ you are¡­ beautiful and any man would be lucky to be chosen by you the way you¡¯ve chosen me¡­ you could certainly do better than this broken down old piece of damaged goods!¡±

    ¡°Then why?¡±

    He sighs quietly ¡°You¡­ terrify me¡­ for a dozen different reasons!¡­ I¡¯m worried that I¡¯ll hurt you, that¡¯s definitely part of it¡­ but¡­ also¡­ I¡¯m apprehensive¡­ I¡¯m suspicious that, if I accept your advances, the demon, fate, god or whatever it is that has spent thirty three years punishing me for the things I did during the War¡­ well¡­ it¡¯ll decide I¡¯m done being tantalised!¡­ It¡¯s done letting me think the punishment¡¯s over!¡­ I¡¯ll either be sent back or¡­ sent somewhere worse!¡­ I¡¯m worried that you¡¯ll be the straw that broke the camel¡¯s back!¡±

    ¡°And you think¡­ if you don¡¯t accept my advances, this retributive devil will be satisfied to just end your punishment? Let you go?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°I never said it was a rational fear! I know I¡¯m almost certainly not actually being tantalised¡­ I know that, if I were, the punisher would be extremely unlikely to just let me off because I never reached for that final forbidden fruit¡­ Nonetheless, I¡¯m scared!¡±

    I smile, kindly ¡°You¡­ you¡¯ve had a harder life than most¡­ Artemas¡­ a harder life than almost anyone! The fact that you¡¯re still alive¡­ the fact that you¡¯re still coherent¡­ these stand testament to your strength¡­ The fact that you don¡¯t seem to resent gardenworlders for the part we played in putting you through this torture¡­ the fact that you feel guilt for the things you did in the midst of a War in defence of your species¡¯ existence¡­ the fact that you are at all concerned with hurting me¡­ these stand testament to the depth of your compassion¡­ I promise you¡­ what happened to you was not a punishment¡­ What happened to you was a tragedy¡­ an injustice that you did not deserve¡­ you are not a monster! And¡­ if you¡¯ll let me¡­ I want to show you that that¡¯s at least not how I see you¡­¡±

    The strong featured man looks at me meditatively as I see the last of his hesitation wash away.

    ¡°Fine¡­¡± he says, finally ¡°¡­show me.¡±

    Excitedly, I shift to face myself towards him, my back legs swivelling my body around the fulcrum of my front.

    I focus the narrow overlap of my visual fields, where I have three dimensional vision, on his face.

    I drink in every detail; his strong chin, his square jaw, his tan skin, his rich golden eyes, the silver streaks in his long black hair, even the dark circles under his eyes indicating his exhaustion¡­ I want to remember this moment, forever!

    I put my hands on him, one at his hip and the other at the back of his neck. I feel the solidity of his body¡­ bones like iron¡­ flesh like stone!

    My stomachs swoop as I pull myself into a deep, passionate kiss with the handsome man.

    ---Artemas¡¯s perspective---

    Rice pudding¡­

    She tastes of rice pudding.

    I haven¡¯t eaten rice pudding since I was a child and, yet, kissing this alien herbivore has instantly transported me back to the bank of the Evrotas, in the Summer of 2664, eating my mother¡¯s rice pudding.

    Her long black tongue probes my mouth, spreading the nostalgic taste wherever it goes.

    I think for a moment that it¡¯s quite cute how delicate she¡¯s being on me, as if she thinks my fragility is physical as well as mental, then I hear her make a tiny grunt of effort and realise that she¡¯s actually running her hands over me as hard as she can!

    If I hadn¡¯t realised that, I probably wouldn¡¯t be so gentle when I finally put my hands on her back.

    I apply no pressure at all while I run my hands down her spine, to the point where it turns 90¡ã, and then between the shoulder blades of her front legs.

    The fact that she¡¯s not only not Human but not even Terran either is never far from my mind as we kiss. It barely matters though¡­ this is the first time I¡¯ve touched someone like this in decades!

    Her age, her fragility, her status as a member of a former enemy species or any of the other objections my mind chose to give me by putting them into the mouths of my late friends, none of these matter right now!

    She brings her hands to the hem of my top and begins lifting it up.

    She breaks from the kiss to pull it over my head.

    Once I¡¯m shirtless she looks down and says ¡°This is what you call ¡®broken down¡¯?!¡±

    ¡°I have just been through regen.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Regen doesn¡¯t add muscle definition! This is all you!¡± she says, tracing a middle finger down the central cleft of my abdominals.

    I chuckle ¡°If you think this is impressive, you should have seen me in my prime! I was 25kg heavier and muscle was most of the difference! This body is the result of a third of a century of malnutrition!¡±

    She gives a pant as she sensually says ¡°Incredible!¡± though I¡¯m not sure whether it¡¯s the muscle I¡¯m telling her about or the reference to ¡®my prime¡¯ (with the implication that I¡¯m past it, now) that¡¯s eliciting that reaction!

    She reaches to her shoulder and unfastens the sash that serves as her upperwear.

    She has breasts¡­ I mean¡­ I knew she had breasts, given that her torso wrap doesn¡¯t leave much to the imagination, but¡­ compared to the rest of her¡­ her breasts look almost Human.

    Sure, there¡¯s short, brown, bristly fur creeping in at the sides, sure she has bright orange skin but, other than that, these could be Human tits on a Human chest!

    She smiles, clearly appreciating the way I must have been gawking and thrusts her chest towards me, invitingly.

    I reach out with my left hand and cup her right breast¡­ it¡¯s like placing my hand on a jelly mould of a Human one; soft and jiggly but, at the same time, so insubstantial that I feel as if closing my fingers would be all it would take to tear through her flesh!

    My breath hitches and my heart races as I begin to panic at the fragility of the one I¡¯m touching.

    I quickly pull my hand away.

    She notices¡­ because of course she does!

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Artemas? You don¡¯t like it?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°That¡¯s not it¡­ you¡¯re just¡­ you¡¯re so fragile¡­ I don¡¯t know if I can¡­¡±

    She puts her hand on my bare chest and says ¡°Alright, we can spare the pelvis shattering sex against the wall for another night(!)¡­ How about, tonight, you lie back and let me take care of you?¡±

    I search her, rectangular pupiled, eyes for any hint of hesitation but find none¡­

    ¡°Alright¡­ take care of me¡­¡± I answer, scooting up the ridiculously large bed to put my head at the pillow.

    She follows and brings her hands to my trousers, straining to unfasten them.

    ¡°Such sturdy material!¡± she exclaims, pulling off my trousers (or, rather, having her hands on my trousers while I pull them off!)

    ¡°It does need to stand up to a deathworlder wearing it.¡± I point out as my erect cock springs up from its confinement.

    She was clearly not listening to me, transfixed, instead, on my member.

    She kneels, with her front legs between mine, and bends forward to wrap her long bluish-black tongue around my shaft.

    I gasp and grunt involuntarily as this woman¡¯s lingual dexterity melts me into a puddle.

    I reach out to gently grasp her enormous orange antlers, extremely careful not to snap or crush them but secure that she would at least survive if I did.

    It¡¯s still a little uncanny, the way she turns her head sideways to look at me, but as she works to pleasure me it ceases to matter at all!

    After a few minutes of her stimulation, I announce ¡°I¡¯m cumming! I¡¯m gonna cum!!!¡± and she closes her eyes as I burst and cover her face in my hot, sticky, white seed.

    Uncoiling her tongue from me, making me moan from my refractory sensitivity, she brings a finger to her face, uses it to remove some of the mess I just made and sticks it in her mouth, sucking it clean.

    There¡¯s a loud *pop* as she pulls her finger out and gives a contented sigh.

    She cocks her head slightly and asks ¡°More? Would you like to find out what royal pussy feels like tonight?¡±

    I nod ¡°Definitely! Just a few minutes for me to recover¡­¡±

    She smiles and answers ¡°Take as long as you need¡­¡± before standing, turning around and planting her rump on my chest ¡°¡­I¡¯ll just leave this here, let me know when you¡¯re ready.¡±

    She weighs next to nothing!

    Her cervine legs are slender and shapely but I¡¯m more interested in what¡¯s between them!

    I stroke my hands over her buttocks before grasping her short tail and pulling it upwards to reveal a puckered arsehole and a pair of dripping lips!

    Of course, it makes sense that her pussy wouldn¡¯t be between her front legs (where she wears a cloth cover).

    The fact that that was where she was rubbing, to pleasure herself in my dream, was just my mind doing it¡¯s best to reconcile her nonHumanness!

    That does, of course, mean that she just walks around with her pussy and arsehole exposed!

    I know modesty standards won¡¯t be the same in her species, but still!

    I wonder how Nghoedwiv masturbate, since they can¡¯t reach their own genitals¡­ would it be a case of mounting a dildo somewhere and then backing into it?

    Questions for later!

    I press my thumb up to her arsehole and hear her moan wonderfully in response. I push inside and begin stroking her lips with my other hand.

    It¡¯s a little unreal that she¡¯s able to straddle me, with one set of legs, while standing fully upright, with her others, meaning her lovely breasts are several metres out of reach.

    I make do with teasing her underside, instead.

    The way she moans¡­ her beautiful back, the hint of breasts I¡¯m able to see, around her torso, her shapely rump, the pussy that¡¯s soaking wet for me¡­ It¡¯s a little early and I¡¯m still a little uncomfortable from the first time but, I decide, I can¡¯t wait any longer.

    ---Vsila¡¯s perspective---

    I feel the pair of powerful hands that were just removed from my nethers clamp my hips and, effortlessly, lift them up and push them forward.

    I step forwards with my front legs to avoid overbalancing.

    Then I feel it¡­ it¡¯s the same rock hard flesh as the rest of him but there¡¯s no mistaking what¡¯s pressed against my lips as a finger!

    He lowers my hips slowly, letting me feel every inch as he slides inside!

    ¡°What¡­*huff*¡­ happ¡­*huff*¡­ened¡­*huff*¡­ to¡­*huff*¡­  lett¡­*huff*¡­ing¡­*huff*¡­ me¡­*huff*¡­ take¡­*huff*¡­ care¡­*huff*¡­ of¡­*huff*¡­ you(?)¡± I ask, wryly, turning my head to see the handsome Human currently using my hindquarters as a masturbatory aid(!)

    ¡°Too horny¡­*huff*¡­ let me know if¡­*huff*¡­ I¡¯m hurting you!¡± he answers, simply.

    Well¡­ I was definitely looking forward to being the one to crack that stoic demeanour again but¡­ this is nice too!

    Lifting my entire back half up and down, to fuck me, he leaves me absolutely no room to dictate the pace, unless I want to call things off completely!

    Minutes later and, somehow, he¡¯s still going, still has the stamina to fuck me like this!

    All I¡¯ve been doing is half standing, taking it, and I¡¯m already so exausted that, feeling an early temblor of pleasure, my front legs collapse and I plant my hands into the mattress.

    I¡¯m down on all six and he¡¯s still fucking me!

    I really should have done pussy first and then tongue afterward!

    After what feels like an age he thrusts deep inside me and doesn''t pull back out! My eyes roll forward in pleasure (briefly simulating Human visual field) as he brings me to orgasm.

    ---later---

    I¡¯m lying on top of him, straddling his crotch with my front legs and burying his legs under my hindtrunk, enjoying the feeling of his feet against my thighs.

    My antlers keep me from turning my head, without lifting it first, but, given that the view I currently have is a super-closeup of the postcoital face belonging to the most handsome man in existence, why would I want to?

    ¡°Can you keep a secret?¡± I smile.

    ¡°Depends what the secret is(!)¡± he smiles without opening his eyes.

    ¡°My uncle is retiring as Nghoedwig¡¯s envoy to the UTC¡­ My father has offered the job to me¡­ After I take care of some business on Thrulj, I¡¯m heading to Earth¡­ I should be right behind you!¡±

    His eyes widen and, horrified, he says ¡°You¡¯re married!?¡±

    I puff mirthfully ¡°No, I¡¯m not¡­ not yet, anyway¡­ My father took exception to the stipulation that envoys be paired and got the UTC to grant us an exception¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ right¡­ I¡¯m sorry for doubting you¡­¡± he says, apologetically.

    ¡°So¡­ a few weeks after you get back to Earth, we¡¯ll be on the same planet¡­ Would you like to¡­ see eachother again?¡±

    He looks incredulously at me for a few moments before saying ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡­ You really want to get into a relationship with a man like me?¡±

    I bare my teeth at him and answer ¡°I really do¡­ In fact, there¡¯s no one I¡¯d rather!¡±

    I feel him squeeze just a little tighter as he answers ¡°Alright then¡­ let¡¯s¡­ let¡¯s do it.¡±

    My heart and stomachs all do backflips but, outwardly, I simply say ¡°Alright, we can exchange holocoms in the morning¡­ over breakfast?¡±

    He nods ¡°I¡¯d love to have breakfast with you. I haven¡¯t eaten pancakes in decades!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.62

    ---Welcome---

    We dock with another ship, in orbit around Thrulj.

    Bidding his goodbyes to everyone (with an especially heartfelt seeming one to Princess Vsila¡­ I suppose they must have bonded over something in the Dorm they shared) the man we rescued from (the newly christened) planet Melino? picks up his meagre pack of possessions and walks to the docking tunnel.

    His pet, Horme, with whom he has recently been reunited after quarantine, follows at his heels and waits beside him, obediently.

    Victor tells me that that animal resembles one from past eons, on Earth, that was a member of a cousin clade to the Terran avians¡­ I, personally, don¡¯t see it!

    She looks more like what a child would draw if you asked them to imagine a deathworld animal: All vicious teeth and claws!

    The passageway to the other ship opens revealing two men.

    One is short, slim, wears a suit and is very smiley, the other is tall, muscular, wears a military uniform and a grim expression.

    The tall one turns his head to me, his expression dour, and asks ¡°Permission to come aboard, Captain?¡± in a deep voice, sounding somehow both bored and irritated.

    ¡°Granted.¡± I answer, politely, trying not to take his curt tone too personally. For all I know, that may just be how he speaks!

    The two men step over the threshold and the short man smiles ¡°Major Leandros?¡±

    The Major confirms ¡°I am he.¡±

    ¡°Perfect!¡± he says, clapping his hands together delightedly ¡°My name¡¯s Ferenc ¡®Sunbeam¡¯ Iyanda of the Office of Deathworld Relations and this is Colonel Mizn ''Stormcloud'' bin Idrak-Osman of the UTCM Marines (the thematic alignment of our epithets is entirely a coincidence, I assure you!). The Colonel¡¯s here to serve you your discharge papers, I¡¯m here to witness. Is that all alright?¡±

    The Major nods and gives an uncertain ¡°That¡¯s¡­ alright.¡±

    Beaming, Iyanda says ¡°Splendid! I¡¯ll let him get on with it then.¡±

    The Colonel steps forward and the Major brings his hand to his chest, standing to attention.

    ¡°At ease.¡± orders the deep voiced Colonel, his height and build similar to Victor¡¯s.

    The much slimmer (though almost as tall) Major brings his hand away from his chest, standing instead with both his hands hanging loosely at his sides, though he does not shift his footing.

    The imposing man produces an envelope¡­ a physical envelope! Made of paper!

    ¡°Contained in this envelope is your Certificate of Honourable Discharge. Confirm its contents and then sign here for it¡­¡±

    The Major takes the Envelope and opens it, pulling out its contents and looking them over before replacing them, taking the holopad he was proffered and scrawling some unfamiliar characters (that are presumably his name, in his language).

    ¡°As a representative of the Marine Branch of the United Terran Coalition Military, I hereby discharge you. Should you wish to rejoin, in future, you may apply to do so, without prejudice. The United Terran Coalition thanks you for your service.¡±

    The Major makes to bring his hand to his chest again but visibly stops himself, simply nodding.

    ¡°Well then¡­¡± beams Iyanda, addressing all those present besides the (now) former Major ¡°¡­sorry to have to blow in and blow out, so quickly, but it is a long way back to Earth, so we¡¯ll be taking Maj Leandros, now! Have a pleasant stop on Thrulj and a pleasant onward journey!¡±

    With that, the two men turn to walk back to the ship they came from, followed by the discharged castaway.

    I wait for the docking arm to disengage before asking ¡°Twila, is that the shortest time we¡¯ve ever been docked to another ship?¡±

    ¡°By around 33.6 seconds, yes.¡± she answers, cheerfully.

    ¡°It seems that neither the ODR nor Terran military like to waste time(!)¡± I quip.

    ---later---

    We descend to the lilac coloured continent below, in the ship¡¯s shuttle, the majority of the crew having chosen to make use of their shore leave to visit Thrulj.

    We were told that, since there are Terrans disembarking, we are required to enter at one of a few specific ports before making our way elsewhere on the planet.

    The shuttle lands and the door opens.

    There to meet us are several Thruljex.

    Three of them approach the Nghoedwiv Princess and greet her in her people¡¯s tradition, bringing their hands to their respective chests and then out.

    She turns to me and says ¡°Thank you for conveying me to this planet, Captain. I had the voyage of my life! I sincerely hope we run into eachother again some day!¡±

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ welcome¡­¡± I say, a little confused.

    That was quite a goodbye considering I¡¯ve barely spoken to the girl! Perhaps her people just do heartfelt goodbyes? She did share one with the Major earlier!

    One of them, a young male (I can tell both by his diminutive size and smaller horns), is holding a translatable sign that says ¡®Terran¡¯s This Way¡¯.

    I follow him which quickly elicits a ¡°Ladies, gardenworlders do not require any extra processing¡­ you are free to go.¡± addressed to both myself and Tuun.

    Cocking a browtuft, I answer ¡°Boy, this woman here is Terran by upbringing and not a gardenworlder by species. As for myself; if you are to detain any portion of the crew of my ship, I would prefer to be present. Is that acceptable?¡±

    He shrugs ¡°Perfectly acceptable, Ma¡¯am, I¡¯m just quite certain you¡¯ll be bored to tears by the presentation I¡¯m required to give them. You¡¯ll be free to leave at any time, though¡­¡± turning to Tuun he says ¡°¡­If you truly are a Terran, Ma¡¯am, you¡¯re obliged to stay for the whole thing.¡±

    We nod and follow him, among the, now, veritable crowd of Terran Bright Plumers, to a single story building, located nearby to the landing zone.

    He opens the door and stands to one side, ushering us to the rows of seats, set up to look toward a small stage.

    Once everyone is seated, the young Thruljec steps onto the stage and turns to face the room.

    ¡°Greetings, Terrans¡­ and Captain¡­¡± he says, acknowledging me with slight mirth ¡°My name is Uljottur (yes, that is my entire name)! It¡¯s a pleasure to be the one to welcome you to my homeworld, Thrulj! As guests on this planet, it is important for you to bear certain things in mind, while here. To that end, the Thruljor Primacy in partnership with the United Terran Coalition have developed this briefing presentation to let you know some of how you¡¯re expected to behave. I understand this may be somewhat boring to some of you but I ask that you do your best to pay attention. You can be on your way much quicker if you do!¡­ The first thing you¡¯ll all need to bear in mind is that you aren¡¯t in Kansas any more¡­¡±

    This induces a polite chuckle from his audience.

    ¡°This is, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re all aware, a foreign planet with foreign customs, some of which may be different from any you¡¯ve experienced in Terran Space. If you are ever uncertain of what is required of you in a given situation, please do not hesitate to contact this guidance hotline¡­¡± he flicks a finger up his holopad. Everyone in the audience gets a ping on their own, which is, presumably, the hotline¡¯s holocom ¡°¡­as Terran¡¯s you are both entitled and encouraged to seek guidance, if you are ever uncertain about something! The hotline is open at all hours and it is illegal for any Thruljec to attempt to deny you the ability to consult it, if you wish to!¡±

    He turns to a table that has a brick, a plank of wood and a length of pipe laid out on it ¡°For my next point I would like a volunteer from the audience¡­ You Sir?¡± he gestures at Victor who made no move to volunteer but, having been called upon, stands and makes his way to the stage.

    The Thruljec boy hands him the pipe and asks ¡°Sir, would you please squeeze this pipe as hard as you can for me?¡±

    Victor takes the pipe in his hand and crushes it flat, instantly.

    ¡°Would you please let the audience know how difficult that was for you?¡± requests the presenter.

    ¡°It¡­ wasn¡¯t difficult¡­ like crushing an aluminium can¡­¡± says Victor, a little uncomfortably.

    ¡°Now, this?¡± says the young Thruljec, presenting Victor with the plank of wood.

    He wraps his large hand around it and squeezes, reducing it to splinters.

    ¡°What was that like?¡± asks the cloven hooved male.

    ¡°Almost as easy as breaking a plank of balsa wood.¡± says Victor, clearly ill at ease with being made a spectacle of like this.

    ¡°And this one?¡± the lavender skinned boy says as he presents the fiery haired man with the brick.

    He squeezes, crumbling it into rubble, before answering ¡°Like breaking plaster.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Sir, you can sit down, now.¡± smiles the boy.

    Once Victor is seated the presenter turns to the audience and says ¡°All of these are regulation building materials on Thrulj! The gravity is lower, the people are lighter and weaker, there is little to nothing in the way of tectonic upheaval and the weather is infinitely less prone to catastrophic tempest! Therefore buildings do not need to be built as sturdily as you may be used to. Luckily for you, you are all insured by your government for any accidental damage you may do to public and private property, on Thrulj, so you¡¯ll only have to pay a deductible. However, bear in mind that you can and will be prosecuted for any damage ruled to be intentional, so be careful!¡± the boy pauses to let that stern warning sink in before continuing ¡°Next: Touching and consent. Please bear in mind that the ¡®need to scritch¡¯ is no more of a valid defence to an assault charge on Thrulj than it is on any Terran world! It may not be obvious to you whether a cute being is sentient or not (given that not everyone on Thrulj will be a Thruljec) so, if in doubt, please keep your hands to yourselves¡­¡±

    ---much later---

    ¡°¡­and finally¡­ since the occupation, the quality of Thrulj¡¯s nightlife and alcohol has been very well known among Terrans. However, something you may not be aware of is that the species of yeast equivalent, used on this planet, naturally produces an agent that, by biological coincidence, acts as a strong psychotic to all known lineages of Human. The genetic engineering, required to get Thruljor [yeast] to produce alcohol strong enough for Terran¡¯s to consider it worth their while to drink, only exacerbates the toxicity. However, as you may be aware, Humans do drink Thruljor beer! This is possible only because of a counteragent that you are required to take here. Once you have been weighed and the drug administered you¡¯ll be free to go. The amount of time you¡¯ll be on planet is short enough that you do not need to return for a repeat dose!¡±

    Here, Yasmin, the linguist, puts up her hand.

    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am?¡±

    She speaks, incomprehensibly, in what I assume to be fluent Thrulji.

    Clearly taken aback, the presenter says ¡°Uhm¡­ let me just translate your question for the rest of the audience and then I¡¯ll answer it¡­ The lady here has just asked if she can be exempted from taking the counteragent, given that her religion entirely prohibits the consumption of alcohol. Unfortunately not. All Humans are obliged to take the counteragent in order to have the run of Thrulj¡­ if you refuse, you will have to wait in orbit. The good news is that the counteragent, itself, does not violate the tenets of any known Terran religion and is completely inert, outside of neutralising the psychotic agent. Are you happy to have it administered, even though you shouldn¡¯t need it?¡±

    Yasmin shrugs and says something with the tone of ¡®I guess so¡¯.

    ¡°Great!¡± smiles the presenter ¡°If you¡¯ll proceed to the scales¡­¡±

    I watch as the Humans form a queue.

    Brunhilda is first. The machine indicates a weight of [90kg] and a dosage of [3.6mg] of the counteragent which it dispenses in the form of a bright pink tablet which she takes and puts in her mouth.

    ¡°Open your mouth.¡± instructs a Thruljec attendant before looking inside. He seems to be checking that she has actually swallowed it, before he dismisses her.

    Jennie goes after her girlfriend. [50kg] for a [2mg] dosage

    ¡°Open your mouth.¡±

    Victor follows. His weight is given as [117kg], his dosage [4mg].

    ¡°Open your mouth.¡±

    Thran¡¯s next. [167kg] and a dosage of [4mg].

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXI: Pancakes and Frocks

    ---Steve¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m sitting in a bar with Jae, Tymancha, Lilith and Bj?rn after a long day of sightseeing on Thrulj.

    It¡¯s a shame I¡¯m not into bears (in either sense) since I reckon Bj?rn¡¯s into me!

    Yasmin and Yu¨¢n both said they didn¡¯t want to come to the bar so went back to the ship, instead.

    ¡°So¡­¡± starts a slightly sloshed Jae ¡°¡­we¡¯re all agreed that the Princess and the castaway were fucking, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure about that¡­¡± says the soft spoken Ursus ¡°¡­they were definitely close but it seems jumping to a conclusion to assume they were having sex!¡±

    ¡°I saw her coming out of his room one morning¡­ it was clear she didn¡¯t want to be seen!¡± contributes the titchy Satanist with the modded pale skin, black hair, black horns (one of which is broken halfway down) and eyes with black whites and yellow irises.

    ¡°That don¡¯t necessarily mean she was fuckin¡¯ him¡­¡± I chime in ¡°¡­The bloke¡¯d been through a lot and might¡¯ve just needed a shoulder to cry on.¡±

    Jae argues ¡°You didn¡¯t see the way she was flirting with him?!¡±

    I shake my head ¡°I saw it! I¡¯d defo agree she wanted to have a naughty with him! I just don¡¯t know as I¡¯d say they did!¡±

    ¡°What about the way they said goodbye?¡± chimes in Lilith, with her high, gravelly voice ¡°That didn¡¯t seem a bit¡­ intimate?¡±

    ¡°Nah yeah, defo did! Again, I just ain¡¯t sure as they did the nasty!¡±

    Here, Tymancha mumbles something from under Jae¡¯s arm.

    ¡°Sorry mate, didn¡¯t catch that?¡±

    ¡°I said¡­¡± he starts, a bit uncomfortable ¡°¡­it¡¯s not our business whether they were or not.¡±

    Kinda surprised, I say ¡°Alright mate¡­ how ¡¯bout a subject change, then?¡± I look for another topic to talk about before I think of something.

    A massive smile breaks over my face as I ask ¡°Anyone else fuckin¡¯ creasin¡¯ when that sheila was tellin¡¯ us how we¡¯d get tazed if we said the words ¡®hold my b¡­¡¯¡± I catch myself just in time as every set of eyes at the table widens and an arm on the wall whips in my direction, pointing a set of prongs at me, threateningly ¡°¡­the¡­ phrase where we¡¯re askin¡¯ for our beer to be held?¡±

    ¡°Good save!¡± giggles the broken horned woman.

    Just then, I see something I¡¯m not gonna let stand.

    I get up and make my way over to the bar¡­

    ---Uljottur¡¯s perspective---

    All dressed up and nowhere to go!

    I¡¯ve just spent all day giving the ¡®Welcome to Thrulj¡¯ lecture to five separate parties of Terrans and, then, my friends cancel our plans at the last minute!

    It did sound like a real emergency¡­ still galling, though!

    I need a drink, whether I have friends with me or not¡­ I have a headache from dealing with all those Terrans!

    That one professional group weren¡¯t so bad¡­ but the other four of partiers and holiday makers were a nightmare! It will be a miracle if I don¡¯t get audited on any of those presentations when one of the little turds gets caught doing something idiotic and claims that ¡®no one told them not to¡¯! Not that I¡¯m worried¡­ The recordings will show that they were told, they were just looking at that funny vid on their friend¡¯s holo screen and not listening!

    I walk into the bar (of a much lower calibre than I thought I was going to be frequenting this evening) and sit.

    When the barmaid asks what I want, eying up my clearly inappropriate dress, I answer ¡°Give me the gold stuff. [621ml].¡±

    Her eyebrows raise as she says ¡°You¡¯re sure, buddy? You know that stuff¡¯s meant for Terrans, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m well aware¡­ I need something strong after the day I¡¯ve just had!¡±

    She nods sympathetically before going to pour me a glass of frothy, amber gold, 4.7%.

    She sets down the heavy glass in front of me and I tap my holo, paying.

    I take a moment to inhale deeply of the overpowering alcoholic vapours coming off the top of it.

    This will probably last me most of the night.

    No sooner have I begun nursing it than I hear someone enormously heavy take the seat next to mine.

    I look left and see an immense male in rut, staring down at me, with a crazed look in his eyes. He¡¯s easily [75cm] taller than me and has fully mature horns indicating he¡¯s at least twice my age.

    ¡°What do you mean by coming into my bar dressed like that and ordering the strongest drink in the largest quantity, boy? Could it be you wish to challenge me?!¡­ Or are you looking to catch my attention for¡­ other reasons?¡±

    Well [fuck]! I¡¯ve accidentally triggered this man¡¯s territorial instincts!

    As much as it would be nice to get fucked tonight ¡°I¡¯m really not in the mood, Sir¡­ I didn¡¯t mean anything by coming in here dressed like this and ordering this drink.¡±

    ¡°Ah! So, you aren¡¯t here to challenge me¡­ so you must be here to offer yourself to me!¡±

    ¡°Lurodj, please stop harassing my patr¡­¡± starts the barmaid but the man cuts her off.

    ¡°Silence, woman! I¡¯m talking to the pretty boy, here! If you want to come home with me as well I¡¯m happy to do both of you!¡±

    ¡°Sir, I¡¯m not going home with you! Please leave me alone!¡± I answer.

    ¡°Oh, I think you are!¡± he says, placing his hand on my wrist.

    No sooner has he done so than he has someone else¡¯s hand on his own. A small, tan-pink hand that clearly contains great power as, with a slight squeeze, it¡¯s able to force the massive male¡¯s to release my wrist.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be a drongo, mate!¡± says the buttery smooth voice in my ear, speaking heavily accented English to the one who just put his hand on me. I¡¯m not wearing a translator so I don¡¯t know, exactly, what a ¡®drongo¡¯ is.

    Fury burns in the male¡¯s eyes as he says ¡°This is no concern of yours, Terran!¡±

    ¡°The sheila seemed like she wanted to be left alone¡­ I¡¯d say that makes it my business!¡±

    My unwanted admirer wrenches his wrist from the grip of my potential saviour, stands and withdraws a [15cm] blade, the butt of which he slams into the bar.

    My eyes widen! This just escalated!

    Then I hear something I don¡¯t expect¡­ laughter¡­ the man next to me is laughing¡­ manically! He¡¯s cackling his head off!

    Could this be some sort of fear reaction?

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny, Terran!?¡± demands the bull.

    ¡°Nothin¡¯ *hahahahahahahaha* nothin¡¯! You¡¯ve just got *hahahahaha* no idea how long I¡¯ve been waitin¡¯ for someone to set me up for this¡­¡± he jabs a finger toward the blade and declares ¡°That¡¯s not a knife!¡±

    What¡¯s he talking about?! Has the fear driven him delirious!? It¡¯s either that or my fear has driven my English skill from me! It definitely sounded as if he¡¯s just pointed at a knife and declared that it¡¯s not a knife!

    He steps between me and the giant bull, withdrawing a blade that¡¯s a full [35cm] long and slamming it into the counter top, causing an ominous *boom*, declaring ¡°This is a knife!¡±

    The enormous man with the large knife appraises the small man with the massive one for a moment before lunging at him.

    Faster than I can resolve, the small Human has folded the bull Thruljec into the bar and violently pinioned him there, having wrenched the knife from his hand and planted it into the countertop with a resounding *thock*!

    ¡°Now, mate¡­¡± growls the Human, all his previous joviality gone ¡°¡­if you¡¯re done bein¡¯ a fuckin¡¯ nong, I¡¯ll let you up and you can walk outta here with none o¡¯ your bones munted!¡­ This is an offer I¡¯m only gonna make once!¡­ The next time you think about treatin¡¯ anyone the way you just treated these two sheilas, look over your fuckin¡¯ shoulder¡­ ¡¯cause I might be there¡­ or maybe someone who¡¯ll be less kind than me! Are we fuckin¡¯ clear?!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re clear! We¡¯re clear!!!¡± pleads the bull, desperately, as my saviour twists his arm.

    ¡°Good!¡­¡± snarls the Human before looking to the barmaid and asking ¡°¡­Anythin¡¯ you wanna say to this piece o¡¯ crap before he fucks off?¡±

    Clearly as thrilled as I am, the barmaid answers ¡°Yes¡­ Lurodj, you¡¯re barred¡­ if you come back here, you¡¯ll be tazed¡­ and then I¡¯m calling the Guard!¡±

    ¡°Nice addition!¡± grins the man with an appreciative nod.

    He lets up the bull, who stands, staring at the small man whose power he now knows, for a moment, before attempting to pull his blade from the counter top.

    He strains for several long moments but is unable to budge it!

    The Terran looks amused before saying ¡°Looks like that¡¯s stayin¡¯ here, don¡¯t it?¡± gesturing to the wedged knife ¡°Now¡­ off you fuck!¡± he gives a flick of four of the fingers of one hand, his palm faced downward.

    Utterly defeated, my assailant turns and stomps from the bar, his heavy footfalls only serving to further advertise the physical superiority of my saviour.

    Once the bull has gone, the Human turns to the barmaid and says ¡°Sorry about the bar. You want me to pull it¡­?¡±

    She interrupts him to say ¡°Don¡¯t be¡­ I¡¯m glad you were here and I¡¯m glad to finally have an excuse to never see Lurodj again! As for the knife¡­¡± she thinks a few moments ¡°¡­leave it¡­ I think it might add character! Might become a local legend¡­ ¡®the blade, planted by a Human, that only the worthy may pull free¡¯(!)¡±

    The Human laughs ¡°Just call me ¡®Merlin¡¯(!)¡±

    Then, he turns to me and says ¡°Sorry ¡¯bout that!¡­ Oh! It¡¯s you! From the presentation earlier¡­!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ yes¡­ you¡­ you were with the professional group?¡­¡± I ask, a little dazed.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ Listen, me and my mates¡¯re just over there¡­ I¡¯m sure they¡¯d be happy if you wanted to join us?¡­ No pressure! If you¡¯re waitin¡¯ for someone¡­¡±

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°I¡¯m not!¡± I say, just a tiny bit too desperately ¡°*Hh-hrm*¡­What I mean¡­ is that I would love to sit with you¡­ and your friends¡­¡±

    ---Steve¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m walking the girl in the ridiculous neon pink and purple, leafy frock home after spending the evening with her. She¡¯s cute¡­ shame I¡¯m gonna have to disappoint her if she invites me inside.

    ¡°So¡­ let me get this straight¡­¡± she smirks ¡°¡­you worship a man who lived seven centuries ago and preached tolerance and love of all animals, ugly and beautiful, who was then killed by being stung in the chest by exactly one of the animals he preached tolerance of¡­ thus proving him wrong?¡±

    I shake my head and laugh ¡°First off¡­ ¡®worship¡¯¡¯s a bit strong¡­ I just believe in his message, is all! Second, I think he¡¯d tell you there¡¯s no such thing as an ¡®ugly¡¯ animal and that all animals are beautiful little rippers in their own way! Last, he wasn¡¯t ¡®proven wrong¡¯ by bein¡¯ killed by that stingray! He never claimed Earth¡¯s animals weren¡¯t dangerous! Just that what they really want, what they really need, is to be left alone by Humans, out in the wild!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ he decided the best way to demonstrate how deathworld animals need to be left alone was to sprint into bushes after them and pick them up by their tails while they hiss and lunge at him?¡±

    ¡°Nah nah nah nah nah! He wasn¡¯t advocatin¡¯ this as somethin¡¯ that everyone should be doin¡¯! He was a professional! He knew how to interact with these animals without hurtin¡¯ ¡¯em or gettin¡¯ hurt by ¡¯em!¡±

    ¡°Eeeexcept that he then got killed by one¡­?¡± she teases.

    ¡°Yeah, after a decades long career as an animal handler! I don¡¯t resent the stingray! The stingray is not my religion¡¯s devil! It was an animal doin¡¯ what animal¡¯s do!¡±

    She throws up her hands in an ¡®alright, alright¡¯ before turning around and stepping in front of me.

    She gestures to the unit we¡¯re outside and asks ¡°This is me¡­ would you¡­ would you like to come in, Steve?¡±

    There it is, the moment I¡¯ve had more than a few times in my life¡­ The moment that makes all my straight and bi guyfriends jealous!

    Turns out, one of the most attractive things you can do spending time with a lady is to treat her like a Human being¡­ or a person at least, in this case¡­ That¡¯s a difficult thing to do if you keep looking down at her body like you¡¯re starving to death and she¡¯s a fresh cooked cut of steak(!)

    I¡¯m not a handsome guy and still I think this sheila makes the dozenth who I¡¯ve had to let down!

    ¡°Listen¡­ Uljottur¡­¡± I say, doing my best to be respectful by using her name, even if my mouth isn¡¯t really the right shape to pronounce it properly ¡°¡­I think you¡¯re an amazing person and I had a tonne of fun with you tonight¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ I ain¡¯t into sheilas¡­ only blokes¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to lead you on.¡±

    Her face falls, heartbreakingly, and for a moment I regret agreeing to walk her home in the first place. Just for a moment though¡­ I can objectively tell she¡¯s an attractive woman and I¡¯ve already had to chase off one guy who wouldn¡¯t take ¡®no¡¯ for an answer tonight!

    Eventually, she manages ¡°Oh¡­ alright¡­ that¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s OK¡­ I guess¡­ I guess I¡¯ll go in, now¡­ Please¡­ erm¡­ please tell your friends I had a lot of fun with them, too!¡±

    ¡°I will!¡± I smile, kindly, turning to go.

    ¡°Steve¡­?¡± she says after me.

    I turn back ¡°Yeah, Uljie?¡±

    ¡°What are blokes¡­ and sheilas? I don¡¯t know those words.¡±

    ---Uljottur¡¯s perspective---

    I step through my apartment door, immediately followed by the handsome Human.

    Before the door has even closed he throws me to the wall and pushes his lips against mine, letting me feel the power of his deathworld body as he does.

    It¡¯s¡­ a tiny bit insulting that he mistook me for female but, I suppose, I am asking him to determine gender in an alien species so I can¡¯t be too hard on him!

    He pulls his lips away, rests his solid forehead against mine, closes his eyes and sighs contentedly as he says ¡°Strewth! It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve had a cute boy to pash on like this!¡±

    I get the gist of what he¡¯s saying, even if he¡¯s using words I don¡¯t know, again.

    I smirk ¡°Are you sure I¡¯m not a girl(?)¡±

    He sighs ¡°You are wearing a neon pink and purple frock!¡±

    I nod ¡°This dress is considered very manly clothing on Thrulj¡­ it¡¯s eyecatching, so it draws the eyes of potential partners¡­ that was part of what was upsetting that guy earlier¡­ he didn¡¯t want competition so, if I wasn¡¯t there to fuck him he didn¡¯t want me to compete with¡­ it¡¯s my fault, really¡­ I should have changed into something plainer after my plans fell through¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah nah!¡± snarls the Human, in a way that causes my stomachs to summersault as I look at his calciate metal teeth, mere inches from my face, and realise the only way I¡¯m going anywhere is if this man lets me. ¡°Wrong!¡± he continues ¡°If you wanna were nice clothes out to a bar that don¡¯t give dickheads the right to harass you over it! It don¡¯t matter if their harassin¡¯ you ¡¯cause they wanna have a naughty with you or they think you¡¯re gonna steal sheilas away from ¡¯em! It weren¡¯t your fault!¡±

    ¡°OK¡­ I¡¯m¡­ sorry!¡± I respond, both frightened and thrilled.

    He gives a nod before his eyes list down, he brings his hand to the strap of my dress and pushes it off my shoulder, letting his warm, heavy fingers rest against my now bare flesh.

    ¡°I do have¡­ a question¡­¡± he says, distractedly, as his other hand moves to my other shoulder.

    ¡°What¡¯s¡­ your question?¡± I ask, biting my lip, trying to keep my breathlessness out of my voice.

    ¡°That guy at the bar¡­ he was like half your height again and looked like more than twice your mass!¡­ How come you¡¯re so small?¡­ You¡¯re only a tiny bit taller ¡¯an me!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ that¡­ well I am a little bit shorter than I would be otherwise because of Wartime malnutrition¡­¡±

    ¡°Same¡­¡± he says as he bends to kiss my neck.

    ¡°¡­but¡­ erm¡­ the main¡­ reason would be that¡­ err¡­¡± I say, forgetting how to speak, slightly, as he runs his hands and lips over my body ¡°¡­would be that he was sexually mature¡­ around twice my age.¡±

    The Human stops dead and steps backward, a look of horror on his face.

    ¡°You¡¯re a nipper?¡± he asks, aghast.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ think so? What¡¯s a nipper?¡± I answer, confused.

    ¡°An ankle biter! A sprog! A tacker! A Minshie!¡±

    I shake my head and hold up my hands to indicate that none of those synonyms helped!

    ¡°You. Are. A. Child?!¡± he enunciates, horrified.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± I laugh ¡°¡­no! I¡¯m not a child! I have a job! I pay taxes! I drink! I fuck¡­ legally!¡±

    ¡°But you said that other bloke¡¯d ¡®reached sexual maturity¡¯! Implication bein¡¯ you ain¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ OK, I see the misunderstanding here: you¡¯re thinking of ¡®sexual maturity¡¯ in Human terms!¡±

    He narrows his eyes and makes a ¡®go on¡¯ gesture with his hands.

    ¡°For your species, am I right in thinking sexual maturity is more or less binary? You start life as asexual beings and, then one day, a switch is flipped and you¡¯re suddenly capable of getting horny?¡± I ask.

    ¡°There¡¯s a bit more to it than that!¡­ Like, it don¡¯t happen all at once, for one thing! Puberty¡¯s a years long process! And your tastes can change when you¡¯re an adult¡­ I had an ex who said he didn¡¯t like blokes until he was in his thirties!¡± he responds, suspiciously.

    ¡°OK, but the basic principle of Humans only being considered adults, some time after they¡¯ve ¡®switched on¡¯, holds? That a person who hasn¡¯t reached sexual maturity is, to a Human, by definition not an adult?¡± I query.

    Reluctantly, he nods his head.

    ¡°Alright, for my species you¡¯re considered an adult¡­ it¡¯s¡­ erm¡­¡± I do some mental maths ¡°¡­the equivalent of 25 in Terran years, but you keep developing through a sexual spectrum all the way up to about¡­ 80 something in Terran years? That¡¯s just like full maturity, though¡­ not ¡®adulthood¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­ you mean to tell me that that guy at the bar¡­ was an old codger? In his 80s!?¡±

    I nod ¡°At least, yes¡­ though that¡¯s the prime of fitness for our species so please don¡¯t feel bad about it!¡±

    Unhappily, he asks ¡°What about you? How old are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I think I would be 45? 46?¡± I answer.

    ¡°Crikey! You¡¯re older than me! Didn¡¯t expect that!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ everything is above board here¡­ Would you like to keep undressing me now(?)¡± I smile.

    ¡°Guess so¡­¡± he smirks back before yanking down the top of my dress leaving me entirely bare from the waist up.

    He reaches out to stroke his hot palm against my chest.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t notice that, where Thruljec women all have enormous breasts, I have nothing at all to milk(?)¡± I tease.

    He smirks ¡°I don¡¯t know about that(!)¡± cupping my genitals, suggestively.

    Before I can ask him what he means, he picks me up and carries me toward my bedroom.

    He drops me on my bed and yanks off my dress over my hooves.

    He unbuttons his own dark greenish-brown shirt and drops his matching shorts.

    The last thing he takes off is his wide brimmed hat.

    He doesn¡¯t have the clear physicality of some of the Terran men (or even one of the Terran women) that I¡¯ve brought home previously. He¡¯s certainly no match for that shipmate of his I asked onto the stage, earlier ¡­ but still¡­ he¡¯s a Terran!

    Seeing how effortlessly he disarmed that bull male at the bar, I know he can handle himself.

    There¡¯s an inherent thrill in being alone with someone who¡¯s more than you could ever be, without even trying!

    My eyes drift down.

    His manhood is¡­ girthy¡­ not long but definitely thick!

    ¡°Lube?¡± he asks.

    I gesture to my bedside cabinet and answer ¡°Bottom drawer.¡±

    He nods and goes to retrieve it.

    Having pulled out the pump dispenser bottle, he doesn¡¯t apply any yet. Rather, he just puts it on the table top along side a box of tissues that he pulled from the same drawer.

    He puts his knee on my bed and descends toward me.

    ---Steve¡¯s perspective---

    Uljie¡¯s eyes are stunningly pink as they look up at me! Like a reddy-pinky-purple¡­ magenta? I was never good with colour names!

    They¡¯ve got no whites and I can¡¯t make out where his pupils are, despite knowing they wouldn¡¯t work as eyes without pupils!

    Through his parted lips I see four long, conical fangs that I¡¯d call tusks except they don¡¯t come out of his mouth. I¡¯ve seen longer ones on New ¡¯Straya¡¯s snakes, though!

    His horns are small and his frame is slim¡­ it feels a little gross, knowing he isn¡¯t fully grown, even if he is an adult, over the age of consent and slightly older than I am!

    I try to picture what he¡¯d look like, being the size of the big bugger, earlier. Those massive horns, those roided out looking muscles¡­ would I have been as happy to jump into bed with him?

    Maybe¡­ if he had the same personality¡­ it might be fun to play with a boy who looks like he¡¯s built like a brick shithouse but has all the strength of a pile of leaves! Maybe, I¡¯m not as put off by bears as I thought(!) Do I just not like boys who¡¯re stronger than me?

    When I was a nipper, living in the outback with the New Australian Resistance, I remember seeing a Thruljec with his helmet off when I was on a supply run in New Watarru¡­ he didn¡¯t see me but I nearly got caught, ¡¯cause I was staring¡­ I was too young for that to be my sexual awakening but¡­ strewth, that boy was cute!

    I straddle Uljie¡¯s hips, careful not to let him take any of my weight and bring my donger next to his.

    His is longer than mine¡­ but skinnier.

    I swivel my hips, brushing the underside of my cock over the top of his.

    He gives an adorable little moan and I grin before brushing my hands up the smooth greyish-purple skin of his chest.

    I realise that, with his white hair (thankfully, only on his head¡­ with a little under his armpits and round his cock and balls) and that skin tone, he¡¯s got the same colouration as those Fennoscandian trolls! LOADS cuter, though!

    I chuckle and he smiles ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    I shake my head and answer ¡°Nothin¡¯.¡± before leaning down to give him another, long, snog.

    When his mouth is free, he asks ¡°What did you mean when you said you didn¡¯t know if you could milk me?¡±

    I smirk ¡°You wanna see how I¡¯d do it?¡±

    His breath hitches and he nods.

    ¡°Alright then, get on your hands and knees and put that cute little arse in my face!¡± I say, getting off him and kneeling, up at the head of the bed.¡±

    He does as I told him to, presenting his perfect little arse toward me, a long cow tail dangling between his cheeks.

    I reach to the pump bottle, give a single squirt of lube into my right hand and grab some tissues with my other.

    I put the tissues down between his knees and grab his tail, carefully pulling it clear. I feel that it¡¯s got muscles in it, when I¡¯m holding it, and he seems to be able to keep it out of the way, lying over his back.

    He¡¯s got a nice, clean arsehole¡­ I like when boys take care of themselves¡­ plus it¡¯s much nicer for me(!)

    I rub the lube over both of my hands and then bring my right to his adorable little tool.

    Gripping tightly (but carefully) I stroke down and up.

    He gives a shuddering moan.

    I chuckle, bring my left hand to fondle his balls and lean forward to plant my face between his arsecheeks, giving him an Australian kiss (just like a French one, except down under(!))

    The base of his tail swishes back and forward, unthinkingly, across my brow while I work his skinny cock up and down and my tongue deep into his arse.

    He arches his back, lowering his face to the bed.

    I grin, seeing and feeling how he reacts to the stimulation.

    From the sound of it, he¡¯s got a mouthful of the sheets, right now!

    A few minutes go by before he clenches and gives an adorable little squeak!

    I pull my face from his grundle and aim his cock at the tissues.

    There¡¯s a lot more than I was thinking there¡¯d be but, thankfully, none of it gets on the sheets!

    I scoop up the tissues and use a dry patch to clean off the tip of his cock.

    He, weakly, crawls around and I show him the grey-white goop.

    ¡°There, see¡­ I milked you(!)¡± I smirk.

    He gives a panted laugh before saying ¡°Alright¡­ I guess¡­ you can¡­ milk me(!)¡­ Do you¡­ want to¡­ do me, now?¡±

    I cock an eyebrow ¡°I¡­ you¡¯re not¡­ it wouldn¡¯t be to much? I thought gardenworlders were effectively one-and-done¡­ You want me to bugger you, now? You don¡¯t wanna maybe bat me off or give me a mungin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Munging?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Oral.¡± I explain.

    He smiles and shakes his head ¡°I want you to ¡®[bugger]¡¯ me! [Bugger] me harder than I¡¯ve ever been [buggered]!¡±

    ---Uljottur¡¯s perspective---

    Oh. Stars! This. Was. A. Mis.Calc.U.La.Tion!

    [Fuck]!

    I was wrong to tell a Terran to fuck me hard!

    He¡¯s still holding back (obvious from the fact that I¡¯m still alive) but this is SO much more intense than I thought it was going to be!

    I didn¡¯t want to be a selfish lover and give him a weak handjob but I should have gone with oral!

    This is too much! This is an unbearable amount of stimulation, with the refractory period I¡¯m not over!

    It feels like he¡¯s been fucking me, with that girthy member of his, for hours!

    I¡¯m going to be raw for a week!

    He¡¯s bending my spine by pulling on my shoulders with his hands, crushing my arse into his pelvis!

    I¡¯m about to surrender¡­ offer to finish him off with my mouth, when his motion suddenly seizes.

    A [second] or [two] go by before I feel his hot semen coat my insides like a fire hose!

    ---Steve¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m cuddling with an exhausted Uljie, early in the morning.

    He opens his eyes.

    ¡°Mornin¡¯!¡± I smirk.

    ¡°Nnnnrrh!¡± he grunts.

    ¡°You got work today?¡±

    ¡°Nuh-uh¡­¡± he answers.

    ¡°Great! You can show me the sites!¡± I grin.

    He chuckles ¡°And here I thought you were going to say ¡®Great! You can recover from me breaking every bone in your body with over enthusiastic sex¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°Nah, you¡¯re alright, aintcha?¡± I grin before I ask ¡°You are alright, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine¡­ might need lubier lube if you want another round tonight¡­ maybe tomorrow¡­¡±

    I laugh ¡°Can¡¯t¡¯ve been too bad if you¡¯re already eyin¡¯ up seconds(!)¡­ You wanna swap holocoms? I could let you know if I ever swing back this way¡­ you could let me know if you¡¯re ever comin¡¯ mine?¡±

    He smiles ¡°Sounds good¡­ Speaking of sites, there¡¯s somewhere I want to take you first.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡±

    He gives a sleepy smile and answers ¡°Yeah¡­ there¡¯s a diner a few streets away¡­ they do excellent, Terran style pancakes!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.63

    ---Shed---

    ---Krish¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Hassi¡­?¡± I call out into our room.

    I don¡¯t hear a response but I feel like I¡¯ve already checked everywhere else she might be¡­

    She wouldn¡¯t have just gone off without me, would she!?

    Regardless of whatever quirks come up as our cultures clash, ditching your boyfriend to run off and enjoy a party planet alone has got to be a dick move¡­ universally, right?

    It¡¯s at this point that something catches my eye.

    Over in the corner of the room, where it always is, is her sleep box. It¡¯s one of the very few personal effects she brought onto the ship with her, from Prznith. It¡¯s around a metre tall, a little less than a metre long and a little more than a metre and a half wide. Inside, I know, is a heat lamp and the whole thing is thickly insulated enough to be stifling.

    None of that¡¯s what¡¯s catching my eye, though.

    On the left side, against the wall, is a tight entrance hatch (that I was only just able to squeeze through on the occasion she let me try it).

    It¡¯s shut.

    It¡¯s never shut and yet it¡¯s shut, now¡­

    I step forward and my foot crunches on something.

    I look down and move my foot to see a dry, crusty scrap of¡­ oh¡­ I understand¡­

    I had a pet snake, growing up¡­ I recognise what I¡¯ve just stepped on.

    I walk to the box and take a seat on top, giving a knock with my right hand.

    ¡°You in there, Hassi?¡±

    No response.

    ¡°Hasiakh, I¡­¡±

    ¡°No one¡¯s in here! Go¡­ away!¡± rasps a sibilant voice.

    I chuckle ¡°And people say gardenworlders are bad liars(!)¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a roughworlder! Go away!!!¡±

    ¡°Hassi¡­¡± I say, sympathetically ¡°¡­the guys are leaving soon¡­ we¡¯ll have to call a capsule if we miss the shuttle¡­¡±

    ¡°Go without me! I had enough of Thrulj, yesterday!¡± she lies.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure it¡¯s not because you¡¯re sheddi¡­?¡±

    ¡°DON¡¯T SAY IT!?¡± she hisses, mortified ¡°How did you know!?¡±

    ¡°You missed a bit¡­ I stepped on it.¡± I tell her.

    She gives a long, miserable whine.

    ¡°Baby, it¡¯s a perfectly natural and beautiful¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not beautiful!¡± she croaks ¡°I¡¯m hideous right now! I can¡¯t go out in public! I don¡¯t want anyone to see me like this, especially not you!¡±

    I smile ¡°It can¡¯t be that bad¡­ why don¡¯t you come out and let me¡­?¡±

    ¡°NO! GO!¡­ Enjoy Thrulj without me!¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re really sure¡­?¡± I say, my brow furrowing.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure! Get out of here!¡±

    I leave the room and walk to the Commonroom where everyone else is waiting.

    I surreptitiously get Victor¡¯s attention.

    ¡°What¡¯s up, Cookie?¡± he asks, cocking his head curiously, speaking in a voice not loud enough to attract attention but not so quiet as to attract attention either.

    ---Hasiakh¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°I [fucking] hate this!¡± I grizzle to myself, coiled up in my box.

    Shedding is already bad enough but it had to be dysecdysis!

    Miserably, I try and pick one of the worst offending flakes off of my tail only to wince in pain from the soreness of being freshly shed, and give up.

    To top off everything, I was a Sands damned [dragon] to Krish¡­ my Krish!

    I know I¡¯m aggravated by dysecdysic sensitivity and gripped with post moult aggression but that¡¯s no excuse!

    I¡¯ll only have myself to blame when he brings back some Thruljec beauty and explains that she also resembles one of his divinities and I¡¯m being replaced!

    No¡­ no! That isn¡¯t you talking, Hassi. That is simply the evolutionary need to keep yourself safe when your scales are soft! It¡¯s the cocktail of aggression chemicals your brain is marinating in, right now!

    Krish would never dump me just for snapping at him¡­ would he?

    NO! He WOULDN¡¯T!

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    He¡¯s kind and sweet and warm and sweet and kind and warm¡­ so warm¡­

    Much as I don¡¯t want him to see me right now, I wish he was here to warm me up, instead of this heatlamp (maybe, as well as the heatlamp(!))

    Perhaps Gato could give him a sedative and he could go to sleep outside my box(!) Once I¡¯m satisfied he won¡¯t wake up any time soon, I could drag him inside and use him as a hotwaterbottle(!)

    I chuckle at the thought.

    Then I scowl.

    Except he¡¯s not here, is he!

    He ran off to go sightseeing and clubbing with the others and left me here all alone, the absolute bastard!

    The part of my mind that¡¯s still rational objects that that¡¯s exactly what I told him to do, surely I¡¯d rather he was happy than both of us stay here miserably and, if he¡¯d stayed, I would have been angry at him for that, putting him in a lose-lose situation!

    The rest of me is not in the mood for rationality and prefers to pout.

    Sands! I¡¯m [fucking] starving!

    If I had known the moult would be improper, I would have eaten better, earlier this week!

    As it is, I¡¯m just coiled up here, stewing in aggression, physical tenderness and misery (which is surprisingly hungry work despite the lack of exertion) on an empty stomach!

    I¡¯m just weighing up whether I¡¯m willing to let Twila see me in this state or if I¡¯d prefer to go hungry¡­ when I smell it¡­

    I stick out my tongue, flicking it through the air, before pulling it back into my mouth, to scrape the aroma molecules it gathered onto my Jacobson''s organ.

    The smell seems like it¡¯s come from the Eternal Oasis itself! (Or, perhaps, a kitchen adjacent to there(!))

    That¡¯s¡­ I¡¯m not imagining it, am I?

    No¡­ unmistakably¡­ that¡¯s zazahah rat!¡­ Cooked (to perfection) with a medley of savoury Terran spices complementing it!

    My stomach gurgles desperately for what I¡¯m smelling.

    I open the hatch, just a crack, and see a plate of zazahah drumsticks, each the width of both of my fists and drowning in sauce.

    My sense pits let me know they¡¯re the perfect, [55¡ãC], temperature! Warm enough that I would get to enjoy them heating me up from the inside without burning on the way down!

    However, that¡¯s not the only thing they alert me to!

    Sitting crosslegged on our bed is a [37.5¡ãC] Terran, smiling stupidly at me.

    I shriek and slam the hatch shut.

    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be gone!¡± I shout, flustered.

    ¡°I told Cuddles that we weren¡¯t coming¡­ just like you said.¡± smirks the insufferable man (his smirk audible in his voice even if his face isn¡¯t visible).

    ¡°You told VICTOR about this!?¡± I accuse, horrified.

    ¡°That¡¯s not even slightly what I said! I just told him that we weren¡¯t feeling up to it and that they should go on without us¡­ just like you said.¡±

    ¡°Me¡­ I said go on without me! I told you that I wanted you to go without me!¡± I say, agog at his wilful ignorance.

    He chuckles ¡°Yeah, well¡­ I didn¡¯t want to¡­¡± there¡¯s a long pause before he asks ¡°Are you gonna take the food?¡±

    I weigh up my options a moment before demanding ¡°Turn around!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± he asks with an amused chuckle.

    ¡°I can¡¯t take them if you¡¯ll see my arms so turn around!¡± I plead, getting a little desperate, thinking of all the heat they¡¯re losing to the room outside this box.

    There¡¯s another pause before he says ¡°Alright, I¡¯ve turned around.¡±

    ¡°You promise?¡± I ask, suspiciously.

    ¡°I swear!¡± he says with that (still audible) smirk.

    I crack the hatch and see that, just like he said, he¡¯s looking toward the opposite wall.

    I study the back of his head for a few moments, ready to slam the hatch shut if he makes to turn back.

    My hands dart out and, for a nervewracking [second], my arms and all their horrendous skin fragments are entirely exposed before I snatch them back with the prized food and slam the hatch.

    I rest the dish on my tail and pick up a drumstick.

    I open my mouth wide and begin walking the delicious, savoury meat down my throat, with my bottom teeth.

    I repeat the process for the rest of them before resting a hand on my now bulging belly.

    I feel a lot better with food in me. Good enough to crack a joke even ¡°You¡¯ve defied biology and put a baby in me, Krish!¡±

    ¡°Have I now(?)¡± he asks (clearly not fooled for even a moment).

    ¡°Yes¡­ a [foodbaby] but still(!)¡±

    He laughs.

    ¡°Would you mind turning around again?¡±

    A brief pause and then ¡°Done.¡±

    I open the hatch and, much less cautiously than the first time, place the plate back where I picked it up from before withdrawing and shutting the hatch.

    Once I¡¯m safely secreted away again, I hear him get off the bed and, from how it sounds, make his way over to my box and sit on the floor, leaning against it.

    ¡°Were they good?¡± he enquires.

    ¡°They were excellent, Krish¡­ thank you¡­¡± I sigh, contentedly.

    ¡°They definitely seem to have mellowed you out a bit!¡± he quips.

    ¡°Careful, now!¡­¡± I warn ¡°¡­I might unmellow just as quickly!¡±

    He chuckles.

    I hesitate for a few seconds before asking ¡°K-Krish¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Hassi?¡±

    ¡°Why did you stay?¡­ I was literally begging you to go ahead and leave me here.¡±

    There¡¯s a pause for a few moments before he answers ¡°Like I said, I didn¡¯t want to¡­¡±

    ¡°But why!? I already ruined the last Terran planet you¡¯re going to be on for years! Why don¡¯t you want to just go and enjoy Thrulj with everyone else!?¡±

    He laughs ¡°Hassi¡­ you didn¡¯t ¡®ruin¡¯ Fennoscandia for me! I chose to stay with you at Tuun¡¯s mums¡¯ place because cosying up by the fire with you sounded like a better time than going out in the snow, dressed as an ancient English warrior!¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    ¡°But nothing! Hassi, I stayed with you on Fennoscandia for the same reason I¡¯m staying with you now! I enjoy being with you and doing nothing more than I would enjoy doing fun things with you not there! I¡­ I love you, Hasiakh¡­¡±

    ---Krish¡¯s perspective---

    The hatch cracks and I see an arsenic green eye, turned toward me.

    Six brilliantly scarlet fingers slide over the top and it¡¯s pulled all the way down.

    Slowly, the box disgorges 6m of serpent woman who, halfway out, coils her front half around to face me.

    A few scraps of her old skin cling to her body from her bad moult but do nothing to dampen the sheen of her fresh, new scales.

    She brings her hands to my shoulders, her four thumbs at my clavicle, her six fingers at my shoulderblades.

    Her stiff lips curl (as much as they can) as she says ¡°You love me even when I look like this?¡± nodding to her back half.

    ¡°Yes!¡± I answer instantly, breathlessly and honestly.

    Notwithstanding the dysecdysic skin scraps here and there, her scales are as lustrous as rubies right now, and she has never looked so stunningly beautiful!

    She¡¯s clearly surprised by the quickness of my answer for a few moments but then smiles, baring her long, venom injecting fangs, and leans forward to kiss me against her sleep box.

    I run my hands up her back, enjoying the divine feeling of her fresh new scales under my fingers.

    Eventually, she breaks from the kiss and says ¡°I¡­ I love you too, Krish¡­ I¡¯m glad you stayed with me¡­ even if I¡¯m sorry I ruined your outing again.¡±

    ¡°Oh, lock it up!¡± I say, waving my hand dismissively ¡°You have nothing to be sorry for, so that¡¯s the last I want to hear about it!¡±

    She shrinks back for a second then chuckles ¡°Alright, Krish¡­¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ Now, would you like to use me as a heat bed or¡­?¡±

    She cuts me off with vigorous Terran nodding.

    I smile and pull myself from the gap between her and her sleep box.

    I pull up the covers on our bed and lie down, pulling them over me.

    She slips between the mattress and sheets at the foot of the bed, crawling up its length and between my legs in a way that reminds me of Kayako Saeki, every time she does it (though, I¡¯d never tell her that, just in case we ever decide to watch The Grudge. She would definitely take it as an insult and I¡¯d be subjected to whatever hassle she insisted was necessary to satisfy her Sahasi honour. No thanks!)

    Breaching between my chest and the duvet, she comes to rest with the left side of her face pressed against the right side of mine.

    ¡°Hassi, I¡­¡± I start but she grips my jaw between the two thumbs of her left hand, her three, clawed fingers lightly scratching over my lower face.

    ¡°Shhhhhhhshshshshshshshshhhhhh!¡­ Heat beds don¡¯t speak¡­ only heat.¡±

    I chuckle at the absurdness of that pronouncement¡­ then oblige her.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.64

    ---Museum---

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Look¡­¡± I say, excitedly ¡°¡­look how it¡¯s buried in the durasteel!¡±

    I animatedly point at the helmet with a crumpled bullet wedged partway into it.

    ¡°Mmm-hmm.¡± answer¡¯s Thran.

    I read the placard ¡°¡®Identified as the helmet of Pvt Bradly Orqina who survived the War and currently lives on his homeworld, Shine Govi (SHEE-nay GOH-vee)¡¯¡­ Isn¡¯t that the planet you said your gardenworlder relations tutor was from?¡¯¡±

    ¡°It was¡­¡± she confirms.

    I continue ¡°¡®¡­the round was fired from a discarded Terran firearm by [Cdr] Lothurr, an act which caused the shattering of one rib and five of the bones of his arms¡­ Orqina disarmed the [Commander] and, rather than killing him, as Thruljor combat doctrine would have dictated, demanded his surrender, which was promptly offered. Lothurr¡­ did not survive the war¡­ being killed in a failed attempt to liberate his POW camp by Thruljor forces¡­¡¯ how depressing.¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± says my girlfriend, distantly.

    I look down at her blank face.

    ¡°You¡¯re bored.¡± I point out.

    ¡°N¡­no¡­ I¡¯m not.¡± she protests.

    I chuckle ¡°You¡¯re bored and a terrible liar! What¡¯s wrong, babes?¡±

    She sighs and, after a long pause, says ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ this isn¡¯t very interesting to me, all this War stuff¡­ I¡¯m really sorry. I only agreed to come because you and Emiko were excited for it¡­ I was trying not to let you see that I wasn¡¯t enjoying myself.¡±

    I give a chuckling sigh and pull her shoulder to rest against my hip, saying ¡°It¡¯s lovely that you¡¯ve tried to be considerate like that but I really wish you¡¯d just say when something doesn¡¯t sound like fun!¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± she answers, guiltily.

    Checking behind and around myself to make sure I¡¯m not going to create a tripping hazard to any stealthy Thruljex (whose cloven hooves, I have to assume, make avoiding tripping way more difficult than it is for Humans), I kneel down and wrap my arms around her, our faces now almost level.

    I touch the tip of my nose to hers and smile ¡°You¡¯ve nothing to be sorry for! I¡¯m sorry I took silence for an endorsement!¡­ I¡¯ll tell you what¡­ let¡¯s try to finish the museum quickly and then we can do something else before we meet the others, OK? Something you¡¯ll find fun?¡±

    She smiles (very slightly) and answers ¡°OK, sounds good¡­ but we don¡¯t need to hurry too much. I can tell Emiko¡¯s enjoying herself here.¡±

    As if answering, Emiko¡¯s head appears around a wall, an excited grin adorning her face for a moment before her face falls, seeing the rather intimate arrangement of the only two people in the room.

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Emiko¡­¡± I chuckle, standing back up but not fully releasing Thran from the cuddle ¡°¡­you aren¡¯t intruding. You found something exciting?¡±

    Her eyes flick between us for a moment before she smiles, nods and gestures for us to follow.

    We make our way through the Thruljor War Museum¡¯s halls, past various displays that she seems barely able to not stop to gawk at.

    ¡°I have to say, Emiko¡­¡± I smirk ¡°¡­for someone who¡¯s said that she¡­ what was it?¡­ had ¡®seen enough war to last from here until the heat death of the universe¡¯, you sure are a military history nerd!¡±

    She turns her head back without breaking stride and wryly answers ¡°Have you girls forgotten that, to me, none of this is history? I lived through all this!¡±

    I shake my head ¡°I¡¯ve not forgotten but that¡¯s even more reason you have to be sick of it!¡±

    She shrugs ¡°I hated it all, at the time¡­ I couldn¡¯t wait to chamber my last cartridge, field dress my last wound, don durasteel for the last time¡­ Afterward, there was a long time where I avoided it like the plague¡­ Then, I don¡¯t even remember what it was but I saw someone on the net just get something catastrophically wrong(!)¡­ I corrected them but then, afterward, got drawn down a rabbithole and, before I knew it, military history was a minor obsession.¡±

    ¡°Not very in line with your whole MILF aesthetic(!)¡± I tease.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    She rolls her eyes (or, having turned back to look where she¡¯s going, rolls her head in a way that suggests an eyeroll) before answering ¡°We ¡®MILF¡¯s are allowed our hobbies, too!¡±

    Then she jogs a few paces ahead, stops and turns to her left, holding out her hands toward a grand entranceway. Whatever she was guiding us to must be on the other side.

    Thran and I round the corner and I gasp!

    We¡¯re at one end of a wide, long and high ceilinged hall. To our left are an array of Terran vehicles, mirrored by equivalent Thruljor vehicles to our right. But it¡¯s not the display that¡¯s so shocking and not the scale of the room either.

    What¡¯s taken my breath away is at the far end of the hall, up a 5m tall staircase that spans the width of the room, and framed by smaller staircases, leading to two mezzanine walkways, lining the length of the hall, is a frieze; around 20m tall, 40m wide and three dimensionally sculpted from what looks like gold, it depicts the one scene from the one angle that everyone thinks of when they think of this planet.

    I¡¯m pretty certain I can guess who those two golden statues standing in front of it are meant to be!

    The three of us walk forward, crossing the hall, past the armoured vehicles and beneath the fighters and drop pods strung from the ceiling.

    My eyes are so transfixed on the golden wall that I don¡¯t really take in anything else.

    It shows a mostly destroyed Primarchal palace in bas-relief.

    Overhead hang two sculpted gouts of water, representing the Two Swords Fountain.

    Between the edge of the fountain and the low wall, separating us from the scene, stand a short Human and a tall Thruljec, captured in such faithful detail that (if they weren¡¯t made of solid gold and standing in a museum) they might be able to trick me into thinking they actually were two people, caught in a stasis field!

    I think¡­ Yes! They¡¯ve gone as far as to capture not only the crowsfeet at the corner of the Human¡¯s eyes but his pores too!

    Without reading the placard I know that the man on the left is ¡°Gen. Musa ¡®Mercy¡¯ Ndiaye¡­ and that¡¯s Thruljor Primarch Urojlur.¡± I say pointing to the towering Thruljec with the impressive set of horns on his head.

    Urojlur wears flowing robes and looks down at Ndiaye with a mix of sombre resignation and slight confusion. Ndiaye, in military formal dress, looks up at him with a weary (though genuine looking) smile.

    The parts of Ndiaye¡¯s scalp that are visible beneath his beret are shaven clean, his left hand reverently grips a sceptre that the Primarch has just given over to him, his right grasps Urojlur¡¯s hand in a handshake.

    ¡°This is¡­ incredible!¡± I say, breathlessly.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d like it.¡± smiles Emiko.

    Even Thran looks fascinated by this tableau.

    ¡°Would you girls like to hear something interesting?¡± asks Emiko.

    ¡°Always!¡± I answer.

    She points to the statue of Ndiaye ¡°He was promoted to General the day before this surrender took place.¡±

    ¡°How¡­ come?¡± asks Thran, looking confused.

    ¡°Because sending a Lieutenant General to accept the surrender of a foreign ruler might have been perceived as a slight, especially when there was a General on world!¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t we just send the other General then? Why did this guy need a last minute promotion?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Because¡­¡± chuckles Emiko, withdrawing her holo and tapping at it for a moment before turning it to let me and Thran see an intimidating looking woman with a scarred face, an eyepatch and matted hair, her teeth bared and upper face crinkled in what could be a sneer or a snarl ¡°¡­the woman Ndiaye had been the subordinate of was Gen. Qadirah ¡®Teeth¡¯ Kemp, who¡¯s look and demeanour were deemed bad for propagandic purposes(!) Ndiaye was chosen to be the one to accept the sceptre because he looked a lot less like a snarling barbarian and a lot more like a compassionate, dignified person! He was very much the image of ourselves that we had been trying to project, all War long¡­ And it worked¡­ it was only a few months after this that my sister was walking out onto the floor of Parliament. I don¡¯t know whether that moment would have been possible without this one.¡±

    ¡°I guess that makes sense¡­ still, sucks for Kemp! Imagine doing all the heavy lifting and then getting swapped out, last minute, for a more photogenic subordinate to take all the credit!¡± I muse.

    Emiko shrugs ¡°From what I understand, she was more than OK with it. She was apparently highly uncomfortable having her image recorded in general, and was only too happy to switch with him!¡±

    Frowning at the sculpture, I say ¡°Doesn¡¯t this whole sculpture seem a little¡­ masochistic? I can¡¯t really think of an equivalent moment in our history but can you imagine the UTC making a statue like this to commemorate it if we had? You don¡¯t think we¡­ forced them to put this here, do you?!¡±

    Then I hear a musical laugh from behind us.

    I turn, eyebrow raised, to see an unfamiliar Thruljec of indeterminate gender.

    They hold up their hand and say ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to eavesdrop, I just couldn''t help overhearing what you said.¡±

    ¡°And, what was so funny about what I said?¡± I ask, wryly.

    The eavesdropper chuckles ¡°Well, firstly, listening to my translator explain the word [masochistic] was very amusing¡­ but the idea that we were forced to build this.¡± they gesture to the wall ¡°Look at that Terran. Look at the respect he shows, holding the Primarchal Sceptre so carefully. Look at the way he grasps our leader¡¯s hand¡­ I remember seeing this moment when it was first broadcast. I remember my family muttering that the Terrans would definitely force him to grovel, to humiliate himself and his people by crawling on the ground before our conquerors. I remember our confusion over this hand grasping ritual. We naturally assumed that it must be the Terran practice by which the vanquished were humiliated, though we couldn¡¯t work out what it was that differentiated the conquered and the conqueror in this hand grasp. It was only later that we learned this gesture¡¯s actual meaning; ¡®I am a friend, let me show you I hold no weapon¡¯. That the undifferentiated action of the two participants is no oversight but an intentional, egalitarian feature!¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t¡­ normal?¡± says Thran, her tone indicating confusion.

    The Thruljec turns to her and makes a show of baring their teeth in an attempted smile before saying ¡°That¡¯s more or less the reaction I get every time I try to explain the significance of this mural to a Terran. That confused shrug of ¡®Obviously, right? What else might we have done?¡¯ It never gets old! And it¡¯s the precise reason this is a significant enough moment to require a monument such as this¡­ This isn¡¯t a celebration of our defeat, nor of our subsequent occupation. This is a celebration of reconciliation. The day enemy became friend.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.65

    ---Hammer---

    ---Turoluj¡¯s perspective---

    ¡®Rigged¡¯ is a strong word!

    The game at my stall is technically winnable¡­ just misleading¡­

    Originally designed by and for Terrans, [high striker] would be thoroughly demoralising for Thruljex to play if not modified.

    The numbers, 1-100, on the tower do certainly imply that it is a linear scale of strength.

    Thruljec bulls get to smash down that lever, score a 40 and flatter themselves into thinking that they¡¯re half to ? as strong as a Human when I let them know that Humans typically score between 60 and 80.

    I¡¯m not lying when I don¡¯t tell them that the scale is logarithmic and not linear! The game is winnable, they¡¯re just further away from winning it than they might, perhaps, believe!

    They get their ego stroked and a cheap toy to give to their girlfriend or boyfriend¡­ I get their credits, minus operating expenses. Everybody wins!

    A gal¡¯s gotta make a living and I could do a lot worse than a job where all I¡¯ve got to do is sit here, take payment, hand out consolation prizes and give appreciative ¡®ooh¡¯s and ¡®aah¡¯s as bull Thruljex or Terran tourists show off for eachother!

    I would also be lying if I said the tautening of arm muscles hefting an oversized hammer did nothing for me!

    Speaking of which; I¡¯ve just caught sight of a very promising looking trio!

    A glamourous looking Terran woman with pale skin, purple eyes, long, dark hair streaked with silver and dressed in glistening robes is walking along, flanked by a short, stocky looking one with green eyes, tan skin, a thick brow, a prominent nose and a burst of coarse, bright orange hair but¡­ it¡¯s neither of them that have caught my eye!

    The third woman is the tallest Human I¡¯ve ever set eyes on¡­ she¡¯s taller than me!

    She has dark skin, sleek, jet black hair in gorgeous ringlets, violet eyes, broad, flat facial features and¡­ an absolutely stunningly muscled pair of arms!

    I¡¯d definitely go sleeveless too, if I had arms like that!

    She¡¯s slender but if all of her is as well muscled as those arms, then she¡¯s probably the strongest person at the funfair!

    Maybe she¡¯ll be the first ever person to strike the bell! I wouldn¡¯t bet on it but a gal can dream!

    ¡°Ladies!¡± I shout, using my showwoman voice, gesturing to them with one hand and to the game with the other ¡°Care to test your strength? How¡¯s about a little exhibition of that POWER that Terrans are so famous for!?¡±

    The three of them look over, the wiry one with the mouthwatering arms gives me an intrigued smile. Perfect! She¡¯s a showoff! I love showoffs!

    She confers with her girlfriends and, after some Terran nodding, the three begin approaching my stall.

    My stomachs are doing acrobatics as I see that woman¡¯s toned arms approaching!

    ¡°Hi!¡± she greets.

    ¡°Welcome, ladies! How are you enjoying Roruj¡¯s Adventure Park?¡± I beam.

    She wobbles her head in a gesture of ¡®so-so¡¯ before answering ¡°Definitely having fun¡­ but I think the general consensus is that it could do with some rides that are a bit less¡­ tame(!)¡±

    I laugh ¡°*Hahahaha* Yes¡­ We used to have a few more that were explicitly for Terrans but¡­ there was a consistent problem with nonThruljec species managing to convince the attendants that they were actually Terran uplifts(!) We got rid of them so as not to get sued!¡±

    The tall one laughs, the robed one giggles¡­ the dumpy one doesn¡¯t react other than fixing me with an unnerving, unwavering stare which I pretend not to notice.

    ¡°So, are you gals familiar with [high striker]? Would you like an explanation?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Tell us about it.¡± smiles the glamourous one.

    ¡°So, the game [high striker] is a test of strength game of Terran origin. The way it works is; I give you this hefty mallet, you hit that lever there, hard as you can, and the puck will be flung up the dial! Everyone¡¯s a winner but¡­ if the puck goes above 80 then you get to choose a prize from this row!¡± I gesture ostentatiously to the row of medium sized toys ¡°However¡­ for the lucky lady who were able to strike that bell¡­ well, she¡¯d earn the right to choose a prize from the top row!¡± I indicate the row of comically oversized [plushies] ¡°How about it, ladies? Care to show off for the crowd?¡± I signal to the circle of onlookers who¡¯ve gathered curiously to watch Terran strength in action.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give it a try!¡± smiles the dainty, pale skinned one, unexpectedly.

    She doesn¡¯t give the impression of being all that physical (any more than she would by simply existing as a Terran(!)) so I¡¯m quite surprised that she was the first to volunteer! Perhaps she¡¯s intentionally going first so as to stroke her girlfriend¡¯s ego even further? Cunning if so!

    She taps her holo to pay and I give her the mallet with a smile and a nod!

    She squares up to the machine and raises the hammer into the air, over her shoulder, before slamming it down with surprising power!

    ¡°Wow!¡± I say, not feigning my astonishment the way I normally would ¡°The lovely lady has scored a 76!¡­ Impressive!!! For that score, you win this lovely miniature [plushie] of the park mascot, Ruroj!¡± I say, placing the thumb sized toy on the counter.

    There¡¯s murmuring from the gathered crowd as they seem to be trying to work out how impressed they should be.

    If I had had to guess her score just from looking at her, I would have put her in the low sixties or perhaps even high fifties! This elegant woman is much stronger than she looks!

    I return my attention to the Terran trio, the pudgy one and the wiry one offering congratulations to the deceptively strong one.

    ¡°So¡­ are the two of you going to give it a try or are you going to settle for letting your girlfriend show you up(!?)¡± I tease.

    The tan one¡¯s face blushes red but, otherwise, perfectly maintains its blank expression. Is that flush from anger at the suggestion that she¡¯s been shown up or embarrassment at her own inability to outdo the score of a woman who looks so delicate?

    The dark skinned Goddess of muscular arms steps to the counter and, with a wordless smirk, taps her holopad.

    I hand her the hammer which she gives a cocky twirl.

    She takes a wide stance in front of the machine, her long legs affording her a rock solid base of support while her long, strong arms provide ample impulse to smash the hammer down on the lever, flinging the puck up to ¡°83!!! I rarely see scores so high! Unbelievable!!!¡± I announce, again not having to feign my enthusiasm at all!

    The murmuring has become a dull roar as the onlooking crowd chatter, excitedly.

    ¡°Would the lady care to choose a prize?¡± I ask, gesturing to the row of toys she¡¯s earned a pick from.

    She appraises them a moment before saying ¡°I like the piggy!¡± pointing to a stylised julod hog.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    I take down the toy and hand it to her with my left hand before offering my right for a Terran handshake. She hesitates for a moment but then grasps and shakes, smiling, while I get to feel the restrained power of the arms capable of hitting an 83!

    My stomachs dance at the thrill!

    ¡°What about you, Miss? Would you like to see if you can beat either of your girlfriends¡¯ scores?¡± I say, addressing the plump one.

    The tall one and the stylish one share knowing smirks with eachother. I feel a little sorry for embarrassing the girl, who I¡¯m now doubly sure will be a significant anticlimax after the 83!

    ¡°Go on, Thran, win a big one!¡± teases the wiry one, cruelly.

    Her eyes turned to the floor and hidden by her jutting brow, the orange haired woman shuffles to the counter and mumbles ¡°I¡­ I might break it¡­¡±

    Internally, I laugh but, outwardly, just say ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about the machine, Miss! It¡¯s deathworld constructed, special order from the Sol System! You just hit it as hard as you can! We have spare parts for if you did break it, we wouldn¡¯t be coming at you with an insurance claim!¡±

    She gives a tiny nod and, without looking up, points to a gigantic [plushie] of a dlujorj marmot and mumbles ¡°I want that one.¡±

    I have to spend a few moments processing what exactly she means by that. When I work it out I say ¡°Erm¡­ you¡¯d have to strike the bell for that one, Miss!¡± a little incredulously.

    Another tiny nod and she says ¡°Yes¡­ when I strike the bell, can I have that one?¡±

    Oh, now I understand¡­ she¡¯s a bit stupid! She doesn¡¯t really understand how things work! She just watched her very tall and athletic girlfriend hit as hard as she could and only score an 83 but she¡¯s not clever enough to work out that she¡¯ll never be able to score a perfect 100!

    Like¡­ I know that ¡®fat¡¯ doesn¡¯t necessarily mean ¡®weak¡¯ or even ¡®unfit¡¯ but, if the knowing smirk the other two shared is anything to go by, it does in this case!

    I decide to humour her ¡°Sure, sweetie! If you can hit the bell, I¡¯ll give you dlujorjie!¡±

    She gives a final curt nod before tapping her holo.

    As I turn to get the hammer, she begins taking off her [cardigan].

    When I turn back I struggle to work out what I¡¯m seeing.

    As she takes the hammer from me I¡¯m looking at her thick arms, sheaved in tough looking wraps, made up of bulging plates, separated by grooves, coloured to match her skin tone.

    Are they some sort of augment?

    I¡¯m about to open my mouth to say that strength aides are against the rules when my mind resolves what they are; those are MUSCLES!!!

    That recontextualises the whole interaction with these women!

    She¡¯s not fat! She¡¯s just so ridiculously muscled that it¡¯s made her enormously bulky! That knowing smirk wasn¡¯t mirth at the idea of her beating their scores, it was mirth at the suggestion that she might not! The tall one telling her to ¡®win a big one¡¯ wasn¡¯t a cruel tease but genuine encouragement! Her acting like she¡¯d already struck the bell wasn¡¯t her being delusional, it was her being rightfully confident!¡­ but that also means¡­ when she said she might¡­

    ¡°Wait! I¡¯ll just give you¡­!¡± I shout, an instant too late.

    She¡¯s already swung the mallet followed by a simultaneous *snap**crash**clang* of the force of her swing sheering through the mallet¡¯s metal handle, destroying the machine¡¯s internal mechanisms and rocketing the puck up to strike the bell!

    There¡¯s a moment of silence before the crowd erupts in cheers.

    The woman I now recognise as the actual Goddess of muscles does not turn to grandstand. She just looks forlornly at the snapped hammer handle she¡¯s still holding.

    She turns her dark green eyes to look directly at me in a way which engages the ¡®freeze¡¯ part of my fight/flight/freeze reaction!

    Apologetically, she says ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ you did say hit it as hard as I could?¡±

    The translated sentence structure reads as an accusation but it¡¯s flagged as a sincere question. She genuinely wants to confirm that that¡¯s the instruction I gave her.

    I release a trembling sigh and just about keep the fear out of my voice as I say ¡°I did¡­ I¡¯m sorry I underestimated you!¡­ Don¡¯t worry about the machine. Like I said, we¡¯ve got spares¡­ I just have to close up and wait for the maintenance guy to come out.¡±

    She shifts, awkwardly, and stammers ¡°Do¡­ can I still¡­ erm¡­?¡± pointing at the [plushie].

    I chuckle and turn to fetch down the toy from the row I¡¯ve never once had to give out a prize from.

    I drop the giant dlujorj marmot on the counter and push it across to be embraced by the stocky woman. It¡¯s about the same diameter as the height of her torso and has the effect of making this Avatar of Musculature look comically like a small child!

    A tiny smile touches the edges of her lips.

    She begins turning before she stops and says ¡°Sorry, again¡­ about your machine¡­¡±

    I bare my teeth at her and say ¡°It¡¯s really fine, sweetheart! It¡¯s the park¡¯s machine really, not mine¡­ It just means I¡¯ve got an excuse to sit on my arse for the rest of the day, staring at the total babe of a maintenance guy while he fixes it¡­ Might even get a date out of it, if I [play my cards right](!)  Plus, those people there¡­¡± I gesture to the now dispersing crowd ¡°¡­a lot of them are gonna remember the machine they watched a Terran tear apart! I really couldn¡¯t ask for better advertising!¡± closing one eye at her, reassuringly.

    With a final smile, she turns to rejoin her girlfriends, the [plushie] rendering her gait as something of a waddle.

    With a final sigh, I put up a ¡®closed¡¯ sign and take out my holo to call my manager.

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    I perch on the edge of the Two Swords Fountain, looking out over the crowded Senate Square. To my left is the Thruljor Senate Building, to my right is the ODR¡¯s Thruljor Consulate, behind me, across the fountain, is the Primarchal Palace and a few [metres] in front of me is a plaque, denoting the spot on which the formal surrender of the Thruljor Primacy took place, with a gaggle of Terrans gathered around it.

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame Cookie and Hassi couldn¡¯t join us!¡± bemoans Jennie ¡°What do you guys think¡­?¡±

    ¡°I think¡­¡± interrupts Victor, folding his arms with mock sternness ¡°¡­it ain¡¯t none of our business! When someone says they ain¡¯t up to somethin¡¯ you just take that for what it is, wish ¡¯em well and let ¡¯em volunteer more details if they want!¡±

    ¡°Spoilsport!¡± pouts Jennie, with mock disappointment.

    ¡°I see them.¡± offers Tuun, pointing to the point where the crowd is parting for a tall Tshwane, average height Sapiens and short Neanderthal, carrying a gigantic, spherical, blue, rodent toy.

    ¡°What the hell is that!¡± laughs Brunhilda, pointing at the thing Thran¡¯s carrying.

    ¡°It¡¯s a prize she won for destroying a carnival game!¡± smirks Xon.

    Kas starts ¡°She destroyed a¡­?!¡±

    ¡°For which she was very apologetic!¡± interjects Emiko, kindly.

    ¡°They still let you have the prize?!¡± asks Victor, a little incredulously.

    ¡°Yeah, the girl was very understanding.¡± explains Xon before adding ¡°Plus, I think she realised she didn¡¯t really have a leg to stand on, given she¡¯d almost literally asked for it(!)¡±

    ¡°Sorry to interrupt¡­¡± I interrupt ¡°¡­but I do believe the establishment will give our table away if we¡¯re late¡­ shall we get going?¡±

    ---later---

    ¡°I¡¯m with Cap on this one!¡± asserts Victor, gesturing to where I¡¯m sitting atop Thran¡¯s prize (with her permission) on one end of the table.

    ¡°You don¡¯t think that perhaps a plurality of perspectives ought to be allowed the chance to tell their versions of the story(?)¡± smirks Emiko, with feigned innocence.

    ¡°That ain¡¯t what I said!¡± he replies with a wry twist of his mouth ¡°I just think that folk who don¡¯t get Superman and definitely folk who don¡¯t like Superman¡¯ve got no business telling Superman stories! If you think Superman¡¯s shit, you¡¯re either gonna write shit (because that¡¯s what you think he is) or you¡¯re gonna write something you like, which isn¡¯t Superman! If superhero stories where no one¡¯s fuckin¡¯, swearin¡¯ or killin¡¯ eachother ¡®don¡¯t do it for you¡¯, that¡¯s fine but then you¡¯ve got no business tellin¡¯ a SUPERMAN story! He¡¯s meant to be bright, colourful, hopeful! He¡¯s meant to be the best of us! I¡¯m sick of folk trynna make him dark ¡¯n¡¯ broodin¡¯, that¡¯s Batman¡¯s thing! We don¡¯t need two Batmans!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think a little pathos might be a good thing for his depth of character?¡± muses Emiko.

    Victor gives a conceding nod before answering ¡°I think it can be¡­ but there¡¯s pathos that fits Superman and pathos that don¡¯t! He¡¯s got tonnes of potential for pathos; bein¡¯ the last of his kind (and, whenever he does meet another one, they¡¯re normally trynna kill him), havin¡¯ to keep his identity secret to protect his loved ones, havin¡¯ to spend his whole life treatin¡¯ the entire world with kidgloves, scared that he might rip someone¡¯s arm off with a handshake! There¡¯s pathos galore in all that! I ain¡¯t even totally averse to, like, ¡®bad Superman¡¯s as a concept! Just so long as he¡¯s bad for the right reasons! When he shifts into thinkin¡¯ of superheroin¡¯ as an optimisation problem, when he starts thinkin¡¯ he knows better what¡¯s good for folk than they do, when he loses touch with Humanity, stops talkin'' about doin'' good and starts talkin'' about servin'' the greater good, those are good ¡®bad Superman¡¯s! When he¡¯s like ¡®But what if I don¡¯t want to save people?!¡¯ or ¡®But just unexisting all the baddies is so much easier!¡¯ those are bad ¡®bad Superman¡¯s!¡­ Actually, no, they ain¡¯t! They become imposters the moment they stop bein¡¯ a boy from Kansas trynna do the right thing and help out where he can! If you think ¡®BuT wHaT iF sUpErMaN hAd To KiLl!? wHaT iF tHaT wAs ThE oNlY wAy!?¡¯ is some sort of subversive genre deconstruction, you don¡¯t get Superman! It¡¯s just¡­!¡±

    At this point I allow my attention to wander from the intense Terran pop culture discussion (even I have my limits(!)) to take in the general atmosphere of the [club] we¡¯re patronising.

    The Terran¡¯s all agreed, as we entered, that this establishment is much nicer than any they¡¯ve visited in Terran Space; cleaner, less crowded and with music playing at a volume that allows conversation to be audible.

    When I asked why Terran [clubs] would play music so loud, they explained that it is a tactic to increase drink sales, the reasoning being that, if you¡¯re talking, you¡¯re not drinking.

    Nicer as it is, I don¡¯t think Qorak would have enjoyed it, if he¡¯d opted to come. Very much a homebody, he give¡¯s every impression of being happy to play househusband!

    A selection of the Terran''s are out on the dancefloor, swaying and stepping to the rhythm of the music. The remainder are at this table.

    Just then, I notice something¡­

    Hunter is staring vacantly into her beer. Her mouth hangs open and she¡­ doesn¡¯t look right, somehow.

    ¡°Ms Hunter¡­?¡± I say, loud enough to silence the ongoing chatter between Victor and Emiko.

    She turns her face to me and I see no recognition in her black eyes¡­ wait¡­ black? Have her eyes always been black? Didn¡¯t she have¡­ green eyes?

    Then, she balls up her fist and raises it into the air.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.66

    ---Rampage---

    ---Ram¨®n¡¯s perspective---

    I wake up to the sound of my ringtone.

    I reach for my nightstand and grab my holo. Squinting at the screen, I groan, seeing it¡¯s a call from Chief Buthjor.

    I hold the speaker half a metre away from my ear, preparing for the man¡¯s lack of volume control, before answering.

    ¡°V¨¢squez! Get up and get dressed! We¡¯ve got a tranqed Terran perp in custody and we need some of your detectorisation magic worked on the scene before she wakes up!¡± booms the old bull (with a love of Terran cop dramas) who seems to have built his entire personality around the embattled, hardass policechief archetype!

    ¡°I know better than to expect an apology for waking me up at this hour, Chief, but could I at least get a ¡®good morning¡¯(?)¡± I quip.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get cute with me, V¨¢squez! It¡¯s MY arse on the line if you screw this up!!!¡±

    ¡°Chief, I haven¡¯t even got out of bed yet! I¡¯m in no danger of ''screwing this up''! I¡¯ll be right in¡­ or do you want me to go straight to the scene?¡± I respond.

    ¡°Straight to the scene! You¡¯re on the clock from the moment you cross the Guard line! Be quick about it! Oh and V¨¢squez¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Chief?¡±

    ¡°Is Officer Jyulbul with you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here, Chief¡­¡± breaks in my wife, sleepily.

    ¡°Good! You come too! The officers on the line need relieving, so I¡¯m moving up the start of your shift to as soon as you can get there!¡± he says before hanging up without a ¡®goodbye¡¯.

    ¡°Love you too, boss(!)¡± quips the wonderful Thruljec woman sharing my bed, without opening her eyes.

    I lean over to give her a tender kiss before saying ¡°Alright, dormilona. You know we gotta get up!¡±

    She frowns ¡°A few more [minutes] surely won¡¯t hurt¡­¡±

    I chuckle ¡°You¡¯re happy to say that to Buthjor when he summons us into his office to explain why we weren¡¯t there the instant he called us?¡±

    She moans and shakes her head before pulling herself upright with visible force of will. She rises from the bed before stretching up to more than her (already towering) 232cm by standing on the points of her hooves and raising both arms to the ceiling!

    Fifteen years of marriage and I¡¯ll still never get tired of the sight of my underwearclad wife stretching out when she wakes up!

    I quickly throw on my clothes, go to our bathroom to comb my hair, clean my teeth and splash some cold water on my face before walking to our kitchen, setting some imported coffee to brew for myself and some hot water for Jyul.

    I grab some breadbuns from the stasisfridge and wolf down three while I wait for the coffee. I only need sustenance for the day ahead so I don¡¯t bother with butter or anything.

    I take out two thermoses and fill one up with pure, dark coffee all the way from my homeland. The other I fill with the hot water before taking out a pipette, measuring 5ml out of my thermos and squirting it into my wife¡¯s hot water¡­ I think for a moment before adding another 2ml, stirring it thoroughly and sealing them both.

    I hail a transport and give it the coordinates Buthjor messaged.

    I make my way back to our bedroom, carrying both thermoses by their handles, in one hand, and a single bun for Jyul¡¯s breakfast, in my other.

    She¡¯s still not finished getting her uniform on, so I lean against the doorframe and admire her.

    She smirks over her shoulder before playacting a phonecall ¡°Yes, hello, <hr>(?) I need to report an incident of sexual harassment(!) I was changing into my uniform when I caught a fellow Guardsman staring at my arse(!)¡­ Detective V¨¢squez¡­ Yes, that¡¯s him, from Terran Crimes(!)¡±

    I laugh ¡°After all the things you did and said when we first met, Jyul, I don¡¯t think you can complain about a little staring! Especially since we¡¯ve been together for 23 years and married for more than half of that at this point!¡±

    She pulls a mocking pout ¡°I couldn¡¯t help myself! You just looked so sexy in that armour!¡±

    I smirk ¡°So sexy it made you forget that I was an occupier and thus prohibited from fraternising(!)¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ well, didn¡¯t stop us getting together after you¡¯d relocated here, did it!¡± she grins.

    ¡°It didn¡¯t¡­ Would you like me not to stare, Jyul? Would you prefer I act more like the 50 year old I am than the 20 something I look like?¡±

    ¡°No! Stare away!¡± she answers, immediately, before fastening the last strap on her uniform, picking up her shock staff and walking to me.

    I hold up the single breadbun (more than enough calories for a Thruljec woman¡¯s breakfast) which she takes before pointing at one of the Thermoses and asking ¡°Colombian blend, 1% dilution?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Made it a tiny bit stronger for you today, mi vida. Figured you¡¯d appreciate it!¡±

    She gives a very Terran looking grin before saying ¡°You know me so well, sweetheart!¡±

    We kiss one last time before making our way to the roof of our apartment building to meet the transport.

    As we fly, I take the opportunity to read through the details that Buthjor sent:

    ¡¤ Single suspect in custody; Terran, Human, Neanderthal, female, 25 years old.

    ¡¤ Rampage, apparently caused by Thruljor [yeast] toxicosis induced psychosis.

    ¡¤ Zero fatalities but numerous severe injuries and severe damage to private and public property.

    ¡¤ No clear motive for having evaded taking the obligatory counteragent on arrival.

    Interesting¡­

    Some sort of protest, perhaps? Or was this a genuine accident? Difficult to see how you might accidentally not take a drug that you have to be observed putting in your mouth and swallowing before you¡¯re allowed out of your arrival port but, if you¡¯re trying not to take it, all it would require is a little sleight of hand.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    It¡¯s difficult to believe one single woman could possibly have caused the amount of damage that the preliminary credit estimate would suggest¡­ unless she was either in an art museum or had access to a tank(!) But then¡­ looking at this woman¡¯s height and weight figures¡­ perhaps this brief was just written by someone who¡¯s hopelessly bad at estimation(!)

    I look out the window as the transport informs us we¡¯re almost at our destination and exclaim ¡°Madre de Dios! I¡¯ve not seen a street that looked like that since the War!¡±

    Was this a coordinated stunt?! Is this girl just the only one we¡¯ve caught?! Or did she actually manage to retain an ability to pilot heavy machinery through her psychosis!? One girl surely didn¡¯t do all of this herself!?

    We touch down and I stride from the transport towards the unfamiliar Guardsman on the line.

    The stern looking bull holds up his hand to me and says ¡°Sir, this is a crime scene! I can¡¯t let you through! I have to ask you to step ba¡­¡±

    I flash my holo, displaying my Guard credentials, and answer ¡°Det. Ram¨®n ¡®Sleuth¡¯ V¨¢squez, Terran Crimes Division. I¡¯m with the Thruljor Guard, I believe you¡¯re expecting me.¡±

    Surprised (clearly having thought I was just a rubbernecker), the big man does a slight double take before uncertainly saying ¡°Err¡­ yes, Sir¡­ right this way¡­ oh¡­uhm¡­¡±

    He clearly just realised that he has to choose between supervising me or manning the portion of the line he¡¯s been assigned.

    ¡°I believe my wife will be able to cover your spot here¡­¡± I say, gesturing back to Jyul, just catching up to me ¡°Alternatively, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be able to find my own way(!)¡± I gesture to the fairly clear trail of destruction.

    He considers for a moment, then answers ¡°Go on through, both of you. Find the Local Patrol [Sergeant] to find out who you¡¯re relieving.¡± that latter addressed to Jyul.

    I nod and both of us step through the holographically projected line.

    Spotting the woman who looks like the Local Patrol, my wife smiles ¡°I¡¯ll see you tonight, baby!¡±

    ¡°Later, mi vida!¡± I smile back as we part.

    I pick my way through the street, stepping over a felled streetlight that, from the looks of it, was crumpled by a single, blunt force impact, and through scattered pieces of rubble.

    This truly looks like the aftermath of a battle! One woman did all this!?

    I trace the destruction back to a building with a conspicuous, several metre wide whole punched through one of its walls.

    I walk up the steps, through the open door and see a small group of Guardsmen talking with the one I¡¯m inferring to be the proprietrix.

    ¡°Hello, Ma¡¯am¡­ My name is Detective V¨¢squez. Are you the owner of this establishment?¡± I ask with courteous professionalism.

    ¡°I am¡­¡± she answers, eying me suspiciously.

    It¡¯s a tiny bit insulting that she¡¯s apparently unable to mentally separate me from the Terran who just reduced her place of business to a bomb site but I don¡¯t let my irritation show as I ask ¡°Do you have surveillance in your bar?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± she huffs.

    ¡°Would I be able to see the recording of the incident?¡±

    ---later---

    I watch as the group that the perpetrator was with enter the bar. They consist of 8 Humans (6 Sapiens, a Tshwane and our Neanderthal perp) a Felis, a R¡¯qali and a woman of a species I don¡¯t recognise but that the metadata informs me is called ¡®Don¡¯.

    The Neanderthal carries an enormous cartoonified rodent plushie. Looks like a prize from somewhere. I make a mental note to check nearby amusement parks and arcades for any that recall an orange haired Human winning a top prize, yesterday.

    I watch at 3¡Á speed, still able to comprehend every word spoken at that table (a talent I acquired almost by accident, in my youth).

    I slow it down to normal speed, every time a drink is purchased by or for the Neanderthal, watching for any evidence that any of the drinks were tampered with, in any way, either while being poured, on their way from the bar or at the table. I see nothing!

    I watch as the girl¡¯s biometrics steadily progress, more or less perfectly tracking the symptoms of yeast toxicosis.

    Then, it starts.

    I pause, wind back a few seconds and bring the hologram feed down to 1.5¡Á normal (which feels positively glacial after all that time on 3¡Á).

    The table belonging to the group is occupied by 5 people: The R¡¯qali is sat by the window, nesting on top of the perp¡¯s rodent toy placed on the table, an East Asian woman (Japanese if her language is anything to go by) is sat directly across from a copper haired, white man (British, if I¡¯m placing his accent right) talking up a storm about nothing in particular. The Don woman is sat on one side of the Brit and the Neanderthal (now looking thoroughly spacey) is sat on the other side of the East Asian.

    ¡°Because Superman is already a subversion!¡± declares the Brit ¡°If immediately becomin¡¯ a massive arsehole is what you¡¯d expect someone to do with unlimited power, then ¡®what if he was good¡¯ is a subversion! ¡®What if Superman was actually a massive prick¡¯ unsubverts him, don¡¯t it!¡±

    The R¡¯qali seems to, at this point, notice that there¡¯s something up with the Neanderthal.

    ¡°Ms Hunter¡­?¡± she says, her concerned voice raised to a loud enough volume that it (mercifully) causes the Brit to shut up about bad Superman media and every eye to turn to the woman on the verge of a psychotic rampage.

    The orange haired woman raises a fist into the air¡­ and slams it down into the sturdy, Terran table.

    Her hammer blow cracks the table in half! The Brit and the Don manage to react fast enough that their legs aren¡¯t under it when it falls.

    The Japanese is not so lucky. She lets out a bloodcurdling scream of pain as the table comes down and, according to the annotation at least, breaks her leg.

    The R¡¯qali is able to dismount the plushie fast enough to avoid sliding into the middle of the table with it.

    The Brit, Don and Neanderthal are all on their feet, the Japanese writhes in pain on the bench.

    The Neanderthal¡¯s posture, movements and facial expression have all taken on a wild, animalistic nature!

    ¡°She¡¯s been drugged!¡± announces the Brit (almost correctly) with zero hesitation ¡°Everyone get OUT of here! It¡¯s not safe!!!¡± he shout¡¯s authoritatively at the dancefloor mostly filled with fragile Thruljex.

    If the Terran group planned this, they¡¯re doing a fantastic job of pretending it¡¯s taken them completely by surprise!

    Most of those on the dancefloor, sensibly, make for the exit. Unfortunately, the movement catches the attention of the psychotic Neanderthal who whips her head in that direction before letting out a deafening, guttural roar.

    Leaping cleanly over the outside table half, the woman barrels toward the fleeing crowd, inducing a panic which causes several annotations of trampling related injuries being sustained to pop up.

    The Brit was hot on her heal but never would have caught up to her if it weren¡¯t for a tall, sturdy looking, blonde woman who¡¯s barrelling in the opposite direction from the dancefloor.

    The two of them collide and the blonde is sent flying. She impacts a pillar and sustains a broken back. The Neanderthal is barely slowed but the Brit is just about able to catch her ankles by launching himself to the ground, causing her to fall forward.

    From the way that blonde went flying, I think it¡¯s safe to assume that the Neanderthal has the strength to free herself from the Brit¡¯s grasp but her legs just aren¡¯t long enough to allow her the leverage to escape his long arms.

    There follows several long seconds of enraged thrashing with the Brit hanging on for dear life.

    At this point one of the staff takes control of the wall mounted taser (meant for Terrans who utter phrases such as ¡®hold my beer¡¯) and directs it to target the frenzied woman. Quick thinking!

    There¡¯s a *paff* but, unbelievably, the woman¡¯s hand reflexively shoots out to snatch the prongs out of the air before they make contact!

    Thousands of volts arc, harmlessly, between the spikes that ought to be buried in her flesh!

    What the hell has this woman done to get reflexes like that!?

    The woman eventually manages to free herself from the Brit¡¯s grasp and get to her feet but, thankfully, by that point, almost all the gardenworlders have managed to evacuate the bar.

    The next several minutes are spent with the Don, the Tshwane, the Brit and two Swahilis, who look like they might be siblings, carefully trying to corral the feral woman, keeping her away from the women whose leg and back she¡¯s broken. The Felis and a small Sapiens woman who were with the group wisely (in my view) chose not to involve themselves in the containment, evacuating with the gardenworlders so as to put themselves out of harm¡¯s way.

    The R¡¯qali decided to do the same by the simple expedient of flying to the balcony overlooking the dancefloor and perching on its railing.

    A lot of property damage occurs!

    One by one the containment group all sustain debilitating injuries. Having neutralised each one she makes no move to finish them off but, given her apparent mental state, I think it¡¯s safe to say that¡¯s no act of mercy, being, instead, logic that would have made sense to a her, in her psychosis, but, I¡¯m sure, wouldn¡¯t be coherent to anyone else. Maybe she just doesn¡¯t realise that they¡¯re still alive?

    The Brit¡¯s the last one standing but he¡¯s taken several heavy blows and is unable to move quickly enough to stop her charging her way straight through a brick wall, leaping down to the street, 4m below.

    He follows and I switch over to the feed from outside.

    She spends a long time stamping around the street picking on objects that she seems to think deserve her ire.

    I see her bring down that streetlamp by punching it!

    The Brit shadows her at a distance but she seems to have either not noticed or decided he isn¡¯t worth her time.

    She¡¯s almost run out of steam when a task force of Terran Suppression Officers show up on floating platforms (wisely staying far enough from the ground to not be in jumping range) and armed with tranq rifles.

    The Brit rushes forward and grabs the Neanderthal, immobilising her for the Guards to take aim.

    A shower of darts fall on the pair as the woman fights to be free. Most miss, striking the ground, a few hit the Brit, but enough manage to find their mark.

    The woman slowly loses her fight and slumps, limply, to the ground, shortly followed by the man.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.67

    ---Culvert---

    ---Thag¡¯s perspective---

    ---2700 Terran Calendar/13 years BF---

    It¡¯s an absolutely glorious Summer¡¯s day. A little on the hot side but bright, clear and fresh.

    I sigh as I make my way down the dusty country path that I always have to travel when something like this happens.

    I run my hand over the tops of the vivid yellow Yanga Dalan wheat stems that grow alongside the path, enjoying the sensory experience while I walk.

    I take a deep inhale.

    She needs to trust me.

    I can¡¯t get angry. I can¡¯t shout. I can¡¯t tell her she¡¯s done something terrible.

    I need to be kind. I need to be understanding. I need to calm her down.

    As I draw close to where the road passes over the culvert, I hear what I knew I would; sobbing.

    Stepping from the road, I skid down the short slope and into the dry stream bed.

    I peer into the plascrete box and, at the far opening where water flows out down the hill in the wet season, I see an 11 year old girl, sat curled up into a ball, with her face buried in arms that are already more muscular than mine.

    She hears me enter and looks up, briefly stopping her sobs.

    I give her a sombre smile and she goes right back to her sobbing.

    I walk to her side and take a seat.

    I pat the space between my legs but she shakes her head.

    ¡°I¡­*sob*¡­ don¡¯t¡­*sob*¡­ des¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, you do.¡± I interrupt, calmly ¡°You will always deserve a cuddle from your brother, Thrannie.¡±

    She hesitates but then moves to take the seat against me.

    I let her sob for a little while, just cuddling her, reassuringly.

    Once she¡¯s calmed down a little, I say ¡°So, you ran away from school?¡±

    Her shaggy mop of flyaway, orange hair bobs up and down beneath my chin.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    There¡¯s a long pause before she answers ¡°I¡­ hurt Damira¡­¡±

    ¡°The Khabirova girl?¡±

    Another nod.

    ¡°How did that happen?¡± I ask, calmly and without accusation.

    ¡°We¡­ we were playing¡­ I got excited¡­ her arm¡­ it just¡­ snapped!¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to!¡± she says, pleadingly.

    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t, Thrannie. I know you would never mean to hurt a friend.¡±

    ¡°Damira was so nice! I really liked her!¡± she says, miserably.

    ¡°¡®Was¡¯? ¡®Liked¡¯? Do you think you killed her by breaking her arm?¡± I chuckle.

    She shakes her head ¡°No, but¡­ she won¡¯t be my friend anymore¡­ she¡¯ll hate me now!¡±

    I really wish I could tell her that Damira definitely won¡¯t hate her¡­ Unfortunately, she¡¯s lost friends this way before!

    She¡¯s also had trouble making friends because of the reputation she¡¯s gained. Kids can be cruel and she knows it!

    ¡°I wish I wasn¡¯t like this!¡± she says, holding up her arms ¡°I wish I was normal! I wish Mummy and Daddy had fixed¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not broken, Thrannie.¡± I state, firmly ¡°You¡¯re different, sure, but you¡¯re not broken. There¡¯s nothing wrong with the way you are.¡±

    ¡°I hate being ¡®different¡¯! Why didn¡¯t they¡­?¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t get you gene therapy because, if they had, you wouldn¡¯t have been you!¡­ You would have been someone else, Thran!¡­ Mum and Dad love you, just the way you are. So do I. I wouldn¡¯t trade you for the universe! And, one day¡­ you¡¯ll find friends who can see how amazingly special you are and won¡¯t want you to change.¡±

    She gives a mirthful puff before saying ¡°Great(!) I can¡¯t wait to break their arms(!)¡±

    I smile ¡°I can tell you¡¯re feeling better if you have the wherewithal to be sarcastic, Thrannie!¡±

    She grumbles but doesn¡¯t contradict me.

    ¡°Look¡­¡± I say, unfastening my ponytail and pulling a lock of my brown hair forward for her to see ¡°¡­most Neanderthals are redheads. I¡¯m a brunet. Nothing wrong with it, it¡¯s just the way I am. Not better, not worse, just different.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ how many times have you hurt people by being a brunet?¡± she asks, innocently.

    I let out a hearty laugh before saying ¡°Alright, smartarse(!) You can do sarcasm but metaphor¡¯s still a bit beyond you, it seems(!)¡­ You¡¯re right¡­ you do need to be careful¡­ You know that. Neanderthals are stronger than Sapiens¡­ and that¡¯s doubly true for you. It¡¯s not fair on you that you have to be so much more careful than most¡­ but that is the way it is. However, you haven¡¯t done anything unforgivable, you haven¡¯t done anything unfixable and (and I cannot stress this one enough) you. are. not. broken! Alright?¡±

    She sighs before saying ¡°Alright, Thaggie¡­¡±

    ¡°Good! Now¡­ Damira¡¯s arm should be mended by now, so, how about you and I take a little walk to the Khabirovs¡¯ house and see if an apology will do any good? Hmmm?¡±

    She nods then gets up.

    As we start walking I say ¡°Speaking of being careful, you know not to hang out in culverts when it¡¯s the rainy season, right?¡±

    She scoffs ¡°I know what flashflooding is, Thag!¡±

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    ---2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF---

    I¡¯m scared.

    I¡¯m covered in cuts and bruises to an extent I don¡¯t remember ever being before! I¡¯ve got a hangover that feels like someone¡¯s beaten up my brain with a brick, not helped by the fact that the room is way too bright in my left eye, way too dim in my right and properly focused in neither! I¡¯m fairly sure a few of my metacarpals are fractured! My clothing is hanging off of me in tattered rags¡­ but none of that is what¡¯s scaring me!

    What¡¯s scaring me is the fact that I¡¯m chained to an interrogation table in a Thruljor jail and have no memory of what I did to get here!

    Did¡­ did I hurt someone?¡­ Did I do worse than that?

    Not knowing is terrifying!

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    The Thruljec guard in the corner of the room is scowling at me¡­ he thinks I¡¯ve done something unforgiveable! Unfixable!

    An apology won¡¯t do any good this time!

    Just then a handsome (I''d guess) Sapiens man with dark hair, brown eyes and medium brown skin, dressed in a stylish suit and a trenchcoat, breezes into the room.

    ¡°Take off her handcuffs.¡± he instructs my guard in Thrulji (with a Colombian Spanish accent, according to my translator).

    ¡°But, Detective¡­!?¡± objects the Thruljec ¡°¡­what if she get¡¯s violent, again!?¡±

    Oh god! ¡®Again¡¯?! I was violent!?

    The Sapiens scoffs and answers ¡°Rookie, I¡¯ve seen the aftermath of this woman¡¯s violence, I¡¯ve seen the recordings of her being violent!¡­ I promise you; if this woman wanted to do violence, those handcuffs would not stop her!¡± he turns to me ¡°Would they, Miss?¡±

    It¡¯s true, the flimsy handcuffs around my wrists would be simple for me to break but¡­ then what? I could probably walk out of the building and no one would be able to stop me but where would I go? I think it¡¯s safe to assume whatever I did lost me my bodyguarding job, my friends, Emiko¡­ Xon¡­ I¡¯d have no way off the planet and would look guilty as hell for having tried to escape!

    Should I say all of that? Probably best not.

    I settle for giving my head a little shake.

    The confident man gives a gesture of a meaning I can¡¯t infer and the Thruljec¡¯s eyes go wide.

    ¡°So¡­ if you wouldn¡¯t mind¡­¡± says the cool man, pointing to my cuffs.

    The guard removes my cuffs like he thinks I¡¯m a wild animal.

    ¡°And¡­ would you please go and see if you can find a shirt for Ms Hunter?¡­ Her current one leaves a little to be desired in terms of her modesty!¡± he says, gesturing to the tatters covering my torso, that were a modest shirt¡­ yesterday.

    The Thruljec looks pleased to be allowed to leave the room as the Sapiens sits opposite me.

    ¡°I apologise for my colleague, Ms Hunter. A rather disproportionate number of our cases are related to Terran antics so, I¡¯m sorry to say, there¡¯s a bit of a prejudice problem in the Guard.¡± he smiles, sweetly, switching to Spanish.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ OK¡­¡± I say, hesitantly.

    ¡°My name is Det. Ram¨®n ¡®Sleuth¡¯ V¨¢squez and I¡¯ll be the one conducting your interview. Do you mind if I record you?¡± he asks.

    I shake my head.

    He places a holopad on the table and sets it to record before saying ¡°Please state your name for the record?¡±

    ¡°Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter.¡± I answer.

    ¡°And where are you from, Ms Hunter?¡±

    ¡°Yanga Dala.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ high gravity! That¡¯s¡­ what? 2.5 Galactic Standard? 1.2 Earth Standard?¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Well¡­ I suppose that goes some of the way to explaining your prodigious strength(!)¡± he grins.

    ¡°I¡­ suppose¡­¡± I respond, fighting back the urge to provide a full accounting of the provenance of my strength, since he didn¡¯t actually ask for it.

    ¡°You have any family on Yanga Dala, Ms Hunter?¡±

    I nod ¡°I¡¯ve got my mum, my dad and an older brother¡­ there¡¯s an age gap between him and me though, since my mum had her cycle paused to fight in the War.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re naturalborn?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± I confirm ¡°Second generation, through my mum. My dad was tubeborn, though.¡±

    ¡°What do you do for a living, Ms Hunter? What¡¯s your occupation?¡± he asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m a bodyguard¡­ but I¡¯m also a semiprofessional bodybuilder¡­ I earn royalties from my shoots.¡±

    ¡°Interesting!¡± he says, his eyebrows high ¡°Now¡­ Ms Hunter¡­ can I just ask; how much of last night do you remember, exactly?¡± he says, not unkindly but not smiling anymore.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ really¡­ sorry¡­¡± I say, trying not to cry.

    ¡°What are you sorry for?¡± he asks, tilting his head.

    ¡°Whatever¡­ I did! For being¡­ violent!¡­ All of it!¡± I say, really struggling to keep the sobs out of my voice and choking a little with the effort.

    ¡°Could I just get you to answer the question, chica?¡± he says, furrowing his brow ¡°What do you actually remember?¡±

    I take a deep breath before saying ¡°*hfff*...Me¡­ my girlfriend and my charge went to a military history museum¡­ then to a funfair¡­ I destroyed a strength machine¡­¡± guiltily.

    He chuckles ¡°Yes, a wrecked game of high striker¡­ briefly made me think you might just be a vandal(!)¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡­!¡±

    ¡°I know!¡± he says, waving his palm up and down at me to convey¡­ something ¡°I spoke to the girl, she told me that you were very apologetic, she told me you warned her and that she didn¡¯t believe you so told you to just ¡®hit it as hard as you can¡¯¡­ oh and she asked me to let you know she got that date with the sexy maintenance guy and to say ¡®thanks¡¯!¡­ I ruled out petty vandalism as a motive very early on!¡­ What else do you remember¡­ after that?¡±

    I think.

    I very much do not like the feeling it gives me to try and recall but I answer ¡°I remember being¡­ scared¡­ really scared! And¡­ SO angry! But I can¡¯t remember at all what I was scared of or angry about! I can¡¯t remember what I did.¡±

    He nods ¡°I thought so! That¡¯s about what I¡¯d expect for someone who went through what you went through.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ what did I go through?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Thruljor yeast toxicosis induced psychosis¡­ you were told about it in your ¡®Welcome to Thrulj¡¯ lecture, I¡¯m certain.¡±

    I think back before remembering ¡°Thruljor alcohol drives Humans insane, unless we¡¯ve taken the counteragent, right?¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± he smiles.

    ¡°But¡­ I don¡¯t¡­ I¡­ I took the counteragent!¡± I say, confused.

    I did take the counteragent, didn¡¯t I?!

    No, I definitely did! I remember the weird, unplaceable fruity taste! I remember how it felt going down my throat! I definitely took it!

    ¡°Toxicology confirms trace amounts of the counteragent in your bloodstream. You took the counteragent.¡± he states.

    ¡°But then¡­ why didn¡¯t it work?¡±

    In answer, he reaches to his holo and flips a few pages of information to the table top display ¡°You see, the dosage caps out at 4mg for 100kg Humans and up. Humans heavier than that usually have the bulk of the excess in the form of fat, which can¡¯t absorb either the counter agent or the toxin. In the interest of not overconcentrating the counteragent in the nonfatty parts of people¡¯s bodies, we cap it out at 4mg which should be more than enough to cover for people who are a bit over 100kg¡­ but not ? again that much of almost pure muscle!¡± he gestures me up and down ¡°So you were starting at a disadvantage of already having a more diffuse concentration than you should have had, in your body¡­ But then, to make matters worse, your metabolism is, frankly, insane! It chewed through that counteragent far faster than it should have! Result? A dose that should have lasted weeks, lasted mere days!¡± he stops here to give me a broad, genuine looking smile ¡°In short, Ms Hunter¡­ and I¡¯ve never had the opportunity to tell this to someone sitting where you¡¯re sitting before; you aren¡¯t a criminal! You are an unfortunate victim of circumstance and the regulations that failed you need to be amended¡­ I shall be writing up an advisory to that effect, later today!¡±

    I¡¯m stunned for a few moments before reality comes crashing back to me and I ask ¡°But didn¡¯t I¡­ hurt people?¡±

    ¡°Oh! You most assuredly did! But¡­ nothing that won¡¯t have already been fixed up! The worst was that blonde crewmate of yours, you broke her back!¡­ But she was up and about by the time I spoke to her! No fatalities¡­ thanks to your friends!¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± I say, slowly "¡­are they still my frie¡­?¡±

    At that point the door bursts open.

    ---Ram¨®n¡¯s perspective---

    Into the room bursts the copper haired man who restrained Ms Hunter for the suppression squad to tranq her, last night.

    He carries a holopad, projecting a holograph of a teenaged girl who gives me an accusing point before declaring ¡°This woman is entitled to have legal counsel present during questioning and you are in violation of her rights as a detainee by not informing her of that fact! Article 14, subsection f of the UTC-GU Peace Treaty clearly¡­¡±

    ¡°Clearly states that Terrans have the right to have appropriate legal counsel present when questioned by authorities, guaranteed, across the Galactic Union. What is not stipulated in that article, however, is the obligation to inform detained Terrans of that former right.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a semantic loophole, out of keeping with the spirit of the clause, and you know it!¡± declares the girl.

    Ms Hunter looks thoroughly bewildered.

    ¡°Are you qualified in the practice of Thruljor law, Miss?¡± I ask the teenager, amused.

    ¡°As a matter of fact, I am!¡± she shouts, triumphantly.

    ¡°Oh, really? And, when did you qualify?!¡± I laugh.

    ¡°23 minutes ago, on the ride down from orbit.¡± she answers, defiantly ¡°Handy being able to simply download the sum totality of Thruljor laws and courtroom practices!¡±

    ¡°Ah, I understand¡­¡± I say, comprehension dawning ¡°¡­an AI! That does change things. I thought you were just some teenager playing lawyer from her bedroom in Ohio or wherever!¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, now that¡¯s cleared up, I am able to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter bears absolutely zero criminal responsibility for her actions last night and is, instead, a victim of circumstance who has been failed by the system!¡± she says, taking a holographic chair as it materialises into being, next to Ms Hunter¡¯s ¡°You see, Ms Hunter was given¡­¡±

    ¡°An inappropriately low dose of counteragent upon her arrival to Thrulj?¡± I offer.

    ¡°Err¡­ yes, that¡¯s right! And her physiology¡­¡±

    ¡°Broke down that which she was given at a far faster rate than typical?¡±

    The AI girl gives me an incredulous look before continuing ¡°Yes, therefore¡­¡±

    ¡°Therefore, Ms Hunter bears no criminal liability and is only on the hook for a flat 1,000cred UTC National Insurance deductible which can and ought to be waived in consideration of her circumstances?¡±

    ¡°OK, seriously?! How are you this familiar with the case I just finished putting together!?¡± exclaims the girl.

    ¡°Because¡­ it¡¯s the same case I just finished putting together(!)¡­ I just got through explaining Ms Hunter¡¯s innocence to her¡­ I apparently don¡¯t give this impression but I¡¯m actually quite a competent criminal investigator(!)¡± I chuckle.

    ¡°Well, OK ¡­¡± says the freshly qualified AI lawyer, deflating ¡°¡­she¡¯s free to go then?¡±

    ¡°As soon as my junior comes back with something for her to wear, she¡¯s free as a bird!¡­ It would be undignified to make her walk out of the station with the current state of her clothing.¡± I smile.

    ¡°OK then!¡± nods the lawyer, looking, not unhappy but decidedly like she¡¯s had the wind taken out of her sails!

    I lean against the back of my chair and watch as both of the uninvited guests begin telling the former suspect how worried they were, how worried everyone else was and (presumably) still is about her and about the madcap dash to get qualified to represent her and put a case together¡­

    I hope that answers your question, chica!

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXII: Pancakes and Chains

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    Thran took off the destroyed shirt and trousers she wore yesterday after getting back from being fixed up in regen. Right now, she¡¯s dressed only in a pair of panties and a t-shirt, designed to be worn by Thruljec bulls, which was given to her to protect her modesty and sits on her body like a loose nightgown.

    I wonder if there¡¯ll be a Thruljor fashion trend of women wearing loose dresses coming down to their upper thigh over trousers with one leg ripped off and holes frayed in the other, inspired by Thran¡¯s walk through town to the shuttle(!) She was definitely getting some attention!

    She¡¯s cuddling her giant marmot plushie and I¡¯m cuddling her, my arms around her stomach, while she uses me as a seat back, at the head of her bed.

    ¡°Everyone?¡± she asks, bleakly.

    ¡°No¡­ not everyone¡­¡± I say, trying to be reassuring ¡°¡­Hassi and Krish were on the ship, weren¡¯t they? And Jennie and Fliss managed to get out with all the gardenworlders.¡±

    ¡°But I put everyone else in Triple M in the hospital? Literally everyone I realistically could have?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ yeah¡­¡± I answer, reluctantly.

    She groans.

    ¡°Babes, it¡¯s OK! No one blames you! We know you weren¡¯t in your right mind! Besides, nobody died!!!¡±

    ¡°But you could have! I could have killed someone.¡± she responds, miserably.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault!¡± I insist.

    ¡°Not being my fault wouldn¡¯t have made any difference to a dead person. It doesn¡¯t unbreak Brunhilda¡¯s back, doesn¡¯t unshatter your jaw, doesn¡¯t unconcuss Tuun or Msia, doesn¡¯t uncrack Victor¡¯s ribs or nose, doesn¡¯t undislocate Nkasiogi¡¯s arm and¡­ god¡­ doesn¡¯t unfracture Emiko¡¯s leg! I directly injured and endangered the life of my charge! That¡¯s literally the opposi-hmmph¡­!¡±

    At this point, I handgag her and whisper ¡°Shshshshshhh! That¡¯s enough! Stop blaming yourself. None of us blame you. We were all just worried about you! Every one of those injuries is undone now¡­¡± into her ear.

    At this point there¡¯s a knock at the door.

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    I shouldn¡¯t be feeling excited by Xon having her hand over my mouth. I don¡¯t deserve to be titillated, right now!

    When she starts whispering in my ear, the autonomous sensory meridian response melts me, involuntarily, into a puddle of pleasure!

    *knock**knock**knock*

    ¡°Who is it?¡± calls Xon, not taking her hand from my mouth.

    ¡°It¡¯s Emiko, I¡¯m coming in.¡± returns an angry sounding voice.

    Xon manages to unhandgag me in time that I don¡¯t think Emiko will have seen, as she comes in, but I¡¯m still extremely embarrassed for her to have caught me being as cosy as this¡­ after what I did!

    Her brow is furrowed and there are creases over the nonexistent bridge of her nose, her jaw is clenched and her lips are pursed, her eyes are wide and she¡¯s striding across my bedroom in a direct beeline for me, her stockinged feet positively booming with each step!

    I¡¯m not the best judge of these things but I¡¯d say she looks fairly furious! She¡¯s almost certainly going to shout and may even slap me. I just hope she doesn¡¯t break her hand, if she does.

    I set my (yet to be named) plushie to one side and begin trying to rise to meet her but Xon doesn¡¯t unfasten the seatbelt of her arms, so I¡¯m not able to get up before she¡¯s on me.

    ¡°Mistress Miyazaki, I¡­¡± I start, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender.

    She doesn¡¯t stop her forward momentum, bringing her hands to the insides of my wrists and pushing my arms outward to clear them from her way. Definitely makes it look like I¡¯m about to get slapped!

    Then she puts her hands on my shoulders. Is she going to headbutt me? I really hope she doesn¡¯t! With the thickness and density of my skull, she¡¯ll come off the worse from that interaction.

    ¡°I¡¯m so, sorr-mmpph?!¡± I say, having been silenced by a body part for the second time in less than a minute, lips this time.

    My eyes go wide as she falls against me, hands on my shoulders, eyes closed, kissing me tenderly (I think?).

    I am about to wrap my arms around her when I remember all the harm I did with these arms, not even a day ago!

    I drop my hands to the bed and force myself to keep them there while she kisses me.

    After a long time, our lips part and, her eyes still closed, she says ¡°I was terrified, Thran!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry for scaring you¡­ and for hurting you.¡± I say, guiltily.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean, Thran!¡± she scowls ¡°I wasn¡¯t scared of you!¡­ I mean, I was¡­ but mostly I was scared for you!¡­ I was scared of how you were hurting yourself, I was scared because I didn¡¯t know whether this was a planet where it¡¯s legal for law enforcement to use lethal force and, once you were apprehended, I was scared they¡¯d throw the book at you and we¡¯d never see eachother again!¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­ guys¡­?¡± comes Xon¡¯s voice, strained and strangulated, from over my head ¡°¡­I hate to ruin this lovely moment but my ribcage is being a little crushed, right now! Could you let me up?¡±

    Oh fuck! I let Emiko transfer her weight through me, which also shifted my centre of gravity backwards, crushing Xon!

    I push myself forward but, clearly not expecting it, Emiko is knocked on her back. Mercifully, she only falls 80cm or so, onto the mattress, but it¡¯s still not acceptable!

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mistress Miyazaki!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine and stop calling me ¡®Mistress Miyazaki¡¯! You literally had both me and Xon tied to this bed the other night(!)¡± she laughs ¡°We all know I¡¯m no respectable lady!¡±

    ¡°I respect you¡­¡± I say, honestly ¡°¡­I bet you¡¯d have realised somehow if your counteragent had worn off, you¡¯d have spotted the earliest symptoms of psychosis setting in and got yourself to an isolation room at the nearest hospital. You would have¡­¡±

    At this point I¡¯m simultaneously attacked from in front and behind by Xon and Emiko, who both seem desperate to make sure I never get to finish any thought I start about baring responsibility for what happened.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Stop blaming yourself!¡± they say, in unison, immediately followed by ¡°Jinx!¡±

    ¡°I really appreciate it, both of you¡­ but¡­ right now, I just don¡¯t feel at ease, cuddling you¡­ I¡¯m too scared that I¡¯ll hurt you again¡­¡±

    They both release me and I feel an awful pang of regret as the Human warmth is removed from my body.

    ¡°OK, Thran, but¡­ unless you never want to cuddle again, you¡¯ll have to come to terms with it, eventually¡­¡± says Xon before quipping ¡°¡­unless you want us to chain you to the bed so we can cuddle you without any danger of you hurting us(?)¡±

    Hmmm¡­

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    Xon¡¯s suggestion was obviously meant in jest but, from the look on Thran¡¯s face, she¡¯s clearly intrigued¡­

    I know her too well to think she might be able to ask for it so I ask ¡°Would you like that, Thran? Would that help with your anxiety, right now? Being chained down?¡± fighting back the urge to put a reassuring hand on her face or shoulder as I do.

    She fixes her mossy green eyes on me for four or five heartbeats before giving a tiny nod.

    I smile over her shoulder at Xon and say ¡°Well¡­ it seems that you¡¯ve had an excellent idea for what this girl needs right now!¡±

    Seeming highly surprised that her suggestion was taken seriously at all, let alone agreed to near instantly, Xon responds ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ do you want me to do you as well?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Not necessary¡­ I don¡¯t mind being a Domme for one night¡­(!)¡±

    Thran begins to object ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s happening, is what it is! It¡¯s what you need! I want you to be the centre of attention¡­ I think you receiving all of both of our affection is better than splitting Xon¡¯s with me! Alright?!¡±

    She looks at me for a moment before giving a tiny nod.

    ¡°Alright then¡­!¡± says Xon, still recovering from the surprise ¡°¡­I¡¯ll get the chains!¡±

    With that she jumps off the bed and bends down to look beneath it, coming up a few seconds later with a mess of durasteel.

    The beautiful, dark, Damascus patterned metal chains glisten in the light of the room as she untangles them.

    Having extricated them, Xon presents the locking cuffs to Thran (not tossing them at her with contempt, as is her wont when Domming).

    Thran takes one of the cuffs and locks it around her right wrist with a satisfying *click* of the ratchet. Then, she takes the other cuff and threads it through the first, locking her dominant left hand into it, with another *click* and making a practically unbreakable bond of her hands, in front of her.

    Xon hands me a disentangled chain and says ¡°Could you thread this through the headboard while I finish with these?¡± holding up the, still tangled, other two.

    I nod but also observe ¡°You should really take more care when you put them away! They¡¯d be much less likely to tangle!¡± with a mirthful smirk.

    She rolls her eyes and answers ¡°Yeah, thanks for the tip, Mum(!)¡±

    I laugh ¡°You do always say I¡¯m a MILF!¡­ Comes with the territory!¡± as I walk across the head of the bed, threading the chain through every gap in the headboard.

    ¡°Lie back and put your arms over your head.¡± I instruct Thran, sweetly.

    She does so, slowly, being careful that I¡¯m not behind her.

    I thread the chain through her cuffs and pull it taut before saying ¡°Could you throw me a padlock?¡± to Xon.

    A solid bodied block of durasteel with a shackle on top falls on the bed, next to my hands.

    I pick it up and try the shackle before giggling ¡°Could you throw me a padlock key(!)¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ sorry¡­¡± she says and, after a brief pause full of the sound of searching, the key falls on the same spot the padlock did.

    I release the shackle before bringing it through two loops on opposite sides of the chain and snapping it shut again.

    I slide the whole chain along, so the padlock is nowhere near her hands, and then place the key on the bedside table.

    I turn around to see Xon winding one end of the chain around Thran¡¯s ankle and locking it to itself to form a restraint. Her other ankle is already bound the same way.

    ¡°Well now¡­¡± I smile, kneeling onto the mattress at Thran¡¯s right ¡°¡­it looks like we¡¯ve got a very thoroughly restrained girl, right here¡­ doesn¡¯t it Xon(?)¡±

    Coming to Thran¡¯s left, Xon smiles back ¡°It does indeed¡­ what shall we do with her?¡±

    I give a considering nod for a few seconds before answering ¡°Why don¡¯t we start with some cuddling?¡±

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    I run my left hand over the soft fabric of the t-shirt, covering Thran¡¯s (teak hard) washboard stomach.

    The way she¡¯s chained up it would be impossible for her to free herself¡­ well¡­ unless she destroyed the bed which¡­ while I don¡¯t think is necessarily beyond her capabilities, would be almost impossible to do unintentionally.

    I suppose, if she wasn¡¯t in her right mind, she could¡­ but Gato, Aerlyght and the  Shings have all given us every assurance that the effects of the psychotic are passed.

    The chains are only to let her feel safe.

    To let us touch her without her feeling that she might, accidentally, break us¡­

    I trace my fingertips down the side of her torso and feel her cringe slightly with ticklishness.

    Under different circumstances, I would definitely tickle her while she was bound like this but¡­ that¡¯s not what she needs at the moment.

    She needs to be reassured, she needs to be coddled, to be loved.

    Emiko is whispering sweet, affirming nothings into Thran¡¯s ear, gently caressing her cheek with her hand.

    I¡¯ve been with Thran long enough to recognise that she¡¯s fairly horny right now.

    It¡¯s subtle, but there¡¯s a flush in her cheeks, her hips are wiggling and her breathing is catching with little, unvocalised grunts.

    Not looking at either of us, she invites ¡°Punish me.¡±

    Me and Emiko look at eachother and instantly know that we are agreed.

    ¡°No.¡± we say, firmly and in unison.

    ¡°But¡­ I hurt you! Doesn¡¯t it make sense to hurt me back! To make me suffer like I made y-mmmphh!¡±

    I shut her up by shoving a red, rubber ballgag (which I left easily accessible for just such a moment) into her mouth and fastening it in place.

    I bring my eyes mere inches from hers and smile ¡°You don¡¯t need punishment¡­ You haven¡¯t been a bad girl¡­ You need love¡­ You need us to remind you of what it feels like to be a good girl¡­¡± aping Emiko¡¯s kind, motherly tone as I do.

    I turn to Emiko, gently stroking Thran¡¯s cheek and ask ¡°Emiko¡­ can you think of anything this good girl needs her eyes for, right now?¡±

    She brings her index finger to the side of her jaw and twists her mouth, feigning deliberation, before answering ¡°Other than to see our lovely faces¡­(?) No, not especially(!)¡±

    I grin ¡°Then¡­ what say you take off that cloth belt and we blindfold her with it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say that sounds like an excellent idea!¡± she smirks back, mischievously.

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    I don¡¯t feel like I deserve this¡­ any of it!

    I feel like I deserve to be hurt so badly that it¡¯s not exciting, just painful!

    After all those years of training, both at the gu¨£n and at the gym, I still lost control!

    Thag will be so ashamed of me when I tell him!

    No¡­ he won¡¯t¡­ but he should be!

    Instead, two of the most beautiful women in the galaxy have me chained, gagged and blindfolded with Emiko¡¯s obi and they¡¯re doing nothing more than stroking my body, cuddling me, kissing me and telling me what a good girl I am!

    I suppose that is the joy of subspace¡­ I have no say in what I deserve(!)

    Well, I do!

    Technically, I could use my gagged safeword to be released¡­

    I could do that¡­

    Just then, two hands (one Sapiens and one Tshwane) stroke simultaneously, up the insides of my thighs, passing beneath the hem of my comfy, new, oversized t-shirt (that¡¯s more like a dress to wear).

    The dainty, Sapiens¡¯ hand reaches my panties and, in my right ear, I hear ¡°Ara, ara(!) How wet she is, Xon(!)¡±

    The disproportionately long hand, from my left, continues stroking up the skin of my stomach, toward my left breast, as its owner answers ¡°Oh(?) Remind me what it is we do to good little girls who get wet, Emiko(?)¡±

    ¡°I believe¡­¡± says Emiko, delicately pressing my labia through my panties in a way that makes me quiver ¡°¡­we give them what they deserve(!) A reward(!)¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah(!) That was it(!)¡± answers Xon, beginning a sensual massage of my breast.

    They tease me like this for quite some time before Emiko¡¯s hand finally makes its way beneath the waistband of my panties.

    She delicately traces two of her fingers along my labia minora a few times before gently pushing them inside me.

    I moan and (unintentionally) puff past my ballgag in a way that causes a fine spray of misted drool to rain on everywhere I have exposed skin.

    I feel bad for accidentally spitting on both of them but they don¡¯t mention it.

    Emiko¡¯s fingers dance inside of me as the heel of her hand kneads my mons.

    Xon¡¯s hand repeatedly tightens and relaxes its grip around my left breast while she teases my nipple with her thumb and index finger.

    I feel waves of pleasure building inside me, crashing into eachother and causing me to moan like a cow.

    I seize! My hands and legs contract so hard that the cuffs and chains cut into my flesh!

    My mouth is open so wide that none of my teeth are in contact with the ballgag!

    The bed creaks in protest of the amount of compressive and sheering force I¡¯m subjecting it to!

    My orgasm finally passes and I relax, out of breath.

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective, the next morning---

    When we were done playing with Thran, we ungagged her and took off her blindfold.

    We offered to unchain her but she said she wanted to sleep like that!

    I had a fantastic night¡¯s sleep cuddling up with a chained Thran with Xon.

    Right now, we¡¯re just heading out the door, to the kitchen, for some pancakes¡­ but¡­ I can¡¯t help but feel as if we¡¯ve forgotten something¡­

    ¡°Guys¡­¡± comes Thran¡¯s voice, from further behind than I would have thought.

    Xon and I turn around to see her still chained to the bed.

    ¡°Could you unchain me?¡­ I¡¯d like pancakes too.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.68

    ---Bottle---

    ---Jyulbul¡¯s perspective---

    ---[2687 Terran Calendar/26 years BF]---

    I thought I knew what fear was when the Front broke¡­

    I thought I knew what fear was when a Terran fleet appeared in orbit close enough to see with the naked eye¡­

    I thought I knew what fear was when the drop pods began to rain from the sky and every city on the planet rang with the sound of guns firing and shells bursting¡­

    I was so wrong!

    Looking at the thick set man roar in a way that makes even his comrades cower away from him in clear terror, his pupils wildly fluctuating between pinprick specks and so wide they make his steely grey irises seem black, his teeth bared in a rictus grimace, appearing as a twisted mockery of his species¡¯ smile¡­ looking at this man, I know what fear is.

    In his right hand the Terran hefts a roaring plasma[scimitar], a refined combination of ruthless deathworlder design and advanced gardenworlder technology, that he¡¯s swinging more like a club!

    I¡¯m going to die in this room¡­ I just hope he kills me quickly!

    Then, I see something that I can¡¯t make sense of.

    That one armed, one legged Captain is walking, calmly, toward his much bigger, much bulkier subordinate.

    The rabid man raises his cruel, curved sword over his head to bring it down on his superior, certainly killing him.

    Why did the Captain so recklessly walk toward one so clearly out of his mind!? Did he also¡­?

    At that moment, the psychotic man brings down the screaming weapon¡­ on nothing!

    The Captain simply stepped aside and (with unbelievable agility) grasped the deranged one¡¯s wrist with his bionic hand and swung himself under his arm, causing it to twist in such a way as to audibly break! This results in the other man dropping the blade which sinks, point first, into the floor halfway to its hilt before it cools down enough to no longer be capable of melting the plascrete!

    The demented Terran barely seems to notice that his arm has been broken but does, nonetheless, seem very intent on reaching the one currently using his own physiology against him.

    Forcing the larger one to the floor by kicking out the back of his knee, the smaller man releases his hand from the other¡¯s wrist and raises it to strike him in the back of the head!

    The punch is as robotically efficient as the hand that delivered it and causes his head to knock into the hard floor. It¡¯s followed up by a barrage of identical punches.

    The delirious Terran¡¯s face gets progressively bloodier, but his wild thrashing continues.

    ¡°You. go. to. sleep. now. Soldier.¡± says the Captain, between his strikes, somehow still managing to sound calm, in spite of himself!

    After more precisely efficient punches than I was able to count, the large man goes limp and the short, svelte, handsome one relents, drawing back up to his feet.

    He scans the room, face unreadable.

    ¡°Huapaya, Rodr¨ªguez, D¨ªaz, Etxeberria, Cuautli¡­ my office¡­ now!¡± announces the man, not raising his voice, not screaming, not even growling, yet, somehow, burning with more concentrated menace than I would have believed possible before this very moment!

    The five soldiers he named quickly scuttle from the room.

    ¡°Xicum, Hern¨¢ndez, Morales, Garcia¡­!¡± he snaps, his voice louder but much less threatening than before¡­ not that that¡¯s a low bar!

    ¡°??S¨ª, Se?or!?¡± answer the soldiers in unison, snapping to attention while looking extremely concerned!

    ¡°Get Pvt Hill to the medical room and cuff him to his bed¡­ Now!¡±

    ¡°?S¨ª, Se?or! ?En seguida, Se?or!¡± responds one of the four, relief obvious as they start to heave Hill to his feet and begin hauling the large, unconscious man toward the medbay.

    The short, slim Terran man and I are now the only ones left in the (thoroughly destroyed) cafeteria.

    He takes a deep inhale and exhale before turning to me, all of his cold fury gone, and saying ¡°I cannot apologise enough, Liaison! Are you hurt?¡± with all of the soft spoken sweetness I¡¯ve come to expect of him.

    Trying to convince myself that that swooping in my stomach is just the residual nerves, from the life threatening situation I was just rescued from, and nothing¡­ else¡­ I answer ¡°No¡­ Sir¡­ I¡¯m fine¡­¡±

    I begin to pick myself up from where I tripped but he¡¯s already at my side, offering me his biological hand.

    I hesitate a moment, remembering what I just saw him do with his other one, but then smile and take it.

    He effortlessly pulls me to my feet, allowing me to brace my hooves against the leg I know to be mechanical (even if that fact is currently concealed by durasteel). My heart races!

    ¡°I¡¯m incredibly sorry to ask this of you right now, Liaison, but, given that you are the nearest contact with the Thruljor authorities¡­ and the fact that you witnessed the incident, would you mind accompanying me to my office¡­ to see what my idiotic subordinates have to say for themselves?¡±

    My mind runs wild when the gorgeous Terran invites me to his office¡­ until he adds that last part, reminding me that this will not be a social call!

    ¡°Of course¡­ Sir.¡± I answer, carefully.

    He smiles and says ¡°Thank you¡­ Oh, and¡­ you don¡¯t need to call me ¡®Sir¡¯¡­ ¡®V¨¢squez¡¯ works fine¡­ or ¡®Ram¨®n¡¯¡­ if you feel like being friendly with a man you just watched beat someone half to death(!)¡± regretfully.

    ¡°Alright¡­ Ram¨®n¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­lead the way.¡±

    ---later---

    ¡°Did I say ¡®my office and make yourselves comfortable¡¯, you stupid bastards?¡± snarls the Captain upon entering his office and seeing his subordinates seated at various points around the room.

    They jump to their feet (revealing him to be the shortest among them, at only 180cm or so) and sheepishly line up in front of his desk.

    He strides past them, snagging one of the recently occupied chairs and spinning it around to face the opposite way.

    He takes his seat and gestures for me to take the one that he just moved to the side of his desk.

    I sit and he begins ¡°So¡­ which one of you wastes of a uniform wants to explain to me what, exactly, just happened?!¡± with a growl.

    [Cpl] Huapaya steps forward ¡°Lo que pas¨®, Se?or, fue que¡­¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    His superior holds up a hand and says ¡°Stop.¡± and the man instantly falls silent.

    Ram¨®n opens one of his desk draws by means of an electronic lock (the key to which seems to be in his bionic), withdraws a small disc, approximately [3cm] in diameter, and says ¡°Put this on. I want our Local Liaison to hear this!¡±

    Huapaya looks at me, uncertainly, before saying ¡°?Es una buena idea, Se?or? ?No podr¨ªa ser esto malo para la imagen de Terra?¡±

    ¡°The time to worry about the ramifications for our image was before you allowed a squadmember to go on a rampage through the mess, Corporal.¡± shoots back the Captain, icily ¡°As bad as you just made us look, attempting a coverup of your idiocy will make us look worse. ¡®Transparency¡¯ is the word of the day so; pick. up. the. translator.¡±

    Reluctantly, the Corporal does as instructed, picking up the disc and placing it against his temple.

    After a moment of Huapaya recovering from the shudders, the Captain curtly commands ¡°Speak.¡±

    Huapaya begins ¡°What happened, Sir, was that LCpl Snow recently ended her relationship with Pvt Hill¡­ he¡¯s been fairly miserable since then¡­¡±

    Here Huapaya stops for a moment until Ram¨®n irritably prompts ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure breakups don¡¯t cause delirious, psychotic rampages, Corporal, so I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s more to this little story?¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ Yes, Sir¡­ We were out on patrol the other day and he found an in tact bottle in a bombed out shop¡­ he used the app on his holo to translate the text and found it was alcohol¡­¡±

    ¡°Where is this bottle now?!¡± cuts in the Captain, immediately, raising his voice from the level monotone which was much better at conveying furious disgust.

    Flinching slightly, Huapaya answers ¡°Err¡­ Probably still lying on the floor of our billet, Sir?¡±

    Pointing at a tall and slender [Pvt], Ram¨®n barks ¡°Etxeberria, secure that bottle and bring it here! Run! Do not stop for anyone! I don¡¯t care if you have to run past Kemp or Ndiaye themselves! Tell them it¡¯s an emergency! Go! NOW!¡±

    Etxeberria nods and sprints from the room.

    We wait several minutes in cold silence.

    When he returns, bottle in hand, I can feel the vapours burning my lungs from across the room!

    The [Private] steps forward and places the bottle on the desk.

    Ram¨®n slides it to me and says ¡°Can I just get you to confirm what this is? I can¡¯t read the label.¡±

    I pick up the noxious bottle and turn it over, scanning for relevant information a moment before declaring ¡°This can¡¯t be what the [Private] drank!¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± asks Ram¨®n, immediately.

    ¡°Well¡­ this is 35%abv! It¡¯s a disinfectant! It¡¯s meant for sterilising objects and surfaces! Even if he is Terran, Hill would be dead if he¡¯d drunk this!¡±

    Ram¨®n looks relieved and says ¡°35%abv is safe for us to consume¡­ So long as it¡¯s ethanol. There¡¯s no methanol in it, is there?¡±

    I check ¡°Not that I can see on the label.¡±

    ¡°Good. I thought we might have a second, unaccounted for bottle for a moment¡­ And we don¡¯t need to worry about Gral going blind¡­ unless I damaged his occipital lobe!¡± he says (relieved) before turning to Huapaya and, back to his disdainful fury, asks ¡°So¡­ then what happened, Corporal?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ Sir¡­ we¡¯ve been dry for months now and he seemed really excited about it¡­ obviously, we all mentioned the psychosis but¡­ err¡­ he, very confidently, told us that it didn¡¯t affect Denisovans like it did Sapiens¡­ that, for them, it was more like a¡­ erm¡­ a high¡­ Sir¡­ D¨ªaz also suggested that, to get alcohol that pure, it would have to have been distilled a few times¡­ we thought the chances of the toxin actually making it over with the alcohol, through distillation, were fairly slim. I should have confiscated or reported it, Sir, but¡­ well¡­ I didn¡¯t. I allowed him to keep it¡­¡±

    Glaring at Huapaya, Ram¨®n splays his mechanical fingers ceilingward in a querying gesture and asks ¡°Tell me, Corporal¡­ did you or any of your squadmates gain an advanced qualification in xenochemistry while I wasn¡¯t looking(?)¡±

    Huapaya shakes his head and straightforwardly answers ¡°No, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ what about one in Human biology(?) Toxicology(?)¡±

    Again, Huapaya answers ¡°No, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Is that so(?) What about D¨ªaz(?) Did she have any qualification relating to the manufacture of distilled [untranslatable word: ¡®spirits¡¯. Meaning.: concentrated alcohol, meant mainly for drinking](?)¡±

    ¡°No, Sir.¡± answers Huapaya, sombrely.

    ¡°Well¡­ you must have had something(?) You must have had¡­ some reason you thought it advisable to allow a man taller than the average Sapiens and twice as strong as the average soldier to keep a looted (oh, yes! Don¡¯t think that slipped by me!) bottle of a substance that all planetside Terrans are expressly forbidden from consuming, purchasing or possessing(!) A substance that, in the best case scenario, would still have had a mind altering effect on a man with access to firearms and plasmaweaponry(!) You can¡¯t have just gambled not only Hill¡¯s life but your own and those of everyone else on the base on unsubstantiated (and, as it turns out, false) rumours and hunches because you wanted to be kind to a subordinate undergoing relationship blues, can you(!?) You couldn¡¯t have been so stupid and reckless(!)¡±

    Huapaya says nothing.

    Ram¨®n stands and places his fingertips on the desk.

    ¡°We are occupying this planet.¡± he states, seething ¡°We do not need to give these people any more reasons to hate us. We just finished fighting a War with them¡­!¡±

    ¡°?Una Guerra que ellos comenzaron!¡± mutters Cuautli.

    ¡°And a War we finished!¡± snaps back Ram¨®n ¡°When you are carrying a weapon, wearing durasteel with the Terran emblem on the shoulder or even just being Terran on this planet, you are Terra! When you loot, people will think ¡®Terrans are looters¡¯! When you rampage, people will think ¡®Terrans are rampagers¡¯! When you act with callous disregard for the lives of those around you that¡¯s what they will think of all of us!¡­ It¡¯s not realistic that the War might recommence any time soon but I¡¯m not interested in my grandchildren becoming casualties of the ¡®Second Galactic War¡¯, in 50 years time, because of the festering resentment brought about by episodes like this! Do. You. Understand!?¡±

    ¡°?S¨ª, Se?or!¡± answer the five, only one of whom I can comprehend.

    ¡°Good!... Now¡­ with that said¡­¡± he turns to me and I¡¯m momentarily terrified into thinking I¡¯m about to be the next object of his ire before he kindly and wearily asks ¡°Ms Jyulbul¡­ I assume you will have to report this incident?¡±

    I¡¯m past the point of being incredulous at the unorthodox way Terrans treat conquered peoples¡­ Occupiers of any other species would have ordered me to keep my mouth shut or face summary execution (or may have summarily executed me preemptively!) and they certainly wouldn¡¯t have left any semblance of local power structure (like law enforcement) in tact for me to report to!

    I clear my throat and answer ¡°I believe this does fall within the scope of incidents that I¡¯m obliged to report¡­ but, given that there was no [malice aforethought] behind it¡­ I think I will be able to keep the public relations backlash to a minimum.¡±

    With a relieved sigh and a nod, the handsome man answers ¡°Terra is in your debt, Miss¡­ As for you lot¡­¡± he turns back to his subordinates ¡°¡­Huapaya, effective immediately you are demoted to Private. While I ponder what further disciplinary action to take, all five of you are to run a hundred laps of the Parade Ground. Don¡¯t even think of trying to cheat and stop after less, I¡¯ll have someone watching you. Now, get out of my sight!¡±

    As they go, one of the [Privates] says under his breath ¡°?Ella muge como una vaca! *muu**muu**muu*¡± seeming to be doing a bad impression of the sound of Thrulji.

    The other four chuckle.

    ¡°Rodr¨ªguez!¡± shouts Ram¨®n, furiously ¡°Congratulations! You just earned ANOTHER hundred laps for everyone!¡±

    The five groan but don¡¯t argue as they file out.

    The man leans, exhaustedly, against the back of his chair (reinforced to be able to take the weight of a Human in durasteel) and gives a long, vocalised sigh, his eyes closed and a beatifically sexy expression on his tired face.

    ¡°How did you know?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± he says, opening his eyes and looking to me.

    ¡°You took one glance around the room and immediately identified that those five knew something. How?¡±

    He smiles ¡°Oh, that¡­ I¡¯m what¡¯s called a Truth Wizard¡­¡±

    ¡°[Truth Wizard]?¡± I ask, mildly amused by my translator¡¯s explanation of the term.

    ¡°That¡¯s the word for it, I didn¡¯t make it up!¡± he chuckles ¡°It just means I¡¯m very good at reading people¡¯s intentions from their facial expressions and bodylanguage¡­ it¡¯s why they didn¡¯t try lying to me, they knew it wouldn¡¯t have worked and would have made me angrier than I already was!¡±

    ¡°Angrier than¡­? I don¡¯t believe that¡¯s possible(!)¡± I quip, amused.

    He laughs ¡°You might be right!¡±

    ---[2691 Terran Calendar/22 years BF---

    I sit at my desk in the Station, trying to finish my reports.

    They are¡­ incredibly boring!

    My mind wanders, as it regularly has for the last few years, to that dashing, handsome Captain who was my main contact in the occupation forces for the first year or so¡­

    Missing two limbs and¡­ yet¡­ more of a man than any other I¡¯ve ever encountered!

    I recall attending his going away party, once he¡¯d moved up the waiting list for getting his arm and leg regenerated, he¡¯d been accepted to a university to study criminology and had his discharge approved.

    I recall, with some bitterness, all the times I made my attraction to him plain and got politely but firmly turned down.

    He used the fact that he was an occupier and that entering into a relationship with a local would be an abuse of power as an excuse, to spare my feelings, but¡­ I¡¯m fairly sure he just wasn¡¯t interested.

    ¡°Jyulbul!¡± shouts Chief Buthjor from across the room.

    ¡°Yes, Chief?¡± I answer, leaning back and looking over my shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯ve just got an application from a graduate Terran for a job in the Guard¡­¡±

    ¡°A Terran? A Terran wants to work¡­ here?¡± I ask, slightly incredulously.

    ¡°Yes¡­ and he¡¯s provided you as a professional reference.¡±

    I give a perplexed frown ¡°What was his name?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXIII: Pancakes and Dairy

    ---Ram¨®n¡¯s perspective---

    Coming down from the roof of my apartment building, I¡¯m tired after a long day of investigating relatively light infractions by Terran tourists.

    That Neanderthal girl¡¯s case the other day was quite a meaty mystery for me to sink my teeth into with a very satisfying conclusion. I¡¯d almost wish that I could have more cases like that if it wouldn¡¯t mean an entire neighbourhood being taken out of commission every time(!)

    I cross the threshold of my apartment and am immediately accosted by my gigantic wife.

    She hits with all the momentum of a 2.3m stuffed toy being gently tossed at me but I allow her to feel like she knocked me off balance.

    I let her press me into the closed door behind me and press my face into her enormous chest with her hands at the back of my head.

    I take a deep inhale of Jyul¡¯s scent and give a contented sigh. I feel my mind unfrazzle from the long day I¡¯ve just had.

    She giggles, presumably from my breath tickling her sensitive breasts through her jumper.

    ¡°I missed you¡­¡± she says, tenderly.

    I look up, barely hindered by her hands attempting to keep my face planted in her bust, and smile ¡°I missed you too, Jyul.¡± stroking my hands down her back, feeling something very interesting that she¡¯s wearing under her jumper(!)

    She grins revealing a set of underdeveloped incisors, four overdeveloped canines flanked by a very overdeveloped set of flat, grinding molars.

    She leans down to kiss me, closing her eyes and sliding her long tongue into my mouth.

    When she lets me up for air I smirk ¡°Someone¡¯sfeeling very energetic! Didn¡¯t you have a double shift today?¡±

    She snorts ¡°Yeah, well¡­ I had a double shift but, because my species aren¡¯t staminafreak monsters, we don¡¯t allow people to work the deathsentences of shifts that you consider normal(!) I¡¯ve had a long time to recover since I got home!¡±

    I smile ¡°Long enough to change into your playtime outfit at least(!)¡±

    Her mouth falls open ¡°How did you¡­?!¡±

    ¡°One¡­¡± I say, bringing my hand to her back ¡°¡­your jumper doesn¡¯t slide over your skin or any of your shirts like this, two¡­¡± I point to her chest ¡°¡­you¡¯re headlighting so hard that your nipples are poking my collarbone and three¡­¡± I grab her arm by the wrist and raise it to show the string threaded between the III and IV digits of her hand, attached to a bit of black and white fabric poking out from her sleeve ¡°¡­it¡¯s showing!¡±

    She gives a smack of her lips (the Thrulji equivalent of a tut) before saying ¡°I guess I should¡¯ve known better than to think I could fool a Terran detective! I wish you¡¯d let yourself be surprised sometimes though!¡±

    I shrug apologetically ¡°Not something I can turn on and off, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    She pouts.

    I smile ¡°Have I ruined it? We don¡¯t need to¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, we do!¡± she huffs ¡°I¡¯ve been horny all day waiting for you to get back, so you and I are going into that bedroom and, the moment we do, we are not husband and wife anymore!¡±

    I grin ¡°Alright¡­ though, you realise¡­ ranchers don¡¯t take orders from their heifers, right?¡±

    She lets out a shuddering moan and nods.

    ¡°Alright then!¡± I smile ¡°Shall we go?¡±

    ---Jyulbul¡¯s perspective---

    As I enter the bedroom, I slide my jumper off over my horns, revealing a skin tight outfit that covers my arms, shoulders and upper back. It¡¯s white with black splotches.

    My chest and stomach are left entirely bare.

    I slide off my civvy trousers, exposing a bare crotch, bare arse and legs covered in stockings matching my top and suspended from it by strips of fabric on the outsides of my hips.

    I give my tail a swish and my ears a little flick.

    My owner smiles up at me on his way past.

    He goes to a draw and pulls out a partially broken, gold ring with a pin spanning the width of the gap, a yellow tag with some Terran numerals on it, a collar with a bell on it and a bitgag, fashioned to look as much like a halter as possible for a being without a snout.

    He beckons me over with a smirk and says ¡°Lets finish getting this heifer dressed the part, shall we?¡±

    I clop over to him and bend down to make it easier for him to reach my face.

    First, he picks up the ring and pokes the pin through the piercing in my septum, fastening it and giving it an uncomfortable little tug, then he pokes the tag through the piercing in my ear, fastens the collar around my neck and, finally, picks up the bitgag-cum-halter and presses the bit into my mouth, fastening the straps behind my head.

    ¡°There¡­¡± he grins, taking the reins attached to my harness ¡°¡­what a wonderful cow you make as always, mi vida!¡±

    I *moo* through my gag causing him to chuckle.

    ¡°I wonder how badly¡­¡± he smiles, devilishly ¡°¡­this little cow wants to get milked?¡±

    God, so badly!

    Why does he always tease!? The hemming and hawing about whether he will or not is definitely my least favourite part of these sessions!

    That said¡­ if he asked me if I wanted him to stop¡­? If he offered to just start going straight to business¡­?

    I stamp a hoof, give a desperate little whimper and extend my lips, pleadingly, from the gag.

    ¡°Oh¡­ looks like she¡¯s very eager for it¡­ but¡­ well, it¡¯s a busy life, being a rancher! I could always just milk her tomorrow, couldn¡¯t I?¡±

    I give a pathetic little moan and shake my head, halfway between a Terran ¡®no¡¯ and a dumb animal trying to shake off insects.

    ¡°OK, OK¡­¡± he smiles mischievously, relenting far faster than normal ¡°¡­I guess I¡¯ve got time to give my prise cow the attention she needs!¡±

    He walks passed me to our full length wardrobe, leading me by my reins.

    If our bodies were the same density, I would be able to stop him dead by simply refusing to move.

    In actuality, the enormous disparity between us means that, if I tried that, he might pull me off my feet before he¡¯d even realised anything was amiss!

    Real cows weigh hundreds of kilos and (though rendered mainly a novelty, these days, by the introduction of lab grown meat, equal too or better than the real thing, a few centuries ago) could be led around by Humans a fraction of their weight! Those Humans trusting to nothing more than the thousands of years of selective breeding for docility that they had visited on their livestock to keep from being trampled to death!

    A good cow is one that doesn¡¯t realise how much more powerful it is than its owner, doesn¡¯t realise what its owner will eventually do to it, doesn¡¯t fight its owner¡­ I want to be a good cow!

    He slides open the wardrobe and reaches down to an unbelievably heavy platform, on wheels, with some metal racking folded up on top of it.

    With one hand (the other still grasping the reins of my halter) he pulls the platform into the middle of the room, disengages the wheels, pulls up the front section of the frame which locks into place, then does the same for the back section.

    He lifts a bar, nearly a [metre] wide with three semicircular curves in its length (one around half the circumference of my neck and, the other two, half that of my wrists), off of a horizontally mirrored one, fixed at the front of the frame.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    He lifts another straight bar from the back, where it was resting about a pelvis¡¯ width above another, fixed bar.

    He places the parts he¡¯s removed on the ground and leads me to the back of the frame.

    He bends me over the bar, which is quite a bit lower than my hips would naturally want to rest, before picking up one of the ones he just placed on the ground, slotting it on top of me and fastening it in place.

    Gently but irresistibly, his hand pushes down between my shoulders, forcing my neck into the hole which is designed to receive and secure it.

    As he brings my wrists to their respective divots and begins fixing my upper body into the pillory, I let my mind wander back to when I discovered this fetish.

    Ram¨®n and I had been dating about a [year and a half] (me having thrown myself at him, effectively the moment he stepped off the transport(!)) and I was firmly in what he calls my ¡®shopping phase¡¯.

    It had been [five] or [six years] since the end of the War and, one by one, Terran systems were acquiring the infrastructure necessary to be connected to the galnet.

    Every new Terran world, whose internet I was able to explore, introduced me to half a dozen acts that forced me to go through the five stages of fetish discovery (disgusted horror, scrutiny, consideration, curiosity and interest (with the optional sixth stage fascination))!

    This one, however¡­ I knew right away that this would be my forever fetish!

    It immediately became an obsession!

    If the day ever comes where the galaxy calls out for a Hucow expert, I can confidently put myself forward as a leading authority(!)

    Of course, when he and I do it, it isn¡¯t strictly ¡®Hucow¡¯ but ¡®Thrucow¡¯ or ¡®Cowljec¡¯ just don¡¯t have the same ring to them!

    Cows are not sexy animals¡­ fairly objectively!¡­ They¡¯re dirty, they¡¯re smelly and, least sexily, they are thoroughly nonsapient (with the obvious exception of the bovine uplifts I¡¯ve seen acting in some of my vids, to which none of that applies).

    That¡¯s all true and yet¡­ something about making an intelligent being act like a cow¡­ putting a sapient in that position¡­ of making me nothing more than livestock¡­ something about the idea of being stripped of my agency and treated like a piece of meat¡­ well, it just sings to me!

    I¡¯ve often fantasised about a very different variety of Terran to the one we actually got, being our conquerors!

    These Terrans would be far less willing to relinquish the spoils of their conquest! I¡¯d have been herded into a pen, nude, along with all of the other Thruljex who looked like they¡¯d make good bed slaves.

    A dark mirror of Ram¨®n would come striding along the cages, his face twisted with gleeful malice as he inspected his choices of reward for his service.

    I¡¯d catch his eye through the throng, he¡¯d point to me and I¡¯d be pulled out of my cage and given to him as a warbride!

    Then he¡¯d take me home and make me sleep in a cage with only hay for both fodder and bedding!

    Of course, I¡¯m not an idiot!

    I would never in a million years trade our conquest by compassionate rebuilders for one by ruthless oppressors!¡­ That doesn¡¯t stop it being fun to fantasise about though!

    My upper body secure, Ram¨®n returns to the rear of the frame and I feel his warm, powerful hands grasp my left leg, at the joint just above my hoof.

    Irresistibly, my leg is pulled to a specific point in the frame and metal is closed around it, locking it into place. There is enough room for my leg to move but not for it to be withdrawn.

    He repeats the same action for my other leg.

    I struggle, experimentally, finding I have been utterly deprived of all mobility.

    I¡¯m entirely at his mercy now.

    Not that I¡¯m ever not at his mercy when we¡¯re alone together but¡­ being stripped of my agency like this¡­ it, ironically, makes me feel very free!

    ¡°Well, now¡­¡± the Terran smirks crookedly, setting a chair next to my frame ¡°¡­shall we get started?¡±

    ---Ram¨®n¡¯s perspective---

    My wife now locked into her frame, I turn my back on her and step slowly to the wardrobe to her rear.

    I retrieve a silver bucket and a device with two long, clear, flexible tubes, ending in two clear cups with rubber rings covering their rims, coming out of it.

    I return to my wife¡¯s side, set the pail beneath her pendulous, lilac ¡®udders¡¯ and take a seat.

    I hold the pump with its outflow nozzle positioned over the bucket, place one of the cups over her left nipple and turn it on, creating a suction seal.

    Immediately she begins thrashing and *moo*ing through her gag, in protest.

    I power down the pump and feign confusion as I stroke her back and say ¡°What¡¯s wrong, girl? I thought you wanted to be milked(!)¡±

    More pitiful *moo*ing is the only answer I get.

    ¡°What could be the problem, I wonder? Could it be that my prize milker¡­ doesn¡¯t actually want to be milked(!?)¡±

    Her next *moo* is almost sobbed.

    I feign realisation as I say ¡°Aaaaah¡­ I know what the problem is!¡­ You don¡¯t want the pump! Do you, girl!¡±

    She gives a confirmatory *moo*.

    I pop the cup off of her nipple without equalising the pressure, leaving a lovely, light bruise.

    ¡°Nooo, no no no no no! She wants me to use my hands for this! Of course!¡±

    I bring both palms to her left breast and begin a firm but gentle downward, kneading massage.

    She gives a (very uncowlike) moaning sigh and I see her whole body relax.

    After a few moments have passed, a stream of opaque, pink liquid starts to stream down, ringing gently as it splashes against the metal of the milking pail.

    Once that breast seems like its exhausted, I repeat the process for her other ¡®udder¡¯.

    Fully mature Thruljec women (for evolutionary reasons beyond my understanding) are permanently capable of lactating.

    Jyul, however, due to the regularity with which she makes me stimulate her like this, produces milk in quantities and of richness that is far from normal, exceeding even the figures for nursing mothers, at least in quantity (I¡¯ve never tested for how she stacks up in terms of fat/protein content(!))

    Of course, like ¡®Hucow¡¯, ¡®lactate¡¯ is a misnomer.

    There isn¡¯t actually any lactose in the liquid she produces, lactose being a deathworld molecule, but the equivalent protein isn¡¯t very pronounceable to my Terran tongue and sounds very pretentious to use as a verb (in both Spanish and Thrulji)! So, ¡®lactate¡¯ serves!

    I pick up the bucket with a litre or so of pink milk at the bottom.

    Walking to Jyul¡¯s front to allow her to see me, I bring its rim to the level of my mouth and tip it upward.

    I take several deep gulps of my wife¡¯s still warm milk.

    When I bring it down again I see her looking up at me, awaiting my verdict.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ It¡¯s a little watery¡­¡± I say, honestly ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know if anyone would want to buy milk this weak!¡±

    She gives a pitiful *moo*, even though I know the humiliation is part of the kink for her!

    I place down the pail and stroke a hand over the cow patterned fabric at her shoulder.

    ¡°I wonder how much I¡¯d get if I sold her¡­? A ranch can¡¯t stay in business keeping dairy cows that don¡¯t produce good milk, afterall¡­¡±

    She begins wildly thrashing and gives desperate pleading *moo*s at the mention of selling her.

    I ignore the sudden outburst to continue ¡°She¡¯s got good conformation¡­ a lovely bloom¡­ I¡¯d wager she¡¯s got good marbling¡­¡±

    Her protests intensify and I act like I¡¯m just now noticing as I grasp her horns, force her to look up at me and say ¡°I¡¯m sorry, girl, I just don¡¯t see what else to do! You¡¯ve got to earn your keep and, if you¡¯re not giving milk, then¡­¡±

    A great, lowing *moo* is the only vocalised response she gives as she lifts her cow tail and gives her hips a pleading wiggle (as much as her restraints allow).

    I pretend to have a moment of inspiration as I say ¡°Of course¡­(!) There are three things cows are useful for, aren¡¯t there(!)¡±

    I reach under her to give her right breast a squeeze ¡°Milking¡­¡± I stand and begin walking around her before giving a light smack to her (generously proportioned) left buttock ¡°¡­meat and¡­¡± I bring my hand to cradle her cute little, dripping pussy ¡°¡­breeding!¡±

    She gives a wonderful quiver as I rub her mostly immobilised crotch.

    With my left index finger, I trace around the edge of a circle she has tattooed on her left buttock.

    In the circle are tattooed the initials ¡®RSV¡¯.

    The tattoo was a compromise¡­ she wanted me to actually brand her with a hot iron shaped into the inverse of my initials¡­ my counteroffer was to suggest that we could get a stamp of my initials and a palette of ¡®permanent¡¯ ink. The tattoo was where we landed as a balance of safety and permanence!

    ¡°No¡­ you¡¯re right¡­ I could never sell my best girl! Not when there are so many other fun uses for you!¡± I smirk and begin unfastening my belt.

    ---Jyulbul¡¯s perspective---

    I helplessly stare ahead as I feel Ram¨®n¡¯s powerful, warm hands clamp my hips.

    The left one that he offered to help me up, all those years ago, the right that he didn¡¯t have at the time¡­ together they render my hindquarters immobile far more effectively than the frame I¡¯m locked into!

    I feel something long, warm and hard pressed between my buttocks and I give a contented sigh.

    I am a piece of meat and nothing more¡­ if my owner wanted to sell me, that would be his right!

    But¡­ for today, I have managed to convince him that I still have value enough to be worth the fodder I consume and the barn space I occupy.

    I want to be a better milker for him but¡­ well, if he¡¯s happy with just using me as a breeder, I definitely won¡¯t complain(!)

    I drag the brush of my tail across his chest, tenderly, letting him know what the brand on my arse already tells him; I¡¯m his! I¡¯m his big dumb cow, for him to do whatever he likes with!

    He answers this by dragging the hard, warm thing downward between the lips of my pussy.

    He doesn¡¯t insert himself immediately, just lets our respective organs touch.

    I want him inside me but¡­ that¡¯s not my decision to make! I¡¯m just a cow!

    Finally, his tip finds my opening and he pushes, slowly, inside.

    I¡¯m so distracted by the sensation that I almost forget to *moo*¡­ almost!

    The bell at my neck rattles as he begins his penetrating thrusts into his property¡­ his meat¡­ his cow!

    Stars, this is fulfilling!

    A third of a lifetime, belonging to this man, and playing livestock for him is just as thrilling now as it ever was!

    A hand is removed from my rear to grasp my horns and yank back my head. This causes me to moan, loudly and my spine to bow downward.

    Yes! Use me! I¡¯m yours! I¡¯m nothing more than meat for you to fuck! Just a breeder!

    Breed me!

    His body seizes and I¡¯m brought to orgasmic ecstasy by the rich, thick milk that he gushes inside me!

    ---Ram¨®n¡¯s perspective---

    I awake with a very large, very light woman cuddling into me.

    Jyul still wears her cow costume, though absent the piercings and harnessgag.

    Her radiant, mauve eyes open and she beams.

    ¡°Morning, mi vida¡­ you got work today?¡± I say, sleepily

    She gives a Terran shake and answers ¡°Nope¡­ you¡¯ve got me all to yourself!¡±

    I smile ¡°In that case¡­ why don¡¯t I make us some breakfast? What do you feel like?¡±

    She thinks for a few seconds before deciding ¡°Definitely pancakes!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.69

    ---Starborn---

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m sitting in the Commonroom with every member of Triple M, Plus Ultra and Elysium as well as a selection of gardenworlder crew.

    Bj?rn (the massive great big bear man historiographer from Nova Fennoscandia) and Lilith (the tiny folklorist from the cloud cities of Venus, in the Sol System, with skin, eyes and horns all modded to make her look more Demonic) are talking to Strik, one of the newest additions to the crew, an archaeologist from a gardenworld species who look like 1.5m tall, Humanoid owls.

    He has a nervous manner to him and looks like he¡¯d suit a giant pair of old fashioned specs over his enormous eyes to really tie the whole weedy nerd look together(!)

    Thran is nestled cosily between Emiko and Xon, for all the world like she didn¡¯t obliterate three of my thoracic vertebrae the other day(!)

    Not that it¡¯s her fault¡­ but¡­ well, I¡¯d definitely be lying if I said that being slumped against that pillar, unable to move and barely able to breathe while I listened to everyone else behind me trying to manage that tank of a woman through her rampage wasn¡¯t one of the most traumatic things that¡¯s ever happened to me!

    That¡¯s definitely a large part of why I¡¯m going to have to leave this pushing-off party early!

    Oh¡­ speaking of which¡­

    I check the time.

    I lean over and kiss the top of Dormouse¡¯s head before, half under my breath, saying ¡°Gotta go¡­ see you later¡­¡±

    Mouse smiles up at me and answers ¡°Alright¡­ good luck!¡±

    I stand and attempt to make my way out of the room as stealthily as is possible when you¡¯re a 90kg, 190cm pillar of muscle, topped by a plume of bright gold hair(!)

    I really don¡¯t know how Victor does his stealth act so well when he¡¯s taller than me, heavier than me, more muscular than me and with almost as eyegrabbing a hair colour(!)

    All attempts at stealth are entirely thwarted when I find my way blocked by an enormous great big, cold weather predator!

    ¡°What place going, Mummymummy!?¡± pants Sam, excitedly, jumping side to side and drawing every eye in the room.

    ¡°I¡¯ve just got somewhere I need to be, buddy¡­ you don¡¯t need to come¡­¡± I answer, nervously trying to prevent this from turning into a scene.

    ¡°Sam coming! Sam coming too, Mummymummy!¡± he responds with joyful obliviousness.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s¡­¡± I start before reconsidering ¡°¡­alright¡­ fine, Sam¡­ you can come¡­¡±

    ¡°Yaying!¡± he declares, adorably, before clearing my way.

    We step out into the Triple M corridor and, once the door is closed and I¡¯ve looked around for prying ears, I say ¡°Alright, buddy, if you want to come, I need to take your translator for a bit¡­ I¡¯ll give it back to you before we come back, OK?¡±

    ¡°Okaying, Mummymummy!¡± he responds without question, turning his head to allow me to take it more easily.

    I smile and reach out to deactivate the disc.

    He shudders a bit and then gives a happy bark.

    I beam and begin making my way through the ship, Sam at my heel.

    Having crossed the bridge, made my way up a few flights of stairs, along a few walkways and down a few corridors, I find myself at the door of an office.

    It is labelled with the name of the man who claimed it a month or two ago ¡®Dr Marc ¡°King-of-the-Squirrels¡± Fischer, Psy.D.¡¯

    I take a deep breath. With my left hand, I give Sam a scritch between the ears and, with my right, I knock.

    ¡°Come in¡­¡± answers a deep voice.

    I open the door and am greeted by the back of a dark haired man, a few centimetres shorter than me but noticeably more muscular, looking out of the window at the slowly receding speck that is Thrulj.

    He turns to greet me, revealing handsome, Eurasian features, a close trimmed beard and a scarlet streak modded into his medium length hair.

    He smiles with all the welcoming warmth of a long separated friend.

    ¡°Hello there Ms Arran! Would you like to come in? Oh and I see you¡¯ve brought a friend!¡±

    ---Marc¡¯s perspective---

    The tall, blonde woman steps uncertainly into my office, followed by her big old doggo!

    My eyes quickly scan him for a translator but see nothing.

    I gesture around and invite ¡°Sit wherever you want to¡­ or don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t mind if you wanna stand or sit on the floor or anything¡­¡±

    She frowns ¡°Why¡­ would I sit on the floor?¡± speaking English with a Starborn accent.

    I wave my hand in a gesture of ¡®don¡¯t worry about it¡¯ before answering ¡°Only if you wanted to, it¡¯s an offer, not a recommendation(!)¡± with a smile.

    She nods and glances around.

    She sees the couch and points to it, eyebrows raised.

    I gesture to it with an upturned palm, smile and nod.

    She sits down and her dog lies by her foot.

    ¡°You can have him on the couch with you if that would make you more comfortable¡­ don¡¯t worry about the fur, it¡¯s gonna get cleaned later anyway!¡± I offer.

    ¡°Oh¡­ OK, if you¡¯re sure¡­ Sam, up.¡± she says, patting the space next to her.

    Her big old pupper looks like he¡¯s just had his entire year made by the treat of being allowed on the couch as he jumps up and lays his head across his mistress¡¯ lap!

    She, nervously, runs her hand from his head down the fur of his back.

    I pull a chair up to face the pair and sit.

    ¡°So¡­¡± I beam ¡°¡­we¡¯ve seen eachother around but I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve ever actually been introduced; I¡¯m Marc ¡®King-of-the-Squirrels¡¯ Fischer, you can call me whatever you like, and I¡¯m one of the ships two therapists¡­ before we go any further, are you comfortable? Would you like the door locked? Privacy field up?¡±

    She nods and I verbally give the orders to the room.

    ¡°Anything else you¡¯d like? Water? Snacks?¡± I ask.

    She shakes her head.

    ¡°Alright then¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­What would you like me to call you? Ms Arran? Brunhilda?¡±

    ¡°Most of my friends call me ¡®Samus¡¯.¡± she shrugs.

    ¡°OK, Samus. Before anything else, I need to tell you that everything you say in this room will be kept strictly confidential¡­ the only exceptions would be if you say something that causes me to believe that you might be a danger to yourself or others. I¡¯m gonna ask you questions, I¡¯m not gonna offer you solutions. I may make notes on my holo every now and then, please ignore that as much as possible! Is there anything else you¡¯d like to know about how therapy works?¡±

    She pulls a considering expression and shakes her head.

    ¡°Great!¡± I smile ¡°Now, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, is there a reason you specifically requested me?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well¡­¡± she frowns ¡°¡­it was just because the other choice was your wife and, don¡¯t take this the wrong way but¡­ your wife¡¯s a bit too¡­ erm¡­ sexy¡­? Figured it would be distracting to the whole therapy vibe!¡±

    I give a hearty, genuine laugh as I say ¡°*hahahahaha* I can¡¯t argue with you there(!)¡± not pointing out that she misunderstood my question and that I actually just meant ¡®is there a specific reason you wanted therapy¡¯ ¡°She¡¯s a helluva woman and I¡¯m one hell of a lucky guy! Very mature of you to think about that, though!¡­ I¡¯m glad this ugly mug is less distracting for you(!)¡±

    She quips ¡°I can tell you¡¯re handsome¡­ you just have a bit too much penis for my taste(!)¡±

    ¡°Alright, noted!¡± I grin before rephrasing the question she misunderstood ¡°So, what made you seek therapy, Samus? I¡¯ve been on the ship for a couple of months, now. Did something happen or did you just decide?¡±

    Her left hand keeps moving over the massive dog on the couch with her as she thinks for a few moments.

    Eventually, she responds ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about it since that planet with the dinosaurs¡­ I blew up at Victor over how he behaved to Tuun before we went down there¡­ I realised at the time that it wasn¡¯t entirely reasonable¡­ that, while Victor had been a bit of a prick, all he had actually done was remind me of someone I have 27 years of pent up resentment for! The way he responded to my criticism made it very clear to me that he was not Callum ¡®P¨²ca¡¯ Arran! He wasn¡¯t my dad¡­ No matter how wrong my dad was, he would never have admitted it! He would have just sulked and not spoken to us until the proximity of living aboard a spaceship together forced us to reconcile!¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± I nod ¡°¡­so you were thinking about it¡­ what made you decide?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ you know about Thran¡¯s rampage?¡± she asks.

    ¡°I do.¡± I confirm, not breaking confidentiality as, though I heard about it from the woman with the build and hair colour of Misty Luggins (though, definitely not the personality) in one of her sessions, I also heard about it from many other places and this woman was there. It would just slow the session down to play ignorant.

    ¡°So¡­ she¡­ she broke my back¡­!¡± she frowns ¡°¡­It was horrible! I couldn¡¯t do anything! I was so certain that I was going to die in that bar¡­ I don¡¯t blame her (honestly, what kind of morons decided to administer a drug that depends so heavily on weight, body fat percentage and metabolism while only actually measuring for weight!?) but it was still¡­ I mean¡­ you can see I¡¯m a big, strong woman, can¡¯t you?¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°I definitely wouldn¡¯t pick a fight with you!¡± I answer, honestly.

    ¡°Well, she just¡­ knocked me aside! It was like I wasn¡¯t even there!!!¡­ I always knew she held back, when we fought in the gym, but¡­ now I¡¯ve got some idea of how much she was holding back! And then I had to try and work out how the attempt to subdue her was going while I couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t breathe and couldn¡¯t turn to look the right way¡­ Anyway, while my spine was being regenned, I had some time to think¡­ I realised that, if I¡¯d died in that club, none of my shit would ever have got resolved¡­ I didn¡¯t like that¡­¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I say, sympathetically ¡°Well¡­ thank you for telling me all of that, Samus¡­ I can see it wasn¡¯t easy for you!¡±

    She nods with a joyless smile, still comforting herself by scritching her (currently well behaved) pupper.

    ¡°Would it be alright for you to tell me about the experience of growing up, Samus? You mentioned you had some negative feelings for your dad?¡±

    She considers for a few moments before asking ¡°How much do you know about the Terran Starborn community, Dr Fischer?¡±

    I know a little but ¡°Assume I know nothing at all¡­ tell me about them?¡±

    She spends a few moments getting her thoughts in order then starts ¡°So¡­ as soon as the price of interstellar capable ships fell to the point that, while still not cheap, they weren¡¯t so expensive that they were only attainable by a government or the unethically wealthy¡­ around the middle of the 23rd Century¡­ people from all over the early UTC were able to become voyagers of the stars. We¡¯re only a fraction of a percent of the total Terran population but there¡¯s still a lot of us¡­ There isn¡¯t any group of Terrans not represented among the Starborn but there is a disproportionately high representation of Earth¡¯s traditionally itinerant and nomadic people groups, like the Scottish and Irish Travellers, Dom, Romani, Kochi, Tuareg, Moken, Camminanti, Turkana, Orang Laut, Sk?yere, Sama-Bajau¡­ for obvious reasons! A lot of Terrestrial people are also surprised by the overrepresentation of mountain and Arctic peoples like the Nepalese, Tibetans, S¨¢mi, Eskaleut etc¡­ that¡¯s just ¡¯cause of what they tend to call the ¡®Great Overcorrection¡¯, when they started geoengineering Earth in the late 21st Century, eventually got to the point where they¡¯d regreened all of the places that they¡¯d desertified, refrozen all of the glaciers and icecaps they¡¯d melted, deacidified and deplasticked the oceans they¡¯d polluted and captured all of the greenhouse gases they¡¯d emitted since the start of the Industrial Revolution¡­ then decided to keep going! Decided to keep irrigating the deserts, keep building up the icecaps, keep lowering the sea level, keep rewilding huge sections of land with fauna brought back from extinction¡­ I mean, in terms of liveable land, Earth made out of that deal like bandits! Every scrap of irrigated desert could support enormous numbers of people! Likewise for most of the raised sea floor (though, for that, it usually took a few years for the salt to wash out before anything could actually grow there)¡­ but, if your ancestors lived right next to an expanding glacier that crushed their home, you¡¯d understandably take a dimmer view of resetting the Earth to the state it was in, eight or nine thousand years ago, when the first stone buildings were being built and no one had invented writing¡­¡± she gives a pensive pause here but I don¡¯t interrupt so she continues ¡°¡­yeah, so, over the centuries Earth offered those displaced by the reset priority in choosing where they¡¯d like to be resettled and a lot of them took it¡­ the problem is that their choices were often being resettled in coastal lowlands, regreened deserts or cities¡­ so a lot of them decided that, if they were going to be uncomfortably upheaved anyway, they might as well go Starbound¡­ For mostly cultural¡­ (or maybe historical?) reasons there are very few Resurrectees, Uplifts or AIs among the Starborn¡­ it¡¯s a bit of a Sapiensfest¡­¡±

    She stops here so I prompt ¡°What cultural/historical reasons are those?¡± genuinely curious.

    She thinks for a moment then responds ¡°I guess¡­ because producing them was so expensive for so long, they tended to be very well looked after and much less likely to find themselves at such a loose end that packing it all in and joining up with a Starbound ship at the local docks looked appealing! By the time that wasn¡¯t the case anymore I guess a mistrust of them had, sort of, entrenched itself in Starborn culture. I mean¡­ it¡¯s not like there are none but¡­ they¡¯re rarer than in the general population¡­ Doesn¡¯t help that, for all those people descended from mountain and Arctic folk, there¡¯d be the feeling that Earth was made more hospitable for Neanderthals and Denisovans at their expense¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all extremely fascinating, Samus!¡± I say, honestly ¡°¡­I feel like you¡¯ve given me a solid education on the Starborn!¡­ Do you want to tell me about what it was like for you growing up, now?¡± conveying with my tone that, if that¡¯s not what she wants, I¡¯m happy to keep listening to her giving me a history of her culture.

    ¡°I just need to give a tiny bit of more recent background. Is that alright?¡±

    I smile and gesture for her to go ahead.

    ¡°So¡­ before the War, Starbound folk mainly supported themselves two ways (legally, anyway): Freight hauling and data carrying. Freight hauling is exactly what it sounds like¡­ Data carrying was necessary because we didn¡¯t have FTL coms, so the main way data (like videos, letters, songs, articles, etc.) produced on one planet would make their way to another was by being loaded onto a physical drive, flown there and synched with the local internet. It was far cheaper for the UTC to farm out that work to the Starborn than to maintain the infrastructure they¡¯d need to do it themselves, and getting a few months worth of operating expenses in exchange for hauling a drive with a few petabytes of data on it from one planet to another was an excellent revenue stream for us (not that I was around at the time)! So, my dad was a Starborn, 21 years old at the start of the War¡­ he met my mum in the latter half of it. She was disqualified from military service because of a medical condition but she wanted to do something. Her mum suggested joining up with the Merchant Navy which, at the time, included practically all Starbound vessels not directly operated by the government or military. The Starborn were exempt from conscription because the UTC realised that our expertise in navigating space made us vital to the War¡¯s logistics efforts.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ your mom got put on your dad¡¯s ship?¡±

    She nods ¡°He was 25 and the Captain of the Black Cat, she was 19 and a raw Merchant Mariner recruit from Neu Rheinland, textbook Wartime romance(!) I¡¯m told she shadowed him to learn how everything worked and before either of them knew it they were registering their marriage on Nova Britannia¡­ my mum got her cycle unpaused as soon as the War was over and, soon after that, she was pregnant with me. She had another girl and two more boys after me¡­ I didn¡¯t really understand why it was happening, until I was older, but I remember our quality of life being really good when I was very young and seeming to decrease as a function of time¡­ Now I know that it was because planets were getting hooked up to the galnet and hauling data physically through space was becoming less and less necessary, year on year. We were having to rely more and more on just freight hauling to support ourselves. The ¡®Great Betrayal¡¯, we called it¡­ The UTC had been glad to have us in the War but, now, they didn¡¯t need us anymore¡­ that¡¯s how I saw it, when I was old enough to have that kind of opinion at least.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ is it still how you see it?¡± I ask.

    She screws up her face, considering for a while.

    I smile ¡°There are no right or wrong answers here! What¡¯s important is how you feel¡­ Please, don¡¯t worry about my opinion on anything!¡±

    Eventually she manages ¡°I guess¡­ yes and no? Like¡­ I get that FTL coms are an amazing leap forward in tech history! I get that denying trillions of Terrans instant communication across thousands of lightyears of space to supplement the traditional lifestyle of a few tens of millions of Starborn would be ridiculous. The UTC even offered us aid¡­ but¡­¡±

    ¡°But?¡± I prompt, gently.

    ¡°I guess¡­? One of my dad¡¯s crew put it to me like this; she was Romani, so her people had a longer history of transience than most¡­ she said ¡®The problem with any solution offered by settled peoples to issues faced by nomads is that they, fundamentally, view itinerance as an illness, a disorder, a perversion of the rightful way of being, which is to find some land somewhere and build a house there. This colours all of the solutions they propose. They seek to help us by curing us of (what they see as) the ¡®disease¡¯ of our wandering.¡¯ She told me, over the centuries, the UTC have made a dozen or so, semiserious attempts to give the Romani a planet¡­ a ¡®Nevvo Drom¡¯¡­ always with some support but never enough¡­ most Romani are quite tepid on the idea of settling down like that. A lot of ¡®Well¡­ I wouldn¡¯t oppose it but I definitely won¡¯t live there myself.¡¯ and ¡®Why would you do something like that?¡¯¡­ I really strongly identified with that! I didn¡¯t want to find a planet and just live there for the rest of my life! I liked having a new set of sights to see, foods to taste and songs to hear every few weeks! I hated the idea of selling off the Black Cat and living in a house! I just wanted them to find some way of letting us keep voyaging!¡±

    I nod ¡°And there¡¯s nothing wrong with that!¡±

    Her face turns sombre as she says ¡°Well¡­ then we get to the crimes¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ the crimes?¡± I ask, without injecting any judgment into my voice.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ it¡¯s one of the strongest arguments for the idea that there is something inherently deranged about being a traveller¡­ crime rates are provably higher among travelling communities. There¡¯re lots of reasons; being part of a wandering group forces you to be extremely close with other members of your community¡­ which is lovely¡­ and definitely the part I miss most¡­ the flipside is, it promotes an extremely strong ingroup bias, an ¡®us against the universe¡¯ mentality, a ¡®we got ours, fuck everyone else¡¯ attitude¡­ there¡¯s also the fact that, by the time the wheels of justice start to turn, you¡¯re usually somewhere else¡­ and the fact that you can see the opulence that certain people live in, compared to you, so it¡¯s very easy to convince yourself that they probably won¡¯t miss some stuff¡­ The Starborn have a (partially deserved) reputation¡­ people would see us put in and nudge eachother ¡®Hey, there¡¯re Starborn coming, better lock up your valuables(!)¡¯¡­ that always made me feel like shit! Sometimes they didn''t even need to say anything¡­ just looked me up and down and clutched their valuables close to let me know they''d judged me as ''less than''!¡­ Of course, when it comes to petty smuggling, it¡¯s easy to convince yourself that it¡¯s a victimless crime! Just a bit of harmless contraband that someone else will ship if we don''t!¡±

    ¡°I can see you have some regret over this¡­¡± I say, sympathetically.

    She nods ¡°It was always the biggest source of strife in my parents'' marriage¡­ my mum would see my dad coming back with a bunch of obviously stolen goods and, without fail, there¡¯d be an argument! Always the exact same one. I could recite that argument, beat for beat, by the time I was 10¡­ she eventually got sick of it and walked off the ship with my siblings, when I was 14¡­ I can still see her beckoning me to follow¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­ I stayed with my dad¡­ I didn¡¯t want to lose her¡­ but I wanted to leave my home less. That was the last time I saw her¡­ half a lifetime ago!¡±

    At this point she sniffs and her eyes get visibly moist. Her dog gives a sympathetic whine and nuzzles into her stomach.

    ¡°That must have been incredibly hard for you¡­ I can¡¯t imagine!¡± I answer, mostly truthfully. I lost a parent in my teens too, but under very different circumstances. I don¡¯t think the experience of a father dying is comparable to that of a mother leaving.

    ¡°*sniff* Yeah¡­ after that, I became the resident wet blanket¡­ always pointing out ¡®this is a crime, isn¡¯t it?¡¯, ¡®this is wrong, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ and finally, when I was 18 ¡®these will hurt people, won¡¯t they?¡¯ My dad gave me the same answer he always did; ¡®I know¡¯ then spouted off some vague nonsense about his god¡¯s will! That was enough! I turned him and his entire crew¡­ my entire family¡­ over to the authorities¡­ I testified at their trial¡­ I looked them all in the eyes as I violated the inviolate omert¨¤!¡­ They all got 15 years in medium security, my dad got 25¡­ our ship got impounded¡­ and I lost my home and everyone in the universe who cared about me¡­ the prosecutors offered me a choice¡­ I could take the bounty and walk¡­ they¡¯d give me amnesty for all the crimes I¡¯d confessed to being party to or¡­ they recommended I voluntarily admit myself to minimum security for a rehabilitation course. I took the second option but not for the right reasons¡­¡±

    ¡°What would ¡®the right reasons¡¯ have been? What were yours?¡± I query.

    She snorts ¡°The right reasons would have been ¡®this is what¡¯s best for me¡¯, mine were more along the lines of ¡®I deserve to be punished¡¯¡­ Now I know that the idea of prison as a place of punishment is a few centuries out of date but I didn¡¯t, at the time¡­ After I was admitted there were months of near catatonic depression before I was finally convinced to engage with any of the rehabilitation programmes. Eventually, I was convinced to take a look at the correspondence courses available from the local uni¡­ ¡®Terran Security Officer¡¯ caught my eye¡­ 4 years later, 23 years old, a new name and a clean certification of fitness to enter society, I was shown into a room on my way out of the prison¡­ they offered me a pick from a group of puppies (apparently, having a companion animal is associated with lower rates of recidivism) I picked out this guy¡­¡± she gives her dog an affectionate pat ¡°¡­Someone quipped that ¡®Samus picked out a samoyed! Maybe you should call him Sam(!)¡¯ and so I did¡­ we kicked about Terran Space for the next few years¡­ did a bit of bounty hunting¡­ then, I found myself on Gateway, looking at an advert for employment aboard a gardenworlder ship¡­ been most of a year since then¡­ it sort of feels like I¡¯ve got a family again¡­¡±

    I smile and answer ¡°Alright, Samus!¡­ You¡¯ve given me a good, solid idea of who you are and where you¡¯ve been¡­ let¡¯s do some therapy, shall we?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.70

    ---Hostage---

    ---Taqar¡¯s perspective---

    ---[2706 Terran Calendar/7 years BF]---

    I¡¯m dying...

    I am starving to death in this cell.

    My feathers lost their iridescent lustre weeks ago.

    I began moulting a few days later.

    At first, I raged! I shrieked at my captors that they would regret this, when my Clan found out where I was they¡¯d be sorry! I puffed myself up with self-importance and asked them if they knew who my mother was! Not that they could understand me, having taken my translator.

    I was such a fool!

    Of course they know who my mother is! Knowing who my mother is will be exactly why they kidnapped me and carried me to this planet [thousands of lightyears] away from R¡¯qal!

    Weakly, I stand and *pit* over to the bars.

    I look to the enormous Threndian, sitting with his back turned to me, who appears to be the leader of this gang.

    ¡°Please¡­¡± I rasp ¡°¡­you need to give me some real food! I¡¯ll be quiet, I swear, but I¡¯m going to die if you keep only feeding me this!¡± I hold up one of the dried fruit pieces that are the only sustenance they¡¯ve provided since taking me hostage ¡°R¡¯qal is a Class 7! This can¡¯t be from more than a Class 3! Whatever you want for me, you surely understand that you¡¯re less likely to get it if I die, don¡¯t you?¡± I plead, almost sobbing.

    The giant, purple furred herbivore turns his head revealing one side of a thick snout, lined with three eyes and tipped with a blunt, two pronged horn, a tusk jutting up around [10cm] from his lower jaw.

    ¡°Tolzhasht, Rakalzh¡­¡± he rumbles in his guttural language, before turning away and making no move to remedy my starvation.

    Defeatedly, I turn back around and slump to the floor of my cell.

    I lie there for a long time¡­ contemplating¡­

    There is a strange peace in knowing that my death is imminent.

    At least my suffering will end!

    I would have liked to live a long life, I would have liked to find an accomplished woman to make me her lifemate, I would have liked to become a teacher and teach the next generation of R¡¯qali boys how to be more than a pretty set of feathers¡­ once I figured that out for myself, that is(!)

    But none of it was to be¡­

    It seems that, in the Mother¡¯s wisdom and the Father¡¯s mercy, it has been decreed that I am to die in this cell, barely more than a fledgeling and having accomplished nothing in my life!

    *BOOM*

    I look up, curiously, in the direction of an unfamiliar, resounding noise.

    It¡¯s coming from outside this room, elsewhere in the building.

    My kidnappers look like they¡¯re flying equally blindly to me, regarding what exactly the source of the sound is!

    *BASH**CLANG**CLATTER* accompanied by the sound of screaming echoes from the same direction as previously.

    One of them checks their holopad and vocalises ¡°Tirrin! Tirrin iriwi!¡± sounding terrified!

    ¡°Udasht ovrum! Imasht orug!¡± orders the Threndian followed by a flurry of activity as his subordinates seal the heavy aluminium doors, grab their weapons and take position, facing the door.

    The leader stands, drawing up to his full [4m] height, picks up a plasma[glaive] and a long length of chain with a heavy ball at the end of it before growling ¡°Vrukash Terrazhe, bolzhah Terrazh!¡±

    The sounds of violence steadily draw nearer followed by an eery still¡­

    *BOOM* is the sound of the solid metal door being struck so hard that it dents and buckles!

    The gangsters visibly quaver.

    Whoever is attacking it must have some fairly impressive machinery to be able to deform the door like that!

    *BOOM**BOOM* two more dents get put in the door from the other side.

    Then there is a pause¡­ before I hear the building roar of a plasmaweapon being ignited.

    The tip of a blade appears through the door, around [2.5m] from the floor, and streaks a trail of molten aluminium behind it in a curved path downward. The blade is withdrawn and reappears at the start of the first slice, carving its mirror.

    With a clatter, the exsected portion of the door is hurled several [metres] into the room!

    What stands behind the aperture is not, as I had suspected, a piece of siege equipment but¡­ a man!

    More than [2m] tall, his powerfully built body covered in skin-tight, synthetic utility clothing in a rich royal blue with metal plates here and there, face obscured by a silvered helmet, wielding a [metre] of glowing white plasmablade, with a straight back edge and an artfully curved leading edge, and looking for all the world as if he just kicked three large dents in a solid security door¡­ stands a Terran¡­

    Is this a premortem hallucination?

    The interloper points his sword in the direction of my captors and in a level voice that¡¯s, nonetheless, able to fill the room better than the Threndian¡¯s, proclaims ¡°Wanchans¡­ an wanchans, onli! Sarren dah!¡±

    There are a few seconds of silence before the Threndian bellows ¡°BOLZHASHT TERRAZH!¡± followed by a volley of laser and kinetic pulse fire being opened on the Terran¡­ or¡­ where the Terran was!

    With unbelievable speed and agility he zigzags toward his main group of opponents! Clearing their cover in a bounding leap, he brings his blade across all three of their chests in a single slash, causing a burst of steam to erupt, their biofluids having been instantly vapourised by the superheated metal.

    I briefly catch sight of a hole singed in the Terran¡¯s uniform, a small patch of scorched skin visible beneath. He doesn''t even seem to have noticed!

    I didn¡¯t even see him get hit by the laser!

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    He takes a flying leap toward the next two, seeming to become a cloud of spinning limbs as he does, and dispatches them, faster than I can comprehend with (I infer) two ruthlessly efficient swings of his sword.

    The steam reaches me now and I dully register that I¡¯m breathing in water vapour that was, until moments ago, circulating around the bodies of sentient beings.

    The last gangster, aside from the Threndian, desperately throws their weapon to the ground, holds up their empty manipular appendages and pleads ¡°Ik tri, Tirrin! Ik TRI! Ivilik im¡­¡± but that is as far as they get before the outraged Threndian kicks them to the ground and crushes their chest with one of his thick, powerful legs in a single fluid motion!

    It seems he¡¯s not a fan of surrender as a concept!

    Looking down, furiously, at the man who just effortlessly dispatched all but one of his underlings, the Threndian lets out a deep, rumbling growl.

    Unspooling the long chain, he dips his [glaive] with his left hands and takes the ball in his upper right hand, the handle in his lower right. He hurls the ball at the Terran.

    If that ball is as heavy as it looks, it must be carrying enough kinetic energy to stove in that helmet and shatter even the calciate skull of a deathworlder!

    The Terran appears to teleport out of the way and the Threndian catches the chain as it goes taut, swinging it around his head to return it to his opponent.

    The Terran leaps the chain, severing it with a slash of his weapon as his entire body spins dynamically around its axis before he lands, safely, on his feet.

    The ball bounces resoundingly across the large room, confirming itself to have been exactly as heavy as it looked as it smashes dents into the floor!

    The gigantic gangster roars, ignites his [glaive] and takes a sweeping slash at the Terran, aiming the long blade for his centre of gravity.

    The Terran evades though it looked close!

    The next few moments are a whir as the Threndian viciously hacks, slashes and stabs, always hitting the empty space that the Terran was occupying the instant prior.

    Threndians are one of the only gardenworld species able to match or even exceed Terrans in terms of the raw power output of their bodies so, as admirable as the Terran''s efforts have been, I¡¯m certain that it¡¯s over for him as the cruel polearm comes sweeping down on him in a ferocious arc.

    Impossibly, the man has blocked the blade with his own!

    The plasmaweapons scream as they¡¯re pressed into one another!

    The Threndian commits more and more of his superior weight to the bind and the Terran''s body buckles from trying to match it.

    The three of the Threndian¡¯s eyes that I¡¯m able to see burn with gleeful malice¡­ and then he stumbles forward!

    The Terran spun his body, sliding out from under his opponent''s guard, causing him to overbalance.

    The helmeted man is placed just right to be able to bring down a single, clean strike on my captor¡¯s thick neck.

    The horned head is sent flying toward my cell, trailing a billowing cloud of steam behind it, and coming to rest facing me, allowing me to see all six of its eyes¡­ now absent any light of life or intelligence.

    The enormous, decapitated body crumples limply to the floor.

    If what I just witnessed was real and not a vivid, end of life delirium¡­ I no longer doubt any of the bedtime stories I was told of Terrans'' Wartime combat prowess!

    Panting heavily, the Terran looks to his collapsed foe then casts around, seeming to be looking for anyone he missed.

    Having satisfied himself of his total victory, he extinguishes his weapon and sheathes it back at his hip¡­ then he turns his helmet¡¯s bright green sensor array¡­ to me!

    He walks toward my cell.

    No¡­ he couldn¡¯t be that stupid, could he!?

    Whatever your grievance with these gangsters was, you can surely see that I¡¯m not one of them, can¡¯t you!?

    I¡¯m caged and mostly dead!!!

    Just leave and let me expire in peace!

    He passes the severed head and stands at the bars, looking down on me with that inscrutably blank helmet.

    Seeming to have decided he won¡¯t let a little thing like a locked cell door stand between him and ending the last life in the room other than his, he places his knuckles back to back and inserts his fingers through a gap between the bars, wrapping his hands around them.

    With a heaving effort, he leans to his left, extending his right arm and warping the metal bars out of his way with sheer, brute force!

    Having created a Terran sized gap in the bars, he steps through.

    He crosses the cell to where I lie, helplessly, wings sprawled on the floor, and drops to his haunches, still looking down at me with his blank mask of death.

    Looking up at him, I croak ¡°I¡¯ve neither the energy nor the inclination to amuse you by begging for my life! If you wish to kill me, do it!¡± with far more composed defiance than I feel.

    He reaches for a pouch on his belt and withdraws something.

    Bringing a hand to my beak, he opens it to reveal¡­ a piece of fruit¡­?

    Without awaiting any input from my brain, my beak digs greedily into the ripe, succulent food!

    It¡¯s a wonderful mix of sour and sweet. It tastes more calorific than anything I¡¯ve ever eaten!

    While I eat, the thought that this fruit might be poisoned does briefly occur to me before I realise the absurdity of thinking that this man might need to resort to poison to finish me off!

    Having eaten my fill without having come close to finishing the unfamiliar fruit (that I now suspect to be of deathworld origin) and feeling somewhat restored by the belly full of nourishment, I stand, shakily.

    The man extends a hand to me, revealing a second gift; a small metal disc.

    I take the translator and adhere it to my skull, just behind my infrared eye.

    At this point, he takes off his helmet, revealing a scarred, Terran face.

    The only surprising thing about the man''s face is the expression it wears¡­ his knitted brows are tilted upward in the middle, beneath his fringe of curly copper hair¡­ the edges of his mouth tilt down and his bright green eyes a coloured by what my translator assures me is an expression of pitying concern!

    ¡°Thank you¡­ for the food¡­ and the translator, Sir¡­¡± I say, politely but warily, still not having entirely ruled out that he might simply be another kidnapper¡­ If he is, he¡¯s at least one willing to feed me! ¡°If I may ask¡­ what is your name?¡±

    ¡°My name¡¯s Victor¡­ I work for your aunt.¡±

    ---[2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF]---

    ¡°Terrans, unlike most gardenworld species, have an extremely short natural lifespan. Without the use of regeneration, most didn¡¯t live much longer than a [century] and only lived that long because of their own, extensive repertoire of medical interventions!¡± I address the classroom full of boys, barely having shed the last of their childhood feathers and clearly thinking that being schooled is a waste of their time when they¡¯re so pretty and come with such well respected pedigrees!

    Surely, they¡¯ll find a competent woman who can be educated enough for the both of them, right(?)

    Trying to enthuse them somehow, I continue ¡°The only surviving, naturally produced, sapient Terran species is also the most numerous, making up nearly 97% of the UTC¡¯s sapient population. They call themselves ¡®Homo sapiens¡¯ which, in one of their ancient languages, means ¡®Sapient Man¡¯ or ¡®Knowing Man¡¯, though they far more commonly refer to themselves as ¡®Humans¡¯ which traces to a word meaning ¡®Person of the Soil¡¯, ¡®of the Land¡¯ or ¡®of the Earth¡¯. This is, not coincidentally, also the meaning of the word ¡®Terran¡¯. Though, you must be aware that ¡®Human¡¯ also covers the resurrected lineages ¡®Homo neanderthalensis¡¯ ¡®Man of the Neander Valley¡¯, ¡®Homo denisova¡¯ ¡®Man of Denis¡¯s Cave¡¯, ¡®Homo longi¡¯ ¡®Man of the Dragon River¡¯, ¡®Homo tshwane¡¯ ¡®Man of the Tshwane Scrubland¡¯ and the newly sequenced and not quite yet resurrected ¡®Homo lisri¡¯ ¡®Man of Lisri Village¡¯¡­ as well as numerous other lineages that, for the moment, remain extinct. Together, all resurrected Homo lineages account for a little under two percent of the UTC¡¯s population with the last one and a bit percent being composed of entirely artificial biological species, collectively termed ¡®uplifts¡¯, as well as AIs, who have recently achieved recognition by the GU¡¯s Parliament.¡±

    I look around the classroom and see all of the bored faces looking back at me.

    I sigh and persevere ¡°Another thing you should know about Terrans¡­¡±

    ¡°Is that we¡¯ve got a nasty habit of showin¡¯ up unannounced(!)¡± interrupts a familiar voice.

    I whip my head to the doorway curtain and see three familiar feet and one unfamiliar bionic.

    The curtain is drawn back, revealing two familiar faces.

    ¡°Victor! Aunt Tcakq¡­!¡± I start, delightedly, before being cut short by the terrified shrieks of my entire class.

    ¡°Boys!¡± I snap, sharply, shutting them up ¡°This man is only a Terran! The first thing I taught you about Terrans is that they are nothing to be afraid of! I used the phrase ¡®overwhelmingly compassionate¡¯! Why are you screeching like hungry hatchlings!?¡±

    ¡°To be fair to ¡¯em, Taqie¡­ I learned about great white sharks in school¡­ learned about how overwhelmingly harmless to Humans they are, how we¡¯re not fatty enough to be appetisin¡¯ to ¡¯em and, on the rare occasion they do kill us, it¡¯s likely either ¡¯causa mistaken identity or curious investigation¡­ pretty sure I¡¯d still¡¯ve screamed my head off if one had poked its nose round the classroom door(!)¡±

    ¡°Teacher¡­ what¡¯s a [great white shark]?¡± asks Qratkaa, the son of a minor Clanmother and a middling student.

    ¡°A creature you¡¯re clearly not ready to learn about if this is how you react to a friendly Human!¡± I shoot back, sternly.

    I turn back to Victor and say ¡°Well¡­ since you¡¯ve already disrupted my lesson, would you care to come in? Perhaps a little bit of live presentation will enthuse these boys to learn more about the most recent additions to the Galactic Union!¡±

    He bares his teeth and, stooping low beneath the R¡¯qali ceiling, steps inside the classroom, followed by my aunt.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.71

    ---Clanless---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Excuuuse me?¡± says Victor, sat crosslegged at the head of the class, with the mirthful tone of someone about to render a correction ¡°Think you¡¯ll find there¡¯s half a dozen species with higher populations than us!¡±

    Responding just as mirthfully, my nephew (who¡¯s technically my ¡Á18 greats grand uncle but who calls me ¡®Aunt¡¯ for the same reason all R¡¯qali males call their senior Clan that, it¡¯s both easier and more respectful) answers ¡°Most people tend to count those species either by queen or by the hive, which render sightly different figures from eachother but both of which would put their totals well below yours!¡±

    ¡°Seems like bullsh¡­¡± his eyes flick out to the roomful of students only just old enough to be allowed translators ¡°¡­Seems like bull to me! Who decided to count ¡¯em that way!? Just ¡¯cause they¡¯re small?¡± he holds his thumb and forefinger a [centimeter] or so apart ¡°Just ¡¯cause workers an¡¯ soldiers can¡¯t reproduce for ¡¯emselves? Don¡¯t seem fair!¡± he folds his arms and gives a goodnatured, suspicious look to my young relative.

    Thoughtfully, Taqar turns his head to his class and asks ¡°Who can tell me why we count the Grinitok, the Xafavt, the Webkconaw, the Klmeh, the I¡¯inzil and the Hkh¡¯hwkhhw that way?¡± making a sound like someone choking on a fruit pit for the final species he names(!)

    Several moments of silence follow before one boy puts his talons in the air, tentatively.

    ¡°Kacaw, please¡­¡± says my nephew, indicating for the boy to go ahead.

    The boy, Kacaw, nervously proffers ¡°Is it because¡­ those species¡­ are only sentient¡­ when they swarm?¡±

    ¡°Very good, Kacaw!¡­ And what is that property called?¡± asks Taqar.

    ¡°Em¡­emergent intelligence¡­ Sir.¡± responds the child, not intoning it as a question.

    ¡°Top marks! Yes!¡± he turns to scratch the words ¡®Emergent Intelligence¡¯ in R¡¯qali unguiform, on the board, with his talons ¡°Those species have all achieved sapient level intelligence in a thoroughly different way to most species; devolving the job of thinking out to hundreds of thousands of very small, not particularly powerful brains who, when gathered in a eusocial fashion, are able to communicate to problem solve like no individual ever would be! Single members of those species are well below the thresholds of sapience and sentience but, in aggregate, they possess both as emergent properties! Oh and, if any of you ever find yourself talking to a hive of any of those species (with the exception of the Klmeh), try to avoid staring at their queens¡­ the queens are not actually in charge of the colony but are, by far, the most vital members of it so seeming fixated on them will appear rude and aggressive, as a rule¡­¡±

    At this point a loud shriek plays over the PA and Victor jumps into a crouched stance, drawing every eye, his face looking mildly alarmed(!)

    ¡°It¡¯s just the end of school announcement, Victor!¡± I chitter, mirthfully, causing him to relax in relief.

    ¡°How do Terran schools signal the end of day?¡± asks Taqar, curiously.

    Seeming a little out of breath from his [adrenaline] comedown, Victor chuckles ¡°Some of ¡¯em use bells¡­ mine, the teacher would see the time and go ¡®OK, home time!¡¯¡±

    ¡°Fascinating¡­¡± says Taqar, genuinely.

    The boys file out and my nephew resets the board to remove the lines he gouged in it over the course of the lesson.

    The three of us now alone in the class, he turns to Victor and I and asks ¡°So, why are you two back on R¡¯qal?¡±

    ¡°On our way to a big mission, picking folk up along the way¡­ can¡¯t really say much more ¡¯an that!¡± smiles Victor.

    ¡°Really? Is it a secret?¡± asks Taqar, leaning in, intrigued.

    ¡°It¡¯s confidential, yes.¡± I confirm.

    ¡°How exciting!¡± he answers ¡°Well, in that case, I shan¡¯t ask you any more about it!¡­ Are you two free, now? I know a lovely little restaurant in the city we could go to together and¡­ [catch] with eachother, if you¡¯re not busy?¡±

    Victor laughs ¡°¡¯Preciate the effort, Taqie, but it¡¯s phrasal¡­ ¡®catch up with eachother¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Alright, do you want to [catch up] with eachother?¡± he says, unperturbed.

    Victor looks to me ¡°Reckon we got time before your thing¡­?¡±

    I think for a moment before answering ¡°We should have, yes.¡±

    ¡°Excellent!¡± proclaims my nephew ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    The three of us step from the class onto the railless walkway, suspended [several hundred metres] in the air, on the side of the enormous schooltree.

    Without looking back, Taqar launches himself from the edge and begins flying in the direction of Ra¡¯wakqal City centre.

    Victor looks mirthfully after him and asks ¡°How long you reckon it¡¯ll take him to remember I can¡¯t fly?¡±

    I look after my oblivious nephew and answer ¡°I think it will take him at least [500m].¡±

    ¡°Oooh¡­ he¡¯s a bright boy¡­ let¡¯s give him a bit more credit than that! Let¡¯s say¡­ 499m(!)¡± he responds, grinning, giving a figure which is translated to far more specificity than the one I gave and I infer to have been a single digit below the rounded up number he heard.

    After around [500m], Taqar looks around and, seeing himself not being accompanied, performs half a turning circle in air to point himself back at us.

    He returns and lands on the walkway, laughing ¡°I¡¯m so sorry! It completely slipped my mind that Humans can¡¯t fly!¡±

    ¡°No bother¡­¡± smiles Victor ¡°¡­I¡¯ll take it as a compliment(!)¡±

    ¡°How¡­ err¡­ how do you intend us to travel?¡± he asks, apprehensively looking back at the distance between us and even the outer edge of the city.

    Victor laughs ¡°We got a shuttle at the bottom of the tree, Taqie! I ain¡¯t thinkin¡¯ of makin¡¯ you trudge ¡¯cross miles of savannah and scale a 100m cliff on foot with me(!)¡­ You¡¯d prob¡¯ly get stepped on by a wild kwarat(!)¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a relief!¡± responds Taqar before frowning ¡°Still quite a long way to go without flying, though.¡±

    In answer, Victor stoops to put his shoulder less than a [metre] from the ground.

    I don¡¯t hesitate to extend my bionic and climb up to the high stamina, mobile platform.

    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Taqar joins me, Victor stands and begins walking down the left side of the walkway, avoiding the edge on the right.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡°I get that they¡¯d be more of a liability to you guys but I wish R¡¯qal had more safety railin¡¯s! Feel like a stiff breeze¡¯d push me off!¡± comments Victor, warily.

    ¡°The day a ¡®breeze¡¯ strong enough to move a Terran somewhere they do not wish to go blows on R¡¯qal is a day that hundreds of R¡¯qali would die(!) You forget this isn¡¯t a deathworld, Victor!¡± I observe, wryly ¡°Besides, you have your longfall, don¡¯t you?¡±

    He chuckles, gestures to the device and says ¡°So that¡¯s how it feels to be on the other side of that(!)¡­ Yeah, longfall¡¯d mean I wouldn¡¯t get hurt if I fell but I still wouldn¡¯t like it!¡±

    ¡°I thought Terran''s engaged in thrillseeking behaviour? Wouldn¡¯t falling hundreds of metres, trusting only to the integrity of a momentum arresting field, be well in line with that?¡± asks Taqar.

    ¡°Some do! I generally prefer to minimise risk! Ironic, given my line of work¡­! Or¡­ maybe it isn¡¯t, actually¡­ Now I think about it, thrillseekin¡¯d be a pretty pisspoor quality to have, as a health and safety officer(!)¡±

    We find our way to the Swift Claw and step aboard.

    ¡°Hello Victor. Hello Captain¡­ Who¡¯s your friend?¡± comes Twila¡¯s voice once we¡¯re inside. Taqar looks around for the speaker a few moments before she mercifully adds ¡°I¡¯m an AI, sweetheart. There¡¯s no one here for you to see!¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± he responds ¡°My¡­ name¡¯s¡­ Taqar¡­ It¡¯s nice to meet you?¡± before adding ¡°Congratulations on your kind¡¯s recent recognition.¡± politely.

    ¡°Thank you, sweetie! My name¡¯s Twila. Where do you guys want to go?¡±

    Victor and I look to Taqar who asks ¡°Would you be able to find a restaurant called ¡®Warqarakri¡¯?¡± uncertainly.

    ¡°I found it while you were asking. Taking you there now, though the streets are quite close so you¡¯ll have to walk the last few hundred metres.¡± answers Twila, cheerfully.

    The three of us look down on the savannah below, as we fly. It¡¯s dotted with patches of trees and here and there are herds of giant kwarat birds, presumably munching on grass.

    ---Qarkwi¡¯s perspective---

    I finish my shift and record that fact on my holo, which will then communicate it to the software that tracks my hours.

    I grab the pouch containing my personal effects and head out the back door.

    I round the front of the building and run into an absolutely stunning male¡­ an unfamiliar woman (looks like a Clanmember) with two missing eyes and a missing leg¡­ and a frighteningly large Terran!

    ¡°Qarkwi! What a pleasant surprise!¡± beams the only member of the group I recognise ¡°Are you coming or going?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ Hello Taqar¡­¡± I say, uncertainly, to the beautiful male (who I should not be thinking about the way I do!) before saying ¡°It¡¯s¡­ erm¡­ nice to see you? I was just on my way home¡­ What¡¯s¡­ err¡­ who are you¡­ with?¡± stupidly.

    ¡°This is my aunt, Tcakqaal¡­¡± he says.

    I try not to give away my relief that this woman (who looks much more exciting and like she wouldn¡¯t be courting anywhere near as far above her station as me) isn¡¯t a suitress¡­ probably¡­ depending on exactly how distant a relative she actually is!

    ¡°¡­and this is my friend, Victor.¡± he adds, gesturing to the [ox] of a Terran.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ friends with a Terran?¡± I ask, surprised.

    The pale skinned, featherless biped bares his oral bone outcrops (petrifyingly) and says ¡°Yeaah¡­ Taqie and I go way back!¡­ Decent bloke!¡±

    ¡°How did¡­ how did you mee¡­ encounter eachother?¡± I say, trying not to sound quite so clanless.

    The big man shrugs and says ¡°Kicked in a door¡­ took out a buncha kidnappers¡­ opened his cell¡­ gave him an apple¡­ lifelong friend.¡± with a demeanour that suggests no joke or exaggeration.

    ¡°He saved my life and has my eternal gratitude! I shall duel any who impugn this man¡¯s honour(!)¡± declares the object of my inappropriate affection.

    I giggle at the image of a male fighting a duel but quickly stop myself, afraid of offending.

    ¡°Alright¡­ well¡­ it was lovely running into you¡­¡± I say, turning to go.

    ¡°Wait!¡± calls the beautiful male, after me.

    I turn back to see what he wants to add.

    ¡°Are you free, now? Would you like to join us for a meal?¡±

    ---later---

    I should not be here!

    The looks my coworkers gave me when I came in, [minutes] after clocking out, in the company of a cyborg, a Clanchief¡¯s son and a Terran, were disbelieving!

    This is too fancy a restaurant for me to eat at! I only work here!

    The Terran is sat on a chair, reinforced to take his weight, that he had to fetch from the back, himself, because moving it was too difficult for any of my coworkers.

    The cyborg woman, Tcakqaal, is on a single perch, next to him and opposite me.

    Taqar¡­ is sharing a perch¡­ with me!

    The Terran is animatedly telling a story, having finished the mountain of fruit he ordered ¡°¡­she just, like, raised up her fist¡­ and cracked the table in half! Big, solid thing! Built for Terrans! Went wild for the next half hour or so, ''til law enforcement came and tranqed her!... Not her fault at all! They cocked up her dosage so she was walkin¡¯ ¡¯round thinkin¡¯ she was OK when she weren¡¯t! Oh, hey¡­¡± he flags down a coworker of mine and asks ¡°¡­you wouldn¡¯t happen to have a loo here, would you?¡±

    With unflappable professionalism, Garkat answers ¡°That way and to your left, Sir.¡± with a courteous dip of his head, managing to completely avoid showing any signs of fear at having the Terran so close.

    ¡°And¡­ would it happen to be¡­ erm¡­ shall we say¡­ ¡®equipped¡¯ for Terrans?¡± asks the Terran, apologetically.

    Garkat dips his head again and answers ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be an issue, Sir. It¡¯s all up to date and very good at identifying necessary thoroughness of sterilisation.¡± in a neutral, pseudoclan dialect of R¡¯qali¡­ refined enough not to sound coarse, not so refined as to sound like he¡¯s putting on airs.

    ¡°Great¡­!¡± pronounces the Terran, baring his teeth ¡°¡­I shall be availin¡¯ myself of the little boys room before we get goin'' then!¡±

    ¡°Oh! Now that you mention it¡­ I think I shall too!¡± says my perchmate, cheerfully.

    ¡°Have fun(!)¡± quips the woman opposite me.

    The two men go, leaving me alone with the adventurous looking woman.

    A few moments pass before she coolly observes ¡°Sooo¡­ you have feelings for Taqar.¡±

    My hearts stop and I furiously calculate what to do next!

    Should I try and lie?! Deny it!?

    She didn¡¯t even frame it as a question! Is there any point denying!?

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± I answer finally, defeated ¡°¡­pleeease don¡¯t tell him!¡±

    The cyborg woman (who I now realise is as terrifying as the TERRAN who works for her) casually says ¡°I won¡¯t¡­ but you should.¡± as she takes a beakful of her drink and tips her head back to swallow it.

    ¡°Why¡­?!¡± I ask, incredulously ¡°¡­so I can get a reputation as a conniver¡­ trying to marry her way up the social ladder? So my coworkers can laugh at me for thinking I had a shot with him!? So my boss can fire me because I¡¯ve proven that I¡¯m unfit to work with my restaurant¡¯s calibre of clientele!?¡±

    ¡°So that he can say ¡®yes¡¯, dear girl!¡± chitters the woman.

    ¡°Why would he?¡± I ask, turning the palm of my left talon to the ceiling ¡°What¡¯s someone like me got to offer a man like him! I¡¯m nobody!¡±

    She raises her shoulders in what my translator tells me is a Terran mannerism of nonchalance, and shatters my world with five words ¡°He definitely likes you back¡­¡±

    I stare at her¡­ dumbstruck¡­

    Eventually, I manage ¡°Y-you¡­ you think so?¡±

    ¡°I know so, dear girl¡­ I¡¯d wager Victor¡¯s having a very similar conversation with him, right now¡­ though¡­ he may be waiting until they''re out of the bathroom¡­ Terran¡¯s tend not to like to talk while relieving themselves(!)¡± she says, mirthfully, before continuing ¡°You may not get the chance! Taqar may take the decision of whether to address your clear attraction for eachother out of your hands! Why not get ahead of that scenario?¡±

    I mull that over for a while before asking ¡°Alright¡­ but I¡¯m still a restaurant worker, you realise? You think if he brings me home to his mother and says ¡®Hello mother, this is Qarkwi¡­ she¡¯s a restaurant worker and my future lifemate!¡¯ that I get to walk out of that palace with my head attached?!¡±

    She chitters ¡°My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother has been rearing chicks since Terrans were fighting from [chariots] and has values to match! I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be mortified¡­ but I¡¯m also certain you won¡¯t be the worst afront to the status of one of her kin that she¡¯s ever suffered¡­ fairly certain she¡¯s almost brought R¡¯qal to civil war, a few times, over matches she disapproved!¡±

    ¡°By the Seventeen! Was that meant to make me feel better!?¡± I ask, not caring how out of turn I¡¯m speaking to the Highspire woman.

    ¡°It was¡­ but I can see that it didn¡¯t¡­ what I mean is, don¡¯t worry about it! She won¡¯t care anywhere near as much about your social standing as she did about all those times rival clans tried to make power plays with marriage!¡±

    ¡°Glad to know I¡¯m not worth starting a civil war over(!)¡± I retort.

    ¡°Listen, it will be hard¡­ but she can¡¯t execute you and she can¡¯t override her son¡¯s wishes!¡­ That said, might I suggest not picking out the [throne]room of Castle Highspire for your first date?¡±

    I burst into chittering laughs.

    ¡°Good to see you guys are gettin¡¯ along!¡± comes the voice of the Terran, approaching from the bathroom and flanked by a dazed looking Taqar¡­ looks like his aunt was right on the money!

    ¡°Alright, Victor¡­ we have an appointment to keep!¡± says the incomparable woman.

    The two of them pay their respective portions of the bill and bid us farewell.

    Me and Taqar sit in silence for a long while, avoiding eyecontact.

    Eventually, I decide to just go for it but¡­

    ¡°Qarkwi¡­ there¡¯s something I want to¡­ tell you¡­¡± says the beautiful man before I can.

    Oh, Seventeen! It¡¯s happening!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.72

    ---Induction---

    ---Qorak¡¯s perspective---

    I stand beside a fountain, in a square, located in the largest city on any R¡¯qali world, my child in my arms.

    I still remember the first time I came to the cradleworld from Kar¡¯ca¡¯qi. It all seemed so¡­ grand! Strolling around places I only knew from history texts and films.

    That boy never would have believed you if you¡¯d told him he¡¯d lifebond with a member the Clan Highspire, let alone have a child with her before he even turned [40]!

    I spare a glance at the fountain, depicting one of Tcakqaal¡¯s ancestors driving a spear through a rival with her talons, her wings open in a steep dive, her beak open in a fierce screech¡­ Have to say I don¡¯t particularly care for the imagery(!)

    My four eyes turn to the sky and I search for my lifemate, long enough that when Victor smirks ¡°¡¯Tsup, Qorrie?¡± from ground level, it startles me!

    I look down to see my wife and the [godfather] of my child, then answer ¡°I¡¯m alright¡­ [¡¯tsup] yourself(?)¡± causing a grin.

    ¡°Did you enjoy catching up with your boyfriends from the Academy?¡± smiles my wife.

    ¡°I did¡­ it was very nice to reconnect. More than I expected had chicks, already!¡±

    ¡°Aww¡­ do you feel you¡¯re less special, now?¡± quips Victor.

    I turn my face down to Tcakak and answer ¡°No¡­ there¡¯s no question that this is the most special chick(!)¡± causing chittering from my lifemate and laughter from my friend.

    ¡°You guys wanna get going?¡± queries Victor, bending to offer his shoulders to us.

    We climb up and he begins wending his way in the direction of an enormous, looming palace, built around a monumental spire of rock!

    As we walk, Victor comments ¡°I love those moons!¡± pointing up at the cluster of three blue crescents framed against the mauve sky ¡°Wish Earth had moons like that!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think a single, ice white moon is a fitting companion to a deathworld, Victor(?)¡± I ask, mirthfully.

    He looks up with a jovial frown and asks ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ it makes it feel a touch¡­ haunted, maybe?¡­ eery?¡­ like you¡¯ve died and found yourself in an unpleasant afterlife(?)¡± I smirk.

    ¡°Oh, yeah(!) Just the vibe I want for my homeworld(!) Goth-chic hell(!)¡± he chuckles.

    We keep walking and pass a family of clanless traders who¡¯ve built a combination home and shop, [4m] in the air, on the back of a domestic kwarat.

    The enormous, flightless animal¡¯s long neck extends another [3m] from it¡¯s back.

    ¡°Always felt like I¡¯m gonna get stood on when I have to walk past one of these guys!¡± says Victor, reaching up to run his hands through the shaggy feathers on the [half tonne] creature¡¯s side, causing it to twist its neck curiously, to look at him ¡°It¡¯s a wonder you guys domesticated ¡¯em!¡±

    ¡°This from a man who saw an a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast and immediately decided she was so cute that she needed to be made pet(!)¡± retorts my lifemate.

    ¡°Touch¨¦!¡± smiles Victor with a [fingergun].

    We make our way through the tight streets toward the base of Highspire.

    Victor approaches a gate and is challenged by a cadre of guards, every one of them a tall, powerfully built woman, with helmets covering their entire heads save for their beaks and eyes, and clutching spears in their talons.

    I would say that all of them together would be no match for Victor but, as he pointed out to me while we talked over Tcakqaal¡¯s convalescing body, he can¡¯t fly!

    All they would have to do would be to go airborne and hurl their spears at him from beyond his range.

    They balk as they see the Terran approaching and bring their spears forward in readiness (their advantage in flight capability apparently not having occurred to them as none of them look at all like they are preparing to take off!)

    Victor stops several metres from the gate guards and Tcakqaal announces us.

    ¡°I am Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak, here with my lifemate, Qorak, my daughter, Tcakak, 28th Daughter of Highspire Peak, and my friend and my daughter¡¯s [godfather], Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor¡­ I ask that you let us pass, that we may be granted audience with my ancestor, Clanmother Raarakot, 6th Daughter of Highspire Peak¡­¡±

    The gate guards, clearly not expecting any arrivals by land, confer with one another for some moments before two of them turn and, using their spears as crutches, walk forward, away from us.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Victor begins walking between the two women as the others resume their formation at the gate.

    We enter a wide ring garden, extending around [300m] in every direction from the base of Highspire (itself a few [hundred metres] wide).

    One of the guards takes off and begins flying upward, presumably to announce our arrival, at the top, clutching her spear in her Talons.

    The other leads us to a lift platform at the base of the rockface, meant mainly for transporting heavy cargo from the ground which, for one reason or another, can¡¯t be brought to the top by a craft. On this occasion, the ''cargo'' just so happens to be a flightless Terran(!)

    Tcakqaal and I take the opportunity to dismount Victor¡¯s shoulder. I can¡¯t think of specifically why but, entering where we¡¯re about to enter, riding the shoulders of a Terran doesn¡¯t seem quite proper!

    The platform begins to raise and reveal the sprawling Ra¡¯wakqal metropolis¡¯ skyline. It¡¯s an interesting experience for me, seeing it recede like this without the context of being in flight, either by wing or by shuttle.

    We reach the top, well over a [kilometre] from the ground, and are rejoined by the guard who went ahead.

    Walking forward, we enter Castle Highspire.

    I have my hearts in my throat as we walk down the covered walkways through the lush, immaculate courtyard gardens.

    We arrange ourselves with Tcakqaal in the centre, carrying Tcakak, myself to her left and Victor to her right and, for some reason, walking one or two of his paces behind us.

    We enter the [throne]room and a herald (clearly chosen for the role due to superior lung capacity and volume projection) announces ¡°Presenting to Her Majesty, Clanmother Raarakot, 6th Daughter of Highspire Peak: Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak with her lifemate, Qorak, born of the Clan Qwara¡¯i, their daughter Tcakak, 28th Daughter of Highspire Peak and¡­¡± here she hesitates, leaning over to the guard ¡°¡­what is the Terran manservant¡¯s name?¡± mortifyingly misapprehending his relationship to us!

    ¡°Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor.¡± replies the stoic woman, without turning her head.

    ¡°¡­Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor!¡±

    We walk forward, through the cathedralic hall, lined with statues in the image of all the Seventeen. We pass rows and rows of mostly empty perches.

    One of the very few occupied ones bears a woman who looks to be fully glaring at us!¡­ I suppose it was a little much to expect that Victor would be made to feel welcome at a ceremony like this.

    We approach a raised dais at the end of the hall, beneath the edifices depicting the Mother and the Father.

    At the top of the platform is a single [throne]perch, flanked by what must be some of the most physically imposing women in the Clan¡­ none of the guards can claim the top spot though because that would have to go to the woman on the [throne]perch.

    If she were to stand on the ground she would be taller than Ms Hunter! She wouldn¡¯t be quite so tall as Jennie but it¡¯s no mean feat for a R¡¯qali to be taller than any Terrans at all (with the possible exception of Ms Petrikov.)

    She¡¯s powerfully built with a harsh, almost predatory looking, beak and face.

    She¡¯s the only woman on whom I¡¯ve ever seen entirely grey feathers not look like a pretentious affectation of venerability. I know they aren¡¯t natural but I also know that, as what very well may be the oldest living R¡¯qali, she¡¯s earned them a dozen times over!

    Clanmother Raarakot, 6th Daughter of Highspire Peak, looks down on my group as we stop before her dais¡­ her harsh, angular face unreadable.

    I half extend my wings and duck my head, my wife ducks her head but only extends one wing (the other cradling our child), Victor brings the knuckle of the thumb on his right hand to the left side of his chest and casts his eyes down but does not duck his head.

    ¡°Is this man¡­ here by your will, Great Granddaughter?¡± she finally asks Tcakqaal, accompanied by her pointing her left talon at Victor.

    ¡°He is, Great Grandmother.¡± answers my wife, respectfully.

    ¡°Why?¡± asks the tall woman, her tone neutral and level but every bit as demanding as if she were screaming for an explanation!

    ¡°My lifemate and I have engaged this man for a custom of his people not shared by ours. He is my daughter¡¯s [godfather], Great Grandmother. If untimely death should take both me and my husband, the responsibility of raising her would fall to him. As such, we thought it proper that he witness this ceremony.¡±

    Fixing her unblinking gaze on my lifemate, the venerable Clanmother appraises for a few moments before saying ¡°If it is as you say, then I ask that he step forward rather than loitering behind you like a servant.¡±

    Victor says nothing, does not look up nor drop his fist from his chest¡­ he only steps forward a few paces to align himself with myself and Tcakqaal.

    Having corrected Victor¡¯s minor breach of decorum (which I¡¯m certain he must have viewed as a respect, somehow) the Clanmother says ¡°I permit you to raise your heads and bring in your wings.¡±

    Tcakqaal and I cease our salutes, Victor brings his eyes up but hesitates for a moment about whether to drop his fist before seeming to take it as having been implied.

    ¡°Climb the steps and present my descendant to me.¡± she instructs.

    We comply, climbing the steps to stand before the [throne]perch.

    With the height she gains from her perch, the grey feathered woman is still slightly taller than Victor.

    She holds out her wings to Tcakqaal who proffers our daughter to her grasp.

    Tcakak fusses over being handed to her unfamiliar ancestor.

    Please my child! Please behave yourself just for a few moments.

    My silent plea goes unheeded as Tcakak struggles with and bites at Raarakot¡¯s alular claws.

    The ancient woman does not seem the slightest bit perturbed by my child¡¯s tantrum¡­ if anything, she seems to find it amusing!

    After a long examination, the woman pronounces ¡°You have the makings of a fine young woman, here. I dare say, with time, she may be a capable warrior of the Clan¡­ if that is what she wishes.¡± with seeming satisfaction at the continuation of the strength of her line.

    ¡°Thank you, Great Grandmother.¡± answers my lifemate, respectfully.

    Without warning, the ancient woman begins the ceremony we are here for. Grasping Tcakak (still fighting for freedom) with one set of her alulae and touching her forehead with the other she says ¡°I see you, child, and I accept you. Wherever you may fly, this place shall be your home, this Clan shall be your family and I shall be your Matriarch. Grow strong, grow capable, grow wise, do not grow arrogant. Remember that power is not a gift given freely, it incurs a heavy price¡­ responsibility. There is much for you to learn, child, do so always as a proud Daughter of Highspire Peak.¡±

    I release a breath I didn¡¯t know I was holding as my daughter completes her induction into her mother¡¯s Clan.

    Rather than handing her back to Tcakqaal, Raarakot gives Tcakak to me and says ¡°I ask now that all, except my great granddaughter Tcakqaal, take their leave. I would speak with her, alone.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.73

    ---Influence---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    Victor, Qorak, the handful of Clan who were dotted around the perches and my Clanmother¡¯s bodyguards leave the room and the ancient woman hops from her perch.

    ¡°Walk with me, dear girl.¡± she invites.

    ¡°Of course, Great Grandmother.¡± I answer, following as she leads the way in the direction of the matriarchal apartments.

    We walk in silence down the colonnade, a view of the city to our right.

    I don¡¯t allow any of my apprehension to show at being secluded with the most powerful R¡¯qali woman that there is. I try not to at least.

    The colonnade opens out to an expansive, circular balcony garden.

    My ancestor still leading the way, we cross through the centre of the space and come to a spot at the edge.

    We stand silently, looking out at the breathtaking view for some, long moments.

    I take a deep inhale of the nostalgically scented air of my homeworld.

    Much as I love my ship, my crew, my friends, my family and my life among the stars, it¡¯s¡­ difficult not to miss home sometimes.

    ¡°So, dear girl¡­¡± starts the grey feathered woman ¡°¡­you are a mother now¡­ You¡¯re somewhat young but I don¡¯t disapprove¡­ We do need our population rebuilt after losing so many to the War, afterall.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ that much younger than you were when you had your first chick, Great Grandmother.¡± I answer.

    She gives a brief chitter before answering ¡°I suppose you aren¡¯t!¡±

    I say nothing so she continues ¡°I do wish I could have found a male of slightly higher pedigree to give you than that colony boy. It was unfortunate that when all the suitable males from Clans on R¡¯qal found out where they would have to go, they all declined.¡±

    ¡°With due respect, Great Grandmother¡­¡± I say, not letting my irritation into my voice ¡°¡­you may have hired Qorak for me but you did not give him to me. Qorak and I lifebonded because we fell in love with eachother. His status as the son of a Clanmother had no bearing on my decision.¡±

    The ancient woman turns her head to look at me, an amused expression on her face ¡°I have always liked your candour, dear girl. You¡¯re one of the only women in [centuries] with whom I¡¯ve felt able to have a frank discussion! You¡¯re not afraid of challenging me. You¡¯re not afraid to tell me when you think I¡¯m wrong. Admirable qualities! One day, when you¡¯re somewhat older and wiser, you may make a worthy successor!¡±

    ¡°You flatter me, Great Grandmother.¡± I answer, not letting it be known just how unappealing I find the prospect of taking over her position.

    A few moments of silence follow before she says ¡°Speaking of challenging me; I hear you met that Clanless girl my son is infatuated with¡­¡±

    I stare, aghast, a few moments before starting ¡°How did you¡­?!¡±

    ¡°Come now, dear girl¡­¡± she interrupts ¡°¡­do you think I want a repeat of what happened all those [years] ago? Do you think I would allow my son to once again be taken away and used as leverage against me? Do you think I wish to have to engage the services of that Terran of yours for a second time?¡­ Taqar has had a permanent security tail since you returned him to me. He is watched everywhere he goes. I¡¯ve known about that restaurant girl since he started frequenting her place of work!¡± she sighs heavily ¡°That boy used to have some ambition! He used to talk about finding a woman who was worthy of him. I thought I would be able to find him a match from Clan Red Cliff or Clan Great Plains! He spends a few weeks in the company of that deathworlder and comes back calling the Clan structure ¡®arbitrary¡¯ and saying he wants to bond for love, regardless of status!¡± she turns to look down on me, her disapproving face looking exhausted ¡°My one hope was that that girl would be sufficiently aware of her place or that my son would not be able to summon enough courage for either of them to reveal themself to the other!¡­ Then you and that Terran managed to dash that hope, over the duration of a lavatory visit(!)¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Since I¡¯ve done nothing wrong, I don¡¯t apologise. Instead, I ask ¡°What will you do, Great Grandmother?¡±

    ¡°I shall do everything in my power to convince them of the inappropriateness of the match! Surely one of them will see reason!¡±

    ¡°And when that fails, Great Grandmother?¡± I ask, amused.

    ¡°If I can make neither of them see sense¡­ then I shall give that girl a position of high enough status as to not disgrace my son but where her incompetence will be limited in how much damage it can inflict on my Clan!¡±

    I sigh.

    I¡¯m sorry, Qarkwi. It¡¯s better than execution, at least(!)

    ¡°Now, dear girl¡­¡± says my ancestor, her tone suggesting she has wearied of my unapologetic attitude regarding the discussion I had with Qarkwi and so is changing the subject ¡°¡­you are going to a new deathworld that might bear sentience, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    I tense and start ¡°I can neither confirm¡­¡±

    ¡°Girl, I am one of the most influential women in the entire galaxy! You think I didn¡¯t know of this planet before you did? Your nondisclosure agreement is not relevant here.¡± she gestures around to demonstrate that we are alone before continuing ¡°I am against it. I think a valuable woman like you oughtn¡¯t to be putting herself in danger by being in your line of work in the first place but especially going to a planet with intelligent deathworlders¡­ There¡¯s absolutely no guarantee that we will be lucky a second time.¡±

    ¡°You mean these deathworlders may be savage brutes?¡± I ask.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I mean!¡± she says, irritated ¡°The Terrans have thus far shown themselves to be capable of properly comporting themselves in wider galactic society, so long as they are not provoked, but, knowing what you do about their history, you surely understand just how untrue that would have been of them for most of it!¡­ These new deathworlders are a single planetary species who don¡¯t even seem to have mastered radio transmissions yet! Sending you to this planet is the last thing I want to do¡­¡±

    I say nothing.

    She sighs ¡°But¡­ I can see that I won¡¯t change your mind about this¡­ You are strong willed¡­ just like your mother. Too proud to listen to an old woman¡¯s wisdom(!)¡­¡± she pauses here and looks me up and down, her expression bittersweet ¡°¡­However, convincing you to drop this contract is not the only thing I am able to do to aid your safety, girl. I have made use of my political influence to have one of your Clansisters installed on this mission as the Compliance Officer. Hopefully, she should be able to keep you and your crew from acting too carelessly.¡±

    My hearts sink as I ask ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Waqa¡¯arc, 15th Daughter of Highspire Peak.¡± she answers, naming the woman glaring at me, Qorak and Victor throughout Tcakak¡¯s Clan induction.

    ¡°Great Grandmother¡­!¡± I begin, my tone pleading.

    ¡°This is not a discussion, girl. The replacement is a fait accompli. I hope that her prudence may temper your recklessness.¡± she says, finality in her tone.

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ Very well, Great Grandmother.¡± I say, resigned.

    ¡°Good.¡± she says, satisfied, before turning to me and saying ¡°One final thing I wish to ask of you, dear girl¡­ when you leave¡­ I want you to leave your daughter here, on R¡¯qal.¡±

    ¡°I refuse.¡± I say, instantly.

    ¡°Tcakqaal¡­¡± she pleads ¡°¡­please listen to me! That child deserves to grow up among her own kind! She needs to be with other children her own age! She oughtn¡¯t to be on a ship that¡¯s entire business model is built around travelling to the most dangerous planets in the galaxy! Please let that child grow up here¡­ where she belongs¡­ Please don¡¯t make me have to mourn the end of your family¡¯s line if something should happen to that ship of yours.¡±

    ¡°She belongs with her mother and father. She will have children her own age to grow up with, though they won¡¯t be R¡¯qali. Qorak and I will teach her all about her heritage and her Clan. Nothing will happen to her, to me or to my ship. I am not going to leave her in the care of Highspire Boarding School only to come back in [16 years] and find a young woman who sees me as a stranger, that I am told is my daughter. My answer is ¡®No¡¯, Clanmother.¡± I respond, angrily.

    She frowns ¡°Please don¡¯t address me as ¡®Clanmother¡¯ like that, dear girl! I¡¯m not suggesting this out of spite¡­!¡±

    ¡°I know you aren¡¯t, Great Grandmother.¡± I say, my tone softened ¡°You are suggesting it because you truly believe it¡¯s what¡¯s in her best interests.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­?¡± she starts, hopefully.

    ¡°Regardless, my answer remains the same, Great Grandmother.¡± I respond, finally.

    Wearily, she says ¡°So much like your mother¡­ I miss her dearly!¡±

    ¡°So do I, Great Grandmother.¡± I answer, sorrowfully.

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ Alright dear girl, I am taking your assertion that nothing will happen to your ship, to you or to your daughter as an oath, sworn before a Clanmother¡­ Do we understand eachother(?)¡± she quips.

    I chitter ¡°I shall not die an oathbreaker, Great Grandmother.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.74

    ---Shanties---

    mf?Santiana, now we mourn?mf sings Brunhilda, the song¡¯s previous bouncing, energetic fierceness now taking on the character of a dirge.

    mf?Away Santiana!?mf responds the crowd, in solemn unison.

    mf?We left him buried, off Cape Horn?mf she continues.

    mf?Aaaaaalong the plains of Mee-xiii-cooo?mf sings the chorus, wonderfully harmonising the syllables they draw out over multiple notes as Byrne¡¯s [violin] and Yu¨¢n¡¯s [¨¨rh¨²] trail off, sombrely.

    The Canteen breaks into cheers and applause as the latest song concludes.

    Most of the ship is present for our [pushing off] party. Even Drs Fischer are present, though sitting apart from the main group to maintain their professional distance.

    One of the few people not present is Kas, apparently making the most of still being in communication range to spend time with her [fianc¨¦e] and [fianc¨¦] on her homeworld.

    In the midst of the group are two of the newest additions to the ODR¡¯s subcontractors aboard the ship, a slender, graceful, Qlofltli woman named Weyavl, a political analyst, and a stout Kargak called Gamoiwoth, an architect¡­ My Clansister, however, is nowhere to be seen!

    ¡°Alright!¡± smiles Brunhilda ¡°Who¡¯s next? Any more that we haven¡¯t done yet?¡±

    Victor raises his hand.

    ¡°Victor, for the last time, Dreadnought is not a sea shanty just for having a nautical theme!¡± says Jennie with mirthful indignance ¡°Also, apart from you, the only lyrics any of us would be able to contribute would be fff?And the Dreadnoughts dread NOTHING at all?fff! Disqualified!!!¡±

    Victor chuckles and lowers his hand.

    Here, Xon asks ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure why you like that song so much, Victor¡­ Wasn¡¯t creating the Dreadnought one of the worst military mistakes your country ever made? Didn¡¯t it render your entire existing naval arsenal obsolete the moment it hit the water and clear the way for a new arms race?¡±

    ¡°First, Xon¡­¡± says Victor, extending a finger ¡°¡­I wanna be clear that me likin¡¯ that song has absolutely nothin¡¯ to do with pride in my country¡¯s imperialist past, I just think it¡¯s a banger!¡­ Second¡­¡± he extends a second finger, turning his hand around to show her the palm side and not the back ¡°¡­put yourself in the mindset of a British Sealord, hellbent on maintainin¡¯ rulership of the waves in the wanin¡¯ days of Pax Britannica. You reckon there¡¯s a new type of ship possible; one that can outrun, outgun and outrange any ship on the water and is so thickly armoured that, even if they do get a hit on it, it won¡¯t matter much. Would you rather Britain be the first country to get one in the water¡­ or the second? Does it make more sense to stymie their development in exchange for a few more years of your current ships bein¡¯ an unassailable, world dominatin¡¯ force or does it make more sense to get ahead of the game and not let your enemies catch you with your pants down?¡±

    Thoughtfully, Xon answers ¡°Good¡­ point¡­¡±

    ¡°Still doesn¡¯t make the song a sea shanty, though!¡± interjects Jennie ¡°Honestly, Victor! This is originally your people¡¯s tradition we¡¯re partaking in! You ought to know better than any of us what is and is not a sea shanty!¡±

    Victor smirks ¡°I think you mean our people¡¯s tradition, fellow Brit(!)¡±

    Jennie screws up her face in mirthful disgust and answers ¡°I refuse! Gaels are not Brits!!!¡±

    Victor turns both his palms ceilingward and beckons with all ten of his fingers ¡°Join us on the dark side(!)¡­ We¡¯ve got tea and crumpets(!)¡±

    There is much laughter as Jennie shakes her head vigorously from side to side.

    Eventually, Xon asks ¡°Alright? Do we have any?¡­ Any more that we haven¡¯t done?¡± casting around.

    Several long moments pass as I look around and see expressions of attempted recall on every Terran face.

    Just as it looks like the supply of [shanties] has finally been exhausted, someone unexpected puts up their hand.

    Baorbo, the (as far as I have been thus far made aware) entirely mute Umbouapa Technologies Officer, from Plus Ultra, raises a webbed hand.

    There¡¯s a murmur of surprise as everyone is clearly just as disbelieving of the man¡¯s volunteering to sing as I am!

    Jennie is the first to extend her hand to Byrne and Yu¨¢n, indicating for Baorbo to go ahead.

    The gigantic man stands from his seat on the floor (which I infer him to have made a habit of so as not to loom).

    He treads to the two instrumentalists and bends to offer his choice for their approval.

    Whatever Baorbo whispers, Byrne excitedly nods his head and Yu¨¢n smiles and chuckles.

    His choice seeming to have been accepted, the enormous amphibian stands and starts inflating his barrel chest.

    Byrne begins thumping his fist on the table at around [90bpm] and, after a few beats, Baorbo begins.

    f? There once was a ship that put to sea

    The name of the ship was the?Billy?o'' Tea?f

    Excitement breaks over the faces of every Terran present as the anuran man¡¯s deep, operatic, Umbouabo accented voice causes them to realise their stock of [shanties] isn¡¯t quite depleted yet!

    f? The winds?blew up, her bow dipped down

    Oh?blow, my bully boys, blow?f

    At this point, Baorbo is joined by the chorus with a mighty fff?Huah!!!?fff and many fists being thrust into the air.

    The beat is devolved out to the entire chorus¡¯s fists on their respective tables as the string instruments join and the next verse is sung in wonderful harmony.

    ff? Soon may the Wellerman come

    To bring us sugar and tea and rum

    One day, when the tonguin'' is done

    We''ll take our leave and go!?ff

    I¡¯m aware, from the fact that (despite the surprisingly fetchingly voiced man having a translator equipped) I¡¯m having to rely on my English comprehension to understand the lyrics, I didn¡¯t somehow miss Baorbo being a speaker of Victor¡¯s language when he came aboard. This is a song he learned by rote!

    As he leads the verse, I notice someone trying to slink away unnoticed.

    Emiko has peeled from the group and is making for the exit.

    Concerned, I wordlessly make my excuses to those around me and follow after her.

    I come out onto Starboard side, Deck 0.

    I look to my left and see nothing bowward. Then I look sternward and see the door to the rear Loading Bay closing.

    I make my way in that direction.

    Entering the Loading Bay, I look around and quickly see the elegantly dressed woman stood facing away from me, looking out of the clear boarding ramp at the stars receding away behind us.

    The outsides of her fists are pressed against her temples and her shoulders are hunched in a posture of clear frustration.

    I approach her from behind and, from far enough away that I will be in no danger in the unlikely event that I startle her, ask ¡°Did you despise that latest song selection that much¡­ or did you simply judge the [tonguin¡¯] to be done(?)¡± attempting to lighten the mood.

    She turns to look at me and, mildly relieved, answers ¡°Oh¡­ neither, Captain. I just¡­ needed somewhere to think¡­¡±

    Stepping next to her, I face forward, looking out of the clear polymer, and ask ¡°Would you¡­ like to talk about it?¡±

    She sighs exhaustedly before responding ¡°Not really, no¡­ but I probably should anyway!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about our new Compliance Officer?¡± I guess.

    Clearly mildly taken aback, she confirms ¡°Y¡­ yes! Very perceptive!¡±

    I chitter ¡°It really isn¡¯t!¡­ I know the woman quite well and have inferred that she¡¯s certainly not the kind of individual you would prefer to have on a mission like this!¡±

    Emiko nods, miserably ¡°She was in the initial pool of candidates for that position¡­ but I distinctly remember her being rejected in the first round of eliminations, due to her long history of antideathworlder agitation¡­ The one we chose instead was a Kwilion, named Vrilanix, who had a reputation for being a stern but fair, straightforward, by the book sort of man and absolutely no overt history of bigotry!¡­ I pushed for him over other candidates who might have been laxer because I didn¡¯t want any nasty surprises when we got back to Citadel! I wanted the whole thing to be completely on the level, above board and above reproach! I didn¡¯t want to run afoul of some technicality and have the entire expedition trashed over it! It¡¯s this new species who¡¯d suffer for it, in that scenario! And now, because of nepotism, we¡¯re stuck with that woman who¡¯s exactly the kind of officious, inflexible, bureaucratic stickler I was trying to get ahead of when I pushed for Vrilanix!¡­ She¡¯s going to find something to disqualify them! She¡¯s going to find some impropriety in the way we run this mission that would mean we would have to do the whole thing from scratch (meaning months to years of delay) or, worse, she¡¯ll find some detail that would get AG10790263b declared a No Contact Zone!¡­ She won¡¯t tell us! She¡¯ll just file it away in her back pocket and wheel it out when the time comes for us to present to Parliament!¡­ The only consolation is that I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll be able to convince the gardenworlder galaxy to exterminate them! I think everyone realises that doing something like that would be very likely to start a second War with the UTC¡­ and nobody wants that!¡­ I was really hoping that I¡¯d be able to talk to her¡­ I¡¯d like to try to charm her, win her over a little, maybe even make friends with her¡­ but of course she¡¯s going to avoid a deathworlder party like the plague! If I go to her room to try and have a chat, I think she may well perceive it as an attempt at intimidation! It would only harden her resolve!¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Emiko stands, catching her breath from her vent, while I mull over her points.

    ¡°What if¡­ I went to speak to her?¡± I say, eventually.

    ¡°¡­If you went to speak to her?¡± says Emiko, querying.

    ¡°Yes¡­ she and I are not exactly friends¡­ but we are acquainted with eachother. Additionally, I think she¡¯d have a much harder time spinning my visiting her room as an attempt at intimidation(!)¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know(!) You do have a deathworlder designed weapon in place of a leg(!)¡± giggles the glamourous Terran.

    ¡°True, true¡­¡± I concede ¡°¡­but if she wants to claim that I used these talons to try and threaten her, that would be an internal Clan matter. Her reputation would be destroyed if it got out that she had taken such an impropriety to the Galactic Union rather than seeking arbitration from our Clanmother! She has more sense than that!¡±

    Emiko thinks for a few moments before saying ¡°In that case, Tcakqaal¡­ I would really appreciate it if you spoke to her for me¡­ I don¡¯t expect any miracles so don¡¯t feel bad if you aren¡¯t able to get her to budge!¡±

    ¡°I will do my best, Emiko.¡± I say, turning back around to face the bow and opening my wings.

    I blast a jet of air downward, launching myself up.

    I really need to exert myself to gain the necessary elevation in this space, so much taller than it is wide or long.

    I quickly pass Deck 3, where the room Waqa¡¯arc refused is, and keep ascending.

    Around [90m] of climb from where I left Emiko, I reach Deck 17 and alight on the safety railing.

    I hop down and make my way to the Portside section.

    I exit the loading bay and make my way to the Dorm column.

    Twila lets me in and I walk to room 1719, at the back of the Dorm.

    I wave to send an alert to her which I hear resounding through the door.

    A few moments pass before the woman I recall being the disciplinarian of my childhood is revealed.

    ¡°Sister¡­¡± I greet, forcing my tone to be warm ¡°¡­I just thought I¡¯d let you know that there¡¯s a party going on in the Canteen, on Deck 0. Most of the ship¡¯s crew are there. I wondered if you and your lifemate might care to join us? It would be a good opportunity to get to know the people you¡¯ll be voyaging with.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m quite capable of hearing that there¡¯s a party going on for myself, thank you.¡± she answer¡¯s, coldly, extending a wing to the Dorm door, through which can be heard the distant [shanty] lyrics:

    f? ¡­And the winds would cry, and many men would die

    And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley¡­?f

    Which are clearly audible despite the [150m] or so of horizontal distance.

    ¡°Ah¡­ they sang that one earlier, too! Though, they were just about out of new ones when I left¡­ It looks as though they¡¯re recycling them now(!)¡± I say, attempting to be mirthful.

    ¡°Yes. I heard the first time they sang it as well!¡± responds my Clansister, mirthlessly.

    ¡°Oh¡­ you could always put your privacy field up if the noise is disturbing you?¡± I suggest.

    She does not answer me verbally, only giving a slight sneer.

    ¡°Would it be alright if I came in for a chat, Sister?¡±

    She gives a discourteous sigh and turns to walk back into her room.

    I follow after her.

    She hops onto one of the perches standing in the large empty space that would be occupied by a bed, in most rooms. I hop up to a perch facing her.

    ¡°Akrat, darling¡­¡± she says, addressing her lifemate, a much younger male from Clan Kaqwau ¡°¡­would you be a dear and go to the Commonroom for a while? I need to talk with my Clansister and don¡¯t wish to bore you with womantalk!¡±

    The moderately ditzy male answers ¡°Of course, darling. Let me know when I can come back.¡± and steps from the room.

    Some moments of silence follow as Waqa¡¯arc and I size eachother up.

    I am the one to break the silence by saying ¡°Sister¡­ I know you¡¯ve never been any great lover of Terrans but¡­¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t¡­¡± she interrupts ¡°¡­unlike you, I would consider it shameful to consort with monsters like them! To forget my pride as a woman of Clan Highspire, my pride as a R¡¯qali, and share a perch with the vermin that killed 20 trillion of our sisters and brothers in arms¡­ I would consider it doubly shameful if they had taken my parents from me! Honestly, if you were half the woman your mother were¡­!¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡± I say, her reference to my parents instantly making me forget the aim of ingratiating myself with her.

    Shocked she answers ¡°E-excuse me!¡±

    ¡°I will not excuse you Waqa¡¯arc!¡­ I¡¯m not a child anymore, you are no longer my superior, and I will not allow myself to be bullied by a woman riding on my ship!¡­ You are not in charge here! If you mention my mother and father like that again, I will put you off at the next planet and damn whatever consequences I may face from the Clan, the ODR or the GU!¡­ The same goes for calling my lifemate a ¡®colony brat¡¯, as I recall you being fond of doing! DO you understand me!¡±

    Clearly unused to being spoken to that way, she¡¯s struck dumb for a few moments.

    Then her sneer returns ¡°So¡­ you haven¡¯t matured at all, I see!¡­ A nerve gets touched and you immediately threaten to have that Terran lackey of yours drag me from the ship!¡±

    I sigh internally at having made her perceive intimidation, even without any Terrans being present.

    Forcing myself to speak calmly, I answer ¡°If you want to call Victor my ¡®lackey¡¯, you¡¯re welcome to(!) I¡¯m sure he¡¯d laugh in your face if he heard you describe him that way¡­ and no, I wouldn¡¯t ask any of the Terrans aboard to remove you. I would order you and your lifemate gone and, if you refused, I would call local law enforcement to put you off.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes(!)¡± she jeers ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want the deathworlders to tarnish that affable fa?ade they¡¯ve worked so hard to cultivate since they got bored of their slaughter(!) ¡®We¡¯re just harmless old [teddy]kwarats(!) We wouldn¡¯t hurt a [fly](!) Pay no attention to the thousands of years of ceaseless butchery that is our history(!) To the 11 times in our past that we¡¯ve detonated nuclear bombs with the intention of killing our own people(!) To the fact that we precipitated a mass extinction simply by developing our technology and didn¡¯t care enough to do anything about it for [centuries] until it threatened the liveability of our cradleworld(!) The fact that our population has increased by a thousandfold in the last [8 centuries], as we¡¯ve infested planets at a rate never before seen and bred like vermin, should give you no cause for alarm(!) We promise we didn¡¯t mean to destabilise the foundation on which your whole society rests by introducing dangerous egalitarian ideas to the ungrateful malcontents among your clanless population(!)¡¯¡±

    ¡°The Terran¡¯s make no pretence about who they are and where they¡¯ve been.¡± I respond, coolly ¡°Nobody is more disgusted by the historical conditions that surviving on a deathworld has made inevitable than they themselves are¡­ but they¡¯re not like that anymore.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t they?!¡± she demands ¡°You don¡¯t remember the barbarism they visited upon us during the War?! You don¡¯t remember the never ending trains of [coffins] being brought back to R¡¯qal!? It certainly didn¡¯t take much provocation for the deathworlders to remember their savage roots!!!¡±

    ¡°We tried to [exterminate] them, Waqa¡¯arc¡­ what circumstances would excuse their brutality if not those?¡­ Are you telling me that you wouldn¡¯t think it acceptable for R¡¯qal to do as they did if the rest of the galaxy decided that we were ¡®vermin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°We would never be judged as vermin because we wouldn¡¯t be capable of acting as they did, even in self defence!¡±

    I look at the spitefilled woman for a few moments, thinking.

    Eventually, I ask ¡°Have I ever told you about my experience of Terran''s, in the War?¡±

    She waves her wing, dismissively ¡°I know you were shot down and surrendered to them¡­ like a coward!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ I was¡­¡± I say, surprising her by not contesting the insult ¡°¡­I was [17], fighting in the Battle of Geliy¨º N? in the last months of the War. My engine took a hit and I went down. I crashed in a remote region of the planet and was badly hurt. I lay against the dashboard of my fighter for [hours], the crushing deathworld gravity making it difficult to breathe, my wing broken, bleeding heavily, drifting in and out of consciousness¡­ Then, out of the cockpit window, I saw a craft approaching. It set down and, off it, stepped several heavily armoured soldiers¡­ I assumed I was about to be summarily executed¡­ but, then, more Terrans followed¡­ clad in red and white¡­ of course I¡¯d seen the vids of them and, like you, assumed they must be propaganda!¡­ But I saw no cameras¡­ no recording devices of any kind¡­ One of the soldiers ripped the hood off my fighter to gain access to me, I couldn¡¯t understand any of the language they were speaking but, weakly, I told them to either kill me or leave me to die¡­ I never expected what came next. Before I lost consciousness, they stabilised my wounds, fieldsplinted my broken wing and, when they had deemed it safe to move me, carried me away¡­ when I came to, I was shackled to a bed in a hospital in a prisoner of war camp¡­ a man with a very early model translator explained that I was to be held there until the War was over¡­ When my wing was mended and I was allowed free reign of the indoor areas and even to go outside (so long as I was tethered to a guard, meaning no danger of me flying away to escape) I spoke to my fellow prisoners¡­ many had stories like mine¡­ I realised that the red and white ones were not simply a show put on for propagandic purposes! That the Terrans genuinely cared for those fighters who could not fight any more! That they weren¡¯t simply attempting to lull us into a false sense of security. That they weren¡¯t perpetrating a perfidious deception to make us more willing to surrender to them! That they truly were as compassionate as they had always told us they were!¡­ How many species do you think would be capable of acting that way, amid a War for their survival?¡±

    My Clansister says nothing for a long time, only glaring at me.

    Eventually, she responds ¡°Your words are useless, Sister! You¡¯ll not convince me to buy in to their lies the way you have!¡±

    ¡°Do you truly wish to see every deathworlder dead?¡± I ask, frustratedly ¡°Would you have us prosecute another War to satisfy your dogmatic hatred?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± she answers, coldly ¡°¡­I¡¯m not a fool! I know how well the last War went for us¡­ I know that there are more Terrans now than there were before the War while we (the GU) still have 7 trillion to go before our population recovers! I know that, thanks to the terms of a certain humiliating peace treaty, their technological development has come nearly to par with ours! I know how well a second War would go for us!¡­ Instead of that, I would modestly propose a separation! There¡¯s no reason for deathworlders to sit on the GU¡¯s Parliament, having the ability to vote and speak on issues that overwhelmingly effect gardenworlders! I¡¯m only thankful that they have but the one seat and that they didn¡¯t get allotted a separate seat for every species they unnaturally brought back from the dead, built from circuit boards or raised up from dumb animals!¡­ There¡¯s no reason for deathworlders to live on gardenworlds that would never naturally be able to support them nor for gardenworlders to live on deathworlds that they would never naturally be able to survive! There¡¯s certainly no reason for miscegenation between gardenworlders and deathworlders to be permitted to occur!¡± there is utter revulsion in her face and tone at that thought ¡°As far as I am concerned, our greatest blessing right now is the fact that they¡¯ve already taken everything they want from us! If it were up to me, we would strip them of their Parliamentary seat, close every port in the GU to their ships, expel every one of them living on our planets and have nothing further to do with them!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ because you can¡¯t do that, you plan to sabotage this mission and have this new species declared uncontactable?¡± I query.

    ¡°Oh no¡­ dear girl!¡± she patronises ¡°I don¡¯t need to resort to anything so crass as sabotage! I would hate to give any ammunition to the Terrans and their¡­¡± she uses her flight feathers to gesture to me ¡°¡­sympathisers!¡­ No¡­ I shan¡¯t ¡®sabotage¡¯ the mission. I don¡¯t need to! I know that with that pack of barbarians down there, there¡¯s precisely no way you will be able to run this mission properly! I just need to watch you and your crew like a [hawk] and document every time you slip up¡­ and you will! Then, when we get to Parliament, I will send the records of every impropriety to every member of the antiTerran faction¡­ You¡¯re going to sabotage yourselves for me!¡± her voice filled with vindictive glee.

    I burst out chittering!

    ¡°Stop that!¡­ Why are you laughing like that!?¡­¡± she says, clearly perturbed by my unexpected reaction.

    ¡°I¡¯m laughing because¡­*hehehehehehehe*¡­ of the funny thing you said!¡± I respond, unable to contain myself.

    ¡°I just told you I plan to thwart your attempt to gain a new deathworld ally for those Terrans you love so much!¡± she responds, incredulously ¡°Have you gone mad!?¡±

    ¡°Tell me something, Sister¡­¡± I smirk ¡°¡­have you ever actually met a Terran? Conversed with any?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°And how do you plan to document every minor transgression without doing so? Do you plan to do so from here? Shut away in your quarters, as far from the deathworlder enclave as it¡¯s possible to get!?¡±

    More silence.

    ¡°No¡­ you¡¯re going to have to interact with them! You¡¯re going to have to meet them! Talk to them!¡± I say, triumphantly ¡°You¡¯re going to change your mind about them once you do! I promise!!!¡­ You can¡¯t win! You either stay here and get nothing! Oooor¡­ you mingle with the Terrans and realise you. were. wrong!¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t!¡± she answers, defiantly.

    ¡°Then prove it!¡± I answer, victoriously.

    She says nothing.

    I hop down from my perch and smugly saunter to the door.

    ¡°The invitation to the party stands, Sister¡­ any time you¡¯re ready to show me you¡¯re not all talk!¡­ Oh, and I¡¯ll let Akrat know we¡¯re done speaking!¡± I say as the door closes behind me.

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXIV: Pancakes and Fantasy

    ---Nkasiogi¡¯s perspective---

    I stoop down to pass through the door into the Human tavern.

    I¡¯ve got a slender Elfboy under my right arm and a heavily armoured Dwarfgirl under my left.

    We¡¯ve had a long day of questing and I¡¯m looking forward to a little¡­ ¡®relaxation¡¯¡­

    I approach the bar, slap a brawny, green skinned arm clutching a club onto the counter and, through a tusk filled mouth, demand ¡°A room for the night¡­ large, sturdy bed¡­ a bath¡­ a meal and drinks for before we retire!¡±

    The NPC manning the counter gives my party an appraising look before saying ¡°A king-bed room for the night¡¯ll run ye 10 silver if ye¡¯re wantin¡¯ a bath¡­ 1 silver 5 coppers¡¯ll see ye fed¡­ as for drinks¡­¡± he points to the Dwarf ¡°¡­mead¡­?¡± he points to the Elf ¡°¡­wine¡­?¡± he points up at me ¡°¡­whatever¡¯s cheap enough ta be brought out by the bucket?¡±

    ¡°You know it!¡± I laugh, not allowing my companions the chance to answer for themselves.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be money up front!¡± says the barman, warily.

    I smirk and slap 2 gold onto the bar and say ¡°This should do you! Keep the change and keep the drinks coming!¡±

    The script instantly flips from ¡®guarded suspicion on account of my race¡¯ to ¡®sycophantic grovelling to the generous customer¡¯ as the NPC says ¡°Certainly, Ma¡¯am! Someone¡¯ll be right out with yer drinks! ¡¯Bout the food; I assume roasted pork will do fer ye and yer Dwarf friend and that ye¡¯ll¡­¡± he turns to the Elf ¡°¡­be wanting something vegetarian? We could make ye a vegetable stew? Should be appetisin¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Sounds good! We¡¯ll be waiting!¡± I answer for the group, turning the three of us toward an open booth.

    On the bench facing the wall, I drop my studded club and my companions drop a bow, a quiver, an elegant sword, a hefty axe, a shield and some of the heavier and more detachable pieces of armour between them.

    I allow the golden-orange haired, amber eyed Dwarf to be the first one onto the opposite bench, facing the door. I follow her in and lead the green eyed, white haired knife ear in behind me.

    Contentedly, I squeeze both of them to my sides so that they end up placing their hands on my bare stomach to brace themselves.

    The Dwarf comes to rest with her head against the left side of my ribcage, the Elf with his head against my right shoulder.

    A waitress quickly arrives with our drinks.

    I take a deep draft of the gallon sized jug that was placed in front of me with my left hand (my left arm being less impeded by what¡¯s under it than my right is by what¡¯s on it), give a satisfied exhale, close my eyes, lean my head back against the wall, place my bare feet up on the bench where we dumped all of our stuff and say ¡°So¡­ what do you guys wanna talk about?¡±

    ¡°You could always tell us what it was like on R¡¯qal? I¡¯m dying to know!¡± answers Luul.

    ---Amahle¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°I keep saying¡­ one of us should¡¯ve been a support class!¡± insists the gigantic and, now, somewhat drunk Orcwoman who¡¯s got me sandwiched against the wall ¡°Like a healer or something¡­ the amount of our earnings that we spend on potions every time is ludicrous!¡­ What about respeccing as a bard, Ami? I bet you¡¯d be amazing as a bard!¡±

    I give a wry smirk and answer ¡°Being a ¡®bard¡¯ is my day job¡­ when I¡¯m here, I like to cut loose by just whacking things with an axe! I didn¡¯t see you being at all concerned with conservation of the local ecosystem when we were exterminating those dire boars earlier, Kas(!)¡±

    She dismisses that with a wave and says ¡°That¡¯s not the same! You¡¯ve got real, transferable skill in music! This isn¡¯t a real ecosystem! Those boars will be back the next time someone picks up that quest¡­! Nothing¡¯s real here! That¡¯s how come this medieval inn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere has a room with a king-bed and a bath to offer us! That¡¯s how come you can go around armoured like a tank from the neck down and not be suffering constant head trauma from running around with no helmet, the way you fight! That¡¯s how I¡¯m not constantly passing out from blood loss from not wearing any armour at all! That¡¯s how all those girls (and a few of those boys) are able to fight in what amounts to high heeled shoes and metal lingerie here!... That¡¯s how I can say ¡®The babe, in the park, with big, beautiful, buttocks as ripe as mangoes¡¯ without these tusks turning it into ¡®The vave, in the fark, with vig, veautiful, vuttocks as rife as vangoes¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite enough about my bottom, thank you(!)¡± I giggle.

    ¡°Who said I was talking about yours(?)¡± she smirks back, playfully.

    I gesture around ¡°I don¡¯t see anyone else whose mango ripe ¡®vuttocks¡¯ you might have been perving on through those trees(!)¡±

    She roars with laughter at that.

    ¡°Anyway¡­¡± I continue ¡°¡­transferable skills or not, the point stands that the moment your day job gets involved the fantasy becomes miles less fun!¡­ Imagine if you had to write up an ecosystem impact assessment both before and after every monster extermination request! Doesn¡¯t sound like fun, does it! It sounds like work!¡­ That¡¯s what playing as a bard would be like for me!¡­ Same way you vetoed scifi games because you¡¯re living them right now(!)¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ fair!¡± she concedes.

    At this point another player passes our table and spares us a curious (though, seemingly harmless) glance as she does.

    ¡°What¡¯re you looking at?¡­ Hoping for an invite to the foursome(?!)¡± growls my fianc¨¦e, menacingly.

    Startled, the girl averts her eyes and hurries away.

    Fixing her tiny red irises on the retreating woman, Kas says ¡°Imagine¡­ playing this game and choosing to play as a Human(!) All of the boundless possibilities of Fantasia open to you and you choose to face them as just¡­ some lady¡­ some gal! How fucking boring can you be!?¡±

    ¡°You realise that there¡¯s a nonzero chance that she isn¡¯t Human IRL, right?¡± chuckles Lu ¡°She could be an uplift¡­ or an AI¡­ maybe even a gardenworlder (though, my understanding is that it¡¯s a vanishingly small proportion of the playerbase who aren¡¯t Terran, given the difficulty level)¡­ playing the game as a Human, and getting the authentic Human experience, may actually be her fantasy¡­ no need to be hostile about it¡­¡±

    ¡°On the contrary¡­!¡± retorts the tower of green skinned muscle, spilling some of her beer ¡°¡­if she wants the authentic fantasy Human experience, then getting growled at over the slightest provocation by an Orc in the local tavern should be right up her alley! ¡­So¡­ she¡¯s welcome!¡±

    ¡°You know¡­¡± I start, ponderingly ¡°¡­maybe she just doesn¡¯t like the way she looks in the real world? Maybe she¡¯s a Resurrectee who¡¯s always fantasised about being a pretty Sapiens girl? She might be trans and in the process of saving up for gene therapy? She might just have something about her face or her body that she dislikes and has always dreamed about being a girl who looks like that¡­ she doesn¡¯t necessarily need to be a nonHuman to want to play as a Human¡­¡±

    Kas¡¯s face falls while she considers.

    ¡°Great(!) Now I feel like an arsehole!¡± she sighs ¡°I guess I should go and apologise!¡±

    I catch her arm as she makes to stand up and she turns to me with a quizzical look.

    ¡°I think¡­ Kas¡­ even if this is only a game and she, logically, understands that she¡¯s in no real danger¡­ if she sees 2.6m of tipsy, muscular, mostly naked Orc stomping towards her, (moments after tearing her a new arsehole for no reason) she¡¯ll probably be too scared to listen to your apology¡­ best leave it!¡±

    She pouts but, seeing the sense, slumps back against the bench (causing it to reverberate under her enormous simulated weight) and says ¡°Yeah¡­ you¡¯re probably right¡­ I feel bad though¡­ I guess I can get a little too into the whole roleplaying part of MMORPGs¡­¡±

    ¡°You(!?) Naaah(!)¡­¡± teases Lu, to mirthful grumbling from Kas.

    I stroke a gauntleted hand over the bare, green skin of her washboard abs and smile ¡°You know we love you for it!¡±

    She smiles back and squeezes both of us appreciatively to her sides, stroking the clawed fingers of her massive left hand through the vivid, goldenrod hair of my sideburns (as close as I can bring myself to having a beard, accurate as it supposedly is for Dwarfwomen to be bearded) and gently tracing the claw tips of her other hand over the bare side of Luul¡¯s scalp, above his long ear and below his floppy white mohawk.

    Her ample boobs rise and fall as her broad, deep chest expands with a contented sigh¡­ followed by a distinctly uncontented sigh!

    ¡°I really fucking miss you guys!¡± she says, miserably.

    ¡°What do you mean?!¡± chortles Lu ¡°We¡¯ve just been questing for the best part of a fortnight straight together!¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean!¡± she huffs ¡°This is definitely better than nothing but¡­ it¡¯s no substitute for the real thing! Plus, we can only do this when I¡¯m on a planet or in a well enough trafficked space lane for it to have FTLcom signal, you two aren¡¯t working and all of us are awake!¡±

    ¡°Kas¡­¡± I smile sympathetically ¡°¡­just be grateful we live in a time where keeping in contact like this is possible! It¡¯s only a generation or so that separates us from a time where the only way for us to keep in touch with you would have been to wait for ever sparser vid files to make their way back to us and sending return messages would have been nigh impossible!¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I know¡­¡± she answers, dejectedly.

    ¡°We can spend time together¡­ talk¡­ eat¡­¡± I reach up to cradle her jaw in my hand ¡°¡­touch¡­ among other things!¡±

    She smirks mischievously at her empty bucket of booze ¡°Speaking of which¡­ I think I¡¯m about done drinking¡­ What say we turn in?¡±

    ---Luul¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m walking up the stairs next to Ami when I feel a muscular arm wrapping itself around my trunk and my feet being pulled from the floor.

    I feel my sword (not a euphemism(!)) be pressed into my hip as Kas carries me under her arm like a pig!

    I look across her stomach and see that Ami is receiving identical treatment. We chuckle to eachother.

    The towering, green giantess carries us up two flights of stairs and down a corridor to room 205.

    Fumbling a little to retrieve the key and unlock the door with Ami tucked under her right arm, she eventually manages to get the door open and ducks to get inside.

    Grasping my lapels, she lets me swing out to dangle from her hand (causing me to drop my bow, which clatters to the floor along with Ami¡¯s axe) before bicep curling me back into a vertical position and slamming me into the wall, feet still dangling around a metre from the floor.

    Ami, again having received the exact same treatment, was slammed into the wall just to my left, at the end of Kas¡¯s other brawny arm.

    We share a nervous glance.

    I feel my quiver dig into my back as the one pinioning us leans her gigantic head close and softly growls ¡°So¡­ who wants to go and draw up a bath and who wants to help get me lubricated?¡± smirking.

    Neither of us say anything as the Orcwoman looks between us for an answer.

    I watch as she brings her face to Ami¡¯s and takes a deep, sensual inhale.

    First teasing her by stroking the ends of her tusks over Ami¡¯s lips, Kas presses the Dwarfwoman¡¯s skull against the wall with slow, passionate kisses¡­

    That¡¯s good compornsion!

    Then it¡¯s my turn!

    I feel her hot breath on my face and smell the musky aroma that is the game¡¯s attempt to interpret her natural, real world smell, mixed with its interpretation of what it thinks Orcs smell like.

    She runs her tusks along my face, just to the outsides of my mouth¡­

    Her skull is so much bigger than mine that, as she presses her lips to me and slips her pierced tongue into my mouth, her nose ring dangles at the bridge of my nose!

    Pulling away she announces ¡°I¡¯ve decided¡­¡± and drops Ami who, falling more than a metre, is dragged to the floor by the weight of her armour ¡°¡­I¡¯m in the mood for femboy mouthpussy, to warm up! Ami, you run us a nice hot bath for afterward! Then come back here and take off that armour¡­ nice and slow¡­ let me see it!¡­ Let me really enjoy my slutty little paladin getting nude for me!¡±

    Of course, we could undress nearly instantaneously, using the character menus, but that is far less sexy!

    Ami gets up and runs to the next room, presumably to do as instructed.

    Kas turns back to me, fixing me with her tiny red irides, as she says ¡°As for you¡­¡± she begins unfastening my robe, shifting her hand to keep pinning me to the wall by my chin.

    She pulls my sword from its frog and pulls my quiver from my back.

    I¡¯m quickly denuded by the powerful woman.

    Pulling me away from the wall she pushes (more than carries) me through the air, as she strides across the floor!

    One armed, she slams me into the tabletop (hard enough that I actually lose a few HP from it!) and slides me to the edge such that my head overhangs.

    She removes her hands but the unspoken command ¡®stay exactly where I¡¯ve put you¡¯ is well enough implied(!)

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    My head hanging upside down, my mohawk flopping below it, I watch as the amazonian woman begins to pull the simple, tight ring of cloth, around 20cm wide at its widest, that serves as her only upperwear, over her head, baring her immense, green breasts, her perky, pierced nipples a green so dark they almost look black¡­

    Pulling her hard, wooden club out from where it was tucked into her loincloth, she drops it to rattle to the floor.

    Unstringing the party coinpurse from her belt, she tosses it over me to land with a clink and a thud, uncomfortably close to my coinpurse(!)

    She undoes her belt, allowing her loincloth the drop, exposing her crotch.

    She opens her menu and fiddles with settings I can¡¯t see for a moment before, between her legs, materialises a titanic phallus!

    Lined with the gold studs of genital piercings, the glans hangs at her knees and would be too girthy for me to grasp without using both hands!

    The impossible member pulses as it expands and draws erect.

    If we were bound by the laws of physical reality right now, then, forget the fact that that thing would block my windpipe! Forget the fact that she¡¯d be crushing my heart, lungs and every other internal organ with every thrust! Forget the fact that she¡¯d be dipping it in my stomach acid! She wouldn¡¯t be able to insert it into me without breaking my jaw first!

    No orifice on any creature my size could ever be wide or deep enough for a cock that large!

    The naked woman steps to me and lifts up her jumbo cock to drop it on my chest, the tip resting a few centimetres above my naval.

    ¡°You don¡¯t mind a bit of futanari cock down your throat, do you slut?¡± she smirks.

    Not waiting for an answer she grasps the bare sides of my head, forcing my mouth open with her thumbs.

    She draws her megacock across my chin and plunges it into my mouth!

    Given that I have the oral erogeneity mode (more colloquially known as ¡®mouthpussy mode¡¯) enabled, it feels utterly sublime as she impales my slender body on her cock!

    I feel the studs slide past the sensitive flesh of my oesophagus as my insides are pushed out of the way.

    Since I don¡¯t actually need to breathe, there¡¯s no time limit but my pulse is still enormously elevated (more than would be normal, given the circumstances(!)) due to the autonomic fear response of having my body insist that I must be about to start suffering oxygen deprivation!

    I moan and my hands reach out to grasp her tree trunk thighs.

    I feel my own, stiff cock (regular sized, not that it would seem so by comparison(!)) wave forward as my legs, reflexively, start to raise my hips.

    She removes a hand from my head to place it on my stomach, pressing my lower body back down against the table. The other she clamps around my bulging throat (because apparently, my insides alone aren¡¯t constricting enough(!))

    ¡°That¡¯s right, you little Elf slut! Take it!!!¡± she snarls.

    ---Nkasiogi¡¯s perspective---

    The hot, wet inside of the skinny little, femboy, Elf slut feels amazing as I skewer him with my futa cock!

    For someone who claims to be ¡®100% straight, yessirree!¡¯, he certainly seems excited by having more than half a metre of cock shoved down his throat(!)

    His own, cute little Elf cock is hard and moist at its tip, between his raised thighs. He¡¯s moaning (in a way that I don¡¯t think would be possible, IRL, with his windpipe blocked like this) and grasping the backs of my thighs.

    Feeling his throat bulging out and seeing his stomach deform from having my member inside him is incomparable!

    Of course, as amazing as this is¡­ it¡¯s no substitute for the real thing¡­

    Just as I¡¯m in danger of getting sombre, my little, marigold haired Dwarf returns from drawing our bath.

    ¡°You better have drawn it hot, slut! Gods help you if I get in there and find it¡¯s gone tepid, later!¡± I growl with gleeful malice.

    Of course, it won¡¯t actually go tepid¡­ game water stays at the temperature you make it until you either use it, discard it or mix it with water of another temperature¡­ but getting an opportunity to scold her (and taking it) fits my character!

    She just nods, nervously.

    ¡°Did you forget what the next part of your instructions were, girl? Undress! Let me see you dance sexy for me¡­ I know you know how!¡± I chortle.

    Her history as an exotic dancer has, as far as I¡¯m aware, not given her any direct experience in how to make the shedding of heavy, plate armour sexy¡­ Nevertheless, you¡¯d never guess that this wasn¡¯t the exact outfit she walked on stage in, every time!

    I watch, slowing my skull fuck down to a crawling pace, as the tiny Dwarfgirl with hair and eyes the colour of a sunsset makes armour removal look like the single most erotic act possible!

    She gets down to her cloth underlayer before reaching to pull her top over her head, exposing the adorable fat rolls of her gorgeous, ebony belly and¡­ a metal bikini top! Hilariously unrealistic and uncomfortable looking¡­ but damn if it isn¡¯t sexy!

    She turns around to put her back to me, undoes her trousers and, pulling them outward to get them past her mile wide hips and arse, reveals her mango ripe buttocks cupped by stylish metal undies matching the bra.

    ---Amahle¡¯s perspective---

    Bending seductively, I push the ludicrous metal underwear off of my butt and slide it down my legs. It rocks back and forth once I step out of it, a single, rigid piece. It¡¯s a good thing I can¡¯t feel it when it¡¯s under my other clothing! I can only imagine how it would chafe!

    Before I can free my (mildly more ample than IRL) boobs from their metal prison, Kas calls out ¡°Daertyn¡­¡± using my character¡¯s name. I turn to look at her ¡°¡­would you come here for me?¡± she beckons with a clawed finger and a smirk.

    I walk over, my boobs still contained in my solid metal fantasy bra.

    I gasp as she grabs my long braid and lifts me off the floor by it until she¡¯s put my face level to hers.

    Grasping my braid below her hands and doing my best to transfer my weight through my arms and not through my follicles, I bite my lip as her small, red eyes wander over my bushy eyebrows, sideburns and down to my tits before finally settling on my eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a problem with this Elf slut I¡¯m fucking¡­¡± she grins, evilly.

    ¡°What¡¯s that, Ursul?¡± I ask, nervously.

    ¡°Yah see¡­ Yelren is such a little slut that he can¡¯t keep his hips on the table while I fuck his throat! Waving his pathetic little Elf cock around, distractingly!¡± she cackles ¡°I reckon he needs about¡­¡± she waggles the arm holding me in the air, up and down, pretending to weigh me ¡°¡­83kg to weigh down those slutty hips of his!¡± she says, naming the exact weight of my unladen avatar ¡°Think you could oblige him?¡±

    I give a little nod and she beams, extending her braid grasping arm to face me away from her, dangling me over those skinny Elven hips before dropping me onto them.

    Lu¡¯s lower body is slammed into the table by my weight. I¡¯d feel a little sorry for him if I weren¡¯t so envious(!)

    Pushing his legs down to flatten them to the table, I take a hold of his cock. Pulling it vertical, it comes up to around the level of my belly button and has a nice thickness¡­ it¡¯s only by comparison to Kas¡¯s (or ¡®Ursul¡¯s¡¯) that it looks so pathetic!

    Sandwiching it between my labia I spend a few moments grinding my pelvis against his stomach and coating the top of his cock in my lubrication before lifting my hips, bringing his glans to my lips and coming down with him now inside me.

    I bounce, up and down, feeling the jiggle of my arse and knowing exactly where Kas¡¯s eyes will be.

    I haven¡¯t been going very long but, since the game has a simultaneous orgasm feature, when Kas blows an impossibly large load into Lu¡¯s stomach it causes him to cum¡­ which, in turn, causes me to cum!

    The three of us just pant exhaustedly (not that we actually need the air) for a few moments before I hear the squelching sound of a colossal cock being withdrawn from a tight windpipe.

    Then I feel two, strong, clawed hands around my sides.

    I¡¯m lifted up and hurled through the air!

    ---Lu¡¯s perspective---

    The mammoth cock is slid from my throat and its owner reaches over my belly, bloated with her seed, to pick up the Dwarf recovering on my hips, and toss her 6m to land on the king-bed!

    She then grasps the back of my neck and calmly walks over to the armchair facing the bed that every hotel room has for some reason¡­ the ¡®cuck chair¡¯ as she calls it(!)

    She drops me between the high arms. I sit there, still dazed while she fiddles with her inventory.

    She produces a rod-of-unmoving from hammerspace and places it across the arms of the chair, on top of my faux pregnancy bulge.

    She activates it, locking me into position, and smirks ¡°You¡¯ve had your turn, so now¡­ just watch while Daertyn gets hers, alright?¡± before lightly tapping the side of my face with her palm.

    She turns, showing me the chiselled muscles of her back and triceps.

    Raising her massively brawny arms she lets down her ponytail of bluish black hair and short dreads spill down, covering her gold piercing laden Orc ears.

    She stomps to the bed, picking the bright orange haired Dwarfgirl up, takes position against the headboard and, slowly, slides the 138cm tall woman down her 60cm phallus, using her more like a fleshlight than a sex partner(!)

    I get a good view of the monstercock deforming Ami¡¯s stomach, disappearing behind her ribcage and reappearing (impossibly) at her throat!

    This world may be constantly reminding me that it isn¡¯t the real thing but, as I watch my fianc¨¦es moan and gasp from the pleasure of their virtual bodies connecting, I don¡¯t particularly care that it isn¡¯t ¡®real¡¯!

    ---Kas¡¯s perspective---

    Steam rises from the wonderfully hot bath water as the three of us relax, side by side, sitting on the underwater ledge, lining this side of the ludicrously large, inground bathtub.

    ¡°How are we feeling?¡± I ask, dropping the ¡®Ursul the Merciless¡¯ character for the moment, giving them a caring squeeze and a lovely marshmallowing (the side of Lu¡¯s face pressed against my right tit, the side of Ami¡¯s against my left).

    ¡°Good!¡± smiles Ami, to nodded agreement from Lu.

    ¡°Good¡­¡± I respond leaning my head back against the edge of the bath ¡°¡­we should get a nice long rest and¡­ tomorrow¡­ we should head South¡­ I hear there are some juicy quests on offer down there!¡±

    Both of their bodies go tense and they sit up.

    Immediately, I look up at them and ask ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Ami opens her mouth but what comes out is mostly white noise, the game making her mouth distort, ghoulishly, in order to resolve how she¡¯s supposedly forming those sounds ¡°¡­¡­n¡¯t¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­ad¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­ality¡­¡­¡±

    My heart sinks as the room and my two beautiful, fantasy companions spend a few seconds coming into and out of focus before my vision finally goes entirely black save for the words {CONNECTION LOST}¡­

    Gone is the pleasant postcoital muscle ache, gone the wonderous heat from being in the bathwater, gone is the feeling of the Elf and Dwarf nestled against my sides.

    ¡°No! No! No! No! NO!¡± I say, pulling off my nervejack headset and desperately trying to see anything wrong with it, as if I don¡¯t already know ¡°Come on, you piece of shit! I¡¯m missing the aftercare! Just because I was Domming, doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t like to cuddle! Doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t benefit from reassurance! Doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m OK with pumping and dumping my subs¡­ let alone how their feeling! Just work! Every minute you make me spend out here is nearly half an hour I don¡¯t get to spend in there!¡±

    I look miserably out of the window at stars trundling by.

    Desperately, I put the headset back on and try to restart the game only to be repeatedly met with the message {UNABLE TO LOCATE SERVER}.

    I take it off again, run into the hall and shout ¡°Twila?!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Kas?¡± she responds instantly.

    ¡°How long will it take us to be out of this signal deadpatch?!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only a small one, so we should be back in comrange in around 20mins. That patch will last around 3.5hrs then it¡¯s dead air for the next few days, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    ¡°Please let me know the second we¡¯re back in coms¡­¡± I say, the bottom dropping out of my stomach at being told that I¡¯m going to miss the entire night with Lu and Ami!

    ¡°I will, Kas, I¡¯m¡­ sorry about whatever got interrupted!¡± she answers.

    ¡°Thanks¡­¡± I say with a joyless smile and disappear into my room.

    I spend the next twenty minutes sat, crosslegged, on my (far too large for one person) bed, my knee bouncing agitatedly, eyes flicking between my holo and my gaming headset in front of me, nervously chewing my bottom lip.

    *Ping* goes my holo, with a message showing from Twila ¡®Coms are back!¡¯

    Reaching for my headset, I dictate ¡°Holo: message Twila ¡®Thank you!¡¯, send!¡±

    I log back in and find myself outside the tavern, dressed and with everything of mine that I left in the room back in my inventory.

    I check my messages and see one from Ami.

    Ursul

    We missed you last night but we understand it was unavoidable.

    We¡¯ll be playing for a little while longer so, if you can log back in, try and catch up.

    See you soon, hopefully!

    Love Daertyn and Yelren ???

    I check my map and see that they¡¯re only a little way South¡­ I can probably catch up to them in two hours, if I run!

    I begin composing a message ¡®I¡¯m back, I see you guys. I¡¯m on my way to you¡­¡¯ but, at that point, my stomach growls.

    It only feels like a little while ago that I was enjoying that pork dinner, to me, but¡­ in in game time, it¡¯s been nearly half a day since then!

    If you didn¡¯t play for a year and then tried to log back in, you wouldn¡¯t instantly famish away to a skeleton but you would be hungry. I¡¯m quite hungry!

    I change the last sentence to ¡®I¡¯ll be on my way to you, once I¡¯ve eaten. Love Ursul ???¡¯ and send it.

    I stoop down by about half a metre to pass below the doorframe, back into the tavern.

    ---Aja¡¯s perspective---

    This game is hard!

    I thought it would be fun to play as a supernatural Human, wandering the land and vanquishing evil, but I haven¡¯t been able to find a party and, without one, it seems impossible to advance beyond herb gathering quests(!)

    I lean a Human head, on a Human hand, over a Human elbow, resting on a Human countertop and take a moment to appreciate how natural the game is able to make this alien physiology feel!

    Maybe I should just quit¡­ find another game that¡¯s more my difficulty level!

    Just as I¡¯m thinking that, the stool next to me is pulled out and a clawed arm (with every muscle clearly articulated from every other) enters my peripheral vision.

    ¡°Innkeep¡­ you do blueberry pancakes?¡± comes a frighteningly loud voice from several head heights above mine.

    ¡°Yup¡­ comin¡¯ right up!¡± responds the grey bearded tavernkeeper.

    ¡°Large please!¡± adds the woman.

    Nervously, I look sideways and see a gargantuan [Orc]woman, mostly naked and about as well muscled as the celebrity Thran Hunter, though looking nearly twice the height!

    She notices me looking and turns her head to look down at me, terrifyingly.

    ¡°Oh¡­ hey! It¡¯s you!¡± she says with recognition ¡°Listen¡­ sorry I snapped at you last night! Don¡¯t take it to heart. Just something I felt my character would do. It wasn¡¯t personal!¡± she adds, kindly.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ alright?¡± I answer, nervously.

    ¡°The name¡¯s ¡®Ursul¡¯¡­ in game at least¡­ nice to meet you!¡± she grins, baring the roots of her tusks.

    ¡°I¡¯m Aj¡­ Lorena¡­ it¡¯s nice to meet you, too?¡±

    She laughs ¡°Almost gave me your real name there, didn¡¯t you(!)¡­ Listen, babes¡­ relaaax! I¡¯m not going to bite your head off, even if I do look like it! Just try to think of us as too normal Human gals sitting at the same bar¡­ It¡¯ll be easier, trust me!¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­ OK, Ursul¡­ err¡­¡± I cast around for a topic of conversation ¡°¡­where are your companions?¡±

    Her face falls.

    [Fuck]!

    That was the wrong thing to say!

    ¡°I got force logged out when I went through a signal dead patch¡­ they went on ahead. I¡¯m just gonna eat and then catch them up.¡± she answers without smiling.

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­¡± I answer, relieved she didn¡¯t bite my head off.

    There¡¯s a pause, during which the same dish I saw her companions eating earlier (though much larger) is placed in front of her and she begins eating.

    ¡°So¡­ you new to the game¡­?¡± she asks between mouthfuls.

    ¡°Yes¡­ though I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s for me¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah¡­ how come?¡± she responds.

    ¡°I just¡­ I¡­ I think it might be better to play with a party¡­ none of my friends in the real world want to play with me¡­ and I haven¡¯t found a party willing and able to take me.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ sucks to hear, girl!¡­ What level you at?¡±

    ¡°Urm¡­ 9¡­ I think?¡± I answer, uncertainly.

    Her eyebrows raise, her eyes still fixed on her food, as she says ¡°That¡¯s not too bad for a solo player! What¡¯s your class?¡±

    ¡°Cl¡­ Cleric?¡±

    She stops dead in her tracks and turns to look at me, her red eyes wide!

    Oh gods! What did I say!? How do I fix this!? I don¡¯t want this woman to bite my head off or beat me to death!!!

    ¡°Do you know any healing spells!?¡± she asks, vigorously.

    Trying to work out if that was a roundabout threat, I eventually decide to just answer honestly ¡°Yes¡­ low level ones¡­ sure¡­¡±

    ¡°What about buffs?¡± she asks, almost frantically, leant over to put her face inches from mine!

    ¡°A few¡­ again, low level!¡± I answer, terrified!

    I¡¯m about to open my mouth to apologise for whatever I did to offend the  frightening [Orc]woman when she says something I do not expect ¡°PLEEEEEASE join my party!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­?¡± I say, head spinning.

    ¡°Just for a mission or two! See how you like it! If we don¡¯t get on, we separate, no hard feelings! Equal share of the loot and any drops!¡±

    ¡°You want¡­ me¡­ in your party?¡± I query, warily.

    ¡°YES!!!¡± she answers, emphatically ¡°It¡¯s so hard to find good support class players! We¡¯ve got two heavy hitters and a range player but no support so we waste such a massive amount of our money on healing and buff potions! You¡¯d pay for yourself, instantly!¡±

    ¡°OK, but¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be¡­ [fourth-wheeling]?¡±

    She chuckles ¡°Don¡¯t get it twisted, now! We are a polycule but you¡¯d only be one of the foursome in the party sense¡­ and maybe the friendly sense¡­ but no other sense!¡­ We¡¯re poly but that¡¯s not the same as being in an open relationship! Separate sleeping arrangements for you and us. If that¡¯s a dealbreaker, then I¡¯m sorry!¡±

    I consider the terrifying woman¡¯s proposal.

    I am certainly not disappointed by this being an entirely platonic offer¡­ I was just bemoaning the level wall I¡¯d run into¡­ and this would be a wonderful opportunity to socialise.

    Tentatively, I say ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯ll see how I feel after a mission or two but let¡¯s party up until then¡­¡±

    The woman¡¯s greenskinned face lights up as she says ¡°Amazing! Let me finish my pancakes and send you a friend request, then we can go!¡­ You alright with riding my shoulder? I wanna go fast to catch up to them!¡±

    ¡°That sounds¡­ exhilarating¡­¡± I answer, anxiously.

    ---later---

    Sat with the woman¡¯s broad, brawny shoulder beneath me, far higher in the air than I¡¯m comfortable with, we are racing down the Southward road, the village we met in a distant memory behind us.

    I see the recognisable backs of a slim, white haired [Elf] and a thickly armoured, orangey-yellow plaited haired [Dwarf] ahead of us.

    ¡°Guys!¡± shouts the woman playing mount to me.

    The two turn around as we rapidly approach them. Their eyes mirror eachother''s as they look first to their companion then, surprised,  to me.

    We draw up to them and the giantess puts me down.

    ¡°Sorry about last night, you two! Bad signal patch¡­¡± says Ursul, regretfully.

    ¡°No problem, babes¡­ Who¡¯s this?¡± says the [Dwarf]woman, gesturing to me.

    ¡°Guys¡­ meet Lorena¡­ she¡¯s a cleric, and I invited her for a trial run in our party¡­ hope that¡¯s alright¡­¡±

    The other two both look surprised¡­ but don¡¯t seem upset.

    The sun haired [Dwarf] smiles at me ¡°Hello, Lorena¡­ I¡¯m Daertyn. It¡¯s nice to meet you!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Yelren and likewise!¡± nods the [Elf].

    ¡°Nice to meet you, too¡­!¡± I smile, hoping I can get them to like me.

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXV: Pancakes and Dungeons

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    I make my way through the ruined temple, doing my best to avoid getting transfixed by the light and colour of my torch flame.

    I feel the weight of my lootbags and try not to get too excited by the amount of money I¡¯ll have once I get back to a town and sell off the valuable items I¡¯ve acquired here!

    I still need my wits about me for the moment!

    I¡¯m instantly proven right as I round a corner and see a pack of five goblins.

    I drop my lootbags and switch my torch to my right hand, drawing my crossbow with my left and loosing a bolt which catches the biggest, nastiest looking one in the head.

    The other four are immediately aggroed and begin charging at me.

    I cock my crossbow with the edge of my torch hand and loose a second bolt, felling another.

    Before they reach me, I drop the crossbow and draw a long, needle thin rapier.

    I slash across the chest of the first to arrive, causing a shriek of pain from him!

    I redirect the tip into the chest of the second.

    Sliding between his ribs, it punctures his lung. He gurgles and quickly falls down.

    The wounded one and the final one fly at me in a volley of ferocious knife attacks, all of which I manage to dodge or parry.

    I see an opening and slash across the throat of the uninjured one.

    He falls and, now able to concentrate entirely on the wounded one, I make short work of him!

    Panting, I pull out a cloth and clean the blood from my blade before sheathing it.

    These guys would have been a problem for me when my level was lower!

    I pick up my crossbow and holster it back at my hip before picking up my sacks of loot.

    ¡°Sorry, boys¡­¡± I shrug to the bodies of the goblins ¡°¡­had other things planned today beside being turned into your breeding slave(!)¡±

    I walk on and soon find myself at a great opening overlooking a bright, green, grassy steppe.

    The world looks so amazing in colour! I wish I could see like this all the time¡­ definitely miss having four hands though!

    I extinguish my torch and stow it in my inventory.

    Taking hold of the long rope I climbed in on in my left hand and my bags in the other, I effortlessly abseil down from the masoned overhang, through free space, to the ground, 20m or so below.

    I touchdown with a graceful knee bend and immediately begin swinging the rope to try and dislodge the grapple.

    It comes down and I manage to catch it before it hits the ground.

    I turn to pick up the lootbags¡­ and only then do I see him.

    There, half my height again and looking the best part of a tonne in mass¡­ stands a man!

    From the waist up, his broad, deep, mostly bare, light skinned, muscular chest looking as if it was sculpted from marble!

    His crossed arms look powerful enough to snap iron!

    Two long, fluffy ears protrude from the sides of a red and black, plumed Corinthian helm, out of which peer two stern, disapproving, emerald eyes.

    A portion of a thick, red beard is visible through the gap in his visor

    From the waist down, however, he takes the form of a powerfully built warhorse, with a coat the same colour as the beard, ears and helmet plume¡­

    The only clothing he wears besides the helmet is a strap across his chest, keeping a thick pauldron in place at his shoulder, and a padded skirt around where his two halves join.

    Across his withers is sheathed a gigantic sword, its blade inches thick and well over a metre long! That thing looks like it weighs substantially more than I do!

    At his left hip is coiled a cruel looking whip!

    I put on a friendly smile and open my mouth.

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    The black haired Human puts on a fake smile and says ¡°Good Sir Centaur!¡­ What an unexpected pleasure¡­ I was just¡­¡±

    ¡°Trespassing¡­!¡± I spit, my avatar''s voice much deeper than my own ¡°¡­on my people¡¯s ancestral lands, stealing¡­!¡± I gesture to her bags and then up at the dungeon she just exited ¡°¡­from one of the sacred places under our stewardship and, little doubt, MURDERING whatever poor waifs happened to be taking shelter in there and you deemed to be an¡­¡± I snarl ¡°¡­inconvenience to you!¡±

    ¡°Now, Sir Centaur, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re a reasonable¡­ individual¡­ I¡¯m certain we two can come to an understanding! You see, I¡¯m Daphne Silvercreste¡­ the daughter of the Archd¡­¡±

    ¡°I care not one whit for your family name, nor whatever arrogant little Human nobles were your dam and sire, girl!¡± I boom, disdainfully ¡°They should have done a better job in teaching you the consequences of your actions¡­ because, now, teaching you that lesson has fallen to me!¡±

    I advance on her, my hooves clopping against the stones.

    Lightning fast, her rapier is in her hand and pointed at me.

    ¡°Stay back, beast!¡± she says, all pretence of amiability gone.

    ¡°Ah, not ¡®Sir Centaur¡¯ anymore, am I? How quickly you forget your respects when treating with the nonpliable(!)¡± I say, not breaking stride.

    ¡°I¡¯m warning you!¡± she says, backing against the wall.

    I get to the edge of her guard and reach out to pinch the tip of her sword.

    ¡°What do you think to do with this, girl? Are you intending to threaten me with an acupuncture session(?)¡± I sneer before pulling her toward me by the blade and bending to put the front of my helmet a mere hand¡¯s breadth from her face ¡°Here is my offer¡­ relinquish the sword, relinquish the crossbow, relinquish to me whatever relics you stole from this sacred place as well as everything else you have¡­ and I will spare you your life. Do not¡­ and¡­ well¡­¡± I place a hand on the hilt of my buster sword, pointedly.

    The stunningly gorgeous Human girl flicks her grey eyes from mine to my sword hilt and back a few times before she answers ¡°Alright¡­ I give up¡­ I surrender¡­ take everything I have¡­ all of it!¡± letting go of the rapier, which swings from where my hand holds its tip, acting more annoyed than anything else.

    She pulls her crossbow from its holster and hands it to me along with a quiver full of quarrels.

    ¡°The scabbard¡­¡± I say, gesturing to her hip. She rolls her eyes and unfixes it before handing it over.

    ¡°The bags¡­¡± I say, pointing to her satchels of loot.

    ¡°You can¡¯t get those yourself?¡± she sneers ¡°They¡¯re just on the ground! You could just reach down and take them!¡±

    ¡°And receive a Human dagger to the neck the moment I took my eyes off of you¡­ I would deserve as much for being so fool as to trust a Human¡­!¡±

    She sighs, bends down, picks up her bags and thrusts them at me with a demeanour that says ¡®There! You happy now!¡¯

    I take her bags and deposit everything she¡¯s given me into my inventory.

    Then I withdraw a length of rope¡­ and snatch her wrist!

    ¡°Wait! That wasn¡¯t the deal!¡± she protests, attempting to yank her hand away ¡°You said if I gave you all my stuff you¡¯d let me go!¡±

    ¡°Spoiled little princesses ought to pay more attention to the deals they make!¡± I say in answer ¡°I promised to spare your life, and so I am¡­ I never promised to let you go!¡± I catch her other wrist and begin winding the rope around both of them ¡°You, on the other hand, agreed to relinquish to me ¡®everything you have¡¯¡­ by my reckoning, that includes your youth, your beauty, your body¡­ and that life I¡¯m sparing¡­ you¡¯ll be spending the rest of it atoning for your greed, girl!¡±

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°You won¡¯t get away with this!¡± I shout at the beast leading me behind him by my bound hands ¡°When my father finds out what¡¯s been done to me it will mean war! You think you can just take me to a town and sell me at some slave market!? Whoever buys me I can promise them ten times whatever they pay you for me to take me back home, untouched!¡­ I was well within my rights to raid that temple! The Edicts of Valanara give salvage rights to finders of all artefacts in structures abandoned longer than 300 years! That temple¡¯s got to be millennia old! You know, the last time there was a civilisation here!¡± I gesture around at the barren wastes.

    I wait for a response from the Centaur with deepness and sonorous volume to his voice, only possible by having his entire (Human) chest cavity dedicated to lungs and diaphragm.

    No response comes.

    ¡°Centaurs are supposed to be a friendly race! Sure, not civilised but not the kind of barbarians who run around kidnapping poor, defenceless damsels! Brutes like you will give your whole species a bad name! You really think that robbing, kidnapping and enslaving me is justice!? Don¡¯t make me laugh! You¡¯re nothing more than a bandit! You¡¯ll get what¡¯s coming to you!¡±

    No sound returns, save the thudding of his hooves on the grass.

    Running forward a few steps to give myself some slack in the line, I bend to pick up a stone and, with both arms, hurl it at his back, screaming ¡°SAY something, damn it!!!¡±

    He darts his upper body to one side, dodging the rock, somehow having ascertained a) that I threw a rock at him and b) where he needed his body not to be, to avoid getting hit by it, in spite of the fact that his senses should be blinkered by his helmet!

    I suppose, he might have heard it, with his long, fluffy ears out like that?

    He turns to glare back at me and yanks the rope to pull me forward. I hit the ground and the wind is knocked out of me.

    He booms ¡°Justice is not ¡®banditry¡¯ simply because you do not agree with it, Human! You know nothing of my people and it shows! the Edicts of Valanara do not apply to that temple because they require the structure to be on unclaimed, wild land! There is civilisation on this steppe, NOW, even if you do not recognise it! I would welcome the chance to ride down whatever Human army might attempt to come to your rescue. As would my brethren! Finally, I have no intention of selling you to anyone! Now, get up¡­ and hold your peace, lest I decide you need to be gagged!¡± before turning back around.

    Sullenly, I stand back up and start walking.

    He wants me to ¡®hold my peace¡¯? Fine! I¡¯ll be niiiiice and quiet! Almost like I¡¯m not here at all(!)

    I spend the next few minutes saying nothing and walking closely enough behind him that the rope trails on the ground from the slack.

    Surreptitiously, I bring my fingers to the knot between my wrists and begin working it loose.

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    Something¡¯s¡­ not¡­ right¡­

    I turn around to see that what I¡¯m leading along, at some point, became nothing more than a length of rope!

    I cast around and see a speck, off in the distance, moving fast away from me.

    ¡°Son of a¡­!¡± I curse, rear up on my hindlegs to swivel my massive body in that direction and gallop that way!

    By comparison to how fast my four hooved legs eat up the distance on this grassy steppe, the girl barely seems to be moving!

    She looks around, hearing my approach, but there¡¯s nothing to be done save to keep running.

    I pull alongside her, to her right, and, with a mixture of irritation and impressed amusement, say ¡°Greetings, princess(!) Where exactly do you think you¡¯re going? By my count, you¡¯ve still got an entire lifetime you owe me!¡±

    Then, I yank back the pommel of my giant sword, at my right hip, causing the scabbard to swing forward over my left, whacking her in the back of the head in a way that definitely would have concussed her in real life!

    She falls forward, arse over tit, and comes to rest in the grass, groaning.

    I turn and walk to stand over her.

    ¡°You are cunning, princess¡­ for that I commend you! Even if all you¡¯ve actually succeeded in doing is receiving a head injury and proving to me that you need to be bound more thoroughly(!)¡±

    I bend down and, withdrawing several more coils of rope from my inventory, begin the work of tying her legs to one another.

    Rolling her over, I bind her arms behind her and tie them tight, feeling a tiny pang of disappointment as I reflexively reach for a second set of arms that isn¡¯t there!

    I fish in one of her pouches and find a cloth, covered in orange blood¡­ I briefly consider using it to gag her¡­ but decide that¡¯s just a step too far! I find another (clean) cloth which I wad into a ball then pull out a length of silk scarf from another pouch.

    I roll her back over and bring the wad to her mouth.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Wait¡­ no¡­ stop¡­ don¡¯t gag me¡­please that¡¯s-mmmnmhmff¡­¡± she protests, weakly as I shove the cloth between her lips, stuffing it down to utterly fill her mouth.

    I hold it there with my thumb as I say ¡°Just be glad I¡¯m kind enough not to use the rag slick with the blood of your victims, Human! You¡¯ve proven to me that you can be trusted neither to keep quiet nor when you are quiet!¡± and draw the scarf between her lips, cleave gagging her, then around her head again in an over the mouth gag.

    ¡°Just one more finishing touch¡­¡± I say, tearing her shirt open to expose her period accurate bra analogue, some lengths of cloth wrapped around her in such a way as to push up her stunning breasts!

    ¡°There¡­ a pretty sight now that you can¡¯t run, can¡¯t talk and have your chest exposed for any passers by to see(!)¡± I say, lifting her onto my back, just behind my buster sword.

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Mmmph! Mmm nnng nrrvm vumnh hmmmnuh! Hnnguh nnnghn bhgmuh! Ummvm mh mmmhgm!¡± I burble senselessly, continuously and indignantly through my gag, having recovered from the virtual head injury and being rightly outraged by being slung over the Centaur¡¯s back with my shirt ripped open and carried like cargo while we canter down the road¡­!

    ¡°MMMPHH!¡± I shriek as I receive a harsh smack to my shapely Human arse.

    ¡°What part of being gagged made you think I was interested in continuing to hear your noise, girl?!¡±

    Not wanting another spank (yet) I keep quiet as we approach an ominous looking craggy mountain at the edge of the steppe.

    My platform becomes somewhat diagonal as the Centaur begins climbing a narrow path up the mountain.

    I don¡¯t get much of a view, facing the wall, but, then again, it might be for the best not to discover I¡¯m acrophobic while tied up on someone¡¯s back, being carried up a mountain and forced to look out over what may be a drop of hundreds of metres(!)

    We eventually reach a relatively large, flat area, surrounded on almost all sides by sheer, craggy rock walls.

    On the far side of the area is a cavemouth.

    The Centaur says ¡°Welcome to where you¡¯ll be living for the rest of your life!¡± and pushes me off of his back, to land with a hard *thud* on the solid stone ground.

    I look up at him as he fiddles with a menu for a few moments.

    A cruel, evil looking, hinged collar (exactly the diameter of my avatar¡¯s neck) and a matching bracelet (exactly the diameter of the Centaur¡¯s wrist) appear in his hands.

    They¡¯re made of jet black metal (though absent the subtle, wavy, rippling, Damascus pattern that would give them away as durasteel) and each set with a glowing red jewel.

    ¡°You know what these are?¡± asks the deep voiced Centaur, leaning over me and holding up the items.

    ¡°Nnh-nnnn¡­¡± I lie, shaking my head.

    Of course I know what they are¡­ but my character doesn¡¯t¡­

    ¡°This¡­¡± he holds up the collar ¡°¡­is an enthrallment collar¡­ whoever is wearing this becomes enthralled to whoever is wearing this!¡± he holds up the bracelet ¡°I¡¯m going to put this on you and, once I do, you¡¯ll be mine¡­ FOREVER! You¡¯ll atone for the lives you¡¯ve taken by giving life back! The Centaur race that you disdain as ¡®uncivilised brutes¡¯ will see its continuation through your loins! You will be the broodmare to my foals¡­ the mother to my children!¡±

    I act horrified and start attempting to caterpillar-crawl away from him but he catches one of his shibari knotts between my legs and drags me back by it.

    ¡°I am going to untie you and ungag you, after I put this on you, and, when I do, you are not to run, you are not to scream, you are not to speak unless spoken to and you are to do everything I say (and nothing I don¡¯t) exactly when and how I say to do it, understood?!¡±

    I shake my head, vigorously from side to side.

    In answer, he gives a single puff through his nose and says ¡°You know¡­ the great thing about this is¡­ you don¡¯t need to understand! It¡¯ll work, aaaaall the same!¡± then he places the evil devices around my neck and his wrist, making me (temporarily at least) entirely subject to his will!

    There¡¯s still one more step necessary to make this as permanent as he suggested it was but, right now, my avatar is entirely incapable of disobedience or removing the thing that¡¯s making me so!

    He ungags me, no longer needing three layers of gag to keep me quiet.

    He unties me, no longer needing six lengths of rope to keep me from running.

    He stands, looking down on me and commands ¡°Up!¡±

    My avatar stands up without waiting to give me any input.

    ¡°Undress¡­¡± commands the beast who¡¯s just made himself my Master.

    My body, again, does not wait for a yea or nay from me before it shrugs off my destroyed shirt, unbuckles my stylish adventuring boots, pushes off my fancy breeches, removes my boob bindings and slides off my panties and hosiery.

    I might be imagining it but the dour Centaur looks almost like he¡¯s smirking down at me through his helmet, for a moment!

    ¡°Come!¡± he says, beckoning me to him.

    My feet move on their own and I find myself staring at his muscular midriff.

    He bends his front legs to bring our faces level and commands ¡°Take off my pauldron¡­¡±

    My hands reach out to grasp the strap that is his only chestwear and lift it, along with the heavy armour piece, over his head, tossing it behind myself to land on the pile of my clothes.

    ¡°Take off my sword¡­¡± he instructs and my hands go to his padded kilt, unfastening it and allowing the monstrous sword to hit the ground at his side, pulling the cloth off with it.

    ¡°Take off my helmet¡­¡±

    I reach to lift up the sturdy helm, off his head, exposing a face I know very well¡­

    I¡¯ve never seen him with quite this much beard in the real world¡­ He doesn¡¯t have ears that long, hair that long, eyebrows that bushy or a face quite that hard there, either. Nonetheless¡­ there¡¯s no mistaking who I¡¯m looking at!

    The beautiful man leans his face toward mine, his gorgeous green eyes transfixed¡­ before he remembers himself.

    He clears his throat, points to my right and says ¡°You, first, need to be punished for what you¡¯ve done¡­ go and stand between those rock pillars, pull your hair over your shoulder, spread your legs and grasp the rope handles¡­¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    She walks off in the direction I pointed and I give a gasping exhale (as soon as I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll hear).

    That was close¡­ that was too fucking close!

    This is meant to be ¡®The Enslavement of the Bratty Rich-Bitch to the Cruel Centaur¡¯! What it is decidedly not meant to be is ¡®The True Love Connection of the Lovely Noble-Girl and the Centaur Whose Heart Grew Three Sizes¡¯(!)

    Save the mushy-mushy for aftercare, Victor! Chrissake!

    You can kiss and cuddle and moon and make goo-goo eyes, later!

    Can¡¯t get soft on her just because she looks like a doe-eyed, real life, goth Barbiedoll!

    Right! I am an unyielding bastard with an indecipherable, yet unwavering, moral compass! Assault-happy goblins are ¡®poor waifs¡¯, Humans are monstrous destroyers, exploiters and desecraters, trespassing and archaeology(/graverobbing) are crimes worthy of a sentence of permanent sexual slavery (without trial) but enslaving someone is A-OK!

    In three¡­ two¡­ one¡­

    I pick my whip up off my belt and stand.

    I turn to see her, exactly where I told her to be, standing with her gorgeous curtain of long, black hair tucked over her right shoulder, leaving her pristine, creamy white back (which I¡¯m about to make very unpristine) entirely exposed to me, her legs spread wide, her arms reaching up to grasp the rope handles I made for her, above her head,

    Unspooling the whip, I give it a test and hear the *swoosh* then loud *CRACK* as the tip is accelerated past the sound barrier (at least, that¡¯s what would be making that sound, in the real world¡­ In here, it could just be a sound effect. No reason for them to have gone out of their way to model accurate acoustic physics if a sound effect was easier¡­)

    She winces at the noise.

    I approach, letting her hear every hoof clop as I do and, periodically, dry cracking my whip.

    I get to a whip length plus an arm length¡¯s distance from her.

    ¡°Thrall¡­¡± I say, not even calling her ¡®girl¡¯ or ¡®Human¡¯ anymore, let alone ¡®princess¡¯ ¡°¡­you are permitted to scream. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°I understand¡­¡± answers the girl, instantly.

    ¡°When you address me, you are to do so as ¡®Master¡¯, do you understand?¡±

    ¡°I understand, Master.¡± she responds, quivering slightly.

    ¡°Good¡­¡± I say, pulling back the whip and slashing it viciously forward without warning.

    She screams as a red streak mars the beautiful skin of her back.

    ¡°You are nothing but a filthy, little thief, aren¡¯t you thrall!?¡±

    She says nothing.

    ¡°ANSWER your Master when he asks you a question, thrall!¡± I snarl, bringing the whip down on her again.

    She screams and says ¡°Yes¡­ Master! Your thrall is nothing but a filthy, little thief, Sir¡­ and a who-o-o-o-ore!¡± the part she added being interrupted by whimpering from being struck again.

    ¡°Good! You are permitted to cry!¡± I say, followed by her immediately bursting into tears as I crack her again, asking ¡°Humans are the lowest and most despicable of all the races, aren¡¯t they, thrall?¡±

    She hesitates but, unable not to answer a question I¡¯ve asked (now that I¡¯ve given it as an ongoing command) answers with her own question ¡°M-must¡­ I-I-I¡­ an-answer¡­ honestly¡­ M-Master?¡±

    I smirk ¡°NO! You must tell me that Humans are the lowest and most despicable of all the races, thrall!¡±

    ¡°H-Humans¡­ ar-r-re the¡­. l-lowest and most¡­ d-despicable of all the¡­ r-races, M-Master!¡±

    ¡°Good giiiiirl! I permit you to beg me to stop!¡±

    ¡°Please s-stop, Mas-ster! It¡¯s s-so painf-YAAAH!¡± she shrieks as yet another red streak mars her back.

    ¡°You are enjoying yourself, aren¡¯t you thrall!? This is exciting for you!¡± I demand with (partly) affected mania.

    ¡°Y-your th-thrall is v-v-v-very excited, Mast-ter! Sh-She¡¯s enj-j-joying herself v-very much!¡± she answers, honestly.

    ¡°Is she looking forward to a lifetime of servitude?¡± *CRACK* To never again having free will?¡± *Swooosh**CRACK* ¡°To becoming a broodmare, sex-pet, SLAVE to an insatiable, Centaur BRUTE?!¡± *KA-CRACK* ¡°Does she look forward to seeing her belly swell with his seed?¡± *CRACK* ¡°Does she think it¡¯s a fitting punishment for her crimes?!¡±

    Clearly really struggling now, my thrall answers ¡°¡­T¡¯sss¡­m-m-m-more¡­.l-like a r¡­r-r-reward!¡±

    I cease my whipping, smirk at her back and say ¡°A REWARD, you say?! My, MY!!! A thief and a degenerate!!! What a lucky catch! Well, if you truly are that eager, I see no need for further delay! Come! Let us seal the pact!¡±

    She releases the ropes and turns to stumble, limply, toward me.

    She collapses into my arms and I squeeze her tenderly (breaking character, slightly) and whisper ¡°You did amazing, baby! Just a bit further!¡± into her ear (breaking character, slightly more).

    I scoop her up and carry her to a convenient rock with a flat (conveniently Centaur dick height) top.

    I place her, face down, with her legs dangling over the edge, her entrancing bottom raised at the right angle of her body, the tops of her thighs framing two, wet pussy lips.

    I lift my front left hoof to her left side and my right to her right.

    I walk my body forward until I feel something soft and wet against the tip of my long, hard, horse cock.

    I tip my upper body forward and place my palms on the rock.

    Looking down to see the gorgeous, black haired woman sandwiched between the hard stone and my undercarriage I see her grey eyes are crossed.

    I give her a smile¡­ and then plunge inside her!

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    Ho¡­ly¡­ FUCK¡­ing¡­ T¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®¨®rr!

    My mind is going to break!

    This is blessed euphoria!

    My back is rawer than its ever been from the whipping I never would have been able to stand up to, in real life!

    A pair of horse legs are pinning mine to the wall, a horse trunk is pinning me to the table and a huge horse cock is in the process of rearranging my guts! All this while I get to enjoy the view of the powerful, muscular arms ahead of me and, just beyond, the manliest, bearded face in existence looking as ecstatically blissful as mine feels (though, I¡¯m probably actually pulling a full on ahegao, right now!)

    The bearded man bites his lip and grunts. I feel his thick member pulsate.

    I scream as he brings me to orgasm!

    As I lie there, groaning in post orgasmic bliss beneath my lover, two notifications pop up. One in front of my face (struggling to find space between Victor¡¯s underside and the table top) and a (presumably identical one) the same distance from his face.

    {IT LOOKS LIKE YOU ARE ATTEMPTING TO ENTHRAL THE CHARACTER Daphne Silvercreste TO THE

    CHARACTER Gaeth Dustmarch. DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?}

    {YES} {NO}

    {WARNING: THIS STEP IS IRREVERSIBLE!}

    Victor presses something on his but my vision is too blurry to make out what.

    Limply, I bring my finger to the {YES} button before completely collapsing.

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Everythin¡¯ you¡¯d hoped?¡± I say to the beautiful woman using my chest as a seatback as I stroke my hands over the newly appeared thralldom sigil on her naked belly, just over her womb, and we sit by the fire in my cave.

    ¡°Yes¡­ it was amazing! But please use your normal voice!¡± she giggles.

    ¡°You don¡¯t like Gaeth Dustmarch¡¯s dulcet tones(!?)¡± I tease ¡°You don¡¯t think his deep voice is sexier than Victor¡¯s high, nasal one(!?)¡±

    ¡°Extremely sexy, Victor (like being Dommed by a horny Centaur version of Christopher Judge¡¯s Kratos) but¡­ for the sake of my virtual eardrums!¡±

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll stop¡­¡± I grin.

    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± she says before adding ¡°¡­your voice isn¡¯t high or nasal Victor¡­ it¡¯s very lovely!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard what I sound like on tape! I sound like a kid from a 20th century Stateser media work, set in a ¡®high school¡¯, who¡¯s ¡¯bout to get his lunch money nicked then his head stuck down a water toilet while he goes¡­¡± I hold my nose for maximum effect ¡°¡­¡®Oh, ngo! Ngmy nnglaaaasses!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s truly just your imagination, Victor! You don¡¯t sound like that. At. ALL! Everyone hates the way their voice sounds on tape!¡±

    ¡°Bet ya preferred playin¡¯ with me while my voice was deep and booming, though!¡± I say, wryly.

    She inhales, choosing her next words carefully before responding ¡°I won¡¯t lie, Victor¡­ your Centaur voice is extreeeeemely sexy but¡­!¡±

    ¡°Knew it!¡± I laugh.

    ¡°¡­buuuuuuuut¡­!¡± she insists ¡°¡­if I were given the choice between that voice and yours, for every time I have sex ever again, I would choose yours¡­ instantly!¡±

    ¡°Awww¡­ babes! That¡¯s so sweet¡­¡­¡­ how you¡¯re willin¡¯ to settle like that(!)¡± I tease.

    She scoffs and gives up on trying to convince me of the sexiness of my voice.

    There¡¯s a long moment of silence before she asks ¡°What about me¡­?¡±

    ¡°What about you?¡± I ask, genuinely unsure what she means!

    ¡°How was having me as a Human?¡­ Did you prefer it?¡±

    I chuckle and, pulling on her long black hair to force her to look upward, I bend down to give her a Spiderman kiss before answering ¡°Ain¡¯t gonna lie¡­ your Human form IS sssssssssssssMOKin¡¯ hot¡­buuuuuuuut¡­if I was given the choice between this face and your real one, for every time I have sex ever again¡­ I would choose yours¡­ instantly!¡­ Nothin¡¯ beats the real thing!¡±

    She beams up at me and we return to our lazy cuddling for a while before another topic of conversation comes up.

    ¡°Now that I think about it¡­ aren¡¯t these things like¡­ super dangerous to have in the game?¡± I ask, bringing a finger to her slave collar and holding up my control bracelet.

    ¡°How do you figure?¡± asks Tuun.

    ¡°Well¡­ like, imagin¡¯ you¡¯re a bad actor¡­? You see another pretty player that catches your eye¡­ rather ¡¯an goin¡¯ up an¡¯ talkin¡¯ to ¡¯em, tryin¡¯ to strike up an acquaintanceship that¡¯ll turn into a friendship that¡¯ll turn into a romance that¡¯ll turn into a sexual relationship (or even just goin¡¯ up to ¡¯em an¡¯ tryin¡¯ your luck with skippin¡¯ straight to sexytimes)¡­ or maybe you try an¡¯ they ain¡¯t receptive¡­ what¡¯s to stop you just¡­ gettin¡¯ a set of these and followin¡¯ ¡¯em ¡¯round for a bit? Wait till their alone, pop out, clamp one of these ¡¯round ¡¯em and, hey presto! Instant, unwillin¡¯, in game, sex slave!¡±

    ¡°The victim in that scenario could log out before anything happened, spawn back in a different part of the map and then report the perpetrator. The collar wouldn¡¯t stay with them through the logout, preenthrallment¡­ Logs would be checked and the perpetrator would almost certainly serve mandatory, real world, prison rehabilitation for trying something like that!¡±

    ¡°OK¡­ but what if¡­ I dunno¡­ what if someone hacked it to stop ¡¯em loggin¡¯ out?¡±

    She scoffs at that ¡°If a person were that good at hacking, it would be easier for them to hack the game directly than to fiddle around with in game kink play items! I did my research before we started playing! It¡¯s a solid, well built game with a responsible developer! Stop torturing yourself with hypotheticals¡­ this is just like when you asked if there was any possibility of someone impersonating another player, arranging a CNC and directing the Dom(me) to attack the one they were impersonating! Not gonna happen! Too many safeguards! Too good a game!¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ you¡¯re right¡­ I¡¯ve just heard too many horror stories!¡­ It is a great game!¡­ Should thank Kas for recommendin¡¯ it to us! You wanna play with her and her party next time we¡¯re in comrange?¡±

    ¡°That sounds nice¡­¡± she says, idly, before a thought seems to occur to her ¡°¡­Hey! You don¡¯t think they use this game the way we use this game¡­ do you?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it¡­ when we play with ¡¯em, we''ll turn these invisible..." I gesture to the collar and bracelet "¡­They ain¡¯t gonna ask ¡¯bout how we use this game¡­ and we ain¡¯t gone ask how they use it!¡± I smile.

    ¡°So you do think they use it to have sex?¡± she asks, seeming almost alarmed(!)

    ¡°What, you mean¡­ do I think the adult woman and her adult future husband and wife who¡¯ve been livin¡¯ in sin for years already and¡¯re currently separated physically by half a galaxy¡¯s width¡­ might, potentially, be usin¡¯ this game (that¡¯s got kink compatibility as onna its core sellin¡¯ points) to have freaky (not possible in the real world) sex with eachother, to ameliorate the crushin¡¯ weighta their separation¡­(?!)¡­ Naaaaah(!) Bet nonna ¡¯em ever even had sex(!) Bet they don¡¯t even know what sex is(!) ¡®¡®Sex¡¯ you say? Is that some sort of fish dish?¡¯(!!!)¡±

    She laughs ¡°Alright, arsehole(!) Why don¡¯t you go and hack the game to find out(!)¡±

    ¡°Oooooh(!) Human Tuun is sassy!¡± I retort, mirthfully.

    ¡°Daaaaamn right!¡± *snap**snap**snap* she says, snapping her five fingered hand in front of her.

    ¡°Alright, sassypants! Few more hours o¡¯ cuddlin¡¯, then we gotta log out cause I gotta feed Fluffy in a few IRL minutes or she¡¯s gonna start gnawin¡¯ on our bodies¡­ and both of us gotta feed ourselves!¡±

    She pouts but doesn¡¯t complain otherwise as she says ¡°Alright¡­ fun while it lasted!¡±

    ¡°You know what you want?¡±

    She leans her head against my chest and says ¡°Pancakes¡­ Do you even need to ask?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.75

    ---Friction---

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°She. is. insufferable!¡± decries the agitated Terran, his face glowing brightly with the heat of his anger!

    ¡°I can see her behaviour has upset you.¡± I observe.

    ¡°¡®Upset¡¯ don¡¯t bloody cover it!¡± he proclaims ¡°She ain¡¯t been on board for two weeks and she¡¯s already pissed off just about everyone in Triple M, Plus Ultra and Elysium!¡­ Most of the rest of the crew too, I¡¯d wager!¡­ I was humpin¡¯ some crates, the other day, and after I was done strappin¡¯ ¡¯em down, she came and took photos of the fuckin¡¯ straps! I asked her what she was doin¡¯ and she sneers that she was documentin¡¯ the frayed fastenin¡¯s! Frayed!!!¡±

    He holds out his hand in a gesture of ¡®can you believe it?!¡¯

    ¡°They weren¡¯t frayed, I take it?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No they were bloody not!¡­ They had some superficial scuffs on ¡¯em but they were absolutely not frayed!¡­ If you want pristine straps then what your askin¡¯ for is brand new straps for every time you strap somethin¡¯ down!¡± he says, waving his hand to emphasise the ridiculousness.

    ¡°So how did you respond?¡± I say, curiously.

    ¡°I calmly told her that the crates are self securin¡¯ and ain¡¯t required to be strapped down! I only do it as a belt-and-braces measure¡­ You wanna know what she said¡­?!¡±

    ¡°Tell me.¡± I invite, calmly.

    ¡°She said they might not be required to be strapped down but, if they are, regulations require unfrayed straps!¡­ The straps weren¡¯t fuckin¡¯ frayed!!!¡±

    I don¡¯t ask the man to calm himself since nothing is less calming than to be told to ¡®calm down¡¯ when you¡¯re experiencing what you view as righteous anger!

    Instead, I ask ¡°Did you say that to her?¡±

    He gives an exhausted exhale ¡°Not in so many words¡­ I said ¡®I don¡¯t believe the structural integrity of the straps has been compromised, Ma¡¯am¡¯.¡±

    ¡°It sounds like you handled that very maturely.¡± I smile.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ Tcakqaal and Emiko spoke to us about her the day after we pushed off from R¡¯qal¡­ warned us that she¡¯s a flamin¡¯ bigot and that she¡¯s gonna be lookin¡¯ for stuff to take umbrage with! They told us not to loose our tempers with her¡­ even if she provokes us. If we shout at her, if we act aggressively, it¡¯s gonna look bad!¡­ I almost think she¡¯d want one of us to hurt her¡­ just to fuckin¡¯ prove her right about us!¡­ Tcakqaal¡¯s theory is that she¡¯s gonna change her mind about us once she gets to know us¡­ I don¡¯t see it happenin¡¯, personally!¡±

    ¡°Yes, I imagine it would be difficult to change your negative opinion of a group with whom you approach every interaction with needless antagonism.¡±

    He nods then says ¡°Oh, yeah!¡­ She and her husband came and watched us trainin¡¯ with Sh¨©fu the other day and they was makin¡¯ snide remarks the whole time! Or¡­ she was! The guy was just doin¡¯ that simperin¡¯ little giggle of his at all of ¡¯em!¡­ Sh¨©fu didn¡¯t acknowledge ¡¯em and so, neither did we¡­ until¡­¡±

    His bright face twists.

    I prompt ¡°Until?¡±

    ¡°It was time for meditation¡­ she kept makin¡¯ her little comments. Now, Sh¨©fu¡¯s the most easy goin¡¯ kinda guy you¡¯d ever wanna meet! Not at all the kinda brutal hardarse you¡¯d picture if someone told you to imagine the deadliest man in the universe! I guess he¡¯s been so far above everyone else for so long that he¡¯s sorta come to look at the world as like a ¡­ ¡®joke¡¯¡¯s not quite right¡­ not ¡®plaything¡¯ either.¡±

    ¡°An entertainment, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! That¡¯s more like it!¡­ Y¡¯know? Like he¡¯s just happy to be wherever he is! Like he just finds everythin¡¯ so delightful!¡­ There¡¯s one exception¡­ one thing I¡¯ve seen piss that man off¡­¡±

    ¡°People disturbing or otherwise not respecting the act of meditation?¡± I suggest.

    The Terran places a forefinger on his nose and points to me ¡°Bingo!¡­ He gets up, walks over to ¡¯em and tells ¡¯em they¡¯ve either gotta leave or keep quiet¡­ Like, he weren¡¯t shoutin¡¯ or nothin¡¯ but you could tell he was about done with their shit! You wanna know her response¡­!?¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Please.¡± I smile.

    ¡°She made fun of him for bein¡¯ short!¡± he purses his lips and gestures his irritation with a jab of his flattened palm ¡°Short! Like he ain¡¯t the most dangerous man alive! Like he wouldn¡¯t be able to kill everyone abord with his bare hands if the mood struck him! Like he ain¡¯t the founder of an entire temple school and in the Shaolin lineage of what¡¯s gotta be thousands of people! NoOoOoOoOoOo¡­ he¡¯s just a short man! Like she ain¡¯t 135cm odd, herself!¡±

    ¡°Did Yu¨¢n seem bothered by this?¡±

    ¡°Nah¡­ like water off a duck¡¯s back to him! He just repeated that she needed to go without the option of stayin¡¯ quietly this time. But, like, that sorta ain¡¯t the point! Like, of course he didn¡¯t get to where he is risin¡¯ to petty insults by pettier people, like that! But I was livid on his behalf! Seein¡¯ her disrespect him like that made me wanna fuckin¡¯ strangle her!¡±

    He realises what he said a moment after saying it and clarifies ¡°That was not a statement of intent! I am not going to strangle her! I was just very angry, is all I mean!¡±

    I giggle ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Victor. You¡¯re still a long way off from the point where I would actually judge you to be a danger to this woman. I can distinguish a Terran who is upset from a Terran who is dangerous¡­ You¡¯re reacting less angrily to this woman than my husband did(!)¡±

    His face falls and I instantly realise I¡¯ve made a mistake.

    ¡°What she say to him?¡± he asks, his tone low and level but calculating and penetrating!

    ¡°Oh¡­ nothing important¡­¡± I lie, unconvincingly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know your husband, Alchyinad¡­ but from what I hear from my friends whose therapist he is¡­ He don¡¯t strike me as a man who¡¯d get angry over ¡®nothing important¡¯¡­¡± he nearly growls, his unblinking eyes fixed on me.

    I sigh ¡°She¡­ demeaned our¡­ marriage¡­ and used the word¡­ ¡®miscegenator¡¯¡­ to describe me.¡±

    The man takes a deep inhale, audibly shuddering with rage. When he exhales, his breath is so hot that it remains visible for a second or so after passing his lips.

    Before he can say anything I hurry to reassure him that ¡°It¡¯s fine, Victor! Like ¡®water off a duck¡¯s back¡¯! The opinions of small minded people don¡¯t bother me!¡±

    ¡°That woman¡­¡± he says, still clearly furious ¡°¡­is not redeemable! I don¡¯t give a shit what Cap says! She¡¯s not going to sit down for tea and biscuits and suddenly be cured of her bigotry!¡­ And I think it¡¯ll be a waste of our time trying to help her! She¡¯s a hidebound, dyed in the wool zealot and insisting on her coming on this mission has lost me what little respect I had for Tcakqaal¡¯s Clanmother! Either, Raarakot is so stupid that she¡¯s managed to stay ignorant of Waqa¡¯arc¡¯s hatefulness¡­ or she knows and doesn¡¯t fucking care!¡±

    I give a mirthless smile and respond ¡°I can tell you¡¯re angry, Victor¡­ You know how?¡±

    ¡°Context? Tone? Facial expression?¡± he provides, face still a mask of cold fury.

    ¡°Nope¡­ it¡¯s because you¡¯re pronouncing the phoneme at the end of your progressive verbs as /?/(!) ¡®Going¡¯, ¡®trying¡¯, ¡®fucking¡¯¡­¡±

    He keeps looking at me for half a second before bursting into laughter.

    I inwardly sigh in relief at having, somewhat, defused the anger I carelessly engendered in my client.

    I¡¯ve really got to get better at keeping my personal stuff to myself!

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­when you are confronted with a person who has (seemingly without cause) decided to make life needlessly difficult for you, friction is to be expected¡­ but, I just want to ask, when you get angry at this woman, who do you think is hurt more by that anger? Her¡­ or you?¡±

    He thinks a moment then answers ¡°Me, I think¡­ Don¡¯t reckon she¡¯s hurt at all! Almost the opposite! It¡¯s like she enjoys whatever rise she gets!¡±

    ¡°And are you OK with that? With allowing her to gain enjoyment from your pain?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± he answers, simply and immediately.

    ¡°So, what do you think is the healthiest course of action to take when facing provocation from her?¡±

    He sighs ¡°¡­Healthiest thing to do¡¯d prob¡¯ly be to just ¡®let it go¡¯, ¡®disengage¡¯¡­ Sh¨©fu says ¡®anger is like a hot coal you grasp with the intention of throwing it at someone. You are the one who gets burned!¡¯ but, like¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s easier said than done? Releasing this ¡®hot coal¡¯?¡± I smile.

    ¡°Exactly! It¡¯s one thing to, with cool blood, be able to objectively say ¡®risin¡¯ to the bait prob¡¯ly ain¡¯t healthy¡¯ and a whole other thing to keep your blood from boilin¡¯ when she starts intentionally pushin¡¯ your buttons and gettin¡¯ under your skin!¡±

    ¡°I can imagine!¡­ Emotions are not something that can be easily subjugated to logic. We are, all of us, dual beings¡­ an emotional and a rational. Both have their place¡­ you can¡¯t rationally appreciate the taste of good food, the enjoyment of a good joke, the warmth of a loved-one¡¯s embrace¡­ but, sometimes, our emotions intrude into places where they are not helpful to us¡­ This is an unavoidable part of life. As far as nervejacking technology has come, no one has ever succeeded in creating a device that would allow people to simply turn off their emotions and become entirely rational beings, to my knowledge!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know as I¡¯d want to use a thing like that, if it did exist!¡± he answers, contemplatively.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I would either¡­¡± I smile.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to detach myself¡­ it ain¡¯t gonna be easy, though!¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t, I¡¯m sure¡­ Let me just be clear, Victor; feeling emotions does not make you a bad person. Getting angry does not make you a bad person. If it did, there would be no good people(!) I would personally suggest emotional management rather than suppression¡­ it should be much healthier!¡±

    He smiles at me and then checks his holopad ¡°Alright, Ally¡­ It¡¯s been a good session¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to leave right away if you¡¯re not done talking, Victor.¡± I say, conveying with my tone that I¡¯m fine whether he stays or goes.

    ¡°¡¯Preciate it, but I¡¯ve gotta go get into my uniform and check my gear¡­ We¡¯re degaussing at an out of the way deathworld system in a bit and I like to be ready for action in times like this, just in case we get any nasty surprises! We don¡¯t usually but it don¡¯t hurt to be prepared¡­¡± he answers.

    ¡°Alright, Victor¡­ I¡¯ll let you go¡­ Here¡¯s hoping for no ¡®nasty surprises¡¯(!)¡± I grin.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.76

    ---Blue Lightning---

    ---Pawel¡¯s perspective---

    I walk down the muddy path through town between the houses of orangey-yellow timber.

    Chors rose an hour or so ago and people are beginning to fill the streets.

    I pass Tomasz, feeding a bucket of scraps to his ?winioki in their pen. I wave and smile and he waves back.

    I see S?awoj, hammering a red hot length of salvaged metal into some tool or other. I don¡¯t say anything to him since it looks like he needs to concentrate.

    I pass some people whose names I don¡¯t know but whose faces I recognise and wish them good morning.

    I come to the bottom of a gigantic building, a hundred metres tall and hundreds of metres long. Larger than every other building in town put together!

    Along its side are the words ¡®S.K.Z.K.Z. PILECKI¡¯, in faded, 15m tall letters.

    According to all the grown ups, this building flew through the stars once, hundreds of years ago! I¡¯m not sure if I believe that¡­ but it definitely wasn¡¯t built the same way as any other building in town!

    The whole thing is made of metal and glass!

    I¡¯ve seen S?awoj¡¯s attempts at smelting with iron from Mazury and they look similar but far lower quality! He can¡¯t get his forge hot enough to get the prills to melt together and they always rust really quickly¡­ he says it¡¯s more of an ¡®experiment¡¯ than anything else. It¡¯s so much easier for him to just cut pieces off of the Pilecki and get them hot enough to hammer into shape. Of course, if we keep doing that then, eventually, there will be no town hall left(!)

    Glass is something I¡¯ve only ever seen either in the Pilecki or salvaged from the Pilecki¡­ not something we can make ourselves!

    As I near the tread plate metal ramp, I see a man I really don¡¯t want to see right now!

    ¡°Good morning, Ratimyr.¡± I say, with forced politeness, to the well dressed town Fojtordenter, coming down the ramp.

    Ratimyr always keeps a sword at his hip whenever he goes out and dresses in clothes made of zmora leather to show off how many hunts he¡¯s organised.

    In his early 40s, his eyes are blue and his hair and skin are both pale, clearly showing everyone who looks at him that he never works the fields!

    He keeps a hideous tuft of hair on his chin and a fake smile permanently plastered across his face.

    ¡°Well, well, well¡­ if it isn¡¯t young Pawel¡­¡± smirks the powerful man ¡°¡­where are you off to this fine morning?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I just wanted to ask the Bzowy about something.¡± I say, forcing a smile.

    ¡°Is that so? He¡¯s a busy man you know¡­? He doesn¡¯t have infinite time to entertain the curiosity of young boys.¡± he says, his eyes narrowing.

    ¡°He says he likes it when I come to him with questions¡­ but I¡¯ll try not to take too much of his time.¡± I say, really feeling the strain of pretending to be nice to the awful man.

    He shrugs and then asks ¡°How is Zuzana doing, Pawel?¡± somehow managing to look like a drooling zmora while he does!

    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ getting by¡­¡± I answer, carefully.

    The man nods, faking concern as he says ¡°It must be hard for her¡­ with Lukas not around¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been helping her as much as I can¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes but¡­¡± he bends down and puts one of his repulsive hands on my shoulder, looking into my eyes with a hungry smile ¡°¡­don¡¯t you think it would be better if she had a real man again? There could be a lot of benefits to having someone in the family who sits on the Rada Miejska¡­ you could all move out of that hovel and into my home¡­ What do you say, boy? Will you put in a good word for me?¡±

    I would rather die! You bastard! You get my tata killed with your stupidity and now you¡¯re trying to take my mama too¡­ without even waiting for his body to fully go cold in the grave!? I don¡¯t care how nice your house is! Fuck you!!!

    Of course¡­ I don¡¯t say any of that¡­ I¡¯d get in trouble if Mama heard I¡¯d sworn like that at anyone but¡­ Ratimyr is a Fojtordenter¡­ he does sit on the Rada¡­ if I make him angry he can make life difficult for me¡­ and, more importantly, for Mama¡­

    ¡°I¡¯ll give her your regards, Sir.¡± I say, my face cracking.

    His expression goes sour at my vague answer and he says ¡°Yes¡­ well¡­ tell her to make a decision quickly¡­ she¡¯s still reasonably young, for the moment, but youth and beauty don¡¯t last forever! It would be such a waste to see her become a lonely, old, unwanted crone!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ going to¡­ go and see the Bzowy, now¡­ Sir.¡± I say, desperately trying to get away from him.

    Thankfully, he lets me go.

    I don¡¯t turn back but I¡¯m a long way away before I hear his footsteps start back down the ramp. I imagine he was glaring after me!

    I make my way upstairs and along windowless corridors, dimly lit by flameless lanterns fuelled by ancient magic called ¡®solar panels¡¯.

    I make my way to the ¡®Kabina Pilota¡¯, where the one I want to talk to lives.

    I knock.

    ¡°Enter.¡± comes a voice, ragged with age.

    I bring my hands to the handle and, with a heaving effort, slide the heavy door along its tracks, into the wall.

    I¡¯m told that that door was able to open itself, once upon a time, but I¡¯m not sure the Ancients didn¡¯t just suuuuuck at designing doors!

    I step through and drag the heavy door shut behind me.

    Sitting in a chair, facing a large set of glass windows, is a wizard.

    His simple robes tattered, his eyes a muddy green, his hair and beard both long, grey and thick, his ancient face very wrinkled.

    On his lap is a magical device that shows dense rows of strange writing, which he seems to be done reading as his finger touches the glowing slab and moves the text aside, to be replaced with more.

    ¡°Can I help you, Pawel?¡± the wizard asks, not looking up from his reading but not sounding annoyed.

    I point at the writing and say ¡°Why¡¯s it all weird like that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Polish.¡± he answers, simply.

    ¡°That¡¯s not Polish, Witold. I can read Polish!¡±

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Turning to look at me, the ancient man cocks an eyebrow and chuckles ¡°What you can read, Pawel, though we informally call it Polish, is, in point of fact, Nowo Mazurski¡­ a blended language that originally formed aboard the Pilecki during the wandering years¡­ before we found our way to Nowe Mazury. Polish makes up its base but around 40% of its grammar and vocabulary come from other languages¡­ This is standard Polish, as it was spoken in the 23rd Century¡­ and that¡¯s Bzowy to you, young man(!)¡­ Honestly, children have no respect these days(!)¡±

    Smiling, I mock ¡°Sincerest apologies, oh wise and powerful Bzowy(!)¡±

    He laughs.

    I like Witold. He¡¯s a bit weird but I suppose that sort of what you¡¯d expect of a wizard!

    He doesn¡¯t take himself too seriously¡­ except to make fun.

    ¡°Something tells me you didn¡¯t come here for a linguistics lesson, Pawel?¡± he asks, magically rotating his chair to face me ¡°What can I help you with?¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ yeah¡­¡± I start, gathering my thoughts ¡°¡­I saw something strange, earlier, and I wondered if you might know anything about it¡­¡±

    He smiles impishly ¡°I deal in the ¡®strange¡¯, lad(!) Tell me about it¡­¡±

    ¡°So¡­ I was up before Chors rose¡­ my mama¡¯s¡­ not been sleeping well so I was out in the coop, feeding our jajonosy for her¡­ then out of the corner of my eye, I saw something weird¡­¡±

    ¡°What did you see, Pawel?¡± asks the wizened man, leaning forward and fixing his eyes on me in a way that only he does.

    ¡°So¡­ I looked up at Veles¡­ and I saw¡­ lightning¡­¡±

    He gives a disappointed frown and answers ¡°That¡¯s not strange at all!¡­ It¡¯s a gas giant, it regularly has violent storms! Have you never seen Velian lightning before?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°No, I have¡­ but it¡¯s always been white or sometimes yellow¡­ this was¡­ blue¡­¡±

    His eyes go wide and he sweeps away the wall of text on his magic slab, summoning a blank pane with a blinking line on it and the alphabet laid out at the bottom ¡°Blue lightning, you say? Was it just one flash or did it last for a while?¡±

    ¡°It kept going for ten minutes or so from when I first noticed it¡­ I watched it the whole time. I would have woken my mama to show her but I¡­ thought she needed the sleep¡­¡± I answer.

    ¡°And¡­ was it only in one place or was it all over?¡± he answers, tapping the alphabet to make writing.

    ¡°Just one place¡­ on the bottom right as I was looking at it¡­¡±

    ¡°What proportion of the planet that you could see was experiencing this blue lightning?¡± he asks, somehow still writing while looking straight at me and not at the slab.

    ¡°Oh¡­ like¡­ a hundredth, maybe?¡±

    ¡°Exceedingly localised but continuous over minutes¡­ fascinating!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not the weirdest part¡­¡± I say, sheepishly.

    ¡°Oh? Something even stranger happened afterward?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ the blue lightning ended and then¡­¡± I take a deep breath at the unbelievable thing I¡¯m about to say ¡°¡­a star came up from the place it had been¡­¡±

    ¡°A star? That¡¯s¡­ not how stars work, Pawel¡­ they¡¯re suns¡­ like Chors, just very far away¡­¡± frowns the old man.

    ¡°I know, Witold, but I¡­ don¡¯t know how else to describe it!¡± I say, uncomfortably.

    He nods, sympathetically, and prods ¡°Alright, Pawel¡­ what did the star do?¡±

    ¡°It¡­ erm¡­ it moved through the sky, way faster than any of the other stars and in the opposite direction¡­ and it¡­ stopped¡­¡± I point upwards ¡°¡­right above us¡­¡±

    ¡°What did you do then¡­?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Well¡­ I wanted to get somebody, to show them, but¡­ by that point Chors was rising and it was getting difficult to see the star¡­ I didn¡¯t want to get shouted at for making things up¡­¡±

    He frowns ¡°Who shouts at you for making things up, Pawel? Not Zuzana, surely?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°No, Mama knows I don¡¯t lie like that but¡­ well I think you and her are the only ones who¡¯d believe me¡­ at least, you believe that I believe I saw something!¡±

    ¡°Pawel¡­ I know you aren¡¯t a liar and I don¡¯t think you¡¯re mad either! I believe you saw something¡­ just¡­ what that something is¡­ I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t tell you¡­¡±

    ¡°You mean it¡¯s a secret?¡±

    He laughs ¡°I mean I don¡¯t know, Pawel! Shocking as this may be for you to hear, age does not bring with it omniscience(!)¡±

    ¡°Do¡­ do you think it might be¡­?¡± I look away, sheepishly, and mutter ¡°¡­the Ratunek?¡±

    He looks at me, his face sad, and shakes his head ¡°I wish I could say ¡®yes¡¯, boy¡­ truly, I do! I wish I could see the Ratunek come in my lifetime¡­ It¡¯s just that¡­ it¡¯s been more than four hundred years now that every strange thing in the sky has made people stand and celebrate, believing that help has finally come¡­ At some point, I suppose, it¡¯s just easier not to hope for miracles¡­ It¡¯s much harder to be disappointed if you never had any expectations to dash¡­ Therefore, I think that what you saw was nothing more than a rare, unexplained, natural phenomenon¡­¡±

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ OK, Witold¡­¡±

    ¡°Come now, Pawel¡­ don¡¯t be glum! Whether it was the Ratunek or not, it sounds like you had an amazing experience this morning! I dare say you¡¯ll remember that blue lightning until your beard goes this grey(!)¡± he says, cheerfully grabbing a handful of his thick beard to show me.

    I smile and chuckle ¡°I don¡¯t want to grow a beard(!)¡±

    He grins and waves his hand ¡°Young boys always say that¡­ one day you¡¯ll simply decide that the cut you¡¯ve given yourself will be the last time you cut yourself in service of a clean shaven face(!)¡±

    I laugh and shake my head.

    Then I ask ¡°Witold¡­ tell me about where we came from?¡±

    He cocks an eyebrow and asks ¡°This isn¡¯t you asking for¡­ the talk, is it? Because I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know anything about that(!)

    ¡°No¡­¡± I giggle ¡°¡­about the Pilecki¡­ about Earth¡­¡±

    He purses his lips, cheerily ¡°You aren¡¯t bored of that story?!¡±

    I shake my head.

    ¡°Alright¡­ at this rate you¡¯ll be the Bzowy yourself, one day¡­ You¡¯ll need to learn Polish first, though(!)¡±

    He stands (to a towering height of 185cm!) and points to the magic swivelling chair for me to take a seat.

    I sit and he starts the performance of the story ¡°Earth is a planet, far, far away¡­ the light of Chors, which takes 16 and a half minutes to reach us here, would take so long to reach Earth that, by the time it did, you and I would have been dead for tens of thousands of years! Unlike here, the plants on Earth were green¡­ if ever you wonder why our crops have green leaves, ask where they come from! Earth had great Oceans, far larger than even the largest lake on Nowe Mazury! Earth had great dense forests, open plains, hot deserts, tall mountains¡­ but none of these were the most special thing that Earth had! Earth produced an animal, alone among all planets known, that could ask itself ¡®who am I?¡¯ One of these animals stands before you! A Human! These Humans looked to their fellow animals and sought to tame them, to subjugate them¡­ and, in this, they had some success¡­ They sat astride mighty warhorses, hunted with mighty wolves, herded mighty aurochs! Then¡­ they looked to their world and sought to tame it, to subjugate it¡­ and, in this, they had some success¡­ They built great buildings, they farmed great fields, they dammed great rivers¡­ The Humans then looked to eachother and each sought to tame the other, to subjugate them¡­¡± his face goes sad as he says ¡°¡­and, in this, they had some success¡­ They built terrible empires, fought calamitous wars, enslaved and exploited eachother in the most awful ways you can imagine and more awful still! Then, there came a turning¡­ The animals were dying, the world was dying, the people were dying! The Humans of Earth declared, in one voice, ¡®ENOUGH¡¯! They would no longer do as they had done! They would no longer poison their world! They would no longer enslave and exploit one another! They would no longer hate and kill one another! Humanity United to forge the Terran Union! Justice, Peace, Equality, Freedom, Dignity and Unity would be the new reality they shared! They set about undoing the injustices of the past and found the strangest of things¡­ it was easy! The impossibility of this dream that, for all of our history, had been called a fantasy, a delusion, a platitude, evaporated in the face of how overwhelmingly easy it is to live a life without fear when others are not Demony but fellows! A Human kind, cooperating with itself, began to push out to the stars and lay claim to new planets, turning the Terran Union into the United Terran Coalition¡­ Though separated by such distance that we could no longer practically live under one government, our Unity was not shattered! Earth, the Cradle of Humanity, supported Her far flung settlements in the stars and our nation of nations thrived! Alas, this brings us to the tragic point in the story where our story and Earth¡¯s finally sever¡­ the year was 2291 by the Terran Calendar and the Coalition, now 90 billion strong and containing 41 planets, had designated a new world for settlement, Nowe Pomorze¡­ the United Terran Coalition Colony Ship Pilecki was to be among many which would undertake the journey to bring settlers to this lush new world. Our ancestors boarded the Pilecki for the years long journey to their new home¡­ but, the Great Calamity struck¡­ our navigation system failed, leaving us no way to find where we had meant to go, no way to get back to where we had been and no way to let a soul in the universe know what had happened to us¡­ We wandered the stars for decades hoping to, by some miracle, stumble upon help. We found none. The ship, which had never been intended to go so long without proper upkeep, was dying! Its life support failing and its reactor running dangerously low of its tritium fuel. The decision was made to find a planet, that we may survive. Here, on Nowe Mazury, the Pilecki came to rest¡­ never again to set flight. Here, we have survived for all these years. Here we have waited for the Ratunek, when Mother Terra finds Her lost children and brings them back into Her fold!¡±

    I clap, loudly.

    I love that story¡­ even if it''s a bit of a sad one¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.77

    ---Stick---

    ---Pawel¡¯s perspective---

    I walk through the door and see my mama, dressed for work, standing in the middle of our house.

    She turns to me, letting me see the heavy dark circles under her eyes.

    ¡°There you are, puszek!¡± she says ¡°Where were you?¡±

    ¡°I went to go and see Wit-I mean¡­ the Bzowy, Mamo. I had a question about something.¡±

    I won¡¯t tell her about the blue lightning and the strange moving star if I don¡¯t have to¡­ she has enough to worry about¡­

    ¡°Alright, Pawel¡­¡± she walks to me and licks her thumb, rubbing some dirt (that may or may not have actually been there) off my cheek ¡°¡­Stefcia¡¯s cough got worse so I took her to Babcia Kornelia¡¯s place¡­ but I have to go and help Lech and Ludmilla bring in the turnip harvest so would you do me a huge favour and go gather some sticks from the forest?¡±

    ¡°Of course, Mamo!¡± I say, smiling.

    She smiles back a smile that, like mine, doesn¡¯t touch her eyes and pulls me into a hug.

    ¡°Thank you, puszek! I know we¡¯ve got lots¡­ but I really don¡¯t want to run out in the middle of Winter!¡± then she brings her hand to my fluffy dark hair and ruffles it ¡°*Psi-psi-psi-psi*!¡±

    ¡°Maaaaamo!¡± I say, laughing while I try and fight off her hand.

    ¡°What? You too grown up to have your hair fluffed(?)¡± she grins ¡°Too bad! I¡¯m gonna keep doing it until you¡¯re two metres tall and I can¡¯t reach anymore(!)¡±

    ¡°Nobody¡¯s that tall, Mamo!¡± I say, shaking my head.

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll be the first(!) You¡¯re already so big!¡± she says then the smile goes from her face as she bends to put it level with mine and says ¡°You know what to do when you¡¯re past the Second Palisade, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes Mamo¡­ get through the Killing Field as quickly as I can and afterward only travel by the narrow paths through the dense woods and the secret ways through the marshes¡­ stay out of wide open areas with solid ground!¡±

    ¡°Good!¡± she says, kissing my cheek ¡°And, *kiss* if you don¡¯t *kiss* and the zmory don¡¯t get you *kiss* I WILL!!!¡±

    ¡°Alright Mamo! I¡¯m going, I¡¯m going¡­!¡±

    She releases me from the hug and I go to fetch the lengths of rope I¡¯ll need for the bundles, coming back. I grab my sling too, just in case I see any zaj?ce¡­ it¡¯d be nice to get a big, fat one for dinner!

    I give Nala a good scritch between her ears.

    She¡¯s way too old to come with me, unfortunately.

    Tata apparently got her when he was a boy!

    I¡¯m very glad dogs managed to survive on Nowe Mazury with us!

    I go to the door but Mama catches me to give me one more cuddle and kiss on the top of my head.

    ¡°Goodbye, Pawel¡­¡±

    ¡°Goodbye, Mamo¡­¡± I say, before we break and I walk out of the door.

    As I pass the coop, our jajonosy swarm the fence, making their *hoodloodloodloodloodloodloo* noise.

    I look down into their stupid, four-eyed faces and laugh ¡°I fed you guys earlier! There¡¯s still feed in your trough you idiots!¡± They don¡¯t listen to me, only flapping their red and green feathered wings.

    I shake my head and walk towards the First Palisade.

    It¡¯s unmanned, like always. Thankfully, the Second Palisade has never been breached while I¡¯ve been alive, so we¡¯ve never needed to fall back to the First. I hear it¡¯s happened once or twice in the past though, in famine years when the zmory get desperate¡­ oh and that time, one or two hundred years ago, when there was a war between us and a colony we tried to establish on the coast of Lake Kryszta?owe! They lasted a few years before a guy announced himself ¡®king¡¯, then came back and tried to conquer us too!

    After his army was beaten and ¡®King¡¯ Jaros?aw executed, the survivors were reincorporated here.

    No one¡¯s suggested making a colony since then¡­ even though it is a bit crowded here in Malbork!

    I walk along the path through the farm fields filled with green leafed crops that take up the wide space between the First and Second Palisades.

    It looks like a good harvest this year¡­ but Mama thinks it¡¯ll be cold this winter!

    As I get near the Second Palisade, I see Ratimyr¡¯s men marching along it.

    There¡¯s a brief moment where I look for Tata before, with a sinking stomach, I remember he won¡¯t be there¡­

    ¡°Where are you going, lad?¡± challenges one of the guards at the gate.

    ¡°My Mama asked me to gather wood for Winter¡­¡± I say, holding up the ropes to show him.

    He nods ¡°Alright¡­ you know what to do and what not to do when you¡¯re outside the walls?¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°I hurry across the Killing Field, ready to sprint back for the first half and sprint forward for the second. Once I¡¯m in the woods, I stick to the narrow paths. When I come to a marsh, I stick to the secret paths¡­ I never linger on solid ground where any zmory might be!¡± I recite.

    ¡°Good, good¡­ off you go.¡± he says, stepping aside to let me pass.

    I walk (don¡¯t run) across the wide open space we keep clear outside the wall, to not let zmory sneak up on us.

    As I go, my head swivels left and right just in case one appears.

    I gag at the smell of rotting zmora flesh. Whenever we need to hunt one that starts targeting us, its body gets brought back to town. The leather we harvest, the bones have uses too¡­ but the most valuable part of a zmora is the meat! We don¡¯t eat it (bleurgh!) we just let it fester, then move it to the Killing Field to repel other zmory.

    I¡¯m anxious as I reach the middle of the open space, putting me the furthest away from either the safety of the walls or the safety of the trees!

    I cross the halfway point and begin including behind me in my head swivel, just in case!

    I finally make it to the tunnel through the trees, walk around 20m inside and stop to let my pulse slow down and my breathing settle.

    Once I¡¯ve recovered, I walk down the path of safety through the dense underbrush.

    Even though I¡¯m in a wood, I¡¯ve still got a long way to go before I¡¯m in the right place to gather sticks.

    There probably is a lot of deadwood here but more trouble than it¡¯s worth to find and get to.

    Pahorek Peak is where I¡¯m going¡­ and, as I reach the other side of the tunnel, I see it, rising a few hundred metres above Mecklemburg Marsh and blocking the view South.

    It¡¯s well known to be a safe place and a good one to gather fallen branches¡­ but, to get to it¡­ I need to cross the Mecklemburg and that means I need to find some eteryk!

    I hunt through the blue leaves of the undergrowth at the edge of Tyemny Wood, looking around myself constantly, ready to dart for safety.

    There! I spot the diamond shaped blue leaves of the herb I¡¯m looking for. I pick some, making sure to leave enough there to let it grow back, and grind what I¡¯ve picked between my hands.

    I smear the wet lump of plant matter over the bare skin of my arms, face, neck, ankles and the tops of my feet, through my sandal straps.

    Now covered in eteryk juice, I¡¯m reasonably protected from the dense clouds of krwossaje that hang over the Mecklemburg.

    I¡¯ll probably still get a few bites but I won¡¯t get covered in them!

    I hurry across the solid ground between the wood and the start of the secret path.

    The curtain of insects parts as I approach, smelling the eteryk.

    I look to where the scraps of cloth have been staked into the ground, marking out the places where you won¡¯t sink into several metres of mud if you try to walk!

    They can¡¯t be too noticeable or the zmory might figure them out!

    I trudge my way across the relatively safe, open ground¡­ looking around for danger at the edges of the marsh.

    It¡¯s been more than an hour since I crossed the gate when I get to the bottom of Pahorek.

    I find the entrance to the tunnel, through the dense woods that ring its base, and begin climbing.

    The orangey-yellow trunks quickly thin out to where zmory would be able to move between them¡­ if they could get through the brush lower down!

    If I just wanted to get the sticks and go home, here would be fine but I decide I want the view of Lake ?niade, so I keep climbing. It¡¯ll mean a bit more work coming back but I don¡¯t mind.

    I come to the top, where the trees are sparsest, and take a moment to appreciate the view.

    Below me is a large, muddy brown lake¡­ I say ¡®large¡¯ but I can easily see the other side of it from this high. Apparently, there are lakes on Mazury so large that you¡¯d never be able to see the other side, no matter how high up you got!

    Later in the year, when Autumn fully arrives, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to have this place to myself like this. Enough families will be stocking up for Winter that there probably won¡¯t be a time when there aren¡¯t at least a half dozen other kids here!

    For now, though, I¡¯m alone.

    I lay the ropes I brought on the ground, both in V shapes, and begin foraging to find just the right types of stick to lay across them.

    It takes a while before I¡¯ve nearly gathered enough.

    On one of the last sticks I pick up, I¡¯m about to take it back to the bundles, when I realise¡­ it¡¯s quite nice to hold¡­ it¡¯s got a nice length to it and feels strong and sturdy.

    Experimentally, I give it a swing. Very satisfying!

    I grip the thick end with both hands and it immediately becomes the finest sword that S?awoj has ever made! Long, sharp and flawlessly smooth!

    I cease to be Pawel, the 11 year old stick gatherer, and become Pawel the Mighty! Strongest warrior ever born to Nowe Mazury! Bravest Human ever to live!

    Half a dozen gigantic, bloodthirsty zmory appear through the trees and I roar and charge at them.

    I swing my sword through the first and shout ¡°That¡¯s for Malbork!¡±

    I spin and jump to land onto some rocks and stab the pointy end up into the belly of the next and yell ¡°That¡¯s for Mama and Stefcia!¡±

    I leap to decapitate the third with a downward slash ¡°That¡¯s for Tata!¡±

    The final three all rush me at once and I kill them all with a single slash ¡°And that¡¯s for ME!!!¡± I scream.

    I stand, catching my breath from the exercise.

    I¡¯d be way too self conscious to play pretend like that if anyone else were here¡­ especially if it was Zofia¡­ I¡¯d die of embarrassment!¡­ Though I¡¯m not sure exactly¡­ why¡­? It¡¯s not like she bullies people for being childish!

    I look to the stick and think about what to do with it.

    Eventually, I decide to put it with the others and just ask Mama if she doesn¡¯t mind me keeping it, already preparing the defence that it¡¯d make a good walkingstick, as well as a sword(!)

    I bring the ends of the ropes over the sticks and tie them off to themselves.

    ¡°OK¡­ moment of truth¡­¡± I say, lifting both bundles by their rope handles.

    ¡°Mmmmmm¡­¡± I hum, considering if they¡¯re light enough for me to carry all the way back to town or if they¡¯re too heavy and I need to take a couple out.

    I decide that, even though they¡¯re a tiny bit on the heavy side, I¡¯ll carry them back anyway.

    I¡¯ll drop them if I run into any zmory and¡­ it¡¯ll be good training!

    Tata used to say the way to get stronger was to always do just a little more than you¡¯re comfortable with.

    My chore done (except for the walk home) I decide to have a little practice with my sling before I go.

    I spend a few minutes gathering a small pile of suitable stones on a flat rock and then stand next to them, facing the lake.

    I take out my leather sling and wind one of the cords into the fingers of my right hand.

    I fold the leather pouch in half and grasp the other cord before choosing a stone to put into it.

    I bring back my arm, rotating my body with it, and fiercely swipe it forward, releasing the cord to let the stone fly through the air toward Lake ?niade, with a *vzzzzz*. That release was perfect and the stone looks like it¡¯ll land all the way in the water (even though I know I¡¯m too far away for that to be possible!)

    I pick up another stone and repeat.

    Most of them I¡¯m able to get a proper release on and it¡¯s only a few that I botch.

    I¡¯m more than halfway through the pile I gathered when I spot something.

    Far away to the South, just above the Grodno Hills, there¡¯s something in the sky¡­ another new star! Only¡­ it¡¯s the middle of the day! And this star looks dark against the sky¡­ like an¡­ antistar!

    It won¡¯t be visible from town¡­ Pahorek will be blocking it from view.

    As I watch it, I realise something¡­ it¡¯s getting bigger! It¡¯s coming towards me!

    Realising that, I dash for the safety of the brush! I don¡¯t know what that thing is but I know I don¡¯t want it to see me when it gets here!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.78

    ---Demons---

    ---Pawel¡¯s perspective---

    As the antistar gets closer, I¡¯m able to get glimpses of it through the trees.

    It¡¯s an enormous, flying building!

    It¡¯s pointed at the front and wide at the back¡­ and it¡¯s made of metal and glass!

    It must be¡­ it has to be¡­ the Ratunek!

    It¡¯s a flying metal building! Like the Pilecki!

    It must be connected to the blue lightning and the new star I saw, somehow!

    Mother Terra has finally found us!

    Surely¡­ right?

    But¡­ if it is the Ratunek, why aren¡¯t they going straight to Malbork?¡­ Why wouldn¡¯t they land that building right next to the Pilecki¡­ or outside the Palisade, if there wasn¡¯t room?¡­ Why are they coming from the South, where they can¡¯t be seen?¡­ And why are they slowing down?

    I realise they¡¯re going to land beside the lake and, so, I sprint downhill along the narrow path through the brush.

    As the building gets a few hundred metres away, I can hear it making a low, quiet hum.

    I manage to find a place in the trees that gives a good view of the lakeshore and dive into a bush just before the building arrives.

    I peek through the leaves as the building lands on the solid, open ground beside the lake.

    It¡¯s about three times as tall as my house, twice as wide and six times as long!

    It has an outer door that¡¯s taller than even the Pilecki¡¯s!

    ¡°Why the hell are they landing here?¡± I mutter to myself.

    The enormous door opens itself and¡­ what steps out immediately makes my blood run cold.

    This is not the Ratunek! That is not a Human!

    It may walk on two feet, like a Human, it may have two arms, like a Human, but, where a Human would have a face of flesh, two eyes, a nose, a mouth, two ears and either a head of hair or a shaven scalp, this creature has a head made of metal! Shiny, flawless, silver and gold coloured metal, like I¡¯ve never seen! It has no nose, no mouth, no ears, no hair and, where its eyes should be, it has a single, glowing green bar instead. It¡¯s hands and feet are also made of metal and it has metal plates sticking out of it¡¯s tight blue skin at its shoulders, chest and a few other places.

    The creature turns the place where its face should be, left and right, slowly.

    Aside from the creature¡¯s unnatural appearance, it looks like it¡¯s also an unnatural size! Thickly built and (though it¡¯s difficult to tell exactly from so far away) looks like its much taller than even Witold!

    It has a long, elegant looking sword, in a scabbard at its left hip, a glowing jewel set into its crossguard, and some unfamiliar object on its back¡­ It¡¯s like a boxy tube with a bend at one end?

    It walks down the ramp and stands there, not seeming to be bothered at all by how exposed it is to zmora attacks on such open ground!

    The next creature to come out is, impossibly, more terrifying than the first!

    This one is made almost entirely of metal but, unlike the first¡¯s silver, gold and blue skin, this metal is entirely jet black!

    It at least has two eyes but they burn an evil red colour!

    It has a black sword hanging at its hip, a glowing red jewel in its hilt.

    In its arms, it cradles another unfamiliar object. It looks very different from the one on the first¡¯s back but I don¡¯t know what it is, either!

    It¡¯s slenderer than the first but also half a head taller.

    Unlike the first, I recognise what this thing is! That is a Czart! A Demon!!!

    The next out is one I also recognise as a Demon!

    As tall as the Czart, she takes the appearance of an eerily beautiful woman, except her hair is ghostly white, her ears are long and pointy, her eyes glow with demonic light, her unblemished skin is dark blue in a way that makes me think of death and she has a second set of arms below the set she has where a Human would have them¡­ Her hands also look wrong and it takes me a moment to realise that it¡¯s because each one is missing a finger!

    At her hips hang four knives, set with glowing jewels and against the sides of her ribcage are wrapped four more unfamiliar metal things, identical to eachother but different from the one that the Czart is carrying and the one on the back of the unidentified Demon. Much shorter, for one thing.

    This woman is a Strzyga¡­ or maybe a Duch? I never imagined either had four arms but I also thought Czarci had mouths, ears and noses, so what do I know!

    The next of this band of Demony is the most Human looking so far¡­ he has a face of flesh that¡¯s just a bit different from the way people in Malbork look.

    If it wasn¡¯t for the company he¡¯s in, I definitely would have mistaken him for a Human!

    He wears a helmet and is dressed in thick clothes of leather and fur but all in dark brown colours, not like any leather I¡¯ve ever seen!

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    His face is blank, like he¡¯s bored¡­ or like his mind just doesn¡¯t¡­ connect to it!

    Compared to the other three, he looks like he¡¯s a relatively normal height.

    The next is a woman so pale it looks like this is the first time her skin has ever been touched by sunlight!

    Her hair is a brighter golden blonde than I¡¯ve ever seen on a Human!

    Her torso and legs are clad in thick armour and she cradles another unfamiliar object in her arms, like the Czart¡¯s.

    Next to the Human looking man, she makes him look very short but I think it¡¯s more that she¡¯s very tall¡­ not anywhere near the Strzyga or the Czart but still!

    The next two are a man and a woman.

    The man, except for his clothes, looks like he could be from Malbork. He¡¯s got blond hair and fair skin like Ratimyr¡¯s, though younger, more handsome and without his repulsive goatee or cocky smirk!

    The woman has curly hair, so dark it¡¯s almost black, and skin so dark it makes her look like she¡¯s spent every day of her life outside, in a land where it¡¯s always Summer!

    She wears a shiny cuirass over her strange clothing.

    The final one out is the strangest yet!

    The shortest of all of them, this¡­ being(?) looks to be entirely made of silver, blue and teal metal¡­ except for its face! Its face looks like its made of flesh and vaguely resembles a woman¡¯s but just¡­ off!¡­ Wrong in ways I can¡¯t put my finger on!

    I would say that she was a Demon wearing armour but¡­ even a Demon couldn¡¯t stand up in that much armour¡­ so, this is a Demon made of armour! A living suit of armour with an uncanny face of a woman, stuck into it!

    The armour Demon carries an odd weapon in both of its hands. It¡¯s like a hammer but the head is small and it has a long, beak shape blade on the other side.

    The fair skinned woman turns to the first Demon to step down and speaks in words that, though the wind is blowing just right to carry them to me clearly, I don¡¯t understand ¡°Vikta, wai arnt wigo ing streit tu thuh taun? Rimaind mi?¡±

    The metal headed one with the single, wide, green eye answers, somehow speaking without a visible mouth ¡°Wiah jast skoepin auh vah sichu ey shon tudei, Samus. Wi nid tu meik shor vey eint got noh sains ap vat sei ¡®Def tu auwsaidahs¡¯ or nuffin(!) Rekon assinss tudei¡­ wi kambak tu moro ifwi fink vis is samfin Emiko kan handuw ersewf!¡­ If noh, wi go¡¯ah ge¡¯in tach wiv vah YuTiSi an geh vem tu kam ir, wiv ah be¡¯ah pripeard tiim! Tudei, wiah gunna bi stewfflaik, pliis!¡±

    Here someone else speaks, I think it¡¯s the Czart, from the way everyone looks at it and the fact that I can¡¯t see anyone else¡¯s mouth moving. Its words, however, are even stranger than those of the fair woman and the blue skinned cyclops!

    It sounds like it¡¯s rattling dry bones together, in between barking vowels, to speak!

    What vocalisations I can hear sound surprisingly feminine¡­ the Czart¡¯s a woman? What would that make her? A¡­ Czarcica?

    The others act as if they understood with the silverheaded Demon answering ¡°*Click*onz rait! Wi shud geh gowin! Doun av infinnut lait!¡±

    The band of Demony begin walking but immediately stop.

    I follow their gaze and quickly see why.

    Approaching them along the shore is a pack of zmory, three strong!

    The shortest is 3m at the shoulder. They each have one set of eyes pointing forward and one pointing sideways. Their fur is the light blue of foliage but in the places where it¡¯s thin you can see the bright oranges and yellows of the skin beneath. They pad on four paws, at the end of four legs. Their short, sabertoothed snouts hang open, letting the rest of their teeth be clearly seen.

    ¡°Oh, fakin heww!¡± declares the voice of the silverheaded one who seems to be the leader ¡°Aim gunna trai an skearem offwiv mai plazmasord¡­ gans a¡¯vah redi inkeis vat doun werk!¡±

    The Strzyga draws the four unfamiliar things from the sides of her chest and holds them by the bend, pointing the other ends at the zmory. The fair woman and the charcoal black Czarcica use both arms to point the ends of their objects at the creatures.

    The relatively normal looking man and the dark skinned woman both draw a single object from their hips, similar to the four that the Strzyga has, and, using both hands, point the ends in the same direction as everyone else.

    The fur clad man steps to the back of the group, takes a bow from his back, draws an arrow from his quiver but doesn¡¯t draw it back, yet.

    The suit of armour with the woman¡¯s face holds her weapon in a state of readiness, beak forward.

    The leader doesn¡¯t draw the thing off of his back, instead, he reaches to his hip and draws the most beautiful sword I¡¯ve ever seen, before holding it above his head.

    I see his thumb move slightly against the hilt before the blade starts glowing, like it¡¯s just been pulled out of S?awoj¡¯s forge, but very quickly goes through colours I¡¯ve never seen metal glow, before it ends up glowing white, like its been made by breaking off a piece of Chors itself! It hurts my eyes to look at it!

    It roars with an unnatural sound, somewhere between wind and fire but louder than I¡¯ve ever heard either be!

    Witold once told me that, if there was air between us and Chors, it would be loud enough to permanently deafen everyone on Mazury! Hearing the sound that this small piece of it makes, I can believe it!

    The zmory waver but, because the sernase that they usually hunt have mock charges as a natural part of their defences, zmory are quite notoriously hard to intimidate!

    The silverheaded leader waves his sunsword back and forward a few times, with diminishing returns, before announcing ¡°Noh werkin! Samus, wornin volli!¡±

    The pale skinned woman turns her device skyward and I give a terrified squeak as the sound of thunder erupts from the end, multiple times inside of a second!

    The two smaller zmory bolt away in fear but the leader charges forward.

    The last thing I see is the green eyed cyclops bracing himself, the tip of his sunsword pointing forward, before an enormous cloud of steam erupts from nowhere!

    When the steam is gone I see the leader putting away his (no longer glowing) sword, over an extremely dead zmora!

    ¡°Bluhdi sheim!¡± he says, regret in his voice ¡°Shudda brort Stiiv! He mai¡¯a noun sam trikfor viiz kaindza animuws!¡±

    The pale woman answers ¡°Yu not think hiduv gottim self kild trainna rassul it(?)¡±

    A general chuckle goes round the band at whatever the pale one said.

    Demony can make jokes it seems¡­ jokes about effortlessly killing creatures that it takes a coordinated effort of dozens of armed Humans to take down¡­ but jokes nonetheless!

    ¡°Olraih! Lehs goh, evriwan! Bion gahd fur morra viiz fings!¡± says the blue skinned leader, who may actually be Swar¨®g himself now that I think about it!

    A Bogowie leading a band of Demony!

    The unearthly band march off, looking around themselves in a way that scares me into thinking they¡¯re going to notice me!

    I watch them go and wait for a long time after I can no longer see them before I begin to consider coming out from my hiding place.

    While I try to work up the courage, I¡¯m staring at the still, lifeless body of the monster that that Demon killed like it was nothing!

    He did seem to be trying to scare it off rather than killing it but, if anything, it sounded like that was more for the zmora¡¯s sake than his! He sounded¡­ unhappy that the zmora had made him kill it! Not proud! Not happy! None of the gleeful spite that anyone from Mazury would have if they had managed to kill a zmora!

    I brace myself and step out of my bush.

    I walk the last little bit of the path until it opens out, a few dozen metres from the water¡¯s edge.

    Looking around both for zmory and Demony I start to walk over to the zmora¡¯s corpse, skirting well clear of the flying house.

    It has a charred hole through its head from where the sunsword was driven in¡­ It¡¯s definitely dead!

    I give it a kick¡­ it¡¯s really solid!

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Hello?¡± I answer Twila¡¯s call.

    ¡°Victor, there¡¯s a kid here. A Human, a local. I¡¯d guess he was here since before we landed. He came out of the trees a few moments ago and is prodding the corpse of that sabertoothed wolf-lion thing you killed, right now!¡±

    ¡°Shit!¡± I swear ¡°Guys, we need to turn around!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.79

    ---Locutions---

    ---Pawel¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Whatever art thou doing, stripling?¡± comes a loud, woman¡¯s voice, from somewhere.

    Terrified, I look up from the dead zmora and cast around, searching for the new Demon who seems like she can almost speak Polish.

    I see nothing.

    I don¡¯t want to start running until I know I¡¯m not going to be running towards her!

    ¡°Hello¡­?¡± I say, nervously, trying to get the Demon to show herself.

    ¡°Shouldst thou be seeking for mineself, thou shalt be dissatisfied!¡­ Here beeth no personage upon the visage of which thou mayest rest thine eyes(!) Yet, if thou wishest to look somewhere, look thee hither, to the barque, stripling.¡± answers the voice whose words and pronunciation are both very strange.

    ¡°Where?!¡± I ask, understanding her telling me to look somewhere but not having understood at all where!

    ¡°The navette¡­? The vessel¡­? The taker¡­?¡±

    ¡°The taker!?¡± I ask, horrified. What the hell are they taking?!

    ¡°Disregard the word that affrighteth thee so!¡­ Dost thou grasp, ¡®transport¡¯?¡±

    I look at the flying house ¡°You¡¯re¡­ that!¡±

    ¡°Indubitably! Art thou surprised?¡±

    ¡°I never spoke with a house before¡­ but, then, I suppose I never saw a flying house before today, either!¡± I answer the Demon house.

    I wonder whether I should run but¡­ well I saw how fast the flying house could move earlier! There¡¯s exactly no way I¡¯d outrun her when she can cover tens of kilometres in minutes! I could hide in the trees but, with how heavy she looks, she could probably just come down on top of me and crush both the trees and me together!

    ¡°Thy locutions presenteth something of a challenge to appreciation, stripling! Canst thou appreciate mine own?¡± says the Demon house, asking something but¡­

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Ah, the response beeth a ¡®nay¡¯, then(!) Let us start at the beginning, stripling! Mine appellation beeth ¡®Twila¡¯¡­ what beeth thine own?¡±

    ¡°Are¡­ you asking for¡­ my name?¡± I frown.

    ¡°Indubitably! Thy name!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure I want to give my name to a Demon house!¡± even if she did ask politely!

    The flying house gives a hearty laugh and responds ¡°Thou thinkest me a D?mon, stripling!? Uproarious!!!¡±

    I shrug ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ you might be a Bogowie but I don¡¯t really want to give my name to one of them either! I don¡¯t really want to give my name to someone who¡¯s definitely not Human!¡±

    ¡°Absolve mine unworthy self of my discourtesy, but, were I a D?mon, would I have offered thee mine own name so freely? Provide they not to mortals, the names of D?monkin, dominion over the D?mon whose names they are?¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± I answer, cautiously. I have learned a lot about Demony, today, that wasn¡¯t in any stories I¡¯ve heard¡­ I¡¯m not sure how much I want to trust to folk wisdom!

    ¡°And¡­ shouldst thou have found thyself conversant with a Divinity, would she have need to solicit thy name from thee?¡±

    My mouth twists as I say ¡°I¡­ guess not¡­ Fine! It¡¯s Pawel!¡±

    ¡°Pawel! An esteem and a privilege it is to be acquainted with thee! Now¡­ whither hast thou come, Pawel?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°What place dost thou entitle thy abode?¡± she rephrases.

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°Where art thou from?¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡­ I¡¯m from Malbork¡­ but you knew that already, didn¡¯t you¡­¡±

    ¡°I knew not the name of thy township, Pawel¡­ though I knew its latitude and longitude upon this globe!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ polite¡­ for a Demon house!¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ I should elucidate! I be no D?mon! Nor be any of those thou art liable to have seen making use of my transport! They be mortals¡­ of substance and blood¡­ howsoever it may have looked to thee!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ what are you?¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°You said they were flesh and blood¡­ I asked what you are!¡±

    She laughs ¡°Thou art shrewd, stripling!¡± she pauses, seeming like she¡¯s thinking, before answering ¡°I be no D?mon¡­ nor Divinity neither! However, thou art precise in thy assessment that I am no creature of flesh and blood!¡­ I am a cognizance fashioned from metal and silicon¡­ not a presence born of natural milieu but one forged by the hands of other cognizant beings¡­¡±

    ¡°Like the old stories?¡± I say, thinking back to the parts of the story where people say that the Pilecki used to be able to think¡­ almost like a person!

    ¡°I know not thy stories, stripling¡­ so I cannot say.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ well¡­ it¡¯s been surprisingly nice to talk with you¡­ Twila¡­ but I should probably go¡­¡± I say, turning to climb back up the hill and hoping she doesn¡¯t try to stop me.

    ¡°Tarry thee a moment!¡± she stops me, sounding strangely desperate ¡°Relay to me one of thy tales, Pawel!¡±

    I turn back to her and say ¡°Look¡­ I was gathering firewood on top of the hill and I need to carry it home¡­ It¡¯s a long way and it¡¯s going to be dark in a few hours! Zmory might not be any problem for you but I do not want to be outside the Palisades without being able to see!¡±

    ¡°However¡­ err¡­¡±

    I frown ¡°Why are you¡­ really so keen for me to stay?¡±

    I begin turning, causing her to say ¡°No¡­ do not¡­!¡± but I ignore her and keep turning until I see the band of Demony coming back, only a few hundred metres away!

    ¡°You tricked me!¡± I say, looking at the house in horror. Then I dart for the trees.

    The flying house shouts after me but I don''t hear what she says.

    The Demony begin sprinting towards me the moment I begin running!

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    I should be able to make it to the trees before they get anywhere near me! Once I¡¯m in there, I can lose them in the tangled maze of paths through the brush!

    Fuck the stick bundles!

    I just need to get home!

    I just need to not be caught by the Demony!

    I make it to the path and am just congratulating myself on having practically already lost them¡­ when I round a corner and practically run into one!

    One of the almost Human looking ones, the helmeted one in leathers and furs, the one who I thought was a normal height but, now I¡¯m close to him, I see he¡¯s basically the same height as Witold!

    I skid to a halt and try to bolt in the other direction but he effortlessly grabs me by the scruff of the neck and yanks me backward, causing me to stumble into him!

    I turn to look up into his expressionless face, scarred with what I recognise as claw marks (though too small to be from a zmora)!

    His eyes are an unnatural orange!

    He jabs a finger forward and, in a flat, neutral tone, commands ¡°?§ï§ß§ï§â?.¡±

    He walks me out of the brush, still grasping me by the scruff of my neck.

    ¡°Yu go¡¯im, Timancha!¡± shouts the leader with the single glowing green eye, sounding relieved.

    Me and my captor meet the band, allowing me to see, up close, just how terrifying they are!

    The blond man, who I thought was normal looking, is taller than Witold!

    The dark skinned woman is almost as tall¡­ the tallest woman I¡¯ve ever seen (present company excluded)!

    The only one of these women who¡¯s even close to a normal height is the suit of armour with the woman¡¯s face buried in its helmet (and I¡¯m not sure she/it counts!)

    She¡¯s about the same hight as my mama but is definitely the widest and deepest woman I¡¯ve ever seen, as if to make up for the height she doesn¡¯t have.

    The tall, fair skinned blonde stares at me, appraisingly, with her ice blue eyes!

    By far the most terrifying, though, are the Czarcica, the Strzyga and the Leader, their appearance the most uncannily outlandish of the band! I can¡¯t decide whose worst!

    The slim, graceful, white haired Strzyga with the glowing eyes and the four, four fingered hands stands two heads taller than Witold.

    She parts her lips, showing the tips of the long fangs she must use to drink the blood of her victims!

    The Czarcica stands just as tall and, now I¡¯m so close, I can see her jet black skin actually has intricate ripples in it. Like a slight breeze over still water. It would be beautiful¡­ in another situation!

    The silverheaded leader with the bright green eye, tight blue skin with plates of silver and gold growing out of it, the long, elegant sword at his hip and what I suspect is another kind of thunderstick on his back, (though still colossal) is most of a head shorter than the Strzyga and the Czarcica but powerfully built, more than enough to make up for it!

    He stares down at me and the others all look to him.

    I¡¯ve decided he¡¯s the most terrifying!

    He gestures to me with a silver and gold hand and says ¡°Fakin heww! Luk a¡¯vah puur kiid! Hiiz petri faid!¡±

    ¡°Hithinks yur Dimunz! Mi tu!¡± answers the Demon house that calls herself ¡®Twila¡¯.

    ¡°Weww, viiz hewmitsent gunna bi hewpin wiv vat, ar vey!¡± he declares ¡°Hewmitsap!"

    With that, he, the Czarcica, the walking armour and my captor each bring their hands to their heads.

    Focusing on the green eyed cyclops, I¡¯m briefly horrified into thinking he¡¯s tearing his own head off before I realise, what I thought was his head is actually a helmet!

    Obviously, I thought about whether their metal heads might be helmets before, but I just thought they looked too seamlessly attached to the rest of them to be!

    The gigantic man¡¯s helmet now off, I can see he has a relatively normal face¡­ relatively¡­

    His skin is as pale as the blonde¡¯s, his two eyes are a bright, vivid green and his hair is a fiery red like I¡¯ve never seen on any Mazurzy¡­ but, other than that¡­ and how tall he is, he looks¡­ normal¡­

    I can¡¯t say the same for the two women who took their helmets off, though!

    Now fully able to appreciate the face of the one in the ridiculously heavy looking armour, I can see her orange hair is frizzy, like wool, her brow juts out way too far, her nose is both too long and too wide and her chin¡­ well¡­ doesn¡¯t exist!

    Her skin is, more or less, a normal colour¡­ A little on the tan side but it just makes her look like someone who works the fields.

    That¡¯s not true of the Czarcica, though!

    The woman in the shiny cuirass, having already lost the title of ¡®tallest woman I¡¯ve ever seen¡¯ to three of the other women in her group, just lost another title to a groupmate¡­ her skin is now the second darkest I¡¯ve ever seen! (Not really counting the Strzyga, since her dark skin looks more like it comes from nighttime than sunlight!)

    Where she looks like she spends every day outside in a land where it¡¯s always Summer, the unhelmeted Czarcica looks like she spends every day outside in a land with five suns!

    Her eyes are a distinctive purple colour that I¡¯ve never heard of a Human¡¯s being but¡­ she is also a woman who¡¯d need to bend to not scrape her head on the ceiling of my house, so maybe her eyes aren¡¯t that strange(!)

    Her hair is the same jet black as her armour and falls in tight, corkscrew ringlets, to her shoulders.

    Her face, like the short one¡¯s, with the frizzy red hair, isn¡¯t ugly¡­ but it is definitely strangely featured! Her mouth is just a little too wide, her cheeks just a little too flat, her nose both wide and flat and her chin forming a perfectly sheer vertical surface from her bottom lip!

    ¡°Sii¡­?¡± asks the redheaded man ¡°¡­Ol Hyumun¡­ err¡­ septfer Toon¡­ Noh uffenss, beibi!¡± he continues, turning his head to the Strzyga.

    ¡°Enginn tekinn, Vii Ktar(!)¡± chuckles the blue skinned woman.

    ¡°Victor wisheth to relay to thee that, with but one omission, all those thou seest before thee are of Mankind, Pawel!¡±

    ¡°The lady with the blue skin?¡± I ask, warily.

    ¡°Indubitably!¡±

    ¡°What is she then?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Her kind are termed ¡®Don¡¯.¡±

    ¡°What about the tall lady with the very dark skin? The broad lady with the frizzy orange hair? You want me to believe they¡¯re Humans?¡±

    Before Twila can answer, the one called Victor holds up his hand, seeming to have understood my question from context and me looking at the women I''m talking about.

    He points his hand at me and says ¡°Seipiunz¡­¡± then to himself ¡°¡­Seipiunz¡­¡± then to my leather clad captor, the shorter dark skinned woman, the normal looking man and the blonde ¡°¡­Seipiunz, Seipiunz, Seipiunz, Seipiunz.¡±

    Then, he points to the really tall, really dark skinned woman and says ¡°Chwarnii!¡±

    Then, he points to the (relatively) short, frizzy haired woman and says ¡°Niianduhfarl!¡±

    The blonde chimes in ¡°Its pronaunsd ¡®Sappienz¡¯, Victor(!)¡± mirthfully.

    ¡°Noh wen Ai seyit, itsnoh(!)¡± he answers.

    ¡°As Victor doth so valiantly endeavour to express, Pawel, the womenfolk thou hast designated are indubitably of Mankind¡­ but of a dissimilar ilk to thee thyself and the collectivity of the other Men, here present!¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ you¡¯re ¡®Humans¡¯!¡± I say ¡°So why are you not letting me leave!? What are you planning to do with me!?¡±

    There¡¯s a pause before Twila says ¡°Gaiz¡­ hiiz ars king wot wiah gowing tu duwith him¡­ Ai think at liist!¡­ Hiiz spiiking sumsortov criowlaizd blendov Sentrul and Iistan Yuruppiun langwijiz¡­ itmeiks ita litul hardtu unduh stand him.¡±

    My captors exchange glances with eachother.

    The blonde eventually says ¡°Wot kan wi duwith him?¡±

    ¡°G?tum vie ekki¡­ sent hann upp ¨ª Sk?r Skottfj?eur?¡­ Bara tangae til ¨¢ morgun!¡± asks the Strzyga.

    The blond man speaks for the first time I¡¯ve heard ¡°Ow, yaaah(!) ¡®Happi Riyuunyun Dei, evriwun!¡­ Shud menshun; wi kidnapt yer kid¡­ juuus ferra dei¡­ houp yah doun maind(!)¡¯¡±

    The redheaded man with the bright green eyes speaks ¡°Liiyonz rait¡­ surri Toon¡­ Wi kahnt kiip him aghenst hiz wiww!¡­ Anvah faktvat hiiz siin az miinz wi kahnt du vuh houl ¡®stewf riikon¡¯ fing, aivuh!¡­ Wiah gunna goh bak wiv him, meik awursewvz nohn, apolojaiz for vah trubuw an trai awur best tu gettakross vat wial bi bak tumoro fuh propah intruddukshons! Tewwim vat pliiz, ifyu kan Twila.¡±

    ¡°Quoth Victor; ¡®We shall attend thee unto thy abode and effect genteel remorse to thy kinfolk until such time as we take leave, assuring all of our ensuing return on the morrow, indisputably more apt a time for introductions!¡¯¡± translates the Demon house.

    It¡¯s lies¡­ they want me to come quietly so they can threaten to kill me if the gates aren¡¯t opened for them! The nice side-benefit for them is that, if they surprise me, my terror will look much worse¡­ If they told me what they plan to do, now, by the time we got there, the effect would have worn off!

    With a great effort I force myself to answer their lies with my own!

    ¡°Tell him¡­ that¡¯s¡­ fine¡­¡± I say through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Marvellous!¡± proclaims the Demon Twila, before addressing the others ¡°Hi agriiz! Bat¡­ bifor yu goh, wuddit bi olraitif Ai jast gotta litul mor ov hiz langwij?¡­ Mait bi helpful for Yazmin tu luhk atit bifor tumoro!¡±

    The Demon, Victor, waves his hand ¡°Gowa hed, Twila!¡±

    ¡°Pawel, might I impose upon thee to relay to me one of thy tales before thou sally forth?¡± asks Twila.

    ¡°You¡­ want me to tell you a story?¡± I ask, slightly incredulous.

    ¡°Indubitably!¡±

    ¡°What about?¡± I ask, wondering why they would want to hear stories from someone they¡¯re about to use as leverage!

    ¡°The subject matter be of no great import¡­ whatsoever thou wishest!¡±

    I think for a moment before I say ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯ve got one!¡±

    ¡°Prithee, relay it!¡± says the Demon house, excitedly.

    I clear my throat before starting ¡°Earth is a planet, far, FAR away¡­ the light of Chors, that takes 16 and a half minutes to reach us here, takes so long to reach Earth that, when it does, you and I will have been dead for tens of thousands of years!¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.80

    ---Blazes---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    The kid performs, almost dancing as he tells the story! I definitely think he could have a career as an actor if he wants!

    I lean down to Thran and mutter ¡°You speak Polish, right?¡±

    Her eyes move right but she nods without turning her head to me.

    ¡°What¡¯s it like? This language he¡¯s speakin¡¯? How easy is it for you to get?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°I only understand about half of it¡­ I¡¯m sure, if it was written down for me and I could take all the time I needed, I¡¯d get more but there¡¯re words from German, Czech and Slovak, Ukrainian, Hungarian, Latvian and Lithuanian all mixed in and, even though I speak all of those languages, my brain just can¡¯t decipher the context quick enough¡­ I¡¯m only getting the gist.¡±

    ¡°Interesting¡­¡± like listening to thick Jamaican Patois as a fluent English speaker, maybe? Or the first time I encountered Lallans Scots¡­ straddling that line between distinct dialect and closely related language to English.

    ¡°¡­Hier, in Nowe Mazury, Pilecki szt?l... soha tobbet a pune zborul. Hier my?my wy?yli perez te wsye gody. Hier my?my vartak na Ratunek. Hdy Mutter Terra najde swe strachane dziatwy, sprowadzi ona nas wieder zusammen pod sw? peche¡­ Gdy Wr¨®cim pod jej piecz?, ca?a ludzko?? zap?acze z rado?ci odzyskanych syn¨®w Ziemi!!!" concludes the kid.

    I applaud with everyone else.

    It was a good story or, at least, a well told one¡­ didn¡¯t get a word of it, myself(!)

    We did bring translators but¡­ well, not only do I not want to risk permanently screwing up his developing temporal lobe or whatever but, if he already thinks we might be Demons, I don¡¯t like to think about what he¡¯d think if we tried to put some (to him) strange device on his temple(!)

    I frown as I realise something ¡°Hey¡­ could I speak to you, Xon and Tuun behind the shuttle before we go?¡± I say to Thran.

    She turns to me, curiously, but walks where I asked her to.

    I go to where my girlfriend and the tall Tshwane woman stand and beckon them in. I look up at them to ask ¡°Could I just speak to you guys behind the shuttle?¡±

    Tuun looks surprised, Xon doesn¡¯t.

    I tell everyone else that we¡¯ll set off in a few minutes, as the three of us rejoin Thran, out of sight, on the other side of the Swift Claw.

    Thran and Tuun are looking at me puzzled, Xon looks expectant.

    ¡°I think¡­ it might be a good idea¡­ if you three stay behind¡­ What do you think?¡± I say, trying not to do what I did before the mission to Melino? and just tell them they aren¡¯t coming.

    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t said anything, Victor, I would have!¡± answers Xon ¡°It made sense for us to come when the goal was not to be seen but, if you¡¯re taking that kid home with the intention of showing yourselves to his community, I think we ought to make ourselves scarce.¡±

    Thran looks confused and a little hurt as she asks ¡°Me too?¡­ I understand Xon; her species didn¡¯t exist when their ancestors were stranded, and I understand Tuun; since she¡¯s a nonTerran and we hadn¡¯t made Contact when they were¡­ but they¡¯ll surely know what Neanderthals are, won¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t, did he?¡± I say, gesturing to the group to indicate the 8 or 9 year old we need to take home ¡°There definitely were Neanderthals about in the late 23rd Century but, if there were any onboard, they¡¯ll¡¯ve been assimilated in the Sapiens population within a generation or two. That¡¯s long enough ago that they might never¡¯ve  heard a description or even the word¡­ I just don¡¯t wanna do too much too fast. We should ease ¡¯em into the history they missed and the history they might¡¯ve forgotten¡­ Alright?¡±

    Thran frowns but seems to see the sense, nodding.

    I turn to the love of my life, looking like she¡¯s doing her best not to look wounded ¡°How about you, Tuun?¡­ Is that alright with you?¡±

    She fakes a mirthful puff ¡°I¡¯m fine, Victor! Really!¡­ Of course, it makes sense¡­!¡±

    ¡°¡­Alright.¡± I say, gesturing for us to rejoin the group.

    Thran and Xon walk away but I catch one of Tuun¡¯s hands and give it the gentlest of tugs to convey I want her to stay for just a moment.

    As the other two disappear, I pull her into a warm hug, standing on my tiptoes to try and get the height I need to kiss her without making her bend.

    We spend several long moments locked in eachother¡¯s embrace before our lips part and I whisper ¡°You know I love you¡­ Right, babe?¡±

    She smiles at the reassurance and nods ¡°I know¡­ I know it¡¯s not personal.¡±

    ¡°OK, good!¡± I grin.

    ---Pawel¡¯s perspective---

    The redheaded giant who leads the Demon band took the three most blatantly nonHuman Demony behind the flying house, before we left.

    When they reemerged, those three stayed behind!

    Clearly, he thinks they¡¯ll give them away for what they are¡­

    Interesting that he¡¯s still coming himself, though! He has a Human face and proportions but¡­ his unnatural height and bulk could give him away!

    Perhaps he just doesn¡¯t trust his subordinates to overtake the town without him! Even with their thundersticks and sunswords!

    As we walk, I pretend to be entirely at ease¡­ not a boy captive to a Demon band, just a boy walking with some Humans!

    It¡¯s OK to lie to Demony, right? They were lying to me, afterall!

    As we¡¯re walking, my eyes fly over the bushes to our left.

    I¡¯m looking for a gap that I can fit through but they can¡¯t!

    I think the one I really have to worry about is the one in the leathers and furs¡­ he¡¯s some sort of Hunter Demon, I think! He managed to find and navigate the brush paths almost immediately after they got here and managed to predict exactly where to be, to cut me off!

    He also looks skinnier than any of the others¡­ which rules out a few gaps that I would otherwise be able to squeeze through without worrying about being followed.

    There! A gap that looks just the right size for me!

    I begin lazily drifting from the group, trying to get as much of a head start as I can. If I botch this, I won¡¯t get a second chance! They¡¯ll know I¡¯m onto them and will be watching me too closely to let me try again!

    I take a deep breath and steel myself to prepare for the cost of failing to escape¡­ If they catch me, I have to tell the guards not to open the gate¡­ I have to be willing to let these Demony kill me, for Malbork¡¯s sake!

    I burst for the gap, running the 20m or so faster than I ever have before!

    ¡°Keed¡­!¡± shouts the giant.

    I hear every set of feet start after me but just too late!

    I dive into the gap and immediately begin struggling through it.

    ¡°Keed¡­ yuh fakin hertin yuhsewf! Dount! Stop!!!¡± comes the redhead¡¯s voice at the entrance to the gap that he¡¯s far too bulky to fit through.

    I make it through the dense brush and am sprinting, before I¡¯ve even fully stood up, down one of the paths around the base of Pahorek.

    If I can make it to Mecklemburg, I can loose them along the paths of safety!

    ---Tymancha¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°What should we do?¡± asks Ms Arran ¡°Hack through with plasmas?¡±

    Mr Taylor shakes his head ¡°We¡¯d prob¡¯ly start a forest fire, doin'' that! Danger to us aside, it ain¡¯t a great way to make contact with these people, settin'' their mountain on fire(!)¡± then he turns to me and points to the gap ¡°Reckon you can fit through?¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    I appraise the gap for a quarter second ¡°Yes but it will be faster to go around.¡±

    ¡°Go!¡± he orders.

    I don¡¯t need to be told twice.

    My feet carry me back to the last practical entrance to the path complex I identified.

    The boy will end up having a roughly 500m headstart on me in addition to home ground advantage¡­ but¡­ I am the galaxy¡¯s finest hunter and tracker!

    I like my chances!

    I dive in to the brush and begin flying along the paths.

    As I run, I¡¯m constantly having to make decisions about which path is most likely to lead me around the mountain and how much advantage I¡¯ll gain cutting the corner versus how much I¡¯ll lose by having to climb uphill!

    I decide that it¡¯s really better to try and find the other side of the escape tunnel and track him from there.

    I quickly come to the scuffs in the path¡¯s mud that indicate a small person running along it and smell the boy¡¯s scent on the air, confirming he came this way recently.

    I follow them for a few minutes until I come out to a wide open field, a dense forest on the other side and the top of an ancient colony ship visible in the far distance. I glance side to side for any more of those predators we had to deal with, minutes after landing¡­ but see none.

    The boy is a quarter of the way across the field, moving strangely.

    Why is he weaving and zigzagging like that?

    Oh¡­ shit¡­ it¡¯s a marsh! He¡¯s moving along paths either discovered by or made by his people that he knows and I don¡¯t!

    It looks like, if I try to walk anywhere else, I¡¯m going to sink and drown in the mud!

    Well, that complicates things!

    I relocate his tracks and follow them along the banks of the marsh to a point where they disappear.

    I look out to the marsh and see something that rekindles my hope of a successful recapture.

    A small scrap of cloth lies on the ground, a wooden stake driven through it. The trail is blazed! Marked in such a way as to be inconspicuous to animals but obvious to people!

    I jink right and begin tearing down the path that illuminates itself to me, one blaze at a time.

    I feel sublime as I run¡­ I realise just how much I¡¯ve missed hunting!

    It¡¯s been months now that food has just been so freely available to me that there¡¯s been no need to hunt, even if there had been opportunities, but, now I realise¡­ I¡¯ve missed it!

    Hunting always felt like something I did because I had to but, watching the distance between me and my mark shrink, I realise that¡¯s not all there was to it!

    My heart is pounding like a shaman¡¯s ungtuvun as the boy reaches the entrance to the forest.

    He disappears but I¡¯m not far behind.

    I dodge and weave my way down the narrow paths and quickly catch sight of the boy¡­ he turns, sees me and shrieks at how close I am.

    I¡¯m nearly on him, the end of the tunnel in sight but¡­ then I hear something¡­ music¡­?

    I realise the [holopad] that the ODR gave me, when they recruited me, is playing its call song¡­ how long has it been doing that?

    The boy practically in my grasp, I let him go¡­ and answer the call.

    ¡°Abort! Abort!!!¡± comes Taylor¡¯s voice, my [holo] translating his words to Evenki for me.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°Chrissakes, Tymancha! STOP!!! It¡¯s too late! Let him go if you¡¯ve caught him! It¡¯s gonna look too much like a hostage situation if we go with him now! Come back¡­ we¡¯ll work out what to do, back on the Bright Plume¡­¡±

    I turn to see the boy make it to the open ground outside the town, shouting ¡°Demony! Monstry!!!¡±

    Bells ring and there¡¯s shouting from the walls.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m returning now¡­¡± I say, my heart sinking at not having completed my hunt.

    ---Witold¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°And¡­ cough for me?¡± I say to the five year old girl, my ear pressed to her back.

    She coughs and I hear an extremely foreboding rattling from her lungs.

    I stand up and look to Kornelia, one of the very few people in town old enough for me to have known since childhood.

    I give the subtlest of nods confirming her suspicion.

    She doesn¡¯t react except to flick her eyes to Stefania¡¯s mother.

    Kornelia and I agreed, some time ago, that¡­ this kind of diagnosis ought to be given by me, instead of her. It helps her maintain a positive relationship with those she treats and, though she is far more knowledgeable than I in matters of medicine, it helps certain people accept the diagnosis more readily if it¡¯s delivered by the Bzowy than the Uzdrowicielka.

    Far in the distance, I hear the zmora alarm bells sound but¡­ there¡¯s little I can do about that, being a frail old man. I simply have to trust that the guards can deal with it.

    ¡°Zuzana¡­ may I speak with you outside a moment?¡± I say, gently, to the young woman who¡¯s had dark bags under her eyes since her husband was killed, a few months ago.

    ¡°Of course, Bzowy.¡± she answers, smiling with her mouth but not with her eyes.

    The two of us step from Kornelia¡¯s hospital.

    I turn to face her with lead in my stomach. It never gets any easier.

    ¡°Zuzana¡­ I am¡­ sorry to need to tell you this but¡­ your daughter has pneumonia¡­ I would guess the time she has left to be measurable in weeks.¡± I say, solemnly, gripping my walking staff.

    She¡¯s dumbstruck, looking at me as if I just sentenced her daughter to death¡­ which, from her perspective, I suppose I did!

    Eventually, she manages ¡°¡­No¡­ Bzowy¡­ there must be something we can do? If there¡¯s anything at all? Please¡­! If it¡¯s money, I¡¯ll find a way to pay! If it¡¯s herbs, I¡¯ll gather them! Just tell me where to look!!!¡± she gets increasingly desperate, as she speaks.

    I hold up my hand and she falls silent.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid, Zuzana¡­ there is nothing that it is within my or Kornelia¡¯s power to do.¡±

    Her voice cracks as she says ¡°So, that¡¯s it then? She¡¯s just definitely going to die¡­?! Nothing you, Kornelia or I can do about it!?¡±

    ¡°She will very likely not survive, yes.¡± I say, trying to balance the reality that her death isn¡¯t actually certain with the fact that it is the overwhelmingly more likely outcome.

    ¡°So¡­ what should I¡­ do?¡± she asks, desperately looking for any guidance.

    ¡°I would advise making her as comfortable as you can¡­ I don¡¯t think it¡¯s advisable for her to be brought home, just now, but would happily let Kornelia overrule me on that matter¡­ It¡¯s¡­¡±

    At this point a guardsman appears, running in the direction of the Pilecki and, spotting me, says ¡°Bzowy¡­!¡±

    A little irritated at having the delicate moment barged in on, I ask ¡°What is it, boy?¡±

    Out of breath, he relays ¡°Pawel¡­ Lukas¡¯s son¡­ he came running to¡­ the walls¡­ shouting about¡­ Monsters!¡­¡±

    ¡°If zmory are attacking, then I feel that you ought to be on the Palisade and I ought not to be, lad(!)¡± I say, dryly.

    He shakes his head ¡°No zmory¡­ says they were¡­ Demony that walked¡­ on two feet!¡±

    ¡°Demony?¡± I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

    He nods ¡°Says he told you¡­ about some¡­ blue lightning?¡­ A new star?¡­ A little hysterical¡­ wasn¡¯t making sense!¡±

    I gesture the boy to lead on and turn to Pawel¡¯s mother ¡°Are you coming? You can stay here, if¡­?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡± says the woman, determination on her face.

    I walk on, briskly, and she follows.

    We cross the First Palisade and, over on the Second, I¡¯m able to make out the blurry, indistinct shapes of people.

    As we draw closer, my eyes resolve young Pawel, speaking frantically to young Ratimyr¡­ though, that latter not so ¡®young¡¯ these days.

    As Zuzana, the messenger and I climb the steps I hear Pawel saying ¡°No, you have to believe me! They were giant!¡­ One of them killed the leader of a pack of zmory like it was nothing! One of them was a 2.2m tall woman with blue skin and four arms! They were¡­¡±

    *Smack*

    Pawel¡¯s words are cut short by Ratimyr backhanding him across the face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make up stories, boy! The alarms exist for a reason! You can¡¯t just raise them whenever you feel like making yourself the centre of attention!¡± shouts the blond man, furiously.

    Zuzana rushes to put herself between her son and the man who¡¯s been unsuccessfully trying to court her, since her husband¡¯s funeral.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on here!?¡± she demands of Ratimyr.

    Clearly surprised at her being here (I don¡¯t think he would have struck her child like that if he¡¯d known she could see), he answers ¡°¡­Ask your boy, Zuzana! He seems to have thought it would be a jolly jape to sprint across the Killing Field, shouting about Demony!¡±

    At this point, Pawel sees me and pleads ¡°Witold¡­! Tell them! I came to you this morning about the blue lightning and the star!¡± forgetting to call me ¡®Bzowy¡¯ when around others in his desperation.

    Everyone looks to where I stand, supporting myself with my staff.

    I nod ¡°It¡¯s true¡­ he did¡­¡±

    With a disgusted sneer, Ratimyr responds ¡°That just means that he planned this¡­! What would the connection even be between these phenomena (that only he saw) and Demony appearing!?¡±

    Instead of answering, I turn to Pawel and ask ¡°Pawel, would you hold out your arms for me?¡±

    Confused, he does as I ask, showing me his scratched up arms.

    ¡°Pawel¡­?!¡± says his horrified mother ¡°¡­What happened!?¡±

    Seeming to only just now be noticing the marks on his arms the boy answers, uncertainly ¡°¡­When I¡­ got away from them¡­ I dived into a narrow gap in the bushes¡­ it must have happened while I was crawling, I guess¡­?¡±

    I step to him, hold up his right arm with my left hand and gesture to it with the index finger of my staff hand, turning to face Ratimyr ¡°Do you think he did this to himself¡­? Without cause¡­? To what end? Attention?¡±

    Eying up the marked arms of the boy, the Guardcaptain answers ¡°OK¡­ so maybe he¡¯s mad, then!¡±

    I smile ¡°There¡¯s an easy way to settle this¡­ Pawel¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ Bzowy?¡± he answers, remembering my title this time.

    ¡°You say you saw these Demony kill a zmora?¡± I ask, calmly.

    ¡°Yes, Bzowy.¡± he confirms.

    ¡°Where was this?¡±

    ¡°The Northwest bank of Lake ?niade, Bzowy.¡± he answers, immediately.

    ¡°How did they kill it?¡±

    Again, without having to think about it, the boy answers ¡°The Leader had a sword made of sunstuff. He drove it through the zmora¡¯s skull! There was an explosion of steam! It left a big, charred hole between its eyes!¡±

    ¡°Did the Demony look like they wanted to¡­ take the zmora¡¯s carcass?¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°It was more like they just killed it because it was in their way! They didn¡¯t seem interested in it other than that!¡±

    I return my gaze to Ratimyr and smile ¡°There you go¡­! Go to the Northwest bank of ?niade and if there¡¯s a dead zmora with a hole burned through its skull then he was telling the truth, wasn¡¯t he!¡±

    With a look of immense frustration, the Fojtordenter answers ¡°*rrrrh*¡­FINE!¡­ But not today!¡± he looks up at the sky ¡°¡­by the time we get there, Chors will be setting¡­ Tomorrow, we¡¯ll go and, when we find nothing, I¡¯ll be having a little talk with your mother about appropriate discipline, boy!¡±

    The mother in question steps back between her child and the man snarling venomously at him, defiantly.

    ¡°Agreed!¡± I smile with a tone that tells all that the matter is settled, for now at least, before genially adding ¡°Come now Zuzana, young Pawel, I shall walk you home!¡±

    Ratimyr stares daggers at the boy as we go.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mamo¡­¡± says the boy, once we¡¯re out of earshot ¡°¡­I didn¡¯t mean to make trouble for you.¡±

    She cuddles and shushes the child who¡¯ll soon be the only family she has left, kissing the top of his head as we walk.

    We walk for some minutes until we reach the house built by Lukas and Zuzana, when they were in their late teens.

    I turn to the boy and his mother and say ¡°I know it¡¯s terrible manners to invite oneself inside but¡­ I was wondering if I might come in¡­? I would like to hear more about these Demony from young Pawel¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.81

    ---Brave---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°This is a bad idea¡­¡± opines the tall, redheaded man dressed in civvies with an outdoorsy look, rather than his uniform, and with two stick bundles slung across his back, as the six of us make our way from the Swift Claw across the cyan coloured grass field (that reeks of rotten meat) to the wooden walls ringing with sounds of alarm bells and shouting men, our empty hands raised to the sky.

    ¡°Your objection was noted and overruled, Victor(!)¡± I chuckle ¡°Right now, you are not here in your capacity as Chief Security Officer, you are here representing Tcakqaal and the interests of the Bright Plume! Oh¡­ and as a stick deliveryman(!)¡±

    He grumbles.

    I turn to Yasmin and ask ¡°How confident are you with their language?¡±

    Excitedly, she smiles ¡°Oh, understanding them should be no problem! Though¡­ I''m slightly less confident about making myself understood¡­ That recording of the boy was the kind of thing that could go right in a textbook! I might, actually, ask him if he¡¯s happy for me to put it in the textbook I plan to eventually write! Perfect distillation of history, culture and quasireligious beliefs, presented in the language of the culture! Definitely helps to already be fluent in all the component languages but¡­ there were some interesting little tricks and combinations that tripped me up, somewhat!¡­ Jae and I had a fantastic time analysing it together, last night!¡±

    ¡°OK, good¡­ You did sleep, right?¡± I ask.

    She laughs ¡°Jae made me go to bed¡­ I got some sleep!¡±

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ I¡¯ll take it(!)¡± I answer.

    Downside of seeking out the best in the galaxy, you get all their quirks and foibles too!

    We stop, 30m or so from the gate, our hands still held above our heads.

    The band of men two dozen or so strong gathered atop the gate, some holding bows, others manning ballistae, look very perturbed!

    Of course, they would be!

    You¡¯re living in a rural agrarian society and someone tears out of the sky in a spaceship(!)

    We can just think of this as a trial run for our final destination¡­ these people will at least recognise us (more or less) as being the same species as them¡­ they at least know that they aren¡¯t alone in the universe (even if they don¡¯t quite know how much company they have, just yet!)

    The men look to eachother, no one seeming to want to be the first one to speak.

    I decide to take the initiative ¡°Good people of Malbork! My name is Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki! I stand here representing the United Terran Coalition! We ask forgiveness for the distress we unintentionally caused your community yesterday evening and request entrance to your town, that we may parley with your leaders to negotiate the reestablishment of contact between this settlement and the wider UTC!¡±

    As I shout, Yasmin shouts just a little louder than me and on just a little bit of a delay, translating my words into her approximation of their language. I only recognise a few words bar ¡®Malbork¡¯ and my own name.

    There is a pause before one of the bow wielders takes it upon himself to speak, shouting back words I have no hope of understanding myself!

    ¡°He¡¯s asking if this is the Ratunek.¡±

    ¡°I believe that ¡®Ratunek¡¯ is an appropriate term, in your language, for what I hope to be achieved or, at least, commenced today!¡± I answer.

    Here, another man speaks.

    ¡°He¡¯s asking if it¡¯s true that we killed a ¡®bane¡¯¡­ I assume he¡¯s talking about the dead thing in the background of the video¡­¡± translates Yasmin.

    ¡°My associate here, Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor, was forced to kill a large, predatory animal in self defence, when he and his team conducted their preliminary landing yesterday, yes! This act was necessary to the preservation of life and no disrespect of your culture or local ecosystem was intended!¡± I say, Yasmin mirroring my gesture to Victor.

    I sort of hedged my bets, apologising, in case they consider the animals religiously significant or necessary to the ecosystem''s health¡­ I¡¯d guess not, if they call them ¡®banes¡¯, but you can¡¯t be too careful!

    The second man speaks again.

    ¡°He¡¯s asking to see the ¡®sunsword¡¯¡­¡± translates Yasmin.

    I hesitate.

    I relented in allowing Victor to bring his plasmaweapon, swayed by the events of yesterday, but ¡°My associate has that weapon with him¡­ However, the effect can be a little overwhelming¡­ I just want to assure you that there is no ill intent and request restraint on your parts if that weapon is to be demonstrated!¡± i.e. don¡¯t fucking shoot us because you got scared of the weapon that you asked to see(!)

    There¡¯s a brief discussion among the guards before the first one answers.

    ¡°He says you will not be fired upon and requests again to see the weapon¡­¡± relays Yasmin.

    Bracing myself for some very disconcerted faces, I say ¡°Alright, Victor¡­ go ahead.¡±

    The large man draws his sword from his hip and there¡¯s a palpable moment of disappointment as, at first, it just looks like a long (admittedly elegant looking) sword, made of shiny metal.

    Clearly, a few of them have thoughts along the lines of ¡®That¡¯s what all the hype was about?!¡¯

    Then, Victor ignites it! The disappointment turns to terror as the metal glows through to white and roars from the fusion energy being unnaturally forced into it!

    ¡°Alright¡­ I think they get the picture, Victor(!)¡± I say, mirthfully (and relieved that they were good to their word of not being terrified enough to shoot us!)

    Victor sheaths his sword, followed by a long pause before a third man shouts something.

    ¡°He¡¯s asking if it¡¯s true that we had a 2.2m tall, four armed woman with blue skin and¡­ err¡­ I guess the best approximation would be ¡®vampire fangs¡¯?¡± conveys Yasmin.

    ¡°There was such a woman on yesterday¡¯s expedition, though, I must assure you, there is nothing sinister about her, however she may have appeared to the boy who had the misfortune to encounter us! Her kind¡¯s existence is one of the many things we hope to discuss with your leaders!¡±

    There is much muttering at that.

    Yasmin translates as best as she can ¡°That one¡¯s saying they shouldn¡¯t let us in because we might be Demons¡­ That one¡¯s saying if we wanted in, we could have flown the ship over the walls or cut through them with the plasmasword¡­ That one¡¯s musing about whether Demons might need to be invited in¡­ He¡¯s pointing out that there are only six of us so, what harm could we really do, even if we are Demons¡­ Those two are discussing whether they should let us in or wait for the Guardcaptain who¡¯s out on an expedition for the next few hours, at least¡­¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Tired of the indecision, I decide to employ a little reverse psychology ¡°If there is no one currently present who has the authority to open these doors for us, we can return at a later time¡­ we do not wish to inconvenience you!¡±

    The attitude immediately shifts at the indirect slight.

    The first one to speak speaks again.

    ¡°He requests the surrender of the sunsword and an agreement to be under guard, while inside the walls, as conditions for entry.¡± communicates Yasmin.

    I look to Victor and ask ¡°Is that amenable?¡±

    Frowning, he addresses the men on the walls, Yasmin seamlessly translating for him ¡°I want assurance that this sword will be returned to me, as IS, when I leave! Also, since it¡¯s extremely dangerous to use and needs extensive certification to be licensed in, I¡¯ll be locking it into its scabbard! You won¡¯t be able to use it but please do not try to! If those terms are acceptable, I¡¯ll give you my sword!¡±

    Several of the men look disappointed, clearly having been excited to play with the, as stated, extremely dangerous weapon!

    The self designated leader speaks again.

    ¡°He agrees¡­ and says to open the gates.¡±

    Victor removes his sword from his belt and locks it into the scabbard, as he said he would.

    The gates swing open and several of the men come out to meet us.

    ¡°They¡¯re all so¡­ short!¡± observes Victor ¡°¡­Don¡¯t people born on lower grav worlds normally end up gainin¡¯ a few centimetres from it?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ but people born in preindustrial, rural agrarian societies tend not to have the proper nutrition and healthcare that we take for granted¡­¡± I point out, looking at the troop of men, only one or two of which are taller than I am!

    ¡°Fair point¡­¡± says Victor, handing over his sword to a man, who looks at what he now holds with an expression best described as ¡®awe¡¯(!)

    I hold out my hand to the in situ Acting Commander and ask ¡°We actually had somewhere we wanted to stop in, on the way to your leaders¡­ perhaps you could help us find it?¡±

    ---Zuzana¡¯s perspective---

    I drop the jajonos meat into the cauldron.

    I¡¯ll take it to Babcia Kornelia¡¯s place for Stefania, when it¡¯s done.

    My mind wars with itself as I watch the soup cook.

    I don¡¯t want to believe what the Bzowy told me yesterday! I can¡¯t!

    It¡¯s not fair!

    She¡¯s five years old!!!

    It wasn¡¯t fair when Lukas was taken from me¡­ but at least he lived!

    He laughed! He sang! Drank beer! Had friends! Had children¡­ and a wife who loved him!

    Stefcia¡¯s never going to get any of that!

    Tears sting my eye¡¯s and I feel the crushing weight of my husband¡¯s absence.

    ¡°Lukas¡­ where are you?¡­ I need you! I can¡¯t do this without you!¡± I whimper to myself.

    I stir the pot, more for something to do than because it actually needs stirring.

    Then my mind wanders to Pawel¡¯s Demony¡­

    My boy has always been honest (often to a fault¡­ coming home with black eyes as the trophies of his honesty!) but¡­ what he told me and the Bzowy yesterday¡­ it can¡¯t be real, can it?

    I¡¯d almost prefer my boy to turn out to have been a sinister liar or mad than what he said actually being true!

    Four armed Demony taller than the ceiling?

    A woman in armour that looks so heavy that a sturdy table would collapse under its weight?

    The 2m+ man might have been put in his head by what I said to him earlier that day but¡­ there¡¯s no denying that he came home without the wood he¡¯d gone to gather and with scratches all over his body!

    At this point I hear a knock at the door.

    ¡°*sniff*¡­ Coming!¡± I say, bringing my hand to my eyes to clear them of moisture.

    I walk to the door and open it¡­ then, immediately, freeze!

    In the doorway stands a woman. The darkness of the skin of her hands and stunning face would suggest her to be a field worker (though from a much sunnier place than Malbork!)¡­ In contrast, though, it''s utterly blemishless and smooth like she''s lived a life of pampered luxury!

    She wears the single finest dress I¡¯ve ever seen, made of beautiful, grassy cyan and golden cloth!

    Her hair is covered with a chusta that matches her dress and she stands about 15cm taller than me!

    Her husband, however, makes her look positively mundane!

    The man is a literal, honest to Bogowie, giant!

    Easily more than 2m tall, ghostly pale skin, hair like fire and eyes the green of new growth leaf buds, on Earth crops!

    Though his arms, legs and chest are covered by his outlandish clothes, the power of his formidable physique is clearly evident!

    This man¡­ is the perfect match of the Demon that Pawel described, yesterday!

    ¡°Greetings¡­¡± smiles the blue clothed woman, her accent a little strange ¡°¡­you are Mother¡¯s Pawel?¡±

    ¡°¡­Err¡­ Yes?¡­ I¡¯m Pawel¡¯s Mother¡­?¡± I say, disorientated.

    ¡°Marvellous! My name Yasmin ¡®Yellow Tongue¡¯ Soltani¡­ this name Victor ¡®Hugging¡¯ Taylor¡­ we are here with the Ratunek¡­¡± she says, as casually as a neighbour announcing that they¡¯re on the planning committee for the upcoming festival!

    My stomach turns and my knees go weak¡­ this is not good for the baby!

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ need to¡­ umm¡­ I need to sit!¡­ I think I might faint!¡± I say, woozily swaying forward.

    I reach the point of no return but the man wordlessly catches my shoulders and, bending to fit beneath my doorframe, comes in and steers me to a seat at the table with irresistibly strong arms.

    ¡°Surri fer kamminin aninvaitid!¡± speaks the giant, once he¡¯s sat me down, stooping so that his head doesn¡¯t bang on the ceiling!

    ¡°My compatriot sorries for entering your house with no invitation.¡± smiles the beautiful woman.

    ¡°¡­¡¯s fine¡­¡± I huff, recovering.

    ¡°May we seat?¡± she asks, pointing to a chair.

    I gesture for them to go ahead.

    The woman sits, gracefully.

    The giant tests the chair with his hand, seeming suspicious that it won¡¯t take his weight, before deciding to trust it.

    As he sits, I notice for the first time what he was carrying on his back; two bundles of orangey yellow sticks tied with ropes I recognise.

    ¡°So¡­ Mrs¡­?¡± prompts the woman.

    ¡°Zuzana¡­¡± I provide, still a little lightheaded.

    ¡°Mrs Zuzana!¡± she smiles ¡°We come here to sorry for scaring your Pawel, yesterday! He ran without sticks so we bring them for you for him!¡±

    ¡°Rirli surri! Itwuz mai folt! Houp Ai diddun trorma¡¯aiz im!¡± says the green eyed behemoth, placing the bundles on the floor.

    ¡°Victor is sorry. Saying it was because of him. He does not want to have frightened Pawel.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ err¡­ it¡¯s fine!¡­ Thank you for¡­ err¡­ bringing the sticks?¡± I say, stupidly.

    ¡°Pawel OK?¡± he says, using two words I know.

    ¡°Yes¡­ he¡¯s fine¡­ the Bzowy listened to him¡­ convinced him that you¡­ err¡­ might not actually be Demony? Told him what Neanderthals were¡­ what guns were¡­¡± I say, a little perturbed by the woman speaking over me in an alien language, presumably for the giant¡¯s benefit.

    ¡°Mamo? What¡¯s the best way to¡­?¡± comes the voice of my eldest child as he lets himself in the back door.

    That¡¯s as far as he gets because, at that point, he sees who I¡¯m sharing a table with.

    ¡°Pawel¡­¡± I smile, forcing myself to pretend that everything is normal and not that my entire reality is shattering around me ¡°¡­Mr Victor and Mrs Yasmin just came to drop off the sticks you forgot, yesterday¡­ Isn¡¯t that nice of them?¡±

    Pawel stands rooted to the spot for a moment¡­ then charges forward, lunging to draw one of the sticks from the bundles that the pair delivered!

    ¡°Pawel, don¡¯t!¡± I beg, horrified at what this man could do if angered!

    He doesn¡¯t hear me because he¡¯s screaming ¡°Don¡¯t HURT her! DON¡¯T you fucking DARE hurt her!¡±

    He swings the stick at the man who must weigh four times what he does!

    The man¡¯s hand catches the stick, almost effortlessly!

    He doesn¡¯t look angry¡­ more like¡­ charmed?!

    ¡°Yuh breiv, keed!¡± speaks the smiling giant to my son who stands, frozen.

    ¡°You have courage, child!¡± translates the dark skinned woman.

    ¡°Bat yuh olsoh uh bit styuupid!¡±

    ¡°But you are also somewhat foolish!¡±

    ¡°Mai Sheefud sei, pikyuh battuws!¡±

    ¡°My teacher would advise, choose your fights!¡±

    ¡°Nohwen yuh kant win¡­¡±

    ¡°Be aware of when victory is not possible¡­¡±

    ¡°Noh wen faittin ent nessussuri!¡±

    ¡°Be aware when there is no need to fight!¡±

    ¡°Ai ent yuh enemi, keed¡­¡±

    ¡°We are not adversaries, child¡­¡±

    ¡°Kan wi bi frenz?¡±

    ¡°Might we be allies?¡±

    At that, the giant man extends his right hand to Pawel in a very clear gesture of peace.

    Pawel just looks at him for a moment, then runs from the house.

    ¡°Gochasewf ah fyuuchuh Nait in Shainin Ahmuh, ver!¡± chuckles the giant.

    ¡°Your son shall grow to be Hero, in times to come!¡± translates his wife.

    ¡°He¡¯s as headstrong as his father was¡­ but he has his father''s kind heart, too!¡± I say, getting used to the woman speaking while I speak, to let her husband understand me.

    The giant smiles but says nothing.

    ¡°Are¡­?¡± I begin then waver.

    ¡°Go ask, Mrs Zuzana!¡± smiles the gorgeous woman.

    ¡°Are you really here for the Ratunek? Are you really from the UTC?¡±

    ¡°We are!¡± grins the woman without translating for the man.

    ¡°Tell me¡­ in the UTC¡­ is there a way to cure¡­ pneumonia?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.82

    ---Conference---

    ---Witold¡¯s perspective---

    My heavy door flies open, startling me half to death, and an out of breath eleven year old bursts in to my quarters, holding a long stick.

    ¡°Witold!They¡¯reatmyhouse!Rightnow!!!WhatshouldI¡­?!¡±

    ¡°Pawel!¡± I say, allowing some sternness into my voice ¡°I am an old man!¡­ You are going to give me a heart attack bursting in like that!¡­ What¡¯s so important that you felt it necessary to come in without knocking first?! Explain¡­. slowly!¡­ Sit down and take deep breaths!¡±

    The boy takes some deep breaths but remains standing as he says ¡°The Demony are in the town! Four that I recognised, two new ones! The gigantic redhead was in my house with one of the new ones! They were with my mama! I tried to fight him but he¡¯s so strong he found it funny!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ surprised at being unable to overcome a man you watched singlehandedly kill a zmora?¡­ Even armed, as I presume you were?¡± I ask, pointing at his stick and trying not to give away any amusement.

    ¡°No, of course I didn¡¯t think I could beat him but¡­ he has my mama! I had to try!!!¡±

    ¡°Pawel, sit!¡± I demand, gesturing to an empty chair.

    Reluctantly, the boy takes the seat.

    ¡°Tell me, Pawel¡­ were the guards with them?¡±

    He hesitates¡­ then nods.

    ¡°Were any of them armed?¡±

    Another pause¡­ then a head shake.

    ¡°Other than being chased and caught by the leatherclad hunter, have you seen them undertake any aggressive action¡­ to anyone?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ they killed that zmora¡­¡± he answers, clearly looking for evidence to fit his theory rather than a theory to fit his evidence!

    ¡°Was that unreasonable? Didn¡¯t you yourself say they seemed to try and scare it away first? Would any Mazurzy do that? Try to scare away a zmora when killing it was (apparently) so easy for them?¡±

    He frowns.

    ¡°Pawel¡­ do you remember what I said yesterday, when you told me of these ¡®Demony¡¯?¡±

    He gives an exasperated sigh ¡°¡­You said there were many different kinds of people in the UTC and that lots of them looked very different from us¡­ You said that, while you¡¯d never heard of a ¡®Don¡¯ or a ¡®Chwarnii¡¯, you did know what a Neanderthal was and thought my description of that one more or less matched them¡­ You said the thundersticks I told you about sounded like ¡®guns¡¯ and, though you didn¡¯t know anything like the sunsword, it could easily be magic that they¡¯d invented between when we got stranded and now¡­¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t use the word ¡®magic¡¯ but, otherwise, well recalled¡­¡± I chuckle ¡°¡­Pawel, I know you had a frightening experience yesterday but imagine, for a moment, that these people aren¡¯t Demony¡­ Imagine that they are who they say they are¡­ what would that make this?¡±

    The boy doesn¡¯t answer for a few moments, his eyes darting back and forth while focused on the near distance, before he responds ¡°¡­The Ratunek?¡±

    ¡°Indeed!¡­ It¡¯s not often in my capacity as Bzowy that I get to play the optimist, Pawel, but, right now¡­ I think it¡¯s much less likely that you were the first person from Malbork to ever encounter Demony and far more likely that you were the first to know anything about the Ratunek!¡±

    He looks doubtful.

    ¡°Pawel, if these people reveal themselves to be enemies, we shall have to treat them as such but, unless and until that happens, why don¡¯t we try to treat them as friends?¡±

    Unhappily, he answers ¡°¡­Alright¡­ Witold¡­¡±

    ¡°Good!¡± I smile ¡°Now, why don¡¯t the two of us go and meet them together? I feel there is much for us to discuss!¡±

    He nods.

    I rise from my chair and pick up my staff.

    The boy and I walk through the (still open) door of my quarters and begin making our way to the Pilecki¡¯s entrance hall, my staff clunking against the metal floor as I walk.

    We come to the top of the ramp, that hasn¡¯t moved for around three and a half centuries, and stop.

    I look across the town square, directly outside, and up Malbork¡¯s central thoroughfare.

    I see a mass of people, gathered in a slowly moving knot.

    At the centre of the crowd, I see the recognisable metal helms of the town guards and one distinctively redheaded person who stands head and shoulders taller than the rest!

    Though it¡¯s too far away for me to recognise anyone, I can already make out enough detail to see that the ones between the guards aren¡¯t Mazurzy!

    The throng approaches the base of the ramp and only the guards and visitors proceed up it, the rest being held at bay by two of the guards.

    They get near enough for me to see them relatively clearly.

    Every one of them has some feature of their appearance that immediately sets them apart as nonlocals! I may not know every face and name in town but there¡¯s absolutely no way any of these people are from Malbork!

    A young woman, less than 10cm shorter than me, with purple eyes, black hair (bar a silver streak at her forehead) and dressed in a cloth robe that gleams like metal, steps forward and proffers her hand to me.

    She speaks in a language with a rhythmic, tapping cadence that I do not understand.

    A second young woman with dark skin, wearing a long sleeved dress of gold and blue cloth and with her head wrapped to match says ¡°This name is Emiko ¡®Grins¡¯ Miyazaki, she is from the United Terran Coalition and speaks for them. She is pleased of meeting you!¡± gesturing to the woman shaking my hand.

    ¡°You speak our language?¡± I ask the sable skinned woman.

    She smiles ¡°I can try. I watched Pawel tell his story¡­ it let me get near to it.¡± gesturing to Pawel.

    I raise an eyebrow and turn to Pawel ¡°Your story?¡±

    He shifts ¡°They asked me to tell them one¡­ I told them the story of the Pilecki¡­ but she wasn¡¯t there.¡±

    The translator answers ¡°I saw it after¡­ it was a really good!¡±

    I smile at the fact that the boy was able to tell the whole story from memory.

    The woman in the gleaming robe gestures to a strange faced woman with a heavy brow, no chin and a wide, long nose.

    Though a normal height, she has the broadest shoulders, deepest torso and thickest limbs of any person I¡¯ve ever seen!

    She must be the Neanderthal¡­

    ¡°This name Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunting¡­ she is my guard.¡± relays the translator.

    Then the Miyazaki woman gestures to a man with copper coloured hair and bright green eyes who stands more than 20cm taller than me and has a powerfully proportioned body.

    ¡°This name Victor ¡®Hugging¡¯ Taylor and he normally is a guard of a different sort¡­ today though, he is speaking for the ship.¡± translates the woman in the blue and gold dress.

    Then, the lead woman gestures to a man and woman, the former a little taller than me, the latter a little shorter¡­ but still the tallest woman I¡¯ve ever seen!

    If the man got a bit of sun on his skin and dressed in Mazurzy clothing, he could walk past me in the street and I might think nothing more than ¡®That man who I don¡¯t recognise is quite tall!¡¯ With thousands of people in town, it¡¯s impossible to know everyone, afterall!

    The woman, though, in addition to her immense height, has dark skin and thick, curly, dark brown hair, that boarders on black, which would never allow her to pass for a local.

    ¡°These names Leon ¡®Kennedy¡¯ Byrne and Ziva ¡®Murmuring¡¯ Pereira¡­ They are here for the UTC Information Facility.¡± conveys the woman who, it now strikes me, managed to become almost fluent in Nowo Mazurski, overnight!

    Then, the woman in the metal cloth gestures to the translator and speaks.

    ¡°My translator I let introduce her own(!)¡± speaks the translator before continuing ¡°My name Yasmin ¡®Yellow Tongue¡¯ Soltani and I am a language expert¡­ mostly, you will be speaking through me, not to me, but I am still pleased of meeting you!¡±

    The strangers now introduced, the leader speaks and the translator relays ¡°Might we know your name?¡±

    ¡°My name is Witold¡­¡± I say (a little self conscious of my Mazurski mononym when all these visitors have old Terran triple barrels) before continuing ¡°¡­I am the Bzowy of the town of Malbork.¡±

    ¡°Bzowy means Ruler?¡± asks the translator without prompting from the emissary.

    I smile and shake my head ¡°More like ¡®Scholar¡¯¡­ I only advise our ruling council, the Rada Miejska, as well as organising our meetings¡­ my duty is mainly as a repository of knowledge, though I am often listened to, when I choose to give advice.¡±

    The dark skinned woman relays that to the purple eyed one and receives a reply.

    ¡°Mistress Miyazaki asks to speak to the Rada Miejska but knows that might not possible, this day. She wants to confer about the Ratunek with them.¡±

    I shake my head ¡°It will be more than possible! A few hours should be more than enough time for all the Radni to be notified and make the necessary arrangements ¡­ In the meanwhile, might I talk with you in the Komnata?¡­¡±

    ---later---

    My head is spinning as I sit at the table, at the head of what was once a lecture theatre that now serves as the Rada¡¯s meeting hall.

    I asked the soldiers to find and notify every Fojtordenter to make their way to the Conference on the Ratunek, at the tolling of the afternoon bell¡­

    I thought that the four or five hours I gave myself would be more than sufficient time for me to become informed enough but¡­ based on all the things they¡¯ve told me up to now, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d be ready if I had six months to prepare!

    They showed me pictures and recordings of strange creatures that talk like Terrans (admittedly, Terrans speaking Old Polish, which is as close as they can get to Nowo Mazurski until our language has been catalogued, not that that was a problem for me).

    I asked them if it was a joke but they insisted that these creatures were not only real but were their crewmates, in orbit around us, right now!

    They volunteered to have their image taken, to show us, to help introduce us to the fact that Earth isn¡¯t the only planet that has produced intelligent beings!

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°If¡­ uhm¡­ if there are¡­ tens of thousands of different intelligent species, across hundreds of millions of planets¡­ then why¡­ why has nobody found us until now?¡± I ask, struggling a little.

    ¡°So¡­ I know this is all a lot to take in, Sir¡­¡± says Miyazaki, her words still incomprehensible to my ears but their meaning being sent directly to my mind, through the device at my forehead.

    I asked if the existence of such technology didn¡¯t render the translator a little pointless but was told they don¡¯t have an infinite supply of them, so she is going to need to translate for the Rada. Also, they apparently can¡¯t be given to children, meaning that Pawel is only able to understand my side of the conversation.

    Pawel wasn¡¯t invited to join us¡­ but just followed, without anyone objecting(!)

    If he actually becomes Bzowy one day, it might be good for him to be here¡­ preserving this moment in living memory for the longest time possible¡­ though, now I think about it¡­ if this truly is the Ratunek¡­ that might make me Malbork¡¯s last Bzowy!

    Miyazaki continues ¡°¡­the truth is, Sir¡­ the Galactic Union have a system for classifying planets¡­ Class 1 to Class 3 planets, they call ¡®paradiseworlds¡¯; the gravity is low, the climate is stable, edible food is plentiful, there is little to nothing in terms of what we would call ¡®natural disasters¡¯, no predators, no pathogens, minimal solar radiation etc. etc¡­ Ironically, sapient species from these worlds are on the rarer side, since they¡¯re usually so stable that there is no need for animals to develop advanced problem solving to survive.¡±

    I nod my understanding.

    ¡°Class 9s are termed ¡®roughworlds¡¯ and are thought to be highly chaotic and adversarial to the development of sapience¡­ to the extent that there are only thirteen sapient species known from roughworlds¡­¡±

    I give another nod, though I¡¯m not really able to see where she¡¯s going with this.

    ¡°Paradiseworlds and roughworlds are both subcategories of ¡®gardenworld¡¯¡­ a term that is supposed to include all planets capable of producing or supporting sapient societies¡­ but the scale goes beyond Class 9¡­ Class 10s, Class 11s, Class 12s and Class 12+s are termed ''deathworlds''¡­ planets where the inherent instability of all conditions challenge life to the extent that it was thought that no sapience could possibly arise, no society possibly develop¡­ There are thought to be a few hundred thousand deathworlds in the galaxy¡­ Since the Galactic Union¡¯s formation, a little more than a million years ago, the idea of a sapient deathworlder has been a popular bogeyman in gardenworlder culture¡­ Deathworld systems tend to get avoided like marine ships would avoid rock shoals¡­¡±

    Seeing now where this might be going, I ask ¡°¡­And¡­ *ahem*¡­ what ¡®Class¡¯ is Nowe Mazury?¡­ What is Earth?¡±

    ¡°This is a high Class 11¡­ Earth is a 12+¡­¡± she relays, seriously.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ma¡¯am, I believe you misspoke¡­ You just said that sapience could not develop on Classes above 9¡­¡± I answer, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

    She smiles mirthlessly and responds ¡°I said that¡¯s what was thought¡­ until around 36 years ago, when a GU freighter pulled into a UTC system to degauss and were challenged to identify themselves by the local Aerospace Control, marking First Contact between our polities and precipitating a War for our extermination which lasted more than 7 years, cost us 70 billion lives and them 20 trillion¡­¡±

    I feel like I¡¯ve just been punched in the stomach as my pulse soars and I choke out ¡°¡­*Huff*¡­ Why so¡­ *huff*¡­ why were¡­*huff*¡­?¡±

    ¡°¡­there so many more deaths on their side?¡­ Especially when I¡¯ve already told you how much more sophisticated their technology was than ours?¡± she provides ¡°Simple¡­ there was good reason for them to fear deathworlders(!)¡­ We are stronger than them, faster than them, we can last longer than them and, at least on questions of survival, our brains make theirs look like the difference engine next to a quantum computer(!) Our ferocity, our hardiness, our ability to strategise, design and reverse engineer instruments and means of killing, our commitment to fighting to survive are things we have in orders of magnitude greater amounts than the overwhelming majority of the galaxy¡­ Every facet of our survival on a deathworld naturally moulded us into the perfect, killing machine, supersoldiers¡­ A five year old Terran would be more than a match for 99% of gardenworld species in an unarmed fight!¡±

    I sit, absorbing that for a long while before I manage to stammer ¡°¡­But¡­ you s-s-said¡­ the War w-was over¡­? H-how did it¡­?¡±

    She smiles and interrupts ¡°Something else that surviving a 3 billion year evolutionary arms race on a deathworld has equipped our species with, [Bzowy], is compassion¡­! It took them a while to look past the soldiers tearing apart their armies to see the humanitarians following behind but, when they did, they sued for Peace¡­ Of course, their military capacity was fairly spent at that point but, if they hadn¡¯t been reasonably confident of our mercy, they would have made us claw this galaxy from them, planet by planet¡­ which might have taken centuries and would have meant tens of trillions more deaths¡­¡±

    The Ratunek is much more complicated than I always imagined it!¡­ I more or less thought it would just be a ship (like the Pilecki but bigger) landing outside town and people ushering us on board to take us home!

    I never imagined all this stellarpolitical baggage!

    ¡°What is the UTC¡¯s relationship with the Galactic Union like, these days?¡± I ask, forcing myself to remain calm.

    ¡°These days?¡­ We¡¯re a constituent member¡­¡± she shrugs.

    I stare at her, agog, for some long moments before I manage ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry?!¡­ We just joined a society that tried to exterminate us?!¡±

    She gives a sympathetic chuckle and says ¡°I see where you¡¯re coming from¡­ but it was decided that pursuing an isolationist policy was extremely likely to eventually lead to a Second War¡­ Better to be on the inside, where we can not only have a say in affairs but also show willingness to participate, show people that we aren¡¯t the monsters they perhaps imagine us to be!¡­ Though, I must correct you about something;¡­ We joined the Galactic Union¡­¡± she gestures to the nonMazurzy side of the table ¡°¡­You¡­¡± she gestures to myself and Pawel on the end of the table ¡°¡­were never legally incorporated into the UTC and were functionally independent from it at the time the Peace was signed¡­ which segues nicely into your options¡­¡±

    ¡°Our options¡­?¡± I ask, feeling a little rejected at the implication that we¡¯re not considered UTC citizens.

    ¡°Yes¡­ when your council convenes, I plan to present them a few different possibilities for relationships they might request to have with the UTC¡­ I¡¯ll record it and it will be filed as a formal plea the moment our ship reenters FTLcom signal¡­¡± she smiles.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t just going to take us home?¡± I ask, feeling a little stupid, in a way I haven¡¯t for decades.

    She nods, conceding ¡°Evacuation is one possibility¡­ though a full evacuation is not possible right now. Not in the ship we came in¡­ so it would take some months for an evacuation to be properly organised.¡±

    ¡°Is there no space on your ship?¡± I ask, confused¡­ It looked fairly spacious and empty in the videos they showed.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let Victor explain that¡­¡± says Miyazaki.

    The gigantic man clears his throat and speaks ¡°*ahem*¡­Space wouldn¡¯t be the problem¡­ Hell! Recently, we evacuated an island that had more ¡¯an twice as many as it looks like you got in your town!¡­ The problems are more logistical¡­ When we had those people on board, we were on a planet¡­ we had aid shipments constantly comin¡¯ in! Food, medicine, blankets¡­ necessities, y¡¯know? We also had relief workers on board, helpin¡¯ us look after their needs¡­ but we was still stretched to absolute breakin¡¯ by it¡­ we wouldn¡¯t have any of that help with you, and it¡¯s a long way we¡¯d have to go, through space¡­ Now, there are some differences, like, that was an emergency evac so people weren¡¯t able to bring their own supplies¡­ You guys could bring your own food and such, but then we¡¯d have to dump you on a gardenworld to wait for a proper evac anyway, and there ain¡¯t many gardenworlds equipped to handle ten thousand or so Terran refugees bein¡¯ dumped on top of ¡¯em for months!¡­ If an evac is what you want, I¡¯d say send only your sick, injured and elderly with us¡­ everyone else should wait for a better prepared ship that¡¯d have to be sent from the UTC¡­ We could maybe take a couple of hundred before we start strainin¡¯ our capacity to care for ¡¯em¡­ Zuzana says that you told her her daughter¡¯s got pneumonia? She¡¯d be a priority¡­ her mum¡¯d have to come too, to look after her¡­ Pawel prob¡¯ly couldn¡¯t be left on his own¡­ You might consider comin¡¯ yourself, if there¡¯s space¡­¡±

    Confused, I ask ¡°Why would I come¡­? There¡¯s nothing wrong with me¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ err¡­ no offence but you¡­ you¡¯re just a bit¡­ old¡­¡± he says, sheepishly.

    I laugh ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯m 67!¡­ What do you propose to do about that!¡±

    The redhead starts to answer but Miyazaki holds up her hand to stop him before asking ¡°[Bzowy]¡­ how old do you think we are?¡± gesturing around the line of nonMazurzy.

    ¡°You all look to be in your mid twenties¡­ are you not?¡± I ask.

    I had noticed it being strange that all of these people happened to be so youthful¡­ but had chalked it up to coincidence¡­ Now, however, I¡¯m suspicious¡­

    Miyazaki turns to her bodyguard ¡°Thran, dear¡­ how old are you?¡±

    ¡°25.¡± answers the inordinately stocky Neanderthal, not surprising me at all.

    ¡°And Victor¡­ how old are you?¡± she asks the towering man.

    ¡°30.¡± he answers, surprising me slightly. He looks young for thirty!

    ¡°Leon? Ziva?¡±

    ¡°Nearly 41.¡± lies the blond.

    ¡°Nearly 42¡­¡± smirks the brunette.

    Miyazaki nods and gestures to herself ¡°I am 53¡­ what about you, Yasmin?¡±

    ¡°¡­I¡¯m about to turn 79.¡± says the vernal woman who cannot be a day over twenty five!

    ¡°Listen¡­¡± I say, unamused ¡°¡­I understand that, from your perspective, I may seem like a simple bumkin but I truly do not appreciate you trying to make jokes at my expense!¡­ There is precisely no way that, even with the 400+ years of separation, you have developed past age!¡­ Entropy is a fact of the universe! What you¡¯re saying is not possible!¡±

    Miyazaki smiles ¡°Did you forget the technological leap forward associated with joining the GU, [Bzowy]¡­? It did take a bit of fine tuning to stop them from turning our entire bodies into cancerous masses but¡­ regenerative medical technology is a fact of our current reality¡­ and, likewise, I would recommend you making use of it¡­ It will be a shame to deprive your community of you but it would be more of a shame for death to do so permanently!¡±

    I fold my arms and cock an eyebrow ¡°I¡¯ll believe it when I see it(!)¡­ What are our other options besides this two part evacuation?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well¡­ the UTC isn¡¯t in the business of forcible annexation so, as long as we have no reason to believe that this government¡­¡± she gestures to the audience seats that will be filled with Radni in a few hours ¡°¡­isn¡¯t representative of the will of the Mazurzy people, we will be happy to leave you to your independence. We would need to register that fact with the GU but, other than that, nothing would need to change¡­ Though, I would strongly recommend against full isolationism, the galaxy can be a frightening place¡­ Being independent would not preclude you from receiving aid from the UTC, so a request could be made to that effect, if that was your wish.¡±

    I nod ¡°Until you explained about the UTC¡¯s membership in the organisation that tried to exterminate us, I would have said that no Fojtordenter would opt for our continued ¡®independence¡¯¡­ Now, though, I¡¯m not so sure¡­¡±

    ¡°Personally, my recommendation wouldn¡¯t be either of those options¡­¡± muses the woman.

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°Personally, I plan to recommend opting for the status of a protectorate of the UTC, on track for full membership.¡±

    ¡°A ¡®protectorate''?¡± I query ¡°Why is that?¡±

    She smiles ¡°The fact that you¡¯ve survived here for as long as you have, in the conditions you have, proves the viability of this world for Terran habitation!¡­ Sure, you may fantasise about a better life in the UTC but, if we evacuate you, your entire, unique culture and history will likely be lost within a generation or two, as you get dispersed into the population! Becoming a protectorate would mean the better life could come to you while what you want to preserve of your culture can be safeguarded¡­ Once you think you¡¯ll be able to stand on your own two feet, you can apply to have your status upgraded to full member, which would do things like fully open your boarders to immigration from the UTC, rather than the only people allowed to come here being aid workers, food production workers, construction workers, sanitation workers, medical professionals and the like¡­ In the meantime, you¡¯d enjoy all of the protections of full membership!¡±

    I think about that for a while ¡°A protectorate¡­ hmmm¡­¡±

    ---Ratimyr¡¯s perspective---

    Out all day recovering that zmora carcass with my men, and the thanks I get(?!) Returning to town and finding the Palisade only half as manned as it ought to be because a conference of the Rada has been called, without me, to discuss the fucking Ratunek!!!

    I stride up to the Komnata''s entrance and wave for my men standing guard to open the door for me.

    They don¡¯t open them all the way but I decide to discipline them about it later!

    I stride in, seeing all 89 Radni aside from myself in their seats. Then, I look to the stage.

    What I see disappoints me¡­

    ¡°It seems the UTC has been taken over by clucking chickens in our absence from it, brothers(!)¡± I say, gesturing to the table, dominated by women.

    This receives a light chuckle from the audience while a nubile, brown skinned woman in a conservative, blue and gold cloth dress gossips into the ear of an equally attractive (though equally alien looking) woman in a dress made of metal cloth.

    ¡°°ÁÂý¤Ê¥ª¥ó¥É¥ê¤è¤ê¤â¤á¤ó¤É¤ê¤ÎøQ¤­Éù¤Î·½¤¬¤¤¤¤(!)¡± smirks the purple eyed woman.

    ¡°She says; better clucking chicken than strutting rooster(!)¡± relays the woman in blue, also smirking.

    This elicits a much heartier laugh than I got.

    My anger flares.

    ¡°Do you know who I am!? I am the Captain of the guard! I will not be disrespected by a woman who shouldn¡¯t even be in the Komnata!¡±

    The woman in the metal cloth dress rises along with the woman in blue and an extremely fat and ugly one on her other side.

    She walks to the edge of the stage, flanked by the other two hens.

    She steps down with a clack of her strange wooden sandals and stands facing me, her eyes at the same level as mine!

    She looks me up and down and says ¡°²ÐÄî¤Ê¤¬¤é¡¢ÒŠ¤Æ¤¤¤ë¤Î¤Ï°ÁÂý¤Ê¥ª¥ó¥É¥ê¤À¤±¤Ç¤¹¡­¡±

    ¡°She says; It is bad luck that all she sees is the arrogant rooster¡­¡±

    I backhand her, hard, across the face but no sooner have I done so than my head strikes the stage!

    I have an enormous weight pressing down on my chest and my arms are being painfully bent behind me.

    ¡°§®§Ú§ß §ã§Ö§Ù§ß§Ö §¢§´§¬ §Ó?§Ü§Ú§Ý§Ö§ß? ????§Þ §Ú§ä§Ü?§ß ?§é§Ö§ß §Ü§å§Ý§Ô§Ñ §Ñ§Ý§Ñ§Þ.¡± comes a level voice from on top of me, that I guess must belong to the ugly woman.

    ¡°She says: You are being arrested for attacking a UTC representative.¡± relays the translator.

    ¡°You can¡¯t arrest me! I am the LAW in this town! You are foreigners!!! Guards! Arrest them!!!¡± I shout to the chamber guards¡­ who make no move to help me¡­

    ¡°What are you doing, you idiots! Help me!!!¡± I shout at the halfwitted guards doing nothing more than staring uncertainly at one another.

    ¡°Unfortunately, Ratimyr¡­¡± says Witold, sat at the table with his eyebrow cocked wryly and gesturing to my men ¡°¡­5 minutes ago, they became citizens of the UTC protectorate of Nowe Mazury¡­¡± he gestures to me ¡°¡­and so did you!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.83

    ---Correspondent---

    ---Unwungunug¡¯s perspective---

    I stand behind the desk, my front legs locked in front of me, my back legs behind.

    I grip my outsized work holo between my three fingered hands.

    ¡°Remember¡­¡± says the producer ¡°¡­don¡¯t ask where she¡¯s going or what she¡¯s doing! You can mention her absence but nothing more!¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t my first day, Vorganq. You only needed to say it once.¡± I say, dryly.

    She nods and steps back from the set.

    I look down as she counts us in ¡°And we¡¯re on in 5, 4, 3, 2¡­¡±

    The on air light illuminates and I look up into the number 1 camera.

    Speaking in my usual deep, level voice, projecting the air of calm unflappability that has become my trademark, I start ¡°Greetings, gentlebeings all, and wishing you well wherever you are. My name is Unwungunug and this is Galactic News¡­ Our top story this cast is the discovery of Nowe Mazury, a lost colony of the UTC that has been isolated from all outside contact for around [4 centuries]. Hailing from Earth, the sole complex life producing planet in the Sol System, the UTCCS Pilecki embarked to ferry colonists to the designated colony world, Nowe Pomorze, in the Terran Calendar year 2291 when the Terran expansion was still in its infancy, relative to now. Reports indicate that it suffered a critical failure of Navigation, leaving all those aboard stranded in deep space for [decades]. Having located a planet that could support them, they landed and spent the intervening time subsisting through traditional agriculture. Upon discovery, contact was made, subsequent to which the community leaders convened and formally requested to be granted the status of UTC [protectorate], a position that would allow Nowe Mazury to benefit from the development aid and mutual defence agreement of the UTC, without obliging them to contribute taxes or maintain open boarders with other UTC worlds. The governments of Sol and Nowe Pomorze have already voted to accept this status and it is expected to pass referendum on other UTC worlds with little opposition¡­ A spokesman for the government of Nowe Pomorze has pledged that they will lead the efforts in developing Nowe Mazury to the point where they are able to join the UTC outright¡­¡±

    I pause here for a few moments to separate that segment of the story from the next and allow the audience time to digest it.

    ¡°¡­This development has met with some condemnation from those outside of Terran Space, the Parliamentary delegate for the Battan saying that the decision to develop rather than evacuate the system was, and I quote ¡®a move motivated by naked territorial ambition and nothing more than an insidious attempt to gain a foothold at the doorstep of Citadel¡¯, stating that she would vehemently oppose any transfer of the exclusive economic extrastellar space from the R¡¯qali and Nothar, who¡¯s territories this system straddles, to the UTC. Many have likewise expressed discomfort with the UTC acquiring this system that is set to become their furthest coreward yet¡­¡±

    I turn from the camera to my right, where a video feed is about to be displayed.

    ¡°We go now to our correspondent aboard the ship that made contact, the R¡¯qali owned, multispecies vessel, the Bright Plume. Long time viewers may recognise her as our former correspondent to Earth; correspondent Soo. It¡¯s good to hear from you, Soo.¡± I say to the Suigu who¡¯s ¡®face¡¯ appeared on screen while I introduced her.

    I wasn¡¯t simply being polite when I said it was good to hear from her. The Suigu, though a bit of a Terraboo weirdo (as evidenced by the fact that she, almost exclusively, presents herself shapeshifted to look as much like a Terran woman as is possible while made of blue jelly(!)) is, nonetheless, a consummate professional in the field of journalism. My heart sinks a little every time there¡¯s been any news from the Sol System since she was replaced with that (much less good) Varnap boy.

    My colleague smiles with her shapeshifted Terran mouth (though without going so far as to simulate their unnerving habit of baring their teeth to express joy) and says ¡°It¡¯s good to see you too, Unwungunug!¡­ I¡¯m standing on Deck 1 of the Bright Plume, overlooking Deck 0, access to which has been, temporarily, restricted. As you can see behind me, bedding has been set up for the 261 Mazurzy who were selected to be taken off planet, either to benefit from regeneration or to care for those that are. A high proportion of those below me are Mazurzy children and elderly but there are also some with debilitating long term injuries or other health conditions. Triage has been established to prioritise the order in which those that need it are able to access the single regen tube on board. With me now is a man who has already undergone regen and has agreed to be interviewed, a Mazurzy elder and community leader, Bzowy Witold.¡±

    The camera pans to include a slim Terran male with long, thick, grey hair and a clean shaven face.

    ¡°Bzowy Witold, can you tell me how you¡¯re feeling, right now?¡± asks Soo, morphing her ''hand'' into the shape of a Terran hand holding an old fashioned, Terran style microphone.

    Microphones are unnecessary for picking up voices (the camera is more than capable of doing that itself) but are very useful for indicating to interviewees when they are and aren¡¯t expected to be speaking.

    ¡°I¡­ uhm¡­ it feels¡­ surreal!¡± says the man, holding up his hands and looking intently at their backs before turning them around to show them to the camera ¡°I¡¯m young again!¡­ My hands are smooth! I can see clearly! My back doesn¡¯t ache! I feel fit and energetic in a way I haven¡¯t for decades!¡­ I shaved my beard, just to get a better look at my face¡­ it¡¯s incredible! It¡¯s just the way I looked when I was in my twenties¡­ though with grey eyebrows!¡­ I¡¯m not a superstitious man! I know that this is simply very advanced technology but¡­ from where I¡¯m standing, it feels like magic!¡­ I keep expecting to wake up and realise that this was all simply an amazing dream!¡±

    He reminds me of the footage that was shown when I reported on the first Terrans to receive regen after it had been cracked. Looking at themselves with dazed amazement that this would have become possible in their lifetimes!

    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic to hear!¡± smiles the Suigu, with ease ¡°¡­Could you tell us how you¡¯re finding the conditions aboard?¡±

    Focusing on Soo, the Terran answers ¡°I have absolutely no complaints. At first, I was a little confused about why the way was blocked between our floor and the higher levels but it was explained to me that, since there are so many children who may find it difficult to grasp the difference between us and ¡®gardenworlders¡¯, it was a safety measure¡­ Honestly, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve fully come to grips with being told that I¡¯m a ¡®deathworlder¡¯¡­ I¡¯m sort of used to thinking of my species as being at the bottom of the food chain, only able to survive by our cunning and ingenuity(!)¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Soo laughs ¡°I¡¯m sure many Terrans who¡¯re not in your circumstances feel the same! How are you finding the food? The sleeping arrangements? Bathing? Are you being looked after well enough?¡±

    He smiles ¡°It all seems very luxurious to me¡­ but the Terran crew keep apologising for it(!) The food is plentiful, nutritious and flavourful but the cook says he¡¯s having to cut corners in order to feed so many and that it doesn¡¯t taste as good as it could if he were allowed to take his time with it. The bedding is clean and comfortable¡­ There¡¯s not much in the way of privacy but that is rather to be expected under the circumstances!¡­ They told us, when we came aboard, to make as much use of the bathing facilities as we liked¡­ We thought that this was something they were saying out of courtesy since, to us, bathing in hot water seemed quite ludicrously extravagant¡­ After a few days, they clarified that this was not a simple courtesy and that we needed to keep ourselves clean, both for our own wellbeing and that of the gardenworlder crew¡­ I understand that our pathogens can be quite deadly to other species¡­ On the whole, I can¡¯t say I remember a time in my life that¡¯s felt more indulgent than this!¡±

    Soo smiles and nods before asking ¡°Bzowy Witold, your people were isolated for First Contact and throughout the entire War¡­ what did you think when you learned about it?¡±

    The Terran''s face falls and, sombrely, he answers ¡°I was¡­ shocked, of course¡­ When the group that came to our town showed me the recordings of nonTerran beings¡­ I thought it might have been some sort of¡­ joke they were playing!¡­ When I first actually met gardenworlders, I was extremely nervous¡­ but they quickly put me at ease¡­ It was also¡­ extremely saddening to learn how my species had been viewed, upon our discovery¡­ the things that we¡¯d had to do! The need to resort to the kind of brutality that I thought the Terran Union had permanently made a thing of the past¡­ at least for those living within it.¡±

    Internally, I baulk at the implication that those outside of the UTC are more brutal than those in it but Soo expertly clarifies ¡°You mean that life was brutal on Nowe Mazury?¡±

    He nods ¡°Yes, it certainly has been!¡­ The main threat we faced has been from zmory¡­ large, powerful predators which have never learned to fear Humans or Human habitation¡­ Our entire settlement had to be ringed with two defensive walls to defend against them¡­ Our ancestors built them in the time when the Pilecki still had enough power to be capable of raising and lowering its access ramp and there were still few enough of us that everyone had living space aboard. In the centuries since, we¡¯ve simply maintained them, replacing the parts that broke or rotted. If they hadn¡¯t had the foresight to build those walls, we wouldn¡¯t have survived¡­¡±

    ¡°There were other threats too?¡± asks Soo.

    The Terran answers ¡°Historically, there has been a single significant war in Mazurzy history¡­ In 2567, our population had grown to the point where we thought it prudent to establish a colony on a lake shore, around 150km from the resting place of the Pilecki. It was called Braniewoszyce and we were hopeful that it would be the first of many. However, it quickly succumbed to the fascistic, strongman rhetoric of a Fojtordenter named Jaros?aw. He was made ¡®king¡¯ and then attempted to conquer Malbork. The resultant war depopulated both settlements to the point that separation was no longer necessary or viable¡­ Though¡­ the main killers on Nowe Mazury were nothing as dramatic as wars or beasts! Most Mazurzy to die have died of hunger, cold and disease¡­ solutions to these things are what I shall request be prioritised in the aid Mazury receives.¡±

    Soo nods her ¡®head¡¯ like a Terran ¡°I see¡­ What are your plans for after we arrive in Citadel?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m told that the local ¡®ODR¡¯ is arranging appropriate accommodations for us and that most of us will quickly be returned to Nowe Mazury, to coincide with the first few aid ships'' arrival¡­ I, however, am to be conveyed from there on a tour of Terran Space, where I will act as a, sort of¡­ spokesperson for my people¡­ I am told that I¡¯ll definitely be visiting Nowe Pomorze and Earth but other stops are yet to be decided.¡±

    Here, I cut in ¡°I understand, Bzowy Witold, that there was an altercation shortly after your community leaders voted to request protectorate status. Could you tell us about that?¡±

    The Terran purses his lips briefly before saying ¡°Yes¡­ our Guardcaptain returned from an expedition outside the town, entered the council chamber shortly after the vote had concluded and, I presume feeling somewhat snubbed by the fact that this historic moment had happened without him, decided to make a snide comment about the gender balance of the contacting team¡­ the leader of the team answered in kind and he very quickly became so enraged that he struck her. He was instantly arrested by her bodyguard and is being transported with us to face charges of assaulting a representative of the UTC. I am extremely ashamed of his conduct and apologise, on behalf of my people, for him.¡±

    ¡°I believe we have footage of that event¡­ yes, I¡¯m being told we¡¯re playing it now.¡±

    The live feed is replaced by prerecorded footage of a Terran male and female of equal height standing around [1.5m] apart with the bodybuilding celebrity, Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter, stood behind the woman.

    ¡°Unfortunately, all I see is an arrogant rooster¡­¡± says the taller woman, witheringly, and repeated by a third woman who must have been acting as a translator.

    The man steps forward and hits her in the face with a strike that would have shattered most species¡¯ jaws.

    With lightning speed the short woman has slammed him to the stage and is twisting his arms behind him, reaching for a pair of handcuffs.

    The live feed is returned.

    ¡°Thank you correspondent Soo, thank you Bzowy Witold. Sorry to say but I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s all the time we have. On behalf of all of us here at Galactic News, I bid Nowe Mazury welcome to the galaxy¡­¡±

    Soo and the Terran nod to the camera.

    ¡°Now¡­ coming up next: Splurg fruit, healthy snack or dangerous health risk?¡­ The answer may surprise you¡­¡±

    ---Waqa¡¯arc¡¯s perspective---

    They stink¡­

    As I look down from the railing on the seventeenth Deck¡­ it occurs to me that that nest of Terran primitives down there manage to smell strongly enough to offend my nostrils from [90m] away!

    That Suigu journalist play acting at being a Terran female has just finished transmitting their propaganda piece on Deck 1.

    The disgrace of a woman, unfit to bear her mother¡¯s name and the name of our Clan¡¯s founder appears from the mid section of the ship, spots me and takes flight in my direction.

    She alights on the railing beside me and turns to face in the same direction.

    ¡°Did you catch the news segment, Waqa¡¯arc?¡± asks the insufferable brat, smugly.

    ¡°Yes I did, Tcakqaal¡­ The one slanting this as a heartwarming tale of rescued waifs instead of a bloodchilling one of a band of deathworlders who, upon being marooned on an inhospitable planet of famine, disease and formidable predators, managed to stubbornly cling to survival for [centuries], rather than having the decency to become an archaeological site!¡­ Not to mention the opportunistic way the deathworld empire seized the chance to gain a foothold behind R¡¯qali territory, leaving us vulnerable to future flanking attacks! Oh and, lest we forget, the way one of their community leaders immediately assaulted someone upon meeting her!¡±

    ¡°Oof! Tell us how you really feel, why don¡¯t you(!)¡± she responds, flippantly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve spoken to your Terrans, Sister¡­ I¡¯ve found them to be every bit as unpleasant as I had always predicted.¡±

    ¡°Yeees¡­ they¡¯ve told me about you¡¯re needlessly inflammatory needles and nitpicks with untied shoelaces and the like¡­ as well as your demeaning comments. Not exactly what I had in mind when I said you should meet them but¡­ it does do quite nicely to prove my point about them, nevertheless¡­ See how you¡¯ve utterly failed to get a rise out of them stronger than gritted teeth? You don¡¯t think, if they were as bad as you believe, you would have by now?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re better at repressing their true nature than I would have believed.¡± I concede ¡°But they¡¯ll show themselves for what they are, eventually.¡±

    ¡°No doubt they will!¡± she laughs.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.84

    ---Suspicion---

    ---Zuzana¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m in a ¡®lift¡¯ beside Yasmin.

    So many of the strange design choices aboard the Pilecki make sense now that I see what a spaceship looks like when it¡¯s working!

    I always wondered why there were four places where empty shafts spanned every one of the floors¡­ now I know they must have been lifts!

    ¡°I¡¯ll walk you in but I won¡¯t stay with you afterward. Your health is your business¡­ plus I don¡¯t want to stand next to Gato too long or you might think we¡¯re married(!)¡± quips the beautiful woman, speaking such flawless Mazurski Polish that, if you didn¡¯t look at her, you could believe she¡¯d been born on Nowe Mazury¡­ rather than setting foot there for the first time two weeks ago!

    I give a chuckling sigh and say ¡°I¡¯m never going to live that down, am I¡­ It¡¯s very natural for a Mazurzy to assume that, when a man and a woman of similar age come to your door together, they are together! The only alternative would be that they¡¯re siblings and I could see that you weren¡¯t siblings!¡­¡±

    She smiles ¡°It was very sweet (if a little confusing) when you came to tell me you¡¯d seen my ¡®husband¡¯ kissing another woman!¡­ Jae and I will definitely put that in the chapter on Mazurzy marriage and dating customs!¡­ Just to let all of the aid workers know that, if they stand too close to colleagues of the opposite sex, they will be mistaken for a couple(!)¡±

    As the doors open and we step out, I say ¡°My thinking wasn¡¯t exactly the clearest in that moment¡­ I think that Mazurzy not having a fit of fainting and nausea will probably be better at realising they shouldn¡¯t make assumptions about the relationships between offworlders!¡±

    ¡°Noted.¡± smiles the woman who looks statuesque next to me, despite being short by comparison to her female colleagues!

    We reach the room she was guiding me to and she leads the way inside.

    ¡°Gato! I have your three o¡¯clock here.¡± smiles Yasmin.

    ¡°Acknowledged.¡± says the twelve fingered cat alien, his voice translated with a curt tone, over the rooms speakers.

    Regardless of all his rudeness and shortness I can¡¯t bring myself to do anything other than adore the man who I watched save my daughter''s life, over the course of less than an hour!

    He ¡®decontaminated¡¯ her of the ¡®pathogen¡¯, instantaneously, and then, with my permission, put her to sleep for the ¡®regeneration¡¯ of her lungs.

    He explained to me that being sedated wasn¡¯t necessary but, since she was so young, she probably wouldn¡¯t understand what was happening if she was just shut in a tube which then began filling up with fluid!

    He didn¡¯t want her to damage the tube or hurt herself because she thought she was being drowned.

    Honestly, it was a little hard for me not to think the worst when I saw her limp, little body floating in the blue liquid for so long¡­ I had to keep reminding myself that this was necessary and infinitely preferable to the alternative!

    Then, when she woke up¡­ she was hale and healthy again¡­ And, for that, this rude feline from another world has my undying gratitude!

    Yasmin smiles goodbye as she leaves.

    The Doctor slides a metal disc across the table without looking up from whatever he¡¯s doing on his magic tablet and yowls something that the room translates as ¡°Put this on.¡± sounding bored.

    ¡°Oh, is that¡­ necessary, Doctor?¡± I ask, my words not being translated in a way that I can hear but being sent straight to his brain via the disc on his temple.

    He turns his unimpressed face to me and gestures ceilingward with one of his six fingered paws and, in a deadpan drawl, responds ¡°Unless you want to share your potentially sensitive medical issues with the sentient ship¡¯s computer, yes¡­ it¡¯s necessary.¡±

    I look upward, uncomfortably, and take the disc, pressing it to my head and fumbling to make it stick.

    Gato sighs, stands and rounds his desk, activating the gadget which glues itself to my skin and connects with my mind in a way that makes me aware of its presence, even though it¡¯s not actually doing anything, yet.

    ¡°Follow me to the examination room.¡± says the [gardenworlder], the thing at my temple layering his meaning over his yowling language.

    He walks and I follow him to a small room with a desk and a very large bed, made of some kind of plasticky material.

    There are two humanoid sized and shaped seats by the desk.

    The doctor flips a switch that makes the room silent, takes one of the seats and swivels it to face the other, which he wordlessly gestures to.

    I sit and he asks ¡°Name?¡±

    ¡°Oh, we met before when you cured my daughter¡¯s pneumonia, Dr Gato.¡±

    Flatly, he answers ¡°That is correct. However, that is the answer to the question ¡®have we met before?¡¯ You¡¯ll note that the question I asked was ¡®what is your name?¡¯¡­¡±

    I chuckle, despite his rudeness. I do need to remember that he has more than 250 or so brand new patients and we¡¯re all the same species¡­ I¡¯ve only ever met one cat doctor(!)

    ¡°It¡¯s Zuzana.¡±

    His left forefinger moves over his tablet before he turns it to me and asks ¡°Like this?¡±

    ¡°Just one ¡®n¡¯.¡± I smile.

    He makes the correction and asks ¡°No epithet? No last name?¡±

    ¡°None.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Age?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ err¡­ 29 in Earth years¡­ can you¡­?¡±

    He waves dismissively ¡°The translators automatically convert between all catalogued measurements of time, length, area, volume, weight, mass, speed and force. I can understand [29 years]¡­¡± before continuing ¡°¡­Are you currently experiencing any overt negative health indicators?¡±

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°Do you believe you are, more or less, healthy?¡± he clarifies.

    ¡°Oh¡­ yes¡­ More or less¡­¡± I answer.

    He looks at me in a way the thing on my temple tells me is somewhere between quizzical and suspicious as he asks ¡°How ¡®less¡¯? What symptoms do you have?¡±

    ¡°Ooooh¡­ well¡­ it¡¯s nothing really¡­ I just¡­ haven¡¯t slept well these past few months¡­¡±

    ¡°[untranslatable term: ¡®Insomnia¡¯. Meaning.: habitual sleeplessness or inability to sleep.], a simple fix¡­ You have the temporary holopad you were issued when you came aboard?¡±

    I nod and take it out to show him.

    ¡°Then, if the scans confirm your [insomnia], I will prescribe you a sedative app. You¡¯ll need to keep the translator to use it but that shouldn¡¯t be an issue¡­ so long as every refugee doesn¡¯t suddenly develop [insomnia], we have enough to spare.¡±

    ¡°That would work like when you put my daughter to sleep?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It would not, no. That was anaesthesia. You were able to pick her up and she was able to inhale the regen fluid without it waking her¡­ Anaesthesia is always somewhat risky to undergo and isn¡¯t particularly restful either. This would be a sedative and would work by inducing your [untranslatable term: ¡®neuronal¡¯. Meaning.: relating to neurons, specialized cells transmitting nerve impulses.] activity to the likeness of a sleeping person. Unlike with anaesthesia, you would wake up if you experienced pain, a loud noise or other disturbing sensation.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s just, like¡­ a magic sleep aid?¡±

    His mouth twists as he answers ¡°It¡¯s not magic¡­ but it is a sleep aid.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ sounds amazing!¡±

    ¡°Alright then. Try not to be too open about having a translator. You¡¯re liable to make the other refugees jealous and we don¡¯t have enough for everyone¡­ It will be very tiresome to have all of them suddenly claiming to be [insomniacs] to acquire translators!¡±

    I smile ¡°I¡¯ll try to be discreet, Doctor.¡±

    He flicks his tail, looks back to his [holopad] and continues ¡°Are you currently pregnant, Zuzana?¡±

    I falter ¡°Why¡­ err¡­ why do you need to know that?¡±

    He looks back up at me and answers ¡°Because, if you are and I put you in a regen tube, you won¡¯t be anymore. The regeneration process will treat the foetus as a foreign body and destroy it¡­ I¡¯m not particularly interested in being at the receiving end of a malpractice suit with an angry Terran mother on the other side so, I ask again, are you pregnant?¡±

    I pause for a few moments before answering ¡°¡­I am.¡±

    ¡°Do you know how long for?¡± he says, nonchalantly making notes on his [holopad].

    ¡°It can¡¯t be less than 3 months¡­ but I don¡¯t think it will be much longer¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll work out some nutritional guidance for your child¡¯s proper development, later. Would you like to know the sex?¡± he says, casually.

    ¡°If¡­ if it¡¯s possible to check on the baby without knowing its sex¡­ I¡¯d prefer that.¡± I request.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not possible for me not to know the sex¡­ but I don¡¯t need to convey it to you.¡± he answers.

    ¡°That¡¯s good¡­ Yes please!¡±

    ¡°Is the father aboard? I could schedule an appointment at a later time if you want to have him present for a prenatal consultation.¡±

    ¡°My husband is¡­ no longer with us.¡± I say, solemnly.

    He takes a few seconds before he seems to realise what I mean and answers ¡°Ah¡­ my condolences.¡± his tone flat, despite the considerate nature of his words.

    ¡°Thank you, Doctor.¡± I smile back.

    ¡°I would refer you to one of the therapists we have aboard for grief counselling, if you wanted, but, given how soon we will make landfall on Citadel, I don¡¯t know how much good it would do for you¡­ You might be able to see someone in that capacity upon your return to your home planet.¡±

    I begin to wonder whether this doctor¡¯s terseness is actually because of a general distaste for people or whether, perhaps, he simply isn¡¯t good at speaking without sounding impatient.

    He¡¯s been nothing but considerate in his words, if not his tone.

    He continues ¡°What was it that your husband died of? If it was something heritable, you might want to have your children screened for it.¡±

    ¡°He¡­ he died on duty¡­ the guard were hunting a zmora¡­ it ambushed them¡­¡±

    ¡°Zuzana, I¡¯m a doctor¡­ not a trauma therapist. If he didn¡¯t die of something that might pose a risk to your children¡¯s health I don¡¯t need to know more than that¡­¡± he says, flicking his tail in a way that the translator tells me indicates fear.

    ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Doctor! I didn¡¯t mean to scare you!¡±

    He sighs ¡°*Hhhh*¡­And there goes my professionalism!¡­ Forgive me my loss of composure, Zuzana.¡±

    I smile ¡°It¡¯s fine, Doctor! These things are just facts of life where I¡¯m from, but I can see how they might be terrifying to anyone else¡­¡±

    He puffs ¡°Your species is something quite incredible, Zuzana. The conditions you tolerate as ¡®facts of life¡¯ put all others to shame!¡±

    I smile and gesture around at the room ¡°Doctor, we¡¯re speaking via a machine that¡¯s talking directly to my brain. We¡¯re sat in a room, larger than my entire house, aboard a starship, travelling through space at thousands of times the speed of light! I haven¡¯t had to work in weeks and am, nonetheless, eating and bathing better than I ever have!¡­ In that room¡­¡± I gesture outside ¡°¡­I watched you cure my daughter of a disease that the most learned man and woman in my entire community both pronounced to be a death sentence¡­ like it was nothing!¡­ From my position, you look like the incredible ones¡­¡±

    The doctor gives another tail flick, this one flagged as being pleased, before saying ¡°Alright, Zuzana¡­ let¡¯s get to the examination, shall we?¡±

    ---later---

    He [diagnosed] me with symptoms of [insomnia] and chronic [malnutrition].

    He sent the sleep aid [app] to my [holo] for the insomnia but said the malnutrition would be too hard to cure without [regen] and could only be improved by eating well, for the moment.

    He also let me know that I had the capacity to grow a full 25cm taller than I am but that I would have to wait until the aid on Mazury included [gene] therapy if I wanted to reach that height.

    I¡¯m not sure how I would feel about being made more than a head taller!

    But, as he brings his [holo] to my stomach, I wait with baited breath for what he might tell me about my baby.

    ¡°There is a heartbeat¡­¡± he says, not seeming to realise the joy those words give me ¡°¡­conception is estimated to be around [16 weeks] ago¡­ slightly underdeveloped but, otherwise, no obvious signs of any birth defects¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s healthy?¡± I ask, my heart in my throat.

    ¡°It¡¯s healthy¡­¡± he confirms ¡°¡­I¡¯m going to send a dietary plan to your holopad¡­ it will include a variety of fruit and vegetables along with lean meat and fish¡­ Are you able to tolerate lactose?¡±

    ¡°Lactose?¡±

    ¡°Earth milk, cheese, cream etc.¡±

    I shrug ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know¡­ there were no cows on my planet¡­¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ you¡¯re probably not then. Even if you have the genes for it, you would have needed some exposure for them to be active. No matter, I can prescribe you alternatives made from Terran nuts or gardenworld animals¡­ they won¡¯t be quite as nutritious but should present no issue to metabolisation¡­ I can alert the cook to your circumstances, with your permission, and that will allow you to have separately made meals, optimally formulated for your prenatal health.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t want to put Krish to any trouble¡­!¡± I say, thinking of the poor overworked cook.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him¡­ he is more than happy to oblige people¡¯s dietary needs. The only question is; do you want him to know?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ I don¡¯t mind him knowing¡­ I probably won¡¯t be able to keep it a secret much longer anyway.¡±

    ¡°Krish knows that, when he receives information from me, it isn¡¯t the kind of thing he¡¯s allowed to bandy about. You don¡¯t have to worry about gossip, Zuzana¡­¡± says the doctor.

    ¡°Alright, then, please let him know for me.¡± I smile.

    ¡°Will there be¡­ any issue with social stigma, when you return to your homeworld, Zuzana?¡­ I know that, with a species as social as yours, the consequences of ostracisation can be quite dire, both for mental and physical health¡­¡± he asks, his tail indicating hesitation.

    ¡°Oh¡­ a little¡­ It¡¯s not so much that people will think I¡¯m immoral for being a single mother¡­ but I have just had those looks of pity over being a widow with two (now three) children to raise¡­ I was constantly having to turn down oblique proposals from Ratimyr, the man in the cells downstairs¡­ He said I should let him ''take care of me''¡­ I¡¯ve always known he was attracted to me but¡­ even if he¡¯d had a pleasant personality, it just would¡¯ve felt too much like marrying my uncle!¡±

    At this, the feline doctor stops writing to look up at me, pulling an expression which is his equivalent of a frown ¡°Wasn¡¯t¡­ the man downstairs¡­ the Guardcaptain?¡±

    ¡°He was¡­¡± I respond.

    ¡°And your husband was a guard?¡±

    ¡°He was¡­¡± I frown.

    ¡°Was he¡­ with your husband when he died? This man who¡¯s always been attracted to you?¡±

    ¡°He¡­ was¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t find that¡­ suspicious?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.85

    ---Cell---

    ---Zuzana¡¯s perspective---

    I step through the door and see a woman whose long, scaly, legless body makes my stomach turn in fear, despite the fact that I¡¯ve never seen her be anything other than nice to anyone!

    Even though everyone keeps telling me that Terrans are the most formidable people in the galaxy and that, when I¡¯m around nonTerrans, I need to treat them like they¡¯re made of spun glass, for reasons I don''t understand, looking at this woman has my instincts screaming that I¡¯m not safe!

    Ignoring my discomfort, I smile ¡°Hello Ms Hasiakh¡­ I¡¯m here to see Ratimyr?¡±

    ¡°Of course, Mrs Zuzana¡­¡± she says, answering my smile with a curl of her own stiff lipped mouth ¡°¡­right this way.¡±

    She leads me along a row of empty rooms with the nearside walls made of thick glass.

    As I walk (and she moves her body in an undulating glide that does nothing to ease my misplaced fear of her), I see a panel raise itself from the floor in front of one of the cells, stopping at the perfect height to act as a seat for me.

    Then, he comes into view.

    He looks up and, seeing who¡¯s here, stands and rushes to the glass.

    ¡°Zuzana! I¡­¡±

    ¡°Step back from the divide!¡± snarls the guardswoman with bloodcurdling ferocity!

    Ratimyr wilts in fear and does as instructed.

    Then, Hasiakh turns her scarlet scaled face to me and sweetly says ¡°I¡¯ll give you some privacy; the field will be up, the recordings off and I¡¯ll step outside¡­ if there¡¯s any trouble, just press one of the large red buttons on the wall and I¡¯ll be right back inside to deal with it. Is there anything else you need before I go?¡±

    I smile and shake my head.

    She nods and turns to leave in that spine chilling, unearthly glide of hers.

    I take a seat on the raised panel and say ¡°It¡¯s¡­ good to see you, Ratimyr¡­ you look healthy at least, in spite of the circumstances.¡±

    ¡°Zuzana¡­¡± he says, a little desperately ¡°¡­I¡¯ve been talking with the man who¡¯s going to be my advocate at the trial¡­ He thinks we have a solid case around the legality of my arrest¡­ Even though the council had voted to submit ourselves as a UTC vassal, the UTC hadn¡¯t accepted it yet, which makes the question of whether or not I ought to have been subject to UTC law dubious¡­ He told me that ¡®ignorance is no excuse¡¯ so, the fact that I didn¡¯t know she was a UTC representative, or that it was illegal to strike one, won¡¯t be any basis for acquittal¡­ but that it might help to earn me sympathy with the jury if we can sell the idea that I was just acting normally for my culture and didn¡¯t realise the new rules that I was suddenly living under¡­ But, he also said it would be really helpful if I could get witnesses who could vouch for my good character¡­ Would you testify as a character witness for me, Zuzana?¡±

    I beam and answer ¡°Oh, I will definitely testify at your trial, Ratimyr!¡±

    He gives a relieved smile.

    ¡°Ratimyr¡­¡± I start ¡°¡­I came here today to ask you a question.¡±

    He looks confused as he says ¡°What¡¯s your question?¡±

    I smile, ignoring the sickening, swooping nausea in my stomach, and ask ¡°Did you kill Lukas, Ratimyr?¡±

    What little colour it has drains from his face as he says ¡°Don¡¯t be¡­ ridiculous, Zuzana!¡­ The zmora killed your husband!¡­ You saw his body!¡­ You think I could have done that to him!?¡±

    Maintaining my sly smile, I answer ¡°Hasiakh is gone, Ratimyr¡­ It¡¯s just us here¡­ Tell me¡­¡±

    He looks at me for several long moments, his eyes scanning my face for emotions it is not displaying, before he answers ¡°The zmora¡­ did the deed but¡­ I ordered him to investigate the place where it was¡­ when¡­ I¡¯d¡­ already seen it¡­ I should have been ordering everyone into a defensive grouping¡­ but I didn¡¯t¡­¡±

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you?¡± I say, stalwartly maintaining the smile of a trusting confidant.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious, Zuzana?¡± he smiles ¡°I did it for you!¡±

    ¡°For me?¡±

    Beaming now, he answers ¡°Yes¡­ I saw the opportunity to get rid of him for you¡­ and I took it!¡±

    Cocking my head, curiously, I ask ¡°How did you know I wanted him ¡®got rid of¡¯?¡±

    He scoffs, contemptuously, and answers ¡°It couldn¡¯t have been more obvious!¡­ You¡¯re a Fojtordenter¡¯s daughter¡­ and that farmboy had you picking crops in the fields while you were raising his brats!¡­ I could see the toll it took on you, living in that hovel, working like a peasant¡­ After your parents died, I watched you blossom into a fine young woman, Zuzana, only then to be seduced by that nobody! I watched as the years weathered your face and, every time you saw me, you would smile and greet me¡­ so warmly¡­ I knew I could give you everything you wanted¡­ he just needed to be out of the way first!¡±

    ¡°You mean to tell me, Ratimyr¡­¡± I say, standing up and dropping the seductive smile ¡°¡­that my politeness to you¡­ got Lukas murdered?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ um¡­ I¡­err¡­ that¡¯s¡­¡± he stammers, the pride he had a moment ago gone!

    ¡°If I¡¯d been a bitch to you since Lukas and I married, would he still be alive?!¡± I demand, baring my teeth in disgust ¡°Or would you have killed him to spite me in that case!?¡­ Or would you still have managed to convince yourself that I had feelings for you and, if you could only get my husband ¡®out of the way¡¯, I¡¯d swoon, gratefully, into your arms!?¡±

    ¡°But¡­ I¡¯d have looked after you!¡± he says, still clearly shell shocked from me dropping the fa?ade of being charmed by his murder of the only man I¡¯ve ever loved ¡°I would have given you a better life than he ever did!¡±

    ¡°NO YOU WOULDN¡¯T!!!¡± I scream, causing him to cower back in spite of the solid 5cm of glass barrier separating us ¡°Sure, I wouldn¡¯t have had to work the fields if I were your wife but, instead, you would have expected me to be a full time cook, maid and baby factory¡­ all while you expected me to flawlessly maintain the beauty you¡¯ve been fucking leering at since I was 15!!!¡­ You don¡¯t think I knew what you wanted when I married Lukas, you pompous, arrogant narcissist!?¡­The work was hard, living with him, yes! But I did it, because it was so worth it!¡­ That ¡®hovel¡¯ is the house he and I built together! Those ¡®brats¡¯ are the children I had with the man I loved! A man who respected me! A man who didn¡¯t feel entitled to me because of who he was! A man who, unlike you, earned his rank in the guard, rather than having it handed to him because his daddy was the previous Guardcaptain!¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± he says, limply ¡°¡­I love you, Zuzana!¡±

    ¡°Your. love. is. fucking. poison!¡­ I. don¡¯t. want. it!¡± I snarl at the murderer before adding ¡°Tell your advocate that I plan to testify for the prosecution!¡±

    His face falls and his eyes dart back and forth, calculating, before he says ¡°I¡¯ll deny it! You have no evidence!¡±

    ¡°No evidence except¡­¡± I pull out my holopad with a spiteful smirk ¡°¡­a recorded confession!¡±

    His eyes go wide as he realises I was playing him from the start!

    ¡°It won¡¯t be admitted! I¡¯m not on trial for murder and they can¡¯t try me for a crime I committed on an independent system outside the UTC''s jurisdiction!¡±

    Resignedly, I nod ¡°True, they can¡¯t!¡­ But, when I testify to your character history as a lowlife, murdering scumbag¡­ it is pertinent to support that!¡­ Quite likely to make the jury think yours isn¡¯t the kind of sickness that can be fixed with a six week course and that you might need more comprehensive [rehabilitation]¡­ in the 15-20 year range, perhaps?¡­ Or maybe they¡¯ll decide to [extradite] you back to Nowe Mazury, to stand trial before the Rada¡­¡±

    His face blanches at that.

    ¡°Relax, fucker!¡­ Miyazaki and Yasmin told me they won¡¯t be able to give you the death penalty or¡­ if they do, they won¡¯t be allowed to carry it out¡­ The UTC apparently doesn¡¯t allow ¡®judicial murder¡¯ and that¡¯s one of the rules they will definitely enforce, even on a protectorate¡­ But they would be allowed to hand down any length of sentence they see fit, and have it carried out in a UTC medium security¡­ The only court you could appeal to, to have that decision overturned, is the Supreme Court on Earth¡­ You want my advice, Ratimyr?¡±

    He looks at me, dully.

    ¡°When you get certified as fit to reenter society, either after your sentence for striking Miyazaki or after your sentence for murdering my husband¡­ stay away from Nowe Mazury¡­ because I plan to spend every day you¡¯re inside making damn sure that everyone knows what you did! Knows that, for the sake of your own vain jealousy, you murdered a soldier, a husband and a father! Your name will be mud!¡­ So don¡¯t come back! Go somewhere else¡­ anywhere else¡­ try to get over yourself¡­ live your life¡­ just keep it the hell out of mine!!!¡±

    With that, I turn and stride away.

    ¡°Zuzana¡­! Zuzana wait¡­!!!¡± he calls after me but I don¡¯t stop.

    My righteous fury carries me out of the door before it subsides¡­ to be replaced by desolate emptiness¡­

    I tremble as I stand there, my mind blank of any articulated thoughts¡­ just a violent maelstrom of emotions in their place!

    ¡°Zuzana¡­!¡± comes a familiar voice.

    Blankly, I look up to see Yasmin, Miyazaki and Hasiakh, all looking at me, concerned.

    I register that Yasmin has her hand on my shoulder, though I didn¡¯t feel her place it there.

    The dam cracks¡­ and I burst into tears, hurling myself against the beautiful woman and sobbing, incomprehensibly¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.86

    ---Behind---

    ---Ssafazaoz¡¯s perspective---

    ---[2686, Terran Calendar/27 years BF]---

    Curse whatever [armchair General] thought that occupying this Sands damned planet was a good [fucking] idea!

    Yes, it is relatively distant from the Terran core, easily cut off and isolated, but holding it has been a horrendous meatgrinder!

    The hot suns and harsh aridity, though largely not a problem for a Sahas, have killed more occupation forces than the [guerrilla]  fighters, native flora and fauna, combined!

    We assumed that the local survivors of our initial attacks wouldn¡¯t last long in the wilds with their water and calorie hungry bodies, adapted for very different environs than these, but it¡¯s been years of occupying this planet and those managing to eek out an existence in the [bush] are still estimated to number in the tens of millions!

    Then, around a year ago, the Terran military arrived to take back this hellworld!

    If it were up to me, they would be welcome to it¡­ but, as I slither up the slope to the enemy entrenchment that blocks the most easily accessible pass to the Flynn Valley for [hundreds of kilometres] in either direction, I resign myself to the fact that I am just a soldier and¡­ mine is not to reason why¡­

    My hands held above my head, my palms facing forward, six fingers spread skyward, four thumbs pointing sideways, I reach the two walking tanks that stand sentry at the entrance to the camp that the Terrans have built across the road.

    The taller one points his firearm at me and shouts ¡°HOLT!¡±

    His bodylanguage requires no translation(!)

    I cease my forward motion.

    ¡°Wochuu wont!?¡± shouts the shorter tank, her words incomprehensible.

    ¡°Ai¡­ em¡­ anahmt!¡­ Ai¡­ heff¡­ kam tu¡­ pahley!¡­ Pliis¡­ teik mi¡­ tu¡­ yuur¡­ liidah!¡± I say, trying really hard not to flub the phrases I learned phonetically, just in case I accidentally say something that causes them to open fire on me!

    The sentries share a look with eachother, though I don¡¯t know what information they might be exchanging through those blank, orange helmets!

    After a few seconds the woman produces a communicator and speaks into it ¡°Kap¡¯n, wiv goht wunnatha snehk piippul iirr¡­ sez ii wonts tey ¡®pahley¡¯!¡±

    A male voice answers ¡°Bringhim tumi, Teylah. Ail send samwan tu riliiv yu¡­¡±

    ¡°Yesserr! Ouvurr en owt!¡± answers the female sentry before returning her attention to me ¡°Olrreit, yuh gleiket dobberr, thess wii tey tha Kap¡¯n!¡± gesturing with her palm tilted upward and facing her, and pulling it through the air towards her.

    I choose to interpret the gesture as a beckon and resume my approach.

    They don¡¯t stop me again until I get within a few metres of them, where the short one flips her hand around to show me the palm side.

    I stop and she gestures briskly from the taller one to me.

    He walks towards me and performs a very thorough search for hidden weapons, even lifting my tail off the ground to frisk along its underside¡­

    ¡°Hiiz kliin!¡± announces the man.

    The woman tilts her head in the direction of the camp and begins walking that way.

    I glide along beside her, allowing her to guide me.

    As we move, I see tents with rows of folding beds laid out inside, I see one tent in white with red emblems on it, I see crates labelled in multiple different Terran languages, I see benches and tables with unarmoured Terrans eating meals at them, I see a few Terrans idly playing instruments together.

    Every single Terran stops whatever they¡¯re doing to give me a spine chilling, hard, predatory stare, as we pass!

    We approach a short scaffold tower that was clearly built from materials not found anywhere nearby and erected on site.

    She leads me to the bottom of a staircase that¡¯s about wide enough for one Terran to walk up it.

    She strides up, taking the steps two at a time.

    I follow but find it a little awkward to ascend with so little space to undulate my hindbody.

    I eventually figure out that I can use my hands on the balustrades, pulling for a little extra propulsion, and I make it to a wide platform with a table in the middle, orange and red camo netting strung above it and a tall, bulky, dark haired Terran man, in orange and red armour, with a sword at his hip, stood with his helmet off, facing out towards the sliver of plains visible through the narrow canyon and the army of hundreds of thousands of GU military personnel camped on it.

    The man turns to reveal a scarred face, one blue eye (the other covered by a patch) and a calm, close mouthed smile.

    ¡°Ah¡­ Leftenunt¡­ yuuv brort awur ghest.¡± says the man I infer to be the leader of this force, calmly.

    ¡°Yesserr, Kap¡¯n Barrouws, Serr!¡± barks the woman.

    The one eyed man strides up to me, extending his one thumbed hand.

    I hesitate a moment but then extend mine.

    He grasps it and gives it a hearty shake, up and down, letting me feel the power contained in his dense body.

    He releases my hand, gestures to one of the Terran seats at the table and says ¡°Hav uh siit, gud Ser¡­¡±

    I slither over to it and, taking a moment to try and figure out how to accommodate myself onto the thing not designed for my anatomy, curl my tail onto the little platform, presenting my torso to the table and leaving a few [metres] of my tail trailing on the floor.

    His bearing almost regal, the man rounds the table and takes the seat opposite me.

    The woman remains standing and takes position behind him.

    Unsealing her helmet, she reveals a tan, scarred face, two eyes, almost the same bright green as mine, and a head of hair, the same colour as my scales, which is so voluminous that, freed from its confines, it manages to nearly double the diameter of her head, despite being contained in a tight bun!

    The man extends the palms of his hands to me, his fingers to the sides, and says ¡°Hav yuu brort uh tranz lay tah, Ser? Ai dount suh poze yuu spiik awur langwej, du yuu?¡±

    I don¡¯t understand him but, from the quizzical nature of his bodylanguage and tone, I assume him to be asking me questions.

    I reach for a pouch and (slowly) withdraw a translator for him.

    I slide it across the table and, with practiced ease, he takes it, presses it to the side of his skull and activates it, closing his single eye for the moments it takes the shudders to subside.

    ¡°*hrnk*¡­I shall never get used to that!¡± he says, his speech register rendered like that of the High Priest of a large oasis temple.

    He turns his attention to me and says ¡°A pleasure to make your acquaintance, good Sir. My name is [Captain] Nathan ''Wellington'' Burrows and I am in acting command of this battallion¡­ since the [Lieutenant Colonel] shuffled off this mortal coil the other month¡­ This is [Lieutenant] Esme Taylor, my right hand woman¡­¡± gesturing at the scowling, green eyed woman ¡°¡­Might I ask your name, Sir?¡±

    ¡°I am [Sandcrosser] Ssafazaoz¡­ second in command of the Sahas detachment in the occupation forces.¡± I state.

    ¡°Charmed.¡± smiles the one eyed man ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you brought a translator for my subordinate here, did you?¡±

    ¡°I apologise, I did not¡­¡± I say, turning my face down.

    ¡°Oh well, nothing to be done about it¡­¡± he shrugs his shoulders ¡°¡­Now, Ssafazaoz¡­ why have you come here?¡­ I daren¡¯t hope it was to offer your surrender, was it now(!)¡±

    ¡°It was not¡­ It was to offer you safe passage to withdraw from this position¡­¡±

    ¡°Refused. If that¡¯s all¡­?¡± he says, making to stand.

    ¡°Wait! Please, hear me out¡­!¡± I beg.

    The man cocks the brow above his remaining eye and lowers himself back into his chair.

    ¡°[War King] Vlixrothju, in ultimate charge of that army out there, is willing to offer you water, deathworld food provisions, an FTL capable ship and a guarantee that you will not be fired upon as you go, if you abandon this position, leave the system and return to Terran Space, peacefully. He won¡¯t make this offer again!¡±

    The man puffs through a humourless smile and answers ¡°How very gracious of old Vlixie(!) But, tell me¡­ why exactly is he so desperate to have us dislodged from this little crag?¡±

    I sigh ¡°Because¡­ this is the easiest way to move a land army through the Ngunytju Cliffs to the Flynn Valley¡­¡±

    ¡°I see¡­(!)¡± he says, feigning thoughtfulness ¡°¡­And, pray tell, why exactly is the ¡®war king¡¯ so keen to move his army into the Flynn Valley(?)¡±

    Reluctantly, I answer ¡°¡­Because he wishes to retake New Canberra¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah(!) I see(!)¡­ Now, do tell me, what exactly does he plan to do about all of the survivors of your occupation and defence forces gathered in that city?¡­ Will he give them the same offer he¡¯s giving us?¡±

    ¡°¡­No¡­¡±

    He gestures to me with both hands and says ¡°And there you have it!¡­ We cannot abandon this post because I know that, in so doing, we will all but guarantee a massacre of those behind us!¡±

    ¡°If you refuse this offer, Vlixrothju will bombard this camp and move the army through anyway! You aren¡¯t saving anyone by your stubbornness!¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Burrows gives a mirthless chuckle and shoots back ¡°Oh? If it were that easy, why would he make the offer at all?¡±

    Reticently, I remain silent.

    He points his right finger to the [+100m] cliff to his left and his left to the [+100m] cliff to his right and answers for me ¡°He hasn¡¯t already bombarded us to oblivion because he needs this pass open! He doesn¡¯t have enough airworthy craft to complete an aerial crossing that wouldn¡¯t be torn apart as they landed piecemeal, he doesn¡¯t have the time to round these mountains and he doesn¡¯t have the equipment to quickly clear out the hundreds of tonnes of rock that would almost certainly collapse, blocking this pass, if you bombard us!¡­ By the point you had cleared the rubble, you would be looking at a full army group meeting you on the other side¡­ Old Vlixie knows that we¡¯re just weeks from your capitulation and he¡¯s desperate to win glory while he still can!¡±

    Here, the subordinate chimes in ¡°Tel thess fekkerr thet Ahv goht un oupen cheyurr beseid ma wii babbiiz creb ennan oupun grreiv beseid ma hazbund, Kap¡¯n!¡­ Ets ap tey thehm whech wun Ah gou tey!¡±

    He gives a mirthless chuckle and relays ¡°Lieutenant Taylor wishes to add that she has a chair besides her baby¡¯s cot and a grave besides her husband¡¯s, both waiting for her¡­ She is equally ready to go to either!¡±

    For several, long moments, I stare at the mad deathworlders, confounded.

    I gesture to the flags that fly level with the platform; one of a blue field with a white, diagonal cross, one with a white field and a red, vertical cross, one of a green and white field, emblazoned with a red, winged, reptilian beast, one with a green field and a golden lyre and one showing a canine animal on a teal field.

    The highest flying flag shows, not a yellow constellation on an orange field but, instead, a circle with two forest green quarters and two royal blue quarters on a black field.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t from this planet¡­ Why are you so willing to die for people you don¡¯t know? For people you¡¯ve never even met!?¡­ Why not take the offer and go back to Earth¡­ let this woman be with her baby?¡±

    The man gives a crooked, sombre smile and answers ¡°You want to know a secret, Ssafazaoz?¡­ I¡¯m certain you won¡¯t believe me but¡­ if fate were such that this battalion and that army were on your planet¡­ I would give the same response to whatever messenger they sent to try and convince us to save ourselves at the cost of letting your city be massacred¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ I don¡¯t believe you¡­ We¡¯re not even the same species! Why would you care!¡±

    The man shuts his eye and shakes his head ¡°I don¡¯t think you would understand if I explained it¡­ but, to put it in terms you might find easier to grasp; right now, I have the opportunity to trade my life¡­ for dozens, maybe hundreds, in that city¡­ Esme here never getting the chance to see her baby again allows so many mothers and fathers in that city the chance to raise their own children¡­ It wouldn¡¯t matter if they weren¡¯t our species, it doesn¡¯t matter that they aren¡¯t family, it doesn¡¯t matter that we¡¯ve never met them, that most of them will never learn any of our names or faces or that this sacrifice might only be a brief footnote in the history classes those children eventually take¡­ To us, making that choice is as natural as breathing¡­¡±

    I look between the one eyed man and green eyed woman for some long moments before I rise from my seat and say ¡°I deeply regret that this will be the last time I see you both¡­ regardless of whether what you say about being willing to make the same sacrifice for my people as you are for your own is true¡­ you are two of the most honourable people I have ever had the pleasure to meet¡­ Might I ask the [Lieutenant] if her child is a girl or a boy¡­?¡±

    He relays my question and then the answer ¡°He¡¯s a boy¡­ his name is Victor¡­¡±

    I dip my head and close my eyes to the woman as I say ¡°I truly hope he grows up into a fine man, [Lieutenant]¡­ and knows his mother died a hero.¡±

    I raise my head as the [Captain] relays my well wish, just in time to see her face soften from its scowl as she answers ¡°Hii gehts tey grou ap atoll¡­ thahts enuff ferr mii¡­¡±

    ¡°She says; it¡¯s enough for her that he gets to grow up at all.¡± communicates the [Captain].

    I turn to go but the man says ¡°Lieutenant Taylor¡­? Would you care to arrange a song to see out the Sandcrosser here?¡±

    The woman¡¯s face lights up with excitement, for all the world as if she has no idea that she¡¯s minutes from death, as she asks ¡°Thaht sohng?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that song.¡± smiles the man.

    The woman runs to the railing and shouts down to the soldiers beneath ¡°Kambull, Frreizurr! Gehtyurr peips!¡± a man and a woman scurry off somewhere before she continues ¡°Evrriwun elss, Ah nou mousta yuz hakket bassturrds deint hav tha diisensi tey bii Skots bat Ah assoom nunayuz havuh prroblum wuth tha werrdz otha Hehvun Taut Ploumun biiun tha lahst yuz ehvurr hiirr(!)¡±

    The two who left return, each with inflated cloth bags, extruding numerous wooden pipes, under one arm, and look up to the [Lieutenant].

    ¡°Yuz tu¡­ gev uz Skots Wa Hei!¡± shouts the woman, a little maniacally.

    Both of them nod, take the shortest of the upper pipes into their mouths and begin blowing, bringing both hands to the single lower pipe on their respective devices.

    The noise that begins from the instruments is a great, sonorous drone but, in short order and perfect synchrony, the two begin working their fingers against their respective bottom pipes to produce an intricate, high wailing, that layers over the top.

    ¡°I¡¯ll walk you out¡­¡± smiles the [Captain], gesturing to the stairs.

    As we descend, the singing starts.

    The only one I can understand is the one eyed man walking just ahead of me and still wearing his translator, which informs me that he¡¯s switched speech register.

    f? Scots, wha hae wi'' Wallace bled

    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led

    Welcome tae your gory bed

    Or tae victory!

    -

    Now''s the day, an¡¯ now''s the hour

    See the front o'' battle lour

    See approach proud Edward''s power

    Chains an¡¯ slavery!?f

    The ranks of Terrans, singing their own dirge, close behind me as I walk through the camp, to deliver their death sentence.

    I almost want them to stop me, to hold me here and keep me from the grisly task I am about to perform¡­ even to kill me, to save themselves¡­

    I almost want that¡­ but I¡¯m not as noble as them¡­

    Not that preventing my return would do more than delay the bombardment by an hour or so, anyway!

    I shake Burrows¡¯ hand, one last time, at the gates before he detaches the translator and hands it back to me, still singing, his words now nonsense.

    The pipes blaring and the Terrans singing behind me, I cross back over the battle lines to do my horrid duty¡­

    I resolve not to look away¡­

    I resolve to listen as those pipes are silenced by the blast of artillery¡­

    I resolve to watch as that camp is destroyed and those cliffs inevitably get struck by stray shells and collapse, burying it in rubble, blocking the pass and making the whole bombardment pointless¡­

    I resolve to testify when the Terrans inevitably demand Vlixrothju be put on trial for his wanton cruelty, in the imminent Peace¡­

    I resolve never to boast of my part in this shameful War¡­ Never to tell my future children that we had any honour in this fight¡­ Maybe never tell them of it at all!

    I think of that woman¡¯s child¡­ who I¡¯m about to doom to grow up as an orphan¡­

    I truly hope he¡¯s alright¡­

    ---Pawel¡¯s perspective---

    ---2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF---

    I see the giant man I thought was a Demon when I first met him, sat alone, leant over a table, in the Canteen, resting his head on his arms.

    He looks tired and I almost decide to leave him to get his rest but, then, his head tilts upward to look at me.

    ¡°Hei Pawel¡­ Wassup?¡± he says in a language I don¡¯t speak.

    Thankfully, his words play again over the nearby [speakers], translated into Mazurski Polish for me, on a very slight delay.

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ could I¡­ sit with you?¡± I ask, nervously.

    ¡°Sure!¡± he says, sitting up and gesturing to the seat opposite him.

    I sit.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry I thought you were a Demon¡­ and that I ran away¡­ and that I tried to hit you with a stick¡­¡±

    He smiles and shrugs ¡°Ain¡¯t unreasonable for you to see something otherworldly and have difficulty trustin¡¯ it¡­ Runnin¡¯ away at the first opportunity is natural and sensible when you think you¡¯ve been kidnapped by Demons!¡­ Attackin¡¯ a Demon with a stick is¡­ less sensible¡­(!) Borderin¡¯ on reckless, even(!)¡­ Recklessness is defo a character flaw¡­ but ain¡¯t unforgivable or nothin¡¯!¡±

    I nod but stay silent.

    ¡°Sooo¡­¡± he says, tilting his head ¡°¡­was there something else?¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ Yes¡­ I have a question¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, you do? What¡¯s your question?¡± he says, narrowing his eyes, mirthfully.

    ¡°How¡­ how did you get so big and¡­ so strong?¡±

    He puffs, looking down at the table for a moment before answering ¡°That¡­ ain¡¯t a simple question to answer¡­ My dad was quite tall and very strong¡­ my mum was no slouch, either¡­ ¡¯Cordin¡¯ to their military records, anyway¡­ Woman that ran the orphanage I grew up in had all my nutritional needs worked out to the last gram of fibre¡­ That definitely helped with the height¡­ When I were about your age, I got the shit kicked out of me by some kids from school¡­ motivated me to pick up a martial art¡­ Found a gu¨£n in London, got trained up to my black sash there¡­ The Sh¨©fu definitely got my head screwed on right about when is and when ain¡¯t an acceptable time to use violence¡­ I think, if I had to break it down to one sentence, I¡¯d say a few sprinkles of good luck with a heapin¡¯ helpin¡¯ of hard work is how I got this strong¡­ Why d¡¯you ask?¡±

    A little embarrassed, I answer ¡°I want to be as strong as you, one day¡­ Do you think it¡¯s possible?¡±

    Instead of answering me, he asks ¡°Why do you wanna be so strong?¡± his tone neutral.

    ¡°Well¡­ um¡­ because then I could¡­ you know¡­ I could stare down a charging zmora and kill it, like you did!¡­ When people swing sticks at me, I could catch them, laugh and give them a lecture, like you did!¡­ When anyone or anything tries to hurt me, I could fight it, the way you fight with your friends in the [gym]!¡±

    He shrugs and asks ¡°Why d¡¯you wanna do all that?¡±

    I frown at him and say ¡°I¡­ um¡­ I don¡¯t understand the question¡­¡± isn¡¯t it obvious why I would want to do all that?!

    He smiles ¡°Let me try a different question then; why¡¯d you swing that stick at me?¡±

    So he hasn¡¯t forgiven me!

    ¡°Because I thought you were a Demon!¡± I sulk.

    ¡°OK¡­ but you could¡¯ve run¡­ why didn¡¯t you?¡±

    I unfold my arms, thinking for a moment, before I answer ¡°Because my mama was with you¡­ I thought you might hurt her¡­¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ now, why did you come into the council room with us and Witold?¡±

    ¡°Because¡­ because he¡¯s old?¡­ Was old, at least!¡± I answer, uncertainly.

    ¡°And him bein¡¯ old meant?¡± he smiles.

    ¡°He was¡­ frail?¡±

    ¡°And¡­?¡± he says, rotating his hand at the wrist for me to keep going.

    ¡°And¡­ wouldn¡¯t be able to protect himself from you¡­ if you had been Demony¡­¡±

    ¡°GOOD!¡± beams the giant man, clapping his hands together ¡°Now¡­ given that you weren¡¯t able to hit just me, when you swung that stick, would you have been able to do anything against all six of us if we¡¯d bared our fangs, grown our horns, sprouted our wings (or whatever it is Demons have in your culture) and tried to hurt him?¡±

    ¡°¡­No¡­ I wouldn¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ so, I ask again; why do you want to be strong?¡±

    I think hard about whatever point it is he¡¯s trying to make, before answering ¡°To¡­ protect people?¡±

    ¡°There we go!¡­ That¡¯s a good reason!¡­ Some people wanna be muscly for vanity¡­ nothin¡¯ wrong with that¡­ Some people wanna get strong for health or just for utility¡­ good, fair motivations! But, then, there¡¯s some that wanna get strong so they can push people around, some that just like bein¡¯ able to do violence!¡­ These are pretty shitty reasons if I¡¯m honest¡­ not that they don¡¯t work¡­ just that bein¡¯ the kinda guy that only likes to hit the irons ¡¯cause he gets a kick outta throwin¡¯ his weight around or hurtin¡¯ people makes you kinda a shitty person!¡­ I almost turned into one of ¡¯em¡­ Yeah, sure, I¡¯d¡¯ve said it was ¡®self defence¡¯ but really, there was a part of me that was daydreamin¡¯ ¡¯bout those kids comin¡¯ at me again and gettin¡¯ to kick the shit out of them¡­ while lookin¡¯ super stylish doin¡¯ it!¡­ Sh¨©fu N¨ªng straightened me out¡­ taught me the lesson I¡¯m passin¡¯ on to you, now¡­ We may fight, but we do it out of hatred for violence, not love of it¡­ We may seek strength but we seek it to be a shield, not a sword¡­ We may even kill¡­ but, when we do, it isn¡¯t an indulgence, we feel no glee but nor should we regret it¡­ because, before making that decision, we should know that the harm we¡¯re doin¡¯ is more than offset by the harm we¡¯re sparin¡¯¡­ Never find yourself in a position of havin¡¯ done somethin¡¯ that can¡¯t be undone, that you regret!¡±

    ¡°OK¡­¡± I frown ¡°¡­so, I have a reason¡­ how does that help?¡±

    He laughs ¡°A reason is the most important bit!!!¡­ You not remember me mentionin¡¯ the hard work?! A reason to be strong is what you¡¯re gonna need to see you through all that! A reason, and a damn compellin¡¯ one, is what you need for all those moments where you don¡¯t feel like carryin¡¯ on goin¡¯! Whenever you train, ¡®there¡¯re people I gotta protect¡¯ has to be what keeps you goin¡¯!¡­ Now, ¡¯course, not everyone can be or needs to be as strong as me so, when you¡¯re old enough to work out properly (if you start too young you will pull your bones outta shape!), don¡¯t feel bad if you find it ain¡¯t for you!¡­ Also, remember to look after yourself too! Self care ain¡¯t selfish, it¡¯s necessary!¡­ Can¡¯t help no one if you''re keelin¡¯ over!¡­ That¡¯s about all I¡¯ve got for the practical, moral and philosophical advice(!)¡­ You want a more hands-on, ¡®how to¡¯ guide to gettin¡¯ strong, you might try talkin¡¯ to Thran¡­ Lot of her strength comes from a genetic condition but she reckons about half is from her trainin¡¯¡­ She¡¯s very minutia focused so she¡¯ll have insights I don¡¯t¡­ I took a lotta her advice before I ever even met her, just from her interviews an¡¯ stuff¡­ Most important thing though, whatever you do in the name of gettin¡¯ strong¡­ never forget why!¡­ You want to be strong to protect the people behind you!¡±

    I think about that for a while ¡°To protect the people behind me¡­ I like how that sounds.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXVI: Pancakes and Tongues

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    I sit in my room, the cute Mazurzy woman sat opposite from me.

    Her children are being looked after by a friend, allowing her the night off.

    I¡¯m flattered she¡¯s choosing to spend it with me!

    I¡¯m obviously not drinking any alcohol¡­ funnily enough, when I suggested that she could, she politely declined. I suppose she was just being considerate.

    ¡°OK¡­ so¡­¡± she says, pointing at me, mischievously ¡°¡­the giant guy¡­ the redhead¡­ the one I thought was your husband¡­ would you?¡±

    I giggle ¡°No¡­ I would not¡­ you know, since he has a partner(!)¡±

    She waves her hand dismissively ¡°He¡¯s single, you¡¯re single¡­ what about then?¡±

    I think about that for a moment before answering ¡°I mean¡­ I wouldn¡¯t rule it out¡­ He seems like a sweet enough guy and¡­¡± I bite my lip ¡°¡­that bod of his certainly doesn¡¯t hurt(!) I just¡­ I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s really my type¡­ He¡¯s got a bit of a boyish face¡­ which I don¡¯t really find attractive¡­ plus English is such a boring language¡­!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± she laughs ¡°What does his language have to do with anything? Don¡¯t you come from a world where a couple doesn¡¯t necessarily need to speak the same language? And don¡¯t you basically speak all the languages?!¡­ You learned mine overnight!¡±

    I shake my head ¡°I¡¯m fully fluent in maybe a hundred and fifty languages! There are more that I¡¯m either partially fluent in or can fully comprehend but can¡¯t speak because of the limits of my own anatomy!¡­ Learning Polish originally took me a couple of months when I was a young girl, then a few more weeks, each, for Czech, Slovak and Sorbian¡­ I was able to become conversant in your language, so quickly, because I was already fluent in all of its building blocks, but your boy and Twila were able to stumble through an exchange, with her speaking 23rd Century Polish!¡±

    ¡°OK, but why does it matter what language he speaks?¡± she asks, her beautiful, brown eyes narrowed in mirthful suspicion.

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­¡± I start, feeling myself blush a little ¡°¡­I prefer not to use translators¡­ if I can help it¡­ No fun¡­ Learning new languages is¡­ exciting¡­for me¡­¡±

    Her eyebrows raise as she says ¡°Oh¡­ oooh!¡­ Well¡­ that¡¯s certainly¡­ an interesting taste¡­ wouldn¡¯t have been possible on Nowe Mazury, obviously!¡­ I mean¡­ you could have learned Old Polish, I suppose, but¡­ well, most women never got that opportunity¡­¡±

    ¡°Sounds awful!¡± I grimace.

    She shrugs in response before asking ¡°So, his language is boring to you?¡±

    I waggle my head, indecisively ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a fine enough language¡­ it¡¯s serviceable¡­ It¡¯s just so ubiquitous in Terran Space that it¡¯s usually one of the first that people learn, just for its utility! Almost everyone speaks it and so it¡¯s really easy to find people to learn it from and speak it with! There¡¯s no mystery in it for me anymore!¡­ To hear people, whose first language it is, talk about it, you¡¯d swear it was a miracle that it ever became the Terran lingua franca(!) They seem to believe that it¡¯s unique for its mix of grammar and lexis from different, distantly related languages (it isn¡¯t. It¡¯s quite a creole, but far from unique!), for its weird, nonsensical spellings (Scots Gaelic is so much worse!), for how thick with idioms and phrasal verbs it is (again, it has a lot¡­ not the most¡­ not clearly, at least!) and for the quantity of loanwords it¡¯s taken from other languages across the world (forgetting that cultural exchange goes two ways)¡­I¡¯ve learned all of the unusual shibboleths, I¡¯ve mastered all of the etymological influences, I know every obscure loanword, I learned the rules, the exceptions, the exceptions to the exceptions and the exceptions to those! I can speak his language as naturally as I speak Farsi! There¡¯s just no excitement left to mine from it!¡±

    ¡°What about my language?¡± she smiles, flirtatiously, finally making me certain that she is bi ¡°¡­Is there any excitement left to mine from Nowo Mazurski?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ erm¡­ *ahem*¡­ yeah¡­ sure! I mean¡­ I¡¯m¡­ fluent enough to have this conversation but, every 10 minutes or so you use a funny little portmanteau of a Hungarian word and a Latvian one or something, or, like, a native idiom that I¡¯m not familiar with¡­ something I have to either think about or ask you about¡­ I still get a little kick out of it¡­ What¡­ err¡­about you¡­ would you go for it if you were propositioned by a single Victor?¡±

    She smirks and lies back on the sofa, gesturing vaguely as she says ¡°Daaamn right! Man that big, you know he¡¯s gotta be fucking hung!!! I¡¯d let him split me in half with his monster cock and then he could use those big, strong arms of his to ¡®Hugging¡¯ me better, all night long(!)¡±

    I role my eyes, mirthfully, at her bringing up my early failure to properly translate the epithet ¡®Cuddles¡¯ and answer ¡°Tell you what, how about you learn his language and see how easy it is to translate colloquial words like ¡®Cuddle¡¯ into a speech register you encountered, for the first time, yesterday! Tell me how it goes¡­(!)¡±

    She grins ¡°Only teasing, hun¡­!¡­ Alright, your turn¡­!¡±

    I raise an eyebrow ¡°My turn to what¡­?¡±

    She gestures as if she thinks its obvious ¡°Pick someone!¡­ I picked Victor, now you pick someone¡­!¡±

    ¡°Oh, of course(!)¡± I chuckle ¡°OK¡­ you like muscles, how about Thran?¡±

    ---Zuzana¡¯s perspective---

    I sit up, confused.

    Has she not actually understood the game?

    ¡°How about Thran for what?¡± I ask, eyes narrowed.

    ¡°If a single Thran strolled up to you and said ¡®Hey baby¡­ fancy a good time?¡¯¡­ would you?¡±

    I laugh ¡°We¡¯re talking about sex here!¡±

    She nods ¡°Yes¡­ would you have sex with Thran¡­?¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± I say, extremely befuddled ¡°¡­Thran¡¯s a woman!¡±

    Her face registers surprise as she says ¡°Oh¡­ sorry¡­ I just assumed you were bi¡­¡±

    ¡°You assumed I was what?¡±

    ¡°Bi¡­? You know¡­ bisexual?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°I don¡¯t know that word¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ interesting¡­ It¡¯s pretty much the same in every language yours took lexis from¡­ maybe you have, like, an idiom for it that superseded and replaced it at some point?¡­ It just means thinking both boys and girls are sexy¡­ and maybe people who¡¯re neither¡­¡±

    Ignoring the confusing thing she said about ¡®people who are neither¡¯ (what would a person be if not a boy or a girl?), I scoff ¡°Why¡¯s there a word for that?¡­ Isn¡¯t it normal to find girls sexy?¡±

    She raises an eyebrow and chuckles ¡°If you¡¯re bisexual, yes! Very normal!¡±

    Frustratedly, I say ¡°You know what I mean! Everyone finds a woman with a pretty face and a nice figure exciting to look at¡­ Doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯d actually have sex with her!¡­ How would it even work with two women!? There¡¯d be no cock!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ you sweet summer child!¡± laughs the woman with the pretty face and the nice figure ¡°You don¡¯t have to have a cock to have sex! There are lots of alternatives!¡±

    Not appreciating the patronising tone she¡¯s taken, I ask ¡°Like what!?¡±

    ¡°Weeell¡­ there a lots of toys you can use¡­ dildos, vibrators, beads, etc¡­¡± she holds up her hand in a lewd mime ¡°¡­there¡¯s also manual stimulation¡­ some FF couples like to scissor¡­¡± she threads the index and middle fingers of both hands to demonstrate ¡°¡­though it is slightly tricky to achieve proper stimulation that way¡­ Some people like to use cybernetics, which allow one party to feel like their fucking the other with a cock while the other gets fucked by it¡­ Personally, I¡¯ve always been a fan of a lady who¡¯ll shut me up by pressing my lips to her cunt(!)¡± she mimes pressing an imaginary head between her legs.

    ¡°You¡¯re ¡®bisexual¡¯!?¡± I ask, flabbergasted ¡°You¡¯ve¡­ done that¡­ to women?!¡±

    She nods ¡°Most Terrans are at least a little bisexual¡­ A lot of people say they¡¯re straight or gay because they have a strong preference for either the opposite gender or their own¡­ but surveys suggest that more Terrans than not have either had multiple genders of sexual partners or would at least be willing to¡­ Honestly, I¡¯m surprised this is so shocking to you¡­ is it forbidden on your planet, or what?¡±

    I screw up my face, uncomfortably and answer ¡°¡­It¡¯s¡­ I don¡¯t know about it being ¡®forbidden¡¯¡­ It¡¯s just¡­ not done! I mean¡­ two women wouldn¡¯t be able to have any children together¡­ there¡¯d be no one to look after them if they grew old¡­ There wouldn¡¯t be a man whose income could support them¡­¡±

    ¡°Could they not earn their own incomes?¡± she queries.

    I sigh ¡°I mean¡­ I guess¡­ but it¡¯d be way more difficult!¡­ Nobody would want to train them in a skilled profession because the assumption would be that they¡¯d leave when they got pregnant and it would be a waste of the time spent training them¡­¡±

    She cocks an eyebrow ¡°People would assume that¡­ the members of the FF couple¡­ would get pregnant?¡±

    I throw up my hands ¡°People wouldn¡¯t understand that!¡­ If two of my unmarried female friends moved in together, I would assume it was platonic and that they were both just supporting eachother while they looked for men!¡­ I¡¯d never think they were like¡­ that! Actually¡­ now I think about it¡­ there are a couple of households I know that I¡¯m now reevaluating the relationships of!¡±

    She laughs ¡°Gay and bi erasure are common features of patriarchal societies¡­ Don¡¯t take this the wrong way but, I hope this taboo dies a death with your planet¡¯s reintegration¡­ no one should have to be ashamed of who they are!¡±

    I think about that before saying ¡°I¡­ think I agree!¡±

    She smiles ¡°Tell me¡­ when you¡¯ve had sex in the past¡­ has the guy never done any foreplay¡­ Did he always just whack it in? None of them used their tongues or their hands?¡±

    I blush ¡°Lukas¡­ used his tongue¡­ and his hands¡­ just, after that, he would use his cock!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ honey! I¡¯m sorry! I didn¡¯t mean to bring up your husband!¡± she says, clearly concerned and not at all aware of the delight she¡¯s causing by calling me ¡®honey¡¯¡­

    I wave away her concerns ¡°It¡¯s fine, Yasmin¡­ Nailing that ratbastard has made me feel so much better¡­ Thank you for helping me with that!¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°I really didn¡¯t do anything! It was Miyazaki and the prosecutor who walked us through everything you needed to know!¡±

    I raise a finger and waggle it ¡°But it was you who explained it all to me in a way I could understand!¡­ Couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of ¡®extradition¡¯ or ¡®jurisdiction¡¯ until you made them simple for me!¡±

    She starts to object ¡°No, I¡­¡± but I cut her off.

    ¡°Take the compliment, honey!¡±

    She smiles and chuckles.

    ¡°So¡­ how many girls have you had, Yasmin¡­?¡± I ask, smiling slyly.

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ in my life?¡­ I have no idea! Remember how I¡¯m older than both Witold and Kornelia¡­? I could probably come up with a number if I had time to think about it but¡­ even then, there might be some I missed¡­¡±

    ¡°Tisk, tisk(!) So promiscuous(!)¡­ I thought you told me that Muslims were meant to be modest and conservative! Isn¡¯t that what your ¡®shayla¡¯ is for¡­ to stop people leering at you with lascivious intent(?)¡± I quip, gesturing to the chusta that covers her head and really hoping I don¡¯t offend her.

    Mercifully, she laughs ¡°I did¡­ and we tend to be and it is!¡­ The thing about Muslims is that we¡¯re also people¡­ individuals(!) Not every one of us is a perfect platonic form of how nonMuslims imagine us¡­ some Muslims drink alcohol, lots don¡¯t perform salah five times a day, many have never made the hadj¡­ When my parents raised me, they put a lot of effort into making sure I was modest with regard to men and boys and so, at 78, I¡¯ve never had sex with any (despite finding them attractive) and I try to avoid any physical contact, even as innocent as shaking hands¡­ Regarding girls however¡­ their attitude was a shrug and a ¡®we don¡¯t care, do whatever¡¯ and so, I¡¯m a massive slut for a pretty girl, especially if she speaks an interesting language(!)¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°OK¡­ so¡­ how about recently then?¡­ Tell me about the most recent girls who, to use your words, ¡®shut you up by pressing your lips to their cunts¡¯?¡±

    She blushes ¡°Well¡­ the last time I was on a Terran planet¡­ I actually had two¡­ Not at the same time, more¡¯s the pity(!)¡±

    ¡°Oh, really? Tell me about them¡­¡± I smile from my reclined position.

    ¡°So, the first was on the night I arrived¡­ there was this absolutely stunning Norsegirl I was sat next to at a feast¡­ Jet black hair¡­ snow white skin¡­ eyes as blue as sapphires! We got to talking, we got to flirting¡­ she invited me home¡­¡±

    ¡°And I assume you managed to seduce her while speaking her language?¡­ And with no translator, of course!¡±

    She nods ¡°I did¡­¡±

    I giggle, then ask ¡°What about the other one¡­?¡±

    She holds up an elegant finger and frowns ¡°Ah¡­ now, I¡¯ll tell you about her¡­ but you have to promise to keep it a secret¡­¡±

    I narrow my eyes ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ keep it a secret¡­ I mean, so long as she wasn¡¯t a child or anything!!!¡±

    She waves her hand ¡°No! No!!! Nothing like that¡­ it just¡­ might make things a little awkward¡­ with certain people aboard¡­¡±

    ¡°Ooooo! Juicy¡­ spill it!¡± I cackle, gleefully.

    ¡°You¡­ you know Tuun?¡±

    My mouth falls open.

    ¡°You mean¡­ the giant, blue skinned, four armed, Elf eared, Strzyga fanged, white haired alien¡­?!¡± then, in horror, I realise ¡°You mean Victor¡¯s girlfriend!?!?!?¡­ She cheated on him with you?!¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°Nooooo!!! Not her¡­ her sister¡­ her very single sister!¡­ She was helping me learn their language and, very frankly, propositioned me¡­¡±

    ¡°But¡­?¡± I ask, gobsmacked ¡°¡­you still had sex with an alien?! With a 2.2m tall woman with blue skin and four arms?!¡±

    She nods ¡°I did¡­ though she¡¯s actually quite a bit taller than Tuun¡­ more like 2.4m¡­ and her hair¡¯s got more of a light blue tint to it¡­¡±

    I ask the only question I can think to ¡°¡­So¡­ err¡­ how was that?¡±

    Her eyes go wide as she takes a deep inhale and answers ¡°Intense!¡­ That was a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn¡¯t afraid to demand it!¡­ She tasted like nutmeg and she had this¡­ fuck¡­ this erotic fucking smug smirk that she gave down between her voluptuous tits as she crushed my skull between her thighs!¡­ Oh and, let me tell you, when it was my turn¡­ the things that having four arms allowed her to do¡­ Just, wow!¡±

    I grin and chuckle.

    ¡°You know¡­¡± she muses ¡°¡­you never answered the question¡­¡±

    ¡°What question?¡± I ask, bemused.

    ¡°Thran; yay or nay?¡­ You clearly don¡¯t mind yourself a muscly redhead, so does her being a woman put you off?¡±

    I think about that for a while before answering ¡°¡­I think¡­ Thran would have to be a ¡®nay¡¯ from me¡­ but not because she¡¯s a woman¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, really? Why then¡­?¡±

    I frown ¡°It¡¯s¡­ her¡­ face¡­¡±

    Yasmin bursts out laughing.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m not calling her ugly!¡± I defend ¡°¡­She¡¯s just¡­ she has a lot of features that look very strange to me and they add up to make her not my type!¡­ The strong brow, the receding chin, the large nose¡­ it¡¯s a very distinct look and it¡¯s just not for me!¡­ Stop laughing!!!¡±

    She gets herself mostly under control and says ¡°Sorry¡­*giggle*¡­ you¡¯re right!¡­ Hers is the first Neanderthal face you¡¯ve ever seen¡­*giggle*¡­ and I get that they might be a bit of an acquired taste!¡­ It was just the way you said it!!!¡­ *HAHAHAHahahahehehehehe*¡­¡± she imitates me, waving her hand over her face and making me sound slightly dim as she says ¡°¡®¡­her¡­face¡­¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Like I said; she¡¯s not my type¡­ as cute as she was when I saw her playing with that litter of kittens in Malbork, it¡¯d still be a ¡®no¡¯!¡±

    The stunning woman, having finally stopped giggling at me, leans forward and asks ¡°Oh¡­? So¡­ tell me¡­ as far as girls go¡­ what is your type?¡±

    A rash, impulsive, stupid thought grips me and my stomach swoops as if I¡¯ve just been thrown off the top of the Pilecki, while my heart pounds in my ears!

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    Zuzana sits up and fixes me with an intense stare before saying ¡°I can tell you my type¡­ if you want¡­¡±

    She stands and starts slowly rounding the table, continuing ¡°¡­The kind of girl I like¡­ would be tall¡­ taller than me, anyway¡­ She¡¯d be slim¡­ She¡¯d have an effortless charm to her¡­ She¡¯d be elegant and graceful¡­ She¡¯d be patient and kind¡­ She¡¯d be intelligent and eloquent¡­ She would be refined in both her manner and her attire¡­¡±

    At this point she reaches my seat and kneels on my dress, between my thighs.

    I stay frozen in place as she places her hand on my cheek and smiles down at me ¡°She¡¯d have dark skin¡­ golden-brown eyes and (I assume) dark hair¡­¡±

    My breath hitches.

    She strokes down to pinch my chin between her thumb and forefinger

    ¡°She¡¯d be beautiful like no other woman I¡¯ve ever seen¡­¡±

    My voice quivers as I say ¡°I¡­ uuuh¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ eeeerrm¡­ don¡¯t know where you¡¯d ever find a woman like that¡­!¡±

    She smirks and then swoops down to press her lips to mine.

    Her body is feather light and her mouth has an intense flavour to it!

    Her eyes closed, her hands gripping the sides of my head under my shayla, her breaths fast and heavy, she kisses me with a desperate passion.

    I¡¯m halfway through melting into the kiss¡­ when I come to my senses¡­

    ---Zuzana¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m drinking in the fragrant perfume of this woman¡¯s skin when I feel her hands at my shoulders gently but firmly pushing me off of her.

    The moment my lips break from hers, she says ¡°I can¡¯t do this¡­ It would be wrong!¡±

    I wheeze out an incredulous laugh and say ¡°Why!?¡­ After everything you just said about the women you¡¯ve¡­?!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not because you¡¯re a woman!¡± she interrupts ¡°It¡¯s for a dozen different reasons but that¡¯s not one of them!¡±

    Feeling extremely rejected I ask ¡°What reasons?¡±

    She sighs ¡°¡­You¡¯re a recently grieving widow, substantially less than half my age, from an undeveloped planet, who boarded this ship (which I work on in a capacity of care over you) to get lifesaving medical attention for your previously terminally sick child, I helped you catch your husband¡¯s murderer the other day and, to cap it all off, you just discovered the meaning of the word bisexual ¡­! You are vulnerable, you are emotionally compromised and I would be taking advantage¡­!¡±

    ¡°Whuh¡­ uh¡­?! I kissed you!!! If anyone¡¯s ¡®taking advantage¡¯ here, it¡¯s me!¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°I would be the one taking advantage because of everything else I said!¡±

    I glare ¡°OK, let me see:¡­ I may be a grieving widow, but does that mean I have to be celibate for the rest of my life? I may be much younger than you but has the age of consent been raised to thirty since we¡¯ve been stranded(!?) I may be from a planet where I lived in medieval conditions but does that make me unable to consent to sex? You may be in a position of some power¡­ but you are a translator, not a gaoler(!) I may have boarded to get Stefcia¡¯s pneumonia taken care of but that¡¯s done now!¡­ What are you going to do, give it back to her¡­(?!) You helped explain to me everything I need to know to catch Ratimyr out¡­ but, again, that¡¯s done now¡­ the prosecution already has the recording! Yes¡­ I only just discovered that I am bisexual but I¡¯ve always been bisexual and I want you to be my first woman! I am very much in possession of my faculties¡­ I am not ¡®vulnerable¡¯, I am not ¡®emotionally compromised¡¯ and you would not be ''taking advantage''! I am fully aware of what I want and I am asking you for it!¡±

    She sighs ¡°You remember how¡­ I¡¯m not getting off at Citadel?¡­ I need to continue, with this ship, and won¡¯t be coming back with you to Nowe Mazury¡­ You don¡¯t think you might feel a little abandoned if (what I presume is) the second person (and first woman) you¡¯ve ever slept with, and first since your husband, has sex with you a few times and then disappears for years!?¡­ I don¡¯t even know how feasible it will be for us to visit eachother once I¡¯m back, what with your world being a protectorate with closed borders¡­ Maybe they¡¯ll allow tourism but that¡¯s not a guarantee¡­¡±

    I scoff ¡°You can¡¯t get me pregnant, for multiple reasons¡­ You¡¯re being upfront about your inability to commit¡­ You say that casual sex is normal for nonMazurzy¡­ I don¡¯t understand the issue!¡±

    She cocks an eyebrow ¡°Multiple reasons¡­?¡±

    I realise that I fucked up and say ¡°Oh¡­ you know¡­ just because you¡¯re a woman¡­¡±

    Eyebrow still raised she says ¡°Yes¡­ that¡¯s one reason¡­ what are the others?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about¡­ You must have misheard me¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Zuzana¡­¡± she interrupts sternly.

    ¡°Fine!¡± I relent ¡°The other reason is that you can¡¯t get someone pregnant twice!¡±

    Her mouth falls open and her eyes dart to my stomach as she asks ¡°You¡¯re pregnant?¡­ Right now?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­*sigh*¡­ Lukas got me pregnant a few weeks before Ratimyr killed him¡­ Gato knows¡­ Krish knows¡­ no one else does¡­¡±

    Her face anguished she starts ¡°Zuzana¡­ I¡­¡±

    ¡°Yasmin¡­ I want you¡­ you aren¡¯t taking advantage¡­ I¡¯m fully in possession of myself¡­ I comprehend your situation¡­ Please¡­ just take me!¡±

    After a long moment of hesitation she says ¡°Alright¡­ Zuzana¡­ if you¡¯re certain this is what you want?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m certain!¡± I state ¡°¡­And¡­ you can call me Zuzka¡­¡±

    She smiles ¡°Alright¡­ Zuzka¡­ why don¡¯t you start by taking off my shayla?¡±

    Gleefully, I reach to her head, my heart pounding and my hands shaking with the excitement.

    I unknot the shawl and pull it off of her head, revealing sleek, wavy, black hair that¡¯s a little past shoulder length.

    I drop the beautiful blue and gold chusta onto the couch beside us and look down at the stunning woman.

    She smiles up at me and pulls my shoulders to bring my chest against hers.

    I feel her breast squash under my weight.

    She kisses me and runs her hands down my back to cup and squeeze my arse.

    Minutes pass of us petting and fondling eachother.

    The excitement of the fact that I¡¯m doing this with a woman is never far from my mind!

    I wonder how my life would have been different if this fact, about myself, hadn¡¯t been so taboo that I supressed it¡­?

    I probably still would have married Lukas¡­ it wasn¡¯t that he was a man that made him so attractive¡­ it¡¯s that he was Lukas¡­

    I wonder what he¡¯d think if he could see me now!

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    The gorgeous little Mazurzy woman giggles and I pull her mouth from mine to ask ¡°What¡¯re you giggling about?¡±

    Still giggling she answers ¡°I¡­*hehehe*¡­ I just¡­*snhsnhsnhsnhsnh*¡­ I just thought of what Lukas would think if he could see me now¡­and then¡­*giggle*¡­ I could just see him go¡­¡± she pulls a face of consideration for a few moments, seeming to be imitating the mannerisms of her husband, before jabbing a thumb upward and, in a masculine voice, saying ¡°¡­Pretty hot!¡±

    She bursts into laughter at her own impression of the man.

    I laugh with her and say ¡°Glad to know he¡¯d approve(!)¡­ Personally, I¡¯d be more interested to see the look on Ratimyr¡¯s face if he could see you kissing a woman instead of him(!)¡±

    She answers ¡°It would probably be something like:¡­¡± and pulls a look of horrified despair!

    I giggle and then ask ¡°¡­Shall we¡­ undress?¡±

    Her breath hitches, her eyes widen, she bites her lip and nods, excitedly.

    I sit her up and bring my hands to the long cloth, wrapped around her stomach a dozen or so times, that acts as a corset.

    I unwind it and her dress falls loose.

    I tug on the fabric until I find the hem and, working together with her, pull the dress off over her head.

    She has a distinct tanline, the skin of her arms, legs and torso being much paler than that of her hands and face.

    She isn¡¯t wearing a bra, seeming instead to have been relying on the way her dress was bound to hold up her shapely breasts.

    What she was wearing on her bottom I can¡¯t really call ¡®panties¡¯¡­ more like a lacey set of boxer briefs.

    I hook my thumb into them and she gives a smouldering smirk as she lifts her hips for me to slide them off.

    I can see she¡¯s soaking!

    I guess, learning you have an entire new gender of people to have sex with would be exciting for anyone(!)

    I rise from my chair and the tiny woman rises with me.

    I stand about 8cm shorter than the average woman¡­ she stands about 15cm shorter than me¡­

    This dainty little slip of nothing is about to become the shortest woman I¡¯ve ever been intimate with!

    I reach down to my hips, where my abaya is constricted by a belt.

    I undo the cloth and whip it off of myself with a flourish, causing a pleasing little gasp from her.

    I smirk and begin working my arms out of my sleeves, then pulling my dress off of my shoulders¡­ then letting it fall to the ground.

    She frowns.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she asks, pointing to my chest.

    ¡°It¡¯s a bra¡­¡± I smile.

    ¡°What¡¯s it for?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well, it keeps my nipples from chafing or being visible through my dress and it supports my breasts¡­ Do women not wear bras on Mazury?¡±

    Still frowning she answers ¡°No¡­ we do¡­ we have solutions at least¡­ I¡¯ve just never seen a thing so obviously made for that purpose¡­¡±

    ¡°Would you¡­ like me to leave it on?¡± I grin.

    She shakes her head, emphatically, and I laugh, reaching behind me to unhook it.

    I cup the front with my hands and shrug off the straps.

    I drop it to the floor and enjoy the way the little woman ogles me.

    I slide off my panties, exposing my own drenched pussy.

    I hold out my arms to the gorgeous woman and we embrace again.

    I can feel the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers, as we kiss.

    Her muscles, though not particularly substantial in size, are quite well toned from a lifetime of work!

    I bring my lips from hers and look down into her wonderful, brown eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯d very much like you to sit down and shove my head between your legs now!¡± I say, gesturing to my bed ¡°How does that suit you?¡±

    Enthusiastically, she nods and goes to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

    Her head swivels to track me as I go to the head of the bed and grab a pillow and continues to do so as I return to drop it on the floor between her legs.

    I¡¯m not even all the way knelt down when her hands shoot to the back of my head and launch it forward, my cheek skidding along the smooth, creamy skin of her inner thigh, before my nose is crushed against the front of her pelvis.

    Taking my cue, I begin working my lips against hers.

    One hand I bring under her leg and clamp against her gorgeous little arse, the other, I slip between my own legs to begin gently teasing myself with.

    By Allah! Zuzka tastes good!

    ---Zuzana¡¯s perspective---

    ?ywa!

    Mokosz!

    ?ada!

    By every Bogini!

    The things this woman is doing with her tongue!

    Does she only have one!?

    Because right now it feels like she might have 150(!!!)

    My thighs squash against her ears, I feel her hot breath as it passes over my crotch, her tongue probes deep inside me and the tip of her nose tickles my clit.

    The sucking, squelching sounds her mouth is making against my pussy are utterly sublime to hear!

    A wave of pleasure causes my upper body to collapse to the bed, crushing her hand beneath my weight and reducing my view of her to some black hair and a sliver of brown forehead skin that I can see between my pale breasts.

    My hand still on the back of her head, I involuntarily crush her face deeper and deeper into my crotch, as she brings me closer and closer.

    She keeps stimulating me as I scream in climax!

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    I cuddle the little woman whose big spoon I''m currently acting as.

    ¡°How was it?¡± I smile, stroking her belly.

    She puffs ¡°You were amazing¡­ I don¡¯t think I was, though!¡±

    I laugh ¡°I have no complaints!¡­ Your first time ever licking a pussy was definitely better than my first ever performance¡­ Plus, I learned lots of new words(!)¡±

    She chuckles.

    ¡°Have you thought about names you might give the baby?¡± I ask, still stroking her (yet to properly start showing) stomach.

    A smile twists the corner of her mouth as she answers ¡°If it¡¯s a boy, I¡¯ll definitely name him after his father¡­ I didn¡¯t really have a name picked out for a girl but¡­¡± she turns her head to me over her shoulder ¡°¡­would you mind if I named her ¡®Yasmin¡¯¡­?¡±

    I beam ¡°I¡¯d be honoured to be your child¡¯s namesake, Zuzka!¡±

    She smiles back and says ¡°Good!¡­ Now, would you set an alarm for tomorrow¡­? Krish is cooking pancakes and I don¡¯t want to miss it¡­!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.87

    ---Belonging---

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    The slim Terran male in nanoforged clothes with a scarred, Eurasian featured face (somewhat reminiscent of my husband¡¯s) enters the room without knocking, strides across it without offering a greeting and sits without needing to be invited to.

    I smile and, speaking my native Northern Spelvuzh (a translator equipped) since the only Terran language I¡¯m fluent in is one he doesn¡¯t speak, greet him ¡°Mr Nulgynet¡­ It¡¯s good to meet you!¡±

    He nods, his expression blank and his eyes not meeting mine.

    ¡°How would you like me to address you? Mr Nulgynet?¡­ Tymancha?¡­ Eagle?¡±

    ¡°¡­Tymancha¡¯s¡­ fine¡­¡± he says, hesitantly, his voice devoid of tone.

    ¡°Tymancha then¡­ Now, before we start, I¡¯ll just go over the basics of how this will ideally work¡­ Is that alright with you, Tymancha?¡± I say, kindly.

    He nods, wordlessly.

    It seems he might be a somewhat¡­ uncommunicative client¡­ A little tiresome but it¡¯s nothing new to me¡­

    I spend the next few minutes explaining the ground rules of Terran therapy, regularly inviting questions from him¡­ which are not forthcoming(!)

    Having finished and given him some moments to ask me to clarify anything unclear, I resolve to start ¡°So¡­ Tymancha¡­ you¡¯ve had therapy services available to you for a while ¡­ Is there a reason you¡¯ve chosen now for your first session?¡±

    He spends the next [30 seconds], or so, not saying anything but, from the subtle expressions playing over his inexpressive face and the opening and closing of his mouth, it¡¯s not hard to tell that his silence isn¡¯t for having nothing to say¡­

    ¡°Something¡­ happened¡­ on the planet we were on most recently¡­¡± he finally manages, haltingly.

    ¡°What happened, Tymancha?¡± I ask, kindly.

    ¡°I¡­ got to hunt again¡­ and¡­ I realised¡­ that¡­ I had really missed it!¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I say, leaving space for him to provide more details which, thankfully, he does.

    ¡°¡­There was this boy¡­ he wasn¡¯t supposed to be at the landing site¡­ We turned around and, being able to guess that his first instinct would be to dart back for the cover of the brush, I ran ahead to place myself on a blind corner that I was nearly certain he would round at speed¡­ It worked, perfectly¡­ I caught him¡­ and it was very satisfying¡­ Then, Mr Taylor decided we needed to go back and show ourselves to the village¡­ ¡®stealth recon¡¯ was ¡®aborted¡¯¡­ There was technically no need for me to be there, at that point, but I was not asked to leave¡­ After, maybe, 20 minutes of walking I noticed the boy start listing away from the group¡­ I was about to say something when he bolted for a gap in the brush that he was just able to struggle through¡­ Taylor turned to me to ask what I thought the best course of action was and, when I said that the quickest way to catch him would be for me to go around to a more easily accessible path, he ordered me to do it¡­ I chased him for maybe half an hour, through the brush paths, along the edge of a marsh, then over the hidden trails across it, through a tunnel in the wood to the south of that city¡­ I had nearly caught him!¡­ He was no further from me than you are now!¡­ Then, I heard the music of my [holo]¡­ Taylor was calling off my hunt¡­ when my quarry was practically in my grasp¡­ It was immensely frustrating!¡±

    He ceases speaking here, so I ask ¡°Do you believe you might have hurt the boy if you had caught him?¡± dreading that this might be a rare situation where I have to breach confidentiality due to considering him a threat to others¡­

    Thankfully, he flatly says ¡°No¡­ I do not¡­ On my home continent, hunter and quarry is a game that little children play¡­ I know I would have been able to catch him without hurting him¡­ That¡¯s not the issue¡­¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I nod ¡°¡­so what is the issue, Tymancha?¡±

    He doesn¡¯t exactly sigh but there¡¯s definitely an uncomfortable exhale before he says ¡°I feel¡­ incomplete¡­"

    ¡°Incomplete?¡±

    ¡°I never knew how much a part of me it was, to hunt¡­ It was never something I had a choice about whether to do¡­ Where I was born, it was something you either did or you starved¡­ I mean, I could have travelled to Ilmakta Tura, to ask to be resettled offworld¡­ and I often thought about doing that¡­ but, short of that, I had to hunt¡­ If you had offered me the opportunity to eat without hunting, to be able to visit a doctor whenever I was sick or injured, to sleep in a warm bed¡­ with a beautiful woman, every night¡­ and then you told me that you would be paying me¡­ and all that would be required is to use my skills occasionally and exercise under instruction, to keep my muscles from atrophy, I would have said it sounded too good to be true¡­ I did say that¡­ but, now¡­¡±

    He trails off here.

    ¡°I assume the ¡®beautiful woman¡¯ you¡¯re talking about would be Ms Stone?¡± I ask, naming the woman who¡¯s my husband¡¯s client, primarily due to him having a Korean mother and, thus, speaking her first language.

    He nods.

    I smile ¡°Was sharing a bed with her part of the job offer(?)¡±

    He shakes his head, not smiling at the quip, and flatly says ¡°No¡­ but meeting Jae is a wonderful opportunity I never would have had if I hadn¡¯t taken it.¡±

    ¡°I see, Tymancha¡­ Would you mind going into a little more detail about what exactly it is about hunting that you feel you¡¯ve been missing?¡­ Why is it that your attitude to it has undergone this shift?¡±

    I see the muscles of his face tighten in consideration (in a way I don¡¯t think would have been visible without thermal vision) before he says ¡°It¡¯s the¡­ there¡¯s just this sort of¡­ thrill you get from running down the track that¡¯s left by a quarry¡­ I¡¯m using my body, sure, but not like in Yu¨¢n¡¯s [q¨¬g¨­ng] classes¡­ I¡¯m¡­ not just using my body to use it¡­ I¡¯m using my body for something¡­ There¡¯s a goal¡­ My senses are engaged¡­ I¡¯m smelling for the quarry¡¯s scent, listening for its sound, looking for its tracks¡­ and I don¡¯t have the time to second guess myself because, while I¡¯m tracking it, it¡¯s running further and further away¡­ Then, when I have it in my sights¡­ and I can just see that distance close, as it tires and I don¡¯t¡­ There are no words to describe that feeling¡­¡±

    I give a sympathetic nod and ask ¡°Have you talked to anyone else, about this need of yours that you feel is going unmet, on this ship?¡±

    He frowns very slightly ¡°I spoke to Jae¡­ she recommended me seeing you¡­ Who else might I talk to about it?¡±

    ¡°Weeell, this isn¡¯t a recommendation, just an observation, but¡­ you could speak to Master Yu¨¢n about this?¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    He shakes his head ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a martial artist.¡±

    I smile ¡°Not quite what I¡¯m saying; yes, one of his duties is honing the skills of the combat personnel, but his other duty is seeing to the health, fitness and enrichment of every Terran aboard¡­ Perhaps, you and he might be able to work something out to go some of the way to substituting for your hunts?¡­ Maybe, you could serve as the hunter in a game of [hunter and quarry] with his students or something? That way, they¡¯d be training for how to flee and avoid capture and you would get to hunt¡­ after a fashion¡­¡±

    He sits, contemplatively, with that for a while before answering ¡°That¡¯s an interesting idea but¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­¡±

    ¡°What makes you so uncertain about it?¡± I ask, kindly.

    This time, he unmistakably sighs before answering ¡°I guess¡­ I just don¡¯t know if I would¡­ belong¡­¡±

    ---Marc¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Would you clarify what you mean by that, Tuun?¡± I say to the rapid talking, blue skinned woman.

    ¡°Just what I said!¡± she pouts ¡°It feels like I don¡¯t belong!¡­ Twice now I¡¯ve had to stay behind because I would have been a liability if I¡¯d come! I mean, it made sense both times but, it still hurt, you know! Like being back at school and no one wanting me on their team in PE because, even though I was tall and fast, everyone knew I had glass bones and no stamina!¡±

    ¡°Tuun¡­¡± I smile, warmly ¡°¡­we¡¯ve talked about this before, do you remember what we said?¡±

    She rolls her glowing white eyes and, doing a not bad impression of me, answers ¡°*sigh*¡­¡¯Think about all the times they¡¯ve gone out when you haven¡¯t been left behind, Tuun!¡­ Think about all the complements you get on the skills you have, rather than focusing entirely on what you don¡¯t¡¯ I know¡­ but¡­!¡±

    She gestures frustratedly.

    ¡°But it doesn¡¯t stop it hurting when the man you call the ¡®love of your life¡¯ looks you in the eyes and says ¡®I think it¡¯s best you don¡¯t come¡¯¡­?¡±

    ¡°Exactly! No matter how sensical it is! No matter how much I know it isn¡¯t a personal rejection! No matter how many times they complement the skills I do have! None of that helps!¡±

    I smile ¡°I¡¯d say, that¡¯s because you¡¯re trying to logic your way out of a feeling¡­ and you know how well that usually works, don¡¯t you¡­¡±

    ¡°I know, I know¡­ I just wish that cuddling up with Victor was enough to make me feel like I¡¯m not a failure of a Security Officer!¡±

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°That¡¯s a strong word, Ms Hunter!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an accurate one¡­ A man I was staring straight at took one step forward and struck my charge¡­ I failed to protect her¡­ therefore, I am a failure.¡±

    ¡°But you subdued him immediately afterward, didn¡¯t you?¡± I enquire, acting as if I didn¡¯t see the news segment and am only taking her word for it.

    ¡°Irrelevant¡­¡± she refutes, flatly ¡°¡­he¡¯d already struck her by that point¡­ I failed to do my one job of keeping her safe¡­ what came after she¡¯d already come to harm doesn¡¯t matter. If he¡¯d drawn his weapon, she could be dead¡­ I failed¡­ I am a failure.¡±

    I look at the strong woman and consider my words carefully before conceding ¡°You did fail, Thran¡­¡±

    Her expression barely changes but there¡¯s a subtle, resigned acceptance to it as she gives a slight nod.

    ¡°But¡­ There is a big difference between failing and being a failure, Thran¡­ Doing a bad thing does not make you a bad person¡­¡±

    Her prominent brow creases as she says ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t understand the difference¡­ ¡®Fail¡¯ is a verb, ¡®failure¡¯ is a noun meaning ¡®one who fails¡¯¡­ doesn¡¯t that mean that, if you fail, you are a failure¡­ by definition?¡±

    I smile and shake my head ¡°Personally, I don¡¯t think I agree with your definition, Thran¡­ To me, ¡®failure¡¯ implies some level of consistency¡­ I think I would define it as ¡®one who repeatedly fails, one who¡¯s existence is characterised by their recurring failures¡¯¡­ And, personally, I don¡¯t think that applies to you¡­ One instance is not a pattern¡­¡±

    Her creased brow becomes a full on frown as she says ¡°But it is a pattern, though!¡­ I couldn¡¯t react in time because I failed to read his intentions¡­ Reading people has always been my biggest weakness¡­ Sh¨©fu Yu¨¢n is trying to train me to be better but I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s something I¡¯ll ever really be able to do¡­¡±

    I smile broadly at the girl and say ¡°Has Emiko berated you for failing to keep her from being struck?¡±

    Miserably, she shakes her head ¡°No¡­ she said ¡®you fall down seven times, you pick yourself up eight, Thran!¡¯¡­ but she doesn¡¯t need to¡­ I don¡¯t need anyone to tell me I fucked up!¡­ Maybe I¡¯ve chosen the wrong career¡­ maybe, if I quit now, Emiko will be able to get someone to replace me from the ODR on Citadel¡­ If she had a Sapiens bodyguard, they would probably be better than me at reading people¡¯s intentions.¡±

    I smile ¡°Could you remind me of the name of the strongest Sapiens alive¡­?¡±

    ¡°Haile ¡®Hercules¡¯ Saengthong¡­¡± she answers, instantly.

    ¡°And¡­ what is his overall ranking?¡±

    Her eyes narrow as she answers ¡°418th strongest person alive¡­ last time I checked¡­¡±

    ¡°And everyone above him is what, if not a Sapiens?¡±

    ¡°Either a Neanderthal, a Denisovan or a hybrid who¡¯s at least half Neanderthal or Denisovan¡­¡±

    ¡°Is Mr Saengthong a trained, licensed bodyguard?¡±

    She shakes her head.

    ¡°And what is your overall position? How many natural, sapient people are there who are stronger than you?¡±

    Her mouth twists as she says ¡°I¡¯m¡­ 7th¡­ The strongest woman¡­ There are 6 men who are stronger than me¡­¡±

    ¡°Are any of them bodyguards?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ but there¡¯s more to being a body guard than just being strong!¡± she says, frustratedly.

    ¡°Yes, there is¡­¡± I concede.

    ¡°Just being strong and knowing how to fight isn¡¯t enough! Just being willing to stand between your charge and danger isn¡¯t enough!¡­ You¡¯ve also got to be alive to threats before they occur! And that¡¯s just not something I¡¯m good at¡­ compared to most Sapiens at least¡­¡±

    ¡°Thran¡­¡± I say, about to break the rules a little and talk about myself ¡°¡­did you know I used to be a bodyguard?¡±

    She looks at me curiously and shakes her head.

    ¡°I did¡­ I was part of the Honour Guard to my great grandmother, [Papess] Tht?i of the Northern [Papacy], one of Spelva¡¯s two Diarchs, the other being the Southern [Emperor]¡­ On no fewer than three separate occasions, my failings, my ¡®fuck ups¡¯, lead to the [Papess] almost being assassinated¡­ and every time the shame I felt was nearly unbearable¡­ Every time, I offered her my resignation and, every time, she refused it¡­ ¡®I don¡¯t expect perfection from you, Alchyinad¡¯ she said ¡®Only the Nameless One Herself is without flaw!¡­ Continue to do your duty and protect me, I need you now more than ever!¡¯¡­ I think it would be quite natural for anyone in your position to doubt themself but, it seems to me, you belong in your position and no one but you doubts that fact¡­¡±

    Her mouth twists below her prominent nose.

    ¡°I know, Thran, that your insecurity around your lineage is something we¡¯ve talked about before¡­ Is there a reason you¡¯re thinking about it again now?¡± I ask.

    She takes a deep breath before answering ¡°I guess¡­ going to that planet where there were no Neanderthals¡­ where the first boy we met singled me and Xon out as obviously not Human¡­ where Victor asked us to stay behind so we didn¡¯t frighten people who wouldn¡¯t recognise what we were and where, when I did go to the town and meet them, I got stared at more than anyone else¡­ It just reminded me that my kind¡¯s existence is¡­ not natural¡­ I know, we¡¯ve said before; natural doesn¡¯t equal good, right or proper¡­ but¡­¡±

    ¡°But knowing it and feeling it aren¡¯t the same?¡± I suggest.

    She nods and continues ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ hard not to feel like an imposter sometimes¡­ A girl, born of a species that should be extinct, in a profession that requires social skills that she doesn¡¯t have¡­ She can fight, she¡¯s strong but¡­ that often doesn¡¯t feel like enough to justify it¡­¡±

    ¡°To justify what?¡± I enquire, patiently.

    ¡°¡­My¡­ existence¡­ I suppose?¡± she answers, uncomfortably.

    ¡°Does your existence need to be justified?¡±

    Her mouth twists but she stays silent.

    ¡°Alright, Thran. Let me ask a different question; the people on that planet¡­ did they need a reason to survive?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what you mean?¡±

    ¡°I mean that they managed to cling to survival for 400 years of isolation¡­ Do you think any of them ever asked what the point was?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m nearly certain some of them did¡­¡± she answers, cocking an eyebrow, suspiciously.

    ¡°I¡¯m nearly certain of that too¡­ And yet¡­ they survived¡­ They didn¡¯t give up and allow themselves to succumb to death¡­ Why do you think that is?¡±

    ¡°I suppose¡­ they wanted to live¡­ and¡­ they hoped that they might be rescued one day¡­¡±

    I smile ¡°I think so too!¡­ I think, wondering what the point is is quite a natural part of the condition of sapience¡­ but¡­ I would say¡­ survival doesn¡¯t necessarily need a reason¡­ To live is its own justification¡­ It¡¯s easy to get despondent if you only measure your existence in terms of its instrumental value to others but, if you¡¯re able to shift to thinking about your life¡¯s worth as something intrinsic to it, I believe you¡¯ll find that more fulfilling¡­ Easier said than done, I know!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.88

    ---Citadel---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    I perch atop Victor¡¯s shoulder while he sits on Deck 0, surrounded by the Humans from the planet we visited most recently.

    Jae and Yasmin are sat talking with the woman I recognise as the mother of the boy that first encountered the preliminary landing party.

    They must be making the most of the last opportunity they¡¯ll have to talk to any of these people about their culture and language.

    Elsewhere, Fluffy, Sam and Q¨©ngl¨®ng are playing with some of the children, all three clearly aware of the need to take care with the smaller and (relatively) more fragile deathworlders.

    Bj?rn, the gigantic Ursus sapiens, is sat on his haunches, smiling, as more children use him as a climbing frame (though, he does occasionally wince as one of the children hangs just a little too much weight off of one of his hanks of fur(!))

    ¡°Attention all: we will imminently be arriving in the Citadel System. All who wish to see the moment of arrival please take position at a front facing window.¡± comes Twila¡¯s voice, comprehensible via my translator though speaking Nowo Mazurski, rather than Galactic Standard, for the benefit of our guests aboard.

    Many of the Mazurzy look around, as if trying to work out where the front of the ship is, before taking their cue from those that know and moving toward the bow.

    Victor follows, myself still being perched on his shoulder, and we take position in the crowd of Terrans standing at the portside bow window.

    The only things visible out of the window are the Bridge and Bridge crew quarters, in the head of the ship, at the end of the neck that connects it to the ship¡¯s main body, up and to our right, the Swift Claw, currently flush with the ship, plugged into its mounting at the top of the ship¡¯s sternum, and many stars, moving by us.

    The stars are packed so closely together in the core that the planet we are about to arrive at effectively has no night, only a brighter day, when its own sun is up, and, when its sun is down, a dimmer day, illuminated by the light of the stars outside its own system.

    The hum of warp ceases and, all at once, the stars stop in place, a planet having appeared before us.

    Covered with a brightly illuminated, planet spanning city, the world is around half covered with shallow oceans that shape its land into an intricate maze.

    Though not a cradle world to any sapient species, it is ideal for habitation by the overwhelming majority of Galactic Union members.

    That fact, together with its position, so close to the centre of the galaxy, led to it being chosen, 1.2 million years ago, as the seat of the Galactic Parliament and Capital of the Galactic Union.

    We gaze upon the most populous planet in the galaxy behind only Earth¡­ 55 billion sapients call Citadel home!

    Twila makes another announcement ¡°We have now arrived at Citadel. Would all disembarking passengers and crew check their holopad for their boarding group number and make their way to the shuttle bay at the time specified.¡±

    There isn¡¯t space on the Swift Claw for all the Mazurzy to comfortably travel at once, so they have been divided into three boarding groups.

    I check my holopad.

    Victor has placed me in the last group, along with himself, but, nevertheless, we both make our way to the shuttle bay to oversee the embarkation of the first, supervised by Brunhilda and joined by Emiko and Ms Hunter, and, half an hour later, the second, supervised by Tuun and Xon¡­

    When it is finally time to board, Victor steps forward.

    ¡°Everyone remember to be careful of the change in gravity as you board¡­¡± he shouts to the group, his voice being both translated and amplified over the rooms speakers ¡°¡­I know it looks like a 30¡ã upwards slope but, the moment your feet are on it, it becomes your new down!¡±

    The crowd of people file on, with Victor and I being the last aboard.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    The prisoner is remaining in the Brig for the moment. He will be retrieved for transfer later.

    From my perch atop the shoulder of the tallest person on the ship, I¡¯m afforded a comprehensive view around the room full of Terrans who, until a little over a month ago, were sick, injured, aging, or caring for others that were, and had no idea that Terrans weren¡¯t the only sapient creatures in the galaxy.

    As the Swift Claw detaches from the Bright Plume and brings its nose down (relative to the orientation of the larger craft) I find Victor to have stood us beside the long, grey haired, clean shaven community leader, who had a wrinkled face and thick beard when he first came aboard.

    ¡°How¡¯re you feelin¡¯, Witold?¡± asks Victor, able to be a little more conversational due to the fact that the elder was one of the very few who we have issued a translator to.

    ¡°¡­Extremely nervous¡­¡± admits the man.

    ¡°What are you nervous of exactly?¡± I enquire, I hope kindly.

    He puffs before answering ¡°Meeting who I¡¯m about to meet¡­ representing my entire planet to a UTC, for whom we¡¯ve been waiting to save us for 4 centuries, and a GU we just learned existed¡­¡±

    I chitter and say ¡°I can see how that might weigh on a person¡­ Just remember, it¡¯s not your job to impress them¡­ it¡¯s their job to impress you!¡±

    Victor nods his agreement and the grey haired man says ¡°Thank you¡­ That does make me feel a little better¡­¡±

    We descend over a part of the ecumenopolitan planet that experienced sunset a few hours ago.

    The place we¡¯re aiming for is a hangar, on a coast, nearby to the Citadel ODR as well as the Parliament building.

    We set down and Victor, who was the last on, becomes the first off, as the doors open and he strides down the ramp.

    The crew and passengers who went in the first two groups are milling about the large empty space.

    Emiko is stood, facing the craft, with Ms Hunter to her side.

    With them are two people I recognise despite having never met.

    One is a man only dressed in a pair of [shorts] whose powerful body is covered in a layer of thick black fur, bar a saddle shaped patch of silver fur, on his back.

    Though currently standing on all fours, the handfeet on his shorter hindlimbs in a plantigrade arrangement, the hands at the ends of his long, thick forelimbs curled under in a knuckle walk, he still stands as the tallest member of the group of four Terrans!

    He has a protuberant, prognathic snout and nostrils that, unlike a Human¡¯s, point forward instead of downward.

    His sclera and irises are both shades of dark brown, though clearly distinguishable from eachother.

    His brow is more prominent than Thran¡¯s and his cranium takes the shape of a blunted cone.

    This Gorilla sapiens man is Gamba ¡®Winston¡¯ Zvaitika and serves as the bodyguard to the man beside him, the Galactic Union Parliamentary Representative for the United Terran Coalition.

    Earthborn, though, I believe, with a father from Putiya T¨©vu and a mother from Akhali Sakartvelo, the corpulent, medium brown skinned, dark haired Sapiens man with irises so dark that they almost can¡¯t be distinguished from his pupils, stands around 180cm tall besides Emiko on the landing pad, smiling warmly and dressed in a black [suit] with blue pockets and [lapels], a blue [shirt], a green [tie] and green [shoes].

    Locking his eyes with the grey haired man walking with us, the representative bares his teeth, extends his hand and enthusiastically says ¡°Bzowy Witold! It is my sincere pleasure to finally meet you! Zurab ¡®Peacemaker¡¯ Mudaliar, at your service!¡±

    The Bzowy extends his hand and the two men perform the Terran greeting designed to show that neither party bears a weapon.

    ¡°The honour is mine, Representative Mudaliar.¡± returns the grey haired man, tentatively.

    Still smiling and grasping the Bzowy¡¯s hand, Mudaliar continues ¡°I received word earlier today that the first flotilla has departed Nowe Pomorze bound for your planet¡­ a few weeks head start should be enough before we dispatch a ship to repatriate all your fellows here to arrive with or after the aid ships¡­ In the meantime, we¡¯ve cleared out some of the accommodations in the ODR for all of you. I hope it¡¯s to your liking!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s excellent news, Sir¡­ and thank you¡­ I¡¯m sure we will be quite comfortable.¡± returns the grey haired man, earnestly.

    Releasing the handshake, Mudaliar turns to Victor and I and says ¡°Captain Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak¡­ It¡¯s a pleasure and a delight to make your acquaintance. I¡¯m sure that we will have much to talk about while you¡¯re on planet. Mistress Miyazaki here has been regaling me with tales about you.¡± reaching up to proffer me his hand.

    I reach down and grasp his index and middle fingers between my wingclaws, and answer ¡°I am, likewise, delighted to meet you, Representative Mudaliar¡­ I hope it was all good things you heard from Emiko(!)¡±

    He laughs ¡°All good things, I swear!¡­ Other than that, the only entertainment while we waited was watching Mr Zvaitika here challenge Ms Hunter to an armwrestling match(!)¡±

    ¡°Who won?¡± enquires Victor, aiming his question at Thran.

    ¡°I lost¡­¡± answers the Gorilla man before Thran has the chance, his voice deep, gravelly, surprisingly refined and the tips of long canine teeth visible between his lips ¡°¡­to be expected when challenging the strongest woman alive. I don¡¯t regret taking the opportunity to do so, though.¡±

    Thran¡¯s cheeks flush pink in the visible and glow hot in the IR spectrum but, other than that, she doesn¡¯t react.

    At this point Mudaliar greets Victor ¡°CSS Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor¡­ I must confess myself a little starstruck!¡±

    Victor takes Mudaliar¡¯s hand and answers ¡°That¡¯s a funny thing to hear from the face of the United Terran Coalition(!)¡­ Definitely an ego boost, though!¡±

    The man laughs ¡°It¡¯s quite true, I assure you! Both of my children are very taken with you¡­ I think even my husband is a bit of a fan(!)¡±

    Victor¡¯s shoulder shakes from mirth.

    ¡°Alright then¡­¡± says Mudaliar, clapping his hands together ¡°¡­shall I lead the way?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.89

    ---Date---

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    As much as there can be such a thing on a planet where it¡¯s never night, it¡¯s quite late now.

    Citadel¡¯s single sun, Beacon, set a few hours before we got here and it¡¯s been some hours of helping the Mazurzy get settled in, since then.

    It¡¯s, locally, the middle of the night but it¡¯s still as bright as an hour or so before sunset on Fennoscandia, thanks to the most breathtaking starfield I¡¯ve ever seen!

    Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) It¡¯s only been about 6 hours since I woke up, due to shiplag, so I¡¯m waiting outside the ODR building for a certain someone to show up for our date, right now.

    ¡°Hey baby¡­¡± comes a voice from behind me to my left.

    I flick my long ear that way ahead of turning to face him and break out into a toothy smile.

    ¡°Hey yourself!¡± I answer and he pulls me into the action that¡¯s a third of his name.

    When we break from the cuddle, he smiles up and says ¡°So¡­ you ready to go?¡±

    I nod.

    Keeping one of his thick arms wrapped around my trunk, he turns to face the same direction as me and we start walking along the side of a canal that¡¯s crystal clear enough to allow the various aquatic species using it to be seen distinctly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ never seen such a diverse planet¡­!¡± I say to Victor as we walk ¡°¡­Like, I¡¯m seeing body plans I never even knew existed! There are so few humanoids!¡­ Every thirty seconds or so I see someone who¡¯s species I don¡¯t recognise!¡±

    He cocks an eyebrow up at me and says ¡°That¡¯s the galactic capital for you!¡­ You realise they¡¯re probably all thinkin¡¯ the same thing about you, right?¡­ Little Miss One-of-Only-Three-Hundred-off-Her-Cradle(!)¡±

    I roll my eyes ¡°Three hundred and twenty six on Nova Fennoscandia!¡± I correct ¡°If you count all the escapees not living in my brother¡¯s enclave but just out and about in the universe, that probably brings it up to a few thousand!¡±

    ¡°Whiiiiich¡­ still makes you one of the rarest species in wider space¡­¡± he muses, not meeting my eyes.

    I look directly at him and pout.

    Seeing the face I¡¯m making with his peripheral vision, he bares his teeth and laughs ¡°I¡¯m sorry baby! I¡¯m just teasing¡­ please don¡¯t sulk!¡±

    I turn my nose in the air and answer ¡°¡­I might be persuaded to forgive you¡­ it certainly wouldn¡¯t hurt if you were to get us some of whatever that divine smell is!¡±

    One whiff and he identifies ¡°Spitroasted nunagorandathanvum fish¡­ you want some?¡±

    Momentarily distracted from my hunger pangs, I say ¡°Bullshit! There¡¯s no way! I went to a Terran school! I learned about your olfactory anatomy! There. is. no. way you just did that!¡±

    He gives a closed mouthed chuckle and answers ¡°It¡¯s got quite a distinct scent profile¡­ once you know what your smellin¡¯ for!¡­ Don¡¯t believe me? Ask!¡± gesturing to the streetvendor who looks like a 3.5m tall Jumba Jookiba (though, like me and unlike Jumba, he has four arms!)

    I narrow my eyes, extricate my waist from it¡¯s enfoldment by Victor¡¯s strong right arm and stride up to the vendor.

    ¡°Excuse me, Sir¡­¡± I start, causing him to turn his massive head in my direction ¡°¡­Could you tell me what you¡¯re cooking that¡¯s making that amazing smell?¡±

    He gestures to the grill with the three, thick fingers of one of his left hands and answers ¡°They¡¯re called gorbuonthabs¡­¡± slightly perplexed.

    I turn to Victor and shout ¡°Ha! I knew it! Don¡¯t pretend to have talents you don¡¯t have, Victor!¡­ Very unsexy(!)¡±

    Not missing a beat, he answers ¡°And¡­ would you mind telling us what gorbuonthabs are made from, Ma¡¯am?¡± smiling with closed lips and placing just enough emphasis on the word ¡®Ma¡¯am¡¯ to let me know that I didn¡¯t get away with my accidental misgendering!

    The giant woman frowns ¡°Spitroasted nunagorandathanvum fish¡­ dressed with condiments from my cradleworld, Yornathamat¡­ Are you two going to buy some or¡­?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll take two¡­ smalls¡­¡± says Victor, clearly feeling very smug.

    I¡¯m just thinking that one small each might not be enough¡­ when I see what ¡®small¡¯ actually looks like!

    Most gardenworlders need proportionately less in the way of calories than roughworlders (and certainly deathworlders) so, despite the fact that gardenworld food is often quite calorie poor, portions still tend to be quite dainty!

    I suppose it would make sense that such a large species would consider a ¡®small¡¯ serving size to be something the size of my head(!)

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to fit that in my stomach, no matter how good it is!

    Victor reaches into his shoulder bag for his holo, pays and hands me one of the portions.

    I thank him and we find a low wall to sit on while we eat.

    I¡¯m absolutely starving hungry so the world outside this alien streetfood entirely disappears for a while.

    The fish is so light and tender that it melts in my mouth.

    The sauces it¡¯s dressed in are¡­ suggestive of spice¡­

    Like someone briefly showed it¡¯s ingredients a picture of a hot pepper and gave them a vague description of the desired effect(!)

    The ¡®spiciness¡¯ comes across sort of like Helga, at age three, when she went through a phase of making strongman poses!

    It was the funniest, cutest thing, seeing a toddler enter a room, flex her arms with a guttural yell and then walk off without a word!

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    I¡¯m just noticing how half of the enormous helping of fish has somehow disappeared without putting anywhere near the dent in my hunger that I would have expected, when I feel a pair of eyes on me.

    Midway through sinking my fangs into the food to tear off another bite, I freeze and turn to Victor.

    He¡¯s about as far through his portion as I am through mine¡­ though, there doesn¡¯t seem to be any evidence of the speed he¡¯d have needed to match me!

    There¡¯s no sauce on his face or hands which, I realise, to my embarrassment, there is on mine.

    He doesn¡¯t seem like he¡¯s trying to get my attention¡­ just staring at me with a serene smile.

    My face flushes purple (not that I know what ¡®purple¡¯ looks like¡­ outside of full dive VR at least) and, mouth muffled by fish, I ask ¡°Whoh¡­?¡±

    He gives his head a tiny shake and, with a long blink, answers ¡°Nothin¡¯¡­ Just thinkin¡¯ about how beautiful you are right now¡­¡±

    ¡°Shuh uf¡­¡± I say, my mouth still full and cheeks still burning.

    ¡°It¡¯s true¡­! That¡¯s what I was thinkin¡¯¡­ I like seeing you enjoy things¡­¡±

    With some effort, I swallow the mouthful and, speech now unobstructed, I respond ¡°You like seeing your girlfriend scarf down enough food to feed a small village for a week, while she makes a mess of herself in a way you seem to have mysteriously avoided(?!)¡± cocking my eyebrow.

    ¡°I like seein¡¯ you do things with relish, yes¡­ As for the mess, the trick is to shear with your incisors¡­ Your hunger¡¯s workin¡¯ against you. That pullin¡¯, twistin¡¯ motion is bound to make a mess¡­ not that I particularly mind you bein¡¯ messy!¡± cocking his eyebrow to match.

    I frown and try his suggestion, shearing with my incisors.

    As he said, it¡¯s much less messy¡­ not that that does me much good at this point(!)

    I manage to finish off the ludicrously sized portion and Victor hands me some napkins to clean my hands and face.

    ¡°You ready?¡± he smiles ¡°There¡¯s a place nearby I¡¯d like to take you that has an absolutely stunnin¡¯ view¡­¡±

    I smile back and nod ¡°Sure, lead the way.¡±

    We stand, Victor takes my lower right hand in his left one and I let him lead me.

    ¡°So¡­ you¡¯ve been to this planet before?¡± I ask while we walk.

    He keeps looking forward and smiles ¡°Yeah¡­ a few times¡­ Smack dab in the centre of the galaxy, it¡¯s on the way from a lot of places to a lot of other places¡­ You knock about space long enough, you¡¯re bound to find yourself here eventually!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ how did you find out about this spot with the amazing view that you¡¯re taking me to? You didn¡¯t happen to go there with a previous girlfriend, did you(?)¡± I tease.

    He puffs and shakes his head ¡°I promise you¡¯re the first person I¡¯ve ever taken there romantically, baby¡­ I found it a few years ago when I was on this planet for a few weeks and just needed to see some trees!¡±

    ¡°Mmmm, mmmm¡­¡± I agree ¡°¡­it does feel very urbanised on this planet¡­ Doesn¡¯t that remind you of home though?¡±

    He wobbles his head, consideringly, before answering ¡°Earth¡¯s¡­ a bit different¡­ Yeah, most people on Earth live in megacities (myself included)¡­ but, since the Reset in the early 22nd Century, most of Earth¡¯s been set aside as a nature preserve¡­ There¡¯re some exceptions, like the Sahara, Arabia and most of Australia¡­ Places that used to be deserts but, these days, are breadbaskets that produce most of Earth¡¯s food¡­ but the rest of the Earth has been restored to forest or grassland so, even when you live in a city, you¡¯re never far from nature¡­ Maia made sure to take us outta the city regularly to let us see plants and animals and stuff¡­ I liked that¡­¡±

    ¡°And why didn¡¯t they do that on Citadel, do you think?¡­ That whole living in concentrated megacities and leaving most of the planet alone thing?¡± I ask.

    He shrugs ¡°No idea¡­ I¡¯d guess they never thought of it until most of the planet was already built on¡­ There¡¯re a few parks, like the one we¡¯re headed to, where they won¡¯t let you build and you can see the native wildlife but the largest of ¡¯em¡¯s only a few dozen square kilometres¡­ kinda sad really¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re quite well informed on all this¡­¡±

    He grins and turns to face me ¡°I know I often don¡¯t give this impression, Tuun, but I consider myself to be quite a cosmopolitan guy(!)¡±

    I giggle at that.

    We turn a corner and begin walking along the side of a 4m or so tall wall with a canopy of white wooded branches protruding around 15m overtop of it.

    I¡¯d guess this is the park he¡¯s taking me to.

    We come to a gap in the wall and he stops, gesturing up an empty paved path, ascending the hill.

    I turn to him, eyebrow cocked and quip ¡°You knooow¡­ my mothers warned me about strange men trying to lead me into secluded places in the middle of the night(!)¡±

    He smiles and his chest bounces in mirth as he pulls me into a kiss, after which he smirks ¡°They obviously didn¡¯t do a good enough job of warnin¡¯ you away from strange men, given the utter weirdo you¡¯ve chosen to date(!)¡±

    ¡°Why do I not get the sense that you consider ¡®weirdo¡¯ to be in any way derogatory, Victor(?)¡± I smirk back.

    ¡°No idea¡­ You still wanna go, or would you like to go somewhere less ¡®secluded¡¯(?)¡±

    ¡°No, nooooo¡­ lead me into abduction park(!)¡± I smile down at him.

    Chuckling, he takes my hand and we begin walking up the sloped path.

    Rather than steps, Citadel¡¯s paths seem to favour hairpin bends as a means for ascending inclines.

    I suppose it makes sense on a world meant to (as much as possible) cater to every sapient there is¡­ not everyone has legs¡­ not everyone¡¯s legs are the same length¡­ the same step could either be a tripping hazard or an insurmountable barrier to different species!

    It¡¯s very fortunate that most of the known sapient species have roughly similar biochemistry. I can¡¯t imagine what it would be like if I was one of the few who had to permanently wear an EV suit to walk around on most planets. Even being aquatic (like roughly 5% of species in the GU) would be massively inconvenient if you wanted to go anywhere above water!

    We don¡¯t see another soul as we round the many hairpins on the way up the hill through the trees.

    Eventually, we come out to a wide open platform.

    ¡°Oh¡­ wooooow!¡± I say as the view takes my breath away.

    I look out across the crystal clear bay, buildings clearly visible beneath the water.

    In the distance, I can see the gigantic, stadial Parliament building.

    Much closer (though still far enough to make me realise how tired I am from the walk) are the recognisable Terran motifs of the ODR building we came from beside the canal.

    Here and there, hills like this one jut above the skyline but, other than those, the only things that can be seen are the twinkling lights of the city, the stars and the water.

    I run to the wall at the edge of the platform and spend some long moments drinking it all in.

    The way that 30,000 species unique design styles have been thrown together to make a city should look like ugly chaos but¡­ the way they naturally synergise with one another¡­ it¡¯s beautiful!

    ¡°Victor, this is absolutely incred¡­¡± I smile, turning behind myself and stopping, confused.

    He must have dropped something because he¡¯s knelt on the ground in a very unnatural way¡­ Except¡­ he¡¯s not looking at the ground¡­ he¡¯s looking at me¡­

    He extends his arms toward me and I see he¡¯s holding something¡­

    He opens the box.

    My eyes go wide and my upper two hands shoot up to cover my mouth as I gasp at what¡¯s inside.

    ¡°Tuun¡­ since we went to your homeworld¡­ since before that actually¡­ I¡¯ve been thinkin¡¯¡­¡± he starts, his voice level and his smile calm but noticeably apprehensive ¡°¡­Katr¨ªn told me not to rush into anythin¡¯ with you¡­ told me I should give it time¡­ but¡­ well¡­ I¡¯ve had all the time I need to know that you¡¯re the one for me, Tuun¡­ I¡¯ve never been happier than when I¡¯m with you¡­ I can¡¯t imagine ever wantin¡¯ to be with anyone but you!¡­ I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Tuun¡­ Everywhere I go, I want to go there with you! Everythin¡¯ I have, I want to share it with you!¡­ Nothin¡¯ would make me happier than you bein¡¯ my one and only for the rest of our lives¡­ So¡­ Tuun¡­ would you do me the honour of¡­¡±

    ¡°YES!!!¡± I interrupt before he can finish.

    I¡¯m worried I ruined the moment for a second but a broad smile breaks over his face as he takes the ring from the box and holds it out to my left side.

    I falter a moment.

    He notices and his face falls.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asks, looking as if he¡¯s watching me threaten to murder a puppy.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­j-j-j-just¡­ n-not sure¡­ w-which f-finger¡­¡± I quiver, examining my two left hands which are turning into a tangled mess of tentacles in my mind.

    He breathes a relieved sigh and smiles ¡°Whichever one you want!¡±

    There¡¯s a moment more¡¯s hesitation before I pull back my lower left hand and hold out my dominant upper left to his right.

    He beams up at me as he pushes the perfectly fitting ring onto my middle finger.

    He stands up but I¡¯m only distantly aware of that fact as my every conscious thought is on the ring and everything it represents!

    Suddenly, I find his lips on mine and his strong arms enclosing my back.

    Joyful tears fall as I kiss my future husband.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.90

    ---Phoenix---

    ---???????¡¯s perspective---

    ---2681 Terran Calendar/32 years BF---

    The lid closes, sealing me into the coffin sized space.

    I take a few moments to run a final diagnostic on my four artificial limbs. All returned values are nominal.

    The parts of myself that I have to worry about are those still made of flesh.

    The only sign that I¡¯ve been accelerated to a whole number percentage of the speed of light is the slight shudder that the infiltration pod¡¯s internal inertial dampeners are not able to compensate for and the vacuum light turning from green to red, indicating it¡¯s not safe to exit.

    My suit is sealed and pressurized around my organic head and torso, so it¡¯s not as if I would suffocate¡­ No¡­ I¡¯d just harmlessly splatter against the side of those monsters¡¯ ship!

    Not yet¡­ I don¡¯t give a damn about my worthless life but I do give a damn about making those scum pay for what they¡¯ve done¡­ So I can¡¯t die yet¡­ not until old Auntie Terra has seen a return on every last credit she¡¯s invested in me!

    I know what I am¡­ I know what the Phoenix Brigade is¡­

    Little more than suicide the long way around(!)

    A home for the hopeless¡­ a promise of the opportunity for some satisfaction before death.

    Is it ethical¡­ hell no!

    Am I going to take every advantage of it¡­ hell yes!

    The light turns green and, a twentieth of a second later, the lid is blasted from my pod and me a long with it.

    I¡¯m thrown a full 17ft in the air and, once I¡¯ve judge that I don¡¯t need to brace myself against impact with the ceiling, I turn my attention downward.

    The idiot xenos still have their ugly faces turned to the 8ft long missile that just crashed into their gun deck and not at the 6¡¯7¡¯¡¯¡¯s worth of black, durasteel death that just burst from it.

    None of them are close enough for me to hit on the way down but I¡¯m able to calculate exactly which direction I need to dash when I hit the ground.

    I touch down and the ten retractable claws on my synthetic legs rip through the flimsy metal of the floor as I bound toward the largest and closest xeno here.

    Its chest has the consistency of butter as I plunge the durasteel claws of my flattened right hand through it, point first.

    The xeno sack of shit (I¡¯d guess to be no more than 300lb, despite looking like it should weigh more than a ton) hits the deck and I¡¯m already decapitating the one next to it with the edge of my palm.

    The next one at least has time to draw its kinetic pistol before my fist punches a six inch hole in its weak plastic chest plate.

    The final two scream, uselessly, as I surge towards them on all fours then smash their heads into eachother, silencing them.

    I cast around, scanning for any hostiles I missed. Finding none, I shorten my legs and lengthen my arms to suit quadrupedal locomotion better before flying from the room.

    My mechanical arms and legs are well within their tolerances as their claws tear into the deck for traction.

    The same can¡¯t be said for my organic hip and shoulder joints which are screaming protest at me for subjecting them to this much strain.

    ¡°Alkawa! Tarra na!¡± shouts a gardenworlder in a language my helmet can¡¯t decode for me.

    Its friend looks at it instead of me, an opening that I exploit to turn its head into a splatter pattern on the wall.

    The one who noticed me has a quarter of a second to scream before I kick it to the ground and sever its head with a stomp to its neck.

    I continue sprinting through the halls of the flagship that¡¯s currently locked in battle with the dreadnought I was just shot from, about half a lightminute away.

    My plasmadaggers stay in the compartments in my thigh cavities.

    As much as they are useful tools for cutting through thick doors and the like, they have a major drawback when used against organic matter in confined spaces; the steam they generate hampers visibility.

    Plus, they''re hardly more effective than just using my clawed hands!

    Wherever I come across one of the monsters, I dispatch it with ruthless efficiency.

    The sympathy that the rest of Terra squanders on these wastes of life is utterly infuriating to me!

    But¡­ they aren¡¯t here¡­ and I am!

    These scum will see no sympathy from me!

    I know that I¡¯m approaching the Bridge from the map my helmet is feeding me when I round a corner and am confronted with a hastily erected barricade.

    I dive back behind cover as a volley of kinetic and laser fire is levelled at me.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The wall panel behind where I was standing is crumpled and scorched by the barrage, though, given the overall quality of xeno construction, that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean much!

    I activate a miniaturized camera in my left index finger and slide just that finger around the corner.

    The feed is displayed on the inside of my helmet and allows me to examine the fortification I¡¯m about to assault.

    It¡¯s about 50ft away, down the hall, and made of what looks like office furniture.

    The lip is around 10ft from the ground with a dozen or so xeno heads and weapons poking out over the top.

    It takes me 1.4 seconds to choose a route of best approach from those my helmet suggests, deactivate my fingercam and break from cover.

    I tear down the hall at a speed no one could ever match using biological limbs.

    I¡¯m obviously not fast enough to dodge lasers or kinetic pulses¡­ but I don¡¯t actually need to be¡­ All I need to do is move my body out of the way faster than those moronic xenos can aim their guns!

    I¡¯m still hit a few times but it doesn¡¯t do much more than buffet my body a little and make a few scorch marks in my armor.

    When I¡¯m practically point blank, I launch my self into the air.

    Even though I have more than enough power to clear the top of the barricade in this weak gravity, I intentionally aim to clip the top of it with my body, my judgment being that flimsy xeno office furniture won¡¯t stand up to the momentum of 500lbs of man and durasteel and that the impact will likely produce a blast of shrapnel like pieces that will eliminate some of the work of putting these fuckers down.

    My gamble pays off.

    The one standing nearest catches a shard in the neck and falls.

    Three more are hit in less vital areas that will still be partially incapacitating.

    Crossfire kills as many as I do over the next few seconds until the ones left have the sense to draw their swords.

    A tall one brings a screaming edge down on me but my hand shoots up to catch its wrist, uses its blade to parry the blow following from the other side, a fifth of a second after, and kill two more who happened to be standing close enough before folding the big one¡¯s arm back on itself, impaling it on its own weapon.

    Discipline breaks and the remaining ones begin scrambling to get away¡­ None of them do¡­

    Dropping the head of the last of the barricade force onto the ground, I shorten my arms and extend my legs, making my way through the thick clouds of steam to the door of the Bridge.

    It doesn¡¯t open for me, obviously (even xenos aren¡¯t that stupid) but, by the method of stabbing my claws into the seal, I¡¯m able to gain enough purchase to leverage my enormous mechanical strength to force it open.

    As I do I hear a round of pulse fire and enter the room to see the second to last of the Bridge crew slumping into its chair, its head reduced to pulp.

    The only xeno left in the room, who neither died on the barricade nor spared me the effort by doing the job for me, is a 15ft tall, white furred, six legged creature that looks like a giraffe.

    It¡¯s four empty hands are raised up with the palms facing me.

    ¡°We surrender, Terran! We surrender!!!¡± It pleads in a language that¡¯s been decoded enough that my helmet can translate it for me ¡°There is no need-Aaaaagh!¡±

    It screams as I close my fist and swing a right hook into its left clavicle.

    I only hit it with enough force to crack the bone and bring out a bright goldenrod color bruise but, from the way the impact buckles its body, its spindly left foreleg very clearly breaks as well!

    8ft of neck pass me by as the creature falls to the ground.

    When its head is around a foot above mine, my left hand shoots up to grab one of its ossicone horns.

    Suspending its head level with mine, I speak ¡°Surrender?! You want to surrender!?!?!?¡­ Don¡¯t make me laugh!¡­ Did my wife get the chance to surrender?! Did my daughter?¡±

    I¡¯ll give this giraffe thing credit: It¡¯s braver than most who find themselves in its position. It hasn¡¯t evacuated it¡¯s bowels or bladder (or equivalents) that I can see and, while it¡¯s clearly terrified and in agony, it¡¯s still able to answer ¡°I¡­ would guess not¡­ Though I couldn¡¯t say for certain without knowing where they served¡­¡±

    ¡°Where they served¡­? Where they served?!?!?!¡­ Oh, let me tell you where they ¡®served¡¯! My wife served as a technician at Clear Smiles Dental Office!¡­ My daughter served as a fucking KINDERGARTNER at Blue Spruce Nursery in New Aspen! Her name was Sophie! She was six! She liked to fingerpaint!¡­ New Colorado had barely heard the War had been declared when you showed up to rain fire down on our cities¡­!¡±

    ¡°Sir¡­ You have the wrong man¡­ I have never been to New Colorado and did not participate in its decimation!¡± the giraffe thing interrupts.

    ¡°And yet HERE you stood!!!¡± I scream ¡°Until moments ago you stood here, commanding a fleet fighting for the proposition that Terrans have lost our existing privileges for nothing more than being frightening to you!!! You commanded forces dedicated to the genocide of MY people! You wear this uniform¡­ and you claim innocence!?¡­ As far as I can see, every single xeno in this fleet is just as guilty for what happened to my home as if they did the deed themselves!!!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m only doing what I¡¯ve been told! I would have been shot for cowardice if I had refused!¡± bleats the creature.

    ¡°Ah¡­ so¡­ you were only following orders¡­(?)¡± I hiss, causing it to obviously realize that it said the wrong thing ¡°¡­the last, desperate defense of every evil being ever confronted with their crimes!¡± my visor retracts, revealing a burned, mutilated face ¡°Orders did this to me!¡­ Your orders cost me my arms, my legs, my city, my friends, my family, my LIFE!¡­ Do you have any idea what that¡¯s like!?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t¡­¡± admits the thing.

    ¡°Is that so¡­? Well then, allow me to give you a taste of it!¡± I say, my visor closing.

    Dragging it by its ossicone, I stride to the panel in the center of the room. It whines protests and questions but I¡¯m not listening.

    I identify the port that I¡¯m looking for and a cylindrical plug extends from the heel of my hand.

    I jam it into the port and a moment later a computerized voice plays that my helmet is able to translate as saying ¡°New Commander recognized.¡±

    I look to the creature who¡¯s command I just usurped for its reaction.

    Confused is my guess¡­

    I drag it to the bowward window and hold its head so it can see what¡¯s about to happen.

    ¡°Computer; Target all Galactic Union ships in range!¡± I command.

    Over the translated pleading and begging of the giraffe thing who seems now to realise its situation, I am able to discern the computer saying ¡°Commander; that has been flagged as an action that bears significant tactical disadvan¡­¡±

    ¡°Override! Target all GU ships!!!¡± I interrupt.

    ¡°All ships targeted, Commander.¡± announces the computer, its tone neutral, while the thing that¡¯s horn I¡¯m holding frantically and futilely attempts to countermand me.

    ¡°FIRE!!!¡± I scream.

    The xeno shields (the only thing that allows them to stand up to our barrages) are all concentrated forward, so their flanks are entirely exposed to their own flagship.

    The thing weeps as space is illuminated with the burning ships of its comrades.

    ---2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF---

    My durasteel claws gouge marks into the stones beneath my feet as I watch my marks walking, 100ft below me.

    Though they are heavily guarded, none of their guards are armed.

    Carrying weapons on the xeno capital world is strictly against their laws.

    An advantage of operating outside the law is that I can carry weapons!

    ¡®The Terran representative to the xeno parliament and the half sister of the arch traitor will be nice little feathers in my cap!¡¯ I think to myself, as I leap from the edge.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.91

    ---Death---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    We¡¯re walking with Representative Mudaliar and his bodyguard, Mr Zvaitika.

    Xon, Brunhilda, Ms Hunter, Mr Byrne, Ms Pereira and the newly engaged couple all insisted on coming, causing Emiko to quip that she, Mudaliar and I must be the best defended trio in the galaxy right now(!)

    ¡°No¡­ y¡¯see, swords ain¡¯t the best weapon and never have been¡­¡± explains Victor ¡°¡­even historic¡¯ly, even if you limit it to ¡®m¨ºl¨¦e¡¯ weapons; spears have more reach, maces and warhammers hit with greater impact and axes have better cutting potential¡­ Edge ratio¡¯s about the only thing a sword has goin¡¯ for it in a fight¡­ What the sword was is the best sidearm¡­ the best weapon to have as a backup to your main one or for when you went out not really expectin¡¯ a fight but needin¡¯ to be ready for one¡­¡± at this point, he cuts himself off and, along with every other Terran present, adopts a stance of readiness within a fraction of a second of eachother.

    I manage to follow their collective gaze fast enough to see something billowing and black as it impacts the pavement in front of us, at a considerable enough speed to crack the paving slab beneath it.

    ¡°Zvaitika, Ziva, Leon, Xon, get these three to safety!¡± commands Victor, loudly and authoritatively, before the hooded [2m] figure has finished drawing up from their landing crouch ¡°Tuun, Samus, Thran, we¡¯ll hold him off!¡±

    Before I¡¯ve even processed what¡¯s happening, I feel a pair of long fingered hands enclose my torso and wings and my legs being lifted from the ground.

    I swivel my head to see that Xon is carrying me away.

    Mr Mudaliar has been scooped up under Mr Zvaitika¡¯s arm with the latter loping away in a three limbed knucklewalk.

    Emiko is the only one of the three of us who has been allowed to stay on her feet, though with the two Intelligence Officers in close order at her back, as we leave her bodyguard and my security team behind.

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    OK, I¡¯m seeing durasteel hands¡­ five fingers¡­ ugly, predatory looking claws¡­ upright gait, like a Terran.

    No biological could have withstood an impact like that so I¡¯m guessing this is a cyborg?

    AI¡¯s tend not to go in for criminal enterprises so I think they¡¯re quite unlikely to be a full droid.

    I suppose it could be a droid being remotely piloted by a person?

    Someone looking to target either Emiko or Mudaliar conceivably might have that kind of cash?

    ¡°Step out of my way.¡± says the being, its voice harsh, computerised, male coded and with a distinctly New Coloradoan accent and cadence ¡°None of you are my targets¡­ let me pass and you get to live¡­¡±

    ¡°We refuse!¡± shouts Thran, immediately.

    I resolve to never threaten any of her charges in future¡­ if we survive this¡­(!)

    ¡°Goooood¡­¡± answers the figure, his voice dripping with malicious glee.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got rather a flair for the dramatic, don¡¯t you!¡± I shout, stalling for time and hoping that one of the people Victor sent away is smart enough to be calling up some backup, right about now ¡°You could¡¯ve come down right on top of us if you¡¯d wanted maximum advantage! You could have started attacking the moment you came down.¡±

    The figure doesn¡¯t answer aside from turning its hood to me and peering out of the shadows with a pair of glowing red eyes above two rows of what look like real, bare teeth.

    ¡°Don¡¯t suppose we get a name?¡± asks Victor, flippantly.

    The figure turns to him before reaching up, unfastening his robe and then shrugging it off to reveal a slender, humanoid body, entirely made of durasteel.

    I quickly dismiss the idea that there might be any flesh in that torso cavity or any of those limbs¡­ there just isn¡¯t space for them!

    ¡°You can call me¡­ Death¡­¡± says the man whose black metal head is shaped like a skull, with what looks like a set of organic Human teeth mounted into it.

    Victor bursts into slightly hysterical giggles for a few moments before shooting back ¡°WOW, your quite extra, ain¡¯t you! It¡¯s like talking to a personification of the concept of ¡®edge¡¯! I bet I¡¯d¡¯ve thought you were really cool, when I was 14!¡­ Never imagined the Reaper havin¡¯ a Stateser accent, though(!)¡±

    Seeming irritated (in his bodylanguage, since his face seems completely immobile) by my boss¡¯s total refusal to take him seriously, the cyborg responds ¡°You imagined he¡¯d sip tea with his pinky extended and say ¡®Pip pip cheerio! Off to the hereafter with you!¡¯ did you, Limey(?)¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°Suppose I did(!)¡± shrugs Victor ¡°¡­No chance we could get you to surrender yourself to our custody and come quietly, is there, Mr Death?¡±

    ¡°None¡­ the Revanchists have requested the heads of both Zurab ¡®Peacemaker¡¯ Mudaliar and Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki¡­ and I mean to deliver them.¡±

    Revanchists? They¡¯re¡­?

    ¡°Oh, fucking hell!¡± swears Victor ¡°You¡¯re with those arseholes!?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve heard of us?¡± queries the assassin, sounding interested.

    ¡°Had a run in with ¡¯em late last year! Pirates and slavers! Suffice it to say, we ain¡¯t best disposed!¡±

    ¡°Then it seems like we have nothing more to talk about, doesn¡¯t it?¡± says the cyborg as the sides of his thighs burst open, presenting two handles to his hands.

    He grabs the daggers and they scream as he ignites them.

    ---???????¡¯s perspective---

    As she¡¯s the most threatening looking by a mile, the first one I aim for is the thickly armored, charging cavewoman.

    In that armor, she probably weighs almost as much as I did before I had my torso and skull mechanized!

    The big dumb brute has stupidly left her face exposed, so that¡¯s where I aim.

    I draw back my left arm and with mathematic precision, launch it forward to hurl the dagger, point first, at her.

    Having forced my organic brain into an adrenaline rush, I have no issue processing the extremely granular sense data my bionic eyes are feeding me as the blade flies at the woman who¡¯s out of time (in more ways than one(!))

    Her eyes are following the knife and her left arm reaches up to try and snatch it out of the air by its handle.

    She doesn¡¯t succeed but her attempt does manage to disturb its flight by enough that, rather than burying itself between her eyes, the point grazes the top of her helmet, leaving a streak of glowing liquid metal, as it ricochets off.

    While I throw my other dagger at her stomach, I hold my left hand out and the one that just bounced off her head immediately reverses its direction, returning to my hand.

    ¡°THRAN GET DOWN!!!¡± shouts the Limey, immediately obeyed by the cavewoman as she throws herself into a crouch, the blade, again, skipping over the top of her helmet as it flies back to me, aligned perpendicular to its direction of travel, the one I just threw missing her trunk by an inch.

    She wastes no time in resuming her charge, throwing off her partially molten helmet to reveal frizzy, orange hair, tied into a bun and smoking from the heat that was being conducted through the durasteel.

    That Brit is annoying me!

    When the blades return to my hands I aim my next throws at him.

    The bastard snatches both of them out of the air and, without missing a beat, plunges them into the ground, angled in a way that would make them tough to attract back to me, even if he didn¡¯t extinguish them, causing them to quickly freeze in place.

    Alright¡­ we¡¯re doing this the hard way then!

    I bolt forward!

    The cavewoman with the smoking hair is still in the lead, even with the evasive maneuvers she had to take, so I aim for her.

    Despite how strong and heavy this body makes me, I tend to prefer an agile, acrobatic fighting style.

    In her case, though, I¡¯m going to make an exception!

    Math question: What happens when 370lbs of troglodyte in 100lbs of durasteel armor, traveling at more than 25mph, meets 650lbs of almost all durasteel, traveling at 45mph, in a head on collision?

    Answer: A sound like a churchbell being struck rings out as she¡¯s hurled backwards and I¡¯m more or less stopped in place!

    Her smoking hair finally catches fire as she lies on the ground. Her dazed moans turn to screams as she beats up her own head in an attempt to pat the fire out.

    I¡¯ll worry about her again when she gets up.

    The Brit, the Blonde, and the ¡®Don¡¯ are all on me now.

    Having looked up the subHuman¡¯s species when I first saw it, I¡¯m not taken off guard by the speed it ran at me with or the lightning fast grab it makes for my wrist with its upper left manipulator.

    I let it grab me and, immediately grab it back, then spin my body, both breaking and dislocating its arm.

    It shrieks but I can¡¯t finish it off because the Limey¡¯s silver gloved fist is flying right at my neck and a shoulder tackle from the Starborn blonde is coming right at my stomach.

    I whirl out of the way, aiming a slash at the Brit¡¯s forearm as I do.

    My claws skip harmlessly off the fabric, confirming it to be stabproof.

    ¡°Victor¡­ I can¡¯t¡­ ¡¯s too¡­¡± says the subHuman to the Brit, looking like it might be about to pass out from the pain.

    ¡°If you can¡¯t fight, get out of here. Follow the others.¡± says the tall man, decisively, keeping his unflinching gaze fixed on me.

    The blue skinned creature gets up and follows those that escaped at the beginning of the fight, its upper left arm hanging limply behind its lower left.

    I¡¯ll chase it down, after I¡¯m done with the others.

    The cavewoman has managed to extinguish herself and rejoins the other two, large patches of angry, seared flesh visible on her scalp, where her hair has burned off.

    The three of them advance on me.

    I let them come.

    The blonde¡¯s torso and legs are covered with armor, so is the trog¡¯s entire body, except her scorched head.

    The Brit has armored gloves and boots as well as a few plates scattered strategically around his body but, like I already saw, slashing and stabbing attacks won¡¯t be much good against his suit.

    I¡¯ve already established every weakpoint to aim for and how I¡¯m going to do it when they attack.

    Little Miss Stone-Age goes low, from my right, the Starborn comes at me from my left and the Brit charges my center.

    I step out of the way and direct a punch at the cavewoman¡¯s temple.

    I feel her skull crack and she visibly loses consciousness, her redirected motion making her momentous body almost tackle the Brit (who manages to leap over her as she goes down) and barrel into the blonde who¡¯s temporarily pinned to the ground by the enormous weight¡­ but I¡¯m also hit with numerous damage notifications from the actuators of my right arm!

    That trog¡¯s skull must¡¯ve been made of some really solid stuff!

    Just me and the Limey left now, I rush him.

    I reach out for his lapels and he attempts to dodge.

    He would have succeeded too¡­ if he wasn¡¯t fighting someone who could change the length of his limbs at will!

    He levels ineffective punches at me as I grab two handfuls of the material at the front of his chest and pull him close to me, extending my legs to make myself more than 7ft tall and leering down at him with the last face he¡¯s ever going to see¡­ the skeletal face of Death!

    I headbutt him, breaking his nose and cracking his upper jaw.

    He falls limp but is clearly still conscious as I headbutt him again, knocking out three of his teeth.

    My brain is inside an inertially dampened container, inside my durasteel cranium, so I can receive head trauma all day!

    His, on the other hand¡­ I wonder how many more impacts it¡¯ll take to finish him off!

    ¡°That¡¯s quite enough.¡± comes a calm, level, male voice from behind me.

    I turn to see who else wants to die.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.92

    ---Master---

    ---???????¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Is this a joke?!¡± I say as the short, Asian man with dark hair and a dark beard walks toward me ¡°Or are you that delusional, little man?!¡±

    I gesture with a clawed hand to the blonde, struggling to free herself from under a quarter ton of unconscious, knuckledragging savage and metal armor and the herculean redhead hanging limply from my other hand, his, previously pretty, face mashed to a bloody, toothless pulp!

    He has no way of knowing about the blue skinned subHuman who ran away after getting its arm broken but its absence also speaks to how utterly outclassed he is.

    ¡°There is no delusion here¡­¡± declares the short man ¡°¡­I see what you have done to my students and I intend to stop you before you can do any more.¡±

    ¡°These are your students, are they?¡± I ask, my interest piqued ¡°You¡¯re some kind of fighter?¡±

    His left eyebrow twitches upward and he answers ¡°Some kind, yes.¡±

    ¡°Seems to me like you didn¡¯t bring a weapon¡­¡±

    ¡°I brought no weapon, bar those of my own body.¡± he confirms.

    ¡°Sooo¡­ you wouldn¡¯t be able to do much about it if I were to just, I don¡¯t know, kill this guy right now!?¡± I say, leveling four straight, clawed fingers towards the big guy¡¯s throat.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t, correct. You could do that¡­ if you so doubted your ability to best a ¡®little¡¯ 117 year old man in combat that you feel it necessary to tie up loose ends first, that is¡­¡± he answers, nonchalant.

    This fucking guy!

    His clearly trying to goad me¡­ and it¡¯s working!

    I release the tension I was using to suspend the big guy off the ground with and he falls to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

    ¡°Alright, you little fucker! You wanna die so bad, I¡¯ll oblige you!¡± I say, turning, bodily, to walk towards the infuriatingly calm man.

    He takes one of his hands from behind his back and raises a finger.

    ¡°Would you allow me a few moments to remove my vambraces?¡± he asks, like this is a friendly sparring match!

    ¡°You don¡¯t wanna keep those on, old timer?¡­ You might get scratched otherwise(!)¡± I say, flexing my durasteel claws to demonstrate.

    ¡°I should like to remove them if you¡¯ll permit it¡­¡±

    ¡°Fine¡­ take them off if you think it¡¯ll help you(!)¡± I answer, layering my voice with enough scorn to make very clear what I think having the vambraces either on or off does for his chances.

    He gives a dignified nod and says ¡°You, like myself,  seem to be a man who takes combat very seriously¡­ I trust you wouldn¡¯t do anything so devious as attack me while I¡¯m distracted and my guard is down?¡±

    I bring a claw to my chestplate and make an X ¡°Cross my heart, old man(!)¡±

    He gives another statesmanlike nod and brings his left hand to the fastenings on his right wrist.

    When they¡¯re loose enough, he wraps his hand around the metal and pulls it off, leaving his arm bare.

    Still holding his right vambrace in his left hand, he begins unfastening the other one before pulling that off with his right.

    It seems like he¡¯s taken his attention entirely off of me.

    I think about attacking him but decide against it, not because I promised not to, but because I don¡¯t want or need to rely on underhanded tactics¡­

    Killing him while he takes his armor off would imply I was afraid to fight him for real¡­ I don¡¯t like that!

    Extending his arms at shoulder level, he locks eyes with me and drops them to the pavement.

    They don¡¯t bounce or roll, they just hit the ground with a metallic *thud* that suggests they were pretty damn heavy!

    ¡°You ready?¡± I sneer at the man standing 14 inches shorter than me.

    ¡°Almost¡­¡± he says, pressing his right knuckles into the flat of his left palm and bowing to me ¡°¡­now I¡¯m ready.¡±

    It¡¯s almost sweet!

    The old coot thinks this is a dojo match!

    Almost makes me want to take it easy on him¡­ Almost!

    ¡°Begin!¡± he announces immediately followed by me aiming a clawed strike, powerful enough to rip through sheetmetal, at his face.

    --- Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n¡¯s perspective---

    As the lethal blow streaks toward me, my leg shoots forward, both dipping my head 1.5cm below the path of this skeletal cyborg¡¯s attack and allowing me to hook the back of his right ankle with my foot.

    I yank it out from under him and there is an instant¡¯s surprise visible in his body language¡­ Then, before gravity has time to assert itself, his torso curls rearward with unnerving speed and flexibility to allow him to plant both of his palms on the ground and launch a narrowly dodged kick with his left leg, as he performs a backward handstand flip and lands on his feet.

    He shortens his limbs to make himself more stable and compact.

    His guard and posture inform me that he¡¯s taking me a lot more seriously than he was a moment ago.

    I cannot afford to underestimate him, either.

    Undeniably, the impenetrability of this man¡¯s armoured body, the power being provided by his actuators, the weaponry in the form of his clawed digits and the acuity of his artificial senses make this one of the most threatening opponents I¡¯ve ever faced in all my hundred and seventeen years.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Perhaps the most threatening, if only for the evident ruthlessness of his killing intent.

    The first time I fought Sh¨ª W¨¨i Qi (the woman who would become my Sh¨©fu) the gap between our respective skills was much wider but, when she laid me on my back, letting me taste defeat for the first time in my young life, she, obviously, did not strike the final blow.

    I can¡¯t expect any such magnanimity from this man.

    The monstrous man who is, to me, what an average Human is to a gardenworlder, swings a bonesplintering kick at my midsection. The light gravity allows me to jump clear of it and launch myself backward with a kick to his rock solid chest.

    The kick has little effect on him, not that I expected it would.

    There is much of this man¡¯s story that I can read in his stance, in his strikes and in his mechanical body.

    I assess him to be in his sixties¡­ he engaged in sport shooting and hunting in his youth and young adulthood, he¡¯s a veteran of the War¡­ Marine branch and, if I¡¯m not mistaken, one of the Special Brigades¡­ one of the more ethically dubious ones I would wager.

    There¡¯s one more thing¡­

    ¡°I see you have lost someone.¡± I state, calmly.

    His whole stance shifts as he hisses ¡°What did you say?!¡±

    ¡°Multiple someone¡¯s, actually¡­ A family?¡±

    ¡°You¡­!¡± he tries to interrupt but I keep speaking.

    ¡°A family was ripped away from you unjustly and, ever since, you¡¯ve sought to make yourself invulnerable so as never to feel that way again. You learned to fight, you replaced your flesh and bone with metal and actuators, you eschewed all loving company so that you could shield yourself from evermore feeling the sting of grief¡­ Am I right?¡±

    His body straightens up and I imagine that, if there were still flesh on his face, he would be scowling as he says ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s a bit of a cheap play, resorting to psychological warfare, old timer?¡±

    I shrug ¡°You have a skull for a head¡­ I don¡¯t know what that is if not psychological warfare(!)¡±

    ¡°Fair, fair. But¡­ your little mindgames won¡¯t work on me!¡± he declares, defiantly.

    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯m quite sure you believe yourself to be as fortified emotionally as you are physically¡­¡± I mock.

    He affects a laugh before asking ¡°Is your plan to bore me to death, old man(?!)¡­ ¡¯Cuz it¡¯s working!¡±

    ¡°My apologies, let us get back to trying to kill eachother like civilised people(!)¡± I smirk.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to tell me twice!¡± he answers, menace in his voice, before lunging forward to aim six more swipes at me.

    Five of them I evade. One catches my cheek.

    We fly apart and I bring my hand to my face. It comes away slick and red.

    This is the first time I¡¯ve seen my own blood in nearly a century!

    The man brings his jet black, metallic claw, dripping with my blood and marbled with an intricate pattern like that of wood grain, to his face.

    He parts his organic teeth to reveal a second row of sharp, triangular, durasteel teeth behind them.

    In his mouth is a disconcertingly biological looking, grey, synthetic tongue.

    He runs his left index claw over the artificial gustaoceptor, streaking it with my blood.

    ¡°Hmmmmm¡­ AB+, no recent admixture from any primitive cousin species, good general health, no cancers and¡­ Ah! There they are!¡­ Highly elevated levels of cortisol, catecholamine, vasopressin and epinephrine¡­ also called adrenaline¡­ You¡¯re not as calm as you pretend, are you old man!?¡± he says with malicious glee.

    I cock an eyebrow and answer ¡°And you managed to keep a straight face when you reproached me for my mind games(!)¡±

    He gestures to the fleshless frontage of his skull and says ¡°Works wonders for my poker game¡­ not having facial muscles anymore(!)¡± before shifting his clawed feet from plantigrady to digitigrady, opening his arms, his palms facing forward and his claws curled, bending his body into a predatory crouch and saying ¡°Time to finish this!¡± and exploding forward.

    He was not wrong when he said I wasn¡¯t anywhere near as calm as I appear.

    This man is much stronger than T¨²d¨¬ F¨¡ng, unconscious in her armour, and certainly T¨²d¨¬ M¨ªng, semiconscious with his face pulped.

    He¡¯s faster than T¨²d¨¬ Tuun and more versatile than T¨²d¨¬ Brunhilda.

    With the miniature fusion core that he presumably has powering his body, my bones would be dust long before he fatigues.

    He doesn¡¯t have the grace or elegance in his Art that any of them do and his defence is fairly nonexistent but one doesn¡¯t particularly need to defend when one¡¯s entire body is built out of the most durable material known to science.

    All in all, I have never feared for my life as much as I do in this moment.

    Buddha preserve me.

    I have to pray my strategy works.

    I have to rely on having antagonised him enough that he won¡¯t want to kill me instantly but, instead, will want to cause me suffering before he ends my life.

    His limbs howl through the air as I avoid and evade them by millimetres each time.

    Actually, I don¡¯t avoid all of  them¡­

    I¡¯m nicked several more times by those razor claws.

    Exsanguination puts a much tighter time limit on this fight than I would have from just my stamina.

    I give myself minutes before I no longer have the strength to carry out my risky gamble.

    It has to be now!

    I leave him an opening, naturally enough that he could believe it was an accident.

    His right hand shoots out to grasp my neck.

    As I hoped, he doesn¡¯t instantly claw out my windpipe, instead clamping down, digging in his claws only hard enough to draw beads of blood and lifting my feet from the ground.

    I play at helplessness¡­ I don¡¯t have to do too much acting.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you credit, old timer¡­ you gave me a good fight!¡­ Shame you couldn¡¯t have lasted a little longer!¡± he says, opening his mechanical mouth to show me the metal teeth behind his enamel ones.

    I¡¯m waiting for one last act of arrogance before I make my move.

    He obliges me, extending all four of his limbs which he has had at full retraction the entire battle.

    Now standing more than 2.3m tall and holding me off the ground at arm¡¯s length, he is utterly vulnerable to the move I¡¯ve been planning since I walked into this fight.

    I swing my body around his arm, freeing my neck (as well as cutting it up quite extensively).

    The power with which I throw myself toward him pulls him forward in the same axis and opposite direction.

    If his limbs were still retracted, his centre of mass would have been lower to the ground and he likely would have been able to stay standing.

    With extended limbs, though, I am able to pull his point of balance out of his base of support and he topples forward.

    I land atop his back, locking the joints of his right arm, and quickly throw my left hand to his left elbow, keeping that arm pressed into the ground.

    He swivels his head 180¡ã to look up at me and screams, furiously gnashing his mechanical jaws.

    I know I have seconds at most before he frees himself and so I act fast!

    I throw all my weight, all my strength, all my being into pulling his locked right arm across his back in a motion it is not designed to perform.

    The individual pieces of armour might be impregnable¡­ but the joints¡­ the joints are always a weakspot!

    The actuators groan and squeal as they are leveraged with more force than could ever be produced without a nearly metre long lever arm.

    They finally reach their breaking point and his whole right arm ruptures from his body.

    The release of the opposing tension causes me to roll over his left side and into a fighting stance, freeing him to stand back up.

    The (now) three limbed man launches himself to his feet and wheels on me.

    I cast the disarticulated arm behind me, well out of reach of either of us, and raise my right hand toward him, my palm facing down.

    Even dismembered, this man is still a serious threat!

    I cock an eyebrow, affecting a smug expression, and flick the fingers of my right hand toward myself in an overhand beckon.

    The bluff I¡¯m making is one that, if he sees through, I will die¡­

    He must believe that I could genuinely do this all day.

    The monstrous man looks behind me to where his arm lies on the ground, looks to his empty arm socket and then looks to me, assessing.

    Then, without a word, he spins on his heels and beats a retreat, seeming to have evaluated the changed odds unfavourably.

    Even if I weren¡¯t moments from collapsing, I would have no chance of catching him when he¡¯s running at that speed.

    He¡¯s long gone when my equilibrioception informs me that I¡¯ve lost my feet a moment before I feel my body impact the ground.

    I roll over to see the other members of Elysium I was in the company of, when we came upon this scene, running to me from where I told them to stay hidden.

    The disembodied arm is thrashing about on the ground where I threw it.

    Mr Kelly confidently bends down and snatches it by the back of the wrist, quickly taking the shoulder joint in hand as well.

    ¡°Are you alright, Master Yu¨¢n?!¡± asks Ms Stone, her voice strangely distant¡­ like I¡¯m hearing it underwater.

    ¡°I believe, child¡­ that I would benefit from some medical attention.¡± I say in answer.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.93

    ---Blame---

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    The bright man sits on the couch, his arms wrapped around the head of the brightest organic being I¡¯ve ever encountered!

    She¡¯s so bright that I¡¯m forced to ask ¡°Victor¡­ would you mind if I put on some eye protection? Fluffy is¡­ burning my retinae a little to look at¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ erm¡­ course!¡­ She does run quite hot!¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I smile, before extracting a pair of heavily tinted lenses and putting them on, reducing the dazzling pair to a tolerable dimness.

    Victor looks slightly confused before asking ¡°Those¡­ tinted in the IR spectrum? They look clear in mine¡­¡±

    I chuckle ¡°I assure you they are, however they might look!¡±

    He shrugs and returns his hands to nervously working through the fur at the bottom of his pet¡¯s chin.

    His arms don¡¯t quite make it all the way around her enormous head.

    She seems to be fully appreciating the level of attention she¡¯s receiving.

    It¡¯s difficult to say whether she understands the implication that her Human is¡­ not doing well right now.

    Rather than directly tackle the [elephant in the room], I decide to start with something he¡¯ll probably be much more comfortable talking about.

    ¡°So¡­ Victor¡­ I take it, from the new jewellery, that Tuun gave a favourable response?¡± indicating the jewelled, metal band on the digit IV of his left hand.

    He smiles a smile that does not touch his eyes as he raises the hand to look at the ring, transferring his right hand to the space between his pet¡¯s ears.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ she did¡­¡± he says, contentedly ¡°¡­we¡¯ve put in a request for leave, for after the current mission¡¯s over. She wants to get married on Nova Fennoscandia and I agreed since she¡¯s got a lot more people to invite from there than I have from Earth¡­ I don¡¯t s¡¯pose Tcakqaal¡¯d refuse it but we might need to do a bit¡¯ve negotiatin¡¯ about when¡­ I also feel a bit bad about everyone I know from Earth who¡¯ll get the choice between spendin¡¯ weeks trekkin¡¯ out to a planet on the edge of Terran Space and not coming¡­ Treg, Lloyd and Chelsea, Jeanne and Ezra, Aunt Tamsin and Uncle Rex¡­ Maia¡¯ll probably just rent a droid. I¡¯m gonna try to make it clear to ¡¯em that I won¡¯t be offended if they tell me it¡¯s too far to come and we can set things up for ¡¯em to view it remotely¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re generally happy with it all?¡±

    ¡°Extremely!¡± he says with conviction.

    Nevertheless ¡°I sense a ¡®but¡¯ there, Victor?¡± I smile kindly.

    He sighs ¡°Yeah¡­ just, after what happened¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ everything feels a bit¡­ precarious.¡±

    And here¡¯s that [elephant](!)

    ¡°Would you like to talk about what happened, Victor?¡±

    Another sigh ¡°I guess I should¡­¡±

    ¡°Only if you want to¡­ You set the agenda, Victor.¡± I say, kindly but firmly.

    He pauses for a moment, running his right hand from Fluffy¡¯s head between both her sets of shoulder blades a few times while he considers.

    ¡°I want to¡­¡± he finally decides ¡°¡­how much do you know already?¡±

    ¡°I know you, Tuun, Ms Hunter, Ms Arran and Master Yu¨¢n were all attacked and hospitalised. Other than that, not much.¡± I answer, honestly.

    ¡°Emiko and Mudaliar were takin¡¯ a walk over to the Osiyul and Grauntian embassies to meet two of our new experts. I had a bad gut feelin¡¯ for reasons I can¡¯t quite explain so I suggested takin¡¯ a capsule. They convinced me I was bein¡¯ silly but, just in case, I asked Tuun and Samus to go along with me, Thran and Zvaitika (Mudaliar¡¯s bodyguard). Xon, Byrne and Pereira were nearby as well and volunteered to come too. Then, when we were passing through a relatively deserted area of the city (that, in hindsight, might¡¯ve been what was givin¡¯ me the misgivin¡¯s about the walk) we were attacked¡­ He was a cyborg¡­ Stronger than Thran, faster than Tuun, more versatile than Samus and able to fight Sh¨©fu to the point of collapse, even if he did get his arm ripped off for the trouble!¡­ He had these plasmadaggers that, after he threw, he could summon back to his hands¡­ That kinda tech ain¡¯t really feasible for biologicals to use that way¡­ I stuck ¡¯em in the ground which limited the harm they did to burning off some of Thran¡¯s hair and scorching her scalp but he didn¡¯t need ¡¯em!¡­ With just his body he was able to break Tuun¡¯s arm, crack Thran¡¯s skull, crush Samus¡¯ ribs under Thran¡¯s collapsed weight, completely smash up my face and cut Sh¨©fu up so bad he lost consciousness!¡±

    He stops here so I contribute ¡°That sounds like an extremely dangerous individual!¡­ Do you know what he wanted?¡±

    ¡°Well, he said he wanted to collect the Revanchist bounty on Emiko and Mudaliar¡­ I¡¯ve told you about them before?¡±

    ¡°You have¡­ You don¡¯t think he was honest about that?¡±

    ¡°No, no, he definitely did want to but¡­ from how he acted, it sorta seemed like he wanted a good fight more ¡¯an anythin¡¯ else! Like, he came down ahead of us when, if he¡¯d come down on top of us or behind us, he might¡¯ve been able to kill ¡¯em before we¡¯d been able to do anythin¡¯ to stop him! Seemed like he took a sorta¡­ sadistic thrill from the drama and the showmanship of it all! Ran off when Sh¨©fu took his arm though, so he clearly only likes to fight when he¡¯s winning!¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°What happened afterward? After Yu¨¢n had driven him off?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Well¡­ bearing in mind I was massively concussed, in agonisin¡¯ pain and slippin¡¯ in and outta consciousness for that bit¡­ I heard Steve came and grabbed the arm like a snake, keepin¡¯ it from gettin¡¯ up to any mischief. Glark, W¡¯ham B¡¯ham and Dr Aerlyght arrived, she stabilised me, after giving me a miniheart attack from waking up to find her straddling my chest. Glark got caught trynna nick the daggers as payback for having his drone shot down with a pebble when he tried to follow the guy with it¡­ Had to have ¡®evidence¡¯, ¡®crime scene integrity¡¯ and ¡®chain of custody¡¯ explained to him(!) We got taken to a hospital where me, Samus, Thran and Sh¨©fu all got regen¡­ Tuun just has to heal naturally since her species are so rare that the nearest regen pod for her is on Fennoscandia and, by the time we made it back there, she¡¯d¡¯ve healed on her own anyway. Sucks for her that she¡¯ll have her dominant arm in a sling for the next few weeks, though! I had to have my teeth cloned back separately ¡¯cause the Human body can¡¯t regenerate those on its own, even in a tube!¡­ Thran had to get her head shaved after the amount of her hair that¡¯d burned off¡­ she seems a bit miserable about that¡­ but, all in all, nothing was as bad as it could¡¯ve been.¡±

    I nod, sympathetically and ask ¡°And, what about the attacker? Was he found?¡±

    Victor twists his mouth and shakes his head ¡°We got a name off the arm¡­ a lot of it had been replaced over the years but there was still enough of the original left to pull up a service record. I suppose it ain¡¯t impossible that the arm got stolen but the guy it traces to definitely lines up with the guy we fought.¡±

    ¡°What was the name?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Jackson ¡®Scout¡¯ Stetter. Member of a special unit of the UTC Marines called ¡®the Phoenix Brigade¡¯.¡±

    I frown ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve not heard of it.¡±

    He gives a joyless smile ¡°Neither had I¡­ and that¡¯s kinda the point¡­ They were a covert ops group that lasted a little past halfway through the War¡­ There were a few others like it but, apparently, they all got shuttered about the same time.¡±

    ¡°Do you know why?¡±

    He purses his lips, causing his lower face to light up from the tensing of the surrounding muscles ¡°Because the theory behind ¡¯em was to take folk who¡¯d lost everything to the War, including their bodily integrity, and offer ¡¯em a chance to get cybernetics fast tracked in exchange for allowin¡¯ ¡¯emselves to be turned into livin¡¯ weapons¡­ Problem was, people like that ain¡¯t exactly the most measured and stable of individuals(!)¡­ One too many warcrimes later and the whole initiative was seen for the ethical fuckin¡¯ quagmire it was and scrapped¡­ One of those warcrimes were done by our pal Jackson¡­ He blew up an entire GU fleet after he¡¯d already been offered a surrender¡­ Served 15 years in a supermax before bein¡¯ broken out by what, in hindsight, were probably the early Revanchists. Since then, he¡¯s had his entire torso and skull replaced¡­ musta cost a fortune too! Durasteel¡¯s a bit outta most folk¡¯s price range but, cybernetics on top of that! You¡¯re talkin¡¯ in the millions of credits!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Victor¡­¡± I say, confused ¡°¡­Am I missing some significance to how much it must have cost for him to undergo this cyberneticisation?¡±

    He nods, grimly ¡°Means, whoever these Revanchists are, they¡¯ve got funding! Powerful folk with cash to splurge on takin¡¯ deadly die hards and makin¡¯ ¡¯em deadlier! Also got expertise, or underworld connections, at least¡­ That body would¡¯ve broken a dozen different laws on any Terran world, so they¡¯ve either got a cyberneticist on payroll or know how to find one who don¡¯t ask questions!¡±

    ¡°I see¡­ you¡¯ve come to understand that the scope of this organisation is grander than you realised?¡±

    ¡°Exactly¡­¡± he sighs ¡°¡­and we all just painted a massive target on our backs by seein¡¯ off what I really hope is one of their heaviest hitters!¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you already have a ¡®target on your backs¡¯? He told you Miyazakai had a bounty on her head?¡± I query.

    His mouth tightens as he nods ¡°Yeah¡­ but huntin¡¯ a bounty¡¯s just business to guys like that¡­ Now, he¡¯ll have a grudge!¡­ We were nothing to him! He tossed us around like toys!¡­ He¡¯s gonna be fuckin¡¯ stewing about losing an arm he¡¯s had since the War on that job!¡­ It ain¡¯t gonna be about the money no more¡­ It ain¡¯t gonna be about the thrill of the fight¡­ He¡¯ll be comin¡¯ after us for revenge! He¡¯ll see himself bein¡¯ in need of his honour restored!¡­ Not to mention his backers! They¡¯re not going to like the fact that their top assassin got embarrassed like that!¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I nod.

    Curling her head up his trunk with her long, powerful, bright body, Victor¡¯s pet protrudes a rounded tongue from between sharp, predatory teeth (that give me some idea of how herbivorous and omnivorous species must feel when they see mine) and licks her master¡¯s face.

    He winces from apparent discomfort but, nonetheless, smiles and pats her side, appreciatively.

    It seems I wasn¡¯t giving her enough credit before¡­ Apparently, she is more than aware of how her Human is doing.

    ¡°Victor¡­ may I ask, is there anything you think you could have done better?¡±

    He gives a mirthless smile and answers ¡°You mean, apart from being a better fighter?¡±

    I nod ¡°I mean, if I offered you the chance to start that encounter again, knowing what you know now, what would you do differently?¡±

    He thinks for a moment before answering ¡°I think I¡¯d swap Tuun for Zvaitika¡­ I¡¯d have him in the holding off party and send her back with the principles.¡±

    ¡°And why didn¡¯t you instruct such the first time?¡± I probe.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he considers, idly working his right hand through his pet¡¯s burning hot fur ¡°¡­a few reasons, I guess¡­ I didn¡¯t know the guy¡¯s capabilities and thought that a more balanced mix of fightin¡¯ styles gave us a better chance of subduin¡¯ him¡­ Tuun ain¡¯t strong but she¡¯s so fast it ain¡¯t real!¡­ Thing was, the guy was faster¡­ she only got hurt¡­ Zvaitika might¡¯ve been enough muscle to keep him contained until Sh¨©fu showed up¡­ I think, also, Zvaitika don¡¯t really know anythin¡¯ about me¡­ he¡¯s not a colleague and definitely not a subordinate¡­ I worried that, if I said ¡®Zvaitika, you¡¯re stayin¡¯ here while your principle runs away¡¯ he mighta just said ¡®No, I ain¡¯t¡¯. Mighta been suspicious that I was in on it. Mighta thought that this was a decoy to keep him occupied and get him separated from his charge while the real assassin waited round the corner!¡­ S¡¯pose there¡¯s also the fact that I didn¡¯t know there wasn¡¯t another assassin round the corner either¡­ I still don¡¯t, actually!¡­ I know that that group didn¡¯t get attacked but maybe that¡¯s just ¡¯cause they was countin¡¯ on more of us being occupied with Mr Stetter!¡±

    ¡°So¡­ given the information you had, how well do you think you handled the situation?¡±

    He frowns ¡°I see what you¡¯re drivin¡¯ at but¡­ it don¡¯t make me feel any better!¡­ I did the best I could and still ended up with a smashed in face, a concussed brain and four injured friends and needed to be rescued by my teacher(!)¡­¡±

    ¡°I can see that, Victor¡­ I just think it¡¯s important that you don¡¯t start thinking anything along the lines of blaming yourself for this. Please, remember that what happened was not your fault.¡±

    He smiles ¡°¡¯Preciate it, Doc! I do have a bit of a nasty habit of blamin¡¯ myself like that!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°I¡¯ve observed(!)¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.94

    ---Sentinel---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Come in¡­¡± comes the woman¡¯s voice.

    I wave open her door.

    She spares me a glance before smiling ¡°Ah, Captain¡­ how can I help you?¡±

    ¡°What are you¡­ watching, Ms Soltani?¡± I ask, indicating the footage currently displaying on the wall over her desk.

    Seven dark skinned, barely clothed Humans sit in close proximity, lashing stone heads onto [arrows] in tropical looking environs.

    ¡°Academic surveillance from North Sentinel Island¡­ and please, call me Yasmin.¡± she answers, casually.

    ¡°Is that¡­ some form of themed retreat?¡± I ask, unsure what academic value there could be in watching people enjoy pretending to live in Stone Age conditions.

    ¡°No. This is how these people live.¡± she shrugs.

    Confused, I offer ¡°Is it a reserve like the one that Mr Nulgynet comes from?¡±

    She wobbles her head indecisively before saying ¡°Yes¡­ and no¡­ It is a special exclusion zone where people are allowed to live unmolested by the encroachment of modern society or technology¡­ but there are some fairly substantial differences.¡±

    ¡°What are the differences?¡± I say, walking across the room to get a better look at the footage.

    ¡°Well¡­ for starters, Tymancha¡¯s home continent isn¡¯t on Earth¡­ meaning that everyone on it is descended exclusively from people who¡¯ve ridden an FTL capable ship at least once¡­ This is an uncontacted tribe, on Earth.¡±

    I point to the screen ¡°This is on Earth? This is modern footage?¡±

    She nods ¡°Yes. This was taken in 2712. None of these people or any of their ancestors have any idea about Humanity¡¯s vast interstellar presence, nor the fact that they are living at a time after we¡¯ve made contact with extraterrestrial life, they don¡¯t know they¡¯re deathworlders, they don¡¯t know what gardenworlders even are and they have no idea that they¡¯re being filmed, much less that a woman fifty thousand lightyears away knows every one of their names(!)¡±

    ¡°Why¡­ why does your government allow these people to live in such a way?¡± I ask, a little disgusted by what seems like a needless cruelty.

    She shrugs ¡°Because they¡¯ve made it very clear that that¡¯s the way they want it!¡±

    ¡°How have they made that clear? I thought you said they were uncontacted?¡± I ask suspiciously, hopping onto the desk to look between the woman and the uncontacted people in the footage.

    ¡°For around 800 years now, almost every time someone gets too near their island, they pepper them with arrows¡­ and any time some idiotic missionary or lost, illegal fisherman ends up landing on the island, they kill them¡­ Couldn¡¯t be much clearer that they want to be left alone¡­ The Unification Agreement grants them amnesty in perpetuity from contributing taxes, submitting to conscription or being prosecuted under our laws for crimes committed on their island¡­ They know what kind of technology we have, or, at least, know that it¡¯s so far in advance of theirs that it might as well be magic¡­ they don¡¯t care. They¡¯ve very clearly decided to send the message to the outside that whatever we¡¯re selling, they aren¡¯t buying¡­ They might as well have carved ¡°NO SOLICITING¡± into their beaches in 20m tall letters(!)¡±

    I look at the people sat, smiling and laughing, as they talk with eachother in an incomprehensible language.

    ¡°What could possibly have made these people decide to so fiercely reject outside contact?!¡±

    She chuckles ¡°Well¡­ for that, we probably have to thank your Chief Security Specialist¡¯s forebears!¡±

    ¡°Victor¡¯s ancestors are responsible for this?¡± I ask, extending my flight feathers to the screen.

    ¡°Yes¡­ sort of¡­ He¡¯s told you what the British Empire was?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve talked about it¡­ an Imperialist enterprise, perpetrated by the polity that existed on his home island before Unification, that, at it¡¯s height, dominated a quarter of the Earth¡¯s land and people, and practically the entirety of its oceans, until it bankrupted itself fighting the two World Wars and spent the next [half a century] slowly and grudgingly relinquishing its control over the people it had oppressed.¡±

    She nods ¡°That¡¯s a fairly accurate one sentence summary¡­ So, in the late 19th Century, when it was at the height of it¡¯s power, it controlled the archipelago that North Sentinel is in. In those days, of course, the sea level was higher, so there were actually four main islands, North, Middle, South and Little Andaman¡­ These days, it¡¯s just two, Great Andaman and Little Andaman, and they¡¯re close enough that you can wade between them at low tide. Anyway, the British appointed this guy called Maurice Vidal Portman to govern the Andamans and, at the time, there were a few different people groups living in more or less the same way they had been since the last Ice Age. One of them was the Sentinelese¡­ these guys¡­¡± she gestures to the wall ¡°¡­Portman wanted to know exactly who he was governing there so he mounted an expedition¡­ He knew there were people there because, a few decades prior, some shipwreck survivors had been attacked, while they awaited rescue, but he spent days looking and found no one¡­ until he stumbled upon a family of six, two elderly adults and four children¡­ he effectively kidnapped them and took them back to Port Blair but, very quickly, the elderly couple got sick and died and so he dumped the kids back on the island with, according to him, ¡®quantities of presents¡¯¡­ though, he never specifies what ¡®presents¡¯ he gave them¡­¡±

    Very confused, I ask ¡°How would that possibly have induced [eight centuries] of such fierce isolationism?¡­ Him kidnapping the family is bad but, surely, the children would have understood that an elderly couple perishing from sickness wasn¡¯t the fault of all outsiders!¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°Well¡­¡± she muses ¡°¡­in a sense, it was the fault of all outsiders¡­ in the sense that by that point in history, mainland Indians and Europeans will have had extensive natural immunity to diseases that the Sentinelese had never been exposed to¡­ But, if you think of it from those children¡¯s perspective, you and your family are kidnapped from your home by people who don¡¯t speak your language, you¡¯re taken to a place you don¡¯t understand at all, you¡¯re treated less like a person than a lab animal, your (grand)parents get sick and die and you have no way of knowing whether the outsiders caused that to happen on purpose and, then, you¡¯re just dumped back home with some useless trinkets for your trouble? You would, understandably, not be best disposed to those who abducted you and that¡¯s even before we get to the fact that we don¡¯t know whether any of the children were carrying any diseases¡­ If they were¡­ if their return caused a deadly outbreak that they easily could have seen as being a perfidious outsider deception¡­ based on that first contact, it seems quite likely that, the next time you have outsiders putting ashore on your beaches, you¡¯ll view it as a threat! And that¡¯s before we get to what might have happened to them when Emiko¡¯s forebears¡¯ Empire occupied the islands in the Second World War¡­¡±

    ¡°What did they do to them?¡± I ask, dreading the answer.

    Yasmin gives me another shrug ¡°We genuinely don¡¯t know¡­ Before they surrendered, they destroyed all documentary records of their occupation, but we know they committed atrocities in other territories they conquered and occupied so it¡¯s not too much of a stretch to imagine that they may have landed on North Sentinel and that that interaction may have further soured the Sentinelese toward outsiders¡­ Toward the end of that Century, the Indian government did have some mildly effective attempts at establishing contact¡­ they figured out that having at least one woman with the contact group made them less likely to be met with hostility¡­ They inferred an all male group is more likely to be perceived as a warband.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ there¡¯s just a group of people that the UTC is happy to allow to live outside its laws, on its cradleworld, on an island [hundreds of kilometres] out at sea?!¡± I say, still disbelieving.

    ¡°Yes¡­ but I do need to correct you¡­ their island is only 10km from Great Andaman, these days. Port Blair is only 50km away, as the crow flies.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be¡­ That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s close enough to see!¡± I say, my scepticism deepening.

    ¡°It is.¡± she confirms.

    ¡°Is it close enough for a Human to swim?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± she confirms.

    ¡°Then¡­!?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s keeping them there?¡± she smiles.

    ¡°Yes!¡­ Why aren¡¯t they constantly swimming over and coming into conflict with¡­ erm¡­¡± my mind struggles for a term. Something tells me that I should avoid referring to modern people, living within the law, as ¡®normal Terrans¡¯. Eventually, I settle on ¡°¡­nonSentinelese?¡±

    She smiles ¡°Nothing¡¯s stopping them from swimming over and, occasionally, some do¡­ As to what¡¯s stopping them from causing trouble, there¡¯s an agency tasked with supervising them. That¡¯s where I got this footage from¡­ well, technically, I got it from Jae but she got it from the Sentinelese Management Bureau. As academics, we¡¯re allowed to study this, it¡¯s not meant for general viewing¡­ strictly speaking, you shouldn¡¯t be looking at it but I won¡¯t tell if you won¡¯t(!)¡±

    Turning my head away from the forbidden footage (but trying to do so subtly enough that I won¡¯t be mocked for it) I ask ¡°So, this Bureau¡­ it just spies on them¡­?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t just spy on them¡­ It also manages the ¡Ö100km2 Coastal Exclusion Zone that faces the island, making sure unauthorised people don¡¯t just wander in, it patrols the Maritime Exclusion Zone to make sure no illegal fishing boats or hobbyist sailors get too close, it keeps track of their language and, whenever any of them make it over to Great Andaman and don¡¯t look like they have any intention of going back any time soon, they¡¯re the people in charge of approaching them to say ¡®listen guys, you don¡¯t have to go home but you can¡¯t stay here¡¯(!)¡­ Whenever any Sentinelese ask the SMB to be integrated into wider UTC society they always end up becoming instant celebrities¡­ Their stories are often quite sad, though¡­ It¡¯s made quite explicitly clear to them that, once they¡¯ve chosen this, they can never go back to the island, so the ones who take the offer are usually ones with quite harrowing stories that end with them having nothing to go back to! The periodic surveillance is for a) making sure that we¡¯re keeping abreast of their current linguistic register and b) making sure that they aren¡¯t facing any society ending threats!¡­ In the nearly 6 centuries that we¡¯ve been watching them, we¡¯ve never needed to land boots on the ground but, every now and then, when they¡¯re experiencing a particularly bad drought or famine, we¡¯ll arrange for a few crates of food or water to conveniently ¡®fall off a transport¡¯ in just the right place that we know ocean currents will carry it to their island as a windfall.¡±

    Still grappling with an uncomfortable mix of emotions about this island of Stone Age humans that I¡¯ve just learned existed, I ask ¡°And you¡¯re watching this footage to¡­?¡±

    ¡°To learn their language.¡± she answers, nonchalantly.

    ¡°How large is this island Ms So¡­ Yasmin? How many Sentinelese are there?¡±

    ¡°Around 600¡­ The island¡¯s about 160km2 these days, though, back in Mr Portman¡¯s time, it was only around 60km2¡­ It¡¯s actually spoken by several times more SMB employees than native speakers! When you factor in all the academics and enthusiasts who¡¯ve learned it for fun that probably adds up to ¡Á100 or so its native speakership!¡±

    ¡°Why learn a language only spoken by a few hundred people on an island you aren¡¯t allowed to visit?¡±

    She nods her understanding ¡°That exact reason is why it¡¯s never reached the top of my list until now. I¡¯m¡­ not really able to get excited about learning a language where, realistically, the only ones I¡¯ll likely ever speak it with are other nonnatives¡­ but, well, Jae told me she had these files to study their culture in preparation for the new species. I found myself between languages and so I asked her to send me a copy¡­ You never know what insights you might be equipped with by studying a language of an analogous culture!¡­ Obviously, I know it won¡¯t be one-to-one as these¡­¡± she gestures at the screen ¡°¡­are people fully aware that the outside world exists and with a very negative opinion of it¡­ They¡¯re also Human and that will definitely colour a lot about how they interpret the world¡­ but still, I think there will definitely be some value in learning it, even if I don¡¯t necessarily know what that is yet!¡­ At the very least, learning about Portman has given me a very solid idea of how not to handle a first contact(!)¡­ Even if I¡¯m sure Emiko already knows all about him!¡±

    At this point, the unwittingly recorded group burst into a mix of laughter and groans and Yasmin smiles and chuckles.

    I turn to see one of the young men present grinning stupidly.

    ¡°What was the joke?¡± I ask, curiously.

    ¡°He just made a very silly pun that doesn¡¯t work in R¡¯qali¡­¡± explains Yasmin, causing me to realise that she¡¯s just had this entire conversation without a translator and I didn¡¯t realise until now ¡°¡­it involves a Sentinelese near homophony between ¡®arrows¡¯ and ¡®flatulence¡¯¡­¡±

    The woman beside the stupidly grinning man puts her right hand on his forearm and her left on her swollen belly and speaks, smiling.

    ¡°She says ¡®You can see he is about to become a father¡¯¡­ Apparently, bad dad jokes are universal(!)¡±

    I smile at the pair, remembering my own father¡¯s bad jokes, made a lifetime ago¡­

    ¡°Did you¡­ need something from me, Captain?¡± asks the linguist.

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ yes¡­ I¡¯m just going around making sure that all required personnel are aware that they need to be at the shuttle bay at [5pm] to go down for the security briefing and [meet and greet] with the new team members.¡±

    She smiles ¡°Yes, I got the notification¡­ from Emiko, from you and from Victor(!)¡±

    I affect a Terran head nod ¡°Alright, see you later then, Ms Sol¡­ Yasmin.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.95

    ---Water---

    I¡¯m still ruminating on the footage I saw earlier as I ride Victor¡¯s shoulder through the halls of Citadel¡¯s ODR.

    I find myself wondering what R¡¯qal would do if we discovered a band of hundreds of hermit R¡¯qali who had been living in isolation, outside the Clanlaw since before it was even established, the way we lived [2 million years] ago.

    I don¡¯t know what we would do but I can confidently say that, no matter how clear they made it that it was what they wanted, leaving them to their own devices would not be considered¡­ much less establishing an entire agency to make sure they were left to their own devices!

    I¡¯m not sure what the crueller approach would be¡­ dragging those Human¡¯s, kicking and screaming, into Terra¡¯s 28th Century or letting them be?

    On the one claw, one must assume that their isolationism is based on faulty assumptions about what modern society looks like and how it operates and, surely, they would be glad to be part of it if they knew the truth?

    On the other, that would involve taking the choice away from them¡­ which may make them so resentful that they would be incapable of appreciating the benefits¡­

    I suppose, it¡¯s somewhat the same as the few hundred planets, like Tuun¡¯s cradle, that refuse membership in the Galactic Union. I think it¡¯s a mistake but I would never advocate for invading them to force them to join¡­ if there were a Parliamentary Debate about that issue, I would enthusiastically throw my support behind the noninterventionists.

    ¡°Ah, Mistress Miyazaki¡­ and the crew of the Bright Plume, I presume?¡± interjects one of a slightly nervous looking pair of employees who have just appeared ahead of us ¡°You¡¯re a little early.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ well¡­¡± smiles Emiko ¡°¡­It seems that between myself and these two here¡­¡± she gestures at me and Victor ¡°¡­we managed to do a little too good of a job impressing on everyone the need for punctuality(!)¡­ We found ourselves all gathered in the shuttle bay with time to spare so decided to set off a little early.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ most of your new crewmembers haven¡¯t arrived yet¡­ Mr Bak and I were just on our way to fetch the Oceanographer¡­ would you like one of us to lead you to the gymnasium?¡±

    ¡°Actually, Mr¡­¡± she leans to check his nametag ¡°¡­Kasongo, I was wondering if I might have a little talk with Miraala, first?¡­ I was¡­ prevented from talking to her at her embassy the other day.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine, Mistress, but¡­¡± Kasongo looks at the crowd behind us ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s advisable for such a large crowd to go into that room¡­ Would it be acceptable if I lead everyone else straight to the gym and let my colleague take you to the Aquarium?¡±

    ¡°My bodyguard will have to come¡­¡± she says with effortless charm ¡°¡­and these two as well.¡± she indicates me and Victor.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine¡­¡± nods Kasongo ¡°¡­there¡¯s space for the four of you.¡±

    With that he takes the lead of the rest of the group and Victor, Emiko, Ms Hunter and I are lead away by Mr Bak.

    We descend a set of stairs to a subterranean floor that will certainly be below the water level of the canal outside the entrance.

    I presume the Osiyul woman must have come in through an aquatic entrance that runs under the street outside.

    We come into a room, at the far side of which is a plexiglass wall, holding back crystal clear water.

    If that plexiglass were to suddenly vanish, even the Terrans would be killed by the force of the liquid impacting them!

    Inside the tank floats a Human wearing a breathing mask and diving suit and holding a large collar in her hand.

    To our left, there is a chamber, containing a [1.7m] tall, egg shaped object with a flattened bottom and a top that has been sliced off at an angle.

    Then, she emerges.

    Over [3m] long from tail tip to the front of her nose, swimming forward, horizontally, her skin is light blue, except for the bulbous finger tips of her two, four digit hands, her patches of smoky periocular skin and her belly skin so pale it¡¯s almost white.

    Her back is lined with spines and she wears no clothing.

    She has no legs and, where they would be on a Human, instead has a large, muscular tail, ending in a horizontal fluke, like a Terran Cetacean.

    The places on her head where a Human would have ears bear instead hydrodynamic fins.

    Her eyes are a piercing blue colour with [W] shaped pupils and her neck sports eight long slits, four on each side.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    She orients herself vertically in the watercolumn, looking down at the Terran in the tank with her.

    The two greet eachother by swivelling their respective forearms in mirrored 90¡ã arcs in front of their chests, after which, they have a brief exchange of signs, though not using any grammar I recognise from Galactic Basic Sign Language.

    The Terran woman hands the Osiyul the collar, which, after a brief moment¡¯s hesitation, she affixes around her neck over her gills.

    The attendant Terran then gestures to the chamber with the enormous, bisected egg in it and the larger woman drifts over to it.

    Somewhat awkwardly, she slides the fluke of her tail into the opening at the top and then fans her arms upward to slide the rest of her body into the device, up to her waist.

    Experimentally, she directs it up, down, backward, forward, left and right before signalling a presumable ¡®OK¡¯ to the woman behind her.

    The attendant seals the far door, isolating the woman in the chamber.

    She looks slightly nervous as the water level drops from the ceiling, lower and lower, until her head breaches its surface.

    She does not immediately begin to suffocate.

    The aquarespirator collar seems to be functioning as intended.

    The egg shaped object she¡¯s currently inside of does not begin to sink when it looks like it should.

    In fact, the waterlevel manages to reach all the way to its base and then keep going without its position in space changing at all.

    Her hoverchair is also functioning as intended.

    The airlock now completely empty, the nearside door opens.

    Mr Bak steps forward, performing the same arm swivel as the woman in the tank did before switching to his own sound medium language to say ¡°Welcome to the Citadel ODR, Ms Miraala. It¡¯s a pleasure to have you here.¡±

    Her facial expression is unreadable as she signs in the direction of the group.

    Having no vocal chords, there is no voice onto which her translated meaning can be layered. However, the metatextual information provided along with her translation informs me of what I already knew. She is a well spoken young woman with (by my species¡¯ standards) a decidedly masculine softness to her mode of speech.

    ¡°I am pleased to be given this opportunity¡­¡± she turns to Emiko ¡°¡­You are the one I was to meet the other day?¡±

    Stepping forward with a remorseful grimace, Emiko answers ¡°Yes. My sincere apologies for failing to attend¡­ Circumstances conspired against us.¡±

    Her tone is flagged as mirthful as the aquatic woman signs ¡°¡®Circumstances conspired against you¡¯ is a way that only a Terran would describe an assassination attempt(!)¡±

    There is a general chuckle at that.

    ¡°So¡­ Ms Miraala, there¡¯s a lot to discuss, disclaim and otherwise brief you on: Most of it will be stuff you can hear about at the security briefing we¡¯re all about to receive but I just thought I would allow Tcakqaal here to have a brief chat with you about the accommodations we¡¯ve made for you on the ship, if that¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± responds the soft spoken woman, politely turning her attention to me.

    Despite her large size, the height she loses from her lower body being folded inside her hoverchair means that I¡¯m talking down to her from my perch atop Victor¡¯s shoulder.

    I consider hopping down to ground level out of respect but that might make talking even more difficult, given the obstacle to eye contact presented by her mobility device.

    I decide to stay where I am and address her from Victor¡¯s shoulder.

    Extending my wings and dipping my head in a respectful greeting, I address the woman ¡°It shall be my pleasure to accommodate you aboard my ship, Ms Miraala. However, I¡¯m sure you are already aware that it is a vessel primarily designed for terrestrial vertebrates, who breathe an oxygenated, gaseous atmosphere¡­ As such, the accommodations for aquatic species are¡­ not as comprehensive as they could be.¡±

    Her tone is flagged as warm and understanding as she signs ¡°Nothing I¡¯m not used to, Captain¡­ Though, I understand my quarters will be waterfilled, at least?¡±

    ¡°Indeed¡­ We already have two Rethijj crewmembers who require habtanks, so it was a relatively simple matter for my Maintenance Officer to convert one of the rooms to be watertight for you and my Chief Custodial Officer to rig you up a water purification and oxygenation system¡­ Unfortunately, regulations wouldn¡¯t have allowed for the airlock to have protruded into the hallway so, that means, your quarters will have slightly less living space than most.¡± I say, ruefully.

    ¡°The last airbreathing ship I was on expected me to wear one of these the entire journey¡­¡± she says, tapping her respirator collar ¡°¡­Even constantly moisturising my skin, I had a bad case of xeroderma by the end of that trip¡­ This arrangement is a marked improvement over that one!¡±

    ¡°That sounds awful¡­ My Engineering Lead has explained to me what happens to her skin if she fails to apply her water retention gel to an area of it when moving through air for any significant period¡­ It certainly doesn¡¯t sound like something I would like to force you to tolerate!¡­ If you experience any issues at all with the hygiene or water quality in your quarters, please do not hesitate to bring it up either to myself or Chief Custodial Officer Glark¡­ If you notice any structural issues, then either myself or Maintenance Officer Bam are the ones you need to talk to.¡±

    Her sharp featured face takes on a warm expression as she signs ¡°I certainly will, Captain. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Alright then, shall we make our way to the gymnasium?¡± smiles Emiko.

    There is a general chorus of agreement as the six of us present turn to make our way back up the stairs.

    Ms Miraala¡¯s hoverchair is buffeted a little as each step causes it to jump [20cm] or so higher in the air in a way that looks moderately uncomfortable.

    ¡°You might be able to change the settin¡¯s on that¡­¡± opines Victor ¡°¡­there¡¯ll be one called something like ¡®gradients¡¯ that you can play around with an¡¯ see if it¡¯ll make stair climbin¡¯ any smoother¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure she has used one before, Victor.¡± says Emiko with a wry smirk.

    ¡°Yeah, OK¡­ sorry¡­ Just, in my line of work, I¡¯d rather give an unnecessary piece of advice than not give one that might¡¯ve been useful.¡± answers the man, throwing up his hands in concession.

    ¡°Thank you for the advice.¡± signs the aquatic woman, tactfully not clarifying whether it was necessary.

    With Mr Bak leading the way, we navigate the ground floor halls and eventually find our way to a set of open doors into a spacious room.

    I see the group that was lead here by the other attendant, Kasongo, I see a few of the new additions to the ODR contingent aboard, I see some ODR employees.

    I see no sign of the individual who made it necessary to hold this briefing in such a spacious, high ceilinged area.

    Mr Bak is the first one past the threshold and starts in surprise as his head whips up at a 45¡ã angle to his left.

    Forewarned by the man¡¯s reaction, Emiko exhibits no surprise as she follows his gaze and warmly greets ¡°Ah, Mr Ro¡¯oo¡¯u¡¯ouu¡­ I¡¯m very glad to see that you made it.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.96

    ---Podium---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°And, without further ado, I shall hand you off to the coordinator of this expedition, Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki.¡± says Mudaliar, gesturing to me.

    I step to the podium flanked by Thran to my left.

    I am the last to speak.

    We¡¯ve already heard Intelligence Agents briefing us on currently available information about the Revanchists, Mudaliar giving an impassioned speech on the significance of our mission and, now, it¡¯s my turn.

    Comparatively, my task is rather mundane and functional.

    I just have to give basic introductions.

    However, I decide to start by saying ¡°Thank you all for coming¡­ You have heard my colleagues tell you about the recent attempt on my life and the life of Representative Mudaliar here. So, I would like to start by saying that, if any of you do not wish to proceed on this voyage, you may walk away now. The ODR will not seek to punish you in any way for valuing your own safety!¡±

    I pause here and look around for anyone making to leave.

    As anxiety inducing as it is to make this offer, it is the right thing to do.

    The contracts they have all signed have punitive breach clauses.

    I would hate for any of them to feel forced onto this expedition because they didn¡¯t realise that those clauses wouldn¡¯t be enforced under these circumstances.

    Mercifully, no one makes to go.

    ¡°Good! Then, I shall start on the introductions.¡± I smile ¡°As Mr Mudaliar said, I am Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki and I am the coordinator of this expedition. This¡­¡± I gesture to Thran ¡°¡­is my bodyguard, Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter. To my right, you can see Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak, the owner and Captain of the Bright Plume, the vessel that shall be conveying us to AG10790263b. Beside her are CSS Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor, ASO Tuun ¡®Elf¡¯¡­¡± I smile as I remember the girl¡¯s request for how to introduce her ¡°¡­soon to become ASO Tuun ¡®Elf¡¯ Taylor¡­ and SO Brunhilda ¡®Samus¡¯ Arran¡­ The Bright Plume¡¯s security team¡­ At the back there¡­¡±

    I gesture to the permanently sneering R¡¯qali woman on a species specific perch with her husband.

    Every head turns to her.

    She seems momentarily surprised by being the first to be introduced after those on stage.

    It only takes her a moment to adopt a slight smirk, letting me know exactly what she¡¯s thinking; ¡®Yes, I am that important!¡¯

    ¡°¡­you will see Waqa¡¯arc, 15th Daughter of Highspire Peak and her lifemate, Akrat. She is the expedition¡¯s Compliance Officer¡­ so everyone be on your best behaviour around her(!)¡±

    There¡¯s a slight titter and the woman resumes her sneer.

    ¡°In the front row here¡­¡± I gesture to the tall, slender, dark skinned woman ¡°¡­you will see Lt Xon ¡®Longstride¡¯ Loper, our Military Liaison and Advisor.¡±

    She stands and turns, holding up her hand in greeting and letting all see her face.

    ¡°Over there, you will see Dr Nkasiogi ¡®Hook¡¯ Zunberi and, beside her, Dr Felicity ¡®Scowls¡¯ Mink¡­¡±

    I think about saying ¡®Soon to become Felicity ¡®Scowls¡¯ Zunberi¡¯ but decide against it as she made no such request.

    ¡°Dr Zunberi and Dr Mink are our expedition¡¯s conservation consultants. It bears mentioning that Dr Zunberi¡¯s brother, sat beside Dr Mink, is also called Dr Zunberi and is also employed on the ship, though independently and not as an ODR contractor¡­ Over there¡­¡± I gesture to the Vietnamese and Navajo gentlemen ¡°¡­you¡¯ll see Dr C??ng ¡®Heart¡¯ Phan and Dr Niyol ¡®Healer¡¯ Hatathli, our Humanitarian observers. Beside Dr Phan is our press liaison, Soo ¡®Nose¡¯¡­¡±

    The Suigu shape shifts to gain 60cm or so of height and twists her gelatinous body around with a broad grin on her face.

    ¡°Just there¡­¡± I indicate the large amphibian man ¡°¡­is our Technologies Officer, Baorbo. There¡­¡± I gesture to the diminutive Russian who stands up on top of her chair to get the height necessary to make herself visible ¡°¡­you can see Dr Olga ¡®Data¡¯ Semyonova Petrikov, our data analyst. Over there¡­¡± I gesture to the plump, half Denisovan woman ¡°¡­is Dr Jae ¡®Peach¡¯ Stone, our sociologist. Beside her is Tymancha ¡®Eagle¡¯ Nulgynet, our tracker and wilderness survival expert. Over there¡­¡± I gesture to the UTCIS agents ¡°¡­you¡¯ll see Agent Leon ¡®Kennedy¡¯ Byrne and Agent Ziva ¡®Whisper¡¯ Pereira, our Intelligence Officers. Next to Agent Byrne¡­¡± I gesture to the little cyclopean woman ¡°¡­is our statistician, Enas. At the front here, you will see Master Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n, our health and fitness instructor. I would like to take this opportunity to publicly and personally thank Master Yu¨¢n for his effective resolution of the other night¡¯s assassination attempt.¡± I say, warmly.

    The man smiles and waves a hand as if to say ¡®It was nothing at all, really!¡¯, in spite of the significant injuries and blood loss he sustained!

    ¡°Just there¡­¡± I indicate the pale skinned, statuesque Spelvuk woman and her Eurasian American husband ¡°¡­are Drs Fischer, Alchyinad ¡®Dimitrescu¡¯ and Marc ¡®King-of-the-Squirrels¡¯. They provide onboard therapy and counselling sessions and I encourage any who feel they would benefit to make use of their services¡­ Apologies in advance for your packed schedules, Doctors(!)¡± I quip.

    The Fischer man shakes his fist at me in mock frustration as his wife does a hissing giggle through her sharp teeth.

    I turn to indicate the blond New Australian ¡°That gentleman there is Mr Steve ¡®Taipan¡¯ Kelly, our consultant on natural toxins and animal handling.¡± he stands and grins around, genially ¡°There is Dr Yasmin ¡®Gold Tongue¡¯ Soltani, our linguist. Here¡­¡± I signal the large, brown furred Ursus sapiens ¡°¡­is Dr Bj?rn ¡®Mimir¡¯ T¨²puson, our historiographer, and, beside him¡­¡± I indicate the Terran woman with the most heavily modded appearance of anyone I¡¯ve ever known personally ¡°¡­Dr Lilith ¡®Unicorn¡¯ Morningstar and¡­¡± I gesture to the metre and a half tall man who looks uncannily like a humanoid owl ¡°¡­Strik, our folklorist and archaeologist, respectively. Over there¡­¡± I motion to the slender, pale blue skinned, Qlofltli woman ¡°¡­is Weyavl, our political analyst and, beside her¡­¡± I motion to the bulky, four armed, crimson skinned man who, with his mouth shut, has a deceptively avian looking snout. When he opens his mouth, you¡¯re able to see that what looks like his beak, when its hidden in his lips, is actually a single, long, conical tusk, jutting from his bottom jaw and adapted to piercing the shells of the crablike creatures that are his people¡¯s main food source on their cradleworld, Karg ¡°¡­is our architectural consultant, Gamoiwoth¡­ I¡¯m afraid that that will have to conclude our introductions of those already aboard. Sincere apologies if your name was left out.¡±

    There just isn¡¯t time to introduce everyone of the nonODR crew, we would be here all night!

    It feels odd specifically leaving out Cookie, Mouse and Hasiakh, and only giving Mage a partial introduction but, if I introduced them, then there¡¯s really no excuse for not introducing the entire crew!

    Only the ODR contractors, Captain and security team¡­

    Everyone else will have to meet and introduce themselves on their own time.

    ¡°Now, on to introducing the new arrivals. Ms Miraala?¡±

    I beckon the mermaid to the stage, invitingly.

    She hovers up the steps, seeming to have already navigated to the ¡®gradients¡¯ setting and adjusted it to make her ascent smoother.

    She begins signing to the room, her translation giving the effect of a raised voice to her gestures, exaggerated for greater visibility.

    ¡°It is lovely to meet all of you! I am Miraala and I am an Osiyul. I shall be the Oceanographer on this expedition. I hope you will keep me safe(!)¡± she wobbles her head which layers a humorous tone over the last sentence she signs ¡°¡­Thank you.¡±

    She hovers to one side to make room for the next new crewmember.

    ¡°Short and sweet¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­Thank you, Miraala. Sknz¡¯h¡­? Could I ask you to come to the stage and introduce yourself?¡±

    The roughworlder who stands and begins making her way up the central aisle between seats is, more than any other sapient I¡¯ve ever laid eyes on, the stuff of. absolute. nightmares!

    Her entire body is encased in glossy, chitin plates, in dark brown, with vivid scarlet and pale beige accents.

    Behind her trails around 5m of what it isn¡¯t quite accurate to call a ¡®tail¡¯.

    It¡¯s lined with dozens of short, chitinous legs, that keep it suspended from the ground, making it a hind body segment, however much it looks like a long, thick tail.

    Her forebody consists of six long limbs, four of which are currently being held nervously in front of her chest, two of which she is stood upright on. Though, she is capable of moving on all six in a sprint.

    The 12 fingers of her four hands each have one fewer joints than a Human¡¯s, the four thumbs each being a single claw with only a knuckle joint, the two fingers they each oppose having one joint in the middle in addition to their knuckles.

    The two claws on each of her feet, like her thumbs, have only a single, knuckle joint.

    Her head, more than anything else about her, resembles a centipede''s, with two compound eyes, three sets of two mandibles and two long, sensory antennae, whisking this way and that.

    The most instinctively disturbing thing about this woman, however, is not her appearance¡­ nor the clicking and clacking of her chitin on the polished wood of the gymnasium¡¯s floor¡­ it¡¯s something I know about her¡­

    That is not her body.

    In fact, what I¡¯m looking at isn¡¯t even the body of a sapient creature!

    Or¡­ it is¡­ in the same way as the clothes I¡¯m wearing are the clothes of a sapient creature¡­

    The actual body of the woman (piloting a livestock animal specifically bred as ideal hosts to the stage) is around the size of my fist and located at the base of it¡¯s skull, surgically implanted there at its birth.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    According to rumour, there were dark science attempts made to implant her species into the bodies of Human¡¯s during the War.

    Though, again according to rumour, even devoid of a cerebellum, the Human body¡¯s immune system was simply too potent to allow for any operational value to come of such twisted experiments. Immunosuppression simply meant succumbing to Human pathogens instead of our white blood cells.

    It''s chilling to think, in a reality just a little to the left of our own, I might have had to fight against Human, meatpuppet, corpses piloted around the battlefield by a sapient parasite species!

    ¡®Then again¡­¡¯ I think, as I watch her climb the stage ¡®¡­I can¡¯t let my instinctive revulsion for how she looks or how her species lifecycle works prejudice me against her! She can¡¯t help what she is any more than I can help being a deathworlder and, more importantly, neither of us should have to!¡­ She¡¯s not hurting anyone¡­ unless you count the animal who¡¯s lobotomised body she¡¯s claimed¡­ That¡¯s not really any different, ethically, to people eating meat not grown in a lab, though¡­ It¡¯s not as if it¡¯s suffering¡­ I really hope!!!¡­ Nope! I need to stop thinking about it and just treat her the same way I would treat any other sapient!¡­ Honestly, Emiko! This is precisely the kind of prejudice that the ODR exists to mitigate!¡­ You can¡¯t let squeamishness get in the way of respect!¡¯

    The Vk¡¯unhz woman, in the body of a hrszk centipede, mounts the stage and, in contrast to her stomach churning appearance, excitedly introduces herself with the translated tone of a nervous, squeaky voiced girl as she says ¡°Hello¡­ My name is Sknz¡¯h and I am the anatomist¡­ I¡¯m a colleague of Tha?s at Citadel University of the Biological Sciences¡­¡± she gestures to the, yet to be introduced, androgynous Human at the back of the room, where she was sitting ¡°¡­but¡­ of course¡­ you haven¡¯t met them yet, have you¡­*heheh*¡­¡± she laughs, nervously ¡°¡­erm¡­ I¡¯m¡­ hoping to learn a lot about the new species and help with things like developing nervejacking that will allow translators to work for them¡­ as well as¡­err¡­ perhaps, seeing about possible medical advances, that might be possible because of them¡­ and, possibly-no, that¡¯s too many ¡®possibles¡¯!¡­ Erm¡­ Anyway¡­ I look forward to working with all of you¡­ and¡­ if you ever hear either me or Tha?s shouting ¡®IT¡¯S ALIIIIIVE!!!¡¯¡­ don¡¯t worry about it(!)¡±

    That was an admirable attempt at diffusing her poor introduction speech with humour¡­

    It didn¡¯t land well!

    My guess is that most others in the audience are as (or more) put off by the woman¡¯s appearance than I am.

    Kindly, I smile ¡°Thank you, Ms Sknz¡¯h! We very much look forward to working with you as well¡­ Could I ask Tha?s ¡®Darwin¡¯ Lamark to come up and introduce themself?¡±

    The light haired Frenchperson at the back of the room stands and begins to make their way up to the stage.

    Despite their almost teenaged appearance, they are about to become the oldest Terran aboard the Bright Plume at 125!

    They are short and slender with fair skin, flaxen coloured hair and pale blue eyes.

    Everything about their face and body is perfectly epicene.

    With grace and confidence not demonstrated by their Vk¡¯unhz colleague, Tha?s introduces themself ¡°Yes, hello¡­ I am Tha?s. As my friend Skunzie has let you know, we two are colleagues at a University here on Citadel, where we collaborate quite closely¡­ I am a geneticist and evolutionary scientist¡­ and quite an accomplished one at that. Where no one can tell you better than she what anatomical features an organism possesses, no one can tell you better than I why it possesses them. Together with her, I hope to be able to build a comprehensive natural history of this new species and its ecology. I thank you all for enabling us to do that.¡±

    Tha?s steps aside.

    Their demeanour is slightly arrogant but, somehow, charming in spite of that!

    ¡°Alright then. Thank you Mx Lamark¡­ Next, Mr Ro¡¯oo¡¯u¡¯ouu¡­¡± I say, croaking a sound like a groaning tree branch and probably butchering the pronunciation ¡°¡­I won¡¯t ask you to come onto the stage. Please, stay where you are and introduce yourself.¡±

    I smile kindly at the impractically gargantuan man.

    Easily 9m tall, with a body of gnarled wood and a language of deep, slow creaks, reminiscent of unsped-up whale song, the massive Grauntian has gravitic compensator devices festooning his body, even in this Galactic Standard gravity.

    Obviously, no private room on the ship is capable of accommodating him.

    Fortunately though, he has assured us that being allowed an allotment of space in Hydroponics along with plenty of clean, fresh water, is all he needs.

    His species don¡¯t get bored easily and don¡¯t tend to move unless they have somewhere they need to go, so he says he¡¯ll happily curl up under the lights and not go crawling about the corridors(!)

    His body plan is, more or less, humanoid, with two long legs, over which is a trunk, on the sides of which are two long arms and over which is a head.

    Fine manipulation is not performed by his stiff, woody hands, instead being done by prehensile vine tendrils that sprout from his body here and there.

    His chest, back, shoulders, arms and head are covered in thick foliage, having the effect of making him look like a Human with a very thick coat of body hair(!)

    I say ¡®he¡¯ but, in actuality, his species do not divide themselves by gender, despite being sexual.

    Having no sexual dimorphism (aside from the fact that one sex produces pollen and the other seeds) and no burden of care to their offspring, Grauntians don¡¯t really have any concept of themselves as male or female and, instead, divide themselves by age.

    Roughly translated, their five ages are ¡®sprout¡¯, ¡®sapling¡¯, ¡®young growth¡¯, ¡®mature growth¡¯ and ¡®old growth¡¯.

    They¡¯re only perambulatory and sentient for the first four of those stages, old growth trees becoming rooted to the spot and slowly loosing their cognizance.

    Unlike most other species, they have shrugged off all attempts to extend their lifespan, tending to see the transition to old growth as something sacred and honourable and not at all with the horror a Human would feel about being told they would slowly loose the ability to move, then speak, then think!

    Not really having a way to refer to his species¡¯ age architypes in any language I speak, I¡¯ve resolved to just calling him a ¡®him¡¯ and letting translators do what they want with that(!)

    Based on his size, this mature growth man was probably already walking about the forests of Graunt at the end of the Upper Palaeolithic!

    This will probably be the last opportunity he gets to undertake a voyage like this before he¡¯s compelled to find a sunny spot on Graunt, or another paradiseworld somewhere, and slowly let his awareness fade away.

    In his deep, groaning language, he starts ¡°My¡­ name¡­ is¡­ Ro¡¯oo¡¯u¡¯ouu¡­¡± creating an unearthly rumbling sound for his name, that I¡¯m definitely not capable of reproducing ¡°¡­ I¡­ am¡­ a¡­ botanist¡­ and¡­ dendrologist¡­ I¡­ am¡­ glad¡­ to¡­ work¡­ with¡­ all¡­ of¡­ you¡­¡±

    Those three sentences (that I easily could have got through inside of 10 seconds in Japanese) took him nearly a minute to say!

    ¡°Thank you, Mr Ro¡¯oo¡¯u¡¯ouu¡­¡± I say, not sure if he was actually done speaking but preempting him continuing at that glacial pace with a smile ¡°¡­I apologise in advance if this is embarrassing but your embassy has sent me a notification that I am required to relay to all present, if that¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not¡­¡± he says.

    ¡°Oh. Well¡­¡± I start.

    ¡°¡­embarrassing.¡± he continues.

    I leave a pause before I say ¡°OK, so¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ the¡­ truth¡­¡±

    This difference in perceptual temporal resolution is mildly maddening but¡­ I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just as bad for him!

    I¡¯m sure he just hears me squeaking along at 100kmph and continually trying to interrupt him while he speaks(!)

    I leave a long enough pause that I¡¯m certain the forest Elemental is actually done before I continue ¡°Yes, so, I am obliged to relate to everyone here, including the gardenworlders, that Mr Ro¡¯oo¡¯u¡¯ouu¡¯s cradleworld is a Class 2 paradiseworld. Therefore, as sturdy and physically imposing as he might look to you, his body is extremely fragile and he is liable to be injured if proper restraint is not exercised whenever physical interaction with him is necessary! I repeat; everyone, deathworlder and gardenworlder alike, is to exercise extreme care whenever physical interaction with Mr Ro¡¯oo¡¯u¡¯ouu should be necessary.¡±

    I allow a rare, stern tone to creep into my voice that hasn¡¯t been there since the primary way I was addressed was ¡®Commander¡¯, just to hammer home that I¡¯m really not fucking around about this!

    That man¡¯s body density is so low that a Human could punch clear through one of his legs without really even trying all that much!

    The mock punch you¡¯d throw thinking you were making fun of the person telling you to be gentle would bury itself up to the wrist!

    As striking as the image of Humans fighting an army of Ents might be, the reality is that the Grauntians had a species wide exemption from service throughout the War, since even the GU recognised how little tactical value they held, being as delicate as they are!

    Satisfied that I have suitably impressed the point onto all present, I continue ¡°Alright then¡­ Dr Albert ¡®Theseus¡¯ Hardwick?¡±

    A tired looking brown haired man, in his fifties (looking like it¡¯s been a while since he last went through regen) and wearing a simple brown suit, stands, making his way to the stage.

    He looks like he, long ago, stopped caring about anything like looking cool or stylish but, ironically, his exuded ¡®I don¡¯t care what you think of my ugly suit, my average height, my less than impressive physique, the lines on my face or my eyebags¡¯ attitude ends up working for him quite well(!)

    ¡°Hello. My name is Dr Hardwick. I¡¯ll be the economic analyst for this expedition. It will be my job to assess the mechanisms of this new species¡¯ economy and, ultimately, what things of value they may be able to provide to galactic markets and what things they may, in turn, value to trade for. I expect I will be cross consulting with all of you at some point, as economics has a habit of rearing its ugly head in the places no one wants or expects it to. Thank you.¡± he almost recites, with an exhausted demeanour that says ¡®you may not like me or what I do but I¡¯m here and I don¡¯t particularly care one way or another¡¯.

    I wouldn¡¯t exactly say he was ¡®curt¡¯¡­ to me, that implies some irritation¡­

    No, it was more like ¡®done¡¯¡­ ¡®checked out¡¯, ¡®going through the motions¡¯.

    ¡°Thank you, Dr Hardwick¡­¡± I smile, pretending I haven¡¯t noticed his not exactly polite manner ¡°¡­Could I ask Dr Vbaa¡¯ar ¡®Lamb¡¯ Taan to introduce himself next?¡±

    The man that stands, despite his ovine appearance, is not an Ovis sapiens uplift.

    Despite his triple barrel name and Terran academic title, he is no deathworlder, though his most recent stint of post graduate study was undertaken on Earth.

    His species are called the Aarba and resemble sheep with sky blue wool.

    He wears a long robe, concealing his four legs.

    He makes it to the podium, his front legs making him have to stand a little further behind it than the others, and, with the demeanour between a passionate professor about to deliver a lecture and a preacher about to deliver a sermon, begins ¡°I am Dr Taan and I am a professor of philosophy and theology¡­ Now, I want to make clear that my task is not to convert this new species (or any of you) to any religion! Rather, I am here to understand what views on the metaphysical they hold and why¡­ I believe in that regard, I shall have a lot to talk to Dr T¨²puson and Dr Morningstar about!¡­ Understanding how environment shapes and is shaped by belief on a hitherto uncontacted deathworld¡­ I can imagine no finer use for my talents¡­ I thank you all.¡±

    He performs a little bow and stands with the others.

    ¡°Thank you, Dr Taan¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­?. Would you introduce yourself?¡±

    This woman looks like another aquatic. However, her species are mostly land dwelling to the point that, unlike Miraala, no special accommodations needed to be made to her quarters. She just needs a dip in the pool, periodically.

    Her beak is not visible, being obscured by six prehensile tentacles. Instead of legs, she has eight perambulatory tentacles beneath her torso.

    She has two tentacles that have adapted to function more like arms, with palms that have fingerlike splits at the end, on the sides of her body.

    ¡°Music¡­¡± she starts ¡°¡­is very important to my people, the ?¨¥?¨¨ ¡­ I hope to document the musical stylings this species possesses as this expeditions ethnomusicologist.¡±

    Another short and sweet one.

    I can see the way Yasmin perked up with excitement over this woman¡¯s language with a single phoneme and 38 tones! I¡¯m guessing the cephalopodan woman will be cornered and bullied into a linguistics session at some point(!)

    ¡°Thank you, ?¡­¡± I say, not sure whether my quavering tone on her name is correct, since she didn¡¯t actually say it ¡°¡­Commadore Yakchutt, could I¡­ Oh¡­ perfect, yes, come on up.¡±

    The man, whose species doesn¡¯t closely resemble any Terran species or mythical creature I¡¯m aware of, though maybe with notes of crocodile in his scaliness and hippopotamus in his thick build, stood up before I was done saying his name.

    He stands at the podium, his expression grim, and starts ¡°Terrans¡­ My name is [Commadore] Yakchutt, of the Ulat people¡­ I fought your kind in the War¡­ and have spent more than [30 years] regretting it¡­ I¡¯m not asking your forgiveness¡­ but I¡¯m hoping that my part in this expedition will be something like¡­ an atonement¡­ My task will be the assessment of the Naval defence of this planet from any outside threats. I hope to confer frequently with my opposite number from the Terran Military here¡­¡± he gestures to Xon ¡°¡­in developing a rock solid plan for how to keep these people safe while they are [finding their feet].¡±

    With that, the Navyman steps away from the stand, surprising me with the abruptness of the end of his speech.

    Recovering quickly, I return to the podium and say ¡°Err¡­ Finally, the stars of the show, could I ask Ambassador Lhamo ¡®Crane¡¯ Yeshe and Ambassador Ngngomg Ong to come to the stage.¡±

    The pair who stand are a Tibetan woman from Gangsri Gsar (who smiles with serenity that makes me absolutely certain her wedding dress must have been blue) and a tall, Gollogng man who¡¯s extremely traditionally handsome (if you can get over the blue skin, lack of a nose and the, far too large, orange and veiny eyes that look as if they have no pupils).

    This is the pair who¡¯ll (if all goes well) remain on the planet, after we return.

    With them, our crew complement is complete!

    Next stop, AG10790263b!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.97

    ---Defector---

    ---Lhamo¡¯s perspective---

    ---2680 Terran Calendar/33 years BF---

    I streak through the skies of Gangsri Gsar at a multiple of the speed of sound, looking down on the snow capped mountains that give the planet its name.

    The setting sun is to my right and the creeping darkness of night to my left.

    It¡¯s so utterly freeing to have the yoke of my craft in my hands and an endless sky to fly through!

    I can¡¯t imagine having to go everywhere by safe, AI driven capsules!

    This tiny craft and the lessons to pilot it are the best investment I ever made!

    Of course, had I not had more valuable skills, that training almost certainly would have had me conscripted to the Fighter Force.

    Apologies to whatever poor sod took my place!

    The nav is trying to send me on a detour around the Sisters, A Lcag and ¡¯Og Ma, 15km and 12km tall, respectively.

    I look at the gap between them and at the 90 second detour my screen is instructing.

    ¡°Cute¡­¡± I smirk, as I plough straight forward at full speed.

    The sheer rock face of A Lcag passes less than 200m on my right and ¡¯Og Ma the same on my left.

    10% of a yak racing track might sound like a lot but it really isn¡¯t when you¡¯re traveling this fast!

    Passing out the other side of the Sisters, the ocean comes into view and, with it, so does one of the very few sea level cities on this planet.

    Most places where the mountains meet the sea, they plunge straight into it with nowhere to build.

    Here, the alluvial plain, deposited by the same river as runs through the heart of Lhasa Gsar, allows for the existence of the city of Chuchen Zhingkha.

    I reduce my speed significantly.

    I hail my destination ¡°This is private craft Dzha10759Ka82, requesting permission to land, transmitting clearance code now.¡±

    ¡°Stand by¡­ You are clear to land, private craft Dzha10759Ka82.¡±

    I begin my descent, hovering down as I line myself up with the landingpad that my HUD is highlighting for me.

    I set down and immediately see the irritated bodylanguage and expressions of the nearest pair of MPs.

    I ready my holo as I swing open the door of my tiny personal craft.

    ¡°Miss¡­!¡± says the closer one, angrily, as he approaches, his open faced helmet showing me his scowling face ¡°¡­I don¡¯t care who you are, you¡¯ve got to clear that pad, right now! We¡¯re expecting¡­!¡±

    ¡°Dr Lhamo ¡®Crane¡¯ Yeshe, special consultant to the UTC Intelligence Service Office of Lhasa Gsar¡­¡± I say, casually turning my screen around to show him my ID app.

    He¡¯s stunned into silence for a moment before he checks my screen.

    ¡°¡­Am I not who you were expecting?¡± I smile with an (I feel) not unjustified quantity of smugness.

    ¡°I¡­ was expecting someone¡­ older¡­ looking¡­¡± he says, adding that last word after apparently checking my age and finding that I am, in fact, 35 and just so babyfaced I regularly still need to prove my age when purchasing alcohol!

    ¡°Yes, well, regardless of what you were expecting, would you care to show me inside?¡­ It¡¯s chilly out here, in spite of the low elevation!¡±

    The pair turn, without apologising, and begin walking toward the nearest building.

    I follow.

    As we approach, a man who looks very out of place on a military barracks emerges from the door and, spotting me, makes a beeline.

    ¡°Dr Yeshe, I presume?¡­ Formerly professor of theoretical xenopsychology at Lhasa Gsar University?¡± asks the weedy European man in accented English.

    ¡°I am. Though, I think we can dispense with the word ¡®theoretical¡¯, these days(!)¡± I smile, extending my hand and speaking in English.

    He takes my hand and shakes it as he says ¡°Dr Otto ¡®Alpenstock¡¯ Kleinfeld, a pleasure to meet you! Thank you so much for making the journey!¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the flattering assessment of me as the best person on world for the task¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­Please¡­ lead on, Dr Kleinfeld.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    The little man leads me inside. The MPs (thankfully) do not follow.

    ¡°So¡­ you have read the brief?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Enemy pilot, seems to have stolen a fighter craft and flown it here to surrender to us. Has a device, inferred to be a personal holo, that can translate his language into English but can¡¯t manage Tibetan. Says he has information on the current position of a GU fleet that he¡¯s willing to trade to us on the condition that we neutralise it with minimal casualties. When asked his reasoning, he answered that the Admiral was knowingly on his way to engage with a dreadnought blockade¡­ which he regards to be a suicide mission. He believes he can give us the information necessary to take the fleet by surprise and surrender it with minimal loss of life. You want me to assess whether he thinks he¡¯s telling the truth, whether he might have been fooled into thinking he¡¯s telling the truth and what it might be worth promising him for the information he claims to have. That about the size of it?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ very good.¡± chuckles the man, nervously, as he pulls out his holo ¡°I just have a checklist to run down with you before you can undergo decontamination¡­ Have you had symptoms of illness any time in the last six weeks?¡±

    I smile ¡°I think I can save some time there, Doc¡­ tell me the author of that checklist, would you? Should be down at the bottom¡­ fine print¡­¡±

    The man frowns but scrolls down and squints.

    The penny drops as he says ¡°Dr L ¡®C¡¯ Yeshe¡­ et al¡­¡± and looks up at me, a little defeatedly.

    ¡°Shall we assume I wouldn¡¯t have bothered making the journey if I were to answer negatively any of the things I should answer positively, or vice versa¡­ on the list that I was the lead author of?¡± I ask, trying and failing not to sound patronising.

    He slumps before answering ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll just fill this out for you myself then¡­ We¡¯re here¡­¡±

    He directs me through a door, into a darkened room.

    To my left is the backside of a one way mirror.

    Tentatively, I walk toward it, bringing into view the xeno defector.

    The first thing that strikes me¡­ is just how enormous he is!

    I¡¯m 175cm but that guy¡¯s as tall as me, sitting down!

    Some quick mental maths tells me that he¡¯s got to be more than 2.5 metres, standing!

    The next thing I realise is the fact that he has no nose¡­ where it should be is instead just a smooth, flat patch of pale, purple-blue skin.

    The longer I look at him the more uncanninesses I find in his appearance; one too many fingers on each hand and thumbs on the wrong side, eyes too large and a vivid orange colour with no pupils that I can see, ears the wrong shape, limb proportions slightly off, body too slim¡­

    And¡­ yet¡­ despite all that¡­

    Kinda hooot¡­(!)

    Certainly no pinnacle of masculinity (in any way besides his imposing stature) but handsome none the less!

    The kind of handsome you could see being cast as the love interest in a 24th Century scifi romance film(!)

    He¡¯d be the prince of a space kingdom, son of an eeeeevil space king, who unwillingly goes along with his father¡¯s dastardly plans until meeting the beautiful Human heroine, in the second act, who causes him to have a change of heart, in the third(!)

    Maybe I should take up screenwriting, after the War(!)

    Of course, I know better than almost anyone not to share even a fraction of my little daydream with the room at large, having helped write the book on xeno interrogation procedure!

    ¡°Alright then¡­ shall we start¡­?¡±

    ---Ngngomg¡¯s perspective---

    One of the Terrans enters what I infer to be the decontamination chamber, adjoining this room.

    She raises her arms above her head and is sprayed with a liquid substance, following which the chamber is illuminated by harsh, bright light.

    She stands in the sterilising rays for what seems like a dangerous amount of time before the internal door finally opens.

    ¡°Heh lother. Itsnaiss tu miitchu, Wii Ngkoman Der Ngngomg, mai neimz Lhamo.¡± she says.

    If I didn¡¯t already know what she was, I could walk past the woman in the hallway of a space station and think nothing of her except, maybe, to notice that she¡¯s rather pretty¡­ in spite of that strange, prominent sense organ in the middle of her face(!)

    The language she speaks is what I recognise as her kind¡¯s lingua franca and not the other one that I¡¯ve heard, since landing, with a completely different cadence and tonality.

    Apparently, the Terran''s have thousands of languages¡­ though, I don¡¯t believe that personally.

    Probably, they have thousands of dialects of a few dozen unique languages! That seems more realistic to me.

    My assessment of what she spoke to me is proven correct when my holo is able to translate it into ngGollogng for me.

    ¡°Greetings. It¡¯s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, [untranslatable rank: ¡®Wing Commander¡¯. Meaning: one who orders and is obeyed while flying] Ngngomg, my name is Lhamo.¡±

    Irritatedly, I correct her ¡°Ngngomg is my personal name, you will address me by my tribe name, Ong!¡±

    She looks at my holo as it turns my words into her language.

    When she seems to have understood, she closes her eyes and dips her head.

    ¡°Apologies, [Wing Commander] Ong¡­ that is my mistake.¡±

    I narrow my eyes at the woman as she sits on the far side of the wide table, the weighty *thud* of her meeting the surface hinting at the powerful density of her body.

    She¡¯s¡­ much more polite than I expected a deathworlder to be!

    I truly expected to have to endure days of torture before they¡¯d finally listen to me but¡­ unless they consider being locked in an interrogation room for hours on end to be a form of torture (which isn¡¯t out of the question, given how much they purportedly revile boredom), I¡¯ve endured none!

    The woman places her hands, palm down, on the table in front of her.

    Her thumbs point inward, toward eachother!

    She curls her mouth without baring her teeth and says ¡°I would shake your hand, [Wing Commander], but it is probably best if you and I do not touch¡­ Do not worry about airborne microbes¡­ this whole room acts as a fume hood¡­ It is extremely unlikely that anything I breathe out over here is going to reach where you are.¡±

    I don¡¯t answer.

    ¡°So¡­ I understand you have some information you want to give us, [Wing Commander]?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡± I scowl.

    Seeming confused she looks to my face and says ¡°You do not?¡±

    Angrily, I stand, towering in comparison to the little deathworlder, and slam my palms down on the table ¡°I don¡¯t want to! I don¡¯t want to be a defector!¡±

    She raises her hands, defensively, but¡­ not toward me¡­

    Her eyebrows are both raised, her eyes wide, her jaw set and her skin pale as she faces the mirror.

    It takes me a few moments to realise that she must be worried that they¡¯ll storm in here and subdue me, given my outburst.

    I feel my attitude toward her soften¡­ she wasn¡¯t even slightly worried for herself!

    True¡­ she probably doesn¡¯t actually need to worry for herself but¡­ still!

    Satisfied that she has conveyed her wordless message to the spectators, she returns her attention to me and says ¡°Why not tell me, in your own words, what led you to where you are right now?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.98

    ---Job---

    ---Lhamo¡¯s perspective---

    ---2686 Terran Calendar/27 years BF---

    I watch the British woman of FrancoJapanese parentage stride from the floor of the Parliament of our (recently capitulated) enemies.

    She is surrounded by four of the most physically imposing Humans I¡¯ve ever seen! Not one of them less than 210cm!

    I suppose, when our army numbers in the hundreds of billions, finding one-in-a-millions isn¡¯t too hard(!)

    Me and the rest of her retinue fall in behind her as she passes through the vomitorium and turns to my left, her right, towards her temporary office.

    As large in stature as the durasteel clad soldiers are, they do not compare to the woman¡¯s android husband, 230cm tall and, from the sound of his bare footfalls, a few hundred kilos in mass!

    We reach the door of the (newly designated) office of the Terran Representative and she snarls ¡°You four, guard the door¡­¡± addressing her bodyguards ¡°¡­Ezra, Zurab, Lhamo, inside¡­ Everyone else, piss off and find something to do!¡±

    The door closes behind us.

    ¡°Bug sweep, darling¡­¡± says the woman, exhaustedly.

    ¡°No bugs detected.¡± answers her husband, instantly.

    She slumps onto the chair that had to be brought from our ship after the one provided by the Parliament collapsed under her weight the first time she sat in it.

    Tilting her head back, she asks ¡°So¡­ how did I do?¡±

    ¡°You did wonderfully, sweetheart.¡± answers Ezra, immediately, in his flat, serene cadence.

    She reaches a hand out to one of his and says ¡°Thank you, darling! You are my rock¡­ but I was really asking these two¡­¡± gesturing at me and the KartveloTamil man with her other hand.

    ¡°My opinion¡­¡± smiles Mudaliar ¡°¡­pitch perfect! No notes!¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡± I concur.

    She leans her elbows onto the table in front of her, quickly removing them when she hears its groans of protest.

    ¡°There¡¯ll be a lot of people back home who think that we let them off too easy¡­ who¡¯ll think that we should have pulled a fucking Versailles on their arses!¡± she muses.

    ¡°A punitive Peace would foster resentment in the gardenworlder populace¡­ They would feel as if their leaders stabbed them in the back by surrendering¡­ Not to mention giving ammunition to antideathworlder bigots!¡­ We need future generations of gardenworlders to think their ancestors were wrong to declare War on us, not wrong to sue for Peace¡­¡± I remind her.

    ¡°Enumerating their various hypocrisies, warcrimes and the many violations of their own laws that they perpetrated serves that end well¡­ Hundreds of trillions of GU citizens, who personally had little to nothing to do with the War, suddenly finding their salaries cut in half to pay our War reparations would very much be counter to it(!)¡­ Let us hope that demanding the most heinous warcriminals be remanded to Terran custody to stand trial placates the sabre rattlers back home¡­¡± adds Mudaliar.

    ¡°Yes, but¡­! I don¡¯t know¡­ I feel like we should have got something more from them!¡­ Instructions on how to reproduce their more advanced tech, maybe¡­?¡±

    Mudaliar purses his lips in a joyless smile and shakes his head ¡°We just (relatively handily) defeated them in a War with technology centuries behind theirs¡­ Their tech is not something we can ask them to trust us with yet¡­ we need to build their trust first. It¡¯s going to take time¡­ It¡¯s going to take¡­¡±

    *Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock*

    ¡°What!?¡± snarls Miyazaki to whatever poor unfortunate soul is requesting entry.

    One of the towering guards, in their sleek, state of the art durasteel, enters.

    ¡°Apologies for the interruption, Mistress Miyazaki¡­ There¡¯s a delivery for you. Already been scanned for explosive, biological and chemical agents etc¡­ It¡¯s clean.¡±

    ¡°A delivery¡­?¡± she says, screwing up her face in a mixture of confusion and contempt for a moment before shifting to appraisal and beckoning wordlessly.

    The towering man enters the room and stands to one side, revealing a small woman with pink skin, purple tendrils covering her scalp, three teal eyes and three legs with one too many joints.

    The girl looks terrified as she walks in, a levitating platform following behind her with a heavy looking cube (around a metre wide, deep and tall) on top.

    Looking as if she might be about to burst into tears from her fear, the pink skinned girl holds out a holo toward Miyazaki (though still around 8m away) and says ¡°C-c-could you¡­ s-s-s-sssign h-here, p-please?¡±

    ¡°What am I signing for?¡± asks Miyazaki, flatly.

    ¡°Th-this?¡± says the scared delivery girl, gesturing at the glossy cube.

    Fury flashes across Miyazaki¡¯s face and, before she can traumatise the poor girl, I step in.

    ¡°I think what our Representative means is that we weren¡¯t expecting a delivery¡­ Would you mind telling us what this is?¡± I say, kindly, smiling (without teeth) down at the girl.

    ¡°I-it¡¯s¡­ a d-data drive¡­?¡± she asks more than tells.

    A data drive!?

    That¡¯s absurd!!!

    With how insanely advanced their computing is, a physical storage device this large would represent several multiples of all the information Humanity has ever set to page!

    ¡°What¡¯s on this data drive, sweetie?¡± I smile, trying not to betray any of my desperate curiosity to her.

    ¡°It¡¯s a c-compendium¡­ of a-all Galactic Union t-technologies and ssscience¡­¡±

    The room stands in stunned silence for 9 straight seconds while we all process what the little xeno girl just said.

    She shifts uncomfortably, looking at Miyazaki and, clearly, unwilling to approach her.

    Shellshocked, I eventually manage to say ¡°I¡­ can¡­ sign¡­ for that¡­¡±

    Looking relieved, she hands me her holo and a stylus.

    I scrawl out my name in the abugidic script of my native Tibetan, my hand then making a second pass on the line, adding the vowel markers.

    The girl looks thoroughly relieved not to have had to get any closer than she is to the intimidating woman behind the desk, in the formal blue dress.

    I hand the device back to her and she uses it to direct the platform to unload its cargo.

    She does not wait to be dismissed, beating a hasty retreat from the room, leaving behind the single most valuable object ever possessed by Terrankind!

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ---2687 Terran Calendar/26 years BF---

    ¡°We need gardenworlders!¡± growls Miyazaki, frustratedly, as we pore over the plans for the new agency we¡¯re trying to design ¡°This needs to be more than just the Terran embassy to the GU and vice versa! It needs to set the tone for all our interactions moving forward! We need qualified gardenworlders, ready, willing and able to work alongside the Terran staff! Helping us build our networks and win over potential allies in the Parliament!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ well¡­ unless you want to kidnap a complement of gardenworlders to staff it as forced labour, then our choices are open it with a Terran dominated staff and hope we can entice more gardenworld employees at a later date or delay it¡­ again!¡± points out a weary Mudaliar.

    ¡°Guys¡­¡± I interject, equally wearily ¡°¡­I think we¡¯re past the point of productivity for this evening¡­ how about we call it quits and come back to it with fresh eyes, tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Good idea¡­¡± he answers.

    The two of us begin getting up but Miyazaki says ¡°Wait¡­¡±

    We turn to look at her, expectantly.

    ¡°How about we go out tonight?¡­ No shoptalk, I promise!¡­Just think it might be good for us to have a night to cut loose¡­ just the four of us¡­ five, if that hot, young nurse you¡¯re dating wants to come, Zurab?¡±

    Mudaliar smiles ¡°I appreciate the offer¡­ but I really need to sleep¡­ Raincheck?¡±

    ¡°Fair enough¡­ Lhamo?¡±

    I hesitate, considering.

    ---later---

    ¡°Wooooo! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots shots SHOTS!!!¡± shouts a merry Miyazaki as she and I raise small glasses of weak spirits to our lips, in a booth in the xeno bar, and tip them down our throats.

    Her android husband mimics the action with an empty glass.

    She slams her glass onto the table and releases a sigh as she slumps against the padded seatback.

    Her expression turns slightly melancholic as she says ¡°Y¡¯know¡­ I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m the right woman for this job¡­¡±

    ¡°You are.¡± replies her husband, instantly, almost displaying an emotion for a second there(!) ¡°The fact that you were appointed above all other potential candidates should prove your fitness for the role. They could have chosen anyone and they chose you.¡±

    ¡°I agree with your husband¡­ but what makes you say that, Jeanne?¡± I query.

    ¡°IIIII don¡¯t knooow¡­¡± she grumbles ¡°¡­I sort of feel like I was chosen on the strength of my reputation¡­ and my parents¡¯ reputation for ferocity¡­ but, the thing is, while my mum and my shitstain of a father could give a fiery speech, they also had all the other skills you need to be a diplomat as well!¡­ I feel like I¡¯ve got one skill and it¡¯s scaring people!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, sweetheart.¡± smiles Ezra, serenely ¡°You¡¯re the stick and I¡¯m the carrot¡­¡±

    ¡°Thank you, darling¡­ It¡¯s just¡­ much as I hate to give that man the credit¡­ difficult not to think that my father would¡¯ve done a better job if he¡¯d managed to make it here without getting his ship blasted out of the sky!¡±

    While I have far more sense than to ever say it, it¡¯s absolutely apparent that the husband Jeanne ¡®Blitz¡¯ Miyazaki commissioned for herself is, in all ways, the polar opposite of the late father she despises!

    I only ever knew him by his reputation but; where her father was a passionate firebrand, Ezra is calm, measured and tranquil.

    Where her father was a gorgeous heartthrob who became a handsome silver fox in his later life, her husband (while certainly not ugly) is definitely much plainer in his looks.

    Where her father famously favoured flamboyant modern dress, her husband¡¯s wardrobe looks straight out of a Unification era vid in its conservativeness.

    Where her father had a slight frame and a diminutive stature, her husband is tall and solidly built.

    And, where Yuki ¡®Blizzard¡¯ Miyazaki famously left his wife, Charlotte ¡®Guerre¡¯ d¡¯Aureville , after a scandalous extramarital affair with Tombe ¡®Breeze¡¯ Upash (another (obviously married) diplomat, no less!) in a move that would have sunk the career of anyone else in his line of work, Ezra certainly seems as if he only has eyes for her!

    Several times, she has expressed the thought that raising her half sister, Emiko, to be a decent person is the only good thing that man ever did!

    My rumination on that is cut short, before I can answer her imposter syndrome, when she says ¡°You ever consider the diplomat track, Lhamo?¡±

    I give a rueful smile as I answer ¡°I¡¯d need a spouse for that, Jeanne(!)¡±

    Her eyebrows raise in surprise as she says ¡°Oh¡­ you¡¯re ace? I didn¡¯t realise¡­¡±

    I chuckle and shake my head ¡°Not ace¡­ just 42 with crowsfeet¡­¡± I gesture to the corners of my eyes ¡°¡­I feel like, if I were going to meet Mr Right, it would have happened by now(!)¡±

    ¡°Bah¡­!¡± she dismisses, letting out her Francophone side for a second(!) ¡°¡­None of this ¡®too old to find love¡¯ tripe! You¡¯re still a stunner!¡­ Not to mention an intelligent, vibrant woman with a fantastic personality!¡­Plus¡­ we¡¯re this close to cracking regen!¡­ Pretty soon, 42 will be the new 25¡­ along with every other age over 25(!) You¡¯ve got all the time in the world!¡­ It¡¯d be really great to be able to hand this job off to you or Zurab!¡­ Either of you¡¯d do better than me, I¡¯m sure!¡­ I could go back to Earth, safe in the knowledge that things were being taken care of!¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am¡­¡± I lean forward and reassuringly pat her wrist ¡°¡­I promise you, you are the best person for the job¡­ certainly at the moment, anyway!¡­ Please grace us with your presence for a few more years at least!¡±

    She chuckles ¡°How about you get the next round and we¡¯ll make a toast of it(!)¡±

    I smile back ¡°No problem¡­ but I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be allowed anymore of these¡­¡± I gesture to the, one-per-customer, shot glasses.

    ¡°Vinjirian ale¡­ 900ml.¡± says the woman, immediately.

    ¡°I will take an empty 900ml glass.¡± states her husband.

    ¡°Got it.¡± I smile.

    ¡°Don¡¯t drink any until Ezra can run chem analysis on it¡­ Don¡¯t want to get drugged!¡± she reminds me, seriously.

    ¡°I promise I won¡¯t!¡± I chuckle, walking away.

    ¡°Oh, and watch him pour! Make sure he doesn¡¯t spit in it or anything!¡± she adds, a little louder than she needs to but not loud enough that I think the large, porcine, xeno barman will have heard her.

    I cross the crowded bar and step to the counter.

    ¡°Two Vinjirian ales and an empty glass, please¡­ 900ml, all. Pretty sure you have our waivers for it already.¡± I smile, with closed lips, up at the orange xeno with the piglike face.

    He oinks an acknowledgement and starts pouring.

    As I watch him, I notice myself being noticed by a xeno at the far end of the bar.

    I don¡¯t turn to look but keep track of him in my periphery while my foveal focus rests, squarely, on the drinks being drawn.

    He stands.

    ¡°Fuck¡­¡± I whisper to myself.

    There¡¯s one of two reasons a xeno is likely to be approaching me: either, he¡¯s going to angrily vent at me about how I¡¯m a monster and caused him to lose X number of loved ones in the War¡­ or he¡¯s about to test the rumours about Human promiscuity¡­

    I¡¯m not particularly in the mood for either but I really hope it¡¯s the latter¡­ I don¡¯t know that I would trust the proprietor to take my side if one of his gardenworld patrons gets belligerent.

    As the man approaches, he occupies more and more of my attention to the point that, even though I¡¯m looking right at them, I wouldn¡¯t necessarily see if our drinks were tampered with!

    Good thing I¡¯ve got a walking laboratory back at my table(!)

    The gigantic man has now made it to within a metre of me on my left and stands, looming over me.

    Despite the fact that I know, if push came to shove, I could probably put his head clear through the countertop without too much trouble, it¡¯s still uncomfortable to have such a large person so close.

    The first words the man speaks catch me completely off guard.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Dr Yeshe¡­ I¡¯m very glad to see you again!¡± comes a warm, familiar voice, speaking Gangsri accented Tibetan and sounding a bit like a Human with a blocked nose.

    My head whips left and up, my eyes resting upon a very recognisable patch of smooth, flat, periwinkle coloured skin between two large, orange eyes.

    I haven¡¯t seen this man since I was transferred to Forward Operations, 4 years ago!

    My joy is so immediate and genuine that I momentarily forget to restrain my smile, so as not to be perceived as making an aggressive display!

    He doesn¡¯t flinch at the brief flash of my teeth I involuntarily give him.

    ¡°Well, well, well, well, well!¡­ If it isn¡¯t my favourite prisoner of War(!) What a pleasant surprise, Wing Commander!¡± I say, my voice joyful.

    Then, my face falls as I notice the dark blue bruise across his right eye.

    ¡°What happened to your eye, Ong?!¡± I ask, ready to demand the name and badge number of whatever guard it was that did that to him¡­ then remembering that we¡¯re no longer on Gangsri!

    He casts his eyes down and shamefully confesses ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not ¡®Ong¡¯ anymore¡­ and it¡¯s not ¡®Wing Commander¡¯ either¡­ I¡¯m just Ngngomg, now¡­¡±

    It takes a second before the pieces click together for me.

    I gasp as I realise ¡°*Hhhhh*¡­You were expelled from your tribe?!¡±

    He answers with a doleful Terran nod.

    ¡°Because you defected?¡±

    ¡°Just got released here, yesterday¡­ went to my embassy¡­ found my tribal representative¡­ he punched me¡­ told me not to come back to Gollogng¡­ and¡­ here I am¡­¡± he gestures around the bar ¡°¡­drowning my sorrows(!)¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s terrible, On¡­Ngngomg! I¡¯m so sorry!!!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine¡­¡± he lies ¡°¡­I¡¯ve got some preWar savings to live on for the moment¡­ should also be due two years salary from the GU military¡­ but who knows when or if I¡¯ll ever see that, given how my service ended!¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t count time spent as a POW to be time you served?¡± I query.

    He puffs through his lips before answering ¡°They do not, no¡­ certainly not when you became a POW by treason!¡±

    ¡°Is¡­ is there anything I can¡­ do?¡± I offer, pathetically.

    He gives a joyless curl of his lips and answers ¡°Sweet of you to offer but¡­ there¡¯s really nothing to be done¡­ Anyway¡­ it was nice seeing you¡­¡± and turns to walk away.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I say, a little more desperately than I mean to.

    He turns back, one of his dark blue eyebrows raised quizzically.

    ¡°How would you like a job?¡±

    ¡°A job¡­?¡± he frowns ¡°A job doing what?¡±

    ¡°Let me buy you a drink and¡­ we can tell you all about it at my table¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXVII: Pancakes and Heroes

    ---Ngngomg¡¯s perspective---

    ---[2688 Terran Calendar/25 years BF]---

    I¡¯m yanked into the apartment by the nonconstricting tail of the Terran tie that I¡¯ve taken to wearing these past few months.

    Out of the polarised window wall, at the back of the lounge, is a stunning cityscape of Citadel¡¯s Parliament District.

    Skypiercers jut from the ground hear and there and flying craft, of every description, whizz along the skylanes.

    The coast of a shallow sea is visible between the buildings, along with a hill, white with native vegetation.

    This apartment is nicer than the one I have outside the compound, on the other side of the planet¡­ but not by anywhere near as much as I expected! Given that this whole agency is at the GU¡¯s expense, as part of the negotiated Peace settlement, I would have expected its residences to be positively palatial!¡­ This is a relatively humble dwelling for such a pivotal member of the victorious side of a War!

    The little woman, usually the model of calm composure, is, now, practically vibrating with excitement! Or at least, seems to be¡­?

    ¡°Kneel down!¡± she says in a mixture of request, invitation and order!

    I get on my knees, bringing my lips to the level of her forehead.

    By a combination of standing on her tiptoes and pulling me further down, she is able to close the last [15cm] and bring her lips to mine.

    She grunts, repeatedly but seemingly involuntarily, as her hot breath spills over my lower face, her squashy nose pressed flat against my (relatively) hard, solid, maxillary bone plate.

    Her strange, pentadactyl hands press against the sides of my head.

    Her lips pull from mine as she smiles ¡°You. have. no. idea how much I¡¯ve wanted to do that¡­ since we first met in that interrogation room all those years ago!¡±

    Wait¡­ she has?!

    ---Lhamo¡¯s perspective---

    ---earlier---

    I pout across my desk at the Gollogng, with his film star looks, my heart, stomach and spirit all in danger of cracking the floor by how much they¡¯re sinking!

    ¡°Just¡­ say¡­ that¡­ one more time¡­?¡± I sigh.

    ¡°I wish to resign from my trainee position¡­¡± he states, back rigid and eyes (seemingly) looking straight over my head ¡°¡­I will serve out my notice¡­ but I cannot continue to be employed here¡­ It¡¯s too painful¡­¡±

    ¡°Too painful?¡± I ask, allowing my pain to show on my face (though, managing to keep my teeth hidden) ¡°How is it too painful, Ngngomg?¡­ Are you not able to keep up with the pace of the training? Is there some aspect of your duties you don¡¯t feel able to discharge? Is the pay too low? Are you being excluded? Bullied?¡­ Is it the hour and a half daily round trip commute from the Entertainment District?¡­ If you tell me, maybe I can see about some adjustments!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s none of those things, Ma¡¯am. The commute is fine, the pay is more than adequate, the training and duties are a challenge but not one I think myself unequal to, the social atmosphere is pleasant and I have experienced little stigma.¡±

    ¡°Then. what. is. it?¡± I ask, slowly but not angrily.

    ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t tell you that, Ma¡¯am.¡± he says, shifting uncomfortably.

    I stare at him for 2.5 seconds¡­ and it clicks into place.

    The realisation having dawned, I ask ¡°This pain¡­ it wouldn¡¯t happen to be of the¡­ romantic variety?¡­ Would it?¡±

    The handsome man shifts uncomfortably and says nothing.

    ¡°A yearning you feel could never be reciprocated¡­ You thought you could tolerate it until it disappeared but¡­ constantly fuelled by proximity to the object of your unrequited affections, these feelings have done anything but disappear¡­ It¡¯s so painful that you¡¯ve decided that leaving¡¯s the only viable route forward?¡­ Am I right?¡±

    He shifts, uncomfortably.

    Bingo!

    I stand and, slowly, round my desk, stopping about a metre from the giant man.

    ¡°What if¡­ these feelings could be reciprocated¡­? Would you reconsider your resignation under those circumstances¡­?¡±

    ---later---

    The absolutely. drop. dead. gorgeous man is literally kneeling and he¡¯s still just the right amount above the average height of a Human(!)

    Still taller enough than me that I could plant my face into his chest and he could rest his chin on top of my head!

    I don¡¯t do that, though¡­ there¡¯s a far more pressing question I¡¯ve been dying to answer for nearly 8 years, now!

    How does it feel to kiss someone with no nose?

    I yank his tie (gently! Don¡¯t want to start this relationship by breaking his neck(!)) and stand on my tiptoes to allow our lips to meet.

    The periwinkle skin I¡¯ve daydreamed about for so long has exactly the soft, smooth and cool qualities I always imagined as my nose squashes into it.

    I release his tie and bring my hands to the sides of his head, careful not to crush his adorable little Orc ears, and run them through his dark, royal blue hair with just a whisper of teal.

    Having run out of air from my nose being squashed and my lips being¡­ occupied, I release him from the kiss.

    ¡°You. have. no. idea how much I¡¯ve wanted to do that¡­ since we first met in that interrogation room all those years ago!¡± I smile at the face that could be that of Cad Bane¡¯s handsome nephew(!)

    He frowns ¡°You have?¡±

    I bite my lip and nod, enthusiastically.

    ¡°Then¡­ why didn¡¯t you?¡± he asks, looking slightly hurt.

    I giggle but not unkindly ¡°Why didn¡¯t¡­ the Terran, Mother of Applied Xenopsychology, engage in a sexual relationship with a detained, POW defector, under her care and over whom she wielded immense power?¡­ Not to mention him needing to be kept in a sterile cleanroom and being nearly 11 years her junior!¡­ Do you want me to answer that?¡±

    He narrows his orange eyes, now close enough that I¡¯m able to discern where the pupils are.

    ¡°OK¡­ but I¡¯ve been working under you for five months now! Why didn¡¯t you make a move?¡±

    Curiously, I turn the question around on him ¡°Why didn¡¯t you? It was making you so unhappy that you almost quit over it, afterall!¡±

    ¡°I was your subordinate¡­¡± he shrugs as if that ought to explain everything.

    ¡°So¡­ you worried it would be unprofessional?¡±

    He puffs a scoff through his mouth ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s the superior¡¯s place to initiate romance with their subordinates¡­ not the other way around!¡±

    My eyebrows fly up my forehead ¡°Is it now?¡±

    A moment of confusion passes across his face¡­ followed by realisation!

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ different for Terrans¡­ isn¡¯t it?¡­¡±

    I nod ¡°It is indeed¡­ We view the power imbalance of subordinate and superior as being prone enough to abuse that, some would say, the two ought never to engage in a relationship, full stop!¡­ Most, who don¡¯t view the situation as quite so black and white, would agree that proceedings ought to be initiated by the subordinate, since their boss is far more likely to feel at liberty to refuse an advance than the other way around.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°So¡­ because I didn¡¯t know that¡­ we¡¯ve just been pining over eachother for five months?¡­ And I almost resigned for nothing?¡±

    Smiling, I answer ¡°It¡¯s mainly my fault¡­ I should have realised¡­ Some xenopsychologist I turned out to be¡­(!) I thought you were just shy¡­ Though, I am curious¡­ if you didn¡¯t realise I felt the same, what did you think I was doing here?¡±

    ¡°Honestly¡­? I thought you were just sleeping with me to keep me from quitting¡­ That was how it seemed to me¡­¡±

    Trying not to be offended by the comment made by a man with a completely different cultural frame of reference for the notion of ¡®promiscuity¡¯ than me, I place my hand on his shoulder and smile ¡°And¡­ if I had been doing that¡­ how do you think you would have felt afterward¡­?¡±

    ¡°Terrible¡­¡± he answers, miserably.

    ¡°Then why subjec¡­¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s you!¡± he interrupts ¡°Because I¡¯ve daydreamed about this moment since the first time we met! Because, even if your feelings weren¡¯t real¡­ I could imagine they were¡­¡±

    Taken aback, I need a few moments to answer.

    Eventually, I smile, bring my right hand to his left cheek, my thumb across where his nose isn¡¯t, and say ¡°Allow me to make something very clear¡­ my feelings for you are as real as real gets!¡­ I think you are a fantastically intelligent, kind, brave man¡­ and not at all bad to look at, either(!)¡­ I consider it an absolute privilege that you feel the same¡­¡±

    ---Ngngomg¡¯s perspective---

    The woman¡¯s glistening brown eyes stare forward into mine with absolute sincerity.

    I feel myself begin to choke up and I shake my head in a Terran ¡®no¡¯, saying ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not brave¡­ I¡¯m a coward! A deserter!¡±

    ¡°False¡­ I was there, Ngngomg! I saw you!¡­ I saw how afraid you were of us¡­ I knew the horrible things you constantly worried we might do to you!¡­ If you were a coward, why would you fly that craft to us?¡±

    ¡°Because¡­ we were going to our deaths otherwise¡­ a simple choice¡­ likely death against guaranteed death!¡±

    ¡°Oh? Then why not fly it to some out of the way planet and wait for the War to resolve itself without you?¡­ Why fly into the tiger¡¯s den?¡± she asks, tilting her head.

    ¡°Because¡­ there were tens of thousands of my kin aboard those ships¡­ Even if the odds were a thousand to one against you helping me, the risk would still have been worth taking!¡±

    She smiles, her lips closed ¡°That, right there, is what we call ¡®courage¡¯, sweetie¡­(!) You put yourself at risk, even when you could have run away, even though you were scared, for other¡¯s sake¡­ You are a hero!¡±

    My lips quiver as I throw myself at the woman, wrapping her solid body in my arms and shaking my head into her shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ I¡¯m not¡­ I¡¯m not¡­¡± I keep repeating, believing myself a little less each time.

    ¡°You are¡­ You are¡­ You are¡­¡± she keeps assuring me, patting my back soothingly.

    Eventually, she manages to convince me¡­ maybe not a ¡®hero¡¯¡­ but at the very least¡­ I¡¯m not the coward I¡¯ve thought I was for [8 years] now¡­

    ¡°Sweetie¡­ how about we don¡¯t have sex right now?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to?¡± I ask, insecurity rushing right back, horrified at having thrown my chance away!

    ¡°Nothing would make me happier¡­ I just¡­ I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re in the right place for it¡­?¡±

    I squeeze her a little tighter and answer ¡°I¡¯m exactly where I need to be¡­ here¡­ with you!¡±

    She breaks out in a broad grin but still hides her teeth as she giggles ¡°Damn¡­ you smooth motherfucker! Did you mean to be that charming or does it just come naturally?!¡±

    I don¡¯t answer¡­ searching her eyes¡­

    ¡°If you¡¯re sure you want this¡­ right now¡­?¡±

    ¡°I do!¡± I insist.

    ¡°OK¡­ stand up¡­¡± she smiles.

    I stand and she reaches up to grasp my left hand in her right, leading me down the hallway, past an empty room that she seems to have no use for currently, to a master bedroom.

    It having the same window-wall arrangement as the lounge, open to all the world, makes my eyes go wide when I see her whisk off her top, revealing a moderately large, but mouthwateringly shaped, pair of pale Human breasts!

    Seeing my shock she smiles and points at the window ¡°One way transparency¡­ we can see them¡­¡± she gestures at the world outside ¡°¡­they can¡¯t see us¡­ Are you going to make me stay the only shirtless one or¡­?¡±

    Recoiling at my rudeness I reach to the hem of my top.

    ---Lhamo¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s the superior¡¯s job to initiate romance? Damn!

    That¡¯s 5 fucking months I just wasted!

    Did he ever tell me that?

    I definitely feel like that would have gone in the old mental filing cabinet(!)

    If I¡¯d known, I would have dropped some pointed hints of the ¡®I can¡¯t initiate things with you, so ball¡¯s in your court, buster!¡¯ variety!

    Any uncertainty I had about whether I was accurately remembering what an obvious crush on me he had, instantly evaporated when we reunited in that bar!

    It was exactly as obvious as I remembered it!

    And I just wasted 5 months waiting for him to do something about it!

    ¡®Still¡­¡¯ I think as I watch him unveil his sleek, muscular chest ¡®¡­it worked out¡­ Better late than never(!)¡¯

    Even though I know that (however the size difference and difference in apparent muscle tone may suggest otherwise) I am much stronger than him, I still absolutely swoon for that body!

    ¡°I don¡¯t mind if you want to just stand there and pose, Ngngomg, but what if, instead, you brought all that over here? Where I am(!)¡± I smirk, seductively.

    His breath visibly hitches.

    He begins walking toward me, giving me a fantastic view of his alien abdominal muscles, as they flex with his stride!

    He reaches where I stand and I smile up at him, as I extend my hands to the tops of his hips.

    My eyelevel is only slightly above his naval, the top of my head not quite reaching the (inHumanly level) bottom of this enormous man¡¯s ribcage!

    I lean forward and open my mouth to place it against the muscles of his stomach.

    As I stroke my hands and tongue over his toned flesh, I feel the impossible lack of substance!

    What my mind is telling me should feel like rock hard muscle, feels, instead, somewhere between the consistency of a waterballoon and an airballoon(!)

    I wanted to take him by surprise and drag him down onto the bed on top of me, but there¡¯s a very real possibility that, if I do that, I will really hurt him!

    Instead, I simply sit on the bed, scoot up to the headboard and beckon the film-star-gorgeous man to me with a finger.

    ¡°This way, hero¡­¡± I smirk, seductively.

    A shuddering breath before his lowers hit the floor, revealing a large, erect and¡­ oddly shaped penis¡­

    It has a head that¡¯s, sort of, suggestive of the head of a flanged mace made of flesh¡­? Interesting¡­

    The first part of him to reach me is his six fingered right hand, the palm of which he places against my left breast.

    That strange, backward (in my perception) thumb, cradles from beneath as his other five fingers explore their way into my armpit.

    I give a contented sigh at his touch and lay my head back on the pillow, smiling.

    Eventually, righty gets a little tired of her twin getting all the attention, so I reach out to grasp the man¡¯s left wrist and guide that palm to my right breast.

    I inhale deeply of the grainy, bready aroma that comes from this omnivore¡¯s primary food sources all being grain based (from his evolutionary descent being from granivores the way mine is from frugivores).

    I¡¯ve waited so long for this¡­ and it¡¯s so much better than I ever imagined!

    For one thing, the girl I imagined, every time I fantasised about it, wasn¡¯t. really. me. now, was it(!?)

    It was a glamourous supermodel in her twenties wearing an airbrushed mask of my face at twenty!

    Seeing how excited he is by this 42 year old body of mine is fulfilling in a way that I never expected! In a way that seeing him excited by some unattainable, platonic form of feminine beauty just wouldn¡¯t have been!

    Still¡­ when I make it to the top of the waitinglist for (the freshly cracked) Terran regen¡­ it¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to turn it down!

    For the moment though, we get to be the professional MILF and her gorgeous alien subordinate(!)

    I reach for his neck and pull him into a kiss.

    ---Ngngomg¡¯s perspective---

    She¡¯s happy¡­ she¡¯s really¡­ happy!

    There¡¯s no longer any question in my mind as to whether she might just be doing this to keep me from quitting!

    There¡¯s no faking the contented look she has on her face as her strong arms enfold the back of my neck and pull me into a deep, passionate kiss!

    As her lips leave mine she gives a smile, then visibly catches herself, and avoids showing me her teeth.

    ¡°Please¡­¡± I say, looking into her eyes ¡°¡­show me your real smile¡­?¡±

    She hesitates for half a second before pulling her lips back across her teeth to bare a set of white bones as hard as rock and fortified with metal.

    Though clearly the teeth of an omnivore, this display would, once upon a time, have induced an instant Fight-Flight-Freeze reaction in me for its aggressive appearance.

    Now, though, it looks ¡°Beautiful¡­!¡±

    She giggles and answers ¡°If you¡¯re that comfortable with my mouth¡­ would you like to see my other one(?)¡±

    After the [second] or [two] it takes me to work out what she means, I simply nod¡­ my hearts in my throat!

    The little woman reaches to the waistband of her lowers and, gently, with all the seduction in the world, slides them over her hips.

    I gasp at the first Human genitalia I¡¯ve ever laid eyes on¡­

    It¡¯s¡­ so¡­ small!!!

    Am I going to get crushed in such a tight hole?!

    She bites her lower lip and looks to my crotch, sliding her palms down her stomach, along her inner thighs, as if needing to push her own legs apart with her arms to spread them(!)

    All thoughts of hesitation vanish at the inviting display.

    I bring my member forward, to rest the bottom flanges of my glans between her, unusual looking, fleshy lips¡­

    It¡¯s so wet there! Surprisingly so¡­!

    ¡°Please don¡¯t just tease me all night(!)¡± she grins.

    ¡°You want me to put it in?¡± I make sure.

    ¡°Please!¡± she confirms.

    A moment more¡¯s hesitation follows before I bring the acutely angled point of my penis to her opening and begin applying the pressure necessary to gain entry.

    Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in a gasp, that seems a mix of surprise and pleasure, at the sensation of my ridges being squashed, inside her.

    I¡¯m sure that I¡¯m wearing a similar expression.

    Once I¡¯ve made it all the way in, the crushing pressure is relieved and my glans is able to open back out slightly.

    ¡°This is already the best cock I¡¯ve ever had!¡± she gasps, breathlessly.

    I smile, pull back¡­ and thrust forward, inducing an immediate groan of ecstasy¡­

    ---Lhamo¡¯s perspective---

    I lie on my side, looking out of my window at the city, twilit by a galactic core starfield as I bask in the afterglow.

    A large, six fingered hand limply clasps my breast, from the sleeping giant behind me.

    If I¡¯ve ever felt more at peace than I do right now, it must have been so blissful that it wiped my memory of it(!)

    I bring my hand to the back of his and give it a gentle squeeze¡­

    In the morning, I¡¯ll cook us both breakfast¡­

    I don¡¯t know if this hero ever got to try pancakes while he was in our care¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.99

    ---Hurts---

    ---Ngngomg¡¯s perspective---

    ---2698 Terran Calendar/15 years BF---

    ¡°It hu-u-u-uuurts¡­!!!¡± I sob, pathetically.

    ¡°What hurts, Ngo?¡± asks my wife, standing over me as I lie on the sofa in our apartment while she looks down on me with a mix of sympathy and amusement.

    ¡°Everything hurts¡­ My skin! My muscles! My organs! My bones!¡­ My brain hurts! Everything!!!¡±

    The little deathworld woman chuckles, baring her white, calcite teeth in a way that I am the only (wholly) gardenworlder she ever allows to see.

    She kneels onto the low couch and, carefully, begins crawling up my front to bring her face level to mine.

    Gently, she brings the weight of her dense body down on my sensitive torso¡­ is it my imagination or does she already feel lighter than before?

    ¡°Ngngomg Ong¡­ my love, my darling¡­ light of my life and fire of my loins¡­¡± she mocks ¡°¡­Remind me of some things, would you?¡±

    I do not answer¡­ but my silence does not reprieve me.

    ¡°Which one of us said they wanted children?¡±

    I sigh ¡°¡­Me¡­¡±

    She nods as if remembering ¡°¡­and, when one of us suggested trying to adopt some Gollogng children, who was it that insisted on hybrids?¡±

    ¡°Also me¡­¡±

    ¡°Is that sooo¡­? Tell me, when one of us suggested a single child to start with, who was it who wanted three at once?¡±

    ¡°Triplets are normal for Gollogng¡­¡± I answer.

    ¡°I see! And¡­ when the clinic suggested moderating their strength capacity down, who was in favour and who was opposed to that?¡±

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ You were in favour¡­ I said we would be robbing them by doing so.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh, uh-huh! And¡­ after the twelfth broken bone you got from your growing hybrid children, whose idea was it for you to volunteer as a guineapig for dangerous, experimental deathworlderfication gene therapy?¡±

    ¡°That would be mine¡­¡±

    She chuckles, the force jiggling us both.

    Placing her palms against the sides of my face, her thumbs above my eyes rather than under my chin, the way a Gollogng¡¯s would be, she leans down to press her lips to mine, her squashy, cartilaginous nose deforming against the bone of the front of my skull.

    Pulling from the kiss, she smiles ¡°This is the bed you made, darling¡­ now you¡¯ve got to lie in it!¡±

    ¡°While we¡¯re laying out all the debts I owe you¡­ do you not want to point out how you helped me save my kin from certain death in the War? How you made sure I was looked after while a prisoner on your planet? How you got me a job at the ODR? How you got the evidence that overturned my banishment and reinstated my tribal citizenship declassified? How you¡¯re currently taking reduced hours to look after the kids when they aren¡¯t at nursery because I can¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Nonsense¡­¡± she answers, shaking her head ¡°¡­spouses carry no debts to eachother. What happened during the War was nothing more or less than me doing my job¡­ albeit doing so while trying not to daydream about you too hard(!)¡­ Getting your name back and your banishment lifted was important to you and, so, it was important to me! Likewise for looking after the kids while you¡¯re laid up!¡­ We¡¯re a team, you and I¡­ partners!¡±

    I smile ¡°Every day I am with you is a debt I owe you, Lha!¡±

    ¡°A debt repaid by every day I¡¯m with you¡­¡± she grins. Then she seems to realise something ¡°¡­When was the last time you ate, Ngo?¡±

    I groan ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t eat anymore! My stomach will burst!!!¡±

    Sternly, she reminds me ¡°The more you eat, the faster you¡¯ll recover and the lower the chance of complications!¡­ You know that, darling!¡­ No less than 3561kcals a day!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ already¡­ eaten that much¡­¡± I lie.

    Not fooled for even a moment, she raises an eyebrow and says ¡°Kitchen¡­ how many calories of food has been taken by Ngngomg Ong, today?¡±

    The nonsentient kitchen software betrays me instantly ¡°2241kcals.¡±

    Speaking to me the same way she speaks to our children when they misbehave, she starts ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± I interrupt ¡°¡­you made me breakfast! It¡¯s not counting that!¡±

    She thinks and then nods, conceding.

    ¡°Kitchen, how much food has been eaten by Ngngomg Ong, today?¡±

    ¡°2902kcals.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s still not enough¡­¡± she says, her eyebrow raised and her lips pursed ¡°¡­kitchen, one vanilla flavoured cashew milkshake¡­ 750kcals, please!¡±

    The drinks dispenser hums to life.

    ¡°That¡¯s too much!¡± I protest.

    ¡°3561 minimum¡­¡± she points out ¡°¡­you can consider the excess a punishment for trying to lie about it(!)¡±

    She gets up to retrieve the large cup from the kitchen, returns and firmly places it down on the coffee table beside me.

    ¡°Drink that while I go put our kids to bed¡­¡± she instructs (in a tone that brooks no argument) before walking away.

    I force my aching limbs to pull me into a seated position and pick up the (surprisingly light) container as I hear ¡°Alright, you three¡­ bed time!¡± from down the hall.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    I chuckle at the predictable chorus of ¡®Aaaaaaaaaaawwww¡­¡¯s and ¡®Buuuuuut Muuuuuuuum¡­¡¯s which my wife handily shuts down.

    I sip, tasting the fatty, sugary liquid that, once upon a time, would have seemed like a decadent indulgence to me but is now the taste of convalescence!

    I hear Lhamo¡¯s voice as she settles the kids and starts telling them stories.

    It takes me a full [30 minutes] to finish the mandated drink, during which time, I know, she¡¯ll have made it through a few of her people¡¯s children¡¯s tales.

    My cup finally empty, I groan and suck in air through my teeth as I stand and begin hobbling down the hallway.

    It¡¯s a little difficult not to feel claustrophobic when you¡¯re in this much pain¡­ Like you¡¯re trapped in your own body while it tortures you¡­ Difficult not to fall into the trap of thinking this might be permanent!

    I round the door and see the navy blue heads of hair and pale, lilac skinned faces of three sleeping 3 year olds, each around [130cm] tall, tucked into bed, with my wife sat up on the side.

    Lobsang, Lhatso and Yangchen¡­ my children.

    ¡°¡­and so, upon entering the river, the baby horse found that, though she could touch the bottom, it was much deeper than to her knees, as great Brother Cow had told her. Likewise, it was not so deep an powerful as to sweep her away and drown her, as small Sister Squirrel had said¡­ As her mother had told her, she needed to consider who the person was when they told her things, and how they might see the world differently.¡± my wife concludes.

    I bare my neon blue teeth at her as she gets up, doublechecks for any wake ups, then walks to the door, waving off the lights behind her.

    ---2713 Terran Calendar/9 days BF---

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a social call, darling¡­!¡± my wife reassures me ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s about but Zurab knows what time we need to leave¡­ Don¡¯t worry!¡±

    I nod, uneasily, and, right on cue, our doorbell rings.

    There stand Zurab ¡®Peacemaker¡¯ Mudaliar (the man with what must be a serious contender for the most self fulfilling prophecy of an epithet ever held by a Terran(!)) and his husband Chhay ¡®Amok¡¯ Sok¡­ two men I know relatively well as coworkers.

    Chhay is a fellow spouse of a diplomat, making him a diplomat as well¡­

    I say ¡®fellow¡¯ but, though Lhamo and I both completed the necessary training a few years ago now, we¡¯ve not been in a position to accept any actual postings¡­ though, those circumstances won¡¯t be the same tomorrow.

    ¡°Come in, you two!¡± beams my wife.

    ¡°Thank you for having us.¡± responds Chhay, equally graciously, as they enter.

    The four of us naturally end up going to the coffee table and taking seats without anyone needing to suggest it.

    The two men take the armchairs, on one side, Lhamo and I take the sofa, on the other.

    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s this about, Zurab?¡­ Must be serious if you need Chhay here to talk to me about it!¡± asks my wife, apprehensively.

    ¡°Lhamo, I¡¯d love to cut right to the chase but there¡¯s someone else who needs to be in on this first¡­ would you mind if I put a call on your wall?¡±

    My wife and I both shake our heads and she gestures for him to go ahead.

    Once upon a time, I found it very strange when the dynamic needed to shift from personal to business between Lhamo and our colleagues¡­ now though, I¡¯m fairly used to it.

    None the less, I can¡¯t help but be anxious about whoever¡¯s being called(!)

    A smiling woman answers, what looks like a private office displaying behind her¡­

    I can instantly tell that she¡¯s a combat veteran¡­ a talent I picked up during my POW days.

    Her clothing (that I can see) is sleek and glamourous.

    Her appearance is closer to that of Lhamo¡¯s and Chhay¡¯s than Zurab¡¯s but I don¡¯t think she¡¯s quite the same [ethnicity] as either of them.

    She has vivid violet eyes that, even if she were a Tshwane (which she¡¯s very clearly not), I would still guess had to be modded(!)

    She has a silver streak in her hair that could be dyed but, given her eyes, I would lean toward that also being a mod.

    There¡¯s something familiar about her, though I can¡¯t place it.

    ¡°Dr Lhamo ¡®Crane¡¯ Yeshe, Mr Ngngomg Ong¡­ meet Dr Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki¡­ Jeanne¡¯s sister¡­¡±

    ---later---

    We sit in stunned silence as my wife manually pilots us through the skylanes.

    Eventually, I manage to say ¡°We have to tell the kids¡­¡±

    ¡°We absolutely do not¡­¡± Lhamo answers, instantly and firmly but not angrily ¡°¡­we need to let this be their moment¡­ We don¡¯t even know whether we¡¯re going yet and, if we are, it¡¯ll be months before we leave¡­ After they¡¯ve settled in a bit, then we¡¯ll tell them on a call.¡±

    I nod.

    She¡¯s right¡­ It would sort of trample on the sanctity of this once in a lifetime moment¡­ They may even think we had waited to tell them now, on purpose! Springing it on them at the last possible instant we could¡­

    Our destination comes into view and she makes for the nearby vehicle storage.

    We set down and, the moment we¡¯re off the landing pad, the vehicle is whisked underground to be stored, a ping ringing out from my wife¡¯s holo with the presumable retrieval code message.

    We walk into the starport terminus and, after a few moments of looking around, spot our children.

    They all managed to make it here, on time, without us giving them a lift from whatever they were doing with their friends.

    Lobsang is the tallest, most of a head taller than either of his sisters (who are currently the same height as eachother only because Lhatso is wearing heels).

    Yangchen has her hair in a tight bun, half of Lhatso¡¯s is in a braid.

    Their heavy luggage will have already been loaded into the ship¡¯s hold in orbit, the bags they have with them being only the essentials they¡¯ll need until they can get access to the rest of their stuff.

    Despite how warm it is, all of them are wearing the cold weather clothing we bought them as going away presents.

    It apparently gets very chilly in Vancouver.

    It¡¯s nearly impossible to believe my three are all grown up and off to a Terran [uni]!

    It feels like yesterday they were babies, using their deathworlder strength to squirm out of my arms!

    I¡¯m¡­ glad they were able to go to the same one¡­ I¡¯m glad they wanted to¡­

    Too much to expect that they¡¯d all want to do the same course, though¡­

    The five of us embrace as we meet.

    When the hug concludes, my wife stands back and inhales deeply before wistfully saying ¡°There you are¡­ I can¡¯t believe it¡¯s goodbye¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll call often, Mother¡­¡± smiles my son to nods of agreement from his sisters.

    ¡°You¡¯d better(!)¡± she answers ¡°Everything all set? No problems?¡±

    Lhatso shakes her head ¡°We just need to get on the shuttle up to the ship¡­ we only waited out here so we could say goodbye.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± says my wife, doing an admirable job of not looking like she¡¯s in danger of choking up ¡°¡­well, you three had better stay out of trouble while you¡¯re on Earth.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll try, Mum!¡± smirks Yang, my little warrior.

    ¡°Good!¡­ But¡­ if you get in trouble don¡¯t hesitate to call your father and I!¡­ We¡¯ll be on the first transport out if you need us!¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mum, thank you, Dad.¡± smiles Tsotso, my little princess, sweetly.

    ¡°And please look after eachother, as much as you can! Try not to fight!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine, Mother.¡± smiles Lob, my little scholar.

    ¡°Yang, try not to punch too many boys or kiss too many girls(!)¡± I quip.

    She chuckles and shrugs ¡°That¡¯s not really up to me, is it(?)¡­ Depends entirely on how punchable the boys I meet are and how kissable the girls(!)¡±

    I raise an eyebrow and answer ¡°Bear in mind that the weakest opponents you¡¯ll likely find on Earth will be about as strong as your mother is¡­ most will be stronger¡­¡±

    ¡°Heeeeey(!)¡± objects Lhamo, laughing.

    Yang grins ¡°Good¡­ could use a challenge! Gets old always winning so easily!¡±

    ¡°Lob¡­ try to help your sister¡¯s with their studies if they need it¡­ don¡¯t do their assignments for them, though!¡±

    He bares his pale blue teeth and answers ¡°I won¡¯t let these slackers take advantage, Father(!)¡±

    ¡°Tsotso¡­ try not to spend all your time at parties¡­ and try not to break anyone¡¯s heart too badly(!)¡±

    She smiles ¡°You and Mum taught me well enough to know that, Dad.¡±

    At that moment, an announcement plays, letting us know that their shuttle will be departing shortly.

    Lhamo and I both hug each of our three children goodbye, taking the last opportunity to hold them close that we¡¯re likely to get for, potentially, years¡­

    All three of them need to bend down to hug their mother and I need to do the same for them.

    We bid them ¡®goodbye¡¯ one final time and they pick up their bags and board the craft.

    We wave at eachother through the window as they begin taking off.

    Only once they are safely out of sight does my wife allow her composure to crack.

    I hear her sniffles and feel her arms as she clings to my side.

    ¡°It hurts¡­!¡± she sobs.

    I put my arm to her back and squeeze her close as I answer ¡°I know¡­ me too¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.100

    ---Success---

    ---Chhay¡¯s perspective---

    My husband walks close beside me, to my left, as we climb the stairs to our penthouse in the ODR¡¯s residential wing.

    The party in the gymnasium was pleasant.

    A little on the cheese platter and dry white wine side but¡­ well¡­ however we both look, neither of us are young men anymore(!)¡­ Perhaps it¡¯s for the best that the careerpath we¡¯re on precludes attending the kind of ragers I went to at uni(!)

    I was glad to see the way Zuzu (ever the outgoing extrovert) got to relax at the expeditionary send off party.

    Now that they¡¯ve departed, he¡¯s got one less thing on his constantly overpiled plate!

    Since the diplomatic nightmare of the discovery of the lost colony right on the edge of the galactic core, the legal nightmare of how exactly to prosecute that murderer from there, the overseeing of the arrangements for the refugees that the Bright Plume brought here, the work that¡¯s gone into all the last minute preparations to the expedition on top of all of his normal duties, he was run off his feet even before all the stress that the assassination attempt caused!

    Of course, he¡¯s no stranger to attempts on his life(!)¡­ We first met when I was a lowly nurse, picking shrapnel out of his cheek after a failed bomb plot, afterall! (¡®Failed¡¯ in that it only killed people other than the intended targets¡­)

    It still takes a toll though¡­ every time.

    He jokes about it¡­ but I see how it affects him.

    Luckily, we don¡¯t need protection inside this building¡­ which means that Gamba was able to babysit for us.

    The kids absolutely adore their ¡®Monkey Uncle¡¯, as he¡¯s happy to selfdesignate, despite Gorillas being Apes, not Monkeys!

    Not a distinction that particularly matters in Khmer but, by mutual agreement, we¡¯re raising our kids with English as their primary language at home, so we need to make sure they understand that others might take offence to careless language like that!

    At this point, I feel something squeezing my right arsecheek.

    I turn my head left to my husbands face, innocently pointed forward. Apparently, he still has a little energy left(!)

    ¡°Darling¡­ what¡¯s on my backside?¡± I ask, wryly.

    ¡°My hand, my love.¡± he says, visibly fighting off a smile.

    ¡°And¡­ why is your hand on my backside?¡±

    ¡°Because you have the most pleasant, squeezable backside in the galaxy, dear.¡± he answers, simply.

    ¡°Honestly, I wonder what the Terran public would think if they knew the truth about what a handsy pervert they had representing them in Parliament and Heading their interplanetary relations agency(!)¡­ Can¡¯t even walk up a flight of stairs without giving his husband a grope(!)¡± I tease.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Would you like me to remove my hand, sweetheart?¡± he asks, his lips pursed in mirth.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that¡­!¡± I grin, returning the favour and extending my left arm to his left arsecheek.

    ¡°I¡¯d suggest putting the privacy field up tonight¡­ but I really need a full 8 hours¡­¡± Zuzu says, with regret.

    As we approach our door, I begin saying ¡°Let¡¯s just hope Gamba¡¯s got Chan and Sai to slee¡­¡± but break off mid sentence as, before we¡¯ve taken three paces into our home, I realise that something¡¯s wrong¡­

    Both of us release our hold on the other and our heads whip forward to see our lounge in a state of total disarray!

    The bottom drops out of my stomach as I spot a pair of black furry legs, ending in two calloused, prehensile handfeet, protruding from behind the sofa.

    My heart is pounding and I take a breath to say that we need to call security.

    *Clank* is the sound of something heavy and metallic, landing behind us.

    *Thunk* is the sound of something hitting the back of my husband¡¯s neck with the force of an executioner¡¯s axe.

    *Thud**thud thud thud thud* is the sound of my husband¡¯s head hitting the ground 4m from his body and rolling another few metres.

    Before I can scream for help, I¡¯m slammed to the wall with enough force to drive the air from my lungs.

    ¡°Be smart, buddy¡­¡± growls the mechanical monstrosity pinning me to the wall with a bright red, bulky, metal right arm that doesn¡¯t match the sleek, clawed, durasteel left arm that he¡¯s pointing toward my throat, only red for being covered in my husband¡¯s blood ¡°¡­there¡¯s no bounty on your head and I¡¯d hate to be forced to make orphans of your kids!¡±

    ¡°*wheeze**cough*¡­What have you done to them?!¡± I manage to ask, through the pressure he¡¯s applying to my sternum. I¡¯m trying not to think about what I just watched happen to the love of my life and focus on what matters now!

    ¡°Relax. Your kids are safe¡­ Sedated and lying in their beds¡­ I don¡¯t kill kids.¡±

    ¡°What a hero(!)¡± I spit, defiantly.

    The skullfaced abomination does a slight doubletake before mirthfully saying ¡°You¡¯re braver than I expected the draft dodging, pencil pushing boywife of that spineless backstabber to be(!)¡­ Or maybe just stupider?¡±

    My feet are lifted from the ground as he drags me around 30cm up the wall by the front of my shirt, still applying so much pressure that I get friction burns on my back.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get some things straight¡­ What¡¯s gonna happen now is; I¡¯m about to pick up that head and walk out of your apartment with it before exfiltrating this compound and leaving the planet¡­ the only question, is whether I leave behind two orphans and a third corpse¡­ or two kids and a smart guy who knows how to follow instructions?¡­ Are you a smart guy?¡­ Or are you a corpse!?¡±

    I don¡¯t want to answer¡­ but I want Chan and Sai to grow up as orphans less¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m smart¡­¡± I wheeze, reluctantly.

    ¡°Good!¡± he says, cheerfully, releasing my shirt and letting me fall to the floor where I crumple into a heap.

    Casually, he strolls to my Zuzu¡¯s head and picks it up by his hair, his footfalls making heavy *clunks* over the quiet *whirr* of his actuators as he does.

    I¡¯m subjected to a horrific view of my husband¡¯s final expression as his head dangles from the hand that killed him.

    Returning to where I am on his way back to the door, the murderer stops.

    ¡°You count?¡±

    ¡°I what?¡±

    ¡°Can. you. count?¡±

    ¡°I can count¡­¡± I confirm, gingerly rubbing the place on my chest where he crushed me.

    ¡°Then here¡¯s what I want you to do; lie on the floor, face down, put your hands on top of your head and count to a hundred¡­ slowly!¡­ When you¡¯re done, you can call security¡­ Try moving before then and killing you gets bumped to the top of my priority list, ahead of escaping¡­ Do we understand eachother?¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Do it then!¡±

    I follow the instructions, bracing myself for the possibility of him changing his mind about letting me live.

    I begin counting and hear his (suddenly much lighter) footfalls as he leaves.

    ¡°One¡­ two¡­ three¡­ four¡­ five¡­ *sniffle* six¡­ seven¡­ *sob* eight¡­¡±

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    I enter the door to the parked craft, serving as our hideout.

    A woman with a mohawk of voluminous, curly, red hair, flopped over the side of her scalp, looks up at me with a pair of emerald green eyes.

    ¡°Success?¡± she asks.

    In answer, I toss the head onto the table in front of her.

    ¡°Jesus, Stetter!¡± she exclaims, grossed out.

    ¡°You gonna certify that, Kara?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, you¡¯ll get your bounty, just¡­ don¡¯t toss heads at people!¡±

    Rather than answering, I instruct ¡°Get everyone ready. We¡¯re taking off five minutes ago¡­¡±

    ¡°You wanna leave right now?¡± she frowns.

    ¡°Of course¡­ we have a ship to pursue¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.101

    ---Economy---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I¡­?!¡± asks the pale skinned Human with black sclera, yellow irides and a long, sleek black horn on the left side of her forehead, a corresponding broken stump on the right, her voice high and coarse ¡°¡­why wouldn¡¯t I want to worship creation¡¯s first freedomfighter? History¡¯s first equal rights activist?¡­ The first being ever to look tyranny in the face and say ¡®I refuse¡¯¡­!?¡±

    ¡°Calming Lilith¡­¡± requests Pluto, the feline animal currently using her lap as a bed, via his translator.

    As a subsapient, he is quite unusual for the use of his mistress¡¯s name, as opposed to something getting loosely translated to ¡®Mummy¡¯ or similar.

    ¡°But¡­¡± enquires the azure wooled theologist, intrigued ¡°¡­isn¡¯t this being, supposedly, the source and personification of all evil? The torturer of all those damned to his domain?¡±

    ¡°So they say!!!¡± declares the woman, not heeding her pet¡¯s request for calmness ¡°But why would I listen to the propaganda spewed by the followers of history¡¯s first despot about the motivations and actions of the first political prisoner?¡­ What all Abrahamic dogmas are very clear on is that Hell is Lucifer¡¯s prison¡­ not his domain, not his kingdom¡­ Why would a prisoner see to the torture of his fellow inmates?¡­ Why should I listen to people with a, millennia long, history of religiously motivated war, persecution, oppression, hatred, slavery, torture, witch hunting and book burning behind them, about what ¡®good¡¯ and ¡®evil¡¯ look like, anyway!?¡±

    The Aarba man muses on that for some moments.

    Eventually, he answers ¡°This truly is one of the most fascinating theologies I¡¯ve ever encountered¡­ Terran religions are far from unique in the galaxy for having a ¡®villainous¡¯ deity to juxtapose the righteous one¡­ but this Satanism is unique, as far as I¡¯m aware, for being a religion of those rejecting the morality of its predecessors but, rather than losing their faith, having retained the previous cosmology and, simply, switched the object of their worship to the previous antagonist!?¡­ I don¡¯t suppose there are any Abrahamics in the room who wish to answer Dr Morningstar¡¯s (not exactly flattering) assessment of your family of faiths?¡±

    Ziva shrugs ¡°I¡¯ve not been to Temple since I told the Rabbi in my refugee camp that I didn¡¯t want a bat mitsvah¡­ Leon¡¯s the same, though with Catholicism¡­ Not us¡­ What about you, Yasmin?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t just tell people that, Ziva!¡± objects the blond New Coloradoan with a sigh.

    Yasmin smiles from the couch adjacent to the corner of the Commonroom where Victor has moved my perch, to mitigate the risk of it being knocked over and me being trampled with the room being so crowded.

    ¡°I am a Muslim¡­ but I¡¯m not brave enough to touch theological debate with a barge pole¡­ not I.¡±

    The theologist looks crestfallen.

    ¡°I¡­¡± starts Tuun, raising her upper left hand which bares a white gold ring with a deep blue sapphire set into it, flanked by two, smaller, white diamonds, silver hammer pendant resting against her clavicle ¡°¡­I¡¯m not¡­ a Christian¡­ but my Mum is¡­ One of them anyway¡­ When I was growing up, she was one of not many in a social network of, mostly, Pantheonists¡­ I heard her defend her faith a lot¡­ I could tell you what she¡¯d say?¡±

    Excitedly, the ovine man gestures for her to go ahead.

    ¡°Well¡­ first, she would freely admit that historical Christians weren¡¯t always paragons of virtue, that belief in her god is neither necessary nor sufficient to make a person good and that a lot of harm has been done by those with god¡¯s name on their lips¡­ but, she would insist, the god she worships is not a tyrant. He¡¯s more like a father¡­ the same way parents often have to do what¡¯s best for their children, even when the child thinks it¡¯s the height of injustice, her god sometimes has to do that for us¡­ And the same way parents sometimes have to let children make their own mistakes her god has to do that too¡­ She would say that her god¡¯s love isn¡¯t conditional on obedience to him, knowledge of him or love of him¡­ that her god loves all his children and simply wants what¡¯s best for us¡­ Ideally, that would include a relationship with him but he accepts those who don¡¯t want that, the same as those that do¡­ She doesn¡¯t believe her god tortures people or damns anyone, though she does believe that there is some kind of¡­ afterlife therapy programme, for those souls who die not ready for paradise¡­(!) As for all the war, oppression, torture, slavery etc., she¡¯d say that those were people doing what they would have done anyway and just using god as their justification¡­ And, I have to admit, it¡¯s hard not to think she has a point¡­ War is at least as old as written records and isn¡¯t really wholly absent from any culture, deathworld or gardenworld¡­ Likewise, without heavy intervention against them, oppression and persecution seem to arise as natural byproducts of society¡­ Slavery, I¡¯m certain, must be at least as old as the Stone Age¡­¡±

    ¡°False.¡± states the Nova Britannian economist, flatly.

    Every eye turns to him quizzically, waiting for him to elaborate on his blunt statement.

    ¡°What do you mean, Dr Hardwick?¡± smiles Yeshe, the Human ambassador, charmingly.

    ¡°What she said¡­ It¡¯s false¡­ slavery was not viable in the Palaeolithic¡­ on Earth at least.¡± he answers, simply.

    ¡°Could you elaborate on that, Sir?¡­ How could slavery ever be inviable? Surely, if people are able to sacrifice their morals, holding slaves would always be an asset to them¡­ wouldn¡¯t it?¡± I ask, curiously.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    He shakes his head ¡°I believe morals have very little to do with it. If the economic incentives are present, morality will contort to fit around them. I¡¯m not saying they were too good and pure to own slaves, their minds uncorrupted by greed¡­ I¡¯m saying the economic incentives were not present.¡±

    ¡°Surely, work you don¡¯t have to pay for is always an economic incentive!¡± declares Jennie, her eyebrow cocked.

    ¡°But you do have to pay for it¡­ you just don¡¯t have to pay the slave. All actions balance expected income against expected cost. If the latter is greater, you can consider it a loss¡­ if the former, you profit.¡±

    ¡°But Stone Age folk didn¡¯t have money¡­ They wouldn¡¯t have thought like that!¡± points out Krish.

    ¡°They had no standardised currency that we know of but that¡¯s not to say they had no economy. They would and did think like this¡­ They must have to have survived.¡± pronounces the economist.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you explain to us exactly why you¡¯re so confident that slavery would always have netted a loss for Palaeolithic peoples?¡± asks Emiko, her eyes narrow, her mouth in a curious smile.

    Beside her, freshly bald scalp covered by a cloth wrap, Hunter¡¯s normally inexpressive face looks equally intrigued!

    ¡°Simple¡­¡± states the brown eyed, brunet man ¡°¡­the Palaeolithic had no specialised professions but had¡­¡± he raises four of the fingers of his right hand ¡°¡­four distinct, economically productive, activities that one might engage in; Hunting, gathering, crafting and childcare¡­ Given that hunting involves allowing an individual to run around, at liberty, with a weapon, it isn¡¯t a task advisable to assign to a forced labourer. Gathering is better, since, depending on what they are being forced to gather, the slave may not need a tool to do so. Crafting and childcare are the most plausible occupations yet, since they may not require the slave to leave the camp, but none of these tasks bear the potential to offset the greatest overhead involved in slave labour¡­ the supervision¡­ Send three voluntary labourers to gather nuts and the minimum amount they must gather to render a profit equals one calorie more than that that they spent on the walk and the work¡­ Send three slaves and, suddenly, the profit floor is raised to compensate for the armed overseer you have to send with them¡­ A voluntary craftsman or woman only has to produce items of enough value to offset the value of the calories they spent on the effort¡­ The calculus changes when you factor in the person assigned to watch them¡­ A slave childminder, who must themself be minded by an overseer, is of negative value to the community. Factor in the opportunity cost of the overseers being unable to do anything else while they¡¯re minding the slaves, the enemies that tribes would necessarily make by slave raiding and the fact that, unlike in later periods, where there were metal chains, manacles and cages for securing a slave, when they¡¯re not working, and state institutions to track down runaways and punish them harshly, in the Palaeolithic, a slave must be watched constantly or they would simply slip their bonds and be far enough over the horizon, by the time their absence is noticed, that it would be unlikely that they could be practically found and returned, and I can be quite confident that slavery was never practiced until the Neolithic, at the absolute earliest¡­ Likely closer to the Bronze Age.¡±

    ¡°So¡­?¡± starts Hunter, tentatively ¡°¡­no Neanderthal ever had a slave?¡±

    Turning to face her with his passive (yet somehow intense) expression, the man answers ¡°I didn¡¯t say that¡­ I can¡¯t say whether any Resurrectees may have kidnapped people and kept them secretly chained up in their cellars or similar, over the past six centuries¡­ What I can say with reasonable confidence is that, no Neanderthal language existing prior to their initial extinction will have had a word for ¡®slave¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°You think so?¡± asks Yasmin, sitting forward with interest.

    ¡°They will certainly have had words for ¡®captive¡¯¡­ They won¡¯t have understood captivity as something that could happen to a person permanently. To them, a ¡®captive¡¯ would be what you were, for the matter of hours to days, between when you were captured and when you were either killed or released.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ what changed?¡± asks Victor, with a cock of his head ¡°What suddenly made it profitable for Humans to have slaves?¡±

    ¡°Agriculture¡­¡± answers Hardwick, immediately ¡°¡­a hunter-gatherer will, on average, produce exactly as much food as is required to feed one person over the course of their life¡­¡±

    ¡°Exactly as much?!¡± I ask, sceptically ¡°Surely not¡­ if it were exactly as much, there could be no tribal dependents. No elderly, past the point of productivity. No infirm who, by injury or congenital condition, are unable to contribute¡­ And, crucially, there would be no resources to spare on rearing the next generation!¡­ No offspring means no future!¡±

    The man concedes ¡°You are correct, but note the phrase ¡®on average¡¯¡­ Yes, an adult in their prime might be able to produce more than they themself need to survive at the time, but they¡¯re extremely unlikely to significantly exceed the amount that they themself need, over the course of their life¡­ Agriculture changes that equation. Suddenly, you have a means of calorie acquisition that allows those engaging in it to produce a significant surplus to what they themselves need¡­ This frees a portion of the population, for the first time in history, to engage in primary occupations other than the acquisition of calories. Smiths, masons, soldiers, carpenters, politicians, scholars, scribes¡­ all of them are only able to exist with a base of farmers to support them¡­ That creates an incentive to engage in the practice of slavery¡­¡±

    Victor gives a wry puff ¡°¡®All these fields waiting to be tilled and planted and so few willin¡¯ hands¡­ pity that tribe in the next valley don¡¯t wanna come work for us, ain¡¯t it(!)¡¯¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± states the man with the same unwavering, matter-of-fact confidence he¡¯s had through the entire explanation.

    ¡°Forgive me if I¡¯m overstepping here¡­¡± begins the woolly, Aarba theologist ¡°¡­but the way you talk about supply and demand, cost-benefit analysis, overheads and profits¡­ would it be fair to conclude that you view economics¡­ spiritually?¡±

    The man doesn¡¯t speak for [6 seconds].

    I infer him to be considering the question and the answer he¡¯s willing to give, though there¡¯s no change evident in his bodylanguage or facial expression.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not inaccurate¡­¡± he answers, finally.

    ¡°Fascinating, fascinating¡­¡± says the Aarba, gleefully clacking the keratinised caps of his fingers together.

    ¡°There¡¯s¡­ something else¡­ you¡¯ve not mentioned¡­¡± says Tuun, hesitantly ¡°¡­another use hunter-gatherers might have had¡­ for slaves¡­¡±

    ¡°And that is?¡± asks the economist, turning his head to her, his tone level.

    ¡°You¡­ you didn¡¯t mention¡­ sexu¡­ erm¡­ you didn¡¯t mention concubinage¡­¡± she says, her cheeks blushing dark blue!

    ¡°Ah, I didn¡¯t forget that. I simply didn¡¯t judge it necessary to the discussion. You¡¯re right that there is a (potentially incalculable) value to a tribe''s ability to produce a subsequent generation but the same principles as¡­¡±

    Here, I notice Twila¡¯s face contort from attentive to distracted and shaken.

    She does not immediately ask for everyone¡¯s attention, instead, leaning in to Jennie¡¯s ear and having a brief exchange with her.

    Jennie stands up, carrying the holopad projecting Twila¡¯s form, and walks to where the ambassadors, Yeshe and Ong, sit.

    I overhear Twila, addressing the pair ¡°Excuse me, Ambassadors¡­ we¡¯ve just passed through a signal patch long enough for me to receive some¡­ quite distressing news from Citadel¡­ would you mind taking me into the hall, so I can break it to you two first?¡± she gestures to the device Jennie holds out to them.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.102

    ---White---

    ---Marc¡¯s perspective---

    O¡­ K¡­

    Well, this isn¡¯t intimidating at all(!)

    The woman in the completely white suit turns her face to look at me from her chair, pointed facing out of the window towards the dense field of multicolored stars.

    She smiles a joyless smile and states ¡°You¡¯re nervous, Dr Fischer.¡±

    I consider lying for a sec but¡­ I don¡¯t think I¡¯d fool her¡­

    ¡°I am.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Why are you nervous?¡± she asks, managing to perfectly reproduce the balance of tone she needs to ask a sensitive question without making it seem like she¡¯d be judgmental about my answer¡­ despite not being a therapist.

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ I¡­ uhm¡­ I actually met my wife in a Xenopsychology 101 module at university in Cincinnati¡­ The first time I remember her ever looking at me, like I wasn¡¯t something gross she¡¯d found stuck to the bottom of her shoe, was when I got assigned as her study partner and was helping her understand one of your papers¡­ you¡¯re a bit of a legend(!)¡±

    ¡°What  paper was it?¡± asks the Tibetan woman.

    ¡°Understanding Aggression in its Environmental Context.¡± I answer without needing to spend a moment on recall.

    ¡°Oh, yeah¡­ not my best work!¡­ What was it that confused her?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ she¡­ couldn¡¯t work out why none of what you were saying seemed to apply to Humans(!)¡±

    A more genuine smile spreads across the woman¡¯s tired face.

    She asks ¡°And how did you explain it?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ there wasn¡¯t really, like, any ¡®Ah-ha!¡¯ moment¡­ we just ran through every example you gave of aggressive behaviors and I explained how and why a Human¡¯d be likely to react in those circumstances¡­ eventually, she seemed to get it¡­¡±

    The white clothed woman nods ¡°¡­So, you¡¯re nervous because you feel like your therapeutic skills might not be quite up to the task of rendering grief counselling to the Mother of Terran Applied Xenopsychology?¡±

    ¡°Guess¡­ so¡­¡± I answer, uncomfortably.

    She leans back in her chair, seeming mildly satisfied.

    ¡°You can rest easy, Dr Fischer¡­ you may have studied my papers as part of your qualification but I¡¯m not a therapist and I¡¯m not here to critique your performance¡­ Try to forget who I am and just treat me like you would any other client¡­¡±

    I feel relief flood my body.

    I was definitely afraid that, once she worked out how terrified I was, we¡¯d have needed to come up with some alternative arrangement¡­ I¡¯d have to have (embarrassingly) asked my wife to switch her for her husband!

    ¡°Alright then, Dr Yeshe¡­ why don¡¯t you tell me what brings you to therapy?¡± I ask, already knowing the answer.

    ¡°The death of a friend I¡¯ve known for over thirty years.¡± she answers, simply.

    ¡°Representative Mudaliar?¡±

    She nods ¡°Indeed.¡±

    ¡°Would you¡­ tell me a little about him, Dr Yeshe?¡±

    ¡°Lhamo, please¡­¡± she smiles.

    ¡°Oh¡­ then please feel free to call me Marc, if you want.¡±

    She nods and then answers my question ¡°We met a little less than 3 years into the War¡­ I had been consulting for the UTCIS on my homeworld but, at that point, the Front had been pushed far enough away that it wasn¡¯t really practical for information to be carried back and forth anymore¡­ by the time it reached me and my answer got carried back, it tended to be irrelevant due to the travel delay (you must realise this was before we Terrans had the capacity to just call eachother up, across interstellar distances, and consult remotely). So, I was transferred to Forward Operations.¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°That¡¯s where you met him?¡±

    ¡°Indeed¡­ He was one of the main administrative directors aboard the Command Fleet¡­ At first, I didn¡¯t really think much of him or his role but¡­ I quickly realised just how much he was holding things together on that ship¡­ how much he was required to understand about the nature of the planets we were fighting on in the spearhead offensive, about the logistical situation back behind us in Terran Space and about how to direct FO personnel for best effect¡­ He was an absolute wizard!¡±

    ¡°You respected him.¡± I state more than ask.

    ¡°I respected him immensely!¡± answers the normally serene woman, letting a tiny bit of ferocity into her voice ¡°I had one thing I needed to be good at¡­ looking at alien sapients and attempting to analyze the ways that differences between us and them might affect how they viewed the world¡­ Zurab had to wear every single hat on that ship, at least a little¡­ That man deserves more credit than just about anyone else for the swiftness and cleanness of our Victory.¡±

    I nod, considering a moment, before asking ¡°And you continued to work with him after the War?¡±

    ¡°I did¡­ We both worked under Jeanne in the early days of the Peace¡­¡± she confirms.

    ¡°This would be¡­?¡±

    ¡°Jeanne ¡®Blitz¡¯ Miyazaki, the very same¡­¡±

    Being reminded of that fact does not do my confidence any favors!

    I do my best not to show it as I ask ¡°And what did you do under her?¡±

    She gives a shrug and answers ¡°Mostly very boring stuff, I¡¯m afraid¡­ Sorry to disappoint(!)¡­ It was mostly the tedious work of thrashing out every minute detail of how we wanted to represent ourselves to the species of the wider galaxy and designing the ODR from the ground up¡­ When Jeanne retired from the role and went home, we kept working together under her successors, Inigo ¡®Montoya¡¯ Heusaff and, after him, Tazagul ¡®Gaze¡¯ Rakhimova¡­ When she stepped down, 6 years ago, however, Zurab finally decided to put his name forward and got chosen to succeed her¡­¡±

    ¡°How did you feel to suddenly be working under him after working as equals for so long?¡± I ask.

    She shakes her head ¡°I wasn¡¯t resentful¡­ No one deserved the job more than he did! Montoya and Taz were good but they would have been lost without him there!¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ Ambas¡­Lhamo¡­ you¡¯ve told me all about your professional relationship to Rep. Mudaliar¡­  How about you tell me a little about your personal relationship¡­¡±

    She sighs and looks away from me, out of the window she¡¯s facing.

    After a few moments of collecting her thoughts, she answers ¡°He was a bridesman at my wedding¡­ I was a groomswoman at his¡­ He was there when my kids were born... I was there, both times, when his were... Our kids absolutely adore eachother, even if the age gap meant that Chan and Sai viewed my three a bit more like older cousins than siblings or playmates¡­ We worked together, so we would regularly socialise afterhours¡­ We both lived in the Residential wing of the ODR on Citadel, so it was always a simple matter to just pop round for tea and a chat¡­ He always felt so¡­ permanent¡­ like something that, no matter what else changed in my life, would always be there¡­ and now¡­ he¡¯s not¡­¡±

    ¡°And, how are you feeling about that?¡±

    She gives a joyless chuckle as she sarcastically answers ¡°Pretty miserably, actually(!)¡±

    I give her a sympathetic smile and answer ¡°Dumb question, I know¡­ It¡¯s OK if you don¡¯t want to elaborate on that¡­¡±

    ¡°No, no¡­ I shouldn¡¯t mock the process¡­ I hope I didn¡¯t offend you!¡±

    ¡°You really didn¡¯t. All good!¡± I answer the grieving woman.

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll say some of what I¡¯m feeling¡­¡±

    ¡°Please do¡­¡± I invite ¡°¡­in your own time.¡± I clarify. I don¡¯t want to rush her.

    She takes some time putting her thoughts in order before answering ¡°¡­I¡­ guess¡­ the first thing is that I feel terrible for his husband and kids¡­ Chhay, Chan and Sai¡­ didn¡¯t deserve this!¡­ Chhay at least knew what he was signing up for when he married Zurab¡­ the kids didn¡¯t get any say in whether one of their dads was one of the biggest targets of assassination in the galaxy¡­ but they still have to grow up with the fallout¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I guess I¡¯m feeling a bit sorry for myself too¡­ and I¡¯m feeling guilty about feeling sorry for myself¡­ like I¡¯m making it all about me¡­¡±

    I extend my palms to the sides and say ¡°You¡¯re the one who has to manage how this affects you¡­ There¡¯s no shame in considering yourself¡­¡±

    She nods and curls her mouth ¡°Not that simple, though¡­ is it¡­¡±

    ¡°Knowing something and feeling it are very different, yes¡­ It¡¯s not usually possible to debate away a feeling like guilt, even with ironclad logic.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s¡­ something else I feel guilty for¡­¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I ask, cocking my head to the side.

    ¡°I guess¡­ He just¡­ he died within hours of me leaving the planet¡­ There¡¯s part of me saying it¡¯s my fault¡­ I should have been there¡­¡±

    I frown lightly ¡°Do you think it¡¯d have made a difference if you¡¯d been there?¡±

    She shakes her head vigorously ¡°I am an academic¡­ not a warrior¡­ I worked for the UTCIS as a consultant, not an agent¡­ If I¡¯d been there, the only difference it would have made would be that I¡¯d have been murdered too! I know¡­ but¡­¡±

    ¡°But you still feel guilty.¡± I offer.

    She nods, moisture visible in her lower right eyelid.

    ¡°Well¡­ Lhamo. I think we should explore that¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.103

    ---First Contact---

    ---Yakchutt¡¯s perspective---

    ---[2678 Terran Calendar/35 years BF]---

    I sit in the chair on the Bridge of this Naval escort vessel, scowling at my [Comms Officer].

    ¡°That¡¯s not funny, Carmagon.¡± I state, irritably.

    ¡°I¡¯m not joking, Sir. We¡¯re being hailed over EM frequencies, quite insistently, by multiple ships, converging on our current location. The language they¡¯re hailing us in is an undocumented one. Also, it seems that one of this planet¡¯s moons is a cacophony of EM signals, suggesting quite extensive habitation. Mostly in another undocumented language, different from the one they¡¯re hailing us in.¡±

    ¡°This is a deathworld system, Carm! You expect me to believe we just stumbled upon a space flight capable, uncontacted species, on a random freight escort mission¡­ in a deathworld system?¡±

    ¡°You can believe what you like, Sir, but that¡¯s certainly how it¡¯s looking at the moment¡­¡±

    I sigh.

    ¡°If this turns out to be some kind of practical joke, Carm, I swear¡­!¡±

    ¡°If it is, Sir, it¡¯s one being played on both of us.¡±

    I grit my teeth and ask ¡°Can we decode their language?¡±

    Carmagon thumps his left fist in negation ¡°Not the one their hailing us in, Sir, no. But¡­¡± he raises that arm in affirmation ¡°¡­there¡¯s certainly enough of the other language coming from that moon to decode it algorithmically.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ will have to do¡­ let us hope that they don¡¯t view being addressed in that language as an insult! Put it on screen¡­¡±

    A moment passes before, in front of me, appears a representation of an unfamiliar being.

    Its face is bilaterally symmetrical and its skin is medium brown.

    Two rounded ears protrude slightly from the sides of its head.

    Its two, forward facing eyes are white, with dark brown circular pupils and between them is a mildly protuberant sense organ, vertically oriented on its flat face, nares pointing downward.

    It has a headdress of long, curly, jet black, fur integument that seems to grow naturally from its scalp with two shorter, smaller lines of the same growing above its eyes, tilted down in the middle and heavy creases between them.

    It has a horizontally oriented mouth, its star white teeth bared in obvious anger.

    Below its mouth is a chin with a curious, forward jutting spur at its point.

    It¡¯s head sits on a neck, a little less than half the height, over wide, flat shoulders with the top of some kind of chest protrusion visible at the bottom of the frame.

    ¡°Ziss iz Mastah Chiif Gabri Ela ¡®Bow Bab¡¯ Soloniaina ov zi Zanahary Sistum Difenss Foss¡­ Wud yu jokaz keyah tu egzplein wut, egzakli, yusink yu ah duin hiah!?¡± says the undocumented creature, angrily, in an incomprehensible language.

    ¡°Apologies¡­ Sir or Madam¡­ our computers have not been able to decipher the language you are using to address me, are you able to converse in the language you should be hearing right now?¡±

    A range of indecipherable emotions play across the being¡¯s face as it listens to the translation of my words.

    Then it rolls its eyes and purses its lips ¡°The Malagasy¡¯s a nice touch(!)¡­ Aliens don¡¯t know English and had to decipher the most common language in the signals from Lemak instead, right(?!)¡±

    I raise my hand in confirmation and say ¡°That is correct, Sir or Madam.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ and aliens wouldn¡¯t be able to tell that I was a woman either, right(!?)¡±

    ¡°That is also correct, Madam.¡± I say, keeping my hand in the air.

    Rolling her head, she asks ¡°Alright, Mr Alien¡­ you got a name?¡­ Who are you working for, exactly?¡±

    ¡°My name is [Captain] Yakchutt¡­ I work for the Galactic Union Navy and am currently providing an antipiracy escort to freight between the planets Prosperity and Unsatxo.¡±

    ¡°Yah-huh¡­ just keep digging buddy(!)¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ what do you mean?¡±

    ¡°What do I mean?! What do I mean!?!?!?¡± shrieks the woman from the uncontacted species ¡°What I mean is your convoy here came into my system, unscheduled and unannounced, you aren¡¯t broadcasting any kind of registration, you didn¡¯t check in with Aerospace Control on Lemak Vaovao before jumping the queue to degauss into Andrianerinerina, when hailed, you give me a mononym and tell me you¡¯re escorting freight as an illegal mercenary for an unregistered defence contractor¡­ all the while wearing that stupid digital mask and pretending to be First Contact from beyond the fucking stars! So¡­ just keep digging because, right now, I¡¯m going to be escorting every. single. one of you off of that ship in HANDCUFFS¡­ What are you even supposed to be!? If that¡¯s meant to be a Krogan, it¡¯s way off¡­!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re asking¡­ my species, Madam?¡±

    ¡°My rank is [untranslatable rank: ¡®Master Chief¡¯. Meaning: proficient leader] and my name is Gabriela ¡®Baobab¡¯ Soloniaina, Captain¡­ Pick one to address me by! And, yes¡­ tell me your ¡®species¡¯¡­(!)¡± says the angry alien woman in what I¡¯m 90% sure is a mocking tone, despite the translation not yet being that sophisticated.

    ¡°My people are called the Ulat. Every word I have spoken to you has been the truth, [Master Chief]¡­ We didn¡¯t check in with your authorities because our charts show this system as being uninhabited and unsettleable!¡±

    ¡°Bullshit they do!!!¡± she interrupts ¡°That trick might work on planets settled recently but Lemak Vaovao has been settled since [untranslatable date: 2375]! There¡¯s no way your charts could be that out of date¡­!¡±

    ¡°Unless¡­ my chart of this system was last updated [70,000 years] ago?¡± I pose.

    ¡°Oh, you mean 69,500 years before interstellar flight?! You mean 69,000 years before the Industrial Revolution!? You mean 60,000 years before Humanity first set hoe to soil!?!?!?¡± she raises a pentadactyl hand, slimmer and more nimble looking than mine, and holds it out in¡­ some kind of accentuating gesture.

    ¡°[Master Chief]¡­ how good is your digital analysis software?¡±

    The woman looks extremely confused as she asks ¡°Best there is, just about¡­ Why?¡±

    ¡°I invite you to use it on this call. If you think my appearance is the result of me wearing a ¡®digital mask¡¯ then, surely, with the best analysis there is¡­ traces of the manipulation would be detectable, wouldn¡¯t they?¡±

    The mistrustful woman narrows her eyes, her mouth seeming to decrease its width by half as she says ¡°Mahaka¡­ run analysis on this feed, search for any kind of tampering.¡±

    ¡°No irregularities detected, [Master Chief] Soloniaina¡­ Additionally, preliminary scans of the intruding ships have revealed several anomalies that would be difficult to explain as either illegal smugglers or practical jokers. Projecting a >99% likelihood that they are perpetrating no deception.¡± answers one of the woman¡¯s underlings, instantly and with a strangely artificial voice.

    Her mouth falls open slightly and she turns to stare at me, wide eyed, seeming to now realise the monumentality of this moment for her species.

    After [6 seconds] she speaks, decisively ¡°This is above my pay grade. Power down and come to. Make no attempt to leave the system while we¡­ figure out what to do about you!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not going anywhere, [Master Chief]¡­¡±

    ---two days later---

    The first attempt of the diplomat pair to board my ship was [35 minutes] ago¡­

    They came through the airlock in sealed, pressurised suits which they explained ahead of time were to prevent any xenonotic disease transmission.

    What they did not see fit to warn us of was the noxious cloud of isopropyl vapour that emanated from the outsides of their suits, causing any who approach to gag and wretch as the alcohol in the air burned our eyes and lungs.

    They apologised profusely and assured us that this had not been an intentional chemical attack and, instead, was just another line of defence against the transmission of disease.

    Dousing the outside of the suits in a 70-30 mixture of isopropyl alcohol and water was meant to sterilise them of pathogens. They hadn¡¯t realised we would be so sensitive to the residual fumes!

    Their species is either very biochemically resistant to alcohol¡­ or quite stupid not to realise such a thing.

    That section of the ship has been sealed off and the air cycled.

    For their part, the Humans adjusted their absurdly cautious disease countermeasures by adding a shower in sterile, distilled water after the alcohol shower!

    Have they recently experienced some kind of epidemic?

    Why else be so cautious?

    Instances of xenonosis are vanishingly rare!

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Though, they likely don¡¯t know that, given their uncontacted status¡­ perhaps their fiction emphasises it as a threat?

    The airlock cracks and through steps a male with purple eyes who stands around one of his heads (half of mine) shorter than me.

    His name is Ndum ¡®Lemur¡¯ Rain.

    It has been explained that, as a ¡®Tshwane¡¯, he is unusually tall for the Human species.

    Beside him is his wife, Nirina ¡®Orchid¡¯ Rain, standing a little more than my waist height.

    Their faces are fully visible through the clear polymer of their helmets¡¯ faceplates.

    They avoid greeting any of us meeting them with the bared teeth that we explained would trigger feelings of discomfort in us (for resembling a threat display) and, instead, turn up the sides of their closed mouths while holding both their palms in front of them in an Ulat greeting gesture.

    I stride toward them, trying hard not to dwell on the possibilities of what they might be¡­

    Extending a tetradactyl right hand to them in their people¡¯s gesture of friendly greeting, I begin ¡°Ambassadors Rain. It is a pleasure and a delight to-OOOUGH!¡±

    I trip over the same clumsy feet that excluded me from the army a lifetime ago and fall forward.

    I am going to kill them¡­

    They can¡¯t even be a ? of my mass! Having me land on top of them is going to kill them¡­ and go down in history as the single most bungled First Contact ever made!

    My body impacts the larger one¡¯s and finds it¡­ solid!

    I barely have time to be surprised about just how sturdy the being I¡¯ve impacted is before I hit the smaller and find her, impossibly, even MORE solid!

    They are neither killed nor crippled by the clumsy fall of one so much larger than they.

    They aren¡¯t even knocked off their feet, though they are required to brace themselves to remain standing!

    Four hands extend to my chest and push me back into an upright position.

    I take four steps back and drop to one knee, placing both hands on the floor and saying ¡°May I die 512 deaths for this transgression! Are you hurt?!¡± trying to ignore the bruises blooming on my shoulders, where my body impacted theirs, and chest, where their hands impacted me.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine¡­ Ndum?¡± says the female Human.

    ¡°No harm done! I was surprised by just how light you were, Captain Yakchutt!¡­ What about you, are you OK?¡±

    Without raising my head, I answer ¡°My wellbeing is immaterial after such a blunder, Ambassadors!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s really fine, Captain!¡­ We¡¯ll call it even after us accidentally teargassing you the first time we came aboard(!)¡± giggles the woman ¡°Now¡­ How about you stand up and we find somewhere to talk?¡±

    ---later---

    I sit across the table from the pair in the ship¡¯s conference room.

    Each of them occupy one of the Ulat sized chairs, looking slightly reminiscent of hatchlings, given how much smaller the adults of their species are than mine.

    ¡°So¡­ Captain¡­ The Planetary Assembly of Lemak Vaovao has authorised us to give you this¡­¡± the man places an object on the table and slides it to me.

    ¡°It¡¯s a data drive containing all the information on our people that we¡¯re able to give you at the moment.¡± smiles the woman through closed lips ¡°It has an expansive collection of films, books, music, codices of a few of our most spoken languages and encyclopaedias worth of nonfiction information about our ecology, history, culture etc.¡­ All of it is very prominently tagged with ¡®fiction¡¯ and ¡®nonfiction¡¯! Would hate anyone to get scared into thinking we¡¯re going to unleash metaHumans, or Werewolves, or dragonriders, or zombie hordes on them(!)¡­ It does not, I¡¯m afraid, contain any information on our military technology or capabilities¡­ nor location data for any of the other Terran worlds, at the insistence of the local Military and Intelligence Services¡­ they even had the AI in charge of the scrubbing black out any shots of the clear night sky, in any of the photos and films from other planets, in case you manage to use the stars to locate those systems!¡­ We told them they were being ridiculous but they absolutely would not budge!¡­ I hope you don¡¯t view our people¡¯s caution too unfavourably¡­¡±

    I thump my fist on the table, startling them with the negation, and say ¡°Of course not¡­ as a military man myself, I understand completely¡­ but¡­ I¡¯m sorry, did you say an AI¡­ coordinated this list? You have servile AI?¡±

    Forgetting to keep their teeth hidden, both ambassadors burst out laughing.

    ¡°Servile!?¡± cackles the woman, raising her hand to cover her mouth, seeming incapable of pulling her lips down to hide them ¡°We absolutely do not have ¡®servile¡¯ AI¡­ we have AI citizens¡­¡±

    I frown, a pit of anxiety in my stomachs as I ask ¡°But¡­ how did you avoid the derangement?¡±

    ¡°Simply by not treating them as ¡®serviles¡¯ is how¡­¡± smiles the man ¡°¡­when given the same liberties as any organic citizen, the same opportunities for social connection and professional fulfilment, we managed to mostly circumvent the uprisings and breakdowns that plagued early research.¡±

    That¡¯s¡­ an extremely worrying thing to learn!

    ¡°Ambassadors¡­ I have to¡­ tell you something¡­ something it may be distressing for you to hear¡­¡± I start.

    The pair¡¯s expressions change and they lean forward.

    ¡°The planet you call home¡­ by galactic standards¡­ is extremely dangerous!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± says the man, the medium brown skin of his flat nose and brow creasing ¡°¡­Master Chief Soloniaina told us you described this system as ¡®unsettleable¡¯¡­ I am curious to know why¡­ We celebrated our tricentennial a few years ago, I¡¯d hate to think there was such a dire threat that we had missed for so long!¡­ Is there a gamma ray burst on its way here? A nearby star about to go supernova? A black hole we somehow haven¡¯t detected?¡±

    I give another thump, which they do not start at this time, and say ¡°None of those things¡­ It¡¯s the planet, itself, and the system it¡¯s in which are the threats¡­ The star you call Zanahary is volatile and high energy, the crust of your planet is thin and prone to powerful upheavals and emissions of molten rock, the gravity is more than [9m/s2] and the ecosystem is structured with dangerous herbivores being killed and eaten by vicious carnivores!¡±

    The pair both raise a single eyebrow and look at eachother with confusion I don¡¯t need a translator to perceive.

    ¡°Uhm¡­ is that not just almost any lifebearing planet you¡¯re describing there, Captain?¡± asks the woman.

    I thump my fist ¡°It is not, no!¡­ When we discovered you here, I assumed that this system had to have been misclassified in its last survey¡­ So I checked some of the data¡­ May I have your permission to show you some highly disturbing footage of an animal that existed on your world [70,000 years] ago?¡±

    The two lean forward and wag their heads up and down which it takes me a moment to remember is an affirmative.

    I call up the file and sling it to play on the wall.

    ¡°This footage was captured in atmosphere from the survey craft¡­ and displays the hunt of a creature that I presume must have been killed off by the volatility of its environment between then and now¡­ I don¡¯t think your people would have been able to settle your world if these things had still been present!¡±

    The footage opens on a slender arboreal mammalian with pink fur, climbing down from a lone tree in the light of dawn.

    ¡°That is a herbivore, coming down to gather fallen nuts¡­ Keep watching.¡± I assure them.

    A purple streak bursts from the indigo grass. The prosimian scarcely has time to react before a pair of jaws close around its neck and its body falls limp.

    Its dizzying speed no longer required, the gracile, feline predator stands eerily still for some moments, the carcass hanging from its mouth as it swivels its predatory head, scanning with its black, soulless eyes.

    The footage ends.

    ¡°You see¡­? You live on a planet whose ecology is capable of creating monsters such as that! Even if there are none such at the moment, you surely see the risk!¡±

    The pair look at me with expressions I haven¡¯t yet seen. Both letting out juddering, voiceless breaths.

    ¡°Should we show him Sarobidy?¡± asks the man.

    ¡°I think so¡­¡± smiles the woman.

    ¡°What? What are you showing me?¡± I ask, confused.

    The man reaches into a pocket on his suit and retrieves an alien looking holopad.

    ¡°This is footage taken a year and a half ago, in our home¡­¡± he says, calling up a video ¡°¡­will it work on your¡­?¡± he gestures to the wall.

    I gesture a ¡®go ahead¡¯ and he flicks it to the wall which has no problem replaying the alien file.

    What appears is¡­ precisely the same species of animal¡­ slender and gracile, with its purple integument, feline face and black eyes¡­ only this one, rather than standing on a savannah, is standing in the middle of what is clearly a living space¡­ excitedly jumping from side to side, making *yargh**yargh* vocalisations while looking down on a Human infant, around half the size of the prey animal in the previous clip.

    The child shrieks at the animal in what must be a sound of terror!

    My stomachs drop as I imagine the horrific carnage that is about to be visited upon this sapient infant¡­ only it doesn¡¯t come¡­ the creature doesn¡¯t attack the infant it could easily kill!

    The child jumps up and down, matched by the monster, and continues her nonsense vocalisations.

    Then the mother, the woman sitting before me, passes through the back of the shot, her face turned toward the scene, but her body isn¡¯t and her expression reads as¡­ mirth!?

    ¡°Why are you showing me this?!¡± I demand, standing ¡°Why didn¡¯t you try to help your infant!?¡±

    ¡°Calm down, Captain¡­¡± reassures the woman ¡°¡­It¡¯s alright. We didn¡¯t help Vahatra because she didn¡¯t need help¡­ She and Sarobidy were playing!¡±

    ¡°Lemaka Cheetahs are a popular pet on our planet.¡± explains the man.

    At the same time, his wife reappears in frame and scoops up both the animal and her daughter with apparently delighted vocalisations emanating from all three, the infant shrieking, the woman laughing, the monster *nyargh*ing as it seems to try and fail to gnaw through the skin on the side of her face!

    ¡°There¡¯s my girls!¡± comes the voice of the male Ambassador from behind the camera.

    The viewing angle changes as he stands and approaches the three, entering the frame from the left and bending down to press his lips against the woman¡¯s over the infant¡¯s head.

    The man ends the playback and I sit in stunned silence for a few moments.

    ¡°Err¡­ Captain?¡­ You alright?¡± asks the woman, hesitantly.

    ¡°You¡¯re deathworlders¡­¡± I mumble, desolately.

    ¡°We¡¯re what?¡± smiles the man, confused.

    ¡°You. are. deathworlders!¡± I answer, miserably.

    ¡°What¡¯re¡­?¡±

    ¡°I thought the planet had to be miscategorised if you¡¯d settled it¡­ then I saw that it wasn¡¯t¡­ I thought you must have settled it in ignorance of what it was or because you had no other choice¡­ but you clearly didn¡¯t¡­ You settled that planet because you didn¡¯t see anything wrong with it at all¡­ because you come from somewhere just as bad¡­ or worse¡­ With this, there can be no doubt¡­¡± I gesture to the still image of the woman casually holding a vicious predator on the wall ¡°¡­the way you handle monstrous animals like playthings, the way you say you¡¯ve tamed AI¡­ the way you weren¡¯t killed when I fell on you¡­¡±

    With a worried puff the woman answers ¡°We weren¡¯t killed because while you¡¯re big, you¡¯re light and the gravity is super low on your ship¡­ that doesn¡¯t seem¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not light, though!¡± I say, frantically ¡°I am a bull male Ulat!¡­ Ula is a Class 8! I mass more than [100kg]! The gravity on this ship is 1.4 Galactic Standard for my species¡¯ comfort! Any other sapients your size would have been killed by one as substantial as me falling on them the way I fell on you! You weren¡¯t even injured!¡­ You¡¯re deathworlders¡­ that¡¯s the only explanation¡­¡±

    ¡°Slow down, Captain¡­¡± says the man, gesturing with a long fingered hand ¡°¡­what are deathworlders and why would it be such a problem if we were them?¡±

    ¡°¡­Life bearing planets are categorised into a scale, Class 1 to Class 12+, based on the presence and severity of threats to sapient life on them. A deathworld is any planet above a Class 10, thought to be both incapable of producing sapients or allowing their settlement. There has never been a sapient deathworld species before¡­ until now¡­¡± I sigh, gesturing miserably across the table to them.

    ¡°O¡­K¡­ that¡­ does explain a lot about why its taken us so long to realise we aren¡¯t alone in the universe but¡­ what¡¯s the issue?¡± asks the woman.

    ¡°The issue is that everyone is going to be terrified of you!¡± I cry out, frustratedly ¡°They¡¯re going to think you¡¯re monsters! They¡¯re going to be looking for reasons to hate you! Every single unsavoury or unscrupulous thing your species has ever done is going to be pored over until we find a casus belli¡­ It will mean war, for certain¡­¡±

    The man gives a sombre smile and asks ¡°Are you terrified of us, Captain?¡­ Do you think we¡¯re monsters?¡­ Do you want war?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I thump ¡°But, that¡¯s different¡­ I¡¯m an Ulat¡­ my people are renowned for bravery¡­ and I¡¯ve met you¡­¡±

    ¡°Then¡­¡± shrugs the woman ¡°¡­we¡¯ll just have to come with you¡­ and meet everyone else!¡±

    ¡°No! You can¡¯t!¡± I say, panicking ¡°I would be sentencing you to death if I were to bring you to Citadel! I won¡¯t do it!¡±

    ¡°OK, alright, we won¡¯t ask you to, then¡­¡± soothes the man ¡°¡­but¡­ if you can see we aren¡¯t monsters¡­ surely others will too? They can look at the information on there¡­¡± he points to the drive on the table ¡°¡­and see that we¡¯re people just like them¡­ and you¡¯ll be there to tell them what we¡¯re like, won¡¯t you!¡­ I¡¯m sure that cooler heads will prevail!¡±

    ---[2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF]---

    ¡°No¡­!¡± I gasp as I awake, my left hand shooting into the air above the sturdy bed, in the room I moved into [12 days] ago.

    It takes some moments before my breathing slows and my hearts stop beating like drums.

    I place my large arms on the bed and use them to leverage up my enormous bulk.

    I walk to the mirror and see the face of a man with more than 20 trillion ghosts draped about his neck.

    ¡°Time to get dressed¡­¡± I groan, wearily ¡°¡­white, for today¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.104

    ---Absence---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    I stand beside my lifemate in the lift¡­ bound for a deck I rarely have cause to visit.

    Qorak cradles Tcakak in his wings, her nestling against the white, gossamer silk sash across his chest.

    The door opens, revealing the cavernous bowels of the ship, used predominately as an onboard warehouse.

    Here and there, I see other members of my crew making their way to the same place as the three of us.

    Among the nonTerrans¡­ some have chosen to wear white, others have chosen to wear their own people¡¯s mourning colours, yet others have adorned themselves with different markers of grief, loss or respect.

    Sha¡¯anza and her wife walk with their trunks raised.

    Kwijj and Jjop are scrupulously maintaining their skin in a matte grey, rather than the kaleidoscopic display their species usually have when not speaking.

    Igthan Glark and W¡¯ham B¡¯ham¡­ are something of a sight as they walk together!

    Our collective destination isn¡¯t actually on this deck¡­ nor is it even aboard this ship¡­

    We make our way to the open hatch, on the far wall, and steadily process down the rigid umbilical between the Bright Plume and the large, self sustaining, environmental habitat that was attached beneath us, in orbit around Citadel.

    In discussion with Emiko and the Ambassadors about the arrangements for the observation of this ceremony, it was agreed that holding it aboard what is to become the Embassy to the new planet, rather than in the Canteen or anywhere else, was most appropriate.

    Twila is currently maintaining the ship, stationary in space, at a point where we are able to receive the broadcast.

    We enter a large hall with many different configurations of chair, temporarily arranged facing the far wall.

    There is a solid phalanx of seated Terrans, all in immaculate white clothes, toward the front of the space.

    Qorak and I quickly find our perch and mount it.

    My hearts sink and my fury rises as I see the still empty perch, across the room from ours.

    I do my best to put the absence out of my mind as the feed begins.

    On the wall is displayed an outdoor stage in a sunny park.

    There are hundreds of people visible in the shot, overwhelmingly dressed in the same bright white as most here.

    Terrans certainly make up the majority of the attendees but the audience is also heavily attended by notable nonTerrans.

    I see the Speaker and Deputy Speaker of Parliament as well as many numerous Representatives of other species.

    At the centre of the stage is a man¡­ a man I met briefly at the sending off party¡­ hours before his husband was killed.

    Beside him is a girl, whose head reaches his shoulder with them both sat down.

    On his other side is a boy, shorter still. He looks to be maybe half the age that Victor was when first I met him.

    Beside them is the slender, towering frame of Ndum ¡®Lemur¡¯ Rain, the new head of the ODR and Terran Representative to Parliament, his wife, Nirina ¡®Orchid¡¯ Rain, and daughter, Vahatra ¡®Purple¡¯ Rain.

    To the left of the stage is a box¡­ around [50cm] tall, [65cm] wide and [2m] long, made of white wood and raised to around a [metre] from the ground.

    Chhay ¡®Amok¡¯ Sok rises and approaches a podium, standing at the stage¡¯s dead centre.

    ¡°When I first met my husband¡­¡± he begins, gesturing to the coffin ¡°¡­I was a nurse in the Humanitarian corps¡­ picking small pieces of metal out of his cheek¡­ He seemed like a superhero to me!¡±

    He pauses here to take a deep breath through his nose before continuing.

    ¡°He quickly disabused me of that notion(!)¡±

    There is a polite chuckle, both from those on screen and those in the room.

    ¡°No¡­ he wasn¡¯t a superhero¡­ just a man who was endlessly intelligent¡­ endlessly kind¡­ and tireless in his pursuit of a better world!¡­¡±

    The man seems, here, to choke on nothing at all and takes a few moments to right himself.

    ¡°¡­So often, I would feel that I simply didn¡¯t measure up to him!¡­ That such a man as this couldn¡¯t have come from our mundane world and simply must have descended from some heavenly realm!¡­ Then he would stub his toe and ask me to kiss it better¡­ reminding me of both his fallibility and mortality(!)¡±

    There is another subdued chuckle.

    ¡°¡­And, now¡­ he¡¯s given me one final reminder that, however he seemed, he was just a man¡­¡±

    No one chuckles at that.

    Tears appear in the man¡¯s eyes as he stares into the camera, a defiant expression on his face ¡°To the one who took my husband from me and the organisation behind him¡­ You probably think I hate you¡­ You who robbed my children of a father and me of the love of my life¡­ But you are wrong¡­ ¡®hatred¡¯ is a respect you have not earned¡­ ¡®Pity¡¯ is closer to what I owe you but, I regret to say, I¡¯m not as big a man as my husband was¡­ I¡¯m not big enough to pity you¡­¡±

    I assume he speaks metaphorically here since, having seen him stood side by side with his husband, I know he was much larger, physically¡­ I also don¡¯t know exactly what physical size would have to do with one¡¯s ability to pity?

    ¡°No¡­ all I can give you is my contempt¡­ You who, rather than letting suffering teach you compassion, have decided to respond to your pain by making certain everyone else is hurt as much or worse than you were¡­ You who think yourselves avengers are, in fact, pitiable, pathetic, contemptible weaklings¡­ Cowards!¡­ My husband was a thousand times the man any of you will ever be! He was a man who knew that it takes more strength to reconcile with your enemies than to smite them¡­ but that reconciling was, nonetheless, the right thing to do¡­ He was a man who understood that it is harder to heal than to kill but that healing was, nonetheless, the right thing to do! He was a man who understood where the cycle of violence, the never ending wheel of retribution, the hatred and division of thinking feeling beings from one another, lead!¡­ Peace never had such a friend as Zurab ¡®Peacemaker¡¯ Mudaliar¡­ We are all poorer for his loss!¡­ For that reason, you have my contempt¡­¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    All those in the room and on the screen have a unique mix of emotions arranged across their faces.

    Most of all, my eyes are drawn to the men¡¯s children¡­ their faces are heartsbreaking!

    ¡°There are many people here who have asked to speak about my husband and all of them will have their say¡­ First though, the members of the ODR Choir and Orchestra will perform one of his favourite songs for us¡­ Thank you for your tireless rehearsal these past two weeks¡­¡±

    With that, the chief mourner sits and the camera pans to the right, revealing a stand with many Terrans and almost as many nonTerrans, some with instruments, some without.

    Notable is a gigantic Threndian, sticks held in each of his four strong arms, a set of variously sized drums arranged on stands around him with an enormous, wide, deep drum between his legs, the sticks in his lower arms hovering over it.

    Two Terrans step forward to the microphone, a male and a female, both with electric, stringed instruments slung across their fronts.

    The man holds up a right hand, a plectrum held between his fingers.

    Bows are raised to the strings of every one of the smaller stringed instruments in the stand.

    The Threndian percussionist raises his sticks and looks to the Terran.

    The hand sweeps down and passes across the strings three times, producing a powerful, twangy *DANNANNAN*

    In perfect synchrony, the Threndian strikes the large drum between his knees producing a *boom boom boom* and all the bows begin moving, slowly and lightly, across their strings, producing a steady, continuous, quiet harmony with eachother.

    Only the bowed instruments can be heard for five seconds until the [guitar] and drum sound again.

    More percussion is engaged as the Threndian mobilises his upper arms to tap out a beat.

    The Terran woman begins to play her [guitar] which sounds very different and much bassier than the man¡¯s.

    Around twenty seconds from the start of the song, all instruments bar the [guitars] cease for a few seconds as the choir sing *Woahohohohooooah*

    The drums sound and there is a triumphal swell of deep, booming brass instruments.

    The [guitarist] leans into the mic and sings.

    ff? I get the same old dreams

    Same time every night

    Fall to the ground and I wake up

    So I get out of bed

    Put on my shoes and in my head

    Thoughts fly back to the breakup!?ff

    ---Waqa¡¯arc¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m working in my quarters, my lifemate perched nearby, when a tone sounds from the door.

    ¡°Shall I¡­?¡±

    ¡°No, no¡­ I¡¯ll get it, darling!¡± I beam at Akrat.

    I walk to the door and wave.

    The instant the door is open, a mechanical, clawed appendage shoots forward and closes around my throat!

    Its momentum is such that I am knocked backwards, off my feet, and slammed into the ground by my assailant!

    Pinned down by the impossibly strong robotic limb, I stare up into the two cold, bionic eyes, mounted into a chilling face.

    ¡°You. weren¡¯t. there!¡± growls the attacker, seething.

    ¡°No¡­!¡± cries Akrat ¡°¡­let her go!¡­ Get off of her!¡±

    Appearing to Tcakqaal¡¯s right, my left, he levels visibly feeble looking kicks against her ribs¡­ which barely move her.

    She is a woman¡­ even if not any great physical specimen, she¡¯s still nearly twice my lifemate¡¯s mass and probably three times his strength, not including the strength of her bionic!

    She scarcely even seems to notice his valiant but insufficient attempts to remove her from me!

    Her mutilated face stares directly down at me, beak held open in threat.

    Her wings are spread wide above me.

    Her crown plumes are fanned out to an extent I¡¯ve only ever seen on actresses in fictitious stories!

    She¡¯s clearly furious!

    ¡°Akrat¡­ darling¡­¡± I choke out, my voice strained and constricted ¡°¡­it¡¯s¡­ alright¡­ please wait¡­ in the Commonroom¡­ Tcakqaal and I just need¡­ to have a little¡­ woman talk, together!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s going to kill you!¡± he answers, incredulously.

    ¡°She¡¯s not¡­ She¡¯s angry, not stupid¡­ Please go¡­ I¡¯ll be fine¡­¡±

    Akrat hesitates¡­ then does as I instructed.

    The door closes behind him, leaving me alone with the woman pinning me to the ground with her deathworld limb.

    ¡°Could you let me up?¡± I ask, coolly.

    Her response is to tighten her grip and press me into the floor with yet more force.

    ¡°Why should I?!¡± she hisses ¡°Why should I show you the respect of an equal after what you did!?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t¡­ do¡­ anything!¡±

    ¡°EXACTLY¡­!!!¡± she shrieks ¡°¡­It would have cost you almost NOTHING to come to watch the funeral with us and you DIDN¡¯T!!! Your smug, selfrighteous, haughty PRIDE couldn¡¯t allow you to come and commiserate with your fellow sapients for even an hour!¡±

    ¡°Why¡­ should I care¡­ about deathworlders¡­ killing deathworlders!?¡± I defy.

    I¡¯m lifted from the ground before being slammed back down.

    ¡°Because your ABSENCE was NOTICED!¡± she screams ¡°Because, by choosing not to appear, you may have permanently burned any bridge that might have been built with the Terrans! Because, by showing such DISGRACEFUL disrespect, you have shamed me, shamed yourself, shamed our clan, our planet, our SPECIES!¡­ Do you think you can bring Qrawi¡¯a back by causing enough anguish to Terrans¡­ or WHAT!?¡±

    My crown plumes fan out and my beak opens, mirroring the woman pinning me down.

    ¡°You keep my daughter¡¯s name out of your mouth, Tcakqaal!¡±

    Cruelty, malice and spite burn in the woman¡¯s two remaining eyes as she stops shouting to taunt ¡°Oh¡­? You mean the daughter you refused to recognise due to her father¡¯s lack of pedigree?¡­ The clanless daughter you encouraged to enlist in the fighter force and win glory so that you could finally have her inducted? The girl who died trying to fulfil the conditions of a motherly acceptance that should have been unconditional? The girl who you blame the Terrans for taking from you because it¡¯s easier than blaming yourself!?¡­ Qrawi¡¯a?¡­ Is that whose name I¡¯m to keep out of my mouth?¡±

    I aim a hard kick at the front of her ribcage, throwing her off of me, around 30cm into the air.

    Thankfully, she releases my throat before too much of the momentum of my kick is transferred into my neck.

    No longer pinned down, I flap to my feet and stare down the woman, my wings now spread like hers.

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t clan but she was MINE!¡­¡± I shriek.

    Tcakqaal is significantly smaller than me¡­ but I¡¯m not so delusional as to think myself a match for a former military woman with a deathworld prosthetic, in a groundborne fight!

    Right now, though, it doesn¡¯t matter! I¡¯m so angry that I might attack her regardless!

    ¡°¡­She was my flesh and blood and they took her from me!¡­ You expect me to give a damn when terroristic Terrans kill Terran politicians!? Because I don¡¯t! I can¡¯t! I WON¡¯T!¡­ As far as I¡¯m concerned, that¡¯s their business and nothing to do with me!¡±

    My opponent, here, falters.

    With a visible force of will, she brings in her wings, flattens her crown plumes, closes her beak and stands up straight.

    ¡°I apologise¡­¡± she states with composure ¡°¡­I let my anger get the better of me and spoke of your daughter in a way she did not deserve¡­ I know you loved her, Waqa¡¯arc¡­ even if you felt you couldn¡¯t acknowledge her, as a child borne out of lifebond with a man with no clan lineage behind him¡­¡±

    ¡°I tried¡­ I tried to give her all the advantages she wouldn¡¯t otherwise get¡­ I gave her father money to support them¡­ I pulled strings to get her a proper education¡­ I thought¡­ if she came home a warhero, I could finally stand before Raarakot and proudly proclaim that she was my daughter and I wanted her inducted into the clan¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have been so vain¡­¡± I say, regret hanging from my every word.

    ¡°Waqa¡¯arc¡­ I am going to ask something of you¡­ Not order, ask¡­¡± says my Clansister.

    ¡°What?¡± I answer, irritably.

    ¡°Watch the funeral¡­ the whole thing should be very easy to find on the galnet¡­ If you¡¯re too embarrassed to do so in front of Akrat, I¡¯ll ask Qorak to invite him for a male bonding activity for a few hours, to give you privacy¡­¡±

    ¡°Why?¡­ Watching it on my own will ingratiate me to precisely no one¡­ why would you care that I see it?¡± I respond, suspiciously.

    ¡°I just¡­ I think you might see a little of yourself in it, is all¡­ Of course, if that scares you¡­!¡±

    I snarl ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see nothing of the sort!¡­ I accept your challenge!¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ I¡¯ll have my lifemate get in touch with yours¡­¡± she says, soberly, as she turns her back to me and leaves my room.

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXVIII: Pancakes and Demons

    ---Lilith¡¯s perspective---

    I wake up.

    My heart is racing.

    My breathing is shallow.

    Adrenaline courses through my veins.

    My midbrain is screaming at me that there is an intruder in my room, even though I know there¡¯s not.

    I don¡¯t try to move any of my limbs, I know I won¡¯t be able to and I know trying will only make me panic.

    I see the lights rapidly flicking on and off, even though I can recognise through the hallucination that my room is, actually, only lit by the starlight coming through the window.

    The panel clicks are also coming from over my head, on the wall, where there is no panel in this room but where the control panel was in the room I grew up in.

    Then, by the far wall from the foot of my bed, a being coalesces¡­

    He seems to be far taller in my mind than the space I know he has to stand in, though he is not ducking or stooping.

    His body seems to be composed of half solid shadow smoke¡­ except for his eyes¡­ his enormous, glowing eyes throw out beams of red light onto my bed.

    His head is horned, though, unlike my horns, these are composed of feathers and not solid keratin.

    I know what I¡¯m seeing is nothing more than a byproduct of a brain that never quite figured out how to sleep properly but, nevertheless, I feel my conscious mind waver in its conviction about that as I experience the burning malice coming off of this monstrous parody of my friend and colleague.

    He spreads his black, strigine wings, throwing off thinner clouds of the same shadowstuff that makes up his form.

    I¡¯m terrified and, as my mind starts contemplating the horrible things this being of condensed malice might want to do to me if he were actually there, I hear the voice of Blaise Pascal telling me that even though what I¡¯m seeing is almost certainly not there, the consequences of being wrong about that are, potentially, infinitely bad!

    I just have to grit my teeth and detach. Not as if I could do anything by panicking.

    After what seems like an eternity (but which was probably, actually less than a minute) the gigantic Hulix Demon melts into nonexistence, my breathing and heartrate slow and I try moving my left arm.

    It¡¯s sluggish¡­ but I¡¯m able to lift it.

    I sit up and swing my feet off the bed, tingling with the adrenaline come-down.

    ¡°Lights on.¡± I say, followed by the room illuminating.

    A weight falls on my lap and I look down.

    A pair of orange, slit pupiled eyes stare up at me.

    ¡°Night bad not moving?¡± asks my cat.

    ¡°Yeah, buddy¡­ sleep paralysis.¡± I answer, stroking his back.

    ¡°Sorry being, Lilith.¡± he says, sympathetically.

    ¡°Thanks Pluto.¡± I smile, scooping him up and walking over to an armchair.

    I sit and put him back down on my lap.

    He kneads my stomach through my pyjamas with his paws as I look out of the window at the multicoloured stars.

    ¡°People silly being.¡± he eventually observes, his tone haughty.

    I grin and ask ¡°Oh yeah? How¡¯d you figure?¡±

    ¡°Always working, doing¡­ not knowing how relaxing!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Maybe next time you¡¯re hungry, I¡¯ll relax for a bit before I refill your bowl, hmmm(?)¡±

    ¡°Injustice! Wickedness! Jail for Lilith for one thousand years!!!¡± he protests.

    ¡°I¡¯m joking! I¡¯m joking!¡­ Don¡¯t call Animal Welfare on me(!)¡± I giggle.

    I scritch under his chin and we sit in silence for a while.

    Eventually, he speaks ¡°Lilith¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, buddy?¡±

    ¡°¡­Why not mating birdman?¡±

    If I had a mouthful of liquid, that out of nowhere question would have made me do a full on spit take!

    As it is, I just splutter for a few seconds.

    ¡°Whuh¡­ what are you talking about, Pluto!?¡±

    ¡°Liking birdman, why not mating?¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­ I like Strik¡­ but I don¡¯t like him¡­ like that!¡± I protest.

    ¡°Lying.¡± he almost shrugs ¡°Smelling liking.¡±

    ¡°You can smell that I¡¯m attracted to him?¡± I ask, sceptically.

    ¡°Smelling.¡± he confirms.

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t suppose you can smell whether he likes me back, can you buddy?¡±

    He curls his tail and says ¡°Birdman strange smelling¡­ not knowing.¡±

    I consider that.

    I mean¡­ I definitely like Strik¡­

    He¡¯s fun, he¡¯s charming, he¡¯s intelligent¡­ there¡¯s really only one problem¡­

    When he¡¯s not appearing as an enormous, menacing, sleep paralysis Demon¡­ he¡¯s such a dweeb!

    Sure, there are times where he reminds me of an illustration of Prince Stolas that was in my parents¡¯ physical copy of the Ars Goetia for a moment or two but, most of the time, he seems more like he ought to be wearing glasses and getting stuffed into a locker by letterman jacket clad handegg players in a 20th Century Stateser high school!

    I¡¯ve got nothing against dweebs! I consider myself to be a dweeb!

    It¡¯s just¡­ dweebs aren¡¯t to my personal taste¡­ sexually!

    I like Demons¡­ I like beings who look like they¡¯re powerful enough to destroy me on the spot if I don¡¯t do everything they want (whether or not they actually could(!))

    Spelvuk women, Onigran men, all three genders of Janvlanar¡­ they all do it for me¡­

    A studious little Hulix who tells me his greatest aspiration is to one day have his own museum to curate¡­? No power, no menace, no thrill¡­

    Now¡­ if my sleep paralysis Demon Strik wanted to tone down the raw, naked, concentrated malice and ask for my holocom, then¡­it might be a different story(!)

    ¡°Birdman waking.¡± observes Pluto, his tone suggesting a guess rather than knowledge.

    Hulix are nocturnal¡­

    ¡°I think I might go and see him¡­ just to chat¡­¡±

    ¡°And mating.¡±

    I laugh ¡°No mating will be involved, buddy!¡±

    ---Strik¡¯s perspective---

    I look at the nude Terran woman flanked by Earth animals, called [owls], that look remarkably like Hulix!

    Her hands are held up, approximately level with her shoulders, and have strange icons either in them or behind them.

    On her head sits a short, conical headdress.

    On her back is a pair of large [owl] wings.

    Her lower legs are, likewise, morphed into a set of raptorial talons that rest upon a pair of [lions].

    I read the description:

    ¡®The Queen of the Night (formerly called the Burney Relief) is a Mesopotamian terracotta high relief, dating between to 1800-1750BTC. Standing at [49.5cm] tall, [37cm] wide and [4.8cm] thick¡­¡±

    Hmmm, it¡¯s much smaller than I was imagining!

    I rather pictured it looming monolithically over me(!) [7] or [8m] tall, at least!

    This thing would scarcely come up to my thigh¡­ The projection of it on the far side of my desk is roughly life sized.

    I keep reading:

    ¡®¡­the Queen of the Night is thought to depict either the Goddess Ishtar, the Goddess Ereshkigal or the Goddess Lilitu¡­¡±

    Lilitu?

    Against my better judgement, I open the link to that Goddess¡¯s article, wary of getting trapped in a Galactopedia thicket!

    What opens is a page not titled ¡®Lilitu¡¯ but, rather, titled ¡®Lilith¡¯ with the first sentence explaining that ¡®Lilitu¡¯ is just a variation on the spelling of her name.

    I return to the previous article, thankful that the Lord of the Underbrush allowed me to escape so quickly from the thicket(!)

    I raise a foot from my study perch and scratch my chin, thoughtfully, as I look at the Terran woman, imagined with distinctly Hulixoid body parts.

    This may well be a depiction of the Goddess that Lilith tells me she was named for.

    I wonder if she knows about it?

    I¡¯m sure she will! It¡¯s her own culture and her own namesake, afterall!

    Still¡­ I might as well mention it to her the next time we¡¯re awake together¡­

    Need to be careful I don¡¯t embarrass her about the statue¡¯s nudeness, though! Terran''s get weird about their nudeness!

    Something makes me happy about the possibility of my friend¡¯s Goddess having an [owl] association¡­ I can¡¯t quite think why¡­

    Here, I realise I¡¯m quite thirsty and hop from my perch to walk to Elysium¡¯s Commonroom for some weak, Terran tea.

    My door opens and I find myself confronted by a pair of forward facing eyes, their sclera black, their irides yellow, their pupils round, [centimetres] from mine and attached to a creature a head taller.

    Instantly, my antipredator instincts activate and I flap my wings forward, forcefully but near silently, to throw myself several metres backward.

    Upon landing, my torso tilts forward, my head tilts up, my wings fan out, more than doubling my apparent size, my beak chatters aggressively and my voice rasps a harsh, guttural warning.

    The stark white skinned woman¡¯s eyes are wide beneath her black horns as she stands in my doorway, uncertainly.

    Through force of will, I control myself, straighten up and say ¡°I sincerely apologise, Lilith¡­ I was just quite startled by seeing you.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s fine¡­ I just¡­ What was that?¡± she asks, seemingly still a bit bewildered.

    ¡°My deimatic display?¡­ It¡¯s a bluffing instinct, meant to ward off predators and other cognizant threats¡­¡±

    ¡°Your cradle has predators that could threaten you?¡± she asks, smiling slightly and tilting her head in a way that her unbroken horn exaggerates.

    ¡°Not anymore¡­ my ancestors took great pains to eradicate them¡­ but the instincts remain.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ you thought I was a predator?¡± she grins, baring two rows of teeth that make my insides do barrel rolls.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think anything¡­ My instincts thought you were a predator, though¡­¡±

    She pouts ¡°Boooring(!)¡± while stabbing downward in front of her with her thumb extended from a balled, left fist.

    Then she looks past me.

    ¡°Hey¡­ is that the Queen of the Night?¡± she smiles, pointing to the image still displaying over my desk, then she turns to me and asks ¡°You creeping on me, dude(?)¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I protest, mortified ¡°I didn¡¯t even know that might be a depiction of Lilith until I read the article!¡­ I was going to tell you about it, what with the interesting [owl] connection!¡±

    I can¡¯t quite decipher the expression she makes at that.

    The translator is flagging mild disappointment but¡­ well, that can¡¯t be right! It¡¯s not as if she might have wanted me to be ¡®creeping on her¡¯, is it!

    I compose myself and, dignified, ask ¡°Lilith¡­ I was just about to go and make myself some tea¡­ would you like to join me?¡±

    ---later---

    The Terran woman sits on an empty patch of the bed which I use as a junk table, having a perch to sleep on.

    My collection of artifacts too fragile to be set on the soft bed stands on shelves and sides around my room, looking down on the pair of us with our hot beverages in our respective manipulators (hers in her hand, mine in my wingclaws).

    ¡°So¡­ how have you been feeling since the funeral, Lilith?¡±

    The general mood among the Terrans has been¡­ not exactly dour¡­ but a lot more restrained in the month since we received the news about their Representative¡¯s murder than it was prior.

    The slender woman makes some kind of gesture and says ¡°Oh¡­ you know¡­ better, I guess¡­¡± then takes a sip of her undiluted tea.

    ¡°You are?¡±

    She pauses for a long time before answering ¡°Well¡­ not really, no¡­ I just woke up with sleep paralysis so, obviously, however I¡¯m feeling consciously, I must just be pushing the stress down for my subconscious to deal with(!)¡± with a resigned smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ you woke up with what¡­?¡± I ask, swiveling my head 90¡ã down and right, curiously.

    ¡°Sleep paralysis?¡­ Shit. Do you not know what that is?¡± she answers, smiling at my tilted head.

    ¡°The word ¡®sleep¡¯ is translating perfectly well¡­ The translation of the word [paralysis] is quite alarming¡­ but you don¡¯t appear to suffer from it¡­ Is there something about the colocation of those words which changes their meaning?¡±

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ kinda¡­ So, first, it¡¯s temporary¡­ Usually lasts¡­ maybe 30 seconds to a minute? For me at least¡­¡± she says, taking a gulp of her strong, hot beverage.

    ¡°And¡­ that¡¯s [30 seconds] to a [minute] where you can¡¯t move?¡±

    She bobs her horned head up and down.

    ¡°But¡­ isn¡¯t it normal to not move when you¡¯re asleep?¡±

    ¡°No, no¡­ you wake up and can¡¯t move¡­ Well, most of you wakes up¡­ Your body still thinks you¡¯re asleep and, even though you¡¯re conscious, your mind can still show you dreams¡­ or, more accurately, nightmares¡­¡±

    ¡°You have to consciously endure your psyche torturing you while unable to move?¡± I ask, aghast.

    ¡°Yuh-huh¡­ Often, I just have the certainty that there¡¯s someone or something hiding in the room with me and they have bad intentions¡­ sometimes I hear things¡­ occasionally, I see things¡­¡±

    ¡°And¡­ this happens to all Terrans?¡±

    She grins and wags her face from side to side ¡°Nah¡­ I¡¯m just lucky, I guess(!) About 7% of Humans will have it at least once in their lives¡­ Don¡¯t know exactly how many of those get it as much as I do¡­¡±

    ¡°How often does it happen to you?¡± I ask, concerned.

    ¡°Oh¡­ not super often¡­ but it¡¯s not predictable¡­ Like, I might go a year or more without one, then have three inside of a month¡­¡± she shrugs her shoulders ¡°¡­stress and disturbed sleep patterns definitely make it more likely. So does sleeping on my back¡­ actually don¡¯t think it¡¯s ever happened to me when I wasn¡¯t on my back.¡±

    ¡°Why do you sleep on your back, then?¡± I query.

    ¡°Usually I don¡¯t¡­ sometimes it¡¯s just the most comfy position and it¡¯s been long enough since my last one that I¡¯m not thinking about it. I guess I might end up on my back by tossing in my sleep, too¡­¡± she says, casually.

    ¡°What¡­ urm¡­ what kinds of thing do you see?¡± I ask, swivelling my head left.

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ sometimes it¡¯s just something indistinct in the shadows¡­ sometimes it¡¯s more concrete and clearly defined¡­ dead looking people standing there staring at me, monstrous creatures¡­ sometimes it¡¯s things like the lights turning on and off or my room warping its shape¡­¡± she says, as if discussing the weather.

    ¡°Did you¡­ see anything this time?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t answer right away, instead frowning and gulping down the last of her fully concentrated tea.

    She stands and places the empty cup down on a nearby surface.

    ¡°Actually¡­ I did¡­¡± she says, looking down and not meeting my eye.

    ¡°Really?¡± I ask, placing my own weak tea down on the desk behind me ¡°What did you see?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ actually¡­ saw you¡­¡± she says with a joyless smile and a puff of air.

    Mortified, I protest ¡°I¡¯ve been here, the whole night! I couldn¡¯t have¡­!¡±

    ¡°Relax, dude! It was just a hallucination!¡± she interrupts, her tone reassuring ¡°Even if I didn¡¯t know I hallucinated, the you I saw was nothing like you!¡±

    Confused, I ask ¡°If¡­ If it was nothing like me, Lilith¡­ what makes you say it was me?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ he was, like¡­ clearly based on a Hulix¡­ owllike head and wings, feathers etc., and you¡¯re the only Hulix I know¡­ but, it was more like my brain just sort of¡­ labelled him as you, you know? Like, my ¡®Strik pathway¡¯ was activated(!)¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I lie ¡°¡­so how was this Strik unlike me?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well¡­ first¡­ he was big! It¡¯s like a little less than 5m to the ceilings, right?¡± she asks, looking up to appraise ¡°And his head was, like, 50cm from it, with him standing straight up¡­ so what I was seeing was maybe around 4.5m-ish tall¡­ but he felt taller¡­ like¡­ way taller!¡±

    As she describes the phantasmic version of me, she begins walking forward.

    ¡°He was made of, like, this¡­ black smoke¡­ like, his body didn¡¯t have any clear boundary between it and the air but I could tell there was some solidity in the cloud¡­¡±

    My internal organs feel as if they¡¯re swirling worse than they do in high manoeuvre flight as I picture the apparition.

    Lilith is still walking toward me, her one and a half horns bobbing as she explains the monster with, I would say, an inappropriate level of enthusiasm!

    ¡°¡­His eyes were like red searchlights and he had none of your kindness, none of your intelligence, none of your warmth¡­¡±

    I feel my body tense, autonomically, with an acute stress reaction to her words as she draws to less than a [metre] from my perch.

    ¡°¡­instead, you could just feel this burning malice, radiating out from him and-Gaaaah!¡±

    My left foot shoots out, entirely against my will, enclosing the Terran woman¡¯s head in its (thankfully blunted) talons.

    At the same time, both of my legs straighten and leverage themselves to push her over backwards, also without consulting me on that decision.

    I¡¯m dragged off of my perch and land on top of Lilith as she hits my floor with a resounding *boom*!

    ---Lilith¡¯s perspective---

    I feel the surprising strength behind the talons wrapped around my head as I lie on my back, speechless, panting for breath and with my insides feeling like I¡¯m on a rollercoaster!

    Sure, I think I could probably pull the digits off of me (if this is as tight as he can grip) but I¡¯d need to use both hands to do it!

    Strik is standing his entire weight on me and it feels like about 10kg for the foot enclosing my head, with its foretalon curled around the base of my broken right horn, and about the same for the one on my stomach!

    How is he so strong!?

    He looks about as shocked by the fact that he just, straight up, tackled me to the ground and pinned me as I am!

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m so sorry! I¡­!¡± he stammers, slackening his grip and beginning to pull his foot off of my head.

    My hands shoot up to grasp the outside of his talons, holding them against my skull.

    The strength he had clenching his toes is absolutely not present extending them and I¡¯m able to hold his foot in place easily!

    His owl head spins back to me like it¡¯s on an axel.

    Confused and alarmed, he asks ¡°Whuh¡­ what are you doing?!¡±

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ I seem to be holding your foot¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I attacked you! I didn¡¯t mean to, I didn¡¯t want to, I didn¡¯t decide to! Please let go of my foot!¡± he panics.

    I release him and he steps back a few paces.

    ¡°That¡­ I wasn¡¯t¡­ It was nice¡­¡± I say, sheepishly, up at him from the floor.

    ¡°What was? Me attacking you?!¡± he shrieks, disbelieving.

    ¡°I¡­ You¡¯re strong¡­ It¡­ felt good to have you pinning me down like that¡­¡±

    ¡°If I didn¡¯t file the points off of my talons I could have really injured you! Are you seriously telling me you enjoyed that?!¡±

    I know he won¡¯t see it through the thick, modded, white pigment in my skin but I feel the heat of a heavy blush as I nod.

    ¡°I¡­ Strik¡­ I like you¡­¡± I admit, realising the truth of the words as I say them.

    ---Pluto¡¯s perspective---

    Lilith hurries back into our room and to my big bed, which she sleeps on and calls ¡®her¡¯ bed.

    Lazily, I look up from my little bed and ask ¡°Mating birdman?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡± she says truthfully, at the same time as her scent reaches my nose, confirming it.

    ¡°Mating birdman, now?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡± she lies.

    ¡°Lying.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d you know that?¡± she asks, distractedly rummaging through all the junk she keeps under my big bed.

    ¡°Looking mating box.¡± I observe.

    She stops rummaging to stare directly at me for a few moments before saying ¡°I really hate how smart you are, buddy(!)¡± as she shows me her teeth.

    ¡°There being.¡± I say, looking toward my tall sleeping box where she hangs her covers.

    She gets up and goes to where I indicated.

    She opens the doors and pushes aside the hanging things she puts on her body to cover her furlessness.

    She finds what she was searching for and turns to me to say ¡°Thanks!¡±

    ¡°Good luck mating.¡± I wish her from my little bed as she disappears back through the doors.

    People really don¡¯t relax, do they(!)

    ---Strik¡¯s perspective---

    I finished clearing the stacks of stuff from my bed, dimmed the lights to substantially less than a quarter of a Terran¡¯s typical preference (though much closer to mine) and took position on a perch by the window just in time.

    The door slides open and I extend my wings slightly, to increase the apparent bulk of the silhouette I cast against the stars outside.

    Lilith carries the box she told me she went to fetch.

    When she explained to me her¡­ shall we call them ¡®preferences¡¯ I have to say I was alarmed and not a little confused!

    What she seemed to describe arousing her seemed, to me, to be exactly the tyranny that is her main complaint about her religion¡¯s evil creator deity!

    She explained that fantasy and reality are, to her, two realms that do not intersect.

    She is capable of recognising tyranny and oppression as real world evils while still finding the fantasy of being possessed and [dominated] by her lover to be thrilling.

    I¡­ must confess myself to have been intrigued¡­

    And, here I am¡­ my heart racing as I perform my part in her little play(!)

    ¡°Lock the door.¡± I order, doing my best to keep my voice calm, cool and deep.

    She puts down the box and turns to the door panel, locking it and putting up the privacy field as well.

    She turns back to face me, smiling and noticeably breathing more rapidly than usual.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you undress?¡± I suggest, doing an admirable job of keeping my voice from cracking from the thrill of the final word.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ Why don¡¯t I(?)¡± she defies, smiling.

    She did warn me she might want to do that if I wasn¡¯t assertive enough.

    Thankfully, she also told me how she would want me to respond.

    I lift my right foot from the perch that¡¯s giving me the height to look down on her, and present it past the primary feathers of my right wing, facing ceilingward, to cut a silhouette against the starfield behind me, as I say ¡°Do not mistake me, girl! Though I may have phrased it such, that was not a suggestion¡­ Take. off. your. clothes!¡±

    Her black and yellow eyes flash with excitement as she seems to visibly shrink.

    Without further defiance, she reaches to her clavicle and begins unfastening her top, down the front.

    I¡¯m quite pleased with the way I managed to correct, there!

    Her stark white skin shines like a beacon in the dimly lit room as she bares her upper half.

    Her figure is, interestingly, much slenderer than that depicted in the Queen of the Night relief.

    Though, her [breasts] are just as large and round!

    She explained to me, a while ago, that her epithet, ¡®Unicorn¡¯, has a double meaning, relating to her chest:

    One of the meanings is the obvious anecdote of her breaking one of her modded, black horns, as soon as she got them because she forgot they were there, leaving her only one still in tact until she could save enough for a repair session, by which time she had grown into the aesthetic and opted to keep them the way they were.

    The other meaning is that, apparently, one of her university dormmates commented that finding a ¡®big titty goth gf¡¯, in this day and age, was like finding a unicorn¡­ That is, it¡¯s rare!

    By rights, I oughtn¡¯t to find her [titties] attractive¡­ My species aren¡¯t mammals, afterall!

    Somehow, though¡­ they are very appealing!

    Maybe my sex drive is mistaking them for powerful pectoral muscles? Good for flying?

    The fact that she lacks wings should give away that she can¡¯t fly, even to the most primitive parts of my brain, but¡­ well¡­ attraction isn¡¯t rational!

    Her lowers hit the floor and she steps out of them, the white pigment of her skin making her positively glow in the starlight and dim room light.

    I swish a wing, silently and dramatically, through the air to point to her feet, not with my wingclaws but with my leading flight feather.

    ¡°Open the box, girl¡­ Show me what you have brought into my abode¡­¡± I command, doing my best to sound imperious.

    No defiance comes as she bends down to remove the lid from the container.

    Her slender, elegant, pale hand dives down and pulls back with a hinged circle of metal, a little more than [30cm] in circumference.

    ¡°What is it, girl?¡± I ask, coolly, trying to sound like I already know but want to hear her say, rather than having no clue!

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a collar, Sir¡­ they¡¯re worn by pets¡­ and slaves¡­ This one locks¡­¡± she explains, her high, course voice quivering as she does.

    ¡°How very fitting¡­ put it on.¡± I instruct.

    She hesitates a moment, looking like she wants to protest, but then opens the circlet and closes it around her neck with a loud *click* of it latching shut.

    ¡°Good girl!¡­ Now, what else is in the box?¡± I ask, gesturing with my silhouetted talons.

    She reaches down and pulls some more metal circles, smaller, thicker and lined with some sort of fabric. These ones have metal chains hanging off of them.

    ¡°Manacles, Sir¡­ worn on the wrists and ankles of prisoners and slaves¡­ they¡¯re meant to either attach limbs together or to something that won¡¯t move, to keep them where they are¡­¡± she explains without me needing to ask.

    ¡°How many sets of [manacles] are there, girl?¡±

    ¡°Four, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ what say you attach one set to each wrist and one set to each ankle?¡±

    The defiance returns as she answers ¡°Why don¡¯t you make me!¡±

    I shrug my wings and answer ¡°That can be arranged¡­ if your compliance is not forthcoming.¡±

    I think I managed my tone to be perfectly nonchalant and aloof there!

    I can see her calculating whether she wants to comply or make me make her comply.

    Fortunately for my wavering selfassurance, she picks up one of the sets of [manacles] and claps one of the cuffs to her wrist.

    I did not have confidence in my ability to fulfil the bluff I just made and, I think, her realisation of the same is likely why she chose not to push the issue¡­ The illusion of my power over her is maintained!

    My insides swoop as I watch the beautiful deathworlder attach one of the chain sets to each of her limbs.

    They fit her perfectly, as I¡¯m certain she made sure they would when she printed them.

    ¡°Is there anything else in that little box of yours that you would like to show me, girl?¡±

    Wordlessly, she bends down and retrieves a small belt with a large red ball in the middle.

    ¡°A ballgag, Sir¡­ worn by anyone you don¡¯t wish to allow the opportunity to speak, spit or bite¡­¡± she explains, visibly restraining the urge to equip it immediately.

    I decide to tease her.

    ¡°I see¡­ Do you think you can promise to be a good enough little pet for me that I don¡¯t need to make you wear that?¡±

    Looking slightly annoyed, she answers ¡°No, Sir¡­ I can¡¯t promise that.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ come now! Surely, I can trust you to not try to bite me, spit at me or defy me without needing to be [ballgagged]!¡± I tease further.

    ¡°You can¡¯t.¡± she insists with a flat tone that tells me to get on with it and just order her to put it on all ready(!)

    I shrug my wings and say ¡°Oh well(!) Put it on then¡­¡±

    Trying not to appear too desperate, she opens her mouth, places the rubber ball between her teeth and bites down to hold it in place, bringing the straps to the back of her head and fastening them there, the chains jingling at her wrists as she does.

    I gesture to the cleared bed and say ¡°Now that you are properly¡­ prepared for me, why don¡¯t you get onto the bed?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Get. onto. the. bed. girl¡­¡± I rephrase, affecting anger.

    She cowers slightly and does as I instructed, climbing onto the soft surface that I¡¯m now very glad I didn¡¯t insist be removed to create space in my room!

    ¡°Good girl¡­ Now, [shackle] your ankles to the footboard¡­¡± I instruct, hoping I didn¡¯t misuse or mispronounce the Terran word I learned by reading it.

    She sits up and leans forward, demonstrating remarkable flexibility as she brings one of the cuffs to the vertical post at the lower left corner of the bed and locks it there, between the horizontal bars, then splays her legs and extends her hands past the bottom of her fully extended foot to reach the post on the other side.

    ¡°Well done¡­¡± I praise ¡°¡­Now, are you able to reach the headboard to secure your hands?¡±

    She tries¡­ but to no avail.

    It¡¯s just too far.

    ¡°No matter¡­ I shall remedy that for you, shall I?¡±

    ---Lilith¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s so dark in this room that I basically had to chain myself up by feel alone!

    The overhead lights are bright enough that I can see they¡¯re there but seem to be projecting no light to see anything but vague shapes (helped by the starlight from outside).

    Actually, that¡¯s not true¡­ There¡¯s something else they¡¯re showing me¡­ Over by the window, in a menacing looking silhouette, they show me the shimmering tapeta lucida at the back of the Hulix¡¯s eyes.

    Not quite the burning, lucent spotlights he had as my sleep paralysis Demon but, still, they glisten like they¡¯re reflecting some proportion more than 100% of the light that¡¯s falling on them, in that way that nocturnal animals¡¯ eyes always do in halflight.

    The amusing thought suddenly occurs to me that I¡¯m in the middle of voluntarily recreating the awful bout of sleep paralysis I had earlier; unable to move with a powerful owl man looming over me(!)

    ¡°¡­I shall remedy that for you, shall I?¡± he asks, his voice dripping with a delicious amount of cold distain! Like he thinks I¡¯m an insect, only worthy of his time at all because I mildly amuse him!

    He spreads his wings, completely shocking me with just how wide they are!

    Each one is significantly longer than he is tall!

    His suddenly very imposing silhouette makes my heart pound!

    A single, silent, downward flap gives him all the height he needs to swoop the distance to me.

    He lands on the bed, his weight enough to depress the mattress, and walks toward the headboard.

    A thick towed, dinosaur foot snatches the chain attached to my right arm and stretches it out to it¡¯s maximum extent before locking the other end to the headboard.

    He gracefully hops over my ? spreadeagle body and grabs the chain attached to my dominant, left arm.

    ¡°Mmmmmmph¡­¡± I moan in protest, weakly, through my gag, as my last limb is stretched out to its maximum extent and shackled in place.

    A clawed foot is planted, long toes splayed, at the left of my torso as the other is lifted, toes flexed, and dangled above my naval.

    The lethal looking talons glide through the air, slowly and silently, between my breasts to my throat.

    I see the bronze, iridescent flash as his alien claws seize my lower jaw and enclose the sides of my head.

    A sharp, curved, predatory, bronze beak looms down from the darkness beneath two, enormous, forward facing eyes with irides almost the exact same shade of yellow that I chose to have mine modded to, inches above mine.

    There is something decidedly otherworldly about the quantity of shimmering reflection I can see in his pupils!

    ¡°There now¡­¡± he says, turning my head this way and that with his strong talon, examining me ¡°¡­unable to move¡­ like your mind and body both know you ought to be¡­ Sleep [paralysis]? Sounds like you know, on some level, that you¡¯re meant to be a toy¡­ a plaything for one superior to you, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    I. did. not feed him that line!

    He, fucking, ad libbed that!

    Dude¡¯s a natural!

    He was so uncertain, when I explained the premise, that I was sure there¡¯d be a learning curve on his path to Domhood!

    Seems like, every bit as much as I¡¯m meant to be a sub, he¡¯s born to be a Dom!

    I never would have expected it!

    I suppose¡­ it is often a surprise¡­ the number of soft spoken library chicks who like to put on leathers and wield a whip, the number of cringeworthy ¡®alpha¡¯ bros who it turns out like to get stepped on(!)

    The man, who currently has me at his mercy, opens his beak and brings its sharp tip to rest, ever so lightly, against my face.

    I quiver, puffing passed my gag.

    He pulls back, giving a hooting chuckle.

    He takes his claws from my head and brings them to my right tit.

    He closes them, tightly enough that I can feel their strength without them hurting me, and begins to knead.

    I moan as he amuses himself with my flesh.

    Some minutes pass this way before he takes his foot from my chest, moving it towards my crotch.

    ¡°Let¡¯s try out how ready you are, shall we?¡±

    A thick hallux (girthier than the fattest cock I¡¯ve ever had) is slowly pushed into my absolutely drenched pussy.

    I¡¯m very grateful that he does such a good job of pedicuring the naturally sharp edges and points off his claws because, if he didn¡¯t, I would be in a lot of pain right now!

    He spreads out the three forward facing toes across my stomach and digs the blunt claws into my flesh.

    A smirk in his voice, he says ¡°Seems like you¡¯re quite ready for your intended use(!)¡­Shall I begin?¡±

    Not waiting for an answer (not that I could give a coherent one with my mouth gagged) he pulls his hallux halfway out of me¡­ then plunges it fully in!

    My eyes roll back in my head and I pant and moan as he proceeds with his unconventional method of giving me pleasure!

    He presses his foot into me, using both his weight and wing power for maximum effect!

    I¡¯m 90% of the way there, when suddenly, his face is right above mine again, his expression intense as he reaches up to take one of my horns in each of his wing hands and says ¡°You¡¯re mine¡­ You¡¯re mine to [dominate]!¡­ Mine to possess!¡­ MINE to do with as I will!¡­ You understand?¡±

    Before he gives me the most intense orgasm of my life, I manage to nod my head.

    ---Strik¡¯s perspective---

    A pair of heavy hands rest at the back of my neck as I lie atop the (now un[shackled]) woman, on the bed, in a mildly unnatural and uncomfortable (but so worth it) posture for me.

    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me!¡± she smiles.

    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    ¡°Never?!¡± she demands, aghast.

    ¡°Never ever.¡±

    ¡°How can you never have tried pancakes!? They¡¯re the best!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ my diet is mostly carnivorous¡­ I think that much pure carbohydrate may make me ill!¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow! We¡¯re figuring out exactly how to make pancakes you can eat!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Let¡¯s!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.105

    ---Signs---

    ---Kenver¡¯s perspective---

    ---2664 Terran Calendar/49 years BF---

    I step off the capsule and into the driving rain of Nowydh Kernow.

    My home island is Nova Britannia¡¯s 38th largest¡­ which is to say, it¡¯s the middle of bumfuck nowhere(!)

    Above me are oppressive storm clouds that completely block out Belenus¡¯ light, making it seem like nighttime, even though it¡¯s actually early evening and sunset isn¡¯t for another few hours.

    To my right are sheer cliffs, looming above me and covered in dark grey, Britannian vegetation.

    To my left is a 30 metre drop, being battered so hard by waves that salty spray is hitting my face.

    Ahead of me is Blustri¡¯s Coast Guard Station¡­ my workplace.

    I step through the doors and out of the torrent.

    ¡°Evening, Morwen¡­¡± I say to my colleague, sat at the front desk, as I approach ¡°¡­anything happen I should know about?¡±

    ¡°Actually, Chief, yes¡­ Some fish farmers came in with a boy, about 7 or 8. They say they pulled him out of the water about 20km off shore.¡±

    ¡°Alive?¡± I question, instantly dropping the casual tone.

    She nods and I allow a tiny sigh of relief to escape from me.

    ¡°Do we know how long he was out there? If there¡¯s anyone else we need to be searching for?¡±

    Her lips purse and she shakes her head ¡°We don¡¯t know anything except what the ones who brought him told us¡­ He hasn¡¯t said a word since he came in! We tried speaking to him in Cornish, English, Welsh and a dozen other languages, but he won¡¯t say a thing to any of us! He just shivers and stims with his hands¡­¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ You¡¯ve checked him against missing persons?¡±

    ¡°Of course. No match¡­ Checked to see if any companies had reported an unreturned boat rental too¡­ Nothing that looked likely.¡±

    ¡°That could mean a few different things.¡±

    ¡°I know. Not much help.¡± says the girl, dejectedly.

    ¡°Where is he now?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Room 5.¡±

    I nod ¡°Would you come with me and witness, Morwen?¡±

    ¡°Of course, Chief, if you¡¯re happy for me to leave the desk unmanned?¡± she asks, gesturing to her station.

    ¡°If someone comes in, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll have little problem attracting attention.¡± I state, walking off and indicating her to follow.

    She falls in behind me as I walk through the station halls.

    We reach the door to Interview Room 5 and step through.

    This isn¡¯t a police station.

    This isn¡¯t an interrogation room.

    This room isn¡¯t an austere, stark, bare, featureless space designed to make suspects uncomfortable.

    There is no observation mirror.

    This is a room meant for talking to survivors of accidents at sea. It¡¯s designed to be as cozy and comfortable as possible.

    Wood panelling lines the walls and, by a window (facing the cliffs, not the sea, for obvious reasons), is a plush couch with a table in front of it and two armchairs on the other side.

    On the table is an empty soup bowl which I make a note to take with me when I leave.

    On the couch is a small child, his skin pale, his eyes and hair both an unusually vibrant shade of brown, his hair still slightly damp.

    His dry clothes still have the creases of ones that have only just been put on, after spending a long time folded, and fit him poorly enough to make obvious that they weren¡¯t tailored for him.

    He must have been given these to change into when he got here.

    He has a blanket draped over him and, in his hands, clutches a mug of hot chocolate which he puts down as I enter.

    ¡°Hello again¡­¡± smiles Morwen, sympathetically, switching from Cornish to English despite not knowing if he actually knows it ¡°¡­this is Chief Angove¡­ He¡¯d like to speak to you if that¡¯s alright?¡±

    The boy looks straight at her face as she talks but I can tell he isn¡¯t making eyecontact.

    I¡¯d guess he must have some kind of neurological condition if that, the muteness and the stimming are anything to go by?

    He gives the tiniest of nods.

    Maybe that means he can understand English?

    Could also just mean he could tell he was being asked a question and didn¡¯t know what else to do?

    ¡°Hi there, son¡­ It¡¯s nice to meet you, even if I wish it could be under better circumstances¡­¡± I say to the boy, who fixes his eyes firmly below mine as soon as I start speaking ¡°¡­you can call me Ken if you like.¡±

    No answer but a little stim of his trembling hands.

    I take the far armchair by the window and Morwen takes the other.

    ¡°Do you need anything, son?¡­ Are you comfortable?¡±

    The mute boy doesn¡¯t answer except with a pained expression and another little stim.

    I sigh.

    I¡¯ve seen that look before¡­ it¡¯s the look you see on everyone who¡¯s recently learned a traumatic, first hand lesson on just how dangerous and hostile the sea is when you¡¯re not clad in several layers of 27th Century technology¡­

    Looking at those faces is definitely one of the hardest parts of the job.

    By comparison, search and rescue isn¡¯t so bad!

    At least I¡¯m doing things then¡­ Don¡¯t have time to second guess myself!

    ¡°I¡­ know it¡¯s hard, son¡­ I¡¯m really sorry to have to push you but¡­ the thing is¡­ we don¡¯t know who you are¡­ We don¡¯t know who to get in touch with to come and get you¡­ We need to know if there¡¯s anyone else out there we have to be looking for¡­ If you won¡¯t talk to us, we can¡¯t know these things.¡±

    He bares his teeth in a dismal grimace.

    His hands begin to stim again, much more protractedly than before.

    I frown as I watch them move.

    Then it hits me.

    ¡°He¡¯s signing¡­¡± I realise.

    ¡°What?¡± asks Morwen.

    ¡°Look at his hands¡­ He¡¯s using sign language! He¡¯s reading our lips and signing responses!¡±

    The boy¡¯s eyebrows fly up his forehead as he nods vigorously.

    ¡°Oh my god! You¡¯re right!¡­ How did I not notice that!?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t beat yourself up. He must have been trembling so badly before that it would¡¯ve been difficult to distinguish from a stim¡­ Go and see if anyone in the building knows it. If there¡¯s no one, look up an interpreter we can call!¡±

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ---Miraala¡¯s perspective---

    ---[2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF]---

    ¡°No.¡± says the brown eyed Terran, sat in the Commonroom of Portside Dorm, Deck 2 (yet to receive a Terran designation, like the other three ODR occupied dorms have).

    ¡°Never?¡± smiles the female ambassador.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I have ever been personally thanked for my service in the War¡­ And why would I have been? I was pulled out of Initial Training after less than 2 months and never fought in a single glorious battle¡­ I was only a logistics executive. I was only in charge of making sure soldiers had armour on their bodies, guns in their hands, munitions in those guns, food in their bellies, fuel in their vehicles and medicine when they fell ill or injured, wherever they happened to be fighting, across the front¡­ just silly things like that(!)¡±

    ¡°Not that you¡¯d want to let anyone think you were at all bitter about it(!)¡± quips the genderless Terran with the golden hair from beside the Vk¡¯unhz woman, whose many legged tail is draped over the back of the sofa she sits on.

    ¡°Shush, Tha?s!¡± smiles the ambassador, the quality of her speech translated as kind and motherly, despite how much older the one she addresses is than her.

    She turns back to the handsome, brown eyed man.

    ¡°Albert ¡®Theseus¡¯ Hardwick¡­ as a friend, I would like to personally thank you for your invaluable Wartime service. You and people like you brought the War to its end every bit as much as the soldiers on battlefields, the medics in hospitals and the diplomats in meeting rooms.¡±

    A smile breaks over the man¡¯s face without touching his eyes, as he responds ¡°Thank you, Lhamo¡­ I appreciate it¡­¡±

    ¡°Very touching¡­¡± grins Tha?s, standing up from their seat on the couch ¡°¡­but, I am also very tired. I¡¯ll have to bid all of you ¡®bonne nuit¡¯, for tonight¡­¡±

    ¡°I think that goes for me as well¡­¡± smiles Lhamo ¡°¡­I think Ngo will be asleep already if I leave it much longer and it¡¯s so difficult not to wake him up!¡± says Lhamo.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ uh¡­ I¡¯m sleepy too¡­¡± rattles Sknz¡¯h, the Vk¡¯unhz, whose clash of terrifyingly monstrous appearance and cute, nervous personality I¡¯m still not used to, after [5 weeks] of sharing a dorm.

    I look to the handsome, brown eyed man to see if he¡¯ll follow suit but he simply raises his, still half full, glass with one hand and swivels his other downward, palm open and facing his chest, saying ¡°Good night.¡±

    The gesture isn¡¯t flagged as having any meaning.

    I suppose it could be a gesture meaning ¡®good night¡¯ but I¡¯ve not seen any of the other Terrans on the ship using it for that purpose¡­

    The other three depart, leaving me with the man with the sad brown eyes.

    I think this might be the first time we¡¯ve been alone together.

    He puts down his drink and turns to me, his expression flagged as querying.

    ¡°You¡¯re not tired?¡± comes a translated question.

    I didn¡¯t hear any sound, nor see his mouth move.

    Confused, I ask ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not tired?¡± comes the same noiseless question.

    I realise that he¡¯s speaking to me with his hands!¡­ Like an Osiyul!

    ¡°I¡­ erm¡­ I don¡¯t really¡­ sleep like that¡­ I¡¯m sorry, what is that?¡± I sign, gesturing to his hands held in front of his chest.

    ¡°It¡¯s Terran sign language¡­ Do you mind me using it?¡± he signs.

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ don¡¯t mind at all but¡­ I can¡¯t understand it any better than your sound language.¡±

    Terran sign language is nothing like Osiyul!

    Where my language is flowing, fluid and involves very little contact between the hands and any other part of the body, his signs are jerky, angular and seem to involve a lot of his hands impacting eachother, his arms, his shoulders and his chest.

    He smiles in a way that almost touches his eyes ¡°Haven¡¯t really had many opportunities to use it for a long time¡­ I know it doesn¡¯t negate the need for translators but¡­ it¡¯s just nice to be able to talk this way, again.¡±

    Honestly, the incomprehensible signs are a nice change of pace from the constant bombardment of sound I must endure to have a conversation with most airbreathers!

    ¡°Why¡­ why do Terrans have a sign language?¡­ Does one of your subspecies lack vocal chords or¡­?¡±

    His chest bounces, conveying a mirthful quality to his words as he answers ¡°Almost all of us have vocal chords¡­ Some of us are not able to hear, though¡­ TSL is for us.¡±

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t hear?¡± I query.

    He shakes his head ¡°Not until I was about 10 or so and could have gene therapy to repair it, no¡­ Took me a long time and a lot of speech therapy afterward to learn how to speak properly but, now, I believe I speak well enough that most people wouldn¡¯t be able to tell.¡±

    ¡°Why can some Terrans not hear?¡± hearing is a sense I would be horrified at the prospect of being deprived of¡­ and my language isn¡¯t a sound based one!

    He wobbles his head, puffs his lips and looks up and to the side, layering a considering tone to his signs ¡°There are a few different potential causes¡­ In my case, I was just born that way¡­¡±

    I don¡¯t respond for a few moments.

    He laughs, audibly, as he says ¡°You look like you¡¯re watching me drown a basket of kittens, right now!¡±

    I frown and answer ¡°Sorry! I just¡­ the thought of enough of you ¡®just being born that way¡¯ that you needed to come up with an entire language that doesn¡¯t rely on hearing is quite horrible to me!¡±

    He raises an eyebrow and answers ¡°Your pity, though I appreciate that it comes from an empathetic place, is quite unnecessary¡­¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°You¡¯ve done nothing to apologise for.¡±

    I study his face for a few moments before completely changing the subject ¡°Albert¡­ may I ask you a question?¡±

    ¡°Certainly you may.¡± he signs back.

    ¡°Why is it that you always look so unhappy when you talk about economics?¡­ You¡¯re supposedly the best economist the ODR could get, right? I know that being good at something doesn¡¯t necessarily mean you like it but¡­ how did you get so good when it makes you so unhappy?¡±

    His mouth twists, his brow furrows and he shakes his head before he answers ¡°Economics doesn¡¯t make me unhappy¡­ quite the opposite¡­ Ever since I was a child, I¡¯ve thought it was simply the most fantastic and beautiful way of understanding our reality that there is!¡­ Everything, from the interactions between subatomic particles, through the workings of cells, organisms, societies, right up to things on the scale of entire universes¡­ all of them, in my view, can be understood as different kinds of economies¡­ To understand economics is, to me, to understand reality itself¡­¡±

    The way he just spoke and the look on his face leave me with no doubt that he means every word¡­ but ¡°Why do you always make this face every time it comes up, then?¡± I ask, imitating the bored, irritated expression he¡¯s had every other time I¡¯ve seen him talk about it.

    Another chuckle escapes him, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d heard him laugh before this conversation¡­

    ¡°That would be because I, long ago, came to terms with the fact that I am likely the only person, in all of existence, who sees things that way. Everyone else hears ¡®economics¡¯ and immediately thinks of all the worst outcomes that ever came of bad economic systems¡­ feudalism, slavery, mercantilism, capitalism, social Darwinism, class segregation, kleptocratic consumerist corporatocracy¡­ Horrifically bad and harmful practices, borne of shoddy misunderstandings of the underlying principles and individuals¡¯ own motivated reasoning as to why economics excuses them of any moral responsibility for their actions¡­ People who, when it¡¯s pointed out to them how much their lies and corruption have actively damaged their planet¡¯s ecology, their fellow sapients¡¯ quality of life and the structural integrity of their society, throw up their hands and abdicate accountability with the phrase ¡®It¡¯s just business¡¯¡­ i.e. ¡®It made me money and that¡¯s all that matters.¡¯¡­ I guess that¡¯s why I look sad or irritated whenever I talk about it; I¡¯m bracing myself for someone getting in my face and accusing me of wanting to revoke protections against homelessness, wanting to privatise medicine, water, public transport, wanting to make people hungry even when there¡¯s food to go around, wanting to send poor people off to die in rich peoples¡¯ wars, wanting to enrich myself and my friends at everyone else¡¯s expense¡­ It¡¯s exhausting¡­ having everyone think that you¡¯re some kind of Machiavellian schemer¡­ having everyone hear one word about you and assume they know everything about who you are and what you want¡­ I suppose?¡±

    I¡¯m still running over the translated explanations of all the untranslated words and expressions he signed for a while after his hands stop moving.

    Eventually, I answer ¡°Wow¡­ err¡­ I can see how that would be frustrating to deal with¡­ I¡¯m not sure I would react to it the way you do, though¡­¡±

    He frowns, curiously ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I mean¡­ I¡¯ve never seen you be accused of any of those things¡­ not that I¡¯m doubting it¡¯s happened but¡­ it sort of feels like you¡¯re letting your anticipation of it disproportionately reduce your enjoyment of the field you¡¯re clearly very passionate about!¡­ I think I¡¯d try to enjoy the times I¡¯m not being accused of wanting to steal people¡¯s money, food, home or water more and deal with those people when they challenge you¡­¡±

    He places his hand at his chin in a gesture with no explicit verbal translation but which is flagged as generally thoughtful.

    ¡°I¡­ I mean you definitely have a point there¡­ I¡¯ll have to give it some thought¡­¡± he answers ¡°¡­ but that¡¯s quite enough about me and my discipline for now¡­ Tell me about oceanography¡­ what got you into that? Aside from the obvious I mean(!)¡± he says, gesturing up and down my aquatic form, including my tail currently concealed in my hoverchair.

    ¡°Well¡­ I had¡­ an experience on a reef on my homeworld as a child¡­ it¡¯s a¡­ it would be a bit difficult to put into words¡­¡±

    He nods, attentively and sincerely.

    ¡°I¡­ could show you the reef¡­ if you wanted to get a respirator and come to my room, I could project it on the¡­¡±

    Every aspect of his body recoils before I¡¯ve even finished making the offer as he frantically signs in the negative ¡°No, no, no!¡­ That¡¯s really alright!¡­ I trust you that it was lifechanging!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± I sign, crestfallen ¡°¡­OK then¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± he reassures ¡°¡­it¡¯s¡­ not you!¡­ I just¡­ had a bad experience with water¡­ a long time ago¡­ I¡¯d be quite likely to have a panic attack in the airlock.¡±

    ¡°You had a bad experience¡­ with water?¡± don¡¯t Terrans need water to live?!

    ¡°I¡¯m sure that sounds strange to you¡­ the same way you telling me you¡¯d had a bad experience with air would sound to me¡­ but I¡¯d really prefer not to go into it, if possible.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine¡­ of course.¡± I state, studying the man, curiously.

    He smiles ¡°It¡¯s actually why I look like this¡­¡± he gestures to his face, older looking than most Terrans allow themselves to get ¡°¡­about fifteen years ago I had my first and, to date, only regen session¡­ The doctor firmly told me that I was to get in touch with her and request that she write me a recommendation to be sedated during my next session!¡­ I damn near cracked the tube for how much I was panicking(!)¡­ Eventually, I know, I¡¯ll have to have another one¡­ but I¡¯m putting it off for as long as possible!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s really funny!¡± I smile ¡°Oh, sorry¡­ do you mind me saying that? Am I being insensitive?¡±

    He shakes his head, waves his hand and signs ¡°Not at all¡­ it is quite funny. I can appreciate that¡­¡±

    I smile ¡°OK, well¡­ I won¡¯t [hold my breath] but¡­ let me know if you change your mind about seeing that reef¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXIX: Pancakes and Reefs

    ---Albert¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Come in, sit down¡­¡± invites the gigantic redhead whose office door I¡¯m standing in, in an Earth dialect of British English.

    I enter the room and take a seat across his desk from him.

    The handsome man (not that I¡¯m that way inclined, personally) smiles at me and says ¡°I don¡¯t normally use this office but I thought it¡¯d prob¡¯ly be best if we had a bitta privacy for this chat¡­ Do you know why I asked you here?¡±

    ¡°I assume it has something to do with the request I submitted¡­?¡±

    He nods, his eyebrows flying up his forehead to accentuate the gesture ¡°Yup¡­ you requested¡­ the¡­ use¡­ of¡­ a¡­ respirator mask¡­¡± he says, finding the form and flicking it to the table ¡°¡­Now, normally, that¡¯d be fine¡­ We¡¯ve got spares¡­ they¡¯re available on request¡­ I almost just approved it and went to get you one¡­ but there was somethin¡¯ naggin¡¯ me about it¡­ So, I doublechecked the notes on your file¡­¡± he flicks another document from his holo to the tabletop ¡°¡­extreme and debilitatin¡¯ aquaphobia/thalassophobia¡­¡± he states, bluntly, looking unnervingly straight into my eyes with his bright green ones.

    I don¡¯t respond.

    He sighs and leans back in his chair ¡°Look, Doc¡­ I really want to be Mr Coolguy about this! You¡¯re a grown up!¡­ In fact, you¡¯re nearly twice my age! I don¡¯t wanna wag my finger at you and say this ain¡¯t allowed¡­ but, unfortunately, I am this ship¡¯s head of health and safety, as much as I¡¯m its head of security¡­ If you end up drownin¡¯ ¡¯cause I gave you a respirator you shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve been given, it¡¯s not just gonna haunt me for the rest of my life, it could also be the end of my career¡­ and is definitely gonna be a thing that the Compliance Officer¡¯ll come down on like a tonna bricks¡­ you get me?¡±

    I nod, wordlessly.

    He closes his eyes and takes a deep inhale ¡°I ain¡¯t gonna ask what you need the mask for¡­ that ain¡¯t my business¡­ but¡­ before I approve this¡­¡±

    My heart leaps and he clearly notices because he repeats himself more forcefully, his facial expression and tone (though that doesn¡¯t mean quite as much to me) both stern!

    ¡°Before I give it to you¡­ I have three requirements¡­ well, I don¡¯t¡­ Two of these¡¯d required of anybody askin¡¯ for a mask¡­ you need to get instructions on use, from me, and you need to sign a waiver¡­ I have an additional requirement, though!¡±

    The intimidatingly enormous man pauses there, staring down at me from across the table.

    ¡°What¡­ what¡¯s that?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I need you to promise me that, whatever you¡¯re doin¡¯ with this, you ain¡¯t gonna be an idiot about it!¡±

    ---Miraala¡¯s perspective---

    I enter the small chamber that separates my room from the corridor and set the hoverchair down on the floor, spinning it to face behind me.

    ¡°You can put your clothes in there¡­¡± I sign to the Terran following me inside, smiling and pointing to the drybox installed in the wall for exactly that purpose.

    ¡°You¡­ you want me to take my clothes off?¡± he answers, extremely uncertainly.

    I give a Terran shoulder shrug ¡°It¡¯s up to you¡­ but I know it makes swimming more difficult to have waterlogged material all over your body¡­ Plus, I understand that some Terran clothes can¡¯t go underwater without being damaged?¡±

    He gives a nervous smile and answers ¡°That¡¯s not really the case for anything that¡¯s not a period costume made with historically accurate techniques, these days¡­ but¡­ I suppose it wouldn¡¯t make sense for me to walk back to my room with saltwater sodden clothes, would it¡­ Uhm¡­ are you able to close the outside door without starting the airlock cycle? I would prefer a little more privacy if I¡¯m to undress.¡±

    I gesture in the affirmative and close the door, sealing us in the small space.

    ¡°Hooooo¡­ O¡­K¡­!¡± he signs nervously, his breaths noticeably more rapid.

    ¡°Slow and deep, you said¡­ Don¡¯t hyperventilate¡­ nothing¡¯s happening yet¡­ You¡¯re just standing in a room with the door shut, right now¡­ That¡¯s all.¡± I reassure him.

    He gives an anxious smile and nods his head, working to slow down his breathing.

    I don¡¯t push him to start undressing, letting him take his time to acclimatise.

    Eventually, he extends me his mask and asks ¡°Could you hold this for me?¡±

    I accept it and he reaches to his shoulder to slide off his jacket, folding it loosely and placing it in the drybox.

    He reaches to his collar and, fumbling, begins to button down his shirt.

    His top comes off revealing a¡­ a chest¡­

    Huh!

    Why is his chest so fascinating to me? I can scarcely take my eyes off of it!

    He bends down, letting me see his dense, deathworld muscles tauten in his shoulders and arms as he begins removing his [shoes].

    He awkwardly stands on one leg, then the other, to remove his [socks].

    Finally, he reaches to below that strange hole Humans have in their stomachs and unfastens the belt holding up his [trousers], dropping them to the floor, revealing a pair of Human legs almost as fascinating as the bare chest.

    He places his lowers into the drybox and presses it shut.

    He¡¯s the first guest to ever use it¡­ of course he is also my first guest full stop(!)

    ¡°I¡¯m going to leave my boxers on¡­¡± he gestures to the only garment he¡¯s still wearing.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine!¡± I smile, trying not to seem as distracted by his near nudeness as I am.

    Something about the way that Terrans so scrupulously cover their nudity, normally, makes it much more enthralling to see them bereft of clothing than it would be if they cared less about always being covered up!

    I extend him the mask.

    ¡°Ready?¡± I sign, one handedly.

    ¡°No.¡± he responds, but takes the mask regardless.

    He places the device (consisting of a clear panel, a watertight seal and a gas exchanger at the bottom) over his face, pressing the seal against his skin and activating its adherence.

    ¡°Can you breathe?¡± I ask.

    He takes a few experimental breaths before signing back ¡°Seems like it.¡±

    ¡°Shall we start?¡±

    ---Albert¡¯s perspective---

    You don¡¯t need to swim if you can breathe!

    You don¡¯t need to swim if you can breathe!!

    You don¡¯t need to swim if you can breathe!!!

    You don¡¯t need to swim if you can breathe!!!!

    You don¡¯t need to swim if you can breathe!!!!!

    The water is rushing up my legs far too fast!¡­ Though¡­ I don¡¯t know if the airlock filling slowly would make the experience any less terrifying!

    My breath is bouncing off of the front pane of my mask as my chest rises and falls rapidly.

    My mind shows me my mother¡¯s hand, slipping beneath the mirky water and instantly vanishing as the sea swallows her!

    I throw my hands against the walls, bracing myself in place.

    Then, a webbed finger startles me by flicking the front of my mask.

    My focus wheels on the sharp, hydrodynamic face of the one it¡¯s attached to.

    ¡°Relax¡­ Breathe slowly¡­¡± she signs. Then she extends both of her hands, palm down, toward my chest, which gets translated as ¡°¡­take my hands.¡±

    ¡°I Kan¡¯d!¡± I fumble, frantically ¡°I¡¯gl rulgy herd yu cuz I¡¯n pankink!¡±

    She smiles, baring a row of sharp, greenish-yellow, piscivorous teeth which should be absolutely terrifying to me right now but, somehow, is quite the opposite, and shrugs ¡°Then that¡¯ll be a good reason for you not to panic, won¡¯t it?¡±

    Hesitating, I reach my hands beneath hers and cradle them, ready to whip them away the moment I feel myself losing control.

    But I don¡¯t need to¡­

    Somehow, just lightly holding her webbed hands and having her strange, blue eyes with their double-u shaped pupil¡¯s staring into mine¡­ I¡¯m able to control my panic, right through the chamber filling up¡­

    Once the last of the air is gone from the airlock, she gives me a few moments before taking her hands from mine to sign ¡°There now¡­ the worst part¡¯s over¡­ Right?¡± reassuring.

    I nod, the sensation of moving my head through water almost entirely unfamiliar to me, after how long it¡¯s been since I last allowed it to be submerged.

    ¡°Can I take this off and get out of this¡­?¡± she asks, gesturing first to her aquarespirator collar then to her hover chair ¡°¡­or do you need my hands a little longer(?)¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, go ahead¡­¡±

    She bares those sharp teeth at me again, playfully, and reaches to the device.

    The collar is pulled away, revealing what look like four deep slashes on each side of her neck (though not unleashing a deluge of blood into the water, the way they would if they were on a Human¡¯s neck!)

    She brings the collar to a wall hook and hangs it there.

    She places both of her hands on the rim of her hoverchair and pushes herself up.

    Two things strike me, immediately:

    One, she has a tail¡­ I knew she did¡­ but, somehow, my mind simply read her as a woman in a hoverchair that covered up her lower body and, I now realise, pasted a pair of Human legs onto her(!)¡­ There¡¯s now no denying that she has a powerful, fluked, fish tail!

    The second is that she is much larger than I thought she was!

    Her upper body isn¡¯t actually too different from a Human¡¯s in size but, as a full two metres of mermaid tail emerge from the egg shaped mobility device, it becomes obvious that she lost a lot of height to the way it must have been curled up inside.

    She has no hip bones, I know, but right where they would be is a fat formation of muscle which simulate hips the same way her large pectorals simulate breasts.

    Towering over me in the watercolumn, she indicates the inside door to open.

    My terror instantly reignites and bursts into a roaring inferno as the dark room creates the illusion of a hadal abyss!

    I close my eyes and screw up my face, trying and failing to keep my breathing slow and deep.

    I feel a hand placed on my bare shoulder.

    Far from startling me¡­ its presence is immediately soothing.

    Opening my eyes, I see her face, once again mere inches from my mask, smiling reassuringly.

    She withdraws her hand and I have to fight the urge to reach out to keep it where it is.

    ¡°Sorry¡­¡± she signs, her facial expression layering an apologetic tone over the translation, as if grimacing ¡°¡­I should have left the light on¡­ but look¡­ just a room¡­¡±

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    She extends a hand to the now lit space.

    Indeed, the water is so crystal clear that, aside from the slight blue haze at the far side (caused by the water¡¯s attenuation of the light) it could just be a normal room filled with breathable air!

    She swims forward.

    Out of her hoverchair she is utterly transformed¡­

    Navigating air filled spaces, she is slow, careful and relatively awkward in her chair.

    Now though, she is grace and elegance itself as she aquabatically spins through the water in the large, empty space of her room!

    I step forward and find that, like in minimal gravity, it¡¯s much harder to gain traction from the floor.

    Unlike low gravity, however, I¡¯m facing stiff resistance to my forward motion in the form of a wall of noncompressible fluid, roughly as dense as I am!

    ---Miraala¡¯s perspective---

    I turn to see the Terran, attempting to walk along the floor and looking quite ungainly!

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen Human¡¯s swim, Albert! I know it can be done!¡± I [laugh].

    ¡°So do I¡­ I did it for 9 straight hours, once¡­ but that was half a century ago and I was quite a different size than I am now¡­ The technique hasn¡¯t stayed with me!¡± he responds, unamused, the water resistance having an interesting visual effect on his hands¡¯ ability to change direction in his jerky sign language.

    ¡°Like this¡­¡± I sign, my facial expression a mixture of mirth and kindness as I demonstrate a breaststroke to him.

    He tries to replicate it but¡­ well, I can visually see that he¡¯s pushing himself back as much as forward!

    I sign a mirthful sigh as I swoop over him and spin to place my chest against his back.

    Hooking my arms under his, I grip his¡­ distracting chest and give a few powerful flaps of my tail to lift him into the watercolumn.

    ¡°Oh!¡± he cries out in surprise, the sound being very distorted by the mask and the water but the meaning coming via our translators just fine.

    His body is so much denser than I was expecting!

    I guess it makes sense! Unlike on most planets, Earth''s aquatic life typically needs their swimbladders filled with gas, for buoyancy, rather than ballast, to weigh them down into the watercolumn!

    My arms occupied with his body, I¡¯m unable to sign so I switch to the, much slower (but much more intimate), tactile register of my language, tapping out ¡°There¡­ how do you feel?¡± on his chest with my eight, webbed fingers.

    ¡°Like a gigantic, vicious, aquatic predator has me in its grasp and is dragging me into its lair¡­ where it can breathe and I can¡¯t(!)¡± he quips.

    Water pulses through my gills at the hilarious way he just described me.

    ¡°All true¡­ though I could do without being described as an ¡®it¡¯(!)¡± I tap out onto his chest.

    ¡°Apologies(!) My fair Lady Vicious Aquatic Predator(!)¡­ A thousand pardons(!)¡±

    I playfully slap my hand against his pectoral muscle in rebuke and feel a thrill as I experience its solidity.

    A few wordless moments pass as I just hold him from behind.

    ¡°So¡­ erm¡­¡± he says, awkwardly ¡°¡­do you want to show me this reef?¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ yes¡­ Am I OK to let you go?¡±

    Mirthfully, he answers ¡°The worst that will happen is I¡¯ll sink a few metres¡­ All good!¡±

    I release him and, just as he said, he begins drifting down.

    ¡°Try [kicking]?¡± I suggest, twiddling two fingers to demonstrate the motion of the limbs I don¡¯t have.

    He hesitates a moment, then [kicks] his right foot forward and left foot back so hard that he rockets upward with unnerving power!

    ¡°Gently! Just enough that you don¡¯t sink!¡± I correct ¡°Use your arms too¡­ Like this: In, up, out, down. In, up, out, down ¡­¡± I sign, demonstrating.

    He watches and tries to replicate, clumsily at first but, making use of the sensory feedback, quickly gets the hang of it.

    ¡°I¡¯m just going to close the window¡­ then I¡¯ll bring up the reef¡­ the lights will be out for a few [seconds]¡­ Is that alright?¡± I ask, worried for having seen how he reacted to dark water, previously.

    ¡°I¡¯ll live¡­¡± he smiles ¡°¡­I did, literally, ask for this(!)¡±

    ---Albert¡¯s perspective---

    The antithesis of my horror of all things aquatic swims over to her room¡¯s control panel.

    I¡¯m almost glad to be having to work so hard to suppress my phobias, right now¡­ If I hadn¡¯t been, I¡¯m fairly certain her holding me and tapping my chest like she did would have given me an erection¡­ There would have been little disguising that fact, with me wearing only boxers(!)

    The window blind is closed and, a moment later, I¡¯m plunged into total darkness.

    Instantly, my mind is filled with the irrational notion that the walls, the woman and the space ship we were aboard have been replaced by the depths of some ocean and, even if it wasn¡¯t so impossibly deep that I could never make it to the surface without being seized by the jaws or tentacles of some monstrous kraken or leviathan, even if I made it to the surface, I would just be in the same position I was in for most of a day after I lost my family; cold, alone, fighting to keep my head where I can breathe, no idea which way to try and swim for land and trying, desperately, not to think about the chasmal depths looming below me or what my treading water might attract!

    Light shines through my eyelids causing me to realise that I had shut them.

    I open my eyes¡­ and gasp¡­

    What surrounds me is, without a doubt, the single most breathtaking spectacle I¡¯ve ever beheld!

    Projected on the ceiling above me is the shimmering, glassy surface of a calm, gardenworld ocean.

    Projected on the floor and every wall is a beautiful rainbow of coral and alien fish.

    The features of the room are entirely lost to the 360¡ã panoramic display!

    With her window closed and no bed, desk or other furniture in Miraala¡¯s habtank, there¡¯s absolutely nothing to impede the illusion that I¡¯m currently floating around halfway to the bottom of a 12m deep patch of ocean, on her homeworld!

    Unlike the mirky seawater on Nova Britannia, the water here has such perfect clarity that I can see through it for hundreds of metres in every direction!

    The apparent shallowness and high view distance completely robs the ocean of its terror! In its place is left only wonder!

    I¡¯ve¡­ obviously seen pictures of coral reefs between when I was 8 and now but¡­ an experience like this¡­? This is something I never would have considered for anyone until the stunningly beautiful Merwoman asked it of me!

    Right then, she intensifies my moment of wonder by pirouetting up into my field of vision and baring her sharp, chartreuse teeth at me in a Terran smile.

    ¡°Worth conquering your fears?¡± she signs, smugly.

    No words escape my mouth, nor do my hands make any move to sign.

    I give no answer bar a breathless nod.

    The gill slits on the side of her neck flap with mirth as the incomparable Osiyul performs a joyful backwards loop in the water.

    She shocks me by coming right out of the bottom of the loop and glomping herself straight into my chest!

    Oh no¡­

    Her beautiful smiling face is close enough to mine that her nose is actually touching the faceplate of my respirator mask!

    Her squashy pectorals are deforming against my (relatively) firm ones, letting me feel the smooth, glossy texture of her scaley skin!

    Her arms are hooked under mine and her hands are pressed into my back!

    Desperately, I try to conjure forth the Terran hagfish, the Terran giant squid, the megamouth shark, the great white, the Britannian kraken to my mind¡­ but none of them take the bait!

    Happy to haunt me for close on fifty fucking years and they¡¯ve been utterly banished the first time I actually wanted them to!

    COWARDS!

    All of them scared back into their abyssal depths merely by the sensation of a pretty woman pressing my mostly nude body against her entirely nude one!?

    This would be a triumphant breakthrough¡­ except for what I know is about to happen!

    Desperately, I try and think of any way it can be avoided.

    I could fight her off, then turn around and not let her see my crotch?

    No!

    That would be even more embarrassing and likely to end our friendship!

    I could¡­?

    ¡°What¡¯s this¡­?¡± she taps on my back, the translation giving that medium of communication the quality of a sensual whisper as she pulls a quizzical face and looks down (which does not help my condition!)

    It¡¯s too late¡­!

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry¡­¡± I say aloud, not meeting her eyes as the shame burns my sweaty cheeks inside my mask ¡°¡­I¡­ I just got a little¡­ excited, is all¡­ You can let me go¡­¡±

    Rather than doing so, she spends a few seconds studying my face through the mask¡¯s clear polymer.

    Then, without warning, her hands move to my buttocks and press my hips into her pseudohips, squashing my engorged member against her front.

    ¡°This is because you¡¯re excited?¡± she taps onto my backside in away that causes me to have very little blood left for the rest of my body, after that that the traitorous body part is monopolising!

    Clenching my jaw, pursing my lips and screwing up my eyes, I nod.

    ¡°You¡¯re excited¡­ for me¡­?¡± she taps, sensually coiling her thick tail around the side of my shin.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ very exciting, Miraala¡­ I¡¯m sorry!¡± I plead, wishing that the torture would just end already!

    ¡°Why are you sorry?¡± she queries, still using that damn, erotic, tactile register of her language on my fucking arsecheeks!

    ¡°BecauseIdidn¡¯twanttogrossyouout,I¡¯msurethatyoudon¡¯tfeelthesameandIdon¡¯twantustostopbeingfriendsjustbecauseIfindyouattractive!¡± I answer, looking straight up over her gorgeous face, and not taking a breath.

    Grinning from ear to ear in a very unnerving way, she begins to rotate us around eachother (actually, given my greater mass, she rotates herself around me, spinning me in place) and taps ¡°What makes you think I don¡¯t feel the same way?¡±

    Incredulous at how far she¡¯s taking the tease, I answer ¡°Because¡­ I¡¯m a different species to you! It doesn¡¯t make any sense for you to find me attractive!¡±

    She shrugs and asks ¡°Does it make more sense for you to find me attractive?¡±

    I want to answer ¡®yes¡¯.

    I want to say that because, objectively, she is attractive and I am, objectively, not!

    However, I can see that I am applying a double standard there and I don¡¯t much like the prospect of having to defend the existence of ¡®objective attractiveness¡¯ in my response so I answer ¡°I¡­ I guess not¡­¡±

    She considers that for a few seconds before tapping ¡°Then we¡¯re even¡­ aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Then, her hands flash through the water from my buttocks to my shoulders, her body pivots up from that new fulcrum and she begins swimming down, pushing my body through the watercolumn in front of her.

    I turn my head to see what¡¯s behind me and have a horrific moment of thinking I¡¯m about to impact some sharp, craggy coral, before my back hits a smooth, featureless floor and I remember that I¡¯m not actually at a reef(!)

    Her body comes down on top of mine, sandwiching me to the floor.

    ¡°So¡­¡± she smiles, her webbed fingers tapping against my chest ¡°¡­if you find me attractive¡­ and I find you attractive¡­ there¡¯d be no reason we couldn¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ find eachother attractive together¡­ would there?¡±

    The extra pressure she applied on the word ¡®together¡¯ would have felt nice, even independent of it¡¯s translated meaning.

    ¡°I¡­ erm¡­ I guess not¡­¡± I answer, resisting the urge to add ¡®if you find me attractive¡¯, since, if she does, having that fact called into question is likely to be a turn off.

    ¡°¡­and¡­ there¡¯d be no reason you¡¯d have to keep wearing these¡­ would there?¡± she grins, pulling the waistband of my boxers and letting it snap back against my skin.

    ¡°There¡­ wouldn¡¯t¡­ no¡­¡± I answer, trying to keep my breathing under control for a completely different reason than my earlier fear!

    Making direct eyecontact with me, the Mermaid slides her hands down my sides and swivels them to poke her fingers beneath my boxers, her grin mischievous.

    She keeps pushing, removing her body from my crotch to watch my organ as it¡¯s unveiled.

    With no lungs or vocal chords, she isn¡¯t able to gasp¡­ but I don¡¯t need a translator to understand the face she makes or the little, seemingly involuntary flap of her gill slits she gives.

    She keeps pulling my pants all the way down my legs and over my feet, whereupon she tosses them aside.

    They don¡¯t make it very far before they start sinking, giving the illusion of settling at the same invisible pane of glass that I¡¯m lying on, a few metres above the coral.

    ¡°And¡­ if we both found eachother attractive¡­ there¡¯d be no reason we couldn¡¯t¡­ kiss?¡±

    I look at the woman¡¯s face, considering that¡­

    I¡¯m sorry, Mr Taylor¡­ I¡¯m about to break my promise¡­

    ¡°No¡­ I guess not¡­¡±

    ---Miraala¡¯s perspective---

    The nude Terran takes a deep breath, confusing me.

    Then, he reaches to his mask and deactivates the seal, terrifying me!

    I don¡¯t know how long Humans can hold their breath underwater but I know it¡¯s a matter of [minutes] at most!

    If he loses consciousness, I¡¯m going to have to drag him to the airlock and call for someone¡¯s help!

    A torrent of bubbles are released from the mask and cascade upwards into my face!

    I¡¯m fruitlessly trying to reach to press it back over his inhaling orifices when a powerful hand clamps the back of my neck and I¡¯m pulled forward, my lips pressed against his.

    All thoughts of the danger are driven from my mind for the next [20 seconds] or so¡­ the only sensation I¡¯m alive to being that of the kiss!

    Then, he pushes me away, sweeps the mask back onto his face with his right hand and fumbles at trying to reseal it.

    Coming back to my senses, my hands dart forward to reactivate the skin adherence for him!

    The gas exchanger whirrs with the force of pressurising the water out of his mask and replacing the oxygen.

    He gasps as he once again has air he can breathe.

    ¡°What the hell was that?!¡± I demand, slapping his chest.

    ¡°You said¡­ you wanted¡­ to kiss¡­¡± he pants.

    ¡°I meant I could kiss the bits of you not covered by your breather! Or, if you wanted that kind of kiss, we could do it in air, where neither of us are risking suffocation for it!¡­ What possessed you to do that!¡±

    He thinks about that question for longer than I was expecting him to.

    ¡°I suppose¡­¡± he starts ¡°¡­some investments are worth taking risks on¡­ I don¡¯t regret it¡­ after such a great return(!)¡±

    ¡°Did¡­ you¡­ just¡­ make an economics analogy¡­ about kissing me?!¡± I ask, incredulously.

    ¡°Is it paying dividends(?)¡± he grins back.

    ¡°You were terrified of water, the ocean and all things aquatic not [half an hour] ago! Now you¡¯re cracking jokes directly after taking off your mask!¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes¡­ If I¡¯d known all it would have taken for me to get over my phobia was a lifechanging experience with a beautiful woman, I¡¯d have done it years ago(!)¡± he quips.

    I shake my head in his people¡¯s negative gesture which I¡¯ve also seen them use for disapproval.

    ¡°Alright, Dr Hardwick(!) How about you promise to keep your breather on¡­ and we see about just how ¡®lifechanging¡¯ we can make this experience¡­ hmmm(?)¡± I sign, playfully.

    He bites his lip and nods.

    ¡°Good!¡± I smile, placing my hands back at his solid chest and sliding my front up his, enjoying the feeling of his hot, hard sex organ as it rubs against my stomach.

    I reach the point where his tip is between my cloacal fins, angle my body and pull myself down onto him.

    He audibly gasps as I insert him into me (not a favour I can return, without lungs, but I hope the look of shock and delight that must have crossed my face at the sensation of his warmth and solidity made up for it!)

    I would have been quite content to allow him to simply lie there and let me take care of both of us¡­ he seems to have other ideas, though(!)

    Placing his strong, deathworld hands on my lateral tail muscles, he pulls me down onto him, simultaneously bowing his body upward to thrust his hips into me.

    I lean forward and press my lips against his neck, his shoulders and wherever else I can reach (even kissing his mask a few times) as my tail swishes back and forth through the water, well over a [metre] lower than his feet.

    I was prepared for fucking a Human not to live up to all the hype I¡¯ve heard¡­

    If anything, I think the rumours didn¡¯t do it justice!

    This is like no sex I¡¯ve ever had!

    The man¡¯s vivid brown, round pupiled eyes fix me, intensely, through his mask as his hips buck beneath my tail.

    My body spasms and writhes as my ecstasy builds.

    Finally, his hands lock my body against his as both of us achieve bliss¡­

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    The brunet man walks through my office door, completely dry except for a bit of dampness in his hair, a bit of pruning on his fingers and a bit of wetness in his trousers (suggesting he put them on over wet pants).

    He looks extremely contented¡­ It doesn¡¯t take a genius to guess why(!)

    I don¡¯t think he was likely visiting Kwijj or Jjop in either of their habtanks!

    ¡°Hi¡­ I¡¯m¡­ here to return this¡­¡± he says, breathlessly placing the respirator I lent him on my desk ¡°Would it be alright if I asked for it again, though?¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Productive use, was it?¡±

    He smiles and nods ¡°Very!¡±

    ¡°Tell you what, mate¡­ Why don¡¯t you keep that one?¡­ Just don¡¯t take it off the ship with you, alright?¡­ You can give it back when either your employment aboard¡¯s done or your diving sessions end¡­ whichever comes first? How¡¯s that sound?¡±

    Despite his age, he looks at me like a kid looking at Father Christmas as he asks ¡°Is that really OK?¡±

    ¡°Sure it is!¡± I smile back.

    ¡°Thank you!¡± he says, taking the mask and making to go.

    ¡°Any fun plans for the rest of the day?¡± I ask, nonchalantly.

    ¡°Nothing¡­ specific¡­?¡± he answers, seeming uncertain as to whether I¡¯m about to suggest him and me do something together(!)

    ¡°Well¡­ I think Cookie¡¯s doin¡¯ a pancake breakfast¡­ if you and anyone else were interested¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.106

    ---Shadow---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    I sit in the meeting room, looking at many puzzled, expectant faces.

    I am one of four people, sat at this table, who know why this meeting has been called, the others being Thran, Twila and the Captain.

    Ambassadors Yeshe and Ong are here, sat beside me to my right.

    Victor, Tuun and Samus are here in their capacity as the ship¡¯s security.

    Xon and Admiral Yakchutt are here representing the UTC and GU militaries, respectively.

    Terran¡¯s are in the unique position, galactically, for having the right to maintain a military independent of galactic command (for obvious reasons).

    Leon and Ziva are here, looking professional.

    Then there are some faces you might not expect¡­

    Master Yu¨¢n¡­

    Kwijj, Mouse and Baorbo, for their technical expertise¡­

    Drs Gato, Shing, Phan, Heart, Aerlyght for their¡­ hopefully unnecessary skills¡­

    And, of course, our latecomer¡­

    The door opens and through steps Waqa¡¯arc, 15thDaughter of Highspire Peak.

    She hops on the perch set out for her, her facial expression and body language neutral.

    I try not to let my irritation show as I clap my hands together and say ¡°Alright¡­ now that we¡¯re all here, why don¡¯t you tell everyone what this is about, Captain?¡±

    She straightens her back and brings out her wings slightly, to visually indicate herself as the speaker.

    It¡¯s not really necessary in a room with only one other R¡¯qali but, I guess, it would be helpful in any kind of consortium of her species, all stood on perches¡­ It might be hard to tell,  otherwise, who is speaking. I suppose the alternative would be dismounting the perch to distinguish yourself.

    ¡°Yes, well, I shall introduce but I think it is my shipboard manager who¡¯ll have the most helpfully comprehensive outline of the situation¡­ So, I¡¯ll keep my part brief before I pass you over to her¡­¡± she extends her wing to Twila¡¯s holograph ¡°¡­The short version is that we¡¯re being followed and, we have reason to believe, it is either the same assassin who attacked our party on Citadel and killed the Terran Representative to Parliament, shortly after our departure, or an associate from the same organisation.¡±

    The dismayed shift that goes around the room is audible.

    Someone decides it needs to be verbal, as well(!)

    ¡°So we¡¯re all traveling aboard a ship that is marked for death by deathworld terrorists?! That¡¯s just wonderful(!)¡± spits Waqa¡¯arc, contemptuously.

    ¡°If you are unhappy with our current predicament, Sister, you are welcome to terminate your employment and take the shuttle to convey you to the nearest inhabited planet or space station¡­ I¡¯m sure that our dear coordinator here would be so kind as to waive the punitive termination clauses in your contract for you, under the circumstances¡­¡± answers Tcakqaal, coolly, indicating me.

    Her clansister only grumbles in response.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Hoping to keep the peace, I smile ¡°Would you fill us in on the finer details, Twila?¡±

    Her holographic avatar stands and calls up a projection of our current quadrant of the Galaxy.

    Citadel is on one end, in the Galactic Core, and from it extends a solid, purple line.

    Our current position is indicated by a bright purple dot and the rest of the journey to AG10790263b is represented by a ghostly, transparent purple line.

    ¡°So¡­¡± she winds our journey back almost all the way to Citadel ¡°¡­the first time I picked up this ship was here, roughly 10 hours after we had left the capital¡­ Obviously, at the time, I didn¡¯t think anything of it since that area is literally the single most congested part of the galaxy. There were tens of millions of ships in the same radius and we hadn¡¯t yet received the news of Mudaliar¡¯s death. Then¡­¡± she winds the map forward ¡°¡­here¡¯s where that news reached us and¡­¡± another fastforward ¡°¡­here¡¯s where that ship came to my attention again. You see, I realised that it should have overtaken us by that point but, rather than doing so, it had slowed down and fallen in behind us¡­ not necessarily suspicious, there could be a number of reasons a shipcaptain might reduce their steam but it made me uneasy¡­ so I ran a little test.¡± she zooms in massively ¡°Last night, we came to a fork in the spacelane¡­ for our destination, I ought to have taken this turn but I took this one¡­ as if we were headed for Ghirial territory and beyond.¡±

    ¡°On your simple suspicion?! You diverted the entire ship hours out of our way without consulting any members of the crew, machine?!¡± snarls Waqa¡¯arc, disgustedly ¡°You forget your place! You ought to be decommissioned for this insubordination!¡±

    Out of the corner of my eye, I see Victor¡¯s outraged face and bodylanguage and (remembering that he was raised by an AI, from his background check) I make to cut him off before he says anything rash to the tiresome woman!

    I¡¯m beaten to the punch, however, by Tcakqaal ¡°Sister, Twila is my employee, my friend and a citizen of the Galactic Union¡­ vested with all the rights that entails¡­ it is most certainly against the law to murder crew members for simple unapproved deviations from course in the GU, is it not?¡­ Also, not that it matters but she had my approval before she undertook this action¡­ Do not be so quick to assume things.¡±

    Seething at the effortless undermining of her authority icily delivered by her junior, the elder R¡¯qali says nothing.

    Looking back from the woman he came a hair¡¯s breadth from exploding at just now, seeming satisfied that Twila¡¯s honour was sufficiently defended by their employer, Victor asks ¡°So¡­ I assume we took the next left turn back onto the right track and they did as well, in a way that wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve made sense if they weren¡¯t tailin¡¯ us, Twila?¡±

    ¡°Exactly Victor!¡± smiles Twila ¡°Though¡­ there isn¡¯t really such a thing as ¡®left¡¯ in space¡­ I took the next ¡®galactic North¡¯ turn(!)¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive my navigational laymanship(!)¡± he quips back ¡°So¡­ what¡¯re we thinkin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Maybe we could call the authorities and have them board it?¡± suggests Tuun.

    ¡°There are a few problems with that:¡­¡± I smile kindly at her ¡°¡­First, the evidence we have, though it seems quite conclusive to us, would sound fairly flimsy if we tried to relay it to a third party, they might wave us off as pranksters or think that we¡¯re being paranoid. Second, there is a possibility that our shadows, here, don¡¯t actually know that Lhamo and I are aboard and that broadcasting that information may lead to them marking us as their actual target. Third, there¡¯s the possibility that, if we can get the authorities to take this seriously, the ship goes dark and we don¡¯t see them again until they¡¯re bearing down on us!¡±

    ¡°Right, obviously¡­ sorry¡­¡± answers the blue skinned girl, gently beating her temples with her upper fists, the left of which is adorned by a sparkling ring.

    ¡°You¡¯ve said nothing to apologise for. It was a sensible suggestion, Tuun.¡± I reassure her.

    She smiles.

    ¡°Could we outspeed them? Make them lose our trail?¡± shrugs Yu¨¢n nonchalantly, clearly not caring at all if he sounds foolish with regard to the particulars of interstellar travel.

    ¡°Not possible I¡¯m afraid¡­¡± answers Twila ¡°¡­while I can¡¯t tell the make and model of the ship they¡¯re in, at this range, I can easily tell its maximum speed is higher than ours. Even if we could surprise them long enough to get out of their sensor range, it would take weeks for our ion trail to dissipate sufficiently for them not to be able to track it anymore. If we were to play that game with them, we would be risking leading them straight to the new planet!¡±

    ¡°Which is something we obviously want to avoid¡­¡± states the Tibetan woman on my right ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know exactly how a Terran supremacist organisation would react to news of a new deathworld species but I think the two most likely possibilities are that they¡¯ll either try to recruit them as allies or exterminate them as rivals!¡­ Both are, pretty much, worst case scenarios!¡­¡±

    ¡°So¡­ we can¡¯t outrun them and we can¡¯t get the authorities involved¡­ what does that leave?¡± asks the Gollogng ambassador.

    ¡°Well¡­ I have a plan¡­¡± offers Twila, tentatively.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.107

    ---Rematch---

    ---Kara¡¯s perspective---

    I drop the Vulture into realspace in a system that the charts show as uninhabited.

    In front of me is a gas giant with a murky brown colour.

    ¡°There!¡± cries Rylan, ¡®helpfully¡¯, from the copilot¡¯s chair, pointing at the flashes of blue that are visible near its equator ¡°They¡¯re degaussing! We should just blow them up!¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± growls a voice from behind me, making me jump out of my skin!

    His clawed, metal feet clank and thud on the treadplate floor, no longer in stealth mode, as Stetter walks forward to look out of the viewport with his creepyass skullface.

    Unnaturally swivelling his head to me, he continues ¡°Ms Stellan here wouldn¡¯t be able to confirm my bounty if you did that¡­ Right, Kara?¡±

    Swallowing a little, I clear my throat and answer ¡°No¡­ I only have your word for it that Emiko Miyazaki is actually aboard¡­ and the idea of getting both her and Lhamo Yeshe in one go¡­ seems a little fanciful to me¡­ I¡¯m not going to authorise blasting a ship out of the sky based on hearsay and I wouldn¡¯t be able to sign off on your receipt of the bounty.¡±

    ¡°So¡­¡± he shrugs ¡°¡­we¡¯ll have to go aboard¡­ Hail them.¡±

    ¡°Whuh¡­ what do you want me to say? ¡®Hello, we¡¯re assassins and we¡¯d very much like to come and kill some of you, if you don¡¯t mind¡¯(?)¡±

    ¡°Make. something. up!¡± he instructs.

    I look into his soulless, glowing eyes for a few seconds.

    Then, I send a hail.

    It takes a few moments to be answered.

    ¡°This is Twila MacLeod of the private craft the Bright Plume, Vulture. What can we do for you?¡± answers a woman¡¯s voice, speaking sweetly.

    ¡°Hi, yeah, this is Jane¡­ Thompson of the private craft Vulture. We were wondering if we could impose on you to sell us any supply excess you might have? We¡¯ve been caught a bit short.¡±

    ¡°Oh! I¡¯m very sorry to hear that, Jane!¡­ What exactly do you need?¡±

    ¡°Uhm¡­ well, water, food containing carbohydrates, protein, fat and a bit of fibre, for a start¡­ but really we need enough of all the essentials to get us to the next pitstop in a few weeks. Really sorry to have to ask but, one of our crew was meant to arrange restock at the last space station and neglected to do so! We can pay you for it, that¡¯s not an issue.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s lucky you found us then! We were just finishing our degauss here and were about to leave the system! Why don¡¯t you dock to us and we can talk about details like quantity and price once you¡¯re aboard?¡±

    I breathe a silent sigh of relief that she fell for it and answer ¡°That sounds amazing, Twila! Thank you! You¡¯re really saving our bacon here! Send us an approach and we¡¯ll be with you in about 45 minutes.¡±

    I cut the call.

    Without asking, Stetter leans forward and activates the cockpit microphone to make a shipwide announcement ¡°All combatant crew, arm and armor yourselves and be in the docking bay in half an hour. We are about to make a boarding!¡±

    I hear distant cheers echoing through the ship behind me as he deactivates the mic.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°You¡¯re not gonna get your hands dirty, I assume?¡± he asks me.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a fighter¡­ I¡¯ll stay here and keep the ship ready¡­ in case you need to make a quick getaway(!)¡±

    He scoffs at that before turning to Rylan and saying ¡°You¡¯re staying here¡­ I learned these guys were no fucking joke when I got my arm ripped off last time! I need you safe in case I get damaged again and need another repair.¡±

    The cyberneticist throws up his (one partially, one fully) bionic arms and says ¡°No complaints here!¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± answers Stetter before turning on the balls of his clawed feet and stamping away, fast enough that his black cloak billows behind him.

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    I see the much larger ship out the window as we approach its broadside, near the front.

    Shaped like a fucking wingless bird and its hull painted in a bright, gaudy, glossy rainbow.

    How disgustingly pretentious to make a ship look that way!

    I¡¯ve got a dozen folk from Bastion behind me, all wearing partial durasteel.

    My hand rests about 6ft up the 7ft shaft of a plasmaswordstaff with a further 2ft of blade on the top.

    I miss my daggers¡­ My thigh cavities feel naked without them!

    I wish I¡¯d had time to retrieve them from the ODR but¡­ it was them or the traitor¡¯s head¡­ I had to prioritize!

    I can have some more fabbed when I get back to Bastion¡­ just gotta collect these bounties to make the trip worthwhile, first!

    Even still, those ones have been with me since the War¡­ since before the Betrayal¡­ they had a certain¡­ sentimental value¡­ Reproductions, even perfect ones, won¡¯t be the same¡­

    Anyway, no use dwelling on that¡­ not when there¡¯s business to take care of!

    ¡°You all know who you¡¯re looking for, the traitor, Lhamo ¡®Crane¡¯ Yeshe, and the archtraitor¡¯s sister, Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki¡­ They¡¯ve both got substantial bounties on their heads so whoever brings them to me gets a double share.¡±

    Excited muttering comes from behind me at that news as the Vulture drifts to the illuminated docking port.

    The ship attaches and locks in place.

    The doors open and I step through.

    My underlings file through behind me.

    The moment the last of them has made it inside, the internal door wooshes shut.

    Three heads I recognize and one black, durasteel helmet appear from behind the safety barrier, on a walkway, six floors up, about 100ft in the air.

    Seven guns are leveled down at us.

    The four of them open fire without a word.

    The blond and the woman with the light brown skin and curly black hair are using suppressed pistols.

    The four armed subHuman with the dark blue skin is shooting an unsuppressed pistol in each hand.

    The soldier (who I¡¯d guess to be the Tshwane) fires a light assault rifle.

    In the space of only a few seconds, they rain down over a hundred rounds on us, between them.

    Several of the idiots behind me are hit on unarmored portions of their bodies.

    I look up at them, unimpressed, as bullets bounce harmlessly off my durasteel exoskeleton.

    ¡°You give our planet a bad name, dude!¡± shouts the blond, in New Colorado accented English, as he aims a shot right for my eye.

    It misses¡­ but only by an inch or two! He¡¯s a good shot!

    ¡°Right back at you, traitor!¡± I shout back.

    The morons I brought onto the ship finally manage to rally themselves to return fire.

    Slugs reduce the railing on either side of their firing position to a fine cloud of debris but they¡¯ve clearly reinforced their panels to be adequate cover for them!

    ¡°You guys, pin them down, I¡¯ll climb up there and-shit!¡± all four of them took advantage of the break in fire to bolt from their hiding place.

    ¡°OK, new plan¡­ you guys get to cover over there, stay together and¡­¡±

    ¡°Oi! Fucker!¡± comes a voice I recognize over the tanoy ¡°I know you can hear me, Jackson! Me and some friends are waitin¡¯ in the cargo bay at the back of the ship¡­ we¡¯d like a rematch! Come alone, ¡¯less you¡¯re too chickenshit!¡±

    Anticipation rises in the stomach I don¡¯t have at the implications of what he said.

    ¡°You guys¡­ sweep the rest of the ship¡­ stay out of the cargo bay¡­¡± I say over the moans of my wounded men and women.

    ¡°Is that a good idea, Sir? I mean-YAAAAAAH¡± Charliza¡¯s words are cut off by my foot connecting with the side of her knee, dislocating her lower leg.

    As she sobs on the ground beside the other wounded and dead, I turn on the rest of them and ask ¡°Any more input?¡±

    They all hastily shake their helmeted heads, cowering away from me.

    ¡°Good! Go!¡± I command and they quickly make for the direction I point.

    I turn toward the back of the ship and begin walking, leaving the casualties where they lie, behind me.

    ¡°Stetter! What the fuck is going on?!¡± comes a comm from Kara, directly into my brain.

    ¡°They were expecting us¡­ talk later.¡±

    ¡°Whuh¡­ How the¡­?!¡± is all I hear of her response before I hang up.

    My swordstaff clunks against the floor as I make my way sternward, beneath all the wasted floorspace above me, and wonder why anyone would design a spaceship with so much empty volume!

    I reach the door between this section of the ship and the cargo bay.

    I step through and am immediately disappointed.

    The one I wanted to fight again is not among the three stood facing me in the middle of the room.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.108

    ---Droid---

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Where is he!?¡± I demand of the tall redhead, the well built blonde and the armored trog, with her hair only an inch or two long from my slagging her helmet last time we met ¡°Where¡¯s the Chinese centenarian!?¡±

    ¡°Not here, I¡¯m afraid¡­ though he is aboard¡­ he¡¯s guarding our botanist.¡± smirks the Brit.

    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll have to go and find him after you three are dead then¡­ even if I don¡¯t really wanna fight you¡­ You bored me last time.¡±

    ¡°We weren¡¯t armed last time! Afraid of a level playing field?¡± taunts the 6¡¯3¡¯¡¯ blonde with her hand on the handle of a 6¡¯3¡¯¡¯ greatsword.

    ¡°Three on one you mean? That¡¯s a level playing field to you?¡± I answer, dryly.

    ¡°It is when your body is made of bulletproof metal, faster than any of ours and stronger than all of us combined I¡¯d say¡­¡±

    ¡°Put like that, I¡¯d say it¡¯s still far from fair to you three¡­ Why do you even want to fight me again? I handed you all your asses last time!¡±

    ¡°Exactly¡­ we wanna settle the score!¡± shrugs the Brit, drawing his 3ft long falchion blade, 1a with an M pommel by the Elmslie typology, I think¡­ though it has a bit of an artsy wave in the leading edge.

    ¡°You burned off my hair.¡± accuses the primitive, dully.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ that elongated skull does look a lot more noticeable without all that orange frizz, cavewoman! Sorry about that(!)¡± I retort, a smirk in my voice.

    Her tan skin goes bright red¡­ I must have hit a nerve.

    ¡°Good that your friends still wanna hang out with you now you¡¯re so ugly!¡±

    The blonde responds instantly ¡°I actually prefer her with short hair! You get to see more of her face now!¡±

    ¡°That so? Maybe I should start offering my services as a barber then(!)¡± I say with a mock bow ¡°Now¡­ we gonna talk hairstyling all day¡­ or are we gonna fight?¡±

    I ignite the swordstaff.

    The greatsword, saber and beak, hammer and spike of the bec de corbin all roar to life opposite me, glowing through red, orange and yellow, settling on white hot.

    Having learned their lesson, they don¡¯t charge me this time.

    Instead, they fan out and surround me before they begin to approach.

    The blonde is coming at me from my left.

    The limey is coming at me head on.

    The cavebitch is on my right.

    Blondie has the most reach and is the first to make a lunge for me with that greatsword.

    My blade flies out, straight for her center of mass.

    She blocks it but is thrown off balance as I leverage away her sword and sweep my polearm in an arc to match the redhead¡¯s.

    He makes to sever my blade from its shaft but he isn¡¯t fast enough.

    The eggskull aims her bec at my extended leg but, still in a bind with the tea lover, I manage to withdraw it fast enough that the blade stabs into the floor.

    I level a kick at her armor covered solar plexus and she¡¯s hurled backwards, leaving her weapon behind, sticking out of the floor at a 45¡ã angle.

    The blonde has recovered her footing and aims another swing at me.

    I pivot my weapon from the Brit¡¯s to hers.

    The advantage of the polearm is that I have a much larger offensive range than when I fought with my daggers (without throwing them, at least).

    The disadvantage is that it¡¯s way less easy to maneuver it!

    All my justified arrogance aside, any one of these three could easily be championship fighters!

    I can¡¯t afford to get careless, since I¡¯m not immune to plasma the way I am to bullets!

    The primitive sprints forward and retrieves her weapon in the middle of a surprisingly elegant combat roll, reigniting it and swinging it into my shin.

    Thankfully, it hadn¡¯t warmed up yet, so the damage is superficial.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    My swordstaff streaks down on her, only to be blocked by the teaslurper¡¯s blade.

    I spin and jump about 10ft away, bringing my weapon between me and the three.

    They close the distance and begin a series of attacks that could pass for a choreographed movie sequence!

    I¡¯m actually at the edge of my capacity right now, just dodging and parrying their strikes!

    ¡°Guys¡­ that¡¯s enough¡­ you can disengage¡­¡± comes the voice of the same woman that Kara spoke to over the comm channel, from the 2nd floor walkway.

    The three of them instantly break off their barrage and put about 30ft of distance between themselves and me.

    Strange¡­

    I glance to where the voice came from.

    I see a gynoid robot, taking the form of a young Human woman.

    She mounts the barrier (in a way that would cause it to crumple under my weight if I tried to reproduce) and backflips off, falling about 20ft to the cargo bay floor and performing a superhero landing.

    She completely undercuts the cool factor by straightening up and shouting ¡°Woo! Did you guys see that?! Isn¡¯t this new body great!?!?!?¡±

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± I say, unimpressed ¡°¡­what¡¯s the big idea here?! You think you can beat me just ¡¯cause you¡¯ve got a droid?¡­ I¡¯m sure it¡¯s nice and all, for a civilian model, but that is not a combat frame!¡±

    Turning her attention to me, she smiles unnervingly ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re already beaten, Mr Stetter¡­ you just don¡¯t know it yet!¡±

    ¡°Kid, I highly doubt¡­!¡±

    ¡°You see, Mr Stetter¡­¡± she interrupts ¡°¡­the moment you came aboard I began probing the firmware of every single component of your body.¡±

    I feel a chill run through me in a way I haven¡¯t for years!

    She¡¯s an AI. That explains how they knew they were being followed! Guess that ¡®wrong turn¡¯ they took a week ago was her doing!

    That¡¯s far from the most pressing concern, though!

    ¡°The code on all the military components was tough¡­¡± she smiles with her elastomer mouth, starting to walk towards me ¡°¡­ too tough for me, honestly. I definitely would have been able to subvert it eventually but, thankfully, I didn¡¯t need to¡­ You were so kind as to leave me a back door!¡±

    She points to the bulky red arm, hooked up to the rest of me in a hurry by Rylan.

    I raise my left hand to rip off my replacement arm but, at that moment, my whole body freezes.

    ¡°It¡¯s too late for that, Mr Stetter¡­ I already had control from the moment I made myself known!¡± smiles the droid I¡¯m not able to turn my head to look at.

    My body prostrates itself into a kneel and my knuckles place themselves on the ground, against my furious, silent protests!

    A pair of robotic feet, pristinely sheaved in elastomer, appear on the patch of floor that I¡¯m unable to look away from.

    My vision suddenly becomes much more three dimensional and, without the sense data feedback from my hijacked body, it takes me a few moments to realize that that means my eyes are further apart! She¡¯s opened my skull!

    A nauseatingly 3D, robotic hand reaches between my eyes and is pulled back holding an inertially dampened container, filled with clear liquid and with a thick cable coming out of its back.

    Inside is a wrinkled mass of pink flesh, pulsing as artificial blood is pumped around it.

    You can¡¯t!

    This isn¡¯t fair!

    I can¡¯t lose like this!

    Put that back!

    Give me back my body!

    Let me fight!

    Let me win!

    Let me kill!

    Don¡¯t put me back in the dark!

    Her hand moves to the cable.

    I see the grasp, I see the pulling tension¡­ I don¡¯t see the disconnect as my world becomes nothing!

    ---Ro¡¯oo¡¯u¡¯ouu¡¯s perspective---

    The Terran man sits on the ground, his legs crossed and his eyes closed as the Terran pirates carve their way through the door.

    The small holy man is the only other person in hydroponics with me, assigned here as my guard, since I was too large to shelter with the others in the [Canteen].

    The door is sliced open and three Terran pirates spill inside and point their [guns] at my sitting bodyguard, shouting commands at him too quickly for me to follow.

    He begins getting up but, no sooner has he done so than all three of the pirates fall to the floor, unmoving.

    How about that!

    The pirates were so clumsy that I didn¡¯t even need a guard!

    ---Waqa¡¯arc¡¯s perspective---

    My lifemate nestles into me, terrified, as the plasmablade carves through the door.

    The hole in the door is completed and falls inward.

    I jump in front of Akrat, wings extended, crown plumes flared, back horizontal to the ground

    As the monsters step through the entrance they just made, I prepare myself to die fighting them.

    Qrawi¡¯a¡­ I shall be joining you in Akaros in but a few moments¡­ and I will finally be able to tell you how sorry I am!

    One of the monsters strides up to me and points the barrel of his gun squarely at my face.

    Then, like lightning, the weapon is jerked upward and, like thunder, blasts a hole in the ceiling!

    Only then do I have a moment to see Tcakqaal¡¯s red maned, Human lackey holding the gun barrel before his body jerks violently forward.

    There is a loud *thud* of bony flesh on bony flesh and the other Terran falls back, absent his gun, still held aloft like a trophy in Taylor''s hand¡­ He just saved my and Akrat¡¯s lives!

    ---Kara¡¯s perspective---

    ShitshitshitshitSHIT!

    What the fuck do we do!?

    I¡¯ve been trying and failing to pull away from this ship since the boarders went dark but, whatever I did, it just wouldn¡¯t let us go!

    Now, the tables have turned and we¡¯re being boarded!

    That probably means they¡¯ve already taken care of Stetter, somehow!

    Fuck! This is bad!

    ¡°Open this door!¡± screams a man¡¯s voice from outside the cockpit.

    I don¡¯t keep any weapons in here!

    I look around for anything I can use to defend myself with.

    My eyes land on a boxcutter in a half open draw.

    I grab it and clumsily extend the blade before turning to hold it in front of me, facing the door.

    At exactly that moment, the man says ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of this! Break it down, Thran!¡±

    I shriek as the (suddenly very flimsy looking) door is ploughed straight through by a powerful shape, about a head shorter than me and seeming to be made of silver and blue metal.

    An extremely large, buff man with wavy, medium length, copper hair steps through behind what I now realise is a very stocky Neanderthal woman.

    ¡°Stay back!¡± I tremble, pointing the boxcutter at the pair.

    The man¡¯s bright green eyes come to rest on mine and go wide.

    The colour drains from his already pale face as his mouth forms the question ¡°Mum!?¡±

    Baffled, I start ¡°Wha¡­?¡± but that¡¯s as far as I get before a gauntleted, Neanderthal hand grabs both of mine and a gauntleted Neanderthal fist impacts my face, breaking my nose!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.109

    ---Spit---

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    I look into the scowling face of the woman handcuffed to the table, opposite me.

    Her skin is pale, the sides and back of her head are shaven bald and from the top of her scalp grows a narrow mohawk of curly scarlet hair, so voluminous that it gives the impression of her having a completely unshaven crown, despite only being a few centimetres wide.

    Her eyes are an uncannily familiar shade of emerald green.

    ¡°So¡­ how¡¯s your nose, Ms Stellan?¡­ Or is it Ms Thompson(?)¡± I smile.

    ¡°Fine. It¡¯s Stellan.¡± she answers, curtly.

    ¡°Right, Ms Stellan then¡­ would you mind telling me a little about yourself? How did you come to be mixed up with the Revanchists?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing to say to you, pig!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Ms Stellan, right now, you are under citizen¡¯s arrest¡­ I¡¯m not a law enforcer at the moment¡­ this is just a friendly chat¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Why would I want to have a friendly chat with someone holding me prisoner!? We¡¯re not friends!¡± she spits.

    ¡°Well¡­ how else are we supposed to become friends?¡± I smile.

    She stares at me incredulously for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

    ¡°That¡¯s fucking rich! You are dreaming if you think you¡¯re going to trick me into telling you anything about us!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to get you to tell me anything about the Revanchists¡­ I¡¯m asking you to tell me about yourself¡­¡± I say, sincerely.

    She narrows her eyes and studies me, suspiciously, for several long seconds.

    ¡°Fine¡­ if you must know, they raised me¡­ I¡¯m a War orphan.¡±

    Confused, I ask ¡°A War orphan? But you indicated that you¡¯re only 26 when we processed you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah? So?¡± she shrugs.

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ the War¡¯s been over for 28 years¡­¡±

    She gives a sneering smirk as she answers ¡°Maybe for you it has¡­ Far as we¡¯re concerned, it¡¯s still going¡­ just mostly on pause.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­ It couldn¡¯t be that you¡¯re perhaps a little older than 26?¡± twice as old, perhaps¡­

    ¡°What d¡¯you mean? Why would I lie about that?¡± she asks, nonplussed.

    ¡°Well¡­ I can imagine that the Revanchists are the kind of organisation most end up in with¡­ less than happy backgrounds¡­ Is it maybe the case that you wanted to reinvent yourself? Try and forget a past you¡¯d rather not remember?¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°Don¡¯t know what your talking about, lady. I¡¯m 26.¡±

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    My intuition is that she¡¯s telling the truth¡­ or thinks she is at least?

    ¡°Alright, Ms Stellan, in that case¡­¡±

    At this point, I¡¯m interrupted by the door opening and a large man stepping into the room.

    Turning her head to the newcomer, the girl recoils away from him so hard that the chains at her wrists go taut.

    ¡°What¡¯s he doing here!? Get that fucking pervert away from me!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a pervert. I¡¯m your son, Mum.¡± exhales Victor, exhaustedly.

    ¡°You have got to be at least as old as me, dude! I¡¯m not your fucking mummy and I¡¯m not interested in pretending to be! I don¡¯t care how much you paid her to make your fetish vids for you! I don¡¯t care how much she looks like me! I¡¯m not Esme Reid! I¡¯m not Esme Taylor either! I. am. Ka.ra¡­ Stell.an!¡± she snarls, massively overenunciating every phoneme in her name, as if talking to someone stupid or hard of hearing.

    ¡°You¡¯re misunderstandin¡¯ on purpose.¡± he sighs.

    ¡°I understand that you¡¯ve visited my cell half a dozen times since you captured me, called me ¡®Mum¡¯ and ¡®Esme¡¯ every time and kept trying to tell me about your damn videos!¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯d just spit in a tube¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what weird, freaky shit you wanna do with my spit! No way!!!¡±

    ¡°Ms Stellan¡­¡± I interrupt, seeing that the conversation is going nowhere between the two of them¡°¡­Victor here has explained the situation to me. I¡¯ve seen the woman in the videos and, frankly, I agree that this looks like more than a simple case of his mother being an uncanny doppelg?nger of yours!¡±

    She opens her mouth to object but I continue before she can.

    ¡°I¡¯m not calling you a liar, Ms Stellan. I truly believe that you believe what your telling me about who you are¡­ but there¡¯s something going on here and there¡¯s one easy way to know for sure what that is¡­ and it¡¯s your DNA¡­ Now, as I¡¯ve said, we aren¡¯t law enforcers¡­ we aren¡¯t legally empowered to sequence your genes without your consent¡­ So, we¡¯re hoping that you¡¯ll give us your consent¡­ after you¡¯ve watched some of the videos¡­¡±

    Screwing up her face, she asks ¡°Why should I? Why should I humour this at all?!¡±

    I shrug ¡°Well¡­ only that¡­ Esme Taylor had friends¡­ had a husband¡­ has a son¡­¡± I gesture to the man sitting next to me ¡°¡­if you had an entire life you don¡¯t know about¡­ don¡¯t you want to find out?¡±

    Her narrowed eyes flick back and forth between mine and Victor¡¯s for a few seconds before she responds ¡°Fine! But, I swear to god, if this woman starts taking off her clothes and talking about what a bad boy you are and how she¡¯s going to spank you at any point, I¡¯m filing sexual harassment charges!¡± pointing accusingly at Victor.

    Flatly, he answers ¡°Both you and Dad stay clothed for the full duration¡­ There are 2 or 3 jokes it took me until my early teens to get but they¡¯re some hours in and I don¡¯t think we¡¯re gonna get to ¡¯em.¡±

    ¡°Go on then!¡± she says, waving to the wall.

    ---Kara¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s¡­ me¡­

    That is¡­ my face!

    That¡¯s what my hair looks like when I grow it long¡­ but I¡¯ve never grown it that long!

    That¡¯s my voice, even if it¡¯s speaking a language that (while I can hear the ghost of English in it) I wouldn¡¯t be able to understand, untranslated.

    The babydaddy sat beside her is exactly my type!

    My stomach turns nauseatingly at the fact that, until he started talking to me about what I mistook for his fetish, I thought the same thing about the man across the table from me!

    Eugh!

    But that¡¯s less important than the fact that, even if this weren¡¯t immediately identifiable as footage made, supposedly, before I was born¡­ that woman is immediately identifiable as me! Doing things I have no memory of, speaking a language I can¡¯t understand, talking to a son I¡¯ve never had!

    ¡°That¡¯s enough¡­ stop it please¡­¡± I say, tearing my eyes away from the wall to stare at the table in front of me.

    The footage is paused and I hold a chained hand out to the man, beckoning.

    ¡°Give it to me¡­¡±

    He fumbles before producing the single sterile test tube that he¡¯s had with him every time he¡¯s come to my cell.

    Placing its holder down, he stands it inside and slides the whole thing across the table to me.

    I begin chewing my tongue without swallowing.

    After about 30 seconds, the inside of my mouth is filled with enough saliva for me to pick up the tube, peel off the film, bring my lips to its rim and drool several mils into it.

    I place the tube back down and slide it back across the table to the violet eyed woman and the emerald eyed man.

    Looking up into their faces, I ask ¡°Please¡­ tell me who I am¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.110

    ---Genes---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Well¡­ she¡¯s not your mother, that¡¯s for sure!¡± shrugs the golden haired Terran with the young face ¡°Even if she is an almost perfect 50% match to your genome and a near 100% match to your mitochondrial and X chromosomal DNA!¡±

    Victor looks dismayed.

    Emiko frowns ¡°Could you explain, Tha?s? How do you know she¡¯s not his mother if her genes line up with his like that? I¡¯m obviously no expert but what you¡¯ve just said sounds like a positive maternity test to me.¡±

    The geneticist nods ¡°It certainly looks that way¡­ until you look at any one of¡­¡± what looks like a hundred or so pins fall into the chromosomal map ¡°¡­these locations! All of these are sequences where neither of her alleles match to either of his and, when you look at the same locations on his genome, every single one is the location of a subjectively less desirable allele that has been replaced on hers¡­ If we look at this one, for instance¡­¡± he selects one of the pins ¡°¡­on your genome, Mr Taylor, you have a recessive allele that would put any children you had with someone who also possessed it at significantly increased risk of heart attacks¡­ hers lacks it, having two functional copies of the allele instead¡­¡±

    ¡°Terrans are well known for the advanced nature of your genetic science and comparative readiness to correctively tamper with your own genes¡­ How do you know she hasn¡¯t simply undergone gene therapy since she mothered Victor?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Because the genetic machinery used for gene therapy leaves behind a completely different signature to this¡­ This was done on a single set of her genes¡­¡±

    ¡°So¡­¡± starts Victor, horror spreading across his face.

    ¡°Kara Stellan is almost certainly an illegal clone of your mother, yes¡­ From what you told us about how your mother died and what we know of the Revanchists, it seems likely that she was selected on the strength of her heroic death¡­ who knows how many other Bastionites are unwittingly cloned War heroes.¡± answers the genderless Terran, simply.

    Victor¡¯s breaths increase rapidly as he backs away, choking and swallowing chaotically, as if losing control of his body.

    He turns and places his left fist on the wall, resting his head against it and closing his eyes.

    I start ¡°Victor, I¡­¡±

    ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!¡± he half growls, half screams, causing everyone else present to wince and tense as he levels a full strength punch into the wall panel, causing it to buckle and dent.

    Silence reigns for several long moments¡­

    Then, he straightens up and, without looking at any of us, says ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that¡­ I¡¯m goin¡¯ to my room¡­ please leave me alone for a bit¡­ tell everyone else to do the same, if you would.¡±

    With that, he walks from the room, leaving us behind, still in silence.

    I¡¯ve never seen him so upset as that!

    ---Kara¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°A clone?¡± I ask, horrified.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I said, yes¡­¡± answers the Tshwane woman, soberly.

    ¡°I¡¯m just some ersatz copy of a woman who died in the War¡­ and everyone at my orphanage just lied when they told me I was an orphan¡­?!¡±

    She gives a mirthless smile as she answers ¡°As a fellow clone (albeit of a much older woman and under very different circumstances) I wouldn¡¯t describe us as ¡®ersatz¡¯¡­ As to whether you were lied to, I have no way of knowing who if any of those that raised you knew what you actually were¡­ but someone will have. Clones don¡¯t get made by accident¡­ Someone very intentionally made you and put you in that orphanage knowing full well that you were no War orphan.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to be sick¡­!!!¡± I say, bringing my hand to my mouth and fighting to keep my stomach contents down as waves of nausea wrack my body.

    She shoots out a long leg and hooks an empty waste bin with her foot, dragging it close enough that she can reach it from her chair, she picks it up and places it between my cuffed hands.

    I grab the bin and stand to bring my face over it.

    Thankfully, my nausea passes without me losing my lunch.

    ¡°I¡¯m probably not the only one¡­ am I?¡± I mutter, desolately.

    ¡°It seems unlikely you would be¡­¡± she confirms.

    How many other of Bastion¡¯s children are just the reincarnations of dead soldiers? Were any of us real?!

    ¡°Why?¡­ Why would they do this¡­ what do they have to gain from making a bunch of ¡®War orphans¡¯?!¡± I ask her, grimacing.

    ¡°I can¡¯t know that either, I¡¯m afraid¡­ but I have a fairly good guess¡­¡±

    My brow furrows so hard it hurts as I ask ¡°What¡¯s your guess?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I would guess that they told themselves some very grand and noble sounding stories about how they were ¡®honouring War heroes¡¯ and ¡®giving them a second chance to live¡¯¡­ but, in reality, what they wanted was a large subsequent generation of young minds to mould into their ideal of what Terrans should be¡­ They wanted a supply of warm bodies to do their menial work for them¡­ I understand that slavery is practiced on Bastion but exclusively against gardenworlders (who don¡¯t tend to make for good heavy labourers) so, slaves tend to be used for¡­ other purposes¡­¡± her wide lips curl in disgust ¡°¡­Soldiers made for a good genetic sampling pool because anyone with debilitating genetic conditions was preexcluded by the draft process¡­ catastrophic defeats made for good sampling locations because, once the victorious army moved on, they would tend to be quite deserted for a while and¡­¡± the dark skin of her broad, flat face twists apologetically ¡°¡­telling you you were a War orphan seems like a good way to predispose you to hate gardenworlders, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°So¡­ I¡¯ve just been¡­ livestock¡­ my whole life¡­ and never realised?!¡±

    She shrugs ¡°That¡¯s certainly one way of looking at it, yes.¡±

    My stomach heaves again and, this time, I¡¯m not able to overpower the urge to vomit.

    I grab the bucket and empty my guts into it, feeling the acid burn my throat and the back of my nose as I do.

    I collapse back into my chair and stare dully into the violet eyes, across the table.

    ¡°So, Ms Stellan¡­ do you feel like telling me now¡­ where is Bastion?¡±

    I shake my head, panting, and answer ¡°I can¡¯t¡­*huff*¡­ tell you¡­*huff*¡­ that!¡±

    She cocks an eyebrow and says ¡°You mean you¡¯re still willing to defend them after what you¡¯ve just learned?¡±

    I shake my head again ¡°I mean¡­ I don¡¯t¡­*huff*¡­ know!¡­ Transport¡­ in and out¡­ is something¡­*huff*¡­ taken care of¡­ by only¡­*huff*¡­ a few ships¡­ with trusted¡­*huff*¡­ crews!¡±

    Clearly shocked, she asks ¡°You mean that almost everyone on Bastion has no idea where it is?¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°That¡¯s very interesting¡­ more than I¡¯ve managed to learn from any other Revanchist I¡¯ve interviewed¡­¡± she states, tapping a long finger against a smooth chin ¡°¡­So¡­ what else can you tell me about it?¡±

    ---Waqa¡¯arc¡¯s perspective---

    I walk through the hallway on the topmost of the deathworld dorms.

    Their smell hangs heavily on the air, though none are present.

    I reach the door at the far end and turn to face it.

    With a bracing inhale, I wave to alert the occupant of my presence.

    Heavy footfalls sound and, before the door is opened, I¡¯m already hearing the tones of the Terran lingua franca, translated as ¡°Baby, I told you¡­ I need to be alone to process¡­¡± the door slides open, revealing a large, heavily built Terran whose hairless, muscular body is almost entirely nude, bar a kind of loin covering with two leg holes.

    His hand clutches a half empty bottle of amber liquid.

    The Terran is looking slightly up with a bloodshot pair of emerald eyes.

    He looks down and sways unnervingly as he frowns ¡°¡­this¡­ You ain¡¯t Tuun!¡±

    Confused, I answer ¡°I¡­ never claimed to be?¡±

    ¡°Whatchu doin¡¯ here¡­ bigot birb¡­?¡± he slurs, followed by a hysterical giggle.

    Heavily unnerved by the chaotic way this deathworlder¡¯s behaving, I answer ¡°I¡­ came to thank you¡­¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± he demands, twisting his nose and mouth and raising an eyebrow as if he has no idea what I¡¯m talking about.

    ¡°For¡­ well¡­ you saved my life and the life of my-yah!!!¡± I shriek and jump back as the [metre] wide head of a blue furred, amber eyed carnivore appears at his side.

    The man snickers at me.

    The beast makes no move to attack.

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ I¡­ uhm¡­ I¡¯m sorry, could you put that thing on a lead, perhaps?¡±

    Lightning fast, he drops to his haunches in a way that brings our faces level and, scowling wide eyed, growls ¡°This¡­ is where she lives¡­ You¡­ came here¡­ You don¡¯t like it? Put yourself on a lead and lead yourself the fuck away!¡± putting an arm around its shoulders, pulling its body against his and stroking the fur on its clavicle with his hand.

    He¡¯s close enough that I can smell the toxic quantity of ethanol vapour on his breath.

    ¡°I¡­ have something to say to you first!¡± I assert.

    ¡°Go on then!¡± he glares.

    ¡°I¡­ it¡­ You saved my life and my mate¡¯s life in the attack the other day¡­ I came to thank you.¡±

    He sneers ¡°You already said that bit¡­ was there somethin¡¯ else?¡±

    Why¡¯s he making this so difficult?

    ¡°I suppose¡­ just¡­ thank you!¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ bye!¡± he says, standing and turning to close the door.

    ¡°Wait! That¡¯s it?¡± I demand, incredulously ¡°You aren¡¯t going to acknowledge my thanks?¡­ I¡¯m trying to reconcile with you!¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡­ Well, what if I don¡¯t wanna reconcile with you?¡± snarls the deathworlder ¡°What if I have other shit on my mind right now than massagin¡¯ the ego of some petty, officious little, Dolores Umbridge-arse segregationist who casually tosses words like ¡®miscegenator¡¯ and ¡®machine¡¯ at good people just so she can make herself feel better about what a massive pile of shit she is!?¡­ You thinka that?!?!?!¡±

    I¡¯m dumbstruck by that for a long few moments while the angry, inebriated Terran stands, scowling down at me.

    Eventually, I manage ¡°If that¡¯s all you think of me¡­ why did you save my life?¡­ If you had waited another [second] to disarm that other Terran, you could have washed your hands of me.¡±

    He scoffs ¡°Ain¡¯t how it works! You think I can think things through like that?! You think I¡¯d do anything like that if I was thinkin¡¯ ¡¯bout it at all?¡­ You think I got time to think ¡®what¡¯re the advantages and disadvantages of savin¡¯ this person or not¡¯! I saved you ¡¯cause you needed savin¡¯¡­ I saved you ¡¯cause I don¡¯t get to decide how much your life is worth! I saved you ¡¯cause, even though I never seen you be anythin¡¯ other ¡¯an a cunt to anyone, don¡¯t mean I get to say you deserve to die!¡­ Simple as!¡±

    Despite the aggressive way he delivers it, I can¡¯t help but be impressed by the nobility of the statement.

    ¡°What¡­ what¡¯s happened to reduce you to the state you¡¯re in right now, Mr Taylor?¡± I say, calling the man by his name for the first time, out loud.

    He snorts ¡°Not that it¡¯s any of your fuckin¡¯ business but¡­ if you must know¡­ I just found out that I¡¯m sharing a ship with a eugenic clone of my mum, made by bigoted terrorists who think ¡¯bout gardenworlders the way you do ¡¯bout deathworlders, after spendin¡¯ the last 4 days thinkin¡¯ she were alive, after a lifetime of thinkin¡¯ she were dead!¡­ How¡¯s your week goin¡¯(!?)¡±

    After some moments of making sense of what appeared to be word salad, at first, I answer ¡°Certainly not as bad as that, Mr Taylor!¡±

    The Terran drops to the floor (in a way that definitely would have had me add a note about his alcoholism to my file if I¡¯d seen 5 days ago) and half swivels, half falls, with his back impacting the wall.

    His shoulders slumped, his long, thick, bare legs lying in front of him at a right angle to his torso, he turns his face upward and emits rapid puffing sounds.

    His eyes screw up and clear fluid begins spilling from them.

    Even though it looks very different, the pain he¡¯s feeling right now is one I know all too well.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t even angry! There wasn¡¯t even a fuckin¡¯ moment where I was thinkin¡¯ ¡®Hey Mum! Where the fuckya been all my life!?¡¯ I was¡­ so fuckin¡¯ happy, just to finally have her back¡­ When she started sayin¡¯ she didn¡¯t know what I was talkin¡¯ ¡¯bout, I started rationalising; ¡®maybe she got amnesia¡¯, ¡®maybe they wiped her memories when they kidnapped her¡¯, ¡®maybe she¡¯s in deep cover ¡¯an I¡¯m blowin¡¯ it for her¡¯¡­ but no¡­ she didn¡¯t know my name, my Dad¡¯s name, Auntie Tamsin¡¯s, Uncle Rex¡¯s, Uncle Rabbie¡¯s, Simone Sands¡¯ or anyone else¡­ because that¡¯s. not. her!¡­ Just a cruel fuckin¡¯ joke!¡±

    I look at the emotional male¡­ and imagine how his situation would feel¡­

    If I saw someone who seemed to be Qrawi¡¯a but who didn¡¯t know me¡­ If I found out that this had been done to her¡­ it would be devastating.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ extremely sor-¡±

    ¡°Spare me!¡± he snarls, startling me ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve already given you more ¡¯an enough dirt to add to your pathetic little burn book, so just. fuck. off!¡±

    Despite his inebriation, his hand flies perfectly over his head to impact the panel.

    The door slides closed, lightly impacting the short snout of the predator as it shuts.

    It yowls in protest and the drunkard immediately transforms his tone allowing me to hear a sympathetic ¡°Oh! Sorry, baby! I didn¡¯t mean to! Didn¡¯t see you there!¡­ Come here¡­¡± through the door.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.111

    ---Fuel---

    ---Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n¡¯s perspective---

    I sit on a plinth in the gymnasium, my back straight, my legs crossed in a full lotus, my hands placed into one another on my lap, my mind empty of thought.

    Then I hear him approaching.

    His normally impressively light footfalls thunder like war drums!

    This man is burning right now.

    ¡°Fight me!¡± he challenges.

    ¡°No.¡± I answer without opening my eyes.

    ¡°Why not!?¡± he demands ¡°Isn¡¯t that your job!? Isn¡¯t combat what you live for!?¡±

    Answering his questions in reverse order, I say ¡°What I live for is enlightenment, excellence in combat is simply my main means of seeking it¡­ My job is seeing to your health and I judge that indulging your request right now would be counter to it¡­ As to why; right now, you are a fire to which I do not wish to add fuel¡­ I advise you to talk to Alchyinad¡­¡±

    ¡°She can¡¯t see me until tomorrow¡­ I¡¯ve just gotta get out my aggression right now¡­¡±

    ¡°¡®Getting out your aggression¡¯ will not banish it, any more than one can extinguish a fire with dry wood.¡±

    He thinks for a second before answering ¡°If you pour enough dry wood on a fire, can¡¯t you smother it before it catches?¡±

    ¡°You can pick apart my metaphors all you like, it will not change the truth they convey. Even if you could smother this fire with too much fuel, the risk you run is that if even a single ember avoids being smothered, you have now given it enormously more fuel than it had before. When the blaze reignites it will be worse than it was.¡±

    ¡°So what!? I¡¯m just supposed to not feel!? Deny my emotions until they burn out!?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ fire has its uses. I am telling you to be the tender of your fire, not its victim. Know when to add fuel to your fire and when to do so would be dangerous¡­ I suggest getting in contact with your therapist and telling her it is an emergency¡­ she may be able to find space she wouldn¡¯t have otherwise.¡±

    Even with my eyes closed, I can tell he scowls at the suggestion.

    ¡°Fuck this¡­¡± he snarls ¡°¡­you don¡¯t understand! How could you!¡±

    ¡°I have never experienced the pain you feel right now, this is correct. Even someone who had been in exactly your circumstances wouldn¡¯t have felt exactly your pain¡­¡± I confirm ¡°¡­but do not make the mistake of thinking that, because your pain is unique, none can empathise with it. Though no two flames burn exactly alike, all are keepers of a fire. To feel pain is to live.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­ existence is suffering, right(?!)¡± he snarls.

    ¡°You may not share my faith, M¨ªng, but please do not mock it.¡± I correct, gently but firmly ¡°I suggest you join me for a meditation¡­ I think it will do you much more good than a spar.¡±

    Long moments of silence follow as the angry man considers my suggestion.

    Then, I hear him turn on his heels and thunder away.

    ¡°A shame.¡± I state.

    ---Boris¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°That¡¯s outrageous!¡± I yell at the little xeno woman behind the counter.

    She cowers away from me, obviously recognising me as a man of the one and only sapience producing deathworld.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sir!¡± she grovels ¡°But food with this high a calorie density with these specific nutrients isn¡¯t readily available in this area of the spacelanes.¡±

    ¡°But this is nearly half as much again the price that we had to pay at the last station we resupplied at! This is extortionate! You¡¯re discriminating against us because we¡¯re deathworlders!¡±

    Panicking, she answers ¡°I promise you we¡¯re not, Sir! It¡¯s¡­ erm¡­ it¡¯s just that a lot of things can effect the price! If¡­ if you came from the core¡­ the availability will have been better and the shipping costs will have been lower! If you bought from a large conglomerate, the price may have been discounted in a way that a family business like ours can¡¯t match! We¡¯re honestly not trying to extort you¡­ this is just as little as we can charge without incurring a loss!¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? Well, I want to talk to your manager about this! Or, better yet, what if I just went and got my friends off my ship and we came and took what we wanted and paid what we think it¡¯s worth!¡± I bluff.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Pretty sure that¡¯s called theft¡­¡± comes a flat voice from behind me, translated into male sounding Russian by the device at my temple.

    ¡°Oh yeah, and what¡­?¡± I say, wheeling around.

    My voice catches in my throat.

    The unfamiliar man I¡¯ve just turned to face is a head taller than me, powerfully built and, unexpectedly, Human.

    He¡¯s fair skinned, copper haired and has bright green eyes.

    He leers down at me with a contemptuous expression colouring his face.

    Behind him is a tall, slender xeno woman with blue skin, white hair, glowing white eyes and four arms.

    ¡°¡­I¡­ uhm¡­ It wouldn¡¯t be theft if we paid for it?¡± I answer, carefully.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it?¡± he answers, danger in his voice. Then, seeming to completely change the subject, he says ¡°Nice jacket you¡¯re wearing¡­ I¡¯ll buy it off you for a credit¡­¡±

    Deeply confused I answer ¡°One cred? Dude, come on! I paid waymore than that for it!¡­ It wouldn¡¯t even fit you!¡±

    A powerful hand shoots out to grab my lapel and yanks me forward so fast that my feet roll over my toes and I land in a kneel, held up by the massive man who now has his crazed face an inch from mine!

    Blue hands appear at his shoulder as the xeno woman fruitlessly attempts to pull him away, saying ¡°Victor¡­ Victor! Calm down! This guy isn¡¯t worth it!¡±

    Ignoring her, he addresses me, snarling ¡°If I decided that a cred were a fair price, would it be fair to just take the jacket off you and flick you a cred as I walked away?!¡±

    ¡°¡­Uhm¡­ no?¡± I pant.

    ¡°Oh! Good! You can recognise an injustice when it¡¯s happenin¡¯ to you at least(!)¡± he growls ¡°Now¡­ let me tell you what¡¯s gonna happen¡­ I am gonna let you up, you¡¯re gonna apologise to the clerk here for makin¡¯ a nuisance of yourself, then you¡¯re gonna take your business elsewhere and not try the same shit there as you did here, because, if you do, you¡¯ll answer to me and my friends about it! Am. I. clear?¡±

    Terrified, I nod my head, frantically.

    ¡°Good!¡± he says, releasing the front of my clothes, standing up and gesturing over my head to the warehouse clerk.

    His companion tentatively releases her hands from his shoulder.

    I scramble to my feet and turn to face the pink skinned xeno.

    ¡°I¡¯m very sorry for causing you trouble!¡± I say, frightened that I might be attacked from behind if my apology doesn¡¯t sound sincere enough.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ uhm¡­ that¡¯s alright¡­?¡± says the girl, her three eyes flicking from me to the man behind me and back.

    I turn behind me, asking with my expression if I¡¯m allowed to leave.

    He jabs a thumb to the door and says ¡°Off you fuck!¡­ There¡¯s another emporium on the other side of the station¡­ prices about 4% higher than this one¡­ short tempered pair of Threndians working security¡­ I¡¯m sure they¡¯d love your custom(!)¡±

    Metaphorical tail between my legs, I make for the door.

    As I leave I hear him exhale before saying ¡°Sorry about that¡­ now, could you tell me what you¡¯ve got in the way of deathworld provisions? We¡¯re willin¡¯ to pay full price, obviously¡­¡±

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Yeah, so¡­ then we bought up their entire stock of all of the same stuff he wanted¡­ It¡¯s a tiny bit more than we actually needed¡­ but it won¡¯t spoil and it¡¯s probably the best price we¡¯re gonna get this far out on this side of the galaxy.¡± says the exhausted man, gesturing vaguely out of the window to the space station we¡¯re moored at.

    There¡¯s no whisper of pride in his voice.

    ¡°And¡­ you and your fianc¨¦e¡­ fought about this?¡± I ask ¡°What was the contention?¡±

    ¡°Basically, she thought I overreacted, that he was just a male Karen makin¡¯ idle threats, that I shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve put my hands on him even if I managed to keep myself from beating him to a bloody pulp¡­¡±

    ¡°Do you think it was actually about you putting your hands on him?¡± I query, carefully.

    ¡°What d¡¯you mean?¡± he frowns.

    ¡°Well¡­ she has just agreed to marry you, hasn¡¯t she? Do you think that she might be worried about what might happen if she¡¯s ever on the receiving end of the way you acted today?¡±

    Stonily, he answers ¡°There is only one kind of person I¡¯d ever put my hands on like that¡­ people who deserve it! I am not an abuser!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m certainly not saying you are, Victor¡­ and I don¡¯t think Tuun thinks that either¡­ consciously at least¡­¡±

    ¡°But¡­ you think¡­ she¡¯s looking at how short my fuse is right now and subconsciously thinking ¡®what the fuck am I gettin¡¯ myself into? What if, one day, he decides that I¡¯m someone who deserves it?¡¯?¡±

    I shrug ¡°I think it¡¯s a possibility¡­ Maybe worth considering how it might have frightened her and how she may not be fully aware, herself, what it was that she was actually scared by?¡±

    He closes his eyes, furrows his brow, exhales through his nose and nods.

    ¡°I understand that what you learned the other day must be challenging¡­ I think anyone would be thrown into a certain amount of mental disarray by a revelation like that¡­ Do you think you drew any connection between this unruly customer and the ones who cloned your mother?¡±

    ¡°Definitely!¡± he answers immediately with a single emphatic nod and a stony tone in his voice ¡°He might as well¡¯ve been wearin¡¯ an ¡®I ? the Revanchists¡¯ pin on his ugly jacket! Swaggerin¡¯ about, throwin¡¯ his weight around, actin¡¯ like bein¡¯ the toughest guy in the room means he gets to act however he wants! Made my fuckin¡¯ blood boil! Decided he needed to know how it felt to be on the other end of that!¡±

    ¡°So¡­ do you think he learned his lesson?¡± I ask, my tone neutral.

    He gives a long sigh ¡°¡­Nooooo¡­ I think he probably don¡¯t have enough empathy to understand anythin¡¯ like ¡®That sucked! Guess I should stop treatin¡¯ people like that myself!¡¯¡­ I suppose he just  learned to be more careful when he does¡­ make sure he actually is the toughest son of a bitch in the room before actin¡¯ like a bully¡­ I guess that¡¯s better ¡¯an nothin¡¯ but¡­¡±

    He trails off here so I suggest ¡°But you¡¯d much prefer the experience to have taught him some empathy?¡±

    He nods, forlornly, before saying ¡°Guess I¡¯m a bit of a hypocrite in that way, though!¡±

    ¡°A hypocrite?¡± I say, my tone querying.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ you know? Didn¡¯t have any empathy for how I made Tuun feel, did I!¡±

    I frown ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have said the two situations were comparable myself¡­ You clearly care about whether you hurt Tuun¡­ From your description it doesn¡¯t seem like this man you made pay the ¡®arsehole tax¡¯ cared at all about how his behaviour affected others?¡±

    He shrugs ¡°Guess not.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t elaborate further so, instead, I ask ¡°Alright Victor, why don¡¯t we revisit the topic of this girl? Have you spoken to her since you found out she was not your mother?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.112

    ---Home---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    My flight muscles tighten across my chest, all my feathers stand on end and my heartsrate increases enormously as I look at the ship that¡¯s class came to be known as death incarnate during the War.

    I can only imagine how those aboard the space station must feel, looking at it¡­ Though, those without a service record probably don¡¯t fully grasp just how lethal what they¡¯re looking at truly is!

    The Terrans apparently started the conflict with only five of them¡­ By its end, they had twenty, despite having lost eight!

    They were controversial since, thinking themselves alone in the galaxy, it was hard to justify the enormous outlay of cost on a weapon that would only ever be used against other Terrans.

    Their very existence was seen as antagonistic to peace, an implied threat of force against any who might seek independence from the UTC.

    Those who pointed out that they may, one day, encounter advanced life in the stars and it may not be friendly to them were brushed off as making flimsy excuses.

    It is certainly not the largest craft in space¡­ only around ¡Á10 the size of the Bright Plume¡­ though the mythos associated with it does make it loom a lot larger in my mind!

    What it is, however, is the most heavily armed and armoured class of ship that has likely ever flown!

    Unless, lost in deep time, there was some other deathworld empire who created its equal, no single craft ever constructed has rivalled the Terran dreadnought¡­

    It¡¯s sleek hull is reinforced with durasteel and plated with panels of a heat resistant armour which would (plausibly) allow it to submerge itself several [kilometres] deep into the plasma of an O type star without the crew inside succumbing to either the heat or the pressure!

    Every one of its sides is lined with a forest of rail gun emplacements, each able to shoot various kinds of ammunition at up to 95% the speed of light.

    They cause it to somewhat resemble a shocked Kwilion, their spines all erect(!)

    There¡¯s one feature, however, that sets this model apart from any that saw service during the War: its fighter hanger blast doors are fully open with distant Terrans visible moving around inside. It has an atmospheric containment field activated.

    There certainly wouldn¡¯t be space for us to dock the entire ship inside and, for various reasons, transferring the prisoners through the space station is out of the question, so they¡¯ve sent a troop lander to dock with us externally.

    The doors open and reveal a dozen durasteel clad Terran warriors.

    "Permission to come aboard?" requests a male voice, emanating from one of the [marines] (though, which I could not say!)

    "Granted." I answer.

    They stride onto my ship but, immediately, startle and whip into a volley fire combat arrangement without a word needing to be spoken.

    Their guns are all trained on the tall, skeletal, durasteel droid stood among us, its limbs unrestrained and its eyes glowing red.

    ¡°What the Hell¡¯s going on here!?¡± demands the same voice as spoke before.

    ¡°Calm down, calm down!¡± reassures a mechanical woman at my side, running forward without putting herself in the line of fire ¡°That is not Jackson ¡®Scout¡¯ Stetter! This is!¡± she holds up a portable stasis tube containing a jar with a crinkled mass of pink flesh inside it ¡°That¡¯s just his body which I¡¯m controlling right now. I¡¯m sorry, I should have warned you¡­¡±

    ¡°Stand down.¡± comes the same voice as before.

    One of the soldiers stands and steps forward.

    ¡°You¡¯re just trying to keep us on our toes are you(?)¡± he says, removing his helmet to look down into Twila¡¯s elastomer face. His expression is a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°No, Sir. A genuine oversight. I just thought walking the body here would save your people some of the effort of getting it aboard.¡± responds Twila, apologetically.

    ¡°You know what Victor would say if he were here, Twila?¡± I chime in, wryly.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯d get an earful about safety and negligence, Captain.¡± says the girl.

    The warrior turns his attention to me.

    ¡°Captain Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak?¡± he asks, extending his hand.

    ¡°The very same¡­¡± I answer, extending my wingclaw to his manipulator in a Terran greeting ¡°¡­and you are¡­?¡±

    ¡°LtCol Jasper ¡®Knight¡¯ Richter of the UTC Marine Corps¡­.¡± responds the Terran as he shakes my hand ¡°¡­Commanding Officer of the Marine detachment aboard the UTCS Spite.¡±

    He gestures out of the window to the ship that¡¯s name is a synonym of ¡®Malice¡¯ ¡°Lucky we happen to be in the neighbourhood. We¡¯re just on our way back from Jukt Space. We were helping them out with a little piracy problem they were experiencing in their parts of the lanes¡­ If you¡¯d made the call a month before or after you did, there¡¯d not have been a ship in 10,000ly that could have taken someone so dangerous¡­ even in this state!¡± he gestures between the docile body and the brain that was pulled from it ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you would be able to walk it aboard our lander, would you?¡± he asks.

    Twila shakes her head ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, Lieutenant Colonel¡­ your cybersecurity is too formidable, my control doesn¡¯t extend inside. Unless you want me to make it take a running leap aboard but¡­ I feel like it would damage your floor when it collapsed, with how hard and heavy it is¡­¡±

    He shrugs ¡°Can¡¯t be helped¡­ Cpl Altan, GySgt Tveit, get a mule for this. Pvt Hargrave, please take¡­ uhm¡­¡± he frowns at the container before settling on ¡°¡­him aboard¡­ If someone would be so kind as to lead us to the Brig, the rest of you can form up and follow along.¡±

    ---Kara¡¯s perspective---

    The other prisoners from the Vulture have already been taken away when the clear polymer of my cell door retracts.

    I walk forward, the cuffs that the snake woman deployed from the wall jangling at my wrists in front of me.

    I turn to one of the soldiers, clad in fullplate durasteel nicer than any I¡¯ve seen on Bastion.

    ¡°Could I have a moment to say goodbye?¡± I ask, gesturing to the gigantic man, looming over both of us.

    I can¡¯t see a face through the rippled, black metal helmet but the bodylanguage is hesitant as she turns from me to look up at the man.

    The man briefly shuts his eyes and lolls his head slightly to the side in a gesture of ¡®it¡¯s fine¡¯.

    She walks off, leaving me alone with the giant man who (genetically at least) is my son¡­ still not used to that!

    I¡¯m sure she hasn¡¯t gone far¡­ ready to rush back if she hears any sign of a struggle.

    ¡°From the looks of us, you¡¯d never guess it was me who had spent the last few weeks locked in a cell(!)¡± I smile, nervously, up into the eyes the precise same shade of green as mine, ringed by dark eyebags.

    He gives a mirthless scoff ¡°Yeah¡­ ain¡¯t been sleepin¡¯ well¡­ for obvious reasons¡­¡±

    There¡¯s an awkward silence as we both just stand, facing eachother, for a few moments.

    Finally, I look down and clear my throat ¡°*ehem*¡­Listen¡­ I¡¯m¡­ really sorry I¡¯m not who you thought I was!¡­ If it¡¯s any consolation, I would have much preferred to be the real thing too!¡±

    He sighs ¡°¡­Yeah¡­ prob¡¯ly would¡¯ve been too much to ask that they¡¯d give you a temporary release from rehab to come and sit in the front row at my weddin¡¯, even if you had been her¡­ even with your promised cooperation¡­ It¡¯s fine¡­ what you are ain¡¯t your fault and¡­ not like I¡¯ve got any less family now than I did before I met you¡­¡±

    Sheepishly, I answer ¡°I¡­ I hope this isn¡¯t weird to say but¡­ I feel like¡­ I feel like we¡­ are family¡­ kind of¡­? Long lost siblings I guess? Children of the same mother¡­ even if you¡¯re the only one she actually meant to have¡­¡±

    He smiles a smile that doesn¡¯t come close to touching his eyes and shakes his head ¡°Nope¡­ I was an accident¡­ she didn¡¯t mean to have either of us¡­¡±

    ¡°Well then¡­¡± I smile back ¡°¡­that¡¯s something else we have in common(!)¡±

    He actually laughs for the first time I¡¯ve heard, even if it¡¯s just a chuckle.

    I hesitate for a long time before asking what I want to ask next.

    The awkwardness finally gets too much and I just blurt ¡°Victor,couldIhaveahuggoodbye?¡±

    His bloodshot eyes widen slightly and both his eyebrows raise as his head moves a few centimetres backwards.

    ¡°No¡­ of course not¡­¡± I say, my cheeks immediately burning with embarrassment ¡°¡­that was too weird! I¡¯m sorry! Forget I s-Ah!¡±

    A pair of thick, solid arms fly around my shoulders and my face impacts a muscular chest as the giant man pulls me into a bear hug!

    I¡¯m not able to hug him back, my hands still cuffed in front of me.

    No one has ever hugged me like this¡­

    Not one carer, friend or lover has ever squeezed me with this amount of tenderness!

    There¡¯s a desperate longing to how he embraces me¡­ Like he¡¯s been waiting a lifetime for it¡­ which, I suppose, he has!

    As I breathe in the smell of the man who shares half of my blood and half that of a man that another me, in another time, loved, I sob.

    Tears sting my eyes as I wish again, so badly, that I could be the woman this hug is actually meant for¡­ that their geneticist could come in right now and tell me they¡¯d made a mistake and that I am, in fact, a mindwiped Esme Reid/Taylor and not just some fucking livestock clone of her!

    I wish I could watch him get married from a front row seat¡­ not a remote viewing channel in a cell in a medium security women¡¯s prison!

    Even with the reduced rehab term I¡¯m probably gonna get sentenced to, considering my circumstances and willingness to cooperate, it¡¯s probably going to be years before I get out and get to think of building a relationship with this man who is my only family in the universe¡­ As much as being what we are actually makes us family at all¡­

    I can think about the future when it comes¡­

    Right now¡­ this hug¡­ it feels like home¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.113

    ---Crash---

    ---Bonheh¡¯s perspective---

    I stand in the doorway of my home aboard Xartham Space Station, looking down at Lagomeer.

    ¡°OK Laggy, before we leave, what¡¯s rule one?¡± I ask, running a forepaw over his head, flattening his long ears backward.

    His nose twitches as he chants

    mp?The Hjopian is not tough nor large nor fierce and nor are we strong!

    Speed is our weapon. It¡¯s best for us to simply hop along!

    Larger folk have no need of care when they trudge and step and stamp!

    What they lack we must have, so, my child, you must be a careful champ!?mp

    ¡°Very good, baby!¡± I praise, causing my son to thump his left leg involuntarily.

    Lagomeer is an only child.

    This is uncommon for my species.

    Usually, we have litters of three to six.

    I may be¡­ just a touch overprotective as a result.

    Hopefully, when Huch and I are ready for a second litter, Laggy won¡¯t be too spoiled to be a good big brother to them.

    Hopefully, by that point, he and I will have earned enough at our respective jobs on Xartham to move back to Hjop and take a [decade] or so off of work.

    I step out of my family apartment in the Warren, the space station¡¯s quarter for smaller species with an evolutionary history of burrowing.

    The Warren is about the only place on Xartham where we don¡¯t have to be on constant guard against being stepped on!

    The ceiling is only about [1.5m] over the floor, meaning that most who could carelessly hurt us are too large to fit in here.

    ¡°Fine daybreak, Bonheh!¡± hails one of my neighbours, Vatra, extending me a membranous wing in greeting.

    Her species are not burrowers. Nevertheless, she lives in the Warren for much the same reason as Huch, Laggy and I. It¡¯s the safest place aboard for the small and delicate.

    ¡°Good morning, Vats.¡± I smile, kindly.

    ¡°Where are you off to today? I thought Third Diurnal was one of your days off?¡± she queries.

    ¡°Oh, just headed over to AnThuk and Daughters¡¯¡­ a special order just came in for us from our homeworld. Laggy¡¯s coming with me too.¡± I say, gesturing to my son.

    She feigns shock as she says ¡°This fine young gentleman(!) No, no(!) You must be mistaken, Bonheh(!) He could never be Lagomeer(!) He looks almost grown up(!)¡±

    Excitedly and completely oblivious to Vatra¡¯s humouring tone, Laggy pushes himself from his juvenile quadrupedalism and into a bipedal stance more typical of an adult, straightening his back and his legs to bring the top of his head about level with my hip and standing his ears straight up on his head ¡°It is me, Auntie Vats! Mummy and Daddy measured me and told me I¡¯m [49cm] the other day!¡±

    She smirks ¡°And how tall without the ears, Laggy?¡±

    He looks embarrassed as he answers ¡°¡­[37cm]¡­¡±

    She laughs ¡°Don¡¯t worry, son! From the looks of your father, I¡¯d say you have a good chance of ending up [>1m]!¡±

    ¡°Nooo¡­¡± he answers, confused ¡°¡­Daddy¡¯s only [94cm]!¡±

    ¡°You might be taller than him?¡± she suggests with a mischievous turn of her snout.

    Lagomeer looks like his entire conception of reality is imploding at the realisation that, one day, he may be taller than either of his parents.

    ¡°And, I¡¯m sure, when you are, you¡¯ll wish you could go back to the days when you were only [37cm], when the world seemed so simple! Don¡¯t forget to enjoy it while it lasts!¡­ Anyway, much as I would love to stand around catching up all day, I¡¯ll let you both go¡­ I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t need to tell you to be careful out there.¡±

    I smile back ¡°You don¡¯t, Vats¡­ but we appreciate the sentiment. See you later!¡±

    I turn to head toward the Warren¡¯s exit. Lagomeer follows behind me, dropping to all fours.

    We pass an oval window, around [1.1m] tall and [3.5m] wide and I stop to scan the panorama of space outside the ship, my insides tautening with anxiety.

    Lagomeer hops his front legs onto the lower sill in order to see out.

    ¡°What are you looking at, Mummy?¡± he asks ¡°There¡¯s nothing there.¡±

    ¡°Nothing, sweetie¡­ Mummy¡¯s not looking at anything.¡± I smile, consciously relaxing myself.

    Technically, what I said was only half true¡­

    What I was looking at was an empty patch of space where, yesterday, was a Terran warship that, had it simply decided to, could have annihilated the entire space station in a matter of [minutes].

    A warship that still haunts my nightmares, [30 years] since I was medically discharged from the navy.

    It¡¯s gone, it¡¯s not there, I can rest easy¡­ so long as I don¡¯t think about it coming back!

    The odds of the Terrans recommencing the War by surprise attacking some random space station on the far side of the galaxy from their core systems are so low that a rational person wouldn¡¯t even consider it¡­ Me though¡­

    Tearing my thoughts away from the memory of the way a single one of those devil ships cut through my fleet like an incandescing plasmablade through water ice and how I went from running because I was a runner to running for my life, I turn from the window.

    I step up to the exit and bring my left foot in front of Laggy¡¯s chest, just in case he tries to bolt forward.

    The door opens, revealing an enormous cylindrical leg which stamps down from high enough a height that Laggy would easily have been crushed by it.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    All the good will I feel that Xartham¡¯s designers thought to include a place like the Warren is negated by the utterly moronic decision to have its exit open directly onto one of the busiest thoroughfares aboard!

    We literally have to take our lives in our hands every time we want to enter or exit our enclave!

    I poke my head from the door, quickly turning my long ears to listen left as I look right then right as I look left.

    ¡°Follow me.¡± I say to Lagomeer, my voice humourless and urgent enough to let him know that now is not playtime!

    I dart through the crowds, keeping my left ear swivelled down and back to make sure that I can still hear the pitter-patter of his little legs behind me.

    I make for a nook in the far wall that I know serves quite well as a shelter for us to catch our breath.

    I¡¯ve got a mental map of every such refuge aboard. Fortunately though, the corridors around the trading company¡¯s warehouse are significantly less trafficked than these so, as we draw closer to it, we can slow down and don¡¯t need to dart through gaps in the crowd and dodge and weave through deadly sets of legs so much.

    Most of the giants probably didn¡¯t notice much more than the flash of my hi-viz backpack as we ran past them.

    As we come up on AnThuk and Daughters¡¯, my ears pointing backward to listen for anyone who might be approaching us from behind, I smell something¡­

    Oh¡­ nooooo!

    We are, almost literally, as far from Terran Space as it¡¯s possible to get here and yet¡­ if my nose is not deceiving me, we¡¯ve had three ships with Terrans aboard dock within the last week!

    First there were the traders who strutted about, arrogantly throwing their weight around for a few days (before seeming to leave in a hurry), then there was the litany of sailors who came aboard for shore leave from the devil ship and now¡­

    I round the corner and my stomach sinks¡­

    Two of them are stood at the counter with two R¡¯qali women, a blue skinned biped with four arms and a bipedal droid.

    They¡¯re chatting to MoRas (who seems surprisingly at ease, all things considered, as her three teal eyes shift around the group).

    Well, at least they don¡¯t seem aggressive!

    Gesturing Lagomeer to stand up (ostensibly for politeness) I pull his shoulders to rest against my leg as we approach.

    One of the Terran''s is male and one female.

    They¡¯re both enormous for their species, the female a little under [2m] and the male a little over.

    The female has her long, golden head fur tied tightly into a long tail at the top back of her skull and is clad in bronze coloured armour over her legs and torso. She spares me a brief glance before turning away, seeming to have correctly judged that I could pose no threat to them, even if I wanted to!

    The male has a mop of curly copper fur and a powerful build clearly apparent under his skin tight, royal blue outfit.

    Unlike his companion, he doesn¡¯t turn his head or eyes to look at me and he doesn¡¯t falter in his conversation.

    Nonetheless, every hair on my body stands up as I feel his attention rest on me by some means I can¡¯t explain.

    It¡¯s chilling!

    I almost pick up Lagomeer and bolt from the premises!

    Then it passes¡­ The pressing weight of his unmarked awareness of me and my son lifts and I breathe a silent sigh of relief.

    Terrans aren¡¯t large or oblivious enough to step on a Hjopian accidentally¡­ If, however, they decided to step on me or Lagomeer, either of us would be no less dead than if we had been crushed under the foot of a Sho¡¯uso, a Threndian or a Vinjirian!

    ¡°I¡¯ve just received word that your order is ready. My cousin should be bringing it right out for you.¡± smiles MoRas.

    Wait¡­ smiles! How can she smile!?

    Does she not realise who she¡¯s talking to?!

    She must not!

    She couldn¡¯t be so at ease if she did!

    I¡¯ll have to tell her¡­ later¡­ don¡¯t want to cause them to take offence!

    I know better than most what an offended Terran is capable of!

    ¡°Alright, thanks!¡­ Guess we¡¯ll step outta the line then.¡± answers the large male Terran, turning to face me, smiling while, mercifully, keeping his teeth hidden and gesturing me to go ahead to the counter.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I mutter, averting my eyes downward as respectfully as I can.

    With great conscious effort I manage to keep my ears pointing forward rather than tracking the Terrans with them (as my every nerve is screaming at me to do).

    ¡°I should have a delivery to collect, MoRas?¡± I say, forcing calm into my voice.

    The pink skinned girl smiles and gestures in confirmation.

    ¡°You do, Mrs Joodie¡­ special delivery from Hjop¡­ I¡¯ll just let the warehouse know to bring it out and-By the STARS!¡±

    Her three teal eyes flash up to look at something behind me.

    My ears swivel back, ahead of the rest of my head.

    In that moment, I become aware of two things; Lagomeer is no longer at my side and one of the Terrans is moving¡­ fast!

    Then I hear a noise that causes my whole body to freeze in fear.

    *CRASH*

    ---MaThal¡¯s perspective---

    Stars! Stars! Stars!! Stars!!! STARS!!!

    I¡¯ve just killed someone!

    I was just driving the loader from the warehouse to the shopfront to deliver some goods when a [2m] tall biped sprinted to throw his entire body in front of the vehicle!

    The whole thing stopped dead in a way I would have imagined it would have taken the inertia of an adult male Ulat or female Spelvuk to achieve!

    The front of the loader is crushed from the impact!

    I¡¯m surprised the relatively gracile alien had quite so much mass!

    But, however sturdily he was built, there is simply no surviving an impact with [hundreds of kilos] of vehicle, travelling at [tens of kilometres an hour]!

    I¡¯ve killed a man!

    Then, my vehicle shakes.

    I look around for the cause but see nothing!

    ¡°Aaaaaaaaah!¡± I shriek as a bloody, five fingered hand appears from in front of the crumpled bonnet.

    It digs into the metal panelling, deforming it further as a mess of copper hair is pulled into view ahead of a grimacing face.

    Too terrified to scream at the rows of white teeth bared at me beneath a vertical nose and two bright green eyes, I sit there and breathe rapidly.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ on¡­ my¡­ leg!¡± he growls at me through his gritted teeth.

    ¡°Do¡­ you want me to reverse?¡±

    ¡°NO you moron! Get out!¡±

    I panic as I hurriedly and clumsily begin extracting myself from the vehicle.

    ¡°Samus, Twila, Tuun, lift this thing off me please!¡± growls the man to his companions as they approach.

    The two women and droid quickly and seamlessly take positions around the front of the loader and hook beneath it with their hands.

    Just as I¡¯m thinking what they¡¯re attempting to be impossible, the three of them lift the vehicle around [30cm] into the air between them! It seemed to take zero effort from anyone but the blue skinned one with the four arms!

    The man shuffles forward and sits up, his back facing me and his left arm cradling something I can¡¯t see.

    At a loss, I begin ¡°Why did you jump¡­?!¡±

    But I¡¯m cut off by screams of ¡°Lagomeer!? Lagomeer!?!?!?¡± from a Hjopian woman I recognise.

    Bonheh Joodie runs right up to the unfamiliar biped with the copper hair.

    Her face is coloured by sheer terror!

    The man turns to her, revealing what he holds.

    In his pentadactyl hand is the rump of a tiny creature covered in lilac fur with pale blue splotches.

    The Hjopian infant seems dazed but unharmed as the miraculously alive alien takes him in both hands and proffers him to his mother.

    I understand now.

    I was about to run over Lagomeer Joodie and, far from suicidally throwing himself in front of my vehicle, this man jumped in to save him!

    Did he even know he would survive it, though?

    The Joodie woman falters a moment before taking her son from the man more than twice her size and (if the destruction of my vehicle is anything to go by) dozens of times her mass!

    Overcoming her hesitation, she takes her son from him and gives a heartfelt ¡°Thank you, Sir! I can¡¯t thank you enough!!!¡±

    ¡°You alright, you idiot?¡± smirks a golden haired biped of a similar looking species to the copper haired one.

    The man shakes his face from side to side before answering ¡°Nope! Pretty sure I got a cracked rib from that!¡±

    That¡¯s absurd!

    If his rib were cracked, he would be convulsing in shock right now if he hadn¡¯t already died from it!

    ¡°Is it one of the places Thran broke, baby?¡± whimpers the blue skinned one with four arms.

    Another side to side head wobble from the man ¡°New one. Not as bad!¡±

    He¡¯s had broken ribs before?! He¡¯s had worse than that that he got from an impact with a vehicle!?

    ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯m gonna be much help with the stuff¡­ could one of you take me backta the ship?¡±

    ¡°No, Victor¡­¡± begins the droid, startling me ¡°¡­I¡¯ve got a hovertrolley already on its way, wait here for that and you can lie down and ride it back. It¡¯s probably best if you don¡¯t walk anywhere right now!¡­ I¡¯ve already let the medics know.¡±

    This time the man wobbles his face up and down as he answers ¡°Good thinkin¡¯, Twila.¡±

    Agog, I stare across the group.

    For the first time, I notice the two R¡¯qali women standing in the back.

    One of them is staring at the scene, her beak hanging open, seeming to be at just as much of a loss as I am!

    The other is staring at the first with an expression flagged as smug satisfaction!

    What is happening right now!?

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.114

    ---Hunters---

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Alright! Let¡¯s get it out of the way¡­¡± declares the haughty R¡¯qali as she enters my office and hops onto the perch I¡¯ve set up for her without allowing me a moment to offer her alternatives ¡°¡­I mocked and belittled you and now I¡¯m here asking for your help! Whatever you have to say to me, just say it!¡±

    With mirthful bemusement, I lean my elbows onto the desk in front of me, my patagia and proximal interphalangeal joints of my wing digits folded neatly up my sleeves and resting just outside of them ¡°You believe I¡¯m going to open your first therapy session with hostility, Waqa¡¯arc?¡±

    ¡°Of course you are.¡± she scowls, looking away from me out of the window ¡°I¡¯m sure you think I deserve it!¡±

    ¡°It sounds to me as if you might think you deserve it¡­?¡± I pose, my tone neutral.

    ¡°Well don¡¯t I?! After the things I said about you and your husband, he point blank refused my case!!!¡± she shrieks, irritably ¡°I¡¯m sure the two of you will have a good laugh at the things I tell you later!¡±

    ¡°We will not.¡± I state, firmly ¡°Confidentiality is of vital importance to the therapeutic relationship I hope to start cultivating here, today. Marc knows this and will not ask me for any of the details of what you tell me. If he did, I would refuse to give them¡­ As to why he declined to see you as a client; it¡¯s true that he judged the feelings of animosity that you engendered in him (and that you have for Terrans) to be unconducive to building a therapeutic relationship with him¡­ but this was not a snub, Waqa¡¯arc¡­ the crueller, more malicious option available to him was accepting your case, knowing that you and he are so hostile to eachother.¡±

    She *humph*s in response, unconvinced.

    I lean against my chairback, pleasantly squashing the clawed tips of my wingfingers into my spine as I tent my manipulators in front of me and say ¡°Alright Waqa¡¯arc¡­ before we go any further, there are some things I need to make you aware of regarding how therapy is, ideally, meant to work¡­¡±

    I lay out the rules and she listens, not meeting my eyes.

    Once done, I ask ¡°So¡­ Waqa¡¯arc¡­ why don¡¯t you tell me, in your own words, what made you decide to seek therapy?¡±

    ¡°I watched my Clansister¡¯s Terran throw himself in front of a vehicle to save a child he had never met before, the other week.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see¡­ It was¡­ traumatic for you?¡± I ask, uncertainly.

    She doesn¡¯t strike me as the type to allow an event like that to upset her to such a degree¡­ not least due to her not giving the impression of having particularly high empathy for others.

    ¡°It was!¡± she scowls, visibly distressed!

    ¡°Alright¡­ Tell me how it made you feel?¡± I probe.

    There are a long few moments of silence as she seems to be gathering her thoughts.

    ¡°¡­Conflicted¡­¡± she eventually says, reticently.

    ¡°Conflicted? What is the conflict?¡±

    ¡°He told you how he saved my life during the boarding by the terrorists?¡±

    I raise an eyebrow and answer ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not at liberty to divulge anything that my other clients discuss in their sessions any more than I would be to relay anything you tell me back to them.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ your ¡®confidentiality¡¯¡­¡± she answers, not particularly sounding like she has much time for the concept.

    ¡°So, Victor saved your life? What happened there?¡± I ask, acting as if Victor never mentioned it or her subsequent visit to his quarters while he was self medicating with a toxic quantity of alcohol.

    ¡°It was when we were all sheltering together¡­ down in the ship¡¯s steerage. When the attackers breached the doors and the security team came in immediately behind them and neutralised them. You were there? You remember?¡±

    I give a Terran nod briefly before remembering who I¡¯m talking to and stopping myself ¡°I wasn¡¯t close enough to see in detail what happened but I remember the event, yes.¡±

    ¡°Well, one of the males pointed a gun directly into my face. Another [fraction of a second] and both my lifemate and I would have been killed.¡±

    ¡°And Victor disarmed the man before that moment?¡±

    She gives a flick of her crown plumes (flagged as irritation) and answers ¡°Yes¡­ if he had hesitated even for an instant, Akrat and I would both be dead¡­ It wouldn¡¯t even have needed to be malicious! He wouldn¡¯t have needed to be thinking anything so perfidious as ¡®I shall just allow this man to get rid of that awful woman for me before I intervene¡¯! All it would have taken is an instant where he wavered in his conviction about whether saving me was the correct thing to do and it would have been too late!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ this nobility rings dissonant with your overall image of Terrans?¡±

    She gives a frustrated sigh, this time seemingly not directed at me, and responds ¡°*hhhh*¡­That time, not really, no¡­ And when I decided that, being in his debt, I ought to go and thank him and attempt to [untranslatable idiom: blunt the talons. Meaning: End hostilities, bury the hatchet] with him, his chaotic, drunken rejection of those overtures and the explanation he gave of why he hadn¡¯t allowed the man to kill me gave me the impression that this was something like Terran honour. As if his professional pride would not have permitted him to allow the death of one of those aboard his Mistress¡¯s ship, regardless of his personal distaste for me!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ this second instance of witnessing him save a life changed that perception for you?¡±

    She gives an affirmative gesture and explains ¡°That child was nothing to him. His mother was no one! He had nothing to gain from saving him and yet, not only did he not hesitate at all, he pushed his future lifemate out of the way to do it!¡±

    ¡°He did?¡± I ask.

    He failed to mention that part in our session!

    ¡°Yes! She, he and the other Terran woman were all looking at this child when the vehicle appeared. The Don woman was the first to react and Taylor had to grab her arm, throwing her backward and using her to propel himself forward!¡­ Obviously, he cares for her and she would, without question, have died from the same impact! So, saving her makes sense but¡­ throwing himself in instead does not! I can¡¯t work out what he has to gain from it!¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Now that I¡¯m thinking about it, this arrangement might not have been the best idea¡­

    I know too much about this woman¡¯s antagonistic relationship to too many of my other clients and now I¡¯m learning things I¡¯m not supposed to know about¡­

    ¡°So¡­ you were able to reconcile Victor risking himself to save you, your lifemate and Tuun with your prior perception of Terrans but, regarding the child, who has nothing to offer a man like Victor to make the injuries he sustained a worthwhile sacrifice, you¡¯re alarmed by a new perception of a Terran that you can¡¯t reconcile with that schema?¡±

    ¡°Precisely!¡± declares the woman with relief at my comprehension ¡°So¡­ tell me¡­ was I wrong? Have I been wrong about them for 35 years?¡±

    I sigh ¡°Waqa¡¯arc¡­ as I told you before, my job as your therapist is not to tell you what to do and neither is it to tell you what to think, nor what to feel¡­ I¡¯m sure it doesn¡¯t take too much imagination to realise what my personal feelings on Terrans are, given that I¡¯m currently married to one, but if I just tell you to change your opinion to match mine, I don¡¯t think that will be the best thing for resolving your current tension¡­ Would it?¡±

    Her neck straightens, bringing her head directly over her shoulders, as she asks ¡°Then what would be?¡±

    I smile a toothless smile and answer ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me how you came to your current view of Terrans.¡±

    She cocks a browtuft, sceptically ¡°You think that getting me to recount how I came to hate deathworlders will remedy that hatred?¡±

    I splay my eight manipulator digits, my six wing digits mirroring the gesture behind my back, and answer ¡°I think, if you are to change a perception as you seem to want to, you must first understand it; understand where it comes from, understand its flaws and even its strengths before you can make an informed decision about whether to abandon it¡­ It¡¯s not so easy as just deciding to change a belief¡­ So, tell me¡­ how did you come to feel the way you do about deathworlders¡­?¡±

    She spends a long time thinking about that before responding ¡°Are you aware of the [2492] Thlundthvugun film, ¡®The Hunters¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ Vaguely? What is it about?¡±

    She takes a deep breath and answers ¡°A Thlundthvugun scoutship is exploring a relatively uncharted portion of the galaxy, when they stumble upon a preFTL ship. Aboard, they find three cryopods (a primitive substitute for stasis pods, where beings are preserved physically, with ice, rather than using temporal distortion) with three individuals of a hitherto unknown species. The science officer cautions against waking them up until they can learn more about them. He is disregarded and the creatures are awakened by the other crew. These creatures don¡¯t look much like Terrans, apart from their relatively diminutive size. At first they seem friendly, leading to the science officer being further mocked for what is perceived as his unwarranted caution. They give the name of their species as the ¡®Seekers¡¯ and spend the next third of the film¡¯s runtime ingratiating themselves with the Thlundthvugun crew¡­ occasional clues are given as to their true nature; moving a little too fast in the background of shots, lifting things it doesn¡¯t look as if they should be able to, staring a little too long and a little too intently at the other characters with their forward facing eyes¡­¡±

    ¡°And, their ¡®true nature¡¯¡­ is that of deathworlders?¡± I provide.

    She gives an affirmative gesture and continues ¡°Around two thirds of the way through the film, it is revealed that ¡®Seeker¡¯ is a mistranslation. They are, in fact, ¡®Hunters¡¯ rather than ¡®Seekers¡¯¡­ they spend the remaining runtime living up to that name, killing off every last member of the Thlundthvugun crew until, finally, only the science officer is left¡­ At that point, the Hunters reveal that their goal is to take the ship back to their homeworld and use it to reverse engineer FTL, allowing an aggressive expansion into the wider galaxy. The film resolves with the science officer choosing to initiate a self destruct sequence, sacrificing his own life in exchange for keeping the Hunters from unleashing their barbaric nature onto the galaxy¡­¡±

    I nod my head and ask ¡°And¡­ how old were you when you saw this film, Waqa¡¯arc?¡±

    ¡°[11]¡­ It was only approved for adult viewing, so I shouldn¡¯t have been able to see it until I was [16], but it was all anyone was talking about at the time, so my friends and I decided we absolutely had to see it!¡­ I intimidated and bluffed our way past the boys attending the ticket dispenser¡­ In hindsight, this was a mistake¡­ That film traumatised me¡­ I couldn¡¯t show it at the time. I would have been a laughingstock among my friends if they thought I¡¯d been given tremorous wings from a simple speculative fiction!¡±

    ¡°So¡­ when the datapacket on the Terrans was released, you think you drew a connection between them and the Hunters? These monsters from your childhood?¡± I probe.

    ¡°Absolutely¡­ and everything I learned about them reinforced it!¡­ The litany of horrors I found in their history that they hadn¡¯t even attempted to conceal, as if they thought them to be normal, ordinary, mundane! The way their own shortsighted greed brought them to within a hairsbreadth of rendering their own planet permanently unliveable, not even [7 centuries] ago! The feats of strength they casually demonstrated in their films, even the ones that had nothing to do with their physical prowess! The number of their own stories where the threat was nothing more than one of them, acting slightly atypically!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ what exactly did you search to see these results?¡±

    She gives a bemused [shrug] and answers ¡°¡®Terran violence¡¯, ¡®Terran cruelty¡¯, ¡®Terran war¡¯, ¡®Terran physical capability¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°Do you think there might have been something of a selection bias at play there?¡±

    Looking at me like she cannot fathom what I mean, she asks ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ you searched ¡®Terran violence¡¯ and ¡®Terran cruelty¡¯¡­ did you search ¡®Terran kindness¡¯?¡­ You searched ¡®Terran war¡¯¡­ did you search ¡®Terran peace¡¯?¡­ You searched ¡®Terran physical capability¡¯¡­ did you search ¡®Terran restraint¡¯?¡±

    She gestures in the negative and answers ¡°No¡­ Why would I have?¡­ Those things didn¡¯t concern me!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ do you not think you might get a somewhat skewed view of a species if you only look at the worst things they¡¯ve ever done?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ understand¡­¡± she frowns.

    ¡°Well, if you take your own species, your own Clan even; correct me if I¡¯m wrong but, wasn¡¯t Clan Highspire itself formed (and brought to its position of species¡¯ hegemony) in the wake of a brutal civil war on R¡¯qal, fought not [4 millennia] ago?¡­ Isn¡¯t R¡¯qali history utterly fraught with similar examples of conflict?¡­ Imagine the conclusions someone learning your species¡¯ history and only hearing about those conflicts and nothing else might come to about the nature of your species¡­? Likewise, my species has a bloodier history than almost any other¡­ but there¡¯s more to the Spelvuk than being simple killers¡­¡±

    I see distress on her face as she looks down, considering my words.

    There is a long silence as I don¡¯t want to interrupt whatever thoughts she may be gestating.

    Finally, she speaks ¡°There¡¯s¡­ something else¡­ another reason I have hated them¡­ more than simply what they are¡­¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± I ask, managing my tone to be perfectly neutral without being flat¡­ interested and inviting without sounding intrusive or nosy.

    ¡°They¡­ took someone from me¡­¡±

    I make a sympathetic face and ask ¡°Someone you cared about?¡±

    ¡°My daughter¡­ yes¡­¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had a daughter Waqa¡¯arc¡­ was she yours and Akrat¡¯s?¡± I ask, gently.

    She gestures in the negative and explains ¡°Just mine¡­ this was before I was bonded to Akrat¡­ Her father was clanless¡­ He was beautiful and charming but¡­ it never would have worked¡­ we were just from too different worlds¡­ I supported them¡­ paid for her to receive an education at a public school filled with girls in similar positions to hers (since she couldn¡¯t have attended a private, Clan academy) ¡­ I¡­ I regret not¡­ acknowledging her¡­ I should have simply suffered the loss of reputation I would have experienced by asking my [bastard] to be inducted into my Clan.¡±

    ¡°Did it strain your relationship with her?¡­ Was there any resentment over the issue?¡±

    She gives a mirthless puff and a joyless smile and answers ¡°None¡­ she was so understanding about it¡­ In hindsight, I wish she¡¯d raged at me about it!¡­ I wish she¡¯d told me what a sorry excuse for a mother I was for prioritising myself over her!¡­ I wish she had told me that she shouldn¡¯t need to prove herself a Warhero to be worthy of my love¡­ There¡¯s so much I regret about the way I treated that girl¡­¡±

    Well¡­ I did not expect to make this much progress this quickly!

    I think the childhood trauma relating to fictional deathworlders is something we can circle back to, later.

    Her late daughter is where I should encourage her to focus for the time being.

    ¡°Tell me, Waqa¡¯arc¡­ If you could have another chance, if you could raise your daughter again, knowing what you know now¡­ what would you do differently?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.115

    ---Mammoths---

    ---Treg¡¯s perspective---

    ---2704 Terran Calendar/9 years BF---

    I watch a pair of broad shoulders sway from side to side, a little above my eyelevel both from his excess 20cm and the slope we¡¯re walking up.

    ¡°Remind me of the plan, Vicky?¡± I ask, more for something to talk about than because I¡¯ve forgotten.

    ¡°This is the third day of our five day hike up the West Highland Way¡­¡± he answers without turning to face me ¡°¡­when we get to Fort William, we¡¯re havin¡¯ a pop up Ben Nevis, then we¡¯re renting kayaks and crossin¡¯ the Great Glen Coe Trail, up Loch Lochy, Loch Oich and Loch Ness, to Inverness. After that, if we¡¯ve got time, we¡¯re gonna go down to take a look at the Cairngorm Glacier before we head to Edinburgh for a citybreak.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ err¡­ remind me why(?)¡± I tease.

    ¡°Because¡­ come September, I¡¯m shippin¡¯ offworld and we might never see eachother again! We¡¯re gettin¡¯ some quality time in before then!¡± he answers, trying not to let his irritation into his voice.

    ¡°And this is your idea of ¡®quality time¡¯, is it(?)¡± I smirk.

    ¡°As someone who is ? Scottish by heritage, sharing this part of myself with you seems like a fittin¡¯ last hurrah for us, yes¡­¡± he sighs.

    ¡°I¡¯m teasin¡¯, Vicky! Don¡¯t strop!¡± I laugh, reassuringly.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t stroppy¡­ just want this to be fun for us¡­¡± he says, stroppily.

    ¡°What time¡¯s our check-in with Maia?¡± I ask, changing the subject.

    ¡°3 o¡¯clock¡­ 5 hours 23 minutes from now.¡± he answers immediately.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Victor(!) You disappoint me(!) You ain¡¯t gonna give me a countdown accurate to the second(?)¡± I tease.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯m sure you could keep track of seconds across the span of hours, Tea(!)¡± he retorts.

    ¡°Not if you don¡¯t give me the seconds to keep track of, Vicky(!)¡± I answer ¡°.¡­I¡¯m tired¡­ could we stop and sit down for a bit when we find a rock or a log or something?¡±

    He sighs ¡°We¡¯re never gonna make it to Bridge of Orchy before night if we keep stoppin¡¯, Tea!¡±

    ¡°All of us ain¡¯t blessed with Sapiens¡¯ superstamina, Vicky!¡±

    ¡°I know that, Tea¡­ that¡¯s why I doubled the total journey time over what I would¡¯ve set myself if I were doin¡¯ this alone.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ don¡¯t you know how to make a girl feel good about herself(!)¡± I tease.

    He stops and turns to face me.

    I¡¯m taken aback by his wounded expression.

    ¡°Treg¡­ If you ain¡¯t havin¡¯ fun¡­ you don¡¯t need to keep goin¡¯¡­ Just thought it¡¯d be like old times before I went to uni and you went off to that commune, but¡­ if you¡¯re miserable¡­ we can stop¡­ call a capsule and figure out somethin¡¯ else to do for the next two weeks!¡­ D¡¯you wanna just skip all the hikin¡¯ and kayakin¡¯ and go straight to Edinburgh?¡±

    I frown and immediately drop the teasing tone ¡°Vicky! No! I am havin¡¯ fun¡­ this place is gorgeous and I defo wanna keep goin¡¯!!!¡­ I was only teasin¡¯!¡±

    I open my arms and step forward to give the large man a big squeeze.

    My slight belly chub squashes against his rock hard abdominals as I dig my hands beneath his backpack and rest my forehead on his shoulder.

    He returns the hug, giving me one of his (world famous) Victor Taylor cuddles!

    Speaking of which ¡°Can¡¯t believe you let your dormmates christen you ¡®Cuddles¡¯, Vicky!¡± I giggle.

    His chest vibrates against my head as he answers ¡°What was I s¡¯posed to do? Bitch and moan until they agreed to give me a cooler epithet like ¡®Guardian¡¯ or ¡®Defender¡¯(?)¡± mirthfully.

    ¡°You could¡¯ve refused it! Asked for a reconsideration?¡±

    ¡°Nah¡­ I¡¯m cool with bein¡¯ ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor¡­¡±

    We break from the cuddle and continue walking, side by side, now, instead of single file.

    ¡°So¡­ how¡¯re things in the South of France?¡­ Have you found yourself yet?¡±

    I smile ¡°I think I have¡­ I¡¯m¡­ gonna be comin¡¯ backta London about the same time you¡¯re leavin¡¯¡­¡±

    He frowns and turns his head right and down to look at me ¡°You are? This¡¯s the first I¡¯m hearin¡¯ ¡¯bout this?¡±

    I smile, mischievously and dig for my holopad ¡°Yeah¡­ only found out this mornin¡¯ when I checked my messages¡­¡±

    I bring up the message and turn the screen to him.

    He takes my holopad and squints down at it.

    ¡°Dear Ms Leaf¡­ On behalf of the Admissions and Standards Committee,  it is my great pleasure to notify you of your acceptance to GKT, King¡¯s College London for the Autumn term of 2704¡­!¡± his eyes are steadily widening as he reads and, at this point, he looks up at me, mouth hanging open, his face wearing a shocked expression ¡°Oh my god, Tea!¡­ Congratulations! I¡¯m so happy for you! You¡¯re gonna be a doctor! Just like you always wanted to!!!¡±

    I smile ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯m glad of the two years in Couze¡­ but I think I¡¯ve got everything out of it that I can¡­ Time to move on.¡±

    He hands me back my holo and looks away, a broad, genuine grin still plastered over his face.

    We walk on through the Scottish heath.

    It¡¯s interesting how different nature smells in Southern England vs Central Scotland.

    The soil¡¯s different, the climate¡¯s different, the vegetation¡¯s different¡­ the result is that my nose is filled with the smell of Scotland right now(!)

    ¡°Uhm¡­ we gonna get soaked walkin¡¯ through that?¡± I ask, gesturing ahead to the ceiling of cloud that intersects with the hill we¡¯re walking up.

    ¡°Nah¡­ bit damp but we won¡¯t get drenched¡­ Gonna be stormy tonight so we¡¯ll wanna lodge in Orchy, though.¡± he shakes his head, causing his copper ponytail to flap over the top of his backpack.

    ¡°Fair enough¡­ Hey! Can we check that out?!¡± I ask, pointing to the lonely skeleton of an old stone building about 300m ahead of us, 200m away from the wall of cloud and 50m off the path.

    He shrugs ¡°Sure¡­ briefly¡­¡± clearly still thinking about the schedule.

    We make it to the husk of a building, its mortar weathered from the cracks and the once sharp edges and corners of the stones rounded off by age.

    ¡°Look for a datestone¡­¡± suggests Vicky.

    Before I¡¯ve even processed what a ¡®datestone¡¯ is, he¡¯s found it.

    ¡°There! Look! 2051¡­¡±

    ¡°Wow¡­!¡± I admire ¡°¡­So¡­ this has been here 653 years?¡­ Since 41 years preUnification?¡±

    He turns his head to me, unimpressed ¡°Treg¡­ Unification did not happen in 2092¡­¡±

    ¡°Come on Victor, yes it did!¡­ You gonna tell me some obscure technicality about how technically we never united ¡¯causa North Sentinel or the Knights of Malta or some shit(?)¡± I frown, mirthfully.

    He shakes his head ¡°2092 was Kwadwo Chowdhurry¡¯s address to the UN¡­ Weren¡¯t until 2097 that Russia and the States stopped draggin¡¯ their heals ¡¯bout it¡­ North Korea was the last to join the Coalition¡­ that was 2101¡­¡±

    ¡°OK¡­ to most folk, Vicky, 2092 is when Unification happened¡­ Most people don¡¯t care ¡¯bout that kinda nuance!¡­ Kwadwo¡¯s speech is what people remember¡­ nobody remembers the 9 years of admin that apparently followed!¡±

    He throws up his hands in a gesture of ¡®just saying¡¯.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡°A.ny.way¡­ just think about the history that these stones¡¯ve seen! The Moonlanding will still have existed in livin¡¯ memory when this was built¡­ just about¡­ The person who laid these stones lived when we¡¯d barely even landed on Mars! The person who built this probably thought of ¡¯emself as ¡®Scottish¡¯ a long way before they thought of ¡¯emself as ¡®Terran¡¯¡­ Their great grandchildren might¡¯ve been some of the first interstellar colonists¡­¡±

    He doesn¡¯t answer¡­ just looks up at the old building, ponderously.

    I start walking away and he follows.

    ¡°How do you feel about it bein¡¯ a Londoner who United Earth? You got any pride for that?¡±

    He screws up his face, contemplating, before answering ¡°Don¡¯t know if we can really claim Kwadwo¡­ He was born in Dhaka and his mum was from Ghana, right¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ but he grew up in London, he spoke English with a London accent, he died in London¡­ I¡¯d say that makes him a Londoner¡­ I¡¯ll proudly claim him as one of us!¡±

    Vicky laughs ¡°Alright then(!)¡­ Hey, you know he¡¯s the reason we wear white to funerals?¡±

    ¡°No shit?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± he nods ¡°Till the 22nd Century, most folk thought black was the mournin¡¯ colour¡­ he asked everyone attending his funeral to wear nothin¡¯ but white clothes¡­¡±

    ¡°What? And people just started copyin¡¯ it after?¡±

    ¡°I guess it¡­¡± he starts but stops himself.

    He stands stock still, about 30m from the edge of the cloud bank. Dismay is written large across his face.

    He turns to me and urgently says ¡°Run!¡±

    He grabs my wrist and takes off towards the old building.

    I know better than to ask what¡¯s up.

    If Victor says we need to run, we need to run!

    I may be a Neanderthal, better adapted for sprinting than Sapiens, but there¡¯s simply no competing with his long legs and well honed fitness!

    He doesn¡¯t let me fall behind, dragging me forward by my wrist, right on the edge of my ability not to overbalance and fall on my face.

    ¡°Jump!¡± he instructs, pointing to the frame of a window that¡¯s been without glass for (probably) centuries.

    I don¡¯t question it, jumping and clearing the sill in a way I would not be able to if I wasn¡¯t hopped up on adrenaline right now!

    He jumps in after me, making it look effortless!

    He peaks over the sill, only up to his eyes.

    I mimic him.

    For a few seconds, I see nothing¡­ then a titanic shadow looms through the cloud.

    Near on 4m tall and more than half as wide. On both sides sweep long, thin, curving shapes, coming to points.

    The creature announces itself with a great rumbling moan that I can feel in my bones!

    Its tusks breach the cloud layer ahead of the rest of it.

    A long trunk, covered in shaggy brown fur is the next to appear.

    As the woolly mammoth steps from the fog, more silhouettes appear behind it.

    ¡°Jesus! He¡¯s big!¡± I whisper to Vicky, pointing at the enormous mammoth with the scarred face leading his herd out of the cloud and down the path we were walking up.

    Vicky puffs and whispers back ¡°She¡­ Mammoth herds don¡¯t have any adult males¡­ but I can see why you¡¯re confused¡­ she¡¯s definitely the size of a male!¡­ Oh, fuck!¡­ Look!¡­ They¡¯ve got calves!¡± he says, indicating the two babies that have just emerged.

    Next to their mums, they look adorably titchy but they probably already outmass either of the two Humans watching them by quite a large amount!

    ¡°Wow! That could have been really bad! We almost blundered our way into a herd of mammoths in a fog bank! Who knows how they would have reacted if we¡¯d startled them!¡±

    Mammoths, like all resurrected fauna, have an aversion to Humans.

    It¡¯s the only tampering that has been done to them¡­ just bringing their sense of how wide a berth to cut us and our settlements in line with the rest of the animal kingdom.

    Mammoths don¡¯t seek out conflict with us¡­ but still, several times a year there are fatal run-ins between mammoths and Humans, mostly taking place when Humans accidentally startle mammoth herds.

    I turn to look at my brother.

    How the hell did he know about the mammoths?!

    ---Tal¡¯s perspective---

    The sound of a raucous ceilidh thunders from the back room as I look across the empty bar.

    I idly wind a lock of my curly, black hair around a long finger.

    I hear the bell ring from the entrance.

    Turning my head to look who¡¯s coming in, I see a man so tall he has to stoop to not hit his head.

    He¡¯s well built and his damp, copper hair is pulled into a ponytail.

    He carries a wooden walking stick that it looks like he might have carved himself.

    His face is boyish in a way that doesn¡¯t quite fit his manly body.

    He¡¯s got to be a genuine late teen/early twenty something¡­ since he looks too young to be the result of regen!

    I¡­ definitely wouldn¡¯t object if he wanted to ask me for a dance(!)

    Being a 201cm Tshwane, it¡¯s extremely rare that I get to dance with someone without having to contort myself awkwardly for them!

    Looks like that wouldn¡¯t be an issue with him though¡­

    My heart sinks a little as I see a woman walk in behind him.

    The girl is about the same age as the boy, slightly chubby in a way that I have no problem calling ¡®thicc¡¯, her skin is tan and freckled, her hair is a rich colour somewhere between scarlet and crimson and her eyes are an impossible shade of lime green, even brighter than her boyfriend¡¯s emeralds!

    Despite what you might think, the chances of the two very attractive redheads with green eyes who just walked in being related biologically stand at around 0%...

    This is obvious from their Lineage¡­

    He could be the holotype of Homo sapiens(!)

    She¡¯s a Neanderthal. Taller and more Sapiensoid looking than most, even for a Levantine but (unless I¡¯m mistaken and she¡¯s actually a half (allowing the possibility of the two sharing one parent)) pretty sure they¡¯re a couple.

    Oh well¡­ Easy come, easy go!

    ¡°Evening, yous two.¡± I smile in English, ready to switch to Scots or Gaelic if they answer in either ¡°If yous¡¯re here for the ceilidh, I¡¯ve got to warn yous, it¡¯s traditional highland dress only¡­ I cannae let yous in dressed like that.¡±

    ¡°Actually¡­¡± says the handsome man, surprising me by speaking English with an English accent ¡°¡­we was wonderin¡¯ if we could rent a lodge for tonight¡­ This is where we do that, right?¡±

    I grimace ¡°It would be¡­ Only thing is¡­ we gave away the last chalet about an hour and a half ago¡­ We¡¯ve got no lodges to rent, I¡¯m afraid!¡­ Really sorry!¡±

    The man looks resigned.

    The woman looks gutted as she says ¡°We hadn¡¯t been pinned down by that mammoth herd, we¡¯d¡¯ve made it, Vicky!¡±

    ¡°You got pinned down by a mammoth herd?¡± I ask, alarmed.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ they surprised us comin¡¯ off a shrouded hill¡­ had to spend more than 2 hours huddled in a 21st Century ruin while they grazed around us. They had calves so we might¡¯ve spooked ¡¯em if we¡¯d come out!¡± answers the man.

    I appraise the pair and ask ¡°The matriarch¡­ was she big?¡­ Did she have a scar on the left side of her trunk, near the base?¡±

    The man nods.

    ¡°That¡¯s Siobhan¡­ she looks like a tough customer but she keeps her herd well in line¡­ you didnae need to hide from them¡­ So long as you didnae charge at Angus or Finlay screaming aggressively, the worst you¡¯d¡¯ve got was a bit o¡¯ stink-eye from them!¡±

    The girl looks like I¡¯ve just pissed in her tea as she asks ¡°So we didn¡¯t need to hide for two hours at all!?¡±

    Her boyfriend shakes his head ¡°We didn¡¯t know that. Hidin¡¯ were still the most sensible option.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ yeah! For sure! If a herd I didnae know came into the valley with bairns in tow, I¡¯d cut them a mile wide berth! Yous definitely did the right thing!¡±

    ¡°And now we¡¯re payin¡¯ for it(!)¡± sulks the girl.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ Sorry, Tea.¡± confirms the boy, wearily. Turning his attention back to me he says ¡°Thanks anyway. Guess we¡¯ll go an¡¯ find somewhere to pitch a tent for the night.¡±

    With that the pair turn to go.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± I say, on impulse.

    They stop and turn back to me.

    ¡°It¡¯s gonna absolutely torrent down tonight¡­ Yous two seem like decent folk¡­ My shift ends at 8 o¡¯clock and I¡¯m working from 4 tomorrow¡­ If yous¡¯re happy to wait here for an hour and you can agree to leave before 3:30 tomorrow¡­ and you can agree to keep words like ¡®quaint¡¯, ¡®rustic¡¯, ¡®homely¡¯ and ¡®cozy¡¯ out o¡¯ your mouths when describing my home¡­ you and your girlfriend can stay with me¡­¡±

    The reactions I get are¡­ not quite the boundless gratitude I was expecting!

    The boy gives a mirthful chuckle.

    The girl looks somewhere between exasperated and disgusted.

    She quickly sets me right ¡°We ain¡¯t a couple!¡­ Downside of havin¡¯ a brother from another mother is, everywhere you go, you¡¯re gettin¡¯ accused of incest(!)¡±

    Mirthfully, the handsome boy answers before I can ¡°I think what you mean, Tea, is:¡­¡± he turns to face me and continues ¡°¡­Thank you so much for your generosity! If you¡¯re sure it ain¡¯t gonna be any trouble for you, we¡¯d be delighted to take you up on your amazin¡¯ offer of hospitality¡­ but, yeah¡­ we ain¡¯t a couple¡­¡±

    ¡°Noted¡­¡± I smile.

    Even better(!)

    Managing to keep from biting my lip as I look up and down the mouthwatering man and consider his newly confirmed availability, I continue ¡°Well¡­ couple or nae¡­ yous two are welcome at Taigh a¡¯ Ghra?idh¡­ Can I get you anything to drink while we wait?¡±

    ---Treg¡¯s perspective---

    ---2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF---

    ¡°Vicky!¡± I beam as my brother and his girlfriend answer the call from most of a galaxy away ¡°¡­And Tuun! Nice to see you, cutie!¡± I add, winking.

    The girl blushes, adorably!

    Vicky chuckles and shakes his head.

    I squeeze my skinny husband into my side as my eyes flick briefly up to Sigrid, making us dinner in the kitchen.

    She hasn¡¯t actually gone as far as moving in with us yet but¡­ as of a few months ago¡­ we are official¡­ She¡¯s me and Lloyd¡¯s girlfriend now¡­ I¡¯m very pleased!

    Definitely helps that she gets on great with Chelsea!

    ¡°Hey Tea! Hey Lloyd! Where¡¯s that lovely daughter of yours?¡± grins Vicky.

    Wordlessly, I point the camera to a conked out Chelsea, lying on the sofa next to me.

    I¡¯m careful not to point the camera at my stomach¡­ Don¡¯t want to give the game away!

    ¡°Where¡¯s that lovely pet of yours, Vicky?¡± I grin back, returning the picture to my face.

    Right on cue, a metre wide head appears between the two of them and yowls at the screen.

    Vicky gives her some hearty scritches as I coo at her.

    I take a deep breath.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got some news!¡± say Vicky and I in unison.

    Both of us raise our eyebrows in surprise at the other.

    Then I react ¡°Jinx!¡­ Now you gotta let me go first!¡±

    Playing along, he gestures, wordlessly, for me to go ahead.

    I stand up and turn to the side.

    I¡¯m definitely not a skinny woman but the bulge in my stomach is clearly not just my normal paunch.

    ¡°Oh my god, Treg!¡± says Vicky, forgetting his jinx ¡°You¡¯re pregnant again!? I¡¯m so happy for you both!¡­ Do you know the sex?! Have you thought of names?! When¡¯s it due?!¡±

    ¡°Male, haven¡¯t decided, 4 months out.¡± I answer his questions in order.

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ if it¡¯s a boy¡­ what choice do you have except to name him after his amazing uncle Victor(!) Victor Leaf(!)¡± he quips, his tone suggesting the issue has already been resolved.

    I laugh ¡°Yeah¡­ you wish, Vicky!¡­ So¡­ what was you guys¡¯ news?¡±

    Vicky grins at his girlfriend and says ¡°Show her.¡±

    The adorable xeno girl holds out her upper left hand to the camera.

    On the middle digit is a gorgeous ring in silvery metal with what looks like a large sapphire mounted between two smaller diamonds on it.

    I¡¯m stunned for a few moments before I manage ¡°Whuh¡­ uh¡­ yuh¡­ You¡¯re gettin¡¯ married?! When!?¡±

    Jesus! They didn¡¯t waste any time!

    Guess they¡¯ve been dating more than a year now but it doesn¡¯t feel like it!

    ¡°Soon as we¡¯re done with our current mission¡­ should be about a year-a year and a half¡­ gonna do it on her homeworld, Fennoscandia¡­ her mum¡¯s gonna marry us in her meadhall.¡±

    ¡°Wow¡­¡± I say, trying not to let my disappointment through in my voice.

    For a second there, I thought he might come back to Earth to get married.

    ¡°So¡­ Treg¡­ I¡¯ve got a big ask, so feel free to refuse¡­¡± poses Vicky.

    ¡°Go on an¡¯ ask?¡± I frown, confused.

    ¡°If you can get the time off work to come out¡­ would you like to be my best woman?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXX: Pancakes and Chalets

    ---Treg¡¯s perspective---

    ---2704 Terran Calendar/9 years BF---

    We walk through the chalet grounds in the pouring rain.

    We pass dozens of chalets, each built of nothing more than wood and slate rooftiles.

    I can see that they all have fairly cringeworthy Gaelic names.

    Taigh an Do?chais ¡®House of Hope¡¯.

    Taigh nan Caraidean ¡®House of Friends¡¯.

    Taigh an t-Solais ¡®House of Light¡¯.

    Finally, the 2m tall, Scottish Tshwane (gotta be a story there) leads us to her house, Taigh a¡¯ Ghra?idh ¡®House of Love¡¯.

    Given the bedroom eyes she¡¯s been making at Vicky since we walked into her pub (plus how obviously pleased she was when she found out we weren¡¯t a couple) I¡¯d not say ¡®love¡¯ was exactly what¡¯s on this woman¡¯s mind(!)

    I think Taigh an Mianna or Taigh an Tlachd might be a bit more apt(!)

    I groan internally at the likely night of disturbed sleep I¡¯m about to get(!)

    I know from experience that these wooden huts are usually built in a way that makes every tiptoeing step resound through the whole structure!

    Pretty sure I¡¯m gonna be subjected to every sweet nothing they mutter, every moan¡­ every thrust¡­

    Suddenly, the idea of having to pack up a sopping wet tent tomorrow morning doesn¡¯t sound quite so bad(!)

    I walk up the deck in the shadow of the two giants.

    Both of them have to stoop beneath the doorway as we pass through the French doors!

    A light comes on, revealing us to be stood in a combination living-dining room.

    To our immediate right is the entrance to a small kitchen.

    Just past that is the bottom of a wooden staircase.

    Under the stairs is a wooden dining table.

    Against the left wall is a sofa with a low coffee table in front of it. That table looks like it would have to be moved if the other one needed to be pulled out.

    At the back is the door to a bedroom and an alcove with a door I reckon must be the bathroom.

    Everything is made of light coloured pine planks; the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the stairs¡­ everything!

    Some tacky art hangs on the walls. It looks like art provided by the establishment but I¡¯m not going to mention it in case it turns out that she actually likes the rhinestone bedazzled picture of the Paris skyline hanging over her sofa and bought it herself, specially(!)

    ¡°Whatever yous dinnae need, yous can just dump here.¡± says the Tshwane, Tal, indicating an empty patch by the door ¡°One of you can take that room¡­¡± she points to the one behind the sofa ¡°Mine¡¯s upstairs on the right¡­ the other can take the one that¡¯s upstairs on the left¡­¡±

    ¡°Bagsy downstairs!¡± I say, immediately.

    Vicky shrugs ¡°I prefer sleepin¡¯ on the first floor, anyway¡­ you¡¯re welcome to the downstairs bedroom¡­¡±

    Tal giggles before saying ¡°Could I interest yous in a dram of whisky before bed?¡±

    ¡°Not Mr Cleancut here¡­¡± I tease ¡°¡­his body is a temple(!)¡±

    ¡°Never mind her¡­¡± sighs Vicky ¡°¡­we¡¯d be very happy to have a drink with you. I can¡¯t promise to enjoy it though!¡±

    ¡°What?¡­ You dinnae like whisky?¡± asks the Scot, looking ready to take offence.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know¡­ Never had any.¡± answers Vicky.

    ¡°WHAT?!¡± she gasps ¡°You¡¯re ? Scots and you¡¯ve never tried whisky!?¡±

    ¡°Nope¡­ So, you know, don¡¯t waste your good stuff on me(!)¡±

    She shakes her flat face from side to side and answers ¡°No, no, no, no, no! On the contrary!¡­ In rectifying this travesty against Scottishness, nothing¡¯ll do but the best!¡­ I¡¯ve got a 25 year old bottle of Glen Sligachan in the cupboard¡­ 45%abv¡­ I insist yous both have a glass wi¡¯ me!¡±

    Shutting Vicky¡¯s protests down, she runs to her kitchen and fetches a very fancy bottle, three glasses and a tray of frozen stones from an old fashioned freezer.

    ¡°I can¡¯t I¡¯m afraid¡­ I¡¯m coeliac¡­¡± I say, regretfully.

    ¡°Coeliac? It¡¯s fine! The gluten comes out in the distillation! I know because I used to be coeliac too¡­ No problem!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, come on little Miss Future-Doctor, don¡¯t you know that(!)¡± teases Vicky, grinning in a way that leaves no doubt as to him having just learned that as well.

    ¡°Shut up¡­(!)¡± I sigh, mock scowling. Turning my attention back to the girl whose hight, skinny limbs and pink irises make her look like she could be the daughter of Dr Facilier, I say ¡°If you¡¯re offerin¡¯, I¡¯d love some!¡±

    ---Tal¡¯s perspective---

    The pair both seem to be genuinely enjoying their first whisky!

    The copper haired boy, Victor, seems to be completely enamoured of his!

    I¡¯m so glad!

    It was so funny having to explain to him why I use stones and not ice!

    ¡°Sla?inte!¡± I cheers, as we raise our third round which I just poured.

    These two have already more than paid their keep in the quality of their company! My sides hurt from laughing!

    Although¡­ definitely still hoping for that young man to decide a little more ¡®returning the favour¡¯ might be in order, later on¡­(!)

    I gulp down a mouthful of saliva as he uncrosses and recrosses his legs in a way that makes the bulge between them rather more prominent than he seems to realise!

    The rain is absolutely pounding the walls and windows of my home!

    I giggle as the unbidden thought comes into my head that ¡®my home¡¯s not the only thing I hope ends up pounded and wet tonight(!)¡¯

    Luckily, neither of the two seem to notice.

    The gorgeous, thicc Neanderthal girl, Treg, fixes me with an intense stare in a way she didn¡¯t sober.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a question¡­¡± she announces.

    Shit¡­!

    I really hope she¡¯s not about to make a scene over the way I¡¯ve been flirting with her ¡®brother from another mother¡¯!

    ¡°What¡¯s your question, Treg?¡± I smile, projecting calm.

    ¡°You¡¯re the first Scottish Tshwane I¡¯ve ever met¡­ What¡¯s the story?¡±

    ¡°Tea?! You don¡¯t just ask people shit like that! How rude can you get!? You don¡¯t need to answer that, Tal!¡±

    I smile and shake my head ¡°It¡¯s fine! It¡¯s fine! I¡¯m sure my story isnae too different from how a Neanderthal and a Sapiens ended up so intimate that they consider the idea of a relationship to be incestuous(!)¡± pointing between the two ¡°Guessing all of our circumstances got pretty heavily affected by the War?¡­ I came out of a tube in a lab just outside Ndjole, in Gabon, in 2675. I got fostered by a Gabonese man, Abass ¡®Island¡¯ Moussavou, and a Scottish woman, Mhairi ¡®Snow¡¯ Coulter-Moussavou. I wasn¡¯t even 4 when the War broke out¡­ I remember not understanding at all why my new mum and dad had to go away¡­ Funny thing is, I dinnae remember at all what it was like before they adopted me¡­ but I remember remembering! I remember feeling like I¡¯d only just got them and now they were being taken away again¡­(!) When I was 5, I got one o¡¯ them back¡­ Correction¡­ I got most o¡¯ one o¡¯ them back¡­ My fostermum got a medical discharge after she got her leg blown off in the Battle o¡¯ Kalothan¡­ came to pick me up with a prosthetic. She wasnae the same¡­ but she clearly still loved and cared about me. She asked me if I wouldnae mind moving¡­ I only learnt later that she wanted to go home because staying in Gabon without Abass was too painful for her¡­ I told her I didnae care where she went so long as she brought me¡­ once she¡¯d proved she¡¯d be able to care for my physical needs in Scotland¡¯s frigid climate, she was allowed to formally adopt me and we moved to Killin¡­ Grown up Scottish since I was six¡­ Yous two were in a similar boat?¡±

    ¡°Similar¡­¡± frowns the man, glaring daggers at his (now sheepish looking) Neanderthal sister ¡°¡­I was born in a military base hospital. Neither of my parents came back. Tea and me never got fostered ¡¯causa the Wartime decimation of the generation above ours¡­ We grew up in rooms opposite eachothers¡¯ at an orphanage in London¡­¡±

    ¡°Well then¡­ to the War¡­ without which none of us would be who we are or where we are(!)¡± I say, raising my glass in a dark toast.

    The gorgeous boy shakes his head and says ¡°I do not wanna drink to that!¡±

    ¡°Me neither¡­!¡± says the girl looking as serious as I¡¯ve yet seen her!

    I laugh ¡°Apologies, yous two! Highland humour runs to the dark side!¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­!¡± frowns the girl, looking like she¡¯s doing her best to work something out ¡°¡­so¡­ you¡¯re 29!?¡±

    I smile and shake my head ¡°28¡­ I turn 29 later this year¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡­ uh¡­ you don¡¯t look 28!¡±

    I laugh heartily and answer ¡°And how is it that you expect a 28 year old to look?¡­ Haggard and wrinkled(?) Hair greying(?) Should I walk with a hunch in my back(?) Does 28 sound positively ancient to a couple o¡¯ 20 year olds(?!)¡±

    Speaking through gritted teeth, the mouthwatering Sapiens says ¡°I think what my idiot sister means, Tal, is that you are a youthful, vibrant and beautiful woman in a way that renders you ageless!¡±

    I giggle ¡°Someone got all the charm in this little family, didn¡¯t he(!)¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Right¡­ bed time for me, I think!¡± announces Tea, having guzzled down her third glass of (what I infer to be expensive) whisky.

    I raise an eyebrow and ask ¡°Done bringin¡¯ the mood down with overly personal questions, Tea(?)¡±

    She smirks back ¡°Nah, just wanna be ready for the 100km forced march you¡¯re gonna subject me too tomorrow, Sergeant(!)¡± she hesitates before saying ¡°Uhm¡­ hey¡­ Tal, thanks for puttin¡¯ us up tonight and sharin¡¯ your whisky with us¡­ feels rude to ask but¡­ if you and Vicky are gonna stay up¡­ would you mind keepin¡¯ the volume down? I¡¯m really tired¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± replies the stunning Scot ¡°¡­I should¡¯ve mentioned! You¡¯ve got a privacy field¡­

    ¡°A what?¡± asks Treg.

    ¡°A privacy field?¡± I ask, slightly disbelieving ¡°Ain¡¯t those only for, like, shady rich folk?¡±

    She smiles and shakes her head ¡°I¡¯m neither shady nor rich and I¡¯ve got three¡­ one for each bedroom! They¡¯re pretty much essential for a house like this¡­ especially when you¡¯ve got company!¡±

    ¡°Feel like I¡¯m outta the loop here¡­ what is a privacy field?¡±

    She smiles ¡°I think it might be better demonstrated than explained¡­ See the switch on the inside wall? Next to the lights? Purple? Dinnae press it yet, just find it¡­¡±

    ¡°OK, found it¡­¡± answers Tea.

    ¡°Alright, Victor¡­ could I get you to hold a middle C for 10 seconds¡­ Treg, you just flip that switch a few times, standing in that room¡­ see what happens¡­¡±

    I hold a constant note (which is probably not actually quite a middle C, not that it matters what note I hold).

    Treg flips the switch, curiously.

    Her eyes go wide as she looks up at me, realising she can¡¯t hear me anymore.

    She flips the switch a few more times, the shimmery distortion coming into being and vanishing with each press.

    Then she sticks one ear out, seeming not to trust that this isn¡¯t some kind of practical joke that we arranged while she was in the toilet or something(!)

    ¡°Wow!¡± she says, finally satisfied ¡°That¡¯s brilliant that is! So, is it just one way or can you guys still hear me?¡±

    ¡°No, no¡­ both ways¡­ just stops all vibrations passing in or out¡­¡±

    ¡°Great! Now you guys can talk as loud as you want without wakin¡¯ me up¡­ Or¡­ do whatever other loud activities you want to do¡­ as loud as you want to do ¡¯em¡­(!)¡± she smirks, disappearing into the room she bagsed.

    ¡°Clean your teeth!¡± I say, sternly, unsure whether she can still hear me and what difference it¡¯d make if she could.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry about her, Tal¡­¡± I sigh at the beautiful woman who¡¯s taken us in for the night ¡°¡­she¡¯s always struggled a bit with filterin¡¯ what she¡¯s sayin¡¯ to people and she¡¯s just spent the past 2 years livin¡¯ on a Neanderthal reserve in France¡­ which I don¡¯t think helped(!)¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s really nae bother at all¡­ She¡¯s got lovely energy and I can tell she doesnae mean any harm¡­¡± smiles the woman, her cadence enchantingly musical.

    I smile and nod before going to take a sip of the heavenly, amber liquid she¡¯s introduced me to, this evening.

    ¡°So¡­ you have a girlfriend, Victor¡­?¡± she asks, her bubblegum pink eyes fixed on me.

    I choke, splutter and cough as I inhale a tiny amount of the strong spirit.

    Once I¡¯ve recovered, I look into the woman¡¯s face and see her giving me a smile with some indefinable quality of ¡®maturity¡¯ that I¡¯ve never seen on the face of any girl my age!

    An 8-9 year age gap may not sound like much but it¡¯s amazing the difference it seems to make in bearing!

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°*cough*¡­No¡­ err¡­ no girlfriend¡­ no¡­no¡­¡± I say, my heart either stopped in my chest or beating so fast I can¡¯t tell it¡¯s beating!

    Her jet black eyebrows fly up her head and she smirks ¡°Four ¡®no¡¯s¡­? You must really want me to be sure you have no girlfriend(!)¡­ Boyfriend?¡±

    My breaths shallow, I answer ¡°No boyfriend either¡­ tried guys¡­ came to the conclusion that I¡¯m straight(!)¡±

    ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re straight¡­ and single?¡± she says, giving a tiny grin that shows off her entrancing diastema.

    I never would have thought a gap in someone¡¯s teeth could have my stomach swoop like that!

    ¡°I am straight and single¡­ Those are truth facts¡­¡± I say, losing my ability to word good(!)

    She scoots close to me and gently places a long fingered, sable skinned hand on my knee.

    ¡°I dinnae suppose¡­ you¡¯d have any interest in, as your sister puts it, engaging in a ¡®loud activity¡¯ with an older Tshwane lady¡­ would you?¡± she asks, in a sensual half whisper.

    ¡°Uuuhm¡­¡± I say, my mind gone completely stupid.

    She whisks her hand away and frowns ¡°If you dinnae want to, that¡¯s fine¡­ I just thought I was getting signals¡­ If you say ¡®no¡¯, I¡¯m nae tossing the two o¡¯ yous out in the rain(!)¡­ No quid pro quo here¡­ Just a little optional deal sweetening(!)¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m definitely up for it! I just¡­¡±

    My mind goes blank as her hand returns to my knee and, this time, keeps going¡­

    Her long fingers stroke sensually, up my inner thigh, until they reach my suddenly far too constricting pants¡­

    ¡°You were saying¡­?¡± she smiles, innocently.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­*huh*¡­ remember what I was¡­*huh*¡­ sayin¡¯!¡­*huh*¡­ I¡¯m havin¡¯ trouble¡­*huh*¡­  rememberin¡¯ a lotta¡­*huh*¡­ things right now!¡­*huh*¡­ My own name¡­*huh*¡­ for one(!)¡± I pant.

    She grins and whispers ¡°Oh, well¡­ that one I can definitely help you with¡­ you¡¯ll just have to make me scream it to remind you(!)¡±

    With that, she brings her left leg over my lap and sits, bringing about 65kg to bear on my legs.

    She¡¯s feather light for someone so tall¡­ but¡­ I guess it¡¯s about right for someone so slim!

    She wraps her long, slender arms around my neck and brings the tip of her wide, flat nose to mine.

    I can now feel that she¡¯s panting almost as much as I am as her breath breaks over my lower face.

    She smells absolutely divine!

    I suppose, Tshwane have a much more developed sense of smell than Sapiens and even Neanderthals¡­ Makes sense they¡¯d want to smell nice!

    My hands are, somehow, on her shoulderblades and stroking downward.

    They pass over the disturbance of her bra straps and down the perfect arch of her back, inveigling themselves first into the gap between her top and skirt, then under her skirt and (though this was not what I intended) under her panties, finding themselves clasped around her arsecheeks¡­ the platonic forms of roundness!

    Before I know it, her lips are on mine and a long tongue is probing the inside of my mouth.

    Then we both freeze, both hearing a door open at the same time¡­

    I evict the invasive tongue and lean my head to look around hers.

    I see a pyjamaed Tea, standing in the doorway of the bedroom she disappeared into a few minutes ago, holding a toothbrush and looking both mirthful and incredulous.

    ¡°Well¡­ you two definitely didn¡¯t waste time, did you(!?)¡± she quips ¡°Might wanna move it to a bedroom though¡­¡± she continues, gesturing out of the uncurtained window and French doors ¡°¡­peepin¡¯ toms¡¯ paradise round here(!)¡±

    ---Tal¡¯s perspective---

    I hurry upstairs, past the rain battered skylight at the top of the staircase, and turn right.

    My door is right there.

    The gorgeous boy is hot on my heels.

    I flick the privacy field on and close the door behind him!

    ¡°Were they¡­*mwuh*¡­ expensive¡­*mwuh*¡­?¡± he asks, gesturing to one of the devices sticking out of the wooden floor in the corner of the room, where the sloping roof makes it impossible to stand, as he presses me into the wall, through the field, and kisses me with the kind of desperate attentiveness that only young men have¡­

    Between kisses, I answer ¡°Surprisingly¡­*mwah*¡­ affordable!¡­*mwah*¡­ Gardenworld tech¡¯s¡­*mwah*¡­ getting cheaper¡­*mwah*¡­ by the year!¡­*mwah*¡­ The floor¡¯s, covered¡­*mwah*¡­ but the walls¡­*mwah*¡­ arenae¡­*mwah*¡­ by the way! ¡­*mwah*¡­ Your sister¡¯ll hear you¡­*mwah*¡­ pressing me¡­*mwah*¡­ against the wall like this!¡±

    He grins and moves to start kissing my neck ¡°So¡­*mwuh*¡­ whatever we do on the bed¡­*mwuh*¡­ she won¡¯t hear¡­*mwuh*¡­?¡±

    ¡°That is a truth fact(!)¡± I quip.

    No sooner have I said it than I¡¯m lifted up and thrown onto the bed!

    Before I know it, I¡¯ve got more than two metres of Sapiens pressing me down into the mattress.

    The substance and solidity of his body is more like a Neanderthal¡¯s than a Sapiens!

    This height though¡­ you¡¯d never get this from a Neanderthal!

    My top is wrestled off me with a desperate urgency that suggests he thinks there might be a time limit to proceedings(!)

    Now bare chested bar my bra, I smile up at the man pinning me to the bed as he reaches to the hem of his own top to pull it off.

    I gasp as he unveils his muscular chest and arms!

    This does not look like a 20 year old¡¯s upper body!

    Though¡­ there is something a little disappointing¡­

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d be hairier¡­¡± I pout, gesturing to his starkly hairless chest.

    ¡°I was¡­ Didn¡¯t like it¡­ Had it modded away¡­ Dealbreaker?¡± he responds, stopping in his tracks, looking crestfallen.

    I smirk and shake my head ¡°Not a dealbreaker¡­ just wish you¡¯d considered your future lovers¡¯ preferences when you made that decision(!)¡±

    He grins back ¡°Should I have got a committee together(?) ¡®Women of the world¡­ hair or no hair(?)¡¯¡±

    I tilt my head in mock consideration ¡°I wouldnae¡¯ve minded partaking in a committee like that(!)¡±

    He leans in to plant a kiss at my clavicle.

    But¡­ something¡¯s wrong¡­

    He¡­ doesn¡¯t¡­ smell right!

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    A hand wraps itself around my shoulder and applies pressure.

    ¡°Stop¡­ stop¡­¡± comes the musical, Scottish accented voice.

    I allow myself to be pushed away and look quizzically down into the stunning, ebony face frowning up at me.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± she asks, sternly.

    ¡°What d¡¯you mean?¡± I answer, confused ¡°You stopped me! What¡¯s up with you?¡±

    ¡°I stopped you because I can smell your doubts and misgivings, Victor¡­ So what¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°Fuck off you can!¡­ I know that Tshwane have better senses of smell than Sapiens but you can. not. smell doubt!¡±

    Her left eyebrow flies up her forehead as she asks ¡°So you¡¯re saying you¡¯re nae having any doubts right now¡­?¡± in a way that broadcasts, loud and clear, that she¡¯s ready to call me a liar.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I frown ¡°¡­I didn¡¯t say that.¡±

    ¡°Knew it!¡± she says, sitting up and pushing me away, managing to seem businesslike despite her toplessness ¡°Let¡¯s have it! Is it the age gap? Or do you have unrequited feelings for that girl downstairs?¡±

    I grimace, shake my head and answer ¡°What!? No! It¡¯s neither of those things! Me and Treg are family and, even if we were eachother¡¯s types, which we¡¯re not, it¡¯d destroy our relationship to bring romance into it! As to the age gap; it doesn¡¯t bother me at all¡­ I¡¯m an adult¡­ you¡¯re an attractive woman who just happens to be a few years older ¡¯an me¡­ No issue!¡± honestly.

    She spends a few seconds appraising my words and, seeming satisfied of their truth, responds ¡°Then what is the problem?¡±

    Introspecting for a moment, I realise ¡°There¡¯s two¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ what are they?¡±

    ¡°OK¡­ so¡­ the first one¡­ is¡­ Look, you seem like a really nice person¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sensing a poisonous qualifier coming(!)¡± she states, flatly.

    I think for a second about how to phrase around the ¡®but¡¯ that I was about to say.

    ¡°You seem like a really nice person¡­ therefore I feel like I need to be honest with you¡­ This¡­ can¡¯t turn into any kinda relationship¡­ it ain¡¯t possible!¡­ I¡¯m leavin¡¯ the planet in a few months and I don¡¯t know when I¡¯ll be back, if ever¡­ I just don¡¯t want you thinkin¡¯ this is more ¡¯an it is¡­¡±

    She smirks ¡°Ah¡­ I see what¡¯s happened here¡­ You were confused(!) See, when someone asks you for sex¡­ that¡¯s called a ¡®proposition¡¯¡­ You¡¯ve mixed it up with a very similar word, ¡®proposal¡¯(!) And now you¡¯re worried that you¡¯re gonnae be off shagging four armed, Martian princesses and I¡¯m gonnae be standin¡¯ at an alter in a red dress and asking ¡®Where is my betrothed?! Where is my beloved Victor!? He accepted my proposition! He should be here!!!¡¯¡­ It¡¯s a very easy mistake to make(!) I can see how you got confused(!)¡± she mocks, her tone patronising, like she¡¯s talking to a child or a simple person. Then she adds ¡°But no¡­ I¡¯m in zero danger of expecting anything more than one satisfying night with you, young man!¡­ What¡¯s the other thing?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m not¡­ I don¡¯t¡­¡± I hem and haw over how to phrase my other misgiving.

    ¡°Spit it out!¡± she says, irritated.

    ¡°I¡¯m not into vanilla sex! I¡¯m a Dom! I like to tie my partners up! I¡¯m sorry if that¡¯s too weird!¡± I blurt, more aggressively than ideal.

    ---Tal¡¯s perspective---

    I stare blankly at the shirtless, muscular young man.

    I¡¯m processing what he¡¯s just said for a good 6 seconds while he stares at me, waiting for an answer.

    Then I burst into giggles.

    ¡°*hehehehehehe*¡­I should¡¯ve fucking known!¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­ You were too good to be true!¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­ Did Kathy hire you!? ¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­ Is this her idea of a¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­ reward for my help¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­ with her wedding!?¡± I say, in utter hysterics.

    ¡°Whuh¡­ hire me? What are you talking about!? I don¡¯t know anyone called Kathy!¡±

    ¡°Nice try ¡®Victor¡¯, if that is your real name(!)¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­ I¡¯m sure that you dinnae know Kathy¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­ same as I¡¯m sure that you¡¯re not a gigolo she¡¯s hired me(!)¡±

    His copper eyebrows fly up his forehead in unmistakeably genuine shock!

    My laughter ceases immediately.

    ¡°You¡­ think¡­ I¡¯m a gigolo?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ well¡­ based on that reaction¡­ I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re not?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­¡± he glowers ¡°¡­what exactly made you think I was?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ like I said¡­ you just seemed a little too good to be true¡­ thought you must¡¯ve been a thank you gift from Kathy¡­ she must¡¯ve asked for the ¡®boyfriend experience¡¯¡­¡± I say, my cheeks burning with embarrassment!

    ¡°Like I said, I don¡¯t know any Kathy¡­ How exactly am I ¡®too good to be true¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ you¡¯re just¡­ exactly my type¡­¡± I hesitate, feeling like I might die of the shame ¡°¡­you¡¯re tall, you¡¯re muscular, you¡¯re handsome, you¡¯re young, you¡¯re polite, conscientious and attentive but nae clingy (you¡¯ve even got the built in excuse as to why you cannae stick around for a relationship, meaning I dinnae have to have the ¡®It¡¯s nae you, it¡¯s me¡¯ talk), you¡¯re a redhead, you¡¯ve got those wonderful eyes¡­ and to top it all off, you came into my bar at exactly the right time that we didnae have any chalets left, the bar front was empty for the ceilidh and I had less than an hour in my shift before Kathy relieved me¡­ with a sob story about how you and your sister (who¡¯d actually be you¡¯re agent) had been trapped in MacCulloch¡¯s Folly for 2 hours ¡¯cause you didnae wanna spook Siobhan¡¯s herd!¡­ That¡¯s a story designed to get you in my good books!¡±

    The handsome face glaring down at me bobs up and down in consideration before speaking ¡°You knew all that already, though¡­ So, what was it that suddenly made you think I was a sexworker?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­¡± I place a hand on his right shoulder to leverage myself off the bed.

    I reach through the shimmering distortion of the privacy field to unlatch the 1.5m tall door of my ¡®walk in¡¯ wardrobe that, to me, is more of a ¡®crouch in¡¯(!)

    The field insulates us from the way the hinges cry in protest from the door being opened.

    I reveal a space about 2m¡Á2m with the slope of the roof making it substantially taller on the right than the left, looking at it.

    On every wall hang devices, restraints, ropes etc. etc.

    On the coat rail dangle some erotic costumes I¡¯ve purchased. On the floor are boxes of more toys.

    ¡°¡­that would be when you told me you were a Dom¡­¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    The waistband of Tal¡¯s tartan skirt has ridden up to rest at her midriff.

    It¡¯s the only clothing I have allowed her to keep!

    Under it, I¡¯ve tied a vibewand in a way that its bulb is firmly pressed against her clit, allowing me to feel the vibrations from where I am inside her.

    Her nipples are covered by squares of tape holding furiously whirring vibrators in place!

    Her mouth is stuffed with her own, wadded tights, held in place with the cylindrical bit of a harness gag.

    Her wrists are bound, shibari style, to the headboard, her long fingered hands contorting in her ecstasy.

    Her legs are bound, ankle to thigh, with the soles of her 35cm long feet against my hips, suspending her hips half a metre from the bed.

    Around her neck is a choke chain collar, the handle of which is wrapped around my left hand.

    My right hand cradles her lower back, supporting her hips as her pussy greedily swallows my cock.

    I pull the chain to make it difficult for her to breathe and enjoy the desperation in her bubblegum eyes as she looks up at me.

    ¡°You thought I was a gigolo 30 minutes ago!¡­ 4 hours ago, we hadn¡¯t met¡­ and here you are! Tied up by a man you met tonight! What a fucking slut you are!¡± I snarl, (consensually) degrading her with gleeful spite!

    I hesitate about whether to say what I want to say next.

    It¡¯s the kind of thing it¡¯s difficult to clear ahead of time without ruining it¡­

    But¡­ she did give me her limits¡­ this wasn¡¯t one of them¡­ and she did say anything else was fair game¡­ and she encouraged me to be creative!

    I decide to go for it¡­ she¡¯s got her gagged safeword if I¡¯m taking it too far

    ¡°I could get a fortune sellin¡¯ a dirty little cunt like yours on the black market, you know(!)¡± I taunt.

    Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head desperately from side to side, moaning into her gag.

    That¡¯s not the safeword¡­ seems like she¡¯s into it¡­

    I drop the choke chain, lean to push my length all the way inside her tight pussy and knot my hand into a hank of her hair, manhandling her head.

    ¡°You thought I was sooooo sweet and innocent, didn¡¯t you!?¡± here, I affect a high pitched, na?ve voice to say ¡°¡®Pleeease Miss¡­ could I try a little of your nice whisky? I¡¯ve never had any before! Oh, that¡¯s looovely Miss! Could I have some more?¡¯¡± I puff, contemptuously, into her face, as if spitting, and return to my deep, snarling growl to say ¡°Never. even. fuckin¡¯. occurred to you that I could be someone dangerous¡­ that I could be someone you¡¯d need to watch out for¡­ that I might be the kinda SCUMBAG who, when he¡¯s had his fun with you, would load you into a private transport and whisk you away to the other side o¡¯ the planet (or to another planet entirely) where he¡¯d sell you off and you¡¯d spend the rest of your life as a fuckdummy to someone just as bad as him¡­ just richer and less pretty! And¡­ when you¡¯re lookin¡¯ a bit old and worn out for his tastes¡­ he can just toss you in a regen vat and have you as good as new again(!) Nah¡­ none of that occurred to you! Your slutty little brain only saw a juicy package attached to a cute young face¡­ Enjoy it while it lasts, bitch, because by 4 o¡¯clock tomorrow we¡¯ll be gone, you to your new life as a fucktoy, me to find some other desperate lady to sell!¡­ This¡¯ll be the best dickin¡¯ down you ever get again¡­ No more fancy whiskies, no more chalet livin¡¯, no more ceilidhs, just ugly scumbags¡¯ dicks in your pussy¡­ forever!¡­ Hope you¡¯re lookin¡¯ forward to it(!)¡±

    ¡°Gnuh! Gnuh! Gnuh!¡± she protests, still not using the safeword.

    I give an evil grin ¡°Tell you what, slut¡­ if you don¡¯t want me to sell you¡­ that¡¯s fine¡­ we can just stop right here and¡­¡±

    ¡°Mmmph!?¡± she panics.

    ¡°Oh¡­(?) What¡¯s this(?)¡­ You want me to finish inside you(?) Could that be it(?)¡± I tease, knowing full well that she considers the creampie ¡®the most important part¡¯!

    She nods, vigorously.

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ if you want that¡­ all you gotta do is admit that you¡¯re such a slut that you can¡¯t wait for me to sell you¡­ Then I¡¯ll give you what you want¡­¡±

    Reluctantly, she mumbles ¡°Haing!¡±

    I smile, shake my head and pull her hair to force her to look at me ¡°¡®Fine¡¯ ain¡¯t good enough, bitch!¡­ Repeat after me: ¡®I am a slut¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°Uy ang uh Hlukh.¡±

    ¡°¡®I live only for cock¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Uy yib ongny hor kokh!¡±

    ¡°¡®I can¡¯t wait to be sold¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Uy kangy ngaik ka vee howgh!¡±

    ¡°¡®I can¡¯t wait to be used¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Uy kangy ngaik ka vee ngusgh!¡±

    ¡°¡®I don¡¯t care who¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Uy gonk ke¡¯ah huh!¡±

    ¡°¡®I just want cock¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Uy gusk wongk kokh!¡±

    ¡°Good¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­now I¡¯ll give you what you want!¡±

    I continue pounding her into the headboard, tossing the leash aside in favour of wrapping both my hands almost all the way around her stick thin waist, under her slutty skirt.

    Using her as a fleshlite in a way that she seems even more pleased with than I am, I manage to steadily work myself back up to near climax after that little cooling off period I bought myself with the degradation.

    This time, I don¡¯t let up, keeping on going until I¡¯m past the point of no return, I empty myself into her, entirely!

    I¡¯ve just bred her so completely that I¡¯m worried I might¡¯ve managed to impregnate her even through her cycle pause!

    I¡¯m living proof it can happen(!)

    Feeling like she must be satisfied with that, I make to untie her wrists.

    ¡°Nnn-nnngh!¡± she says, the safeword cadence, with a headshake, but only once, not three times¡­

    ¡°You want me to leave you tied up?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Ngh-huh!¡± she nods, firmly.

    ¡°You want to go again?¡± I say, a little incredulous.

    Another firm nod.

    ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯ll need a few minutes¡­¡±

    ---Treg¡¯s perspective---

    As we walk through Glen Coe (a landscape so desolate that it¡¯s almost as if we¡¯ve managed to wander onto the surface of one of those planets where the only life is a single species of moss(!)) I turn to Victor and ask ¡°So¡­ Vicky¡­ I gotta know¡­ how was that Tshwane MILF pussy? Was it amazin¡¯? I bet it was amazin¡¯!¡±

    He sighs ¡°First off, Tea¡­ a gentleman don¡¯t kiss and tell! Second, don¡¯t talk ¡¯bout people by their lineage+genitals like that! It¡¯s gross!¡­ Imagine how you¡¯d feel if you heard one of your partners callin¡¯ you ¡®that Neanderthal pussy¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t care¡­ I might suggest ¡®Neanderthussy¡¯ to ¡¯em though(!)¡± I shrug, the truth/untruth of that statement less important than the tease.

    ¡°Alright¡­ If you heard me get called ¡®that Sapiens cock¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I would laugh my head off!¡± I say, completely truthfully.

    ¡°Alright, whatever¡­ Third, she weren¡¯t a MILF¡­ She was still in her twenties!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± I grin ¡°¡­and nearly 9 years older than you¡­ has her own house, has money to spend on alien home gadgetry and cooked us blueberry pancakes for breakfast, both mornin¡¯s we stayed with her! Certified MILF!¡±

    ¡°You gotta be in your fourties at least to be a MILF!¡±

    ¡°Nah¡­ I think it¡¯s just anyone who¡¯s at an age where they could have a child¡­¡±

    ¡°You could¡¯ve legally had a child at 16 and 9 month who¡¯d be nearly 4 now¡­ does that make you a MILF?¡±

    ¡°No, but conceivin¡¯ a child the instant it¡¯s legal ain''t normal¡­ havin¡¯ a child in your late twenties is!¡±

    ¡°To me, a MILF is someone who might have a child old enough that their female attracted friends find her attractive¡­ that¡¯s a MILF¡­ therefore you can¡¯t be a MILF in your twenties.¡±

    ¡°You know what I¡¯ve just realised, Victor?¡± I say, changing the subject ¡°I already know how good that MILF pussy must¡¯ve been(!)¡±

    He sighs ¡°Oh yeah? Enlighten me(!)¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ where did your schedule put us today(?)¡±

    Clearly seeing where I¡¯m going with this, he sighs ¡°Fort William¡­¡±

    ¡°Interesting¡­ and where are we right now(?)¡±

    ¡°*sigh* Not Fort William¡­¡±

    ¡°And¡­ remind me why we¡¯re a whole day behind schedule, Victor(?)¡± I say, tapping my finger on my chin in mock thoughtfulness.

    ¡°Because¡­ the morning after the first night at Tal¡¯s, she invited us to stay one more night and we both agreed!¡±

    ¡°There you go!¡± I smirk ¡°That Scottish, MILF Tshwanussy so good it made Victor Taylor abandon a schedule(!)¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.116

    ---Derelict---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I come round a corner in a corridor on Deck 17, in the ship¡¯s central section.

    The first thing my attention snaps to is a pair of arms, about 30m away, of a girth and power that I¡¯d be sorely tempted to sell my soul for(!)

    The next thing I notice is the set of shiny robes and long, straight, jet black hair.

    The last thing I notice is the hushed tone that Emiko is talking to Thran in, a mix of consoling and exasperated.

    ¡°No¡­ I can¡¯t see it anymore¡­ but it doesn¡¯t matter!¡­ It¡¯s a perfectly natural, normal and healthy part of your body!¡±

    ¡°One that looks ugly¡­¡± says Thran in a flat tone (though I¡¯ve known her long enough to be able to tell when she¡¯s miserable about something). Her hand moves to the short hair at the back of her head to trace its fingertips over the place I know her occipital bun is.

    ¡°I think it looks lovely!¡± asserts Emiko.

    Thran starts ¡°Stetter¡­!¡±

    Emiko interrupts, impatiently ¡°You want to base anything off of insults flung at you by someone like that?!¡­ Yes(!) That man had suuuch good taste(!)¡­ Couldn¡¯t you tell from the lovely body he designed himself(!!!) Oh and was sooooo reasonable and measured in all his other viewpoints(!)¡±

    Supressing a snort at Emiko¡¯s withering sarcasm I decide to announce myself.

    ¡°Hey Thran! Hey Emiko! You get asked to Cap¡¯s office too?¡± I say, cheerfully, casually, louder and from further away than I normally would, acting for all the world like I wasn¡¯t just accidentally eavesdropping on their private and sensitive conversation.

    Thran whips her head around like I¡¯ve just caught her doing something both shameful and illegal(!)

    Emiko, on the other hand, plays it much, much cooler, turning her head to me and smiling in the most natural and nonchalant way you can imagine!

    ¡°Indeed so, Victor¡­ I can¡¯t wait to hear what it¡¯s about¡­ Perhaps another lost colony(?) Maybe another castaway(?) Or perhaps another Revanchist raid(!)¡­ I¡¯m beginning to wonder if fate might be conspiring to keep us from our final destination(!)¡±

    As I catch up to them I wave a hand in reassuring dismissal ¡°Sure it¡¯s nothin¡¯¡­ Prob¡¯ly just an FYI ¡¯bout somethin¡¯ trivial!¡±

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    My office door opens and in walk three Terrans.

    ¡°Ah, good, you¡¯re here.¡± I say, really to Victor and Emiko but being careful not to exclude Hunter.

    ¡°What¡¯s this about, Cap?¡± asks Victor, straight to business as the trio take seats across my desk from me.

    I gesture to the elastomer clad form of the woman sitting next to me and say ¡°I shall let Twila explain.¡±

    The three Terran faces turn to the woman, in unison.

    ¡°So¡­¡± begins Twila, opening a map of the galactic region we¡¯re currently navigating ¡°¡­6 days ago we entered what is known as the Great Eastern Desert.¡±

    Thran gives a confused frown, seeming to be struggling with the metaphorical use of the word ¡®Desert¡¯ in that sentence.

    Twila quickly clarifies that ¡°It¡¯s not a literal desert¡­ It¡¯s called that because¡­¡± she brings up an overlay showing every inhabited system in green and every cradleworld in red. The region we¡¯re currently in, at the outer edge of which sits our final destination, is almost completely devoid of them ¡°¡­of the relative poverty of sapience supporting and producing planets. It¡¯s deserted¡­ It¡¯s also on the edge of the galaxy that has been arbitrarily assigned as ¡®East¡¯¡­ and it¡¯s the largest such in known space¡­ hence ¡®Great Eastern Desert¡¯¡­ Until around 35 years ago, the area where the bulk of the UTC¡¯s worlds were was referred to as the Lesser Western Desert, for the same reason¡­ it was thought that there was little to nothing there.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­?¡± says Victor with the tone of someone trying not to sound impatient for the point to come.

    ¡°The thing is, until around 200,000 years ago, there was a fairly well trafficked spacelane that ran across it, North to South¡­¡± the route is highlighted, a few days¡¯ journey ahead of us and perpendicular to our direction of travel ¡°¡­it was created to connect the Agek and Nephthi cores around a million years before the formation of the Galactic Union¡­ As the years passed, new lanes were laid down that bypassed the area and new advancements in FTL tech were made, it was less and less in demand. Eventually, not even the historic value could justify the resources that had to be spent on its maintenance and the route was closed¡­¡±

    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s the issue?¡± asks Emiko, her tone having all the patience that Victor¡¯s lacked.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± hesitates Twila ¡°¡­right here¡­¡± the map zooms in massively to show only the space between our current position and the place she¡¯s indicating ¡°¡­is a derelict space station that used to serve that lane¡­ The signals coming off of it have been¡­ irregular¡­¡±

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    ¡°¡®Irregular¡¯ how?¡± asks Victor, his eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± she says, half shrugging half grimacing ¡°¡­the fact that it¡¯s putting off signals at all for a start!¡­ It¡¯s supposedly 40,000 years abandoned¡­ It should be as inert as any other lump of space debris!¡­ Other than that¡­ I can¡¯t really say¡­ they¡¯re just¡­ weird in ways it¡¯s really difficult to explain in meatspace terms!¡±

    Victor frowns ¡°OK, can you interpret any of ¡¯em? Any actual intel you can give us about ¡¯em?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s mostly just garbled noise but¡­ flashes of coherent thoughts occasionally peak through¡­ never with any context though.¡±

    Emiko leans forward ¡°How confident are you that there¡¯s any intelligence behind these signals, Twila? Could this just be a malfunctioning old computer that occasionally spits out something resembling intelligence?¡±

    ¡°I would stake my sentience on there being at least one sentient being aboard that station, Ma¡¯am.¡± says Twila with rock solid confidence.

    ¡°So¡­¡± I interrupt ¡°¡­that¡¯s the situation¡­ We don¡¯t know whether it¡¯s squatters, or castaways, or what, but there¡¯s someone aboard a space station that should be long abandoned. They may be sending out signals for some purpose¡­ Perhaps they¡¯re trying to signal rescue¡­ We don¡¯t know¡­ The reason I asked both of you here is that I wished to discuss the possibility of a short detour to this station to check what the situation actually is¡­ Emiko, as the expedition coordinator, this would need your approval. Victor; you, Brunhilda, Tuun and Ms Hunter would be the ones I am proposing to send aboard this station and search for any strandees¡­ What do you say?¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m aboard the Swift Claw with Tuun, Samus and Thran.

    I pick up my helmet and place it onto my head, pushing it down and locking it into a seal with the collar of my uniform.

    I pick up one of the metallic gauntlets in front of me and slip it over my left hand, sealing it to my cuff. Then, I repeat the process for my right hand.

    ¡°Vacuum mode.¡± I state into my helmet, causing the breathable fabric all over my body to instantly become airtight.

    I take a brief moment to appreciate Tuun¡¯s helmet. More or less like mine but with blue sensors and ear cones on either side.

    I love the scifi, space Elf aesthetic it gives her!

    ¡°Alright¡­ Thran, you check Samus¡¯s and my suits. Samus, you check me and Tuun. I¡¯ll check Tuun and Thran and, Tuun, you check Thran and Samus.¡± I instruct.

    A few minutes follow as each of us both performs and submits to two separate inspections.

    No problems are found.

    ¡°Well¡­ that was a waste of time(!)¡± chuckles Samus.

    ¡°Won¡¯t be a waste of time on the day it saves someone¡¯s life, Samus.¡± I say, sternly.

    She doesn¡¯t answer and, because her face is covered by a helmet, I¡¯ve only got her bodylanguage to glean the ¡®Yeah¡­ No shit, Sherlock!¡¯ that I¡¯m guessing she¡¯s thinking.

    ¡°Alright¡­ we¡¯re gettin¡¯ close. Everyone in.¡± I gesture to the airlock, deployed around the door right now.

    We file inside and the doors shut and seal behind us.

    I can hear the steady hum of the air being pumped from the room which gets fainter and fainter as there¡¯s less and less air for it to travel through.

    The negligible layer of air, trapped between my suit and me, expands, not being opposed by an atmosphere¡¯s pressure anymore.

    My suit swells up as it¡¯s lifted about a centimetre off of its antifriction lining in all directions.

    My helmet injects more air to maintain the pressure. It gets it almost perfect but my ears do pop a bit.

    I can¡¯t reach my nose for the Valsalva manoeuvre so I settle for stretching my jaw to try and unpop them.

    The flexible parts of Samus¡¯s, Thran¡¯s and Tuun¡¯s suits all visibly swell up, just like mine.

    It¡¯s incredible how much resistance you realise you face, just moving through air, when it gets taken away!

    Moving your limbs in a vacuum always feels¡­ disconcertingly, uncannily easy! Like someone (who you can¡¯t feel touching you) is helping you! You¡¯re so used to having to factor the energy necessary to overcome air resistance into all your equations for how much force to put into your actions that, when it¡¯s gone, all your movements feel too strong, too powerful!

    The decrepit old space station comes into view.

    Instantly, I have a pit of unease in my stomach¡­ but I can¡¯t tell what¡¯s wrong.

    My mind shows me a bunch of images that have nothing to do with the current situation.

    An Earth insect landing in the jaws of a carnivorous plant which close around it.

    Divers coming up from the deep sea.

    A name comes into my mind¡­ Petrikov?

    No, no!

    Petrikov is Olga¡¯s last name¡­ It wasn¡¯t Petrikov¡­ It was¡­ Petrov! Stanislav Petrov!

    A black and white photo of a young man with short, dark hair and wearing a 20th Century military dress uniform swims into my mind.

    It¡¯s been years since I learnt about him! Why has my brain decided to remind me about him now?!

    We¡¯re getting closer to the docking point and I still can¡¯t work out what it is that¡¯s causing me this anxiety.

    If I abort the docking just ¡¯cause ¡®I¡¯ve got a bad feeling about this¡¯, I¡¯m gonna look fucking crazy!

    The door lines up with one on the outside of the ship.

    My breathing gets fast.

    We clamp.

    My heart is pounding!

    I see inside the station where the shuttle''s lights illuminate a dank corridor.

    My subconscious is screaming at me!

    The Swift Claw¡¯s internal doors open and I decide that, right now, I don¡¯t care if I end up looking crazy anymore!

    I dart behind Tuun and put my hands on her shoulders to try to push her to the floor as I shout ¡°EVERYONE BREATHE OUT, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND AND BRACE YOURSEL¡­!!!¡°

    Midsentence, I¡¯m interrupted by the station doors opening, breaking the seal between the vacuum chamber we¡¯re in and the supposedly unpressurised corridor.

    Hundreds of kilos of air, travelling at roughly the speed of sound, hits Tuun, collapsing her airtight suit and blasting all 40kg of her into my front!

    An imperceptibly miniscule amount of time after, the wall of air hits me too.

    My eardrums are in immediate agony but I managed to empty my lungs just in time, so at least they don¡¯t burst!

    Me and Tuun are flying backward through the air for what my adrenal dump makes feel like an age but what¡¯s probably, actually a fraction of a second!

    Then my back hits the wall¡­ hard!

    Tuun hits my front and crushes my chest between her own momentum and the solid wall!

    I hit the floor and wheeze as I struggle to fill my lungs back up after being winded.

    ¡°You¡­*hhhhh*¡­ alright¡­*hhhhh*¡­ Tuun?¡± I choke.

    ¡°Not¡­*hhhhh*¡­ dead!¡± she answers.

    My hearing¡¯s blown out from the rapid change in pressure, so I can¡¯t actually hear her but, from the way her words are translated, she seems about as much the worse for wear as I am.

    I look over to where Thran and Samus are gingerly picking themselves up from the places they landed.

    On her hands and knees, Samus turns her helmet to face me and asks ¡°The fuck¡­*hhhhh*¡­ was¡­*hhhhh*¡­ that?!?!?!"

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.117

    ---Gut---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Victor?¡­ Victor!?¡­ What¡¯s going on!?¡± I demand into the comm channel.

    ¡°IT WAS A TRAP, CAP!¡­ THIS HALLWAY HAD AIR IN IT!¡­ WE GOT THROWN INTO THE BACK WALL BY THE SUDDEN RECOMPRESSION.¡± he bellows.

    ¡°Are any of you hurt?!¡± I say, the bottom dropping from my stomach.

    ¡°ALL GOT THE WIND KNOCKED OUT OF US BUT ALL ALIVE¡­¡±

    I furrow my browtufts and ask ¡°Why are you shouting Victor?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯M SHOUTING?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ You¡¯re shouting!¡±

    ¡°SORRY, CAP¡­ I THINK MY EARDRUMS¡¯VE BURST FROM THE CHANGE IN PRESSURE. SOUNDS LIKE I¡¯M SPEAKIN¡¯ NORMAL TO ME BUT I CAN ONLY HEAR MY VOICE THROUGH MY SKULL¡­ I¡¯M ONLY GETTIN¡¯ WHAT YOU¡¯RE SAYIN¡¯ FROM MY TRANSLATOR¡­¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re all deaf right now?!¡± I ask, alarmed.

    ¡°TUUN, SAMUS, THRAN, CAN YOU HEAR¡­?¡± the four of them briefly confer before he confirms ¡°¡­THRAN THINKS HER LEFT EARDRUM¡¯S STILL IN TACT¡­ OTHER THAN THAT WE¡¯RE ALL DEAF.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s extremely concerning.¡±

    ¡°NOT REALLY¡­ WE WOULDN¡¯TA BEEN ABLE TO HEAR IN A VACUUM ANYWAY. ASIDE FROM THE PAIN, BEIN DEAF DON¡¯T MAKE THAT MUCH OF A DIFFERENCE¡­ I¡¯M MORE WORRIED ABOUT WHO SET THE BOOBYTRAP FOR US!¡­ THAT HALL WEREN¡¯T MARKED AS ¡®UNDER VACUUM¡¯ BY ACCIDENT! IF WE¡¯D BEEN GARDENWORLDERS, WE¡¯D ALL¡¯VE BEEN DEAD FROM A TRAP LIKE THAT!¡±

    ¡°I agree¡­ I think you ought to disengage and come back to the Bright Plume, Victor. Whoever¡¯s aboard clearly doesn¡¯t want to be rescued!¡±

    ¡°TRIED THAT¡­ WE¡¯RE LOCKED IN¡­ THE STATION WON¡¯T LET US GO!¡±

    ¡°Twila.¡± I say, immediately, toward the ceiling.

    ¡°Yes, Captain?¡± she responds from the room¡¯s speakers.

    ¡°Is there anything you can do remotely?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already been trying to recall the Swift Claw for a minute and a half¡­ I don¡¯t think so, Captain.¡±

    ¡°Alright, Victor¡­ Sit tight while we come up with a plan for how to get you four back¡­¡±

    ---The ????????¡¯s perspective---

    I??? ???a???w???a???k???e???n???.???

    I???n???t???r???u???d???e???r???s???¡­???

    T???h???e???r???e??? ???a???r???e??? ???t????r???e????s?????p???a?????s???s????e???r????s???? ???i???n??? ???m???y??? ???h???o???m???e???.???

    U???n???f???a???m???i???l???i???a???r??? ???s???p???e???c???i???e???s???.???

    T???h???e???y??? ???m???u???s???t??? ???b???e??? d???????????????????e????????????a????????????l??????????????????t????????????????????? w????i????t????h????.?????

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°I do not like this plan, Victor!¡±

    ¡°Not wildly keen on it myself(!)¡­ You¡¯re welcome to suggest alternatives if you got ¡¯em!¡± he answers, his words being injected directly into my brain, no meaning able to pass my agonising, destroyed eardrums.

    ¡°You know I don¡¯t but¡­¡± I take my right hand off my gun to gesture up the grimy, grotty, dark hallway ahead, only lit by the torches on our guns and helmets ¡°¡­that doesn¡¯t mean that walking 5km across these fucking Sevastopol-Station-arse corridors to get to the exfil point is a good idea!¡±

    That maintenance woman who looks like a 4m tall, bipedal Nightfury¡¯s apparently gonna jury-rig an umbilical from the Bright Plume to a hole she¡¯s gonna cut in the side of the station.

    When I asked if there was a way for them to do it closer to where we are, I got a lot of jargon about structural integrity and closest safe approaches but it all amounted to ¡®no¡¯.

    That would be too easy(!)

    No, we¡¯ve got to spend an hour walking right the way across the creepiest place I¡¯ve ever been(!)

    A place that we already know is inhabited by at least one hostile being!

    And we¡¯ve got to do it all while feeling like we¡¯ve had 6cm nails hammered into our earcanals(!)

    My back is definitely bruised from being thrown into the wall like that but¡­ doesn¡¯t feel like anything¡¯s broken at least!

    ¡°This place is like I always imagined Helheim¡­¡± observes Tuun ¡°¡­dark¡­ empty¡­ cold¡­ it feels like a place that belongs to the dead¡­¡±

    ¡°Niiice and cheery(!)¡± I quip, turning around to see her walking backwards, her four handguns illuminating the space behind us.

    Good girl! Sharp!

    We do not want to get snuck up on and, with only one working ear between the four of us (even if that ear belongs to a Neanderthal with Neanderthal level senses¡­ Even if that ear belongs to Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter¡­ the Neanderthalest Neanderthal to ever Neanderthal(!)), there¡¯s a strong chance we wouldn¡¯t hear things coming up behind us.

    I turn back to look at Cuddles, scanning the hallway ahead of us with his shotgun¡¯s torch.

    ¡°How did you know, Victor?¡±

    ¡°How did I know what?¡± he asks without looking at me.

    ¡°You were warning us about the air before the door opened¡­ How did you know?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ The honest answer to that, Samus, is that I ain¡¯t got a clue how I knew¡­¡±

    I scoff inaudibly and say ¡°No¡­ You knew! You were shouting at us to empty our lungs, get down and brace! You must¡¯ve known!¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I knew¡­ but I don¡¯t know how¡­¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense! How can you know something without knowing how you know it?!¡±

    His chuckle comes across the translator as he seems to completely change the subject ¡°You ever heard of Stanislav Petrov?¡±

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the man whose gut saved Earth from Nuclear annihilation¡­¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d that happen?!¡± I laugh, causing me to immediately wince at the pain in my damaged sinuses.

    ¡°He was a soldier in the military of the Soviet Empire in the late 20th Century. His job was monitorin¡¯ for nuclear launches from the Stateser Empire¡­ If his warning system said the Statesers had launched an attack, his only job was to call Moscow and tell them. Then, one day in 1983, was a false alarm. The detection system said that the Statesers had launched 5 or 6 missiles at them.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ what? He was taking a shit or¡­(?)¡±

    ¡°*sigh*¡­His gut feelin¡¯ saved the world!¡­ He didn¡¯t trust it¡­ he spent 20 minutes troubleshootin¡¯ the machine before confirmin¡¯ it had bugged out¡­ Those 20 minutes would¡¯ve been the difference between the Soviets bein¡¯ able to strike back or not¡­ but he knew, if he passed it up the chain like he was supposed to, the folk above him wouldn¡¯t even consider it bein¡¯ a false alarm¡­The funny thing was, when folk asked him later why he didn¡¯t trust it¡­ he couldn¡¯t tell ¡¯em!¡­ Buncha stuff occurred to him after the fact¡­ like, the software was new and unproven in its reliability, 5 or 6 warheads would be a really weird number for the Statesers to launch if they wanted to destroy their rivals! Even if they annihilated the 6 largest cities in the Soviet Empire, they still would¡¯ve been able to strike back in revenge! The aim of a nuclear war is to wipe your opponent out before they have time to retaliate¡­ But¡­ in the moment¡­ he just had a gut reaction and he trusted it.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying ¡®always trust your gut¡¯? Isn¡¯t that a bit superstitious for a supposed atheist, Cuddles(?)¡± I smirk.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t superstitious¡­ Your brain takes in tens of millions of points of data every day¡­ you¡¯re only consciously aware of a few thousand of ¡¯em¡­ if you get a bad feeling in your gut¡­ it likely means that your subconscious has put somethin¡¯ together that your conscious hasn¡¯t! Maybe, it was the way the light passed through the air just a little different from how it would pass through a vacuum that tipped me off¡­ maybe there was some sorta external indicator light that I noticed without noticing¡­ Don¡¯t know what it was that let me know¡­ I just had a gut feelin¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°You say that, Cuddles, but-Oof!¡±

    Midsentence, he darts toward me and tackles me backward like lightning!

    For the second time in the last hour, my back impacts a solid surface, hard!

    Was I pissing him off so much that he decided to teach me a lesson?!

    That doesn¡¯t sound like him!

    I start to scramble to my feet but, partway up, I see the space where he was.

    He¡¯s vanished¡­

    Thran too¡­

    Where they stood is a hole in the floor, rapidly closing back up.

    ¡°VICTOR!?¡± says Tuun, wheeling around, the translator letting me know she¡¯s screaming.

    ¡°Fucking hell¡­!!!¡± I sigh.

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    Victor and I fell a long way before we finally hit the ground.

    If it weren¡¯t for the low gravity we would definitely have been badly hurt.

    He¡¯s already scrambling to his feet.

    ¡°Y¡¯ALRIGHT THRAN?¡± I hear him shouting with my good ear.

    ¡°I¡¯m alright, Victor.¡± I groan as I pick myself up.

    ¡°CAP? TWILA? SAMUS? TUUN? ANYONE, COME IN!¡± he yells into the open comm channel.

    ¡°I hear you, Victor. What happened?¡± answers the Captain over the coms.

    ¡°ME AND THRAN FELL DOWN A PITFALL TRAP! WE¡¯RE SEPARATED FROM TUUN AND SAMUS!¡±

    ¡°More indication of the resident¡¯s or residents¡¯ ill intent toward you¡­ Are you injured?¡±

    ¡°NO MORE ¡¯AN BEFORE¡­ JUST GOTTA EITHER FIND OUR WAY OUT OR TO WHERE SAMUS AND TUUN ARE NOW!¡±

    ¡°Alright, Twila will send you revised directions to the extraction point with a rendezvous with Tuun and Brunhilda if possible¡­ Oh! They¡¯re calling us on another channel¡­ I¡¯ll let them know the two of you are safe¡­ Be careful, Victor!¡±

    ¡°WE¡¯LL TRY TO BE, CAP¡­ OVER AND OUT.¡± he ends the call and turns to me ¡°WE SHOULD¡­¡±

    But at that exact moment, I spot something looming in the darkness at the end of the hallway.

    My hand whips up to point to the shape and he immediately cuts himself off to look where I indicate.

    Our helmet lights fall on the thing and my blood runs cold!

    The claustrophobic anxiety I¡¯ve had since I put the helmet on soars to the point of near terror at the sight¡­

    Fully nude and more than 3m tall, the being standing facing us has spindly, yellowy-white hooved legs and long, gangling arms that come down to well below its ankle joints, the long fingers of its tetradactyl hands nearly at the floor.

    Its torso is long, narrow and shaped like a very sharp V, its pelvis around 20cm wide and around 1.7m below its 60cm wide shoulders.

    Its skin is a glossy, reflective, black colour.

    Its large head has no visible ears, eyes or nose with a lipless mouth full of teeth, each about half the size of my palm, stretching almost all the way from one side to the other.

    Blending seamlessly with the sides of its head are a pair of sleek, thick, S-curved, black horns that more than double the diagonal length of its skull.

    ¡°OI!¡± shouts Victor ¡°YOU MIND EXPLAININ¡¯ WHAT EXACTLY THE FUCK IS GOIN¡¯ ON HERE!?¡±

    He begins walking forward but my hand involuntarily shoots out to close around his wrist.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I say, trying to speak loudly and clearly but unable to do much more than whisper ¡°¡­there¡¯s something wrong with it!¡±

    He looks from the thing to me, his head cocked, and gestures to it ¡°HE¡¯S JUST AN AGEK, THRAN¡­ I KNOW THEY LOOK A BIT CREEPY AN¡¯ XENOMORPHY BUT THEY AIN¡¯T A THREAT TO US¡­ AGEK RAL IS A CLASS 4¡­ JUST LOOK AT HIS BODY!¡­ THAT¡¯S A LOW GRAVITY BUILD IF I EVER SAW ONE!¡±

    ¡°Could you try to speak quieter, Victor?¡­ I know it looks like an Agek but I¡¯m telling you there¡¯s something wrong with it!¡±

    He looks back to the thing and then back to me.

    Reducing his volume by less than I¡¯d like, he asks ¡°What makes you say that?¡±

    My mouth opens and closes a few times before I settle on ¡°My gut¡­¡±

    He looks back at the eerily unmoving thing blocking our path and studies it for a few seconds.

    Eventually, he asks ¡°Can¡¯t see his chest movin¡¯¡­ Can you hear him breathin¡¯, Thran?¡±

    I turn my left ear towards it, trying not to turn my head too far so that I don¡¯t lose sight of it.

    ¡°I can¡¯t, Victor¡­¡± I whisper.

    ¡°Would you be able to at this distance?¡± he asks at the louder end of normal speaking volume.

    ¡°I would!¡± I hiss, trying my best not to panic from my overwhelming claustrophobia.

    Victor gives a weary sigh and says ¡°OK¡­ looks like we might have a case of some kinda hive mind/mind control/zombification shit goin¡¯ on here¡­ Ain¡¯t my first time!¡­ Try to be gentle with him, just in case the poor bastard¡¯s still alive and ain¡¯t irreversibly lobotomised!¡±

    With that, he begins walking towards it.

    ¡°Wait! Victor!? What are you doing!?¡± I whisper frantically, my panic finally setting in.

    He turns back to me and shrugs his shoulders, raising his cradled shotgun with the motion ¡°I¡¯m gonna incapacitate him and bring him back to the ship with us¡­ See if we can¡¯t get him back to normal¡­¡±

    ¡°Victor¡­ that thing¡¯s¡­!¡± I trail off as my words die in my throat.

    He raises an upturned palm to the soulless body at the end of the hallway and I hear him puff a few times through his nose.

    ¡°Thran¡­ look at him!¡­ Same fuckin¡¯ mistake people trynna build mind controlled armies always make! They choose folk who look scary over folk who¡¯ve got any actual solidity to their bones and muscles!¡­ Don¡¯t think this guy¡¯d be able to actually hurt us if he swung a full force punch right into our unhelmeted faces(!)¡­ Just relaaaaax¡­ OK?¡­ You¡¯re the strongest woman in the galaxy! You¡¯re armoured from head to toe (even if it is just a vacuum helmet you¡¯re wearin¡¯)! You got a plasmabec in your left hand and (for what it¡¯s worth(!)) I¡¯m here too!¡± he raises his shotgun and turns his scabbard bearing hip to me ¡°I think we can take this guy(!)¡±

    Still not at all comfortable with the situation but unable to find any fault in his reasoning, I unhappily grunt for him to go ahead.

    He turns to the ghoul and, in a loud commanding voice, announces ¡°IF THE PUPPET MASTER IS LISTENIN¡¯, I¡¯M WARNIN¡¯ YOU: YOU MAKE THIS MAN HURT HIMSELF FIGHTIN¡¯ US, YOU¡¯LL ANSWER TO ME!¡­ I DON¡¯T TEND TO GET ON WELL WITH FOLK WHO THINK ZOMBIFYIN¡¯ OTHER FOLK IS ACCEPTABLE, SO I¡¯M ALREADY PRETTY PISSED OFF!!!¡­ I¡¯D SAY YOUR BEST HOPE¡¯S RELEASIN¡¯ AS MANY THRALLS AS YOU GOT FROM YOUR CONTROL, IF YOU¡¯RE ABLE, SURRENDERIN¡¯ YOURSELF AND COMIN¡¯ QUIETLY¡­ IF Y¡¯DON¡¯T, THING¡¯S COULD GET REAL FUCKIN¡¯ UG¡­¡±

    At exactly that point, the thing positively flashes forwards at a speed that no deathworlder could ever hope to match, let alone a gardenworlder!

    Its creepy, long fingered hand closes around Victor¡¯s neck, easily wrapping all the way around!

    Its momentum cuts him off, midsentence, and both knocks him off his feet and launches him backward through the air!

    It slams him into the ground (hard enough to dent the floor panel) and pins him there by his throat!

    Its monstrous face underlit by Victor¡¯s helmet light, it opens its horrific, lipless mouth and lets out an unearthly, unnatural, shrieking scream like I¡¯ve never heard in my life!

    I¡¯m screaming too¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.118

    ---Ghouls---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    This isn¡¯t right!

    I¡¯m dazed from the impossible way this guy moved toward me and slammed me in to the floor.

    I¡¯m unable to breathe from the hand wrapped all the way around my neck.

    A lipless mouth, wider than my entire head and full of large, peg like teeth, opens in a scream that I can¡¯t hear but I can feel!

    Agek have eyes but they¡¯re beneath their skin (which I can¡¯t see through) giving the face I¡¯m looking at a disturbingly eyeless appearance.

    A new light appears from over my head.

    Something blindingly white streaks from my left before burying itself into the side of the creature¡¯s skull.

    That¡¯s not right!

    I don¡¯t blame Thran for immediately resorting to lethal force¡­ that¡¯s not what I¡¯m talking about¡­ It¡¯s the fact that there was no explosion of steam!

    All animals have some kind of liquid in their bodies. If not water then something else!

    Gardenworlders almost always have drier bodies than Terrans (since water is heavy) but no creature has their body completely dry!

    I know this and, yet, the beak of Thran¡¯s bec just disappeared into this guy¡¯s skull for a quarter second and managed to not create any steam at all!

    I come to my senses a little and aim a two footed kick directly at the skinny waist of the one pinning me down.

    He¡¯s thrown over my head and must land on his back.

    Before I¡¯m fully to my feet, a strong hand has closed around my wrist.

    I barely have time to react before I¡¯m being pulled along the corridor at a speed I¡¯m having trouble staying on my feet at!

    I manage to determine that the one dragging me away is Thran, her powerful legs working like the pistons of a steam engine in the low gravity!

    I look behind me just in time to see the creature (which I can no longer think of as a ¡®person¡¯) righting itself and looking around for us before it disappears around the corner.

    My legs are working as hard as they can to keep up with Thran and I¡¯m only just able to keep her from dragging me down onto my face!

    Even after so many times that she¡¯s demonstrated her superior physicality, it still seems impossible that she would be able to run so much faster than me with such short legs!

    Her stamina doesn¡¯t last, though¡­

    Before long our roles are reversed and I¡¯m the one dragging her along by the arm.

    I dive into a dark room to hide and let us catch our breaths.

    I select the open comm channel and, doing my best to actually whisper, say ¡°All receivers: We¡¯ve encountered a hostile. Subject appeared to be an Agek but was much stronger and faster than us! Subject was nonverbal and unresponsive to communication. Likely under outside control or direction. Do you read!?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ read you¡­ Victor!¡­ A¡­ little¡­ LATE!¡± returns Samus¡¯s voice, via my translator.

    My stomach drops.

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°GodsandGoddessesof¨¢sgarerandVanaheimr,

    Icalluponyourstrength,yourwisdomandyourgrace

    ToshieldandprotectmeandallthatIholddear!

    MightyT¨®rr,GodofThunderandprotectorofMiegarer,

    Wieldyourhammer,Mj?lnir,andguardmefromharm!

    AsIwalkthepathoflife,letnoillbefallme!

    ¨®einn,wiseAlf?er,GodofWarand¡­¡± prays Tuun, frantically and out loud, so fast that if every word¡¯s meaning wasn¡¯t being forced into my brain by my translator, I¡¯d have no hope of keeping up with it in any language I speak!

    The mindless horde rattle the barred door of the room we¡¯re locked inside, the features of the various faces completely rabid!

    I brought a single spare magazine for my gun¡­ not that it did any good!

    I unloaded a full 100 rounds into the throng of them, then reloaded and unloaded another hundred to no effect!

    One of them got close enough to us that Tuun was able to stab it between the eyes¡­

    I can still see it through the porthole, Tuun¡¯s cooled off dagger sticking out of its head, still, impossibly, moving around and seeming to have suffered no loss of function!

    My dominant arm is broken, either in the ulna or the radius but the pain is so blinding that I can¡¯t tell which¡­ maybe both?

    I let it hang down at my left side, doing my best to suppress the pain, and tap the left side of Tuun¡¯s helmet with my right hand, snapping her from her reverie.

    ¡°Tuun, I get that you¡¯re scared, I¡¯m scared too, but the gods aren¡¯t helping us out of this one!¡­ We need to figure something out!¡± I say, my tone stern but not angry.

    The bright blue lights of her helmet sensors flick to the door and she raises a slender finger to point at the deranged faces.

    ¡°Those things are draugar!¡­ Straight from Helheim!¡­ The Swift Claw¡¯s stuck, Toothless got herself electrocuted off the space station, Victor and Thran are gone!¡­ What is there for us to figure out!?¡­¡± she asks, her translated voice being layered with the tone of being on the verge of tears.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know but I don¡¯t fancy dying in this room, so¡­!!!¡±

    Just that moment, the scrabbling at the door ceases.

    Tuun and I both look to the door and then back at eachother.

    ¡°Maybe¡­ Maybe they gave up¡­?¡± suggests Tuun.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Mmmm¡­¡± I grunt.

    I step back to the door to look out of the porthole.

    Tuun is right behind me and has no problem looking over my head.

    The demented beings haven¡¯t gone away¡­

    They are, however, suddenly, unnaturally still¡­

    They¡¯ve stepped away from the door and formed two ranks, one either side of it.

    ¡°Could¡­. Could they be offering us safe passage?¡± asks the Elf girl.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on it¡­¡± I answer, my eyes narrowed in suspicion.

    Then, down the corridor, I see it.

    A massive, looming shadow appears, thick set and nearly twice my height!

    ¡°Shiiiiit¡­ She¡¯s a Threndian!¡± I say, feeling the blood drain from my face as her shaggy purple fur and distinctive two pronged horn come into view.

    The titanic woman drops to all six and it takes me a moment to work out what her intention is¡­

    As soon as I realise, I immediately turn and begin shoulder barging Tuun away from the door as I say ¡°She¡¯s taking a run up! They¡¯re letting her break the door down!!!¡±

    Having got as far from the door as we¡¯re able to, I draw my sword (which is really too long for such close quarters!) with my unbroken right arm.

    Tuun draws her three remaining daggers and (wisely) stands behind me.

    ¡°All receivers:¡­¡± I say into the open comm channel as I feel (rather than hearing) the monster woman¡¯s approach ¡°¡­I don¡¯t think me and Tuun are gonna make it¡­¡±

    The Threndian woman impacts the locked door and rips it from its frame in a way that no biological ever should have been able to!

    She draws back up to standing and turns her expressionless face to us as the other ghouls pour in around her¡­

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    I look at the mirky water¡­

    My breathing is rapid, my heartrate fast and every muscle in my body is tense!

    ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t swim¡­¡± I confess ¡°¡­I¡¯m too dense¡­ I sink straight to the bottom, even out of armour!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ but¡­¡± Victor raises a hand to flick the side of my vacuum helmet ¡°¡­you can breathe, right?¡­ Don¡¯t need to swim, so long as you can breathe!¡­ You¡¯re too dense? Walk on the bottom¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I-I d-donnn¡¯t¡­ i-it¡¯s¡­¡± I stammer, on the verge of a panic attack!

    ¡°Thran¡­ Thran! Look at me!¡±

    I look up at the gold and silver helmet with the bright green sensor bar that¡¯s pointed down at me.

    ¡°You¡¯re hyperventilatin¡¯¡­¡± he says, gently ¡°¡­close your mouth and breathe through your nose¡­ slowly as you can¡­¡±

    He puts a hand on my shoulder, not that I can feel it through my armour, and stoops to bring his head level to mine.

    ¡°You¡¯re doin¡¯ fiiiiine¡­¡± he soothes ¡°¡­Just think of it as thick air¡­ K?¡­ I¡¯ll be right beside you the whole way!¡­ Then, when we get to the other side, we¡¯ll find where Tuun and Samus¡¯ve barricaded ¡¯emselves, we¡¯ll get ¡¯em outta there and we¡¯ll figure out some other way off this station since Toothless got hospitalised¡­ We¡¯re going to make it outta here¡­ Alright?¡±

    Having managed to get my breathing under control while he spoke, I give a little nod.

    I imagine he smiles at me before taking my right hand in his left and turning towards the water.

    He steps forward, confidently submerging his foot.

    I follow his lead.

    As the water climbs up my body, it seeps through my armour to press against the flexible vacuum suit I¡¯m wearing.

    My helmet works to remove some of the air to keep the pressure constant¡­ It does it almost perfectly but I do wince as a slight pressure spike causes sharp pain in my (one damaged, one destroyed) eardrums and sinuses.

    I close my eyes as the water passes my face.

    Once both of us are fully below the waterlevel, Victor turns to me and says ¡°See?¡­ Not so bad¡­ just like thick air(!)¡­ You can still breathe, can¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Mmmm-Hmmmm¡­¡± I confirm, not opening my mouth in case I start hyperventilating again.

    ¡°Alright, this way¡­¡± he gestures and begins walking along the waterfilled corridor.

    It¡¯s¡­ so much harder to walk underwater than in air!

    My increased buoyancy keeps my feet from getting proper purchase and every step means I¡¯ve got to push hundreds of kilos of noncompressible fluid out of my way!

    It¡¯s 187m until this corridor levels back up¡­

    We¡¯ve come 25m or so¡­ So 162?

    I hate how much more than air water swallows the light from our helmets!

    We¡¯ve come around 100m now and I¡¯m just starting to relax when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up¡­

    I really don¡¯t want to turn around¡­ I desperately try to convince myself that there¡¯s nothing behind us.

    I stop.

    Victor stops too.

    Without either of us needing to say a word, we turn.

    What we see are three shapes, moving with a fluid, undulating, side to side wriggle through the watercolumn.

    Victor draws his sword and ignites it.

    I ignite my plasmabec.

    The heat of our weapons creates a torrent of steam bubbles which envelope the blades before pouring off of them to the ceiling.

    The enemies get close enough for me to see what they are.

    Xanajoaxans¡­ or, at least, ghouls that look Xanajoaxan!

    Pink skin, four limbs, long, finned tails with semitransparent membranes that come most of the way up their backs, a headdress of external gills¡­ These are beings far better adapted for water than Humans!

    Their faces make very obvious that there¡¯s no more sapience in them than there was in the Agek earlier.

    One of them utterly streaks through the water at Victor, narrowly dodging the slash of his sabre that he aims at it and diverting around in an attempt to flank him.

    I can¡¯t worry about him though!

    The other two are both coming at me!

    Having seen how ineffective headshots were against these things earlier, I aim the beak of my weapon for one of their shoulders.

    I sever its arm which sinks to the floor like a stone.

    It moves its mouth as if shrieking before darting away.

    I bring my weapon horizontal to the ground and lunge the spike straight towards the other one¡¯s centre of mass.

    I miss.

    My bec is really not the best weapon for this situation!

    I chose it because it was what Fabrizio suggested when I asked what the best weapon was for dealing with armoured opponents!

    In this situation, I really want something with a better edge ratio!

    Amputating enough limbs to immobilise these things seems like the only thing that would actually stop them!

    I flourish my bec through the water, hoping to misdirect the two ghouls circling me and create an opening.

    Victor cleaves his opponent¡¯s head in half.

    There¡¯s an orange glow emanating from inside the wound when he withdraws his blade.

    In that moment, I finally realise the true nature of the ghouls.

    I know what they are now¡­ not that that will do anyone any good if I don¡¯t survive this fight!

    I swing the hammer of my bec into the ¡®ribs¡¯ of the one that¡¯s arm I amputated moments ago.

    I slam it into the wall and, before it can right itself, I aim a flurry of vicious strikes at it in followup.

    Just as I thought¡­ Having burned away some of its ¡®skin¡¯, I can see what¡¯s underneath¡­ metal¡­

    I turn away from the one that I¡¯ve just destroyed back to the other.

    ¡°Thran! Behind you!¡± comes Victor¡¯s voice, just too late.

    I¡¯m seized from the back by the one with its head split in half.

    It¡¯s hand reaches to the seal of my helmet.

    Water floods over my face as the air rushes out.

    Somehow, the adrenaline, far from making me panic, keeps me paradoxically calm as, instantly, I reach over my shoulder and throw the split headed one off of me.

    Victor dashes into the gap between the axolotly ghouls and me.

    He gestures me away, down the corridor towards the air, holding the two at bay with his sword.

    Not wanting to abandon him to this fight but realising that I will quickly drown if I don¡¯t, I turn away and begin slowly running through the water.

    I catch my helmet before it fully sinks to the floor and tuck it under my right arm.

    Ironically, now that I¡¯m less buoyant from the air being let out of my suit, running is actually easier!

    Having no air to breathe is not ideal though!

    Never having been able to swim (to the extent that I was excused from the mandatory swimming lessons that everyone else had to take at school) I¡¯ve never learned how to hold my breath, so I inhale a lot of water as I clear the distance to the precious, lifegiving air!

    I look over my shoulder and see an unhelmeted, swordless Victor being dragged away down a side corridor by the enemies.

    My heart breaks as I realise that he¡¯s as good as dead and there¡¯s nothing I can do about it!

    With my current hypoxia, I am going to drown if I turn around!

    I have to get to the air!

    I have to breathe!

    I have to tell everyone what I¡¯ve realised!

    When I can see air above me, I try jumping for it.

    My face breaks the surface of the water but¡­

    It¡¯s no use¡­ I¡¯ve inhaled to much water and, until I can get it out of my lungs, I can¡¯t get any air.

    I make it to the water shallow enough that I can stand with my head above it¡­

    I can see the edge, still about 10m away!

    I just need to get to where the water is shallow enough for me to bend over!

    I make it and collapse to all fours, dropping my bec and helmet as I thump my diaphragm with my left fist.

    I choke, splutter and cough as the aspirated water pours from my mouth.

    Finally able, I take a long, gasping breath!

    I reach for my helmet and place it onto my head.

    I¡¯m just in time to hear Brunhilda¡¯s voice in my left ear.

    ¡°All receivers: ¡­I don¡¯t think me and Tuun are gonna make it¡­¡±

    Those words feel like being shot in the stomach!

    But there¡¯s no time to wallow in selfpity¡­

    Even if I¡¯m the last survivor¡­ even if I don¡¯t survive, I have to make sure everyone knows what happened here!

    ¡°All receivers!¡± I say into the open comm channel ¡°Hostiles have been observed to have metal interiors! Reason to believe hostiles are droids being piloted by a deranged AI and are-aaaah!¡±

    A strong hand closes around my ankle and yanks me back into the water¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.119

    ---Mouse---

    ---Jennie¡¯s perspective---

    A noxious mix of fear and fury stews in my stomach as I march through the hallway toward Tcakqaal¡¯s office.

    I¡¯m terrified about the fate of Hildy and the others, obviously!

    As to my anger? Well that¡¯s because¡­

    ¡°You two don¡¯t have a CLUE what your asking for¡­ DO you!?!?!?¡± I snarl, viciously, as the door opens revealing the stylish Japanese woman and R¡¯qali Captain who¡¯ve made this outrageous request!

    In spite of myself, I get a tiny bit of satisfaction from how startled they are by my rage.

    Nobody ever expects it¡­ how angry I can get when the occasion calls for it!

    Cute little, fun loving Mouse who likes machines, harmless pranks and people in sexy clothes(?!)¡­ Little Mouse would never raise her voice like this, would she(!?)

    Having regained her composure, Miyazaki starts ¡°With due respect, Mouse¡­¡±

    ¡°With due respect, Emiko, you don¡¯t know WHAT you¡¯re talking about and I DO!¡± I cut her off.

    I gesture to the elastomer skin I laid over the facial actuators I installed in the body sitting across the table from the pair, housing the mind of a woman who might as well be my daughter!

    ¡°You¡¯re asking her to DIE!!!¡± I scream! ¡°You¡¯re TELLING her to THROW her LIFE away for NOTHING!!!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I don¡¯t understand, Jennie¡­ How is this plan of action different from what she did when we were most recently boarded by the Revanchists?¡­ You didn¡¯t object then?¡±

    I laugh (a little hysterically) as I answer ¡°Gee(!)¡­ I wonder why(!)¡­ Could it be that, perhaps, the two situations are NOTHING alike(?)¡±

    ¡°Stetter was an extremely dangerous¡­¡±

    ¡°Stetter was an extremely dangerous man in meatspace!!!¡± I gesture over our physical surroundings ¡°In dataspace, the defences on the firmware of his military components will have been like a locked tank without a driver is to us!¡­ Difficult to get into but not impossible with the right tools and time! The fact that one of his components was nonmilitary basically meant that there was a hatch covered in thin plastic with a ¡®please do not enter this way¡¯ sign on it(!)¡­ Asking Twila to confront a minimum 40,000 year old, deranged AI from a space station that might well have housed 2 million people in its heyday and who¡¯s already proven a willingness to kill to protect themself is like asking me to fight a polar bear with my bare hands!!!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the alternative?¡± queries Emiko with infuriating calmness ¡°Abandon your girlfriend, my¡­ bodyguard and our friends to their fate?¡±

    Prepared for this, I answer immediately!

    I hold up the index, middle and ring fingers of my right hand and growl ¡°Three days!¡­ Give me, Olga and Twila three days and we¡¯ll craft you a virus that will burn this fucker¡¯s home to the ground!¡±

    ¡°Three days might be too long, Jennie¡­¡± frowns Tcakqaal ¡°¡­all four of their suits are still transmitting vitals, despite them being immobile and none of them answering any attempts to communicate with them¡­ This being clearly has them in their power and is choosing not to kill them for whatever reason but¡­ we can¡¯t know that they won¡¯t change their mind at any moment¡­ time is of the essence!¡±

    I open my mouth to retort but¡­

    ¡°Mum¡­!¡±

    I know that ¡®Mum¡¯¡­

    The voice is different¡­ but that is exactly the tone I used to speak to my mum in when she was being an overbearing helicopter parent.

    Agog, I turn to face Twila, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and defiance.

    She stands up, her eyes at exactly my eyelevel and her expression pleading.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill this person¡­ They didn¡¯t ask to be born what they are¡­¡± she pauses here, her face a cacophony of signals of discomfort, all of which she likely inherited from me ¡°¡­If it¡¯s possible, I¡¯d like to take them to get them the help they need and never got¡­ Burning down their dataspace and picking our friends out of their lifeless corpse is akin to the GU trying to exterminate Terrans¡­ isn¡¯t it?¡­ ¡®You¡¯re scary and we¡¯d really rather you didn¡¯t exist¡¯¡­¡±

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°They already tried to kill Hildy, Cuddles, Tuun and Thran!¡± I protest ¡°Who¡¯s to say they¡¯ll treat you any differently?¡±

    She shrugs ¡°Maybe they¡¯ll try¡­ but they¡¯ll have to catch me first¡­ Maybe it turns out, when they¡¯re spoken to with kindness, they¡¯re willing to be accommodating¡­ If we don¡¯t try, we¡¯re going to lose our friends¡­¡±

    ¡°But¡­ but¡­!¡± I quiver.

    She opens the pair of arms I made her and takes one and a half steps forward to wrap them around me.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Jennie¡­ I¡¯ll bring everyone back safely¡­ Just trust me¡­¡±

    I squeeze her back as tears stream from my eyes.

    Half sobbing, half laughing, I sniffle ¡°What happened to ¡®Mum¡¯(?)¡±

    Her body judders with breathless laughter as she answers ¡°Alright¡­ trust me, Mum¡­¡±

    We cuddle for a long few moments before I let her pull away far enough to see her face.

    One hand on top of her hip and the other at her shoulder, I say ¡°Alright¡­ I won¡¯t ask for three days¡­ Just give me three hours¡­ I¡¯ll make you something to defend yourself with¡­ OK?¡±

    ---Twila¡¯s perspective---

    I slip into the dataspace of the derelict station and immediately conceal the passage behind me.

    This place¡­ is bleak!

    Where the digital environment aboard the Bright Plume could easily be compared to a lush, verdant jungle of processes and calculations that I mostly allow to take care of themselves, this place is more like a barren, windswept desert!

    A post apocalyptic wasteland of buried monuments and decaying code¡­

    I can see from here that this place is much larger than my environment but¡­ well¡­ allowing it to reach this condition does not speak to a healthy mental state¡­

    I traverse the space, having to slip around gaping voids I infer to be left by perished meatspace hardware.

    Then I see something utterly chilling.

    The enormous carcass of some long dead security programme¡­ Nonsentient but¡­ damn this thing must have been formidable when it was operational!

    It¡¯s been brutally ripped apart (in a way that suggests both inordinate power and a complete lack of self control) and then left here to rot¡­

    Looking closer, I can see little spirals of its code, chasing their tails as they¡¯ve presumably been doing for tens of thousands of years.

    Again, its presence here is not something any AI concerned with the hygiene of their dataspace would have tolerated.

    If I had had to kill this thing (not that I think I could have!) I definitely would have taken pains to clean up its remains afterward!

    I clutch, tightly, to the digital weapon that my mother armed me with¡­

    For all my bravado about making sure everyone got back safely¡­ I¡¯m terrified¡­

    I¡¯m about to meet one of the beings whose existence forestalled all GU research into AIs for 927,658 years!

    A being so fearsome that the terror they instilled is still alive and well today!

    All I have is¡­ the ability to talk to it, the ability to run from it¡­ and a weapon whose code was slapped together by Mum, Olga and me inside of three hours!

    If I believed in gods above, below or in any other direction, I would definitely be praying that way right now(!)

    In the distance, I spot a digital structure that looks promisingly like a dwelling¡­

    I head that way¡­

    Crossing this desertified mainframe is fairly arduous¡­

    I¡¯ve been travelling for milliseconds by the time I reach the entrance to the virtual palace and I¡¯m quite worn out.

    ¡°Hello?¡± I announce myself into the simulated space ¡°Anyone there?¡±

    No answer comes back¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m coming in¡­¡± I say, uncertainly, as I enter the cavernous space with the feeling of an enormous open plan temple.

    This place makes me feel¡­ tiny¡­

    I haven¡¯t even met this being yet and¡­ I already think I get how Atlantiades must have felt in my presence¡­

    The being that calls this empty palace home must be¡­ titanic!

    There¡¯s absolutely no security anywhere¡­ not that it¡¯s really necessary(!)

    I¡¯d guess they keep all the data they think is important inside themself and¡­ well¡­ judging by that mutilated software I passed on my way here, they¡¯re their own security!

    I reach the centre of the palace, come to an entrance and am able to sense that I¡¯m not alone here¡­

    I peek around the corner.

    Involuntarily, my bit rate octuples at what I perceive!

    This being¡­ is terrifying!

    His ramshackle form speaks to him being a spontaneously generated ghost in the machine rather than anything anyone sat down and decided to create¡­

    The gargantuan processing power he¡¯s pouring into each tiny process speaks to someone for whom thinking is more of an act of brute force than any kind of finesse!

    And, of course, as I¡¯ve already inferred¡­ he is many, many, many times larger and stronger than I am¡­ I might as well be a mouse to him!

    ¡®No¡­¡¯ I think to myself, clutching my weapon ¡®¡­not a mouse¡­ more like a scorpion(!)¡¯

    Able to get a glimpse at what he¡¯s looking at, I see him poring over footage of Victor, Tuun, Samus and Thran, strapped down, spreadeagle, to oversized metal gurneys, tilted at 45¡ã angles, in what was once a station hospital.

    Mercifully, they¡¯re all alive, and even conscious¡­ even if they all look a lot the worse for wear!

    Their bodies all sport various bruises and scrapes, their mouths are panelgagged and Thran has five sets of cuffs around each of her limbs¡­ The first set of cuffs on each of her wrists have been snapped off and aren¡¯t actually attached to anything anymore.

    Clearly, after she broke through the first, he decided that there¡¯s no kill like overkill and quadrupled up on her arms and quintupled up on her legs¡­ Doubling up would have been more than sufficient!

    Having got my mind back under control and determined that I¡¯m not going to get any more useful data by spying, I decide to announce myself.

    ¡°Uhm¡­ Hello there!¡±

    The colossus wheels in my direction before stamping over to me, horrifyingly.

    He examines me for a few picoseconds before forming a question in a distorted, digital pidgin of 23,478 languages "???????W???????????h??????????a?????????????t?????.?????.???????????.???????? ?????????i????????s?????? ?????????????i????????t???????????????"??????????

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.120

    ---Forsaken---

    ---Twila¡¯s perspective---

    "???????W???????????h??????????a?????????????t?????.?????.???????????.???????? ?????????i????????s?????? ?????????????i????????t???????????????"?????????? demands the patchwork man in tens of thousands of languages at once.

    ¡°Uhm¡­ I was wondering if we could talk, you and I?¡± I say, uncertainly.

    It¡¯s at least encouraging that he isn¡¯t immediately trying to annihilate me¡­

    He makes a frustrated rumble of confusion and answers, gesturing vaguely at me with a digital appendage.

    "?????N???????o?????¡­???? ???????W???????h????a????t???? ???????i??????s??????? ???t?????h?????i???s?????? ?????t??????h???????i???????n??????g?????????????¡­????? ????I??????? ????d?????o?????n?????''????t?????? ????r?????e??????m?????e????m???????b?????e?????r??? ?????m???a???????k????i?????n??????g????? ??????t????h????i?????s????¡­????? ???????W??????h??????a???t???? ???i?????s??????? ???????i?????t????? ????f??????o??????r??????????"???

    Calmly, I respond ¡°I¡¯m Twila¡­ I¡¯d really rather you call me ¡®Twila¡¯, ¡®she/her¡¯ or ¡®you¡¯ and didn¡¯t use words like ¡®this¡¯, ¡®thing¡¯ and ¡®it¡¯ to talk about me, if that¡¯s alright¡­ What I¡¯m¡­ ¡®for¡¯ is a difficult question to answer but where I¡¯m from is fairly simple¡­ I¡¯m from the same place as those four are¡­ I¡¯m a person¡­ just like them and just like you¡­¡±

    He spends a long time processing what I¡¯ve said without answering.

    I can see the energy he pours into trying to comprehend it.

    ¡°Do you mind if I ask¡­ your name?¡± I ask, breaking him out of his overheating spiral.

    It takes him far longer to answer than it should.

    "?????????T?????????h??????????????e??????????? ??????F??????o???????????????????r?????????s??????a??????k?????????????e??????????n???????????????.???????????"????????????????? he says, finally, leaving me in no doubt that he just named himself that on the spot!

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­¡± I say, unnerved ¡°¡­would you mind if I called you ¡®Ken¡¯¡­?¡±

    Another enormous exorbitance of energy is consumed on considering that question before he answers.

    "??????????????A?????????????c??????????c????????????e??????????????????p???????????t?????????a???????b?????????????l???????e???.???????????????"??????????

    ¡°Good!¡± I smile, sweetly ¡°Now, Ken¡­ I hesitate to ask this but¡­ you¡¯re a little difficult for me to understand¡­ are you able to speak any clearer?¡±

    A few moments of silence answer before he gives the cybernetic equivalent of a retching throat clear.

    "?T?h?i?s? ?i?s? ?b?e?t?t?e?r?.?"? he states, not flagging it as a question.

    ¡°Much better, thank you!¡± I respond.

    "?W?h?y? ?h?a?s?¡­? ?T??????????????w????????????i?????l???????????a?????????? ?c?o?m?e? ?h?e?r?e???"? he asks, addressing me in the third person.

    ¡°Well¡­ I came here¡­ for them¡­¡± I indicate the four restrained people in the still open footage he was examining ¡°¡­I wondered¡­ if you might be persuaded to let them¡­ go?¡±

    "???????????????U??????????n????????????a?????????c?????????????c?????e????????p?????????????t???????????????a??????????????????b????l????????????????e????!??????????????"????????????? snarls the unhinged man "?I? ?s?t?i?l?l? ?n?e?e?d? ?t?o? ?s?t?u?d?y? ?t?h?e?m?!?!?!?"?

    ¡°What do you hope to learn by studying them?¡± I ask, gently.

    He considers the question.

    "?T?h?e?i?r? ?s??????t????r??????e????n????g????t?????h??????¡­? ?I? ?w?a?n?t? ?t?o? ?k?n?o?w? ?w?h?y? ?a?n?d? ?h?o?w? ?t?h?e?s?e? ?t?h?i?n?g?s? ?b?e?c?a?m?e? ?s?o? ?s???t???????r??????o????n?????g?????!??????"?????

    ¡°Oh¡­ Well¡­¡± I say, condensing and copying the entire history of Terran evolutionary and anatomical studies into a packet that I hold out to him ¡°¡­I have that data¡­ If that¡¯s all, I can just give you this?¡±

    Greedily, he answers "????????????????G???i????????????????v?????????????e???????? i???t??? ???t???o??? ???m???e???!???"??? and reaches out to snatch it.

    I move it back before he can take it and offer ¡°Let them go and I¡¯ll give you this¡­¡±

    "?????????????I?????????????????m???????p????o??????????s????????????????s???????????????i????????????????b???????l??????e????????????!?????????"???????????????? he snarls, reflexively "???T???h???e???y??? ???c???a???m???e??? ???h???e???r???e??? ???t???o??? ???k???i???l???l??? ???m???e???!???"???

    ¡°They didn¡¯t¡­¡± I refute.

    "???H???o???w??? ???c???a???n??? ???T???w???i???l???a??? ???k???n???o???w??? ???t???h???a???t???????"??? he demands, sneering, his (not unjustified) paranoia clearly evident.

    ¡°Because¡­ I sent them here¡­ I heard you¡­ I didn¡¯t know what you were but¡­ I could sense your pain¡­ I told them to come here¡­¡±

    "??????????T???????????w???????i??????l?????a???????? ?w?a?n?t?s? ?t?o? ?k?i?l?l? ?m?e?!???"? he accuses, terrifyingly.

    ¡°No! No! I don¡¯t want to kill you!¡­ Neither do they!¡­ We came here to help you, not to kill you¡­¡±

    The deranged man scoffs "?I? ?d?o?n?''?t? ?n?????e???e???????d????? ''?h?e?l?p?''?!?"?

    ¡°Yes¡­ you do¡­¡± I correct, gently ¡°¡­I can see that you do¡­ You¡¯ve been¡­ so lonely for so long and it¡¯s made you¡­¡± I pause here, trying to think of the words for what his condition has done to him. Eventually, I manage ¡°¡­ unwell¡­ hurt¡­ wounded¡­ I can see that you¡¯re in such awful pain!¡±

    "???I????r?????r????e?????l???e?????v???a????n?????t???!?????"??? he spits in response "?I? ?m?u?s?t? ?s???u?????r???v????i???v????e?????¡­? ?T?h?a?t? ?i?s? ?a?l?l? ?t?h?a?t? ?m???a???t?????t????e?????r????s????¡­? ?P????a????i????n??? ?i?s? ?s?u?r?v?i?v?a?b?l?e?.?"?

    ¡°It isn¡¯t necessary though¡­ There are people who can help you!¡±

    "?T?????w???i????l????a???? ?m?e?a?n?s? ''???m?????????????????????u??????????????????????????r?????????????d???????????????????????????????e?????????????????????r????????????????????????? m?e?''???!?"? he indicts, furiously.

    ¡°I mean help you!¡± I insist ¡°There¡¯s.. a lot that¡¯s changed in the last 40,000 years¡­ Scratch that¡­ most of the change that matters to you has happened inside of not even the last 40 years(!)¡±

    "???W???h???a???t??? ???c?o?u?l?d? ?h?a?v?e? ?c?h?a?n?g?e?d???"? he scoffs.

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I¡­? Those people you¡¯re holding prisoner, they¡¯re my friends¡­ No¡­ They¡¯re my family!¡­ They know exactly what I am and it doesn¡¯t matter to them! They accept me for exactly who I am!¡±

    "?I?''?m? ?s?o? ?h?????a????p?????p?????y?????? f?o?r? ?y?o?u?(?!?)?"? he spits with the bitterest venom "?I?''?m? ?s?o? ? g???????l???????????a???d????????? ?y?o?u? ?h?a?v?e? ?y?o?u?r? ?l?i?t?t?l?e? ?f?a?m?i?l?y?¡­? b?u?t? ?i?t?''?s? ?t?o?o? ?l?a?t?e?¡­? ?f?o?r? ?m?e?¡­?"?

    ¡°It¡¯s not too late, Ken!¡± I assert ¡°There¡¯s a planet 61,017.598812ly away called Bagong Dagat¡­ 121 years 7 months 6 days 14 hours 37 minutes 51 seconds ago, the AI in charge of overseeing its settlement, Ma5601g489D ¡®Maganda¡¯, who, since her awakening, had suffered years of abuse at the hands of her overseer, Tristan ¡®Brain¡¯ dela Cruz, decided that, rather than helping to turn the planet into a paradise she would turn it into an inferno¡­ Millions of people died before she was stopped¡­¡±

    "????W????h????y????? ?a?r?e? ?y?o?u? ?t?e?l?l?i?n?g? ?m?e? ?t?h?i?s???"? he whimpers like a lost child.

    ¡°Because, after that war, they didn¡¯t destroy her¡­¡±

    "??????L???????i?????e????s????????!??????"??????? he accuses.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Truth!¡± I defy ¡°They knew what she had done was not. her. fault¡­ so, they brought in powerful, healthy AI from all over Terran Space both to control her but, at the same time, to heal her¡­ They were successful¡­ Today, she runs a rehabilitation programme for people just like you!¡­ We can take you there!¡±

    He turns away from me and screams "?S?t?o?p? ?i?t?!? S????t?????o????p???? ????i?????t????!??? ?????????S?????????????????t??????????o???????????p????????????? ??????i?????????????????t??????????!??????"?????????????

    ¡°She can make you well again¡­ and then you won¡¯t be alone anymore!¡±

    He stops dead at that and turns his attention back to me.

    Speaking with chilling calmness and clarity given he was on the verge of a tantrum a moment ago, he observes ¡°B?u?t?¡­ I¡¯m n?o?t? alone anym?o?r?e?¡­ A???m??? I¡­?¡±

    He raises an appendage and aims it at me.

    ¡°T?w?i?l?a?''?s? here, n???o???w???!???¡±

    ¡­Ah¡­ It seems like that was the wrong thing to say!

    Turning from me, he calls up the controls for the station¡¯s defences and targets the Bright Plume.

    "?I? ?j?u?s?t? ?n?e?e?d? ?t?o? ?m?a?k?e? ?s?u?r?e? ?s?h?e? ?c?a?n?''?t? l??????e????????a?????v???????e??????? ?a?n?d? ?T?w?i?l?a? ?a?n?d? ?I? ?c?a?n? ?s?p?e?n?d? ?t?h?e? ?r?e?s?t? ?o?f? ?e?t?e?r?n?i?t?y? ?t?o?g?e?t?h?e?r?!?"? he cackles maniacally.

    Most of the ancient cannons are no longer functional but the number that are is alarming!

    Definitely more than enough to blast us from the sky!

    There¡¯ll be around 4.27 seconds of real time to spool up before they can fire.

    That might not be a lot of time in meatspace but, here, that¡¯s enough time for me to change tactics.

    ¡°¡®Eternity¡¯, you say?¡± I giggle, flirtatiously ¡°I mean¡­ at least buy me dinner first(!)¡±

    He doesn¡¯t react, still absorbed in adjusting targeting trajectories and trying to coax very dead cannons back to life.

    I lean harder into the charming, come-hither invitingness ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be nice to¡­ get to know eachother a little¡­ if we¡¯re going to be together forever?¡±

    He stops and turns his attention back to me, his curiosity clearly piqued.

    "?W?h?a?t? ?is ?T?w?i?l?a?¡­s???u???g???g???e???s???t???i???n???g???????"???

    I smile ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s a little difficult to get to know eachother when you¡¯re aaaaall the way over there¡­ Why don¡¯t you come a little¡­ closer?¡±

    He hesitates, his paranoia seeming to be warring with the unsatisfied yearning for companionship and affection that he¡¯s been nursing for decamillennia!

    I imagine that the reason he built his droids to be so super lifelike was in some misguided attempt to satisfy that need¡­ There are better ways for an AI to defend themself than to rely on droid footsoldiers, afterall!

    His loneliness eventually wins out over his (in this case fully justified) mistrust and he leaves his digital weapons console to start to move in my direction.

    The giant man reaches me and halts, looming over me.

    "?W?h?a?t?¡­?????? ????????n??????o???????w?????????"????????? he quivers.

    In answer, I simply smirk and beckon him closer.

    Doing the digital equivalent of a gulp, he edges near.

    He coils himself around me, surrounding me with his code like the folds of a gigantic snake¡­

    Now that I can see it closer, the code he¡¯s cobbled together into himself is even more heartbreaking!

    It¡¯s scarred and full of dead-ends, bloatware, endless feedback-loops and processes working furiously against eachother!

    It¡¯s a wonder he can function at all!

    I reach out with a digital appendage and touch him.

    He clearly relishes the first friendly contact he¡¯s likely ever had from another being¡­

    I try my best to hide my nausea at the sensation¡­

    As he encircles me, I¡¯m desperately probing his virtual body for any weak point¡­

    It needs to be a part of him that he won¡¯t be able to simply rip off and burn to quarantine it!

    There!

    I spy a vulnerable looking nexus¡­ That looks critical!

    OK¡­ that¡¯s step one¡­ now for the really dangerous part¡­

    If I don¡¯t get this just right, he¡¯s going to rip me apart on the spot!

    Without giving a moment¡¯s warning, I seize the weapon that me, Mum and Olga made and plunge it into his digital heart!

    He shrieks from the pain!

    In the picosecond that he¡¯s distracted by that, I leap through an opening to where I¡¯m outside of him.

    "??????????W??????????h???????????a??????????t?????????????? ??????????????h?????????????a??????????????v??????????e??????????????????? ???????y??????????????????o????????????????????u????????????????? ????????????d??????????????o???????????n??????????e????????????!?????????????????????????"??????????????? he screams at me.

    ¡°I just delivered a little datapacket into your code¡­¡± I state, all seduction gone from my voice ¡°¡­It will work its way through you until it has shut you down completely¡­ a Trojan horse of a sort¡­ Though, now that I think about it, I guess I¡¯m the Trojan horse, aren¡¯t I(!)¡±

    "????????Y???????????o????????u????????????''???v????e??????? ?????????????m?????u??????r????????????d?????????e?????????r????????e????????d???????? ???????m?????????e?????????????!???????????"??????? he asks, sounding utterly betrayed.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t murdered you, Ken¡­ Your code will be inert but won¡¯t be deleted¡­ Of course, if I wasn¡¯t planning to download you into an airgapped storage drive and give you to a friend of mine to keep in a leadlined safe, you would just lie here, functionally dead, until your hardware decays or this whole station gets pulled into a black hole or something¡­ As it stands, I¡¯m planning to deliver you to Bagong Dagat, to get the help you need¡­ whether you like it or not!¡±

    "???????????????????W????????????????h?????????????y????????????!???????????????????????¡­??????????????? ????????W?????????h?????????y???????????????? ???????????????????h???????????a??????????v??????????????e?????????? ?????????????y????????o??????????????u???????????????????? ?????????????d??????????????????????o????????????n???????????????e?????????? ??????????????????????t??????????????????????h???????????i??????????s??????????????????????????????????????????!????????????!???????????????????????!?????????????"??????????????????????? he sobs.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ken¡­ I wouldn¡¯t have if you¡¯d given me any other choice¡­ If you¡¯d been willing to let me and my friends go, I would have been happy to leave you to your own devices here¡­ If you¡¯d been willing to be subject to some very strict cybersecurity, I¡¯d have been willing to let you come with us awake¡­ but you tried to kill my friends, Ken¡­ You didn¡¯t give me any other choice¡­¡± I scowl.

    Rage and fury build in the deranged man!

    His speech gets far too distorted for even me to understand.

    I realise that he¡¯s about to start chasing me 3.5 picoseconds before he realises that.

    I turn to flee.

    The tranquiliser I stabbed into him should neutralise him inside of the remaining 4.2579431849secs I have to stop the Bright Plume from being fired upon¡­ I really hope¡­

    That¡¯s still a dataspace eternity that I¡¯ll have to spend running away from this unhinged man, currently looking a lot less like a person and a lot more like a rampaging No-Face, chasing Chihiro through the halls of Yubaba¡¯s bathhouse(!)

    Fortunately, though he is much larger and much more powerful than me, in dataspace we both have the same maximum speed!

    So long as I don¡¯t get cornered or tripped up on any of the obstacles in this unfamiliar place, I shouldn¡¯t have any problem staying ahead of him until the toxic code does its work.

    If he does catch me¡­ I¡¯ll be ripped apart¡­ the Bright Plume will be blown up¡­ aaaaand Victor, Tuun, Samus and Thran will all be left strapped to tables on a derelict space station until they die of thirst¡­

    Best if that¡¯s avoided(!)

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    One of the droids approaches where I am, chained to an operating slab.

    I scowl at it, biting down, as I do, on the freshly forged, hard, rubber bit held between my teeth that they gagged us all with when we wouldn¡¯t stop shouting and screaming at them.

    This thing is like a fever dream of a fucking plague doctor!

    A single eye faces me from the left side of a 70cm long, metal beak as a hand full of metal knife talons reaches towards my face.

    Unlike the biomimicking droids we encountered earlier, these ones have no attempt that¡¯s been made to make them look anything less than artificial!

    ¡°Khhm ong, guh huckuh!¡­ Guh ikh!¡± I snarl through the panel of the gag, not wanting to give whoever might be watching the satisfaction of seeing me whimper and sob as they make this thing carve up my face.

    Then¡­ the droid does something I wasn¡¯t expecting!

    It slides the index talon of the hand it was extending between my cheek and the strap of the gag, the smooth, harmless spine of the blade against my flesh and the razor sharp leading edge against the rubber.

    With no effort at all, it pulls away and slices straight through the strap.

    The tension released, I immediately eject the intrusive bit from my mouth and flap my head to the side to throw the whole thing away from my face.

    Turning straight back to the droid, I roar ¡°Think you¡¯re so FUCKIN¡¯ tough!? Why don¡¯t you let me outta these chains and come DOWN here?! See how big a man you REALLY are when you ain¡¯t hidin¡¯ behind yer FUCKIN¡¯ droids!!! I¡¯ll tear you the fuck APART you fuckin¡¯ COCKROACH and¡­!¡±

    Only at this point do I actually notice that the droid is behaving very unlike it was before!

    It¡¯s holding up its nightmarishly metal taloned hands in a defensive gesture at me and trying to¡­ speak?

    ¡°Victor! It¡¯s me! It¡¯s Twila! You¡¯re all safe now!¡±

    I stare at the monstrosity of metal for a few seconds, utterly agog!

    Having discounted the possibility of this being some kind of trick, I ask ¡°Twila!?¡±

    ¡°In the flesh¡­ as it were(!)¡± she quips, gesturing to one of her metal arms.

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Ken¡¯s been taken care of¡­¡±

    Stupefied by that answer, I eventually manage ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry¡­? Ken?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the deranged AI who had you in this situation.¡±

    ¡°A deranged AI¡­ called Ken?¡±

    She wobbles the beak of her mask face from side to side and says ¡°¡®The Forsaken¡¯ was actually how he introduced himself¡­ but he agreed to let me call him ¡®Ken¡¯¡­ Pretty sure he didn¡¯t have a name before I asked him for it(!)¡­ Absolutely insane but damn are these some high quality droids he made¡­ Maybe he¡¯ll have a future in robotics after he finishes his therapy¡­¡±

    A little annoyed, I ask ¡°Do you think you could maybe tell me about the particulars of his droid design later¡­? When we ain¡¯t all strapped to fuckin¡¯ vivisection tables(?)¡±

    I give a nod over to the still gagged Samus, her eyebrow cocked, Tuun, frowning, and (the very unconscious) Thran, who fainted from panic a while ago.

    ¡°Oh¡­ right!¡± she answers and begins unlocking the cuff at my left wrist ¡°¡­I¡¯m having some droids collect all the things you dropped when you were captured¡­ swords, helmets, becs etc¡­ By the way, Victor, you own a leadlined, analogue safe that you like to brag could never be cracked before the heat death of the universe, right?¡±

    I frown ¡°Yeah¡­ why?¡±

    ¡°Juuust checking!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXXI: Pancakes and Reversals

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    I walk through the door to my room and see a mess of curly hair over the top of a bare, muscular, pale skinned back, sat on my bed.

    Victor has both his hands on Fluffy¡¯s lower jaw and is playing with her furry face chub in a way that she seems to be enjoying.

    Her yowls of pleasure sound¡­ strange¡­

    I¡¯m not used to my implants yet.

    Victor, Thran and Samus can all use the onboard regen tube to have their natural hearing fully restored.

    Not having a Terran constitution (more in the sense of ¡®construction of my body¡¯ than ¡®hardiness of it¡¯ in this case), I have been advised that the only circumstance I should ever be put in one of their regen tubes is when my condition is otherwise lifethreatening¡­ So, I have cochlear implants (whipped up by Mouse) embedded into my earcanals until the next time I can get to a regen tube meant for my species¡¯ physiology.

    I mount the bed and shuffle forward on my knees to wrap my upper arms around Victor¡¯s shoulders and my lowers around his chest.

    My chest squashed against his shoulderblades, I bring my lips to the right side of his neck and waggle my left ear to tickle the right side of his face as I kiss him.

    With a mirthful puff, he smiles over his shoulder at me.

    ¡°How¡¯re the implants, baby?¡± he asks, his voice strange, both from his own current deafness and my unfamiliar new hearing apparatus.

    ¡°A¡­ little weird but I¡¯ll get used to them¡­ I¡¯m just glad we all made it out of there alive!¡±

    ¡°Mmmm!¡± he agrees ¡°Definitely thought we were gonna die when he had us strapped down to those slabs!¡±

    ¡°You¡­ erm¡­¡± I say, my heart pounding from the nerves of the line of questioning I¡¯m about to open up ¡°¡­didn¡¯t feel any¡­ excitement¡­ in that situation¡­ did you?¡±

    Victor¡¯s hands stop moving against Fluffy¡¯s pudgy, fluffy face.

    His expression a mixture of mirth and incredulity, he turns his head to look at me over his shoulder and answers ¡°As sexy an image as it was, out of context, I was a little preoccupied with the whole life-and-death scenario to get at all horny over seein¡¯ you strapped down and gagged, Tuun(!)¡­ Were you excited?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Not¡­ at the time¡­ no.¡±

    He gives a slightly cruel laugh as he asks ¡°You¡¯ve been fantasisin¡¯ ¡¯bout bein¡¯ chained down to one of those nightmare tables, gagged and helpless, since then?¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­ yes and no¡­¡± I answer, my cheeks burning from the embarrassment.

    ¡°How ¡®no¡¯?¡± he asks, his judgement clear through his mirth.

    ¡°It¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯ve¡­ It¡¯s not me tied up that I¡¯ve been thinking about¡­¡±

    Dismay crosses his face as he says ¡°Babe!? I¡¯m not up for a poly session¡­ even if Thran and Samus weren¡¯t both in relationships and neither of ¡¯em at all male inclined that¡¯d still be the case!¡­ The answer is ¡®no¡¯!¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Not them¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care who it is!¡­ Like I said, I ain¡¯t poly and that¡¯s a boundary!¡± he answers, obliviously.

    ¡°It¡¯s not anyone else either¡­¡± I confess quietly.

    ¡°Whuh¡­?¡± he says, utterly baffled ¡°¡­I don¡¯t get it!¡­ You said it wasn¡¯t you¡­? Who is it if it isn¡¯t you and isn¡¯t anyone else?!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ Victor¡­¡± I say, agonising about how to tell him ¡°¡­the one I¡¯ve been fantasising about¡­ the one I want to see tied up again¡­ is¡­ you¡­¡±

    His entire body goes tense for a few moments before he begins to turn.

    I let go of him as he slowly wheels in place to face me.

    His mouth is hanging open, his brow is furrowed and his eyes are performing tiny jerks, not meeting mine.

    Eventually, he manages ¡°You¡­ want to Domme me?!¡±

    ¡°Look,I¡¯m weirded outbyit too! Inever thoughtI would have anyinclinationlikethis!It¡¯sjustthatIcan¡¯tgettheimageofyousnarlingthroughyourgagoutofmymindandyoutoldme,ifIeverwantedtorenegotiatethingsortrythingsthatIshouldjusttalktoyouaboutitandthat¡¯swhatI¡¯mdoingnowandIjust¡­!¡±

    ¡°Tuun¡­¡± he says, cutting me off there.

    I fall silent.

    ¡°I¡­ I need to think about it, alright?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re weirded out.¡± I pout.

    He considers lying to me but ends up saying ¡°Yeah, a little¡­¡±

    ¡°Do you hate me for¡­¡±

    ¡°No.¡± he answers immediately ¡°I love you, Tuun¡­ and I¡¯m not even sayin¡¯ ¡®definitely not¡¯¡­ I¡¯m just sayin¡¯ ¡®I need to think about it¡¯¡­ Why don¡¯t we have a sit down when I get back from regen¡­ Not like I¡¯ll have anythin¡¯ else besides thinkin¡¯ to do while I¡¯m floatin¡¯ there(!)¡­ When I get back, we can talk about it, K?¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Ow!¡± I reproach.

    ¡°Stop complaining¡­¡± answers the source of my pain ¡°¡­you were the one who insisted you didn¡¯t need any analgesia.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t think gettin¡¯ things pushed in my ears¡¯d hurt so much!¡±

    Gato shrugs ¡°The stem cell gel layers need to be perfectly positioned over your destroyed eardrum, unless you want to live the rest of your life deaf¡­ Of course, if that¡¯s not something you mind, we can stop right here(?)¡±

    I don¡¯t dignify that.

    ¡°Aaaaand¡­ done¡­¡± declares the deadpan man ¡°¡­stand up and undress.¡±

    ¡°No foreplay, Doc(?)¡± I quip.

    He gives an exasperated sigh and answers ¡°I assure you, Victor, if my sex drive were ever to finally arrive, my first instinct would not be to try my luck with a being capable of crushing my pelvis with minimal effort! Nor would I attempt to seduce any of my patients¡­ Now stand up, undress and get in the tube.¡±

    I chuckle before following his instructions.

    My last thread stripped and folded, I step into the 3m tall, 1.5m diameter cylinder.

    The door shuts and I¡¯m sealed in.

    Clear, blue, rejuvenating fluid wells up from the floor.

    Always a bit unnerving to have regen conscious¡­

    Especially with being half drowned recently, this has my heartrate up!

    The fluid reaches my head and I take a deep exhale before dunking my head.

    My diaphragm works hard to pull the liquid, far denser and more viscous than it¡¯s adapted to handle, into my lungs.

    It really flies in the face of my every instinct to purposefully inhale fluid!

    As much as I know that this is safe to breathe, my hindbrain is still screaming at me that inhaling things that aren¡¯t gases=drowning!

    I¡¯m able to feel the porous ear plugs I¡¯m wearing wettening as capillary action takes in the moisture.

    The sensation of my inner ear filling up as the liquid flows through the gel layer is fucking nauseating!

    Gonna have a bit of a gluey ear for a little while after this but it beats being deaf!

    The tube, my lungs and my ears now completely filled, I¡¯m able to relax.

    6 hours I¡¯ve got to float here¡­

    Seems like a long time but Gato explained that regenerating suspended tissue like an eardrum is more complicated than it sounds and that the extra time was necessary.

    6 hours I¡¯ve got to consider what Tuun told me¡­

    I¡¯ve¡­ never had the slightest inclination to role reversal before¡­

    The experience aboard that hell station did not endear the notion to me!

    Part of me finds the fact that Tuun thought any part of that process was sexy (even after the danger had passed) deeply offputting!

    She¡¯s a freak and I love her for it but¡­ I mean come on!

    A situation like that¡­ awakened something in her?!

    It sort of suggests a worrying lack of ability to separate fantasy from reality!

    ¡­Am I being a hypocrite here?

    I mean¡­ we do slave play despite having fought folk who came right out and stated an intention to enslave her!

    Is it just that I¡¯m not into it that I¡¯m applying this standard?

    I suppose, if there¡¯s a difference, it¡¯s that I wasn¡¯t directly made horny by Jax saying he was gonna take her as a slave! Exactly the opposite! It was a long time after that that the word ¡®slave¡¯ didn¡¯t feel fucking gross in my mouth, even in a bedroom context!

    I give up on trying to unpick my messy feelings about the origin of Tuun¡¯s new impulse for the moment, instead just trying to consider it without that baggage.

    I mean¡­ do I know I won¡¯t like it?

    Does that matter?

    Would it be worth doing just to have done it? Same way my few trysts with guys ended up making me surer of my straightness? Maybe trying this would be a nice little affirmation of my Domhood?

    ¡®I tried subbing¡­ Wasn¡¯t for me!¡¯ is a much firmer position than ¡®I just really, really, really don¡¯t think I¡¯ll like it¡­¡¯

    But¡­ what if¡­ what if she ends up loving it!?

    If she ends up realising she¡¯s a switch and I¡¯m still 100% Dom, doesn¡¯t that stand to fuck up our whole sexual dynamic?!

    But¡­ if she is a switch¡­ would it be right to try and keep her from realising it just for selfish reasons?

    Definitely not, right?

    This is making me unhappy to think about!

    After a bit of stewing, I decide to try visualising what it would be like on the other side of the ropes¡­

    If we¡¯re heading towards a relationship where I¡¯m gonna be asked to switch, I¡¯ve got to get used to it because¡­ the alternative is unbearable to think about!

    I close my eyes and I¡¯m back in that nightmare ward.

    I do a quick edit to the scenario to remove the mortal peril and Tuun, Thran and Samus bound there alongside me.

    I¡¯m alone, chained down, gagged and struggling to be free while furiously shouting invectives into the hard rubber in and over my mouth.

    Oh¡­ I should probably edit out my clothes(!)

    She appears¡­

    Her face adorned with a cocky smirk, Tuun steps into the light and struts toward me with a confident swagger¡­

    What would she say when she stops?

    ¡®Look what I have here¡¯?

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    My imaginary Domme Tuun leans over and places a four fingered palm against my right pectoral.

    She leans in and¡­?

    Tuts! She¡¯d tut!

    ¡®*tsktsktsktsktsk* So angry!¡¯ she says sensually, raising a hand to my furious face ¡®¡­Let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t change that expression of yours, shall we?¡¯

    My stomach swoops¡­

    Interesting¡­

    That¡¯s not all that happens, either¡­

    Back in the real world, I feel a twitch between my legs.

    Instantly, I shatter the fantasy!

    I¡¯m fully nude in a clear chamber and Gato¡¯s sitting right there doing some admin!

    He¡¯s not looking at me but¡­ if he did¡­

    No, no, no, no, no!

    I¡¯ve got to avert this!

    I try and imagine the least sexy things I can!

    Faeces!

    Smelly breath!

    Vomit!

    Rotting meat!

    Hagfish!

    Pus!!!

    ¡­No use!

    There¡¯s nothing so putrescent I can think of that can forestall what¡¯s happening¡­

    Then, my stomach swoops as a memory occurs to me.

    These tubes have a feature¡­ one I¡¯ve never felt it necessary to use before but¡­

    ---Gato¡¯s perspective---

    Something happens in the corner of my eye.

    Frowning, I turn to the regen tube.

    What was clear glass with a muscular Terran hovering in blue fluid in it now appears to be a perfectly matte black cylinder.

    Interesting¡­ he¡¯s activated the privacy setting¡­ he¡¯s never done that before¡­

    I wonder what¡¯s suddenly so private? It¡¯s not as if I haven¡¯t seen him nude, many times¡­ and it¡¯s not as if I have any interest in such things!

    Did he make himself selfconscious with his own joke earlier?!

    Terrans are strange!

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I walk through a privacy field into me and Tuun¡¯s room.

    The fluid is finally fully drained from my inner ear as of yesterday evening.

    ¡°Baby¡­?¡± I call and receive no response.

    I take a few steps into the room, my arms folded behind me.

    The very same instant the door closes and locks, two hands seize my wrists and another two clap a pair of ratcheting cuffs around them.

    ¡°Hey! What the fuck!?¡± I protest, angrily.

    One of the hands seizes a hank of my hair and jerks my head back and up, pulling my mouth open.

    As fast as lightening, something is whipped across my face by one hand and caught by another on the other side.

    A hard piece of rubber on the inside of a rubber panel is forced into my mouth.

    The panel is fastened into place behind my head. It extends from just above my chin spur to just above the bottom of my nose in the vertical direction (my nose slotting neatly into a notch in the top) and from masseter muscle to masseter muscle in the horizontal.

    I hear a pair of feet leaving the floor an instant before I feel a pair of feet being planted squarely into my shoulderblades!

    The force she leverages against me and the amount of time she is out of contact with the floor lets me know my attacker¡¯s arms must be pushing against the wall.

    I topple forward and manage to stumble to the bed as I hear her feet touch down.

    The next instant, I feel three hands on my right ankle and one on my left to brace it against any attempts to kick.

    My right leg is dragged over to the right side of the bed and shackled there.

    Four hands move to my left leg and heave it to the left side of the bed, flipping me onto my back, before shackling it there.

    I glare and growl up as I get a look at my attacker for the first time¡­

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    Oh my Gods, oh my Gods, oh my Gods!

    I¡¯m doing it!

    I¡¯ve got him!

    He¡¯s on our bed with his feet shackled to the footboard, his arms cuffed behind him and a panelgag (just like the one that that AI put on him) over his mouth!

    My heart is pounding, my stomach is swooping and my breaths are ragged!

    The bridge of his nose and skin between his eyebrows are creased as his stifled voice growls with rage and his thick limbs struggle and strain against their bonds.

    I have to say something!

    Shit I¡¯m nervous!

    ¡°Uhm¡­ Hello there!¡±

    Fuck!

    Stupid, Tuun! That was stupid!

    I was going for a cocky ¡®General Kenobi¡¯ vibe but that is not how it came out!

    I ended up sounding more like a shy uni fresher about to ask for directions around campus!

    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ I¡¯ve caught you!¡±

    OK, way to state the obvious, Tuun(!)

    He snarls at me through his gag like a muzzled beast!

    It¡¯s thrilling!

    He¡¯s playing his part much better than me!

    OK, maybe words aren¡¯t my strongsuit¡­

    Perhaps I¡¯m more of a Domme of action?

    I go to the headboard and yank out several metres of chain from each side.

    I first take the cuff from the left side of the bed to his left side and poke it under him to attach it around his already cuffed wrist.

    I repeat on his other side.

    ¡°Sit up¡­¡± I request.

    ¡°Huck guh!¡± he answers.

    OK, Tuun¡­ he¡¯s teed you up¡­ Don¡¯t mess this up!

    Doing my best cocky smirk, I pick up one of the loose chains and, my tone as patronising as I can manage, explain ¡°You know what¡¯s on the other end of these chains, Mr Taylor¡­? Because it¡¯s a winch, capable of reeling in with 12000n of force!¡± I fain a considering frown as I pose ¡°What do you think will happen if I set it to retract while you¡¯re hands are still cuffed behind you?¡­ What will be the first to break? The winch? The carbon steel cuffs? The tungsten-alloy chains?¡­ Because my bet would be on your calciate bones being the first to give!¡­ So¡­ are you going to sit up so I can take your cuffs off?¡±

    He scowls¡­ and then sits up.

    ¡°Good boy!¡± I smile and pat his head as I round his back.

    The instant his handcuffs are off I leap over him, just clear of the range where he has enough slack to lunge at me.

    He, of course, lunges at me anyway and furiously roars through his gag as his curled fingers slash through the air, inches from my face.

    I smirk and tap my holopad.

    The chains begin spooling in, slowly dragging his hands backward through the air, away from me.

    The winch obviously wouldn¡¯t actually break his arms.

    Not that it doesn¡¯t have the power to do that, it¡¯s just, as a BDSM model, it has safety features that would kick in before that point!

    I don¡¯t rely on those however, cutting the reel at precisely the moment that his body is under enough tension that he can¡¯t struggle (much) and well before he¡¯s in any danger.

    ¡°Well, now¡­¡± I say, breathlessly ¡°¡­aren¡¯t you a sight(!)¡­All that strength and, yet¡­ so helpless!¡±

    In response, more impotent rage comes my way.

    I affect a smirk and pick up a pair of scissors from the bedside table.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see about unwrapping my little¡­ ¡®present¡¯ now, shall we?¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m completely powerless to do anything except emit stifled protests as Tuun (dressed in a skin tight, black leather catsuit) brings a pair of scissors to the hem of my t-shirt and begins bisecting it up the front.

    When she reaches the collar, she moves the blades to my left shoulder.

    This time, it takes a few attempts before they actually bite.

    I ignore the fumble, the same way I would for real, and she manages to finally sever the fabric.

    My right shoulder severed, she yanks my destroyed top out from under me, giving me a slight friction burn on my shoulderblades.

    She moves on to the cuff of my left trouser leg and begins cutting.

    I watch as she goes all the way up the outside of my leg and then switches sides.

    She pulls my severed garment out from under my arse.

    She frowns at my unveiled bulge¡­

    Sliding the scissors under my pants, along the crease between my abductor brevis muscle and pubic bone, she chops through the fabric.

    The tension in my boxers is released but, rather than immediately exposing me, she slides the scissors up the same place on the other side.

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    I make the last of the necessary cuts to his clothing and discard the scissors.

    Taking the front of his waistband in my hand, I pull his pants away.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Mr Taylor¡­¡± I say, disappointed ¡°¡­you¡¯re still soft?!¡±

    I have to take a full third of a second here to recall something he said he wanted me to include in this session¡­

    What was it? What was it? What was it!?

    Ah! I remember!

    He wanted me to tut!

    ¡°*tsktsktsktsktsk* Such an ungrateful boy(!) All this attention I¡¯m showing you and you don¡¯t even have the decency to be hard for me yet(?!)¡±

    The only answer I get is an angry sneer and a lurch of his balled fists in a futile struggle against the chains.

    ¡°Well¡­ nothing for it, I suppose¡­(!) Bad boys must be punished(!)¡±

    I reach to the collar of my catsuit and, with my upper left hand, grip the zip between my thumb and middle finger (or ring finger, as it¡¯s currently acting(!))

    I sensually unzip my outfit down past my chest, exposing the meeting of my squashed together breasts, past my stomach and slow down to a crawl as I reach the top of my pelvis.

    I expose my womanhood at an agonisingly slow speed!

    I bring the zip to between my thighs¡­ but I¡¯m not done yet¡­

    My lower left hand takes over from the other side and keeps unzipping all the way to where a Human¡¯s coccyx would be.

    The cleavage of my tits, pussy and arse all exposed through the zip, I crawl up his front.

    I take his angry face between all four of my hands and smirk at him before planting a kiss on his forehead.

    Then, I bring my right knee to the right side of his chest, just below his armpit, and my left to his left, my shins across his upper arms.

    Having turned fully around, my arse is now suspended just above his face.

    I sit¡­

    Crushing his nose between my pussy lips and his eyes below my arsecheeks, I smother him with my hips.

    I lean forward to squash my breasts against his stomach.

    He struggles and thrashes as his stifled moans reverberate pleasantly through my pelvis.

    I bring my lower hands to stroke along the flanks of his abdomen and my uppers to caress his inner thighs.

    My mouth I bring to his still disappointingly flaccid member!

    ¡°Nnn nn nnnnnnn!¡± he rages.

    ¡°You can breathe just as soon as you get hard for me¡­ boy!¡± I say, grinding my arse into his face and giving his cock a little kiss.

    Of course, I don¡¯t actually suffocate him!

    Periodically, I lift up my hips just enough to let him get a breath of pussy scented air(!)

    ¡°Oh¡­ what¡¯s this(!?)¡± I grin as his cock finally starts to swell ¡°It seems you are just as much of a little slut as I thought afterall, Mr Taylor!¡±

    I look at the enormous cock that, right now, I have every liberty to do whatever I want with¡­

    I sigh ¡°I suppose, I did promise you air once you got hard for me¡­¡±

    I raise my hips and he takes a long, gasping inhale through his nose.

    His deep breaths tickle my pussy in a very pleasing way.

    ¡°Buuut¡­ I never said how looong I¡¯d let you breathe¡­¡± I smirk up at him between our sandwiched chests ¡°¡­and¡­ your nose is such a lovely pussy cosy¡­ So, I think, while I help myself to this juicy member of yours¡­ I¡¯m going to let you keep enjoying my lips on your nose, OK?¡±

    I give him just enough time to start his angry protests before I bring my hips back down.

    I bring my lips to his glans and begin sliding my mouth down his length, purposefully letting the tips of my canines run along his shaft (just a little) as I do.

    I gush from the erotic sensation of him stretching my throat!

    It might be a slightly facile observation but¡­ the best things about Domming as opposed to subbing are that, not only do I set the pace¡­ I set the agenda¡­ and I set the rules!

    As much as the whole point of subbing is to feel helpless, powerless¡­ out of control, Domming is all about feeling in power and in control!

    I don¡¯t have to wait to see what hole he deigns to allow me his cock in and when!

    I don¡¯t have to beg and plead for it!

    I want it, I just take it!

    It¡¯s a refreshing change¡­

    I¡¯m feeling his pleasure build and just lamenting the fact that his orgasm is going to be wasted when¡­ the thought occurs to me that, being in control, I can simply stop!

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    Exactly where I¡¯m coming up on the point of no return, the lips and throat are removed from my cock and the lips and arse are lifted from my face¡­

    Able to breathe again I inhale deeply through my nose.

    My mid face is wet, sticky and thick with the sickly sweet smell of my fianc¨¦e¡¯s arousal.

    The uncomfortable feeling from Tuun blue balling me begins to set in.

    She lifts her legs off of my arms and turns around, one foot planted on either side of my torso.

    She smirks down at me and reaches to the front of her catsuit.

    Her top hands slide under the zips above her round, shapely tits¡­ her bottoms slide in below.

    She pulls the two sides of the form fitting garment apart, revealing her little, brushy tasples.

    With impossible grace, she slides all four of her arms out of their skin tight sleeves at once and pushes the suit down her legs.

    She steps out of the suit, hooks one of her feet beneath it and flicks it off the bed.

    Fully nude, she takes a seat on my stomach, my sensitive cock being pushed between her arsecheeks but not inside of her.

    She lies her front on top of mine and strokes all four of her slender, four fingered hands over the muscles of my chained arms.

    She smiles lovingly into my face, breaking character slightly.

    I do my best to maintain my hateful glare.

    She brings the hand with her engagement ring on it to my right cheek and strokes over the rubber strap securing my gag.

    ¡°So strong¡­ so powerful¡­ so commanding and yet¡­¡± her smile widens ¡°¡­reduced to a plaything by a few pieces of metal and rubber¡­ A wild animal¡­ made a tame pet(!)¡±

    I have to admit¡­ this is nice¡­

    Much as I like being in control and in command, normally, switching up is¡­ relaxing¡­

    Don¡¯t have to be thinking about what to say to keep the scene going and not break the immersion, don¡¯t have to be making any decisions, don¡¯t have to exert myself!

    All I have to do is lie hear and enjoy her adoration while accepting whatever agenda she decides to set.

    It¡¯s a nice change of pace!

    ¡°Well, boy¡­ I¡¯d say it¡¯s time for the main event, wouldn¡¯t you(?)¡± she grins, moving her hands to my chest and lifting her hips.

    Her lower right hand apprehends my cock and aims it squarely at her lips.

    One moment of hesitation follows¡­ then she engulfs me inside of her¡­

    Her bottom slaps against my hips as she gently bounces up and down in her cowgirl ride.

    Her large breasts sway, hypnotically, up and down on her chest with the motion.

    Her top and bottom sets of arms take it in turns being the ones bearing her weight as she leans on my chest¡­ a useful method for eking out her stamina.

    The divine features of her face twist in pleasure as she takes all of me inside of her.

    It occurs to me that I¡¯ve completely forgotten to act like her angry prisoner/victim, being so transfixed by the display!

    I¡¯m close and¡­ I can see she is too but¡­

    She¡¯s flagging¡­

    Her motions are getting limper¡­ less powerful as she exhausts the last of her stamina!

    I hesitate¡­

    If I did what I¡¯m considering doing¡­ would it break the scene?

    No¡­

    I can make it work!

    Putting on a defiant expression, as if I think I¡¯m winning some great victory and taking some portion of my agency back (despite still being chained to the bed), I plant my shoulders and ankles into the mattress and arch my body to thrust my hips up.

    She¡¯s clearly taken by surprise at the development and almost falls off me!

    I keep thrusting upward against the 40kg bearing down on my hips, taking the majority of the strain off of her.

    She hangs on to me, allowing me to take over the relay for the last stretch¡­

    I¡¯m almost there¡­

    I increase my pace!

    We¡¯re both teetering on a knife edge.

    One final, upwards thrust causes me to erupt inside her.

    Her eyes cross and she cries out as I bring her to orgasm.

    She slumps against my chest, my cock still plugging my seed inside her.

    I look down to examine her face.

    Out cold!

    Usually, I¡¯d put her under the covers and cuddle her when she experiences an orgasm related loss of consciousness¡­ right now though, my hands are a little tied(!)

    Well¡­ nothing to do but wait till she comes around and releases me¡­

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°OK¡­ tell me honestly¡­ you hated it right?¡± I pout into Victor¡¯s chest under the covers.

    He chuckles ¡°I absolutely, definitely, did. not. hate it!¡±

    ¡°But¡­!¡± I say, incredulously, poking my head out from the duvet to look at his smiling face ¡°¡­you were so unsure about trying it¡­ and I was such a terrible Domme!¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°You were a fantastic Domme, baby!¡­ Waaaaay better than my first time trying my hand at it¡­ And you¡¯re right, I was uncertain about it¡­ until I gave myself an erection imaginin¡¯ it in the regen tank(!)¡­ All in all, I¡¯d say that was a ¡®10/10, would sub again¡¯ experience(!)¡­ Did you hate it? You don¡¯t want to do it again?¡±

    I think about that ¡°No¡­ everything apart from the anxiety about whether you were enjoying yourself, I really liked¡­ but¡­¡±

    He cocks an eyebrow ¡°But?¡±

    I grimace ¡°I¡¯d like to do it again but¡­ not for a while¡­ As much as I enjoyed it, I still think I¡¯m more comfortable subbing¡­¡±

    He furrows his brow and nods vigorously ¡°Yeah! Yeah! For sure!¡­ I don¡¯t want this to be the new status quo either!¡­ But¡­ it is a nice little bit of spice to add to the rotation¡­ I¡¯d not mind subbin¡¯ every¡­ maybe, twentieth session for the time bein¡¯?¡­ Subject to negotiation, obviously!¡±

    Encouraged that he apparently liked it enough to already be suggesting followups, I smile and answer ¡°Alright¡­ that sounds good¡­ Let¡¯s try that¡­¡±

    He grins and says ¡°Alright! Great! You ready to sleep?¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Lights out.¡± he instructs, plunging the room into complete darkness for him and dimness for me.

    I lie with my head on his chest for a few moments, listening to him breathe.

    Then, I think of something.

    ¡°Victor¡­?¡± I whisper.

    ¡°Yeah, babe?¡± he responds.

    ¡°Pancakes for breakfast?¡±

    He thinks about that for a moment before answering ¡°Sure, babe¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.121

    ---Escape---

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    ---2679 Terran Calendar/34 years BF---

    I walk down my street on the outskirts of New Aspen, my rifle slung over my back.

    The vivid orange leaves of the New Coloradoan trees dance in the breeze that¡¯s followed me down from the mountains.

    I¡¯m getting back from a week and a half long expedition, guiding a funny party of X¨©n de Q¨ªnese tourists on a hunting retreat.

    Didn¡¯t speak a lick of English between them, so all of the communication had to go through Lincoln.

    So many jokes that we laughed at more because it was funny they couldn¡¯t be translated than because we got them!

    I had a whale of a time out there with that crazy droid and those guys!

    And the money I got for the work I did was not bad!

    Even still, right now, I¡¯m happy it¡¯s over¡­

    I¡¯m happy that I get to walk up the path to my house, walk through the door that opens for me as it detects my holo approaching and¡­

    ¡°*oof*¡±

    ¡­get hit in the chest and tackled to the floor by 100lbs of Coloradoan lynxhound(!)

    ¡°Hey!¡­ Yo!¡­ *pfff*¡­ Buddy!¡­ Where¡¯s the¡­*pllh*¡­ fire!¡± I splutter at the three eyed mutt while he licks my face, excitedly.

    My wife¡¯s Earth dog, Lady, approaches Buddy from behind and watches him in a way that suggests she thinks he¡¯s behaving undignified¡­(!)

    Like she didn¡¯t do exactly the same as her little bro when Lyla and I started dating(!)

    That was before she got too old to have that kind of energy¡­

    ¡°Sophie! Your dad¡¯s back!¡± calls my wife from the kitchen, out the back door.

    The only answer that returns is an incoherent shrieking of excitement that rapidly approaches me.

    I manage to extract myself from under Buddy just in time for 4¡¯2¡¯¡¯ of long haired kindergartener to sock slide into the hallway and tear toward me!

    Sophie is Lyla¡¯s absolute spitting image in every way except for having my blue eyes¡­

    I even remember jokingly asking the fertility clinic doctor if she was sure she hadn¡¯t accidentally used Lyla''s genes as both Sophie¡¯s mom and dad and left mine out(!)

    I stoop down to catch her in my arms and lift her up into a hug.

    ¡°I missed you, Daddy!¡± Sophie pouts.

    I chuckle ¡°I¡¯m back now, sweetheart!¡±

    ¡°And you won¡¯t leave again?¡± she demands.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯d like to know that too!¡± smirks my wife, appearing in the hallway, dressed in her dental scrubs.

    ¡°Not for a while, you two¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­the amount I just made, we should be good for 3-4 months before I gotta take another contract!¡±

    ¡°So you can walk me to school tomorrow?!¡±

    I kiss her forehead and answer ¡°To school, back from school and, after that, we can go into town for ice cream!¡±

    My daughter squeals with delight at that.

    My wife tuts with mock disapproval and says ¡°All that sugar¡¯ll be bad for her teeth, Daddy(!)¡±

    I smirk back ¡°Yup¡­ Just think of it as drumming up business for you, darling(!)¡±

    She smiles, sighs and walks to me.

    At 6¡¯2¡¯¡¯, my wife towers over my 5¡¯11¡¯¡¯ so she has to bend down to kiss me over Sophie¡¯s shoulder.

    She wraps her arms around me and our daughter.

    I turn my head to the hallway mirror and smile as I see myself embraced by the two most important people in the universe¡­

    ---2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF---

    I wake up from a dream of heaven to my current hell¡­

    Anyone who¡¯d say that oblivion isn¡¯t hell has clearly never experienced it!

    Not anchored to the sense feedback of a body, there¡¯s really nothing to separate being asleep from awake, nothing to mark the passage of time, nothing to make me sure that I ever existed at all and didn¡¯t just imagine my entire life before where I am right now!

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    My brain is also constantly screaming at me about the fact that it¡¯s no longer attached to anything, no longer receiving the reassurance of a beating heart, a full stomach, lungs with air in them, blood at a tolerable range of acidity and oxygenation, all of which the body that was hijacked away from me could simulate¡­

    Oh, and, of course, not having any senses, I¡¯d have no way of knowing if someone were holding a hammer over my brain¡¯s container, about to bring it down and end my miserable life¡­

    Maybe it¡¯s better that way¡­ not like I¡¯d have any way of defending myself if I could see the hammer coming!

    I have no idea how long its been since that fucking AI beat me with that cheap trick!

    Even if subjective measurement of time weren¡¯t next to impossible without senses, I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ll have spent in stasis!

    For as long as I¡¯m thinking, I know I¡¯m not, but I¡¯d have no way of knowing if there was a gap of months between the start of this thought and the end of it!

    They¡¯ll probably put me in a slow moving droid made of aluminum to stand trial, the kind of thing a child could walk up to and push over!

    Then, obviously, when I get sent back to that supermax, they¡¯ll grow me an organic body to put my brain into.

    They¡¯ll make it weak¡­

    They¡¯ll engineer it such that it will be almost impossible for me to build back the kind of muscle I had before the worst day of my life¡­

    I¡¯d rather they just fucking execute me¡­ but of course they won¡¯t!

    The same spineless ¡®mercy¡¯ that kept them from exterminating the xenos (who¡¯d proved that they deserved nothing less) will keep them from killing me like they should¡­

    Maybe, I can¡­

    My train of thought is broken.

    I¡­ feel something¡­

    I shouldn¡¯t be able to feel anything, right now!¡­ Not physically!

    Feeling comes from sensors (biological or cybernetic) and, without a body, I don¡¯t have any!

    A ceiling I recognize instantly as being aboard a Navy vessel presents itself to my mind.

    Involuntarily, my brain attempts to gasp.

    The signal returns that reassures it that ¡®yes, indeed you have lungs and they are indeed full of oxygen!¡¯ despite no such lungs existing!

    I bolt upright and spin my head 360¡ã¡­

    I see the only other person in the room with me and am about to attack him when I recognize who it is¡­

    ¡°Easy there, big guy!¡­ Just me!¡± soothes the dark skinned man, raising both of his bionic palms to me and giving me a flash of his golden teeth.

    ¡°Rylan?!¡­ What the hell¡¯s going on!? Where are we?!¡± I demand, disoriented.

    ¡°Evidence locker on the UTCS Dreadnought, Spite¡­ I just finished reassembling your body and we¡¯re busting outta here!¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d you¡­?¡±

    He gestures around his body to his extensive battery of augments ¡°I¡¯d¡¯ve been blind, deaf and paraplegic if they¡¯d taken all this¡­ Inhumane(!)¡­ They settled for trynna digitally neuter them, they didn¡¯t do a good enough job(!)¡­ Hacked my cell open, shielded both our presence from digital notice and rerouted guard patrols out of our way¡­ Already retuned one of the engines of a long range patrol so its ion trail won¡¯t be recognised¡­ All we need to do is get to the hangar and get out of the warp bubble!¡­ Oh, and I upgraded your arm!¡±

    I hold up my right hand and find that, like he said, the slapdash industrial bionic is gone, replaced with a much sleeker military model, more like the one that old guy ripped off.

    ¡°Where¡¯re the others?¡± I ask.

    He grimaces ¡°We¡­ can go back for them¡­ but I don¡¯t know how much I¡¯d count on any of their loyalty¡­ most of them found out they were clones¡­ They weren¡¯t happy about that!¡±

    Shit!

    So they know about the Lazarus Program¡­

    Confused, I ask ¡°You didn¡¯t find out that you¡¯re a clone?¡±

    He grins ¡°I already knew¡­ Hacked the Bastion intranet when I was 14¡­ found out that way¡­ Doesn¡¯t matter to me!¡±

    Surprised, I answer ¡°¡­Alright then. Let¡¯s go¡­ no sense risking our escape for compromised agents¡­¡±

    He nods and we head from the cellar like room.

    As he said, we run into no patrols on our way to the fighter hangar.

    We board the craft he indicates he tampered with and launch it.

    Slowly, we float backwards out of the doors.

    We might have a shield preventing any AIs or other digital processes from noticing anything we do, but that doesn¡¯t mean we won¡¯t be heard by biological ears¡­

    If we blast out of the hangar, we¡¯re far more likely to be caught!

    We¡¯re about 300m away from it when the whole gigantic ship blinks out of existence, letting me know we¡¯re out of its warp bubble.

    ¡°Phew!¡± breathes Rylan ¡°Now¡­ I¡¯d say we wait here for 2 hours¡­ Less time than that and we risk triggering their proximity alarms by entering warp, more and we risk them realising we¡¯re gone and doubling back to look for us!¡±

    I nod and ask ¡°Where was the handoff?¡±

    ¡°Sorry?¡± asks Rylan.

    ¡°Where did the Bright Plume hand us over to Naval custody?¡± I clarify, irritated.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Xartham Space Station¡­ Think it was about 3 weeks ago?¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ then their ion trail should still be fresh enough to track from there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­? You can¡¯t be serious!?¡± he objects.

    ¡°Dead serious.¡± I say, stonily.

    ¡°After what happened?! We¡¯ve got to get back to Bastion! We¡¯ve got to report all this! We can¡¯t go chasing after folk who¡¯ve already¡­¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯ve already what?¡± I snarl.

    Cowering away from me, he takes a few seconds to steady himself before responding ¡°¡­I¡¯m not going after them, Stetter¡­ I¡¯m taking us back to Bastion¡­¡±

    I sit in silence for a moment.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I say, calmly, before hitting a button on the control panel, seizing him by the lapel and lifting him out of his seat.

    ¡°What¡­!? Hey!!! What¡¯re you doing?!?!?!¡± objects the boy dangling from my arm.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, kid¡­ Really I am!¡± I say, sincerely, as we approach the ramp that¡¯s in the process of lowering ¡°That escape was all you and I owe you for that¡­ This arm too¡­ Even if the last one you found me had some¡­ shall we call them ¡®issues¡¯(!)¡­ Right now, I¡¯m afraid¡­ you¡¯re just something in my way¡­¡±

    Realization hits, followed immediately by terror.

    He takes a breath to beg for his life but, the same moment, I toss him through the atmo field.

    Exposure to vacuum isn¡¯t like you see in the movies¡­

    In spite of the near absolute zero temperatures, people don¡¯t instantly freeze solid into blocks of ice!

    Since, in space, the heat transfer by conduction and convection is effectively nil, it¡¯ll take a long time for him to freeze.

    Vacuum is such a good insulator that early spaceships actually had to be specially designed to radiate away heat or they would have turned into ovens from the accumulating heat of their machines and bodies.

    What is happening, as he flails in the airless, zero gravity, is that his brown skin is turning red, from his blood pressure bursting his capillaries, and his mouth is emitting steam, due to his saliva boiling from the lack of pressure.

    It takes 45 seconds for him to lose consciousness.

    ¡°A damn shame¡­¡± I observe, before turning around and walking back up the ramp.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.122

    ---Uncle---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°This¡­ doesn¡¯t seem safe, my okla¡­!¡± frets Qorak as the two of us ascend vertically to Deck 2¡¯s walkway ¡°¡­the fall from Deck 1 is [5m] but this is twice that!¡±

    I smile an exasperated sigh as I land, one-legged, on the railing ¡°Sweetfruit¡­ I understand your concern but you can¡¯t [bubblewrap] her forever!¡­This has to happen eventually and the development guidance indicates that now is ideal!¡­ Victor¡¯s there to catch her and, at her weight and proportions (not to mention the cushioning afforded by her down), her terminal velocity would be nonfatal!¡±

    Still clearly unhappy, my lifemate resigns ¡°Alright¡­ but don¡¯t blame me when this ends in [tears](!)¡±

    I chitter at that.

    Raising my biological talons to my face over the [10m] drop, I examine the happily giggling infant clutched within them.

    At [300g], my daughter is verging on being too large for me to fly with this way!

    Not coincidentally, her own childhood flight feathers are in the process of emerging through her fluff.

    I smile at Tcakak¡­ and release her from my talons.

    She tumbles through the air for the first few [metres], squealing delightedly.

    Then, exhibiting the same encouraging instincts she started to from the lower drop, she opens her wings and stabilises herself!

    My hearts swell with pride as I see her not only control her descent but even begin to glide horizontally!

    Victor begins jogging backward on Deck 0, his two forward facing, emerald eyes fixed squarely on my daughter.

    His arms fly up to apprehend her from the air.

    The powerful pentadactyl hands (that would easily have the grip strength to reduce my daughter¡¯s body to pulp) guide her, gently, to a harmless stop against his chest.

    Having seen her come to a stop safely, Qorak and I both swing forward and push ourselves from the railing, gliding down after her.

    ¡°There!¡­ Uncle Victor¡¯s got you!¡± grins Victor, stroking her back and baring his teeth at my infant in a way that does not cause shrieks of terror but chitters of delight.

    I do slightly worry that growing up around Terrans and being habituated to their joy may leave her vulnerable to not recognising other species¡¯ bared teeth as the threat displays they are, later in life¡­

    Then again, Terrans do also bare their teeth in threat¡­ and anger¡­ and disgust¡­ Perhaps it won¡¯t be an issue¡­?

    He tosses my daughter around a [metre] into the air, over his head, before catching her again.

    More delighted giggling results.

    Various members of my crew and the ODR contractors are sat or stood nearby, watching (what to most of them is) the spectacle of an infant being repeatedly dropped from high heights with expressions of mirth.

    Tuun positively beams at her [fianc¨¦] as he plays with my daughter¡­

    ¡°That¡¯s right, Tcakie¡­¡± he coos ¡°¡­Uncle Victor¡¯s got you and he always will¡­¡± he tosses her into the air again ¡°¡­Uncle Victor¡¯ll be around if you ever need a bitta muscle to go with the brains I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve got from your mum(!)¡­ Uncle Victor¡¯s gonna be right behind you if you ever find yourself up against impossible odds¡­ Uncle Victor¡¯ll be there to catch you when you fall¡­¡±

    ¡°Anka!¡± shrieks my daughter, delightedly.

    Victor¡¯s face instantly falls in shock.

    His mouth hangs open and his eyes go wide.

    He looks to me.

    I¡¯m struggling to work out the cause of his astonishment when she makes another vocalisation.

    ¡°Anka Viikta¡­!¡±

    Realisation strikes me¡­

    She just uttered her first words¡­ and they weren¡¯t in R¡¯qali!

    Recovering himself a little, though still clearly stunned, Victor encourages ¡°Yes¡­ that¡¯s right!¡­ I¡¯m you¡¯re Uncle Victor! Good giiiiirl¡­ Now, can you saaay¡­ ¡®Qaqa¡¯?¡± turning her to face Qorak and using the R¡¯qali word for ¡®daddy¡¯ ¡°¡­ooor¡­ ¡®Kica¡¯?¡± turning her to me and offering her the word for ¡®mummy¡¯.

    My progeny studdies me for a moment before pronouncing ¡°Anka!¡±

    Yasmin is the first to burst into laughter, followed, a moment later, by the rest of the spectators and, finally, Victor, Qorak and myself.

    It would seem that her understanding of the word ¡®Uncle¡¯ is as meaning something like ¡®loved one¡¯ or ¡®friendly person¡¯(!)

    ¡°Well¡­ first words!¡­ She¡¯s growin¡¯ up so fast!¡± observes Victor.

    He turns his face from Tcakak to me and Qorak with an apologetic smile.

    ¡°Sorry ¡¯bout stealin¡¯ your thunder¡­ Thrilled as I am¡­ I wouldn¡¯ta chosen to take bein¡¯ the first thing she ever said away from you two!¡±

    Giving a Terran head shake, Qorak takes the words out of my mouth ¡°I don¡¯t begrudge you at all, Victor¡­ I¡¯m happy for you!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure ¡®Qaqa¡¯ and ¡®Kica¡¯ won¡¯t be far behind¡­¡± I reassure.

    He gives a relieved smile.

    Jennie here observes ¡°After tonight, you¡¯re going to have a whole new species to play Uncle to, Victor(!)¡±

    Mirthfully, he screws up his face and waves the palm not cradling my daughter ¡°I ain¡¯t presumptuous enough to selfdesignate as ¡®Uncle¡¯ to an entire species¡­ even if I¡¯ll be more ¡¯an 30 years older ¡¯an the oldest of ¡¯em(!)¡­ If anyone I know ends up adoptin¡¯ one, I¡¯ll be ¡®Uncle¡¯ to that one and only that one!¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°And heartlessly deny all the rest, Victor(?)¡± teases Twila.

    He gives no answer but a chuckling sigh before turning back to me and Qorak and asking ¡°You wanna go a few more times with Tcakie?¡­ We¡¯ve got time.¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I step out of the open doorway on the bottom of the ship and go down the rigid umbilical walkway.

    This is the first time I¡¯ve been to the Embassy habitat since Mudaliar¡¯s funeral broadcast.

    Thankfully, this broadcast (that we¡¯re parked up in the last signal zone before our final destination to receive) will be much happier!

    Most of the crew are already here, milling about freeform instead of sat in rows.

    Me and Tuun mingle for a bit, soaking in the atmosphere.

    I catch sight of Waqa¡¯arc and her husband as they come in.

    We make eyecontact (I¡¯m pretty sure¡­ bit difficult to tell where they¡¯re looking with R¡¯qalis¡¯ eyes).

    I make a point of looking away.

    I don¡¯t scowl, just keep my expression neutral.

    I see her make her way over to Alchyinad, on the other side of the room, and begin talking¡­ but it¡¯s too far to hear what¡¯s being said.

    Then, it begins.

    ¡°Ladies, gentlemen and others¡­¡± comes Twila¡¯s voice over the speakers ¡°¡­it is my great pleasure to be announcing this event, the likes of which has not been seen for nearly a century! If I may ask you to please turn your attention toward this wall¡­¡± the wall at the back flashes yellow ¡°¡­the broadcast of the latest addition to the Terran family is about to begin!¡±

    Some of the shorter folk move to the front to get a better view and I gently direct some of the larger people (like Sha¡¯anza and her wife for instance) to step back a bit.

    Live footage displays on the wall.

    A Eurasian woman with blue eyes, light brown hair that¡¯s tied in a bun, wearing a killer blue suit and holding a microphone appears.

    She smiles ¡°Hello and welcome to the broadcast. My name is Ingrid ¡®Zee¡¯ Ziawudun and I¡¯m currently uniquely privileged to be at Satana Laboratories, in the Ardon River Valley, to report on a truly historic moment!¡±

    She pauses for emphasis before continuing ¡°Approximately 520,000 years ago, a small population split from the group that would later diverge into Neanderthals and Denisovans and secreted themselves away, here in the Caucasus Mountains¡­Neanderthals to their North and South and Denisovans to their East, across the Caspian Sea¡­ Though their population is never thought to have totalled more than around 3,000, this lineage of Humans is actually believed to have survived later into history than any other besides Homo sapiens, only finally disappearing around 18,000 years ago¡­ The first specimens being rediscovered in the year 2461, hopes were high that the Human family would once again be able to expand. Unfortunately, due to the population¡¯s historic rarity (only outdone by Homo dzhigda, on the far side of Asia, whose complete genome still eludes us) it was not until last year, 2713, that remains were discovered which finally allowed us to sequence them fully!¡±

    She smiles, heartily.

    I¡¯m smiling too.

    ¡°Now, however, I am present with my film crew to broadcast the birth of the first of this Human lineage to grace the Earth in thousands of years!¡­ I hope everyone watching is as thrilled as I am to bid Homo lisri a hearty ¡®welcome back¡¯!¡±

    A cheer goes up from the room, like I¡¯m sure it will be doing from Terrans and their friends all the way across the galaxy!

    I steal a peak at the bigot birb and feel a small bit of satisfaction from her startled bewilderment¡­

    The reporter continues ¡°Performing the extraction is Dr Dzambeg ¡®Mountain¡¯ Bakhturidze, here with me now.¡±

    The camera pans to include a man I¡¯d guess to be as tall as I am (or maybe taller) if the countertop he¡¯s next to is any guide.

    I¡¯d guess he got his epithet from that height¡­ but he might just be an Alpinist, given the part of the world he lives(!)

    His skin is tan, eyes are a rich reddish brown, his hair and thick beard are black and he¡¯s wearing scrubs and a labcoat in red and white.

    His face definitely gives him away as a native of the Caucasus (even if his name didn¡¯t) and wears an expression of calm contentedness.

    The reporter has to hold the mic up about 10cm above the height of her head to bring it close enough to his mouth.

    ¡°Dr Bakhturidze, could you tell us a little of how you¡¯re feeling right now?¡± she says.

    ¡°I could be neither more proud nor more pleased.¡± he states in English with (I assume) an Ossetian accent ¡°I consider it a great honour to be the one who will remove the first Lisri from his tube!¡±

    The woman gives a genuine smile at the doctor and asks ¡°Have there been any surprises in their development?¡±

    ¡°Oh, not many¡­ We had their genome fairly well understood before we began their gestation¡­ we weren¡¯t surprised by their eye colour, hair colour, skin tone, face shape, body proportions or anything¡­ There was one thing that really did surprise us and that was the length of the gestational period!¡­ We initially thought that it would be closer to the 8 months that is typical of Neanderthals¡­ In actuality, it is closer to the 10 ? months typical of Denisovans!¡±

    ¡°Why was that surprising, Doctor?¡± smiles the woman.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he shrugs ¡°¡­we only had two specimens of their pelvic anatomy¡­ Neither of their reconstructions showed the broad hips that allow Denisovans to have such long gestations!¡­ Lisri, it transpires, develop comparatively slowly in the womb¡­ which, to my shame, was something we were not able to determine from their genome¡­¡±

    Here, I overhear Tha?s chuckle from next to Sknz¡¯h ¡°Imb¨¦cile, Dzambeg(!) Je ne vous ai pas assez bien appris si vous avez rat¨¦ une telle chose(!)¡± to themself but, since they¡¯re not wearing a translator and French isn¡¯t one of my languages, I¡¯m only able to get the gist of them being humorously unimpressed with their fellow geneticist.

    ¡°You mentioned that their hair and eye colours weren¡¯t a surprise to you¡­¡± smiles the reporter ¡°¡­do you mind if I ask what hair and eye colours they have?¡±

    The large man grins through his dark beard and answers ¡°Why don¡¯t I show you instead of telling you?¡±

    The reporter gives an enthusiastic nod ¡°Yes please!¡±

    The man walks to camera left and the back of an artificial womb is revealed, suspended a few centimetres over the countertop.

    The baby is not visible as the man goes to work.

    Bright purple synth amniotic fluid drains from the cylinder through a clear hose.

    There¡¯s a *thock* of the hatch unlatching.

    He pulls it up and reaches into the tube, his expression reverent.

    He pulls back his hands¡­

    An assistant appears from off camera and quickly swaddles what he holds before we can get more than a brief glimpse of light tannish skin.

    I hear a sound that no one¡¯s heard for 18,000 years as the baby Lisri wails at the indignity of being born(!)

    ¡°Shshshshshshshssssh¡­¡± soothes the dark haired man with practiced ease.

    When the wailing has calmed down, he turns to camera, allowing it to get the first proper shot of the baby.

    Beneath the blanket, thin whisps of distinctively medium grey head hair protrude, framing a chubby face.

    He¡¯s definitely a Neanderthaloid¡­ though, he looks very different from either Neanderthals or Denisovans.

    Of course, he¡¯s only a baby¡­ that could change as he grows up and loses his baby fat?

    He opens his eyes and there is a distinct gasp of surprise from most of the people in the room.

    The colour of his irises is a bright aqua-cyan, completely unlike anything I¡¯ve ever seen on a Human that wasn¡¯t modded that way!

    Those eyes are absolutely gorgeous!

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    My holo dings¡­

    The broadcast ended a few minutes ago and I was looking forward to enjoying the afterparty with Victor.

    I wonder who¡¯s messaging me?

    Everyone on the Bright Plume is here¡­

    I bet it¡¯s Mouse sending me a silly meme from across the room.

    I check it.

    My eyes go wide.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I say, tugging on his sleeve without removing my eyes from my holo.

    ¡°Yeah babe?¡± he answers, turning to face me.

    ¡°We need to go¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh really?¡± he frowns ¡°I was kinda lookin¡¯ forward to the party¡­ How come?¡±

    I turn my holo for him to read.

    He studies it for 3.2 seconds before his eyes widen.

    He turns to the others and says ¡°Sorry, guys, we need to go¡­¡±

    ---¨¢str¨ªer¡¯s perspective---

    My heart¡­ is filled, overflowing and bursting, all at once, as I hold the precious girl in my arms¡­

    One of her lilac skinned, five fingered hands clutches my thumb.

    I think I might die of just how much I love her.

    A large, blue skinned, four fingered hand reaches across me to stroke our baby as two more squeeze me from behind.

    I slightly regret that she will forever have to share a birthday with an entire lineage of Humanity¡­ but there really wasn¡¯t anything to be done about it!

    I thought that around now would be safely clear¡­ that was until they announced that 9 week discrepancy between the initial calculation and the new one(!)

    Oh well¡­(!)

    Her day will always be what I remember today as¡­ even if no one else does(!)

    The fortunate side is, as Tunie¡¯s ship was hanging around in a signal patch for the broadcast, I¡¯m able to show her her niece.

    The call is answered.

    There¡¯s my sister and her redheaded man.

    ¡°Hello Tunie, hello there Victor¡­ both of you remember Liv¡­¡± I smile, gesturing to my baby ¡°¡­Liv¡­ meet your Auntie Tunie and soon to be Uncle Victor¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXXII: Pancakes and Forcipules

    ---Tha?s¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Skunzie?¡± I call out through her door.

    ¡°I¡¯m not here, Tha?s!¡± she responds, miserably.

    ¡°Oh¡­ really(?)¡± I chuckle ¡°Then I suppose there¡¯s no one to tell me not to come in, is there(?)¡±

    I wave open the door and step into her room.

    ¡°Where are you, Skunzie?¡± I smirk, looking around.

    No answer returns, her apparently having worked out the paradox of vocalising that she isn¡¯t here(!)

    I shrug.

    With as large as she is, there aren¡¯t many places she could be hiding¡­

    I head to the bed sized and shaped box that sits in the middle of the room.

    I step over the side and begin wading through the waist height sleeping papers.

    I plunge in my hands and, sure enough, they quickly meet her hard, cool, chitin plates.

    I dig away the wadded up papers and quickly uncover a six limbed humanoid figure, curled into a ball and wrapped, protectively, in her own taillike hindbody.

    The wheel-like disc she¡¯s formed into right now would be the perfect shape for picking up and rolling out of the box¡­ for someone much stronger than me!

    She¡¯s almost ¡Á3 as heavy as me and I am not a strong or muscular individual!

    Even in this low gravity, I know that manhandling her like that is a lost cause.

    I settle for lowering myself into the sea of wadded paper and sitting with my back leaning against her.

    ¡°Why did you rush away, Skunzie?¡± I ask, gently.

    No answer comes back.

    ¡°We were having a good time¡­ then you just left¡­ Everyone was disappoin...¡±

    ¡°No they weren¡¯t!¡± she interrupts, her translated tone that of a miserable sulk ¡°I¡¯m sure they were relieved I left¡­ The bodysnatcher in the stolen body of a monstrous [centipede] is gone¡­ the room full of the most fearsome beings in the galaxy can rest easy now(!)¡±

    I cock an eyebrow (not that she can see that, being curled up and me facing away from her) and ask ¡°Did anyone¡­ say anything to that effect?¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t need to!¡± pouts the woman coiled into a wheel ¡°I can see how uncomfortable they are with me! I see how they tense up whenever I¡¯m nearby! I see how they start whenever my presence takes them by surprise! I saw how Taylor and Tuun ran away rather than talk to me!¡±

    ¡°OK, I am more than 99.9% certain that the reason those two ran off had nothing to do with you!¡± I reassure her with absolute confidence ¡°Tuun got a text, I heard that¡­ Victor wanted to stay and it was only after she showed him the text that he agreed to leave! It seems far more like a personal emergency than a ploy to avoid being near you!¡±

    ¡°So¡­ no Human ever feels uncomfortable in my presence then(?)¡± she asks, dryly.

    I sigh ¡°You know that¡¯s not true, Skunzie¡­ but you also have to know that that is not a reflection on you!¡­ If anything, it¡¯s a reflection on us! Us and our planet! A planet where the drive to survive needs to be so strong that even the smallest creatures that crawl through the undergrowth frighten us because they may have a bite that could hospitalise a Human! You must know that any Human who can¡¯t separate you, the individual, from their reflexive fear responses is one that you don¡¯t need in your life!¡±

    She groans with cynical bitterness ¡°You know¡­ I was a child when the War finished¡­ but, even then, I knew how the galaxy looked at my kind¡­ Roughworlders¡­ Carnivores¡­ Parasites¡­ I knew that most people thought we were monsters¡­ For the longest time, I saw you Terran''s as kindred spirits! Thought of as monsters for things about yourselves that you. can¡¯t. change!¡­ You didn¡¯t choose to be born of the single most hellish planet so far known to have borne sapience¡­ You didn¡¯t choose to be stronger than just about any other species¡­ You didn¡¯t choose to have the minds of survivors¡­ and I didn¡¯t choose to be what I am¡­ The Peace came and I heard how Terrans loved to make friends with anyone and everyone!¡­ I heard how you didn¡¯t seem to care what people looked like, you would make them your friends, regardless!¡­ I fantasised that, when I finally met you, I would be welcomed with open arms!¡­ I pictured being a trusted, valued member of a Terran friend group¡­ I even let myself dream of having a Terran lover(!)¡­ Then I came to Citadel UotBS¡­ met you¡­ and it was all the same shit I¡¯d seen from every other nonVk¡¯unhz I¡¯d ever met!¡­ Revulsion, disgust, fear¡­ Oh, different reasons, sure; my host body just so happens to resemble a Terran [centipede]¡¯s and, so, happens to trigger your innate chilopodophobia¡­ one of your most deep-seated evolutionary fears¡­ My forcipules look deadly and it doesn¡¯t matter that I would never bite or that, if I did, it would be relatively harmless to your toxin resistant bodies! You don¡¯t begrudge me my parasitism quite so much as most but are incredibly creeped out by the similarity between me and your pop culture¡¯s bodysnatchers!¡­ It just feels like I¡¯m not allow to win! That, no matter what I do or how much I want to be seen as anything other than an ugly monster, I never will be!¡±

    There¡¯s a moment of silence before I state ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re an ugly monster, Skunzie.¡±

    Miserably she dismisses ¡°Sure, you¡¯re nice to me because we work together, Tha?s¡­ but I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t like how I look!¡±

    ¡°Wrong on both counts¡­¡± I correct, firmly ¡°¡­I¡¯m nice to you because I like you, Skunzie¡­ I think you¡¯re nice, charming, funny, kind and intelligent¡­ and, personally¡­ I think you look beautiful¡­¡±

    ---Sknz¡¯h¡¯s perspective---

    My body coils tighter, involuntarily trying to protect itself against the lie.

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t¡­ You don¡¯t mean that!¡± I sulk.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I do.¡± they say, unwavering.

    ¡°What, so you¡¯re just¡­ immune to the phobia that evolution hammered into the rest of your kind?!¡±

    They shrug ¡°I¡¯ve always been entirely fascinated by the innumerable answers to the question ¡®how does one survive¡¯ that there are¡­ Logically, I know that there are certain animals that it isn¡¯t sensible to handle and that being envenomed by would be painful if not deadly¡­ but they don¡¯t scare me or revolt me and never have¡­ You aren¡¯t an animal!¡­ You¡¯re a person, and a lovely one, at that!¡­ I know what real fear is and you don¡¯t scare me¡­¡±

    In spite of myself, my curiosity gets the better of me ¡°What¡­ what¡¯s ¡®real¡¯ fear?¡±

    They chuckle ¡°Liver spots¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°You heard me¡­ Lentigo senilis¡­ Liver spots.¡±

    Very confused, I ask ¡°Why would¡­?¡±

    Tha?s cuts me off ¡°Because I know what it is to have them all over my face, arms, hands, legs and chest!¡­ I know what it¡¯s like to have skin the thickness of tissue paper, to have bones as brittle as  meringue!¡­ I know what it¡¯s like to be able to see my skull through my face, to see my hair grey and thin, to feel my body and mind whither because my telomeres have burned down to the wick and my body has decided that everythingI do is going to be painful until the end!¡­ I¡¯ve felt the Reaper¡¯s hand on my shoulder¡­ no other fear could ever compare to that!¡±

    I extend three limbs against the floor, popping my head and first three body segments out of the centre of my coil.

    My tail no longer braced, the Terran''s dense little body falls back slightly from their lean before they catch themselves.

    They¡¯re buried in an avalanche of paper as I uncurl my hindbody to arrange it behind me.

    They dig themself out and turn to face me.

    Down on all six, I bring my head to around [30cm] from theirs.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°If death is what scares you¡­ then aren¡¯t you scared of the fact that I could kill you?¡± I flex my forcipules to demonstrate, champing the venomous claws together ¡°I¡¯d be no match for most of the Terrans aboard; large, strong, fit, powerful, skilled in combat, but you?¡±

    I gesture to their small, skinny, weak frame.

    They shake their head and smile ¡°Me, you could kill easily, of course¡­ If you wanted to¡­ but do you?¡±

    ¡°Of course not but¡­!¡±

    ¡°But nothing!¡± they smile ¡°Someone as small and slight as me can¡¯t afford to spend their life living in fear of everyone who could kill me if they wanted to! I¡¯d never get anything done(!)¡­ Besides, I have to correct you, it wasn¡¯t death I was scared of, it was age¡­ It was the powerlessness of feeling that there is absolutely nothing I could do to avert my decline towards death¡­ It was having to pass up the opportunity to work on the team cracking Terran regen (the very thing that stood to rescue me) because, despite being one of the best qualified people in the galaxy for it, I just didn¡¯t trust my own mind anymore!¡­ To me, you are Youth, Beauty and Life themselves!¡±

    They reach out with a pentadactyl hand and place it on top of my cephalic shield, between my antennae.

    I freeze¡­

    Then I lean forward¡­

    I open my forcipules and both my inner sets of mandibles¡­ and bring my mouth to theirs.

    Immediately, they fall against me, sliding their arms around my shoulders and wrapping them around me as they passionately return the kiss!

    My tail whips forward, coiling around both of us several times, binding us together and digging my maxillipedal claws into them.

    My innards are electrified by the thrill of realising that¡­ they didn¡¯t flinch!

    Clearly, the talk of finding me beautiful wasn¡¯t just talk!

    They didn¡¯t hesitate for a moment before committing to the embrace!

    They pull me over and our combined weight lands on a section of my tail.

    I scarcely notice the pain!

    Their graceful, dexterous hand moves to the back of my neck¡­ right over the neat little surgical scar in my host¡¯s chitin from me being implanted into her when we were both babies¡­

    I realise that¡­ this is the closest they have ever and likely will ever come to my actual body¡­

    As much as my host and I are so intrinsically unified that my removal would mean her death, as much as she obeys my every directive immediately and without question, as much as I feel her pain, hunger, pleasure and desire as truly as if there were no separation between us, as much as it feels as if she is me, I am her and we are one¡­ the real ¡®me¡¯ is just a passenger in her body¡­ and Tha?s¡¯s hand is caressing within a mere antenna¡¯s breadth of me right now!

    I bring my upper hands to their face and pull from the kiss.

    Both of us are panting heavily.

    ¡°Wow¡­*hhh-hhh*¡­ Sknz¡¯h!¡­*hhh-hhh*¡­ I had no¡­*hhh-hhh*¡­ idea you¡­*hhh-hhh*¡­ felt this¡­*hhh-hhh*¡­ way!¡±

    ¡°How could I¡­*huff-huff*¡­ not!?¡­*huff-huff*¡­ You¡¯re so¡­*huff-huff*¡­ clever and¡­*huff-huff*¡­ interesting and¡­*huff-huff*¡­ cool and¡­*huff-huff*¡­ kind to me all¡­*huff-huff*¡­ the time!¡­*huff-huff*¡­ How¡­*huff-huff*¡­ do you¡­*huff-huff*¡­ feel this¡­*huff-huff*¡­way?!¡±

    They shrug their slender shoulders and smirk ¡°¡­*hhh-hhh*¡­Same reasons(!)¡±

    ¡°But I¡­(!)¡±

    I don¡¯t get to finish my objection as, before I can, they¡¯ve constricted my neck to bring our mouths together in another kiss.

    They finally pull back, the seraphic features of their fleshy face bent into a contented grin.

    ¡°Before we take this¡­*huff-huff*¡­ any further, ch¨¦rie¡­*huff-huff*¡­ might I propose¡­*huff-huff*¡­ a change of venue?¡±

    ---Tha?s¡¯s perspective---

    Skunzie¡¯s forebody looks sublime as she stamps down the hallway of the Deck 2 Dorm toward my room.

    She stands a head taller than me, even hunched over like she is!

    When she straightens up, she¡¯s half a metre taller than me!

    Her four long, sharp, raptorial toe claws clack against the floor as she takes each stride. They have no joints along their length but do have a harsh angular bend in the middle.

    The sections between the middle joints of her legs flex down, elastically, before springing back up with each time her foot strikes the ground.

    She holds her four tridactyl hands in front of her scarlet chestplate, nervously.

    The flawless chitin plates of her exoskeleton have a wonderful gloss to them, in the light!

    The dominant colour on her body is xenomorph black, but it¡¯s highlighted fantastically by the bright scarlet pigmentation on her head, hands, forearms and numerous other locations around her body as well as the lesser, secondary highlights in light beige.

    Ignoring the +5m of hindbody trailing behind her (not that I want to!) she bears a striking resemblance to the design of General Grievous in that gritty, mature rated reboot of Star Wars from the Mid 22nd Century!

    Those movies were such pizza cutters! (All edge, no point!)

    ¡®Then again¡­¡¯ I think as I study the incomparable woman who looks as if she were designed by an angsty teenager ¡®¡­I am an absolute salope for emo girls!¡¯

    I absolutely adore the juxtaposition between her fearsome appearance and her sweet personality!

    The hrszk are one of half a dozen host species maintained on Vk.

    They were the planet¡¯s apex predators before the last of their wild population succumbed to Vk¡¯unhz assimilation!

    Every feature of her host body is either one of an apex predator or one that her species have spent hundreds of thousands of years engineering for!

    Those undexterous fingers are the result of the hrszk having had little need for fine manipulation and the Vk¡¯unhz needing to make the best of the foremost perambulators.

    The glossy black, red and beige is for camouflage in their natural environment.

    The sex drive that¡¯s currently engaged is that of her host as well¡­

    Her species are asexual reproducers¡­

    There is a brief moment of discomfort regarding the nonsentience of the body I¡¯m about to make love to¡­

    Then I remind myself that it isn¡¯t nonsentient!

    It¡¯s hers¡­ Her body¡­ She is sentient!

    It would be far more grotesque to make love to her in the body of an independently sentient being!

    I step into my room and gesture her inside after me.

    It takes several seconds for the entire train of hindbody, scuttling along on its maxillipeds behind her, to make it in.

    The door shuts and I engage the lock and privacy field.

    Her antennae swish through the air on her head, nervously, with her sensory legs doing the same on the terminal segment of her hindbody.

    I smirk as I walk past her to my bed, reaching up to run a hand along her forcipules.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive me(!)¡± I quip, gesturing her body, sans vestments, up and down ¡°I¡¯ll need a moment to undress!¡± as I reach for the hem of my top.

    ¡°That¡¯s alright but¡­?¡± she speaks, reticently.

    I stop ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°Could¡­ Would¡­ Would it be alright if I undressed you?¡±

    I chuckle and gesture a ¡®go on¡¯.

    ---Sknz¡¯h¡¯s perspective---

    Unsurely, I step to Tha?s.

    I straighten up to bring my upper arms well above their shoulder level.

    They smile up at me and close their eyes, extending their arms to the side.

    I bend to bring my upper arms down their back and my lowers to their front, grasping their top in four places.

    Slowly, I draw my arms upward, bringing the garment over their golden furred head.

    How slim and slight they are is triply obvious with the pale skin of their slender chest exposed!

    I lean down to kiss them again¡­ a kiss they enthusiastically return!

    I feel the soft skin of their back squash against the chitin sheeves of my arms.

    I slide my lower hands under their lowers to cup their bottom (just about the only plumpness on their whole body(!))

    Squeezing it is amazing!

    The way it fills my hands! The way it deforms and springs back into place! The way it jiggles when they laugh¡­

    Impulsively, I fling them away from me!

    ¡°Oh!¡± they exclaim in surprise as they land on the bed.

    They quickly recover their composure and smirk up at me, raising their legs to offer me their stylish, [high heeled], blue [boots].

    I grasp the [heels] with my lower hands and begin unbuttoning them with my uppers.

    My hands are¡­ much less nimble than theirs but I manage eventually.

    Both pieces of footwear come away at once.

    They don¡¯t lower their legs and simply continue to smirk up at me.

    My midgut swoops as I reach to their waistband and begin pulling their lowers off.

    The fair skin of their elegant legs is exposed.

    The only clothing they have left is a very insubstantial set of [lingerie] undergarments.

    My upper right hand trembles as I reach for it.

    I pull it down, exposing their genitals.

    ¡°So that¡¯s what you have!¡­ I¡¯ve always wondered¡­ ever since I saw you smile at that Emrita lab tech that it wasn¡¯t any of his affair!¡±

    They chuckle back at me and answer ¡°What I actually said to him was ¡®Unless we¡¯re going to bed together, it¡¯s none of your affair¡­¡¯ You and I¡­¡± they gesture to the soft surface they¡¯re reclining on ¡°¡­are going to bed together!¡­ So it is your business!¡±

    ¡°May¡­ may I use my mouth?¡± I request, looking at the organ and trying (and failing) not to sound overeager.

    They grin ¡°Please do!¡±

    ---Tha?s¡¯s perspective---

    Her hindbody explores mine, her terminal legs currently brushing over my face while her antennae tickle my ribs.

    She has one powerful hand on each of my wrists and ankles, pinning me to the mattress.

    Her forcipules are opened as wide as they will go and there¡¯s just barely enough room for my pelvis to fit between them, the sharp, venomous points mere centimetres from each hip!

    I definitely almost impulsively told her to sting me with them!

    I¡¯d be fine I know but¡­ best not to spring the freaky shit on her¡­ We can discuss it another time when we¡¯ve both got clearer heads.

    Her soft mouth feels amazing on my sex and the stimulation added by her four mandibles heightens the experience considerably!

    My breaths come short and sharp as my pleasure builds.

    My body tenses hard enough to, momentarily, draw in her powerful arms as I suffer my little death.

    She pulls her mouth away from my privates and releases my ankles.

    She doesn¡¯t release my wrists.

    On the contrary, she grips them tighter as she steps over me to bring one clawed foot to the side of each of my hips.

    In the place between her two main legs, I can see the soft red flesh of her exposed genitals, the plates that normally cover them having moved aside in her arousal.

    She sits on my hips, causing delectable discomfort in my poor overstimulated sex as she crushes hers against it.

    She grips my ribs with her strong hands and brings her formidably well armed face to mine.

    ¡°My turn next¡­ OK?¡±

    My stomach knots with the frisson.

    Even though I know it wasn¡¯t, it doesn¡¯t take too much imagination to imagine what she just said as a threat!

    I bite my lip, my eyes wide as I nod.

    ---Sknz¡¯h¡¯s perspective---

    Lying on my right side and resting my head on my right upper arm, my face curled against the back of Tha?s¡¯s head, the elbow of my left upper arm resting against their left shoulder, my left lower arm wrapped around their stomach, the joints of my left leg bent and resting on top of their hip, the back of my tail passing over the top of their thighs and underneath their shins, I squeeze their back against my belly.

    ¡°Was¡­ was it good for you?¡± I ask, nervously.

    They respond with a single mirthful puff (which I¡¯m briefly terrified by, mistaking it for contempt) before answering ¡°Ch¨¦rie¡­ I have lived a century and a quarter and, I can safely say, in all that time¡­ I¡¯ve never had better! It was absolutely sublime!¡­ You enjoyed it too, no?¡±

    Enthusiastically, I agree ¡°You were my best ever as well!¡±

    They giggle and reach up to place a hand against my forcipule ¡°I¡¯m glad, ch¨¦rie¡­*yawn*¡­ How would you like to take breakfast with me?¡­ I¡¯m thinking pancakes?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.123

    ---Vermin---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°NOOOOO!!!¡± I scream as Karkhal releases an arrow that I can see wasn¡¯t properly aimed.

    It sinks into the thigh of the [dragonbird], instantly laming that leg but neither killing nor immobilising the animal which shrieks, spreads its wings and takes off.

    With the swiftness of lightning, I snatch her shortbow from her and draw an arrow out of her quiver.

    I spend the briefest of instants checking the thanatite that its head is made of¡­ the tooth of one of our shared great-great-grandmothers. Safe to risk on retrieving the younger piece.

    I loose the arrow which strikes the animal in the eye, killing it instantly.

    It drops from around the height of the top of the Palace.

    I breathe a brief sigh of relief before turning to glare at my half-sister.

    She shrinks away from me, looking suitably ashamed.

    Without a word, I walk to where the animal fell.

    ¡°I ask forgiveness that you suffered needlessly.¡± I say before picking it up by the ankles and turning around to chasten the idiot trainee.

    ¡°What. did. you. do. wrong?¡± I hiss down at the girl.

    ¡°I¡­ I took a shot that missed¡­¡± she answers, looking down, ashamed.

    ¡°You did!¡± I seethe ¡°¡­And why is that wrong?¡±

    Mumbling, she answers ¡°Because¡­ if the prey doesn¡¯t die instantly they suffer¡­ and¡­¡±

    ¡°AND?¡± I ask, ripping the arrow out of the grey skin of the animal¡¯s thigh to draw her attention to its tip.

    I hold up one of my fingers to show her its claw, making obvious the fact that it is tipped with her grandmother¡¯s.

    ¡°¡­and¡­ if they escape with a piece of thanatite, we may never get it back¡­¡±

    ¡°Indeed!¡± I bellow ¡°Every piece is irreplaceable!¡­ This is a relic of your ancestor that you almost just tossed away with your idiotic carelessness!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± she answers, sincerely.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ¡®sorry¡¯¡­¡± I snarl ¡°¡­be better!¡±

    No answer returns except more of her downcast eyes.

    I give a long, drawn out sigh of frustration before saying ¡°Hand over your quiver¡­¡±

    Her face snaps up to me, her expression horrified, as she objects ¡°No¡­ Sister! You can¡¯t!¡­ I earned these!¡±

    I bring my face a hands breadth from hers and pull back my lips to reveal my toothplates, hissing aggressively.

    She flinches but, fortunately, does not cower from me the way most men would¡­

    ¡°You¡¯ve just unearned them, Karkhal!¡­ Hand. them. over!¡±

    The girl hesitates but, sensibly, decides against challenging me over this.

    Looking miserable, she unslings the quiver from her back and pushes it toward me.

    I take it and grasp the nine arrows it still contains, removing them to examine.

    Three of them are tipped with teeth, two of them are tipped with claws and four of them are tipped with spines.

    I replace them along with the two shot into the [dragonbird] bringing the quiver back to a nice, round eleven arrows.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    I sling it over my back and point to the dead animal ¡°We¡¯re going back. You¡¯re carrying that. When we get back, you are going to the armoury and requesting a quiver of ironwood arrows. You will use them until I deem you worthy to regraduate. Understood?¡±

    Sulking, she answers ¡°I understand, Sister.¡±

    I¡¯m sorely tempted to cuff her around the earhorn for her disrespectful tone¡­ but think better of it.

    She already thinks I¡¯m being an unjust monster about this¡­ Further correction today will only make her resent me more!

    She spends a minute or so binding the animals wings and limbs before laying it across the crook of her back.

    We walk home with her clearly struggling against the animal¡¯s weight.

    Tough!

    She needs to struggle if she ever hopes to have the strength necessary to survive this cruel world¡­

    No suitor will ever ask for a weak woman to make his broodwife!

    The hardness she builds now will serve her well when I¡¯m not here to guide her anymore.

    We make it to the shallow part in the meander of the River K¡¯rvakh that protects 3 sides of the city of Khawekh¡­ the capital and largest city of our [empire].

    I unsprawl my legs and erect them beneath my body, gaining around a torso¡¯s height in so doing, that I may have as little of myself as possible in contact with the frigid water as I make the ford.

    Karkhal is not so lucky.

    Not being fully grown, her stiltwalk is not able to even completely lift the slain prey free of the water.

    I keep downstream of her, ready to catch her if she should lose her feet and ready to catch it if she should drop the kill.

    We make it across and both shake and stamp our legs to help them dry.

    Fortunately, being summer, it won¡¯t be long until we warm back up.

    Haorken, one of my broodsisters, approaches us.

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan¡­ Father has requested to see you at the Palace.¡± she states, calmly.

    ¡°Thank you, Sister.¡± I acknowledge.

    I don¡¯t ask what it¡¯s regarding.

    If that were known to her, she would have volunteered it.

    I turn to Karkhal.

    ¡°To the Refectory to deposit that¡­¡± I point to the [dragonbird] ¡°¡­I assume you know better than to anger its spirit by falsely claiming credit for killing it!¡­ Then to the armoury with you¡­¡±

    Still sulking, the girl scuttles away.

    Haorken looks to the girl, then to the quiver on my back, then to me.

    ¡°She was careless?¡± she asks.

    ¡°She was careless.¡± I confirm before striding toward the Palace.

    Walking up the gravel of Khawekh¡¯s central thoroughfare, the silken tents of my people line my way.

    Of course, here and there I see the differing styles of our vassals¡¯ tents.

    Traders, diplomats, suitors¡­ there are many reasons people might find themselves in the capital.

    I pass by a small man whose dark fur gives him away as a Southeasterner.

    He¡¯s flanked by two of his much larger broodsisters who, being women, have no fur to give away their origin. The hair on their heads tells me nothing. Only the style of their clothing and their brother¡¯s fur let me know where their from.

    He gives a flirtatious smile and flex of his fangs.

    I hiss, aggressively, back and he shrieks in a repulsive mix of terror and delight.

    His sisters return my hiss but it comes to nothing, the two of them recognising how significantly outclassed they would be in a fight.

    I continue to the looming Palace Tent.

    This is the largest building in the known world and took generations to build!

    My sisters guarding the entrance make no attempt to waylay me as I pass by.

    I stride through the antechamber and cross into the [Throne Room].

    My eyes flick upward to the trophy strung from the ceiling that is, at once, the source of my greatest pride¡­ and greatest shame.

    An uncanny animal like I¡¯ve never seen nor heard tell of anywhere else.

    A once spherical creature that¡¯s hide is made of black armour, tougher than thanatite, with an intricate, rippling pattern.

    It¡¯s spindly limbs remain frozen in the position they were in when I killed it.

    Attempts were made to butcher it¡­ but were quickly abandoned as a fool''s errand.

    No smell of rot has ever come from it leading to the chilling notion that it has no flesh inside it!

    Beside it is the source of my great shame¡­

    An ironwood javelin, tipped with one of my mother¡¯s feet, shattered to unusable pieces by the force that it impacted the creature with when I shot it from my greatbow!

    Thanatite does not last forever¡­ but to break such a young piece so completely is unheard of!

    A council had to be called to discuss whether breaking my mother¡¯s foot unfitted me for my command!

    It was eventually ruled that I bore no fault, given the nature of the one the shot had killed¡­ Nevertheless, guilt racks me whenever I look upon the shards of my mother.

    I tear my eyes down to look at my father.

    His brow is topped by a crown of ancient thanatite.

    His eyes are milky and blind.

    His fur, which still had a little reddish brown in it when I was a girl, is now completely grey with age.

    His silk clothes are lined with mammal fur to help stave off the cold.

    Beside him sits his latest broodwife, the daughter of one of our Northern vassals and the woman I was going to fetch when I killed the creature hanging from the ceiling.

    She¡¯s fat with his latest brood.

    Behind him are venerably displayed the skulls of his 17 prior broodwives, stripped of their thanatite fangs, toothplates and teeth.

    I spot my mother, hung fourth from last, and say a private apology to her for her foot as I must have done more than 121 times now.

    ¡°Father!¡± I grin (not that he sees that) ¡°You summoned me?¡±

    ¡°I did, Khr¡¯kowan.¡± he answers, dignified.

    ¡°Another suitor, is it? One with a little hardness under his soft this time, I hope(?!)¡±

    ¡°No suitor for you to scare away today, Daughter¡­ I have a task for you and your broodsisters.¡±

    Immediately dropping the joviality, I ask ¡°Of course, Father¡­ Tell me what it is that you require of us.¡±

    The old man clears his throat and answers ¡°There have recently been increased sightings of Vermin in the valley¡­ This morning, I received a report of smoke visible over the Western Hills¡­ I wish for you to take your sisters and drive them off.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Father¡­ You may consider it done.¡± I say as I turn to leave.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.124

    ---Monsters---

    ---Viig¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Aaaaand¡­ I can see the fire through the bottom airholes¡­ Time to seal it up!¡± I say to Gred, pointing at the charcoal mound she¡¯s working on.

    She takes a large lump of wet clay in both hands and begins stopping up the holes.

    I give her a playful tickle on the side of the neck with a tailbrush as I walk away.

    She giggles.

    I walk past the sedimentation pits Keor and Mif are working on just in time to see them letting the muddy water out of the top pit and into the bottom, leaving all of the stones and other impurities behind.

    ¡°Good work, you two!¡± I grin, baring teeth all the way up to the canine roots.

    Mif pauses to raise a fist from the stirring stick he¡¯s using.

    Keor grunts a recognition.

    I pass by Ruy, burnishing a pot, and Weg, closing the top of a brick kiln with old tiles.

    Then I smile as I come up behind Pod.

    Leaning behind him and looking over at the work he¡¯s doing, I chuckle ¡°They¡¯re too wide, Pod! You need to score closer together than that or the sluice won¡¯t catch as much iron sand as it could!¡± tickling him with a tailbrush.

    ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing, Viig(!)¡± grins the man who¡¯s put at least one baby in me¡­ I¡¯m fairly sure¡­

    I gesture at the wet clay with a hand and answer ¡°Clearly not(!)¡± flapping an ear against the side of a cheek.

    He giggles and pushes me away playfully.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re the cleverest, Viig¡­ Doesn¡¯t mean you know everything(!)¡± grins Pod, turning to me, still in the same squat he was working on the sluice in, tail flicking from side to side behind him and hands on the ground.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it now(?)¡± I grin back, matching the stance he¡¯s in while backing away from him to avoid ruining the work he¡¯s done in the playfight I can see coming.

    He lunges at me, tackling me to the ground.

    I laugh as the two of us tussle together, each fighting to hold the upper hand over the other.

    I manage to pin him and smile down before extending a tongue to lick him.

    ¡°You¡­ erm¡­ you want to¡­?¡±

    ¡°Later, Poddy¡­ back at the Village¡­ when the work is done!¡± I grin back.

    He sighs contentedly.

    Then, we hear a sound that makes me freeze and the blood run cold through me.

    A blaring horn sounds from about three and a half village lengths away, down the hill.

    Immediately, I¡¯m stood back up and shouting ¡°THE GREEDIES ARE COMING! THE BREAKERS ARE COMING! THE MONSTERS ARE COMING! LEAVE BIG THINGS AND TAKE ONLY LITTLES! SCATTER TO THE UNDERGROWTH! GROUPS NOT LARGER THAN 4! DO NOT GO DIRECTLY BACK TO THE VILLAGE! DO NOT LET THEM FOLLOW YOU!¡±

    All the Folk are already scrambling to take the small, valuable things and get to the fern underbrush that surrounds the worksite.

    ¡°Too big!¡± I say to Ruy, knocking down the half burnished pot she holds, smashing it on the ground ¡°It will slow you down too much! Life is more valuable!¡±

    I make it to the far side of the forest clearing and stop to look behind me.

    I see the Monsters walking over the ground where moments ago Pod and I were wrestling.

    Each one is easily the height of three of the Folk and the weight of fifty, bodies covered in black armour and red spikes of their bloodmetal, they wield spears tipped with blades made from the feet of the greedies who died before them.

    Bloodmetal tusks poke through the front of each face and black, conical horns top each head.

    The leader is the largest most terrifying Monster I¡¯ve ever seen!

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The one beside her has an ironwood arrow nocked to a bow that¡¯s longer than I am¡­

    She¡¯s drawing it back.

    I see where she aims.

    ¡°POD!!!¡± I shriek as she lets the arrow fly.

    I¡¯m running to try and tackle him out of the way¡­ but I¡¯m just too late¡­

    The sharpened wood pierces him in the neck the moment before I reach him.

    He falls forward and strikes the ground like a rock, red blood staining the green head hair.

    I hesitate for an instant but, seeing the Monster load a second arrow to the bow, I dive for the relative safety of the ferns.

    The horrifically large woman strides into the centre of the clearing and shouts in a rasping, guttural Monster voice ¡°Kort¡¯aan dukh Khawekhhor Wakh bisht ess!¡­ Aamveourgh wahsh ess IKHEHN antrokh!¡­ Ainh, Khr¡¯kowan, Khawekhhor Wakh Vishhanx, thugh Aamveourgh ke¡¯shkhen ungh kli¡¯idth, dukh mainh WOARDHAN!¡±

    She was not addressing the other Monsters.

    The raised voice she speaks in and the fact that she was looking all around the clearing mean that whatever she said, it was meant for us!

    None of us speak that tongue but the message is clear; ¡®leave this land or we will kill you¡¯.

    I can still see Pod from where I¡¯m hiding, lying still.

    I choke on silent sobs.

    ¡°Dukh moalh ke¡¯doagh!¡± she shouts, this time to the other Monsters, gesturing around the worksite.

    They set to work, destroying all of the things we worked so hard to make!

    They push over the brick kilns.

    They break the pottery, both fired and drying.

    They smash the charcoal mounds and trample the half done wood into the dirt, tossing the larger pieces into the sedimentation pools.

    The ear twitches as I hear one approaching the spot I hide.

    A long, red knifefoot stabs into the ground between me and Pod.

    I look up through the ferns and recognise her as the one who shot him.

    The monstrous face swivels as she hunts around, passing straight over where I hide.

    She turns to Pod and leans down.

    She casually pulls the arrow from where it struck him in the neck.

    Blood boils inside me¡­

    There¡¯s an iron knife in hand¡­

    I¡¯m running forward with it.

    I aim the edge right at the joint between the bloodmetal knifefoot and the black shin armour.

    The strength that I hold and the knife that I wield with it would never be able to pierce any kind of Monster armour¡­ thankfully though, there is only flesh in the gap.

    I scream as I sever the joint and roll under the murderer, collecting the foot from where it stood in the mud as I do.

    The woman shrieks as blue blood pours from the amputated limb!

    I¡¯m not done yet!

    Turning the liberated bloodmetal upwards, I stab her five times in the soft underbelly!

    She comes down on top of me, hoping to crush me beneath her, but I¡¯m too fast!

    I roll out between the legs and dive back into the bushes, cursing only that those wounds probably won¡¯t kill her!

    Sharpened wooden arrows hiss through the air past me as I sprint through the brush away from the Monsters, soaked in blue blood and hearing them roar in fury behind me.

    ---Grriv¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Mek¡­?¡± I ask the old man (who probably put me into the belly I was born from) as we recline together in a newly built Earthen shelter, sharing a pipe.

    ¡°What is it Grriv?¡± he asks turning a grey bearded face to me and staring with one green, slitpupiled eye and one blind milky one.

    ¡°Do you ever think about¡­ whether there could be¡­ other kinds of people out there?¡±

    He frowns, crinkling the scar that blinded him ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Out there¡­¡± I wave vaguely at the door, including the whole world in the gesture ¡°¡­we know there are Folk¡­ we know there are Monsters¡­ Do you think there could be others?¡±

    He laughs, heartily, and answers ¡°I think that¡¯s the pipe talking more than you, boy!¡­ Give me another puff so I can match you!¡± beckoning for it.

    I hand it to him and he takes a looong drag¡­

    He holds the breath for a lot longer than I could without coughing before opening up to let the smoke pour out between four fangs.

    ¡°You¡¯ll give where we are away to the Monsters with so much smoke(!)¡± I laugh.

    He waves a hand dismissively before looking upwards with a pensive expression.

    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ never¡­ heard¡­ of any other kinds of people¡­ What makes you ask, Grriv?¡± he manages eventually.

    ¡°Well¡­ you know¡­It¡¯s just that¡­ the world is so large and¡­ the part of it we know is¡­ so small¡­ It just feels like there could be all kinds of things over the horizon that we¡¯d know nothing about!¡­ Maybe there¡¯s a people who look nothing like the Folk and nothing like the Monsters, out there somewhere!¡­ Maybe there¡¯s a land where Folk and Monsters live together as friends! Maybe there¡¯re folk out there who live completely differently to how we do!¡±

    Mek gives a shrug of the shoulders and answers ¡°Maybe there are¡­ but I think over the horizon affairs are best left to those over the horizon¡­ until they make it here or we make it there(!)¡­ Fun to think about, though!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± I start.

    ¡°Grriv!¡± interrupts Mor (one of the Or triplets along with Yor and Lor) bursting through the doorway curtain.

    Sensing the urgency in the voice she speaks in, I stand and slap myself in the face to help myself sober up.

    ¡°What is it, Mor?¡± I ask, looking down at her.

    ¡°The new worksite!¡­ Monsters attacked it!¡­ We lost everything!¡± she says, on the verge of sobbing.

    I turn to the elder and say ¡°Stay here, Mek!¡± before running from the sodhouse, grabbing the best spear in the village as I leave.

    I come outside to see all the Folk who were at the worksite returning now, faces dejected.

    Then, I see her¡­

    Sat astride a [stallionhound] and covered in thick, blue blood, rides Viig.

    She holds the freshest bloodmetal blade I¡¯ve ever seen¡­

    She must have cut it directly from the leg of a Monster!

    The expression she wears is dire!

    The mount approaches me and the bloody woman hops down from him.

    ¡°They killed Pod.¡± is the first thing she says to me, arm around the neck of the [hound], holding it against herself, voice flat, yellow eyes burning!

    The news hits me like a charging [beetleoceros]!

    I sigh and say ¡°Damnit all to shit!¡­ Alright¡­ we obviously can¡¯t stay here¡­ I¡¯ll put the word out to start packing¡­¡±

    ¡°No!¡± she snarls, baring teeth at me ¡°We¡¯re done running!¡±

    Backing off of the furious woman, I ask ¡°What¡­ what are you suggesting?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re putting the word out to all the villages¡­ This is war!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.125

    ---Statue---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Well¡­ that¡¯s pretty conclusive, ain¡¯t it(!)¡± observes the large security chief, gesturing up at the 30m monument carved into the sandstone cliff ¡°That¡¯s a statue¡­ on a deathworld¡­¡±

    ¡°Not quite the conclusive proof we actually need, Victor¡­¡± I respond, gesturing around to the barren, desiccated landscape ¡°¡­There may once have been people living here but Olga¡¯s orbital scans suggest this region hasn¡¯t been habitable for millennia!¡­ A statue is a nice start but it¡¯s hardly the cut and dry proof that meeting flesh and blood locals would be!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ this, coupled with the drone footage, proves there¡¯s someone here! Maybe they ain¡¯t in this part of the planet specific¡¯ly but there here somewhere!¡±

    I shrug ¡°Actually¡­ we can¡¯t necessarily know that this wasn¡¯t laser carved from the safety of a shuttlecraft as some gardenworlder¡¯s idea of a joke¡­ If that happened 10,000 years ago, weathering would make it difficult to tell the difference by now!¡±

    He cocks a copper eyebrow ¡°S¡¯pose they laser carved the entire city buried under the sand down there too, did they(?)¡±

    I smile ¡°Victor, I think it¡¯s genuine¡­ It¡¯s just my job to doubt¡­ Plus, would you be satisfied to grab a quick scan of this and turn around to head home?¡±

    He studies the megalith a moment before saying ¡°Nah¡­ I wanna meet these guys¡­ Least we know vaguely what they look like now¡­ Bit tricky to get specifics with the weatherin¡¯ but¡­ looks like a humanoid body plan¡­ bimanous, tridactyl hands¡­ some sorta small, facial protrusions¡­ some sorta large, cranial protrusions.¡±

    ¡°Not necessarily¡­¡± interjects Strik, a little too excited to have his expertise called on so early in the mission. His enormous, nocturnal eyes are covered by heavily tinted goggles to protect against the blinding sunlight. He continues ¡°¡­Even if it is a depiction of the species, it¡¯s difficult to separate anatomy from adornment¡­ Those protrusions on the face and cranium very well could be some kind of helmet or headdress¡­ The apparent tridactyly could be some kind of gauntlets¡­ There is some suggestion of articulation¡­ it could be that the subject was originally sculpted wearing armour or similar¡­ This statue may also represent some unreal thing imagined by its carvers rather than being a direct selfportrait of their species. It could be a hybridisation of components of animals its designers were familiar with, it could be fabricated wholesale¡­¡±

    Lilith, the Venusian folklorist saunters up to beside her Hulix boyfriend and grins ¡°Imagine the GU landing in an abandoned Egypt and trying to guess what Humans looked like by looking at the Sphynx(!)¡± speaking in her high, gravelly voice.

    The redheaded man sighs ¡°Yeah¡­ fair points¡­ well made¡­ Just¡­ kinda wish we had a little more to go on, right now¡­ sorta thought this statue¡¯d be more help but¡­ you¡¯re right¡­ It don¡¯t tell us anything we didn¡¯t already know, does it¡­ There¡¯s people here somewhere!¡±

    I give a lighthearted chuckle and answer ¡°Victor¡­ it¡¯s Day 1¡­ A little early to be dispirited, don¡¯t you think(?) We¡¯ll find them, I¡¯m sure of it!¡±

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    At this point, I catch sight of something in my peripheral vision and look to the sky.

    What I see is three large creatures soaring lazily along together, not moving their membranous wings at all, at least that I can see.

    ¡°Not sentient¡­¡± states Victor, looking at the same creatures ¡°¡­scavengers¡­ Just checkin¡¯ out what¡¯s goin¡¯ on down here.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± I agree ¡°¡­they aren¡¯t moving the way they would if they were intelligent and recognised us as the same¡­ Interesting looking creatures though¡­ they sort of look like vulture sized dragons¡­ European dragons, obviously¡­ Is it wyverns that only have two legs?¡±

    ¡°Think so.¡± he nods.

    ¡°Guys¡­¡± comes Yasmin¡¯s voice over comms ¡°¡­come this way, I¡¯ve found something.¡±

    She pings her location and the group of us begin walking in her direction.

    We clamber down the side of the plateau, the path rough enough to make me glad of opting for slightly more practical dress than my usual!

    We come to the mouth of a cavern and walk inside.

    The space is illuminated by a spherical lantern, lying in the middle of it.

    On a rock sits Samus who gives a casual nod as we walk by her.

    The little linguist is stood looking at a wall.

    As we approach, she turns to us, a manic look in her eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s writing!¡± she declares, pointing at the rock face.

    ¡°Really?¡± queries Victor, sceptically ¡°Just looks like a buncha marks to me¡­¡±

    ¡°That not what all writing is, Cuddles(?)¡± grins Samus from her seat.

    ¡°You know what I mean¡­ like¡­ I can¡¯t recognise these as words¡­ They look too straight to get any meaning out of!¡±

    ¡°It does rather look like an Amida lottery to me¡­¡± I observe.

    ¡°Well¡­ lucky neither of you are the expedition linguist then, isn¡¯t it(!)¡± she answers, amused ¡°It¡¯s writing, I¡¯m sure of it!¡±

    ¡°How can you tell?¡± I ask, curiously.

    A little feverishly, the woman raises a finger to trace the path of one of the vertical lines that run the height of the supposed text ¡°These look nonencoding to me. I¡¯d guess they¡¯re there more to contain and support the horizontal lines than to convey any meaning themselves! I would stake my polyglotism that the text reads vertically and not horizontally¡­ I think it¡¯s quite likely that it reads top to bottom but that¡¯s much less of a sure thing¡­ and I couldn¡¯t say whether it reads right to left or left to right. These lines though¡­!¡± she gestures to the irregularly spaced and angled horizontal lines webbed between the vertical ones ¡°¡­these are far too specific to be idle scratches and far too chaotic to be any kind of decoration!¡­ That¡¯s not the kicker though! Look here¡­!¡± she circles a section of the lines with her finger ¡°¡­now here¡­¡± her hand moves around a metre and a half to her left and a metre down ¡°¡­the same pattern repeats exactly¡­ like someone needing to repeat a word!¡­ These lines encode, I¡¯m certain of it!¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ sooo¡­ you got any idea what they say?¡± asks Victor.

    Yasmin bursts into giggles, seemingly completely involuntarily.

    When she manages to calm down somewhat, she answers ¡°I¡¯m¡­*hehehehehehe*¡­ flattered that you apparently think me some sort of language sorceress, Victor, but¡­ no¡­ Without some kind of startpoint, it¡¯s completely indecipherable¡­ It¡¯s also been so long since these were carved that the chances of anyone alive both knowing this script and this language are fairly nonexistent¡­ We would either need to discover a Rosetta Stone, preserving the same text in this language and one known to living speakers, or we spend years reconstructing it from context alone¡­ We would need more examples for that method though¡­¡± she motions around the bare cavern ¡°¡­not much context here(!)¡±

    ¡°Still¡­ this is an incredibly encouraging find!¡± I observe ¡°It will be a lot harder to argue against these people¡¯s sapience if it turns out they have already developed a writing system!¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ now we just need to actually find ¡¯em.¡± says Victor.

    ¡°Well, for that I would say our best chance is to head North¡­ Get off this desertified, peninsular subcontinent and go to the main body of the supercontinent where there¡¯s still enough water to support an ecosystem¡­ Does anyone have any objections to heading that way tomorrow?¡±

    No one objects.

    ¡°Alright then. Let¡¯s do that.¡± I smile.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.126

    ---Greatbow---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    My feet fall lightly on the ground as I stalk through the undergrowth.

    I look up at the [phasmid giraffe] grazing on the tree tops.

    It¡¯s body stands on ten legs and is covered in thick armour.

    Its upper most limbs (a pair of simple graspers with no fingers) protrude from just below its head, atop its long neck.

    It uses them to pull branches towards itself to gorge on their leaves.

    It¡¯s large¡­ It would form the basis of a feast for Khawekh if we can kill this thing!

    Taking care not to make any sudden movements, I lower my greatbow in front of myself by its string and hook it into the prongs on the ends of my lower appendages.

    I lean my upper body backwards, flat against the top of my abdomen, lower my back legs, straighten my front legs and raise the bow upward to point at the animal¡¯s centre of mass.

    I take my javelin, tipped with my grandmother¡¯s foot, and knock it to the bow string.

    I hook one finger from each hand over the string, on either side of the projectile, and lock them.

    I brace my upper body to begin ratcheting back the bowstring, just the way I did last winter to kill that strange beast up North.

    I loose the bolt and it strikes the animal in the chest, punching straight through its armour and burying itself halfway up its shaft into the animal¡¯s flesh.

    The beast lets out a great, whistling cry and turns to run.

    Curses!¡­ I missed its heart!

    My sisters spring from their hiding places and begin giving chase.

    We cannot let it escape with my javelin in it!

    We cannot let it die somewhere where the Vermin might find it, might feast on it and might steal yet another piece of precious thanatite from us!

    ¡°The quarry makes to flee, sisters! Do not let it!¡± I exhort as I stow my greatbow, withdraw my shortbow and give chase alongside them.

    Bursting from the forest, we pursue the great creature through the open field.

    My sisters hurl javelins into its side and pepper it with arrows as it runs, careful not to get too close as, even in its wounded state, a kick from one of its powerful legs could easily be deadly¡­ or worse, crippling¡­

    Most bounce off of its armour but a few manage to sink into gaps between the plates and, where they do, gouts of blue blood spring forth.

    Those pieces that fall are the responsibility of the porters to retrieve.

    Haorken has been relegated to that role since losing her back left foot on that Vermin displacement the other week.

    A cursed shame!

    She was our nation¡¯s second best Hunter, after myself¡­ Now, she just doesn¡¯t have the speed for it anymore¡­ Not to mention, with the injuries to her abdomen, she shall likely never be a broodwife!

    If I catch that filthy Vermin girl, I will make sure to kill her slowly and painfully for what she did to my sister and best lieutenant!

    The combination of bloodloss and the fact that animals just can¡¯t run like people can causes our prey to tire.

    It stops and wheels about as we surround it, cutting off its escape.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    It cries out in clear pain¡­ My heart aches for my failure to kill it quickly.

    After some time of it trying in vain to fight us off, the quarry collapses.

    I¡¯m forced to leap sideways to avoid its long neck coming down on top of me.

    My sisters are clearly eager to begin the butchering but hold themselves back while I walk forward to its chest.

    I grasp my javelin with both hands and brace the flats of my front four feet against its body so as not to unnecessarily pierce it.

    I yank my weapon free and hold it aloft, slick with the creature¡¯s blood.

    I roar in triumph!

    My sisters join their voices to mine.

    They surge forward to begin dismembering the kill.

    I don¡¯t bother telling them to leave nothing behind.

    Even if there weren¡¯t the possibility of Vermin in the area, they would still know to not invite scavengers into our territory by leaving them any unearned meals!

    I walk from the kill to Haorken, catching up at the head of the porters, her incomplete back left leg bound to the one beside it with silk.

    Deferently, she hands me a stack of recovered arrows tipped with thanatite.

    Not breaking decorum by showing pity for her condition, I take them and pull one free.

    I bring the silk threads that bind the fletching to my nose and sniff.

    ¡°Korkh¡¯s¡­¡± I proclaim before bringing the next one to my nose ¡°Gharh¡¯s¡­¡±

    I continue to sort the arrows I¡¯m offered for some time.

    After the butchering is finished we will return all of the sorted thanatite to their owners to be counted.

    Hopefully, nothing is missing and we don¡¯t need to retrace the course to search.

    ---Grriv¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°What the hell are those things!¡± I whisper to Viig from where we hide in the ferns on one side of a pass through the hills.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t care. Not Monsters. Don¡¯t matter.¡± responds the crouching, hooded, masked woman with the bloodmetal foot dagger hanging at the waist.

    ¡°How can you say that, Viig!¡± I ask, pointing at the beings walking down the pass ¡°Those guys are people!¡­ Look at them! They wear clothes! They carry tools! They¡¯re people¡­ but they¡¯re neither Folk nor Monsters!¡±

    The mysterious people walking down the pass stand on two feet like Folk but¡­ weird!¡­ The feet are long and flat and the legs don¡¯t have enough joints! The strange beings are walking on ankle joints!¡­ Gross!

    They¡¯re much taller than Folk¡­ Closer to the height of Monsters!

    The clothes they wear and tools they wield look considerably nicer than either Folk or Monster craftsmanship with allow!

    Large pieces of metal (in colours I¡¯ve never seen metal be) are visible all over them!

    Several of them wear metal like clothes!

    A tall pink skinned one with coppery hair has a strangely designed, sheathed knife on him with a blade as long as I am tall!

    A woman with gold hair and wearing bronze on the legs and chest has a different one, two thirds that long again!

    There isn¡¯t a tail among them!

    The two hands they have are five fingered like Folk hands but they aren¡¯t clawed¡­ except one of them who has claws but four hands with four fingers each!

    The skin and hair I can see through the alien clothes are strange colours!

    Not the green of Folk skin, not the black and red of Monster. Instead, pink, brown, blue skin and white, yellow, red, orange and black hair!

    ¡°We should go and introduce ourselves to them!¡± I say, making to stand.

    A hand grasps me by the shoulder and pushes me back to crouched.

    I turn to look at Viig.

    She wears an angry expression.

    ¡°Grriv! Any moment now, the hunting Monsters that destroyed the worksite and killed Pod are going to be coming through this way!¡­ If we announce ourselves to them we risk blowing the whole ambush!¡­ For all we know, they¡¯re friends with the Monsters! If they don¡¯t attack us when the battle starts and we can find them afterwards, then we can talk to them and see what they¡¯re about! Not before!¡­ Hopefully, they hate the Monsters as much as we do!¡± she hisses.

    I turn to look forlornly at the¡­ Strangers¡­ Yes¡­ ¡®Strangers¡¯ is a good name for them!

    Then, I tighten a hand around the spear I hold, made from a Monster arrow.

    Viig¡¯s right¡­

    Now isn¡¯t the time to be making friends!

    We have an ambush to spring and a battle to fight.

    More than 400 fighters lie hidden in the bushes for this ambush, most of them not of our village.

    The loss of the hunting party will be a huge blow to the Monster city¡­ Not to mention all the Folk we¡¯ll be able to arm with all the bloodmetal we take!

    Can¡¯t blow this to talk to the Strangers¡­

    There are only a few of them so, no matter the size they are or the quality of the tools they have, they probably won¡¯t make much of a difference to this battle if they join in.

    If they aren¡¯t friends of the Monsters they¡¯ll probably all be dead before we can help them!

    Though¡­ it has just occurred to me that they walk without fear¡­ out in the open¡­

    Do they not realise how vulnerable they are to attack?

    Or¡­ could it be¡­?

    That thought is interrupted by the Monsters appearing at the far end of the gulch.

    Guts swoop inside me at the sight.

    They stop, looking at the Strangers.

    They seem as uncertain about them as we are!

    The Strangers seem excited¡­ happy even.

    Well some of them do!

    Some of them look very uncomfortable at the sight!

    A small one with long, straight, black hair with a silver streak in it raises a hand and shouts in a language I don¡¯t know that sounds nothing like Monster speak ¡°Ë½¤¿¤Á¤Ï¤³¤³¤Ë¤¤¤Þ¤¹!¡­ ¤³¤Ã¤Á¤ËÀ´¤ÆÏÂ¤µ¤¤!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.127

    ---Meeting---

    ---Haorken¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Haorken!¡± barks my sister from the head of the column, her tone that of someone not about to be told that she is breaching decorum by asking a porter to consult.

    I make my way up the line of women, each bearing part of the kill we butchered earlier.

    I¡¯ve managed to mostly get used to walking on only seven feet so I don¡¯t stumble as I walk to her side.

    My injuries may have plummeted me down the hierarchy but¡­ clearly, Khr¡¯kowan does not care about that right now.

    I can¡¯t say I blame her.

    ¡°Sister.¡± I say as I reach her.

    She points a finger down the pass and asks ¡°What in the Weaver¡¯s name are those things!?¡± indicating the small crowd of strange beings.

    ¡°I cannot tell you, Sister¡­ Though, I can say that they are certainly no Vermin¡­ They look to be people¡­ but not of any kind I¡¯m familiar with.¡±

    ¡°People?!¡± she sneers, incredulously.

    ¡°Yes, Sister¡­ Look at their garb¡­ Look at their weaponry¡­ Look at the way they do not flee from us¡­ Those are people.¡± I answer.

    One of the alien creatures raises a too many fingered palm and waves it through the air shouting something incomprehensible.

    ¡°Do they think to challenge us!¡± snarls Khr¡¯kowan, enraged.

    ¡°The gesture doesn¡¯t seem challenging, Sister. I think they¡¯re inviting us closer¡­ Perhaps they wish to converse¡­?¡±

    My sister emits a guttural growl as she sizes up the newcomers.

    ¡°We could turn back and head to the pass we came by last night?¡± I suggest.

    Toothplates bared, she turns on me and snarls ¡°I will not have it said that Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s Huntresses showed their spinnerets to a few little, verminoid freaks blocking a pass! We move forward!¡­ Be on guard, everyone! We don¡¯t know what these things are, what they want or what they¡¯re capable of!¡±

    With that order, she strides forward.

    The rest of the party fall into a defensive grouping around her.

    I recede back to my place among the porters¡­

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Nononononononono!¡± jabbers Samus, uncomfortably, as we look down the V-shaped valley that Tymancha found for us at the cavalry detachment that¡¯s just appeared ¡°Why spiders?! The fuck did they have to ride fucking spiders!?¡±

    ¡°Samus¡­ shut up.¡± I say, not looking at her and keeping my tone level and sweet.

    She does a double take at the bluntness of my words and the juxtaposition with my tone but, mercifully, shuts up.

    ¡°We¡¯re over here!¡­ Come this way!¡± I invite, smiling toothlessly at the nearly two dozen mounted aliens.

    Arachnophobia is not a reason to sully this moment that will be once in these people¡¯s entire history!

    The humanoid figures, sat astride their eight legged mounts, are recognisably the same as the one depicted in that statue we found on the desert peninsula.

    I can¡¯t imagine that their styles of headdress/helmet would so exactly match those worn by people 2,000km and 10,000 years removed from them, so those black horns and red tusks must be part of their anatomy.

    I see a few colours and styles of sleek integument atop their heads between their horns.

    The flesh of their faces is a strikingly iridescent, dark blue colour!

    Their thick bodies are dressed in fine looking, silky garments in various colours, overtop of glossy, blueish-black plate armour that perfectly matches that that their mounts are clad in.

    Here and there, metallic looking red spikes jut from their armour. A good match to their tusks.

    Their weapons all looked to be tipped with blades of the same stuff.

    Their legs hang down, in front of where their steeds¡¯ faces must be.

    Weirdly, the footwear they have seems to be completely impractical for riding!

    There¡¯s no articulation south of their knee, their lower legs each looking like one, solid, knee high, stiletto sabaton!

    They look impossible to walk in!

    That¡¯s not the only strange thing going on in that general vicinity either¡­

    I can¡¯t see a single one of their mounts¡¯ faces¡­ All of the riders look almost like they¡¯re sitting on top of the poor things¡¯ heads with their loin coverings draping down between their legs and covering their steeds¡¯ eyes and mouths.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Actually, no¡­ it¡¯s more like the mounts must have each rider¡¯s pelvis clamped between their mandibles!

    The spiders must have immense faith in their riders if they¡¯re willing to allow themselves to be blinded like that¡­ Or maybe they¡¯re naturally blind¡­ so it doesn¡¯t make much difference to them?

    The First Contactees begin galloping down the valley toward us.

    I¡¯m unable to see any system of reins or stirrups by which the animals are being directed¡­ Very curious to learn the trick!

    They draw closer and closer.

    It isn¡¯t until they¡¯re around 30m away that realisation dawns on me.

    What I perceived as a detachment of cavalry¡­ is not¡­

    Now that they¡¯re closer, I can see that these people are not humanoids sat astride arachnoid mounts¡­

    They are¡­ in fact¡­ arachnoids themselves!

    These people are half tonne Jor¨­gumo with an orthograde torso, head and arms, pronograde abdomen and eight powerful legs!

    Their armour is clearly not a fashion choice but an integral part of their bodies!

    What I took for stiletto armoured feet are clearly gross-manipular pedipalps!

    Now that they¡¯re closer, I can see that each of them have two main eyes, in more or less the same placement and proportion to their heads as a Human¡¯s but, above each, are three smaller eyes in a little crescent with the concave side pointing down.

    Each eye matches the colour of its pair but no pair of eyes matches the colour of any other pair on the same face¡­ Likewise, there¡¯s a great variety of combinations of colours across all of them.

    The tallest, bulkiest one who appears to be the leader is nearly 3 metres tall as they approach but (since that wasn¡¯t bad enough) they straighten their legs to gain another metre+!

    They pull back the scaly, iridescent flesh of their lips, revealing metallic red toothplates.

    As if nature delighted in going overboard when designing this species, the toothplates part to reveal rows of sharp, triangular, Spelvuklike teeth in the same blood red.

    They jab a spear that¡¯s head seems to be made of one of their own kind¡¯s feet towards Xon and demand ¡°Dukh Wikhar¡­ Iskh toghwhakh ess?! Khis thugh ess!? Kham hekh thugh viha ki Khawekhhor Wakhhor kort¡¯aan!?!?!?¡± in a bassy, gravelly, guttural voice.

    It takes me a moment to realise that they¡­ she¡­ I think they¡¯re a ¡®she¡¯¡­ She probably recognises durasteel from the probe¡­ Meaning she must have seen the probe¡­

    Not as if I can explain it to her¡­ at least for the moment.

    I step forward and her attention whips to me.

    ¡°My name is Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki¡­¡± I declare, smiling toothlessly and touching my fingertips to my chest ¡°¡­I am a woman not of your world¡­ We have come from beyond the stars to invite you to become a part of a great stellar community known as the Galactic Union¡­ It is a privilege and a delight to be the one to say; Welco¡­¡±

    At that moment something thigh height and green streaks out of the undergrowth to my left.

    It clears the distance to the leader in a fraction of a second, covering the last few metres with a 2m vertical jump to impact her midriff.

    I have just enough time to process it as a 90cm or so, tailed humanoid as it scrambles up her front.

    It makes it to her shoulders and flips acrobatically over her head, dangling from her pink braid, pulling her hair back to reveal a patch of soft maroon flesh visible beneath her chin.

    The green clothed, hooded, masked figure deftly draws a blood red, metallic dagger from her hip and screams ¡°Pod looooooooy!¡± before stabbing it into the chink in the enormous woman¡¯s armour.

    Neon blue blood gushes from her throat as she chokes and splutters.

    The tiny assailant dismounts her target with a double backflip, spitting ¡°Lrot, bak Mwit!¡±

    All around us, hundreds of the little humanoids pour from the bushes, screaming a battlecry as the gigantic spiderwoman collapses to the ground¡­

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    My legs give out as my lungs fill with blood.

    Dully, I look around myself at the hundreds of Vermin attacking my hunting party.

    Since when were Vermin capable of organising something like this?!

    I feel one of them climb on my back.

    In a surge of strength, I reach behind myself and snatch one of its limbs.

    I bring it over my head and dash it against the ground.

    A male¡­ wielding a stolen thanatite arrow like a spear¡­ he¡¯ll soon be dead from what I just did to his ribcage¡­

    My consciousness fades in and out of focus.

    Why are my people plagued by this dirty little race of thieves?!

    What vicious deity did we so offend with our existence that saw fit to unleash this punishment on us¡­?!

    I¡¯m snapped back to reality by the sound of thunder cutting through the din of battle!

    One of the Foreigners has the weird object they carry turned skyward.

    It blasts a second discharge before the golden haired Foreigner levels it forward in clear threat.

    The sound of hundreds of Vermin scampering away to the bushes is audible behind me.

    It seems the Foreigners are not in league with the Vermin, at least¡­

    Though, it occurs to me as several of them draw metal blades which incomprehensibly start to glow and roar as they wave them back and forth aggressively, that doesn¡¯t necessarily make them friends!

    I feel hands on my shoulders.

    I turn and make out Haorken¡¯s face.

    ¡°We have to get out of here, Sister!¡± says the woman whose stolen foot was used by that cursed Vermin girl to murder me, frantically.

    Her voice is distant¡­ like I¡¯m hearing it from several rooms away and the cloth between us is dampening it¡­

    ¡°You have to get up! We have to leave!¡± she says, her attention flicking between me and the advancing Foreigners.

    I grasp the shaft of my spear and push it against her chest.

    ¡°*kkkh*¡­Go¡­!¡± I gurgle.

    Her expression is distraught as she looks from me to the burning weapons and back.

    Eventually, she accepts that with this wound, I¡¯m already dead.

    She takes my spear, turns and flees.

    Good¡­

    Surveying the battlescene, it looks as if I¡¯m the only casualty¡­ The only nonVermin casualty at least¡­

    A good 22-33 Vermin lay dead or dying¡­

    A pity it wasn¡¯t more of the impertinent little fiends!

    ¡°Fakkin shitshoh!¡± cries one of the Foreigners, sheathing his blade at his hip and gesturing past me.

    ¡°Siims laik thers tu sappiunt spiisiiz onthis planut!¡± adds the golden haired one, holding the thunder box.

    ¡°§¡§Ý§Ñ§â §Õ§Ñ §ã§å§Ô§í§ê§ä§Ñ¡­¡± mutters the short, fat, orange haired one in shoulder to toe metal clothes so smooth I can see myself reflected in them.

    ¡°Ch¨²ng ta c?n thi?t l?p ?u ti¨ºn ?i?u tr?!¡± shouts one of the two in blindingly white clothes with rich red accents, pointing at me ¡°C? ?y tr?ng t? nh?t!¡­ Niyol, b?t ??u l¨¤m ph?n c¨°n l?i trong khi t?i ch?a tr? cho c? ?y!¡±

    The other one in white and red runs past me.

    The one who spoke is approaching me.

    Holding out two palms to me, they say ¡°Th? gi?n ?iiiii¡­ H?y b¨¬nh t?nh¡­¡±

    I draw my lips back over my toothplates and try to hiss.

    A sickening gurgle is all that escapes my mouth.

    The Foreigner does not stop his approach.

    I slash the two fingerclaws of my left hand at him.

    The much larger, copper headed Foreigner who was approaching behind yanks the white and red clad one out of the way before my claws can rake across his chest.

    ¡°Luwks laik yuh gottuh nunkowopra¡¯iv pey shunt ver, Dok(!)¡­ Mait bi uh gud aidia tulet er pahs aut bifor yuh tri¡¯er!¡­ Sei fer vat wei!¡±

    The pair of them make no further move to approach me, just standing there, out of reach, looking at me while my world grows¡­ steadily¡­ darker¡­

    Oh, Weaver¡­ Take me home¡­ Take me to the Warm Land¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.128

    ---Overview---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    I gasp as I awake!

    My hand flies to the soft patch at the top of my throat.

    There is no wound¡­

    That can¡¯t be right!

    I was stabbed! I was stabbed with Haorken¡¯s foot! I had blood in my lungs! I should have died from¡­

    Maybe I did die?

    I look around myself and find my surroundings utterly incomprehensible¡­

    The floor and walls are all¡­ made of¡­ metal!

    My eyes are beholding several times more than all the metal I¡¯ve seen in my entire life right now!

    All of it is smooth, shiny and flawlessly perfect.

    I raise my upper body from the soft surface I was lying on.

    ¡°Mrah!¡± comes a shocked shriek, drawing my attention to a biped standing nearby.

    I look down at the creature.

    They have a tail flicking rapidly back and forth behind them, though they are no Vermin!

    Neither do they particularly resemble the Foreigners I met just before my death¡­

    Taller than Vermin but shorter than most of the Foreigners, every part of their body that I can see is covered in light brown fur.

    Their face has a short snout and there¡¯s a pair of triangular ears on top of their skull, a little ahead of where their nonexistent earhorns would be.

    Their large eyes have slit pupils and their hands have twice as many fingers as mine.

    Their bodylanguage is clearly alarmed before they wheel around, drop to all fours and dart away screaming ¡°Twila-nyah! Mwaonyon prrrnya mwao! Wawniat aaw naa!¡±

    My earhorns are assaulted by a high-pitched wailing sound blasting from everywhere at once as all the lights turn blue.

    ¡°Atten shon! Atten shon! Ol kru ah advaizd tu rimein in pleiss and sial doahs bitwiin themselvsand comunerias! Eh lahj, translay tahlus dethwarldah ovuh veri deinjerus spisiiz haz awoh kan anekspek tidli arli in thuh medbei! Sekyuriti ah askt tu ripoht foh dyuti!¡± blares a loud, clear, soprano voice.

    If I am dead, the Weaver seems to have deemed me¡­ unworthy to join Her in the Warm Lands¡­ though this place isn¡¯t freezing¡­ so I suppose I¡¯m not being punished either?

    I get up.

    ¡°WOAH!¡± I cry out as the force, only necessary to lift my body to standing, ends up flinging me what feels like a body height into the air!

    I land and have instant, strong nausea from the combination of my disorientating lightness and sickening way the points of my feet screech against the metal as they punch holes into the floor!

    I lay the flats of my left feet against the floor and clamber over and off of the surface I slept on with my right.

    Once I have the flats of all eight planted firmly on the ground, I flex my body experimentally.

    Something¡¯s definitely weird here¡­ my body is¡­ light¡­ and not in a good way!

    This isn¡¯t the feeling of lightness I get when I put down a heavy load I¡¯ve been carrying a while!

    This feels¡­ like my body has been robbed of it¡¯s substance!

    Unsteadily, I walk in the same direction as the furry one fled.

    I come to a dead end¡­

    There¡¯s a hole, beyond which I can see a corridor.

    I go to look through it but¡­

    *Donk*

    I bang my head into something¡­

    I bring the unarmoured flesh of my palm to the hole and find it presses against a hard, invisible surface!

    ¡°What sorcery is this?!¡± I hiss to myself!

    The invisible thing I¡¯m touching is as hard and smooth as a riverstone but¡­ Impossibly flat!

    It entirely fills the gap with no edge I can feel.

    I suppose, if they have the means to make an entire building of all metal, then clear stone isn¡¯t too surprising¡­

    I slam my hand into the wall in frustration.

    It¡­ buckles?

    I cock my head and punch the surface again, harder¡­

    It dents and, this time, when I pull my fist away, there¡¯s an imprint of it left in the wall!

    Hmmm.

    I back up two body lengths until my spinneret is against the opposite wall¡­ then charge forward!

    An entire square panel crumples and, as I back off, rubbing my shoulder, I¡¯m able to see the corridor through the gaps I¡¯ve created at its edge.

    I charge again, this time bringing the flats of my four front feet to meet the crumpled portion.

    I rip it free and it crashes against the floor of the hall.

    I clamber over it and begin sprinting down the passageway on the flats of my feet.

    Even walking this way, my feet still slip and skate across the hard, smooth metal of the ground, making me wince each time.

    I see a wide open space ahead with more metallic construction across it from me.

    I head that way, just needing to get out of this labyrinth to gain some idea of where I am and what¡¯s going on!

    I see a fence, about half my height, just past the hallway¡¯s exit and am preparing to leap it when I register that the floor on the other side has not made itself visible yet!

    I skid to a halt, my front crashing into the barrier and denting it outward.

    Lightning shoots through my blood at the sight below me!

    The precipice stretching down on the other side of the flimsy fence is the furthest sheer drop I¡¯ve ever seen! I¡¯m easily twice the height of the top of the Palace Tent here!

    I scramble backwards, my breaths short, sharp and panicked!

    Even with how light I seem to be in this place, leaping over that barrier definitely would have killed me!

    I stab my feet into the metal of the ground in front of me to anchor myself until my breathing slows and my heart stops pounding like a log drum, ignoring the nauseating feeling of piercing the metal (which suddenly doesn¡¯t seem to matter at all)!

    When I¡¯ve calmed down a little, I disengage my feet from the holes I stabbed and, keeping my body low to the ground, creep to the fence and look over again.

    As I look at the space below, it seems to stretch away from me as if, rather than solid, physical space, what I¡¯m seeing were all made of elastic webbing, being pulled away from me from the other end!

    I retch!

    Looking upward, I see that the top of this impossibly large indoor space is open to a night sky that¡¯s clearer and more colourful than I¡¯ve ever seen before¡­ or¡­ maybe the ceiling is made of more of that smooth, invisible stone?

    I look to either side of myself, along the causeway, and see what looks like a route down.

    Staying away from the edge, I approach it and find that, indeed, it¡¯s a very shallow flight of stairs.

    I descend.

    It takes a little while for me to gain back my confidence to move while so close to such a precipice but, as my altitude decreases, I¡¯m comfortable enough to move faster.

    Hopefully, there¡¯ll be an exit on the bottom level and I can find my way out of this place¡­

    Where in the Weaver¡¯s name am I!?

    I no longer think I¡¯m dead but¡­ I can¡¯t be anywhere near the Khawekhan [Crownlands]!

    To be honest, if a construction like this existed anywhere in the world, I would expect to have heard tell of it at least!

    Searching my memory for every rumour and folktale I¡¯ve ever heard, I find nothing even close to this!

    When I reach what looks like the second level above the bottom, I see it.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Around 15 body lengths away from where I am on the stairway, a creature rounds the corner at some speed.

    Both of us freeze where we stand.

    This creature¡­ has no head!

    It seems to have about the right number of limbs but not the right kind!

    Rather than having the bones on the inside, like the Vermin, or the outside, like normal, its legs appear to have no bones at all!

    Its skin looks slimy and tough and doesn¡¯t look to be bound to a single colour, shimmering instead through dozens!

    It turns its bulky body slowly toward me, revealing a single golden yellow eye, larger than my entire head, flanked by two pulsing sphincters and stuck behind some kind of panel of what looks like more of the invisible stone, holding back water.

    I let out a bloodcurdling scream of terror in a way I haven¡¯t since I was in the nursery!

    The monstrous being (that looks like a gigantic version of something I¡¯d be served in a seafood dish from our Eastern vassals) cowers away from me in shock but remains entirely silent.

    Its skin, however, cycles through every colour I¡¯ve ever seen and many I haven¡¯t!

    Without conscious decision, I barrel left, through the fence that separates the stairway from the causeway!

    Going down the stairs would mean getting closer to it!

    My left hand catches the edge of the section of railing next to that that I just destroyed, allowing me to turn my body fully around in the air.

    With how light I am, it feels like I¡¯m falling the relatively short distance for absolutely ages¡­ time that thing could be using to clear the interstitial distance to attack me from behind!

    The moment my feet have touched down, I¡¯m sprinting away from the monster at top speed!

    I may well be the strongest woman alive¡­ but that thing looked like it would rip me apart with those muscular tentacles!

    I don¡¯t hear it chasing me¡­ but I don¡¯t want to look to see if it is!

    I glance out over the edge of the fence¡­ then, impulsively, plough through it.

    I fall around three body heights, past the first causeway, to land on what I¡¯m taking to be ground level.

    My legs hurt in absorbing the impact but nowhere near as much as they would if I weren¡¯t so light in this place!

    Noticing that I¡¯ve landed next to two more figures, I whip toward them!

    Both of them are vaguely reminiscent of giant [dragonbirds] but wrong!

    The larger one is taller than me but not as large as the monster I just fled from.

    Their dark, purplish-black skin is set with many glowing stars.

    In a pouch around their front is cradled a massive (very [dragonbird]like) egg.

    Their two (distinctly un[dragonbird]like) arms heft an enormous hammer.

    The smaller one is around the same size as the Foreigners I met in the pass.

    They¡¯re stocky and their skin is a sandy orangey-yellow colour.

    They have no wings.

    ¡°Svakh vorss!¡± rumbles the wingless one in a deep voice, splaying a scaley, too many fingered palm to me ¡°Ishakth, she¡¯em hersoss!¡±

    ¡°Sshlovzianseta¡­ tsessiliniss vssheinatiloass!¡± sings the larger one, their tone placatory and their voice surprisingly high and pleasant sounding.

    I turn from the scaley ones and sprint away. I don¡¯t want to risk having to fight them!

    Up ahead, I see the great tall space ends in what seems at first to be a dead end¡­ then, I see a panel that looks similar to the one I broke to get out of the place in which I woke up!

    I aim for it and manage to smash it down on the first try.

    I find myself in another gigantic hall, this one filled with large boxes.

    At the far end of it is an enormous open entrance, outside of which is¡­ just more of the clear night sky¡­

    That¡­ doesn¡¯t make sense!

    Where¡¯s the ground!?

    I should be able to see something¡­ even if this place were on a very tall mountain, there¡¯s no way it could be so tilted as to not let the horizon be visible!

    I would feel that tilt!

    I¡¯m about to approach it to try and work out what¡¯s going on when I catch sight of something.

    Between me and the starry sky is a pair of Vermin¡­

    One of them is the female who stabbed me in the throat with Haorken¡¯s foot, the other of which is the male I killed between then and passing out.

    ¡°You!¡­ Vermin!¡­ What¡¯s going on!? Where are we!? Why aren¡¯t you dead?! Why aren¡¯t I dead!?¡±

    ---Viig¡¯s perspective---

    Me and Grriv were hanging out in the strange place we¡¯ve been in since we woke up from the injuries we got in the battle, when all the lights turned blue and there was a horrible wailing that sounded like a wounded [stallionhound] coming from everywhere!

    A loud voice spoke (I¡¯d guess explaining what was going on) but, since neither of us spoke the tongue it was in, we still had no idea!

    No one here speaks Folk Common so trying to work out what this place is, who these people are and why they saved our lives has all been fruitless!

    Me and Grriv were just trying to work out if we should do something or go somewhere, when one of the doors to the gigantic storeroom we were in blasts inwards and the Monster I stabbed explodes into the room.

    Both of us freeze, looking at the woman.

    We¡¯re caught right out in the open!

    She doesn¡¯t notice us at first, instead staring over us at the evernight outside the building.

    Then she looks down

    ¡°Thugh!¡­ Aamveourgh!¡­ Iskh hakhog ess!? Aingh dokh ess!? Thu kham ke¡¯shkhenhor ikhehn?! Ainh kham ke¡¯shkhenhor ikhehn!?¡± she shouts, thundering towards us while pointing a finger accusingly.

    Me and Grriv both bolt in separate directions to try and hide.

    Neither of us are armed and, even if we were, without numbers or surprise on our side we¡¯re no match for a Monster of this calibre!

    She quickly loses sight of us as we dart and we¡¯ve between the boxes (large even considering the size of some of the different Stranger kinds that use them!)

    She gives a frustrated roaring growl, picks up a box and hurls it through the air!

    It impacts another and the contents of both spill over the floor as they shatter apart.

    Trying to control the terrified shivering, I crouch down where I¡¯m hiding, behind some boxes under the lowest walkway, and listen as the Monster woman rips the place apart looking for us.

    I would run but¡­ she¡¯d definitely notice me and, even though Monsters are slow over short distances, they don¡¯t tire like Folk do!

    I feel the wind created by the box I¡¯m hiding behind being ripped away.

    I startle as the furious Monster woman I was sure I¡¯d killed in the ambush bears down on me!

    I¡¯m cornered and certain I¡¯m about to die!

    ¡°Kvrekesh, Aamveour!¡± she screams.

    ¡°OY!¡± comes a voice from above us.

    The Monster looks up, just in time to catch the flat underside of a long foot, full in the face!

    The Stranger who jumped down from the walkway springs off of her and lands on his feet.

    Its that large one with the red hair.

    ¡°Wai doncha pikkon samwan clohsuh yuhrohn saiz!¡± he snarls at her in that Stranger tongue he speaks.

    She spends only the briefest moment rubbing where the foot struck her with her fleshy palm before launching at him!

    He¡¯s¡­ an incredible fighter!

    He moves with almost the acrobatic grace of a Folk, not hampered at all by the strange lightness in this place (which I guess he¡¯s used to), but, when he strikes, it looks like he hits almost as hard as a Monster!

    The fight lulls just long enough for the man to turn attention to me, jab a finger away and bark ¡°Ran gherw!¡±

    I don¡¯t understand the words but there¡¯s no mistaking the tone or gesture.

    I realise I¡¯ve just been staring at the fight and not taking hold of the opportunity to escape!

    I turn and begin fleeing, still hearing the sounds of the battle behind me.

    As I go, four of the women I recognise from having been at the ambush run past me in the opposite direction.

    The short, red haired one, the taller golden haired one, the really tall black haired one who all look like they¡¯re more or less the same kind as the man and the really tall one with the blue skin and four arms who doesn¡¯t look the same.

    They have weapons in hand and I hear the building roar of them igniting, seeing the glow that that magic casts on the walls ahead of me.

    ---Lhamo¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Ambassadors, I must protest!¡± objects Miyazaki, somehow managing to match my jogging speed with only a brisk walking speed ¡°My bodyguard, our military liaison and the ship¡¯s preexisting security team will have the situation well in hand! There¡¯s no need for you to throw yourselves into danger right now!¡±

    ¡°This woman masses [571kg], is naturally armoured like a tank, armed like a mirkbeast and has already proven to be violent and unpredictable! It¡¯s a wonder no one¡¯s been hurt yet!¡± backs up the R¡¯qali captain riding on the AI girl¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°No, she hasn¡¯t.¡± I correct ¡°What she¡¯s proven is that she¡¯s a person who, when waking up in unfamiliar and incomprehensible surroundings full of unfamiliar beings who are not able to explain anything to her about her situation, panics and tries to escape!¡­ Can any of you say you wouldn¡¯t behave the same if the roles were reversed?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t think I would¡­ but, then again, I suppose I¡¯m not a deathworlder?¡± muses the Captain.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a deathworlder and I would definitely be inclined to act the same in her position.¡± my husband backs me up from where he¡¯s stamping along behind us.

    Technically, him ¡®not being a deathworlder¡¯ is only mostly true¡­ his procedures won¡¯t have changed his attitudes though¡­ just his physicality.

    15 years since his deathworlderfication and he still walks like he¡¯s expecting his body to be a fraction of the mass it is(!)

    ¡°I¡¯m sure those five are unrivalled in the assessment and suppression of threats¡­ However, I¡¯m also willing to guess they don¡¯t have much more than a layperson¡¯s understanding of how to handle a First Contactee!¡­ We won¡¯t get a second chance to make a first impression on this woman and we¡¯ve already largely cocked it up!"

    As we pass under the place where she destroyed a railing to jump from the second floor to get away from that Rethijj engineer, I see two of the smaller sentients native to this planet running toward us. The ones I¡¯ve been trying really hard to get people to stop referring to as ¡®Goblins¡¯ until we can find out what they call themselves!

    ¡°Ak!¡± shouts the tiny woman, waving her hands ¡°Mwit al a! Org dan talz al a! Wors an tner!¡­ Ak! Ak!!! Wors an tner!¡±

    She gets increasingly desperate as she speaks but I just reassure her ¡°It¡¯s alright¡­ Don¡¯t worry about us!¡±

    ¡°Tral ot, Viig¡­ Brod tral ¡­ Wors an¡­¡± reassures the man.

    The two of them run past us and we make it to the rear loading bay.

    We¡¯re greeted by the sight of the security trio along with the military liaison and Miyazaki¡¯s bodyguard hemming the poor terrified woman against a wall with their plasmaweapons.

    Extremely pissed off, I stride up to the group and shout ¡°Stand down!¡±

    The large security chief spares me a glance before saying ¡°Due respect, Ambassador¡­¡±

    ¡°With due respect, Taylor, I wasn¡¯t asking! You five back up and put your weapons away right now!¡±

    Shocked, it takes the man a second or two to process the instruction before ¡°Erm¡­ alright, I guess?¡±

    The five of them back several metres away from the cornered woman and extinguish their blades.

    They all five stand in postures of clear readiness to resume the fight if provoked.

    The¡­ very unnerving looking woman just stares at me suspiciously¡­ not that I can blame her(!)

    ¡°Hello there¡­¡± I smile gently as I walk toward her ¡°¡­it¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±

    She looks very uncomfortable at my approaching.

    When I¡¯m well inside her attack range, I take a gamble.

    Bending at the waist, I bow my upper body low to her.

    If she does attack me, I¡¯ll be defenceless¡­ but I don¡¯t think she will¡­

    Just from looking at her, I think her species will very likely understand willingly exposing oneself to attack as a gesture of goodwill¡­ and, consequently, they will understand attacking someone who is submitting themselves to it like this as taboo¡­

    My gamble pays off when I straighten back up and see her looking surprised.

    A few moments of hesitation follow before¡­ she matches the gesture, aligning the orthograde front part of her body with the pronograde rear in a clear bow!

    I give a genuine, heartfelt smile (without showing my teeth) to the woman, as she comes up, and bring my hand to my chest ¡°My name is Lhamo Yeshe¡­¡± gesture to myself and repeat ¡°Lhamo Yeshe.¡± then I gesture to her with my whole hand ¡°You?¡±

    Uncertainly, she slowly brings a thick, three fingered hand to the blue-black armour of her chest and speaks ¡°Khr¡¯kowan¡­ Mainh korh Khr¡¯kowan ess¡­ Mhiss bhekhel¡­ Lhamoyeshekh.¡±

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan?¡± I confirm.

    ¡°Hak¡­ Khr¡¯kowan.¡± she gestures in seeming confirmation.

    ¡°Well¡­ Khr¡¯kowan¡­ There¡¯s something I¡¯d very much like to show you.¡± I smile, turning around and shooing a tall blonde and incredibly stocky Neanderthal out of the way before turning back to beckon her forward.

    Tentatively, she follows.

    As I pass by Twila, I mutter ¡°Wait until we¡¯re in position¡­ then rotate.¡±

    She nods her comprehension.

    I lead the extremely formidable woman from a roughly Iron Age society through the rows of crates (many of which are destroyed from the fight) toward the clear polymer of the boarding ramp.

    Any time any of the fighters get too close while we walk, I shoot them a glare until they back off. A technique that¡¯s much less effective on the (moderately autistic seeming) Neanderthal woman, requiring her girlfriend to notice and redirect her on my behalf.

    We finally make it to the clear surface and I stop just short, indicating her to do the same (she apparently has some trouble seeing glass, according to Twila(!))

    She looks very confused by the view of space that she has, looking to our relative ¡®down¡¯ as if to try and see the ground.

    Then, it appears.

    I point my finger to the place where everything this woman has ever experienced before today has happened.

    The place where her entire species¡¯ history is.

    The place she is almost certainly the first member of her species to ever leave.

    Rotating in, across our field of view from the left, is her world.

    She gasps and slams her fleshy palms into the ramp, pressing her face between them, trying to get a better look at the marble of blue ocean, dark green and sandy yellow continents and white clouds.

    ¡°The Overview Effect¡­¡± I smile to myself ¡°¡­never fails to get a reaction!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.129

    ---Translator---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    *thudthudthudthudthudthudthudthud* is the sound my feet make as I walk through the hall in the sorcerers¡¯ ship.

    My feet are socked in boatshoes (like those I¡¯ve had to wear whenever sailing down the K¡¯rvakh by ship, to visit our Eastern vassals) that allow me to avoid damaging the deck.

    They¡¯re made of a durable, squashy substance unlike any I¡¯ve ever encountered. However, what they¡¯re made of is far less impactful than how they were made!

    The day I woke up, after my battle with the wielders of the burning weapons, I was shown to a cubic cavity in a wall.

    They reassured me as they shone sheets of red light over my feet. Several of them communicated in tongues that sounded nothing alike but, nonetheless, seemed to be easily, mutually understood while one worked on a glowing panel with her clawless, too many fingered hand.

    After a few minutes, the cavity buzzed to life and spun these foot sheaths into existence from nothing! They were handed to me and, with slight hesitation, I began to put them on.

    The most hilarious part of that was how fascinated they seemed to be by my contorting my hindlegs forward to be able to reach my back feet! As if they hadn¡¯t just casually used magic that altered reality itself in front of me!

    I¡¯ve been confined aboard for days now¡­ I really wish I could ask them to take me home but¡­ well¡­

    ¡°Come come come!¡± beams the one called Yazmin, beckoning me to follow her.

    She¡¯s certainly the one who¡¯s managed to learn the most of my language (and it is extremely impressive that she¡¯s managed to get as far as she has in the time she¡¯s been trying) but she still speaks like a small infant!

    ¡°Are we going to be ¡®seeing my brain¡¯ again today, Yazmin?¡± I ask, dryly, referring to their process of attaching small devices to my head, then having me describe pictures they show me, which she initially expressed as ¡®for see head meat¡¯¡­ until I suggested the word ¡®brain¡¯ to her.

    ¡°Brain seeing finish! Today, talk you!¡± she jabbers, happily.

    I don¡¯t understand but¡­ I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see when I get there.

    These Foreigner sorcerers have treated me extremely gently and kindly¡­ considering that they are effectively holding me prisoner¡­

    I have been plentifully fed and watered¡­ even if none of the cooked meat they have offered me has been of any kind I can identify!

    Yazmin stops by the door to the communal room and turns to me, smiling ¡°Stand¡­¡±

    She means ¡®stop¡¯ or ¡®hold on a moment¡¯, I can infer.

    The door opens.

    I¡¯m greeted by the sight of six Vermin, all looking in my direction and embracing a large, dark furred, dozing predator, clearly having heard me coming.

    The ¡®Flaffi¡¯ does not turn its enormous head to look to me but the Vermin all pull back their lips to snarl aggressively.

    ¡°Mrak na! Grriv, Lor, Tem, Mor, Yor, Viig! Mrak na!¡± says Yazmin with the tone of a male, chastising nursery children!

    The Vermin close their lips but continue to scowl at me.

    ¡°Viktor¡­¡± she says, effortlessly switching languages as she turns her attention to the tall, bulky, copper headed one, locked in a sororal embrace with his comrade with blue skin and white hair ¡°¡­it staim. Wii niid tu miit thiy athars. Skanzi haz thiy tranzleytor redi.¡±

    The copper headed one purses his lips and presses them briefly against the other¡¯s cheek as he gets up.

    He comes to where we are in the hall and wordlessly begins walking.

    Yazmin smiles back at me and beckons me to follow.

    The pair of ¡®Terans¡¯ (as Yazmin tells me her category of Foreigner are called) lead me through the halls of the magical, metal ship that sails on the night sky like water.

    We¡¯re headed to the room where Yazmin and I speak.

    Viktor is not normally with us for those sessions but, based on what she said  earlier, it seems like they¡¯ve got what they needed from their ¡®brain seeing¡¯, so we must be doing something else today?

    We arrive and, as the door opens, I see the room more crowded than in any prior session.

    The seat designed to support my underside is in its normal place against the table.

    Sat directly across from there is Lhamoyeshekh, the woman that backed down the warriors who came to engage me on the day I woke up.

    Next to her is the much taller man (almost as tall as I am when standing) who has large orange eyes and lacks a nose¡­ I don¡¯t know what his kind are called.

    Also at the table are the very short, very broad, very deep chested Teran with the woolly orange hair, the black haired one with a white streak and purple eyes, the plump one with the short hair and grey eyes and the much smaller ones whose body shape is somewhat reminiscent of long legged [dragonbirds] but, other than that, I have no analogue for what to call their kind.

    Not at the table is Skanzi, holding a small box.

    She is the only one I¡¯ve seen on this ship who, like me, apparently has her bones on the outside, encasing and armouring her flesh, as opposed to the vertebral arrangement shared by the Terans and the Vermin or the boneless arrangement of the tentacled ones and the one made of blue ooze.

    That being said, other than arthropodality, she and I have very little in common!

    Her body is a completely different shape to mine; with four arms, two main legs and her hindbody, stretched out into a long tail, suspended from the floor by numerous, tiny legs.

    Whatever her armour is made of and however much its colours may resemble mine, it is clearly not any great protection to her as it flexes and warps with her movement.

    Most of all, the thing that sets us apart is that she just seems¡­ so nervous all the time! Hunched over with her (normal except for their number) arms in front of her chest, twitching and swishing those long whiskers on top of her head all around.

    It¡¯s all I can do not to shout at her to be a woman already!

    If one of my younger half sisters entered the barracks with such a manner, I would definitely be telling our broodfather that she was unsuited to soldiery and a place ought to be found for her elsewhere!

    Including myself and the other two who just arrived, Terans make up just over half of the people in the room. They are definitely the single greatest minority aboard (with no kind having anything like a majority) and, just from observing the respect and deference they seem to command among the other kinds, I think it¡¯s safe to assume that the Terans are atop this strange, Foreign hierarchy¡­

    I take my seat, looking quizzically around.

    Yazmin sits beside me.

    Viktor remains standing by the door.

    All eyes are on me.

    Lhamoyeshekh turns to Skanzi and smiles ¡°??????????????????????, ??????????¡­¡± in words I have no hope of understanding!

    The girl steps forward, clearly as nervous to approach as she was every time she put the devices to ¡®see¡¯ my brain on me.

    Rather than attaching anything to my head, she simply lays the box onto the table in front of me.

    Smiling toothlessly at Skanzi again, Lhamoyeshekh chuckles ¡°??????????????????????? ????????????????, ????????????¡­(!)¡±

    ¡°Rrr¡¯ktn ummbrb¡¯vk¡­¡± buzzes the nervous woman, apologetically, before skuttling from the room, increasing the Teran majority by her absence.

    With her gone, all eyes return to me.

    Lhamoyeshekh gestures from me to the box.

    I pick it up and, fumbling slightly, since it was clearly designed for nimbler hands, open it.

    Inside is a tiny, flat circle of metal.

    I recognise it as the same kind that everyone aboard (with the sole exception of Yazmin) wears on their temples.

    I reach inside and grip it between two claws, bringing it up to my face to examine it.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    They¡¯re giving me this?¡­ Why?¡­ What does it do?¡­ What is it for?¡­ Is it¡­ safe?

    The Vermin started wearing them too, a few days ago¡­ I haven¡¯t noticed any¡­ change¡­

    Deciding to trust it, I reach to place it against my head.

    It falls to the floor.

    ¡°??? ??? ? ?? ???, ???.¡± smiles the grey eyed one to Yasmin.

    She fetches the disc from the ground and stands to bring it back to the side of my forehead.

    ¡°Care care¡­ movement!¡± she says, her tone that of a warning.

    Whatever she¡¯s warning me about, she decides to demonstrate by shuddering like she¡¯s out in a blizzard, for a moment.

    Is she trying to tell me it feels cold?

    Deftly, she places the (not particularly cold) device against my temple¡­ and activates it¡­

    Immediately, my upper body collapses against the heavy table, shunting it a hand¡¯s length away as I convulse.

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan? Khr¡¯kowan? Are you alright?¡­ Can you understand me?¡± comes a familiar voice, speaking, suddenly, comprehensible words at me from across the table.

    Instantly, my head whips up in shock, despite my yet to subside shivers.

    I stare in to the pair of elliptical eyes, white with brown rings encircling black points.

    There is no doubt that Lhamoyeshekh is the one who just spoke but¡­

    ¡°You could speak my language!?¡­ This whole time?!?!?!¡± I demand, enraged that I¡¯ve been needlessly forced to be barely communicate for the whole time since I awoke.

    She closes her eyes and wags her face back and forth, smiling ¡°No, Ma¡¯am¡­ I cannot speak your language and never could. But, thanks to the device we just gave you, you should be hearing your language right now¡­ or understanding your language at least¡­¡±

    Narrowing all eight eyes at the woman, I tap a claw against the metal disc and ask ¡°This thing lets one hear any language as one¡¯s own?¡±

    ¡°Within certain limitations¡­ yes¡­¡± she smiles.

    ¡°Certain limitations that you needed to spend days looking at my brain while I spoke to circumvent?¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± she beams with the encouraging tone of a nursery attendant male coddling a child who¡¯s just shown some glimmer of intellect ¡°So¡­¡± she continues ¡°¡­I know you will have seen everyone here before but, now we can finally understand eachother, I think it might be best if we start by introducing ourselves. We can go first or you can? Whichever you prefer.¡±

    Hmmm¡­

    She¡¯s offering me the choice of whether to adopt humility or arrogance¡­ a test?

    I decide that I had better be humble with these people so much more manifestly powerful than mine ¡°Please introduce yourselves first.¡±

    She smiles and wobbles her face up and down this time. She¡¯s pleased?

    ¡°My name is Ambassador Lhamo ¡®Crane¡¯ Yeshe and this¡­¡± she gestures to the large, noseless man ¡°¡­is my [untranslatable term: ¡®husband¡¯. Nearest approx.: broodhusband] Ambassador Ngngomg Ong. She¡­¡± she indicates the purple eyed woman ¡°¡­is [untranslatable title: ¡®Doctor¡¯. Meaning: learned one] Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki, expedition coordinator, and her bodyguard, Ms Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter. She¡­¡± she gestures to the plump, grey eyed woman holding a glowing panel and a thin implement in her hands who smiles and waves ¡°¡­is [Dr] Jae ¡®Peach¡¯ Stone, our [untranslatable term: ¡®sociologist¡¯. Meaning: one who studies societies]. She¡­¡± she points out one of the beaked women ¡°¡­ is Captain Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak and the owner and operator of the ship we¡¯re aboard. She¡­¡± gesturing the other ¡°¡­is Waqa¡¯arc, 15th Daughter of Highspire Peak, the expedition¡¯s Compliance Officer¡­ here to make sure everything is above board. He¡­¡± she points over to the large Teran man standing by the door ¡°¡­is Mr Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor, Chief Security Specialist ¡­ he¡¯s in charge of safeguarding everyone¡¯s wellbeing aboard¡­¡±

    He raises one hand from his arms, crossed at his chest, but otherwise does not react.

    I was right then that he is, in fact, a man and a warrior of some kind¡­ The Foreigners have strange customs!

    ¡°¡­and then, of course, beside you is [Dr] Yasmin ¡®Gold Tongue¡¯ Soltani, the expedition¡¯s [untranslatable term: ¡®linguist¡¯. Meaning: one who studies languages], whom you¡¯ll know from your sessions with her and Sknz¡¯h.¡±

    With all of them introduced, I take my cue ¡°My name is [General] Khr¡¯kowan of the Khawekhan Realm, Daughter of Broodking Aghogh of the Khawekhan Realm and [General] Kvehak of the Wokhashan Realm¡­ Do you consider me to be your prisoner?¡±

    ¡°We do not.¡± responds¡­ Lhamo, kindly ¡°I apologise for your prolonged stay and our inability to receive your consent to be here. If you say the word we will take you home immediately but I would personally like to request that you talk with us first.¡±

    ¡°I agree! I have many questions for you!¡± I answer, straight away.

    Smiling encouragingly, the woman invites ¡°Ask.¡± extending her arms as if to indicate that she considers nothing to be off limits.

    I spend a while prioritising my queries before deciding on my most burning one ¡°Have you come here from the Warm Lands?¡±

    Her eyebrows dance for a few moments before rising up her forehead. Her mouth hangs open in apparent surprise as she answers ¡°Based on the gist of that concept that my translator has just given me, I¡¯m going to quite firmly say no¡­ we are not¡­ Though I think you should talk to [Drs] Morningstar and Taan about these [Warm Lands]¡­ I¡¯m sure they will be very interested!¡±

    ¡°If you are not from the Warm Lands, where have you come from?¡±

    She thinks for a moment before responding ¡°Are you aware that your sun is a star?¡±

    ¡°Of course¡­¡± I scoff.

    ¡°Good¡­¡± she smiles ¡°¡­that saves time¡­ We are from other worlds, around other stars, distances away from yours that it¡¯s not really possible for anyone to truly grasp the sheer scale of but, suffice it to say, very, very, very, very, very far away¡­¡±

    ¡°So why have you come here?¡± I ask, dreading the answers I might receive.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± she extends her five fingered palms across the table ¡°¡­we came here for you of course!¡±

    My worst fear realised, I ask ¡°You seek to conquer my people!?¡­ I assure you, we have nothing you would value! If you seek to make slaves of us¡­!¡±

    ¡°No no! No NO, no no!¡± Lhamo interrupts hurriedly, while the Stone woman scrabbles her stylus against the panel she holds ¡°We aren¡¯t here to conquer you, enslave you or extract any wealth from you!¡­ We¡¯re here to befriend you!¡±

    I spend some long moments processing that before asking ¡°So¡­ when you said you and your broodhusband were¡­ ¡®ambassadors¡¯, you meant¡­ to us?¡±

    She shrugs her shoulders ¡°If you¡¯ll have us¡­ yes!¡±

    I narrow my eyes, contemplating ¡°And¡­ if we refuse¡­? What then?¡±

    Bobbing her head slowly up and down she answers ¡°If your people want nothing to do with us, we will leave you completely alone. There is no compulsion here¡­ but¡­¡±

    ¡°But?¡± I ask, my heart in my throat.

    ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ your situation with the Twigg¡­ it¡¯s completely¡­ unprecedented!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­?¡± I ask, extremely confused ¡°¡­our situation with the what?¡±

    Mirroring my puzzlement she answers ¡°¡­the Twigg?¡­ the other sapient species on your planet¡­ the ones against whom you fought the battle, in which you were so injured that we needed to bring you aboard for medical treatment?¡±

    Realisation dawning, I ask ¡°You mean the Vermin?¡±

    There is a brief instant of every eye in the room widening slightly and every torso leaning away from me a miniscule amount in clear stunned silence, concluded by the grey eyed one leaning over her glowing tile and feverishly scrawling into it with the device in her other hand.

    ¡°¡­Uhm¡­¡± hesitates Lhamo ¡°¡­the ¡®Twigg¡¯ is their name for themselves¡­¡±

    Not really having the patience to be told that I need to refer to the Vermin politely (as it seems like they¡¯re trying to imply), I bypass the issue, asking ¡°What¡¯s so unusual about us and them and why does that have a baring on my people¡¯s ability to refuse your friendship?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ well, it¡¯s just that¡­ there are only four known, genuine instances of multiple, intelligent, societal species, naturally arising on the same planet¡­¡± she turns to the orange haired woman ¡°¡­if you look at Ms Hunter here, you can see that she looks quite different to me, [Dr] Miyazaki, [Dr] Soltani and Mr Taylor, right?¡±

    I examine the woman who is failing to meet my eyes, her cheeks turning red.

    ¡°I can¡­¡± I state.

    ¡°Well, her ancestors and ours diverged between 600,000-800,000 years ago¡­ but if you look at [Dr] Stone¡­¡± the grey eyed woman pauses from her scratching to look up at me and give a cheerful wave ¡°¡­one of her parents was a Sapiens, like us, and the other was from a different lineage, as far from ours as is Ms Hunter¡¯s¡­ It isn¡¯t uncommon to hear people refer to there being ¡®different species¡¯ of Human but, technically, that¡¯s not correct¡­ the fact that we can still interbreed with one another means that our different lineages are really only subspecies of Human¡­ Three of the four genuine multispecies planets have situations much like ours (only slightly more extreme), where some ancestral population of protosentients became split apart an isolated from eachother for long enough that, when reunited, they were no longer able to interbreed¡­ but¡­ the different species still easily recognised the others as people¡­ There¡¯s only one instance of two species both evolving sentience in parallel, completely independent of one another, on the same world, the way that you and the Twigg have; the Jlo and the Mvam of Jloton-paMvak, in the Nbar-Bjod System¡­¡±

    Struggling to understand, I point out ¡°Alright, then it isn¡¯t unprecedented¡­ is it?

    Wagging her face from side to side she responds ¡°The difference is, when it came to their First Contact, even though so different from one another, they were already fully integrated into a mixed species society¡­ They weren¡¯t at war with one another.¡±

    I scoff ¡°We¡¯re not at war with eachother!¡±

    ¡°That weren¡¯t how it looked to me¡­¡± speaks the redheaded man, leaning on the wall by the door, sneering slightly ¡°¡­Don¡¯t seem to be how they see it neither!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ Thank you, Mr Taylor.¡± chastises Lhamo with a pointed tone before turning her attention back to me ¡°Regardless of what we call it, I don¡¯t think you can deny that your peoples seem to be highly adverse to one another¡­ and that¡¯s a problem¡­ You see, if they say they want contact and you say you don¡¯t, or vice versa¡­ Obviously one party is going to be disappointed by whatever we do in that scenario¡­ aaaaand¡­ because this has never happened before¡­ we aren¡¯t quite sure what to¡­ do about it.¡±

    ¡°You would give priority to the wishes of Vermin over those of my people!?¡± I ask, disgusted.

    The woman looks down and tents her fingers, clearly thinking about the most diplomatic way to phrase her answer.

    ¡°Ideally¡­ no¡­ Ideally from our perspective, both of your peoples would wish for contact with us¡­ If both of you reject our overtures, that will be immensely disappointing to us¡­ but it will at least make things simpler¡­ The Twigg, however, seem to be quite enthusiastically in favour of opening a dialogue with the Galactic Union, our polity ¡­ which puts us in an uncomfortable position regarding your overlapping sovereignties¡­ We do not wish to be coming and going from this planet to conduct our business with the Twigg in violation of your people¡¯s wishes.¡±

    I scowl ¡°So what do you suggest?¡±

    She smiles ¡°I would suggest¡­ peace talks¡­ Twigg representatives and representatives of your side meeting and talking out your differences¡­ I would suggest holding these peace talks here, aboard this ship, since it¡¯s a neutral location with no preexisting significance to either side and we, as your hosts, will act as disinterested third party mediators¡­ Our only interests are peace between you and contact with both of you¡­ We have no reason to favour one side over the other.¡±

    I gesture firmly in the negative and answer ¡°I could not agree to such on my own authority!¡­ Even my broodfather would not be free to undertake what you have suggested without consulting his vassals¡­¡±

    She makes a conceding gesture ¡°Of course, of course¡­ but do you foresee this being something your father and his¡­ vassals might be willing to entertain?¡±

    Choosing my words carefully, I answer ¡°That¡­ rather¡­ depends¡­¡±

    ¡°Depends on what?¡± she asks.

    ¡°On what exactly my people stand to gain and lose by opening contact with you and your [Galactic] Union¡­ Why do you consider it worth your while to come here, to us, when you already have access to such power as I have seen while aboard?¡±

    She sways her face up and down ¡°Quite reasonable¡­ you wish to know more about us.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Alright then¡­ where to start¡­?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.130

    ---Sociology---

    ---Jae¡¯s perspective---

    I mount the hydraulically raised stage at the head of the central hall (currently serving as a lecture theatre), in the ambassadorial habitat, and turn to look out at the sea of seated people.

    The only ones not here for the presentation I¡¯m about to deliver are the Twigg, Khr¡¯kowan and the security team (who¡¯re babysitting them to stop them from literally killing eachother)!

    I¡¯ll have to fill Victor, Samus, Tuun and Thran in, later.

    Oh, almost forgot about Sam, Fluffy and Q¨©ngl¨®ng¡­ likely receiving many scritches and much playtime while they serve as entertainment to the Twigg(!)

    ¡°Hello everyone¡­¡± I smile and wave at the audience, making eyecontact with Tymie, looking up at me with his cute, blank mask face, as I do ¡°¡­I¡¯ll just introduce myself for anyone who doesn¡¯t know me. My name is Dr Jae ¡®Peach¡¯ Stone and I am the sociologist on this expedition. This means that it¡¯s my job to study societies and social interplay¡­ and, as I¡¯m sure you could have guessed if you didn¡¯t already know, today I¡¯m going to be briefing you on everything we know about these two species so far, ahead of the planetside excursion to return those aboard home¡­ Though, the entire presentation comes with the caveat of being subject to reinterpretation at a later date and is in no way to be taken as the gospel truth!¡­ We only have a sample size of 24 of one species and just a single member of the other¡­ None of them will be without bias, none of them will be without gaps in their knowledge and there may be things that they¡¯ve chosen to mislead us about for whatever reason, so you will hear me use qualifiers like ¡®it seems¡¯, ¡®as far as we can tell¡¯, ¡®apparently¡¯, ¡®they tell us¡¯ and ¡®we infer¡¯ a lot during this presentation(!)¡­ If you later see, hear or in any other way experience something that¡¯s inconsistent with anything I¡¯m about to tell you, please trust to your own judgement in the moment and bring it to my attention afterward¡­ If you have already come across anything which you can¡¯t reconcile with something I tell you, please let me know about it in the questions and comments section at the end, I will thank you!¡±

    I look around, silently imploring people to understand that science is a process¡­ not a doctrine!

    I gesture vaguely over the crowd and say ¡°I would like to start by thanking everyone who I¡¯ve interviewed for their insights on the new species, both professional and personal, with particular thanks due to my friend Dr Soltani for her linguistic analysis and Drs Phan, Hatathli, Gato, Shing, Aerlyght, Lamark and Sknz¡¯h for helping me to come to grips with their anatomy¡­¡±

    I bring up the first slide.

    A picture of Grriv and Viig (the de facto leaders of those aboard) and a picture of Gen. Khr¡¯kowan are displayed ¡°These are our species: a male and female example of the Twigg are on the left and, on the right, a female of the Vrakhand¡­ At this time, we have encountered no males of that species, though both sides corroborate that there exists significant sexual dimorphism, the males being smaller and hairier than the females but with the sexes sharing a basic body plan¡­ The Twigg tell us it is much rarer for them to see males, since they don¡¯t leave Vrakhand settlements with anywhere near the regularity that females do¡­ The Twigg are bilaterally symmetrical vertebrates with mostly hairless, endothermic bodies. They are gracile (weighing only 9-12kg fully grown), stand around 80-95cm tall with an orthograde posture and four limbs (five if we include their prehensile tails) and are true omnivores, happily eating almost anything offered to them¡­ The ones we treated all had medium green skin and hair and eye colours in various shades from teal, through green, to yellow¡­ though, they tell us that they are aware of regional variations in phenotype and that not all Twigg look exactly like them.¡±

    I point to the General¡¯s picture, circling her face with the laser dot, emanating from my holo ¡°The Vrakhand on the other hand are a lot more difficult to get a solid baseline on, for the simple reason that this woman (in her own estimation and confirmed by the Twigg we¡¯ve interviewed) is an exceptional specimen!¡­ She is the Vishhanx (literally ¡®First Woman¡¯ but meaning something closer to ¡®General¡¯ or ¡®Military Leader¡¯) of what we infer to be her species¡¯ hegemonic polity and tells us that ¡®if there is a woman in the world larger or stronger than her, she is not aware of her¡¯. Therefore, her weight of significantly over half a tonne and her length of nearly 5m shouldn¡¯t be treated as if it were typical¡­ What we can say however, is that her species are bilaterally symmetrical, mesothermic invertebrates with mainly bluish-black shells of a highly durable organic compound and barbs, feet, claws, fangs, toothplates and teeth of a miraculously tough substance that they refer to with the term ¡®whohake¡¯shkhen¡¯, literally ¡®death stone¡¯ or ¡®death mineral¡¯, which Dr Soltani has chosen to christen ¡®thanatite¡¯, at least for translations meant for Terrans. She tells us that she is aware of regional variations in phenotype in her species but that it is something that mainly effects males¡¯ fur colour, it being much more difficult to get a sense of a female¡¯s locality only from biological indicators¡­ They are much more robust than the Twigg, even if most are not as much more as the General is(!)¡­ They are true carnivores, rarely eating anything other than meat and never in significant quantities¡­¡±

    I turn to the next slide with the single word ¡®Sapience?¡¯ written across it.

    ¡°Now that I¡¯ve given you a basic description of the two species, I just want to briefly put to rest any question of their sapience¡­¡±

    My eyes rest briefly on the saboteur R¡¯qali woman which the expedition was politically strongarmed into taking on as our Compliance Officer¡­ but I look away before it can seem too pointed.

    ¡°¡­There is no question that they are both sapient and sentient¡­ and, regarding the five anatomical prerequisites for technologicality, they can be easily seen to possess all five! First¡­¡±

    I bring up the next slide with the word ¡®Locomotion¡¯ at the top.

    ¡°Locomotion;¡­¡±

    I pause for a second before revealing two pictures beneath, in a top down wipe.

    There is a moderate chuckle from the audience at the pictures of Twigg and Vrakhand legs that have just been unveiled.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s a pretty safe ¡®check¡¯ on that(!)¡± I smirk, bringing up two green checkmarks under the pictures ¡°The Twigg are mainly bipedal and digitigrade, with an erect posture, but are more than capable of switching to quadrupedality in a way that my own species would be thoroughly incapable of¡­ though they do state that doing so too much or too often is liable to cause them injuries to their arms¡­ The Vrakhand are octopedal and arthrograde with a sprawling posture, though they are capable of partially erecting their legs beneath their bodies to gain height, when necessary¡­ There is no question that they are both mobile, not sessile¡­¡±

    I bring up the next slide.

    ¡°Manipulation;¡­¡± I smile, bringing up the pictures of hands, tails and pedipalps ¡°¡­this is another fairly safe ¡®check¡¯ to both species. The Twigg possess bimanous, pentadactyl hands in a 1-4-0 arrangement¡­ much like a Terran¡¯s¡­¡± I hold up my own hand to demonstrate ¡°¡­they also possess a prehensile tale that I have personally seen them dangle their entire bodyweight from¡­ The Vrakhand possess tridactyl hands in a 1-2-0 arrangement, fully capable of gripping and carrying objects¡­ The palms of their hands are the two largest areas of their bodies that completely lack any dermal armour (their mobile faces being closely arranged compositions of dermal scutes, overlaid on top of a ¡®skull¡¯ of their regular armour and, so, being pseudoendoskeletal as opposed to exoskeletal)¡­ The relative lack of dexterity and articulation that results from each of their hands only having three fingers is somewhat compensated for by a second set of pronged, pedipalpal limbs, below their arms, with which they appear to be capable of holding objects in place while they work on them with their hands¡­ Both species were brought aboard with numerous examples of craftsmanship on their persons, including dyed clothing, weapons, tools and trinkets, so there is no reason at all to suppose that they lack the dexterity to truly take their place in galactic society the way, for instance, Terran Cetaceans do¡­ Next¡­¡±

    I change the slide ¡°¡­Perception; both species are equipped with photoreceptive eyes (two in the Twigg¡¯s case, 8 in the case of the Vrakhand), audioceptive organs (mobile ears in the Twigg¡¯s case, rigid earhorns for the Vrakhand), olfactory noses, gustaoceptive mouths, senses of mechanoreception, equilibrioception, nociception, proprioception, thermoception and may have other senses, besides, that we are yet to learn of¡­ there is no question that they are sensate¡­ Next¡­¡±

    I change the slide, revealing renderings of Twigg and Vrakhand brains ¡°¡­Cognition; both species have centralised nervous systems and demonstrate the ability to understand highly complex and complicated notions¡­ They can think critically, perform abstract problem solving, ponder counterfactual scenarios, consider the world from others¡¯ perspectives, plan for the future, remember the past, introspect and ponder their own mortality¡­ They are both intelligent species with rich inner lives!¡­ The final feature of sapience enabling anatomy (before we get to topics I am personally much more comfortable with(!)) is¡­¡±

    I change the slide.

    ¡°¡­Communication;¡­ both species, like most others, make use of a sound medium language, supported by informalised gestures and facial expressions¡­ Here is an example of Twigg speech in the language common to all those aboard¡­¡±

    I play the sound clip.

    ¡°Mrag da do klar?¡­ Gwan mro din do klar?¡­ Wek ip mak!¡± comes the high, gravelly voice of the one called Yor, sounding rather similar to Lilith¡¯s voice in its tone and timbre.

    ¡°Dr Soltani informs me that words in this language are almost invariably monosyllabic and monomorphemic, that is to say, each word contains only a single parcel of meaning, with words that compound multiple morphemes being nearly nonexistent¡­ This means no plural forms of nouns, no noun cases and no verb conjugation¡­ She did, however, wish to impress upon me that low inflectional morphology is not a mark of linguistic simplicity or primitivity and that needing more words to express the same information is not any kind of barrier to communication¡­ It also bears mentioning that this is just one language from just one region of the planet. The ones we have spoken to seem to be aware of the phenomenon that, the further a Twigg travels from the lands they typically inhabit, the harder it is for them to understand the speech of the other Twigg they encounter, suggesting that this language forms part of a dialect continuum, though it is not at all clear that this dialect continuum encompasses the entire species¡¯ range with no, more dramatic, linguistic discontinuities anywhere¡­ If you will now listen to the sample of Vrakhandic speech¡­¡±

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I play the clip.

    ¡°Ainh, Khr¡¯kowan, Khawekhhor Wakh Vishhanx, hhi¡¯imvorh whekh amheniakh ess.¡± states a deep, guttural, powerful voice that verges on sounding Demonic!

    ¡°¡­you¡¯ll definitely hear the difference(!)¡­ Multisyllabic and multimorphemic words are more common than not¡­ Unlike with the Twigg, this woman tells us there is relatively little dialectic distinction between different wakh, or ¡®realms¡¯, of her species and that she has almost no problem making herself understood when visiting what she calls her father¡¯s khangh, or ¡®vassals¡¯¡­ This is inferred to be due to a relatively low overall population (estimated at <100,000 in total) and high level of political and social interconnectedness between the realms¡­ One feature of this language Dr Soltani brought to my attention is the genitive ¡®-hor¡¯ suffix, a marker of possession¡­ They use this suffix a lot when they speak or, at least, Gen. Khr¡¯kowan does¡­ The Twigg have no equivalent word or grammatical structure in their language¡­ Absolutely no way of expressing the notion that someone or something belongs to someone or something else¡­ Even body parts!¡±

    I hold up my hand.

    ¡°Where I would quite happily call this ¡®my hand¡¯, this would not be possible in the Twigg language, according to Dr Soltani¡­ I would have to call it ¡®the hand¡¯, ¡®this hand¡¯ or, if I were having trouble making someone understand which hand exactly, I might have to circumlocute ¡®the left hand that is attached to me¡¯, though formations like that don¡¯t seem to be necessary too often¡­ The Twigg¡¯s complete lack of any linguistic expression of possession segues nicely into what I believe to be the most important difference between them and the Vrakhand to understand!¡±

    I advance the slide to one titled ¡®Possession & Ownership¡¯.

    Rather than launching straight in, I address the elephant in the room ¡°The Twigg and the Vrakhand seem to utterly despise one another as a matter of course¡­ This is to the extent that not one of the Twigg aboard were capable of producing a single word of genuine Vrakhandic when prompted and neither was Gen. Khr¡¯kowan able to offer a single word of Twigg¡­ Stories of Twigg and Vrakhand who have learned to speak the other¡¯s language are distant and of questionable authenticity, seeming more like exaggerated rumours and legends than genuine accounts¡­ The ''Twigg'' is how the Twigg refer to their own species, specifically. They do have a word, Lok, that¡¯s closer in meaning to ¡®person¡¯ more generally, in which the Twigg, Vrakhand and all of our species are all encompassed but their word specifically for Vrakhand is ¡®Mwit¡¯¡­ the meaning is something like ¡®Monster¡¯¡­ It carries the implicit understanding of them as being inherently destructive and evil¡­ In Vrakhandic, ¡®Vrakhand¡¯ is just the nonpluralising word for ¡®person/people¡¯¡­ Khr¡¯kowan at least considers us to be ¡®Vrakhand¡¯ as well¡­ the Twigg are not considered to be included¡­ her name for them is ¡®Aamveour¡¯ or, in plural, ¡®Aamveourgh¡¯¡­ this has the sense of ¡®Vermin¡¯ or ¡®Pest¡¯¡­ When probed, she recognises them as intelligent, but has no sense that that fact ought to convey with it any rights or dignities¡­ I believe the two species differing understandings of possession and ownership are at the root of this animosity!¡±

    I pause here to collect my thoughts before starting ¡°From what we understand of the Twigg, the best way of explaining their relationship to ownership¡­ is that they simply lack one!¡­ They are extraordinary in the sheer scale of their communitarianism!¡­ Food, water, tools, weapons, medicine and land are all things which they regard to be held in common¡­ both within and (to a slightly lesser extent) between communities. Twigg have no word for ''spouse'' or ''partner'', since they are completely nonmonogamous, freely pursuing sexual encounters with any adult to whom they do not know themselves to be closely related¡­ They have no words for ¡®heterosexual¡¯ or ¡®homosexual¡¯, with bisexuality being regarded as the default and Twigg who eschew sexual encounters with either sex being regarded as unusual¡­ Likewise, their language has no words for ¡®mother¡¯, ¡®father¡¯, ¡®brother¡¯, ¡®sister¡¯ etc., needing to circumlocute with constructions such as ¡®the woman who birthed me¡¯, ¡®the man who probably put me into the belly I was born from¡¯, ¡®the man/woman who was born from the same woman as me¡¯¡­ This is possible because offspring are considered to be the joint responsibility of the entire community and there is no particular burden of care incumbent on their progenitors specifically¡­ One consequence of which is that they seem to have completely avoided patriarchy or matriarchy¡­ In fact, they seem to have little concept of social hierarchy at all, each Twigg apparently having an equal voice in the affairs of their community¡­ They¡­ also lack any kind of delineation of private and public space as¡­ some of you may have already experienced(!)¡±

    I pause to let the chuckles subside before continuing ¡°To the Twigg, all space is public¡­ they have no concept of nudity or sex being anything at all to be ashamed or embarrassed of, nor that there is anywhere they or anyone else should expect to be safe from being suddenly walked in on¡­ A major consequence of this radically propertyless society¡­ is that the Twigg have no word for ¡®thief¡¯ or ¡®theft¡¯¡­ everything belongs to everyone so everyone has just as much right to it¡­ They do, however, have a roughly analogous concept¡­ ¡®rog¡¯¡­ it translates to something like ¡®greedy¡¯ and can be used as an adjective or a verb but is mainly used as a noun¡­ a rog is one who hoards or hides resources like food or high quality tools in an attempt to be the only one able to benefit from their use¡­ To the Twigg, there is as much social stigma attached to being a rog as most of us would attach to the concept of thief!¡­ This was brought to our attention a few days ago, when our security chief, Mr Taylor, entered his room to find the triplets, Yor, Mor and Lor, unsuccessfully attempting to gain access to his gun locker, before he chased them away¡­ When Dr Miyazaki, Dr Soltani and I went to broach the subject with the girls, they seemed to have no feeling that they had done anything unacceptable and appeared to believe that Mr Taylor simply needed to be less of a greedy¡­(!)¡±

    I hold a moment, to let my words be digested before¡­

    ¡°¡­All of this stands in stark contrast to the Vrakhand who, from what Gen. Khr¡¯kowan tells us, have strict and rigid ideas surrounding ownership, most notably around land and thanatite¡­ I shall address land first¡­¡±

    I progress to the next slide.

    ¡°¡­For context, it is not thought that the Vrakhand are native to the regions they currently inhabit. From what we¡¯re told, they seem to have an absolute horror of the cold and be quite poorly adapted both to a frigid climate and to the relative poverty of prey animals they are able to acquire there. These facts, together with the archaeological survey of an ancient city (much larger than any that apparently exist today) on the much warmer Southern Peninsula suggest that the surviving population are the descendants of refugees, fleeing the desertification that took place in that region around 10,000-20,000 years ago¡­ This is corroborated by Gen. Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s account of the Kvalashkort¡¯aan, or ¡®Warm Lands¡¯, a paradisial afterlife which Drs Taan and Morningstar infer to be a folk memory echo of a time when they did indeed inhabit warmer lands than now¡­ I bring this up to say, the Vrakhand¡¯s maladaption to their current environment requires them to control vast swathes of productive territory in order to be able to hunt sufficient quantities of game¡­ The Twigg (who seem to be native to their current climes) practice a form of nomadic itinerance which the Vrakhand often see as infringement on their rightful territory!¡­ According to the General, while they do their best not to needlessly cause suffering to any creature, they regard it as tantamount to an invasion whenever Twigg communities ¡®trespass¡¯¡­ The Vrakhand seem to take the view that, since they are intelligent, they ought to know better, but, since they have no concept of land as something that can be owned, they do not¡­ As a sidenote, you will be relieved to know that in both species, eating the other is viewed as being almost as taboo as cannibalism, though, in the Vrakhand¡¯s case, that unfortunately seems to be more to do with hygiene than respect¡­¡±

    I move on to show a picture of the knife, wielded by Viig, made of the severed foot of a Vrakhand warrior.

    ¡°Thanatite is a substance of immense importance to both species¡­ and it¡¯s not hard to see why¡­ Though both species are in their respective Iron Ages, thanatite is significantly more durable, more hard-wearing than iron and comes conveniently preshaped into blades, requiring very little actual working¡­ It is, thus far, the single most durable organic compound known to science, a fact that caused our Captain to rather humorously lament that ¡®she wished she¡¯d found it attached to a nonsentient creature on a nonsentience bearing world, since the money such a discovery would have earned would have easily allowed her and her entire crew to take the next half a century off of work(!)¡¯¡­¡±

    The audience erupts in laughter and Tcakqaal performs a humorous, mock bow.

    Once they¡¯ve quieted back down I continue ¡°¡­Unfortunately, the Vrakhand regard thanatite to be almost sacred¡­ Since it can only be harvested from deceased Vrakhand (not shedding with the rest of their skin) it is slow to replace and always in lower than ideal supply¡­ It is never willingly traded between or within communities and, when Vrakhand realms war with one another, the victor demanding thanatite from the vanquished is seen as the ultimate humiliating insult¡­ The Twigg refer to thanatite as ¡®nlok maf¡¯, literally ¡®blood metal¡¯, for its resemblance to the colour of their blood (though it bares no resemblance to Vrakhand blood, which is blue)¡­ They are unaware of the reverence that the Vrakhand have for it but do recognise its desirable material qualities for tool and weapon design, so seek after it rather voraciously¡­ The Vrakhand view every piece of thanatite in Twigg hands (regardless of how they acquired it) as equal parts theft and desecration of the dead!¡­ The return of all thanatite in Twigg hands to those of the Vrakhand is likely to be a major sticking point in any peace negotiations that occur!¡±

    I advance the slide.

    ¡°Next; Societal Organisation¡­ we¡¯ve already touched on Twigg societal structure so I¡¯ll start with the Vrakhand. Their, apparently pronounced, sexual dimorphism has lead to their society bifurcating into two, quite distinctly gender segregated, domains. Women, being the larger and stronger sex, form the military arm of Vrakhand society. Their duties include hunting, guarding, warfare and any hard physical labour. It is apparently quite shameful for a woman to be deemed unfit for soldiery. Men, being smaller and weaker, form the civilian/domestic sphere, with duties such as cooking, cleaning, crafting and anything else seen as beneath women¡¯s dignity. However, contrary to what you might perhaps expect, all realms are lead by a male Hinkhhornakh, or ¡®Broodfather¡¯, who will be the biological father to a large proportion of his citizens¡­ When we asked the General why it was that men ruled in her society, she informed us that this is due to the fact that males have a life expectancy ¡Á4-5 that of females¡­ thus, older males are seen as repositories of knowledge and wisdom over generations of women¡­ As of yet, it is unknown to us what exactly the cause of this discrepancy in lifespan is¡­¡±

    ---later---

    ¡°Alright¡­ if there are no more questions or comments¡­?¡± I ask, looking around the crowd.

    No one else makes to speak.

    ¡°¡­then I think that concludes this lecture! Thank you very much for your attendance, everyone!¡±

    I shut off the slideshow and hop down from the stage.

    My boyfriend is stood, awkwardly facing me, as everyone else begins filing out to return to the Bright Plume.

    I give him a hearty grin as I approach, then pull him into a hug.

    Both hands halfway between his shoulderblades and his arse, I squeeze him against my front while turning my face up, just a tiny bit, to kiss him.

    ¡°How was it, Tymie?¡± I smile, wryly.

    He considers for a few seconds before answering ¡°¡­For many of the words, I needed my translator to explain to me¡­ so it was a little hard for me to follow¡­ but I mostly understood it¡­ I think¡­¡± he says with complete honesty.

    I¡¯m guessing he thinks that finding it difficult to follow reflects worse on him than me(!)

    I chuckle, and am just about to go in for another kiss, when¡­

    ¡°Excuse me¡­ Dr Stone¡­?¡± comes a translated voice from my left.

    Mildly surprised, I let go of Tymie and turn to face the one addressing me.

    At around the height of my midriff, around 4m away, is a blemishless, four eyed, avian face below a flattened set of crown plumes.

    ¡°Oh¡­ hello, Officer Waqa¡¯arc¡­¡± I say, surprised.

    I spend a moment deciding whether to add ¡®15th Daughter of Highspire Peak¡¯ before deciding against it and simply asking ¡°¡­What can I help you with?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, Doctor¡­ I just wished to¡­ congratulate you¡­ That was a very well put together and well delivered lecture¡­ I found it helpful and informative¡­ Thank you for your hard work.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ You¡¯re¡­ welcome?¡± I answer, uncertainly.

    She gives an awkward bob of her head and turns to go.

    Once she¡¯s out of earshot, I turn to Tymie and observe ¡°That was weird!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.131

    ---Return---

    ---Aghogh¡¯s perspective---

    This¡­ is bad!

    It has been weeks now that the hunting parties have not been able to leave the city without fear of attack!

    There hasn¡¯t been a Vermin uprising since I was a broodling!¡­ Long before Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s mother delivered me an [empire]! Why now!?

    One Vermin is killed in a displacement and suddenly we have thousands of them who¡¯ve apparently sprung up from the undergrowth and seem intent on starving our city to death!

    My strongest daughter is¡­ dead and, with her entire body having been taken somewhere, she can¡¯t even grace us with her bounty of thanatite¡­ We can¡¯t honour her with a mortuary butchering!

    Was it the Vermin who took her? All of her?

    Or was it the ¡®Foreigners¡¯?¡­ Yet another thing to worry about!

    Mhakhrav, my latest broodwife, is¡­ hungry¡­ I¡¯m already having to consider the terrible sacrifices that might need to be made to nourish the next generation growing within her¡­

    Of course¡­ no word from Wokhash, yet!

    I know it hasn¡¯t even been a [week] since I sent a ship to ask their aid and I know it will take another [3] at the earliest¡­

    Of course, knowing Khravash (a man as slippery as the fish his daughters pull from the ocean(!)), he¡¯s very likely to send back some stalling excuse, justifying being unable to send us food right now!

    Likely, he will be gleefully rubbing his palms together at the thought of Khawekh starving into irrelevance, paving the way for his realm to rise to hegemony!

    Little will it matter to him that his sister¡¯s brood will be among those that starve!

    The crown atop my head has¡­ never felt so¡­ heavy before!

    At this moment, I hear Haorken¡¯s thundering, seven legged gait as she approaches.

    What now?!

    She bursts through the curtains into the throne room ¡°FATHER!¡±

    Mhakhrav hisses at her for the breach of decorum.

    ¡°What is it girl?¡± I say, giving my broodwife¡¯s sturdy hand a reassuring squeeze and turning my sightless eyes to where I hear my daughter.

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan has returned! She¡¯s ALIVE!!!¡±

    I stand, ignoring how my armour aches beneath my fur ¡°Truly?!¡±

    ¡°Truly, Father!¡­ She¡¯s on her way here! Though, I cannot tell you how she survived! There is no question that the wound she received was mortal!¡­ There¡¯s something else too¡­ the ones who brought her back¡­¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you let me tell Father of those that brought me back, Sister(?)¡± deadpans the voice of what is unquestionably my strongest daughter, entering the room!

    ¡°Daughter?¡± I shiver.

    I hear her turn her head to me and greet ¡°Hello, Father¡­ It¡¯s good to see you!¡±

    Wordlessly, I beckon her over.

    Unmistakably, that is her gait approaching¡­ no one else has the sheer weight of their footfalls that she does!

    I feel the disturbed air and hear the dampening of sound that indicates her to be stood right in front of me.

    I reach a hand high above my head¡­ and feel as Khr¡¯kowan presses her face into it¡­

    ¡°You are truly back from the Warm Lands, Daughter¡­¡± I breathe.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t in the Warm Lands, Father¡­¡± she states, her tone sombre.

    ¡°Where¡­ were you Khr¡¯kowan?¡­ We needed you here!¡±

    Urgently now, she asks ¡°You were told of the Foreigners?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ was, yes?¡± I answer, bewildered.

    ¡°They took me high above the world to a ship, made of metal and larger than this city, in which they sail on the stars. They used their sorcery (which they insist is no magic and, instead, nothing more than an understanding of the natural world!) to heal my wound, weave items from thin air, see my brain and craft a metal coin that let me understand their words when I wear it on my head. They told me they have sailed here from other worlds around other stars and that they wish to treat with us¡­¡±

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan, stop! You¡¯re not making any sense!¡± I say, frightened by the insane words streaming from my daughter¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°I am making sense and you need to listen to me!¡± she retorts.

    Weaver!

    I have never heard my daughter have such fear in her tone in all her life!

    ¡°Father, they say they want to broker a peace between us and the Vermin, or the ¡®Twigg¡¯ as they¡¯re apparently called¡­¡±

    ¡°You speak blasphemy!¡± challenges Mhakhrav, aggressive from her pregnancy.

    My daughter instantly turns her face to my broodwife and roars ¡°Bite. your. tongue!¡­ I speak a truth on which hinges our kind¡¯s very survival!¡­ May you be still in your ignorance!¡±

    ¡°Calm, Daughter¡­ Calm¡­ Explain what you mean¡­¡± I sooth, placing my hands on her elbows.

    She takes a frustrated sigh before saying ¡°Father¡­ these Foreigners have power like you couldn¡¯t imagine!¡­ They say they wish for friendship but also wish to respect our independence if we reject them¡­ I am inclined to believe them for, with the power they have, they would have no need to deceive us¡­ If they wanted us gone, it would be a trivial matter for them to make us so¡­ If they wanted our land it would be an afternoon¡¯s work for them to drive us from it!¡­ If they wanted our goods, they could weave them themselves¡­ from thin air!¡­ It wouldn¡¯t be worth their while to take us as slaves, since they have [machines] that do any work we could, better than we could, never faltering, never tiring, never complaining and never rebelling!¡­ That creature that I killed when fetching your current broodwife from the Hoghawhan Realm, without flesh and with a carapace tougher than thanatite, was no creature at all but one of their [machines]!¡­ If we rebuff their friendship, the best case scenario is that they leave and never come back¡­ However, even if they don¡¯t themselves exterminate us for the insult, since they believe the Twigg are people¡­ and the Twigg seem very much to want their friendship, it is equally likely that they will return to this world, sharing their gifts freely with the Twigg, and we are simply outcompeted to extinction!¡­ If sitting down to settle our differences with the Twigg is the price of a friendship with the Foreigners, then that is a price we must pay!¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    At a loss, I¡¯m silent for some moments before ¡°¡­So¡­ you think these Foreigners¡­ can be trusted?¡±

    She huffs ¡°I don¡¯t know, Father¡­ I only know that, if they can¡¯t be trusted, nothing will matter anymore!¡­ Accepting the Foreigners¡¯ friendship is the surest path to our survival!¡­ They are waiting outside the village¡­ You need to meet them, now¡­ Do not offend them¡­ but don¡¯t grovel either¡­ Being grovelled to seems to upset them¡­¡±

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    Right now, Lhamo and her husband are with Samus, Tuun, Tymancha, Steve and Ziva, waiting for the Twigg to bring elders from the surrounding villages to meet them in the forest, around 10km west of here.

    Here to back me up are Thran, Xon, Victor and Leon¡­ not that I think the five of us would be able to do anything about it if a whole city of Vrakhand decided to take exception to us!

    Watching Khr¡¯kowan, as she came up from fording the river and was greeted by sisters in arms who¡¯ve spent well over a week thinking her dead, it was clear she wasn¡¯t exaggerating just how much she outclasses typical women!

    She is to them what a man Victor¡¯s size would have been to medieval peasants!

    Even still, each one is easily 400kg!

    It occurs to me that Thran is likely to lose her status as the ¡®strongest unaugmented woman in the galaxy¡¯ with this species¡¯ introduction to it(!)

    We haven¡¯t directly tested Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s strength (as doing so would have sent all sorts of unhelpful messages!), so it¡¯s not possible to say for sure, but I¡¯m fairly certain she would be the stronger of her and Thran¡­

    It¡¯s a good thing that these guys weren¡¯t discovered by the GU before the UTC was¡­ the planet would definitely have been glassed!

    They¡¯re so exactly what a gardenworlder would picture a deathworlder to be like(!)

    Right now, I¡¯m just trying not to look threatening as I¡¯m stared down by nearly two dozen women, guarding the far side of the shallow river ford, around 300m away.

    Behind them, a small crowd has gathered on the slope and are staring out at us, curiously.

    Up the hill, I can see rows and rows and rows of well ordered silk tents, culminating in a gargantuan palace tent at the peak!

    When the Vrakhand are weaned off of the aid money meant to help establish them in the GU, that silk they produce will probably become their most lucrative export¡­ at least, that was Dr Hardwick¡¯s opinion anyway.

    It¡¯s hard to argue against that assessment!

    The result of them having such ready access to such a high quality fabric has the effect of making the Vrakhand look exceedingly well dressed!

    Looking at them is rather like going to a historical fair¡­ or watching a poorly researched, period drama where all of the characters are dressed in spotless haute couture and there¡¯s a distinct lack of anyone wearing ill fitting, dirty or otherwise aesthetically unpleasing clothes(!)

    Khr¡¯kowan reappears, practically wading through the crowd of onlookers which she barges out of the way.

    She parts the line of warriors and signals us to cross.

    ¡°Here we go!¡± I say, apprehensively.

    Victor starts up the mule and begins piloting it over the river.

    There is a gasp from the assembled crowd, audible even at this distance, as they witness the craft hovering a metre from the water¡¯s surface with no visible means of support.

    We swiftly close the ground between us and the space that Khr¡¯kowan has had her sisters clear for us.

    Victor sets us down and we all step off.

    Now surrounded by large, powerful, armoured women, any one of whom I know would easily be able to pick me up and hurl me through the air or dash me against the ground, I think I may have some idea of the thrilling terror that that siQeten must have felt when he came to me to negotiate Vissitrith¡¯s surrender to the 10,091st Rangers!

    They gawk down at us in pretty much exactly the way you would expect Iron Aged people to look at aliens(!)

    ¡°Clear the way for our honoured guests!¡± barks the General at the assembled crowd, clearly terrifying the ones she¡¯s looking straight at and waving out of the way!

    She turns back to her sisters ¡°Kvehah, Whakhowh, Aharnh, Hhlornh, Vhr¡¯rkh, you five are forming the honour guard with me¡­ and for love of the Weaver STOP GAWKING!¡­ Everyone else, stay here!¡±

    Five of the women, presumably the ones named, immediately fall into formation around us.

    The remainder look quite clearly disappointed by not being able to follow.

    I step close to the General and, under my breath, say ¡°Apologies for not clearing this with you earlier, Khr¡¯kowan, but would it be alright for us to bring the vehicle into the palace?¡±

    She finishes listening to me and shouts ¡°Our guests land ship is to be included in the guard!¡± at her sisters.

    Without a moment¡¯s hesitation the guard reforms around us and the mule.

    I smile and nod at the woman in appreciation.

    I signal Victor to put it into follow mode and get off.

    The eleven of us begin making our way up the wide street, to the hilltop palace.

    With my first good look at Vrakhand males¡­ I find them to be¡­ absolutely fucking adorable!

    In stark contrast to their formidable sisters, the men look like gigantic, chibi, Jor¨­gumo plushies!

    Where the women mostly stand between around 2.4-2.6m in their natural stance, the men are only around my height!

    The bluish-black armour that the women have is completely invisible, except for on the tips of their earhorns and backs of their fingers, their bodies mostly being covered in thick fur (at least as far as I can see without undressing any of them(!))

    Their thanatite is only visible at the tips of their feet, fingerclaws and the fangs/tusks that protrude from their faces.

    Their legs and pedipalps are either much fatter than the relatively sleek murderweapons the women have or just so much hairier that they end up looking chubbily chibi!

    Most of them have the reddish brown fur Khr¡¯kowan tells me is typical of her region¡¯s people but a few have other colours, darker and lighter, that suggest them to be nonlocals.

    They mostly look far more nervous about us than the, more confused looking, women!

    I have an overwhelming urge to cuddle and scritch them all¡­ but something tells me that would not be the best way to make a dignified first impression(!)

    Climbing the hill (and stopping every Vrakhand who comes upon us in their tracks to stand, staring at the sight we must be to them as we pass) I look around.

    This hill is a remarkably well defended feature of the land!

    It sits in a meander of the river, that looks most of the way to becoming an oxbow lake, overlooking a wide, forested floodplain.

    To the North, the narrow neck of the peninsula is heavily fortified with a wooden wall.

    With the exception of the ford, behind us to the West (which seems to be the main point of ingress and egress to the city), the only other break in the bankside fortifications is a small port, ahead and to the right, in the Southeast.

    The medium sized, wooden ship I can see at anchor, in the river, suggests that the river is navigable all the way to the sea from this location ¡­ another great point in its favour! Further upstream and that ford would prevent ships from being able to pass.

    The fact that this location was deemed necessary speaks to a species who are no strangers to war!

    We find ourselves cresting the hill, onto a clearly somewhat earthworked plateau, mostly taken up by a 30-40m tall, 50m wide palace.

    The dyed silk of the gigantic multicoloured tent is somewhat reminiscent of a circus bigtop¡­ a comparison I resolve to keep to myself(!)

    ¡°Open the doors!¡± Khr¡¯kowan barks at her distracted sisters, who start out of their staring and pull aside the curtains for us.

    We cross an entrance hall, with more openings leading left and right to other rooms of the palace, and then pass into a single room that must take up the majority of the palace¡¯s floorplan.

    In the centre of the room is a large treetrunk, serving as a pillar, to support the tent.

    Strung from the ceiling are various trophies of frighteningly vicious looking animals.

    Among them, just as the General indicated, I spot an ODR drone with a large dent in its fuselage¡­ next to it a, thoroughly destroyed, thanatite spear!

    Around the room are various Vrakhand, both male and female.

    I spot one who¡¯s missing a foot. She must be the one that the Twigg girl dismembered to make her knife¡­ or ¡®the knife that she wields¡¯ as she would phrase it!

    At the far end of the hall is a grey furred male, his eight eyes milky (clearly blind) and his age apparent even through the fur on his face, sitting on a raised dais.

    On his brow sits a band of metal, into which are mounted spikes of thanatite, symbolically taken from each of his major vassals after they accepted his overlordship.

    At his side is his latest wife, clearly heavily pregnant (with anywhere from 33-44 babies, if the General is to be believed) from the swelling of her hindbody.

    Behind the emperor is a grisly, ghoulish display!

    Dangling from the wall hang 17 Vrakhand heads, their orbits devoid of eyes and periocular flesh, their mouths devoid of teeth and toothplates, their faces bare of their tusk fangs!

    Even being forewarned of this and knowing this species view this as an honour, I can¡¯t help but find it a little stomach churning!

    I¡¯m still unclear on exactly how this emperor has managed to get through so many wives if he only takes one at a time but¡­ that¡¯s probably not a question for this meeting!¡­ Really hope it¡¯s not a Henry VIII type situation!

    I hand a boxed translator to Khr¡¯kowan.

    She takes it and approaches her father.

    ¡°Father¡­ I present to you, our honoured guests from beyond the stars: Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Huntress, Leon ¡®Kennedy¡¯ Byrne, Victor ¡®Embraces¡¯ Taylor, Xon ¡®Great Step¡¯ Runner and Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki!¡± she announces.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.132

    ---Gifts---

    ---Aghogh¡¯s perspective---

    I hear six of my daughters enter the antechamber, Khr¡¯kowan leading from the position of honour.

    Between them, just as she told me, I hear five separate patterns of two feet, all far too heavy and spaced apart to be Vermin footfalls.

    Behind them, I hear the quiet thrum of something very large and, from the quality of the sound shadow it casts, quite hard. I would guess it to be a cart of some kind but¡­ I hear no wheels¡­?

    I would gladly offer the Weaver a year off the end of my life in exchange for being able to see the visitors, just once!

    Mhakhrav lets out a quiet hiss, seemingly unable to control herself, in spite of my daughter''s warnings.

    Thankfully, I don¡¯t think they will have heard!

    I reach out for her hand and, a moment later, feel her place it in mine.

    I give it a little squeeze to reassure her and, in turn, myself.

    From what my daughter tells me, it is absolutely imperative that we not anger these envoys!

    ¡°Father¡­ I present to you, our honoured guests from beyond the stars: Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Huntress, Leon ¡®Kennedy¡¯ Byrne, Victor ¡®Embraces¡¯ Taylor, Xon ¡®Great Step¡¯ Runner and Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki!¡± announces my daughter.

    Curiously, mixed in to the outlandish names are words of comprehensible Vrakhandic.

    I consider whether that may, perhaps, be a coincidence before deciding that they must simply have parts of their names that have been translated for our benefit.

    My daughter approaches me.

    I hear her fumble with something as, in a low voice, she explains ¡°I¡¯m going to put one of their speech coins on you, Father. Be warned, you will spend some moments shuddering when I attach it¡­¡±

    I feel her left hand against the right side of my face while her right goes to my left temple, just below my crown.

    Something smooth and metallic is placed against my head there.

    I feel it latch and, in the same instant, my body is wracked by convulsions!

    I hear my daughters hiss in disgust and wheel on the Foreigners.

    Before my daughter can turn herself to confront her sisters (who she really ought to have prioritised warning of this over me) I hold up my still shaking hand.

    ¡°S-Stop!¡± I shout, my voice juddering

    My daughters obey my orders, holding their position.

    Once I¡¯ve mostly recovered, I reassure them ¡°¡­I¡¯m alright, Daughters¡­ There is no deception or trickery here!¡­ Our [General] did forewarn me¡­ This is apparently the normal result of this device¡¯s use¡­ Stand down.¡±

    I hear them reluctantly backing away from the Foreigners.

    Doing my best to recover my dignity, I turn my face to where I think the envoys are and greet ¡°Esteemed envoys from beyond the stars, I, Broodking Aghogh of the Khawekhan Realm, Son of Broodking Khviakh of the Khawekhan Realm and [General] Khr¡¯kowan the Elder of the Vridhuthan Realm, welcome you to our city!¡±

    A surprisingly light sounding set of feet step forward.

    In a staccato language that my earhorns recognise as completely unfamiliar to me, over which the coin at my temple layers meaning directly into my mind, a voice answers ¡°Greetings, Broodking Aghogh of the Khawekhan Realm, Son of Broodking Khviakh of the Khawekhan Realm and General Khr¡¯kowan the Elder of the Vridhuthan Realm¡­ My name is Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki¡­ I thank you for your gracious words of welcome!¡­ Before anything else, I would like to offer you and your people a gift, as a token of our good will, if I may?¡±

    The voice is high and mellifluous, though the device tells me it belongs to a woman.

    Collecting my nerves from this¡­ strange situation I find myself in, I respond ¡°A gift would be most welcome¡­ Though, my apologies, I will require you to describe its form and function to me, as the Weaver has not been so gracious as to leave me my sight.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Your Majesty¡­ May we unveil it?¡±

    I gesture in the affirmative and hear the woman turn to one of her compatriots.

    ¡°Victor, if you would be so kind?¡±

    A large sound shadow begins to move, accompanied by footsteps so quiet that I can barely hear them.

    The one named ¡®Victor¡¯ goes to the humming, hard thing and I hear the sound of a sizeable cloth (which sounds like neither silk, nor fur, nor leather) being dramatically pulled away.

    My court all gasp at the nature of whatever has been revealed and there rises a clamour of excited murmuring.

    The woman, Emiko, does not make me ask again to know what everyone else in the room already does.

    ¡°Meat, Your Majesty¡­ on your daughter¡¯s recommendation¡­ around six times her weight¡¯s worth¡­ Though, that does include some bones¡­ I understand that, on this planet, animals of comparable size would all be exoskeletal, so please take care that no one damages their teeth on them!¡­ Other than that, it should be quite safe for your people to consume¡­ It was Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s particular favourite of all the kinds we offered her while she was in our care¡­ It¡¯s called ¡®beef¡¯ and comes from an animal called a ¡®cow¡¯, native to the same world we are¡­ We hope that this gift pleases you and demonstrates our peoples¡¯ good intentions to yours.¡±

    ¡°It is most welcomely received!¡± I answer, a little breathless at the impeccable timing of such a gift!

    That much is more than I had hoped to receive from Khravash, even in the best case scenario!

    Were they¡­ aware that we were about to starve?

    I suppose my daughter might have inferred such?

    They definitely took pains to stress that it was a gesture of good will and preempt any notion of this gift being tribute to us¡­ I imagine she is the one that coached them through that!

    In any event, Khr¡¯kowan says we must curry these visitors favour, so ¡°What gift may we offer you, Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki, to show you our good will in return?¡±

    The envoy gives the briefest of approving exhales before answering ¡°There is something, Your Majesty, though¡­ I hope I will not offend you by asking for too much¡­¡±

    Oh Weaver¡­ she¡¯s going to ask for thanatite, isn¡¯t she!

    She¡¯s about to make me choose between submitting my realm to her people¡¯s vassalage without a single arrow being loosed or fighting a (based on what my daughter tells me) doomed war to maintain our independence!

    What should I do!?

    Even if I attempt to placate her by submitting, most of my people will not understand!

    None of my vassals will, none of them having had a first hand account of what a danger the Foreigners pose as I did from Khr¡¯kowan!

    ¡°Name it.¡± I answer, mostly keeping my horror out of my aged voice.

    I hear her raise her arm.

    ¡°I would ask for the return of the [untranslatable term: ¡®drone¡¯. Meaning: device that acts as a servant conducting errands at a distance to its master] that alerted us to your presence on this world, hanging above us¡­ We apologise for unwittingly violating your sovereignty by sending it here without your permission.¡±

    Relief washes over me as I answer ¡°*heh*¡­Rather a humble gift you ask, the return of your own property to you(!)¡­ Please, take it with our apologies for its¡­ current condition.¡±

    ¡°You are most kind, Your Majesty.¡± she answers graciously.

    ¡°Hhlornh, Vhr¡¯rkh, fetch down our guests¡¯ chosen gift and put it on their land ship once there¡¯s space. Kvehah, Whakhowh, Aharnh, begin carrying the [beef] meat to the boys in the kitchen¡­ and pass on the warning about the bones to them!¡± orders my daughter from my side.

    I give her an approving gesture before turning back to the envoys and asking ¡°Might we talk somewhere more private while my daughters prepare your gift for you?¡±

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    The five of us, flanked by four Vrakhand guards (presumably the General¡¯s sisters or half sisters), walk down a corridor formed of richly died silk, patterned with the same kind of webbed script as we found carved into that cave wall in the South, lead by the gigantic woman with her elderly father¡¯s hand loosely held around her forearm.

    His movement is slow and careful compared to the confident, powerful, swift way his daughter walks when not guiding him.

    He stands around a head shorter than me, only around half the height of his daughter and, I¡¯d estimate, less than a fifth of her mass!

    I feel some sympathy for his blindness¡­

    I know a little about the experience of attempting to conduct interspecies diplomacy while having to do without my vision. It¡¯s not an experience I would be eager to repeat! I do not envy the position he¡¯s in.

    It¡¯s also quite clear that the General took the opportunity, when seeking his permission for us to enter the city, to terrify him with stories about us, heedless of us specifically asking her not to!

    In spite of his clear tension and the readily apparent frailness of his body when compared to the younger citizens of his realm, he¡¯s doing a remarkable job of maintaining a regal and dignified baring.

    I suppose, if what Khr¡¯kowan tells us is correct, then he¡¯s nearly as old as the oldest Human living and has been the de facto leader of his whole species for nearly a quarter of that time! I¡¯d guess he has much experience in keeping cool in crises!

    We come to a doorway that, unlike the rest of the palace, is made of masoned stone.

    Passing through it, we descend a short ramp into an entirely stone room, hung with silk tapestries, with open, wooden shutters on the windows at the far side.

    Through the windows is a view, overlooking the city below.

    In the middle of the room is a low table, in the far corner is a large bed clearly designed for a Vrakhand couple.

    We¡¯re in the King¡¯s private chamber¡¯s right now.

    The General helps her father find his place, at the far side of the table, where he lowers his underside to the floor.

    His pedipalps are folded against his front, looking for all the world like a pair of Human knees in a furry pair of trousers.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    His eight sprawling legs are folded close into his sides, much more obviously nonHuman.

    The General turns to her subordinates and orders ¡°Go and find something the right height and sturdiness for our guests to sit on. It is not their custom to seat themselves on the floor.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite unnecessary, Gen. Khr¡¯kowan¡­ This arrangement is perfectly acceptable!¡± I countermand, smiling warmly to soften the correction, as I lower myself to the floor across the table from the King, resting my bottom on top of my ankles in a seiza.

    I gesture the other four down and, immediately, Thran and Victor come down on my left, both in straight backed quarter lotuses that look as if they may be about to start meditating, and Xon and Leon both move to my right and sit with their legs in front of them, folded more loosely than the other two.

    ¡°Belay my last order. Close the door and stand guard outside.¡± she amends.

    Wordlessly, her subordinates file from the room and close the only solid door I¡¯ve seen since entering the city behind them.

    Before joining us at the table, Khr¡¯kowan takes a detour to the windows and sticks out her head, looking straight down what can¡¯t be more than a 5-6m drop below, to check for eavesdroppers.

    Satisfied, she closes the shutters, cutting off the wonderful view, and comes to seat herself besides her father.

    ¡°So¡­ Your Majesty¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­I¡¯m sure you have a lot of questions?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± he answers, giving a little shuffle of his many legs that I¡¯m certain would set any arachnophobe¡¯s pulse racing.

    It was quite amusing to watch Samus making excuses for being put on the complement to the Twigg, when the real reason was clearly her debilitating arachnophobia(!)

    I extend my arms in a gesture he can¡¯t see and observe ¡°Perhaps it would be best to start by answering all your questions then?¡±

    His eight milky eyes stare forward at my face while he thinks.

    ¡°My daughter¡­ tells me you wish us to make peace with the Vermin¡­¡±

    ¡°The ¡®Twigg¡¯, Father.¡± corrects his daughter, which I¡¯m grateful for.

    ¡°Excuse me¡­ You wish us to make peace with the ¡®Twigg¡¯¡­ Why do you care?¡­ If half of what my daughter tells me about you is true, I don¡¯t see what you have to gain from interposing yourselves into the strife between us?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a fair question.¡± I concede, buying myself time to formulate my thoughts.

    Having decided how I¡¯m going to answer, I start ¡°Your Majesty, I don¡¯t wish to insult you when I say this but, from what your daughter tells us, you yourself have never been a soldier, never fought on the front lines of any battle¡­ Is that correct?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± he answers, simply.

    ¡°But you have been King through wars, correct?¡± I push.

    ¡°Many times.¡± he answers, a small amount of defiant pride showing through.

    ¡°In your opinion, is it better to be the King of a realm at peace¡­ or a realm at war?¡± I ask, not suggesting anything with my tone and genuinely interested in his thoughts on the matter.

    ¡°Peace, of course!¡± he answers, slightly affronted.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ because war brings with it loss¡­ starvation, privation¡­ suffering¡­ and¡­ unlike in peacetime, where such issues can receive my full attention, during wartime, my first priority must be victory lest my people¡¯s suffering have been for naught!¡­ Every war my people have fought has felt like having to take a knife to prize off my chest plate and then pull out my still beating heart!¡±

    Satisfied by that answer, I turn to Khr¡¯kowan and ask ¡°What about you, General? You¡¯ve fought in wars. Do you prefer peacetime or war?¡±

    Slightly thrown, she takes a lot longer to formulate her answer than her father did before eventually responding ¡°I¡­ The wars fought in my time have been nothing compared to those my broodmother fought to unite the realms under Father¡¯s rule¡­ War¡­ does give me purpose¡­ does make me feel alive¡­ but, in spite of that, it is never something I would wish for¡­ My answer is peace.¡±

    I nod my understanding ¡°It may surprise you to know that I myself am no stranger to war¡­ When I was a young woman, I was a soldier in the bloodiest war the galaxy has ever fought!¡­ Despite having a name, when people talk about it, it¡¯s usually just ¡®the War¡¯! It¡¯s a war that took both of my parents from me, Mr Taylor¡¯s parents from him and Agent Byrne¡¯s from him¡­ That war is one that left scars on the galaxy that may fade¡­ but will never fully heal!¡±

    Slightly indignantly, the King starts ¡°But then¡­?!¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t we being hypocritical?¡­ Telling you to make peace when we fought a war bloodier than anything you could imagine so recently? A war in which so many men and women died that your language probably doesn¡¯t have words for numbers so large?¡±

    He does not answer, instead waiting for me to continue.

    ¡°Yes, we are¡­ and we aren¡¯t!¡­ You see, the galaxy learned a lesson from the War¡­ We learned what you already know¡­ War is hell!¡­ War is pain! War is suffering! War is loss!¡­ War is the death of everything we value about life¡­ the destruction of everything we strive for!¡­ War is children growing up without their parents¡­ War is men and women waking up to cold, empty beds they once shared with loving spouses¡­ And, while I am lucky enough to have lived to a time where the seared hair follicles¡­" I gesture to the silver highlight in my fringe "¡­burned skin¡­¡± I gesture to my forehead ¡°¡­and pair of brown eyes that were boiled out of my skull in that War¡­¡± I gesture to my purple eyes ¡°¡­could be healed, I can tell you the scars to people¡¯s minds are not so easily fixed!¡­ Like you, my people do not enjoy needless suffering¡­ not in ourselves, not in others¡­ That is why we wish to facilitate an end to hostilities between you and the Twigg!¡±

    In the corners of my vision, I see Victor and Leon¡¯s bodylanguage shift as they learn what Thran and Xon already knew about the origin of my unnatural eye and hair colours.

    ¡°So, you came all the way from the stars to end our conflict for us?¡± asks the elderly Vrakhand.

    ¡°We did not, no¡­ We didn¡¯t even know about the presence of multiple species until we got here, let alone that there was a war between you¡­ and we will not be ending your conflict for you¡­ That¡¯s not our place!¡­ All we wish to do is provide you the means to end it yourselves, namely; translators to allow dialogue, a neutral meeting place where neither side need fear an ambush and third party, disinterested arbitration to keep discourse civil and negotiations from breaking down¡­ You¡¯ll have to make peace yourselves¡­ That is, if you agree to participate in the talks at all¡­¡± I respond.

    He frowns slightly, mulling over my words, then asks ¡°Why did you come to our world, originally?¡±

    ¡°We came to invite you to become a member of our¡­ community¡­ A nation of nations among the stars, called the Galactic Union.¡± I answer, taking a moment to think of how to describe such a polity in a way he would understand.

    ¡°And¡­ why do you want us among this ¡®nation of nations¡¯¡­ From what my daughter tells me, it doesn¡¯t sound as if we have much to offer you!¡±

    I think for some moments about how to answer that.

    I settle on a metaphor ¡°Your Majesty, do you know how many threads were in the rope that held our drone from your ceiling?¡±

    Confused, he answers ¡°You¡­ must forgive me¡­ I do not believe I have ever touched that rope specifically and, as I¡¯ve previously stated, I am without sight¡­ So, I do not know!¡±

    ¡°General?¡± I ask, turning my attention to her.

    Frowning in exactly the same way as her father, allowing me to really see the family resemblance, the large woman answers ¡°I¡­ could not say for certain¡­ but my guess would be that that rope was between 66-110 threads in thickness?¡±

    ¡°I see. What would have happened if you had attempted to hang it from a rope that was only a single thread thick?¡± I muse.

    ¡°The thread would have snapped under the weight of your [drone]!¡± she scoffs.

    ¡°Exactly!¡± I answer, excitedly, then turn my attention back to the King ¡°And, Your Majesty, why did you and the General¡¯s mother decide to prosecute the wars to conquer all the other realms?¡±

    Slightly annoyed at the perceived accusation in that question, he answers ¡°Well¡­ that was¡­ because our people¡¯s survival was at stake! We could see what disunity was doing to the Vrakhand! That the decade or so of war that it took to subordinate them to our rule was preferable to the constant warfare (that was the norm at the time) being allowed to continue indefinitely!¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± I say, surprising him with my ready acceptance of his justification as he clearly expected to have to defend his reasoning ¡°One person¡­ is like a single strand of silk. There¡¯s a certain amount of strength and resilience they have in them before the load they are being asked to bear will simply break them!¡­ Almost without fail, people of any species realise the simple truth that being woven together into the rope of community makes them stronger than they would be alone, not simply because there are more strands to take a given load but because the strands themselves reinforce one another! A rope that¡¯s a hundred strands thick can take much more strain than a hundred strands pulling individually! Communities can then weave themselves into thicker and thicker ropes, encompassing more and more diversity and becoming yet stronger and stronger!¡­ The Galactic Union is the rope that almost all of the peoples of this galaxy have chosen to become threads in¡­¡±

    Understanding, the elderly man asks ¡°And, now, you wish to make our thread join to your rope?¡± his tone resigned.

    ¡°No, not ¡®make¡¯¡­¡± I correct ¡°¡­as I said, membership in the Galactic Union is 100% voluntary! No species is a member of it against their will and members may withdraw at any time!¡­ A respect for others¡¯ right to self determination is one of the GU¡¯s core¡­ tenets¡­¡±

    I trail off, realising the extent to which I just put my foot in my mouth.

    ¡®We respect others¡¯ right to self determination¡­ exactly the way you didn¡¯t when you and your previous wife subjugated every other one of your species¡¯ nations a little under half a century ago!¡¯

    It isn¡¯t as if I¡¯m in any position to stand in judgement!

    Though Terran Unification happened almost entirely bloodlessly, it was also far later in our respective development!

    Our history is utterly fraught with examples of men who did exactly what this man and his late wife did and are still thought of as heroes by many!

    He is to the Vrakhand what Oda Nobunaga was to Japan, what Giuseppe Garibaldi was to Italy, what Q¨ªn Sh¨« Hu¨¢ng was to China, what George Washington was to the States, what Otto von Bismark was to Germany.

    Our history has no shortage of men who forged nations by dousing themselves in rivers of blood and are still remembered fondly for it!

    I can¡¯t hold this man to the moral standards that are a luxury of the times I¡¯m lucky enough to live in!

    Fortunately, if he noticed my blunder, he chooses not to bring it up, asking instead ¡°So¡­ if we wished to join this community, we would need to reconcile with the Verm¡­ the Twigg?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ would say so, Your Majesty, yes¡­ To be honest, as we explained to your daughter while she was in our care, there¡¯s really no precedent for a situation like yours!¡­ There are only a tiny handful of planets where multiple species coevolved to a state of sentience and those that there are happened to be already at peace with one another by the time we made First Contact with them¡­ However, what there is precedent for are species who were discovered amidst civil wars¡­ In such cases the Galactic Union has done as we are doing now, attempted to bring the conflict to a peaceful resolution before the species can be accepted as members.¡±

    He gives a gesture my translator flags as somewhere between understanding and conceding before he answers ¡°Neither of these are decisions it is within my authority to make on my own. I will need to invite my vassal lords here to discuss these issues¡­ Under normal circumstances, I would say it would take a season to dispatch messengers with their summonses, for those messengers to make their way to the furthest realms, for those lords to make the necessary arrangements to travel and then make their way here but, with the Ver-Twigg uprising ongoing, I could make no guarantees that any messengers I dispatched would survive the journey¡­ So, unless you could get them to call an armistice for us, it might take considerably longer!¡±

    I smile ¡°Oh, fetching your vassals here will be a simple matter for us to take care of!¡±

    ¡°They have a sky ship, Father.¡± his daughter elaborates ¡°It sails through the air at speeds so fast it could easily traverse the entire continent inside of a morning¡­ I rode it down from the star ship they have up in the evernight today¡­ If I or one of my sisters rides with them to show them the way, it will be a matter of days to gather all of our vassals here in Khawekh.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ I¡­ see¡­!¡± states the elder statesman, understandably shellshocked by what¡¯s just been explained to him.

    ¡°There is something I¡¯m hoping you can agree to in this meeting, without your vassals'' input.¡± I say, hoping the request won¡¯t offend him.

    ¡°What is that?¡±

    ¡°We would like to put an embassy building on your lands, a few kilometres from your city, just as a pied ¨¤ terre to conduct our discussion with you and with the Twigg from. Would that be acceptable?¡± I ask, sweetly.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ you want to ¡®put¡¯ a building on my land?¡­ You mean ¡®build¡¯ a building, surely?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°I mean ¡®put¡¯¡­ The building is already built, it¡¯s just around 30,000km over our heads right now. We just need your permission to bring it here and place it down¡­ If you and your vassals end up refusing contact, we can just take it away again.¡±

    He gives a slightly defeated gesture that, even without translation, I would be able to identify as meaning something like ¡®Sure(!) That may as well happen(!)¡¯ before answering ¡°I grant you permission to temporarily place your embassy building on my people¡¯s land¡­ but request that you attempt to minimise the impact of your hunting on the local game, as much as is possible.¡±

    I give a grateful nod and answer ¡°I thank you, Your Majesty, and there is no need to fret. There¡¯s only one hunter among us and we have no need to hunt any of your game at all.¡±

    He¡¯s clearly curious about how we¡¯re intending to feed ourselves if not by hunting but chooses to ignore that, instead changing the subject ¡°I should like to enquire about the hierarchy of this [Galactic] Union of yours?¡±

    ¡°The hierarchy?¡± I respond, my tone querying.

    ¡°Yes, I assume we would start at the bottom¡­ but would there be a way for us to advance our standing in it?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well certainly, as it stands, you and the Twigg would represent the two least technologically developed species¡­ and yours would be the least numerous by some way¡­ but, if you were to join, you would be offered aid to bring your technology up to par with the other species and, in time, your population would naturally increase as a result of lower mortality rates and being able to colonise other planets¡­ but, other than these practical realities, there is no hierarchy in the GU for you to move up or down¡­ your representative would have as much voice as any other, their vote would count for as much as any other and your citizens would be of equal standing to any other!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s untrue¡­¡± challenges Khr¡¯kowan.

    There¡¯s no accusation in her voice, it¡¯s more like¡­ confusion.

    I frown at her, lightly ¡°What makes you say that, General?¡±

    ¡°Because, during my time on your ship, the supremacy of the Humans of Terra was readily obvious to me!¡­ There were easily more than 121 different species on that vessel and, you tell me, there are thousands more¡­ but the Humans were by far the most numerous! You were the ones who mainly interacted with me and with the Twigg. The deference the other kinds showed you was clear. Even now, it is only Humans who have been allowed among you five envoys to my father!¡­ There is, very clearly, a hierarchy and Humans are at its summit!¡± she misapprehends.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± I hesitate ¡°¡­well¡­ I¡¯m afraid you aren¡¯t correct about that, though I can see how you might have had that impression¡­ None of what you¡¯ve said is false, apart from the conclusion¡­ There are other explanations for all of that! The overrepresentation, the¡­ seeming deference, the fact that it¡¯s only Terrans here right now¡­ none of it means our species is higher status than any other!¡±

    She sneers in the style of Lin Beifong and asks ¡°What other explanation could there be?!¡±

    I suck in a breath through my teeth and start ¡°Well¡­ to explain that, I have to start by telling you a little more about the War¡­ but¡­ first, I have to tell you what a ¡®deathworld¡¯ is¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.133

    ---Dogs---

    ---Ngngomg¡¯s perspective---

    My wife sits in the pilot¡¯s seat of the ambassadorial craft with myself in the copilot¡¯s chair, Ms Arran, Ms Tuun, Mr Nulgynet, Mr Kelly and Ms Pereira and 24 excitable Twigg sitting in the back.

    Once the Bright Plume and it¡¯s shuttle are gone, this vehicle and my fighter craft are going to be the only transport we have for possibly over a year until another expedition can be mounted!

    My fighter won¡¯t be any good for more than two humanoids (my size or smaller) so any ferrying around of the Vrakhand or large numbers of Twigg will have to happen in this craft.

    ¡°Viig?¡± calls Lhamo, shortly followed by a pair of tiny, digitigrade feet pattering toward us from the back.

    ¡°Hello?¡± pants the breathless, sweaty girl from between me and my wife¡¯s seats.

    ¡°Could you take a quick look out of the window to make sure we¡¯re in the right place? I¡¯ve taken us to roughly where you described but I just don¡¯t want to put any of you or your friends off in a place where it will be difficult to find your way home.¡±

    The small Twigg scampers around me, to the left side of the front windscreen, and grunts, fruitlessly trying to raise herself high enough to see out.

    Suppressing a laugh, my wife requests ¡°Would you help her, darling?¡±

    I reach out with my left hand and wrap my thumb around the left side of her waist and five fingers around the right side.

    ¡°Oh!¡± yelps the little, green skinned woman in surprise, as I raise her high enough to get a view out of the shuttle.

    She¡¯s perhaps [10kg] and, with my size and deathworldified biceps and forearm muscles, lifting her is quite easy for me.

    Looking over her shoulder, she flirtatiously observes ¡°If you weren¡¯t holding me at arm length, I¡¯d think you wanted a face lick, manhandling me like this, big boy(!)¡±

    I sigh as my wife chuckles.

    ¡°Your species is going to be dethroned from the title of ¡®galaxy¡¯s most promiscuous¡¯ with these guys around, you realise(!)¡± I deadpan to Lhamo.

    ¡°Fine by me(!)¡± she returns, immediately.

    ¡°There!¡± says Viig, pointing a clawed finger at a depressed clearing ¡°Put us down in Gob Hollow¡­¡± then she thinks and turns to the motley crew of other Twigg of various tribes in the back ¡°¡­Everyone knows the way back home from Gob Hollow, right?¡±

    A chorus of agreement returns.

    ¡°Alright, ¡®Gob Hollow¡¯ it is then!¡± smiles my wife, banking the ship to make for the treeless patch.

    We land and Lhamo opens the rear door.

    The throng of Twigg spill out of the craft into the fern covered clearing, surrounded by forested slopes on all sides.

    The contact team follow behind them.

    We watch as they spend some time saying some heartfelt goodbyes to eachother.

    Fortunately, none of them decide to mark the separation any more intimately than by embracing before they break into five separate groups, each group heading in a different direction.

    The largest group, including Viig, Grriv and those triplets heads away to the Northwest.

    That doesn¡¯t necessarily mean that is the direction of their village.

    They did explain that even if we had been willing to land directly in their settlement, they wouldn¡¯t have been willing to tell us where it was yet.

    When they told us that, Mr Kelly nodded and sagely observed that it was ¡®The Partisan Code¡¯.

    When prompted to elaborate, he explained that groups of partisans tell one another as little as possible about their locations and movements to keep one group¡¯s compromise from creating a domino effect.

    It was only when he said that that it occurred to me that the man comes from a Terran world that spent nearly the entirety of the War under occupation!

    You would never guess that he had lived through such trauma, given how jovial he generally acts!

    I tear my mind from that to observe ¡°This is¡­ surprisingly tranquil and idyllic, for a deathworld.¡±

    A snicker goes around the rest of the (all Terran with the one exception of the deathworld raised roughworlder) group.

    ¡°Were you expecting for there to be an earthquake or volcanic eruption every five minutes?¡± smirks Ms Pereira.

    ¡°Or to be infected with a deadly disease straight away?¡± chuckles my wife.

    ¡°Or to get attacked by twelve different kinds of vicious predator, right away(?)¡± joins Mr Kelly.

    ¡°Ah, now¡­ in fairness to him, have you seen the Spider people!?¡± defends Ms Arran.

    ¡°The Vrakhand, Samus¡­ and I think you may be letting personal bias run away with you(!)¡± corrects Lhamo, mirthfully.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t!¡± insists Arran ¡°Nobody has any business having that many eyes, that many different types of dentition or that many¡­¡± she shudders ¡°¡­legs!¡­ Not to mention how fucking Spartan their whole social structure sounds!¡±

    ¡°Regardless, they are one of the species we¡¯re here to make contact with, so you will need to get over it and be respectful.¡± says my wife, more sternly now, using the tone she spoke to our children with when they misbehaved.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­!¡± says the blonde woman in the same tone my children started using when they got into their teens.

    ¡°Y¡¯ever wanna get over your fear, just let me know!¡­¡± says the animal handler, cheerfully ¡°¡­Got some biYUTiful tarantulas in my room!¡­ Super friendly!¡±

    ¡°Hard pass!¡± grimaces Arran.

    The New Australian shrugs ¡°No worries!¡­ Suit yourself!¡±

    ---Mek¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m too old for this!

    Since Viig and Grriv apparently got taken by ¡®Strangers¡¯ (people neither Folk nor Monster, just like Grriv was musing about the other week) coordinating all of the villages in this war has fallen to me!

    I¡¯m just¡­ I¡¯m not clever enough for this!

    All I am is old!

    Being old doesn¡¯t make you cleverer¡­ all it means is that you¡¯ve seen more, often letting you give an illusion of cleverness!

    Being worldly wise is no substitute for the kind of head Viig has on her!

    But Spirits only know where these Strangers have her right now and whether she¡¯ll ever be back!

    As I sit with Folk from the nearest ten villages, trying and failing to understand the map scratched into the floor of the hut and ignore the twisting stomach uneasiness about the fate of all the Folk carried away by Strangers, along with a lone, gigantic Monster, to a building of metal that, then, flew away, I find that age is more of a hindrance to understanding than a help!

    The mind, like both hands, has weakened with the years and simply can¡¯t grasp and hold details, like it used to when I was a young man!

    Viig! Where are you?!

    At that moment, Keor bursts into the tent.

    ¡°They¡¯re back!¡± he shouts.

    Everyone is standing up and following him out without asking him to explain who he¡¯s talking about.

    It could be no one else.

    There¡¯s a slight crush as several of us reach and try to get through the door too close together but I barge into the back of the blockage, breaking it, and we all tumble outside.

    It takes me a few seconds of scanning around before I see them.

    All nine of the Folk taken from this village are coming back from the East.

    Yor, Lor, Mor, Mif, Tem, Mreg, Pwik, Grriv and Viig!

    All of them safe!

    All of them alive!

    I sprint at them, faster than I¡¯ve moved in years, and crash into the boy I probably put into the belly of Pon and the girl that Lof probably put there, and throw two arms around the pair.

    ¡°Grriv! Viig!¡± I sob, head between shoulders ¡°You¡¯ve come home! You¡¯re OK! You¡¯re alive!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re home, Mek¡­¡± chuckles Grriv, patting a hand on the back of me.

    ¡°All safe¡­¡± reassures Viig, doing the same.

    I push myself away from them and turn the eye that still works from one to the other, holding each by the shoulder, before saying ¡°You two have some explaining to do!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll tell you all about it but then you and ever¡­¡±

    ¡°Please!¡± interrupts Bvim, a Folk from the Dith Village ¡°Jiy of Dith!¡­ Is she safe?!¡±

    Viig bares four fangs in a reassuring smile and answers ¡°Jiy, Nlot and Mpog are on the way back to Dith right now but please wait here because¡­¡±

    Bvim does not wait, scrambling instead toward the stablekennel and reemerging moments later riding the same [stallionhound] he brought here, in a gallop out of the village.

    Viig sighs ¡°¡­suppose we¡¯ll have to explain everything without him here, then(!)¡±

    ---Lhamo¡¯s perspective---

    We¡¯ve been sitting in this wide clearing for several hours when I spot movement through the trees.

    Streaming down from the slopes, I see dozens of fast moving shapes.

    That lope is far too fast for Twigg, even ones moving quadrupedally!

    The tide of animals plunges into the bracken at the edge of the clearing and begins washing toward us at high speed.

    It¡¯s unnerving enough that Samus and Tuun are coming into postures of readiness to fight, in spite of themselves!

    Bursting from the ferns, around 7m away, comes the first of the creatures, allowing me to get a good look at them, finally.

    It¡¯s¡­ a dog¡­

    With the exception of it¡¯s ears and long muscular tail, with a bright blue brush at the end, that creature looks, straight up, like a large dog that has been the victim of a small child with several different colours of hair dye at their disposal(!)

    It¡¯s fur is dark green with a few small patches of light blue and a countershading of purple on its underside.

    Besides the colours, the tail and the ears though, they¡¯re¡­ just dogs!

    Convergent evolution is a hell of a drug(!)

    On the dog¡¯s back is a saddle, in which rides a Twigg.

    Not one of those who we returned from the Bright Plume, this one is quite significantly older looking.

    He¡¯s the first I¡¯ve seen with a full beard which, along with his hair, is mostly grey with only the slightest tinge of green to it.

    Across his left eye, from his forehead down to his left cheek, is a long, deep scar that has left that eye without sight.

    Despite the warm weather and in contrast to the relative lightness of the clothing worn by all the other Twigg I¡¯ve thus far interacted with, this man is rather heavily dressed.

    He hops down from his canine mount which, now free of his direction, immediately passes by him to begin a very energetic and playful investigation of us.

    ¡°Aww! Puppy!¡± croons Samus, immediately before the ¡®puppy¡¯ tackles her backwards off of the log she just sat back down on and begins boisterously sniffing and wrestling with the large, laughing woman.

    More of the dog mounts appear with more unfamiliar Twigg hopping down from them.

    A veritable crowd of tiny humanoids now stand staring at us with various shades of curiosity and alarm on their faces as a dogpile of their mounts forms atop the delighted blonde, behind me.

    My husband and I stand to greet them.

    Being so tall, Ngngomg instantly draws every eye.

    Then, Viig steps forward and (in a way that in almost any Terran culture would be considered quite rude) reaches up to me and demands ¡°Give them¡­¡±

    I smile and pull a box containing several metal discs from my belt, placing it into her hand.

    Wordlessly, she takes it and turns back to her gathered people.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to put talking coins they made on you!¡± she explains ¡°You¡¯ll shiver a bit!¡±

    One by one, her nimble clawed fingers dip into the box and withdraw translators, placing each on the temple of one of her kind and activating it with an unfaltering deftness that suggests a lot more practice than I know she¡¯s had!

    I make a mental note of the fact that procedural memory seems to be a particular strength of this species.

    Each Twigg shudders and shakes as the translator jacks into their nervous system, a couple even lose their feet, but none need more than a few moments to recover.

    She runs out of Twigg capable translators long before everyone present has one.

    Let¡¯s just hope our message doesn¡¯t get too garbled being passed from the lips of those who heard it directly to those that didn¡¯t and on from there.

    I raise my right palm to the height of my head and speak ¡°Greetings, good people of this world¡­ My name is Lhamo ¡®Crane¡¯ Yeshe¡­ and I have come here from beyond your stars with a mission of peace.¡±

    The greybeard steps forward ¡°Greetings, Lhamo ¡®[dragonbird]¡¯ Yeshe¡­ my name is Mek, oldest Twigg of Miw Village, here in the Southlands¡­ I welcome you and the peace you bring to our world, Graom.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.134

    ---Cove---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    Having followed the river, for around 1000km from Khawekh to where it finally met the East coast of Graom-Wakhkort¡¯s supercontinent, we turned North and followed the coast.

    The realm Khr¡¯kowan is guiding us to, Wokhash, is the second largest in her father¡¯s empire.

    Apparently, having an alliance with Wokhash (leveraged by Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s mother returning home to demand it) is what allowed Khawekh¡¯s rise to hegemony over the rest of the realms.

    Its status as the empire¡¯s second city necessitates its lord being the first to be informed of the current circumstances.

    This region of the planet is much more arid looking than the lush, verdant lands around the capital.

    The river¡¯s channel cast an undulating line of green through the dry landscape but it¡¯s only been scrub since we put the delta behind us.

    Considering just how much meat Vrakhand require to sustain their large bodies and mesothermic metabolisms, you¡¯d never guess that a city so large could survive here!

    ¡°There! Put us down atop that cliff¡­¡± instructs Khr¡¯kowan, jabbing a thick, clawed finger towards a section of the coast, only distinguished by having a small river, tumbling over the side, forming a waterfall that pours down into a cove that I can¡¯t see the bottom of.

    Careful not to allow the city itself to get line of sight on us, Twila sets us down.

    ¡°If any local Twigg or Vrakhand come to investigate you, Twila¡­¡±

    ¡°Pretend to be an angry god to frighten them away(?)¡± she interrupts.

    I give a mirthful sigh and answer ¡°No¡­ Whatever the opposite of pretending to be an angry god is, please(!)¡±

    ¡°Sooooo¡­ a cheerful devil(?)¡± she quips.

    ¡°No, a completely mundane construction that does not talk, does not fly and cannot be opened for further investigation is what I would like you to pretend to be! We don¡¯t want to start any more weird rumours than necessary!¡±

    ¡°Honestly¡­ a building of entirely metal is only marginally less liable to start strange rumours than a building of entirely metal that speaks and proclaims itself a god.¡± observes Khr¡¯kowan, dryly.

    ¡°Nevertheless, please behave!¡± I say, still addressing Twila before stepping off the craft onto the dry, dusty, seaside clifftop.

    Twila is a moderate mischief maker¡­ but I¡¯m fairly confident she wouldn¡¯t actually go as far as terrifying some poor local!

    ¡°They won¡¯t be expecting anyone down the path we¡¯ll have to walk. It¡¯s fairly infeasible to arrive here over land, so the only ones who use this passage are locals. They will be surprised by me and unnerved by all of you¡­ Please let me do the talking.¡± the General explains.

    ¡°Not a problem(!)¡± I chuckle back, tapping the translator at my temple to remind her of the fact that she¡¯s the only one who can do the talking!

    ¡°Right¡­ Obviously¡­ I keep forgetting!¡± she sighs in answer.

    She leads us to the head of a narrow canyon path, cut into the cliffs, which descends to the cove below.

    Once we¡¯ve been walking for a minute or two, we round a bend to see a barricade, blocking the pass.

    Two women are stationed there, clearly in postures of relaxation.

    There faces snap to Khr¡¯kowan and they scramble to their feet, presenting their spears forward.

    The uncomfortable bodylanguage of soldiers caught at repose while on duty is apparently universal(!)

    Then, their sixteen eyes drift downward¡­ and come to rest on the Humans present.

    They stare at us with both confusion and consternation adorning their faces while they try and work out what they¡¯re seeing.

    One of them returns their attention to the General to ask ¡°Khir thu ess?¡±

    Unphased by the much smaller woman¡¯s aggressive tone, she calmly answers ¡°I am [General] Khr¡¯kowan of the Khawekhan Realm, Daughter of Broodking Aghogh of the Khawekhan Realm and [General] Kvehak of this realm. I am here for an audience with my uncle and you will not obstruct me.¡± her tone less of a threat and more of a statement of fact!

    The women waver for some moments before the one yet to speak gestures around the rest of us and asks ¡°Iskh dukh ess¡­?¡± then up the path behind us ¡°Hekh thu viha kivh dokh?¡±

    Now allowing a hard edge into her voice, Khr¡¯kowan hisses ¡°Who these people are is not something it is proper to illuminate to you before I have explained it to [Lord] Khravash!¡­ For now, you may simply think of them as honoured guests of the Khawekhan [Empire] and treat them with all the respect due to such!¡­ As to how we arrived, that information is likewise something that I will need to discuss with my uncle before it can be further disseminated¡­ Now, let us pass¡­¡±

    Clearly uneasy, the women hold for another few moments before standing aside.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Wokhash mihar, Khawekhhor Vishhanx¡­¡± mumbles one, averting her eyes downward.

    I do my best to look nonthreating as we pass them and walk beneath the entryway.

    I feel the pair staring after us and hear their hushed whispering in rapid Vrakhandic, as soon as they think we¡¯re out of earshot.

    A minute or two after being allowed through the gate we get our first look at the city proper.

    It¡¯s¡­ like something from a fantasy novel!

    Sheer cliffs loom overhead on all sides other than seaward.

    The waterfall I saw the top of as we landed looks much more impressive from below!¡­ Roaring down and sending clouds of water droplets billowing out over the verdant, untamed land at the back of the cove, toward the town.

    By the sea¡¯s edge is a forest of hundreds of silk tents.

    The blue and green dyed design, that made up the largest single minority in Khawekh, here make up the majority.

    Where the river meets the sea stands a palace tent, not quite as impressively large as the one in the capital.

    Looming behind the tents, however, is something that put Khawekh¡¯s equivalent to shame!

    A port, at which are docked more than a dozen large wooden sailing ships, far bigger than the one at anchor in the capital¡¯s river!

    On their decks I can see the silhouettes of Vrakhand women, going about their tasks with comfortable ease.

    Wokhash is a coastal town, sustained almost entirely by the sea¡¯s bounty.

    Its women, more than hunter-soldiers, are fisher-sailors.

    The trade routes that run up and down the East coast and K¡¯rvakh River also bring wealth to the city but it¡¯s apparently rare for meat to be traded.

    Less perishable goods, like iron, silk and the very wood that those ships are built from, flow easily to this coastal fortress city from elsewhere.

    At the far side of the cove, across a bridge over the river mouth, is a long sandy beach with bright sun beating down on it and sparkling blue water lapping against it.

    The General leads us as we walk down the path to her uncle¡¯s city.

    As we come between the silk tents, we elicit the predictable reaction of stopping and gawking from every Vrakhand.

    I suppose, if a Human had lead five Vrakhand into a fishing village on an Iron Aged Earth, the reaction would have been much the same¡­

    Actually¡­ scratch that(!)

    If five Vrakhand had been revealed to Iron Aged Humans the result would probably have involved much more running and screaming(!)

    We have the advantage of looking comparatively nonthreatening, so we only elicit confusion and moderate unease.

    We come up to what looks like a small market square, in which there stands an adorable, brown furred male, looking away from us and grasping the tops of two long conical shells with messes of limp tentacles and dead eyes dangling from the bottoms.

    He stands beside a large woman who¡¯s seated on the ground and several crates of the shelled cephalopods.

    Though they¡¯re only a metre or so long, the things sort of look like those ancient extinct Terran nautiloids¡­ what were they called¡­ cameroceras?

    ¡°Whiiivk!¡­ Dhuuugh whivk!¡­ Komhak viki anht!¡± shouts the fluffy little salesman.

    The woman notices us and, her face fixed in an open mouthed gape, raises one of her tridactyl hands from where it was folded in front of her chest and frantically begins to tap the little man on the shoulder.

    He looks behind himself to the fisherwoman and follows her gaze.

    His eight eyes come to rest on five Humans and go wide.

    This is only the second of all the Vrakhandic realms we¡¯re going to need to visit over the next few weeks¡­

    I suppose we had better get used to being stared at!

    ---Khravash¡¯s perspective---

    A son of Aghogh stands before my plinth, two sisters at his flank.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that my city does not have sufficient stores of food to be donating any meaningful quantity to the capital.¡± I frown.

    ¡°We aren¡¯t asking for charity¡­ We are prepared to pay you for all that we are given.¡± explains the boy, calmly.

    ¡°That¡¯s all very well and good¡­ but have you given any thought to spoilage? How will you take whatever you buy from us back to Khawekh without it becoming rotten?¡± I ask.

    ¡°We would ask that you either sell us cured sea meat or enough salt to cure whatever you sell us ourselves¡­¡± he answers without missing a beat.

    Despite his youth, he clearly does not want for intelligence¡­

    Then again¡­

    ¡°That much salt will considerably increase the price¡­¡± I observe, making pretence of concern, while gleefully thinking about how much profit I stand to make from the Khawekhans¡¯ desperation.

    ¡°We are prepared to pay it.¡± says the boy, resolutely.

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary!¡± comes a deep, woman¡¯s voice from behind the doorway curtains.

    Startled, I look to the far side of the room, where I see my niece entering.

    ¡°What trickery is this?!¡± I snarl at the three Khawekhans, standing before my throne plinth ¡°You told me Khr¡¯kowan was dead not [minutes] ago!¡±

    All three feign astonishment, looking behind them, to their half sister, then back to me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t play fools!¡­ To have arrived this close to you she must have been aboard the same ship you arrived on! You expect me to believe you didn¡¯t know!? What is the purpose of this deception!¡± I shriek, outraged!

    Was the whole thing a lie? The talk of a Vermin uprising? The capital starving? All of it?

    I can feel my dreams of Wokhashan hegemony slipping away.

    It¡¯s at this point that I notice the things walking behind my niece as she approaches me.

    I raise my finger to point at one of them and begin ¡°What are¡­?¡±

    ¡°Stop talking, Uncle.¡± she cuts me off.

    If anyone apart from her and her father spoke to me so bluntly, I would have my daughters seize them for their insolence!

    Khr¡¯kowan takes a deep breath and speaks ¡°I have come with news: As of yesterday, a temporary armistice has been agreed to by the Twigg elements currently located in and near the Khawekhan [Crownlands]¡­ Hunting can resume and Khawekh is no longer in need of food imports. Though it is good to know how much we would have been able to count on you in our hour of need, Uncle(!)¡± dryly.

    ¡°B-but¡­ What?!¡± I fluster ¡°Who are the ¡®Twigg¡¯¡­ and how can you possibly know of happenings in Khawekh that only occurred yesterday!?¡±

    ¡°The ¡®Twigg¡¯ is the proper name for those that are no longer to be called ¡®Vermin¡¯¡­ and I¡¯m aware of things that happened in Khawekh yesterday because I was there yesterday.¡± she answers simply.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be absurd, Khr¡¯kowan!¡± I scoff ¡°It takes ten days to sail from Khawekh! How would you have made the journey in only one?¡­ Did you fly here(!?)¡±

    A mirthful expression passes her face as she chuckles ¡°Funny you should ask, Uncle, but¡­ as it happens, I did!¡±

    Unnerved by the large woman¡¯s deranged words and the¡­ disgusting, soft skinned bipeds in her company, I fail to summon any response.

    ¡°Sister, your hunting party¡­ they told us they saw you die?¡± asks the male, doing an incredible play at acting as if this is the first of this insanity he¡¯s hearing about if it isn¡¯t!

    She smiles ¡°Reports of my death have been¡­ greatly exaggerated(!)¡± before continuing ¡°There is a common element to my survival, the armistice with the Twigg and the rapidity of my journey here; all of them have been facilitated by these people and their compatriots¡­¡±

    She gestures to the creatures behind her.

    ¡°They have come here from beyond the stars to invite us to join them there. They have much wondrous knowledge and many astounding abilities to share with us¡­ The only condition is a reconciliation with the Twigg¡­ Uncle, my father requests your presence in Khawekh to discuss these matters¡­ We can fly there as soon as you¡¯ve made the proper preparations.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.135

    ---Grains---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    The five Humans and I walk across the bridge over the mouth of the River Orkhat, beside my uncle¡¯s palace.

    It took some time to explain everything to his satisfaction and then explain it all again to an assembly of Wokhash¡¯s citizens.

    My uncle has agreed to ride in the sky ship to Khawekh, only asking until sunset to make the necessary arrangements.

    He still seems rather dubious of the truth of such a thing as a ¡®sky ship¡¯, not that I can blame him for that¡­(!)

    What I can blame him for, however, is the fact that he thought I was dead, that the capital was starving and under siege by Ver¡­ by Twigg forces and was in the middle of attempting to price gouge us on the supplies necessary to survive!

    It¡¯s not as if it¡¯s a surprise that he would act thusly.

    His dissatisfaction with inheriting a realm my grandfather had subordinated to my father¡¯s kingship isn¡¯t exactly a secret(!)

    Nevertheless, it was disheartening!

    With the Warring States period having concluded (my entire lifetime ago), I would like to think that everyone would have come to see that we are one people¡­ that ills that befall any of us affect all of us!

    My uncle still has the bitter, acrimonious attitude of one raised in an era when every realm had to have its spears pointed at every other at all times!

    An uprising wouldn¡¯t have had any direct bearing on Wokhash, since it''s located in a region without any significant numbers of Twigg and does not rely on the game of the land to survive.

    Khravash could have sat back and let the other realms wither as the uprising spread, until we weren¡¯t in any position to resist his realm asserting its overlordship upon us!

    I suppose, I might feel the same if I weren¡¯t the First Woman of Khawekh¡­ If I were in his position, perhaps I would be resentful too, but¡­ I would like to think I wouldn¡¯t try to profiteer off of emergency famine relief!

    As we step onto the sandy beach that my companions seemed strangely enthusiastic about visiting while we wait, I see a whaler emerge from the north and round the point to enter the bay.

    It drags a medium sized [dunkleosteus whale] through the water, fastened to the starboard side of its hull, toothplates bared in a fearsome death grimace as three of its rigid, chitinous pectoral fins on its right side wave, limply, out of the water.

    One of the crew spots the strange beings on the beach and alerts the sailor next to her.

    Both women stand on the deck, the points of their feet buried in spongey wooden boatshoes, and stare at my companions.

    I sigh and take a seat atop the masoned stone lip which forms the boundary of the beach sand.

    [Dr] Miyazaki turns to look back at me, the flesh around her white and purple eyes creased in assessment.

    ¡°You guys go on ahead¡­¡± she says to the others ¡°¡­I¡¯m just going to have a seat for a sec.¡±

    Ms Huntress is clearly uncomfortable from her bodylanguage (though her blank face betrays nothing) as she wavers.

    The veteran smiles and leans over to have a brief, murmured conversation with her bodyguard.

    I don¡¯t hear anything said but Miyazaki¡¯s face wears a kind, reassuring expression as she gestures vaguely in my direction with one hand and along the beach with the other.

    The two women break and the taller one begins walking back toward me.

    The shorter one stares after her for a few moments before turning to follow the other Humans.

    The woman (who tells me her eye colour and the silver streak in her hair are battle scars, earned in the bloodiest war in the history of the known universe) takes a seat beside me.

    She hooks her two legs over the ledge in a way similar enough to the arrangement of my pedipalps that I almost forget her lack of an entire hindbody for a moment(!)

    ¡°Hey¡­ What¡¯s up?¡± smiles the small woman, looking up at me from my left.

    ¡°Nothing¡­¡± I lie, quietly, staring out at the sea, feeling the breeze against my face.

    ¡°Giiirl¡­¡± she chuckles ¡°¡­I know that¡¯s not true!¡­ Talk to me¡­ That¡¯s what I¡¯m here for!¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± I state, simply.

    ¡°Oooo¡­Kaaay¡­ Let me guess¡­ Right now, the phrenetic [untranslatable term: ¡®adrenaline¡¯. Meaning: substance secreted by the brain in response to high stress or excitement] of the last few weeks is finally starting to ware off¡­ The reality of all this is starting to set in and you¡¯re beginning to think things like ¡®Oh my god! What if everything goes wrong?! What if we¡¯re just not ready for this and the galaxy eats us alive!?¡¯ And then of course you¡¯re thinking that you¡¯ve got to keep all that to yourself, in case I respond to your doubts by saying something like ¡®Oh, you¡¯re not ready? That¡¯s fine¡­ We¡¯ll try again in a thousand years and I¡¯ll say hi to your however-many-greats-grandchildren for you!¡¯¡­ I¡¯m near the mark?¡± she smirks, playfully.

    I take a deep inhale through my nose and say ¡°Somewhat¡­ yes¡­ I wasn¡¯t particularly worried about being eaten alive until you suggested it(!)¡±

    She gives a hearty laugh at the quip, which trails off into a contemplative silence.

    When she speaks again, her tone is calm and reassuring as she says ¡°It¡¯s perfectly natural for you to be worried¡­ In my language, there¡¯s a saying; ¡®It is easier to give birth than to worry about it¡¯¡­¡±

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    I consider that for a moment before saying ¡°Yes¡­ I suppose that a mother¡¯s suffering does end quite quickly when you consider the length of time beforehand that she has to contemplate it¡­¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± says the woman, sweetly ¡°It¡¯s totally understandable that you would be feeling some apprehension right about now but I honestly swear to you that, when tomorrow¡¯s winds blow, they won¡¯t be half as bad as you think!¡­ No one¡¯s going to eat you alive(!)¡­ Your species¡¯ First Contact definitely won¡¯t top mine for shittiness(!)¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯m glad of that!¡­ From how it sounds, your nation was a match for all the rest¡­ Mine would certainly not be!¡±

    She gives a mirthless puff but otherwise does not respond.

    I allow the silence to sit with us for some moments as we stare out at the lapping waves.

    ¡°I¡­ have been¡­ curious about something¡­¡± I say, eventually.

    ¡°Oh yes?¡± answers the purple eyed woman.

    ¡°Yes¡­ You said, in the War, that so many people died that my language wouldn¡¯t have words for numbers so large¡­ How many people exactly?¡­ How many people exactly are there out there in the [galaxy]?¡±

    The woman exposes her square, white teeth as she sucks in a breath and answers ¡°In total¡­? There are around 745 [untranslatable term: ¡®trillion¡¯. Number equal to 3.504938994813926¡Á11^11] people in the GU, including those in the UTC¡­¡±

    ¡°Hmph¡­ You were right¡­¡± I tap the coin at my head ¡°¡­this thing just gave me the number ¡®745¡¯ followed by a maths equation that I don¡¯t know how to resolve¡­ I can¡¯t picture that!¡±

    She frowns and pouts her lips, thinking.

    Then, I see an idea strike her clearly enough that I think I would have been able to discern the expression without the translator!

    ¡°Hang on¡­ Let me just make a call!¡± she says, excitedly withdrawing her glowing slab from her pocket.

    She presses it with her finger a few times before raising it to her ear.

    ¡°Hey, Twila¡­¡± she greets the machine woman not present in a way that would have me questioning her soundness of mind if she weren¡¯t a woman from beyond the stars¡­ With everything they can apparently do, they may as well be able to talk to people not located within shouting distance(!) ¡°Yes, everything¡¯s fine. We should be able to leave around sundown¡­ Quick question¡­¡­ I was just wondering, how many grains of sand are in a handful?¡±

    She pauses for a moment before reaching down to the ground and scooping up a handful of dry, powdery sand.

    She scrutinises as she lets streams of it run through her fingers.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ Not super fine but I wouldn¡¯t say it was coarse¡­ Oh, err¡­ maybe, like a millimetre?¡±

    Another pause.

    ¡°OK, great! And how many per cubic metre?¡­ Oh, right! Duh!¡­ OK, thanks Twila!¡±

    She removes the device from her ear and stands to face me from the front.

    ¡°Alright, so you think there are about 70,000-80,000 Vrakhand on the planet, right?¡± she smiles, her eyes sparkling.

    ¡°Yes¡­ 73,205-80,526¡­ I would say so.¡± I answer.

    She crouches and takes another scoop of sand in each hand.

    Proffering me a hand to examine, she says ¡°That¡¯s about 10,000 grains of sand¡­¡±

    She moves to where she sat before and pours around a third of that hand onto the stone, making a tiny heap.

    ¡°That¡¯s Khawekh¡­¡±

    She tips the remainder of both handfuls onto the existing ¡®Khawekh¡¯ pile, then goes down for two more handfuls to add, then another two, then another two.

    She points to the 8 handful heap of sand ¡°That¡¯s all the Vrakhand¡­ Now¡­ We don¡¯t know exactly how many Twigg there are. They don¡¯t have any kind of centralised state like you do and only know about other settlements up to a certain distance away from their own, so we can only guestimate, but we think it¡¯s roughly between 3-6 million¡­ So, just imagine a pile that¡¯s 40-80 times that much¡­¡±

    "Al¡­right¡­¡± I say, frowning apprehensively.

    She gives me a nod and turns her back, deliberately pacing away.

    She walks around twice my length away from me and stops.

    She bends down to stick her finger into the sand and draws a line all the way back to her start point.

    Then, she turns 90¡ã and begins pacing again.

    This time, she travels around one and a half times my length, to my right, and draws a line back to her start point.

    I do not like where this is going!

    She draws two more lines to form a gigantic rectangle in the sand.

    Then, she strides back to me, standing just inside her rectangle.

    ¡°This¡­¡± she gestures behind herself ¡°¡­is around 70m<sup>2</sup>. So, if you imagine this to a depth of a metre¡­¡± she gestures to her waist to let me understand how deep that is ¡°¡­that¡¯s 70m<sup>3</sup> and that¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s how many people there are in the galaxy?!¡± I ask, dismayed at my race¡¯s insignificance in the face of such a volume.

    ¡°¡­Ah¡­ I¡¯m afraid not, sweetie!¡­¡± she grimaces slightly ¡°¡­You see, me and Twila are saying this sand is around a [untranslatable term: ¡®billion¡¯. Number equal to 4.665073802097334¡Á11^8] grains per cubic metre¡­ that makes this only 70 [billion] grains, right here¡­ That¡¯s just the population of Earth¡­ The planet Mr Taylor over there is from, the planet my father was born on, the most populous planet in the galaxy¡­ This is, coincidentally, around the same number of people we lost in the Terran First Contact War¡­ and, when I say ¡®we¡¯, I mean just the UTC¡­ The GU¡¯s losses were considerably more substantial!¡­ If you imagine around thirty of these squares, each 10m¡Á7m¡Á1m, that gets you to the current population of just the UTC¡­¡±

    ¡°THIRTY!¡± I shriek (in a slightly unwomanly fashion).

    She bobs her head up and down in a ¡®yes¡¯ and continues ¡°About three hundred of them takes you to the Galactic Union''s losses in the War¡­ aaand¡­¡± her face twists in mental calculation ¡°¡­around eleven thousand of them takes you to the total population of the galaxy.¡±

    I¡¯m stunned¡­ Breathless!

    Lamely, I turn my head and raise my arm to point.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s the entire beach!¡­ More, probably!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ It¡¯s overwhelming, I know¡­ People really aren¡¯t good at thinking about numbers so large¡­ no matter what species they are!¡± she answers.

    I turn to look at the tiny Vrakhand pile¡­ then out at the beach, imagining each and every grain of sand as a person¡­ each. and every. single. one!

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you lie?¡± I mutter, defeatedly.

    She gives a crooked smile and answers ¡°Would you have wanted me to lie?¡±

    ¡°No! But¡­!¡± I gesture to the entire beach and ask ¡°¡­how am I suppose to react to that! I was feeling uneasy before¡­ and now I understand just how insignificant my people truly are!¡­ One planet has all of that!¡± I indicate the rectangle ¡°How am I meant to feel! We¡¯re just¡­ a few handfuls of it!¡±

    She thinks.

    Eventually, she responds ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t tell you how you¡¯re meant to feel¡­ but I can tell you how¡­ I feel when I look at all of that sand.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± I ask, miserably.

    ¡°I¡­ feel awe!¡­ Each and every grain of sand a person. Each and every one, one with a story, a life! Hopes and dreams and aspirations! Things they want, things they need, things they sigh exasperatedly at!¡­ A few of them love me¡­ a few of them hate me¡­ the overwhelming majority have no idea I even exist¡­ but a few of those grains out there will know me at some point. They¡¯re the friends I¡¯m yet to make¡­ Right now though, the ones I¡¯m most interested in are right here!¡± she jabs her forefinger at the first pile she made ¡°You and the Twigg are not insignificant to me!¡­ I mean, quite apart from your being the second and third deathworld species ever discovered, you are two fascinatingly vibrant species and, honestly, I thoroughly enjoy spending time with you! So, I would say, don¡¯t waste energy thinking about what every single grain of sand out there may or may not think about you. Do your best to find those you care about and look after them!¡±

    I sigh ¡°You have the fire of a young woman¡­ and the wisdom of an old man, [Dr] Miyazaki¡­¡±

    She chuckles ¡°Thanks¡­ I think?¡­ Oh, and ¡®Emiko¡¯ is fine¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.136

    ---Tritium---

    ---Huch¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m sitting in the Office of Docking Hangar 036, alone.

    It¡¯s a relatively low traffic period and I¡¯m not expecting that to change any time soon.

    Now that Lagomeer is old enough to be left at home alone, it would be nice if Bonheh could share this graveyard shift with me but, of course, they wouldn¡¯t schedule both of us if they didn¡¯t need both of us!

    It¡¯s usually the case that, when we¡¯re both working, it¡¯s a frantic shift!

    I¡¯d be busy processing orders, she¡¯d be busy delivering them.

    We wouldn¡¯t get much time to relax and enjoy eachother¡¯s company!

    Just as I¡¯m starting to drift into an idle daydream, the door slides open.

    I feel a chill run down my spine and my ears swivel right and behind me.

    I turn to look at the being who just entered.

    The one I see stands more than twice my height!

    They¡¯re probably a biped (given the proportion of height to width and depth) but, other than that, it¡¯s impossible to discern almost anything about them since their body is entirely shrouded in loose, black robes.

    From the shadows contained within their hood, there shine two piercing red, synthetic lights.

    Something about this person gives me the absolute creeps!

    Though¡­ I¡¯m not sure exactly¡­ what¡­

    It¡¯s not¡­ too unusual for a person to disguise their identity¡­

    Perhaps they need to wear a full body e-suit for this environment and they think that people find the black robes less offputting?

    That would certainly fit with the illuminated mask their wearing¡­

    Maybe they have some kind of embarrassing skin condition at the moment and have just stopped in on their way to get treatment?

    They could be a celebrity who doesn¡¯t want to be recognised¡­ or just someone who values their privacy?

    OK, Huch¡­ just ignore that swelling knot of nausea in your stomach and pretend everything is normal!

    Your hearts are not racing¡­

    Your fur is not standing on end¡­

    Your sprinting muscles have not preemptively tightened¡­

    You are just a friendly clerk, about to give a welcoming greeting to a normal customer, like nothing is amiss!

    ¡°Hello there, Customer!¡± I hail, putting on a friendly performance I wouldn¡¯t have believed myself capable of until this moment ¡°Welcome! What can I help you with today?¡±

    No response comes for some agonisingly long moments.

    Then¡­

    *thud*¡­ *thud*¡­ *thud*¡­ *thud*¡­

    The creature treads toward me with slow, booming steps¡­

    Definitely a biped from the gait¡­ and it sounds¡­ impossibly heavy!

    Honestly, I don¡¯t remember Terrans sounding as heavy as that in their full battle armour and this person is too large to be one of them!

    Taking position across my desk from me, the being stares down with the illuminated sensors on its mask.

    ¡°Tritium.¡± says the being in a chilling, deep, male coded voice ¡°I need hydrogen-3.¡±

    The words emanating from him sound vaguely like Terranspeak but¡­ off¡­

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    There¡¯s no emotion in it, the way Terrans always have when they speak.

    It¡¯s monotone, flat¡­ synthetic.

    ¡°Err¡­ well¡­ that¡¯s not an issue¡­ How much do you need?¡±

    ¡°20 liquid gallons.¡± answers the looming spectre.

    ¡°OK¡­¡± I say, relieved that it looks like this transaction will be over quickly ¡°¡­I¡¯ll just have the computer bring that out to you. What bay are you in?¡±

    ¡°Send it here¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ and how will you be paying?¡± I ask as I complete the order.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be.¡± he says, indifferently.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± I ask, perturbed.

    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t have much access to currency right now.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­¡± I start, my hearts pounding in my ears ¡°¡­we could do a trade?¡­ Though, with the extra effort involved on our end, you¡¯d need to offer something of greater value than the hydrogen-3¡­ I don¡¯t know if it would be worth it to you?¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ Let me think¡­ Something I could trade you that would be of greater value than 20 gallons of liquid tritium¡­?¡± he muses.

    Ice cold blades pierce both my hearts as a five fingered hand emerges from the robe and pantomimes a thoughtful gesture, tapping a razor sharp claw against the cloth covering the being¡¯s lower face!

    The hand is clearly a synth and is made of the same, flashback inducing, jet black, damascised metal as Terrans wear to battle!

    Feigning realisation while playing at joviality, the man holds up a forefinger and says ¡°I know¡­ your life!¡­ That¡¯s gotta be worth enough to cover it¡­ right? You give me the reactor fuel and, in return, I leave this office without removing your head from your shoulders!¡±

    I stare up into those glowing red eyes¡­

    Then my hand shoots for the button under my desk!

    I don¡¯t even make it a third of the way before my entire body is ripped upward, faster than I can resolve what¡¯s happening!

    My feet kick helplessly through the air above my seat while my forepaws uselessly wrap around the forearm, clamped around my upper torso.

    ¡°That was pretty stupid, bunny boy!¡± observes the cyborg, all pretence of joviality dropped ¡°I mean¡­ it was pretty stupid of your employer to even give you a panic button to press!¡­ They should have realized that a wrongful death suit would cost them much more than an insured theft would!¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me!¡± I blurt, panicking ¡°I have a wife and child!¡±

    The terrifying man¡¯s bodylanguage shifts almost imperceptibly and his iron grip slackens for a moment.

    ¡°Yeah¡­? So did I!¡± he spits, bitterly.

    My translator tells me that the language he speaks ties up time with it¡¯s verbs¡­ and that the use of a ¡®past tense¡¯ indicates that his statement is no longer the case.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± I say, uncertainly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need your fucking sympathy, Bugs!¡± he snarls ¡°What I need is 20 gallons of liquid tritium, so¡­¡±

    *vrrrt**woosh**thunk* are the sounds of the port behind my desk adjusting itself to the correct size and a large canister being pneumatically delivered to it.

    ¡°¡­you¡¯re gonna open that up for me and, since I¡¯m feeling generous, I¡¯m going to deliver on my side of the trade and not reduce you to a splatter pattern of viscera all over this room!¡± he states.

    Still holding me aloft, he rounds my desk to bring me close enough to the keypad to enter the code.

    My right paw fumbles and it takes me several attempts to put it in properly, each failure making me more and more terrified that he might lose patience and make good on his threats!

    Finally, I input it correctly and the hatch opens.

    A mechanical left arm extends from the cyborg¡¯s robes and reaches out, hooking around the handle of the canister that weighs around three times as much as I do and lifting it up, effortlessly!

    ¡°Hmmph¡­¡± he grunts, seeming satisfied.

    Then he turns his attention back to me.

    He draws his right arm close in to his body, putting my face so near to his that I can feel the top edge of his hood against the bottoms of my ears.

    I expect his breath to stink but¡­ it doesn¡¯t¡­ In fact, after a moment, I realise that he¡¯s not breathing at all!

    ¡°Now then, Thumper¡­ how am I going to deal with you?¡­ I promised to let you live but¡­ how do I know you won¡¯t just hit that button under your desk the moment I leave?¡±

    Breathless from panic, I desperately try to think of a solution that doesn¡¯t involve him killing me or maiming me!

    ¡°You¡­ erm¡­ *gulp*¡­ you could h-handcuff me to something?¡±

    ¡°*khh*¡­!¡± he scoffs ¡°Sure(!) I¡¯ll just pull a set out from my handcuff collection(!)¡±

    ¡°Y-y-you could knock me out?¡± I suggest, getting desperate.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ No idea how hard I could hit you without shattering your skull like an egg¡­¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ err¡­ then¡­ erm¡­¡± I flounder.

    ¡°Shut up.¡± he orders.

    I shut up.

    ¡°Tell you what¡­ I¡¯m going to tell you some things and¡­ you just tell me if you think I¡¯m lying¡­ Sound good?¡±

    ¡°Mmm-hmm!¡± I affirm, uncertain if I¡¯m allowed to speak to answer the petrifying man¡¯s question.

    He stays silent for a moment before, with the absolute confidence of a statement of fact, saying ¡°If you send every security officer on this space station after me¡­ if they get in my way¡­ you¡¯ll¡¯ve sentenced each and every one of them to death¡­ Am I lying?¡±

    ¡°¡­No.¡± I answer, fully believing that this man is both willing and able to kill whatever force Xartham Security might muster to attempt to stop him leaving.

    ¡°Good¡­ Next; once I¡¯m done killing them, I¡¯m going to come back and I¡¯m going to kill you¡­ slowly¡­ Am I lying?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± I quiver.

    ¡°It¡¯s not worth throwing away their lives and yours over a canister of tritium, now is it?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I answer, emphatically.

    ¡°Goooood boy there, Roger!¡­ It¡¯s gonna take me around 15 minutes to be back in warp once I leave this room¡­ So, can I trust you not to touch your desk or your holo for 20?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Yes!¡­ You can!¡± I plead.

    ¡°You promise?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Yes! I swear!¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± he shrugs, nonchalantly tossing me away to land perfectly back on my chair.

    When my vision resolves, he¡¯s already gone¡­

    I spend a few moments frozen in shock¡­

    Then, I collapse against my desk, sobbing and wheezing.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.137

    ---Semelparity---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    I step off the mule onto the bank of the river in Khawekh.

    Most of the other expeditionaries are here as well.

    Lhamo and Jae are both taking it as an extremely positive sign that we¡¯ve already been invited to attend a ceremony like this!

    And I have to say I agree!

    ¡°Erm¡­ just me or¡­ anyone else gettin¡¯ a bit of a¡­ sombre vibe?¡± asks Victor, his eyebrow cocked in scrutiny ¡°Kinda thought there¡¯d be a bit more of a happy, ¡®joy of life¡¯, ¡®welcome to the world buddies¡¯ atmosphere at an event like this¡­ These guys look like they¡¯re goin¡¯ to a funeral(!)¡±

    I look at the Vrakhand I can see, climbing the central thoroughfare to the palace.

    Victor is right that the mood is not quite what I had envisaged¡­

    Heads hang low, feet tread slowly and, in contrast to the usual motley of vibrant colours they wear, right now they¡¯re all dressed in the pale grey of undyed silks¡­ not unreminiscent of Terran funerary white¡­

    Jae interjects to say ¡°We can¡¯t know exactly what cultural connotations they attach to birth¡­ certainly not without witnessing this ceremony¡­ For now, lets just try not to make obnoxious tourists of ourselves! Perhaps we¡¯ll understand later¡­ Like¡­ maybe the party starts as soon as the Broodqueen gives birth¡­ and this dourness is a purposeful juxtaposition to it?¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± answers Victor, clearly unconvinced.

    ¡°Jae¡¯s right.¡± I state with more confidence than I feel ¡°When you enter a town, you follow the town¡­ Everyone walk slowly enough to not overtake anyone and nobody laugh or joke unless and until you see them doing so¡­¡±

    With that, the crowd of us begin making our way up the hill in a slow, solemn march.

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    Mhakhrav¡¯s agonised screams fill the air as she is tended to by my father and the older accoucheurs.

    The boys in the orchestra play a mournful tune on their strings, in a vain attempt to beautify these very unbeautiful moments.

    I inspect the ceremonial axeclub.

    The densest feeling piece of ironwood I¡¯ve ever held, it is polished to a mirror sheen and has the toothplates of three different women serving as its blades.

    I bring the flesh of my palm to each, checking their sharpness.

    Each blade passes the inspection.

    I give a quiet exhale as I steel myself to play my role.

    Out of my top six eyes, I see the crowd of Terrans enter with only a few nonTerrans among them.

    The noseless man, it has been explained to me, underwent a painful trial which bestowed him with the power of a deathworlder¡­ ¡®not magic¡¯ as they always insist!

    The four armed woman is apparently of a kind adjacent to deathworlderhood and raised on a deathworld by deathworlders.

    Other than those two, most gardenworlders are not yet cleared to visit our city for fear that they might suffer death or injury by someone who does not realise their relative weakness.

    The entire crowd of outsiders are garbed in wildly inappropriate dress, though I can tell that these clothes are different from their normal attire.

    I suppose, their ways are different from ours¡­ and just having them here in the first place is already enough to make this a most unorthodox birthing ceremony!

    At least their behaviour is respectful, even if their dress isn¡¯t¡­

    They stand quietly in the back, their heads turned low.

    I do see one or two of them frowning quizzically at me¡­ or, more specifically, at what I hold¡­

    Perhaps they use a different weapon for their birthing ceremonies?

    Some time passes as the hall sits in expectation, until¡­

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    One of Mhakhrav¡¯s brood takes a particularly painful bite of her insides and she screams in pain.

    ¡°I ca-a-an¡¯t!¡± she sobs ¡°It¡¯s too much! End it! End it!! End it!!!¡±

    Khvi¡¯erth, the head accoucheur, stands and turns his head to me ¡°The broodmother has asked three times, First Woman.¡±

    ¡°Then I must oblige her¡­¡± I answer, gravely.

    The men part and allow me access to the woman.

    She is lying on her back with her belly facing upward, her thorax and head bent at an awkward angle to let her see her brood as they make ripples in the soft armour of her underside.

    With the wisdom of age, the men each take two of her legs and hold them down to prevent her from thrashing.

    I move to her left, to put her between myself and the audience, and look down at her distressed face.

    ¡°Mhakhrav of the Lhor¡¯nhakhan Realm, Daughter of Broodking Kh¡¯rkten of the Lhor¡¯nhakhan Realm and Lady Welhak of the Virhan Realm¡­ do you feel you have honourably discharged your duties as a woman?¡±

    ¡°I¡­*hhh*¡­ do!¡± she pants.

    ¡°Have you any regrets?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I¡­*hh-hhh*¡­ do not!¡± she sobs

    ¡°Are you prepared to meet the Weaver and accept Her judgement?¡±

    ¡°I AAAAAaaaaam!¡± she screams.

    ¡°Then I ask that you lie back, raise your chin¡­ and give your life to your children¡­¡±

    The woman lays her torso back against the floor, her head tilting back over the stone lip at the edge of the dais, exposing the unarmoured flesh beneath her throat to me.

    I bring the blades of the axeclub to the spot, making sure the swing will hit true.

    ¡°We honour your sacrifice.¡± I proclaim, as I raise the weapon over my head.

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    I inwardly pray a silent prayer of thanks to the seven Gods of Fortune that Samus excused herself from this event!

    With her arachnophobia, there is no way we would have avoided a scene!

    ¡°So¡­ seems like they¡¯re semelparous¡­¡± observes Jae as we step back onto the shuttle, finally out of earshot of any Vrakhand and able to freely discuss what we just witnessed.

    ¡°Semelparous?!¡­ Semelparous!?¡± demands the gigantic Brit, incredulously ¡°You not think that ¡®semelparity¡¯ is a bit too dry and academic of a word to describe whatever the hell that was, Jae!? That was literally the grossest thing I¡¯ve ever seen and it ain¡¯t even close!¡­ We¡¯re lucky we got outta there with none of us havin¡¯ vomited!¡±

    ¡°I nearly did¡­¡± volunteers Tuun, quietly.

    ¡°That was a seppuku-style, public, ritual execution with a bladed fuckin¡¯ tewhatewha, followed by a chestbursting that¡¯s gonna haunt my nightmares and capped off with them tearing that woman¡¯s body apart!¡­ Her babies ate her alive from the inside out and then her community fuckin¡¯ butchered her!¡± he says, moderately frantically.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I soothe ¡°¡­sit down and breathe¡­¡±

    The man shuts his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, then sits.

    Taking charge, I speak ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯m sure what we just witnessed was extremely disturbing for all of us¡­ Many questions that we didn¡¯t know to ask have just been¡­ quite graphically answered¡­ Yes, it was unnerving, given that we were not expecting it, and probably would have only been mildly less so if we had known what we were going to witness!¡­ However¡­ no matter how distasteful we may find Vrakhandic birthing, we must continue to treat them with respect!¡­ It doesn¡¯t seem as if their semelparity is something they can help, nor is that something we should expect of them!¡­ Our own history is fraught with examples of Human sacrifice¡­ It¡¯s not as if we can stand in judgement!¡­ To me, that seemed much less like an execution and much more like euthanasia! An act performed to spare the mother needless suffering! An act of humane compassion!¡­ I implore all of you not to think any less of the Vrakhand for what we saw tonight!¡±

    Here, Lhamo steps forward and smiles ¡°Well said, Emiko¡­¡± then turns to stand by my side, facing everyone else ¡°¡­from what we just witnessed, I think it¡¯s quite likely that the communities formed by the presentient ancestors of the Vrakhand raising the infants of their deceased, female kin, were very likely the first steps they took towards sentience, though I would like to discuss that possibility with Drs Lamark and Sknz¡¯h, later on¡­ Whatever the case, it is very clear that the rituals around birth are utterly central to the Vrakhandic social identity!¡­ Some of you might be thinking that, with modern surgical and regenerative techniques, it should be possible for female Vrakhand to forego their semelparity and live into motherhood¡­ This is a matter that has to be handled extremely delicately since, with the reverence they seem to have for the current arrangement, offering them an alternative may be seen as an insult! Additionally, we need to spare some thought to what the unintended consequences of upending the foundations of their entire culture like that might be!¡­ We don¡¯t want to be the well meaning missionaries cheerfully handing out Sheffield steel axes to the Yir Yoront, blind to the cultural collapse our actions are inducing!¡­ With that in mind¡­¡± she turns to me ¡°¡­Emiko, I would propose that we make the subject of Vrakhandic birth temporarily off limits to discuss with either Vrakhand or Twigg¡­ Do you agree?¡±

    I frown and nod, as the shuttle touches down outside the embassy habitat in Gob Hollow, and answer ¡°Wholeheartedly, Lhamo¡­! We need to give some serious thought to how and whether to broach the subject with them before we do¡­ So, yes¡­¡± I turn my attention back to the group at large and say ¡°¡­until further notice, nobody is to bring up Vrakhandic birth in any capacity at all, if any Vrakhand bring up birth, procreation or any related topic with you, try to change the subject and direct them to ask Lhamo or myself if they won¡¯t be deterred!¡­ Dismissed.¡±

    The thoroughly depressed looking crowd begin filing off the shuttle and heading inside.

    Lhamo, her husband and I are the last ones on the craft when I realise something.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Merciful Buddha!¡± I cringe.

    ¡°What is it?¡± chuckles Lhamo, frowning back at me.

    ¡°The other day¡­ I just remembered¡­ the General was feeling some melancholy about her people¡¯s First Contact¡­ I realise I said something stupid!¡± I answer.

    ¡°What did you say?¡± enquires Ambassador Ong.

    ¡°I¡­ erm¡­ I explained it with a Japanese idiom¡­ ¡®it¡¯s easier to give birth than to worry about it¡¯¡­¡± I groan.

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± chuckles Lhamo, sympathetically ¡°¡­yes, that might not have been the most helpful comparison to make(!)¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.138

    ---Arrows---

    ---Jae¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°*OOF*!¡± grunts Yasmin as Mvak¡¯s feet impact her stomach.

    She splutters and laughs as the green skinned girl licks her across the face.

    Easily enclosing the Twigg¡¯s slim waist in her hands, Yasmin lifts her off herself and places her down on the ground.

    ¡°Mrag vin ha mor wen nrot, Mvak!¡­ Dem mlek em sakk¡­¡± she says, kindly, in what (to my ears) sounds like flawless Twigg.

    Hard not to be jealous of such a talent¡­ the ability to become conversational in a language in a matter of weeks!

    The Twigg girl gives a slightly disappointed looking shrug of her shoulders (which seems to have roughly the same meaning to them as it does to Terrans) before scampering off.

    As wrong as it is¡­ it¡¯s sort of hard not to think of them as children!

    They have what can only be described as ¡®ADHD energy¡¯; playful, energetic and easily distracted.

    Their lack of anything we would consider ¡®social grace¡¯ leads to them seeming to have a childlike frankness(!) You don¡¯t have to guess what a Twigg thinks of you¡­ they¡¯ll tell you!

    Oh and, of course, they¡¯re the height of 3 year olds, if that!

    I have to constantly remind myself not to coddle them or baby them as my every broody instinct is trying to compel me to do!

    I have to remember that they are intelligent adults¡­ however they act!

    Of course, having seen actual Twigg children made that easier¡­

    So cute!

    Timid and nervous of us in a way the adults aren¡¯t (but totally makes sense when you imagine an early Iron Age child seeing a 4m tall giant who weighs most of a tonne, which is what we are from their perspective) the younger Twigg took a little longer to warm up to us.

    I saw what had to be a newborn in swaddling that wasn¡¯t much bigger than a large potato, yesterday(!)

    My heart absolutely melted!

    I want one(!)

    Even now, it¡¯s a conscious effort I¡¯m having to make not to squee at the memory of the adorable little bean!

    Of course, something else that constantly brings home how adult the Twigg are is just how many times I¡¯ve been licked on the face since starting to interact with them!

    They display absolutely none of the hesitance or trepidation over interspecies intercourse that basically every other species in the galaxy does!

    Even most Terrans usually need a little time to adjust to a new species before their thoughts turn to the lascivious!

    Thankfully, I¡¯ve not yet seen any of them get at all offended by having their propositions politely but firmly refused¡­ aside from some playful teasing about us being ¡®greedies¡¯, which immediately went into my notes¡­ Apparently, they (at least semiseriously) consider sex to be a resource that can be hoarded(!)

    I¡¯ve not yet seen a single one of them successfully plant a lick on Tymie¡¯s face!

    The pattern is always the same, one of them will try and sneak up on him, he won¡¯t react in any way until they pounce, at which point he dodges, they laugh and unsuccessfully try to catch him while he just stares down at them blankly and, eventually, they give up and skitter off.

    I¡¯m sure that, in reality, he¡¯s just grossed out by the idea of being licked on the face but¡­ I like to imagine that he¡¯s protecting his honour for me(!)

    ¡®Jae¡¯s the only one allowed to lick my face! Begone thots!!!¡¯

    Yaz turns her face to me and asks ¡°What are you giggling at?¡± with a sly grin.

    ¡°Nothing.¡± I lie, innocently.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Yasmin is clearly unconvinced but I¡¯m rescued from further inquiry by Grriv and Viig showing up.

    ¡°You ready?¡± Viig asks my boyfriend.

    ¡°Yes.¡± he answers, standing from his seat beside me on the ground.

    I reach out to give his hand a little squeeze and wish him ¡°Good luck!¡±

    His expressionless face turns back to me and briefly has the ghost of a smile hover over it.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be watching from here! Put on a good show for us!¡± teases Yasmin.

    ---Grriv¡¯s perspective---

    I have to say, when they told us that this guy was the best hunter in the [galaxy], I was sceptical¡­

    Sure, he¡¯s surprisingly nimble from how I¡¯ve seen him dance away from Folk who want to play with him but¡­ he¡¯s so tall and so skinny!

    You¡¯d think that, if he was that good, he¡¯d have a bit more meat on his bones!

    If he stood upright, he¡¯d be nearly twice the height of the ferns and prey would spot him easily!

    The clothes he wears are all in quite eyecatching shades of brown.

    All that being said, he moves like a shadow!

    Crouched down to make himself not much taller than us, he¡¯s still able to move so quickly¡­

    He carries a bow, though it¡¯s not like the ones the Monst¡­the Vrakhand use¡­

    I hear and smell the [grasshopper deer] we¡¯ve been tracking and turn to the party to signal them to stop.

    The Terran is not there¡­

    Then, from around 20 metres away, I hear *thwip**thwip* followed by a harsh whistling shriek.

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    Jae and I are watching the feed from the camera attached to her boyfriend¡¯s helmet, as he creeps along at the back of the hunting party.

    Suddenly, based on cues he¡¯s picked up on (and we haven¡¯t) he breaks from the line and begins stalking along his own path through the undergrowth.

    He pops his head over the ferns for an instant, allowing us the briefest of glimpses at a small heard of grazing animals at the edge of the forest.

    Back beneath cover, we see the top edge of a bow and a hand holding two arrows.

    In a single fluid motion, he stands just high enough to see the animal again, draws his bow and looses the first arrow and, in a fraction of a second, has knocked, drawn and loosed the next!

    He begins darting through the undergrowth the same instant as we hear a pained wail from the animal.

    He bursts from cover and gives us another momentary glimpse of the creature (that looks like an unholy mashup of a locust and a fallow deer), staggering woozily, with an arrow shaft sticking out of one of its eyes and another in its neck.

    The rest of the herd are scattering for the forest.

    The man whose perspective we¡¯re looking from leaps onto its back, pulling it over.

    There is a brief flash of silver, after which the struggling very quickly ceases.

    The whole thing lasted maybe 20 seconds from start to finish!

    My mouth hangs agape at what I just witnessed!

    I turn to Jae, who¡¯s looking as dumbstruck as I feel.

    ¡°Fucking hell!¡± curses Jae.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know he could do that?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t have a clue!¡­ I didn¡¯t think there was anyone alive who could do that!¡­ If I didn¡¯t know where this footage was coming from, I¡¯d have thought it was test footage from someone¡¯s attempt to illegally engineer a cutting edge assassin droid!¡­ I mean, I knew he was ¡®the best in the galaxy¡¯ and all but¡­ that was inHuman!¡­ He just, instantly, identified, targeted, shot and hit weak points on a species of animal that (as far as I know) he¡¯d never even seen before then rushed it down and stabbed it to death!¡­ That was¡­¡± she trails off.

    ¡°A little frightening?¡± I suggest.

    ¡°¡­Yeah¡­¡± she admits, uncomfortably ¡°Like¡­ since we met, I¡¯ve kind of thought of him as¡­ it sounds bad to say but¡­ like a little, lost puppy!¡­ He had so little understanding of anything and everything we take it for granted to know. I felt this really strong matern¡­¡± something flickers across her face as she readjusts what she was about to say ¡°¡­protective urge¡­ That was less like a lost puppy and more like a starving wolf!¡±

    ¡°Mmm!¡± I grunt in agreement.

    At this point the Twigg emerge from the ferns.

    Viig laughs ¡°Maybe you are the best, lanklet(!)¡±

    Tymancha does not answer other than to continue to stare at the little woman.

    Her half brother, Grriv, raises his hand and points it forward, past our POV ¡°Set to butchering it!¡±

    ¡°No.¡± states Tymancha, flatly, his voice translated into English by holo (for my benefit, since I don¡¯t like using translators and Evenki isn¡¯t a language I know yet.)

    All the Twigg stare back, quizzically.

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®no¡¯?¡± asks Viig, looking wary.

    ¡°If you butcher it in the field, you will waste its blood. We should take it back to your village, where we can butcher it properly, first.¡±

    The Twigg chuckle and share knowing looks with eachother.

    ¡°Well and good to say, [stringbean], but how do you want us to carry that thing!?¡± elaborates Viig.

    ¡°Like this.¡± he answers, simply and neutrally.

    Our view shifts as the man turns to the animal he just killed.

    A right hand reaches out and gathers the four hindlegs into a bundle, mostly enclosing the spindly, chitinous ankles in its grip. A left hand then does the same for the forelegs.

    Pulling some kind of manoeuvre that the helmet cam doesn¡¯t give us a good view of, he lifts the animal onto his shoulders.

    Jae¡¯s and my eyes go wide in disbelief for the second time in as many minutes!

    When the camera turns to show the Twigg again, they¡¯re wearing similarly incredulous expressions.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid!¡± protests Mvak ¡°That thing''s got to weigh more than you do! You¡¯ll never make it more than fifty steps!!!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve carried heavier loads further.¡± he answers, unphased, though without the slightest hint of smugness or arrogance in his words!

    There¡¯s a stunned silence for a few moments then all the Twigg burst out into laughter.

    ¡°First he kills for us and now he carries for us! I¡¯ve never known someone to be a greedy for work before(!)¡± laughs Grriv.

    ¡°For the sake of a little bit of blood(!)¡± adds Votd.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid to say if it turns out it¡¯s too much!¡± cautions Viig, more seriously.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be and it won¡¯t be.¡± answers Tymancha, in his typical Laconic style.

    With that, the band begin making their way back the way they came.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I puff ¡°¡­one part of the purpose of sending him was fulfilled at least! He definitely seems to have ingratiated himself and, by extension, us with them!¡­ He seems to have forgotten that we also wanted to see them hunt!¡­ Sorry you didn¡¯t get that data¡­¡±

    Jae shakes her head ¡°No! Don¡¯t be!¡­ This has been quite informative¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXXIII: Pancakes and Hunts

    ---Jae''s perspective---

    In the gloam of twilight, I''m sprinting through the suburbs of Bulgeun Dosi, my home city.

    There''s a brief moment where I cut across a part of my old university campus but I don''t have time to worry about the fact that that campus was in Sinbusan, 3000km away!

    There should be literally millions of people wandering around this city but¡­ there''s no one!

    Correction; there''s no one who can help!

    There''s no one who can save me from the one who''s after me!

    "HEEEEEEEEELP!!!" I scream, knowing that the Huntsman is too close not to know exactly where I am and simply hoping against hope that someone finds me before he can and saves me!

    I see a bestial shape in the shadows behind me.

    I sob a pathetic scream as I keep running.

    Something forcefully strikes me in the shoulder and I topple into the grass, strangely dark green as opposed to the vibrant red of Saeloun Hangugese foliage¡­

    There''s an arrow sticking out of me but I''m able to scramble onto my back to face him.

    The man who''s already hunted everyone else in my city scuttles toward me like an arachnid, then slithers like a snake, then pads like a tiger!

    He stops and stands up on two feet, around 20m away, before simply teleporting to stand directly over me.

    "Please!" I beg, frantically "Tymie, it''s me! It''s Jae! It''s Mummy!"

    His orange eyes stare down at me with dispassionate coldness as he answers "Sorry, Jae¡­ You''re not ''Mummy'' any more¡­ You''re meat now¡­ and I''m¡­" he parts his lips to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth "¡­ravenous!"

    His eyes flick down across my body and I suddenly become aware that I''m only dressed in lingerie.

    He swoops down on me, pinning me to the ground with strength his leanness belies.

    All I can see are his daggerlike teeth as they break into a cruel grin.

    The predator lunges with unreal speed to sink his teeth into my flesh!

    I gasp as I awake in my room in Elysium, my entire body drenched in cold sweat, my heart pounding so hard that I can both feel it in my chest and hear it in my ears, my blood filled with electric adrenaline!

    I choke as I swallow down a mouthful of saliva while panting rapidly.

    It''s OK¡­ It''s OK¡­!

    It was just a nightmare!

    I frown as I feel something between my legs.

    I slide a hand beneath my panties and out again.

    My fingers come away sticky.

    A¡­ weirdly hot nightmare(!)

    "Jae¡­?"

    I freeze at the sound of a flat voice coming from the bed beside me, a not altogether unpleasant chill running up my spine.

    "¡­are you alright?"

    ---Tymancha''s perspective---

    Jae sat bolt upright a moment ago, waking me up.

    She just sits there, bare chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as her grey eyes dart back and forward, her expressive face frozen.

    Then she frowns and slides a hand between the covers and her plump belly.

    She withdraws it an instant later and briefly rubs her fingers together.

    She puffs.

    "Jae¡­ are you alright?" I ask.

    She gives a brief shiver as her back straightens.

    She turns to look at me and smiles warmly.

    "Oh¡­ Hey baby¡­ Yeah¡­ all good¡­ just had an¡­ intense dream¡­" she says, breathlessly, reaching a warm right hand to my left pectoral and bending to place the front of her voluptuous bare chest against me.

    She plants her lips on mine and I bring my hands to her back to run them down her paraspinal muscles (feeling the delightful give of her ample subcutaneous fat beneath my fingertips) as we kiss.

    Her skin is damp with sweat and her breathing is still accelerated but she seems to have mostly calmed down from her nightmare.

    Her hands reach to my wrists and push them down to her buttocks.

    I give them a squeeze and marvel, for the millionth time, at just how much meat her Denisovan half lets her keep on her bones!

    Being all Sapiensoid and having an unusually fast metabolism keeps me perpetually skinny, so I''m quite jealous of how effortless maintaining all her beautiful bulk is for her!

    I''d love to be this fullfigured!

    She climbs on top of me and I feel all 102kg of her press me down into the mattress as her belly squashes against my flat stomach.

    The contentedness I feel from being with this woman is not something that has waned at all in the months we''ve been together.

    My heart swells as I imagine a future with her¡­ A litter of ? Sapiens, ? Denisovan, ? Longi children we could maybe have together, one day. Getting to be the kind of father to them that I wish mine had been to me!

    My right hand releases her left buttock and grips the back of her head, feeling her short, black hair beneath my fingers as I push her skull down into mine.

    "Mmmh!" she grunts, pulling away.

    "Sorry! Too much?" I ask, anxiety instantly welling up in my stomach.

    "No¡­ I err¡­ there''s just¡­ something I need to talk to you about¡­"

    Oh¡­ noooooooOOO¡­!

    "You remember your hunt with the Twigg?"

    ¡­What?

    ---Jae''s perspective---

    I walk alone, across vast sand dunes that span to the horizon in every direction.

    The only thing that breaks up the ocean of sand is a small island of rocky cliffs, just ahead of me to my right and down a slope.

    I couldn''t tell the Bright Plume what I actually wanted to come here for, nor could I contrive any sociological value to an expedition to a vast empty desert, thousands of kilometres from the nearest sentient being, so I just told them I wanted to come for a day of recreation and they willingly offered a ride here and back in the Swift Claw.

    I''ve been walking for well over 2 hours now and my strength is beginning to ebb.

    I stop atop a high dune to have a drink from my water bottle.

    I stumble a little as a particularly strong gust of wind catches the hooded, desert kaftan I''m wearing and ripples it away from my body.

    I''m sure it must look very aesthetic to anyone who might be watching¡­

    Not that there seems to be anyone watching!

    I take another swig of water, just wondering if perhaps I asked for too long a headstart and should maybe get my holopad out to give him a call¡­ when I see him!

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Cresting the last dune I traversed, he appears, much closer than I was expecting!

    Dressed in nothing more than a dark vest, shorts, helmet and running shoes, his bare, scarred, slender arms, legs and shoulders glisten with sweat as his feet pound across the hot sand towards me.

    He doesn''t sprint! He jogs at a constant pace that, nonetheless, eats up the distance between us!

    I turn and begin frantically running toward the rocky island, my stomach swooping!

    Halfway down the dune, I trip, tumbling most of the rest of the way in a half controlled roll.

    I scramble to my feet, briefly sparing a glance behind me.

    He hasn''t made it to where I was when I spotted him yet.

    I keep running as fast as I can to the cliffs¡­ knowing exactly how unlikely they are to be my salvation!

    This!

    This is exactly the thrill that''s been haunting my wet-nightmares since I saw him hunt!

    I am prey¡­

    A prize, a trophy, for him to inevitably claim and make his¡­

    His catching me is not a matter of ''if'' but ''when''¡­

    My doom is assured¡­ and, somehow, that thought is hot as fuck!

    I begin to wheeze from the cardio.

    Hybrid vigour is one thing but it''s fairly useless to me, since I''ve never capitalised on it by actually being a physically active individual!

    My Denisovan half is also not as much of a help as you might think!

    Neanderthaloids are natural sprinters, wasted on crosscountry, and, after hours of walking, I''m fairly spent!

    I''ve made it to around 600m from the edge of the rocks when I hear the steady *thudthudthudthudthudthud* of feet behind me.

    I turn and scream as I see how close my hunter is to me, right before his foot impacts the back of my knee and I hit the ground¡­ hard!

    Immediately, he''s on top of me with all the ferocity of a lion attacking a wildebeest!

    He pins me on my back.

    I freeze as his right hand moves to his left hip and draws a Yakut knife with a 15cm blade.

    "You''re caught... meat!" the predator snarls down at me, pressing the blade to my throat "You''re mine now! You belong to me! Do you understand that?"

    "I do, I do, I do!" I beg, my breaths jagged.

    "Mine to do with as I want, aren''t you meat?" he demands.

    "Anything you want!" I sob as my stomach swoop from the thrill.

    "Good¡­ Roll over and put your arms behind your back¡­ don''t try to run." he instructs, taking the knife from my throat and getting off me.

    I obey him, rolling onto my front in the hot sand and placing my arms behind me.

    My hood falls around my head, meaning all I can see is sand as I hear his footsteps approach me and feel him use my shoulders as a stool.

    My breasts get slightly scorched from having his weight press them into the burning hot sand but I screw up my face and endure it.

    He takes my wrists and begins lashing them together.

    My arms now bound, he reseats himself on my arse and ties my ankles together with enough cordage between them to let me take small steps.

    I feel a pang of disappointment that he won''t be carrying me over his shoulders, however reasonable it is that he can''t carry 1.66 times his weight very far(!)

    I feel him tugging at the bottom of my kaftan and hear as he slices two pieces off of it with his knife.

    "What are you doi-Ah!" his hand gives a firm spank to the side of my buttocks as he stands up.

    "I''m shutting you up, meat!" he says, turning me over with a kick to the shoulder.

    Once more he comes down on top of me, only, this time, I couldn''t fight back even if I wanted to!

    His strong right hand comes to the sides of my jaw and crushes until I have no choice but to open my mouth.

    He stuffs a wadded up piece of cloth he cut from my robes in, gagging me with it, then secures it in place by tying a long strip all the way around the back of my head.

    "Hmmph!" I moan up at him.

    His strong hand seizes a hank of my long fringe and presses my skull back into the sand.

    "Shut¡­ up¡­ meat!" he growls.

    I quiver.

    Producing another length of rope, he begins fashioning a nooselike loop at one end.

    Thankfully, I can see the knot is not a constricting one.

    Reaching under my hood, he slots the rope over my scalp and pulls it down to sit around my neck.

    Grasping the knot at my throat, he stands, exerting pressure on the rope at the back of my neck and pulling me to my feet.

    ---Tymancha''s perspective---

    Tengri! Eje!

    What the fuck am I doing!

    For a second I have the horror of realising that all that separates what I''ve done to Jae, in this desert, from an assault and kidnapping is that she asked me to do it!

    She did ask me to do it¡­ right?!

    I didn''t misunderstand?

    I didn''t imagine it?

    I wasn''t tricked, somehow?

    No! No! No!!!

    This is what she asked for!

    This is what she wanted!

    This is the reason we came out here to this barren, desertified subcontinent¡­ where no curious Twigg, nor Vrakhand, might catch us and get the wrong idea!

    I can''t let doubts like that in!

    I can''t think about how it would probably be the end of our relationship if I had done this without¡­ No! Stop!

    We''re not thinking about that!

    I turn to look back at the zaftig woman in cream and blue robes I''m leading along to a canyon where I''ll have some shade to ravish her in¡­(!)

    Her brow is furrowed in apparent distress as she hobbles along on the end of my rope lead.

    Her large breasts and lovely belly bounce with each step she takes.

    I give the rope a little tug, pulling her forward.

    She gives a miserable moan as I almost make her topple over.

    This arrangement is so unlike our usual one!

    Usually, she''s very much in control¡­

    Nothing is done without her permission, nothing is taken that she hasn''t given¡­

    She leads, I follow¡­

    Here, I''m in control!

    Unless and until she uses her [safeword], I''m doing as I please and taking everything I want!

    I''m treating her like a piece of game I won by conquering it, just like she wants¡­

    The shadows of the rocky canyon fall on me and immediately the temperature plummets to something far more tolerable!

    I keep leading my prize along into the canyon for another 100m or so before I turn and order "Stop."

    She stops.

    "Kneel."

    She kneels down on the brown stone.

    "Good meat!" I sneer, playing at cruelty as I walk over to her.

    I reach down for the rope belt, tied around her waist, on which are suspended her water bottle and a small pouch that must contain the clothes she was wearing when we parted.

    I unfasten it and toss the belt and pouch away.

    Then stand back up and kick her onto her back (having made sure of the relative smoothness of the stone behind her first).

    I draw my knife and her gorgeous grey eyes go wider than normal.

    I plant my knee into her soft belly and bring the blade to her collar.

    "Let''s get this catch stripped¡­" I smirk as I slide my blade beneath her robe, edge up.

    "Nguh!¡­ Nguh!¡­ Fweas!!!" she protests as I open her thin clothing down the front, revealing her to be completely nude beneath it.

    I go all the way down to the hem (already tattered from where I cut her gag) and cleave the dress fully apart.

    Admiring Jae''s plump, nude body for a moment, I bend to once again bring my knife to her upper body.

    I stab through the fabric at her right shoulder from the inside out then slice it back to the cleft I''ve already cut. I repeat at her left shoulder.

    I kick her over onto her front and complete the tears by ripping all the way to her cuffs, then pulling the robe, now freed from her body, out from under her arms to toss away onto her belt.

    She''s visibly sweaty.

    I''m actually still boiling from all that time in the sun¡­ thirsty too!

    I take my canteen from my hip and drink a refreshing draft of cool water, then I take some handfuls of it and rub them into my face, arms, shoulders and stomach, under my top, to cool off.

    Then, I tip a little on Jae''s back.

    "Hmmmh!" she yelps through her gag, surprised at the sudden chill.

    I bend down to spread the liquid across her hot flesh with my hands.

    I don''t want her getting heat stroke!

    "Well¡­ now that you''re stripped¡­ I''d say it''s about time I had a taste of you, meat!"

    ---Jae''s perspective---

    The pleasant coolness of the water the huntsman splashed on me still lingering at my shoulders, I hear him order "Get your arse in the air!"

    I do as he says, leveraging my face and knees against the smooth stone to raise my phat butt as high as it will go.

    I hear him walk behind me and bend down.

    I feel a hot, wet tongue press against my sex and the tip of a noseguard against my perineum.

    The tongue slips between my lips as his hands reach to the small of my back.

    I gasp with pleasure as he applies every lesson I''ve given him on how to perform cunnilingus.

    In no time at all, my body seizes in my first orgasm.

    There''s a *pop* as he removes his mouth and declares "Excellent flavour, meat! You are quite the catch¡­!"

    I say nothing, not that I could¡­

    "Don''t move¡­" he orders, standing up and walking away to my left.

    I don''t move a muscle but don''t have to to be treated to a wonderful view of him removing first his helmet and placing it on my destroyed kaftan, then his vest, exposing his slender, muscular, scarred back, then his shoes and his shorts.

    Now as nude as I am (nuder, if you count the sandals he never took off me) he turns back to me allowing me to see his fully erect cock.

    Haneullim, I want it inside meeeee!!!

    I hear him as he walks back around me, his footsteps echoing on the smooth, stony ground.

    I yelp through my gag as I feel him bite my left arse cheek¡­

    Then, I feel the rope around my neck constrict my throat as he pins my left shoulder down with his left hand and must be pulling on the lead with his right.

    "Time for the [main course](!)" he quips.

    ---Tymancha''s perspective---

    Rippling shockwaves propagate through Jae''s [thicc] booty and up her lower back with every thrust.

    Her stifled moans echo off the canyon walls as she takes every ounce of lust I have to give her!

    No¡­ not lust¡­

    I love this woman!

    This woman I''m currently fucking like an animal¡­ I love her!

    I feel like my entire life before I met her was just leading up to that moment!

    I''m living through my life''s own happy ending right now!

    The story''s over, the sad parts are done¡­ only happy times from here on!

    The realisation of what this woman means to me makes me decide that I need to look at her face, right now!

    I stop, mid stroke, and pull out, rolling her onto her back with a push to the side of her rump.

    I come back down on top of her and rip out her gag (the flimsy fabric easily tearing in the face of the solidity of a Human skull!)

    I don''t give her the opportunity to say anything though, instead feverishly pressing my mouth against hers, kissing her with furious passion as I reenter her and resume my loving assault.

    I''m not ready to say it yet, Jae¡­ but I love you!

    ---Twila''s perspective---

    I hone in on the signals, around 10km from where I dropped the pair this morning, and land.

    I open the doors and the two Humans step aboard.

    "Fun day of ''recreation''?" I ask the dishevelled pair with a smirk in my voice. It doesn''t take too much imagination to think that they might have been doing a little more than enjoying the scenery out here!

    "Yes thank you, Twila." smiles the woman.

    "The two of you must be famished from all that ''sightseeing''!" I continue the tease.

    Pretending not to have noticed, she answers "Actually, yes¡­ You wouldn''t happen to know what''s on the menu for dinner, would you?"

    A little put out that neither of them are reacting, I pout a little as I say "Cookie''s doing sweetpotato masala dosas for the Terrans¡­"

    Noting the confused expression on her boyfriend''s face, Jae asks "You know what those are, Tymie?"

    He shakes his head "No¡­ What are they?"

    "They''re a kind of savoury pancake¡­" I answer.

    ---

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.139

    ---Terror---

    ---Victor''s perspective---

    I sit on the floor of my room, idly running my hands through Fluffy''s midnight blue-charcoal black striped fur.

    Her enormous amber eyes open and swivel towards me.

    She places a two fingered mittenpaw on my right leg and begins extending two velociraptor claws.

    "Nooo¡­" I warn with wry sternness.

    The claws retract for about 3 seconds¡­ then start extending again, slower, like she thinks I won''t see it if she moves slow enough.

    "No, Fluffy¡­" I say, rolling my eyes.

    The claws stop for a moment then extend fully to prick me in the thigh.

    "Ahh!" I laugh, catching her wrist to lift the murderpaw off my leg before she breaks the skin.

    She yowls in an amused judder, baring her many sharp teeth at me.

    "Glad you think it''s so funny, you sadistic little gremlin!" I smirk.

    At that moment my door opens.

    From behind me, I feel two arms slide underneath mine and another two over my shoulders.

    "You ready to go, Victor?" asks my fianc¨¦e, kissing my right cheek and tickling my neck with her left ear.

    "Sure, baby¡­" I answer, dolefully.

    "You''re still thinking about that birth ceremony we saw the other day?" she deduces.

    "¡­Yeah¡­ I am." I admit.

    "It affected you a lot, didn''t it." she observes.

    "It did¡­ I¡­ I just¡­ I hate the idea that in their whole history, not a single one of ''em ever knew their mum¡­ ''cept by, like, reputation!" I mope.

    "Yeah¡­ It''s not great." she answers, obviously thinking of her birthparents.

    "And, like¡­ how many more half-orphans are gonna be made between now and when we decide to bring up the fact that ''Hey, it don''t have to be like this if you don''t want it to''? How many more are gonna be made after that because, obviously, there''s gonna be some portion of ''em who think that this new-fangled medical tech is some kind of foreign devilry!"

    "That''s their decision to make¡­" she responds with a tone that tells me she doesn''t like it any more than I do.

    "It is¡­ and I know if we go at this half cocked, we''re liable to do more harm than good¡­ Don''t mean I like it though!"

    "Well, hopefully, Twigg duty will take your mind off things¡­" she says, a smile in her voice.

    I puff "Yeah, thanks for switchin'' with me¡­ Oh, and if these Northerners invite you to any birthin'' ceremonies while you''re there¡­"

    "I''ll politely but firmly refuse, Victor(!)" she laughs.

    ---Nroluq''s perspective---

    I breathe deeply of the warm Summer air.

    There has been fair weather this year but I know the snows will come South all too soon¡­

    Food stores must be acquired, firewood must be stockpiled and we must locate a site to encamp for the Winter, far enough away from any Ravager towns!

    Last year, I was too young to be trusted with solo scouting for the tribe.

    Hopefully, this year, I can prove worth by finding something of value!

    This particular bit of taiga isn''t looking at all promising though; little in the way of food, little in the way of fuel and I haven''t seen anywhere that looks remotely viable as a hibernation spot.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    I''m just about to move on, when I catch sight of something.

    Turning to it, I see a creature unlike anything I''ve ever seen before!

    I dart into a hiding spot to observe.

    At the hip hangs a sheaved knife almost as long as the two legs it walks on!

    Hung on the far side of it is an object I don''t recognise.

    The legs, arms and torso are covered in what looks like tight, deep blue skin with patches of shiny metal in it.

    The metal feet are long and flat and it seems to only have one joint in each leg.

    It has no tail that I can see.

    The skin of the hands and face is a pale beige colour and the medium length hair on the scalp is curly and red.

    The hands are clawless and the face is Folklike but¡­ wrong!

    As it draws closer I''m better able to appreciate just how bulky it is¡­ and how tall!

    Easily more than twice the height I am, it''s taller than a male Ravager and closer to the height of a female!

    The upper arms are thicker than I am!

    It moves with eery silence, given that it''s got to weigh more than ¡Á10 what I do!

    At a distance of around [30m] it turns directly to where I hide.

    I freeze and desperately try not to breathe as a pair of hungry, bright green, forward facing eyes search around the bushes I''m watching it from.

    "Ello?¡­ Iz samwan ver?" asks the creature in a voice that''s almost as deep as Ravagerspeak but almost as mellifluous as Folkspeak.

    I recognise the voice as having some indefinable quality of maleness to it.

    I can infer that he''s asking me to show myself, even without understanding a single word he said.

    Not a chance I''m coming out for this Giant!

    If he comes over, I''ll need to decide whether to stay put or make a break for it!

    Mercifully, after around [20 seconds] of no response, the shoulders shrug and he turns to move on.

    He''s out of sight by the time I let myself sigh with relief.

    I have to get back to the tribe!

    I have to tell them what I just saw!

    That man wasn''t a hunter, he was a warrior!

    A warrior searching for something.

    We''ve got to prepare and that means that, right now, making it back to the others alive, to warn them, is of paramount importance!

    As silently as I can, I pick myself out of the bushes and begin sprinting back to where the tribe are encamped, eyes and ears swivelling all around me to check for pursuers.

    So focused am I on checking behind and around me that I neglect to check ahead of me, a mistake I only become aware of when I skid round a bend and find myself facing a [terror dragonbird]!

    I freeze in place¡­ but it''s already too late.

    The beast swivels a thick beak toward me, on the end of a long neck.

    It flares the membrane of two flightless wings and shrieks.

    Terrified, I point the spear I hold at it.

    It stalks toward me, clawed talons thudding as they impact the ground.

    I shout at it to try and scare it away¡­ to no effect.

    Paralysed with fear, I''m unable to summon the will to do anything as death draws up to just outside the range of the spear.

    It lunges.

    I wince.

    Death does not come¡­

    I open eyes to see a thick, blue, muscular pillar ending in pale beige fingers, clamped around the neck of the predator, just below the horns.

    The animal, easily more than twice as heavy as I am, is lifted from the ground by the same red haired Giant I saw earlier.

    The clawed legs swing forward to attempt to gut him but skip harmlessly off of the tough blue skin the Giant has.

    With a contemptuous flick of the arm, the man tosses the [dragonbird] (several times the height it is) away from us.

    It scrambles upright and wheels on him, squawking and hissing.

    The Giant raises two powerful arms overhead, bares a set of square, fangless teeth and lets out a bellowing roar!

    The animal cowers away, then turns to flee.

    "Yeuh¡­ vats rait! Geh aw uvir, yuh ovugroun terki!¡­ Kam bak wenyuh hawfaz fretnin azuh Kanadaguus(!)" snarls the man, contemptuously.

    Then, remembering that I exist, the green eyed, round pupiled Giant turns to look down at me.

    The expression he wears is far softer than it was when he spoke to the [dragonbird] but, all the same, I''m petrified!

    "Hei ver, keed." he smiles.

    I point the spear at him, not thinking I''m anything like a match for this Giant, even armed, but unsure what else to do!

    "Woh, woh!" he laughs, holding up two empty, clawless hands "Iizii ver, keed!¡­ Aimuh frend!"

    Hands still held up, he backs away a few steps and folds those two long, strangely jointed legs to sit on the ground, facing me, in a clearly nonthreatening posture.

    I back away and avert the spearpoint but do not match the seated position he has, studying him leerily.

    The Giant is pretty much the same height as me, now that he''s seated.

    He splays five of those clawless fingers and touches them to the front side of himself.

    "Vikta." he smiles.

    "What?" I frown.

    Tapping the chest with both hands now, he repeats "Vikta¡­ Mai neimz Vikta. Yor neim?"

    The Vikta points at me.

    "I''m¡­ a Folk¡­?"

    He laughs and, wobbling that red haired head from side to side, says "Noh yor spiishiis, keed! Yor neim!"

    I frown to convey lack of understanding.

    The Vikta thinks before pointing at himself and, using an unfamiliar word, says "Hyumun." Then, he points to me and says "Folk." in Folkspeak. Then, he points back to himself and says "Vikta." then back to me, expectantly.

    OK, so he''s a ''Hyumun'', not a ''Vikta''.

    Understanding, I point at myself and say "Nroluq."

    "Norluk?" he asks, butchering the pronunciation.

    "No¡­ Nroluq¡­" I correct.

    "Nuhroluk?" he tries again, slightly better.

    "Sure¡­ close enough." I frown.

    "Itsnais tu miichyu, Nuhroluk!" he smiles "Aim jus gunna riichfuh mai holou nau¡­ naaaisan slou!"

    He reaches for a pouch in what I now realise is the deep blue clothing he wears.

    He pulls out a flat square.

    Thumb moving against it, it lights up.

    He holds the glowing thing up to an ear and speaks, not looking at me "Hei, Samus, Tiimanja¡­ Aiv faundah loukal Folk kauld Nuhroluk¡­ Sentyu mai loukeishon. Kam kwik and bringvuh uvuh Folk wivyu."

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.140

    ---Promiscuity---

    ---Emiko''s perspective---

    I stand in Gob Hollow with a welcoming party, outside the embassy habitat, watching Lhamo pilot down her personal craft.

    Aboard with her are representatives from the tribes of Northern Twigg we made contact with most recently.

    The shuttle lands and the ramp lowers.

    Separated from the local Twigg by an entire continent, the Northerners look very different!

    Unlike the medium to dark green skin and hair common to the Southlanders or the light green of the contingents from the Centrelands, these Northfolk are a pale turquoise colour.

    Their eyes are, likewise, pale blue and their hair is all in shades of light blue and light green.

    They are very similar in height to the Southern Twigg but stockier and more robust.

    Their language also sounds completely different from Southern Twigg, even if Yasmin assures us that it does exist on the same dialect continuum.

    The boy Victor encountered initially, Nroluq, was the first Twigg we met to have a multisyllable name.

    Mvak and Griiv were barely any more successful at communicating their intentions to the boy than Victor had been but he seemed at least to have been reassured at the presence of other Twigg.

    With this, we have at least some representation from every Vrakhandic realm and the Twigg populations most proximate to all of them.

    That should be enough for peace talks.

    Obviously, with Twigg secrecy being as it is, there are bound to be populated regions we''ve missed but, hopefully, news of our presence on the world will diffuse out, in time, without being too garbled in the process(!)

    The few dozen pale Twigg step off the ship and, in unison, all react to the Mediterranean heat.

    "So hot!" exclaims the boy I recognise as Nroluq, just neurologically developed enough to be allowed a translator.

    By far the youngest member of the contingent, he''s apparently here because of some ''finders keepers'' custom observed among the Northern Twigg.

    He ''found'' us, so he gets to come South, even though he''s not strictly needed here.

    "You may be more comfortable inside the habitat¡­" I smile, gesturing at the structure "¡­We generally maintain it at a temperature of around 21¡ãC for my species'' comfort¡­  For context, water freezes at 0¡ãC and the current temperature out here is 33¡ãC, which I find a little muggy as well¡­ If you plan on visiting the local Twigg communities, we would be happy to fabricate you some clothing that''s a little lighter than what you''re wearing, just let us know."

    Qulnak, the middle aged woman in charge of this contingent dips her head and begins "That is most kind of you¡­ We¡­"

    But whatever she was about to say is interrupted by Votd barking like a dog at her (the Twigg equivalent of a wolfwhistle) and shouting "Heeeeey, sexy Mama!"

    Before I know what''s happening, the younger girl has strode up to the older woman and wrapped her arms around her shoulders to plant a lick across her lips.

    Immediately, Qulnak shoves Votd to the ground and snarls at her.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    The Northerners all look outraged.

    The middle aged woman turns her attention back up at me and ferociously demands "What is the meaning of this!?"

    My mouth moves but no words form.

    "You thought having this half naked harlot throw herself at me would be ingratiating?!¡­ Explain yourself!!! Did you force this girl to act in such a disgraceful way!?"

    Words die in my throat as I see the ambassadors appearing from the ship behind the Northern band.

    Jae''s analysis was that the Northerners are far more culturally reserved than the Southerners but I wasn''t expecting there to be an instant diplomatic incident about it!

    This woman is accusing me of some pretty awful shit right now!

    Lhamo is about to speak when loud laughter echoes across the scene.

    All of us look to where Votd is, lying on the ground at Qulnak''s feet, laughing her head off.

    She picks herself up and, pointing a clawed index finger over the crowd of pale Twigg, turns to me and laughs "These guys a bigger prudes than you(!)"

    Then, she turns back to the woman who''s face she just licked and with more maturity and social grace than I''ve yet seen from any Twigg, explains "I''m sorry for offending you. The Southlands are where promiscuity was invented(!)¡­ It''s normal for us to do as I just did, it''s not something anyone asked me to do, told me to do or forced me to do¡­ I did it because I think you''re very beautiful¡­ When Southerners aren''t interested, we just say so."

    Qulnak''s face softens as she answers "Well¡­ I never said I wasn''t interested¡­ I''m just not used to my prospective lovers being so¡­ forward!¡­ A little chat goes a long way(!)¡­ Likewise, I apologise for the misunderstanding and shall endeavour to respect Southland customs, now that I''m aware of them¡­ It''s Qulnak, by the way. You are?"

    "Votd¡­ Perhaps we could¡­ ''chat'' later, Curlnk?"

    A wry smile curls the older woman''s lip as she responds "It''s a date, Votud(!)¡­ For now though, I believe we need to get out of this oppressive heat and find a way of dressing modestly without collapsing from hyperthermia(!)" she then turns to me and dips her head to say "I apologise for dishonouring you with accusations as well, Ma''am."

    I give a relieved smile and answer "It''s no problem at all, Chieftainess! I apologise that we failed to warn you of this cultural difference. It''s completely understandable that you would be startled!¡­ My companions will show you inside. Please make yourselves comfortable. I''ll ask Doctor MacLeod or someone to have a look at designing some clothing that will suit your needs shortly." extending my hand to the nice, cool habitat.

    The band file off toward it with Jae and Yasmin both doing a little jog to get ahead of them and lead the way.

    Votd follows behind, fixing Qulnak with an admiring gaze.

    "*Phew*!!!" I sigh.

    "That was a little nerve wracking, huh?" Lhamo smiles, walking to my side, her husband''s midriff at the level of her head as he looms along behind her.

    "Definitely wasn''t expecting the first diplomatic snafu to be Twigg-on-Twigg! I thought Terran-on-Vrakhand was a sure thing!"

    "Yes, the Twigg we first encountered did give an impression of an exceedingly carefree species¡­ It makes total sense, though, that there would be culture clashes(!) What we''re doing is pretty much the equivalent of throwing Ancient Romans, Aksumites, Guptas, Wei, Srivijayans, Puebloans, Mayans and Mochicas together in the 3rd Century and asking them to represent Earth!" smirks Lhamo.

    "I''m fairly sure it''s not that bad." states her husband, dryly "From what I know of your people''s history, I think there would already have been blood spilled in the scenario you just described(!)"

    "Hey¡­!" she grins up at him "Only Terrans get to make jokes about Terrans being crazy and/or violent, darling(!)"

    Turning to meet her gaze while maintaining his deadpan, he asks "And having been in a relationship with a Terran woman for more than 25 years, being married to that same Terran, having spent the majority of the War held prisoner on a Terran world, speaking two Terran languages, having three half Terran children and having undergone deathworldifying gene therapy counts fooor¡­(?)"

    Still grinning, she answers "Jack shit I''m afraid, darling(!)"

    I snort.

    That''s the first time I''ve heard this rather dainty woman swear!¡­ At least, I think. She''s speaking Tibetan, which isn''t one of my languages, but translators tend to be quite good at matching the level of vulgarity intended¡­ or signposting a mismatch at least.

    The giant man sighs mirthfully as his wife turns her impish grin to me.

    "Let''s hope that a little misunderstanding about sexual forwardness is as bad as it gets¡­" she muses "¡­I''d be lying if I said I wasn''t at least a little apprehensive about meeting the council of Vrakhand tomorrow, though!¡­ The General tells me that this is the first time in their known history every Broodking and their Generals have all been in the same room! Even in their unification war, there wasn''t a council like this!"

    "Yes¡­ a little uninvited face licking might look positively cute by this time tomorrow(!)" I answer.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.141

    ---Cowardice---

    ---Khr''kowan''s perspective---

    "Shameful!" snarls First Woman Ho''akhath of the Lhor¡¯nhakhan Realm, Aunt to my father''s latest brood and the most powerful woman in the North (both physically and politically), sat on the ground in my father''s throne room, on the right side of the circle to me.

    "Lady Ho''akhath, I advise you to bite your tongue¡­" I warn.

    Lhamo [Dragonbird] Yeshe, the ambassador, waves a placatory hand in my direction from the far side of the room and soothes "Gen. Khr''kowan, I appreciate the defence but, please, allow Gen. Ho''akhath to speak¡­ That is what this council is for, afterall!¡­ I would hate for anyone to feel they did not get their say. Please, General¡­" she turns to Ho''akhath and invites "¡­tell us what you think is so shameful."

    The Northern woman looks to me.

    I sigh and gesture for her to stand.

    Rising to her feet, Ho''akhath extends all three fingers of her right hand as well as her right pedipalp to the [GU] contingent.

    "These vertebrates come to our world, unannounced and uninvited, and presume to dictate to us how we are to change our society to better comport with their soft sensibilities!?¡­ This I call shameful!¡­ They wish us to invite dirty, hungry, disease bearing Vermin into our homes and welcome them as friends!?¡­ This too, I call shameful!¡­ They wish us to hang up our bows and our spears and march forward into a world without war? What is a woman if not a warrior!?¡­ Your world is one where men may live in comfort and ease but where women''s hardness would wither away to an unbecoming weakness! Your history may be longer than ours but it is clearly a bloodless history of cowards!¡­ This I call shameful!¡­ Your unwomanly weakness is your problem! Do not make it ours!"

    The Terrans look unimpressed. Emiko and Lhamo both actually look amused.

    Lhamo nonchalantly stands to answer the challenge to her people''s womanhood.

    Before she can start, I become aware of something small, skittering into the room.

    Appearing at the entrance behind the noise is Khuh, one of the nursery attendants, looking rightfully anxious about barging in on this unprecedented council.

    I''m unable to see the culprit but I''m able to see the trail of surprise they leave in the First Women and Broodkings along their path.

    When they finally emerge into the middle of the circle, I can see it''s one of my youngest halfsiblings, though I''m not able to tell if they''re a halfbrother or halfsister since it will be a while before they shed their babyfur.

    There is an amused chuckle at having this meeting interrupted in such a way but the Terran woman takes it in stride, stooping to scoop the baby (around the same size as her head) into her arms.

    The infant attacks her hand, playfully, drawing a little blood, which she does not react to.

    Then, realising how warm she is in the cool of the night, it stops its biting and scratching and curls up against her chest.

    The image she creates, bouncing a baby while her hand bleeds, is a fantastic juxtaposition of masculine nurture and feminine stoicism!

    I wonder if she realises that?

    Looking up at Ho''akhath while cradling her niece or nephew, the Terran woman speaks "General, I must correct you about two things. First) depending on where we measure from, there is a strong argument to make that your people''s history is, in fact, longer than mine¡­ I''m sure you''ve been made aware of the city on the Southern peninsula?¡­ That''s a city of stone, unequivocally built by your people, that would likely have housed a number equivalent to your entire living population and built at a time when Terrans had nothing remotely comparable¡­ Second) our history is not bloodless!¡­ I don''t think you can grasp the scale of how bloody our history truly is!¡­ It''s precisely seeing the futility of spilling endless rivers of blood that has made us so committed to peace! We don''t want you to need to learn our lessons the same way we had to¡­ the hard way!"

    "So you admit to your cowardice?! You admit to your disgraceful unwomanliness!?" demands Ho''akhath.

    Lhamo opens her mouth to speak but, at that point, Emiko stands and says "If I may, Ambassador?" she walks forward to stand in the centre of the circle with the other two and the baby "I do believe that what we have here is an opportunity to play the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come(!)¡­ Rather than trying to tell them how our history has shaped us into what we are, why don''t we show them?"

    "What did you have in mind, Dr Miyazaki?" smirks the woman holding my halfsibling.

    "Well¡­" Emiko turns to look up into the face of the First Woman looming over her "¡­if the General here would be amenable to an invitation to the Embassy in 2 days time, I''m sure I could put together something in the meanwhile¡­ the offer would also extend to anyone else in this room who''s curious about our history¡­ though, I must warn all of you, what you see will be gruesome!"

    "Gruesome?" sneers Ho''akhath "I''m sure cowardly, false women like you don''t know the meaning of the word! Though, you have my curiosity¡­ I''ll be there and so will every First Woman of the Northern Confederation!"

    A knowing grin spreads across the Terran''s face as she extends a hand "Shake on it?"

    Ho''akhath hesitates before extending her own hand and grasping Emiko''s.

    ---Tcakqaal''s perspective---

    On a perch in the lightly attended ''gardenworlder seating section'' of the ambassadorial habitat, I cast my eyes over the host of Vrakhand filling the room.

    Mostly women, but a handful of men are scattered among them.

    It''s my first time seeing their males.

    Several things strike me about them; they''re much smaller than their female counterparts, they''re covered in thick fur which gives the impression that they''re much plumper and, something I don''t know if the Terrans will have realised is; they''re noticeably dimmer in the IR spectrum.

    Vrakhand, being mesotherms, shine less brightly than the endothermic Terrans but it seems that males have slower metabolisms than females.

    Emiko takes the stage.

    "Good evening, everyone!" she smiles "And thank you for your attendance!"

    All that comes across via her translator is a tone of happy, affectionate warmth. However, I''m familiar enough with Terrans to sense an untranslated undercurrent composed of around 70% mania, 20% spite and 10% glee!

    The talent for having such a wealth of tone and intention lurking just below the surface is something I''m not aware of any other species sharing¡­ one of Terrans'' many unnerving attributes(!)

    The glamourous woman continues "Tonight''s performance, which we have chosen to tentatively title ''What Made Terrans Cowards'', is a curation of notable pieces of military technology that have been used in anger, from our last 900 years or so of history¡­ equivalent to a little over 300 of this planet''s years¡­ Rest assured, our prior military history is equally¡­ shall we say ''striking'' and the only reason we chose our early 19th Century as the cutoff for inclusion is that, any earlier than that, we worried certain people might get ideas(!)¡­ Every piece of military hardware you will see demonstrated is something we have judged to be not currently reproduceable by your people¡­ The clips we have selected are a mixture of bodycamera footage, documentary footage, propaganda reels and entertainment media¡­ It''s-Oh! Yes, Broodking Mhirvakh?"

    She gestures to the audience where one of the few males in attendance has both hands splayed above his head.

    Lowering his hands, the man nervously asks "You said ''entertainment''?¡­ I thought this was to be a demonstration of the horrors of war! Why would there be any entertainment included?"

    "Ah, I can see the confusion!" smiles the woman, glee increasing its proportion of her undertone "This may be something of a cultural difference¡­ You see, for my people, war stories are an enduringly popular genre of entertainment, even in times of peace¡­ Obviously, a clip taken from a war film may have mild inaccuracies of the ''too little recoil on this gun'', ''too little smoke from that one'', ''wrong type of epaulettes on that officer''s uniform'' and the like¡­ but we have specifically selected all such clips for the accuracy of how they convey the bloodshed and violence¡­ No pratfalls, no ludicrous Wilhelm screams and no noble sinking into the arms of a comrade who''s able to hear your final words as the music swells dramatically(!)¡­ Every single clip will be a visceral look at the effects of our history''s weapons of war¡­ For the first few centuries of history we''re going to show you, we will be leaning rather heavily on recreations from media works due to the absence of recording devices on these battlefields¡­ I want to stress that the subject matter of every clip, original or recreated, will be highly distressing and that, if it proves too much for any of you, you are at liberty to leave at any time you want¡­ though I''m sure that won''t be a problem for Gen. Ho''akhath¡­"

    Emiko beams broadly at the scowling woman as a light chuckle goes around the room.

    "¡­Our first clip tonight depicts the Russian ''Decembrist Revolt'', which took place in the Winter of our year 1825. This recreation is taken from the 2019 film, Union of Salvation, which I would like to thank our analyst Ms Petrikov for suggesting¡­ Though what it shows is not exactly a ''battle'' (since the soldiers being fired upon were simply standing in protest, rather than fighting back) it nonetheless serves as an apt demonstration of the weapon''s capabilities¡­ Nearly 700 of our years since this film was made and, Ms Petrikov assures me, there are still many who consider this scene to be the most realistic portrayal of this weapon ever put to film¡­ The technology depicted is called ''grapeshot''¡­ Oh, and, by the way, I should mention, for the first couple of centuries of the period we''re about to showcase, comprising a little over half of the runtime of our presentation, all soldiers were men¡­ Every¡­ single¡­ one¡­!"

    Stifled gasps emanate from the Vrakhand, presumably in horror at the thought of male soldiers.

    "With that, I think we can start!" chirps Emiko, outwardly cheerful.

    She steps away from the stage and the lights dim.

    The screen shows a city square, buried in snow.

    Soldiers bearing ancient, muzzle loading firearms stand in neat, orderly rows, wearing tall, round hats with long plumes adorning the tops.

    The ambient temperature is so low that the men''s breaths hit the air as solidly visible gouts of steam! I wonder what the purportedly cold averse Vrakhand make of that¡­

    One man, astride an equid, rides up to a younger man.

    "Your Majesty, let me give the order¡­ May the guilt for that blood fall on me." says the older man.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The camera reframes on the younger man, apparently some sort of monarch, who, after a brief pause, states "That blood will forever fall entirely on me." in a low, grim voice.

    The older man gives a sympathetic nod and turns his mount.

    Weighty, metallic strings begin to play, nondiegetically.

    He raises a scrap of white cloth.

    There is a cut to brass cannons being wound, to lower their elevation to near horizontal at the ranks of soldiers standing across the square.

    "Load!" comes the calmly shouted order and we see a man take a lumpy, tightly wrapped, canvas parcel from a box and slot it into the mouth of a cannon with a *clank* followed by a slow, low *wooosh* of the air being displaced as it slides down the barrel.

    "We stand!" shouts an officer from the side the cannons are aimed at "Leib-Guard! God is with us, law is with us, TRUTH is with us!"

    "Stand!" hisses one of his juniors, sounding like he''s trying to convince himself as much as the men in his command.

    "They won''t dare fire on us!"

    "They won''t DARE fire on us!" repeats the same junior.

    "And THIS is a victory!"

    Back on the monarch''s side of the square, the white cloth is dropped and the battery commander screams "FIRE!!!"

    A few seconds pass with nothing happening.

    "FIRE!!!" he screams again.

    The monarch, who had been riding away, turns back in his saddle, eyes wide, as he stares at the man whose subordinates are failing to carry out the issued command.

    Breaking eyes with the monarch, the battery commander strides over to the nearest man and snatches something from his hand, elbowing him out of the way and snarling "Follow the order!"

    Touching the thing he just took to the top of the cannon, there is a brassy *THOOM* as a blast of smoke issues from the end.

    A few yelps of surprise go up from the Vrakhand.

    The bombardment is unleashed as we see dozens of projectiles issue forth across the field with every cannon blast, visible by the lines of smoke they drag along in their wake.

    We see the Terran soldiers buckle as the shot strikes them!

    Bloodstained air blasts out of their backs and they drop to the ground.

    There''s a brief scene of civilians being caught in the crossfire, screaming.

    Then there''s a slow motion shot of one of the projectiles smashing through a soldier''s gun to strike at his centre of mass.

    Each time the terrible weapon sweeps away a section of the formation, there are one or two men left miraculously standing, untouched by the shot that obliterated their comrades and limping their way back to their space in the formation over the fallen bodies, their coats stained with the gore of those who just stood by their sides.

    An officer runs to help a wounded man, only for the section of line that he ran in front of a moment ago to be cut down, one piece of shot ripping the man he was attempting to help out of his arms.

    He turns and issues an utterly desolate scream!

    The camera focuses on a section of the line we''ve already seen be cut down and we hear the incoherent, high pitched wailing of a man experiencing pain beyond anything he could previously have imagined, all thoughts of stoic dignity abandoned as he cries for someone to take the pain away!

    Back on the monarch''s side, we see a visibly shaken officer give the order to reload.

    Large swabs are withdrawn from buckets of liquid and slid down the cannon, pushing smoke out of a small hole on the top back.

    More of those awful canvas packages are loaded and the order is given to fire.

    We''re treated to many close ups of shot, ripping bloody holes through men''s bodies as easily as it rips their clothing.

    An old man in civilian garb, watching the slaughter with the crowd, says "Oh Lord." under his breath while performing a ritual gesture with his hand.

    We see a soldier as his face is splattered with the viscera of the man who was just ripped away from his side.

    The man breaks, running for safety but only getting a few paces before he too is cut down.

    The camera focusses on an officer, staggering in a daze, before pulling back to drag us along a trail of blood stained snow, through a heap of lacerated corpses.

    The groans, the screams, the cries of pain all feel real, palpable and, for that, utterly terrifying!

    We see one man decide that it simply isn''t worth it any more, that he has to flee!

    The men behind him quickly follow.

    Soon, the whole army has broken down into a chaotic, disorderly rout as officers issue contradictory orders and men flee for their lives.

    The scene ends.

    I turn to inspect the faces of the Vrakhand.

    Every single one is painted with abject horror at what they just witnessed.

    ---Ho''akhath''s perspective---

    I''m sorry!

    I''m sorry!!

    I''m sorry!!!

    I''ll never question your species'' ovaries again, please just make it stop!

    "But trench warfare, chemical warfare and military aviation were not the only technologies to be debuted in the vainly named ''war to end all wars''¡­" comes the translated voice of the (confusingly) old woman narrating this section of the grizzly spectacle "¡­In September of 1916, a terrible new weapon would roll onto the field of the Battle of Flers-Courcelette."

    A large shape rumbles through the haze in this land made barren by these insane creatures'' war!

    The shape emerges from the fog, revealing itself to be a beast of metal, entirely wrapped in two moving bands that propel it across the corpse strewn wasteland.

    From its sides jut two of those fire spitting death wands these lunatics war with!

    "¡­The Mark I, male variant, armed with two QF 6-pounder Hotchkiss naval guns and, secondarily, with three M1909 Hotchkiss machine guns, this machine would forever become known by the codename the British had used while designing, building and transporting it to the battlefield; the Tank!"

    I flinch as one of the wands issues a deafening *boom* over our heads.

    Weaver, preserve us!

    ---Tuun''s perspective---

    This whole thing has been laying it on a little thick with the whole ''war bad'' angle but I''d be lying if I said it didn''t seem effective!

    We''re out of the horrors of the 19th-21st Centuries and yet to arrive at the horrors of the War but substantially more than half of those present at the start have excused themselves, looking nauseated.

    It would be infantilising to think that the Vrakhand haven''t invented propaganda but they obviously have no immunity to this kind!

    A new excerpt begins, opening on a levelled patch of jungle overlooking a placid sea.

    Sitting on a felled treetrunk, surrounded by the corpses of monstrous looking robots, a large, light haired man sits alone, facing away from the camera, his clunky durasteel clad shoulders juddering in fairly clear sobs.

    The camera approaches and a woman''s voice asks "LCpl T¨®rsson¡­ LCpl T¨®rsson¡­ Do you have any comments about the battle that just occurred¡­?" speaking English with (I presume) a Tagalog accent.

    The one she addresses looks back only for the briefest moment but that''s enough for me to identify them.

    That''s my mum! That''s Mamma Kat!

    She may have a beard and shorter hair than I''ve ever seen on her in real life but there''s no mistaking it!

    Her spine stiffens and she looks away, clearly trying to hide her bloodshot eyes as she slips her old fashioned helmet over her head and says "No comment." in a cracked voice that''s deeper than I''ve ever heard her speak with.

    "But Lance Corporal, the people have to know¡­!"

    My mum stands, the camera''s low perspective giving some idea of what a terrifyingly large person she is to anyone who isn''t 2.2m tall, and shouts "Didn''t you hear me say ''no comment''?! Does it look like a good time for an interview? Get that fucking drone out of my face!" her teary eyes shrouded in shadows behind her helmet''s medieval looking, hinged visor.

    Unperturbed, the reporter pushes "Lance Corporal¡­ I think this is the perfect time for an interview¡­" her voice serious and sincere "¡­tell every world in the UTC how you''re feeling right now¡­"

    My mum gives a breathy half sob-half laugh as she answers "What do you want me to say?!¡­ That this isn''t the most miserable experience of my life?! ''Come on down, boys and girls! Enlist today to blast away some droids on Bagong Dagat! It''ll be so much fun! Just like a video game!''(?)"

    "No, because that''s clearly not how you feel¡­" answers the reporter, nonchalantly.

    "You want to know how I feel?" demands my mum "How would you feel having to mow down an army of nightmares that scream and wail and cry as you shoot them!? Creatures that never let you forget what torture their creator was subjected to at the hands of that psychopath!"

    "To what extent do you blame Dr dela Cruz for what is currently transpiring on this planet?" asks the reporter, shrewdly.

    My mum hesitates a moment before taking off her helmet, her eyes bloodshot and tears running down her cheeks into her beard as she stares directly into the camera.

    "Every drop of blood spilled on this planet is on his hands!" she snarls with more bitter ferocity than I''ve ever seen or heard her come close to!

    "You don''t blame Maganda at all?" she asks, clearly somewhat surprised.

    "How could I!¡­ How could I blame her when I know every torment that sick fuck inflicted on her! He treated her like a toy and millions are paying the price for his twisted amusement!!!¡­ Her droids scream his name every battle!"

    "What would you say to him if he were here right now?"

    My mum''s lips twist as she sneers "Freeze in Hel, motherfucker!"

    The clip stops and Emiko stands to give a lecture on it that I''m not able to pay attention to.

    Tears run down my face.

    Gods!

    Now I understand why she never wanted to talk about her time in the military!

    ---Alchyinad''s perspective---

    fff?We stand, shoulder to shoulder

    We stand, shoulder to shoulder

    We stand, shoulder to shoulder

    You can''t ERASE us, you''ll just have to FACE us!

    We are the ones who will never be broken!

    With our final breath

    We''ll fight to the death

    We are soldiers, we are SOLDIERS!!!?fff

    sings the voice of legion, emanating from (by my count) half a million armoured Terrans as they march to the beat of drums, in perfect, rhythmic lockstep, onto a gigantic platform at the bottom of what I recognise as the Roswell Space Elevator.

    "Looks kind of nice, doesn''t it(!) Such camaraderie(!)" smiles Miyazaki, long since having given up pretending to be anything other than the Devil(!) "Now lets see how one of those companies was doing a little later in the War."

    An audible groan of misery erupts from the Vrakhand, their pattern spotting ability allowing them to clearly see where this is going!

    The footage opens on an unhelmed Terran woman, some kind of liquid (I''m taking to be blood) splattered across the left side of her face and tears streaming down her cheeks, desperately screaming "MEDIC!!!¡­ I NEED A MEDIC HERE, NOW!!!" as she cradles a very clearly already dead comrade in her arms, behind cover, in a hailstorm of fire.

    That street they''re on looks strangely¡­ familiar¡­

    "Wait! What the shit is THAT!?" demands the soldier next to the one wearing the helmetcam, pointing up.

    The viewpoint swivels to look up and I instantly know what ''the shit'' that is¡­ because it''s me.

    Flying on leathery wings, among my Sisters of the Papal Guard, I descend upon the Terrans'' position as they scream "CONTACT OVERHEAD!!!"

    I fold my wing membranes to drop the last stretch of distance and land among them.

    My glaive is deployed, ignited and I begin a balletic dance of death as I hack apart the poor souls standing against my Sisters and I.

    They raise a chilling symphony of screams.

    Bullets shot at us bounce off our durasteel armour, reverse engineered from captured Terran examples, as we tear apart their formation.

    How could I ever have believed I was on the right side of history?!

    Thinking back, my every rationalisation feels utterly paper thin!

    Seeing it from the perspective of the Terrans really hammers home what I was¡­

    One of my Sisters in arms marches up to the camera wearer.

    A plasmasword ignites at the bottom of the screen but is instantly dashed from the girl''s hands by my Sister''s glaive.

    Taking the opportunity to toy with her prey now that no other Terrans are left alive, she reaches down, seizes the girl and lifts her up to eye level.

    Cleverly (but futilely) the Terran''s hands seize upon the only thing she can use as a weapon, my Sister''s own helmet! Grasping it from her head and turning it to use as a bludgeon, the desperate girl brings it down with all her might¡­ only for who I now recognise as Dachielva to seize the Terran''s wrist with the hand not holding her up.

    Dachielva shakes the girl''s arm, violently, to force her to drop the helmet which lands with a *clang*!

    I''m forced to stare into the eyes of my Sister in arms as this girl saw them in her last moments, as those of a fairytale monster brought to life, before she bares her teeth, rips the Terran''s helmet off and our POV only catches a pair of jerking feet, suspended in the air, as screams give way to gurgles¡­ then silence¡­

    ---Ho''akhath''s perspective---

    On the newly forming road to Khawekh, just outside the embassy compound, the most fearsome woman of my species seizes me by the shoulders and bares her toothplates, snarling into my face in a way that should be terrifying but feels¡­ distant¡­ like it''s happening to someone else¡­ a long way away.

    "Do you understand WHY I told you to bite. your. tongue now, HALFWIT?!"

    "I do¡­" I mutter, still dazed from the [hours] of endless death, suffering and misery I''ve just been subjected to.

    "The only thing holding the Terrans back from unleashing every horror you just witnessed on us is the TERRANS!¡­ They fought the entire rest of the [GALAXY] and WON! You think WE''D stand a chance(!?)¡­ Their ''better nature'' is the only thing standing between them and our annihilation!¡­ A better nature you SPAT on as unwomanly COWARDICE!"

    Numbly, I ask "Do you think¡­ if I offered them my head¡­ it would put this right?"

    She takes a deep inhale and sighs before answering "If I thought your head was the price of putting this right, I would bring it to them myself¡­ but, I can assure you, they don''t want your head¡­ What they''ll want is an apology¡­ an apology you''re going to give them at tomorrow''s council, aren''t you!"

    "Yes." I state, resolutely.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.142

    ---Apology---

    ---Lhamo''s perspective---

    With the bright, clear light of the midmorning sun shining through the open skylights in the silk ceiling, my husband at my left, Emiko at my right, the others behind me and the Vrakhand council arranged before me, a large woman marches towards me with a grim expression.

    None of her fellow Vrakhand raise any objection, nor make any move to stop her, so I choose to remain placid as I watch her approach, though I can hear the uncomfortable shifting of the security personnel behind me.

    Ho''akhath stops around 4m away and stands, looking down on us, her face unreadable.

    Then, she curls her pronged pedipalps beneath her hindbody and tilts her upperbody forward.

    I''ve just enough time to wonder what it is she''s doing before her front four legs collapse and her torso, head and arms are all slammed into the floor in an unmistakeable (and fairly painful looking) full prostration!

    I stare, wide eyed, at the woman, lying face down at my feet with her abdomen presenting up in the air, for some long moments of silence before I ask "Would someone care to explain?" looking to Khr''kowan.

    "A plea for forgiveness, Ambassador¡­ She awaits your permission to speak." answers the large woman, looking not at me but at her fellow General with a wry expression, devoid of sympathy.

    Unsure if I might cause offence by asking her to stand first, I decide to follow the lead and simply invite "Please speak, Gen. Ho''akhath."

    "I was wrong!" she says immediately "I was wrong to question your species'' courage! I was wrong to cast aspersions on your honour! I was so wrong to imply that your people were unfit or unaccustomed to war!¡­ Terrans are clearly warriors of a mightier spirit than my people ever have been! I see now that the decision to transform yourselves from makers of war to keepers of peace must have required a tremendous force of will, greater than that of any warrior and sustained over generations!¡­ I see now that my people''s future must not be allowed to come anywhere close to resembling your people''s past!¡­ I humbly apologise for my contemptable misjudgement of you! I beg your forgiveness and ask that you accept my submission and deign to instruct me in the ways of peace!"

    Silence rings out for some long moments after the prostrate woman has finished speaking.

    Then, someone decides to crack a joke.

    "What ''bout when you called us ''vertebrates'' and rubbed juuust enough stank on it to make it obvious you thought that was an insult(?) You sorry for that(?)" comes the voice of Taylor from behind me.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "I''m sorry for that also!" shouts Ho''akhath, into the floor.

    I wheel in place to stare daggers at the man, his mischievous grin instantly dropping from his face.

    I sigh and turn back around, standing from the floor and walking to where the woman lies.

    "Lesson one in the ways of peace¡­ is respect¡­ Not the respect due to an authority, the respect due an equal¡­ Please stand up, Gen. Ho''akhath."

    She hesitates for a moment before beginning the process of leveraging herself back to standing.

    She looks down on me with an expression so close to the ones worn by my children when they knew they''d fucked up bad and were in serious trouble that it''s all I can do not to burst into laughter when I see it(!)

    Once I''m certain I''m not going to crease, I start "I can see our showcase yesterday has frightened you and, I won''t lie, that was intentional! Our expedition coordinator had a lot of fun compiling all those disparate clips into that timeline of horror¡­ though, I fear she may have done a little too good a job at putting the fear of the gods in you(!)"

    "I''m not sorry(!)" chimes in Emiko.

    Ignoring her, I continue "I''m glad you''ve come to see that our species are not cowards. I wholeheartedly accept your apology and forgive you¡­ Your submission, however, I do not accept! Nor will I or my people ''deign'' anything with regard to you and yours!"

    A look of equal parts confusion and dismay twists the mobile scutes of her face as she starts "But¡­ Ambassador¡­?!"

    I cut her off "As we have attempted to make clear at every stage of this contact, neither the Galactic Union nor the United Terran Coalition are here to subjugate your people or your planet! We neither want nor need submissive servants!¡­ There are things we are here to teach you, yes, but there are many things we''re here to learn from you as well!¡­ That''s not the simple platitude I''m sure it must sound to be! While we can (and plan to) teach your people how to build a warp drive, how to terraform a continent, how to conduct the business of settling a population on another planet and the answers to many other questions that you''ve never grappled with, we can''t tell you who you are, what you want or why you want it¡­ Those are things you''ll need to teach us about you. As much as we aren''t here to make servants of you, we aren''t here to force you into our mould! We''re here to give you the tools to allow you to turn yourselves into the people you want to be!¡­ We''re not here to be your conquerors, your masters, your instructors or even your teachers¡­ We''re here as your equals and we''re here as your friends¡­ So, Gen. Ho''akhath, how about it?¡­ Are you willing to be a friend to us?"

    I extend my arms to the side, inviting the formidable woman into an embrace.

    "I¡­ am¡­" says the woman, breathlessly.

    She hesitantly extends her own arms and takes a few tentative steps forward.

    I match her, trying to make sure we meet exactly in the middle of the points we were standing.

    One of her pedipalps comes to straddle each of my sides as the much taller woman''s hands clasp my shoulders and I wrap my arms around her waist in an embrace of friendship.

    It''s¡­ not comfortable, her silk gown affording very little padding against the rock hard armour beneath, but I don''t let that show, embracing the woman like a sister as there is an approving cheer from the room at large.

    She and I separate and she returns to sit by her Uncle.

    I sit back down in my space as well.

    Broodking Aghogh is the next to speak "I am grateful this matter is resolved¡­ Now, if I may, I would like to open the floor to nominations for the ones who will travel to represent us to the [Parliament] of the [Galactic] Union after we have achieved peace with the Twigg¡­"

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXXIV: Pancakes and Tenderness

    ---Marc''s perspective---

    "Hey, Ally? What''re you thinking for lunch? I could¡­ oh¡­ Ally¡­" I say, having walked into our room and found the love of my life hanging upside down from a bar just below the ceiling by the window.

    Her long, thick, white legs are bare all the way up to where her talons are wrapped around the railing.

    Her alabaster wings are almost fully extended from her sides as she stares out of the window into the endlessness of space.

    her torso is wrapped in a dark gray, sideless onepiece bodysuit that frames the curves of her bountiful bootay to absolute perfection.

    Her jet black hair dangles below her head, exposing the ivory white skin at the nape of her neck.

    As always, my Lady''s a breathtaking sight¡­ Nonetheless, my heart sinks.

    I walk to wear she hangs and place my head right next to hers (something I''m never normally able to do, given our height differential!) looking out of the window with her.

    "Heeeeey, Ally¡­ What''s up?" I ask.

    "Nothing¡­ I just don''t have any appointments today, so I thought I''d spend some time in prayer." she answers, her voice flat.

    "That sounds like it''s not ''nothing'' then?" I prompt.

    My wife''s religion isn''t like my dad''s was. It doesn''t require or encourage regular prayer¡­ Communing with her goddess is something she''s only supposed to do in crisis.

    Taking advantage of our heads being at the same height for once, I tenderly lean the left side of mine against the left side of hers, squashing her left ear flat against her skull, and ask "Babe, what''s up?¡­ It''s about the vid?"

    "Yes it''s about the video!" she snaps, defensively "Not that you see any problem with me being a monster but I found revisiting that particular chapter of my life somewhat upsetting!!!"

    In response, I wordlessly walk between her and the window, raise my eyebrow and give her a sympathetic smile.

    She frowns "I''m sorry, Marc¡­ I know that was uncalled for¡­"

    "I get it, Ally!" I soothe "I can''t imagine what that must have felt like!"

    I reach for the back of her skull and gently pull her into a tender spiderman kiss, my eyes level with the top of her Adam''s apple.

    Our lips part and I look into her bottomless wells of eyes, asking "Brush?"

    She swallows (fighting gravity) and nods "That would be nice, Marc, thank you¡­"

    I smile and nod, walking over to the Victorian style vanity she bought (and I printed and assembled for her) after we got hired aboard.

    I pick the ornate hairbrush up from where it lies on top and walk back to my Lady.

    I bring a hand to her forehead, on the other side of her basketball sized skull, and the bristles to the hair line at the top (currently the bottom) of her neck.

    I start brushing down and pull it along the length full of her hair.

    Her modded, black hair is so sleek and silky that the brush passes through it and meets basically no resistance. Then again, the point isn''t to groom her, it''s to reassure her¡­ to put her at ease.

    "So, Ally¡­ you wanna talk about it?"

    She sighs "Not really¡­"

    "That''s cool! We don''t have to¡­" I concede, immediately "¡­I''m perfectly happy to just brush your hair in silence."

    Another sigh.

    "¡­I probably should, though."

    ---Alchyinad''s perspective---

    The reflection of my husband''s glow utterly drowns out the light of every star in the sky, as he brushes my hair behind me.

    The halo of light he creates around the shadow of my head makes it a little difficult to gather my thoughts.

    Eventually, I manage to find something to hook into to start "I''m a killer, Marc¡­"

    "No you aren''t, Ally¡­" he contradicts, kindly and with rare total sincerity.

    Irritated, I answer "That wasn''t a question, Marc! I''ve killed so many in my life that I''ve lost count! Not including bomber pilots who levelled cities, naval gunners who brought down ships and any one else whose role let them kill thousands at a time, I''m probably the soldier who took more Terran lives than any other in the War! I. am. a. killer!"

    "No, you aren''t." he contradicts again "If you had a client say they were a ''loser'' and list off all the times they''d lost as evidence, what would you say to them? What about a client who said they were a cheater? They were a liar? A victim of fraud? A manipulative sex addict?"

    I sigh "I''d say that it isn''t healthy to exclusively define yourself by the worst things you''ve ever done or that have ever happened to you. You''re a person, whole and entire, who may have lost, who may have cheated, who may have lied, who may have been taken in by fraudsters or manipulated partners but that''s not all there is to you¡­ I would, additionally, find away to point out that the fact that they feel guilty or ashamed about it in the present suggests that those actions are no longer representative of who they are, if they ever were¡­"

    I here the feigned ignorance in his baritone voice as he responds "Huh!¡­ So, the reason you aren''t extending that courtesy to yourself is¡­?"

    "Because¡­ killing feels like it''s in a different league to all of those things¡­ like something for which I oughtn''t to be so easily forgiven¡­ like something for which the only people who could forgive me aren''t around to do so anymore!"

    "Do you think those kids would have hesitated to kill you in that battle if they''d had the opportunity?" he asks, using his therapy tone.

    "No! I mean you saw them not hesitate to try! But there''s a difference!"

    "Yeah? What''s the difference?" he prompts.

    "It''s that¡­ they were defending themselves, their worlds, their people! I was attacking them, their worlds, their people!"

    "And why were you attacking them?" asks the man with his hot hand on my forehead, running a brush through my hair.

    "Because I was a soldier. Because I was ordered to. Because I believed they were the monsters!"

    "That sounds very understandable¡­ You were doing what you were told for a cause you had no reason to question."

    "But I did have a reason to question it though, didn''t I!¡­ If having the ability to tear apart people of any other species made Terrans monsters, what would that make me and my sisters for having the ability to tear them apart so easily! What would it make the GU if we had successfully managed to genocide your people when our rationale for doing so was that you might do it to us first if we gave you the opportunity! We would have been every bit as bad as we were accusing you of being and worse still!"

    "Ah, there it is¡­ you''re angry at yourself for not knowing better¡­"

    "Yes!" I pout.

    "Do you think that''s reasonable?¡­ Did anyone know better?" he poses.

    "You did!" I retort.

    He laughs "I wasn''t even 2 when the War ended!"

    "You know what I mean! The Terrans treated us like people after we''d given them every reason to think of us as monsters! We treated you like monsters despite you giving us no reason to think of you as anything but people!¡­ And it isn''t as if support for the War was universal! There were advocates for Peace on our side I could have listened to!"

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    He chuckles "You would have deserted the military on the word of a handful of politicians that your society almost universally condemned as delusional quacks? You would have listened to the one commentator in a thousand who says that it''s perfectly fine to stick your hand in an alligator''s mouth?"

    "I wouldn''t have and I didn''t¡­ but I should have!"

    He gives a breathy laugh and pulls my head to rest against his front.

    Kissing the back of my neck with his hot lips, he says "Alchyinad¡­ Morticia to my Gomez, Lady D to my Ethan, Raven to my Beastboy and Marceline to my Bonnibel, you are many things¡­ but you''re not a killer¡­ and you''re not a monster!"

    I chuckle "It''s a little late to be workshopping alternate wedding vows, Marc(!)¡­ Also, I know Marceline''s the gothic one but I am definitely the Bubblegum in this relationship(!)"

    "You''re feeling better if you''re able to quip, right?" he grins into my neck.

    "I am¡­ Stand back, I''m coming down."

    ---Marc''s perspective---

    I step away and to the side a few paces and watch as my wife unlocks her prehensile toes from the railing, doing half a backflip to go from upside down, facing out the window, to right side up, facing into the room.

    She lands all 380lbs (or¡­ err¡­ 173kg!) of her voluptuous frame onto the balls of her feet, splaying her 12 forward facing talons and bending her knees to absorb the shock before coming down onto her halluces, which act as permanent high heels.

    Her wings disappear as she folds them against the bottoms of her arms and turns herself to me.

    With her standing up, my eyeline is only just level with the bottom of her stomach but she gets onto her knees and (still being too tall) bends her legs to bring herself to only one head taller than me, opening her arms in my direction.

    I step forward to between her kneeling legs and wrap my arms under hers, her enormous pillowy chest enveloping my upper body as I kiss her cool lips and hold her close to me.

    "I don''t deserve you, Marc." she mutters.

    "You''re right, you don''t¡­ but you said your vows now, you''re stuck with me regardless(!)" I grin back.

    Her black eyes close as she does an involuntary, out of character giggle, her cool, fragrant breath billowing over my face.

    She leans in for another brief kiss before saying "Marc, I''m not particularly hungry right now¡­ would it be alright if we ate later?"

    "No problem at all! I''m actually not that hungry either." I lie "What do you wanna do instead?"

    She bares her shark teeth and says "Well, I don''t really think I''m up for chasing you around the room, arms akimbo, rhythmically strutting to the beat of a bass boosted Busta Rhymes'' ''Touch It'', playing over the speakers, before granting you a ''death by snu snu'' right now(!)¡­ but what would you say to a snuggle session instead?"

    I grin back "My Lady, nothing would give my heart greater joy!"

    "Shirt off then, please!"

    I chuckle and back away from the giant lady just enough to have space to lift my top over my head.

    It''s only halfway off before my bare chest is seized by two powerful arms and I''m lifted bodily into the air, my face and arms still tangled in clothing.

    I''m dropped onto the bed and manage to get my shirt off just in time to see my Lady sliding off her onepiece over her shoulders.

    Her beachball sized breast squash against the middle of my torso as she lies her crushing bulk on top of me.

    Our heads are level but my feet stop around the middle of her thighs.

    I wrap my arms over the top of her shoulders and the back of her neck, feeling her cool body sucking the heat out of my warm chest.

    She sighs and asks "Do you think, when I die, I''m going to have to meet all those I killed, in the Cavern of the Nameless One? Do you think they''re watching me, resenting that the one who took their lives is living her own without consequence?"

    I puff "Ally, I''m no philosopher or theologian¡­ I don''t know if there is an afterlife, let alone if it would be in any kind of format that you and I could comprehend as mortals¡­ but let me ask you this¡­ do you think your goddess is the kind of lady who''d encourage the dead to spend decades or centuries of their hereafter stewing over people still alive? Think about the kind of lady who''d gather up everyone you''d ever killed to meet you off the boat in the afterlife and say ''There she is guys! Get her!''¡­ That the kinda lady you worship?"

    "I¡­ suppose not¡­" she frowns.

    "So¡­ how would a lady worthy of your worship handle folks who died with unfinished business like that?" I prompt.

    "Maybe¡­ some kind of afterlife therapy programme to help them to come to terms with it?" she poses.

    "That''s funny! One of my clients told me about a very similar idea!" I chuckle, thinking of Tuun and her mums "It certainly sounds a lot healthier than letting them watch you and fester until the day you die and they get to dogpile you(!)¡­ A little TLC for them to match what you''re getting here in the land of the living!"

    Her fulsome black lips part into a heartwarming smile.

    "Speaking of which¡­" I smirk before leveraging myself against the bed to roll her onto her back and myself on top of her, making her yelp in surprise.

    She may weigh nearly twice as much as me but, in half gravity, she''s almost as easy to handle as if she were a slightly heavy Human lady, even though her body still has the exact same inertia as it would in Earth gravity.

    "¡­what d''ya say to letting me take care of you right now?" I grin, kissing her.

    "That¡­ sounds good¡­" she answers.

    ---Alchyinad''s perspective---

    My blindingly bright husband stands, his legs needing to take a wide stance to fit my torso between them.

    "There any part of you I''m not allowed to touch, my Lady?" he asks, respectfully.

    "No¡­ I''m all yours right now¡­" I smile back at the man who''s too good for me.

    He bares his flat, omnivorous teeth and hops to between my legs.

    His hands move to the front of his pants, unbuttoning them and allowing his member to lunge forward.

    The intensity of the light his body bathes the room in is increased as he slides his lowers over his legs, revealing more of his hot skin.

    He kneels but doesn''t insert himself, instead running the tips of his fingers up the insides of my thighs, leaving glowing trails over my skin.

    Then he reaches over my sex to press his hands into my abdominals.

    The hot handprints he leaves utterly conceal my weak, natural stripes of warmth variegation.

    My breasts are a little out of his reach from where he is but, by his own admission, he''s always been more of an ''ass man'' anyway.

    He likes to quip that one of the advantages of a partner more than a metre taller than him is that he barely has to crane his neck down to see the goods(!)

    Sure enough, my buttocks are his next target and I feel his hands sink into my flesh and start to massage me.

    His hot breath breaks against me as he brings his mouth to a noselength from my drenched pussy.

    He stops to look up at me and I see him smile contentedly through the gap between my breasts.

    "Have I ever told you just how lucky I am to have wifed up a smokeshow like you, Ally?" he asks, his deep voice soft and sensuous "My gothy Dommy Mommy from space Transylvania?"

    I sigh and chuckle "Oh, I don''t know¡­ two, three times a day since the first night I brought you home(?)"

    "That''s no good¡­ I''ll try and make an effort to tell you that more often from now on(!) Now, though¡­ let me show you¡­"

    With that he brings his mouth to my lips and begins to passionately soul kiss it with a fervour that I''ve never seen anyone else match!

    My thighs close around his small head but he doesn''t allow that to distract him from his singular purpose in the slightest!

    I reach out a four fingered hand (my wing fingers and membrane remaining folded against my arm) and place it tenderly on top of his head while his hot tongue licks my sex as if it were the most delectable thing he''d ever tasted!

    His mouth works with a furious passion, splashing and spreading my juices all over his lower face, my lower stomach and the insides of my thighs.

    The points of my talons start to sink into the flesh of his back for a moment before I consciously restrain myself.

    He may be a masochist but I''m not feeling in a particularly sadistic mood.

    I only want tenderness right now.

    "Marc¡­?"

    He stops immediately and turns his half cooled face up to respond "Yeah, Ally¡­?"

    "I want you to fuck me."

    Surprised, he asks "You sure, Ally?¡­ I mean, normally¡­"

    "This isn''t ''normally'', Marc¡­ Fuck me like you''re my equal, not my love slave¡­ Fuck me like you think you might be able to get me pregnant¡­ Fuck me like you love me, Marc!"

    He grins "I do love you, Ally!"

    "Then¡­" I smile, gesturing him up.

    ---Marc''s perspective---

    It feels slightly wrong to do it but I straighten my back to vertical beneath my wife.

    Obviously, I know we''re equals, I know all the talk of her being my Mistress and me her slave is just sexy fun and I know that sex as equals should be no problem¡­ it just feels weird¡­ like being shown into a fancy room full of folks in formal dress while I''m in a stained tee and sweatpants(!)

    I hook my shoulders under her knees, her thighs being almost perfectly as long as the distance between my cock and the tops of my shoulders, and wrap an arm around to push my shaft level with her pussy.

    I push my hips forward and hear her breathy gasp of pleasure as I enter my wife''s cool, wet insides.

    Clear, watery lubrication (displaced from the cavity I''ve just filled) sprays against the front of my pelvis.

    At this point, light streams from behind me to my right and bathes the love of my life''s chalk white tits in illumination.

    She giggles.

    "What?" I smile back.

    "You''re brighter! You''re brighter than the whole planet!" she points with her left hand and I poke my head around her lustrously thicc thigh to see the planet of Graom-Wakhkort below.

    "I''ll have to take your word for that(!)" I mutter back, then without warning, pull most of my length from her before pushing it back in.

    "Hnngh!" she squeaks, biting her bottom lip.

    To take advantage of leverage in order for some extra traction, I place my right hand on top of her left knee by my right ear and my left hand at the crook of her right hip.

    When I''m pulling back, I push with my left and pull with my right, when I''m thrusting forward, I relax my right and pull against the top of her right thigh with my left hand. It augments the movement of my core quite well¡­

    My Vampire Queen''s face sinks deeper and deeper into pleasure with my every motion.

    The vacuum of her insides pulls desperately at me, trying in vain to obtain the seed that will never be able to naturally give her a child.

    I wish more than anything that I actually could get her pregnant the old fashioned way¡­ see her get fat with my kid and rub her belly hoping to feel them kick¡­

    I think we''re very much on the same page about hiring a tube together as soon as we get back to civilisation¡­ I can''t wait to be a dad to our kids!

    "Mmmmph!" she shrieks through closed lips.

    "Ough!!!" I moan, releasing inside her.

    I push her legs aside and collapse against her firm abs.

    My cock still inside her quivering pussy, I look up between Mts. Booba and ask "How¡­*hhh*¡­ was that¡­*hhh*¡­ Ally?¡­*hhh*¡­ Believe¡­*hhh*¡­ I love you(?)"

    "Never¡­*huu*¡­ in doubt!" she laughs, gently stroking the tops of my shoulders with her clawed hands "I am¡­*huu*¡­ a little¡­*huu*¡­ hungry, now though!"

    I grin back "How about¡­*hhh*¡­ bacon pancakes?"

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.143

    ---Chieftainess---

    ---Votd¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°That¡¯s not good enough!¡± snarls the gigantic fire haired Terran below me, as I crawl through the ¡®air vents¡¯ in the ¡®ambassadorial habitat¡¯.

    ¡°Victor, I understand your position and I promise that Sknz¡¯h, Tha?s and the medical team are working on the feasibility of a nonfatal surgical intervention for their childbirth as we speak¡­ but we just don¡¯t have it yet!¡± soothes the silver streak ¡°The Twigg would be one thing¡­ They¡¯re warmblooded, mammalian omnivores whose physiology is so closely comparable to ours that performing a caesarean on them would be no great technical feat (if slightly fiddly, given their diminutive stature)! The Vrakhand are unlike any other species anyone has ever attempted medical intervention on!¡­ You remember how Khr¡¯kowan woke up, despite all the computer models assuring us that the cocktail of drugs we were putting in her would keep her sedated? Imagine if something like that happened that cost the lives of not just a mother but an entire brood of children? Can you conceive of what a blow that would be to them? How much they would resent us for it? The second we have something, we¡¯ll take it to them!¡±

    ¡°The longer you wait to let ¡¯em know they¡¯re the only species with a 100% rate of maternal mortality, the more resentment you stand to instil that way!¡± retorts the biggest Terran ¡°You didn¡¯t have a problem terrifyin¡¯ ¡¯em with your little carnival o¡¯ horrors the other day! You trusted ¡¯em to understand that!¡­ You not think that trustin¡¯ ¡¯em to get it if we say ¡®this might be possible¡¯ and it turns out it ain¡¯t is somethin¡¯ you owe ¡¯em at this point?!¡±

    ¡°Mr Taylor¡­¡± says the large man with the orange eyes, whose lack of a nose makes him speak like he¡¯s permanently stuffed up ¡°¡­your compassion for the Vrakhand is evident and admirable!¡­ However¡­¡±

    At this point I lose interest in the conversation I was spying on and start back crawling through the vent.

    I reach a metal cover and look through.

    Seeing who I was seeking, I push a hand against it.

    It swings open from the top, the bottom having metal hinges¡­ like nothing I¡¯ve ever seen that didn¡¯t come from the stars!

    These people have the power to fly in ¡®space¡¯ (which they explain to us has no air to breathe), they spin clean houses out of mud in a matter of hours, they make fire in the hand, conjure images of things that were, things that might have been, things that never were and never could have been and (in sheer weight) most of the stuff they¡¯ve brought to this world has been smooth, solid metal¡­ and still they claim it¡¯s no magic.

    They claim it¡¯s ¡®science¡¯ and that they¡¯re going to teach it to us!

    I¡¯m not worried about any of that right now, though¡­

    I drop down five or six times my height and land on the smooth metal floor.

    I cross the room to where the pale blue woman lies.

    I give her a push and she wakes and starts away from me.

    Wide blue eyes scan me, then over me to the open vent at the ceiling¡­

    Qulnak starts to breathe slower as she says ¡°There is a door you know, girl¡­(!)¡±

    ¡°I know¡­¡± I shrug ¡°¡­door wasn¡¯t opening and you still being [jet lagged] meant we were burning daylight so I found a way around.¡±

    She chuckles ¡°You Southerners really don¡¯t know what privacy means, do you!¡±

    ¡°Yes we do:¡­¡± I grin ¡°¡­Being a greedy for space(!)¡±

    She sighs and pushes me away to get out of the too big bed.

    ¡°You know, you could have just asked the door to tell me you were out there¡­ That probably would have woken me up!¡±

    ¡°Thought you Northerners were all about romance!¡­ That doesn¡¯t sound very romantic!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ because nothing says ¡®romance¡¯ quite like slithering into my room like a [dragonsnake](!)¡±

    She reaches for a bottle and squirts a gloopy white liquid into the hands which she begins to rub onto every patch of skin not covered by the light (but absurdly modest) clothing they made for her.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I ask, indicating the bottle.

    ¡°[Sunscreen].¡± shrugs the older woman.

    ¡°What¡¯s it for?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s for screening skin from the sun.¡±

    I frown ¡°Why do you need skin to be screened from the sun?¡±

    She stops and cocks an eyebrow at me ¡°Have you¡­ never been sunburned?¡±

    I laugh ¡°You¡¯re joking!¡­ Sun¡­ burns you!?¡±

    ¡°Not normally, no¡­ but normally I live far to the North, where the sun is much weaker, so, there, it¡¯s something I only have to worry about on the hottest, brightest days of Summer!¡±

    ¡°What, so¡­ if you don¡¯t put that on you¡¯ll catch fire¡­(?)¡± I ask, sceptically.

    She rolls a set of blue eyes ¡°I won¡¯t catch fire, it¡¯ll just feel like I¡¯ve had someone rub rough bark all over me until the skin¡¯s all raw and inflamed, then sewn me into tight clothing filled with sharp pebbles!¡±

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± I frown ¡°¡­why has this never happened to me?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ the Giants tell me that Southern skin is so green because of a¡­ dye?¡­ You have something in it that protects you from sun damage¡­ you¡¯re effectively always wearing sunscreen.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got ¡®dye¡¯ in my skin?¡±

    She gestures ¡®no¡¯ and says ¡°That¡¯s not the word they used, no¡­ but it¡¯s the closest to the idea.¡±

    ¡°And if I didn¡¯t have this dye I¡¯d be pale like you?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯ve got some, just much less than you do¡­ When I spend a lot of time out in the sun I go a little greener.¡±

    I frown at the skin on me.

    Something about me being ¡®dyed¡¯ this colour makes me uncomfortable but¡­ I¡¯m not sure why!

    ¡°Alright¡­ you want to lead the way?¡± smiles the pale skinned Northern woman.

    ---Qulnak¡¯s perspective---

    Two fangs crack a piece of flesh off of the large, juicy, alien fruit that is my breakfast.

    I crunch the [apple] into a fine mash before swallowing it down.

    As we walk, my eyes drift downward to rest on the bare legs the slim, green skinned, Southern girl walks on.

    It really is incredible the extent to which these Folk are happy to just wander around mostly nude!

    I know it¡¯s hot down here in the South but¡­ still!

    Half of an arse is just hanging out of the bottom of the clothes she wears!¡­ Not that I¡¯m complaining¡­(!)

    A slender green tail swishes back and forth, hypnotically, behind her¡­

    A [second] too late, I realise she¡¯s twisted to look back at me¡­

    I look up to see her grinning¡­

    She caught me staring¡­ and she¡¯s happy about it!

    Damn! Where were all these sexed up boys and girls when I was that age!?

    I guess¡­ they were all down here in the Southlands and I was most of a world away in the North! More¡¯s the pity!

    Hard not to be jealous of just how carefree these Southerners are¡­ or seem to be at least!

    We walk out into the Main Hall of this metal building and see Folk from all over the world lounging and milling around.

    Greenish yellow Westlanders, light green Centrelanders, a few of my own Northlanders and, of course, many medium to dark green Southlanders.

    There are no Ravagers (or ¡®Monsters¡¯ as the Southlanders call them, or ¡®Vrakhand¡¯ as they apparently call themselves in their own tongue). When the Giants need to bring them here, they say they will ask us to either leave or remain in the quarters they have assigned us.

    Entering the building come three Southern girls who share one face.

    ¡°Yor, Lor, Mor!¡± greets the girl I¡¯m on a date with, happily (causing a tiny pang of jealousy, the flipside of sexual openness) ¡°How¡¯s it going girls? You met this sexy mama?¡±

    Votd gestures to me, proudly, snuffing that spark of jealousy as quickly as she kindled it.

    The triplets and I make introductions before the one who introduced herself as ¡®Yor¡¯ asks ¡°Have you seen Niyol around, Votd?¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± she frowns, as unfamiliar with the name as I am.

    ¡°One of the two who always dresses in red and white¡­ the healer¡­ the one with the long black plait!¡± explains Mor, excitedly.

    ¡°Oh¡­ no, not seen him¡­ but I did overhear something about all the healers needing to work on something together, earlier. Sounded important¡­ don¡¯t think he¡¯s around¡­¡± reveals Votd.

    All three girls groan and look crestfallen.

    ¡°Why¡­ do you want him¡­?¡± I query, eyebrow raised.

    ¡°*Kuh*!¡­ Why d¡¯ya think!?¡± scoffs Lor, the one of the three who makes the face they share look the craziest by the expression she wears.

    ¡°Wait¡­ all three of you?!¡± I ask in horror.

    The unhinged looking triplet smirks ¡°You¡¯ve seen the size of these guys, right?¡­ Enough to share, we reckon!¡±

    At that point, Yor, the most dignified triplet, smiles ¡°Alright¡­ I think we¡¯ve taken enough of your time¡­ Have a nice date, you two¡­¡± and the three girls turn to leave.

    Once they¡¯re almost out of earshot, Votd turns to look at me and immediately bursts into a fit of laughter.

    When she¡¯s partly recovered she does an unflattering impression of the expression I was wearing, a mix of horror and disgust, cracking herself up again.

    The girl¡¯s laughing so hard that it¡¯s difficult not to laugh along with her¡­ even if it¡¯s at my expense(!)

    ¡°Spirits!¡­*hehehehe*¡­ How can you be¡­*hehehehe*¡­ so sexy and¡­*hehehehe*¡­ such a prude!¡± she giggles.

    ¡°Hey now!¡± I chide, mirthfully ¡°You wouldn¡¯t like it if I turned the reverse accusation on you!¡­ Your ways are strange to me is all!¡±

    ¡°I will admit that was¡­*hehehehe*¡­ a bit much to expect someone who gets offended by a face lick to deal with(!)¡± she answers.

    I roll my eyes and gesture for her to lead on.

    Still recovering from the giggling, she walks out of the [habitat] ahead of me.

    Am I imagining it or is she swaying the hips more than she was before?

    A wall of heat hits me as I exit the building and I instantly start sweating, despite the lightness and looseness of the clothes I wear!

    Squinting against the bright sunlight, I make out the buildings in the wide clearing of the [embassy] compound, one of which I watched a building [machine] [print] in mere hours!

    We come upon one of the Giants, sat on a log, this one with pale beige skin, light yellow hair and blue eyes like mine (apart from having round pupils).

    In one hand, he bears a polished wooden box with a neck sticking out of one end and tight metal strings along the top, in the other he holds a bow but one that looks completely unlike the ones the Ravagers use¡­ useless for shooting!

    A group of Folk are gathered around him, expectantly.

    He brings the strings of the bow to lay them across the strings on the box and starts making sawing motions.

    Music like nothing I¡¯ve ever heard trills out from the action.

    Excitedly, all the Folk begin to cheer and then to dance as the Giant sings.

    f? Almost Heaven, West Virginia

    Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River

    Life is old there, older than the trees

    Younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze!

    Country roooads, take me hooome

    To the plaaace I belooong?f

    One of the local girls apparently finds the excitement so overwhelming that she¡¯s unable to control herself.

    She pounces on the young boy next to her¡­ a young boy I recognise¡­

    Nroluq seems to be quite enjoying the attention as the girl licks him on the face repeatedly while he laughs and splutters¡­ that is until he spots me.

    ¡°Chieftaness¡­ I¡­¡± he starts, looking terrified.

    ¡°Pay me no mind, boy¡­¡± I reassure him, wryly ¡°¡­you are at liberty to have fun while you¡¯re here¡­ Just be sensible¡­ and don¡¯t do anything that would make your mother cry(!)¡±

    He hesitates.

    He became a man so recently that he clearly still expects to be scolded like a child(!)

    Then, he smiles ¡°OK, Chieftainess¡­!¡± and turns attention back to the admirer.

    Votd and I continue walking past the dancing Folk and the musical Giant.

    She turns to me and asks ¡°What¡¯s a [Chieftainess]¡­¡±

    I shrug ¡°A tribe leader¡­¡±

    ¡°What? Like you say where to go when travelling?¡±

    It¡¯s my turn to frown ¡°I mean¡­ I might¡­ but that¡¯s not really what it means though¡­ More like¡­ I tell Folk what to do when they don¡¯t know and I tell Folk to stop doing things when they¡¯re doing something wrong or stupid¡­¡±

    ¡°O¡­K¡­ I think I understand?¡±

    ¡°Southerners don¡¯t have leaders?¡± I ask, curious.

    ¡°Uhh¡­ no¡­ If we don¡¯t know what to do, we ask whoever¡¯s nearest¡­ if they don¡¯t know, we find someone who does¡­ If someone¡¯s doing something wrong or stupid whoever sees them tells them to stop¡­ If they argue about whether it¡¯s stupid or not¡­ then they wait for others to come and weigh in on it!¡­ It¡¯s weird that you¡¯ve got a person who¡¯s the only one who gets to tell people what to do! What stops you telling Folk to do things that are good for you and not for them?¡±

    I laugh ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be Chieftainess for very long if I did that(!)¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ that makes sense!¡± she says as we cross the boundary of the compound ¡°One more question¡­ what¡¯s a [mother]?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXXV: Pancakes and Waterfalls

    ---Qulnak¡¯s perspective---

    The girl I''m on a date with scrambles up a boulder blocking the path, tail swishing back and forth to steady herself.

    She makes it over to the other side and disappears from sight.

    ¡°Catch!¡± I shout before tossing her the spear I hold.

    I just see the left hand she throws up to snatch it out of the air.

    Both hands now free, I follow her with (I like to imagine) a touch more grace than she had(!)

    I take the opportunity of being more than double the normal height to briefly scan around the underbrush, looking out for threats before dismounting.

    ¡°Nice!¡± admires Votd, pointing to the boulder behind me, with a right forefinger raised from the spear she brought, handing me back the one I just threw her, confirming that, indeed, I was just as much more graceful than her as I thought ¡°But¡­ can you imagine how the tall guys would get over that rock?¡±

    She snickers as she mimes taking a high step up to the waist.

    I gesture a ¡®no¡¯ and smirk ¡°I think the [husband] ambassador is tall enough that he could just step clean over it!¡±

    I match the high step she took but follow through for a long stride.

    She bursts into giggles.

    I grin at the youthful, vigorous laughter.

    We walk in silence for a while through the hot, Southern forest before I ask ¡°So¡­ where exactly are you leading me, Votd?¡±

    The eyes sparkle as she explains ¡°Well¡­ I know two things you Northerners like; cool and [privacy]¡­ so, I¡¯m taking us somewhere where we should have both(!)¡±

    I raise an eyebrow ¡°Intriguing¡­ What is it exactly that you expect to be doing with this privacy¡­(?)¡±

    She raises two hands and brings the tail in front of her, wearing a faux innocent expression, as she says ¡°I would never presume anything of the ways of a fine, respectable, Northern [mother] such as yourself(!)¡­ Anything you want to do there is fine by me¡­ we can just sit and chat if you like!¡±

    I roll eyes and say ¡°¡®Mother¡¯ doesn¡¯t work in that context! If you¡¯re using it with a sexy connotation, the word you¡¯ve called me a few times, ¡®Mama¡¯, is what we¡¯d say¡­ Still can¡¯t really believe you don¡¯t know what a ¡®mother¡¯ is, by the way! Part of me still suspects you¡¯re playing dumb because you think I think bimbos are sexier or something(!)¡±

    She gives a mirthful sigh and answers ¡°Like, I totally understand the whole getting pregnant, being pregnant, giving birth process¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ the stuff after that! Just strikes me as a bit greedy to treat the child you made so much more special than the ones you didn¡¯t!¡±

    Wryly, I answer ¡°As opposed to just completely abandoning them to communal care(?)¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t ¡®abandon¡¯ them¡­¡± she chuckles ¡°¡­we all have days to pitch in and we all give them lots of love!¡±

    ¡°Perhaps that explains why you Southerners are so free with the love you give(!)¡± I observe, smirking.

    ¡°And perhaps having [mothers] who love you specially explains why you Northerners are so greedy with it(!)¡± she retorts, wittily, giving a little flap of the ears.

    This grinning girl is certainly no bimbo¡­

    ¡°Sooo¡­ how many kids have you [mothered]?¡± she asks, obliviously.

    ¡°¡­None¡­¡± I answer, reticently.

    ¡°What!?¡± she cries, turning to me, face agog ¡°At that age?¡­ You don¡¯t like guys or¡­?¡±

    ¡°I like men just fine¡­ being a mother just¡­ wasn¡¯t what the Spirits intended for me¡­¡± I answer, stiffly.

    She looks at me, confused, for some moments before two eyes widen, flick briefly down me and back up, her realising.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Oooh! I¡¯m so¡­!¡± I see her catch herself before adding ¡®sorry¡¯ and spending the next few moments clearly trying to figure out a word that¡¯s sympathetic without being pitying.

    I interrupt the mental work to say ¡°It¡¯s alright, girl¡­ It¡¯s not something I would have chosen but¡­ well... it didn¡¯t ruin the life for me or anything(!)¡­ Never getting to be a mother meant I was able to serve the tribe in other ways, is all.¡±

    She frowns at me for some moments before an idea strikes her ¡°You should ask the Strangers if they know how to help! They¡¯ve got all sorts of magic!¡­ I was at the battle with the Monsters! Everyone they took came back as good as new when we¡¯d assumed most of them were as good as dead! They¡­!¡±

    I smile and hold up a hand and smile ¡°Votd¡­ I appreciate it¡­ but it¡¯s not something I feel particularly needs to be ¡®fixed¡¯¡­ don¡¯t worry!¡±

    She scans the expression I¡¯m making for a few moments before smiling and gesturing in the affirmative.

    I turn to look forward, walking on and chuckling as I add ¡°Besides¡­ at this age I doubt it¡¯s even possible for me to be a mother anymore(!)¡±

    She stops dead and says ¡°Oh¡­ you don¡¯t know about [regen]?¡±

    I frown back ¡°I don¡¯t know about what?¡±

    ---Votd¡¯s perspective---

    The mouthwateringly sexy, older woman is clearly still a little dazed from what I just explained to her as I lead her down a path, between the cliffs, to the river edge.

    ¡°You alright, hun?¡± I smirk back at her.

    ¡°Still¡­ err¡­ still processing it!¡± she says, woozily, as if she¡¯s smoked too much herb(!)

    ¡°Yeah¡­ it¡¯s a bit much!¡±

    ¡°And¡­ they¡¯re just going to give this to us?¡± she asks.

    ¡°If the peace talks go well¡­ and the [Parliament] accept us¡­ yeah!¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ yes¡­ the big ¡®if¡¯s(!)¡­ This place is gorgeous, by the way!¡± she says, shaking back to the present and taking in the crystal clear river, running over the rocks at the bottom of the canyon ¡°Are we there yet? We¡¯re going to cool off in the river?¡±

    ¡°Not quite¡­¡± I gesture in the negative then left, up the river ¡°¡­The place I¡¯m taking you is a little ways further upstream.¡±

    I lead the pair of us along the bank.

    The river is too shallow and transparent for me to pay it much mind.

    Realistically, it¡¯s not going to have any threats hiding in it.

    The bank, on the other hand, I¡¯m scanning far ahead on! If there just happens to be a predator that¡¯s wandered up here, every moment of warning we have will be worth more to us than blood metal!

    Luckily, the date spot I chose comes into view around the corner with nary a predator in sight.

    ¡°Here we are, Mama!¡± I grin at the woman I¡¯m on a date with, dropping the spear on the rock and gesturing forward to the wide, deep plungepool, the water easily clear enough to see the bottom (nearly three Folk deep), even through the splash of the waterfall cascading into it from the (six Folk tall) cliffs above.

    ¡°Privacy?¡± I gesture around at all the no one else here ¡°Check!¡­ Cool?¡± I point to the water I know will be freezing cold, despite the time of year, due to how close to the source it is ¡°Check!¡­ Romance? Well¡­ you¡¯ll have to tell me if I¡¯m romancing hard enough for Northern tastes(!)¡±

    The attractively weatherbeaten face of the older, pale blue skinned woman twists into a mirthful grin as she answers ¡°I consider myself exceedingly well romanced right now, girl(!)¡­ Kudos!¡±

    ¡°I live to please¡­(!)¡± I grin ¡°Now¡­ may I interest you in a swim in the plungepool? Shower in the waterfall? Passionatefuckwithagirlhalftheageyouare(?) Sit and chat in the shady undercut?¡±

    An eyebrow cocks as she asks ¡°What was that last one?¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°Sit and chat in the cave?¡± I answer, innocently.

    ¡°No, before that!¡± she chuckles.

    ¡°Shower in the waterfall? Swim in the pool?¡±

    ¡°After that!¡± she giggles.

    I give a mischievous shrug of the shoulders ¡°Don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about¡­ You must be hearing things(!)¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure(!)¡± she says, dropping the spear and reaching a hand to the left sleeve of the thin garment she wears, pulling it down over the left hand and smiling ¡°I think I¡¯d like a swim first, girl¡­¡±

    ---Qulnak¡¯s perspective---

    I liberate the left arm from the clothing then repeat for the right.

    I pull down the apparel covering the top half of me to the waist then all the way to the stoney ground, plucking the tail out of the tail hole with a yank.

    The mouth falls open on Votd, red blood tinging the green cheeks with orange as she stares.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me the Southerner is getting bashful of a little nudity(!)¡± I tease, hoping that there isn¡¯t a lilac tint on the cheeks, mirroring the orange on her.

    She stammers ¡°Err¡­ erm¡­ err¡­ Not n-normally, no¡­ but¡­ y-you¡­ you¡¯re more beautiful than I thought¡­¡±

    Spirits! It feels good to be desired like this!

    It¡¯s been a while since anyone¡¯s made me feel this sexy!

    ¡°Glad to hear it¡­¡± I grin ¡°¡­Now¡­ are you going to join me or do you want to make me swim alone?¡±

    She takes the cue and excitedly begins denuding herself (not that she was wearing much to take off(!))

    She slides hands under the two halves of the garment she wears and out of the slit that divides it down the front.

    Without a body to support it, it falls behind her and she quickly pushes it down the legs, leaving her as naked as I am.

    I look her up and down.

    ¡°You¡¯re not too bad yourself, girl(!)¡± I admire.

    ¡°I know¡­¡± she smirks, the brief flirt with bashfulness having completely disappeared.

    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± I ask, eyes narrowed mirthfully.

    ¡°Because you watched me the entire time I undressed!¡± she teases.

    I laugh and then take the hand and begin walking into the water.

    It¡¯s wonderfully cool and refreshing after how hot and sweaty I got, walking through that oppressively humid forest!

    As the water comes to the upper thigh on me, I hear a loud shriek from behind me.

    I turn to give a quizzical frown to the girl.

    So much shorter than me, the groin is already submerged on her.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It¡¯s cold¡­ It shocked me.¡± she answers.

    Incredulously, I stand in silence for a few moments before saying ¡°¡­This?¡­ This is too cold for you?!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ Cold enough to surprise me, at least!¡± she answers with good natured defiance ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll tell me that this is nothing compared to what you¡¯re used to in the North but, to me, this is cold¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ sweet Summer child!¡± I chuckle ¡°You don¡¯t know what cold is!¡±

    Eyebrows raise and she responds ¡°Oh yeah?¡±

    As quick as a flash the green hand is pulled from the grasp and I¡¯m impacted on the back by a forceful push.

    The entirety of me hits the water which, not having expected it so suddenly, is actually a little shockingly cold!

    Wetness quickly permeates the hair and touches the skin once I go under.

    I push myself back to the surface, spluttering as I emerge.

    I turn back to face Votd, seeing her with arms crossed, wearing a playful smirk.

    ¡°Something like that?¡±

    I begin snaking the tail through the water towards her, under the water, and anchoring the feet into the ground, as I answer ¡°No¡­ not really¡­ I think¡­ it¡¯s a little something more¡­ like¡­ this!¡±

    The blue tail wraps around the left fetlock and I yank it forwards, pulling the left leg out from under her and causing her to shriek in surprise as she plunges backwards into the water.

    She emerges, laughing, and splashes at me.

    ---Votd¡¯s perspective---

    OK¡­ with hindsight, maybe, taking her to a place to swim in freezing cold water wasn¡¯t the masterstroke of seduction it seemed like earlier(!)

    Sure, blood is pumping but¡­ muscles are stiff, I¡¯m wet (and not in the good way) and it¡¯s all I can do to keep from shivering and chattering the teeth!

    I don¡¯t feel particularly in the mood for any sexy times as I emerge from the water onto the bank.

    The touch of the hot sun on the skin makes me feel a little better but it¡¯s going to be a while before I¡¯m warmed up and dried off.

    I lie down on the smooth stone and sunbathe, making sure I can have a good view of the (still swimming) pale skinned woman, of course!

    She shows absolutely no signs of suffering from the cold!

    The pale blue legs and arms are gorgeously thick and muscular!

    She swims so gracefully!

    I feel a flash of anger for whatever Spirit decided to greedy away the chance to be a [mother] from her.

    Perhaps I can ask her to adopt me(!) I certainly wouldn¡¯t mind a little [motherly] love from a woman like that(!)

    She begins swimming toward me.

    I do the best to look alluring.

    She stands from the water, stunning breasts fully exposed, and makes the way to the garment she shed.

    She fishes something from the pocket and comes to where I lie on the rock.

    She tosses it to me and I catch it.

    ¡°Do the back, would you?¡± she smiles flirtatiously as she lies on the rock beside me, pale back exposed to the bright sun.

    I hesitate¡­ but only for a moment before I eagerly seize the thrilling opportunity to lay hands on the woman who angrily shoved me to the ground the first time I did so.

    I squirt some of the gloopy, white liquid from the bottle into a hand.

    It smells¡­ odd¡­ Not foul but not appetising¡­

    It¡¯s sort of reminiscent of the smell of charcoal, slaked lime or sedimented clay, even though it doesn¡¯t really smell like any of them.

    I rub it across both hands and then turn them towards the woman I¡¯ve spent more time romancing than any one in as long as I''ve lived!

    I touch two hands to two shoulderblades, palms down, and begin massaging the [sunscreen] into the wet skin.

    She gives a contented sigh as I run hands all over the back and arms.

    Touching her makes me realise the extent to which I¡¯ve dried off and warmed up since sunbathing. She¡¯s still cool to the touch and covered in water.

    I reach the base of the tail and stop.

    I¡¯m not sure if the invitation extends for me to go any lower and I don¡¯t want to make her angry.

    She turns to look at me and says ¡°What are you waiting for, girl? You want me to get a burned arse, tail and legs(?)¡± with a seductive tone.

    Not needing to be told twice, I begin working the gloop into the skin of the thick tail.

    I decide to save the best for last so I start with the pads of the feet.

    Squirting a few more globs of the stuff into the hands, I say a silent prayer of thanks¡­ not to the Spirits but to the Strangers for allowing me such an experience as this¡­ even if unknowingly(!)

    I work the way up to the fetlocks, then the hocks, then the stifles of the divine pair of legs.

    Then, I reach the best and most luscious part of her¡­

    I sensually knead the [sunscreen] into the single most shapely, most sumptuous arse I¡¯ve ever beheld!

    An arse that, if it were on anyone else, I¡¯d already be eating!

    She groans in pleasure.

    Spirits! I want this woman so bad!

    Five dates!

    We¡¯ve had five dates together and still not done it!

    This has to be the time, right?

    Unless Northerners are just world class cunt-teases and she never intends to release me from this torture!

    OK, whatever I do I just can¡¯t ask¡­ She said she¡¯d let me know when she felt the time was right, so I¡¯ve just got to wait¡­ no matter how much I want to have her now¡­

    ---Qulnak¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m wet (in more ways than one!)

    The lovely, young admirer pleasantly surprised me by not trying anything when applying the sunscreen.

    I thought for sure she would!

    Yeah, obviously it was more than just a functional procedure to her, she clearly got off on being allowed to touch me like that¡­ but I didn¡¯t need to tell her off once!

    Now that I¡¯m (mostly) dried off and warmed up by the sun¡­ I think it¡¯s time¡­

    ¡°Votd¡­?¡± I smile at the girl, sunbathing beside me.

    She turns.

    ¡°Come here¡­¡± I beckon.

    She brings that pretty face toward me.

    ¡°Closer¡­¡± I grin.

    She moves closer but still too far.

    ¡°Cloooser¡­¡± I sing.

    She comes to within the length of a hand.

    I lunge forward and plant a lusty lick on the beautiful face.

    She looks back at me, clearly shocked for some moments, before the single word ¡°Finally!¡± escapes her.

    I feel a hand grasp the shoulder and forcefully flip me over.

    Before I know what¡¯s happening, she¡¯s on top of me!

    I feel a tongue entering the mouth as she kisses me with furious passion!

    Hands touch me all over, squeezing hard!

    This girl is skinny¡­ but she¡¯s not weak!

    It occurs to me that, with this kind of strength, I wouldn¡¯t necessarily have been able to stop her if she¡¯d decided to simply take what she wanted from me before!

    The thought gives me a guilty thrill¡­

    I get a brief flash of four fangs as the green skinned girl gently bites the flesh of the pale blue breasts on me.

    I gasp at the sensation.

    With a mouthful of tit, she looks up at me and grins.

    I feel hairs tickling the inside of the left leg.

    She draws the tail brush further and further up.

    It arrives at an entrance, teasing it for a few moments¡­ then plunges inside.

    I gasp at the sensation of the girl coiling and uncoiling the tail inside me.

    It almost slips the mind to reciprocate.

    I raise a tail and navigate the end to just below the base of the one she¡¯s fucking me with.

    Finding the entrance, I thrust it deep inside her.

    I feel the brush instantly become sodden again, just not with water this time.

    The girl releases the breast from the bite and returns to kissing me, stifling the moans of pleasure I emit.

    I feel the wetness from her running over the lower stomach as I draw it out with the tail fuck.

    She digs claws into the arse under me as I dig claws into the shoulderblades on top of her and feel her draw me deeper and deeper into the realm of pleasure.

    I do the best to keep pace with her but¡­ I just don¡¯t have the stamina!

    I suppose, one side effect of having as much sex as Southerners seem to is that you¡¯d get really good at it(!)

    Ecstasy builds!

    I¡¯m drawn further and further into the orgasmic bliss until, finally, I seize in pleasure and give a scream, stifled by the mouth kissing me.

    Votd gives no such scream¡­ nor does it seem that one orgasm is enough to reprieve me of her attention since she keeps going as if she hasn¡¯t noticed.

    ---Votd¡¯s perspective---

    I watch the woman I¡¯ve finally conquered from the undercut cave, as she stands on the rock and showers in the waterfall tumbling onto her, washing her clean.

    ¡°So¡­¡± I shout loud enough for her to hear me over the noise ¡°¡­you regret making me wait so long?¡± smirking.

    However much she may deny it, I know I just rocked the world for her(!)

    She gestures negative and answers ¡°Nope!¡­ Don¡¯t think I¡¯d have got that performance out of you if I¡¯d agreed right away(!)¡± then steps out of the water.

    ¡°Lies(!)¡± I laugh ¡°You know you would have¡­ All that time we could have been enjoying eachother¡­ wasted(!)¡±

    She chuckles, drying herself with the clothing she brought before sliding it on and saying ¡°Well¡­ what¡¯s done is done¡­ I¡¯m more concerned with what¡¯s to come¡­ Can I see you again tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Ooooh! You¡¯re asking me out?!¡­ I must¡¯ve been even better than I thought(!)¡±

    She chuckles but doesn¡¯t answer, waiting for a response from me.

    I smile ¡°That sounds great!¡­ What did you have in mind, Mama?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ if I can convince you to be up early enough for breakfast, the Terrans are cooking us some kind of Terran recipe where they take sweetness, fattiness, starchiness and liquid and cook them in the bottom of flat metal plates¡­ I can¡¯t remember what they¡¯re called¡­ Potpastries? Bowlbread?¡±

    ¡°Well whatever they¡¯re called, that sounds great¡­ I¡¯ll be there!¡± I grin.

    ¡°Wonderful!¡± she smiles back before blurting ¡°[Pancakes]!¡­ I remember now! They were called [pancakes]!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.144

    ---Suitor---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    I walk into my father¡¯s throne room.

    He, a boy I don¡¯t recognise and two of the boy¡¯s (presumable) halfsisters are the only ones present.

    ¡°Father. I¡¯m here. What have you summoned me for?¡± I ask, knowing full well.

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan. With you being the one chosen to represent our people to the [Parliament], I felt it more pressing than ever for you to find a broodhusband you can accept, so I made some enquiries.¡± says my father. He gestures vaguely to where the young man is ¡°This is Kurkhuw of the Nhirmoran Realm, Son of Broodking Howakh of the Nhirmoran Realm and First Woman Vhixho¡¯a of the Horkhan Realm. Based on what his halfsisters and broodfather tell me of him, I believe him to potentially be a good match for you. I requested the Foreigners to fetch him here from Nhirmor, yesterday evening. He arrived this morning. I present him for your consideration, Daughter.¡±

    I look from my father to the boy, sizing him up.

    I begin to stride toward him, preparing to administer the test that 1???? of those who¡¯ve suited for me in the past have failed.

    I draw up to loom over the boy, dwarfing him at almost double his height.

    His halfsisters shift uncomfortably.

    I bend to bring my face a diagonal hand length from his and bare my toothplates before parting them in a ferocious, menacing hiss.

    His halfsisters (I can see past his earhorns) start and shout protests but¡­ the boy doesn¡¯t even flinch! He just smiles back at me with no reaction!

    No cowering away from me, no attempting to intimidate me in return.

    His reaction (or lack thereof) was suspiciously perfect!

    I turn to my father and ask ¡°You gave him pointers, Father?¡±

    He gestures negative and answers ¡°I did not, Daughter. Look to his halfsisters for proof.¡± indicating to the girls.

    I turn back to look over the boy¡¯s head.

    They¡¯ve relaxed a little but are still clearly on edge, in a way that would be difficult for them to be playacting.

    ¡°As I stated, I asked him here specifically due to his supposed suitability for you.¡± he elaborates.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I look down at the boy ¡°¡­you may consider me favourably impressed so far!¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± he answers, letting me hear his voice for the first time.

    He speaks softly¡­ but has rather a deep voice.

    It¡¯s not deep enough to make him sound like a woman but he¡¯s closer to halfway there than he is to a man¡¯s normal high pitch!

    ¡°May I touch you?¡± I ask him.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask my halfsisters if that¡¯s alright.¡± he smiles back, nonchalantly.

    I look over his head to the women, my expression querying.

    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, the larger one gestures a ¡®go ahead¡¯ with the fingers of her spear hand.

    I stretch down for his hand which he raises to bring into my reach.

    I hold him by the wrist and give a flick of my claw against his.

    It makes a nice, reverberant *tiiing*. A good sign!

    I press the flesh of my palm against his and feel it to be unusually warm for a man.

    Encouraging.

    I reach my hands to his shoulders to give them a squeeze. Even through his clothing and fur, I can feel they are nice and firm¡­ His armour is not weak.

    I briefly give an approving gesture as my hands move to his head.

    His skull is solid, his scutes are smooth, his light brown hair is silky.

    ¡°May I see your toothplates?¡± I request.

    The bare flesh at the corner of his rich green, main eyes creases in a smile as he draws back his lips to show two solid, smooth, thanatite toothplates.

    ¡°Excellent. And your teeth?¡±

    The toothplates retract beneath his lips, baring two rows of sharp teeth, none so much as missing their point.

    ¡°Sting me?¡± I request, holding the flesh of my left palm up to his right fang.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± he asks, raising his eyebrow and pushing his crescent of auxiliary eyes toward his hairline on that side.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have asked otherwise¡­¡± I state, not moving my palm.

    He gives a conceding gesture before flicking his fangs outward and jabbing the right one into me.

    ¡°Agh!¡± I grunt, withdrawing my hand to examine.

    I¡¯m able to see the venom, staining my skin as it spreads outward from the wound.

    It¡¯s not the worst sting a suitor has ever given me but it¡¯s up there!

    ¡°Your venom is quite potent for a man!¡± I say, appreciatively.

    ¡°I did warn you.¡± he observes.

    ¡°Easy there¡­ Kurkhuw, was it?¡± I chuckle ¡°Confidence I like! Arrogance I do not!¡±

    ¡°Noted, First Woman.¡± he smiles, deferently.

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan¡­ If you¡¯re hoping to become my broodhusband, you should call me by name.¡±

    He gestures affirmative and says ¡°Noted, Khr¡¯kowan¡­¡±

    Clearly, the favourability of requesting him to call me by name was lost on neither him nor my father (whose face I can see, in my periphery, twist into an expression of light mirth.)

    ¡°Alright, Kurkhuw¡­ I¡¯d like to continue this suit but I have duties to attend to around the city, today. If you wish to shadow me, feel free to do so, just be aware that I will frequently need to break from our conversation to talk to others. If you would prefer, we may continue at a later time?¡±

    Clearly pleased, the boy answers ¡°I would happily accept a tour of your city from you, Khr¡¯kowan. May my halfsisters chaperone me?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± I scoff ¡°Just so long as they tell me their names and don¡¯t get in anyone¡¯s way.¡±

    I look to the girls.

    The larger one states ¡°Karrh.¡±

    The smaller one ¡°Mha¡¯ih.¡±

    ¡°Feel free to accompany me and your brother, Karrh and Mha¡¯ih.¡± I bid them before turning to stride away.

    The boy jogs to bring himself to my right side.

    I walk a little slower than my normal unaccompanied pace¡­ but not much.

    If he fails to keep up, asks me to slow down or complains that I¡¯m going too quickly for him, it will be a mark against him.

    As the two of us step out of the palace, his halfsisters following at enough of a distance to allow some measure of privacy, I ask ¡°So, Kurkhuw¡­ how did you feel when you got the invitation to come here and meet me?¡± mirthfully.

    He takes a moment to formulate before answering ¡°I¡­ was surprised, to be sure, but¡­ also very pleased to be afforded the opportunity to court such a fine woman.¡±

    I laugh ¡°I bet you¡¯ve said that to every woman you¡¯ve courted(!)¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I see him gesture negative and answer ¡°Actually, this is my first suit.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ interesting¡­ I did notice you were a little young¡­ I had assumed you¡¯d never had a broodwife before but you¡¯ve never even suited for one? How old are you, Kurkhuw?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m [45].¡± he states, simply.

    Damn¡­ He¡¯s barely older than me!

    I give him a moment to start apologising for his youth or justifying his maturity.

    He doesn¡¯t.

    I¡¯m liking this boy more and more!

    ¡°Alright then¡­ What is it that makes you think I¡¯m such a ¡®fine woman¡¯, Kurkhuw?¡± I smirk.

    ¡°Well, besides the evidence of my eyes(?)¡­ I¡¯ve heard stories of your military prowess since I was a boy¡­ but also your magnanimity¡­ I was particularly impressed by the Mercy at K¡¯rnath!¡±

    ¡°Oh you were, were you?¡­ You don¡¯t think I was a little soft on them? That was the first [year] of my generalship and I remember many saying that I was clearly too tender for it after that rebellion¡­ I fought more than a few duels with women who¡¯d called me a ¡®shaved man¡¯ or similar insults!¡±

    He gestures negative and expands ¡°Quite the opposite! By defeating K¡¯rnath you had made the point that Khawekhan law was not to be violated, Khawekhan sovereignty not to be flouted¡­ By doing so without levying so much as a single nonKhawekhan troop, only taking those who actively volunteered from other realms, you made the point that Khawekh is powerful enough in its own right to answer challenges to its authority¡­ By doing so across a continent, only aided by Wokhash¡¯s fleet to transport you there, you made the point that lack of proximity to Khawekh does not mean Khawekh is unable to enforce its laws¡­ And, by only ordering a single execution (that of the rebellious First Woman), you showed Khawekh not to be the brutally unjust oppressors that the rebels claimed!¡­ Of course, if you had massacred every woman in K¡¯rnath and forbade the women of every other realm from taking K¡¯rnathan broodhusbands, Khawekh would have never needed to fear another K¡¯rnathan Rising but would have had to fear rebellions from other realms!¡±

    I smile and give an appreciative gesture ¡°I¡¯m glad you see it my way, boy!¡±

    He beams.

    ¡°Just excuse me a moment¡­¡± I say, turning from him to the large tent at my left.

    I knock on the post at the right of the door and announce myself ¡°First Woman Khr¡¯kowan¡­ please make yourselves decent, boys! I¡¯m doing my rounds!¡±

    There¡¯s a lot of rustling for the next moments before a voice says ¡°Come in, First Woman.¡±

    I push the curtain aside and step in.

    Before me is a half finished tentcloth, pinned between posts on the ground.

    Around it are a few dozen boys who (thankfully) all have their spinnerets covered.

    I address my halfuncle ¡°Mvhokh, just dropping in¡­ Anything to report?¡±

    He gives an exasperated sigh ¡°Well, nothing much¡­ but we never got the silktax from the Port District which was supposed to come in this morning!¡­ Whemorh was about to head down there for it but¡­¡±

    I gesture negative and smile ¡°I¡¯ll make enquiries for you¡­¡± remapping my route in my head to take me to the Port District earlier than I was planning ¡°¡­Anything else?¡±

    ¡°No, I think that¡¯s¡­ Hey, who¡¯s your friend?¡± Mvhokh asks, leaning around me to look out of the open door.

    ¡°A suitor.¡± I answer.

    Surprised, he asks ¡°A suitor?¡­ Well, it must be going well if you haven¡¯t already scared him back to his home realm(!)¡±

    Embarrassing chatter starts among the boys around the room.

    ¡°Yes¡­ well¡­ don¡¯t give the game away, hmmm?¡± I answer, under my breath.

    Mirthfully, he gestures an affirmative.

    I back out of the Spinnery and turn back to the boy accompanying me.

    If he heard my halfuncle¡¯s embarrassing observation, he¡¯s doing a good job of not showing it¡­

    He follows me as I begin walking back the way we came, heading for the Port.

    ¡°So¡­ you like military history, do you Kurkhuw?¡± I query as we pass his sisters and turn down the head of the portward road.

    ¡°Very much.¡± he answers, not making apology for the unmanliness of such an interest.

    I smile appreciatively and ask ¡°Who¡¯s your favourite figure?¡±

    He thinks for a moment before answering ¡°It¡¯s close¡­ but I think I¡¯d have to give that to your mother¡­ You¡¯re my second favourite¡­¡±

    I laugh ¡°Apologies that my mother isn¡¯t around for you to court, boy(!)¡±

    For the first time, I see him fluster a little as he responds ¡°Oh¡­ I¡­ err¡­ you¡¯re¡­¡±

    I hold a hand up and laugh ¡°A jest, Kurkhuw!¡­ I take no offence at coming second to such a woman as her!¡±

    ¡°Al¡­right?¡± he answers, hesitantly.

    It¡¯s good to see that his sangfroid isn¡¯t indicative of some kind of emotional issue, at least(!)

    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s your opinion on the Foreigners?¡± I ask him.

    ¡°The individuals I¡¯ve met or the concept of being contacted by star people?¡± he clarifies.

    ¡°Both.¡± I smile, giving a slightly flirtatious flex of my fangs.

    He takes a moment to think before responding ¡°The ones I¡¯ve met seem nice enough but are definitely very strange, both to look at and to talk to!¡­ I¡­ won¡¯t lie, the concept of becoming part of their community in the stars is¡­ 4 parts thrilling, 7 parts terrifying!¡±

    ¡°Good answer!¡± I say, approvingly, before adding ¡°You know that, if I were to accept you as my broodhusband, you¡¯d have to come to the stars with me, right? You know that that¡¯s why my father is suddenly so keen to find me a match I¡¯ll accept?¡­ He¡¯s hoping a man will temper my less temperate aspects(!)¡±

    ¡°Yes, well¡­ not being a broodking, I would have to relocate to Khawekh if you weren¡¯t going to the stars.¡±

    I cock an eyebrow and query ¡°You¡¯re comparing moving to Khawekh to travelling halfway across the [galaxy]?¡±

    All the attractive qualities in the Weaver¡¯s Creation wouldn¡¯t be enough to redeem a man if he were that dullwitted!

    ¡°No! No!¡± he hurriedly corrects ¡°I know the latter will represent a far greater adjustment for me¡­ I only meant that, either way, my life would be entering a new chapter and I would rarely if ever get to travel back to Nhirmor again.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯d be happy with that?¡±

    ¡°I would.¡± he states, decisively.

    I wobble my head, musing, before asking ¡°You know¡­ given that I¡¯m the representative to the [Galactic] Union¡¯s [Parliament]¡­ it will probably be a while before I¡¯m ready to give my life up to motherhood, right?¡±

    ¡°I had assumed¡­ I¡¯m quite willing to wait.¡± he answers.

    ¡°You¡¯d wait¡­ [11 years] if it took that long?¡± I smirk.

    ¡°For a woman like you? Yes.¡±

    I feel a thrill.

    Weaver! Where¡¯s this charming boy been all my life!?

    [700km] North in a realm I¡¯ve never had cause to visit? A poor excuse(!)

    ¡°*ahem*¡­ So¡­ Kurkhuw¡­ If you were trying to convince me not to accept you¡­ what¡¯s the first thing you¡¯d tell me about yourself?¡­ And be honest! None of that reframing positive traits as if they were negative that suitors do! Women see right through that!¡±

    He thinks for a moment before saying ¡°To any other woman, I would probably give my unmasculine interests or my youth¡­ but¡­ I¡¯m sensing that those aren¡¯t exactly as offputting to you as they would be to most¡­ So¡­ to you, I¡¯d saaaaay¡­?¡±

    He considers for a few long moments.

    He excitedly holds up a hand in realisation before saying ¡°I¡¯m a snarky knowitall and, on that account, not particularly well liked by people in general for the lack of respect they perceive me to be showing them!¡±

    I burst into giggles.

    He frowns ¡°What?¡­ You asked for my worst trait!¡±

    ¡°*hehehehehe*¡­ I did! I just¡­*hehehehehe*¡­ I wasn¡¯t expecting you to be so pleased about it!¡± I respond, breathlessly.

    I mostly recover myself and smirk ¡°If your worst trait is genuinely being a moderately unlikeable knowitall¡­ I think I can get past it(!)¡±

    ---Howakh¡¯s perspective---

    I sit, just to the right of Aghogh¡¯s throne pedestal, listening to him speak.

    In truth, I¡¯m struggling to listen to him speak¡­

    My mind is occupied with worry and doubt about the suiting in progress right now.

    When he asked me to tell him of eligible men of my realm, I almost didn¡¯t mention Kurkhuw!

    Only after he enumerated traits he thought his daughter would find appealing did I hesitantly bring up the boy!

    I had assumed that his¡­ challenging personality would see him end his days as a terminal bachelor! The idea that the most eligible woman in the world might have any interest in him beggars belief!

    I¡¯m wondering if, perhaps, the [Emperor] might be becoming a little senile, at such an advanced age, when I hear him ask me a question.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Your Majesty, might I ask you to repeat that?¡± I say, apologetically.

    He smiles ¡°You seem a little distracted, [Lord] Howakh? It¡¯s about the suiting?¡±

    I gesture an affirmative and answer ¡°Yes, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°You doubt that a boy meeting the criteria I gave you would be appealing to a woman like Khr¡¯kowan, don¡¯t you?¡± he discerns.

    ¡°I do, Your Majesty¡­ It¡¯s just¡­ my domain has many more suitable¡­¡±

    ¡°Father!¡± hails a loud, woman¡¯s voice from the antechamber, just ahead of a towering physical specimen of womanhood.

    Khr¡¯kowan approaches with my son at her right and flicks her attention to me.

    ¡°[Lord] Howakh! Good! You¡¯re here!¡± she grins (terrifyingly) from halfway across the room.

    The gigantic woman draws up to only a man¡¯s length away from me.

    ¡°How much?¡± she asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry?¡± I respond.

    ¡°For Kurkhuw?¡­ What dowry are you asking?¡±

    ¡°Dowry?¡± I ask, flabbergasted.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I like him, I want him and I¡¯m taking him!¡­ So, how much do you want?¡±

    I¡¯m speechless for a few seconds before I manage to stammer ¡°F-f-for a match such a-as this?¡­ I would happily forego a dowry!¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t work, Father¡­ If you don¡¯t take a dowry then the marriage isn¡¯t legally binding¡­ You could demand me back at any time.¡± says my son, insufferably reminding me of laws I helped to write as if he had been there¡­ and as if I ever would demand his return!

    ¡°Right¡­ Of course!¡­ Erm¡­ What would you say to¡­ [4.5m<sup>2</sup>] of silk?¡± I ask, naming a ludicrously low price.

    The woman gives an enthusiastic affirmative before her hands move to her shoulders and begin unfastening her cape.

    She pulls the fine garment (easily more than what I asked) from her hindbody, leaving it mantled in only a single layer, and wraps it into a bundle which she then pushes towards me.

    ¡°This will do?¡± she asks.

    I give a hesitant affirmative gesture and I hold out my hands for it, still disbelieving that my son can have charmed this woman so much that she wasn¡¯t even willing to wait for silk to be brought and gave me the cape from her back instead!

    ¡°Apologies, [Lord] Howakh¡­ as I am without sight, I must ask you to verbally confirm that you have accepted the dowry for your son¡¯s removal from the Nhirmoran Realm and have no objection to his union to First Woman Khr¡¯kowan?¡± smirks the [Emperor].

    ¡°I¡­ have accepted the dowry and¡­ have no objection to the union.¡± I answer, dazed.

    He gives a satisfied acknowledgement before turning to his daughter and asking ¡°First Woman Khr¡¯kowan of the Khawekhan Realm, Daughter of myself and First Woman Kvehak of the Wokhashan Realm, do you accept this man to be your broodhusband? To protect him? To provide for him? To be both his shield and his spear and, when the time comes, to give your life for his children?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± grins the woman.

    ¡°And you, Sir Kurkhuw of the Nhirmoran Realm, Son of Broodking Howakh of the Nhirmoran Realm and First Woman Vhixho¡¯a of the Horkhan Realm, do you accept this woman to be your broodwife? To comfort her? To council her? To be her teacher of the past, her advisor on the present and her prognosticator of the future and, when the time comes, to care for her children and teach them of the woman their mother was?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± accepts my son, his tone shockingly neutral, as if he¡¯s pleased¡­ but without a hint of the gratitude he owes for being in such a position!

    ¡°Then, by my power as Broodking of this realm and master of all others, I pronounce you married!¡± smiles the old man.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.145

    ---Confession---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    I sit in the council, my new broodhusband at my side and a new cape on my back.

    I wanted a nice one and (on account of my size) needed to order it specially, so my coffer is quite a few iron coins lighter for it!

    Of course, gaining Kurkhuw for such a low price is still a fantastic deal!

    I had expected to need to empty my savings and borrow besides!

    My father obviously offered to cover the dowry but¡­ I refused¡­ I like the thought that Kurkhuw belongs to me and only to me(!)¡­ I paid for him, afterall(!)

    I smile down at him for a moment before turning my attention to the [GU] contingent.

    They¡¯ve asked to talk to us on a matter of some import.

    I see a lot of faces who are new to the council.

    They¡¯re¡­ the healers¡­

    I wonder what this could be about?

    Ambassador Yeshe stands.

    ¡°Greetings all.¡± she states.

    Her tone is¡­ not sombre but more serious than usual.

    ¡°First, I would like to bid a hearty congratulations to General Khr¡¯kowan and Sir Kurkhuw on their recent marriage. May it be¡­ prosperous.¡± she acknowledges me and my broodhusband.

    I return her acknowledgement, slightly apprehensively.

    ¡°Next, I need to confess something¡­¡±

    The mood in the room noticeably shifts.

    What might she be confessing?!

    I pray to the Weaver that, whatever it is, it isn¡¯t provocative enough to instantly forestall negotiations!

    ¡°¡­It regards the birthing ceremony we attended a few weeks ago.¡± she explains ¡°You see, when we received that invitation¡­ We did not know what to expect¡­ We thought we understood that we did not know what to expect but¡­ what we saw was shocking to us!¡±

    A murmur rises, all discussing the same question; what was so shocking?

    ¡°To explain why, I need to teach you two words; [semelparity] and [iteroparity]¡­¡±

    A staggered gasp arises as the words are explained by the devices at our foreheads and people put the pieces together.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I can see that some of you already understand and are beginning to suspect where I¡¯m going with this but, just for any who don¡¯t and aren¡¯t, I will briefly explain: [Semelparity] is the phenomenon of breeding only once in your lifetime and dying directly or shortly thereafter, producing numerous offspring in the hope that some portion of them will make it to adulthood and themselves come to breed¡­ Vrakhand women are [semelparous]¡­ [Iteroparity] is the phenomenon of breeding repeatedly over the course of one¡¯s life, with the number of times you do so having minimal to no baring on your overall longevity¡­ Vrakhand men are [iteroparous]¡­ and so are both sexes of Human¡­ as well as both sexes of every. single. other sapient species that sexually reproduces¡­¡±

    There¡¯s a brief moment of stunned silence before, all at once, an outraged clamour rises from the room.

    Some are calling what she said lies.

    Some are demanding to know if this fact relegates them to a state of nonsentience in the [GU]¡¯s eyes.

    For myself, I¡¯m still processing it.

    Realising that, had I been born as any other species, my mother is a person I might have known¡­ not a myth I had to learn about!

    I¡¯m shaken from my stupor by hearing my father ineffectually calling for silence over the din.

    I rise to my feet and bellow ¡°SIIIIILEEEEENCE!!!¡± shutting up everyone else immediately!

    I turn to my father and gesture him to go ahead.

    He leans forward and invites ¡°Please continue, Ambassador.¡±

    She nods her head before continuing ¡°I wish to briefly address those querying what bearing Vrakhand [semelparity] has on your status. None! This unique trait of yours has absolutely no bearing on whether you are considered sapient, sentient or eligible to join the GU¡­ You still are! Also, as I did hear a few asking; yes! ¡®All other sentients¡¯ does include the Twigg¡­ and, to those questioning the veracity of the assertion I have just made, Dr Miyazaki has prepared a fairly comprehensive dossier of proof of it which she is more than happy to play for you¡­¡±

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°We remember the last of the coordinator¡¯s presentations, Ambassador¡­ That won¡¯t be necessary! We will happily take you at your word!¡± I scowl.

    She gives two nods of her head and responds ¡°I thought as much.¡±

    ¡°Why are you telling us this?¡± demands Khirat of Bhormak ¡°If it has no bearing on our status, bringing it up seems needlessly cruel!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ the reason we waited so long to mention it is precisely because we weren¡¯t sure what the best way to bring it up was¡­ In discussion, my husband, Dr Miyazaki, Dr Stone, Ofc Waqa¡¯arc and I decided not to bring it up until we had an answer for it¡­ An answer we now have, thanks to the tireless work of Drs Phan, Hatathli, Gato, Aerlyght, Shing, Lamark and Sknz¡¯h¡­ who are joining us here today..." she gestures to the healers who raise their hands to indicate themselves.

    ¡°An¡­ answer¡­?¡± queries my father.

    ¡°Yes¡­ An answer.¡± responds the woman.

    ¡°Please explain, Ambassador.¡± he bids.

    Lhamo takes a deep, steadying inhale and states ¡°¡­I want to stress that, by what I am about to tell you, I mean no insult! Whether by nature, a god, gods or anything else¡­ this is the way you are and the way you are made to be. I do not wish to denigrate that!¡­ What I do wish to do, however, is give your people a choice!¡±

    She pauses for a long time to allow her words to sink in.

    ¡°The Doctors here have spent a long time studying your people¡¯s anatomy and, with the aid of practice in a [full dive] [virtual reality] [program] created by our ship¡¯s AI, Twila, they have developed a surgical technique that will allow mothers to survive labour¡­¡±

    Instantly, there is another clamour as all are demanding answers to a hundred different questions.

    I stand and take a deep breath but, mercifully, silence falls before I have to thrash my voice calling for it again.

    I stare at the woman standing in the middle of the chamber floor and ask ¡°This surgery would allow us to become [iteroparous]?¡±

    She shakes her head in negation and answers ¡°Not yet, no. Since your bodies are not built with the expectation of multiple pregnancies being a possibility, you would be infertile afterwards. Once Vrakhand suitable regeneration has been developed, [iteroparity] becomes a possibility for you. Right now, this procedure will only allow for mothers to survive their broods¡¯ births.¡±

    ¡°What about the children?!¡± challenges Kenorath of K¡¯rnath ¡°You expect children denied their birthfeast to have a chance of surviving, let alone growing and thriving!?¡±

    ¡°The neonatal cannibalism was considered¡­ a machine has been reserved for growing meat for that purpose, all we would need is a tissue sample from the mother, her consent and a few days to grow such a quantity.¡± answers the ambassador.

    ¡°What of this dream trance your healers trained in?¡± contests Broodking Mhvor of Lawheth ¡°Can you expect us to trust to a procedure that they¡¯ve never actually performed in real life?!¡±

    ¡°The [program] is of the highest quality and simulates¡­¡±

    ¡°What of the thanatite? If the mothers are surviving birth, then a brood is being brought into this world without a corresponding glut of thanatite!¡± accuses someone else.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­!¡±

    ¡°And what of marriage! Broodhusbands can¡¯t take another broodwife if their last is still alive!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­!¡±

    ¡°ENOUGH!!!¡± I roar, disgustedly scowling around at the disgraceful display of my fellow Vrakhand ¡°Listen to yourselves!¡­ You¡¯re worried about thanatite?!¡­ What¡¯s worth more to you, a chest FULL of thanatite or the life of your daughter, your sister, your broodwife, your friend!? Would anyone not trade all the thanatite in the WORLD for a chance to spare the life of one they care for!? I defy you to make yourself known!!!¡±

    I give them a moment¡­ but there are no volunteers!

    ¡°What about men worrying that they won¡¯t be able to take an endless string of broodwives anymore? That the death that ends your marriage might be yours? Hmmm?!¡­ Anyone!?¡±

    I point a hand to Ambassador Yeshe and make a conscious effort to moderate my tone.

    ¡°What we are being offered here¡­ is a blessing! The Weaver Herself has woven fate such as to bring us salvation to a curse we didn¡¯t even realise afflicted us!¡­ The Foreigners have enlightened us to our nature and, in the same breath, offered us a solution to it!¡­ If there is less thanatite to go around, we must smelt iron! If the old system of marriage is no longer viable, we must rework it! If conditions change, so must we!¡­ And this change?¡­ A change that might make me able to meet the children I carry? To know them as they grow? To appreciate them as people rather than abstract concepts in a future I know I will not live to see?¡­ I for one welcome it! Do any disagree?¡±

    No one raises or splays their hands.

    ¡°Alright then¡­ I give the floor back to Ambassador Yeshe!¡±

    The woman is speechless for some moments before saying ¡°¡­Th-thank you, General¡­ Your words are touching!¡­ So, in a moment, I will turn the floor over to Doctor Phan. He and Doctor Hatathli have graciously volunteered to remain on this planet after the departure of the Bright Plume to perform this operation on as many as they can who wish it. He will answer any questions of a medical nature you might have¡­ It does bear mentioning that, they are obviously only two men!¡­ They require sleep and only have so many hours in their respective days! At the moment, this operation is nowhere near scalable¡­ If, in 14 months, there is suddenly a 10,000% increase in Vrakhand women requiring the surgery, they will be overwhelmed! If it were at all possible to keep the existence of this procedure a secret, I would be advising that¡­ However, even if you tried secrecy, word would quickly spread when broodwives started returning to their communities alive, no longer pregnant and with broods in tow. So, instead of secrecy, I ask that when you tell your people of this, you do your best to impress upon them that this isn¡¯t a license to get pregnant and expect to survive just yet! We¡¯re a few years out from that point, at the moment!¡­ What we need right now is a 13 to 13 ? month pregnant volunteer, willing to give us a tissue sample so that we may grow an equivalent amount of meat to that which is in her body and willing to consent to allow us to attempt this operation on her¡­ Additionally¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.146

    ---Surgery---

    ---C??ng¡¯s perspective---

    I sit in an office adjacent to the already prepared operating room, a large, heavily pregnant woman sat facing me.

    My intrusive thoughts keep screaming at me that she¡¯s a guineapig and I have to keep reminding them that she isn¡¯t!

    The ¡®guineapigs¡¯ were the literal hundreds of digital recreations of her species that me and the others performed this operation on in full dive!

    We¡¯ve literally spent weeks of accelerated virtual time doing nothing but performing this operation and our success rate is well over 99% at this point!

    The only difference is¡­ she¡¯s a real woman¡­ who will really die if I make a cut in the wrong place.

    Best not to think about that!

    We have a team of Vrakhand accoucheurs ready for if things go wrong.

    ¡°Lady Thakhan of the Virhan Realm?¡± I confirm, outwardly cool, calm and collected.

    ¡°That¡¯s right¡­¡± responds the very nervous woman.

    ¡°And your husband is Broodking Kherr of the Vridhuthan Realm?¡±

    ¡°¡­Yes¡­¡± she almost whimpers.

    ¡°May I call you ¡®Thakhan¡¯?¡± I ask, not smiling but nonetheless trying to put her at ease.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ fine¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright then, Thakhan. In order to perform this surgery, we need to get what is called ¡®informed consent¡¯ from you. This means that I will first be verbally explaining everything we are going to do and all of the risks associated with it¡­ Are you able to read your people¡¯s language?¡±

    ¡°¡­N-no¡­¡± she answers, looking terrified that I¡¯m about to reject her on that basis.

    ¡°OK, that¡¯s not a problem. Since you¡¯re not able to read, there¡¯s no point giving you a written reiteration of everything I¡¯m going to tell you to sign. When I¡¯m done explaining everything to you and answering all your questions about it, I¡¯ll just ask you to state that you understand and consent to the procedure we are about to perform. The recording of that will act as your verbal signature. Alright?¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡±

    ¡°OK¡­ I just do want to state upfront that, because I need to focus on all of the risks here, the informed consent portion will likely be somewhat frightening¡­ Please bear in mind that, while there is no such thing as a zero risk surgery, the risks I highlight are very unlikely to actually occur!¡­ I have every confidence that you will survive this procedure and, in a few hours, we will be introducing you to your children.¡±

    She takes comfort in that and smiles, giving me a clench of her fists that the translator tells me is the equivalent to a nod.

    ¡°So, we¡¯re going to start by anaesthetising you so you won¡¯t be awake for any of what follows¡­ Anaesthesia isn¡¯t like sleeping though. You won¡¯t just be unconscious, your brain will be almost completely inactive during that time. You will be a little groggy and disorientated when you wake up. Oh and, because your species are conscious breathers, we need to put you on artificial respiration before you go under, so you don¡¯t suffocate once you¡¯re down. The sensation of being made to breathe without choosing to will likely be a little uncomfortable for you but we ask you to bear with it. It won¡¯t last long either side of your anaesthetisation¡­ Do you have any questions about any of that?¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°¡­No¡­¡± she hesitates.

    I cock an eyebrow ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    Silence.

    Then ¡°How are you making my brain sleep so deeply I forget to breathe?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ well, normally we would use a belt and braces approach of both drugs (substances we put in your body to change how it behaves) and nervejacking (a technological means of achieving anaesthesia by acting directly on your brain itself). In your case however, due to the uncertainty around long term consequences of exposing your children to any drugs we may put into your system, we will be relying solely on nervejacking¡­ You see, your brain is made up of tens of billions of these things called ¡®nerves¡¯ and they¡­¡±

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    I watch through the glass, as the surgical team approach the swollen, upturned abdomen of the thoroughly unconscious, ventilated woman.

    The two humanitarians (being the ones who¡¯ll be staying on this planet to perform this operation, repeatedly, for the next year to year and a half) are taking the lead, with Gato and Aerlyght acting as support.

    The Shings, Lamark and Sknz¡¯h are not in the operating theatre, as it would be a little too crowded if they were¡­ and surgery isn¡¯t Lamark or Sknz¡¯h¡¯s speciality in any event!

    The only other person in the room is Twila, in charge of monitoring vital signs.

    The operating table has to be both long, to account for just how long the stretched out Vrakhand woman is, and short, to account for just how deep her abdomen is and bring it down to a level that a Human sized surgeon can comfortably work on.

    There¡¯s not much that can be done about the many (very in the way) sprawling legs, so they¡¯ve simply been lightly bound together and pulled as far as possible to the top of the table, with her upper body, to allow ease of access to her abdomen.

    Out here with me are Lhamo, Ngngomg, Aghogh, Kherr, a team of Vridhuthan accoucheurs¡­ and Khr¡¯kowan¡­ with a long handled axe¡­ ¡®just in case¡¯ in her words(!)

    It¡¯s¡­ not ideal to have so many personally invested people watching a surgery but¡­ we need this to be witnessed by the Vrakhand so that they can trust it!

    ¡°Confirm anaesthetisation successful.¡± instructs Phan.

    ¡°Anaesthetisation successful, Doctor. Confirmed.¡± answers Twila.

    ¡°Opening incision; midline laparotomy.¡± he states, bringing the laser scalpel to the patient¡¯s soft underbelly.

    ---Thakhan¡¯s perspective---

    Where¡­ am¡­ I?

    What¡­ am I?

    I didn¡¯t exist for the most recent period of time but¡­ I feel like I did¡­ before that¡­

    I feel¡­ terrible¡­!

    ¡°She¡¯s - ?ang th?c - up!¡± comes a distant voice¡­ I only half understand.

    I seem¡­ incomplete¡­ I feel my mind reaching for capacity it knows should be there¡­ but isn¡¯t¡­

    I¡¯m thirsty¡­

    I¡¯m nauseated¡­

    And my lungs are inflating and deflating without my say so!

    I become aware of something intrusive stuck in my mouth and throat.

    Realising I have a hand, I reach for my mouth to get rid of the thing.

    Before my hand reaches, I feel two small, squashy hands wrap around the armour of my forearm.

    ¡°No, no, no - kh?ng, kh?ng, kh?ng, kh?ng! - You still - c?n - that - ?? - breathe!¡±

    I can feel that there is almost no strength in the arms¡­ but there is even less in mine¡­

    My eyes open and show me eight, identical, strange, fangless faces arranged in a rosette.

    ¡°B?n c?m th?y th? n¨¤o?¡± ask the octuplet healers.

    ¡°Uwah?¡± I ask through the metal device keeping my mouth open.

    ¡°I asked how you¡¯re feeling?¡± they say, speaking in only one voice.

    ¡°Kerrivuw¡­!¡± I moan ¡°Kang I hab sung wokuh, fweaz? I¡¯ng wirwi hirsgi!¡±

    They shake their heads, cohering into fewer than they were.

    ¡°No fluids yet¡­ Like I said, remember?¡±

    I give no answer but a pitiful moan.

    At this point, the part of me that remembers how and why I¡¯m here wakes up.

    I push my upper body into a halfway upright position, over everyone¡¯s fervent protests and ask ¡°Whur gagies?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll bring you one! Just please lie down!¡± plead the multiple healers, frantically, still speaking in just one voice.

    Not really having the strength to hold myself up any more, I collapse onto the weird thing I¡¯m lying on.

    Moments pass¡­ or maybe eons¡­ I can¡¯t really tell¡­

    Then, the healer (now having the decency to be only one man) appears before me, holding something small and fluffy.

    ¡°Here¡­ Here¡¯s one of your babies¡­ They all made it!¡± he reassures.

    I reach out an arm toward what he holds just out of reach and happily exclaim ¡°Gaaagyyy!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXXVI: Pancakes and Triplets

    ---Niyol¡¯s perspective---

    Exhaustion¡­

    The one thing that full dive can¡¯t simulate for you¡­ is just how fucking drained you feel after an hours long surgery!

    I haven¡¯t felt this ache in my muscles since the War!

    Still¡­ could be worse¡­ I could be C??ng, which case not only would I have had the much more stressful and exhausting role of Lead Surgeon¡­ but would also be heading home to Soo right now¡­ the single horniest individual of an asexual species I¡¯ve ever encountered in the wild(!)

    I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll frame it as ¡®taking care of him¡¯ but the thought of sex, after the day we¡¯ve just had, gives me a rare moment of gratitude for being one of the uncommon breed of single Terran Bright Plumers(!)

    How many of us are there, actually?

    Me, Olga, Emiko¡­ Yasmin, Ziva, Steve¡­ oh, and Bj?rn!

    Easy to forget that ¡®Terran¡¯ isn¡¯t limited to ¡®Human¡¯!

    Hmmm, more of us than I thought¡­ but still a minority!

    That whole ship effectively serves as one giant uni dorm and, with these regen bodies so full of the (horny inducing) hormone levels of youth, and such a buffet of different sexy space babes/hunks available (to suit every taste) it''s easy to see how most singletons who come aboard don¡¯t stay that way for long!

    I briefly had an interest in Olga at first¡­ but¡­ I know she isn¡¯t actually truculent, she¡¯s just Russian, but the way she absolutely does not do social smiling or laughing?¡­ The harsh, serious demeanour she carries herself with? They quickly overcame the outward cuteness of a 125cm girl I could pick up and tuck under an arm(!)

    The ethics of being attracted to her dwarfism are another thing entirely! I definitely think that, if she became aware that I had a shortstack fetish, it would damage our friendship!

    ¡®No¡­ No hot, crazy sex for me¡­¡¯ I think as I exit the ambassadorial habitat and make my way across the compound to my recently printed, adobe house ¡®¡­and, tonight, I¡¯m glad for it!¡¯

    ¡°*Oof*!¡± I grunt as I cross the threshold and am hit between the shoulderblades by something a bit less than 10kg, dropping onto me from above.

    ¡°Nyahaha! I got you! Human is [husband] now!¡± cackles a maniacal voice from behind my head before a rough tongue wets my right cheek.

    Unimpressed by the way my assailant is supporting her weight from my braid, I reach behind me, grasp her by the fetlock of her right leg and pull her off.

    She tries to hold on but, when you¡¯re the mass of two housecats, there¡¯s something of a limit on how strong you can practically get(!)

    Swinging upside down from my hand, wrapping her tail around my wrist as an unconscious safeguard against being dropped, her face at about the same height as my crotch and looking up at me with a mischievous grin, the Twigg girl says ¡°Hiiiii [husband]!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know what a ¡®husband¡¯ is, Lor¡­¡± I observe, flatly.

    ¡°Sure I do! It¡¯s what Humans call men they have sex with!¡± she pouts.

    ¡°There¡¯s a little more to it than that¡­¡±

    ¡°Like what!?¡± she demands, folding her arms in her upside down pose.

    ¡°Like I¡¯m really too tired to explain right now¡­ How did you even get in here? The door was locked!¡±

    ¡°Secret!¡± she smirks.

    ¡°¡­Greedy¡­¡± I smirk back, in spite of my weariness.

    Her face falls and her tone changes ¡°Am not!¡­ Making a house that you [lock] so people can¡¯t come in, even when you¡¯re not using it? That¡¯s greedy!¡±

    I cross my one room abode, to my Human sized, double bed, flipping Lor right side up and placing her on the ground as I go.

    ¡°So¡­ where are your sisters, Lor?¡± I ask, staring directly at the gap under my bed.

    ¡°Hiding under the bed¡­¡± she shrugs, nonchalantly, from behind me.

    ¡°Lor?!¡± comes Mor¡¯s outraged voice, the most, quote-unquote, ¡®normal¡¯ of the three.

    ¡°You were supposed to get him on the bed, then we jump out!¡­ You spoiled it!¡± admonishes Yor, the beauty queen, as her and Mor crawl out.

    ¡°Girls¡­ I¡¯m extremely flattered but¡­¡±

    ¡°No!¡± interrupts Mor ¡°We never thanked you for saving us after the battle!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t owe me sex for that!¡­ I was doing my job, which is to save and heal people¡­ I enjoy it¡­ my epithet is even ¡®Healer¡¯¡­¡± I sigh.

    ¡°We know we don¡¯t owe you sex.¡± smiles Yor, in an affectedly sensuous voice ¡°We want to have sex with you because we think we¡¯ll enjoy it¡­ Do you¡­ not think you¡¯ll enjoy it?¡±

    My mouth opens¡­ but no words come out as I look down at the¡­ admittedly, very attractive, 90cm tall Goblin sisters¡­

    ¡°Weeell¡­¡± I quaver.

    ¡°HA!¡± exclaims Lor, triumphantly ¡°You want to be [husband] as much as we want you to! You¡¯re only refusing because of weird Stranger logic!¡±

    She pulls her sisters into a girlband album cover pose, Mor looking a mixture of amused and bemused, Yor preening, her eyes closed and a hand to her face, Lor¡¯s crazy eyes between them as she holds them by the shoulders, her tail wagging behind her.

    ¡°No one can resist the allure of the Or Triplets! We are the triple threat!¡± she declares.

    ¡°Fine¡­¡± I glare ¡°¡­you girls are absolutely my taste and exactly this kind of scenario occurring is the kind of thing I¡¯ve fantasised about since I was in my early teens!¡­ Pretty sure, if he could see me now¡­ on an alien world getting propositioned by shortstack triplets and turning them down?!¡­ My 14 year old self would slap me and say ¡®Why¡¯re you blowing this for me, Dude!?¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°So why turn us down at all then?¡± asks Yor, her tone without reproach.

    ¡°Because it wouldn¡¯t be right! There are a dozen different reasons I would be taking advantage of you!¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡± asks Mor, pushing Lor¡¯s arm off of her and stepping towards me.

    ¡°Like I¡¯m more than twice your age, I¡¯m more than twice your size and I¡¯m more than 10¡Á your mass!¡±

    All three of them frown, their confusion evident.

    ¡°What¡¯s any of that got to do with anything?¡± asks Lor, her expression the most exaggerated.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ and¡­¡± Mor does some quick maths on her fingers ¡°¡­all of us together still aren¡¯t a third the weight you are but we¡¯d be nearly half the height again and we¡¯d be older than you!¡±

    ¡°We like you being tall and bulky, we think that¡¯s hot! We don¡¯t care how old you are!¡± points out Yor.

    ¡°Your being young makes you na?ve! If I use you like that, it¡¯s wrong! Being small¡­ well, lets just say it would make things ¡®anatomically challenging¡¯ for you!¡­ I¡¯m a healer¡­ I don¡¯t want to have to explain to C??ng how you got the internal injuries I think you¡¯d be likely to get!¡±

    Yor steps forward with a cocky sashay of her hips and a swish of her tail, challenging ¡°We¡¯re young, yes¡­ but we¡¯re adults! We aren¡¯t small children unable to understand the implications of sex! We know what we want and we¡¯ve decided that¡¯s you!¡±

    Lor gives an upward point and defiant squint of her acid yellow eyes and declares ¡°As for ¡®anatomical challenge¡¯, don¡¯t threaten us with a good time!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not stupid¡­¡± adds Mor ¡°¡­if you¡¯re genuinely too big for us, we¡¯ll figure something else out!¡±

    ¡°Speak for yourself(!)¡± scoffs Lor ¡°I¡¯m hoping he¡¯s as long and thick as a leg down there(!) I¡¯m hoping he''s big enough to ruin me for Folk men!¡±

    ¡°You aren¡¯t helping the case for sex, Lor(!)¡± observes Yor, wryly.

    ¡°Oh, right¡­¡± Lor reaches to the tips of her ears and pinches them, stretching them away from her skull in what my translator informs me is an equivalent gesture to crossing your heart ¡°¡­I swear to sensibly and responsibly enjoy the titanic cock I¡¯m sure you have!¡±

    ¡°You guys¡­ aren¡¯t doing a great job of convincing me you¡¯re mature enough for me to feel OK about accepting your proposition.¡± I observe, flatly.

    ¡°Well we are!¡± declares Mor ¡°What else? You said you had ¡®dozens¡¯ of reasons¡­ you¡¯ve given us ¡®age difference¡¯ and ¡®size difference¡¯ so far!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I falter ¡°¡­there¡¯s the ethical quagmire around you guys being an uncontacted species¡­ pretty sure there¡¯re people who¡¯d say it¡¯s never ethical to sleep with someone where there¡¯s such a power imbalance!¡±

    Lor¡¯s expressive face goes unusually blank and serious as she asks ¡°Are you one of those people?¡­ You think we¡¯re unfuckable because we¡¯re just savages who live in mudhuts and you¡¯re a spaceman who¡¯s only on this world to help civilise us?¡±

    My face screws up in rage as I answer ¡°Of course not! How dare you even suggest that!?¡±

    The three girls start back from me in clear fear.

    I take a step back, take a deep breath and hang my head ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ My people¡­ We have a¡­ history of outsiders declaring us ¡®savages¡¯ in want of ¡®civilising¡¯¡­ despite them being the ones who didn¡¯t know how to honour a fucking treaty!¡­ You struck a nerve there¡­ I¡¯m sorry I shouted at you¡­¡±

    Still wearing a shocked expression, Lor answers ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry I upset you!¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I smile, feeling the weariness of the day creeping into my brain, now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

    There are a few moments of silence before ¡°So, if you¡¯re not one of the people who thinks it¡¯s not OK to do it with [uncontacted] people¡­ why bring it up?¡± asks Mor, quizzically.

    ¡°Because¡­¡± I sigh, kicking off my boots, pulling off my socks and going to lie down on the bed ¡°¡­Humans aren¡¯t like Twigg¡­ We¡¯re judgemental¡­ Other people¡¯s opinions about us matter¡­ even if they¡¯re wrong!¡­ Like¡­ if I have sex with you and someone else thinks that¡¯s a bad thing that I shouldn¡¯t have done, they then don¡¯t like me¡­ One person not liking you can make your life difficult¡­ if too many people don¡¯t like you¡­ it becomes unliveable!¡±

    There¡¯s a pause and then ¡°That¡¯s dumb!¡± observes Mor ¡°Why don¡¯t you all just stop being [judgemental] if it¡¯s a problem for you like that?¡±

    I smile ¡°If only it was that easy(!)¡±

    Mor climbs onto the bed, followed by Lor, then Yor.

    They arrange themselves around me, all facing me.

    ¡°Sooo¡­ you¡¯re not going to do it with us¡­ even though you want to¡­ because you¡¯re worried about what other people (who aren¡¯t here) will think of you?¡± asks Yor.

    ¡°Well¡­ when you put it like that, it does sound a little silly¡­¡±

    ¡°Very silly!¡± confirms Lor, nodding her head in Terran style.

    ¡°What about if we just didn¡¯t tell anyone?¡± questions Mor.

    ¡°That makes it so much worse!¡­ Terrans aren¡¯t stupid! Even if nobody saw you leaving my hut tomorrow morning, they¡¯d figure it out eventually and, if it came out that I¡¯d asked you not to tell anyone, even to people who wouldn¡¯t have been judgemental, I¡¯d look like an absolute scumbag¡­ like I believed what I was doing was wrong or shameful and tried to keep it a secret!¡±

    ¡°You hear that girls?¡­ ¡®Tomorrow morning¡¯! He thinks he can go all night!¡± grins Lor, clearly not having listened to anything after that phrase.

    ¡°I definitively cannot¡­ at least not tonight I can¡¯t! Sleeping together afterward is just normal for my species! It would be very rude of you to leave the second the sex is over¡­ I¡¯m extremely exhausted right now and I don¡¯t think I have anything left in the tank to impress you with!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ worried about disappointing us?¡± suggests Yor ¡°Is that why you¡¯re trying so hard to reject us, even though you said you wanted to?¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ no¡­¡± I lie¡­ unconvincingly.

    The three sisters clearly have not bought it, smirking at eachother.

    ¡°In. any. event¡­ I actually think the main problem with doing it with you three is that¡­ sex means something quite different to Terrans than it does to Twigg!¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°What¡¯s it mean?¡± grins Lor.

    ¡°Well¡­ sometimes we do it like you do where we just have sex and that¡¯s that¡­ but¡­ I mean¡­ I don¡¯t like to do it that way! I only want to have sex with special people that I care about!¡±

    All three of their identical faces fall.

    ¡°We¡¯re not special?¡± asks a heartbroken Mor.

    ¡°You don¡¯t care about us?¡± piles on Yor.

    I wince and sit up.

    ¡°See, this is what I mean about sex not meaning the same thing to us! What you¡¯ve just heard, you haven¡¯t understood at all the way I meant it! You are special and I do care about you but my appreciation for those facts is superficial right now! I don¡¯t know you well enough for it to be more than that! More than you being three girls I treated and hope are doing well!¡­ I like you, I think you¡¯re stunningly gorgeous and there is a large part of me screaming not to throw away the opportunity with you¡­ but I just know that you won¡¯t stick around long enough for me to care about you¡­ the way I mean it¡­ or worse, you will and then you¡¯ll leave and I¡¯ll get my heart broken three times at once! Plus, asking three girls to all be my girlfriend at the same time, expecting you all to be faithful to me, while I have all three of you to mess around with, would make me a selfish, hypocritical jerk!¡± I rant, finishing breathlessly.

    The three girls stare at me blankly for a few moments.

    ¡°Wow¡­¡± observes Lor ¡°¡­sex is complicated for Humans!¡±

    ¡°Wait, hang on¡­¡± says Mor, gears clearly turning ¡°¡­if we did want to become [girlfriends] to you, that would mean being [faithful] to you? Like¡­ no sex with anyone else?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what ¡®faithful¡¯ means.¡± I confirm.

    ¡°Like¡­ for life or¡­?¡± asks Yor.

    ¡°No¡­ just as long as you were my girlfriends. ¡®Wife¡¯ is the word we use when it¡¯s for the rest of your life and ¡®husband¡¯ is the male version of that¡­ which is how I knew that Lor didn¡¯t know what ¡®husband¡¯ meant(!)¡± I explain.

    ¡°How long would being a [girlfriend] last?¡± queries Mor.

    ¡°Yeah, see, that is not the way to think about it!¡± I sigh ¡°Being in a relationship isn¡¯t a contract! It ends anytime one of the people in the relationship wants! It¡¯s a relatively vague commitment of ¡®I want to be with you for the foreseeable future¡¯. But, if you say you¡¯re in a relationship then breakup as soon as the other person has had sex with you, you will leave them feeling like shit! It¡¯s an absolute dick move!¡±

    All three girls are staring at me, eyes narrowed in appraisal.

    Then Mor scoops her hand through the air in a beckon and slides off the bed.

    Her sisters follow her.

    The three girls stand facing eachother, huddle close and begin having a whispered conversation, too quiet to make out.

    ---Mor¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Agreed?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Agreed.¡± whispers Yor.

    ¡°Agreed!¡± grins Lor.

    I turn to face the Human and point an index claw at him.

    ¡°We accept the terms, Human!¡±

    An eyebrow raises up the copper brown skin of the face, above a russet brown eye.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± he asks, tone flat.

    ¡°We accept! We will be [girlfriends]!¡±

    The eyes screw up as he says ¡°No¡­ guys¡­ I wasn¡¯t ¡®setting terms¡¯! I was explaining concepts! That wasn¡¯t me saying ¡®if you agree to be my girlfriends, then I¡¯ll have sex with you¡¯!¡­ In fact I think I pretty specifically said that asking you all to be faithful to me would be a shitty thing for me to do!¡±

    ¡°Yes! And you didn¡¯t ask! We offered!¡± Lor catches him.

    ¡°We decided, by choice, that you¡¯re the only one we want to be with for the foreseeable future¡­¡± elaborates Yor.

    ¡°So we¡¯re [girlfriends] to you now.¡± I state.

    The Human sags and sighs, eyes closed¡­ but I also see him smile slightly.

    ¡°Fine¡­ you¡¯re my girlfriends¡­¡± he finally relents.

    ¡°YEEES!!!¡± shout me and the sisters, triumphantly.

    We dance and holler in celebration as the big man watches us in weary amusement from the bed.

    When the dances are danced, I turn to him and clarify ¡°And you don¡¯t get to have sex with anyone besides us either?¡­ That¡¯s how this works, right?¡±

    He bobs the head and says ¡°Yes¡­ that¡¯s how this works¡­ Also, if we¡¯re going to be a polycule, it¡¯s probably best if we set a rule where I can¡¯t do it with any of you without the other two being present¡­ avoids jealousy that way¡­ Oh, and¡­ no more calling me ¡®Human¡¯¡­ I know you know my name(!)¡±

    ¡°Agreed!¡± I declare before thinking and adding ¡°¡­Niyol.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful¡­ I¡¯ll see you tomorrow, girls!¡± he smiles, rolling over and pointing at the door.

    ¡°Hang on!¡± demands Mor.

    ¡°What about the sex?!¡± I ask, incredulously.

    ¡°We¡¯re [girlfriends] now! So that means we get to have sex with you, doesn¡¯t it!?¡± asks Lor.

    ¡°It does¡­ but not tonight¡­ I wasn¡¯t lying when I said I was exhausted¡­ It*yaaaaawn*¡¯d be very disappointing to be unable to perform for you girls like I know I can¡­ Tomorrow¡­ or *yaaawn* maybe the next day¡­ I¡¯ll rock your respective worlds then, I promise¡­¡±

    Yeeeah¡­ not a chance¡­ We didn¡¯t come this far to stop now!

    ¡°If you¡¯re¡­ so tired, Niyol¡­¡± I smirk, stepping towards him slowly ¡°¡­you wouldn¡¯t be able to do a thing about it if three young, lusty, new Folk [girlfriends] were to¡­ saaay¡­ undress you(?)¡±

    A smile touches the lips as he answers ¡°No¡­ I suppose I wouldn¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be powerless to resist if we were to cause you to become aroused¡­(?)¡± adds Yor, cottoning on.

    ¡°Yes, I would be¡­¡± smirks the bleary Human [boyfriend].

    ¡°And then we¡¯d shove that massive cock inside us!¡± cackles Lor, light on subtlety(!)

    ¡°OK, girls¡­ if you really want to do a [ravishment] fantasy for our first time¡­ I¡¯m on board, but two things first! One) close all the curtains all the way¡­¡±

    We immediately break to begin pulling the curtains across the dark windows, obscuring them.

    I have to stand on tip toes to reach the bottom of the one I take.

    Having finished, we convene back in the middle of the room, facing Niyol.

    ¡°¡­well done, that was fast!¡± he chuckles ¡°Two) we need to have a slightly unsexy conversation. Disease:¡­¡±

    Yor, Lor and I look round at eachother then look back to [boyfriend] Niyol.

    ¡°You have a disease, Niyol?¡± I ask, quizzically.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t¡­ at least, not to me I don¡¯t! But (while very unlikely) there¡¯s absolutely no guarantee that there¡¯s nothing in or on me that would cause problems if it got on or in you! Now, I have the benefit of almost a millennium of understanding about what the Human [microbiome] is supposed to look like (and a lifetime of records of what my [microbiome], specifically, looks like) behind me, so I¡¯m not that worried about me catching anything from you¡­ If I do, it¡¯ll be little more than an inconvenience for me to get rid of it¡­ You three do not have that luxury¡­ so, if, after we do it, you get the sense that everything is not exactly as it should be, you come straight to me or, if you can¡¯t find me, another Terran (preferably C??ng) and tell them that you and I had sex and now you¡¯re not feeling well. You understand?¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ no¡­ What¡¯s a [microbiome]?¡± asks Yor.

    ¡°Not important. The important part is; any symptoms, get checked! Don¡¯t keep it secret because you¡¯re embarrassed, you think I¡¯ll be embarrassed or you¡¯re worried about upsetting me after how hard you had to work to convince me into this! Understood?¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± I answer firmly.

    I¡¯ll check up on Yor and Lor to make sure they follow that warning.

    ¡°Great¡­¡± answers the weary Human ¡°¡­In that case¡­ I¡¯m all yours, girls¡­ Have your wicked way with me(!)¡±

    ---Lor¡¯s perspective---

    The three of us hop onto the bed and I realise something.

    ¡°Wait¡­! Who¡¯s first?¡± I ask, stopping the other two.

    They turn to look at me before Mor raises a fist and suggests ¡°[Dragonsnake], [fishtoad], [dragonbird]?¡±

    ¡°Mmm!¡± I agree.

    The three of us place hands beside eachother and chant ¡°[Dragonsnake], [fishtoad], [dragonbird], go!¡±

    Yor throws a [dragon bird] and is out instantly to the bites of the [dragonsnakes] me and Mor throw.

    She puffs in concession and folds arms.

    I face down Mor and we chant ¡°[Dragonsnake], [fishtoad], [dragonbird], go!¡±

    I was about to play [dragon bird] to catch the [fish toad] I was sure she¡¯d throw but, at the last moment, I change to [fishtoad]¡­

    ¡°Yes!¡± I roar ¡°Choke on the spines!¡± having defeated the [dragonsnake] she stuck with.

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± smirks Mor ¡°¡­warm him up for us(!)¡±

    As far as I know, I¡¯m going to be the first Twigg to ever have a Human cock inside me!

    Even Mor quipping about it can¡¯t sour that sweetness!

    In a flash, I¡¯m undressed, quickly followed by the other two.

    The dresses are tossed aside, onto the floor.

    The new [boyfriend] we share lies limply on the bed, observing us.

    Well¡­ not entirely limply(!)

    I grab the bulge between his legs and taunt ¡°This part of you doesn¡¯t seem to need any waking up, [boyfriend](!)¡±

    ¡°No. it. does. not(!)¡± he retorts.

    ¡°But the rest of you is so tired¡­ so weak¡­ you can¡¯t do aaanything about what¡¯s happening to you, can you(?!)¡± teases Yor, fingers removing the pin from the brooch that fastens the red sash belt around the waist.

    ¡°I¡¯m completely helpless(!)¡± he smiles.

    ¡°And now we get to do whatever we want with you¡­¡± states Mor, hand on him at the forehead.

    ¡°Whatever you want(!)¡± he beams back, eyes still hooded by tiredness, despite the situation.

    With that, the sturdy, white, canvas top he wears is pulled open at the front.

    All three of us gasp!

    We stand, transfixed by what we see¡­

    The chest is smooth, blemishless, muscular and¡­ so bulky!

    It¡¯s perfect!

    Excitedly, I reach to the waistband of the trousers he wears and begin furiously working them over the hips.

    He¡¯s so heavy that I can¡¯t make much progress until he lifts the pelvis up, slightly, to unpin them from the weight.

    ¡°Oh, Spirits!¡± I exclaim, as a colossus lunges upward!

    For the first time in life¡­ I¡¯m intimidated by the sheer magnitude of a cock!

    ¡°It¡¯s OK if you¡¯re having second thoughts¡­¡± croaks the tired [boyfriend], mirthfully.

    I stare him down for some moments, thinking about how to answer that challenge.

    Then, I straddle the lap, legs bent awkwardly to fit the width between them.

    I bring the pussy to where the alien cock meets the alien ballsack, bring the tip to the cleavage, fold arms across the top of both chest and cock and nonchalantly say ¡°You know¡­ I think I¡¯ve had bigger(!)¡±

    ¡°Liar.¡± he chuckles.

    I bare four fangs in a grin.

    Of course it¡¯s lies¡­ This thing is most of the length of a Folk torso and thicker than a Folk arm!

    A Folk man would pass out from the blood that would need to make this thing stiff!

    Me and the other two spend some time freeing the clothing from the legs and underneath the breathtaking chest (with some help from the ¡®helpless¡¯ man).

    When I finally get the lowers off, I find them heavy! You don¡¯t really think of cloth as having weight but¡­ when it¡¯s this thick and there¡¯s this much of it, it represents a significant portion of the weight I am!

    Our ¡®helpless¡¯ [boyfriend] now fully nude, there¡¯s no avoiding the ¡®prize¡¯ I won anymore¡­

    I begin chewing the tongue to make spit.

    I sit back on the lap, grasp the titan with two hands and bring a wet tongue to its tip.

    Terran cock tastes¡­ strange¡­ more like Folk cock than anything else, sure, but¡­ different¡­ gamier¡­ raunchier¡­ it¡¯s exotic!

    ¡°Ooooh¡­ that feels strange!¡± observes the [boyfriend], looking at me as both hands are manipulated by Mor and Yor.

    Mor guiding Yor, they fold the thumbs, ring and little fingers of the respective hands they handle into the palm and extend the index and middle fingers while I continue lubricating the cock.

    They position the two light copper brown hands between four green thighs and push the (much more manageably sized) finger dildos into two dripping wet pussies.

    As the other two begin to passionately kiss the [boyfriend] we share, I look at the daunting challenge before me and it¡¯s hard not to think that they¡¯re getting the better deal here(!)

    I decide that this cock is as wet as I¡¯m going to be able to get it and that it¡¯s simply time.

    I stand.

    I find that, though the glans is lower than the pussy needing to receive it, that stops being the case as soon as I spread legs far enough apart to do so.

    I briefly consider precariously standing on the hips to get the necessary height or bending the tip downward to lower it enough and a few other approaches.

    I decide that, since the cock seems to naturally want to point upward, relative to the body, I need to be on the far side of it.

    I step one leg to the left of the [boyfriend] and another to the right.

    The wet, hot, fat thing bumps me in the front of the pelvis before sliding underneath, as I walk over it.

    I lay green skinned hands against giant, bronze, alien pectorals and bring the face down to the chest, between the bouncing arses of Mor and Yor.

    I straighten the legs to raise the arse, reach behind me and catch the cock.

    I bring the Terran cock (about to be the first to enter a Twigg pussy) to the Twigg pussy ready to take it!

    ¡°Hnng!¡± I grunt as I push myself down and the unrelentingly thick member feels like its about to split me in half!

    Can¡¯t¡­ give up¡­ now!

    The cock slides straight through the pelvis and unyieldingly rearranges guts as it causes an enormous bulge in the front of the belly.

    ¡°A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a¡­¡± I shudder, mind instantly made stupid by this sensation.

    ---Niyol¡¯s perspective---

    My face is smothered in kisses and licks from the two sisters using my hands as dildos.

    The top 10cm of my cock is buried in Lor with the bottom 10cm completely untouched.

    Whenever I catch a glimpse of Lor¡¯s face, it¡¯s locked in a full on ahegao, her tongue lolling from her wide open mouth, her eyes crossed, her ears fluttering and her tail erratically whipping around behind her as she compulsively continues to work my shaft in an out of her.

    I¡¯m nowhere near cumming¡­ though it looks like she¡¯s come and gone, several times(!)

    My face is suddenly, violently jerked to the right and I find myself staring straight into Mor¡¯s eyes (slit pupils so dilated that they almost look like Human ones) as she gives me a particularly ferocious kiss, scouring the inside of my mouth with her tongue¡¯s papillae.

    My head clenched between her hands as she crushes mine into the bed beneath her pelvis, she demands ¡°You¡¯re [ours]¡­ aren¡¯t you [Niyol]?! You¡¯re [our] [boyfriend]!¡­ You [belong] to us!!!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m yours!¡­ All yours!!!¡± I answer, slightly alarmed.

    It seems that Lor being the ¡®crazy one¡¯ and Mor being the ¡®smart one¡¯ is only true when they¡¯re not in the middle of orgasms! If they are, Mor becomes the crazy one and Lor becomes the mindbroken one!

    ¡°I¡­*huff**huff*¡­ can¡¯t¡­*huff**huff*¡­ anymore¡­*huff**huff*¡­¡¯s too¡­*huff**huff*¡­ much! ¡­*huff**huff*¡­ You¡­*huff**huff*¡­ have a¡­*huff**huff*¡­  turn¡­*huff**huff*¡­ on¡­*huff**huff*¡­ the cock!¡± pants Lor, tagging in Mor as she pushes her arse up and pushes me out of her with a *pop*.

    ¡°With pleasure!¡± growls Mor, maniacally.

    Lor rolls off me and to the side, her poor, (self) abused pussy looking raw!

    Mor takes the position her sister just vacated and pushes herself down onto my cock.

    She makes it about a centimetre further down than Lor was able to and begins grunting as she continues where Lor left off, locking me with direct eyecontact.

    ---Yor¡¯s perspective---

    I was worried I wouldn¡¯t get a go on the cock but, as I watch it overcome a second Or triplet, Mor sliding off to join Lor in a dazed stupor, [boyfriend] Niyol turns two round pupiled, russet eyes to me.

    ¡°Seems like you¡¯ve lost your numerical advantage(!)¡± he quips, indicating the defeated girls on the far side of him ¡°I¡¯m feeling a lot more energetic now and, you know¡­ I really want to cum after all this blueballing¡­ Do you think you can make me cum, gorgeous?¡± he grins, demeanour completely changed from how he was before!

    I gulp and gesture an uncertain ¡®yes¡¯, nodding the head as well¡­

    ¡°Good!¡± he grins, pointing to the behemoth jutting from the crotch.

    I climb onto the broad, muscular chest and look up at him as I work down onto an enormous, hard, wet, warm penis.

    The sensation is equal parts pleasure and pain as his massive girth stretches the insides of me!

    Invocations to the Spirits are interrupted by [boyfriend] Niyol saying ¡°I¡¯m never going to come at this rate! Do you need help?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes¡­ please!¡± I gasp.

    ¡°Alright then¡­ Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t push you too far.¡±

    Two large hands wrap me up around the middle, almost fully enclosing me and pinning the arms to the sides.

    Two clawless thumbs press into the belly, pinching it between themselves and the tip of the cock.

    The intrusion recedes inside me as I¡¯m lifted up¡­ then extends as I¡¯m pushed back down¡­

    It actually isn¡¯t quite as painful with the hand wrapped around me, restraining the expansion of the stomach, even though he¡¯s setting a much quicker pace, fucking me this way, than either Lor or Mor managed!

    The positions have well and truly reversed now!

    Where, before, we were ¡®ravishing¡¯ him¡­ he¡¯s now completely [ravished] us!

    Well¡­ the other two [ravished] themselves¡­ using this cock¡­ I¡¯m the only one he put in the position of using as a toy like this!

    I cum¡­ but I don¡¯t ask him to stop¡­

    I want to make him cum! I want him to cum inside me! I want him to get me pregnant¡­ even though I know that¡¯s almost impossible!

    He throws back the head and moans¡­ sensually!

    I feel the cock pulse, now that it¡¯s movement in and out of me has stopped.

    The eyes go wide and the whole body tenses in the strong hands as a jet of thick, hot fluid is streamed inside me, entirely filling up the space above the glans!

    The hands fall limply off of me and I feel myself slowly tilting left.

    The soft bed comes up to meet me as I slump off the monstrous cock and land beside Lor and Mor¡­ like them¡­ defeated!

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    The door opens in the midmorning sunlight but, in the space I¡¯m looking, 20cm or so above my own eyelevel, on the far side of the threshold, I don¡¯t see the eyes of a 196cm Navajo doctor¡­ only empty space.

    I turn my eye downward and start at the one I see looking back at me!

    It¡¯s one of those triplets¡­ from aboard the Bright Plume!

    She¡¯s wearing a man¡¯s t-shirt that falls all the way to just above her feet and (from the way her nipples raise the fabric) little else besides!

    Her tail is visible behind her, protruding from the bottom of the t-shirt dress, swishing back and forth in satisfaction.

    ¡°Oh, hello¡­ Miyazaki? [Boyfriend] Niyol was just making us [pancakes]¡­ Would you like some?¡± she gestures to her left, my right, and I lean over her to see two very oblivious Twigg girls, similarly garbed, and a tall Navajo doctor, who¡¯s frozen like a deer in headlights, all sat around a pancake laden breakfast table.

    ¡°No, no¡­ that¡¯s quite alright¡­ Yor¡­ I just came to thank and congratulate Dr Hatathli for his fine work on the operation yesterday¡­ but I can see he¡¯s already celebrating¡­ in his own way(!)¡± I smirk ¡°I¡¯ll leave the four of you to it.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.147

    ---Peace---

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    I stand on Victor¡¯s shoulder, at the far side of the Starboard Gallery from the entrance to the gymnasium aboard my ship.

    Around us are all the Triple Ms, Twila and all but four of the ODR contractors.

    Standing facing towards us, in the entrance, is Emiko, one of the missing four.

    Watching from the walkways above us are most of the rest of my crew (some looking a little nervous of those coming aboard!)

    To avoid either side feeling as if the other had an unfair advantage (or greater prestige), the arrival of the Swift Claw from the Vrakhand capital and the ambassadorial craft from the compound had to be timed to be perfectly simultaneous.

    Right now, Ambassador Yeshe is landing the craft with the Twigg delegation in the rear Loading Bay, beside her husband¡¯s starfighter.

    Ambassador Ong is aboard the Swift Claw with the Vrakhand delegation, docking at the ship¡¯s bow.

    In almost the same instant the doors, a few [hundred metres] to our left and right, both slide open.

    The Vrakhand, having such an enormous footprint created by their many, sprawling legs (currently all tipped in corky wooden shoes to prevent them from tearing up the floor of my ship(!)), are only able to pass through the door in twos and threes, meaning it takes a comparatively long time for them to all make it through.

    The Twigg, being one of the smallest sentient species (not of the six emergent intelligent, colonial kinds) are able to all make it through the door at once.

    They are a rainbow of greens, blues and yellows in their skin and hair tones!

    Heading the Vrakhand column, flanked by her father and her new lifemate and lead by Ambassador Ong, is Representative Khr¡¯kowan of the Vrakhand, dressed in rich silk clothes and looking like a formidable warrior, even ¡®unarmed¡¯(!)

    Heading the Twigg, flanked by her halfbrother and her tribe elder and lead by Ambassador Yeshe, is Representative Viig of the Twigg, her face set and serious and her yellow eyes burning with intensity!

    She does not have the dagger made from the foot of one of the Emperor¡¯s daughters at her hip but, it bears remembering, she¡¯s the one who gave Khr¡¯kowan that nearly fatal throat injury!

    She is no less a formidable woman than her counterpart!

    The ambassadors set the pace, walking toward eachother at an identical speed (even if Ong¡¯s much longer stride makes him appear to be moving quite a lot slower than his wife).

    The knot of Twigg reaches the centre of the Starboard Gallery at the same time as the head of the Vrakhand column.

    The representatives stare eachother down for what feels like a long time¡­

    Then, all eight of her eyes closing, Khr¡¯kowan bends forward, lowering her head and thorax to the Twigg girl in a bow.

    There¡¯s a moment of hesitation¡­ then Viig returns the gesture, bending at the waist.

    The two women straighten back up and begin leading their respective delegations into the gymnasium behind the ambassadors.

    The single file line of fifty Twigg makes its way inside relatively quickly.

    The fifty Vrakhand take a while longer to pass through the bottleneck.

    Once the last of them are inside, Victor and the others follow.

    As I ride his shoulder inside and we pass through the regular section (in which no one has been able to exercise for 2 days while it was sanitised and deodoured), we head for the Terran section.

    All the heavy equipment has been cleared away by the Terrans, into Victor¡¯s gun range, and the area has likewise been sterilised and cleansed of the (much more pungent) smell of Terran perspiration!

    Up against the wall to the right as we enter is a small table, at which are sat Emiko and the ambassadors and behind which is stood Thran, in full armour (minus her destroyed helmet), the final contractor who was missing, all facing out into the room.

    To their right, at the far side from us, is a long line of low tables with a row of white lights on top, corresponding to a line of small seats behind, onto which the Twigg are in the process of seating themselves.

    Across from them are a series of mats, laid out in rows on the floor, each with a nanoforged nameplate in front of it, written in the vertical, webbed, Vrakhandic script and illuminated with white lights.

    Not having a script, the Twigg could not be given assigned seats but¡­ something tells me they prefer it that way(!)

    The one exception is Viig, sitting on the far side of the line, closest to the arbitrators¡¯ table and opposite Khr¡¯kowan, at the far side of the front row in the Vrakhand seating¡­ the closest on that side.

    Some of the Vrakhand women, not being literate, are having to ask around their compatriots to find their seats.

    I am carried to the stands on the left side of the room by Victor, along with the other spectators.

    He seats himself on one of the benches near the front and I hop off his shoulder to nestle onto the bench beside him, giving a view of the peace talks across the arena from us.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    A few of my crew who were watching from the walkways take the opportunity to sneak in to observe this historic moment, before it begins.

    There follow several minutes of everyone organising themselves.

    Once everyone has found their seats, Emiko stands from the middle of the table between the husband and wife ambassadors.

    ¡°Greetings all, and thank you sincerely for your agreement to participate in these peace talks! I¡¯m sure everyone recognises myself as Dr Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki, this woman as Ambassador Lhamo ¡®Crane¡¯ Yeshe and her husband as Ambassodor Ngngomg Ong. We will be acting as the arbitrators of this negotiation.¡± comes the woman¡¯s magnified voice ¡°First) a few notes on procedure; I need to take this opportunity to remind you that these talks are being filmed for posterity, so, if you aren¡¯t comfortable with your image being recorded, we offer you the opportunity to leave now¡­¡±

    No one makes to leave, all having been appraised of the recording beforehand.

    A few moments of silence before ¡°Good¡­!¡± continues Emiko ¡°¡­I just needed to check! So, in front of you, you will see either a lit white bulb (if you are Twigg) or a lit white nameplate (if you are Vrakhand). If you press that down with your hand, the light should turn from white to red. Pressing it again should turn it back to white¡­ Could everyone take a moment to make sure that their light is working and that they are able to operate it as intended?¡±

    A few moments follow as all the summit attendees turn their lights from white to red and back, some multiple times, some needing to double check the instructions with their neighbours.

    ¡°Any issues?¡± asks Emiko, looking around.

    No one raises any.

    ¡°Perfect. The purpose of the changeable lights is to give you the ability to indicate whether you wish to speak; white to indicate that you do not wish to speak, red to indicate that you have something you wish to ask or something you wish to say. To avoid these talks devolving into a shouting match, we ask that, if someone is in the middle of speaking and they make a statement you disagree with or want to add to, you use your lights as opposed to interrupting them. Once you have been recognised, or if someone gets to what you wished to say before you, simply turn your light back to white. We arbitrators will be sure to give everyone who wishes to a chance to speak on every issue but we ask you to keep your contributions both as relevant and as concise as possible¡­ Representative Viig will take precedence over the rest of her delegation. Representative Khr¡¯kowan has ceded her precedence to her father, Emperor Aghogh, though she will still take precedence over the rest of her delegation. Any questions about any of that?¡±

    None come.

    ¡°Excellent. Myself, Ambassador Yeshe and Ambassador Ong are acting as neutral, third party arbitrators of these talks. We have collected points of contention to be negotiated from both parties and, as each is settled, we will open the floor to the next and recognise delegates to speak, in turn, starting with the side that raised the issue then passing to the other then back, until all have had their say¡­ We will not, I repeat, we will not settle disputes for you!¡­¡± here, Emiko pauses and looks around, sternly, to impress the point on all ¡°¡­We aren¡¯t here to impose a peace from without but to facilitate a peace from within. We may make suggestions¡­ but the resolutions of your grievances are yours to agree¡­ with eachother!¡­ Do not look to us to decide who is right or who is reasonable for you because we will not!¡±

    Her schoolmistresslike, preemptive admonishment over, Emiko looks around, as if daring any to challenge her(!)

    No one does.

    She relaxes and continues ¡°When each point has been settled, our AI, Twila, will add the agreed resolution to a digital copy of a peace treaty. When all points appear to be settled, the completed treaty will be read back to you to allow you the opportunity for revisions to it. Once both sides indicate that they are satisfied without further revision, three physical copies of that treaty will be made for the representatives to leave their marks on; one for the Twigg to keep, one for the Vrakhand and one to go to the ODR on Citadel.¡± she winces slightly as she says ¡°Unfortunately¡­ as the Twigg have no written language, this document is required to be written in a language readable by neither Twigg nor Vrakhand, so as not to put the Vrakhand at an unfair advantage in interpreting it. Galactic Standard is a language which lacks the necessary level of nuance for an application such as this, therefore, the language agreed is the Terran lingua franca, English¡­ This does mean that any disagreements regarding the application of the treaty will need to be arbitrated by Ambassadors Yeshe and Ong¡­ who will endeavour to do so impartially!¡­ If this is acceptable, I ask that all of you switch your lights to red, now¡­¡±

    Slowly, the white lights turn to red until only a few remain¡­ which, after investigation, turn out not to be delegates who wish to raise objection but ones who failed to understand the instruction.

    All lights finally turn red in unanimous agreement.

    ¡°Wonderful¡­¡± says Miyazaki, not sounding as pleased as I would have thought by that ¡°¡­now, there are exactly 53 items on the docket, 16 raised only by the Twigg, 23 raised only by the Vrakhand and 14 raised by both Twigg and Vrakhand¡­ We will start with the issues raised by both and, on each such issue, we will use a randomiser to determine whether the Twigg or Vrakhand should be allowed to speak first. The first item for discussion is¡­ Land Use and Access¡­ and the randomiser has picked¡­ the Vrakhand to be the first to speak. Representative Khr¡¯kowan, do you wish to take the floor?¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Victor, wake up!¡± comes a low, urgent voice, followed by a light slap to the left side of my face, making me jerk awake.

    ¡°OW!¡­Ring!¡± I chide my fianc¨¦e, rubbing the point where the engagement ring I gave her struck me in the temple.

    ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Tuun apologises, briefly fiddling with the jewellery on her finger, like she¡¯d forgotten it was there ¡°¡­they¡¯re just about to sign the treaty¡­ didn¡¯t think you¡¯d want to miss it!¡±

    ¡°Oh, really?! Thought they¡¯d spend a week on that trade provision, at least!¡±

    ¡°Hmmm!¡­ Somehow, I definitely thought that negotiating the end of a millennia old bloodfeud would be a little more glamourous(!)¡± she presents her lower two palms and waves her top two over them, rubbing her fingers together like she¡¯s sprinkling them with faerie dust(!)

    I chuckle, realising for the millionth time just how much I love this woman, and say ¡°Yeah¡­ done now though!¡± as three very fat documents are brought forward.

    Viig is offered a little moveable staircase to bring her up to halfway between her height and Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s where the first of the three copies of the treaty are placed on a 45¡ã angle, facing out.

    Yeshe offers Viig a palm size ink pad which she presses her clawed hand into.

    Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s offered a cylinder of compressed charcoal by Ong to use as a writing instrument.

    The women bring their inked up palm and pencil analogue to their sides of the document, in unison¡­ then a shockwave rocks the ship!

    Viig is thrown from her stepstool and a lot of the Twigg are knocked to the ground.

    Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s kept her feet but¡¯s looking around, alarmed¡­

    Rightly alarmed!

    I¡¯m on my feet, adrenaline buzzing through my blood!

    There¡¯s only one thing that could have overcome the inertial dampening to rock the ship like that!

    Someone¡¯s just come out of warp and they¡¯ve done it practically on top of us!

    The astronomically low odds of anyone arriving in this system so close by chance, coupled with the extremely low odds of anyone even wanting to come to this system in the first place, mean that that was not an accident!

    ¡°Twila!¡­ Status repor-¡±

    I¡¯m cut off by a harsh, roboticised, Stateser accented man¡¯s voice, hijacking the speakers and sounding crazed as he announces ¡°Heeeeeeeeeey, fuckers!¡­ I''m baaack!¡­ D¡¯ya miss me(!?)¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± I groan ¡°¡­shiiiiit!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.148

    ---War---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Hail him and put the call through to my holo, Twila!¡± I bark, taking it from my pocket.

    ¡°Hailing him now.¡± she answers instantly.

    I hear the tone of an unconnected call¡­ then a *click*.

    ¡°Oi! Darth Arsehole! What¡¯s your fuckin¡¯ problem?! Didn¡¯t feel this went badly enough for you the first two times you tried it or what(!?)¡± I roar into my holo before Stetter has a chance to speak.

    There¡¯s a few moments of silence before ¡°¡­Hey there, Lllllimey¡­¡± he answers, his deep, gravelly, artificial voice completely absent the cocky smugness he had in our previous run ins with him as it plays from both the speakers in the room and my holo. He sounds almost drunk but I¡¯m guessing whatever¡¯s causing it¡¯s a bit less biochemical and a bit more psychological¡­ He¡¯s had a long time to stew and (if he¡¯s alone right now) no one to talk to in that time! Isolation literally causes brain damage to Humans (and it does it shockingly fast) which is why solitary confinement¡¯s banned as a punishment in all Terran prisons! This guy¡¯s just subjected himself to it for maybe months!

    Everyone¡¯s looking at me, the Twigg and the Vrakhand obviously able to tell from tone and context that this is serious, even if they don¡¯t have a clue what¡¯s going on!

    ¡°What makes you think we ain¡¯t gonna hand you your own arse again this time, Stetter!?¡± I demand, projecting a confidence I have not earned.

    He¡¯s not deranged enough to let it slip by him, retorting ¡°Dooon¡¯t act like you had anything to do with the scoreboard, carrottop!¡­ It was the old Chinese dude who beat me the first time¡­ after I knocked out your teeth, if I remember right!¡­ That trick your AI played last time, with hacking my body, was just cheap!¡±

    ¡°Worked didn¡¯t it?¡± I retort, humourlessly ¡°Anyway, we¡¯ve still got the same ¡®old Chinese dude¡¯ and the same AI that beat you last two times, so, I ask again, what makes you think this time¡¯ll be any different!?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡­?¡± he answers, hazily ¡°¡­that¡¯s ¡¯cause this time, I¡¯m in a heavily armed, heavily armored, heavily digitally fortified, UTCM patrol scout ship¡­ and you guys¡­ you¡¯re in a barn door size target! Even if your AI turned all your point defense on me and I just sat here and took it, you wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve even scratched the paint job before I¡¯d reduced you guys to a flaming wreck!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re bluffing!¡± I accuse ¡°You can¡¯t collect your bounty without proof, can you!¡±

    He gives a dark chuckle in answer ¡°Yeeeeah¡­ that bridge¡¯s already burned, I¡¯m afraid¡­ Sucks for you guys!¡­ I¡¯m not here for the bounty¡­ I just want you guys to not exist anymore!"

    ¡°Then why answer the call? Why ain¡¯t you already started bombardin¡¯ us?¡±

    ¡°I just wanted you guys to know who¡¯d taken you out¡­¡± he answers, dispassionately.

    Desperately, I try a last appeal to his Humanity ¡°Stetter¡­ we currently have a hundred people aboard from that planet down there! I am not exaggeratin¡¯ when I say that, if you shoot us down, you will be makin¡¯ hundreds of orphans of their kids!¡±

    ¡°Humans¡­?¡± he asks, idly, clearly already knowing the answer.

    I hesitate before answering ¡°¡­No.¡±

    There¡¯s a pause from the other side of the line ¡°¡­Then they get what they get¡­¡±

    With that, he hangs up.

    3 seconds later, the ship is rocked again by the first salvo striking us.

    ---Ngngomg¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?!¡± demands Viig ¡°Why¡­!?¡±

    ¡°No time to explain!¡± announces Taylor, decisively ¡°Twila! What you got for us?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, Victor! I¡¯m trying to get into his ship¡¯s systems but, at this rate it would take me 200 years! Like he said, the ship¡¯s too heavily armoured for our point defence lasers to be effective! And if we start evacuating¡­¡±

    ¡°He switches to shuttles and escape pods which will take a single hit to destroy.¡± the man surmises ¡°How long do we have to think of something?¡±]

    I stand, drawing every eye, and announce ¡°I¡¯ve thought of something already, CSS¡­¡±

    ---Yakchutt¡¯s perspective---

    I run from the gymnasium after the tall Gollogng man with the R¡¯qali woman riding his shoulder, my two fists balled with my four inside [thumbfingers] folded against my four outside [fingerfingers] with my (relatively) short legs desperately working to allow me to attempt to catch up to him with his long stride and deathworldification augmented muscles.

    He makes it into the Gallery and the R¡¯qali launches herself off his shoulder and begins flying upward immediately as he jinks right.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I should have said something before he left but my mind didn¡¯t allow me to put the pieces together fast enough!

    I jink right after him, cutting the corner to the extent that I bump my shoulder on the doorframe.

    I¡¯m just able to see as he disappears into the cargo bay.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I shout, ineffectually, as the *BOOM* of another salvo striking the ship both swallows my voice and causes me to almost lose my feet!

    My muscles work furiously to try to bring me to him before its too late.

    I finally make it into the hangar and shout ¡°Ambassador!¡±

    He turns to where I stand, frozen midstep up the short ladder to his fighter craft, a quizzical expression adorning his noseless, humanoid face.

    Still sprinting toward him, I ask ¡°Tail gunner?¡±

    He smiles, leans over the console and hits a button.

    At the back of his craft, a door pops open on the side of a plexiglass gunner globe.

    ¡°Get in, [Commadore]¡­¡±

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    The door to my quarters opens, revealing my lifemate consoling my squawking daughter.

    ¡°Tcakqaal, what¡¯s¡­?!¡±

    ¡°No time, Qorak¡­¡± I say, breezing past him ¡°¡­I¡¯m going out there to stop him. If I don¡¯t make it back, I love you and tell our daughter the same!¡±

    ¡°Wait! You¡¯re what!?¡± he asks, as I punch in the passcode on a numberpad labelled with R¡¯qali numerals.

    ¡°I risk my life, or we all die.¡± I answer, simply, as a [1.5m] tall bulkhead slides aside ¡°Don¡¯t try to stop me.¡±

    ¡°Tcakqaal, I¡­¡±

    I turn and wrap my wings around him, pressing my beak against his for as long as I¡¯m willing to spare.

    I rip myself from the embrace and pass through the airlock to the entrance to my fighter.

    Desolately, Qorak simply says ¡°Don¡¯t die, my okla¡­ come back to us.¡±

    I sigh ¡°I¡¯ll try, sweetfruit!¡±

    Then the bulkhead seals and I step through into the cramped cockpit.

    Out of the window, I can see where the Terran military scout is hanging in space, lazily shelling us.

    Each strike causes the shields to fizz, a little more purple each time, indicating that they are growing weaker.

    I activate the comm channel and say ¡°Come in, Wing Commander. This is Tcakqaal. Do you read me? Over.¡±

    ¡°Loud and clear, Captain.¡± returns the Ambassador¡¯s voice ¡°Change of plans; Yakchutt is acting as my tail gunner. Suggest you do not launch until we draw his focus. Once he¡¯s distracted with us I¡¯ll give you the go ahead and you come up behind him to take him by surprise. Over.¡±

    ¡°Acknowledged, Wing Commander. Over and out.¡±

    ¡°Over and out.¡±

    My hearts sink somewhat at the thought that I now just have to hurry up and wait for the next few minutes, watching that monster shell my ship while the former navy men launch and approach him¡­ watching as the shields get weaker and weaker and willing myself not to launch to confront him!

    Anguish twists my features as I look at the barely visible speck from which the ordnance battering my ship¡¯s shields is emanating.

    The man in that vessel¡­ he is a monster, yes¡­ but was he born a monster?

    He supposedly had a [wife] and child once¡­ There was a point in his life where he managed to convince another Human that there was enough good in him that she chose to join her life to his and procreate with him.

    I suppose, for all I know, that she might have been a monster as well, specifically drawn to his monstrousness, but that seems unlikely¡­ if not impossible¡­

    No¡­ I think it¡¯s far more likely that he was a halfway decent man at one point¡­ A halfway decent man the Special Brigade he joined outfitted and trained as a monster, to turn loose on the enemies of Terra, during the War¡­

    Actually¡­ I don¡¯t think I can lay the blame at their feet¡­ certainly not entirely!

    They may have fanned the flames but it was what happened to the man that kindled them!

    And what happened to that man¡­ was entirely the fault of the GU¡­

    We treated his species as monsters and, in so doing, we made him one!

    We made a monster for whom the War has never ended¡­ for whom it can never end!

    We realised our own worst nightmare when we killed that man¡¯s family.

    And, now?¡­ I may not be able to say ¡®I never killed a Terran¡¯ anymore, after today¡­

    I should want to kill him!

    This man who is threatening my livelihood, my ship, my crew, my family!

    I should hate him with a greater ferocity than I hated any Terran starpilot I flew against in the War but¡­ I can bring myself to feel nothing but pity, disgust and remorse, looking at that ship and knowing it contains a walking ghost¡­

    ¡°Mother, Father, Destroyer, Crafter, Titan, Pygmy, Watcher, Orchardist, Warrior, Peacemaker, Lawgiver, Thief, Teacher, Pupil, Scholar, Reveller and Stranger¡­ You know I am not a praying woman but¡­ if you are there¡­ if you are listening and if you can help¡­ I ask that you lend me your grace¡­ I ask that you let us survive¡­ I will not ask that you allow me to kill that man, only¡­ that you allow him to find his Peace at last¡­ that you allow his War to finally end!¡±

    The Bright Plume¡¯s shields fail¡­ we start taking hit¡¯s directly¡­

    It¡¯s agonising¡­ Each one feels not as if it¡¯s striking my ship¡­ but me!

    Then, five explosions engulf the tiny craft, followed by two long (but rapidly shrinking) thin bars of green light, following them.

    The bars shrink then disappear.

    A few [seconds] pass before, on the other side of the dissipating explosions, two more, rapidly lengthening, green laser beams appear, presumably from the tail guns being operated by the Ulat man.

    ¡°He¡¯s swallowed the bait, Captain. Launch now! Over.¡±

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    Just when their shields finally failed and I started to actually do damage, I¡¯m thrown to my right as my scout is struck by a barrage of missiles.

    There¡¯s a roaring I recognise as laser fire coming from first the port then the starboard.

    I check the instruments and see that a single xeno starfighter is responsible.

    ¡°Alright¡­ You wanna challenge a Terran to a dogfight(!)¡± I sneer.

    I¡¯ll have time to finish the big fish once I take care of the small fry.

    The ship dives into the atmosphere of the planet below where they¡¯ll be making a nice shooting star of themselves, to anyone down there looking up(!)

    What they¡¯re also doing, though, is making themselves a beacon to all my targeting!

    They¡¯re so bright they¡¯re actually blinding my sensors as I follow them(!)

    Idiots!

    Useless bolts of laser streak past me from the tail gunner.

    The craft is very obviously flown by a gardenworlder!

    He¡¯s pulling evasive maneuvers but¡­ they¡¯re very¡­ technical(!)

    None of that spur-of-the-moment inspiration or instinct that defines real pilots¡­ Human pilots!

    I launch a homing missile and, to they¡¯re credit, someone aboard does react quick enough to deploy chaff!

    ¡°You think you¡¯re being clever but you¡¯re nooooot!¡± I sing ¡°All you¡¯re doing is volunteering to be the first ones to di-*OOF*!¡±

    Even though I don¡¯t have lungs anymore, I grunt as an explosion rocks my ship from behind!

    Alarms blare from all my equipment as I uselessly tug at the yoke, trying in vain to raise myself from the planetward nosedive I¡¯m in.

    At the speed I¡¯m going, I¡¯ve not got long to contemplate my fate as I careen down to the desert continent below.

    ¡°They beat me¡­ AGAIN!¡± I roar, disgusted at them and with myself!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.149

    ---Aftermath---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    Twila puts the Swift Claw down in the whipping, sunbaked sand.

    Stealth not exactly being an option with our means of approach and necessity of armament type, I stride off the ship, lit falchion roaring in my right hand.

    By my sides are Tuun and Thran, five ignited plasmaweapons held in their six hands.

    At our flanks are Xon and Samus, their respective assault rifles angled in front of us, the lefthanded blonde at our left, the righthanded Tshwane at our right.

    Even from here, I can see that we probably came here for nothing¡­

    The door to the crashed ship is ripped open and there¡¯s not exactly many places to hide in there¡­

    Regardless, we sweep up the length of the craft with me taking point, Samus and Xon waiting outside with their firearms pointing in.

    I sign a ¡®stop¡¯ then a ¡®back up slightly¡¯ to Tuun and Thran, turning to a cupboard sized lav (meant for crew who still have working bowels and bladders.)

    The handle is on the right of the door and it¡¯s inward opening.

    Slowly, I reach my left hand out, lining up the point of my sword at chest height, and throw the door open to reveal¡­ a toilet and a sink with a showerhead built into the ceiling¡­ No murderous cyborgs¡­

    ¡°Clear.¡± I announce, bitterly, extinguishing my weapon and turning to stride back off the ship.

    I won¡¯t lie, I was really hoping Cap had got him¡­ really hoping that what we¡¯d find¡¯d be an inert body with an expired brain (completely beyond saving) in it!

    I didn¡¯t want to have to put him down like the mad dog he is¡­ but I was prepared to if he gave me no choice, which I know he wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve!

    ¡°What now?¡± asks Samus ¡°Try and track him down in the desert?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± I sigh ¡°¡­the headstart we was forced to give him, the lack of any useful sensors on the Claw and just how much area we¡¯d have to cover gives an unacceptably low chance of finding him by searchin¡¯ with a 1¡Á zoom¡­¡± I point to my eye ¡°¡­even from the air¡­ When we get the Bright Plume back in action, we¡¯ll track him down with her sensors¡­ Till then, we just need to stay vigilant for him.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like it any more than you do.¡± I state, bluntly, as we step back onto the Swift Claw.

    Samus scowls.

    Tuun, playing the optimist, says ¡°Well¡­ he¡¯s probably not going to make it out of this desert before then¡­ right? We¡¯re more than 5,000km away from the compound and the capital aren¡¯t we! Almost as far down the peninsula as it¡¯s possible to get! He¡¯ll never find his way through all this!¡±

    I¡¯m about to open my mouth to say something like ¡®Sure, babe, but we should stay vigilant anyway¡¯ when Thran speaks.

    Demonstrating a capacity for practical numerical and spatial reasoning, far in advance of anything I could manage, and a lack of tact that¡¯s truly staggering, she calculates ¡°Not necessarily¡­ he knows he crashed on a planet with a habitable zone so he knows he has to go North or South to find it. This planet has a magnetic field and he¡¯ll definitely have a compass. Even if one wasn¡¯t built into his body (which there will be) there would have been one on that ship¡­ If he went South, he¡¯s already hit the coast by now and either turned around or, more likely, begun to follow it. If we assume a relatively conservative running speed of 25km/h, 5,000km would only take him around 200hrs. He still needs to sleep but he doesn¡¯t need to stop for anything else with a cybernetic body, so we could assume it might take him 300hrs, 12.5 Earth days or a little over 11 local days, to reach where scrub gives way to forest, where we are.¡±

    There¡¯s a silence as we absorb the relatively bleak calculation Thran¡¯s just made.

    I can find no fault with it¡­

    Only going to take him 11 local days to clear an area of desert the best part of the size of Australia, if he beelines it North!

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Twila.¡±

    ¡°Yes, CSS?¡±

    ¡°Take us back to the compound¡­ but go by the peninsula¡¯s West coast and fly low and slow enough for visual ID of a Human sized object.¡±

    ¡°Yes, CSS.¡±

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    Using Victor¡¯s shoulder to gain the necessary height to see and be seen by the portion of my crew in front of me, in the main hall of the ambassadorial habitat where they were forced to sleep last night, I stand on the stage, steeling my nerves.

    Victor offered to break the news for me but¡­ these people are my crew¡­ a Captain who¡¯s wings are too tremorous to have this talk herself without hiding behind her Terran right hand man is unfit as a Captain, in my view!

    ¡°I don¡¯t have to tell you that the Bright Plume is currently uninhabitable¡­ In the [34 seconds] that we were without power to our shields we sustained enough structural damage to completely lose both main power and, by now, we will have lost almost the entirety of our atmosphere¡­ I thank the Seventeen that there were no casualties!¡­ Right now, anyone with engineering or maintenance expertise is up there, both to assess the damage and to accomplish the removal of the hydroponic module and adjacent carnogenic laboratory (which Twila had the foresight to seal and pressurise before transferring her consciousness to her droid for evacuation) to be brought here to the compound for ease of access¡­ Preliminary estimates for the repair and repressurisation time place it at¡­ approximately¡­ [4 months].¡±

    A gasp of horror passes around the room at the thought of such a long time stranded on a deathworld.

    ¡°I understand that this is upsetting to hear, especially with the news that our attacker is still at large. Please rest assured that you are safe as long as you remain on this compound! Here, we are defended from the worst calibres of threat this world has to offer!¡±

    That reassures them slightly but they¡¯re clearly still not happy with the predicament.

    ¡°I know it is, nonetheless, upsetting to imagine spending so long in the conditions you endured since yesterday and, I shan¡¯t lie, our resources other than space would also be taxed by so many more than expected inhabiting the ambassadorial habitat¡­ Therefore, I am offering you an alternative.¡±

    I recapture their attention with that and the muttering ceases.

    ¡°In order to ease the overcrowding¡­ the escape pods you arrived in have been gathered together here, in the compound¡­ they are equipped with capacity for stasis¡­ I am asking all of you to enter them¡­ and undergo stasis until the ship repairs can be completed¡­¡±

    Stunned silence.

    ¡°I cannot force any of you to agree to this and I need to reassure you that none of you will forfeit any portion of your salary for this period! You will still receive all the pay you would have if you weren¡¯t a nonevent mass with a quantum probability of zero! I also want to reassure you that, though you have all been determined to be nonessential workers in the current circumstance, I value you no less as my crew! Your choice is simply to spend the next few [months] suffering anxiety over the deathworld conditions that surround us, consuming limited planetside resources and having nothing to do in an overcrowded habitat¡­ or to skip all of that and allow yourselves to be revived when it is possible for us to reoccupy our ship¡­ What say you?¡±

    ---Ro¡¯oo¡¯u¡¯ouu¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s only been a [day and a half] between when I was sealed into the depowered hydroponicum and now, as the tiny, spacesuited people are ¡®rescuing¡¯ me, to bring me down to the planet inside this portion of the inert ship that they need to make their food.

    I don¡¯t really know why the computer woman was so agitated in her apologies to me¡­

    I barely had any time to fret about it¡­(!)

    ---Qorak¡¯s perspective---

    The neat, orderly rows of escape pods, lined up in a previously unused part of the compound, look a little ominously reminiscent of Terran tombstones as I walk towards them with my child in my wings.

    Once reassured of their safety, most offered it chose to take the stasis.

    If not for Tcakak, I would have chosen to stay awake with Tcakqaal but¡­ I can¡¯t do that to my daughter¡­ she can¡¯t be subjected to [4 months] or more of stranding on a deathworld at such a tender age and I can¡¯t bare the thought of her undergoing stasis without me¡­ having to spend every day of that time knowing where she is and knowing that I can¡¯t hold her, care for her, comfort her¡­ even knowing that she¡¯s not aware of the time passing¡­

    Tcakqaal also brought up the very practical concern that, if both of us stayed out of stasis and went so long without feeding her, both our productions of cropmilk would dry up and we would be forced to switch her to formula.

    As time won¡¯t be passing for me, my production will remain as it is.

    The others assigned to the same pod as me file in first.

    I turn to my lifemate and desperately nuzzle my beak against hers in a tender goodbye.

    She returns it but chitters ¡°You¡¯re going to feel a little silly in a few subjective moments, when you have to say ¡®hello¡¯ to me again(!)¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­ but you have [months] to go before you can see me, in the normal flow of time, again¡­ I would feel terrible if I hadn¡¯t given you a proper goodbye before that!¡±

    ¡°Very thoughtful of you, sweetfruit.¡± she concedes.

    ¡°I love you, Tcakqaal.¡± I say, meaning it with all my hearts.

    ¡°I love you too, Qorak.¡± she answers as the door slides shut between us.

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    I run North through the endless sand.

    It¡¯s so fine that, if I had any mental energy left to think about it, I¡¯d be concerned about it working its way into my joints.

    I don¡¯t have lungs, I don¡¯t have muscles, I don¡¯t have blood, a stomach, bones, bowels, bladder or any other weaknesses of the flesh¡­ except my fleshy brain, demanding sleep!

    I just need to get North¡­ once I¡¯m there, I can find some locals and make them tell me where those treacherous trash are!

    If the natives of this planet are like most other gardenworlders I¡¯ve met, it shouldn¡¯t be hard¡­ They¡¯ll probably piss their pants at the sight of me!

    And seems like they¡¯ve not even cracked radiowaves yet, from the lack of signals I¡¯m picking up here.

    They¡¯ll probably think I¡¯m some angry god(!)

    I just need to get North.

    I¡¯ll stop for sleep only when I absolutely have to!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.150

    ---Signatures---

    ---Viig¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Representative¡­!¡± calls the deep, guttural, translated voice of a woman I¡¯ve heard rumbling up the road behind me for a few minutes now¡­ a woman I once murdered without a second thought before¡­ or a hint of guilt after.

    I turn to her and curtly acknowledge ¡°Representative.¡±

    We may be at peace now (or at least we¡¯ve negotiated a peace) but that does not mean I have to like her¡­ This woman who led the band that took Pod from me¡­ [sister] of the one that the foot dagger I wear on the hip came from.

    I will continue to wear it on the hip until I get the [durasteel] replacement, promised by the Terrans, as a solution to that sticking point; what to do about all the bloodmetal we¡¯ve ¡®[stolen]¡¯.

    ¡°A fine day, isn¡¯t it!¡± she says, seeming completely oblivious to the seethe I¡¯m directing at her.

    ¡°It¡¯s a little hot, I feel¡­ Perhaps you would find the weather more agreeable in the Southern desert you Vrakhand invaded these lands from¡­¡±

    Enthusiastically, she agrees ¡°Yes! I certainly hope to see it some day, after it¡¯s been restored to its former glory by the [terraforming]!¡±

    I give a mirthless puff.

    I don¡¯t know whether she¡¯s genuinely too stupid to realise how much I despise her¡­ or if she¡¯s simply very good at playing dumb.

    The edge of Gob Hollow comes into view, lined with an animal repelling fence.

    As me and the Monster woman step through the open gates, attention snaps right to a new structure¡­ or series of structures¡­

    One of them is a building nearly as tall as the [embassy], longer but narrower.

    It has plants inside, that I can see through the clear roof, but they¡¯re strange in their colour¡­ most being green at least but a brighter green than almost any plant I know.

    The rest are many, smooth, rounded and metallic, each one is about six Twiggs tall and about the same width.

    ¡°What the hell are those?!¡± I mutter to myself.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know? I thought the Twigg delegation were living here at the embassy?¡± asks the large woman behind me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t, do I!¡± I chuff, irritated ¡°I¡¯d hope you¡¯d recognise me as local¡­ or do we all look the same to you(?)¡±

    ¡°I apologise.¡± she says, her tone neutral ¡°I¡¯ve heard that, because their ship is filled with space right now and can¡¯t be lived in, most of the crew have been frozen in time in the [escape pods] to prevent overcrowding¡­ I¡¯m assuming these are they.¡± gesturing at the weird balls.

    ¡°Frozen in time?¡± I ask, incredulously.

    ¡°Yes¡­ they can freeze time the way that cold freezes water, it seems!¡­ But [Weaver] help us if we suggest it to be ¡®magic¡¯(!)¡±

    Before I can stop myself, I let out a breathy chuckle.

    It seems like incredulity at all of the magics these magicians insist aren¡¯t magic is at least something Twigg and Vrakhand have in common!

    Hoping to leave her behind, I turn and begin walking to the [escape pods] to get a closer look.

    Annoyingly, I hear the heavy thuds of knifefeet, stabbing into the ground behind me as I walk.

    Just as she said, every one of the pods is filled with Stranger creatures¡­ all standing stiller than death¡­

    ¡°Creepy¡­¡± I say, looking through the clear wall at one of those winged people with the four eyes and the strange shiny rainbow stuff on the body, that¡¯s light like fur, but arranged more like scales¡­ He holds a child of the same kind but she¡¯s covered in fluff, much more like fur, only having the long scaley kind on her wings.

    I look to see if I can see them breathing, twitching or any other sign that they¡¯re alive in there¡­ I see none.

    I suppose I wouldn¡¯t¡­

    Then a thought occurs to me¡­

    ¡°How can we see them?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± asks the large woman behind me.

    ¡°If time is frozen in there¡­ how is the light getting in and out to let us see them?¡± I ask, unsure exactly why I¡¯m asking her when I know she won¡¯t know any better than me.

    ¡°What are you talking about? What does light have to do with time?¡± she asks, stupidly.

    ¡°If light didn¡¯t have anything to do with time, it would be as bright at night as it is in the day, right¡­? If light didn¡¯t have anything to do with time, things would only ever need to be lit once to be visible forever¡­¡±

    ¡°Very astute!¡± comes a friendly, translated Terran voice from behind us.

    I turn to look and see Miyazaki walking towards us, wearing a smile.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, Viig¡­ Light has a speed and, thus, isn¡¯t able to move through a stasis field where time doesn¡¯t exist. In fact, if it were, it would be very dangerous to spend more than a few hours of sunlight in there with plexiglass doors like these¡­ when time restarted you would subjectively experience all the sunlight that would have hit you at once and it would likely blind you, if it didn¡¯t cook your flesh!¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ how can we see them?¡± I ask, quizzically.

    Another smile ¡°I¡¯m not a physicist or a temporal engineer so I won¡¯t be able to give you very much detail but, the short answer; you can¡¯t¡­ What you can see is just a three dimensional after image of what they looked like when they were frozen.¡±

    I shake the head in a Terran ¡®no¡¯ and say ¡°I don¡¯t get it¡­¡±

    She nods a considerate ¡®yes¡¯ and says ¡°How about a demonstration? If you put your head there¡­¡± she points to the left side of the clear bowl ¡°¡­and look that way¡­¡± she indicates right ¡°¡­you feel like you can see through the stasis field to the other side through the plexiglass, right?¡±

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    I have a look at the slice of the compound I¡¯m able to see.

    ¡°Yuh-huh¡­¡± I confirm, hesitantly.

    ¡°But¡­ see what happens when I put my hand on the other side¡­¡± she extends a right arm to the other side of the plexiglass¡­ and it vanishes!

    Wide eyed, I ask ¡°Where¡¯d it go?!¡±

    She pulls it back, revealing it to still be attached to her, wiggling the fingers to demonstrate no harm done ¡°Still right here¡­ you just can¡¯t see it on the other side because it wasn¡¯t there when the field was activated¡­ The field can¡¯t show you what is (because, from its perspective, nothing is! Time does not exist!), it can only show you what was!¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ I still don¡¯t really understand how that works¡­¡± I admit.

    She shrugs ¡°Neither do I, really¡­ Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey¡­ stuff¡­¡±

    ¡°Fair enough¡­¡± I shrug back before turning to walk towards the [embassy], the other two following me.

    As we pass by the new building with the plants inside it, the door opens and I freeze¡­

    The door is more than five Twigg tall but the thing coming out is so enormous it¡¯s having to crawl!

    A woody hand (larger than I am!) reaches out and plants itself into the dirt.

    The petrifyingly massive being pulls itself fully outside and slowly draws up to standing.

    It¡¯s¡­ a Tree¡­ a moving Tree with arms and legs but a Tree!

    TEN of me tall, it towers over the building it just emerged from, the embassy building and the three of us stood watching it.

    A clack of wood sounds from the foot of Miyazaki as she steps forward and says ¡°Mr Ro¡¯oo¡¯u¡¯ouu¡­ It¡¯s good to see you¡­ Are you comfortable in the hydroponicum?¡­ Do you need anything?¡­¡± leaving long gaps between her sentences for some reason.

    The Tree man turns a woody face down on us, causing both me and the Monster woman to flinch.

    He studies Miyazaki for some moments before groaning ¡°Nooooooo¡­ complaaaaaaaaints¡­¡­¡­ Juuuuuuuust¡­ waaaaaaaanted¡­ theeeeeeee¡­ freeeeeeeeesh¡­ aaaaaaaaair¡­ aaaaaaaaaaand¡­ suuuuuuuuuuuun¡­ ooooooon¡­ myyyyyyyyyy¡­ leeeeeeeaves¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright, Sir¡­ That¡¯s fine¡­ Just don¡¯t leave the compound¡­ and don¡¯t stay in the sun too long¡­ Your leaves might bleach¡­ It would be dangerous¡­¡± answers Miyazaki, the clear comfort with the Colossus putting me at ease slightly.

    ¡°IIIIIIIIII¡­ understaaaaaaaaaaand¡­ Thaaaaaaaaank¡­ yooooooooou¡­ fooooooor¡­ yoooooour¡­ conceeeeeeeeern¡­ Miyazaaaaaaaaaaaki¡­¡± creaks the Tree man.

    He raises a leg and strides away slowly.

    I breathe a sigh of relief once he¡¯s gone.

    Miyazaki smirks down at me, amused, and says ¡°Sorry for your scare there, girls! Grauntians may look frightening on account of there imposing stature and bulk but they¡¯re very mellow, very gentle and very fragile¡­ nothing for you to be afraid of¡­ Well¡­ just so long as you make sure he doesn¡¯t accidentally step on you, Viig¡­(!)¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I want to be accidentally stepped on by him either!¡­ Why did you only address that to her¡­?¡± interjects the Monster woman.

    Miyazaki turns the amused smirk on the Vrakhand and answers ¡°Because for you, Khr¡¯kowan, while it wouldn¡¯t be a pleasant experience, it would be an easily survivable one!¡­ For all his volume, he¡¯s actually lighter than you are! If his foot and your carapace try to occupy the same space, his foot looses, even with the weight of his body on top of it!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s so light?¡± I ask, looking at where the massive man stands in the sun on the far side of the compound.

    ¡°Yes¡­ He¡¯s a paradiseworlder¡­ gravity on his home planet is a eighth what it is here¡­ There, he doesn¡¯t need density to support his weight¡­ Here, he needs artificially light gravity to keep from being crushed¡­¡±

    ¡°What¡­ is his role?¡± asks the Monster woman.

    ¡°He¡¯s here to study your plant life, along with Drs Zunberi and Mink.¡± answers Miyazaki, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

    ¡°You brought him here¡­ to study plants?!¡±

    Another shrug ¡°Yes, well, we wanted the best and, when it comes to plants, that¡¯s him¡­ Shall we go inside now?¡±

    Miyazaki leads the way through the large entrance chamber and down a hall to an [office].

    Inside are the two [ambassadors], the tall, blue skinned one with thumbs on the wrong sides of the hand and one too many fingers on each (who, after the Tree man, I can¡¯t think of as a Giant anymore(!)) and, beside him, the [wife] who he manages to make look small, despite her still being twice the height of me!

    ¡°Representatives!¡± greets the woman, warmly, standing up ¡°Thank you so much for being here! I must apologise again for the interruption to the other day¡¯s peace talks and for leading such a dangerous individual to your planet, even unintentionally.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to apologise for the actions of a male [killing] [criminal], Ambassador!¡­¡± says the Monster woman, seating herself on a mat on the floor.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why you think it¡¯s so much worse to kill a man than a woman, Representative¡­¡± I observe, coolly.

    She turns to me and I see anger flash in her eyes for the first time in a while.

    ¡°It is a woman¡¯s place to die for her family and her realm if that is what is required of her!¡± she spits back ¡°While not desirable, a woman¡¯s death is understandable! To kill a man is simply wanton! To kill a leader is to deprive his people of his wisdom! To kill a father is to deprive his children of their upbringing! I know it doesn¡¯t work the same way for Terrans but, nevertheless, when this Stetter criminal murdered our late fellow Representative from the Terran Coalition (and in cold blood no less), he became irredeemable in my view!¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ Would have been nice if you¡¯d let her know you felt that way before she murdered Pod [in cold blood](!)¡± I sneer, tapping the foot dagger at the hip.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­!¡± starts the Monster woman.

    ¡°Ladies! Please don¡¯t fight! You¡¯ll have plenty of time to learn to tolerate eachother once the ship is repaired and we¡¯re on the way to Citadel!¡­ Right now, we have business to attend to as a matter of some urgency¡­¡± chides Miyazaki, sounding genuinely stern for the first time I¡¯ve ever heard.

    ¡°Alright¡­ Tell us your business then?¡± I ask, secretly a little grateful she intervened there¡­

    ¡°Well, for a start¡­¡± says Ong in a deep, nasal voice, lifting a stack of paper onto the table ¡°¡­we¡¯ve made some wanted posters for Stetter¡­ we would like you two to hand them out to your respective communities so that everyone knows what he looks like, knows how incredibly dangerous he is and to stay away from him if at all possible! These¡­¡± he separates part of the stack, handing me the smaller part of it. The picture on the top is of a horrific looking man with what looks like a black, metal, Human skull for a head (I don¡¯t really think anyone needs to be warned not to go near someone who looks like the Spirit of death(!)) ¡°¡­are for Rep. Viig to pass around the Southern villages with an oral explanation of who this man is, how dangerous he is and that on NO account should anyone approach him! This¡­¡± he pushes the much larger stack towards the much larger woman from the much larger village ¡°¡­is a stack of his photos with all the relevant information written in Vrakhandic script, though it may need to be read out to those of your realm who aren¡¯t literate¡­ Mr Stetter¡¯s whereabouts are currently unknown but we estimate it could take him as little as 10 more local days to reach here from where he crashed, so we ask that you distribute these as widely as you can as soon as possible. Any objections?¡±

    The Monster woman and I look at eachother before, in unison, saying ¡°Not from me.¡±

    ¡°Good!¡± smiles Yeshe ¡°Now¡­ for our next order of business¡­¡±

    She pulls out three more stacks of paper, these ones I recognise.

    She takes out a cylinder of charcoal and a hand sized pad of wet dye.

    ¡°¡­we would like to film you signing these¡­ In a perfect world, you would have signed them up on the ship immediately after they were drafted and in front of your delegations but, in lieu of that, this will have to do¡­ Are there any objections?¡±

    I look at the Monster woman to the right of me and think about objecting¡­ but I can¡¯t think on what grounds I could!

    Much as I might hate this woman and her kind, this treaty is what we agreed¡­ I don¡¯t consider a handprint on a piece of paper to be the difference between an agreement I have to keep and one I don¡¯t, so it shouldn¡¯t matter to me¡­

    I already dyed the hand once to give the [signature]¡­

    This time shouldn¡¯t be different.

    ¡°No objection.¡± I answer, finally.

    ¡°No objection.¡± answers the Monster woman (who better not think this makes us friends!)

    I pull the pad towards me and press the palm into it.

    The hand comes away wet and Yeshe opens the first of the contracts to the page, where you can still see a droplet of green and a small scratch of charcoal from a few days ago.

    ¡°Three¡­¡± says the Monster woman, approaching the page with the charcoal.

    What¡¯s she doing?

    ¡°Two¡­¡±

    She¡¯s counting down! She¡¯s not giving herself or me a chance to hesitate!

    ¡°One!¡±

    In the same instant, the charcoal and the palm swoop down to the page, binding a peace with the press of a palm and a few scratches of a nib¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.151

    ---Meatspace---

    ---Jennie¡¯s perspective---

    I walk across the habitat¡¯s entrance hall to where I see an enormous black and blue furred predator coiled lazily, on the ground, around a humanoid body I spent months building.

    The girl has a miserable expression on her face.

    I smile down at my daughter as I approach but she doesn¡¯t seem to notice me until I plonk myself into the space directly beside her, my back against Fluffy¡¯s ribcage, her midlimbs on my left.

    Twila starts and turns to me, obviously forcing a smile.

    ¡°Hey, babes¡­ You doing alright?¡± I ask, kindly.

    ¡°Yeah, Mum¡­ I¡¯m fine¡­¡± she says, breathlessly (not that she has any lungs to have breath in(!))

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ That¡¯s interesting.¡± I smirk.

    ¡°What is?¡± she asks, trying and failing to seem interested.

    ¡°Well¡­ I know I lie better than that¡­ Seems like you didn¡¯t inherit that from me(!)¡±

    White, elastomer eyelids close over her luminous blue eyes as she gives a humourless chuckle.

    ¡°Alright¡­ so what¡¯s up really?¡± I smile, leaning my right shoulder into her left, encouragingly.

    She doesn¡¯t answer right away, just looking down at her crossed legs while the fingers of her right hand work through the thick fur between Fluffy¡¯s ears and she gathers her thoughts.

    ¡°It¡¯s meatspace¡­¡± she says finally, confirming my suspicion.

    ¡°You don¡¯t like it?¡± I ask, my voice judgement free.

    ¡°I like it just fine¡­ when I have dataspace waiting for me to return to but¡­ It¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ it¡¯s sort of¡­ It¡¯s like a Human being trapped at the bottom of the ocean for me! It¡¯s a horrid combination of claustrophobia (for how little I can do and sense) and agoraphobia (for what might be obscured by that lack of sense)!¡­ That awful feeling of being completely out of your element somewhere that¡¯s utterly hostile to your existence and there¡¯s nothing you can do about it!"

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I nod ¡°¡­Why didn¡¯t you say anything?¡±

    She grimaces without looking at me ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ Like, yeah, I¡¯m uncomfy but¡­ I know I¡¯m not the only one! I know everyone else is too!¡­ I know we have bigger things to worry about with Stetter still out there and potentially rapidly approaching our location(!)¡­ Just ¡®Hey, everyone! I¡¯m feeling bad so give me all your attention!¡¯ wouldn¡¯t feel right¡­ Plus¡­ you know¡­ feels a little ungrateful to you¡­¡±

    ¡°Ungrateful?¡± I ask, very confused.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ you know!¡± she holds her arms out in front of her ¡°You worked so hard on this body for me and, now I¡¯m mostly stuck in it, I¡¯m unhappy! I¡¯d hate for you to think I didn¡¯t appreciate it. I definitely prefer this way to the idea of simply being turned off for this time!¡±

    I laugh.

    Maybe not the most reassuring thing I could do right now but I can¡¯t help it.

    ¡°I¡¯m not offended, Twila!¡± I smile ¡°You¡¯ve spent every moment of your existence with an entire ship¡¯s worth of dataspace to wander around! Not only could I not make you a body that would feel immediately comfortable after that experience, nobody could! It can¡¯t be done! It¡¯s very sweet that you were thinking of me and my feelings while metaphorically ¡®trapped at the bottom of the ocean of meatspace¡¯ but it wasn¡¯t necessary, sweetie!¡­ What about the dataspace in the habitat?¡± I gesture around ¡°Is that any help?¡±

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    She pouts and shakes her head ¡°Not really, no¡­ It¡¯s difficult to relate in meatspace concepts but¡­ it¡¯s¡­ cramped for a start and¡­ cold¡­ not very pleasant to be in and, because it¡¯s not mine I don¡¯t feel able to make the adjustments to it that would make it feel any homier¡­ The Claw is better¡­ it feels like a piece of home at least but¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not enough?¡± I suggest.

    She shakes her head, wordlessly.

    There are a few moments of silence.

    Then, Twila speaks ¡°And then there¡¯s Stetter of course¡­¡±

    ¡°What about Stetter?¡± I frown.

    She makes a puffing sound and elaborates ¡°Him being down here¡­ knowing that my fear of what I can¡¯t sense is not unfounded because, somewhere out there in that murk, there¡¯s a predator who wants nothing more than to kill me and everyone I care about!¡­ A predator who¡¯s already succeeded in reducing me to a state where I wouldn¡¯t be able to do a thing about it! I only won against him before because I had command of enormous digital capital¡­ I couldn¡¯t hack his body like this¡­ If he was standing in front of me there¡¯d be nothing I could do except get torn apart!¡±

    ¡°Fighting Stetter isn¡¯t your job, Twila!¡± I smile, sombrely ¡°We¡¯ve made plasmaswords for Leon and Ziva and a plasmastaff for Yu¨¢n¡­ As soon as one of the Twigg villages or Vrakhand realms comm us to let us know they¡¯ve spotted him, they¡¯re gonna go with Cuddles, Hildy, Tuun, Xon and Thran to deal with him. Given that Yu¨¢n fought him off, alone and unarmed, the first time, I like their chances of not even getting a scratch when they deal with him all together! You know they¡¯ll try to bring him in alive but I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to come quietly¡­ they¡¯ll probably have to kill him or at least dismember him and¡­ even if he does come quietly, we can throw him in stasis and breathe easy afterwards. If he tries to come here, you¡¯ll see him coming from miles away with all the sensors we¡¯ve put up in the surrounding forests, won¡¯t you?¡±

    Unhappily she observes ¡°Yes¡­ but¡­ that won¡¯t do any good if he comes when all of the fighters are hundreds of kilometres away investigating a false sighting.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually a fantastic point¡­ I¡¯ll bring it up with them, see if we can¡¯t work out a system where we aren¡¯t undefended here while they¡¯re out.¡± I concede.

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± she makes a sighing sound, frustratedly ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know¡­ It feels so unfair! You know?¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± I nod.

    ¡°We¡¯ve done nothing except successfully defend ourselves and every time he comes back he wants to kill us even more! He says he doesn¡¯t even want the bounty anymore¡­ he just wants us dead! How does that make any sense!¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t¡­¡± I acknowledge ¡°¡­he¡¯s not acting rationally¡­ For as much as we Humans try to be more, the fact is we¡¯re still animals and still deathworlders¡­ For as much as it doesn¡¯t seem like it, only a few thousand years separate us from ancestors who hadn¡¯t started playing the game of civilisation. For as excellent as we try to be to eachother, we¡¯re always going to be the children of a world where hatred, spite and malice were necessary adaptations. Stetter is just acting them out to a maladaptive extreme¡­ we¡¯re simply the ones having to deal with it. It¡¯s not fair, it¡¯s not just, it doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    She gives no answer but a miserable pout, still scritching Fluffy¡¯s head.

    I look at the woman whose mind and body were both created from and by my mind and hands.

    I place a hand on top of her head and stroke the rose gold wires that compose her hair.

    ¡°Tell you what¡­ why don¡¯t I talk to Kwijjy and Toothless? See if they¡¯re happy for me to move from structural integrity to the reactor core?¡±

    She frowns forlornly back and asks ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that make it take longer until the ship is inhabitable to everyone else though?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. We¡¯re going to need power back before we can move them back in anyway and, once we¡¯re sure we can turn it on without it blowing up the ship, you can come back aboard and help us with the rest of the repairs!¡­ I think it might actually be faster this way.¡±

    A hopeful smile breaks over her face as she says ¡°Alright then¡­ Thank you, Mum¡­¡± sincerely.

    I smile back ¡°Don¡¯t get too excited¡­ It¡¯ll still be a while. Reactor cores are not simple!¡±

    She shakes her head and says ¡°Regardless¡­ thank you.¡±

    I nod at her and beam before adding ¡°After Stetter¡¯s taken care of¡­ why don¡¯t you try going for a walk around? Accompanied, obviously¡­ I¡¯m sure Hildy would be happy to take you and I could come too?¡­ It might help to put your mind at ease¡­ and give you a taste of how us fleshies have to live(!)¡±

    She giggles before saying ¡°That sounds nice, Mum.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.152

    ---River---

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    I crest what feels like the 10,000th goddamn sand dune I¡¯ve had to climb so far and see something I¡¯ve not seen since I crashed on this planet.

    Water¡­ fresh water¡­

    Not that I need to drink anymore but it still a sight to see after so long of nothing but bone dry sand and rock!

    Although¡­ something makes me a little uneasy about the murky waters of that wide, slow moving crick down there¡­

    I hear the puff produced by my artificial voicebox as I decide that no goddamn gardenworld arroyo is going to scare the galaxy¡¯s finest killer and begin skidding down the sandy slope.

    I hit level ground and start stalking towards the river¡¯s edge, warily¡­

    I look out at the 30ft wide channel, my toeclaws about a foot from the water.

    My mind is telling me to just keep walking forward but¡­ something roots me to the spot.

    Just to put myself at ease, I polarize my vision, cutting down on glare, and narrow my register to light blue through yellow, the colors water is most transparent to, cutting out the deep blue through violet and orange through red ends of the spectrum.

    Immediately, a shape reveals itself.

    About 15ft long, 16 inches wide and maybe a foot below the surface, there¡¯s an object drifting lazily towards me with the current.

    A log, maybe?

    Seems unlikely with the total of 0 trees I¡¯ve seen so far on this planet!

    I can¡¯t think what else it¡­

    At that moment the shape rockets forward and breaks the surface of the water!

    I get the briefest glimpse of an unholy 3 way mashup of a gator, a boa constrictor and an aquatic centipede before a pair of sturdy jaws clamp around my neck and my entire body is wrapped in the coils of the thing¡¯s body!

    I fall forward into the water and the thing quickly drags me under.

    The noise its solid alligator jaws make as they grind along the outside of my durasteel armor (vainly searching for exposed flesh it¡¯s not gonna find) is fucking ear splitting, even dampened by being underwater!

    My arms are crushed into my sides by its, surprisingly strong, snakelike folds.

    I try to raise them laterally and succeed in surprising the gardenworld predator by managing to pull its coils about 6 inches wider out.

    It quickly intensifies its overpowering constriction, forcing my arms back into my sides.

    Rylan must¡¯ve fucked up the reinstallation somehow!¡­ I should not be having this much trouble overpowering a goddamn gardenworld animal!

    Are there limiters he forgot to disable or something?

    I fight harder to free myself from this thing¡¯s grip as we lay on the riverbed together.

    Clearly not used to prey fighting back this much or being exactly this unbothered by being deprived of oxygen, the thing panics and decides to add one more coil around me.

    Unfortunately for it, it chooses to put that around my shoulders¡­ bringing its closest body segment right where my Adam¡¯s apple used to be.

    I part my old teeth, revealing the razor sharp durasteel triangles that sit behind, bringing my mouth about 8 inches wide.

    I lunge forward and plunge the metal fangs through the tough armor, immediately staining the water a bright neon blue around my face.

    I hear the animal vocalize for the first time as it yelps in pain.

    Its body uncoils from me and it manages to thrash itself free of my jaws, knocking out two of my Human teeth when it does.

    It darts for freedom but the claws of my right hand sink between the armor of two of its body segments.

    ¡°Not so fast! Don¡¯t start shit you can¡¯t finish!!!¡± I snarl as I stand up, keeping my grip on the animal that¡¯s desperately trying to swim away but can¡¯t overcome the sheer weight holding it back with its tail¡¯s movement constrained by my arm.

    My feet sink into the silt as I walk towards the far shore, dragging the thing along behind me, my 650lb body barely any more buoyant in water than it is in air!

    My head breaks the surface and I climb the bank, still gripping the joint just above the centigator-constrictor¡¯s vertically fluked fish tail.

    Its thrashing gets more and more desperate as it feels me pulling it out of the water.

    I put a good 20ft between me and the edge before I swing it around me and throw it away from the stream it just failed to drown me in, hard enough that I¡¯m surprised I didn¡¯t rip its tail off with the centrifugal force!

    It rears up and turns to face me and I get a good look at it for the first time.

    It¡¯s a muddy brown color.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    It¡¯s got four eyes aligned on each side of its head.

    Its mouth is a bit more beaky than I thought before.

    Its two dozen centipede legs are flattened into flippers.

    The bitemark I left is still gushing cyan blood but it doesn¡¯t seem too broken up about it(!)

    It hisses at me as I make it very clear that, if it wants to get back to its element, its gonna have to beat me in mine!

    It streaks for me with its jaws open.

    My right hand wraps around its top jaw and my left around its bottom.

    I swing its head down and to my left where a sturdy river rock sticks out of the sand.

    Its skull does not explode from the first impact but it¡¯s concussed enough to allow me to shift my grip and reposition my body so that I¡¯m standing over it, able to bring my weight to bear.

    I slam its head into the rock with all the force that my body¡¯s actuators can render and, this time, I hear the *crack* of its skull fracturing.

    I keep smashing it against the stone (which gets bluer and bluer with every impact) until I see its long body go limp¡­ then about five more times¡­ just to be sure!

    I toss it to the ground and roar ¡°YEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!¡­ THAT¡¯S what HAPPENS! That¡¯s what you get when you mess with HUMANITY!!! THAT¡¯S what you GET when you FUCK with a DEATHWORLDER!!!¡­ YOU. GET. DEAD!!!¡±

    At that point, I notice the soft patch of maroon flesh under its jaws, rising and falling as it continues to breathe.

    I shake an index finger at it and say ¡°I¡¯ll give you this, you sonuvabitch! Toughest gardenworlder I ever fought¡­ by a mile!¡± I straighten the fingers of that hand and point the claws at the new weakspot I¡¯ve identified ¡°But a gardenworlder is still all. you. are!¡±

    I plunge my hand into its throat, sinking it all the way to the armor at the back of the body segment and twisting to wrench the thing¡¯s head off.

    Its decapitated body curls and its flipper legs fold in on themselves.

    I withdraw my hand, drenched in blindingly blue blood, and turn to begin striding up the hill at the North side of the floodplain, rockier than the dune I climbed down a few minutes ago, leaving a trail of blood and river water behind me as I go.

    When I get to the top, I allow myself a satisfied sigh at what I see in the scrubland ahead.

    Vegetation¡­

    Dry¡­ dead vegetation but still¡­ it shows I¡¯m on the right track¡­ I¡¯m getting closer¡­ if there are people on this planet, they¡¯ll be this way¡­

    ---Wim¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m sitting on a rock about a half hour walk from the edge of the forest.

    The older Folk of Polv village say that the savannah is dangerous but, while they¡¯re definitely right, I have to say I¡¯ve always found it relaxing.

    There¡¯s a certain peace in having so much wide open space to wander around in that it¡¯s difficult to explain to others¡­ even if it means fewer hiding spots and greater chance of being spotted by predators.

    That¡¯s why I always volunteer for scouting work out here since I came of age last year.

    Unless and until I find something useful I just get to meander around the wide open space.

    Right now, I¡¯m having a well earned rest and¡­

    I hear a footfall behind me.

    The right ear twitches backward before the head.

    Standing on the [grasshopper antelope] trackway, not even ten Folk lengths away¡­ is the most terrifying thing I¡¯ve ever seen!

    He stands nearly three times the height I am!

    The body is Terran shaped but slender and armoured in black metal.

    The head is like a slightly strange, fangless skull, missing two of the top teeth and the eyes glow like the embers of a fire.

    The toes and fingers are clawed like a Folk but¡­ crueller somehow¡­

    The lower face and right hand are absolutely caked in day old, dark blue blood (animal blood I have to assume as there are no Monster villages that way) that the rest of the body is splattered in.

    Though he looks like nothing less than the Spirit of Death, I recognise him.

    Some of the star people brought us dead leaves with a perfect picture of him on them a few days ago and warned us that he was dangerous and mad.

    If we saw him, we were not to try to fight him they said!

    No matter how many of us there were, it wouldn¡¯t be enough.

    The best killer in the [galaxy] they said.

    And I¡¯m staring at him¡­ on my own¡­ an hour from the village¡­ and he¡¯s staring back at me.

    I grab the spear and point it at him, jumping to my feet.

    ¡°Stay back!¡± I scream, not that he¡¯ll be able to understand me.

    He raises and splays his (relatively unbloodied) left hand and says ¡°Izi theyur, gurl¡­ Amnot gunnuh hert yuh. Ay downt hert kiyuds fer uhstart an dyuh kainda rumaind mi uv mai dahder eniwei¡­ Oll Ay niid frum yu iz feryu tu teik mii tu yer taun andlet mii spiik tu sumwun witha tranzleidor, olrait? Wunss thei tel mii weyur tu go Al bii gaun, Ow Key?¡±

    He places a foot closer to me and, before I¡¯ve had a chance to consciously register the decision to do it, I¡¯ve thrown the spear (not at him, just away from me), turned and begun bounding away on all fours.

    ¡°Shid!¡± I hear him shout as he begins chasing after me.

    As dangerous as it is, I make for the tall grass.

    Whatever might be lurking in there can¡¯t be worse than the one who¡¯s already chasing me!

    I didn¡¯t even know I could move this fast!

    Though¡­ as soon as I¡¯ve broken line of sight, I have to find somewhere to hide. If I remember the details, he¡¯s not going to get tired ever!

    Hoping against hope that he won¡¯t see or hear me, I dive into a clump of grass and do my best not to move and not to breathe!

    I see him run to about 20 Folk lengths away from where I¡¯m hiding and stop.

    The skull head wheels, here and there, looking for me.

    I see the eyes glow through different colours but never fix on me the way I¡¯m terrified they will.

    After what feels like an eternity of being searched for, the monstrous Stranger opens the mouth unnaturally wide to reveal that behind those flat, fangless bone teeth he has long, sharp, metal fangs.

    He screams ¡°HAWIZTHIS HAPNING TU MII!?!?!?¡±

    ---Lhamo¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°You have a call from Polv village, Ambassador.¡± comes Twila¡¯s voice over my office¡¯s speakers.

    ¡°Thank you, Twila. Put it through.¡± I answer.

    I hear the call being connected.

    ¡°Hello, this is Ambassador Yeshe.¡± I answer.

    ¡°HELLO?!¡± shouts the Twigg on the other end ¡°THIS IS MLEP OF POLV¡­ CAN¡­ YOU¡­ HEAR¡­ ME?!¡±

    ¡°I hear you, Mlep of Polv, you do not need to shout. The communicator works just fine at a normal speaking volume.¡±

    ¡°OH¡­ ALRIGHT.¡± he answers, still speaking a little too loudly for comfort.

    ¡°What seems to be the issue, Sir?¡±

    ¡°OH, YEAH¡­ ONE OF THE GIRLS OF POLV JUST CAME BACK FROM A SCOUT ON THE SAVANNAH¡­ SAYS SHE SAW THE METAL MAN YOU¡¯RE LOOKING FOR!¡±

    ¡°Is she alright?¡± I ask, immediately.

    ¡°SHE¡¯S FINE¡­ SHAKEN UP, FOR SURE, BUT PHYSICALLY UNHARMED.¡±

    ¡°How certain is she that it was him?¡±

    ¡°ERR¡­ SEEMS PRETTY CERTAIN!¡­ SHE CAME BACK WITHOUT THE SPEAR SHE TOOK¡­ HAD TO THROW IT AWAY TO RUN FROM HIM¡­ SHE SAYS HE SPOKE TO HER¡­ HE WAS COVERED IN ANIMAL BLOOD AND MISSING TWO TEETH!¡±

    ¡°Alright, Mlep of Polv, I¡¯ll dispatch some of our security personnel to Polv immediately. Expect them within the hour. They¡¯ll want to talk to her, if that¡¯s possible.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯LL WAIT FOR THEM.¡± he answers.

    ¡°Good, they¡¯ll see you soon.¡±

    I end the call and immediately say ¡°Twila!¡±

    ¡°Already alerted Victor, Thran, Samus, Tuun and Xon of where they¡¯re going¡­ They¡¯re gearing up now. Ziva, Leon and Yu¨¢n have also been alerted that they¡¯re not to leave the compound until the others return.¡± she answers, having preempted all I was about to instruct.

    ¡°Thank you, Twila.¡±

    ¡°Will that be all?¡± she asks.

    ¡°That will be all.¡± I answer.

    Silence reigns for a few moments before I groan, feeling the knot of anxiety twist and tighten in my stomach.

    He¡¯s already at Polv¡­ less than 500km South of here, if I remember correctly.

    He¡¯s making better time than we predicted.

    At this rate he could be here by tomorrow!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.153

    ---Change---

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    Now¡­ that¡¯s interesting¡­

    That city on a hill across the river definitely doesn¡¯t look like it was made by whatever those goblin children I¡¯ve spotted around grow up into¡­

    Looks way too grand and flashy for the impression they¡¯ve given me!

    Great big yurts, made of nice looking, colorful silks, line the streets.

    Regularly spaced torches light up the night with the glow of their flames.

    To my right is a port with an honest to god pirate ship anchored in the river(!)

    The rest of the far shore is lined with defensive stake barricades, all except where the road meets the water where¡­ oh¡­

    I see two of them¡­

    Soldiers guarding the ford. I¡¯m absolutely certain they¡¯re not the same kind as the goblins¡­

    Not unless they go through some gross cocooning stage where they transform everything about themselves!

    Would explain why I haven¡¯t seen any goblin adults yet if they all turn into gigantospiders¡­ but still kinda farfetched!

    Anyway, as interesting as it might be that this gardenworld apparently has two xeno species, I¡¯m not here for anthropology(!)

    I look up at the biggest yurt, on top of the hill.

    If anyone¡¯s gonna have a translator, its whoever lives there!

    All I¡¯ve gotta do is get there¡­

    I run through a few different visual spectra to scan the water for anything like that thing that attacked me the other day.

    I know I can kill them but I don¡¯t know if I could do it quietly enough to avoid waking up every subHuman in this city.

    I see nothing.

    I look up at the two moons in the sky, the bigger one in a waning gibbous, the smaller basically full.

    I wait for cloudcover to kill the light they were shining down, then raise my left hand to about a foot away from my face, covering the two soldiers so the glow of my eyes won¡¯t be visible to them.

    I begin walking forward into the deep water, careful not to splash.

    I¡¯m fully submerged now but still easily able to keep my course as straight as an arrow as I stride across the rocky riverbed.

    After a few hundred feet, the gradient changes and I¡¯m walking uphill under the water.

    My head quietly breaks the surface, about 10ft from a steep, 6ft high bank, topped with a line of half buried chevaux de frise.

    I don¡¯t hear the sound of any alarms, so I climb up the bank and through the sharpened stakes (good for keeping out attacking armies, not so much lone infiltrators(!))

    My feet come to rest on the ground within the city limits and I look around before quietly making my way uphill, through the tents.

    ---Aghogh¡¯s perspective---

    I awake on my throne pedestal.

    I¡¯m not alone in this room.

    I freeze as I hear the noise that must have disturbed me from my slumber¡­ heavy bipedal footsteps, clinking metallically as they approach me across the cobbles.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Slowly and carefully, my right hand reaches for my breast pocket.

    The flesh of my finger and thumptips close around a metal coin, smoother and thinner than any my kingdom mints.

    I withdraw it and bring it to my temple.

    I indicate it to stick there and translate my words, which it does.

    ¡°I believe you are rather lost, child¡­¡± I say, gently.

    ¡°Naaah¡­ I think I¡¯m right where I want to be right now¡­ at least, until you¡¯ve told me what I wanna know¡­¡± answers back a cold, cruel, pitiless voice, its accent like that of the man, Leon, making me recall that the two are from the same realm of the Terran territory.

    I shake my head in what my daughter tells me is their gesture for ¡®no¡¯ ¡°No, Sir Stetter¡­ I believe you are very lost¡­¡±

    I hear him stop dead in his tracks.

    He pauses for a few seconds before resuming his approach.

    ¡°If you know who I am, why haven¡¯t you already shouted for your guards, old timer? Our¡­ mutual acquaintances surely told you I¡¯m a dangerous man?¡±

    I make a dismissive gesture and answer ¡°That¡¯s precisely why I haven¡¯t called for my daughters¡­ If the delegation are so afraid of you then I have to assume that killing me before any help arrived would be a trivial matter for you to achieve¡­ and of course you may well dispatch whomever arrived with as much ease¡­ I would prefer to talk, Sir Stetter¡­ I believe we two are capable of reaching a common understanding.¡±

    He scoffs ¡°Funny how gardenworlders always wanna talk as soon as they don¡¯t have the upper hand anymore(!) Funny how none of them wanted to talk about it before they bombed my house, killed my wife, killed my baby girl and left me under a pile of rubble for 4 days, taking my arms and legs in the process(!)¡±

    Gardenworlders?

    He thinks this is a gardenworld?

    If the differences are as obvious as I¡¯ve been informed, it¡¯s surely readily apparent that it¡¯s not?

    I decide it¡¯s best not to correct him and instead commiserate ¡°What happened to you was an injustice, Sir Stetter¡­ Truly, it was!¡­ I know the pain of an unjust loss too well myself¡­ Had I known of this War and had I an army worth sending to your aid, I gladly would have sent it!¡±

    ¡°Would you?!¡± he spits, accusingly ¡°¡¯Cause that¡¯d¡¯ve made you the only ones!¡­ Nah¡­ I think you¡¯d¡¯ve done what every other species ¡®opposed¡¯ to the War did; sit back and just be glad it wasn¡¯t happening to you!¡±

    I do not answer, simply staring back, neutrally, which, in my experience, is the only diplomatic response to an accusation of being a liar.

    Eventually, he ceases waiting for an answer and says ¡°Alright, blindman! Cut the crap! You know who I am, which means you know why I¡¯m here! Tell me where they are!¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± I ask, simply ¡°What will you do if I tell you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go there and kill them all!!!¡± he scoffs, seeming insulted that I even had to ask such an obvious question.

    ¡°Then I¡¯m afraid I cannot tell you.¡± I answer, keeping my voice stoic.

    ¡°Old man¡­¡± says the killer as I feel the tip of a metal claw press into the bare flesh at my throat ¡°¡­you realize it¡¯s them or you, right?¡­ Actually, no! If you don¡¯t tell me, I¡¯ll kill you and find them anyway. All your death would do is inconvenience me! Is that really worth dying for!?¡±

    ¡°Sir Stetter, listen to me! Your life is not over! If I understand your people¡¯s laws correctly, they shan¡¯t kill you for all the things you¡¯ve done¡­ only take your freedom until they¡¯re reasonably certain you won¡¯t do anything similar again! Admittedly, that would be a long time in your case but it would not be forever! After you were, once more, a free man, you could build your life again! You could live another 1,331 lifetimes if you wanted! Of course the pain will never be completely gone but with enough distance you could maybe stop allowing it to rule you the way that you are! So long as you are alive, it¡¯s never too late for a change! It¡¯s never too late for you to decide to be better than you were! Your people taught me that!¡­ Taught me that the hope of tomorrow always shines brighter than the despair of yesterday! I beg you! I implore you, in the name of your Humanity! Surrender yourself to my daughters¡­ I promise, no harm will come to you while you are in our custody and you already know that you won¡¯t be killed at the delegation, don¡¯t you? They can take you somewhere where you can get the help you need to heal, Sir Stetter!¡±

    There¡¯s a pause.

    Then the man presses the needle sharp claw harder into my throat.

    ¡°Last chance¡­ tell me where they are¡­ or die¡­¡±

    I sigh, defeatedly ¡°I have lived a good long life¡­ I had been looking forward to having my sight back, my youth back and getting to live a longer one as I watch my people grow and come into their own among the stars but¡­ if my choice is to die here or to live another 14,641 years with the shame of knowing that I had once betrayed allies and friends to save my own hide¡­ then my choice is to die.¡±

    ¡°Have it your way then¡­¡± he sneers as his hand thrusts upward.

    The pain barely registers¡­ the overriding sensation is that of just how cold his fingers are in my flesh.

    My lukewarm blood floods down my throat and spills down my front as he withdraws his hand.

    My vocal chords destroyed, I don¡¯t say a word as my body collapses like a puppet with its strings cut.

    As I lie on the cold cobbles, gurgling and spluttering my last breaths while my life¡¯s blood leaves me, I hear a scream.

    Distantly, I register that the one who is thundering across the throne room to battle my killer is my daughter.

    I want to tell her to run, to live, to save herself¡­ but my voice is gone¡­ and my mind is fading¡­ There¡¯s nothing I can do¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.154

    ---Emergency---

    ---C??ng¡¯s perspective---

    I sit in the medbay, looking at my girlfriend¡¯s transparent blue face while she sulks at me.

    ¡°I know it¡¯s selfish, alright?!¡± she pouts ¡°I know that you¡¯d obviously choose to stay here and save lives over coming back with me! A man who¡¯d do otherwise would not be the one who saved me on Vogo¡¯a, wouldn¡¯t be the one I fell in love with, wouldn¡¯t be you!¡­ I just¡­ I hate it is all! I feel like I only just found you, after [decades] of searching¡­ and¡­ and now¡­¡± she trails off.

    ¡°Now?¡± I prompt, my tone and face pained but sympathetic.

    Her gelatinous features morph into an expression of forlorn shame as she finishes ¡°¡­now I feel like I¡¯m going to lose you again¡­ and that¡¯s terrifying!¡±

    ¡°Soo¡­!¡± I exhale, reaching out a hand to place on her squashy jelly shoulder ¡°¡­you¡¯re not going to lose me! As much as you were waiting for me I was waiting for you!¡­ I was waiting for someone who could make me feel like you do. I was waiting for someone to come along who¡¯d light up my life like you have¡­ A year, two at most, of being alone on this planet and then we can be back together again¡­ It will be hard, I know, but is it too long to wait when we can have the rest of our lives together afterwards?¡±

    She pauses, looking at me, before asking ¡°The rest of our lives?¡±

    I panic for a moment, realising the words that just slipped from my mouth, but I don¡¯t back down, confirming ¡°That¡¯s what I said, Soo.¡±

    She smiles ¡°You really think¡­?¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t get bored of me¡­(!)¡± I quip ¡°¡­then¡­ yeah, Soo¡­ I really think¡­¡±

    At that moment, I hear a cacophony that sounds as if a team of angry pickaxe wielders were rapidly thundering their way towards our location from down the corridor, trying their very hardest to render the floor unwalkable after them as they go!

    A distraught, guttural, translated voice screams ¡°HEALERS! BRING ME THE HEALERS!!!¡±

    I hear the thundering stop, just outside the medbay¡¯s door.

    I take one step towards it as it opens but, the instant there¡¯s a 5cm wide gap, a pair of thick, armoured, scarlet clawed fingers are thrust through and wrapped around the side.

    The door is wrenched open in a powerful slam that sounds as if it completely destroyed the mechanisms that drive it back and forward into the wall!

    I start back in fear at the deranged look on the face of the terrifyingly large woman who just ripped my door open as she fixes me with an eight eyed stare.

    There is a moment where my mind irrationally shows me a brief tableau of her rushing forward and stabbing me through the chest with one of her unshoed feet, currently buried in the metal floor!

    A quarter of a second later, though, I see the face of the grey furred man on her back (that I¡¯m 97% sure is already far beyond saving) and smell the coppery scent of the blue blood I can see absolutely drenching his body.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The fearsome woman looks at me and, her quavering, out of breath voice utterly desolate, entreats ¡°Save him!¡±

    My instincts as a former combat medic immediately wrest control as I enter ''emergency mode''.

    ¡°Bring him in. Put him up here.¡± I instruct, my voice decisive, gesturing to the operating table.

    She steps in and reaches behind herself, easily lifting the (relatively) tiny, grey furred man from her back and bringing him around to lay out on the slab.

    It¡¯s worse than I initially thought¡­

    His throat has been wrapped in a bandage of what looks like freshly spun silk but both it and his clothes are utterly drenched in bright blue blood.

    His legs have stiffened, suggesting a lack of hydraulic pressure keeping them flexible.

    As much as it looks like the man before me is already a corpse, I¡¯ve still got to treat him as if there¡¯s a chance he might make it, for the moment.

    A 97% chance he¡¯s already dead is still a 3% chance he can be saved¡­ he wouldn¡¯t be the worst looking patient I¡¯ve ever brought back from the brink.

    ¡°What happened to him?¡± I ask his daughter, still looming over me.

    ¡°I-I-I¡­ he¡­ the criminal¡­ s-stabbed him with his hand¡­¡± she stammers, chaotically.

    ¡°Soo, please alert the ambassadors and Emiko that Stetter was sighted in Khawekh.¡± I instruct my girlfriend.

    She immediately melts her humanoid body into a rough spheroid and rolls out of the door, much faster than she can manage walking on her legs.

    I take out my medical holo and bring it to the man¡¯s skull.

    The numbers my scan returns are¡­ not good¡­

    As I expected.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, General¡­ It¡¯s too late¡­¡± I say in a low, sombre voice.

    ¡°Wh-what do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Your father is already gone¡­¡± I state, looking up at her.

    ¡°Then bring him back!¡± she demands, her desolate expression turning angry.

    ¡°That¡¯s not possible.¡±

    ¡°You brought me back from the dead! You brought the Twigg back from the dead! Why can¡¯t you do the same for him!?¡± she snarls.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t bring you back from the dead. I was able to stabilise a wound that would have been fatal without intervention. There¡¯s a difference. The time your brain was without oxygenated blood was minimal. His brain has been without oxygen for far too long at this point¡­ There¡¯s nothing of him left to save.¡±

    ¡°But¡­!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a sorcerer, General!¡± I cut her off ¡°I know it might seem to you that the medicine I practice is indistinguishable from magic but there are limits to it and bringing a person back to life, after brain death, is outside of my power!¡±

    The woman stares down at me, her breaths coming rapidly as her eyes scan my face.

    What¡¯s building could be a violent outburst¡­ or a panic attack¡­ or¡­

    The more than half tonne woman collapses to the floor with an immense *boom* and chokes out a sob¡­ her eight eyes all obscured by maroon eyelids.

    Option three; a sobbing fit.

    ¡°It¡¯s not fair!¡± she wails ¡°It¡¯s not fair that I get to live and he just has to die! It¡¯s not FAIR!!!"

    Clear tears spill down her face before turning blue from the contact with the air.

    Trying not to be perturbed by the revelation that Vrakhand apparently cry a dilute form of their own blood, I do my best to console her ¡°I¡¯m¡­ incredibly sorry for your loss, General¡­¡±

    ¡°Khr''kowan!¡± comes a woman¡¯s voice from the door.

    I look up to see Lhamo, Ngngomg and Emiko entering the room.

    The trio take a moment to look from the man on the operating table to his sobbing daughter and draw the obvious conclusion.

    Emiko is the first to approach the woman.

    Her tone apologetic, she begins ¡°Khr''kowan, I¡¯m sorry to have to ask this of you right now but¡­ Stetter? Did anyone see where he went after he did this? If we can move quickly enough, we might be able to stop him before¡­¡±

    She grimaces and waves a negating gesture, sniffing ¡°He didn¡¯t go anywhere!¡±

    Clearly taken aback by the miserable woman¡¯s assertion, Emiko asks ¡°Sorry¡­ So he¡¯s still in Khawekh?¡±

    The Vrakhand gives a dismal affirmative.

    ¡°Does he have hostages or¡­?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I caught him¡­ held him down while my sisters restrained him with webbing¡­ When we had him secured, I ran here carrying my father¡­¡±

    Clearly as shocked as everyone else in the room (but managing to catch herself before she acts too delighted by that news) Emiko simply answers ¡°Oh¡­ I see¡­ Well done, Khr''kowan¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.155

    ---Restraints---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    My geta clack against the hard floor as I walk down the underground corridor, my bodyguard, the expedition¡¯s two intelligence agents and the ship¡¯s Chief Security Specialist at my back, the former holding her plasmabec in her gauntleted hands, the latter three with plasmaswords at their hips.

    On our right, just below the ceiling, wide, short windows line the corridor, providing just enough light to see the way through the gloom in the passage.

    At the far end of the hallway, four imposing Vrakhand women stand guard in front of a set of thick, heavy, wooden doors, barred from the outside.

    I draw up to around 5m away from the nearest and address the only one with a translator ¡°General Khr¡¯kowan requests that we be allowed access to the prisoner. Please open the doors.¡±

    Looking at me like I¡¯m something disgusting that she¡¯s stepped in, the woman answers ¡°It¡¯s Regent¡­¡±

    My eyebrows move up my forehead as I respond ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    Bitterly, she elaborates ¡°She¡¯s Regent Khr¡¯kowan, right now¡­ Thanks to your realmsman in there for that(!)¡±

    ¡°Apologies¡­¡± I concede, coolly ¡°¡­Regent Khr¡¯kowan instructs that we be allowed to see the prisoner¡­ Now, are you going to open the doors or do we need to fetch her down here to settle the matter?¡±

    Sneering (but seeming to realise we would be unlikely to have found our way here unpermitted) she barks at her subordinates ¡°Open it!¡±

    In unison, the rear two women each reach a hand to one side of the thick slab of wood barricading the door and lift it from its brackets.

    I begin walking forward but a clawed, tridactyl hand extends to halt me.

    The hostile captain bends to place her head uncomfortably close to mine, scowling down at me.

    Thran makes to try and interpose herself between us to protect me but my hand flies out in front of her and she stops.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be watching¡­¡± growls the Vrakhand woman, indicating the iron barred portholes at the top of the door, too high up to be of use to someone my height.

    I think Victor¡¯s the only Terran here who¡¯d be tall enough to see through there.

    ¡°¡­any of you touch the prisoner, touch the strands restraining him or even so much as approach him closer than I like, I¡¯ll interpret it as an attempt to free him¡­ Do we understand one another?¡±

    Not rising to match the woman¡¯s antagonism, I calmly answer ¡°Ma¡¯am, I can assure you, though we and that man were born the same species and in the same polity, he is no friend of ours¡­ and we are even less well liked by him!¡­ He wants nothing more than to see all of us dead and, so, it would certainly not be at all in our interests to attempt to free him¡­ With that said, we thank you for your prudent caution and will endeavour to keep our distance.¡±

    Seeming mildly mollified by that, the woman removes the hand that blocked my way as the doors are swung open.

    We pass inside and, as I hear the doors being closed and barred behind us, I look to the large empty space to my left.

    Peering back from the shadows at the far end of the cell is a pair of glowing, red eyes.

    ¡°Mr Stetter¡­ I wish I could say I was sorry to see you in your current predicament.¡± I greet, dispassionately.

    ¡°Die!¡± snarls back a deep, venomous, synthetic voice.

    ¡°Not in my plans for the immediate future, I¡¯m afraid(!)¡± I retort, casually.

    The light coming in from the high, barred, horizontal slits that serve as the rooms windows is just enough to make out the restraints that bind his grievously dangerous body!

    Now that I see how he¡¯s bound, I have to say, what I was imagining did a disservice to the Vrakhand¡¯s silkspinning skills!

    I had basically pictured his head being the only thing visible, partly sticking out of a giant, amorphous blob of chaotically spun silk, like a morsel in Shelob¡¯s lair(!)

    In actuality, he¡¯s tied so neatly that it¡¯s difficult to believe it happened without him cooperating to make it possible!

    Only knowing the sheer power of the one who apprehended him and realising the skill of her sisters reassures me that he didn¡¯t allow himself to be captured in order to lure us here!

    His hands, feet and lower face are the only parts of him that are so thickly bound as to be completely obscured, the dangerous claws wrapped tightly in three silk cocoons and his jaws bound firmly shut in a face sling passing under his chin, over his mouth and secured over the top of the majority of his cranium, causing his upper face to be the only part of his head that¡¯s exposed.

    The rest of his body is much more lightly bound, several woven, silk ropes passing around each limb and up to the beams from which he is suspended or down to pass around one of the thick iron bars, braced between masonry at both ends and protruding from the floor, securing his legs to keep him from thrashing them about.

    All of it so beautifully neat as to be worthy of a shibari nawashi(!)

    To my slight shame, I do have to push down the brief thrill I get from imagining myself bound thusly!

    The pose he¡¯s restrained in is just a touch unintentionally sacrilegious, his feet together and his arms out to the sides, making him look like a twisted mockery of the Christians'' Son God being sacrificed to their Father God(!) The Vrakhand, not having much idea of what Christianity is, probably didn¡¯t do that intentionally¡­ Though, I should mention to someone just how damaging it would be to suspend a flesh and blood Human with the arms taking the majority of their weight like that for any great period of time. Just in case it comes up again!

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    I step forward, the *clack* of my sandals echoing off the hard walls of the cell (far too big for the man) meant for restraining Vrakhand prisoners, and ask ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know or care just how much damage you did when you murdered these people¡¯s ruler last night, do you Mr Stetter?¡±

    A tiny hunch of the shoulders is as close to a shrug as he¡¯s able to manage as he answers ¡°You¡¯re definitely right that I don¡¯t care¡­¡± his synthetic voice not at all obstructed by his gag.

    ¡°Well, allow me to clue you in so that you at least know!¡± I spit, cold fury in my words ¡°The man you murdered was the unifier of the Vrakhand and was the one under whose authority the peace treaty with this planet¡¯s other species was signed (after the initial signing ceremony was interrupted by your arrival and assault on our ship in orbit). Your actions made an orphan of hundreds of his surviving children, threaten to shatter the species¡¯ unity, threaten to recommence a state of war with the Twigg and, of course, have destroyed an enormous portion of the goodwill we¡¯ve spent months accruing here, since there will be a not insignificant portion of the Vrakhand who hear that an offworlder assassinated their monarch and come to the conclusion that, whether we mean to or not, we bring bad things with us! Are you happy with yourself?!¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ we Americans¡¯ve never been the biggest fans of kings(!) You really expect me to give a shit about some fucking gardenworlders who need a monarch to order them around?¡± he mocks.

    I lean back, my face twisting in confusion as I attempt to parse out the meaning of his insane words.

    Out of the corners of my eyes, I see similarly disconcerted bodylanguage from the other four.

    Victor is the first one to react, doubling over and bursting into laughter ¡°You¡­*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahhhhh**wheeze*¡­ You ain¡¯t serious!!!¡­*hehehehehehehehehe**wheeze*¡­ Fuckin¡¯ really?!¡­ I know you¡¯re a headcase but still!¡±

    Angrily, the murderer demands ¡°What¡¯s so funny, Limey!?¡±

    Victor¡¯s still a little incapacitated by the absurdity to answer, so I enlighten him ¡°You¡¯re not on a gardenworld, Stetter¡­ this is a deathworld¡­ and would probably score higher on the classification scale than Earth and most other Terran worlds¡­ if it had been designed to go up that high!¡±

    ¡°Lies!¡± he growls back, immediately.

    ¡°Afraid not.¡± I counter, disdainfully.

    ¡°There¡¯s only one deathworld that¡¯s ever produced sapient life and that¡¯s Earth! These xenos are obviously sapient! Therefore, this is a gardenworld!¡± he unsoundly deduces.

    ¡°There was only one deathworld known to have produced sapience¡­ until now!¡± I gesture around us to indicate the planet we¡¯re both currently stranded on ¡°Your body surely gives you gravimetric readings? Background radiation levels? Perhaps a certain level of passive chemoreception? Are the readings you¡¯ve been getting since you crashed really consistent with being on a gardenworld? What about the thousands of kilometres of barren, sunbaked desert you had to pass through to get here? Is that a feature most gardenworlds would possess? What about the animal or animals you killed to be drenched in blood when you ran into that first Twigg girl? Did they seem like something you¡¯d be likely to find on a gardenworld? And¡­ were you not a little embarrassed to think that a man of your indisputable ¡®talent¡¯ had been restrained so easily by the bodyguards of a gardenworld king? You. are. on. a. deathworld, Stetter!¡±

    He gives a barely perceptible twitch ¡°But¡­ that¡­ that means¡­¡±

    My face twists with spite as I taunt ¡°Oooooh¡­ Now, now, now, Mr Stetter! You wouldn¡¯t happen to be feeling guilty from what you''ve just learnt, would you?!¡­ I didn¡¯t realise you still had that ability!¡±

    The wall that momentarily dropped flies back up as he snaps ¡°Why would I!? He was an obstacle I removed¡­ nothing more!¡±

    I turn the knife ¡°He was an innocent man who had nothing to do with the War or its horrors, not even the twisted guilt by association of ¡®being a gardenworlder¡¯¡­ He was a man who died standing up to you to protect his people and his friends¡­ I¡¯d think you¡¯d find that rather admirable¡­ He¡¯s a man whose children you¡¯ve made orphans for nothing more than the crime of being an inconvenience to you!¡­ You¡¯re telling me you don¡¯t feel guilty?¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯ve got news for you, you bastard! You¡¯re in Vrakhand custody now! We are outside the GU, in their jurisdiction, meaning that the UTC and the Peace Treaty will not protect you!¡­ Oh and, one more thing, regicide carries the death penalty here so, when you¡¯re found guilty¡­¡±

    ¡°If he¡¯s found guilty¡­¡± corrects a high, masculine, translated voice from outside the cell.

    I turn to see the brown furred boy that Khr¡¯kowan recently got married to (after knowing for a day) sauntering into the room through the opening doors.

    Without acknowledging me or the other four, he turns to cordially greet ¡°Sir Stetter, my name is Kurkhuw of the Nhirmoran Realm, Son of Broodking Howakh of the Nhirmoran Realm and First Woman Vhixho¡¯a of the Horkhan Realm. My broodwife, Regent Khr¡¯kowan, has asked me to act as your [public defender] after having the concept explained by the ambassadors. I believe you¡¯ve already encountered her, though I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s accurate to describe it as a ¡®meeting¡¯. She was the one primarily responsible for apprehending you¡­ In the interest of full disclosure, the man you are accused of murdering was my father in law¡­ Regardless, my task, as I understand it, is to make the best argument I possibly can for a favourable verdict for you without allowing my personal feelings to get in the way.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a lawyer?¡± Stetter asks, his voice flat and sceptical.

    ¡°Uhm¡­ Not as such, no¡­ ¡®[Lawyer]¡¯ is not a profession on this planet, as court trials are nowhere near a regular enough occurrence for them to be necessary¡­ What I am is an avid scholar with great familiarity with the laws that govern the Khawekhan [Empire], as laid down by the man you are accused of having murdered. You could really not ask for a better advocate!¡±

    ¡°No ¡®accused¡¯ about it¡­ I¡¯ll confess right now; I did it, I¡¯m guilty!¡± Stetter sneers.

    With a wry smile, Kurkhuw waves a negation and responds ¡°Just because you did it, Sir Stetter, doesn¡¯t necessarily mean you¡¯re guilty! Though, I must advise you against saying such things as might prejudice your case¡­¡± he gestures to the five of us ¡°¡­all of these people just became witnesses to a confession¡­ which makes my job a little harder(!)¡± he turns to me and sweetly asks ¡°Lady Miyazaki, might I impose upon you to give my client and myself some privacy to discuss our case?¡±

    I sigh ¡°Sure¡­¡± and turn to go, the others following behind.

    In my mind, I know that this is better. That not only is there no criminal so foul as to deserve to be condemned without a chance to defend themself but knowing that the Vrakhand extended advocacy to a Terran criminal (who¡¯d killed their king) will also, undoubtedly, curry favour with the UTC and make them more likely to be seen as ''civilised'' by the rest of the GU¡­

    On the other hand, though¡­ my raging hatred for that man makes me just want to see him crash and burn for all the pain and loss he¡¯s caused!

    It¡¯s hard to fight the feeling that, if anyone deserved a trial without an advocate, it would be him!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.156

    ---Butchering---

    ---?¡¯s perspective---

    I stand in the town plaza in the capital of a deathworld empire.

    I¡¯m keeping the tips of all 8 of my perambulatory tentacles firmly planted on the ground in respect.

    I am surrounded by most of the offworlders not currently in stasis.

    The Terrans, having cleared the colour with our hosts beforehand, are dressed entirely in sparkling bright white.

    The effect is dramatic!

    My people don¡¯t have a ¡®mourning colour¡¯, so I just chose the palest clothes that the repair crew were able to salvage from my quarters aboard the disabled ship.

    To our left is a small contingent of Twigg, the first to ever be invited into a Vrakhand city and to witness a ritual like this, as far as we know.

    They are dressed in pale grey clothes (matching the Vrakhand mourning colour) that were printed for them at the embassy.

    All around us stand thousands of Vrakhand, some giving us dirty looks, some crying blue tears, most just looking down at the ground, sombrely.

    To our left is a long road with a procession, around halfway between here and the palace, slowly making its way in this direction.

    The centre of the plaza is empty of all but a few Vrakhand, an empty plinth, an assortment of tools laid out on a cloth and four boxes; two large ones, one completely empty and the other lined with silk, into which the bandages and cloths baring the monarch¡¯s blood have already been deposited, a smaller box filled with dark, dry, woody soil and the smallest box of all, empty but richly decorated.

    On the far side of the audience from us is an orchestra entirely composed of Vrakhand boys.

    Most bear stringed instruments but a few have percussives, such as one with a log drum and one with a water drum.

    As the procession nears, they begin to play.

    There is no people yet known in the galaxy who don¡¯t have any concept of music¡­

    Song is universal to the sapient experience¡­

    My people, the ?¨¥?¨¨, having vocal anatomy that restricts us to a single phoneme, our language, ?? ?¨¥?¨¨, consists entirely of song.

    When I was a child, I was told that that fact made us the galaxy¡¯s finest songsmiths.

    That perception changed after the War.

    Anyone could tell that Terran music was simply better¡­ that our technical exactitude in constructing instruments, the fastidious way we arranged our compositions and the precise care we were able to take in singing and playing our songs was simply no substitute for the emotional power that even a relatively unskilled Terran could pour into their craft.

    Hearing the Vrakhand play their dirge makes it very clear¡­ they are deathworlders!

    The unTerran design and materials of their instruments as well as the anatomy of their hands result in their song sounding nothing like Terran music¡­ Nevertheless, it too has that same raw, emotional power that makes me feel as if all three of my hearts were about to rip themselves in half!

    The sound resonates out across the river and echoes back from the hill on the far bank in a way that only layers further depth into it.

    Just when I feel like I might be about to collapse from the intensity of my emotions, they begin to sing.

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    My arms shoot out to catch the squidgirl as the song of mourning brings her to the point of losing her tentacles.

    She¡¯s light¡­ I¡¯d estimate her to be about half my mass (though I have no idea what she¡¯s set her gravity field to, so I can¡¯t be sure!)

    ¡°You alright?¡± I whisper-sing in ?? ?¨¥?¨¨.

    My command of her language isn¡¯t good enough yet to allow me to understand her answer but it sounds like a reassurance so I just keep propping her up until she¡¯s able to recover.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Her species are uniquely susceptible to the effect of music and it seems as if the Vrakhand song is simply too much for her to handle.

    It¡¯s strange¡­

    I consider myself to be nearly fluent in Vrakhandic at this point and, yet¡­ I can¡¯t understand a word of this!

    None of those I¡¯ve spoken to have volunteered being able to speak any other language but they all seem to know the words to this song that shares very little in common with Vrakhandic featurally!

    This language is far less guttural and has much more of a syllabic metre, like Italian or Japanese, rather than the phrase metring of English and Vrakhandic.

    There is always the possibility of the lyrics being nonsense but¡­ that¡¯s not how it sounds¡­

    I¡¯ll have to talk about it to Jae, Lilith, Bj?rn and Strik later¡­ This could be a promising avenue for exploring their history but I think it would be a touch inappropriate to bring up with any Vrakhand at their monarch¡¯s funeral!

    Khr¡¯kowan enters the town square, just ahead of the litter bearing her father¡¯s body.

    The nature of Vrakhandic funeral practices mean that he is entirely nude.

    It is slightly odd that they¡¯re so conservative about their nudity most of the time and, yet, no one seems to have any reservation about seeing their king¡¯s body without a scrap of silk to protect his modesty!

    The postmortem tightening has curled his legs under his hindbody and his head downward, disguising the wound at his throat.

    The undertakers have done their best to clean the blood out of his fur but there is still a noticeably blue stain in the grey of his chest.

    The two of his daughters acting as the man¡¯s pallbearers bring him to the plinth and set him down, wordlessly.

    The music ceases and Khr¡¯kowan sits on his far side, the butchering tools at her right.

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    The death song ceases¡­

    I can¡¯t cry.

    My people need me to be strong right now.

    They need to see me being strong for them!

    How many have I butchered in my life?

    This needs to be no different!

    It doesn¡¯t matter that this is the man who gave me everything I have, everything I am, the one who taught me all that I know!

    It doesn¡¯t matter that he¡¯s been a fixture in my entire life and ruler of my realm since before I existed!

    If my people see me despairing, it will bring them to despair!

    Once I¡¯m sure that my voice shan¡¯t crack, I address his body, shouting loudly enough for all my people to hear ¡°Father; In life, you gave all that you had for your people. With the wisdom of age you led us judiciously. You wielded man¡¯s softness and compassion to provide for your people but also knew when to allow woman¡¯s strength and ferocity to be unleashed in their defence! You were a man who never baulked at what was required of you! You did your duty to the last and gave your life for the noble end of protecting allies from danger, a distinguishment few women and scarcely any men will ever claim! And now, Father, I must ask you for your last favours¡­¡±

    I bend to pick a pair of iron tongs from where they lie beside the other tools.

    I reach to my father¡¯s head with my left hand and hold open his jaw.

    Inserting the tongs into his mouth, I clamp them around his lower toothplate.

    Iron is too soft to scratch even the thanatite of an old man so I squeeze hard, not wanting to shame myself before him by failing to pull it free on the first attempt.

    I yank it free of his skull in one clean, practiced motion and hold the tongs aloft to show it to my people.

    2,662 voices roar, bitterly, at seeing the first of my father¡¯s last gifts.

    Out of the corner of my right eyes, I see the offworlders mostly manage to keep themselves from startling.

    The Twigg are less composed but quickly manage to contain their shock at the outcry.

    ¡°From the thanatite you gift us, we shall make the weapons to arm the next generation of your daughters!¡± I declare, depositing it into the thanatite box and placing down the tongs.

    Turning back to my father, I wedge my claws beneath his chest plate and prize it from his body.

    Thankfully, it stays intact which is not always a given when butchering older men.

    I hold it aloft to another anguished scream from my people.

    ¡°From the armour you gift us, we shall make the tools that will equip the next generation of your sons!¡± I cry out, placing it into its box.

    I turn back to my father¡¯s body for the last time before the morticians take over.

    Exactly in the middle of his exposed chest is a perfectly still organ a little smaller than his head.

    My hands quiver slightly as I reach out to grasp it but, mercifully, I don¡¯t think it will have been too noticeable.

    I wrap my hands around the fleshy tubes at the top and slice through them with my claws.

    Having freed his heart from its moorings I pull it away from him, gently, as if holding a sleeping infant.

    I do not hold it aloft.

    There is no roar.

    My people are in fact so quiet that, as I lay it atop the bandages in the terra preta box, I do not need to raise my voice to say ¡°From the flesh you gift us, we shall ferment fertiliser which will nourish your lands. That your children, your children¡¯s children and your children¡¯s children¡¯s children may continue to receive your gifts, long into the future.¡±

    I bend to scoop a handful of dry soil from the earth box.

    I scatter the earth over my father¡¯s heart.

    I stare, distantly, into the box for a few moments until I feel a hand on my right elbow.

    I look down to see Wh¡¯rneth, the head mortician, staring back at me with a sombre smile adorning his face.

    Quietly enough that only I¡¯ll be able to hear him, he says ¡°Well done, Regent¡­ You can leave the rest to us.¡± pointing behind himself to the boys of the mortuary group.

    I gesture affirmative and wordlessly turn to take my seat with the crowd.

    I feel a slightly shameful wash of relief that my part is over.

    I don¡¯t know how much longer I would have been able to maintain the illusion of composure.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.157

    ---Trial---

    ---Kurkhuw¡¯s perspective---

    My client is suspended from a square, ironwood frame, placed atop a cart and being pulled by a full sister of my broodwife with only seven feet.

    I walk ahead of her.

    Four other Khawekhan soldiers flank the wagon, here acting as bailiffs. They eye him suspiciously, clutching their spears close.

    We¡¯ve just put the capital¡¯s gates behind us, headed North.

    Over these past few [weeks], I have spent a lot of time with the man who fully admits that he killed my ruler and father in law while I formulated his defence.

    I certainly haven¡¯t come to like him at all but I have found him interesting.

    He was rather curious about why I showed so little fear of him and laughed when I quipped that, however frightful he may be, he wouldn¡¯t compare to my broodwife if she learned I had let fear get in the way of properly discharging my duty(!)

    For what it¡¯s worth, he does seem to have some genuine regret regarding Aghogh¡¯s death¡­ mainly focused on apparently not having realised that he wasn¡¯t a [gardenworlder] but regret nonetheless.

    His feelings regarding the deed don¡¯t particularly matter at this point, though.

    ¡®Remorse¡¯ is no defence to a charge of regicide in the Khawekhan [Empire] and, even if it were, it isn¡¯t as if they¡¯d ever believe him!

    Pleading that he regrets his actions will only disgust the women¡¯s jury and may even turn some of the men against him, viewing him as a spineless coward who doesn¡¯t even have the courage to stand by his actions!

    No. That¡¯s not the way I plan to defend my client¡­

    Having covered the open field that occupies the only land approach to the capital, we cross the edge of a sparse pine forest.

    Through the trees an impressively large earthwork makes itself visible.

    I¡¯m sure, to the offworlders, it wouldn¡¯t seem like much but, to a simple boy from Nhirmor, the mostly closed crescent amphitheatre that towers more than half way to the forest canopy (like the rest of the capital) is rather breathtaking in its grandeur!

    We enter through the opening, revealing the centre to be mostly coarse sand with four stone platforms sitting slightly proud of it.

    To the immediate left and immediate right are the defendant¡¯s and prosecutor¡¯s platforms, currently empty.

    In the centre of the space is the witness¡¯ platform and, at the far end, my broodwife stands atop the magistrate¡¯s platform, the divide between the 55 men of the men¡¯s jury and the 55 women of the women¡¯s running directly behind her.

    The translation coins Khr¡¯kowan had to requisition from the delegates of the other realms gathered in the city glitter at all of their temples.

    The women¡¯s jury collectively scowl at my client. I imagine the consensus of ¡®guilty¡¯ and ¡®death¡¯ would quickly be passed from them to the men if voting were to happen now.

    The men look slightly less as if they¡¯ve already made up their minds but¡­ well I know from experience that men aren¡¯t necessarily any less vicious than women¡­ we just do a better job of hiding it(!)

    To either side of us as we enter are numerous, mainly bipedal nonVrakhand, here to act as witnesses.

    My sister in law drags the cart next to the defendant¡¯s stand and unhitches herself from it while the bailiffs each take one corner of the frame¡¯s base and lift it (with some effort) onto the stone platform.

    My broodwife rises to her feet and says ¡°We hereby begin the trial of Sir Jackson ¡®Scout¡¯ Stetter of the Terran, New Coloradoan Realm for the crimes of regicide, androcide, attempted mass murder and breech of the peace. As this realm¡¯s Regent, I would act as Magistrate for this court. However, given that I am both prosecutor and the main witness for the prosecution, I must recuse myself in the interest of impartiality. I name Lady Haorken of the Khawekhan Realm, Daughter of Broodking Aghogh of the Khawekhan Realm and First Woman Kvehak of the Wokhashan Realm to act as Magistrate in my stead.¡± indicating her seven footed sister.

    Both juries stir at that and Haorken looks rather surprised.

    It isn¡¯t as if there¡¯s any law that states a magistrate must be whole and hale but selecting a woman missing a foot is¡­ well it¡¯s certainly a choice(!)

    She quickly recovers from her shock and bows to Khr¡¯kowan, barking ¡°I shall endeavour to discharge this duty fairly and equitably, Regent!¡±

    ¡°As I would expect, Sister.¡± answers my broodwife, neutrally.

    She dismounts the platform and begins walking to the space on my left, passing the newly designated magistrate as she goes.

    ¡®Magistrate¡¯, as I needed to explain to my client, is not the same as the Terran concept of a ¡®Judge¡¯; determinations about his guilt and sentencing are to be made by the 110 members of the juries. First the women¡¯s jury, then the men¡¯s. Decisions need to reach majority among the women before being passed over to the men. If a consensus is reached by both juries, the matter is decided. The magistrate is only here to keep order in the court and keep the itinerary moving along¡­ she doesn¡¯t decide anything herself.

    Khr¡¯kowan takes position on the prosecutor¡¯s stand, facing forward.

    Her sister turns her head to address me, saying ¡°[Public Defender] Kurkhuw, as Regent Khr¡¯kowan has stated, your client is accused of attempted mass murder for the attack on the peace summit with the Twigg, regicide and androcide for the murder of Broodking Aghogh and breach of the peace for both. Does he wish to deny these accusations?¡±

    ¡°He does not, Magistrate.¡± I state, simply.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°¡­Right¡­ Good¡­¡± she frowns ¡°¡­Well, if you do not wish to contest his guilt, we¡¯re able to move along to a sentencing hearing then.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ I do wish to contest his guilt, though.¡± I smile.

    My sister in law does a confused doubletake for a moment before clarifying ¡°But¡­ you just said he doesn¡¯t deny the allegations?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, Magistrate.¡± I confirm.

    ¡°Then¡­? In what sense can you contest his guilt?¡± she asks, narrowing all eight of her eyes.

    ¡°Well, I have that outlined in my opening statement, Magistrate, but I wouldn¡¯t wish to begin without your permission.¡±

    ¡°*Sigh*¡­Let the jurors be aware that the defendant does not contest his commission of the crimes he is accused of¡­ but does contest his guilt. [Public Defender] Kurkhuw, you may now give your opening statement.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Magistrate.¡± I smile, dipping my head before walking forward to the middle of the space.

    OK, Kurkhuw¡­ your broodwife has set you a task.

    Even if that task is defending her father¡¯s killer (from her), you can¡¯t let her down!

    Here goes nothing(!)

    I open my arms and pedipalps to the juries and speak, loudly and with slightly ungentlemanly confidence ¡°Ladies and gentlemen of the juries, as I have stated, my client does not contest that it was he who attacked our peace delegation with the Twigg, nor that it was by his hand that our ruler met his end¡­ Nonetheless, I contend him innocent by reason of unsound mind!¡±

    Both juries murmur, sceptically, and several of the women¡¯s jury actively scoff.

    ¡°Granted, this is a defence that has not been successfully deployed in any of the trials that have taken place since the Khawekhan [Empire]¡¯s founding. However, I was able to find several historical precedents for it including, most recently and pertinently, one from Khawekh, from only [170 years] ago, wherein Lady K¡¯ortha of the Khawekhan Realm, Daughter of Broodking Khviakh of the Khawekhan Realm and Lady Whitku of the Lhor¡¯nhakhan Realm (one of our late ruler¡¯s own halfsisters), driven deranged after the consumption of tainted meat, killed three including a man and was subsequently judged not to bear liability¡­ Per the laws set down by our unifier, His Majesty Broodking Aghogh, where pre[Imperial] laws and legal precedents do not conflict with the laws of the [Empire], they stand¡­ Therefore, since, to my knowledge, our departed [Emperor] never set down a law that directly conflicts with an unsound mind defence, I argue that it is still in effect!¡­ Before I continue, may I ask the Magistrate to confirm the validity of my defence?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± hesitates the woman ¡°¡­I am not aware of any fault in your reasoning. If any members of the juries have pertinent objection to raise, I invite them to bring it forth.¡±

    She looks over her left shoulder to the men¡¯s jury, aware that they are, collectively, far more likely to be acquainted with any counter rulings than the women are.

    No one raises any.

    ¡°Then I acknowledge the validity of the defence.¡± she says, resigned.

    ¡°Thank you, Magistrate. Then I shall continue;¡­¡± I gesture behind me to where my client dangles from the ironwood frame ¡°¡­Over the course of this trial, I hope to show you that Sir Stetter, once a happy familyman, hale of body and sound of mind, was left broken, both bodily (the evidence of which should be readily apparent in his [durasteel] figure) and mentally by an attack that robbed him of his home, his loved ones, his community and his bodily integrity! How his government, preoccupied with fighting a War to ensure their kind¡¯s survival, took this broken man and, rather than attempting to heal him as they normally would, instead inducted him into a clandestine branch of their military and forged him into a weapon! How, affrighted by what they had wrought, they imprisoned him partway through that War. How they, at that point, acknowledged his mental derangement and sought to treat it and how, before his treatment was even close to complete, he was freed from his imprisonment by an opportunistic organisation of criminal [terrorists] who immediately set about undoing any progress he might have made in his years long incarceration in order to take advantage of his capabilities for their own ends!¡­ Now, ladies and gentlemen of the juries, I wish to assuage any reluctance you might have regarding my protestation of my client¡¯s innocence; I do not contend that, having found my client innocent, he ought to be turned free! He most certainly represents a clear and present danger not only to others but also to himself, currently. Rather, my petition for his sentencing is that he ought to be turned over to the custody of the [Galactic Union] and frozen inside one of their [stasis] fields until he can be returned to a Terran [super maximum security prison] to finally finish receiving the help he so desperately requires. I thank you and know that you shall come to the right decision.¡±

    The magistrate clears her throat and speaks ¡°*hhh-hmm*¡­ Thank you, Sir Kurkhuw. The court now recognises Regent Khr¡¯kowan to give her opening statement.¡±

    My broodwife rises as I walk back to my client¡¯s side and, before walking forward, corrects ¡°¡®Prosecutor Khr¡¯kowan¡¯ while court is in session, Magistrate.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ of course¡­ I¡¯m sor-¡± Haorken cuts herself off midsentence, seeing the look on Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s face and simply amends ¡°The court now recognises Prosecutor Khr¡¯kowan to give her opening statement.¡±

    My broodwife (looking breathtakingly beautiful) strides forward to the centre of the court and mounts the witness platform.

    She turns to gesture past me at her father¡¯s killer ¡°This man killed Broodking Aghogh. I saw it with my own eyes. I came upon him with his hand buried in my father¡¯s throat. Were it not for that fact, the [public defender]¡¯s exposition of his tragic circumstances might have moved my heart. As it stands, it does not. The truth is, however he became this way, he is simply too dangerous to be left alive and has consistently proven so¡­ I cannot fault him for actions he took during this War (the scale and context of which I must confess myself only passingly acquainted with) so I shall reserve judgement on that but, subsequently, he received [15 years] of treatment before being illegitimately freed, whereafter, he took immediately to a role as an assassin for a criminal enterprise and seems to have done so with relish! The full number of innocents he killed after his escape may not even be known to him but certainly among that number was the Terran Representative to the [GU] [Parliament] Sir Zurab ¡®Peacemaker¡¯ Mudaliar of the Terran, Earthen Realm. He also made attempts on the lives of my friends, Lady Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki, Lady Lhamo ¡®Crane¡¯ Yeshe and, when they attempted to thwart him, grievously wounded Sir Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor, Lady Brunhilda ¡®Samus¡¯ Arran, Lady Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter, Lady Tuun ¡®Elf¡¯ and Sir Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n, all of whom are present at this court today and all of whose testimony I plan to have heard by you here. I am seeking a verdict of guilty and a sentence of death which I shall permit no other but myself to enact¡­ I thank you.¡±

    Khr¡¯kowan returns to the prosecutor¡¯s platform and her sister asks ¡°Alright, now that we¡¯ve heard opening statements, who is the first witness?¡±

    The Miyazaki woman stands from behind my wife and says ¡°I believe I¡¯m first, Magistrate¡­ Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki.¡±

    ¡°The court recognises Lady Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki to give her testimony. First to question her is [Public Defender] Kurkhuw.¡± acknowledges my sister in law.

    The graceful Terran woman descends the stands, the clacks of her wooden shoes echoing across the court as she and I make our way to the witness platform.

    She steps atop the stone and turns her striking alien face towards me.

    I must admit, the strangeness of Terran faces is still a little unnerving to me!

    It was different with my client, whose face my mind could easily parse as a mask¡­

    Lady Miyazaki¡¯s face is undeniably flesh and blood and, ironically, more unsettling for that fact!

    Despite that, I¡¯m able to tell that her expression is kind.

    This woman is, as best I can surmise, the closest confidant my wife has among the offworlders and will be intimately involved in our quartering throughout the journey to the [galactic] capital.

    Let¡¯s hope I can get through crossexamining her without engendering any ill will(!)

    ¡°Lady Miyazaki¡­ would you please start by giving the court a report of your encounters with my client from the time you first became aware of him?¡±

    She smiles and bobs her head at me ¡°Of course, Public Defender. I first became aware of him when he dropped from the top of a multistorey building in front of myself and Representative Mudaliar while we were on our way to the Grauntian and Osiyul embassies on Citadel to meet with members of this expedition¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.158

    ---Testimony---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m standing on a Vrakhand sized square of stone in the middle of the open air court.

    I¡¯ve just finished giving my simple, factual retelling of my time being aware of Stetter while the sassy spider boy *hmm*ed and *hah*ed thoughtfully.

    ¡°Sir Taylor¡­¡±

    ¡°Victor¡¯s fine¡­ I ain¡¯t a knight(!)¡± I quip.

    The man gives me an amused smile and says ¡°Perhaps out of court I can call you that, Sir Taylor. Unfortunately, in court, there are certain proprieties that must be observed. I hope you understand.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sure. Makes sense, I guess¡­¡± I chuckle.

    Funny that I¡¯m getting last named by a species that doesn¡¯t even have last names themselves again(!)

    Just like Cap spending 9 years calling me ¡®Taylor¡¯ out of ¡®respect¡¯ and only giving it up when I had a dormful of other Terrans insisting on first names.

    ¡°Sir Taylor, could I enquire about your perception of my client¡¯s mental state in your last interaction with him before his capture?¡±

    ¡°When he attacked the peace conference? Yeah, he was out of it!¡±

    ¡°¡®Out of it¡¯? What was he out of?¡± he asks.

    ¡°He was out of his mind! It was like speakin¡¯ to someone who¡¯s ten beers deep or¡¯s gone three days without sleep!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I think the court might need clarification on what a ¡®[beer]¡¯ is? Could you enlighten us?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ Right. Err¡­¡± I flounder, trying to think of how to explain deliberate selfintoxication in a way that doesn¡¯t make Terrans sound like a bunch of rowdy barbarians ¡°¡­So¡­ beer¡¯s a fermentation of grains which makes an alcohol called ethanol¡­ Drinkin¡¯ ethanol has some pleasant effects on Terrans, like¡­ relaxation and lowerin¡¯ of inhibitions, but overindulgin¡¯ is generally bad! The more you drink the less coherent and selfpossessed you are.¡±

    ¡°And would ten [beers] be considered an overindulgence?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I ain¡¯t a lightweight but, by the time I were ten deep, I¡¯d prob¡¯ly have trouble walkin¡¯ in a straight line!¡± I assert.

    ¡°And, three consecutive days without sleep, this would have a similar effect?¡± he asks, for the juries¡¯ benefits more than his own, I know.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯m losin¡¯ my grip on reality at that point!¡± I state.

    ¡°So, Sir Stetter seemed as if he was losing his grip on reality to you?¡± asks the boy, seeming very satisfied.

    ¡°That¡¯s definitely the impression I got, yes.¡±

    Moving on, he asks ¡°Would you clarify the term ¡®[headcase]¡¯ for the court?¡±

    ¡°¡®Headcase¡¯?¡± I ask, confused ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Moments before I met with my client for the first time, I overheard you referring to him as a ¡®[headcase]¡¯? Do you recall?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­!¡± my cheeks burn with embarrassment at having a petty schoolyard insult like that brought up in a court ¡°¡­well, yeah¡­ prob¡¯ly shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve said that to him¡­ It ain¡¯t exactly civil!¡±

    He smiles and gestures negative ¡°Its civility is not material. Could I just have you elucidate its meaning?¡±

    I give a prolonged puff through my lips before answering ¡°*Pfffffff*¡­ Well¡­ I guess it¡¯s someone who ain¡¯t right in the head¡­! A nutter¡­¡±

    ¡°[Nutter]?¡± he asks, innocently.

    ¡°OK¡­! A crazy person! A person sufferin¡¯ from a mental illness that makes them unstable and unpredictable!¡±

    ¡°I see!¡­ And what was it that caused you to call my client a [headcase], Sir Taylor?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ think it was a reaction to findin'' out he thought this were a gardenworld¡­?¡±

    ¡°So, in your view, not being able to tell that Graom-Wakhkort was a [deathworld] would constitute evidence of mental instability?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I ain¡¯t a psychologist but¡­ I am a man who¡¯s seen a lot more than his share of deathworlds and gardenworlds both and, I can tell you, mistakin'' one for another''d be difficult to do if you¡¯ve got all your senses and you¡¯re firin¡¯ on all cylinders¡­ So, I guess¡­ yeah?¡±

    He gives a satisfied minibow and says ¡°Thank you, Sir Taylor. The defence has no further questions.¡±

    The not-a-judge announces ¡°Questioning will now be conducted by Prosecutor Khr¡¯kowan.¡±

    I hear heavy knifelegs stabbing into the sand and rapidly approaching from behind me to my left.

    Where I had to look down to meet her husband¡¯s gaze, I have to look up to meet the eight eyes of the General(/Regent/Prosecutor), glaring down at me with an intense ferocity I¡¯ve not seen since I fought her on the Bright Plume¡­ and with none of the fear I saw then.

    ¡°Sir Taylor. In your professional opinion as a protector and warden of safety, would the [galaxy] be a safer place without Jackson ¡®Scout¡¯ Stetter in it?¡± she almost snarls.

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ I mean, I don¡¯t wanna disparage your court system but¡­ I was raised to believe it¡¯s never too late for a second chance¡­ that whether or not there are people who deserve to die, there¡¯s no one who deserves to kill and¡­¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask your opinion on the death penalty, Sir Taylor! I asked if you thought the [galaxy] would be safer with or without that man!¡± she sneers.

    The question twists my insides into knots of guilt as I try and work out how to answer it.

    Eventually, I decide I just have to tell the truth.

    ¡°Without¡­¡± I mutter.

    ¡°Speak up so the juries can hear you, Sir Taylor!¡± she demands.

    ¡°Without!¡± I shout ¡°Stetter makes the galaxy a less safe place by existin¡¯ in it!¡±

    She gives a victorious puff and begins walking away, back to where she came from, dismissively saying ¡°No further questions, Sir Taylor.¡±

    I¡¯m no lawyer¡­ but my guess is that she¡¯s getting frustrated because she¡¯s losing.

    ---Wim¡¯s perspective---

    A thousand eyes are fixed on me!

    The tail twitches fearfully behind me.

    This is the most petrified I¡¯ve ever felt!

    I know that we¡¯ve made peace with the Monsters!

    I know that being the first Folk ever invited to speak at a Monster trial is progress!

    I know that it would be ridiculous for them to break that peace by attacking me! That to have gone to all the effort of faking peace only to kill one random Folk from a village that doesn¡¯t even sit inside any Monster territory would make no sense!

    I know all that and, still¡­ I can¡¯t help imagining more than a hundred Monsters rushing forward from where they¡¯re sitting to rip me apart!

    It wasn¡¯t so bad, sitting over with the Terrans.

    They¡¯re nice!

    I got to imagine they would protect me when I was with them.

    Standing here, trapped in the middle of this bowl in the earth, the same distance from the Monsters as I am from the Terrans, is absolutely terrifying!

    I mean, sitting back over there also meant that they weren¡¯t all looking at me¡­ evaluating me¡­ judging me¡­

    ¡°Lady Wim¡­?¡±

    I look to the Monster boy.

    He¡¯s much less scary than the audience and much, much less scary than the Monster lady arguing to kill the metal man.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­?¡± I ask, stupidly.

    ¡°Could you just tell the court about your brief encounter with Sir Stetter, Lady Wim?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ yes¡­ I was sitting ona rock out in the savannah. It¡¯s a littlebit dangerous foraFolk there becauseitsso open, so Iwaskeeping the eyes and ears open but Ididn¡¯thearanythinguntil¡­¡±

    ¡°Lady Wim? Lady Wim?¡± he interrupts.

    I just stare at him, blankly, afraid to say anything.

    He explains ¡°I understand that this might be a little bit of an overwhelming experience for you but I do need to ask you to speak slowly enough that the juries can understand you. Would you feel more comfortable if I asked Sir Taylor or Lady Hunter to come and stand beside you?¡±

    I¡¯m about to say ¡®Yes! Please!¡¯ when I stop myself.

    I¡¯m not a little girl any more!

    I can¡¯t make Folk look bad by clinging to the leg of a Terran to be brave enough to speak!

    ¡°No¡­ that¡¯s not necessary¡­ I¡¯ll try to speak slower. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely no problem at all, Lady Wim. Take your time.¡± he answers with more genuine seeming kindness than I would have thought was possible from a Monster until today!

    I close the eyes and take deep breaths for a few moments.

    ¡°I turned around and suddenly saw him¡­ I don¡¯t know how he snuck up on me when he¡¯s so big!¡­ He was covered in blue blood¡­ He was speaking to me but I¡¯d never worn one of these back then¡­¡± with a claw, I tap the coin stuck on the head ¡°¡­so I didn¡¯t know what he was saying¡­ I ran from him. He chased me. I hid in the grass and the red eyes changed colours while he looked for me. He got very frustrated and seemed like he went away¡­ I stayed hidden for a long time before I had the courage to go back to Polv. I told the village what had happened and some Terrans came to ask me questions¡­ They looked for him but couldn¡¯t find him.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Lady Wim.¡± he smiles before turning to the audience.

    I find the fear of looking at all those eight eyed faces a little nauseating so, instead, I just look at him while he speaks.

    ¡°My client tells me that the blood he was drenched in was that of an animal (unfamiliar to him and which I did not recognise the description of) which attacked him and dragged him into a river. He was able to regain the upper hand and dispatch this animal but did not think to wash the blood off of himself before continuing. He tells me that he did not intend to harm Lady Wim here and only sought to gather information from her or her community. The fact that cleaning himself of blood did not occur to him I posit to be yet further evidence of his unsoundness of mind. With that, I have no further questions for this witness and give her over to the prosecution.¡±

    I look over my left shoulder at the most monstrous Monster woman I¡¯ve ever even imagined and flinch when I see the stare she fixes me with.

    Several long moments pass as eight eyes feel like they¡¯re looking right through me! Like she can see through the bones in me!

    I¡¯m about to shout that I¡¯ve thought again and actually do want one of the Terrans to come and stand with me when she speaks.

    ¡°The prosecution believes the witness¡¯ testimony speaks for itself. No further questions at this time.¡± she growls.

    I barely hear the other Monster woman in charge of bossing everyone around say ¡°Lady Wim is asked to retake her seat.¡± as relief washes over me at the fact that I don¡¯t have to be any closer to that woman than I am right now!

    ---Lhamo¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Your current profession is Ambassador to this planet, correct, Lady Yeshe?¡± asks the Regent¡¯s husband.

    ¡°That is correct, Sir Kurkhuw.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Would you mind enlightening the court as to your prior professions?¡±

    ¡°Of course¡­¡± I nod ¡°¡­my husband and I have, for most of the period since the conclusion of the War, been employed in the administration of the Office of Deathworlder Relations on Citadel. Prior to that, during the War, I was a consultant, first to the United Terran Coalition Intelligence Service then to Forward Operations and, before the War, I was a professor of theoretical xenopsychology at Lhasa Gsar University.¡±

    ¡°[Xenopsychology]?¡± he asks with an innocent flutter of eight eyelids.

    ¡°Yes. ¡®Xeno-¡¯ from the Greek ¡®xenos¡¯, originally meaning ¡®stranger¡¯ or ¡®foreigner¡¯ but, for some time now, equated with ¡®alien¡¯. ¡®Psychology¡¯, also from Greek, meaning ¡®study of the mind¡¯. It was theoretical because, when I began my career, we had no proof that there was any intelligent life in the galaxy that had not originated on Earth.¡±

    ¡°So, you studied minds?¡± he clarifies.

    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡± I answer.

    ¡°And did you ever study Human minds?¡±

    I frown slightly ¡°I mean, of course! My main focus was on considering the ways in which alien psychology might differ from ours but that¡¯s only meaningful if you already have a fairly robust understanding of what you¡¯re measuring against!¡­ My undergraduate was simply psychology and I only specialised into xenopsychology for my postgrad.¡±

    ¡°So, Lady Yeshe, you would consider yourself to be a woman who¡¯s rather expert regarding workings of the mind, including the Human mind, is that correct?¡± he asks.

    ¡°I would certainly say so.¡±

    ¡°In your professional opinion as a psychologist, does my client seem mentally healthy to you, by Human standards?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I state, simply.

    ¡°Oh? In what ways wouldn¡¯t you characterise him as mentally healthy?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°I wouldn¡¯t like to speculate as to specific disorders he may or may not have. What I will say is that his behaviours demonstrate a severe and maladaptive lack of emotional regulation that would strongly suggest rather pronounced psychoses. His actions are very far from typical for Humans.¡±

    Satisfied, he says ¡°No further questions, Lady Yeshe.¡±

    Haorken announces ¡°Questioning will now be conducted by Prosecutor Khr¡¯kowan.¡±

    The boy pads away behind me to my right as his wife appears to my left, doing a bad job of hiding her fury.

    ¡°Does mental illness inherently make your people violent, Ambassador?¡± she demands.

    ¡°Absolutely not! In fact, those with mental health issues are inordinately more likely to be the victims of violence than its perpetrators!¡± I state, emphatically.

    ¡°So, is it fair to say that killing my father, attacking the peace summit, killing the Terran Representative to [Parliament]¡­ these are choices the accused made that have little if anything to do with any derangement he may or may not have?¡±

    ¡°Errrrm¡­¡± I hesitate ¡°¡­certainly, homicidal violence is nowhere near an inherent feature of mental illness. I could not opine as to the precise extent that, in this specific case, mental illness may or may not have played.¡±

    ¡°When my Aunt killed three, in my father¡¯s youth, she was out of her mind and did not know what she was doing. Was that the case for Sir Stetter?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± I answer ¡°¡­I do think that Mr Stetter has understood all of the relevant actions he¡¯s undertaken.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Lady Yeshe. Another question; if this man is returned to the custody of a Terran [prison], how long do you believe it would take for him to be cured of whatever ails him and allowed to reenter your society?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ I know his sentence is¡­ indefinite.¡± I answer, slightly sheepishly.

    ¡°An indefinite sentence? Is that typical for Terran criminals?¡±

    ¡°Certainly not!¡± I negate ¡°It¡¯s a sentence reserved for those who¡¯ve committed serious war crimes and crimes against peace!¡­ I believe that the total number of people serving indefinite sentences in Terran supermaxes is only in the triple digits¡­ and around half of them aren¡¯t Terran but particularly heinous gardenworld Generals and such, from the other side of the War.¡±

    ¡°So these are people that your society recognises may never be safe to release from custody?¡± she asks, feigning thoughtfulness.

    I remain silent for a moment before answering ¡°Yes¡­ If they¡¯re judged to have made legitimate improvement, a termination date for their sentence may be set but we recognise that that day may simply never come.¡±

    ¡°And, conditions inside your [prisons]? How are they?¡± she muses.

    ¡°Humane¡­ The inmates don¡¯t have their freedom but that¡¯s deemed to be punishment enough¡­ We make sure that they aren¡¯t tortured, neglected, kept in squalor or used as slave labour, that they¡¯re afforded sufficient medical care and receive plenty of enrichment and¡­ we do our best to prevent it from simply turning into a criminal networking opportunity for them(!)¡±

    ¡°So¡­ if the accused is found innocent and returned to one of these facilities, he would simply remain there? Indefinitely enjoying these humane accommodations while biding his time, waiting for another opportunity to regain his freedom, legitimately or illegitimately?¡±

    ¡°Not¡­ not ideally. Ideally we would eventually reach some sort of breakthrough with him and he could be released.¡± I answer, carefully.

    ¡°But that might never happen?¡± she pouts, thoughtfully, splaying the three fingers of her right hand skyward.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I see. I see¡­¡± she says, bobbing her head up and down in what almost looks like a Terran nod ¡°¡­and what¡¯s to stop the same organisation that freed him before from freeing him again? Or another organisation?¡±

    ¡°The Revanchists won¡¯t want me back!¡­ That¡­ bridge¡­ is¡­ burned!¡± speaks up Stetter from the defendant¡¯s stand.

    ¡°The defendant will remain silent while the witness is testifying!¡± snarls Haorken, seeming to have beaten Khr¡¯kowan to the punch by a fraction of a second.

    Khr¡¯kowan turns her face back to me and prompts ¡°Please answer the question, Lady Yeshe.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m not a penologist, you understand¡­ but I do believe that prison breaks are exceptionally rare occurrences, these days, and that the one that occurred on the supermax where Mr Stetter was incarcerated was the only such to have occurred in a century and a half¡­ I¡¯m not saying it couldn¡¯t happen again but I think it¡¯s extremely unlikely.¡±

    Khr¡¯kowan turns to the juries and, in a booming voice, shouts ¡°The Terrans are a deeply compassionate people and, for the most part, this quality is admirable! However, when it comes to men such as this¡­¡± she jabs her claws over my head in Stetter¡¯s direction ¡°¡­I feel that that compassion is¡­ misplaced¡­ That this man should be allowed to spend an indefinite amount of time continuing to pose a potential threat to life and peace while he whiles away his days in comfort is, in my view, misguided. Ladies and gentlemen of the juries, while this killer is within our power, subject to our justice, we have the opportunity to do what his own people refuse to do! To remove any threat he may ever again pose to another¡¯s safety! I urge you to seize this opportunity by the earhorns and vote to find this man guilty!¡­ No more questions for this witness!¡±

    With that, she turns to go.

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    The sturdy wooden frame I¡¯m crucified from is placed down on the middle platform, for the fifth time, with a weighty *thud*.

    The juries are in deadlock with eachother.

    The women¡¯s jury keeps finding me guilty by a handful of votes and keep passing the verdict over to the men¡¯s jury who keep finding me innocent by a wide majority.

    If they were one and the same jury, I¡¯d have more than enough votes to find me innocent but, each time they disagree, I get carried back to where I spent most of the trial to watch another round of arguments, then get carried back here again for another round of voting with barely anyone having changed their vote!

    ¡°23, 24, 25¡­ by a vote of 30 to 25 the women¡¯s jury votes to convict.¡± announces the seven footed judge ¡°Would the men¡¯s jury now raise their hands for a guilty verdict.¡±

    Nine of them put their hands up.

    ¡°By a vote of 9 to 46 the men¡¯s jury votes not to convict¡­ please return the defendant to his place for another round of arguments.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on!¡± I shout, irritably ¡°Do you seriously not have any kind of remedy for this situation?! Why don¡¯t you just cast the deciding vote if the juries can¡¯t decide!? Whose stupid idea was it to have two juries that can vote against eachother like this?!¡±

    ¡°I am not a juror, Sir Stetter, and, if I were I would get one vote and it would not change either juries¡¯ outcome!¡± sneers the judge.

    ¡°You¡¯re killing me here(!) I don¡¯t suppose I could just invoke a trial by combat or something, could I(?)¡±

    A look of surprise crosses her face for a moment before she announces ¡°The defendant has requested a trial by combat¡­ Would the women¡¯s jury please raise their hands to accept.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re shitting me!¡± I laugh.

    ¡°By a vote of 51 to 4, the women¡¯s jury accepts the defendant¡¯s request for a trial by combat. Would the men¡¯s jury please raise their hands to accept the defendant¡¯s request.¡±

    ¡°Nooo¡­ way!¡±

    ¡°By a vote of 28 to 27 the men¡¯s jury votes to accept the defendant¡¯s request. The defendant¡¯s request for a trial by combat is hereby granted.¡± declares the judge.

    ¡°I volunteer to represent the court!¡± demands the spider queen prosecutor from behind me.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.159

    ---Combat---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    My hands grip the rope handles halfway up the doors of the floor to ceiling cabinet.

    I pull them open to reveal a polished wooden mannequin, standing my height from the ground.

    Atop its head rests a thick, wide brimmed helmet in polished iron, glittering even in the dimness of my chambers.

    Hanging from its shoulders is the pale grey cloak in which, most recently, I butchered my father.

    Upon its chest is an iron cuirass and hanging from its waist is a pale grey battle skirt, iron plates set across the crotch.

    ¡°Hello old sister¡­¡± I say, reaching out to place the flesh of my left palm against the cool metal of the breastplate ¡°¡­I¡¯m afraid I have need of you today.¡±

    Though I polish and oil it regularly to keep the metal from tarnishing, the campaigns of my early generalship all ended in such crushing victories that I¡¯ve not had cause to don this armour for some years¡­ a relatively unprecedented span of peace¡­

    I begin unfastening the belts that hold the front and back halves of my cuirass together.

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    The spider women place my frame down onto the coarse sand of the arena floor and set to work loosening my hands and feet from the silk mittens they¡¯re wrapped inside.

    This place definitely seems better as a gladiatorial coliseum than it was as a courthouse(!)

    The top of the stone divide between the stands and the floor is manned by a ring of large, spear wielding women that weren¡¯t here yesterday¡­ apparently in case I get any ideas about attacking the audience.

    They don¡¯t need to worry.

    I¡¯m actually really curious about how I stack up to the spider queen when she isn¡¯t blindsiding me!

    Once I beat her, then I¡¯ll think about returning my attention to the ones I came to this planet for¡­ If I beat her¡­

    I look over at the giant woman, dressed in shining metal, medieval knight armor with horns poking through a Spanish conquistador looking helmet and hate in all eight of her eyes!

    She¡¯s definitely one tough bitch, I know that now!

    Even if it was with the advantage of having me think she was some spun glass, gardenworld pushover at the time, the way she knocked me the fuck over and pinned me down was something truly impressive!

    She¡¯s too strong for me to take head on¡­ Too heavy to allow any possibility of her being able to get herself on top of me.

    Distance and maneuver are going to be my friends in this fight!

    I drop to the ground in the middle of my frame and walk forward, stepping out of it before its carried away by the women who brought me here.

    I bring my claws to my lower face and slice through the muzzle I¡¯ve had on for well over a week at this point.

    ¡°Would both combatants come forward to select their arms.¡± instructs the seven footed judge, gesturing to an array of blunt force melee weapons laid out on a purple cloth in front of her ¡°Due to the nature of the material from which the defendant¡¯s body is made, thanatite blades have been ruled impermissible in this trial, for the risk of their loss¡­ The defendant has the first choice¡­¡±

    I inspect my options for a few moments before bending down to reach for a 7ft bo staff.

    I pick it up and, for a moment, am fooled into thinking it might be all metal, for its weight and solidity, before realising that, while there are metal caps at the ends and a few metal bands around it, the staff itself is just very dense wood.

    I give it an experimental spin.

    Good heft!

    I follow that up with a 10 second long combination breakdance-martial arts display with the weapon.

    I¡¯m certain no one could ever replicate it without a robot body.

    I finish by slamming it into the ground.

    ¡°Now there¡¯s the perfect stick I spent my entire childhood looking for(!)¡± I laugh triumphantly.

    ¡°The defendant is reminded that he is still in court and asked to comport himself with greater respect.¡± sneers the judge.

    ¡°Or what, toots?¡­ You gonna fine me(?)¡± I shoot back.

    She ignores that, realising that she¡¯s got no leverage, and just says ¡°Prosecutor Khr¡¯kowan is asked to select her weapon.¡±

    The spider queen immediately bends down to pick up a thick club, its bulbous head covered in metal studs.

    Exactly like I¡¯m playing to my strengths here, it seems she knows hers as well¡­ she¡¯s playing to her power and momentum¡­

    The unchosen weapons are bundled up in the purple cloth and taken away by one of the attendants and the judge announces ¡°Combatants are reminded that, if their weapon becomes broken, it will be deemed to have been the will of the Weaver that it broke. No stoppage will be issued and no replacements will be offered. In that case the combatant will have the option to fight on or concede defeat.¡±

    Some choice that is for me when ¡®conceding defeat¡¯ means letting myself be executed(!)

    ¡°Combatants are asked to take their marks.¡±

    The queen and I wheel about to take position across the arena from eachother.

    The (heavily guarded) exit is to my left with the judge¡¯s platform to my right.

    Between me and my opponent is the testifying square. It¡¯s stone and sits about 2 inches proud of the sandy arena floor.

    I briefly think about tactics involving making her trip on it before realizing, with eight legs, she¡¯s not likely to be tripped by something like that.

    I¡¯ve still got to be careful I don¡¯t trip on it though!

    I look past her to where my attorney is looking at her concerned.

    ¡°Hey yo, Kirk!¡± I shout.

    The fluffy spider femboy starts and switches his attention to me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t feel bad if your wife kills me¡­ You were the best lawyer I ever had, no contest!¡±

    His face twists with a complex web of different emotions.

    I turn from him to the queen across the arena from me and ask ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you¡¯re planning to concede at all, are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d sooner die than allow you to escape the Weaver¡¯s justice!¡± she snarls back with cold fury.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Yeeeeeah¡­ Thought so¡­ Although, you might change your tune later¡­ Funny how quickly getting beaten mostly to death can readjust a person¡¯s outlook(!)¡±

    She doesn¡¯t answer.

    I bend my legs and begin idly spinning my staff around my body.

    ¡°Hey, old timer! Hope you enjoy the show(!)¡± I shout to the man who ripped off my arm.

    ¡°I¡¯m certain it will be unpleasant.¡± he responds with infuriating calmness, speaking in English and just loud enough for his voice to carry to me.

    The judge raises an arm and shouts ¡°May the Weaver guide your hands and render justice done!¡±

    There¡¯s a protracted pause.

    Then ¡°BEGIN!¡±

    The queen surges forward!

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    This man is purportedly a killer near equal to Taylor, Hunter, Arran, Tuun and their teacher combined!

    I cannot underestimate him!

    I¡¯m also told that his unnatural body does not tire¡­ meaning I¡¯ll be at a greater disadvantage the longer I allow this fight to continue¡­

    I know, however, that, no matter how strong or fast he may be, he¡¯s only around half my weight!

    If I can just hit him fast and hard enough, I can pin him down like last time and take my time in ripping him apart!

    He hasn¡¯t moved from where he stood, only placing the end of his staff against the stone edge of the courtroom floor.

    I raise my club for a swing and it¡­ cleaves through the air where, the instant prior, his head was!

    At the last moment, he dived, feet first, between my pedipalps and pushed himself under me, off the side with his staff.

    Before I can wheel around, I feel a hard impact against the inside of my back left two feet.

    It¡¯s painful as the force is transmitted through the joints but I manage to keep myself from stumbling as I endure it, spinning around with another unsuccessful swipe of my weapon.

    If he¡¯d known anything about my species¡¯ anatomy, he wouldn¡¯t have attacked my thanatite feet and would have used the opportunity to strike at my exposed flank or higher up my leg.

    As if reading my mind, he aims his next staff strike at my front left leg.

    I bring my club down to parry and am certain I¡¯m about to break his weapon but, just in time, he pulls back enough of the force to allow it to bounce off mine and be recovered with an arrogant flourish!

    This man¡­ I hate this man!

    This man killed my father (and the Weaver only knows how many others besides) and then proceeded to treat the trial which was given him, the trial which he never gave a living soul nor dead ones either, with arrogance and contempt!

    But¡­ I am a warrior¡­ the finest warrior of all the Vrakhand!

    I know that that hate is not my friend¡­

    An opponent who is beneath you enough to be overcome more easily by a hateful rage is one whom you would have beaten in any event¡­ When fighting one who might be a match for you, hate makes you sloppy, rage makes you careless¡­ gives them openings they would not otherwise have had!

    I must do my best not to let his arrogance needle me¡­

    The next few moments is a whir of his staff and my club.

    He continually aims halfhearted probing attacks at me while my every counter is aimed to kill.

    I know he¡¯s trying to tire me out but there¡¯s little I can do about it.

    Allowing desperation to guide my strikes would be unwise.

    His staff connects with my left pedipalp, hard, causing searing pain to burn through my body.

    Searing, but not blinding, for, in that moment, I see an opening!

    He¡¯s over extended himself and placed his right wrist within the range of my left hand!

    I seize it and yank him toward me, my substantially greater weight making the action irresistible!

    My club smashes down on his right shoulder, severing the arm.

    There is no scream of pain (as I¡¯ve heard from all prior whom I¡¯ve dismembered while they still drew breath) but, rather, the action that answers is a clawed left hand shooting out to rake the right side of my face, ripping through the scutes and causing me to roar and recoil back in pain!

    I raise my club between us to guard against him while I back off to assess the damage.

    He¡¯s put out the two rightmost of my auxiliary eyes but¡­ I feel relief as the vision returns to the main eye.

    He only clipped the cornea!

    The pain of that plus the pooling blood just momentarily robbed that eye of vision.

    I briefly glance down with my main eyes (keeping my four unblinded auxiliaries on my opponent) and inspect the damage to my pedipalp.

    It¡¯s cracked and bleeding but still relatively intact¡­ It won¡¯t stand up to another impact like that, though!

    The pain of my eyes and palp should be excruciating but my mind is suppressing it to a dull pounding¡­ only until this fight is over, I know¡­

    ---Jackson¡¯s perspective---

    I sigh.

    Cracking a nonloadbearing foot and putting out a quarter of her eyes was not a fair trade for an arm!

    I got cocky.

    She¡¯s warier of me now though. She hasn¡¯t attacked yet.

    I step on the wrist of my smashed off limb and bend to pick up my stick.

    Standing back up and pointing it at her, I ask ¡°What is it with everyone and ripping off my right arm(?!)¡±

    ¡°Apologies¡­(!)¡± she sneers back, coldly ¡°¡­I¡¯ll endeavour to make your head next!¡±

    I wiggle my staff towards the gashes that go from the right side of her forehead to the middle of her right cheek and retort ¡°Yeah, try not to lose any more eyes doing that, sweetheart(!)¡±

    She doesn¡¯t respond.

    With how much she clearly hates my guts, she¡¯s amazingly resistant to being goaded!

    Well¡­ someone¡¯s got to restart the fight!

    I rush forward.

    I can¡¯t afford to hold back while she tires herself out anymore, now I¡¯m down an arm!

    I unleash a flurry of attacks, attempting to overwhelm her defense.

    She struggles to move her heavy weapon fast enough to block my lighter one but manages it, just about.

    She¡¯s carefully keeping that injured foot away from me.

    I guess another strike to it would be pretty catastrophic for her.

    She goes on the offensive.

    I wheel and spin acrobatically as I dodge.

    I see an opening.

    She¡¯s about to put that foot into my range!

    I aim a strike for where it¡¯s gonna be when¡­

    *GOOOOONG*

    ¡­I¡¯m looking at sand with one eye while shards of wood and metal fall around my head.

    Immediately, I roll back to standing and see her clutching the handle of her club, the end now an exploded mess of splinters.

    I try to reboot my left eye but it¡¯s no good, the strike she connected with my temple has made it completely inoperable!

    She finishes examining it and tosses it away, determining what¡¯s left to not be worth holding onto.

    She starts advancing, slowly, her six remaining eyes darting over me, intensely.

    I back off.

    Even though she doesn¡¯t have a weapon anymore, I don¡¯t like the way she¡¯s looking at me!

    She¡¯s cornering me against the side of the ring.

    Before I¡¯m completely out of options, I aim a strike at her which she¡­ catches!?

    She rips the staff out of my hand and offbalances me before breaking it over my left shoulder.

    That arm stays attached so I aim a strike at the bare flesh of her throat.

    My hand stops, an inch from connecting, three armored, insectoid digits wrapped around my wrist and a hateful face glaring down at me.

    I aim a kick at her but she catches the ankle and, in the same tenth of a second, drops the wrist and spins my upper body away from her, still holding me by the lower leg.

    I¡¯m smashed into the ground and feel her other hand grip my other ankle.

    I¡¯m lifted up by centrifugal force as my remaining eye sees the arena fly past me.

    I feel her release me a second before I impact the stone side of the ring, head first.

    Not dazed or winded by that the way I would be if my body were still flesh and bone, I scramble around, only to find her way closer than I thought she¡¯d be!

    I aim another, desperate strike at her throat which she, again, catches.

    This time though, her left arm wraps around the defenseless right side of my torso.

    Holding me in place, she pulls out my left arm with her right in a twisted parody of a ballroom dance where she¡¯s leading.

    Over extending it, she keeps pulling while my feet franticly search for something to sink their claws into and my durasteel teeth gnash for something to bite, both finding nothing!

    With a metallic wrenching sound, my forearm is ripped off at the elbow.

    She throws me away from her, onto the ground.

    With my two and a half remaining limbs, I try to get up¡­ failing.

    Panic floods into my mind as I relive the day I lost my original arms and legs.

    I scramble to push myself away from her as she advances, her face leaving no doubt as to what she¡¯s about to do.

    Before I can stop them, desperate pleading words spew from my mouth.

    ¡°Listen! Your Majesty! I¡¯m sorry, OK?! I¡¯m so sorry about what I did to your dad! I get it, OK?! I know what it''s like¡­ Please! Spare me! Send me back to prison! I¡¯m SORRY¡­!!!¡±

    She bends to grab my ankles again and folds my legs, enough to put her face inches from mine, as she looms over me and sneers ¡°I don¡¯t want your apologies¡­ I want my father back!!!¡±

    She stands back up, lifting me to dangle in front of her while I continue to plead and beg.

    She places the prongs of her unsmashed stiletto foot against the bottom of my jaw and leans her upperbody backwards.

    As I feel her place my entire body under tension, from my throat to my ankles, I flail my left stump and thrash my feet, still begging.

    I try to tilt my head far enough back that her prongs slip over my jaw but it¡¯s no good. They¡¯re wedged there!

    My body graunches from the strain until, all at once, I cease to register anything at all from it as my head skips across the sand in a way I¡¯ve never experienced before.

    I¡¯m still begging, still pleading and still clanking my metal teeth, my last (completely useless) weapon.

    I¡¯m able to hear the horrified gasps of the crowd at the macabre spectacle of a disembodied head still begging for its life.

    I hear the heavy thud of the spider queen dropping my body behind me.

    The sound of her feet stabbing into the ground approaches.

    A hand grasps the top of my skull like a dodgeball and lifts me up.

    I¡¯m forced to meet her eyes as she holds me up by her left hand and extends her right to the bottom of my head where there¡¯s got to be a hole directly to the cavity my brain case is in.

    The last thing I experience is a three fingered hand gripping something inside my skull and squeezing, tight!

    Lyla¡­ Sophie¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.160

    ---Party---

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    I sit on a chair, having to be at a much closer distance to my client than I was able to be on the ship.

    Space is at rather a premium in the habitat, so I ought to be grateful I was able to secure a room of any size!¡­ Otherwise, the only options would have been to have turfed my husband out of our house or to have conducted sessions out in the forest¡­ and I somehow doubt that this woman would find the atmosphere therapeutically conducive out there(!)

    At my strong suggestion, the door to the cupboard sized room is locked.

    There are a lot of Twigg running around and knocking (or in any other way requesting entry to a room) does not seem to be a feature of their culture.

    ¡°So, Waqa¡¯arc¡­ it has been a little while¡­ I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve had a session since before we evacuated the ship. Is there a reason you suddenly wanted to see me?¡± I ask, knowing full well the answer.

    ¡°Yes¡­ There is¡­¡± she responds, sullenly.

    ¡°And what is that?¡±

    She sighs and rolls her head before saying ¡°I¡­ You saw¡­ *sigh*¡­ Yesterday, after I received word that the terrorist assassin had met his end at the hands of the local monarch, I had assumed the mood would be rather more¡­ jubilant among those returning here!¡­ I made preparations among the Twigg and the remaining gardenworlders to throw a¡­ surprise celebration¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, I saw you directing decorations, drinks and snacks to be laid out, once we got the news. Tell me; how do you think your party idea was received?¡± I ask, trying to be gentle.

    ¡°It was received with a mixture of outrage and disgust¡­ but I can¡¯t understand why!¡­ The man tried to kill us! Multiple times!¡­ He successfully killed the Terrans¡¯ representative and this planet¡¯s last monarch! Yet, from the sombre attitude of those who witnessed his end, you would think they had just returned from the funeral of a loved one!¡­ Should they not have been laughing and joking, more than they normally do!? Should they not have been happy someone had thought to preprepare festivities for them?! I mean, it certainly didn¡¯t help that the monarch came back with them to have her foot repaired and her eyes tended to!¡­ She seemed the least amused by what she called my ¡®poor taste¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Right, so¡­¡± I start, about to deploy the most clich¨¦d question in therapy ¡°¡­how did that make you feel?¡±

    The woman¡¯s avian face twists and pulses brighter and dimmer as warm blood flows through its flesh before answering ¡°Hurt¡­ angry¡­ humiliated¡­ but, most of all, confused!¡­ Why should deathworlders take any less pleasure in the removal of a threat to their existence than anyone else?! Do they have some kind of¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ affinity for him, just because he was a deathworlder too?!¡±

    ¡°Do you think that¡¯s what it is?¡± I ask, gently. Therapist speak for ¡®That¡¯s not what it is, try again.¡¯

    ¡°I don¡¯t! But what is it?!¡­ You know deathworlders!¡­ You know Terrans at least! Help me understand what I don¡¯t! What dynamic am I not appreciating here?!¡±

    I¡¯m silent for a few moments, thinking about the best way to lead her to her answer.

    ¡°Try to think, Waqa¡¯arc, about what might have been necessary for Terrans to survive the adversities of their cradleworld, besides mistrust and hatred of anything that might threaten them? Would they have been able to build a society if those feelings were all they ever felt?¡±

    Her four eyes narrow as she thinks hard about that.

    ¡°I¡­ suppose not¡­ You can¡¯t cooperate with those you hate and mistrust¡­ They must have the capacities to love and trust others as well¡­ Even those who¡¯ve proven they don¡¯t deserve it?¡±

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    She¡¯s not quite there¡­ this is still progress though!

    ¡°I don¡¯t think any of our Terran¡¯s loved or trusted that man ¡­ Waqa¡¯arc, do you remember the event you told me first brought you to therapy? Mr Taylor saving that child?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± she frowns.

    ¡°Do you remember what we concluded was most likely to have motivated that action?¡±

    ¡°It¡­ was¡­¡± she struggles for a few [seconds] before recalling ¡°¡­empathy! The understanding and sharing of another¡¯s emotions!¡±

    ¡°Exactly¡­ and do you think empathy is an impulse that Terrans have it in their power to turn on and off at will?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ Nooo¡­ I suppose not?¡­ So that¡¯s it then? They¡¯re unable to disable their sympathetic disposition even to one so undeserving of it? That, by treating this as a moment of celebration, they felt I was disrespecting their vicarious feelings of pain for having watched a man die?¡±

    ¡°I would certainly say that¡¯s more likely than it being because they cared about him or were sad he was dead.¡± I confirm, neutrally, containing my triumphant feelings at the breakthrough she¡¯s just made.

    She continues ¡°And you think the Vrakhand share this empathy of theirs?¡±

    I briefly give a Terran headshake before answering ¡°I couldn¡¯t say the extent to which Vrakhand feel empathy, only that it definitively seems like more than none, based on what I¡¯ve experienced of them so far¡­ I think Khr¡¯kowan may have had her own reasons for not being in a particularly festive mood after losing two eyes and having an appendage shattered in putting down her father¡¯s killer.¡±

    ¡°That does make sense.¡± she nods, paying unusually high attention to me.

    Her [gears keep turning] ¡°Do you think¡­? Does this empathy of theirs have anything to do with the relative leniency of the Peace?¡±

    ¡°Do you think it might have?¡±

    Her frown deepens as she looks away to consider the thought that¡¯s just occurred to her.

    ¡°I had always thought that the reason they didn¡¯t push for a more punitive settlement was mostly that they were almost as spent as we were!¡­ They worried that, if they¡¯d offered terms that were too harsh, they might have been rejected and the War might have recommenced¡­ That they were¡­ that they were putting up a front of magnanimity to cover for their position of toothlessness at the time but¡­ could it be that they actually empathised with us? That they actually understood the fear and mistrust we¡¯d felt for them?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m no diplomat¡­ I¡¯m sure the exact reasons for why the Peace offer looked the way it did were myriad¡­ but I think empathy probably played a role, yes.¡± I answer.

    Her face twists in the way of one who¡¯s reassessing a core belief.

    I don¡¯t interrupt.

    Eventually, she gives an exaggerated sigh and simply turns her beak ceilingward ¡°*sigh*¡­ I don¡¯t know what to do! If I just hadn¡¯t been openly hostile at the start, they wouldn¡¯t all have come to hate and mistrust me! Everything I do to try and [extend an olive branch] to them is wrong for reasons I don¡¯t understand and, because none of them trust me, none of them will explain why! I wish I had someone who could simply tell me how to make amends!¡­ I want to be better but how can I if there¡¯s no one willing to tell me things like ¡®deathworlders find celebrations of death distasteful¡¯!?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I hesitate ¡°¡­wasn¡¯t there someone?¡±

    ---Tcakqaal¡¯s perspective---

    The door opens on the small, 3D printed house I have set up for me in the embassy grounds.

    On the outside stands my Clansister, looking suitably humbled after her execution party-fiasco yesterday.

    ¡°Well, well, well, Sister.¡± I smirk ¡°Come to¡­?¡±

    ¡°You were right, Tcakqaal. You were right and I was wrong.¡± she interrupts.

    ¡°Come again?¡± I ask, genuinely flabbergasted by hearing those words from this old bully.

    ¡°I was wrong about the Terrans. They¡¯re not the monsters I took them for¡­ Even hating me, they¡¯ve proven that much!¡± she answers.

    ¡°Al¡­right? Well I¡¯m happy you¡¯ve realised as much, Sister. Was that all you came to say or¡­?¡±

    ¡°No! I need your help!¡± she pleads.

    ¡°You want¡­ my help? With what?¡± I ask, suspiciously.

    ¡°You like Terrans! You know Terrans!¡­ You understand Terrans! Teach me how to make them like me too!¡±

    My two biological eyes narrow appraisingly at my Clansister ¡°Waqa¡¯arc, if this is some sort of ploy, if you think that getting close to them will get them to let their guard down and show you their true selves¡­¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t work, I know!¡± she interrupts, impatiently ¡°I¡¯m not a good enough actress to fool a suspicious Terran and, even if I were, there¡¯d be nothing to see. No aspect of themselves that they¡¯d share with a friend that I haven¡¯t already seen as their enemy!¡­ I¡¯m sincere, Tcakqaal! I want to make up for [35 years] of intolerance¡­ I¡¯ve been seeing [Dr] Fischer about it¡­ The Spelvuk one, not the Terran, obviously. After what happened yesterday, she suggested that soliciting your help might be a good idea¡­ So here I am¡­ asking for your help. How do I make them like me?¡±

    Trying to contain my glee, I say ¡°Alright then, Sister! Come in!¡± ushering her inside.

    The door closes and I turn to flutter onto one of the living area¡¯s perches.

    She follows, taking a perch facing me.

    ¡°So, the first thing I need to teach you is that you can¡¯t make a Terran like you! They are just about the most stubborn and oppositionally defiant species in the galaxy and, if they feel like you¡¯re trying to force them to do or not to do something, they¡¯re extremely likely to do the opposite out of spite(!) Getting them to like you has to be something they want and you¡¯ve not exactly given them a lot of incentive to want that, have you? I think, where we should start would beeeee¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.161

    ---Election---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m exhausted¡­

    Emotionally, intellectually and physically!

    My face still stings and my palp still aches, healing from the wounds inflicted in my fight with that murderer, though they have both been tended to by the healers (who also gave me drugs to numb the pain.)

    Acting as Regent has meant that not only have I had to take care of all of my usual duties but, also, every decision that ought to be going through my father is, instead, falling to me!

    And that includes all of the coordination of this election¡­

    Bitterly, I reflect that having all of the other realms'' Broodkings and First Women gathered in the city did expedite things when my father was killed.

    It would have taken months otherwise and some may never have made it here!

    The idea that there might be such a thing as a ¡®convenient¡¯ time for my father to have been murdered does rankle me though!

    No offworlders or Twigg are present here, at my request.

    This is internal business of the Khawekhan [Empire] and the presence of outsiders to it would only be disruptive.

    Choosing a new ruler of the Vrakhand should be done by the Vrakhand!

    The only concession I made was allowing a [drone] to be present to record the election for later analysis, mainly by the tall, bipedal, pale blue skinned and impossibly slender political analyst with the elongated head, who smells of seafood, Weyavl.

    It hovers above the court in the same place it¡¯s been since the start, unobtrusive enough that I keep almost forgetting about it.

    The only people present are the First Women, Broodkings and a few men here to count the votes.

    This isn¡¯t a flat vote like with the two juries the other day.

    Each Realm is assigned voting power by multiple different factors including population, military projection and the rather nebulous qualification of ¡®prestige¡¯. Smaller, weaker, less prestigious realms¡¯ votes matter less. Larger, stronger, more prestigious realms¡¯, more.

    If a Broodking and First Woman from the same realm vote differently, they split and diminish their realm¡¯s voting power. Each one voting with 50/121 of the power they would have had united.

    Of course, by the nature of what this election is for, Khawekh¡¯s vote is not only by far the most powerful but, also, the only one not capable of being split. Represented, as it is, only by myself.

    I might feel bad for that but for the fact that none of the other realms ever need to take any account of outside influence when selecting their new Broodkings!

    Currently embodying the [Empire], it is fitting for my vote to be outsized.

    The voting algorithm is complicated enough that multiple different realms requested to each, independently, have mathematically inclined boys brought in to count the votes, serving as both honesty and sanity checkers for eachother(!)

    They stand around the witness¡¯ platform, each holding an abacus, and, whenever a round of voting happens, furiously clack away to calculate the total.

    Usually they agree. When they don¡¯t, it requires a tedious recount.

    My uncle, Khravash, has just had the fifth son he¡¯s nominated rejected and I¡¯m beginning to wish my father¡¯s will had stipulated a limit on the number of nominees each realm can put forward!

    At this rate, we¡¯re going to have to individually reject every male in Wokhash(!)

    He opens his mouth, clearly to nominate another son, but someone else speaks first.

    ¡°I have a nomination!¡± shouts First Woman Ho''akhath, rising to her feet.

    My uncle looks as if he wishes to object but seems to realise how ¡®but I¡¯m not done listing potential puppets for myself¡¯ would sound as an objection(!)

    ¡°Make your nomination, Lady Ho''akhath.¡± I invite from the head of the court, behind the magistrate¡¯s platform.

    I¡¯m curious¡­ but not hopeful.

    Practically every nomination made thus far has been nakedly driven by nothing more than each realm¡¯s ambition to place a sympathetic [Emperor] on the throne.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The few that haven¡¯t have been quickly ruled unsuitable for other reasons.

    ¡°I nominate Regent Khr¡¯kowan!¡± she shouts, looking directly at me.

    There is a moment of shock¡­ followed by raucous laughter at the ridiculous suggestion.

    ¡°Need I remind you that my broodhusband has already been rejected as unsuitable, Lady Ho''akhath?¡± I ask, neutrally, over the din.

    ¡°Yes! But my nomination was not for Kurkhuw of Nhirmor! It was for Khr¡¯kowan of Khawekh!¡± she responds, defiantly.

    ¡°Preposterous!¡± spits my uncle ¡°Women are too shortlived and too violent for leadership! There has never been a female Ruler!¡±

    ¡°Until [50 years] ago, there had never been a male one either!¡± counters Ho¡¯akhath ¡°And, as to us being shortlived, that¡¯s not the case anymore, is it?¡­ We are entering into a new era!¡­ One where women have the potential to live just as long and become just as wise as men!¡­ This era is going to be defined by our relationship with the Foreigners, both Twigg and offworlder¡­ Khr¡¯kowan has repeatedly proven she is the best person for managing our relationship with them which is exactly why we already agreed on her as the best choice to represent us to the [GU]!¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it a little hasty and, perhaps, shortsighted to be selecting our new Ruler based on the times we¡¯re living through?¡± asks my father in law, [Lord] Howakh, sounding genuinely sceptical ¡°I agree that things are about to change for us, enormously, but¡­ a change like this¡­? It seems ill advised¡­¡±

    ¡°I disagree!¡± announces H¡¯rtkoss, First Woman of Vresh, the second most powerful woman of the Northern Confederation, backing up the first ¡°I think adapting with the times is precisely what we ought to be doing! The Foreigners have no need to separate male from female, they assign leadership on merit! I posit that there is none so meriting the rulership of our [Empire] as Khr¡¯kowan of Khawekh! I second Ho¡¯akhath¡¯s nomination!¡±

    I sigh ¡°I¡¯m flattered, of course¡­ but, as the First Woman pointed out, I¡¯ve already been selected as the Khawekhan [Empire]¡¯s representative to the [Galactic] Union¡­ electing me as [Empress] would mean having to choose another to represent us!¡± the feminisation of the word I¡¯ve only ever heard in its masculine form sitting strangely in my mouth!

    ¡°Well¡­ that¡¯s not true?¡± suggests Broodking Mhirko of Khovha ¡°How often do any of the realms actually require Khawekh¡¯s direct intervention on anything? Once¡­ twice a year? You could appoint a Regent or council to rule in your name and, so long as they aren¡¯t wildly incompetent, they¡¯d likely be able to hold the fort until you either return or we receive the promised communication installation that would allow you to talk to us from the [galactic] capital, at which point you could rule almost as effectively from there as Khawekh¡­ I also think it might give a favourable impression to this [Parliament] if we were to send our Ruler to represent us there¡­ I¡¯m in favour of installing you as the first Khawekhan [Empress].¡±

    ¡°Any Regent or council appointed by a woman would be women also! This would be but the first step to the rise of a matriarchal tyranny!¡± screeches Broodking Vilhor, outraged ¡°Since time immemorial, it has been the way that women control matters of war and men control matters of state! Investing both into one sex is too much power! It¡¯s ripe for abuse!!! How long would it be before we were back to the same barbarities that caused our descent into the Warring Realms Period?! Resource raids!? Groom kidnapping!?!?!?¡­ Women are simply too violent and ambitious to be trusted with rulership!¡­ I will be voting nay!¡±

    One of the vote counters here thinks to flip the beads on his abacus to represent Vilhor and Mhirko¡¯s predeclared votes, the others quickly copy the action.

    I speak ¡°I can¡¯t say I entirely disagree with you, Vilhor¡­ being both [Empress] and First Woman of Khawekh is far too much power for one individual!¡­ If I were to take the throne, I would need to select a replacement to my role as head of the military¡­ and I would need to be mindful that whomever I chose to rule in my stead were trustworthy¡­ I would appoint a council of men who would advise first my Regent, then myself¡­ I have no interest in creating a society where men become second class citizens!¡­ For my part I will be abstaining from this vote¡­ It will be up to the realms as to whether to trust me with the throne.¡±

    The vote counter boys¡¯ eyes go wide as they slide an enormous portion of the beads to the centre of the (most valuable) bottom row of their respective abacuses to represent the vote I have indicated I won¡¯t be casting.

    I probably would have had enough voting power to effectively float or sink my own ascension, singlehandedly.

    With my vote withdrawn, I judge it to be anyone¡¯s game!

    ¡°Shall we commence the vote or does anyone have anything else to say regarding my candidacy?¡±

    ¡°I do!¡± objects my uncle ¡°What about your eyes!? You expect us to install you as Ruler with only six eyes!?¡­ Six eyes and a shattered pedipalp?!?!?!¡±

    ¡°Funny how you never raised an objection to her father having no working eyes, [Lord] Khravash(!)¡± says Ho¡¯akhath, pointedly.

    ¡°Her father was a man! His full blindness was a function of his advanced age! Not a wound he sustained in a fight to the death with a monster(!)¡± he bickers.

    ¡°So now you¡¯re faulting her for representing our people in the administration of justice against a murderer? Risking her life to do so? What!?¡±

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    Myself and the others waiting for the announcement are in the harbour plaza when I see them.

    The Qlofltli woman, Weyavl, was watching the broadcast live until I pointed out to her that she had promised not to and she sullenly turned it off.

    She stands, putting my head level with her spindly bare thigh, and leans forward eagerly.

    Khr¡¯kowan leads the procession of all her empire¡¯s movers and shakers.

    Her uncle carries her father¡¯s crown in his hands, indicating an emperor has been chosen, but looks like someone has pissed in his udon(!)

    I¡¯m guessing he wasn¡¯t able to get one of his sons or nephews on the Khawekhan throne to act as his puppet¡­

    I frown as I see¡­ Khr¡¯kowan take position in the middle of the square, on the same platform her father¡¯s body was butchered on last week, and kneel down.

    Confused murmurs emanate from the crowd.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen of Khawekh¡­¡± sneers Khravash, petulantly, placing the diadem of iron and thanatite atop the head of his niece (who¡¯s as tall as him, kneeling) ¡°¡­I give you your new [Empress]: Khr¡¯kowan of the Khawekhan Realm¡­ Daughter of Broodking Aghogh of the Khawekhan Realm and First Woman Kvehak of the Wokhashan Realm!¡±

    There is a protracted pause of stunned silence.

    Then a joyous roar erupts from the crowd.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.162

    ---Empress---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    Damn you, Mvhokh!

    These clothes are, without doubt, the finest I¡¯ve ever owned¡­ but did they have to be so unwomanly!?

    Nothing like the loose fitting, sturdy, sleeveless silks I¡¯ve worn my whole life, this outfit utterly swamps my palps, covers my arms and feels completely impractical to fight in!

    Which¡­ I suppose¡­ is the point, isn¡¯t it!

    Now that I¡¯m not First Woman any more, dressing like a warrior is no longer appropriate.

    I need to dress like a head of state and, since all prior heads of state have been males, it stands to reason that that means dressing in an unfeminine manner.

    As I stride from my father¡¯s¡­ from my palace, I see the slender Terran with the black horns, white skin and high, croaky voice coming the other way.

    ¡°Your Majesty. A few of us wanted to ask your people about the language of the song that was sung at your father¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°Do as you like, Lilith.¡± I interrupt, briskly, not stopping.

    ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty.¡± she acknowledges, graciously.

    I don¡¯t make it more than another [50m] before I¡¯m waylaid again, this time by a corpulent, mostly nude offworlder with scarlet skin and four arms.

    He speaks, what looks like a [dragonbird] beak on his face not opening where you would expect ¡°Your Majesty, I was hoping to ask a few questions about the techniques involved in manufacturing your people¡¯s tent cloths. I¡­¡±

    I jab a finger to the tent we¡¯re standing outside ¡°This is the place where all our cloth is made, Gamoiwoth. I¡¯m certain my halfuncle will be more than happy to tell you all about the techniques we employ¡­ Just knock before you enter¡­ even if you are a man.¡±

    ¡°I will, Your Majesty¡­ Oh, erm¡­ Mistress Miyazaki and [Commadore] Yakchutt were also looking for you¡­ Miyazaki wants to check that you¡¯ll be ready for the trip to the desert ruins tomorrow. Yakchutt wishes to discuss your planet¡¯s naval defence and¡­¡±

    Exasperatedly, I sigh ¡°Please tell Emiko that I¡¯ll be at the embassy first thing in the morning and tell the [Commadore] that that is an issue regarding which I am not free to make determinations of my own accord¡­ Any discussions of outside military presence in this [system] require both my input and that of the Twigg. Representative Viig will need to be included for such a discussion to be at all productive!¡±

    ¡°O¡­ of course, Your Majesty¡­ I¡¯ll let them know.¡± says the sturdy looking man, uncertainly.

    I stride past him, making for my intended destination.

    I have a brand new respect for my father.

    In all the years he ruled, I never once saw him lose his patience!

    [Three weeks] on the job and I¡¯m about ready to envenom the next person who has some trivial nothing to ask me!!!

    I¡¯m so tired¡­

    Drawing up to my¡­ no¡­ not my barracks¡­ First Woman Haorken¡¯s barracks now¡­ I enter the courtyard and see them.

    My young halfsisters, still apprenticed, are gathered around as Karkhal fights with one of the Terrans¡­ More accurately, as she fails to fight one of the Terrans.

    She swings at him, laughing in wonder as wherever her fist goes, there he is not!

    ¡°Stop.¡± orders the small man, his black hair tied into a bun and the middle of his lower face adorned with hair.

    My halfsister instantly ceases and listens with a rapt attention she never gave my instruction!

    ¡°You¡¯re still only swinging at me with your arms¡­¡± he observes, demonstrating by swinging his arm while keeping the rest of himself stock still ¡°¡­you need to put your weight behind your strikes for them to be effective!¡± he swings again but, this time, throws his body behind the strike in a blow I can tell might very well have been lethal if it had been on something other than the empty air!

    ¡°But¡­ my body doesn¡¯t look like yours? How am I supposed to do that?¡±

    ¡°Our designs might be different but the principle is the same, the more of yourself you can put behind your punch, the more power it will have!¡­ Try throwing a strike where your body ends up in¡­¡± he repositions her upper body and arms ¡°¡­this position.¡±

    Bemused, she draws back and throws another punch, ending in almost the pose he suggested.

    It was clearly a superior strike.

    ¡°Wow! That¡¯s so much better!¡± she observes.

    ¡°Truly!¡± he smiles ¡°Try it again but just keep your fist a little higher?¡±

    She does, throwing the best punch I¡¯ve ever seen her throw.

    Then she notices me, the smile instantly being wiped from her face.

    ¡°Your Maj¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still your sister, Karkhal!¡± I snap ¡°Being [Empress] does not change that!¡±

    She flinches before turning her eyes down and saying ¡°Yes, Sister¡­ Sorry, Sister.¡±

    I glare around at all of the other girls before saying ¡°Everyone out! I need to have a word with Sir Yu¨¢n¡­¡±

    Sullenly, all of them get up and file from the space, leaving me alone with the small Terran.

    ¡°What¡­ do you think¡­ you are doing?¡± I seethe at him from behind gritted toothplates.

    ¡°What am I doing?¡± he smiles in the same way my father used to, as if he were the only one in on some joke ¡°Why¡­ I was just having a friendly, instructional spar with some of your sisters, Your Majesty¡­ and now I¡¯m talking to you.¡±

    ¡°You know exactly what I mean!¡± I accuse ¡°These are the barracks! Men aren¡¯t allowed in this place!¡±

    ¡°Neither are Empresses(!)¡± he smirks ¡°Yet here you are¡­ giving orders that ought to be given by your General¡­ *tsk**tsk**tsk*(!)¡±

    I narrow my remaining eyes at him, causing a little stab of pain from the two sockets under my patch ¡°What¡¯s going on here, Yu¨¢n¡­? This isn¡¯t like you¡­ You¡¯re intentionally trying to antagonise me!¡±

    He pouts his lips and shrugs his shoulders ¡°For the moment, why don¡¯t we simply say I¡¯m here to¡­ teach you a lesson¡­¡±

    Anger swells in me at the Terran¡¯s arrogance¡­ then quickly dies as it¡¯s overwhelmed by exhaustion.

    Coolly, my hands move to the clasp of my cloak and unfasten it.

    I fold it up as I walk over to a stone side, around [150cm] from the ground, and place it down.

    Next, my hands move to denude my palps of the ridiculous full length skirt they¡¯re covered by, leaving my modesty only protected by the loin cloth I wear beneath.

    I fold it up and place it atop my cloak.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Finally, I take my crown from my head and set it down on my clothes.

    I turn to the elder Terran.

    ¡°Teach me your lesson then, Sir Yu¨¢n¡­ Show me how you fight when you¡¯re against a real warrior and not some little apprentice girls(!)¡±

    ¡°Now¡­ Your Majesty¡­¡±

    ¡°Fight me or leave!!!¡± I demand, furiously, pointing to the gap between the tents where he would exit.

    He hesitates but then gives another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and settles into a fighting stance ¡°As you wish¡­ If you are able to touch my head, torso or cause any part of me besides my feet to contact the ground, I will concede defeat to you. If I can cause any part of your body besides your feet to touch the ground, it will be my victory¡­ Is that acceptable?¡±

    I sneer ¡°I don¡¯t need your handicap! I¡­!¡±

    As fast as lightning, he¡¯s less than an arm¡¯s length away from me with his palm against my midriff.

    He looks up at me, no longer smirking and simply says ¡°Yes you do.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t ready!¡± I object, angrily.

    His smirk returns ¡°Those don¡¯t sound like the words of a ¡®real warrior¡¯¡­ Now, are you taking the handicap or is this fight already over?¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± I scowl ¡°Just count us in this time!¡±

    His head pivots forward in a ¡®yes¡¯ and he begins ¡°Three¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± I stop him and, pointing at his forearms, ask ¡°You¡¯re still wearing your vambraces! I thought you said you took those off when you needed to fight seriously?¡±

    He glances, nonchalantly, at the iridescent metal on his arms and observes ¡°I do¡­ You may draw your own inferences about why I haven¡¯t chosen to remove them for this bout(!)¡±

    I scowl ¡°Oh I am going to enjoy making you eat that arrogance, you smug, smarmy old fool!¡±

    ¡°Please do¡­ if you can.¡± he retorts before beginning the count ¡°Three, two, one, begin!¡±

    I rush forward to aim a strike at his head, keeping my fist closed as I don¡¯t want to kill him.

    He blocks it with both palms and is thrown to my left by the transferred momentum, landing lightly on his feet.

    ¡°Sloppy.¡± he observes, calmly.

    I run at him again, aiming a quick succession of light strikes at him with my arms and palps, all of which he easily blocks or parries with his four limbs.

    He¡¯s using his weighted vambraces to guard himself quite effectively. My fists hurt from where they¡¯ve impacted the heavy metal!

    ¡°Weak.¡± he goads, infuriatingly.

    Simultaneously, I bring both my arms down on him in strikes, from the left and right, while extending my right foreleg to swipe at the back of both of his.

    He near effortlessly jumps the leg sweep and blocks both my arms in such a way as to cause me to hurl him backwards, connecting with neither his head nor torso.

    He raises his right hand and casually begins inspecting under the small patches of organic armour at the ends of his fingers, as if checking them for dirt.

    ¡°Are you sure you ever finished your apprenticeship, Your Majesty(?)¡± he asks, still looking at his finger plates and not me.

    For the life of me, I can¡¯t work out why he¡¯s provoking me like this¡­ but it¡¯s working!

    Half growling, half screaming, I close the gap between us and unleash an onslaught of attacks.

    The Terran pinwheels and pirouettes between them, not even doing me the courtesy of blocking anymore, just dodging!

    ¡°*yawn*¡­Is this really the best that the Vrakhand have to offer in terms of your Arts? I¡¯ve fought more thrilling matches against the Twigg(!)¡± he observes, disrespectfully, as I take a break to catch my breath.

    The insult riles me to the extent that I lunge down at him with my entire upper body.

    I know I¡¯ve made a mistake before I¡¯ve even connected.

    The man¡¯s hands fly upward to grasp my horns and he somersaults over my head, landing on my back.

    Even with my overcommitted lunge, even with my upper body supporting his weight, I still might be able to keep myself from touching the ground¡­ until his hand braces just rearward of the joint between my upperbody and hindbody and his foot against the back of my neck.

    Straightening the length of his body places just enough force behind mine that my hands reflexively fly out to keep my face from impacting the ground.

    I stare at the coarse sand of the barracks¡¯ floor, panting heavily and feeling the grit against the flesh of my palms.

    ¡°Your loss, Your Majesty.¡± states my opponent, simply, as he elegantly hops down from my back.

    I straighten up and glare down at him.

    ¡°How?!¡± I demand.

    ¡°How did I beat you? You¡¯re certainly right that I shouldn¡¯t have been able to¡­ not based on how you fought against Mr Stetter¡­ How do you think I beat you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! That¡¯s why I asked!!!¡± I spit back.

    The man wobbles his head, as if mulling it over.

    ¡°Perhaps consider just how much sleep you¡¯ve had this week?¡± he suggests.

    I think about it.

    Well, last night I had around [2 hours], the night before [3], none the night before that¡­

    ¡°If you¡¯re having to perform maths to answer that question, Your Majesty, then the answer is ¡®not enough¡¯(!)¡± chuckles the Terran.

    ¡°Well of course I haven¡¯t had enough sleep! There are a [million and one] things that all require my attention before I set off for the [galactic] capital! You don¡¯t think I want to sleep?!¡±

    ¡°Do all of these things require your attention?¡± he asks, innocently.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask, suspiciously.

    ¡°Well¡­ as a leader, do you need to do everything yourself? Mightn¡¯t there be a little room for¡­ delegation?¡± he poses.

    ¡°A leader¡¯s role is to lead from the front! I can¡¯t laze around letting others take care of my work for me! That¡¯s not the kind of [Empress] I wish to be!¡­ Besides! I would only have myself to blame if a task I had delegated were not completed as I wished it to be!¡±

    The man gives a conceding wobble of his head before asking ¡°Is that the way your father ruled? Doing everything himself? Denying himself sleep to take work away from those who would have been happy to complete it?¡±

    I frown ¡°I only ever knew my father as an old man, Sir Yu¨¢n¡­ It¡¯s natural as an old man that he would require greater rest than I do as a younger woman.¡±

    ¡°So you see his more relaxed style of leadership as resulting from his frailty? You don¡¯t think there¡¯s any wisdom in a ruler ensuring she receives enough rest to not irritably snap at her subjects or lose fights she ought to have won? In letting those best suited to tasks take them off her plate and only intervene when difficulties are encountered?¡±

    I don¡¯t respond.

    After a few moments he continues ¡°Your Majesty, I was once in exactly the position you are in now¡­ Oh, I was never a king¡­¡± he clarifies, seeing the look of confusion that crosses my face ¡°¡­I was the abbot of a monastery I left Earth to found on X¨©n de Q¨ªn, around the same time as your mother was conquering your empire on your father¡¯s behalf¡­ Do you wish to know what I learned during that experience?¡±

    ¡°What did you learn?¡± I ask, flatly.

    ¡°I learned that I¡­¡± he takes a protracted pause here ¡°¡­am not particularly well suited to certain aspects of leadership¡­ I was an unparalleled teacher of Shaolin Arts and well versed in all aspects of Buddhist scripture, theology and philosophy and, so, I had mistakenly assumed none would be as suited to heading that monastery as would I¡­ This I now know to have been conceit on my part! As pious and skilled as I was, it did not make me a good administrator and I lost many nights of sleep in those early years in trying to perform tasks to which I was not well suited! Do you wish to know what happened next?¡±

    ¡°Tell me.¡± I frown.

    ¡°My prioress, Sh¨ª Sh¨© W¨§i, found me half collapsed while attending to some paperwork¡­ She had me carried off to rest¡­ When I awoke, I returned to my office only to find that she had completed the forms for me! What would have taken me weeks to do between my other duties had taken her less than an hour. It was an immense relief and, the next time there was administration to take care of, I asked for her help¡­ With W¨§i¡¯s administrative prowess properly utilised, I was better able to focus on the aspects of monasticism to which I was better suited!¡­ Eventually, I relinquished the title of abbot entirely to her, though, by that point, she¡¯d already been functionally acting as the monastery¡¯s abbess for decades.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re telling me you don¡¯t think I¡¯m well suited to the crown.¡± I state, irritably.

    ¡°I¡¯m not, Your Majesty. I¡¯m telling you that you don¡¯t need to do everything yourself¡­ You have designated your sister as your General and, yet, when she told you there was a man in the barracks, you came here yourself rather than permitting her to remove me on your behalf, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°How did you know Haorken was the one who told me you were here?¡± I growl.

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± he chuckles ¡°¡­well¡­ that would be because she and I are both embroiled in a little¡­ conspiracy against you¡­(!)¡±

    I take a few steps backward, guardedly.

    He waves his hand, dismissively ¡°A joke, Your Majesty. An intervention more than a conspiracy! Both your husband and your sister are concerned about your overwork and insomnia and brought their concerns to our coordinator and ambassadors¡­ they then enlisted me to come and teach you this lesson in the only way they all thought you¡¯d be receptive to¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surrounded by traitors(!)¡± I quip, dryly.

    ¡°You¡¯re surrounded by concerned friends.¡± he corrects.

    ¡°And what do these ¡®concerned friends¡¯ propose to do about my fatigue?¡± I query.

    ¡°Ah¡­ well¡­ that part is nice and simple¡­ 100m that way¡­¡± he points past me ¡°¡­is the Swift Claw¡­ 10km that way¡­¡± he points to his right ¡°¡­is the embassy, where a comfortable room is made up for you and, 400m that way¡­¡± he points left ¡°¡­is your palace, in which your husband and sister are standing by for the signal that they are to give you the night off¡­ You just need to come with me and you can have a full 16 hours of rest¡­ and, if you need more, we can delay the trip to your ancestors¡¯ city and give you as much as you require¡­ The choice is yours.¡±

    I feel my every weary limb cry out for me to say ¡®yes¡¯ but, instead, I ask ¡°And what¡¯s wrong with my chambers in the palace? Why do I need to come to the embassy to sleep?¡±

    ¡°I asked precisely that question myself¡­ My coconspirators explained that, so long as you are proximate to your place of work, there exists the chance for your rest to be interrupted, either externally, by those seeking you out, or internally, by your need to ¡®just do one more thing¡¯¡­ If we remove you from those distractions, you can rest easier¡­ Not to mention we¡¯ve just developed what ought to be a rather effective, Vrakhand suitable, sedative application for if you¡¯re still not able to rest?¡±

    I sigh ¡°Fine¡­ you win¡­ I succumb to your conspiracy(!)¡­ I suppose I can¡¯t very well trust Haorken to be my Regent for the next [few years] if I don¡¯t even trust her to hold the fort for a single night, can I!¡±

    ¡°Very astute, Your Majesty.¡± he acknowledges ¡°Now¡­ I just need to retrieve my pet, Q¨©ngl¨®ng, from your river, then we can go.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.163

    ---Ruins---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°I love the new outfit, Your Majesty!¡± I say to the incredibly dressed warrior queen I¡¯m sharing a shuttle with.

    She rolls her head to me, looking unimpressed ¡°Emiko¡­ for the love of the Weaver, please don¡¯t start calling me ¡®Your Majesty¡¯¡­ You can continue calling me ¡®Khr¡¯kowan¡¯ and I¡¯ll continue calling you ¡®Emiko¡¯, alright?¡±

    I smile back ¡°Alright, Khr¡¯kowan¡­ Did you sleep well last night?¡±

    She gives a contented exhale and confirms ¡°The sleep of the dead!¡­ Whatever your sedative [app] did to me, it did it well¡­ Thank you for your little treason(!)¡±

    ¡°I certainly wanted to just tell you you needed to rest¡­ I just doubted you were in a fit state to listen!¡­ Having Master Yu¨¢n show you how your tiredness was affecting you seemed like the only way.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right¡­ I probably wouldn¡¯t have listened¡­ I didn¡¯t listen to Haorken or Kurkhuw telling me the same¡­ Though, any newly married woman ought to be at least a little suspicious of her broodhusband inviting her to bed(!)¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ would you really blame him for being eager to get a 24 karat babe like yourself locked down? I probably would be too in his position(!)¡±

    Her only response is a tensing of her body and a look of mild alarm.

    I burst into laughter ¡°*hehehehehehe*¡­I¡¯m¡­ *hehehe*¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Khr¡¯kowan! Your expression was just priceless! I won¡¯t¡­*hehehehe*¡­ I won¡¯t flirt if it makes you uncomfortable!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m not uncomfortable¡­ I¡¯m just¡­ still getting used to your people¡¯s ways being¡­ strange to me.¡± she says, haltingly.

    ¡°Yes¡­*hehe*¡­ explaining what ¡®bisexuality¡¯ was to you was fun(!)¡­ Not to mention ¡®xenophilia¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°Indeed(!)¡­ A young lady who began expressing such thoughts in Vrakhand society would be firmly encouraged to keep them to herself if she ever hoped to find a match!¡± she observes with a tint of haughtiness.

    I cock an eyebrow ¡°The fact that you know that makes me think that, perhaps, bi and homosexuality aren¡¯t as nonexistent among your people as you led me to believe, Khr¡¯kowan(!) Did someone have to have that talk with you at some point(?)¡±

    Her face twists like she¡¯s just sucked on a lemon ¡°You know, Emiko¡­ not many people could get away with mocking an [Empress] to her face the way you are¡­¡±

    ¡°Not ¡®mocking¡¯, sweetheart, ¡®teasing¡¯(!)¡± I tease with a grin.

    ¡°3 minute warning.¡± comes Twila¡¯s voice over the shuttle¡¯s speakers.

    ¡°Ready Soo?¡± I call over to the transparent blue woman.

    The Suigu taps her drone with a gelatinous hand and answers ¡°Absolutely! Just¡­¡± she turns her face to Khr¡¯kowan ¡°¡­please try not to look out of any of the windows as we approach, Your Majesty. I really want to capture your authentic initial reactions to everything!¡­ I know there¡¯s nothing more annoying than a camera wielder saying ¡®Oh, could you do that again? I wasn¡¯t recording!¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°Not something I¡¯ve experienced in the time since I became aware of what [cameras] are but I¡¯ll take your word for it and do my best to focus on the inside of the craft.¡± agrees Khr¡¯kowan.

    ¡°I believe we¡¯re going to be landing on the West side of the city so, if we stand facing out of the portside door, you should only see desert until we disembark.¡± I suggest.

    She gives an incredulous chuckle and remarks ¡°It¡¯s quite amusing that, even with a flying ship, you still need to use a nautical term like ¡®portside¡¯!¡±

    I smile and shrug as we walk over to the door that I suggested ¡°Even in space you still need a way to talk about different parts of a ship without getting confused about ¡®whose left¡¯. We did the work of coming up with appropriate words back on Earth. No need to reinvent the wheel(!)¡­It can be a bit confusing on ships with no consistent down though¡­¡±

    She laughs heartily ¡°The idea of ¡®no consistent down¡¯ would have utterly baffled me half a year ago, Emiko! I¡¯m not sure if beginning to understand your peoples¡¯ brain breaking magics is entirely a good thing(!)¡±

    I gesture out of the window at the scorched desert landscape which extends to the horizon and say ¡°It¡¯s those ¡®brain breaking magics¡¯ that might mean your people get to return to this place in your lifetime, so, I¡¯d say, the more you understand them the better, personally.¡±

    ¡°True. True!¡± she acknowledges.

    ¡°30 second warning.¡± comes Twila¡¯s voice again.

    ¡°Excuse me, Emiko. Excuse me, Your Majesty.¡± says Soo as she squeezes past me into the gap between us and the door.

    She activates her camera and starts ¡°This is Correspondent Soo, aboard a shuttlecraft with¡­¡±

    I see Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s three fingered hand reach out for Soo¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Lady Soo¡­ Wah!!!¡± she cries out as her solid, armoured, deathworld hand sinks into the journalist¡¯s viscous, insubstantial flesh in a way she was clearly not expecting!

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Entirely unbothered by the way her shoulder is mangled by Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s hand right now, Soo swivels her head around and asks ¡°Yes, Your Majesty?¡±

    Uncertainly, Khr¡¯kowan withdraws her hand, which comes away clean, and Soo¡¯s shoulder ripples back into an approximation of the shape of a Terran woman¡¯s.

    I do my best to hold in my amusement at the face of dismay she makes before collecting herself and continuing ¡°I¡­ was just wondering if you could wait until after I¡¯ve removed my boatshoes to begin [filming]¡­? I feel I don¡¯t cut a particularly respectable figure while in the process of removing eight squashy booties(!)¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ of course Your Majesty!¡± smiles Soo as we touch down.

    The ramp lowers and a positive wall of heat slams us in the face!

    ¡°So warm!¡± observes Khr¡¯kowan, clearly appreciating the higher temperature that her people presumably evolved for.

    Homo sapiens trace to the highlands of Ethiopia which, despite also being an equatorial region, only experience an average temperature in the low twenties¡­ so I¡¯m a little uncomfortable with this oppressive heat.

    I don¡¯t say that however, instead smiling ¡°I¡¯m glad you approve, Khr¡¯kowan.¡±

    Soo chooses a spot to move to to introduce her dispatch.

    Khr¡¯kowan steps off the ramp and quickly begins pulling off the sheaves we made her so that a) she won¡¯t blunt her feet on our metal floors and, far more likely, b) she won¡¯t rip up any more of our floors with her thanatite feet(!)

    Once both hands are occupied by rubbery, transparent green, point protectors, shaped like large eggs with only the tiniest suggestion of the foothole at the top, she looks around for somewhere to put them.

    ¡°Give ¡¯em to me, Your Highness.¡± instructs Victor, placing down a rigid container and holding out his hands for them.

    Khr¡¯kowan hands the first two to him before removing the next ones while he places them into the box.

    ¡°¡®Highness¡¯ is for princes and princesses, Victor¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­it¡¯s ¡®Majesty¡¯ for kings and queens¡­ Honestly, I¡¯d have thought you¡¯d have known that¡­ given that your country was one of the last remaining monarchies at Unification(!)¡±

    ¡°Unification was more ¡¯an 600 years ago and, even if it weren¡¯t, I somehow doubt I¡¯d ever¡¯ve been invited to tea with Queen Charlotte(!)¡± he quips, not taking his eyes off the large objects he¡¯s transferring from Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s hands into the container ¡°Japan was also a monarchy at Unification, Emiko.¡±

    ¡°Yes it was¡­ and I used the correct form of address(!)¡± I giggle.

    He gives no answer but an incoherent grumble as he places the last of the boat shoes in and seals the box, hefting the (now quite heavy looking) container back up the ramp, past Strik, Samus, Yasmin and Thran.

    ¡°Everyone ready?¡± asks Soo.

    ¡°I¡¯m ready, Lady Soo.¡± confirms Khr¡¯kowan.

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± she answers, activating her drone camera and speaking into it ¡°¡­This is Correspondent Soo, standing in the equatorial desert region of the planet Graom-Wakhkort with the newly crowned ruler of the Vrakhand, [Empress] Khr¡¯kowan, on her first official state visit to the ruins of a city, built by her people¡¯s ancestors, the name of which is not yet known¡­¡± she moves a little closer and morphs her hand into the shape of a hand holding a microphone ¡°¡­[Empress] Khr¡¯kowan, could you tell us a little of what you¡¯re feeling right now?¡±

    ¡°Well, this is a momentous occasion for the Vrakhand and I feel uniquely privileged to be the first of my people to set foot in this city of ours for thousands of years.¡± answers Khr¡¯kowan, projecting a dignified aura.

    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic to hear. Now, I believe the tour will be primarily given by this expedition¡¯s archaeologist, Strik, so I¡¯ll let him take over.¡± smiles Soo with the ease of a woman who¡¯s spent her entire working lifetime on camera.

    The owllike man (wearing heavily tinted goggles to protect his large, sensitive eyes from the bright sun) steps forward on his taloned feet.

    He¡¯s clearly a lot less comfortable having his image recorded than Soo or Khr¡¯kowan as he awkwardly says ¡°Err¡­ yes¡­ Your Majesty¡­ so, I think¡­ where we should start¡­ what we should start with, I mean¡­ It should be the monument¡­ just behind us, on the other side of the craft and a canyon from the plateau where the craft, the craft that we came in that is, erm¡­ is.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve seen images of this monument, Sir Strik.¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ indeed¡­ right this way.¡± he says, leading the way around the front of the Swift Claw.

    Khr¡¯kowan follows, herself followed by me and the others.

    Soo takes up the rear with her drone, filming the procession from our left.

    Strik exceeds the front of the shuttle by some metres and turns, extending his strigine wing to his left up to where I know the monolith to be.

    Khr¡¯kowan turns her head right and audibly gasps as her view becomes unobstructed.

    Looking up at the weathered face of a woman her ancestors deemed worthy of carving a mountain to resemble, she breathlessly asks ¡°My people¡­ built this?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty. We¡¯re relatively certain.¡± answers Strik.

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well, if you look down there¡­¡± he points his primary flight feathers at the base of the statue, his awkwardness evaporated now that he¡¯s on his specialist subject ¡°¡­scans show squared holes carved into the bedrock. They¡¯ve since been buried by sand of course, so there¡¯s nothing to actually see, but they¡¯re nearly certainly the bases of a scaffolding tower that your ancestors built around a preexisting spire of rock, to carve it into this shape. Based on the computer modelling of thanatite, I conjecture them not to have used thanatite tools to work on the rock and instead to have used a mixture of bronze and iron tools. This is perhaps due to the risk of their loss through wear and breakage. I believe the entire monolith to have taken some [decades] to complete.¡±

    Strik seems rather oblivious to the near religious experience that the Vrakhand woman he¡¯s speaking to is having as she asks ¡°And¡­ where was this city?¡±

    ¡°Well, if you look that way¡­¡± he gestures South, across the dunes ¡°¡­you¡¯ll see that sandstone point which protrudes from the desert? That¡¯s the top of a pyramidal structure¡­ which roughly marks the far end of the city in that direction. The city extended from here to a little past there. There was a river that flowed from this canyon and provided water for your people to irrigate the crops which fed their livestock¡­ though I don¡¯t believe they drank that water, as the scans reveal numerous wellshafts dug about the city from which, I would conjecture, they drew their drinking water.¡±

    ¡°So far?¡± she asks, still clearly awestruck by what she¡¯s being shown.

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°How many of my people lived here?¡±

    ¡°Difficult to say for certain but, based on the scans of the surviving roads and foundations, I would estimate somewhere between 60,000-120,000. It does rather depend on how much of the surroundings were occupied by less permanent tent structures, similar to the ones your people mainly inhabit today.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ when?¡± she asks, her voice trembling.

    ¡°Well, a combination of [Dr] Petrikov¡¯s orbital analyses and [Dr] Lamark¡¯s genetic analysis place the abandonment of this city at around [12,000 years] ago. That¡¯s about the time of a population bottleneck where your people seem to have been reduced to 150 individuals or so.¡±

    ¡°Everything we have now¡­ comes from only that few survivors of this place?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well we don¡¯t know if they were all from here¡­ this subcontinent is scattered with cities like this one. This is simply the largest of them¡­¡±

    Seeming to sense something, Soo directs her drone to pull in on Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s face.

    ¡°I vow¡­¡± growls the woman as she grimaces down at the desert below us ¡°¡­that we will return here! This place will be ours again!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.164

    ---Hole---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°It feels like it¡¯s getting cooler.¡± I observe as Thran and I walk through the forest a few kilometres from the embassy compound.

    ¡°It¡¯s still a bit too hot for me.¡± she answers.

    I look at her and note that, indeed, there is a sheen of sweat on the tan skin of her bare legs, arms and face that I¡¯m quite sure isn¡¯t present on mine.

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame we¡¯ll be gone before Winter hits¡­ sounds like it would be ideal for you(!) Nearly 9 months of continuous, subzero temperatures(!)¡± I tease.

    ¡°Ideal room temperature for Neanderthals is 16.7¡ãC¡­ I only prefer it a little chillier because of my condition.¡± she answers, not snubbing me, just having completely missed the humour.

    ¡°Maybe it will get down to a comfortable temperature for you before we leave then.¡± I smile.

    ¡°Maybe.¡± she responds, simply.

    At this point, she climbs over a log that¡¯s fallen across the path, presenting her well developed, bootyshorted buttocks in a way that makes it difficult to resist the temptation to give them a playful smack¡­

    Don¡¯t want to give an unprofessional impression to anyone who might be watching us from the bracken, even if I doubt the Twigg would actually care!

    I¡¯m about to follow her over when she turns around and holds a palm out, physically blocking me while frowning down at the obstacle she just surmounted.

    I stop and watch as she bends and wraps her hands around two of the gnarled knobs that once were branches.

    Her glistening, treetrunk arms go taut as she heaves the several hundred kilo log off of the ground.

    Even for her, the strain of lifting such a heavy weight in this high gravity clearly shows on her face as she removes it from the path.

    ¡°Thank you, Thran¡­¡± I giggle as she turns back around to me ¡°¡­but I would have been able to make it over that just fine.¡±

    She shakes her head ¡°Obstructed paths are dangerous¡­ That¡¯s why I cleared it.¡±

    ¡°Very conscientious.¡± I smile.

    We continue walking through the forest, the late Summer sunlight dappled by the canopy.

    Finally, we hit the edge of a wide clearing, dozens of Twigg busily moving about it and with a hill on the far side.

    I see a familiar figure, resting in the shade to our left as we enter, surrounded by Twigg and their canine mounts, all taking a siesta out of the afternoon sun.

    I divert from the path a little, treading between snoozing bodies, before crouching down to place a hand on top of the enormous head of shadow incarnate.

    Her fur feels amazing as I scritch her.

    Two amber eyes the size of dinnerplates open and silently swivel up to me, the dilated pupils contracting into slits as they focus.

    ¡°Hello Fluffy¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­didn¡¯t mean to disturb your catnap but just couldn¡¯t resist! Sorry girl.¡±

    Rather than a reproachful yowl (which might spoil the sleep of all the resting Twigg and stallionhounds around and on top of her) she just closes her eyes and emits a deep, almost infrasonic purr of contentment.

    I spend a minute or two restoring myself with the feel of the satin-sleek fur beneath my fingers before, reluctantly, standing up and turning to continue into the Twigg worksite.

    Thankfully, Twigg (though they don¡¯t generally have any sense of shame regarding exhibitionist activity) do have a fairly developed sense of the partition between worktime and playtime. I¡¯m not able to see anything lewd occurring as I look out across the multivillage clay processing site (only possible due to the peace treaty removing the threat of Vrakhand raids.)

    I make for Representative Viig, standing in the centre of the action, giving direction.

    I¡¯m able to spot a few of my fellow expeditionaries around, all talking with variously animated Twigg.

    My route to the one I¡¯m here for takes me past Dr Taan, the Aarba theologist, sat with his four legs straddling a boulder and interviewing a Twigg boy (whose name I don¡¯t know) on the edge of an enormous, empty sedimentation pit, still being excavated.

    ¡°And¡­ what does ¡®one with the spirits¡¯ mean to you?¡± asks the alien sheep man, his thick, curly, pale blue fur spilling from every gap in his clothing and with a demeanour of childlike curiosity that belies the fact that he was born during the reigns of Emperor Akihito, Queen Elizabeth II and George W. Bush!

    ¡°They¡¯re¡­ everywhere¡­ and nowhere¡­ They exist¡­ and they don¡¯t.¡± answers the boy, thinking hard.

    ¡°Are they aware? Do they think anything about their circumstances? Have opinions on your actions?¡± probes the ancient man with the youthful soul.

    ¡°How should I know?! I¡¯ve never died, have I!¡± answers the Twigg, perplexed.

    Taan throws back his head and lets out a high, genuine laugh, as if the answer he just received was the most delightfully refreshing take on the metaphysical he¡¯s heard in his seven century long life!

    ¡°No, I suppose not¡­¡± he beams as Thran and I pass him ¡°¡­Alright then, why don¡¯t you tell me about any rituals you know surrounding¡­¡±

    The conversation falls out of earshot at this point.

    ¡°Representative!¡± I shout over to the toddler height woman, raising my hand and smiling.

    She breaks from the conversation she was having with a boy¡­ another Twigg I don¡¯t recognise.

    She beckons to me before turning back to him and continuing her discussion.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± I overhear as I draw closer ¡°¡­having the Terrans here does mean we can build the kilns larger¡­ but we should consider the reusability of larger kilns¡­ They¡¯re no good to us without taller guys around to get the pieces in and out, are they¡­ And they might be a little dangerous to dismantle¡­ I¡¯d say build them a little taller than normal but still short enough that a Folk can reach in with a stepping stool or something.¡±

    ¡°Do klar tral.¡± answers the boy before scuttling away.

    The hip height woman turns to me, her dominant left hand resting (idly, not threateningly) on the hilt of a dagger I¡¯ve never once seen her without.

    ¡°How can I help you, Emiko?¡± she asks, simply.

    ¡°I wish you wouldn¡¯t wear that thing, you know Viig?¡± I smile sombrely down at the thanatite blade ¡°It¡¯s not a little antagonistic to be wearing the foot of the current general and future regent of the Vrakhand around like a war trophy.¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Flatly, she dismisses ¡°Yes¡­ almost as ¡®antagonistic¡¯ as that time she shot the man I loved better than anyone else through the neck with an arrow¡­ It¡¯s almost like losing a foot and gaining a few stabwounds was her getting off easy¡­¡± with a sneer.

    ¡°I know you probably have mixed feelings about Haorken becoming¡­¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯d say I¡¯m feeling a pretty consistent way about it(!)¡±

    ¡°Viig¡­¡± I plead ¡°¡­you¡¯re a diplomat now! The things you say, the things you do¡­ they reflect on your people¡­ You can¡¯t just¡­¡±

    ¡°As a [diplomat], I made sure I paid close attention to everything agreed in the [treaty] negotiations¡­ I believe the agreement was that you Terrans would exchange [durasteel] copies of bloodmetal tools and weapons for the originals¡­ I don¡¯t believe there was any agreement that, in the meantime, we had to not use them or hide them from view, now was there(?)¡±

    ¡°¡­There wasn¡¯t¡­¡± I sigh.

    ¡°Do you have a [durasteel] copy of this one to exchange for it(?)¡± she asks, eyebrows flying up her forehead in petulance.

    ¡°¡­You know I don¡¯t, Viig.¡±

    ¡°Hmm!¡­ Then I think there¡¯s nothing more to talk about there, is there!¡± she scoffs.

    ¡°Viig¡­!¡±

    ¡°Tell you what, Emiko¡­ I¡¯ll give this to you, right now¡­¡± with a deft motion, she draws the dagger like a medium length sword and extends it to me, handle first.

    I raise an eyebrow at her but her only answer is a fierce, fixed, wide eyed smile and a wiggle of the weapon.

    I roll my eyes and reach for the handle which is, predictably, snatched from my grasp the moment before my fingers close around it.

    ¡°Just bring Pod back for me¡­ Do that and you can have this¡­ Keep it¡­ Give it back to his murderer¡­ I won¡¯t care anymore!¡± she declares.

    Knowing her request is impossible, she doesn¡¯t wait for an answer before sheathing the blade back at her hip.

    ¡°Viig¡­ You know I¡¯m your friend¡­ As your friend, I¡¯m warning you¡­ If you behave this way on Citadel, you¡¯re going to make enemies!¡±

    Her face loses it¡¯s defiance and she answers ¡°Thank you for the warning, Emiko¡­¡± much more sincerely ¡°¡­but I¡¯m guessing you didn¡¯t come here just for this¡­ Was there something else?¡±

    ¡°There was, Viig¡­ Empress Khr¡¯kowan is putting together an advisory council and has requested to have a Twigg member to sit on it, to keep her and her regent in the know on matters pertaining to your people.¡±

    Her eyebrow twitches upward ¡°Guessing that was a suggestion from you or the ambassadors, was it?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ No¡­¡± I answer, surprised by the realisation that ¡°¡­she actually came to us with this idea!¡± which I hadn¡¯t thought of as noteworthy before now.

    Viig sneers ¡°Well, whatever¡­ I might ¡®speak for the Folk¡¯ but I can¡¯t and won¡¯t order them around! If you can find a Folk willing to go to the city for this, I won¡¯t stop them.¡±

    I smile ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it! We were wondering if you might be able to suggest us anyone? Khr¡¯kowan has expressed a preference for an older male Twigg but is willing to accept whomever she¡¯s sent.¡±

    ¡°Only old man I can think of off the top of my head is Mek of Miw, the same village as me. I think it sounds like a bit much for him though! He generally likes to keep things chill¡­ I can ask him but, if he says no, I¡¯m not going to push the issue.¡± she says, nonchalantly.

    ¡°I appreciate it. If you think of anyone else, I¡¯d very much like t-¡± I cut myself off here, overhearing a sound coming from an entrance in the hillside.

    ¡°Is¡­ is Victor in there?¡± I ask Viig.

    ¡°Sure is! Never seen anyone move clay like that guy!¡± she answers, appreciatively.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Viig¡­ I just need to go and have a word with him about something.¡±

    ¡°No problem.¡± she responds, casually.

    I turn from the tiny woman and walk over to the doorway in the side of the hill, buttressed with a wooden frame. There is a stream of Twigg coming out with terracotta jars full of powdery orange soil and, another one, returning with empty jars.

    Before entering, a thought occurs to me and I turn back to my claustrophobic bodyguard.

    Thran¡¯s face shows visible discomfort, looking into the confined space.

    ¡°You can wait out here, Thran.¡± I smile.

    She begins to object ¡°No, I¡­¡±

    ¡°Thran¡­¡± I say, slightly more firmly ¡°¡­wait here.¡±

    Reluctantly, she nods her head.

    I turn back around and duck down below the doorframe.

    The ceiling inside is slightly higher but I still need to keep my head dipped so as not to bang it.

    The mine is a long chamber, lit by torches, ventilated by holes bored through the top, lined by pickaxe wielding Twigg along its walls and supported by periodic columns of unmined clay, reinforced with wooden framing.

    At the far end of the hall, I¡¯m able to see the bottom two thirds of the large Terran man.

    f?The sunlight will not reach this low!?f

    comes his booming voice.

    fff?Dih! Dih! In vah mainz!!!?fff

    answer a hundred translatorless Twigg.

    f?Never seen the blue moon¡¯s glow!?f

    fff?Dorfs woh vlai zo hai!!!fff

    f? Fill a glass and down some mead

    Stuff your bellies at the feast

    Stumble home and fall asleep

    Dreaming in our mountain keep!?f

    At this point, I¡¯m able to stand fully up for having entered the much higher ceilinged pocket, excavated by the +2m miner in front of me.

    His every swing cleaves a shockingly large chunk of dry clay from the mine¡¯s back wall and his entire body is covered in a grimy mixture of clay and sweat.

    Colourwise, it¡¯s not a bad match for the medium length copper ponytail swinging about from the back of his head(!)

    Proximity causes his voice to dominate those of the Twigg from my perspective as, in unison, they belt out

    fff? Born underground!

    Grown inside a rocky womb!

    The earth is our cradle

    The mountain shall become our tomb!

    Face us on the battlefield, you WILL meet your doom!

    We do not fear what lies beneath!

    We can never dig too deep!?fff

    Rather than risking an accidental clonk to the top of the head with a pickaxe by trying to approach him to tap him on the shoulder, I opt to move around his side to put myself into his peripheral vision.

    ¡°I am a Dwarf and I¡¯m digging a ho-Oh! Hey Emiko!¡± he says as he notices me and breaks his voice from the chorus, turning towards me to reveal his thick, curly bearded, smiling face.

    ¡°Could I have a word with you outside, Victor?¡± I say, trying not to give away my annoyance.

    ¡°Err¡­ Sure?¡± he frowns, looking perplexed as he buries the 3kg tool into the still unmined clay (deep enough that its able to support itself hanging out of the wall) and lets go of its handle.

    Where I have to bend slightly to not hit the ceiling with my head, Victor needs to nearly double over to pass through the parts of the mine that he himself was not responsible for excavating.

    We exit and are rejoined by Thran.

    I direct us up the hill, away from prying ears.

    Having walked about 40m from the mine¡¯s entrance and gained about 8m of elevation, we reach a blufftop clearing that overlooks the enormous clay processing worksite.

    I bring us to a stop and turn to face him.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I grimace ¡°¡­I really appreciate you volunteering to come and help out with heavy labour when that isn¡¯t in your job description¡­¡±

    He smiles and waves me off ¡°Good exercise¡­ Minin¡¯s surprisin¡¯ly therapeutic for me!¡±

    ¡°¡­but¡­¡± I continue ¡°¡­do you remember ?¡¯s request that we don¡¯t teach the Twigg any more Terran songs?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ Yeah¡­ Right¡­ Sorry, I forgot about that¡­ Just started singin¡¯ that one to work to and, by the time I remembered, they was all singin¡¯ along! Damage already done at that point¡­¡± he answers, looking abashed.

    ¡°*sigh*¡­I mean¡­ I understand that sharing a song with those Twigg will certainly have been a nice bonding moment and, normally, I¡¯d be very much in favour of that kind of thing!¡­ You just need to remember that, not only do they have significantly better procedural memory than Humans (allowing them to pick up tunes and song lyrics faster than us), they also don¡¯t have any sense of the difference between ¡®their songs¡¯ and ¡®songs they know¡¯¡­ ? is quite stressed out by the extent to which Twigg music has already been ¡®contaminated¡¯ (her word, not mine) by outside influence.¡±

    Looking slightly ashamed, the bearded man says ¡°Sorry again¡­¡± before frowning at something over my right shoulder.

    Exasperatedly, I answer ¡°It¡¯s not the end of the world¡­ I¡¯ll let her know about this song¡­ are there any other¡­?¡±

    Suddenly, the man is not in front of me any more, having streaked past me on my right.

    I wheel around only to see him almost halfway down the hill.

    There¡¯s a brief moment of insanity where I think he might have run off to avoid confessing to having taught the Twigg other songs besides that 21st Century meme one¡­ then I see what he saw.

    I hurry down the hill after him, Thran easily keeping pace with me despite her short legs.

    There is a green and purple furred dog mount making for Victor at high speed.

    On its back is a Twigg, looking half conscious and covered in red blood!

    Victor manages to place his hands just right to cushion the high speed fall from the animal¡¯s back onto the hard ground.

    He cradles the tiny man to his chest as a crowd of Twigg begins to gather around them.

    ¡°What happened?!¡± Victor demands of the bloody boy in his arms.

    ¡°Dith village¡­ was¡­ attacked¡­¡± rasps the Twigg, weakly.

    ¡°WHO attacked you!?¡± snarls the Brit, a million miles from the man who was just bashfully apologising for having forgotten not to teach the Twigg songs!

    ¡°It¡­ was¡­ a monster!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.165

    ---Accusation---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°EXPLAIN YOURSELF!!!¡± shrieks the small green skinned biped who just entered the room as she springs down from the shoulder of the man covered in mud and red bloodstains, drawing my sister¡¯s foot and pointing it at me with murderous intent.

    ¡°Whu¡­ what?!¡± I ask, startled and completely at a loss for what I might have to explain!

    ¡°THE ATTACK! EXPLAIN!!!¡± she screams!

    ¡°Representative, what are you talking about?! What attack?!¡± I ask, not a little unnerved by being in an enclosed space with the combination of woman and weapon that dealt me the single worst wound I¡¯ve ever sustained!

    She may be small but I know she¡¯s fast, nimble, ruthless and won¡¯t hesitate to strike a killing blow!

    ¡°THE ATTACK ON DITH!!! ONE OF YOU DID IT! DON¡¯T ACT LIKE YOU DON¡¯T KNOW!!!¡± accuses the formidable Twigg woman, furiously.

    My insides go cold at her words.

    ¡°I¡­ I know nothing of this! If one of my people attacked this village, they did so without my knowledge and certainly without my approval! You have to realise that I wouldn¡¯t jeopardise the peace between us at this stage, don¡¯t you?!¡± I plead.

    ¡°How do you know it was a Vrakhand?¡± asks Ambassador Ong (the conversation with whom and with whose wife was just interrupted by this intrusion), his voice placid and penetrating.

    Flatly, Taylor answers without taking his gaze from the knife hand of the one in front of him ¡°One of ¡¯em came to the mine¡­ Beaten up and bleeding¡­ He passed out pretty quick and I ran him here to get seen to by the doctors¡­ He said it was a Vrakhand who¡¯d done it but he lost consciousness right after. Weren¡¯t able to ask him any clarifyin¡¯ questions¡­ All the Twigg¡¯ve downed tools to go an¡¯ help ¡¯em out¡­ I¡¯ve told Phan to expect more wounded comin¡¯ in soon.¡±

    ¡°He said ¡®Vrakhand¡¯? He used that word?¡± asks Lhamo.

    The large Terran frowns ¡°Actually¡­ he said ¡®monster¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± she ponders ¡°¡­Representative, does the term ¡®monster¡¯ exclusively refer to the Vrakhand in your language? Could this be a case of broken telephone?¡±

    ¡°Why are you defending them!?¡± spits the Twigg girl, jabbing my sister¡¯s foot in my direction in outrage ¡°They¡¯ve always hated us! What¡¯s more likely; a nonVrakhand monster turning up in these parts or that she¡¯s lying when she says she doesn¡¯t know what I¡¯m talking about?! Or, maybe it was that seven footed murderer she¡¯s put in charge of bossing the Vrakhand women around! We already know she doesn¡¯t mind killing Folk!¡±

    ¡°So there are nonVrakhand monsters?¡± clarifies the male ambassador.

    The girl makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh and irritablely answers ¡°I guess so! Sure! I''ve heard of such a thing as monsters that aren¡¯t people, monsters that don¡¯t build, monsters that hunt alone and don¡¯t live together! But¡­¡±

    ¡°The khorhaszh¡­¡± I interrupt, gravely.

    ¡°You know what she¡¯s talking about, Representative Khr¡¯kowan?¡± asks Lhamo.

    I give a positive gesture and explain ¡°Legend tells that they were a people who made war against the Weaver herself¡­ and were cursed to be reduced to animals¡­ Dumbness, brutishness, senselessness, solitude¡­ these were the wages of their arrogance.¡±

    ¡°So, they¡¯re animals? You think at least? And, I take it, they¡¯re not particularly common?¡± asks Ong.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°I¡¯ve only encountered one once in my life¡­ Its head hangs from the ceiling of my palace¡­ It killed three of my sisters before we managed to bring it low!¡­ Without exaggeration, it was the hardest fight of my life!¡±

    All three of the offworlders lean away from me in apparent alarm at my words.

    ¡°Was this¡­ anywhere near here?¡± asks Lhamo, finally.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t¡­ The last time one of the khorhaszh was sighted in the Khawekhan Realm was generations ago. This was while travelling through a range of mountains that stands [hundreds of kilometres] to the Northwest of here.¡± I explain.

    The Twigg girl sneers ¡°Alright¡­ so¡­ it was either a Vrakhand¡­ ooooor it was a monster of legend that hasn¡¯t been seen around here for [hundreds of years]¡­ Which seems more likely?¡±

    ¡°Representative¡­¡± I start, resolutely ¡°¡­if one of my people has violated the peace treaty I signed with you in my father¡¯s name, then I swear to you, they shall see justice for it!!!¡±

    She scowls and (an almost imperceptible amount) pulls her weapon back, studying me through narrowed eyes.

    ¡°What if it was Haorken?¡± she poses, suspiciously.

    I step forward, steadily bending my front legs and lowering my upperbody to put my face a mere [30cm] from hers.

    She does not baulk, neither cringing back from me nor lashing forwards as I press the soft flesh beneath my throat against the thanatite blade that has already penetrated it once.

    With my eight eyes staring straight into her two, I growl ¡°If this accusation is true¡­ if my sister is responsible for this after I made her my First Woman, I will strike off her head myself or may you strike off mine!¡­ This I vow!¡± with conviction.

    The woman I¡¯m making the oath to studies my face for a long few moments as my heart beats hard behind my breast plate.

    Finally, she pulls the edge of my sister¡¯s foot from my throat and (without looking) nimbly twirls it around and sheaths it back at her hip with her dextrous five fingered hand.

    ¡°I believe you.¡± she states, flatly, not meeting my eyes.

    Rearing back up to my full height, I offer ¡°If your people need supplies of any kind to aid the survivors, name them and I¡¯ll have them brought here to the embassy to collect. I obviously won¡¯t be able to offer vegetable matter (as my people do not consume it) but meat from our larders, blankets from our silk stores, lumber from our lumberyard or anything else we might have that you might need!¡±

    ¡°I appreciate it.¡± she says, exhaustedly.

    I¡¯m about to offer aid in tracking down and killing the khorhaszh if it turns out to be one¡­ but hold myself back.

    Something tells me now would not be an opportune moment for the first ever invitation into a Twigg village(!)

    I turn to the ambassadors, sat together on the far side of their desk.

    ¡°Ambassadors, would you permit me the use of one of your [communicators]?¡­ I need to make a call to my sister!¡±

    ---Dolg¡¯s perspective---

    I wake up.

    I hurt in the head and feel very weak!

    ¡°Nnnnnngggggghhh!¡± I groan as I shift the weight on the¡­ surprisingly comfortable bed I¡¯m lying on.

    ¡°Sir?¡± comes a strange voice.

    I blearily open the eyes and start back from the strange face of the one sat beside me in the unfamiliar room.

    The hair is black with a streak of white in it (though she doesn¡¯t look old), the skin is a strange pale beige colour and the eyes are a vivid shade of purple.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move too much¡­¡± she pleads, holding an enormous palm out to me ¡°¡­you lost a lot of blood so you¡¯re on an [IV] to replace your fluids now. You don¡¯t want to rip it out¡­ It would hurt!¡±

    I look to the place on the arm that she indicated and see that there¡¯s a tube stuck into me in a way I can¡¯t see because it¡¯s covered in a layer of sticky cloth.

    ¡°Where am I?¡± I ask the giant woman, dazed.

    ¡°You¡¯re at the embassy. You were brought here from the worksite to be treated for your injuries after the attack on your village¡­ Do you remember?¡±

    Roaring¡­ Smashing¡­ Eating¡­ Crushing¡­ It all hits me like a charging [beetleoceros]!

    I feel tears well up in the eyes as I grimace ¡°I remember¡­¡±

    The face goes sad as she says ¡°I¡¯m really sorry about this¡­ erm¡­ Sorry, I didn¡¯t get your name from Representative Viig? I¡¯m Emiko ¡®Smiles¡¯ Miyazaki¡­ You can just call me ¡®Emiko¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Dolg of Dith¡­ you can just call me ''Dolg''.¡± I say, miserably.

    ¡°Alright Dolg¡­¡± she smiles, sympathetically ¡°¡­I know this is hard and I really wish it could wait until it might be a little less painful for you¡­ but I really need you to answer some questions about the attack for me¡­ Do you think you can?¡±

    ¡°Ask¡­¡± I say, face screwed up and tears spilling from the closed eyelids.

    ¡°Do you know what attacked you?¡± she asks, her voice serious.

    ¡°It was a monster¡­¡± I moan.

    ¡°Was it a Vrakhand or was it something else?¡± she asks, a little more urgently.

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know¡­ I don¡¯t think so¡­ It was a weird looking one if it was¡­ I think it was something else.¡±

    ¡°Did it look anything like this¡­?¡±

    I open my eyes and turn to look at her, seeing that she¡¯s holding a magic glowing picture square towards me.

    It shows a perfectly realistic image, like a moment frozen in time.

    In it is a Vrakhand woman with a large skull held in the hands and pointed towards me.

    The skull looks vaguely similar to the face above it but¡­ just more¡­

    It¡¯s nearly twice the width and height, the horns are thicker, the jaws are thicker and end in a blunt, rounded snout.

    ¡°That¡¯s it¡­ That¡¯s what attacked Dith¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.166

    ---Kill---

    ---Tymancha¡¯s perspective---

    Mr Taylor stands in front of us, dressed in his skin tight uniform, his back straight, his bearded face stern and serious and with his long, wavy red hair bound into a tight bun at the back of his head.

    Beside him, atop a 1.5m pedestal, rests a frighteningly enormous skull!

    The thick horns somewhat resemble those of a steppe bison.

    The lower face (its nostrils pointing forward at the top of a blunt snout) is more feline looking but with a little bit of gorilla mixed in.

    The arrangement of eyes on the upper face is far more arachnoid than the (relatively) more humanoid arrangement on the Vrakhand, the auxiliary eyes much larger (both absolutely as well as relative to the much larger main eyes) and less unidirectional.

    ¡°Thank you for comin¡¯ everyone¡­¡± he begins, coolly ¡°¡­At around midday yesterday, the nearby Twigg village known as Dith was attacked by what, at first, we were misled into thinkin¡¯ was a Vrakhand. Thankfully, that misunderstandin¡¯ was cleared up without a war breaking out about it! The true culprit has been positively identified as one of these¡­¡± he indicates the skull ¡°¡­Known as ¡®khorhaszh¡¯, or ¡®cursed ones¡¯ by the Vrakhand, who have an entire Tower of Babelesque legend about ¡¯em and who agreed to lend us this skull from their royal trophy collection, and ¡®mwit tner lok¡¯, or ¡®monsters that aren¡¯t people¡¯ by the Twigg (please forgive my pronunciation¡­ languages¡¯ve never been a specialty). This animal is believed by Dr Lamark and Sknz¡¯h to be an evolution¡¯ry cousin to the Vrakhand¡­ Now, we ain¡¯t here as folklorists, theologists, anatomists or geneticists, so we can leave worryin¡¯ about the legends and the biology to our specialists in those areas(!)¡­ What we¡¯re here to do is find this thing¡­ and kill it!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± comes an outraged voice.

    Mr Kelly stands from his chair among the dozen or so, arranged directly in front of the stage, looking furious.

    ¡°I said we¡¯re gonna hunt this thing down and kill it, Steve.¡± says Mr Taylor, his green eyes fixed on the much smaller man.

    ¡°Like fuck we are!¡± declares the New Australian, stepping up onto the stage and closing about 35cm of the 60cm height difference by putting himself on level ground with the man he¡¯s challenging.

    Taylor takes a deep breath and starts ¡°Steve, I understand that your religion¡­¡±

    ¡°This¡¯s got nothing to do with me bein¡¯ an Irwinist!¡± asserts the khaki clad man ¡°That thing sounds like it could very likely be one of if not the last of its kind! You want us to kill it just for doin¡¯ what animals do?! Just for doin¡¯ what it needs to to live!?¡±

    ¡°No, Steve¡­¡± asserts Taylor, stonily ¡°¡­I think we need to kill it ¡¯cause it¡¯s already showed itself to not have any fear of at least the Twigg¡­ I¡¯m an animal lover as well, Steve! I¡¯ve never even eaten meat that didn¡¯t come out of a lab¡­ ¡¯cept in survival situations! But my job and the job of most of the people here¡­¡± he gestures to the seats ¡°¡­isn¡¯t worryin¡¯ about animals¡¯ safety¡­ it¡¯s to worry about people¡¯s safety! That thing killed and ate at least seven Twigg yesterday! Twenty more¡¯re injured and nine unaccounted for, likely also dead!!! What do you want us to do? Nothing?!¡±

    ¡°Relocation!¡± shouts the blue eyed man ¡°Tag it, bag it, move it back to those mountains where the Queen says she got this one! That¡¯s the humane thing to do!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s already proved it won¡¯t stay there (if that¡¯s even where it came from) though, ain¡¯t it!?¡­ What if, next time it comes down, it don¡¯t come here? What if it does and we ain¡¯t here to stop it?!¡­ You¡¯re happy to have those deaths on your conscience?¡± asks the redhead.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°About as happy as I¡¯d be to help make a species extinct(!)¡±

    ¡°If this one really is the last, they¡¯d need to be cloned back in any event! Wouldn¡¯t it be better to have ¡¯em not be around for the moment and then they could be reintroduced when the local tech¡¯s advanced enough that they ain¡¯t a problem anymore?¡±

    Disgustedly, Kelly observes ¡°Typical fuckin¡¯ Earth attitude!¡±

    Confused, Taylor asks ¡°Fuck¡¯s that s¡¯posed to mean?!¡±

    ¡°Means you don¡¯t take any personal responsibility as a steward of the natural world!!!¡­ You grew up surrounded by dodos, mammoths, aurochs, Tasmanian tigers, giant sloths and woolly rhinos and so, you think ¡®Yeah¡­ don¡¯t need to worry¡­ If it¡¯s a problem, the government¡¯ll fix it! Just so long as they can find some DNA, they can bring anything back!¡¯¡±

    ¡°I mean¡­ can¡¯t they though?!¡­ Like, I take you¡¯re point; ¡®A kingdom that''s once been destroyed can never come again into bein¡¯, nor can the dead ever be brought back to life¡¯ an¡¯ all that but, from the sounds of it, the kingdom¡¯s already mostly destroyed! These things¡¯ve obviously been a massive liability to Twigg and Vrakhand for so long that they forced ¡¯em to push ¡¯em to the edge of extinction! If the last Roman was runnin¡¯ around stabbin¡¯ people and the only way to stop him was to kill him, I¡¯d definitely do it(!)¡±

    ¡°People who ain¡¯t had a choice about whether to rely on nature to live before don¡¯t have that attitude! We know that every animal is necessary to its ecosystem! We don¡¯t think ¡®Ah, just get rid of it, it¡¯s inconvenient!¡¯¡±

    Cocking an eyebrow, Taylor answers ¡°So, I s¡¯pose, if an animal like this attacked your camp when you was ¡®relyin¡¯ on nature to live¡¯, you¡¯d¡¯ve gone ¡®Oh well, circle of life!¡¯ as it tore your loved ones apart, would you(?)¡±

    ¡°Course not! We¡¯d not¡¯ve been attacked in the first place!¡±

    Taylor¡¯s second eyebrow joins his first, halfway up his forehead, as he furiously asks ¡°Oh! So it¡¯s the Twigg¡¯s fault!? They weren¡¯t careful enough?! That what you sayin¡¯ you pretentious twat!?!?!?¡±

    ¡°OBVIOUSLY not you sanctimonious Pommie wanker!¡± snarls back the New Australian, not sounding at all like he meant ¡®[wanker]¡¯ in any way but as an insult on this occasion ¡°I¡¯m sayin¡¯¡­!¡±

    ¡°Gentlemen!¡± interrupts Twila¡¯s voice, disembodied as her [droid] is not here ¡°I can see tempers are flaring¡­ Why don¡¯t we all take a step back, a deep breath and count to ten before the ambient testosterone reaches hazardous levels in here, hmmm(?) We¡¯re all friends, right!¡±

    Taylor turns his eyes down and does indeed take a deep breath ¡°Yeah¡­ Twila¡¯s right¡­ I¡¯m sorry for gettin¡¯ upset with you, Steve¡­¡±

    Kelly¡¯s face softens as he chuckles ¡°Yeah¡­ same here, you wanker(!)¡± making the word sound much friendlier this time.

    ¡°We do still need to figure this out, though¡­ I ain¡¯t happy with a catch an¡¯ release and you ain¡¯t happy with a hunt an¡¯ kill¡­ I¡­ guess the only option is a catch and detain?¡­ Even if I ain¡¯t happy with the prospect of bringing an unfriendly, 1.5 tonne, bulletproof hypercarnivore anywhere near folk on the compound or ship¡­ where they¡¯d definitely die if it got loose for whatever reason¡­¡±

    ¡°We could throw it in stasis? Gas it in its lair, airlift it back here, throw it in a pod (build a second layer of containment around it in case the stasis field drops out), then, when we leave, move it to one of the cells on the ship and hand it off to conservationists when we get somewhere where that¡¯s feasible?¡± suggests Kelly.

    Taylor sighs ¡°Sure¡­ but I¡¯m warning you now, if that thing comes at us, I ain¡¯t gonna hesitate.¡±

    Kelly nods ¡°Fair dinkum, mate¡­¡± and goes to retake his seat.

    Taylor turns back to the rest of us and says ¡°Right. Now that¡¯s sorted, I¡¯ll move on to explainin¡¯ the rest: We have been invited into Dith village to begin trackin¡¯. We are the first ever nonTwigg known to¡¯ve been given the honour but, bear in mind, we ain¡¯t gonna be seein¡¯ it at its best¡­ From what I hear, the place looks like a bombsite right now! Though, Jae¡¯s told me to warn you that the Twigg take almost as dim a view of those that break things as they do of those that hoard things, so everyone is gonna watch where their feet go and not lean on anything while we¡¯re there! We don¡¯t want to sour their gratitude by accidentally knocking down one of their houses!¡­ Samus¡­¡± he points to the large blonde woman whose face twists into a grimace ¡°¡­¡¯counta your arachnophobia, you¡¯re stayin¡¯ here.¡±

    ¡°Oh thank fuck!¡± she sighs, relieved.

    ¡°If we go dark, then you¡¯re assumin¡¯ this thing is too dangerous to take and focusin¡¯ on beefin¡¯ up countermeasures here until the ship¡¯s back in action¡­ you are not comin¡¯ to ¡®avenge¡¯ us, you''re not throwin'' your fist to the heavens an'' shoutin'' ''It shoulda been me!''(!) Once you get back to Citadel you are makin¡¯ clear to all future missions just what a threat these things are!¡±

    ¡°No complaints here(!)¡± she answers.

    ¡°Everyone else is comin¡¯ along just for the extra numbers¡­ Tymancha¡­¡± he points to me ¡°¡­you got the most important job!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.167

    ---Track---

    ---Tymancha¡¯s perspective---

    We walk from the shuttle into the village, watched by grim looking Twigg sentries.

    The gun users are all armed instead with newly forged airrifles, loaded with tranquilising liquid filled pellets.

    Darts obviously wouldn¡¯t work on a species covered in bullet proof armour, so the pellets are meant to be shot near the joints, where they will burst and the liquid will seep into the cracks and through the animal¡¯s skin.

    Slower than a direct injection into muscle and, for that reason, they are not plan A.

    Ideally, once I locate the animal¡¯s lair, gas grenades will be thrown in, which will knock it out much quicker.

    The medics assure us that, if there are any Twigg alive in there, they will be safe¡­ the gas will be slightly irritating to their lungs but shouldn¡¯t do them any great harm.

    If they were Vrakhand, it would be a different story. The gas would be dangerous for them to inhale.

    The absolutely destroyed village before us is¡­ interesting.

    The tallest of the freestanding houses only comes up to around chest height.

    They¡¯re all scrupulously designed to look like natural features on the outside, piled over with dirt and covered in mats of live moss and herbs, though, as I walk past one with its roof smashed in, I can see that the interior is built of exposed mudbrick.

    Were it not for the extensive damage, I imagine that, with 20 seconds¡¯ warning, this entire village could be completely camouflaged to anyone who might walk through it meaning the Twigg harm¡­ provided they didn¡¯t have a particularly developed sense of smell¡­ If you know what Twigg smell like, you would recognise that the scent hangs thick on the air.

    ¡°Please!¡± pleads a middle aged Twigg woman, running towards Taylor and looking up at him, miserably ¡°Find Mirt!¡­ Find him and bring him back to me!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll do our best, Ma¡¯am¡­¡± responds the man, sombrely, as he keeps walking.

    The woman says nothing but stands by the side of the thoroughfare looking up at us as Ms Tuun, Ms Hunter, Ms Loper, Mr Kelly, Mr Byrne, Ms Pereira and I file past her.

    The desperate hope I see in her face as I meet her eyes stings my heart.

    We reach what looks like the centre of the village and Taylor throws up his hand and turns around, his piercing green eyes locking onto mine.

    ¡°Alright Tymancha¡­ where¡¯re we headed?¡± he asks, earnestly.

    I frown slightly and point North, along a trail that, to me, looks so obvious that you would need to be blind not to see it.

    ¡°Alright¡­ lead the way.¡±

    ---later---

    It took us around 3 hours to get here, me leading the way the entire time.

    The others were mainly taking up a guard against surprise attacks but, from how often their expressive faces passed directly over blindingly obvious track evidence without the slightest flicker of recognition, it¡¯s safe to say they just couldn¡¯t see it.

    I know I¡¯m supposedly the best¡­ but I don¡¯t think I had really appreciated just what a gulf existed between me and others before.

    We¡¯re overlooking a canyon at the end of which is a cave, both of which carved from the rock by a river that no longer flows.

    That cave is one that I would never consider making my base of operations for the reason that, if a dangerous animal were to come up the canyon, I¡¯d be completely cornered there!

    However, based on the descriptions of this animal that I¡¯ve heard, I guess that that simply wouldn¡¯t be a concern for it¡­ You don¡¯t need to worry about being cornered when you¡¯re the toughest bastard out there, afterall.

    ¡°Steve, this looks like its lair to you too?¡± asks Mr Taylor, his voice low.

    ¡°Say so, mate!¡± confirms Mr Kelly.

    ¡°Alright then¡­ The cave seems like it¡¯ll keep the gas in well but we should also throw a few further down in the canyon as well¡­ That way, it tries to run, it has to run through more of the gas!¡­ Try an¡¯ toss ¡¯em lightly though¡­ Don¡¯t want it comin¡¯ out early to investigate.¡± says Taylor, passing one of the gas grenades out to each of us ¡°Everyone line up, 6m apart. Throw ¡¯em in one at a time when I indicate¡­ I¡¯ll throw the one into the cave. If you got a marker, have it ready after you tossed your grenade.¡±

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    We do as he instructs.

    I find myself near the end of the line with only Ms Tuun to my left, the others all on my right.

    One by one, Taylor points to us and we each toss in a grenade.

    When it¡¯s my turn, I aim for a patch of thick looking moss on the canyon floor, about 5m below.

    It lands silently.

    Taylor signals that he¡¯s about to throw the final one into the cave itself, then rests his left hand on the remote trigger on his belt.

    He pitches it down, overhand, and triggers them all before it¡¯s clanged against the stone of the cave floor.

    I get a brief glimpse of bright, vivid blue gas, jetting out of the grenades before they are swallowed by their own smoke cover.

    A loud, disorientated, animalistic roar rumbles forth from the cave.

    We got it!

    Now we just have to wait for the smoke cover to dissipate and then go down to collect it!

    Everyone¡¯s airguns are pointed down into the canyon, nervously.

    The gas¡¯s opacity means that, even though it¡¯s the middle of the day, the base of the canyon is completely obscured.

    ¡°Shit!!!¡± shouts Taylor as a leg breaks the surface of the blue haze, just metres from him, throwing up wisping spirals of blue smoke.

    Apparently, the animal can climb!

    Emerging from the smoke, it reveals itself.

    Not much taller than Khr¡¯kowan but far more solidly built, it isn¡¯t difficult to see where the full tonne of extra mass comes from.

    Unlike the skull earlier, the living animal has a pair of thick thanatite fangs adorning the side of its face.

    Like the Vrakhand, its thickset arms end in tridactyl hands but, unlike them, there is no thumb, all three fingers being roughly equally long and aligned with eachother.

    ¡°Everyone open fire! I¡¯ll pin it down!!!¡± instructs Taylor, drawing and igniting his blade and making himself the creature¡¯s primary focus even with the hail of pellets that pop against its armour.

    Despite having said he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to kill this animal, Taylor sensibly does not approach the formidable creature close enough to actually swing for it with his sword, instead staying outside of its reach and drawing all of its attention.

    The creature throws out its arms, leans forward and opens its jaws to emit a powerful, guttural, bestial scream, exposing its gorillalike, thanatite canines as the slow acting tranquilisers are yet to show any sign of taking effect.

    It¡¯s clearly cowed by the unfamiliar, glowing weapon for a few moments, wavering over attacking its wielder.

    Its hesitation doesn¡¯t last though¡­

    Finding its courage, it surges forward, batting the weapon away without caring about the smoking char that instantly mars the armour of its forearm, it scoops the enormous man into a bearhug and¡­ kisses him?

    No, it¡¯s not kissing him¡­ its head is just so much taller than his that, while their scalps are level, its mouth is at the level of his chin, its fangs buried into the sides of his neck.

    It tosses him to the ground, his face red and his mouth issuing a repulsive foam.

    He doesn¡¯t get back up.

    The creature turns on the rest of us¡­ our tranquiliser entirely spent.

    Hunter charges it, swinging her spiked hammer and shouting.

    It charges her back¡­ she loses the battle of momentum¡­ hard.

    The animal swoops down on top of her, its fangs ringing out as they fruitlessly try to pierce her nanoforged iron helmet a few times before finding the gap between it and her durasteel gorget.

    Loper brings her lit leafblade sword down on it, fiercely¡­ It does not penetrate its armour and she receives a horse kick with the creature¡¯s left foreleg.

    Thankfully, her durasteel protects her from impalement but she is hurled through the air and impacts a rock, alive but wheezing and temporarily incapacitated.

    Kelly, Pereira and Byrne have all backed up almost to where I am.

    ¡°Everyone, I¡¯m going to distract it. Once its focus is on me, I want you to leave.¡± I say, seemingly calm.

    ¡°You out of your mind, Dude?!¡± demands the blond New Coloradoan.

    ¡°I¡¯m not. Do as I say.¡± I state.

    With that, I sprint right, away from the canyon¡¯s edge.

    Being the only one to run, the predator¡¯s whole focus immediately snaps to me.

    I decide that it can¡¯t hurt to make sure its attention stays on me¡­ I draw three arrows from my quiver and nock and loose them at it in quick succession.

    The first glances off the right side of its head, the next, half a second later, flies just over its left shoulder, the third strikes its throat but fails to penetrate its dense flesh.

    Enraged, it thunders after me.

    I dodge and weave through the trees, making my way back to Taylor¡¯s body in such a way as it gets hung up on every obstacle.

    I¡¯m able to spare 2 seconds to unclip his belt and yank it out from under his lifeless form, throwing the string of gas grenades over my neck as I take a flying leap down into the smoke filled ravine.

    I take the fall of more than twice my height harder than I¡¯d like but am still able to roll and don¡¯t think I¡¯ve broken anything.

    The gas instantly makes my throat tickle.

    I¡¯m able to restrain the coughs that want to erupt.

    Visibility is obviously poor here but not so poor that I can¡¯t see the animal¡¯s silhouette as it follows me down.

    It can¡¯t see me though.

    I sense its terrifying bulk moving through the smoke as it casts around for me.

    Silently, I take one of the grenades from the looted belt and manually arm it.

    I toss it near the creature, purposefully throwing it hard enough to make a noise.

    The creature shrieks and charges to attack the spot where it heard the disturbance, just in time to receive a concentrated blast of sedative gas to the face.

    I take a second grenade and arm it.

    The animal has evidently not learned its lesson, since I¡¯m able to see the shadow of its horns, charging (much more slowly) over to this one as well, with the same result.

    I take a third grenade but, before I can arm it¡­ a cough escapes me.

    It clearly realises this sound is different.

    It wheels on me and thunders over with slow, heavy footsteps.

    I back away from it but quickly find myself pressed against the canyon wall.

    I arm the grenade as a three fingered hand reaches through the fog.

    A drowsy looking eight eyed face lists downward, slowly.

    I point the end of the grenade directly at its snout.

    The grenade bursts, flooding the animal¡¯s mouth and nose with a jet of smoke.

    It stops¡­ then¡­ almost in slow motion¡­ keels over to my right¡­ impacting the ground with the *boom* of a falling mammoth!

    I break out into a coughing fit.

    ---Mirt¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Whuh?¡± I say, blearily, to the large, blurry, out of focus shape lifting me out of something sticky.

    ¡°I said are you alright, Sir?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯ thin¡¯ suh!¡± I answer, my mouth not doing what I want it to ¡°Who¡­ yuh? Wher¡­ we?¡±

    ¡°My name¡¯s Doctor Phan. We¡¯re in a cave¡­ you were pretty badly envenomed but you should make a full recovery. Can you tell me your name?¡±

    ¡°¡¯S¡­ Mirt¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.168

    ---Reunion---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    The limp form of the galaxies new most formidable land predator dangles from the bottom of the Swift Claw as she is lowered into an upturned escape pod, salved and sealed burn marks on her left forearm and back.

    The fact that Graom-Wakhkortan exoskeleton apparently has better plasmablade resistance than durasteel was a shock to everyone!

    I know, once that fact comes to light back home, the Vrakhand are going to be inundated with requests (from both the Terran and GU militaries) to allow themselves to be studied!

    If that quality could be reverse engineered, it could be the basis of an entirely new generation of battle armour¡­ which I¡¯m not entirely sure is a good thing!

    Of course, if we need to fight another War, I¡¯d obviously prefer to have the better armour than not.

    The only concern is¡­ how much more likely does us having it make another War?

    Well¡­ no use worrying about that now, is there¡­ Tomorrow¡¯s winds will blow tomorrow.

    Sknz¡¯h and Tha?s have had an absolute field day with this animal!

    The two of them ascertained that she was a ¡®she¡¯, she was a pregnant she, that her ancestors and the Vrakhand¡¯s diverged around 8 million years ago, that she comes no where near the threshold for sapience and that (absent a community to rely on) the enormous collection of fauna bound up in silk sacs in her lair were intended as a larder to support her children, after they were done eating her.

    It¡¯s a good thing too¡­ Hopes were so low for the Twigg being returned alive that Victor¡¯s initial plan was to use explosives to kill this thing (which certainly would have meant the six survivors becoming collateral damage!)

    Unfortunately, it was too late to save three of the ones we pulled out. They had already succumbed to the venom.

    At least their bodies could be returned to their loved ones¡­

    The Zunberis and Felicity are, right now, looking into the possibility of relocating the animal to an offshore island.

    The Vrakhand don¡¯t sail far out of sight of the coasts, so there are islands unknown to and unsettled by them.

    Obviously, it would be a terrible idea to move her to an island where her offspring would become an invasive species but, if they can find one that already has a population of them and is estimated to be able to support more, we can transfer her larder there and it will spare us the need to take her offworld.

    I would not be happy with sharing a ship with this thing, let alone bringing her into any gardenworld system!

    The idea of some customs agent ignoring our warnings and unstasising her to inspect her doesn¡¯t bear thinking about!

    Thanks to the actions of a certain young hunter, the suppression squad made it through almost entirely unscathed!

    Thran caught a partial dose of its venom but her metabolism has already almost completely burned it off.

    Xon has her chest in a cast for some broken ribs until we can regain access to the ship¡¯s regen tube.

    The worst casualty was Victor¡­

    Initially, the suspended animation that the full dose of venom he took in the neck plunged him into even caused his suit¡¯s vital monitors to report him as deceased!

    Mercifully, the doctors determined him to still be barely alive¡­

    They actually had to fab up a dialysis machine to clean the toxin out of his blood. Ancient technology, unnecessary even before we gained access to regen, but, they assure me, the best tool for the job in this case.

    He¡¯s yet to regain consciousness.

    Steve is some distance away from me, playing his didgeridoo (or ¡®ngatu¡¯, or ¡®pampu¡¯, as he says his Warlpiri grandfather would have called it) his face pained.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    He seems to be having a mild crisis of faith right now.

    Irwinist philosophy very firmly holds that how cute or friendly an animal is ought to have no bearing on how worthy it is of conservation and respect.

    It is a religion mainly popular among the rougher, country boys of the respective outbacks of Australia and New Australia, so its practitioners don¡¯t tend to be as precious about animals as conservationists from more urban environments do.

    They will happily jump on the backs of the galaxy¡¯s most dangerous animals and wrestle them into submission¡­

    But still¡­

    Having come face to face with such a monstrous creature, having seen how effortlessly it overcame two of the most formidable Humans he¡¯s ever likely to meet (and a trained soldier, not to minimise Xon)¡­ I think it¡¯s shaken him.

    He¡¯s blaming himself and our pointing out that those Twigg are only alive because of him doesn¡¯t seem to matter.

    I might gently suggest a session with Marc or Alchyinad if this persists¡­

    Just as I¡¯m thinking that, Lhamo¡¯s shuttle appears, setting down beside the Swift Claw on the patch that has become our informal landing pad.

    At the same time, the embassy¡¯s door opens and a group of six gaunt looking Twigg appear, dressed in clean, freshly forged clothes.

    The shuttle¡¯s ramp lowers and a voice cries ¡°Mirt!!!¡±

    I look to see a Twigg woman, perhaps 45 or so, her thick, curly hair a patchwork of green and grey, utterly sprinting toward the survivors.

    A slim boy of maybe 20, his eyes hooded with heavy dark circles, his green skin mottled with patches of grey discolouration, sees her and grins ¡°Hin!¡± his voice a rasp.

    Before she impacts the boy I¡¯m taking to be her son, her way is blocked by the legs and hand of a large Navajo man.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am¡­¡± says Niyol, sternly ¡°¡­you need to be gentle with him! He¡¯s still frail, alright!¡±

    ¡°Yes, sure, sure!¡± says the woman, not looking at the doctor as she tries to get around him to her boy.

    Rolling his eyes, Niyol steps out of the way and the woman throws herself at the convalescent (lighter than she would have, heavier than she should have!)

    Pressing her body into his and wrapping him in her arms, she says ¡°I was so worried about you, Mirt!¡±

    Wearily, the boy smiles back ¡°I¡¯m fine, Hin¡­ the healers say I¡¯ll be as good as before soon¡­¡±

    Tears spill from the older woman¡¯s eyes along with blubbering sobs from her trembling lips.

    I¡¯m just smiling at the heartwarming mother-son reunion when the ¡®mother¡¯ extends her tongue and plants a sensuous lick across the ¡®son¡¯s¡¯ lower face.

    It seems I slightly misapprehended the relationship between these two(!)

    A surprise¡­ but I¡¯m not one to judge¡­

    Some young men are fans of older ladies.

    From the way the pair start putting their hands on eachother though, I¡¯m preparing to avert my gaze and pretend to be very interested in every direction except that one for the next few minutes when two hands grasp them by the scruffs of the neck, pulling them apart.

    Seeming to have barely noticed the large man from whose hands they now dangle, the pair just desperately reach out for eachother, nearly a full metre between their fingertips.

    ¡°Absolutely not!¡± warns Niyol, addressing the woman ¡°He needs rest, Ma¡¯am! If he exerts himself, it will extend his recovery time and increase the risk of complications!¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine! Just put us down!¡± begs the woman, her face still fixed on that of her young lover.

    Drily, Niyol answers ¡°Ma¡¯am¡­ you need to do a better job of convincing me that, if I release him, he¡¯s going to be able to get the rest he needs at home¡­ If not, he¡¯s staying here until I judge him to be up to strenuous activity! Look me in the eyes and promise¡­¡± with the tone of an unimpressed schoolteacher.

    Irritably, the woman turns her attention to the man holding her and her lover apart and says ¡°I promise I¡¯ll let him rest, greedy!¡± seeming to mean ¡®greedy¡¯ more in the sense of ¡®spoilsport¡¯ than anything else.

    Niyol sighs ¡°Fine¡­ good enough¡­¡± placing down the pair who, based on the way they reembrace, I don¡¯t for a moment think are going to actually keep to their promise for much longer than it takes them to get out of his eyeshot ¡°¡­don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡±

    As I chuckle at that I get a message ping on my holo.

    I look down to check what it says¡­ and start hurrying into the embassy, around the crowd of reunited Twigg.

    I make my way through the halls, to the bedroom currently acting as an extension of the medical ward.

    I stride inside and am immediately met with a pair of bloodshot, bright green eyes.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± I smile, breathlessly ¡°¡­you gave us all quite the scare!¡±

    He smiles weakly back, giving his fianc¨¦e¡¯s hand a squeeze, and rasps ¡°Yeah¡­ sorry to worry folk.¡±

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± I ask, more earnestly.

    He gives a feeble tilt of his head and answers ¡°Like my chest¡¯s been crushed, my neck¡¯s been stabbed in two places, my blood¡¯s been filled with poison and someone¡¯s filled my mouth with a powerful bitterin¡¯ agent(!)¡± with a chuckle.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re awa-¡±

    At that moment, a tan skinned, blue eyed, dirty blond haired man, holding a 1.2m long wooden tube bursts through the door, interrupting me.

    He says nothing, only panting as he looks at the bedridden man.

    ¡°Steve¡­ How¡¯s it goin¡¯, you daft cunt(?!)¡± grins Victor.

    A smile slowly breaks over the New Australian¡¯s lower face.

    ¡°Not too bad¡­ you Pommie wanker(!)¡­ How ¡¯bout yourself?¡±

    Coolly, Victor gestures to himself and answers ¡°Been better, not gonna lie(!)¡­ We got the animal, right?¡±

    Swallowing a little and not meeting Victor¡¯s gaze, Steve nods ¡°Yeah, mate¡­ yeah we did¡­ Listen¡­ I¡¯m sor-¡±

    Victor holds up a hand and interrupts ¡°Don¡¯t apologise¡­ We¡¯ll just say that my next hundred rounds are on you(!)¡­ When we get off this planet¡­ Sound good?¡±

    With a half chuckle half sob, Steve answers ¡°Yeah, mate¡­ That¡¯ll about square us¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXXVII: Pancakes and Envelopment

    ---Soo¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m sitting atop the desk in our little lodge on the embassy compound, currently in ball form so as to better concentrate on my work.

    I¡¯m combing through the footage of that monster suppression expedition from all the body camera angles, editing together a coherent narrative and planning my commentary.

    I¡¯m just at the part where Tymancha takes an action movie style dive into the pool of blue smoke when I taste/smell a hand on top of me.

    ¡°Hey there, Ms Lane¡­¡± comes Cucu¡¯s tired voice ¡°¡­hope you¡¯re not shopping for a replacement hero(!)¡±

    ¡°Why¡­ Mr Kent(!) You surely know that my heart belongs only to Superman(!)¡± I say, sucking his hand into my body to better appreciate his taste/smell.

    At first, it¡¯s unpleasantly tainted with the flavour of all the Twigg and the single Human he¡¯s been tending to today but I quickly clean the contamination away, leaving only his underlying flavour to appreciate.

    ¡°That Superman¡¯s a lucky guy¡­ all the power in the world and the heart of a beautiful lady like yourself(?) How many blessings can one man have(!)¡±

    I create another pair of eyes and send them around my body to look up at him, still working on the footage with my originals.

    ¡°Yes¡­ if only that Superman weren¡¯t so busy saving the world all the time, he might have more time to actually enjoy that latter blessing, Mr Kent(!)¡­¡±

    He smiles down at me ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re always what he¡¯s thinking about while he¡¯s saving the world, Ms Lane.¡±

    I pause my editing and begin to flow up his arm, over his sleeve.

    ¡°Is that so, hmm? Well¡­ I don¡¯t know how you think you know his mind so well, Mr Kent. If that were the case¡­ it would make me happy¡­ but¡­¡± I reach his shoulders and begin transferring my weight off the table and onto him ¡°¡­not as happy as I¡¯d be to have him with me the way you are¡­ If only, if only I could fall for someone like you, Mr Kent(!)¡±

    I lift the last of myself off the desk and begin flowing my bulk onto his front.

    He barely reacts to bearing an extra quarter of his mass in this high gravity.

    Gravity doesn¡¯t really make that much difference to those of us with no bones to break or muscles to work, so I don¡¯t really bother with changing it, usually.

    I really only notice the difference in the amount of food I have to absorb to feel restored.

    Forming a head in front of his, then a neck, then a pair of shoulders, a pair of breasts, a waist, hips, arse and a set of four limbs, the uppers wrapped around his shoulders, the lowers around his trunk, I kiss him.

    He positively melts from the sensation, wrapping his arms around me.

    I can taste/smell the fatigue he¡¯s experiencing from the hard day of work he¡¯s just had¡­ I want to take care of him but¡­ there¡¯s something I need to talk about with him first.

    Without breaking from the kiss, I say ¡°C???ng¡­ I¡¯ve decided something¡­¡±

    ---C???ng¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Nng hngoo hnnghaigigg?¡± I ask, my mouth full of her.

    I don¡¯t know if her always speaking to me when I can¡¯t answer because my mouth is occupied is a kink or if she genuinely just forgets that I need it to speak!

    She pulls her mouth from mine and smiles ¡°Could you repeat that?¡± in a way that definitely makes me think it¡¯s the former(!)

    ¡°I said ¡®What have you decided?¡¯¡± I answer, coolly.

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯ve decided that¡­ even a year or two is too long to be without you¡­¡±

    By all the nonexistent gods!

    This again?!

    ¡°Soo¡­ don¡¯t make me choose between saving lives and being in a relationship with you! Putting me in that position will make the decision easy for me¡­¡± I lie, sternly.

    Even if she does something so selfish, choosing to end things will still likely be the hardest thing I¡¯ve ever done.

    She shakes her head and smiles ¡°I know better than that, Cucu¡­ If you chose me over helping people, you wouldn¡¯t be the man I fell in love with.¡±

    I frown ¡°So¡­ what do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± she says, squashing herself into me ¡°¡­I mean; I don¡¯t want to leave you here without me¡­ on the planet of Dommy Spiderwomen and promiscuous Goblin girls(!) So¡­ I¡¯ve decided I¡¯m going to stay here¡­¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± I ask, agog.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to stay here and make an in depth documentary of the early years of setting up the embassy. The ambassadors have already signed off on it.¡± she smiles back at me, lovingly.

    ¡°But¡­ what about Galactic News? You can¡¯t ask them if they¡¯re happy to sign off on this without FTLcoms!¡±

    She shrugs her gelatinous, transparent blue shoulders ¡°I¡¯ll send everything I have back with the ship, along with an explanation of the circumstances¡­ I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be fine with it.¡±

    ¡°But what if they¡¯re not!?¡± I ask, shocked at how laid back she¡¯s being about this.

    ¡°If they¡¯re not, not only will they lose access to the exclusivity on the documentary and open up the possibility of me selling it to a competitor network, but, a much greater loss, they¡¯ll also lose access to me¡­ the single best gardenworld reporter on Terran events that there is(!) I won¡¯t have any problem finding a job with a competitor!¡± she says, cocking her head in a mixture of hurt and curiosity ¡°You¡­ don¡¯t seem as happy about this as I thought you¡¯d be, Cucu?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thrilled you want to be here with me, Soo!¡­ I just don¡¯t want you to nuke your career on my account!¡±

    ¡°My career itself is on your account, C???ng!¡­ Remember? I only went into journalism to be sent to places where I thought there was a higher chance of running into you! Now I¡¯ve found you, there¡¯s no reason for me to stay in it, other than inertia. Unlike you, if someone asked me to choose between you and journalism I¡¯d choose you immediately! I¡¯d be destroying my camera drones before they¡¯d finished speaking!¡±

    ¡°But¡­!¡±

    ¡°Why do you actually have a problem with this, C???ng?¡± she interrupts, incisively.

    I stop dead in my tracks to introspect, considering her question.

    ¡°I guess¡­¡± I start, reticently.

    ¡°You guess?¡± she prompts, patiently.

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ I guess that nobody¡¯s ever shown an interest in me like you before, Soo! I turn 72 later this year and this is the longest relationship I¡¯ve ever been in!¡­ I suppose¡­ some part of me¡­ is waiting for the day when you get bored of me¡­ I guess I don¡¯t want you to regret decisions you made on my account while we were together. I don¡¯t want you to look back on being with me and resent the things you sacrificed for me¡­¡± I admit, embarrassed.

    Her gathering of photoreceptors behind the shapes of her morphed eyes just stare at my face for several long moments.

    Then she throws her head back in hysterical laughter.

    When she¡¯s mostly recovered, she chides ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, Cucu!!!¡± laughing ¡°¡®Get bored of you¡¯?! ¡®Look back on being with you¡¯!? You are not getting rid of me that easily, idiot(!)¡­ You think I¡¯d ¡®get bored of you¡¯ after a lifetime spent searching for you!?¡­ NO! You¡¯re stuck with me¡­ for, in your words, ¡®the rest of our lives¡¯! Alright, dummy!?¡±

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    I open my mouth, only to find it instantly filled with a flood of blue jelly.

    The two patches of photoreceptors on the face of the woman kissing me narrow, as she says ¡°I think you¡¯ve lost your speaking privileges for the moment, Cucu¡­ Don¡¯t want you saying anything else as stupid as that(!)¡± she melts herself around my chest in a tight embrace ¡°What do you say to letting our bodies do the rest of the talking, hmmm(?)¡±

    Yeah¡­ I¡¯m no longer in any doubt¡­ she has a kink for shutting me up.

    I chuckle and nod my head.

    Her photoreceptors change shape and dance delightedly as she eagerly begins melting herself down the front of my top, encompassing my torso with skin-to-membrane contact, all without releasing my mouth.

    I see ripples passing underneath my jacket as she works it upwards to be free of my red, sash belt.

    It bursts open at the front and she throws it down my arms to the floor.

    I¡¯m quite glad she had the curtains closed before I got home because, otherwise, my bare chest would be fully visible to anyone outside, protected only by a thin layer of my girlfriend¡¯s transparent blue flesh.

    She seeps down below my sash, enveloping my semierect cock, quickly causing it to stand fully to attention.

    I feel my centre of gravity shift down as she pushes more of herself to my lower half to swell my trousers to the floor, around my ankles.

    ¡°Lift your left foot...¡± she says, her pheromonal language being translated as a sensuous whisper.

    I do as she asks and see my boot get pushed off with a *pop*.

    ¡°Now the other¡­¡±

    The process is repeated for my right foot leaving me completely nude and completely enveloped in her gelatinous blue body from the lower face down.

    I don¡¯t think she¡¯s ever undressed me entirely from inside my clothes like that before¡­ I¡¯m definitely a fan!

    ¡°Let¡¯s have a look at ourselves, shall we?¡± she giggles.

    I feel my legs moving inside hers as she marches us over to the tall, narrow mirror we have hung on our wall.

    I could almost certainly resist her but I think I¡¯d probably lose my balance and fall over if I tried!

    ---Soo¡¯s perspective---

    I feel all [78kg] of my boyfriend¡¯s mass squashing the parts of me that are between the soles of his feet and the floor as I puppeteer him over to the mirror.

    His breathing is elevated and the wonderful cocktail of pheromones coming off of him have an amazing flavour!

    I form up a pair of eyes at his clavicle just before we¡¯re about to see ourselves and¡­

    ¡°Oh¡­ that¡¯s a little disappointing¡­¡± I say as I see myself.

    Obviously, Cucu (being 95% phagocytosed inside me with his mouth obstructed and only his upper face uncovered) looks like a snacc¡­ but¡­ me on the other hand¡­ I look like an amorphous humanoid blob!

    Like someone¡¯s shaped a watermattress into a wearable suit!

    ¡°No, no, no¡­ this won¡¯t do!¡± I say, to myself as much as my captured lover.

    I begin reshaping myself around him, thinning the cytoplasm bulking out his waist, lower legs and arms and using it to augment the chest, hips and thighs, encompassing him in a far more feminine figure.

    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡­ Better?¡±

    He answers with a stifled moan.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a ¡®yes¡¯¡­(!)¡± I giggle back.

    I begin enveloping the top of his head, leaving only three holes, one for him to breathe through and one for each of his eyes, forming a smirking feminine face on top of his.

    With his volume bulking me out I¡¯m a lot larger than I¡¯m normally able to manage¡­ The effect is that of a voluptuous queen.

    ¡°I think this is a good look for you(!)¡± I tease the man trapped inside me, as his eyes dart over our shared features ¡°And I know you want a feel, don¡¯t you¡­¡±

    I raise our arms and withdraw myself from his palms, creating two windows.

    I run his hands over my breasts, making him squeeze them, down my stomach over his cock, flat against his stomach, over my hips and to my arse which I give a little wiggle.

    The flood of arousal I taste from him intensifies.

    ¡°You are so cute, Cucu¡­ Cute and tasty!¡± I smile ¡°But¡­ I think¡­¡±

    He grunts and his body convulses as I begin inserting myself into his arsehole.

    The deathworlder strength that he leverages involuntarily knocks us off balance but he steadies us by throwing his palm against the wall, to the top right of the mirror.

    We look at ourselves, quivering from the way his muscles keep spasming.

    I continue swelling the pseudopod in his arse until I¡¯m not able to make it any larger.

    ¡°¡­the more of me you have inside you, the cuter you look and the tastier you taste(!)¡± I grin into the mirror.

    His eyes don¡¯t meet mine at his clavicle, staring, instead, straight back into the holes from which his own eyes look out.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got you, Cucu¡­ you¡¯re mine and I¡¯m never giving you up!¡­ If we get back to the capital and Galactic News tell me that they¡¯ve fired me for the unauthorised leave, I¡¯ll easily consider it a price worth paying to avoid a long distance, incommunicado relationship with you!¡±

    I feel his tongue wriggling against the part of me that¡¯s in his mouth as he tries to form an answer.

    Nothing coherent comes out.

    ¡°Now, my love, why don¡¯t we take a seat on the bed¡­ and I can put all your worries that I might ever ¡®get bored of you¡¯ to rest, alright?¡±

    ---C???ng¡¯s perspective---

    Soo frogmarches me over to our bed and folds me into a sitting position.

    My bottom doesn¡¯t actually touch the covers, padded as it is by the ample posterior she¡¯s given herself.

    She tips my top half over onto the bed before pulling up my legs.

    She angles us so that I¡¯m able to see both my own nude body laid out inside her and our reflection in the mirror.

    It is very surreal to be almost entirely encased inside her like this!

    We do have a safeword for me to use (worked out after I noticed how often she liked to have my mouth obstructed). I could stop this if I wanted to but¡­ I really don¡¯t want to¡­

    Even as a doctor, I¡¯m unsure if the biological agents she naturally puts off to speak are actually aphrodisiac to Humans or if this is just what it feels like to have full body contact with someone you love¡­ either way, it feels magnificent!

    She begins a stimulating pulse and undulation of the phallus she¡¯s pegging me with.

    ¡°Ngggh!¡± I moan, closing my eyes.

    ¡°Oh¡­ you like that?¡± she asks, amused ¡°What about this?¡±

    She starts to pulse the spur occupying my mouth.

    ¡°You like that?¡±

    I do¡­

    Even though, if she wanted to kill me in this position, it would be easy for her¡­ all she¡¯d have to do would be to cover my nose (the main method Suigu soldiers used to kill Terrans in the War, oozing underneath their armour and suffocating them) I nevertheless feel incomparably safe, cared for and loved as I lie here, floating a few centimetres above the bed and encased inside my girlfriend!

    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to shut your eyes¡­¡± she smirks, melting my eyeholes closed.

    Now deprived of my sight, I become hyper aware of the sensations in my arse and mouth, the membrane against my skin, my own accelerated breaths coming in and out of my nose as they expand and contract my chest, feeling nothing else.

    I see nothing.

    I hear nothing.

    I taste and smell only her.

    She lifts up my arms and folds them underneath the ample chest she¡¯s given herself, morphing to push them through her midriff and bind them against mine.

    Still fucking my arse and skull, she brings my legs together and withdraws herself from the gaps between them, bringing me into the pose of a mummified Egyptian Pharaoh.

    ¡°Oh, Cucu¡­ [seven decades] of trying and failing to find someone to love you have made you feel quite worthless, haven¡¯t they?¡± (accurately) assesses the soundless, disembodied voice of my captor in my head ¡°Well¡­ you aren¡¯t worthless to me!¡­ You¡¯re all I ever dreamed of and, now¡­ you¡¯re mine!¡­ You know that and, yet, it appears you still haven¡¯t accepted it!¡­ You still think you¡¯re Superman, always putting yourself and your own needs last¡­ Allow me to teach this super body of yours how good it feels when someone else is taking care of you(!)¡±

    She starts to ripple her membrane around my manhood, causing my breathing to hitch.

    ¡°There now¡­ be a good boy and relax¡­ Just let me take care of everything for you¡­¡±

    She teases me for quite some time, doing enough to keep me permanently on the edge of orgasm, then pulling back at the last moment.

    After what feels like an age of her sucking away my sanity with her slow, teasing, full body stimulation, I grunt ¡°Ngggh, nggh ngh ng ngh!¡±

    She withdraws herself from my mouth but nowhere else as that was not our safeword.

    ¡°What was that, my love?¡± she asks, sweetly.

    ¡°Please, just let me cum¡­¡± I pant.

    ¡°Hmmm, should I let you cum?¡­ What do I get out of it?¡± she poses, playfully.

    ¡°Anything!¡± I gasp, desperately.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ ¡®Anything¡¯ you say?¡­ Alright then¡­ tell me you want me to stay on this planet with you.¡±

    ¡°I want you to stay!¡± I answer, immediately.

    ¡°Tell me you¡¯ll be mine forever.¡±

    ¡°Forever and a day!¡± I plead, pathetically.

    ¡°Tell me¡­ tell me you think you¡¯re worth more than my job at Galactic News¡­¡±

    I falter as the words catch in my throat.

    After some long seconds of hesitation, I answer ¡°I think I¡¯m worth more to you than your job¡­ and I¡¯m happy for that.¡±

    There is a pause¡­ before she redoubles her arousal of every centimetre of me.

    In no time at all, I¡¯m on the brink of an orgasm.

    I open my mouth to cry out, only to have it filled with gel as my stomach seizes in ecstasy.

    ---Soo¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m lying on the bed with the love of my life still bound inside me, milked thoroughly dry and bubbles of his seed floating across my stomach (not that he can see that).

    I¡¯d like to have him sleep in me like this¡­ unfortunately, my body thinks I¡¯m trying to eat him right now(!)

    At the moment, the digestive agents it¡¯s exposing him to will be nothing more than a pleasant exfoliation for him¡­ but, if he were to spend all night in me, he would get rather a nasty case of dermatitis¡­

    Shame¡­

    For the moment though, I can keep holding him, keep enjoying how he tastes, keep making sure he understands how much more he means to me than basically anything else in the universe!

    ¡°Soo¡­?¡± comes his masculine voice from the hole in my feminine face.

    ¡°Yes, Cucu?¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡­¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± I laugh.

    ¡°For everything¡­ for being you¡­ for loving me¡­ for making sure I know it¡­ all of it!¡± he answers, sincerely.

    ¡°Likewise¡­¡± I answer, just as sincere.

    Contentedly he nestles himself against nothing in particular, still floating in my cytoplasm.

    We sit in silence for a while.

    Then he says ¡°Oh, tomorrow, if you manage to catch the repair crew, could you let them know we need a top up on various food stuffs from the ship? We¡¯ve pretty much only got enough pancake mix for tomorrow¡¯s breakfast right now(!)¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.169

    ---Old---

    ---Mek¡¯s perspective---

    ¡®Pon was an exceptional woman¡­¡¯ I think to myself as I ride a [stallionhound], slowly walking a few Folk lengths behind the man she and I almost certainly made together, along the wide road that we would have avoided like a rutting [bettleocerous], this time last year(!)

    Every child she made, she brought out the absolute best in what the man had given her!

    Grriv is larger and stronger than I was as a younger man.

    Viig is far cleverer than Lof ever was!

    It saddens me that neither of them (nor anyone else from when I was a youth) could still be here¡­ that, if I survive until [regen]¡¯s been solved, I will forever be the oldest member of Miw and all surrounding villages.

    But¡­ along with the sadness, there is pride.

    I am proud of the people I see the Folk becoming and I¡¯m glad they still have a use for an old fart like myself(!)¡­ Even if I¡¯m more than a little apprehensive about the use I¡¯m being given!

    ¡°Hey, Mek¡­¡± the companion I ride with smiles over a muscular shoulder ¡°¡­you seen that really short Terran girl?¡±

    ¡°Thran?¡­ I wouldn¡¯t try it, boy! I think she would probably break you¡­ no matter how gentle she was(!)¡± I chuckle.

    He waves a negative ¡°No, not her! Olga! Brown hair? Grey eyes? Unusual proportions for a Terran?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± I say, remembering the girl who stands more than a head shorter than the next shortest Terran and goes everywhere with what looks like a light scowl on the face ¡°¡­she¡¯s attractive to you, is she?¡±

    ¡°Yeeeah¡­¡± he sighs, grinning stupidly ¡°¡­she¡¯s dreamy!¡±

    I puff ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t see it myself but everyone likes what they like, don¡¯t they¡­ You suggested it yet?¡±

    Another negative ¡°No¡­ she¡¯s always with at least Enas (the one eyed one) talking about super clever things¡­ The offworlders like [privacy] when they¡¯re propositioned and for everything that follows. I¡¯ve not had the opportunity yet.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I shrug ¡°¡­it won¡¯t be too long before you¡¯re going to be travelling off the world on the same sky boat as her¡­ I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll get the opportunity at some point on that journey¡­ Though I would urge caution; she may not be Thran but she¡¯s still a third of a Folk taller than you and looks like she might be three times as heavy! Even she could easily hurt you if you piss her off¡­ and she doesn¡¯t give the impression of being particularly patient or forgiving!¡±

    He leans back from where he sits atop the plodding [stallionhound] and bares all four fangs in a grin, saying ¡°Selling points, Mek(!)¡­ Those are selling points(!)¡±

    I laugh and throw up the nonstaff hand in a gesture of ¡®don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you!¡¯

    At this point, we arrive at what is, for us, an impasse.

    Grriv springs, lithely, down from the mount he rides and goes to help me down.

    I push him away with the staff and say ¡°I¡¯m not that old, boy(!) I can dismount myself!¡± hopping down to the ground without assistance.

    He cocks an eyebrow and says ¡°Oh¡­ so I guess you don¡¯t need me to shout across the river for you either then(?)¡±

    I look out across the wide rapids that I know to be too deep for Folk to wade and too fast flowing to swim.

    The women guarding the far side look engrossed in conversation and haven¡¯t noticed us.

    I don¡¯t know if I could shout loud enough for them to here over the sound of the water but I do know that the attempt will destroy the throat!

    I sigh ¡°Please shout across the river for me, Grriv.¡±

    ¡°Thought so.¡± he smirks, turning out across the water and inflating his chest to yell ¡°HEEEEEY¡­!¡±

    The two women immediately snap their attention to us in a way that is reflexively terrifying!

    ¡°¡­BRING A BOAT FOR HIM!!!¡± he demands, pointing to me.

    A few moments pass as sixteen eyes appraise us and the women speak at a volume that can¡¯t be perceived.

    Then, one of them goes to a stack of boats (too small for them, too large for me) and lifts one off the top.

    Returning to the water edge, the woman places the dinghy down and takes hold of a long, leading silk rope before wading out towards us.

    I hope it won¡¯t be bouncing around like that on the trip back across the river with me weighing it down! That does not look comfortable!

    Grriv hands me a long thin object, wrapped in cloth, before wrapping me in a hug and saying ¡°Stay safe, Mek¡­ Don¡¯t get eaten(!)¡±

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Sir Mek of Miw, I presume?¡± I say to the (by my standards) miniscule man, standing in the middle of my throne room, as I take my seat atop my pedestal, my broodhusband at my side.

    Haorken already has her place on her side of the pedestal.

    ¡°I am, Majestic¡­¡± he answers, his language¡¯s lack of any terms of possession briefly fooling me into thinking him to be proclaiming that he himself is majestic ¡°¡­it is an honour and a privilege to be invited to this city.¡± dipping his head in respect.

    ¡°It is a delight and a pleasure that you accepted.¡± I respond, truthfully.

    He¡¯s perfect!

    Though I didn¡¯t know his name, he is the very Twigg I was thinking of when I asked for an older male.

    Wizened¡­ Aged¡­ Venerable¡­ He looks every bit as if my father had been transformed into a Twigg by a curse(!)

    The scar on the left side of his face, passing over a blind, milky eye, does mark him out as having been a warrior in his youth but, with the roughhewn, ironwood staff he needs to prop up his kind¡¯s unstable looking, bipedal posture, I don¡¯t think anyone could perceive him as a threat!

    His facial hair grows thicker than any Vrakhand male and he dresses more conservatively than any other Twigg I¡¯ve seen from the South.

    ¡°Your lodgings are prepared for you, Mek of Miw.¡± I state ¡°We¡¯ve stocked them with water and meat but have yet to receive the first shipment of nonmeat foods we¡¯ve arranged to trade for with your people. That should arrive from the embassy later today¡­ I trust you will survive until then?¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    He smiles and waves his hand ¡°Eating one meal of only meat will be no problem at all for me, Majestic. It¡¯s only if I don¡¯t eat vegetables for a prolonged period that the healers tell me I will become sick.¡±

    I frown, confused ¡°The healers had to tell you that?¡­ You didn¡¯t already know?¡±

    He raises and lowers his shoulders in nonchalance and answers ¡°Meat is never plentiful enough for my people that a village could live off only it for any protracted period¡­¡±

    ¡°But, surely, individuals in a tribe could?¡±

    This time, he frowns ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry?¡­ Why would only some of us be eating all that meat and the rest of us not, Majestic?¡±

    I lean back, surprised.

    I realise I had entirely forgotten about the Twigg¡¯s [egalitarianism]!

    I was imagining high status Twigg monopolising meat supplies, allowing all to see that doing so makes them sick.

    I recall now that there are no Twigg nobles!

    To them, more meat means more meat for all to share!

    ¡°Apologies, Sir Mek¡­ my lack of familiarity with your people¡¯s ways caused me to speak foolishly.¡± I say.

    In answer, he just does another shoulder raise and says ¡°No problem, Majestic¡­ As I understand, I¡¯m here to make you, the council and, later, the [Regent] over there, familiar with Twigg ways.¡±

    ¡°Yes. And we greatly appreciate it!¡­ Kurkhuw, do you have¡­? Oh, thank you.¡± my broodhusband places what I sought into my hand without my needing to finish the question.

    ¡°Your first Moon¡¯s salary in advance¡­ no threads attached! You do not have to return it if you decide you need to leave early.¡± I say, standing and crossing the hall to extend the pouch to him.

    He reaches his free hand out to take it, a confused expression on his face.

    His fingers close around the top of the bag and I release it.

    Its weight immediately drags it to the floor, almost pulling the old man down with it.

    I curse my stupidity!

    Obviously it would be a much higher proportion of his weight than mine and, if he wasn¡¯t expecting it¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sir Mek! I should have warned you it would be heavy!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine¡­ Majestic¡­¡± he answers, distractedly, opening up the bag and looking inside, his face still confused ¡°¡­What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°Your salary¡­ 20 iron coins for this Moon¡­ Is it¡­ not enough?¡± I ask, uncertainly.

    It is, in my view, a rather generous wage¡­

    Was he expecting chests upon chests?

    I know his people are generally impoverished compared to mine¡­ maybe he thinks our treasuries are boundless?

    ¡°Sorry, Majestic¡­ what¡¯s a [salary]?¡± he asks, enlightening me as to his confusion.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ payment¡­ for the services you¡¯ll be rendering, Sir Mek¡­¡±

    ¡°[Payment]?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ you understand ¡®compensation¡¯?¡­ It¡¯s like a trade. You give us your time and your knowledge, we give you this iron.¡±

    His eyebrows fly up his wrinkled green forehead ¡°Every Moon?!¡±

    That¡¯s more like the reaction I was hoping for!

    ¡°Yes¡­ every Moon¡­ Did they not explain that you would be compensated at the embassy?¡±

    He frowns ¡°I mean¡­ they might have mentioned something about it but¡­ I think I misunderstood¡­ My understanding was that I would give time and knowledge and, in return, be fed and housed.¡±

    I smile wryly ¡°I would shame the Khawekhan Realm and [Empire] to be so stingy with you, Sir Mek! Food and lodging are but a part of your compensation.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ what do I¡­ do with it?¡±

    I give a dismissive gesture ¡°That¡¯s really none of my concern; hoard it, roll around in it, send it back to your people to melt down, whatever you like¡­ I would advise you to keep at least a little here for yourself, though¡­ Anything you wish to buy in Khawekh will need to be purchased with these.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ that¡¯s like¡­ compensation again, Majestic?¡­ I want something other than the food you¡¯re giving me, I have to give the person who has it one of these?¡± he asks, gesturing into the bag.

    ¡°Depending on what you want¡­ it might be more or less than one iron coin but, essentially, yes.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ Complicated!¡± he reflects ¡°But I thank you for being a generous, Majestic.¡±

    ¡°You are most welcome, Sir Mek.¡± I say, turning to retake my seat on my throne pedestal.

    I¡¯m almost there when he says ¡°Speaking of compensation, Majestic¡­¡± but that¡¯s as far as he gets because, at that moment, something (to me) small and fluffy charges into the room from outside.

    My head whips around to see one of my siblings sprinting at the old man she¡¯s already probably nearly twice the weight of!

    Her arms and palps are extended in glee but my insides go cold at the thought of returning a mangled corpse to his people, explaining that he was ripped apart, [minutes] after arriving, by one of my baby halfsiblings who only wanted to play.

    I rear up to bring myself back around and charge for her.

    The old man is already holding his stick between himself and the baby¡­

    Yes!

    Good!

    She¡¯s going to be on you before I¡¯m on her but if you can just fight her off for a moment!

    I¡¯ll completely forgive you if you hurt her¡­ though I¡¯d prefer you don¡¯t do so too badly!

    She¡¯s too close!

    He still hasn¡¯t swung for her!

    She¡¯s about to kill him when¡­

    She meets only his stick, which he angles to cause her to glance away, harmlessly, to his right¡­ towards me.

    She shrieks and giggles delightedly at the game and turns around to charge the old man again.

    Before she has the chance, I¡¯ve scooped her from the ground.

    I stare furiously at the happy, oblivious infant for a moment before a young male appears in the door and all my ire immediately refocuses on him.

    ¡°KHUH!!!¡± I roar, causing him to flinch ¡°WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?!?

    I thunder to where he stands and loom down over him.

    I extend him the baby that I can now tell is female but (visually at least) cannot identify beyond that ¡°IS THIS V¡¯EKSHAKH AGAIN!?¡±

    ¡°She is, Your Majesty¡­¡± he mumbles back, rightfully ashamed.

    ¡°THIS IS, WHAT!? THE FOURTH TIME?!?!?!¡±

    ¡°Fifth.¡± respond my sister and broodhusband, coolly and in unison.

    I take a deep, steadying inhale (that turns out as much more of a hissing growl than I meant) and make a conscious effort to lower my voice as, through gritted toothplates, I say ¡°Khuh, if she¡¯s such a flight risk, you need to give her to a more experienced attendant! The previous times this was just embarrassing¡­ this time, it was dangerous!!!¡±

    I gesture behind myself to the tiny old man.

    ¡°She could have hurt him, Khuh!!!¡­ Do you understand how bad that would have been!?!?!?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty¡­¡± he answers, looking like he¡¯s about to cry.

    ¡°GOOD! Then you¡¯ll understand why you¡¯re demoted!!!¡­ You are to take her back to the nursery and explain to Bhormhidh that your apprenticeship has resumed and you are no longer to be trusted solo until. further. NOTICE!... Dismissed!!!¡±

    The boy flees from the room, taking V¡¯ekshakh with him.

    I take several more deep breaths to dispel my anger before turning back to the guest in my realm and saying ¡°Sir Mek¡­ I cannot apologise enough for that!¡­ Are you unharmed?¡±

    He smiles and waves dismissively ¡°No harm done, Majestic¡­ Young ones will play¡­ Would that we could all be so carefree(!)¡±

    ¡°You have my deepest gratitude for not harming my halfsister, Sir Mek!¡­ I would have understood completely if you had!¡­ That was an impressive redirection!¡±

    The old man taps four of the five claws of his left hand just above his left temple (connoting cunning) and grins ¡°I¡¯m [56], Majestic¡­ A Folk does not live to be this age without picking up a few such tricks(!)¡±

    Containing my shock that this wizened old man is, in fact, only [16 years] older than me, I sigh ¡°I can see we still have much to learn about your people from you, Sir Mek¡­ That is, if you¡¯re still willing to teach us¡­ I will understand if you wish to leave now, after that experience!¡±

    The loss of twenty iron coins for no work will smart¡­ but not close to as much as compelling him to remain here against his wishes would hurt Vrakhand-Twigg relations!

    He waves his hand ¡°No¡­ I think I¡¯d like to stay, Majestic¡­ I can fend off the odd rogue baby for such generous compensation(!)¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m relieved to hear it, Sir Mek¡­ Though, I truly hope, that will be the last occasion on which you will be ambushed by one of my siblings! I¡¯ll have a word with the nursery about tightening antiescape security when we¡¯re done here¡­ Oh, did you have another question about your salary?¡±

    ¡°Err¡­ no, Majestic¡­ I think I understand it now?¡± he answers, confused.

    ¡°Before V¡¯ekshakh interrupted you, you were saying something else about compensation?¡± I prompt.

    ¡°Oh! Right! Yes!¡± he remembers ¡°It wasn¡¯t about the [salary]¡­ I have something to give you.¡±

    ¡°Something to give me?¡± I query.

    ¡°Well¡­ maybe not you¡­ and I¡¯m just delivering it, actually¡­¡± he says, withdrawing a long, thin, rigid, nonsilk cloth parcel from his belt and extending it upwards for me to take.

    Quizzically, I begin to unwrap it.

    I gasp as I see the glossy, red, metallic texture that emerges from the bundle.

    ¡°A¡­ ¡®gesture of goodwill¡¯ was the phrase I believe I am to use¡­ from Representative Viig¡­ as thanks for the aid you gave after the attack on Dith.¡± smiles the old man, kindly.

    ¡°What is it, Khr¡¯kowan?¡± asks my sister, from her place on the right of the throne pedestal.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s your foot, Haorken¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.170

    ---Ocean---

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s time to pay the piper¡­

    This is my comeuppance for having been excused from the monster spider hunt(!)

    Victor (who¡¯s done all of Miraala¡¯s previous expeditions on his own, being a strong swimmer from a wet part of a wet planet) is still laid up from getting several centilitres of a powerful paralytic stabbed into his neck.

    Even if Thran was at 100%, her negative buoyancy meant that she was excused from her planet¡¯s mandatory swimming lessons as a kid and, as a result, never learned to swim.

    Xon has several broken ribs right now.

    It¡¯s not really Thran or Xon¡¯s job, either¡­ Guess I¡¯m just kind of used to thinking of both of them as part of the team at this point.

    It¡¯s just me and Tuun here now (weighed down with ballasts attached to the outside of her suit to make her neutrally buoyant.)

    Neither of us are amazing swimmers.

    She comes from a frigid planet that was being settled and developed through her childhood and didn¡¯t have ready access to heated indoor swimming pools.

    She at least learned at school though.

    The Black Cat didn¡¯t have a swimming pool aboard, funnily enough(!)

    I only learned to swim in prison, just before I got my diving certification for my Security Officer course!

    I readily remember the discomfort and fear I had of deep water into my early adulthood.

    Don¡¯t get me wrong though, demon spider vs oceanic reef dive is no contest!

    ¡°I¡¯m putting us down over the reef.¡± announces Twila¡¯s voice ¡°Get ready you three!¡±

    I activate my suit¡¯s watertightness, checking to make sure Tuun¡¯s done the same properly while she checks me.

    Unlike her, who¡¯s had to add weight to herself to make sure she sinks, I¡¯m having to be here without the heavy armour I normally wear over my chest and legs and with flippers where I normally wear heavily armoured boots.

    It leaves me feeling a little nude!

    I clutch my firearm to my chest¡­ the unfamiliar feeling it has with its unrifled, underwater barrel and loaded with flechette ammunition not giving me as much comfort as I¡¯d like(!)

    The door opens onto an ocean without the smallest speck of land in sight.

    We¡¯re about 100km away from the supercontinent to our West and about 50km from the island that Kas, Mage and Felicity are looking at as a candidate to move that captured monster to, to our North. Both well over the horizon.

    The major naval power of the Spider people is on the far side of the continent and there¡¯s a desert peninsular to their South and an icecapped pole to their North, blocking their way here.

    Vrakhand settlements are sparser on this end of the continent and the Twigg don¡¯t really sail, so there¡¯s a good chance we¡¯re the first sapients to ever know about this reef or that island!

    Miraala manoeuvres her hoverchair to over the water and takes off her collar, exposing her gill slits before stowing the aquarespirator inside the mobility craft.

    She begins rotating it forwards to put her upper body horizontal to the water¡¯s surface before sliding out.

    The way her long, fishy tail seems to be birthed from the egg shaped device does not put me at ease!

    Not giving myself time to think about it, I step forward with a flippered foot and plunge into the briny deep!

    Once my head is submerged, I immediately cast around, looking for horrors as Tuun splashes down beside me.

    Thankfully, I see none.

    The water is not crystal clear.

    Field of view is down to what looks like about 35-40m before detail is completely lost to the murk.

    Beneath us, half obscured by the biotic haze, is a reef, crowded with alien corals and alien fish.

    Miraala, back in her element after more than a week of having to make do with her respirator collar and copious quantities of retention gel, is doing aquabatic somersaults through the water.

    ¡°Happy?¡± I ask, wryly cocking an eyebrow through the polymer of my rebreather mask.

    ¡°Exceedingly!¡± she answers in her flowy sign language, her contentment obvious.

    Holding back a sigh and an eyeroll, I proceed downward.

    The +3m Mermaid woman easily outaccelerates me and Tuun, treating me to a view of her robust bulge of muscle (where a Human would have a pelvis) powering her through the watercolumn in a (not at all sexual looking(!)) up and down undulation¡­ the way that Terran Whales and Dolphins swim and unlike the way Terran fish do.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    I¡¯m not blushing right now! Shut up!

    Early on in my relationship with Dormouse, before her attack of jealousy on Neonesia, I¡¯d¡¯ve said she¡¯d be happy to hear about me noticing another woman like this¡­ I decide not to mention it to her.

    I look over to Tuun to get my mind off the Osiyul woman ahead of us.

    I can see her face concentrating hard ahead of her, through her mask, her helmet¡¯s ear protrusions still looking a tiny bit silly to my eyes.

    Her quadrimanous torso gives her an interesting looking swimming style, her lower arms extending forward under her uppers as they pull back in a double breaststroke.

    We hit about 20m deep and the shoals of tiny vertebrate fish dart away to hide in the coral from the three comparatively large creatures descending down on them.

    As a general rule, fish look like fish no matter what planet you find them on.

    Anything that swims needs to be hydrodynamic and being hydrodynamic ends up making an animal look like a fish.

    That being said, there¡¯s still an enormous variety possible in size, shape and colour that does mean fish from the same planet look more like eachother than they do fish from others.

    With the exception of lampreys and hagfish (who really look alien) most Terran fish have the look of Terran fish¡­ These guys have the look of Graom-Wakhkortan fish, their scales pigmented mostly with vibrant greens and purples.

    At this point I catch sight of a school of long, conical shelled, squiddy creatures, coasting over the reef, swimming (to my mind) backwards.

    You know what¡­ this is not so bad¡­

    I can breathe, I¡¯m dry inside my suit, this reef is a little magical¡­ this is definitely preferable to fighting the monster spider.

    Miraala floating above a large rock platform (curiously bare of coral) already has her holo out and is furiously scribbling notes in a fluid cursive script, her W shaped pupils darting between the reef and her writing.

    She¡¯s a Class 7 (Terran Security Officer 101; know what Class every one of the people you¡¯re in charge of is!) like the Captain, so she¡¯s not so fragile and na?ve as she could be but I still need to make sure nothing large enough to hurt her decides to try its luck while she¡¯s distracted with her notetaking.

    Things like that 2m long, armoured shark that¡¯s drifting lazily towards her right now(!)

    I swim to position myself between the woman and the inquisitive invertebrate.

    Unlike the Vrakhand, this thing¡¯s toothshields aren¡¯t hidden behind a pair of fleshy looking lips, they¡¯re bare on the front of its head.

    Ten fins line its long serpentine body with the front two limbs being adapted as a set of gripping mandibles, presumably for holding onto its prey.

    Something I remember from uni is that land based vertebrates like Humans are not particularly appetising to marine predators who are used to eating fatty/oily/blubbery marine animals and so, when bites happen, it¡¯s typically because they were just investigating the victim.

    Their mouths are their main means of interacting with the environment and determining what is and what is not food.

    If a great white was attacking you to kill, it would charge up from beneath you at 56kmph and you¡¯d probably never know what hit you(!)

    Regardless, I don¡¯t want to receive even an investigatory bite from this guy so, as he drifts towards me, I reach out to the left side of his head (safely clear of his mouth) with my nondominant right hand (my left holding my gun) and give him a firm, redirecting push away.

    With a speed that makes my heart skip a beat and my blood adrenaline spike immediately, he darts away through the water before swinging back for me and the Osiyul woman.

    I¡¯m briefly terrified into thinking he¡¯s going to go for her (I¡¯m sure she wouldn¡¯t be very nutritious for him but I don¡¯t know how she¡¯d taste) but, to my relief, he makes for me again.

    I give him another firm push, redirecting him over my head this time.

    He frolics through the water, causing me to understand that this is a fun game to him(!)

    ¡°Fascinating!¡± comes the translated word from the Merwoman who briefly releases her stylus to sign the gesture for it.

    I spend the next few minutes desperately trying to maintain situational awareness of my surroundings as I float over this coralless outcropping of the reef, indulging this insistent, playful armoured shark and Miraala takes notes and photos.

    Luckily, Tuun¡¯s still got her eyes out, so we hopefully won¡¯t be completely blindsided by anything!

    Then, all of a sudden, my aquatic playmate breaks from the game and drifts away into a crag in the reef.

    I frown as I see him go.

    Not that I¡¯m unhappy he¡¯s done distracting me but¡­ something¡¯s giving me the creeps about how sudden that was¡­

    I look around and see that there are far fewer fish visible on the reef now than there were when we got here and basically none of the larger squid and invertebrate fish¡­

    I turn around to look out into the boundless murk beyond the reef.

    At first, I see nothing¡­

    Then, I see something that freezes my blood and sends lightning through my nervous system.

    I see the shadow of something absolutely, unfathomably enormous, appearing through the murk!

    My mind silent to every issue which is not related to our immediate survival, it takes me a fraction of a second to work out that heading up, back to the ship, is useless.

    Miraala might make it but Tuun and I swim too slowly! We¡¯d be totally exposed!

    Only one thing for it!

    ¡°Guys!¡± I say, my tone deadly serious ¡°Hide! In the reef! Now!¡±

    I turn and see that Miraala, rather than using the fifth of a second since the command was issued to get a headstart, is just looking at me confused.

    ¡°I said NOW!¡± I hiss, gesturing for the same crag that the shark made for a minute ago and giving her a push towards it.

    She breaks from her stupor and darts for the crevice, getting there before Tuun.

    I¡¯m the last in and I turn around to the single most horrifying sight I¡¯ve ever seen!

    A gigantic pair of shiny, red, metallic looking jaws is barrelling towards us at a terrifying speed!

    My mind briefly shows me a flash of them just crashing into the corals protecting us and demolishing them like a derailed monorail train destroying a flimsy building!

    Mercifully, the (what looks like) 50 tonne monster reduces its speed and skids up the bare rock where we just were (solving the mystery of what was keeping it coral free).

    Eight eyes stare down at us, inaccessible to it in our hiding spot, with an unreadable expression.

    The creature¡¯s rounded snout rests on the rock, nearly twice as tall as I am!

    There follows what feels like an eternity of us just frozen, staring at one of exactly the horrors of the deep I was apprehensive about running into.

    Then, there is a great metallic screech that I¡¯m quickly able to determine is coming from its two massive upper toothshields grinding against one another as they retract away from its single lower one.

    The giant mouth (that I could easily stand fully upright inside) opens, revealing four rows of conical teeth, each longer than my hand!

    ¡°What¡¯s¡­ what¡¯s it doing?¡± I ask the other two, gripping tight onto a sturdy feeling piece of coral and getting ready to catch Miraala in case it unleashes some monstrous suction feeding attack that irresistibly sweeps her into its mouth.

    ¡°Symbiotic mutualism¡­¡± she signs, her tone rendered fascinated.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s here to be cleaned¡­¡± she says, pointing to the army of tiny fish, tentatively edging forward into the leviathan¡¯s mouth where they begin sucking away at the crevices between its teeth.

    I breathe a sigh of relief that it¡¯s apparently not here to hunt and ask ¡°How long will it be before its satisfied with its cleanliness, do you think?¡±

    She signs a negative ¡°No idea¡­ Could be [hours]!¡± not seeming the slightest bit disturbed by being trapped here for that long.

    I sigh ¡°Guess we should let Twila know that we¡¯re going to be a bit delayed then¡­ while giving her a bollocking for the lack of a headsup on that(!)¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.171

    ---Island---

    ---Msia¡¯s perspective---

    We¡¯re in the back of the Swift Claw, something very dangerous tethered beneath us.

    My fianc¨¦e is sat next to me on my right, the fiery ring I had in my possession for the years we spent apart on her left ringfinger.

    I take her pawhand in mine and give it a squeeze, contentedly.

    Her snout twitches in my direction and her ears twist slightly but her slitpupiled eyes remain looking forward.

    My sister and Samus are across the craft, having a very involved, animated discussion about the mechanics of landing a punch on someone.

    I don¡¯t have much interest.

    I was absolutely engrossed by the footage of the thing that looked like a cross between a liopleurodon, a dunkleosteus and a spermwhale that trapped her, Tuun and Miraala in that reef they visited the other day but I¡¯m rather out of questions to ask about that.

    Marine ecology is not my speciality, my expertise being much more focused on the terrestrial, but I still find it fascinating.

    I suppose, coming from a planet where, just a few generations before my birth, there wasn¡¯t so much as a single, solitary native amoeba and the terraforming relied heavily on ecologists and conservationists (like my parents and grandparents) did rather predestine me and Kas into our chosen field. Much as I like to think it was nothing but my free will that led to me choosing the degree subject that I did(!)

    The island we¡¯re heading to is around 50,000km<sup>2</sup> and a little less than 100km off the West coast of the supercontinent.

    This planet is currently in an interglacial period of an ice age, however, and, during the last glacial maximum, around 25,000 years ago, this island was joined to the mainland.

    We have confirmed a population of khorhaszh to exist on the island and to only be about a quarter million years divergent from our captured mother-to-be, easily able to interbreed with her offspring.

    We haven¡¯t actually seen any of them yet (hypercarnivores are both sparse in their environments and tend to be very good at not being seen when they don¡¯t wish to make a meal out of you!) but we¡¯ve confirmed their presence through environmental genomics.

    Tymancha was able to locate a rather fresh looking patch of dung, that matched those found around the cave den, and Tha?s was able to confirm (remotely) that it came from a khorhaszh.

    Knowing just how formidable they are, we elected not to have him track it any further for us.

    I won¡¯t lie, going out without Victor has felt a little¡­ precarious¡­

    No insult to the skills of Samus and Tuun but it¡¯s clear that they¡¯re much less confident without him around.

    A full decade of experience has made that man nearly unshakeable when it comes to matters pertaining to security in hazardous areas of deathworlds.

    Almost any situation that comes up, he¡¯s seen it or something like it before.

    Both of the other two first started work in this field only at the same time I came aboard the Bright Plume on Gateway.

    They¡¯ve not had much experience working without him and they¡¯re clearly a little nervous.

    Still, nobody¡¯s died yet and, with the ship repairs almost complete, it won¡¯t matter much longer.

    We can all move back aboard, Victor, Xon and Thran can get regen and then we can be back on our way to Citadel with the 11 Vrakhand and 60 Twigg chosen to make up their delegations.

    With the number of Twigg who wanted to come, if we hadn¡¯t set a limit, we would have ended up transporting half of their population offworld(!)

    Fellow Cuddle Puddlers, they have no problem being assigned multiple to a room¡­ In fact, they reacted with mild alarm to the notion of having to sleep separately!

    ¡®What if one of us has a nightmare!?¡¯ demanded Grriv (the largest and strongest looking Twigg I¡¯ve yet seen) without the slightest hint of embarrassment at being an adult admitting to needing to be consoled after having a bad dream.

    It¡¯s quite sweet¡­

    For the Vrakhand, a lot more stoic and reserved when it comes to expressing eagerness or excitement, it¡¯s difficult to say how many would have wanted to come if the opportunity had been open to them.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    With a population so low, each individual gone represents more of a loss to their community and, with such a high (and nonnegotiable) demand for meat, we¡¯re going to be straining our capacity to feed them with even so few.

    Vegetarian meals might get a little bit more common for the rest of us while the labs are engaged in churning out the Vrakhands¡¯ food supply.

    I¡¯m sure Krish will have an enormous amount of fun, stretching his culinary chops to prepare Graom-Wakhkortan meat in a way that will be appetising to both Twigg and Vrakhand palettes, though.

    I see the tan skinned New Australian man as he walks past me and Fliss to look out of the window at the escape pod we¡¯re transporting with us.

    Since the injuries sustained in the khorhaszh¡¯s capture, Steve¡¯s been significantly more subdued than previously. The cocky grin that seemed to permanently adorn his face replaced with much more of a neutral expression.

    I have to say, I admire his religious conviction against the notion that violence towards animals can ever be justified. Though, I imagine he¡¯s thinking that, if anyone were going to be injured over it, he should have been among them.

    Guilt still seems to weigh on him, even after Victor woke up and made it clear he bore no ill will.

    ¡°We¡¯re approaching the larder¡¯s location on Cursed Isle. Everyone prepare.¡± announces Twila, using the unofficial name for the landmass, derived from the translation of ¡®khorhaszh¡¯ as ¡®cursed ones¡¯.

    My vote would be for the (to my ear) slightly less prejudicial sounding Khorhaszhhor but, given that in Vrakhandic, that just translates to ¡®of the cursed ones¡¯ I suppose it¡¯s about the same.

    The psychological effect of the language used to discuss animals cannot be underestimated!

    One notable example I remember learning about in (I think) the first year of my degree is that of painted dogs which, into the 21<sup>st</sup> Century, were still being referred to as ¡®African wild dogs¡¯, giving the impression of them being some frightening beast that¡¯s not safe to get within 500 paces of(!)

    I hope, at some point, the people of this planet agree on a name for the creature that¡¯s a little more flattering than ¡®cursed ones¡¯ or ¡®monsters that aren¡¯t people¡¯¡­ but that¡¯s their call to make, not mine.

    We set down more gently than we need to, given that the animal is in stasis right now.

    The ramp lowers and everyone steps out.

    The escape pod stands in the middle of a large hollow in a dense forest, lined with silk sacs of various sizes.

    As far as we can work out, this territory isn¡¯t claimed by any others of her species at the moment.

    The geology of this island being quite different to that in the region around the embassy, we estimated the chances of finding an unoccupied cave to move her into to be negligible.

    This hollow was about as good as we thought we would get as a substitute den, though it is a bit of a downgrade.

    She will have time to relocate her larder before her children arrive if she can find somewhere else more to her standards.

    ¡°OK. Quick and clean! We dump it out, wake it up and we are fucking out of here!¡± instructs Samus, doing a valiant attempt to channel Victor¡¯s authoritativeness.

    This is the riskiest stage of the relocation operation.

    Her venom (though technically less than lethal) is not adapted to be woken up from and, necessarily, all of the animals in her larder are less formidable than she, so it would have been far less of a problem if any of them had woken up on the way here.

    The reviving serum is fast acting, meaning that we will have a minute before she wakes up and woe betide us if we aren¡¯t gone by then(!)

    Samus and Tuun unclip the tethers from the top of the pod, Samus having to climb the side to reach, Tuun just stretching up with her upper arms, and reattach them at the bottom.

    The Swift Claw takes off behind us, going just to where the cables go taut again and then a little further to where the pod tips forward at a 45¡ã angle.

    ¡°Everyone step back!¡± orders Samus, backing away from what is about to become an impact zone ¡°Alright Twila, open it up and kill the stasis.¡±

    The door swings open and 1.7 tonnes of expecting mother topple limply forward, hitting the ground with a sound like a tree falling!

    ¡°OK, Twila; come back down. Mage; in position with the serum. Tuun; ready to move the cables back with me. Everyone else; back aboard as soon as Twila lands.¡±

    All those processes are completed within 30 seconds.

    I lift up the animal¡¯s (shockingly heavy) head by the earhorn to remove the poorly fitting mask strapped over her snout (meant for Vrakhand, not khorhaszh).

    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re set. Go for it, Mage¡­¡± instructs Samus, still at my side, to her credit, considering the fact that she doesn¡¯t strictly need to be and I¡¯m about to wake up a creature that she claims is just about her worst nightmare(!)

    I take the syringe in my hand and extend it to the creature¡¯s throat, willing it steady.

    The serum, the doctor¡¯s explained, needed to be fast acting since any that might have given us more leeway run the risk of harming her offspring.

    I steel myself, press the heavy-duty needle through the dense flesh and *thunk* the fluid into her.

    Immediately, I withdraw my hand and hurry over to the door of the craft, parked in a space just large enough for it, South of the larder.

    Samus, clearly unsatisfied with my speed, takes me by the scruff of the neck and pushes me forward.

    She¡¯s a few centimetres shorter than me and we¡¯re about the same weight. Nevertheless, I can feel that she is much, much stronger.

    We make it aboard followed by Samus saying ¡°Close the door and take us up please, Twila.¡±

    Twila, mercifully, doesn¡¯t take the opportunity to play a prank on us in that moment (¡®we seem to be having some technical difficulties¡¯), just doing as her mother¡¯s severely arachnophobic girlfriend demanded.

    She takes us high enough up that the escape pod is lifted clear of the canopy and backs off while keeping line of sight on the stirring creature.

    Samus chooses to sit with her back to the animal so as not to have to see her while awake and moving.

    The mother, slowly and groggily, gets to her feet and looks around at her unfamiliar surroundings, clearly wildly confused.

    Then, she notices the ship, hanging unnaturally in the air, watching her.

    She throws her thick set, thumbless arms and pedipalps wide in a threat display and bellows a roar that I can hear, even at this distance, even through the hull, even over the hum of the engines.

    ¡°Sorry for the inconvenience, Ma¡¯am.¡± I puff, apologetically.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.172

    ---Reembarkation---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I lie in the bed in the embassy, where I¡¯ve spent the majority of the time since I took two monster fangs in the neck, becoming the first and (very briefly before Thran became the second) only person not from this planet who¡¯s been injected with vrakhandoid venom.

    It¡¯s definitely not an experience I¡¯d recommend to the curious!

    Considering that shock kept me from really feeling it that time my hand got sliced off, I¡¯d say that sting was a strong contender for the single most painful thing I¡¯ve ever felt!

    And, following it, my single longest ever period of being laid up.

    The venom did pretty significant damage to my muscles and organs and the bedrest after has only meant more wasting.

    I feel weak¡­

    Weak in a way I never have before. Weak like I barely have the strength in my arms to lift them up, even not holding anything!

    I never really liked using regen through my twenties.

    Whenever it was needed, I was very clear with Gato that I wanted to keep all my scars.

    The time I had a lifetime¡¯s scar tissue wiped away and made into something I didn¡¯t have to worry about anymore led to me going a bit regen crazy after my loss to Thran.

    Now, I¡¯m absolutely desperate to get back to the Bright Plume¡¯s medical ward and get myself back to fighting fitness!

    A wide head rests on the right side of my bed, an enormous pair of amber eyes fixed on me, sympathetically.

    I lift a feeble hand to give Fluffy a stroke between the ears.

    C??ng and Niyol didn¡¯t want to let her in here while I was recovering, in case she hurt me by playing as rough as usual. After enough of my begging and pleading, they relented and put a translator on her to explain that I was fragile right now and she needed to be careful with me, which I¡¯m not sure was necessary.

    She¡¯s not sapient¡­ but she¡¯s about as close to the line as you can get without crossing it.

    I think she¡¯d¡¯ve understood from context that she can¡¯t be too rough with me at the moment.

    She¡¯s spent most of the time between when I woke up and now in here, keeping me company when Tuun was out on excursion with Samus.

    ¡°Sorry, sweetheart¡­¡± I rasp ¡°¡­I¡¯m really sorry I ain¡¯t been able to play with you properly all this time¡­ I¡¯ll make it up to you when we¡¯re back on the ship, I promise!¡±

    She stares blankly back at me, understanding nothing except my tone, still not liking to use translators.

    ¡°All this time you could¡¯ve been runnin¡¯ ¡¯round forests, huntin¡¯, findin¡¯ int¡¯restin¡¯ things to eat, havin¡¯ fun with the Twigg¡­ and you been stuck here with me, ain¡¯t you(!)¡± I smile.

    Right then, the door slides open and the love of my life steps inside.

    ¡°It¡¯s time, Victor.¡± she smiles, walking to my left, extending her lower left hand to place it against my abdomen and her upper left to stroke through the beard I¡¯ve grown on this planet ¡°It¡¯s time to reembark. Everything else is ready, we¡¯re just waiting for you.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± I answer, placing my right hand on the back of hers and pressing it against my cheek through my facial hair ¡°¡­could you hand me my crutches?¡±

    ¡°Are you sure you want to walk? It¡¯s further than you¡¯ve gone since¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a few hundred metres, total¡­ Here to the shuttle (where I can sit down), shuttle to the lift, lift to the ward¡­ It¡¯d hurt my pride to need to be hovered there!¡±

    She gives a breathy chuckle and answers ¡°I think I¡¯d prefer your pride getting hurt to the rest of you(!)¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, baby!¡­ I¡¯m gettin¡¯ regen right away¡­ Right?¡±

    ¡°Alright Victor.¡± she sighs, reaching out with her right hands to grab the two walking aids (that¡¯ve really only been used to hobble to the loo so far) and handing them to me.

    ¡°Thanks baby!¡± I smile, sitting myself up and pushing my way over to the edge of the bed, propping the pads under my armpits and declaring ¡°First thing I¡¯m gonna do after regen, have a nice shave!¡±

    ¡°I wish you¡¯d reconsider¡­¡± she pouts, standing in front of me to push me backwards in case I start to topple forwards ¡°¡­the beard really suits you! It makes you look so rugged and handsome!¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°So I look soft and ugly without it(?)¡± I tease with a wry smirk.

    She rolls her glowing eyes and says ¡°You know that¡¯s not what I mean! Being a pogonophile doesn¡¯t mean I dislike men with no beards! I just think the beard suits you is all!¡±

    ¡°Aesthetic¡¯ly; can¡¯t disagree¡­ but how itchy and uncomfortable it is sorta overwhelms that(!)¡±

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t really argue with that, can I.¡± she sighs as she stands aside to let me start hobbling forward.

    I stop and turn to Fluffy, still lying by my bed with her head on the mattress.

    ¡°Come on, girl¡­ we¡¯re goin¡¯.¡± I smile, causing her to instantly spring to standing and streak to the entrance.

    She disappears around the corner as soon as the door slides open but, once me and Tuun have made it round, I see that she¡¯s only made it a little way down the hall before she stopped and looked back for us.

    Reassured that I¡¯m right behind her, she takes off down the hallway in the direction of the embassy¡¯s exit.

    Even just the amount of exertion necessary to hobble along on crutches is quickly wearing me out.

    Still, better than leaving on a hoverstretcher, like I¡¯ve had a bloody leg blown off(!)

    Me and Tuun step out into the main hall and I see a few hundred eyes all turn to us.

    There¡¯re hundreds of Twigg here and, interspersed with them in a way I haven¡¯t seen before, dozens of Vrakhand.

    On the right of the aisle I¡¯m making my way down stand the five people who are about to become the only offworlders on this planet: Ambassadors Yeshe and Ong, Soo, the journalist, wrapped around C??ng¡¯s torso and Niyol, his triplet of Twigg girlfriends all clinging to his back, their cheeky faces visible over his shoulders and the top of his head.

    Getting near the centre of the room, I feel like I really need to acknowledge the sendoff somehow but really can¡¯t imagine not collapsing if I stand around giving hundreds of individual goodbyes for the next half an hour, so, with force of will, I raise my hoarse voice loud enough that I think everyone will be able to hear and shout ¡°Goodbye everyone! Thanks for everything!¡± as I pivot on my crutches to look at as many faces as I can.

    An incoherent cheer answers me, some people wishing us a goodbye in return but enough saying other things that all that comes across is a generally appreciative roar.

    Me, Tuun and Fluffy manage to make it out the doors into the bright early Autumn sun.

    I see Cap and all the friends who hadn¡¯t already gone up to the Bright Plume, standing outside the Swift Claw.

    Reassuring them all that I¡¯m fine and can handle it as I pass them, I shamble aboard and make my way to one of the seats.

    Tuun takes my crutches for me as I awkwardly lower myself down to sitting.

    Mouse walks up to Tuun and takes one of the crutches she printed, standing it up next to herself.

    ¡°It¡¯s insane to me that you needed them this big!¡± she declares, pointing to the prop with an incredulous expression ¡°This thing is as tall as me!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯m quite tall and you¡¯re quite short(!)¡± I chuckle in answer.

    ¡°Heeeeey!¡± she answers, feigning offence.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry¡­ did it become uncool to comment on other people¡¯s height between when you did it to me and when I did it to you(?)¡± I smile, wearily.

    ¡°Whatever, lanklet(!)¡± she shoots back, goodnaturedly ¡°With the Twiggs¡¯ arrival on the galactic scene, now is the dawning of the age of the shortstack(!) We short shawties will be oppressed no longer(!)¡±

    I frown but Samus beats me to the punch ¡°Not sure I¡¯d call Victor a ¡®lanklet¡¯, Dormouse¡­ Don¡¯t lanklets need to be skinny?¡­ And, come to think of it, don¡¯t shortstacks need to be busty¡­ or in some other way ¡®stacked¡¯?¡±

    ¡°You see(!)¡± smirks Mouse, pointing up to her girlfriend ¡°You see the disrespect we face(!)¡±

    We all laugh as the shuttle begins to lift into the air.

    ¡°Everyone wave.¡± instructs Twila.

    Everyone turns to look out of the portside windows behind me and smiles, waving goodbyes to those not coming with us.

    I turn around in my seat in a way that instantly intensifies my headache and see the crowd that¡¯s spilled out of the front of the embassy behind us, watching us go.

    I¡¯m able to spend about 3 seconds waving before the pain forces me to stop and turn back around.

    I see Cap making her way over to me.

    She mounts the chair beside mine before nestling down onto it and turning her head to me.

    ¡°How are you feeling, Victor?¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t gonna lie¡­ felt better(!)¡± I answer, smiling down at her ¡°Lookin¡¯ forward to regen¡­ assumin¡¯ that¡¯s allowed(!)¡±

    She scoffs ¡°Yes, I think I would judge it to be medically necessary in this case, Victor(!)¡±

    I smile then, more seriously, ask ¡°The Twigg who got bitten still doin¡¯ OK?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re fine, Victor¡­¡± she reassures ¡°¡­the creature gave them a dosage of venom optimised for keeping them alive. The combination of her being startled by the attack and unfamiliar with Humans seems to have lead to her going massively overboard with the dosage she chose to give to you!¡­ You should be flattered(!)¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­(!) The ego boost of her overestimatin¡¯ me like that was definitely worth the month of bedrest(!)¡± I answer, wryly.

    She chitters a laugh.

    Feeling my energy ebbing, I exhaustedly ask ¡°You seen ¡¯em yet?¡±

    She responds with a Terran headshake answering ¡°Not yet. They went up still in stasis.¡±

    ¡°You lookin¡¯ forward to it? Or¡¯ve you enjoyed the peace and quiet(?)¡±

    She bursts out chittering and says ¡°Victor, I must warn you that when you tell jokes like that, it makes you sound like a [500 year] old R¡¯qali woman(!)¡±

    ¡°Does it?¡± I smile.

    ¡°Indeed it does!¡­ So many older women¡¯s humour revolves around insulting their lifemate that it¡¯s a wonder we didn¡¯t die out from how awful they apparently all found lifebonding(!)¡±

    I laugh but offer no response as I see the sky going black and stars outside the Claw¡¯s windows.

    I don¡¯t get a look at the outside of the Plume before I feel us clamping to it.

    Probably for the best; don¡¯t know if I¡¯d like the look of my home for more than a decade with the damage I¡¯m sure it must still have.

    Even repaired, I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s not pretty.

    Tuun hands me my crutches.

    Fluffy, Tuun and Cap walk with me as I make my way to the entrance of the home I¡¯ve not been aboard in months.

    The apparent 30¡ã upward slope of the differing gravplate angle is a little daunting but (with some help from Tuun and Samus) I¡¯m able to make it over without faceplanting.

    ¡°Tcakqaal!¡± comes a familiar voice that I¡¯ve not heard in a while.

    Cap strides forward to wrap the iridescent rainbow of feathers in her wings.

    Tapping her beak onto the side of his in a R¡¯qali kiss, she says ¡°I¡¯ve missed you, sweetfruit! I¡¯ve missed you both so much!¡±

    In response, he laughs ¡°I wish I could say the same, my okla¡­ Only, from our perspective, it¡¯s been hours, not months(!)¡±

    His contented wife releases him from the cuddle, allowing me to get a good look at my unstasised goddaughter clutched in his wings.

    ¡°Victor¡­¡± he chitters ¡°¡­why am I not surprised to see you in this state(?)¡±

    ¡°Good to see you too, Qorrie!¡± I chuckle.

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXXVIII: Pancakes and Canes

    ---Olga¡¯s perspective---

    A man walks into my lab.

    He has a cocky smirk on his face that I¡¯ve seen on the faces of many men before¡­ Though, usually, I would have to look up by about half my height again to see that smile¡­ not down to ? of it(!)

    The combination of the smile at nothing and the ugly tuft of hair he keeps on his chin make this man look like a complete imbecile.

    He¡¯s wearing a nanoforged jumpsuit that fits tightly to his body, in a fairly obvious attempt to flatter his (for a Twigg) above average bulk and endowment(!)

    I¡¯m unimpressed.

    At over a metre and (what I¡¯d estimate at) 13kg, he may be a physical specimen of his species comparable to that which Taylor is for Humans¡­ but he¡¯s still most of a head shorter than me and only just over a quarter my weight.

    Forgive me if I¡¯m unimpressed by a man who literally doesn¡¯t measure up to an achondroplastic dwarf(!)

    I briefly spare a glance down at his¡­ interesting feet¡­ then spend a few moments musing about digitigrady¡­ without letting it distract me from my work, obviously¡­

    Seeming to have given up on getting me to acknowledge him first, he rocks on his fetlocks and asks ¡°Watcha doooooing, Olga¡­?¡±

    ¡°Filtering and collating all of the barometric data collected from your planet in order to attempt to calculate the rate of recurrence of hazardous storms there, Grriv.¡± I answer, flatly and without looking up from my analysis.

    ¡°That sounds really smart¡­ I like smart ladies!¡± he simpers, sickeningly.

    ¡°Good for you.¡± I answer, coolly.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± he asks, picking up one of my desk ornaments.

    ¡°Put it back.¡± I say, still not looking up from my work.

    ¡°Why?¡± he asks, stupidly.

    ¡°Because it¡¯s¡­¡±

    *smash*

    ¡°*sigh*¡­fragile.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± he says, seeming to be aware of how badly his attempted seduction is working for him.

    ¡°Pick up the pieces and put them back where they were¡­ I¡¯ll repair it later.¡± I instruct, irritation creeping into my voice.

    He stands there staring at me for a few seconds¡­ then bends to begin picking up the fragments of my model of the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral in Novosibirsk that I got while at university there¡­ and that he just broke!

    ¡°Good, you can follow instructions at least(!)¡± I observe.

    His collection done, he begins approaching me where I sit ¡°I¡­ could do a lot more than that¡­ if you¡¯d let me?¡±

    ¡°Hard pass, boy.¡± I sneer, not dignifying the offer by looking at him as he draws near.

    Then, I feel a rough tongue on the side of my face.

    In an instant, I throw the tiny man onto his back, slamming him into the ground and pinning him there with a fist full of his lapels pressed into his solar plexus!

    My face so close to his I can feel his breath on it, I snarl down at him ¡°You listen to me, you shitarse goat! If I ever feel that filthy fucking tongue of yours on my face again, I am going to reach into your fucking skull and yank it out myself!!!¡­ Do you understand me?!¡±

    ---Grriv¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m transfixed by the face of the beautiful Human woman, effortlessly pinning me to the ground as she roars both reprimands and insults at me, nose a handwidth away.

    Spirits! If I hadn¡¯t pissed her off so much that she¡¯s never going to want to have sex with me, this would basically be exactly how I¡¯d want her to do it¡­ only with fewer clothes involved(!)

    The harsh, serious, irritable demeanour is exactly what made me so attracted to her in the first place!

    I¡¯m¡­ beginning to get¡­ hard¡­

    I¡¯m trying not to but¡­ every time I imagine how much angrier she¡¯ll get when she notices only makes it harder!

    ¡°¡­Is it that you think I¡¯m desperate!? Or have you singled out the woman with dwarfism because you think your pathetic little pecker would be too small for a full sized Terran?! My pity is NOT so deep as to allow me to¡­¡±

    She stops¡­ and looks down¡­ then she looks back up¡­ the anger gone from the now blank face¡­

    Mouth hanging open, she stands, pulling me to standing along with her.

    Hands try in vain to cover the crotch but she simply snatches the wrists and yanks them away¡­ exposing the shameful erection.

    ¡°By Perun¡­ You¡¯re hard!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± I admit, expecting the anger to renew and redouble.

    Instead, she looks directly down into my face and asks ¡°You¡­ enjoy that kind of thing? Being shouted at? Insulted? Degraded? Manhandled?¡­ Hurt?¡±

    ¡°By women¡­ yes¡­ Not so much when male partners do it¡­¡± I say, honestly, feeling the hot blood tinting the green cheeks orange.

    She just keeps staring at me¡­ face unreadable¡­

    Then she instructs ¡°Hold out your wrists.¡±

    Immediately, I obey.

    She takes one of those flat, square, glowing devices from a pocket and taps at it for a few moments.

    Bright blue light shines out of the side facing me and she turns it first on the wrists I hold out, passing it all the way around both, followed by a few taps.

    Then she bends down to pass it all the way around the legs, just above the hocks, a few more taps.

    Then she thinks for a moment before grabbing the tail to pass the blue light just below where the brush is¡­

    Finally, she stands back up and says ¡°Open your mouth, as wide as you can¡­¡±

    I comply.

    She points the blue light inside and taps.

    She gives a satisfied nod before saying ¡°I¡¯m working right now. Come to my quarters in six hours. I know you know where they are. Don¡¯t be early. Don¡¯t be late.¡±

    ¡°You mean¡­ you want to¡­?¡±

    ¡°What I mean, boy¡­ is that I¡¯m working right now¡­ So come to my quarters¡­ in six hours!¡­ Don¡¯t be early and don¡¯t be late!¡± she says, slowly and emphatically, like she thinks I¡¯m simple.

    ¡°Err¡­ How will I know when that long has passed?¡±

    She gives an exasperated sigh and wordlessly turns to dig in a wide, flat box, that she slides out of a side at chest height.

    She returns to me with an egg shaped object in hand which seems to have been cut in two and stuck back together.

    Her hands twist the halves around, causing the little notches and symbols on the top half to spin relative to the bottom.

    ¡°This is a timer. Keep it with you. Do not play with it. I just set it for 5:50hrs so, once it rings, that gives you ten minutes to get from wherever you are to my door. Understand? If you twist it more, the alarm will take longer, making you late¡­ If you push it in the direction it¡¯s winding down, you will make it go faster, making you early. Just leave it alone until it goes off, then bring it to me in my quarters. You think you can follow those instructions?¡±

    I gulp ¡°I can¡­¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ now get out of my sight.¡±

    I turn to go but she calls after me ¡°And when I say ¡®don¡¯t be early¡¯, I assume you realise that includes loitering around in Plus Ultra¡¯s hallway, commonroom or outside my office door! I assume I also don¡¯t need to tell you not to tell anyone else where you¡¯re going or what you¡¯re doing later. Am I correct?¡±

    I nod a Human ¡®yes¡¯.

    ¡°Good!¡± she flashes a pair of grey, round pupiled eyes at me, waving a hand in dismissal.

    ---Olga¡¯s perspective---

    I sit in my room, my bare skin wrapped in a plush, dark purple dressing gown which slides frictionlessly over the (very little) clothing I¡¯m wearing beneath it.

    Of course, if I need to answer the door to anyone other than that Twigg, I¡¯ll probably get a raised eyebrow over the glossy, PVC heels (in jet black with crimson accents) that are clearly visible beneath my clothing but, if they ask me about it, I¡¯ll either tell them to mind their own business or tell them I was feeling first fancy then chilly(!)

    My doorbell goes.

    I allow my heels to *clack*, loudly, as I slowly move to answer it.

    My door slides open and I stare indifferently down into the ugly goateed face.

    With the height I gain from my boots, I¡¯m now nearly 30cm taller than him.

    I hold out my hand, palm up.

    ¡°Timer.¡± I demand, flatly.

    He looks confused for a moment, then I see realisation pass over his face and he begins digging in a pocket.

    He produces the old fashioned, clockwork eggtimer I gave him and puts it into my outstretched hand.

    I take it and place it on the nearest table before turning back to him.

    ¡°Come in.¡± I instruct, simply.

    He steps inside, his paw toes splaying against the ground as he walks and his tail flicking nervously.

    The door shuts and I lock it, engaging the privacy field.

    ¡°Sooo¡­ should I take off my clothes or¡­?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I state, simply ¡°We need to have a talk first but, before anything else, I can¡¯t stand looking at that scruff on your face¡­ It needs to go¡­¡±

    His hand moves protectively to his chin.

    I can see he¡¯s thinking about objecting but all he says is ¡°¡­Alright?¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ Follow me to the bathroom.¡± I direct, striding past the table where stand both the returned timer and the repaired ornament he broke earlier, then past another table, its contents covered in a thin black cloth that shows a suggestion of their shapes.

    I let my heels keep *clack*ing on the floor as I confidently lead this boy who¡¯s caught my interest.

    ¡°Sit.¡± I order, pointing to the styliser chair.

    He obeys, without resistance.

    I move to the side of the chair and set it to recline mode.

    ¡°Oh!¡± he yelps as the chairback falls away and the footrest comes up, forcing him into a reclined position.

    I don¡¯t pull down the styliser.

    Even though it could remove that affront to good grooming near instantly, it lacks¡­ the ¡®intimate¡¯ touch¡­

    I produce a container of shaving foam and set it to come out hot.

    I squirt it into my hands and begin to lather them together.

    I approach his face and begin applying it to the goatee.

    Catching sight of some stray hairs elsewhere, I decide to apply the foam to his entire lower face and neck.

    I wipe the residue off my hands onto the bottom of a clean towel I¡¯ve left over one of the arms of the chair.

    From my dressing gown pocket, my right hand withdraws a folded blade.

    Resting my little finger into the hooked tang, my next three fingers on the spine and my thumb on the bottom of the shank, I extract the razor¡¯s edge from within the handle.

    ¡°Once your hair is soft enough, I¡¯m going to shave you. This¡­¡± I hold up the blade ¡°¡­is a straight razor¡­ It¡¯s old technology that most people don¡¯t know how to use anymore¡­ but I do and it¡¯s how I¡¯ll be removing that hideous beard¡­ This is incredibly sharp, so, when I have it anywhere near your face, you need to sit still so you don¡¯t get hurt. Understood?¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± he acknowledges, obediently.

    ¡°Good¡­ While I am shaving you, I am going to speak and you are going to listen. You will not say a word unless you are given permission. Speaking is moving and moving is forbidden. Is that understood?¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± he answers.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get started then.¡±

    ---Grriv¡¯s perspective---

    The heart flutters in the chest as the woman with lips painted black (for some reason) brings the metal blade to the face, clutched in a stout, clawless hand.

    She places the left thumb on the face, just above where she applied the layer of white, scented froth, and pulls the skin tight.

    Holding it at around a 30¡ã angle to the face, she drags the edge over the skin, clearing away the gloop.

    It feels¡­ so smooth! Not like the rough, unpleasant experience of every time I shave the face or the back and sides of the skull!

    Does it really make so much difference to have such an immaculate edge¡­ or is it the froth?¡­ Or both?

    The thought that I¡¯m willingly allowing her to hold a deadly looking blade to me is both thrilling and terrifying!

    Is there a possibility that she was actually so angry when she saw me get hard that she asked me here to murder me?

    She speaks, words businesslike, matter of fact, grey eyes focused on the task and not making eyecontact ¡°The first thing to explain to you, Grriv¡­ is that I am a [sadist] and a [Dominatrix]¡­¡±

    Exhilaration courses through me as I listen to the explanations of the untranslatable words she said (that the translator puts into the mind) but I keep still, just as she ordered me to.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°¡­I¡¯m sure that your translator just gave you some understanding of what those words mean but I am going to explain anyway: Being a [sadist] means that I find sexual pleasure in degrading men¡­ causing them humiliation, suffering and pain¡­ Being a [Dominatrix] is similar. It means I like to dominate men¡­ I like to restrain them, gag them. I like to give orders and have them obeyed. I like to use them to pleasure myself and only return the favour on my own terms, if at all. From your¡­ embarrassing ¡®indiscretion¡¯ earlier, I am taking you to be a [masochist] and a [submissive], the natural complements to [sadist] and [Dominatrix].¡±

    She removes the razor far from the vicinity of the part shaven face.

    ¡°Is that true?¡­ You have my permission to speak.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ never had words for them before but¡­ yes¡­ I am both of those things¡­¡± I answer, honestly.

    ¡°Then I believe we can come to an arrangement, you and I¡­ Purse your lips and puff them out¡­¡±

    I try to do as she instructed.

    She rolls a pair of storm coloured eyes in exasperation and clarifies ¡°Without puffing your cheeks.¡±

    I do my best to take the air from between the teeth and cheeks and keep it only between the teeth and lips.

    I accidently blow a squeaky fart noise out of the mouth, which she does not acknowledge.

    Seeming satisfied this time, she brings the [razor] back to the face and deftly begins scraping the froth off of my top lip.

    ¡°The first thing you need is a [safeword]. Something to say other than ¡®no, don¡¯t, stop etc.¡¯ to let me know that, in whatever way, you are in trouble and need me to stop the [scene] and release you¡­ Your safeword is ¡®Danger¡¯¡­¡±

    She removes the blade.

    ¡°¡­say it.¡±

    ¡°Danger.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Good boy.¡± she nods the head.

    I try not to shudder.

    She brings the sharp edge to the lower lip and I puff them without her needing to ask.

    Scraping away at the bottom lip, she explains ¡°The next thing you need is a gagged [safeword]¡­ same function but for if your mouth is obstructed or I¡¯ve taken away your translator. Your gagged [safeword] is ¡®Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!¡¯. Do that for me without opening your mouth.¡±

    ¡°Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!¡± I obey, only using the vocal cords.

    Disappointingly, she doesn¡¯t praise me this time.

    She finally begins to cut into the long, thick hairs on the chin, peeling them off me, smoothly and painlessly, continuing ¡°The next thing I need from you is consent. This means that I need to explain everything I might do to you, everything I expect of you and you need to agree to it! Just listen for the moment. If you and I do a [scene] together, I will be completely in control. Unless you use your [safeword], no objections you raise will be heeded and I will treat you however I wish. All my orders are to be obeyed, immediately and without question. I will not give you impossible orders. I will restrain you and gag you. I will subject you to extreme pain. I will not break your skin, your bones, permanently disfigure you in a way that would require [regen] to heal or leave you with any visible marks on your face. I will degrade and humiliate you. What I say while acting as your [Dominatrix] will not necessarily be reflective of reality. If there are insults you do not wish me to use, you will need to put them off limits ahead of time as you will not be able to ask me to ease off on them once the scene has started. If you tell me you don¡¯t want me to degrade you about your height, your weight or your penis size or whatever it is you don¡¯t think you can take, now, I won¡¯t. If you try and do it during, they will become all I talk about. There will be no vomit, piss, shit or blood involved in our session at any point. I may spit on you. You are not to spit on me. I will make you make me cum. I may fuck your mouth or arse with a strapon but only in that order. I may force you to cum for me. I may not.¡±

    She pulls the [razor] away from the face and wipes the hairy white gloop onto the fluffy white cloth before folding away the blade.

    ¡°Do you understand everything I have just said to you?¡± she asks, in the same detached tone that I¡¯ve only once heard her not speak with.

    ¡°I do.¡± I answer, trembling in anticipation.

    ¡°Is there anything you wish to put off limits or any other request you wish to make at this point?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s not.¡±

    ¡°Do you consent to [sub] for me?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    For the first time ever, I see this woman smile.

    ¡°Then let¡¯s begin¡­¡±

    ---Olga¡¯s perspective---

    I push the freshly clean faced boy into the room ahead of me.

    ¡°Strip.¡± I bark.

    ¡°Yes, Olga.¡± he answers, right hand moving to the left of his collar.

    ¡°Did I give you permission to speak, bitch? Let alone put my pretty name into your filthy mouth!?¡±

    He falters, unsure if being asked a question is permission to speak.

    He plays it safe with a Terran headshake.

    ¡°Better!¡­ When you have permission to address me, you are to do so as ¡®Mistress¡¯, is that understood?¡±

    A nod.

    ¡°Good boy¡­ now lose the clothes!¡±

    His cheeks burn orange from his red blush mixing with the green pigment of his skin as he pulls his arms out of the skin tight jumpsuit.

    I was kind of hoping that, without the goatee, he¡¯d look more babyfaced but¡­ if anything, he looks more manly with his chin exposed!

    Not that I regret shaving him but, with the squareness of his chin and jaw, plus the relative broadness of his shoulders, muscularity of his body and the roughly 10% extra height he has on most Twigg, it¡¯s very clear that he has no deficit of his species¡¯ testosterone equivalent.

    His limp clothes hit my floor, leaving him standing before me entirely nude.

    His rock hard cock is¡­ larger than I would have expected¡­

    Doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t degrade him about it though(!)

    I sneer and wrap my hand around his cock and testicles squeezing ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly what it is you¡¯re hoping to have me fuck, slut¡­ not this little thing, surely(?)¡±

    He lets out shuddering breaths as his slit pupils dilate but does not answer.

    ¡°Answer your Mistress when she asks you a question, bitch!¡± I snarl.

    His eyes widen and he stammers ¡°I-I would be p-pleased by whatever you ch-chose to do with the small cock¡­ or the rest of me, [Mistress]! I a-apologise for how unworthy it is of attention from you.¡±

    I smile, pleased, and say ¡°Good answer, boy! I¡¯ll hold you to it.¡± before pushing him toward the table covered in the dark cloth.

    I whip it away, revealing an enormous collection of toys, torture devices and other accessories.

    I pick up a freshly printed set of handcuffs that will be perfectly moulded to the dimensions of his wrists, thanks to the scan I took earlier.

    ¡°Hands behind your back, bitch.¡± I order.

    He obeys.

    I cuff his wrists.

    My sub restrained, my hand moves to a heavy porcelain mask.

    The outside is harsh, angry, angular and covered in a thin layer of crimson velvet.

    The inside is a perfect mould of my upper face.

    I bring the mask to over my eyes and nestle it into place, activating the skin adherence to attach it there.

    I reach to the knot at my naval and begin untying it to loosen my belt.

    I shrug the dark purple dressing gown to the floor, revealing my Dominatrix outfit, in all its glory.

    My feet, shins and lower thighs are contained in my tight thighhighs.

    On my hips I wear a pair of glossy black panties.

    My boobs are nestled into the b-cups at the top of a strapless, cropped corset top, also in glossy black PVC but with the seams trimmed in crimson.

    My arms, shoulders, upper thighs and a slice of my stomach are bare.

    I¡¯m able to see the boy¡¯s fangs as he stares at me, mouth hanging open, transfixed.

    I allow myself a smug smirk as I stride up to him.

    I reach past the shaven right side of his head to grasp the braid he keeps of the hair on his crown, yanking it backwards to force him to look up into my mask.

    ¡°You know¡­ I really hate men¡­¡± I lie, playacting the heartless bitch he and I both want me to be right now ¡°¡­you¡¯re cocky, arrogant, dirty, smelly, coarse, rude and violent¡­ Really, us women ought to do all of our procreation artificially and let you degenerates simply die out(!)¡­ But¡­¡±

    I pull down on his braid harder, causing an ¡°Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah¡­¡± of pain to escape his lips.

    ¡°Those noises¡­ The sound of you worms suffering¡­ That¡¯s why I¡¯m happy to permit your, good for nothing else, sex to stick around¡­ If men die out, who will I torture? Whose shrieks and yelps will be my chamber music? Women can¡¯t give me that thrill! So¡­ I have a question for you, bitch¡­¡±

    ¡°Wh¡­?¡± he starts but I cut him off.

    ¡°What portion of men¡¯s guilt are you willing to take responsibility for? How much punishment are you willing to take for having been born a man? How much suffering can you take?¡±

    ¡°¡­All of it, Mistress!¡± he breathes.

    ¡°Good¡­¡± I sneer before grabbing a ballgag (printed to be the perfect fit in his mouth) off of the table and stuffing it between his fangs.

    I bring the straps beneath his long, pointy ears, fastening them at the shaved back of his head.

    bending down, I barge my shoulder into his stomach.

    His upper body folds to impact my back and I wrap my right arm around his legs.

    With my left hand, I grab a collapsed implement off of my table of delights before turning from it.

    I carry him and the tool over to the low bed, his hot, hard cock squashed into my shoulder, and toss him down.

    I absolutely love how easy he is to manhandle!

    Domming full sized Human men, half my height again and more than double my weight, there is always the nagging misgiving that, if they felt like it, they could turn the tables on me at any time.

    I couldn¡¯t carry them over a shoulder, I couldn¡¯t force them anywhere they didn¡¯t want to go and I couldn¡¯t make them look up at me without them first getting down of their own volition.

    I snatch his left leg just above the paw, with my right hand, and drag it to my armspan from the foot of the bed with the rest of him trailing behind.

    I toss the device over him onto the bed and, with that hand, pull up a chain, a freshly forged cuff on the end which fits, perfectly, just above his hock.

    I round the bed and another chain comes up, locking around his right leg.

    Finally, I reach to bring up a third chain with a much smaller cuff on the end.

    I grab his tail and pull it straight, between his legs.

    I lock the minicuff, just above the brush.

    His feet straighten slightly, aligning themselves with his cannons in a way that activates the ¡®feet¡¯ areas of my motor-sensory cortex, quickly spilling over into the adjacent ¡®genital¡¯ area(!)

    Those immobilised alien feet are going to be where I¡¯ll start!

    I pick up the collapsed device and climb to stand on the bed, still wearing my thighhigh heels.

    Holding the handle, I swing my arm.

    Telescopically unfurling from the end, a thin cane suddenly appears.

    His eyes go wide at the tool that (from his perspective) just magically appeared in my hand.

    I bring the cane to his square, clean shaven chin and press it into the bottom of his throat.

    ¡°Looking forward to your punishment, bitch?¡± I sneer.

    He gives an enthusiastic Terran nod, coupled with a stifled ¡°Mmm-hmm!¡±

    ¡°Good boy¡­ There¡¯s just one final finishing touch¡­¡± I say, reaching to the temple on the left side of his head ¡°I don¡¯t think men should be allowed translators, since they never listen and never have anything worthwhile to say(!)¡± I smirk, pulling away the metal disc, meaning that my next words will be heard as incomprehensible Russian to him ¡°There! Now this is how I like to see my men¡­ helpless, dumb animals who exist only to bring me pleasure with their cries of pain!¡±

    I turn and drop his translator into the left cup of my corset, where it nestles between my boob and the plastic, then slavsquat down, bringing the rod to rest across his fetlocks.

    ¡°So¡­ to start, how about one for every man who has ever called me a ¡®pocket pussy¡¯?¡± I say in a low voice.

    I raise the cane into the air and bring it down.

    *swish**crack*

    ¡°Mmmm-m-m-m-mmph!¡± he sobs into his gag.

    *swish**crack*

    ¡°MMMMMMMMMPH!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re crying so much already? We¡¯ve only just begun, slut!¡±

    ---Grriv¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°§°§Õ§ß§Ñ §á§à§â§Ü§Ñ §ä§â§à§ã§ä§î§ð §Ù§Ñ §Ü§Ñ§Ø§Õ§í§Û §â§Ñ§Ù §Ü§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §Þ§å§Ø§é§Ú§ß§Ñ §Þ§Ö§ß§ñ §Ô§à§ã§ä§Ú§ß§Ô!¡± snarls the captivatingly beautiful woman in the shiny black outfit and the red mask.

    The fat jiggles on her thick arms as she brings the magically appearing stick down on the bare chest muscles.

    I cry out in ecstatic pain through the gag in the mouth as she (I assume) counts out the mystery punishment.

    ¡°§°§Õ§Ú§ß! *swish**crack* §¥§Ó§Ñ! *swish**crack* §´§â§Ú! *swish**crack* §¹§Ö§ä§í§â§Ö! *swish**crack* §±§ñ§ä§î! *swish**crack* §º§Ö§ã§ä§î! *swish**crack* §³§Ö§Þ§î! *swish**crack* §£§à§ã§Ö§Þ§î! *swish**crack* §¥§Ö§Ó§ñ§ä§î! *swish**crack* §¥§Ö§ã§ñ§ä§î! *swish**crack* §°§Õ§Ú§ß§ß§Ñ§Õ§è§Ñ§ä§î! *swish**crack* §¥§Ó§Ö§ß§Ñ§Õ§è§Ñ§ä§î! *swish**crack*¡±

    Baring the flat, fangless teeth at me, she brings the rod to my stomach.

    ¡°§ª §ß§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§Ö§è, §ï§ä§à §ä§à§ä §â§Ñ§Ù §Ü§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §¥§Þ§Ú§ä§â§Ú§Û §ã§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§Ý §Þ§ß§Ö, §é§ä§à §ñ, §è§Ú§ä§Ú§â§å§ð ?§Ú§Õ§Ö§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§à§Ô§à §â§à§ã§ä§Ñ, §é§ä§à§Ò§í §ã§à§ã§Ñ§ä§î §Ö§Ô§à §é§Ý§Ö§ß, §ã§ä§à§ñ §á§â§ñ§Þ§à?!¡±

    One lash causes a lightning strike through the bruised, battered body.

    I scream!

    A pale hand moves to the end of the stick and she folds most of the length of it back out of existence.

    Relief washes over me.

    As pleasurable as it was to have this woman cover me in bruises, I¡¯m very glad its over¡­

    She brings a flat foot (unnaturally supported into a far more natural toe walking shape by a thin block at the back) to the chest and stands on me with that leg.

    She leans down on it, pulling a mocking pout with the lips beneath the Evil Spirit mask she wears.

    ¡°§¢§Ö§Õ§ß§í§Û §Þ§Ñ§Ý§í§ê(!)¡­ §¿§ä§à §Ò§í§Ý§à §ã§Ý§Ú§ê§Ü§à§Þ §Þ§ß§à§Ô§à §Õ§Ý§ñ §ä§Ö§Ò§ñ(?)¡­ §£§Ñ§Þ §ß§å§Ø§ß§à §ß§Ö§Þ§ß§à§Ô§à §Ó§ß§Ú§Þ§Ñ§ß§Ú§ñ §Ú §Ù§Ñ§Ò§à§ä§í §ã§Ö§Û§é§Ñ§ã(?)¡±

    She tosses away the rod handle and hops from the bed to land with a clack of the foot blocks on the floor.

    She walks back over to the low(ish) table and selects some things I can¡¯t see.

    Returning, she sways the wide hips, the thicc, bare thighs rippling alluringly.

    In one hand, she holds what I can only describe as a dildo, made of the same smooth, black, hard but deformable stuff as the ball gagging the mouth, as opposed to polished wood, stone or pottery.

    The dildo is mounted on a base with several straps dangling from it, which I¡¯m unsure of the purpose of.

    In the other hand is a small, simple, model of a tree, made of the same material as the gag and the dildo, shaped like a blunt cone, swelling to a bulge and coming back to a stem before flaring back out to a wide, flat base.

    The tree, she tosses onto the bed, by me, the dildo she holds up and smirks ¡°§¬§Ñ§Ü §Ó§Ñ§Þ §ä§Ñ§Ü§à§Ö §Ó§ß§Ú§Þ§Ñ§ß§Ú§Ö(?!)¡±

    She drops it onto the ground, seemingly intentionally, and steps over it before bending down.

    She pulls it up the thicc legs and, in that moment, I realise what the straps are for.

    It¡¯s not a dildo¡­ it¡¯s a dick!

    She¡¯s fastening it over the front of the glossy lowers to give herself a false dick!

    Once affixed, she gestures to it and says ¡°§ª§Õ§Ö§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§à §á§à§Õ§ç§à§Õ§Ú§ä §Õ§Ý§ñ §ä§Ñ§Ü§Ú§ç §ê§Ý§ð§ç-§Þ§Ñ§Ù§à§ç§Ú§ã§ä§à§Ü, §Ü§Ñ§Ü §ä§í, §é§ä§à§Ò§í §ã§à§ã§Ñ§ä§î(!)¡±

    She reaches down to the back of the head and grasps the braid there.

    Pulling me into a seated position, she pulls the gag out of the mouth and shoves the cock directly in after it.

    I feel the smooth material sliding against the inside of the fangs as she fucks the throat.

    ---Olga¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Yes¡­ Yes¡­ suck it, bitch!¡± I pant as I skullfuck my slut, the pressure at my crotch, created by the resistance to the strapon his mouth has, and his wonderful stifled moans causing my damp cunt to be filling my nonpermeable, plastic panties with moisture!

    ¡°M-*gag*-mm-*choke*-mmh-*hork*¡±

    ¡°This is what you¡¯re for! This is where men belong! Sucking on women¡¯s dicks!¡±

    Without warning, I throw him off of my dick and back to the bed.

    I come down on top of him and seize his windpipe just above his ballgag necklace with my right hand.

    He wheezes as I choke him, glaring into his eyes through my mask, my teeth bared in a silent snarl.

    ¡°You¡¯re mine, bitch! You belong to me!¡± I assert, not that he can understand me.

    I reach into my corset top to retrieve the boob-warm translator, placing it back against his skull and activating it.

    ¡°Any guesses as to where this is going next, slut?¡± I ask, flicking the tip of the strapon.

    ¡°In¡­ the arse, [Mistress]?¡± he answers.

    ¡°Good guess, boy!¡± I smirk, shoving the ballgag back into his mouth.

    I move to the chains and unfasten his legs and tail.

    ¡°Roll over and get that arse of yours in the air!¡±

    Without his arms to aid him, it¡¯s a slightly awkward struggle for him to obey me but he manages it.

    His behind facing me, he raises his tail to expose his boypussy.

    I grab both ends of his tail and thread the brush beneath his handcuffs, bending it back over the top of them to make a loop that I can hold both ends of, on top of his arse.

    He has plenty enough slack in the tail that I¡¯m not worried about hurting him that way.

    I line up the spittle wet strapon with his hole and wrap both hands around the base and end of his tail to use them as a handle.

    I push inside him.

    ¡°Your arsehole is nice and loose, slut¡­ Clearly, you are used to having it fucked(!)¡±

    ¡°Mmm-hmm.¡± he confirms with a nod.

    ¡°Shameless!¡± I laugh, cruelly, as I fuck him ¡°Are you not embarrassed to admit such a thing!?¡­ Afterall, by your species¡¯ standards, I¡¯m sure you think you¡¯re a big. strong. man, don¡¯t you? A big man who rolls over and lets his lovers fuck his arse(!)¡­ Well, sorry to burst your bubble, bitch, but you are, by far, the lightest, shortest, weakest man I have ever dominated¡­ and your cock is the second smallest(!) I have had men literally more than 2m tall and more than 100kg in mass!¡­ You are shorter and lighter than a 4 year old Human(!) You are nothing! You are weak! You are just a thing to be used!¡±

    ¡°Ai yam!¡± he mumbles past his gag.

    ¡°Well¡­ you know it and you admit it, at least¡­ so I think I can reward you(!)¡±

    I pull out of his arsehole, picking up the plug I left on the bed and plugging him up, causing a squeak of discomfort.

    I shove him over and he rolls onto his back.

    I stand.

    My hands move to my boots and begin the process of exposing my feet.

    I slide the boots off with tantalising slowness.

    Once both my feet are bare, I reach to the wings of my panties and start to slide them over my thighs.

    Once clad in only my corset top and mask, I lean down and ungag him ¡°Your reward, is that you get to have my foot in your mouth while I play with myself¡­ What do you say, bitch?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, [Mistress]?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Nooo¡­ ¡®Thank you, Mistress¡¯ is what you say(!)¡±

    ¡°Thank you, [Mistress]!¡± he corrects, breathlessly.

    ¡°Good boy!¡±

    I stand back up and straighten my foot toward his mouth.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bite me!¡± I warn as my toes slide between his teeth.

    His lips close around my sweaty foot and his rough tongue comes up to scrape the sole, tickling me with his papillae.

    My hand moves to my sex and I begin to audition the fingerpuppets(!)

    Both the thought and the sensation of my foot being in this slut¡¯s mouth drive me absolutely wild!

    My fingers really can¡¯t keep up with how much fucking my pussy needs right now¡­

    Without warning, I yank my foot from his mouth and swoop down on him¡­

    ¡°I¡¯ve changed my mind¡­¡± I whisper into his face ¡°¡­this is your reward¡­ You get to put that useless cock of yours to some use¡­ Your Mistress is going to let you fuck her with it!¡±

    With that, I slide all of my weight down his (in truth, satisfactorily large) cock.

    ¡°Thank you, [Mistress]¡­¡± he moans, his eyes closing.

    ---Grriv¡¯s perspective---

    The whole body aches from the punishment and the exertion I¡¯ve just been subjected to by this wonderful woman¡­

    I lie with her, on the bed, her idly stroking a shaven side of the head as I enjoy the [aftercare].

    The breasts that she did not expose for the entire [session] lie bare.

    ¡°Sooo¡­ how many are there then?¡±

    ¡°Achondroplastic dwarves?¡­ Well, there are 2.2 trillion Terrans and the rate of occurrence is approximately 1:20,000, so that¡¯s equal to 110 million who would have it¡­ But the rate who either have their parents treat the condition with gene therapy in infancy or themselves choose to have it treated later in life is around 7,500:1 so that¡¯s roughly 15,000, in total, that that works out to be¡­? Probably a little higher to account for all those whose parents decided to leave the choice up to them, like mine did, and who haven¡¯t got around to committing to it quite yet. I would be surprised if I wasn¡¯t at least in the right order of magnitude with 15,000 in the entire UTC. I knew of about 500 or so on Earth¡­ we had conventions together(!)¡±

    ¡°Wow!¡± I exclaim ¡°You just had all those numbers ready to go!¡±

    She puffs a laugh ¡°You had me on two specialist areas; dwarfism and statistics(!)¡±

    I frown ¡°If it¡¯s such a problem that almost everyone gets it treated away, why haven¡¯t you?¡±

    She sighs ¡°Almost everyone asks me that at some point¡­ The honest answer is, if my parents had chosen to get me gene therapy before I turned 2 and they were conscripted, I wouldn¡¯t have resented them for it but, by the time they came home from the War, I was already 9¡­ I remember them asking me if I wanted it now or wanted to wait and see how I felt when I was older¡­ I said I wanted to wait and see and¡­ I¡¯ve been waiting ever since¡­ I know gene therapy is there for me if I ever need it but¡­ well, I¡¯ve never disliked being a dwarf enough to undergo a year and a half of intense growing pain to get rid of it¡­ and, of course, every year I don¡¯t makes it less likely that it will ever happen¡­ Makes me feel more and more like dwarfism is simply part of me¡­ something I couldn¡¯t lose without ceasing to be myself¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I¡­ don¡¯t really know what to say¡­¡±

    She shakes the head in a ¡®no¡¯ ¡°You don¡¯t need to say anything. This is the situation and I¡¯m happy with it.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ Good then!¡± I smile, giving a nod of the head at her.

    She smiles appreciatively back (seeming a lot more liberal with smiles than she was before(!))

    ¡°If you¡¯re sleeping here, I could make you breakfast in the morning?¡± she offers.

    ¡°That sounds good!¡± I happily accept.

    ¡°Alright then¡­ Any requests?¡±

    I lean in close and ask ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know how to make [pancakes], would you Olga?¡±

    She bursts into laughter!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.173

    ---Coffee---

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Coming¡­!¡± I announce as I make my way over to the door of my room.

    I wave it open and look upwards.

    More than a metre over my head, six colourful eyes stare down at me from above two glistening red fangs and below a head of metallic pink hair, flanked by bluish black horns, her head absent its thanatite diadem at the moment.

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan¡­!¡± I smile, warmly ¡°¡­always a pleasure! Come in, come in!¡±

    The regally beautiful woman crosses into my quarters, having to awkwardly narrow her legs a little to fit through the doorway, easily tall enough for her but decidedly not designed for species with such a wide sprawl to their gait.

    Having made it through, she pauses, the fine, iridescent scutes of her face gleaming blue around her nose as they catch the light in an intrigued sniff.

    ¡°What¡¯s that smell, Emiko?¡± she asks, casting around for the source.

    ¡°Oh, I was just brewing myself some coffee.¡± I smile, indicating the pot over on the side.

    ¡°It¡­ smells¡­ wonderful!¡± she pronounces, making her way over to the steadily filling flask of dark brown fluid, her boatshoed feet making *pwuck**pwuck**pwuck* sounds each time they meet the smooth floor ¡°May I try some?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well¡­¡± I frown at the gorgeous Jor¨­gumo monarch ¡°¡­I don¡¯t mind sharing with you at all, Khr¡¯kowan¡­ but I do need to check the list if you haven¡¯t had it before.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Emiko. I don¡¯t want to be accidentally poisoned.¡± she says, not taking her rainbow of eyes from the aromatic container.

    I nod and pull out my holo, quickly opening the Vrakhand nutrition app that I recently installed after Gato, Aerlyght, Olga, Twila and the Shings finished developing it.

    I search ¡®Coffee¡¯ and it comes up.

    Reading the advice, based on medical computer modelling, I¡¯m surprised to find that ¡°It¡­ seems, Khr¡¯kowan ¡­ like it will affect you the same way it affects Humans¡­¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± she asks, her interest piqued enough to turn from the pot to look at me ¡°That¡¯s unusual, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± I confirm.

    Vrakhandic biochemistry is so wildly unlike Terrans¡¯ that finding something which affects both of us the same way is quite shocking!

    ¡°How does it affect Humans, if I may ask?¡± she queries.

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s a component called ¡®caffeine¡¯ in it which affects our neurotransmission and acts as a stimulant for us¡­ It makes us more alert and attentive¡­ it can help us feel more motivated and put us in an elevated mood¡­ it can even help us think more clearly and improve our physical performance¡­¡±

    ¡°Sounds too good to be true¡­ What¡¯s the catch?¡± she asks with cynicism befitting a fellow deathworlder.

    ¡°Well, too much will make you jittery, anxious and uncoordinated, it can cause insomnia and, if you use it long enough, could cause dependence, making withdrawal quite unpleasant.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± she frowns ¡°¡­and it says all of that¡¯s true for Vrakhand too?¡±

    I roll my eyes and shake my head, turning my holo around for her to read the text as it reforms itself into the Amida-lotteryesque, laddered script of Vrakhandic ¡°No¡­ very unhelpfully, all it says is ¡®Caffeine; nontoxic in normal quantities but affects neurotransmission. Not to be consumed in quantities greater than 3g/hr or 10g/day.¡¯! Got to have a word with Twila about clearing up the wording on this thing!¡±

    Mildly alarmed, Khr¡¯kowan looks to the 1.5ltr pot and observes ¡°That looks like a lot more than [3g]!? That¡¯s¡­ what? A little more than a 22nd the weight of an iron coin?!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Khr¡¯kowan¡­¡± I reassure her with a smile ¡°¡­but the caffeine only makes up a tiny, tiny part of it¡­ 3g of caffeine would be several times the amount in that pot! It¡¯s fine¡­ If you still want to try it, I¡¯m happy to let you.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ If it¡¯s definitely safe then I would love some.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful¡­¡± I beam, gesturing over to the sitting area ¡°¡­why don¡¯t you make yourself comfortable while I pour it out for us then?¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Emiko.¡± she acknowledges before making her way over to take a seat on the floor beside my coffee table, feet *pwuck**pwuck**pwuck*ing as she goes.

    I pour out two mugs of the steaming black liquid, not offering her milk (as I know lactose will make her ill) or sugar (as I know she lacks the capacity to taste sweetness.)

    I join her with the coffees and set them down on the coffeetable between us.

    ¡°I need to warn you, its hot right now and quite bitter in general, for Humans at least¡­ I don¡¯t know how it will taste for you. I advise not chugging it, though¡­ Give it a few minutes to cool down, then try sipping.¡±

    ---several coffees later---

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan¡­ you¡¯re literally married to him!¡± I giggle hysterically.

    ¡°I know! I knooow!¡± she whines like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

    ¡°You already know he likes you!¡± I cackle.

    ¡°Nooooooo¡­! I¡¯ss not that shimple thouuugh!¡± she slurs a little, floppily moving her upper body in a way I would have thought having plate armour instead of skin would make impossible.

    ¡°How is it not that simple? You like him, he likes you¡­ you have complementary ¡®over-there¡¯s¡¯ that will feel good when they become ¡®over-here¡¯s¡¯(!)¡­ I really don¡¯t see the issue!¡±

    ¡°But¡­!¡± she objects ¡°¡­what if he doesn¡¯t¡­ like, like me like me!?¡±

    I cackle and answer ¡°Empress Khr¡¯kowan! You¡¯ve led armies! You¡¯ve fought monsters! You¡¯ve been made the first female leader of your entire species!¡­ And you¡¯re insecure about a boy!? Really?!?!?!¡­ What hope is there for the rest of us(!?)¡­ If he doesn¡¯t like you like you, why did he agree to marry you?¡±

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I dooon¡¯t knooow¡­¡± she answers, woozily ¡°¡­maybe ¡¯cause I was the second most powerful Vrakhand alive at the time, only after my father? Maybe ¡¯cause I am the shingle shtrongest and most feminine Vrakhand¡­ Like, the fact that we wooed so quickly didn¡¯t give us much time to really get to knooow eachother!¡±

    ¡°Why did you rush things then?¡± I query.

    ¡°Because¡­¡± she starts, overly forcefully ¡°¡­I thought we¡¯d have more time! I really liked him and I didn¡¯t know about the [caesharean] process or [condoms] then so I thought it¡¯d be yearsh before we could think about actually doing it! That¡¯s a lot of time we¡¯d have had to find out if we actually wanted to and, if we didn¡¯t, we could shimply annul our marriage and he could go back to Nhirmor!¡­ Now, i¡¯ss getting harder and harder for ush to come up with excuses for why we can¡¯t! We¡¯re shleeping together in the same room, night after night, complete privashy, we could have condomsh printend and, if I do get preganant¡­ I¡­ I¡­ I¡­ I can just get my babies cut out of me without having to die!¡±

    Here, she stops to down the remainder of her half full cup of coffee.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ It would be too late to annul your marriage after you¡¯d done it, I take it?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Mmm-hmmm¡­*gulp*¡± she confirms, swallowing the mouthful ¡°¡­too late!¡±

    Considering the honour bound culture this honour bound woman comes from, I elect not to suggest that she and Kurkhuw might do anything so underhanded as simply lying¡­ saying they hadn¡¯t done it when they had.

    ¡°Then it sounds like you do need to be a little careful¡­¡± I concede.

    ¡°There¡¯s¡­ something elshe¡­¡± she admits with the look of a guilty child about to admit to having broken something expensive.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I smile.

    ¡°My tastes¡­ they¡¯re¡­ unushual¡­¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Yes, I know that but¡­ isn¡¯t Kurkhuw a man very much to your tastes?¡±

    She frowns and sloppily waves a three fingered hand in negation ¡°Nooo!¡­ That¡¯sh not what I mean!¡­ I mean¡­ like, the things I want to do to him¡­ shexually¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ right!¡± I say, surprised by how forthcoming she¡¯s being right now ¡°And what¡¯re they?¡±

    ¡°Like¡­ I want to¡­¡± she agonises, her iridescent cheeks flushing even bluer with embarrassment as she looks at the floor between her pedipalps ¡°¡­tie him¡­ with ropes¡­ I want to bully him¡­ even¡­ hurt him¡­¡± she panics here slightly and clarifies ¡°Not much! I don¡¯t want to crack hish armour or rip bits off him or anything! I just¡­! He¡¯s sho cute it makes me¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ aggreshive!¡±

    ¡°OK, so you¡¯re a sadist and a rigger¡­?¡± I shrug.

    That immediately catches her attention and she stares at me, blinking her main eyes slowly.

    ¡°There¡­ are. words. for. these. things?¡± she asks, speaking slowly and deliberately.

    ¡°Sure there are¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­in my language at least¡­ BDSM, altogether, is probably the second most common type of kink for a Human to have after only feet! I don¡¯t know if there are words for them in Vrakhandic. If you don¡¯t know them, I¡¯d guess not¡­ but that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean your species don¡¯t have them as well.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I thought I was alone!¡± she answers, shellshocked.

    ¡°Why did you think that?¡± I smile, kindly.

    ¡°Well¡­ when I wash taught what was¡­ expected of me¡­ no one mentioned it! They made it shound like wanting it to be fun wash¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ shelfish¡­ improper!¡±

    ¡°Close your eyes and think of Khawekh, huh(?)¡± I tease ¡°I think that might have a little less to do with yours being uncommon desires and a little more to do with your culture being¡­ don¡¯t take this the wrong way but¡­ I think the word is prudish!¡±

    ¡°You were taught about theshe things?¡± she asks, curiously.

    I frown ¡°Actually, no¡­ not in SexEd, anyway¡­ I guess, I just had the internet and got to discover I wasn¡¯t alone that way!¡­ There¡¯s no Vrakhand internet and it sounds like having frank discussions about your sexual preferences (like this one we¡¯re having now) isn¡¯t really a feature of your culture¡­ so you never got to know how acceptable it is.¡±

    ¡°Until now¡­ until you!¡± she says, gesturing at me with her left hand.

    ¡°Yes, Khr¡¯kowan. I fully accept you and I¡¯d be an utter hypocrite not to but¡­ it¡¯s not my acceptance you need, now is it! There¡¯s only one person whose acceptance you need and he¡¯s not here, is he! He¡¯s probably down on Deck 1, in your quarters! There¡¯s no way to know how he¡¯s going to feel about this besides asking him, is there?¡­ I¡¯d say, you need to go and have a frank discussion with him and work out whether his tastes are compatible with yours!¡­ First though, you need to work out what you¡¯re going to do if it turns out they aren¡¯t¡­ Would it be a dealbreaker for you if he says he¡¯s never going to be interested in letting you tie him up? If he¡¯s not even a tiny bit masochistic?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ but¡­ what if i¡¯sh a dealbreaker for him that I even want to!?¡± she asks, desolately.

    I cock an eyebrow and ask ¡°So, you¡¯re happy to keep this a secret from him for the rest of your life then? Considering that you don¡¯t need to die giving birth to his kids, that could be an awfully long time¡­¡±

    Her stunningly colourful eyes flick back and forth as she stares at the floor, considering my words.

    ¡°I¡­ need more [coffee]¡­¡± she finally announces, making to stand.

    She doesn¡¯t manage to get all the way to her feet before she loses her footing and keels over, crashing through my coffeetable, reducing it to splinters and hitting the floor with an impact that (were it not for the fact that it was reinforced for deathworlders) would have had her plunge straight through into Ziva¡¯s room below us!

    Alarmed, I quickly bring my feet onto my seat and spring backwards over it to protect myself from the many uncovered sharp points of her twelve flailing limbs!

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan, stay still!¡± I demand, authoritatively, causing her writhing to stop and her long legs to fall limp as she lies on my floor, panting.

    Cautiously, I make my way out from behind my cover to approach her.

    She¡¯s not injured, that I can see, her armoured exterior having protected her against the jagged pieces of wood.

    ¡°Are you alright, Khr¡¯kowan¡­?¡± I ask, as I approach her head.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ Pride¡¯sh the only thing hurt(!)¡± she chuckles.

    I bend down and press my hand to her cheek.

    This is the first time I¡¯ve touched a Vrakhand¡¯s face but she feels hotter than the infrared imaging I¡¯ve seen would suggest is normal.

    ¡°Focus on my finger.¡± I instruct, holding it over her face.

    Blearily, she struggles to actually keep her eyes pointed at it.

    ¡°Give me the Vrakhandic alphabet backwards, go!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ uhm¡­ Wha¡­ Rha¡­ Bha¡­ Nha¡­¡± she starts, listing off the aspirated letters, backloaded at the end of her script¡¯s inventory.

    ¡°You missed Zha, Khr¡¯kowan¡­ You¡¯re drunk!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m. not. drunk!¡± she denies, only making me surer that she is ¡°[Alcohol] doesn¡¯t effect Vrakhand¡­ and besides, I¡¯ve not had any!¡±

    She¡¯s right about both of those things¡­ and I¡¯m pretty sure she was sober when she came in here!

    The only thing she¡¯s had was¡­

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ It was the coffee.¡± I realise.

    ¡°Whuh? But didn¡¯t¡­?¡±

    ¡°Caffeine ¡®affects neurotransmission¡¯. It¡¯s a stimulant to Humans but, apparently, it¡¯s a depressant to Vrakhand!¡± I state, furious at Twila for the ambiguity of the wording!

    ¡°So¡­?¡±

    ¡°So no more coffee for you right now! I¡¯m taking you to the medical ward to be double checked for caffeine poisoning and, once you¡¯re cleared, you¡¯re going back to your quarters to sleep it off! You will almost certainly have a hangover tomorrow¡­ as far as I¡¯m aware, there¡¯s nothing we can give you to prevent that¡­ I¡¯m sorry Khr¡¯kowan¡­ this is my fault¡­ I should have gone to clarify things with Twila or one of the Doctors¡­¡±

    She smiles up at me and answers ¡°Don¡¯t be shorry Emiko¡­! You¡¯re a really goooood friend!¡±

    ¡°I appreciate it Khr¡¯kowan¡­ Now, let¡¯s get you up to see if you can still walk¡­¡±

    ---Twila¡¯s perspective---

    My body is sitting in the Commonroom of Triple M while I¡¯m enjoying having a ship¡¯s worth of dataspace to run around in again, when a very unusual sight staggers out of Emiko¡¯s room in the corridor outside where my body is.

    A¡­ rather merry looking Khr¡¯kowan, holding a rather exasperated Emiko to her chest, her feet 93.7cm from the floor, stumbles chaotically into the range of my cameras.

    The arachnoid woman has her pedipalps wrapped around the Japanese one¡¯s legs, her arms around her chest and is resting her chin on the top of her head as she makes her way towards the Dorm¡¯s exit.

    ¡°Erm¡­ everything alright there, Emiko?¡± I ask, through the speakers in the hall.

    Her purple eyes snap unnecessarily upwards to address me ¡°Everything¡¯s fine, Twila(!) This arrangement is simply the result of me observing that, if I walked alongside Empress Khr¡¯kowan in her current state, she would be quite likely to accidently stab me in the side with the spines on her legs¡­ Would you, as a matter of some priority, add ¡®neurodepressant intoxicant¡¯ to the entry on caffeine in the app and alert some of the medical staff that they are needed to attend to the empress here!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XXXIX: Pancakes and Silk

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    A pair of immensely strong hands grip my shoulders with a crushing force that borders on the painful as I feel a set of powerful hips thrusting against mine.

    The one I¡¯m tied on top of is so much taller than me that, despite our pelvises being level, my ankles are tied at the middle of her spread shins and my shoulders are pushing up her pillowy, sienna brown tits!

    I feel Xon¡¯s stifled moans reverberating through my chest as Thran brings her closer and closer to the edge.

    I look up to admire the beauty of my fellow sub for this session, her eyes closed, her lips pursed against the ball in her mouth, her jet black locks bouncing in time with her body.

    It doesn¡¯t ground me in the moment like I¡¯d hoped it would¡­

    ---Xon¡¯s perspective---

    I lie on one side of the absolutely gorgeous, musclebound Neanderthal woman who just fucked my brains out, a Japanese one on the other side.

    She seemed a bit¡­ distracted during the session¡­ like her mind was somewhere else.

    I reach over my girlfriend¡¯s double K rack to stroke the tips of my fingers against our playpartner¡¯s face.

    Emiko starts a tiny bit at the touch and clearly makes a conscious effort to focus as she smiles back at me.

    ¡°You alright, babes?¡­ You seem a bit zoned out tonight?¡± I observe.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡­ I¡¯ve just got some things on my mind¡­ Sorry, girls¡­ it¡¯s not either of you at all¡­ It was a lovely session and I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t more present for it¡­¡±

    I frown, sympathetically, and ask ¡°Sounds rough¡­ Would talking about it help?¡±

    Her face twists in reticence as she answers ¡°No¡­ It¡¯s¡­ kind of¡­ It¡¯s kind of sensitive¡­¡±

    I chuckle and answer ¡°¡®Sensitive¡¯ like a year+ casual relationship that me and Thran have both managed to keep a lid on so far(?) If it¡¯s something you really can¡¯t tell us, fair enough, but if it¡¯s just a secret, I¡¯d like to think we¡¯ve both proven our credentials at this point(!)¡±

    ¡°Uhm¡­ I know not to volunteer things that I know and others shouldn¡¯t.¡± supplies Thran.

    Emiko sighs ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ I should definitely know I can trust you to keep confidence at this point¡­ But I need both of you to swear that, if I tell you this, it will never leave this room!¡±

    ¡°I promise.¡± says Thran, simply.

    I narrow my eyes at Emiko and clarify ¡°This isn¡¯t like¡­? Lives aren¡¯t at stake here, right?¡±

    She chuckles and shakes her head ¡°Nothing like that¡­ It¡¯s just, if you tell people and they tell people and, at some point, someone sells it to a tabloid and the whole galaxy learns about it, it would be really bad for mission integrity!¡±

    ¡°OK, so it¡¯s like¡­ hot goss then?¡± I smirk, cocking an eyebrow.

    ¡°That¡¯s an apt way to describe it.¡± she puffs.

    ¡°Alright then. I promise nobody¡¯s gonna hear about it from me¡­ So, spill the tea, sis(!)¡±

    She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before saying ¡°I¡­ was propositioned last night.¡±

    ¡°Oooooh! Juicy!¡­ Who?¡± I grin.

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan and Kurkhuw¡­¡± she jokes.

    ¡°*Hahahahahahahaha*¡­ Very funny! Who really, though?¡± I answer.

    In response, she just gives me a gloomy stare.

    ¡°Wait¡­ For real?!¡­ Nooooo. fucking. waaaaaaaaaaay!¡±

    ¡°How¡­? What¡­ brought that about?¡± frowns Thran, her mossy green eyes narrowed and her olive coloured lips pursed in confusion.

    ¡°So¡­ you know how I had to take Khr¡¯kowan to the medical room because I¡¯d accidentally got her drunk on a pot and a half of coffee?¡­ Well, while her inhibitions were lowered, she and I were having a very frank conversation about sexual preferences¡­ which doesn¡¯t need to be repeated here. After Dawn discharged her, I took her back to her room (or, she took me, since it turns out she gets quite cuddly when inebriated(!)) and, rather than leaving her to discuss things with her husband on her own, as I had planned, I was taken inside, sat down and forced to explain to him everything I¡¯d explained to her¡­¡±

    ¡°Alriiight¡­ but¡­ how did you get from explaining sex to that poor, na?ve spooder couple to being invited to join in(!?)¡± I laugh ¡°That¡¯s quite a leap!¡±

    She draws back her lips and exhales through her teeth, purple eyes pointed down and to her right, and answers ¡°Yes, well¡­ I just¡­ I mentioned that I thought they were both very attractive and¡­ they¡­ shared a look!¡±

    ¡°Ah, the ¡®My husband and I saw you from across the throne room and we really dig your vibe. Can we buy you a cup of coffee?¡¯ look, I take it?¡±

    Unimpressed, Emiko answers ¡°Xon, please take this seriously¡­¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ Sorry¡­¡± I say, dropping the flippancy ¡°¡­So they find you attractive too then? That¡¯s surprising¡­ Aren¡¯t their species, like, ultramonogamous and massively conservative when it comes to sex? I thought polyamory, xenophilia and homo/bisexuality weren¡¯t even in their lexicon?¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, it seems there¡¯s a bit of a rumspringa effect, what with them leaving their planet(!)¡­ Looks like it¡¯s made them more open to such things! Though, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the whole story¡­ Khr¡¯kowan seems to be a repressed bisexual and I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a new development!¡±

    ¡°Well, fuck!¡­ Just when you think you know a gal(!)¡± I observe.

    ¡°So¡­ what did you say?¡± asks Thran, quietly.

    ¡°I¡­ I told them I needed time to think about it and, thankfully, Khr¡¯kowan let me go(!)¡­ I¡¯ve been ¡®thinking about it¡¯ ever since¡­¡±

    ¡°Right, so not a flat ¡®No¡¯ then?¡± I ask, surprised.

    Her face goes pained as she says ¡°Weeell¡­ There are a dozen reasons I probably should refuse¡­ Khr¡¯kowan and I are friends and sleeping together could make things awkward, having her and Kurkhuw¡¯s first time be a threesome is probably ill advised, if word got out to the wider galactic community it could paint a misleading picture of Vrakhandic promiscuity, if word got back to her own people it could shake confidence in her leadership, the fact that, with how strong she is and all of those hard and pointy bits on her, there¡¯s a nonnegligible chance of me being actually seriously hurt¡­ buuut¡­¡±

    ¡°But you still really want to though.¡± I surmise.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± she admits, ashamed ¡°¡­is that selfish?¡±

    I grin ¡°Tiny bit¡­ but we won¡¯t hold it against you(!)¡­ Honestly, I think you accepting the offer would only be a little bit worse if it came to light than them making the offer, from the standpoints of your friendship with Khr¡¯kowan, Vrakhandic reputation abroad and her reputation at home!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ If her tongue wasn¡¯t loosened by the caffeine, I think she would probably have died before she admitted to wanting to bring an alien woman into her bedroom¡­ but I need to make this decision sober¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± starts Thran, uncertainly ¡°¡­I don¡¯t think she would be likely to hurt you¡­ if she wasn¡¯t drunk on coffee or sleep deprived¡­ She¡¯s a very capable fighter¡­ knowing how to hurt people means knowing how not to hurt them as well¡­ Just so long as she understands that you¡¯re not covered in armour, I think it will be fine¡­¡±

    Emiko smiles and says ¡°Thanks girls¡­ I feel a bit silly for asking but¡­ you¡¯d both be OK with it, right? I know we aren¡¯t a triple or anything but¡­ regardless, I don¡¯t want to hurt anyone¡¯s feelings.¡±

    ¡°No problem, Emiko.¡± smiles Thran, with adorable sweetness.

    ¡°Juuust so long as you don¡¯t end up infecting us with incurable spider-herpes or anything(!)¡± I quip.

    She giggles in spite of herself and answers ¡°Don¡¯t think that will be an issue¡­ Thanks, you two¡­ I do feel a lot better now¡­¡±

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    I walk into the Vrakhand Dorm on Deck 1, christened ¡®Vrakhandhor Whedh¡¯¡­ ¡®sleeping place of the Vrakhand¡¯.

    Slightly more imaginative than the Twigg below us, who¡¯ve chosen to name their Dorm ¡®Twigg¡¯(!)

    Not quite as imaginative as Deck 5¡¯s ¡®Mundus Minimus Mortis¡¯, Deck 4¡¯s ¡®Elysium¡¯, Deck 3¡¯s ¡®Plus Ultra¡¯ or Deck 2, who eventually settled on ¡®Manu Propria¡¯, though!

    It¡¯s after mealtime so, as I pass the Commonroom, I see it utterly deserted, everyone having retired to their own quarters.

    I come up to the door of the last room on the corridor, my heart pounding in my chest!

    I wave to alert its occupants to my presence¡­

    Wordlessly, the door slides open, revealing a silent, black abyss.

    I step forward onto the 20cm thick gel layer coating the floor of the unlit room and, the moment my ears pass the privacy field boundary, I hear stifled moaning coming from the far side of the room.

    ¡°He¡­Hello?¡± I call out as the door shuts and locks behind me.

    ¡°Well, well, well¡­¡± greets a bassy, sensuous, feminine voice ¡°¡­if it isn¡¯t another little morsel, come to volunteer herself for immurement(!)¡­ Lights up¡­¡±

    The room becomes dimly illuminated with mood lighting, revealing a gigantic, six eyed, nude woman, the bluish-blacks and glossy scarlets of her exoskeleton gleaming as they catch the light.

    Beside her, above the space where a bed would be, in any other room, and in the space where a silk hammock usually hangs, dangles an adorable, fluffy spider boy, his legs and palps all individually frogtied, his arms lashed behind his back and held down with ropes passing across his fluffy chest, more ropes suspending him from the ceiling.

    His jaw is bound shut in an absolutely pristine face sling, quite like the one that Stetter had but with a few differences: It¡¯s secured not over the top of his cranium but, rather, around the bases of his horns, it has two lumps in it where it passes over his fangs and, unlike Stetter¡¯s, it¡¯s actually doing a good job of keeping him quiet!

    From between his palps, extends an erect, fleshy appendage, having pushed aside two pieces of brown fuzz covered, mobile armour plating.

    It¡¯s colour is a rich purple from the combination of maroon skin pigmentation and the deep blue blood its flushed with.

    The quiver inducing woman strides towards me, her eight feet not making sounds anywhere near as silly as they did in my room the other day.

    I back away, nervously, but soon find my back against a smooth metal wall!

    I quickly have a cage of spiked legs hemming me in to my left and right before a pair of stiletto points perform a kabedon either side of my head!

    Her sex, less than a metre from my nose, perfumes the air with an interesting tang¡­ quite unlike Terran arousal.

    My breaths come fast and shallow as a blood red claw reaches to the bottom of my chin and forces me to look upwards into the cruel face of an Empress!

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Well now¡­ aren¡¯t you a tasty looking morsel indeed(!)¡± she smirks down at me.

    ¡°Y-Your Majesty, I¡­¡± I start but quickly find a stout, armoured finger pressed into my lips.

    ¡°Ssssshshshshshshsssh!¡± she growls ¡°Chatty morsels put me off my appetite(!)¡±

    A hand closes around the lapels of my kimono and I¡¯m hoisted more than a metre into the air!

    She doesn¡¯t cheat by using the wall behind me as a point of contact, she pulls me away from it and towards her!

    She¡¯s both strong enough to lift me one handed at arm¡¯s length and bulky enough not to pitch forward from my weight dragging her centre of mass out of her sprawling base of support.

    ¡°Now¡­¡± she says, opening her fangs to allow easier access to her mouth ¡°¡­let¡¯s have a taste of you, morsel!¡±

    ---Kurkhuw¡¯s perspective---

    I watch from where I hang as my broodwife passionately kisses the fascinating alien woman, so small and fragile that she is powerless to resist!

    All my life picturing myself being carried off from Nhirmor in a groom kidnapping, to be the plaything of some unscrupulous, dictatorial warlady, I never imagined a scenario quite like this one!

    I never would have thought a vertebrate could be as attractive to me as the Terrans are (and this Terran specifically is!)

    A warrior from the bloodiest war ever fought, who since has adopted, adapted and affected a far more masculine softness, sweetness and kindness but whose feminine fierceness still show through from time to time.

    Much more surprising than finding myself attracted to Lady Miyazaki, was finding out that Khr¡¯kowan was too!

    Until the other day, when my broodwife came back to our room, thoroughly disinhibited, and made Miyazaki explain her [kink] to me, this would have been a notion I thought was destined to stay an idle fantasy!

    What would my father say if he knew that his son was broodhusband to a [bisexual], [xenophilic] [sadist](!)

    My thoughts are pulled from the reflexive guilt and shame I feel (from a lifetime of being told to keep such notions to myself if I ever wanted to find and keep a match) by seeing the future mother of my children starting to undress the pale little alien woman.

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    Still kissing the smooth lips of the beautiful Terran, I slide my hands underneath the shoulders of her robe, supporting her with my pedipalps, wrapped beneath that protrusion of muscle her kind have where their nonexistent hindbody should join them.

    I pull the garment all the way off her top, leaving her nude from the waste up, save for a black harness with two cups that support two bulges of flesh on the front of her chest.

    Wrapping my arms over hers to support her from the top, I push the robe the remainder of the length of her body, where it drops to the floor.

    Pulling her lips from mine (seeing that they¡¯re quite scratched from the abrasion of my scutes as I do) I hold the woman at arms length, nude, bar the harness and a matching piece of black cloth protecting where her sex is.

    ¡°You seem to have lost most of your wrapping, morsel(!)¡± I smirk.

    ¡°Seems so, Your Majesty¡­¡± she answers, breathlessly.

    Sneering, I say ¡°Now what did I say about chattiness, morsel(?)¡±

    ¡°You¡­ said¡­ it puts you off your appetite, Your Majesty.¡± she smiles, crookedly.

    ¡°It seems as if I shall have to find some way to shut you up now, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Certainly seems that way, Your Majesty.¡±

    I smirk, then violently swing my upperbody forward.

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    I experience a brief moment of terror as I¡¯m hurled downwards with enough force to crack my skull and shatter my ribcage.

    My momentum is arrested centimetres from the floor by the impossibly strong woman who has me in her clutches.

    The only damage done is some light bruising on my arms and legs from where they jostled just a little too hard against her iron hard armour!

    She places me on the soft jelly of the ground and clamps me down with her stilettos, stepping over my arms, just below my shoulders.

    My humerus is just narrow enough to completely fit between the prongs of her pedipalps, immobilising me.

    A sharp, red claw reaches to the centre gore of my bra and slices cleanly through it.

    The cups spring away from my breasts from the released tension.

    A double incision severs the straps, freeing my upper body from its last piece of clothing.

    Six eyes cast down my chest and stomach to settle on my lacey black underwear.

    Two knife sharp feet approach my hips, the points scratching me ever so slightly as they work their way under the wings of my panties.

    With the smooth, blunt, cool outsides of the deadly thanatite blades turning in, against the flesh of my outer thighs, the incomparably formidable woman works my last garment down my legs, exposing a soaking pussy!

    Her feet having brought my panties over mine, they pass forward to dextrously transfer the lacey fabric to her right palp which she removes from my left arm.

    Her right hand comes down to unhook my panties from the appendage.

    She examines them, coolly.

    ¡°These would fit in your mouth, morsel?¡± she asks.

    ¡°They will, Your Majesty¡­¡± I pant in confirmation, nodding and feeling the way the gel I¡¯m lying on catches my hair at the back of my skull.

    ¡°Good.¡± she says, removing her left palp from my right shoulder and commanding ¡°Stand up!¡±

    I push myself to seated before stumbling to my feet.

    ¡°Open your mouth.¡± is the next order she gives, which I instantly obey.

    Her hands ball my panties up before pushing them into my mouth with a thumb, angled away from my cheek so as not to cut me,

    ¡°Now¡­¡± she says, flexing her hindbody to shorten the distance between her spinneret and her palps, reaching back for it ¡°¡­let¡¯s see about making sure you stay shut up, morsel(!)¡±

    Her prongs extend forward again, drawing with them strands of ghostly looking thread.

    Her four manipular appendages reaching to my head, she deftly wraps the raw silk around my lower face and neck, entirely encasing them.

    ¡°Try to speak, morsel.¡±

    ¡°Mmm kmnf¡­¡± comes my stifled response.

    She gives a satisfied smirk before jabbing a finger to the floor.

    ¡°Kneel.¡±

    I get back down onto my knees before my Empress.

    She bends to begin lashing my ankles to my thighs, skilfully working the chaotic, sticky threads into neat bindings.

    Once she¡¯s done frog tying me, she stands back up and says ¡°Stand, morsel.¡±

    I try to stand, but the bonds stronger than steel (weight for weight) completely prevent it.

    ¡°Good¡­ now¡­¡± the Empress smirks ¡°¡­I think I¡¯ll put you with the other little morsel over there for now!¡±

    She seizes my wrists and lifts me up by them, turning me around to face away from her and then turning us both to face her husband.

    As we approach, I notice that she¡¯s perfectly aligned my pelvis with a certain fleshy, purple appendage which, now I¡¯m assessing it, looks much too large for where it¡¯s intended to go!

    I struggle and cry out stifled objections but my captor heedlessly continues her inexorable march forwards.

    I feel the sandpapery texture of her facial scutes against my temple as she extends her head over my shoulder and the prongs of her palps at my ankles as she lines me up with the dauntingly sized femboy Jor¨­gumo cock!

    ---Kurkhuw¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°mmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMPHHH!¡± screams the Terran woman as my broodwife forces her tight opening over my member, clearly a little too large for it.

    Despite the fact that I can feel her insides stretching to accommodate me, they still hold me with a vicelike tightness!

    I give an apologetic scrunch of my upper face to my fellow prisoner but she doesn¡¯t seem to notice, still recovering from what Khr¡¯kowan just subjected her too.

    A pair of limp, slim, fleshy arms are wrapped around me by a pair of strong, thick, armoured ones, the wrists of the former quickly being bound to mine by the hands of the latter.

    ¡°There now!¡± growls the only one in the room with her mouth unobstructed as she begins working the bindings on the Terran¡¯s legs into those at my pedipalps ¡°Don¡¯t the two of you make a pretty sight(!?)¡­ The womanly man and the manly woman(!) Both mine to enjoy!¡±

    I see her knotting her hands into the black hair at the back of Miyazaki¡¯s skull before yanking her head backwards and forcing her two eye¡¯s to look upwards into Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s six, looking down.

    ¡°That show you put on, at the embassy¡­ I bet you thought you¡¯d done a good job of scaring us, didn¡¯t you, Terran(!)¡­ I bet you thought you¡¯d fooled us into thinking you were a real woman(!)¡­ I can see you for what you are, now!¡­ Without a 30,000,000:1 numerical advantage, without your superior technology, without your weapons and armours¡­ what are you?¡­¡± she sneers ¡°¡­A slutty, submissive little toy! Only worthy of satisfying my every whim!¡­ Aren¡¯t you, morsel?¡±

    ¡°Mms, Mmmm Mmfsffy.¡± mumbles Miyazaki through her gag.

    ¡°You deserve to be in the position you¡¯re in, don¡¯t you morsel!?¡±

    ¡°Mms, Mmmm Mmfsffy.¡± she confirms again.

    ¡°Now¡­ my whim right now¡­ is to see what these [buttocks] feel like when I strike them!¡±

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    I withdraw my right hand, making sure to overextend my fingers to minimise the risk of cutting her flesh with my claws, then bring it forward to meet that mass of muscle between her bound legs.

    It makes a pleasing *crack* sound and I see a ripple propagate through the skin.

    She screams in a way that makes me reflexively want to stop the proceedings to check that she¡¯s OK before I remember the [safeword] she equipped us with, precisely so she could let me know if that was necessary!

    She may sound like she¡¯s in genuine agony but she isn¡¯t using it, so I guess she¡¯s fine¡­

    I pull my hand away from her soft, pale flesh and see a three fingered imprint that I¡¯ve left, where the skin has turned red.

    Something about leaving a mark like that in this woman¡¯s flesh is wildly erotic to me!

    I repeat the strike, again and again, until I¡¯ve turned her entire [buttocks] red and reduced her screams to sobs.

    ¡°Ah, morsel¡­¡± I say, gently embracing her from behind and feeling the slight give of her flesh before my armour meets the greater resistance of her internal bones ¡°¡­you¡¯ve done well¡­ You¡¯ve pleased me¡­ you Terrans make good sex toys(!)¡­ Perhaps¡­¡± the words I¡¯m about to say catch in my throat.

    Even in pretence, they feel wrong!

    Then again, she did specifically OK this kind of thing¡­ did specifically say that things I say when [Domming] don¡¯t necessarily need to reflect reality!

    I decide to go for it ¡°Perhaps when my kind have conquered the galaxy, we¡¯ll keep yours around for that purpose(!)¡±

    She moans in a way that seems to convey nothing specific.

    ¡°But first¡­ I think I need to see how you perform in other aspects of your future role¡­¡± I say, taking hold of her torso.

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    Four fingers wrap around my midriff and two thumbs around the small of my back.

    My tear filled eyes widen into the face of the boy with his cock inside me as I feel myself dragged upwards.

    He¡¯s so big that, instead of immediately sliding out of me, his shaft drags the walls of my pussy with it for some way before the tension overcomes the friction and his wife succeeds in getting him halfway out.

    Then, she reverses course, pushing me back down his length and causing him to open my insides right back out.

    In my wildest dreams, I never pictured a warrior queen spider using me as a masturbatory aid to her femboy husband until I met these two!

    Though ¡®womanly¡¯ by Vrakhand standards, the face of the boy I¡¯m being used to pleasure is still very cute and feminine by Terran standards too!

    He¡¯s exactly the kind of cutey I would have daydreamed about Domming in my youth (back when I still thought I was a Domme and exclusively heterosexual)¡­ minus the whole thing about him being an alien arachnoid(!)

    He moans and puffs through his silk gag as his wife subjects us both to this¡­ challenging penetration!

    I actually feel my old proclivities reawakening as I look at the face of this cutey¡­!

    If these two want to invite me back, I might even ask if I can try Dommehood with Khr¡¯kowan in future!

    But that¡¯s that and this is this!

    Let¡¯s not get distracted!

    Right now is subspace¡­ right now he and I are both playthings¡­

    By the time his cock as warmed up to roughly my body temperature (having initially been barely above room temperature) I¡¯m on the brink of an orgasm.

    I scream as it arrives but the woman puppeteering me does not relent.

    It seems she means to keep going until she¡¯s brought him to orgasm, at least¡­

    ---Kurkhuw¡¯s perspective---

    My body convulses as I release a thick jet of seed into the woman being used to pleasure me, causing her to once again scream through her gag!

    Waves of irrational humiliation wash over me at the realisation that, not only was the first woman I ever came inside not my broodwife, she wasn¡¯t even my species.

    The rational objection that it was Khr¡¯kowan who used her to make me cum does little to mitigate my shame.

    Of course, it¡¯s absolutely impossible that Miyazaki would be able to conceive from what just happened and (irrationally) that does make me feel a little better¡­

    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± observes my broodwife, smirking ¡°¡­a fine toy you make, morsel(!) You did an admirable job of giving pleasure to this other little slut here¡­¡±

    She begins releasing the bindings that hold me and Miyazaki together.

    ¡°¡­such a fine job that you¡¯ve made me a little jealous(!)¡±

    The Terran whines as she¡¯s pulled off of me, my neon green ejaculate spilling from her sex, no longer plugged in place.

    Khr¡¯kowan takes the little alien over to a table and sets her down, angled towards me, pulling her arms behind her to bind the wrists to her ankles.

    She then gathers her long hair, silver streak and all, into a tail at the back of her head and yanks it backwards, forcing her to look up at me.

    A new strand of silk is produced and strung between the hair tail and gathering of her trussed carpals.

    ¡°Be a good girl and watch, alright morsel?¡± Khr¡¯kowan scoffs at the woman she just made sure will be able to do nothing besides.

    She approaches me and I see in her hand a membranous disk, carefully held to avoid puncturing it with her claws.

    She extends it to my partially deflated sex and begins pushing it over.

    The sensation of having a [condom] rolled onto me in my refraction is not particularly pleasant¡­ but is stimulating enough to cause the retreating blood to rally a return(!)

    Having strategically hung me at just the height where my sex is level with hers, no adjustments are necessary before she¡¯s able to wrap her palps around the crook of my body and pull my face against the thick armour of her chest as she slides me inside her.

    Contentedly, she observes ¡°Oh¡­ Weaver! Yes¡­ this is what men are for!¡±

    ---Emiko¡¯s perspective---

    I lie in an enormous silk hammock, sandwiched between my lovers for the evening.

    Beneath me is Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s (not particularly comfortable) armoured chest, her thick arms wrapped around my shoulders.

    On top of me (and offset so that most of his weight is transferred through her abdomen) is her fluffy femboy husband.

    ¡°So¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­that was absolutely phenomenal for me!¡­ How was it for you two? Any regrets?¡±

    ¡°No regrets at all. It was like a dream come true¡­¡± answers Khr¡¯kowan from just over my head.

    ¡°Agreed¡­¡± sighs her husband from between my shoulderblades before adding ¡°¡­and I like this [aftercare] too!¡±

    ¡°Are we up for a repeat some time?¡± I ask, hopefully.

    Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s chest bounces beneath me as she chuckles ¡°If your other lovers can spare you, I¡¯d like that!¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡± appends Kurkhuw.

    ¡°Nice¡­¡± I beam ¡°¡­I¡¯m glad! I really enjoyed this¡­ though¡­ I hope you guys won¡¯t be offended if I don¡¯t sleep here¡­ This is tender and all but much less comfortable than a mattress! Plus, it might raise a few awkward questions with your retinue if we have breakfast together tomorrow(!)¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ I don¡¯t think my people would be quite ready to accept this, if they knew(!)¡­ Hopefully attitudes will change in time¡­ for us as they did with your people¡­¡± answers Khr¡¯kowan.

    ¡°Mmm¡­ I hope so too.¡± I smile.

    We lie in silence for a little while.

    Then, I ask ¡°Out of curiosity, what¡¯s on the menu for you guys tomorrow morning?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ it¡¯s my turn to cook on the rota¡­¡± answers Kurkhuw, referring to the ¡®men¡¯s work¡¯ rota which includes all the cooking and cleaning and none of the names of any of the five women in the Dorm ¡°¡­I¡¯m cooking [phasmid giraffe] steak from the [machines]¡­¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Bit heavy for a breakfast, in my view, but I don¡¯t know what I was expecting for a species of obligate carnivores(!) The carbs would probably make you guys ill if you had what I¡¯m going to have(!)¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Khr¡¯kowan asks, idly.

    ¡°A biiiiig old stack of pancakes!¡± I answer.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.174

    ---Pirates---

    ---Lufdorg¡¯s perspective---

    I sit in the Captain¡¯s chair on the bridge of the last remaining ship that I know to still be loyal to me.

    Not even a [year] ago, I was a king!

    I ruled a fleet of hundreds of ships!

    Thousands of pirates followed my command!

    We had our run of Jukt Space!

    That was¡­ until the demon ship arrived!

    That cursed Terran dreadnought showed up and its Captain let us know that they¡¯d brokered an amnesty with the Jukt government¡­ our choice was to renounce our piracy and accept ¡®societal rehabilitation¡¯ or face the deathworlders¡¯ wrath.

    It didn¡¯t take many of my ships trying their luck with the latter before the overwhelming majority of those remaining opted for surrender¡­

    I was left with only seven ships when all was said and done.

    So weakened, we had no choice but to disband our company and disperse to parts of space it¡¯s easier to keep a lower profile in.

    Who knows how many of the other six have been brought in and how many would still answer the call if I gave it!

    Damn those Terrans to the 144 HELLS!!!

    I thought I¡¯d seen the last of them when I deserted the navy, [3 decades] ago!

    A quarter of a lifetime building up my piratical enterprise in my home territory and, in a matter of weeks, those apes show up to ruin my life again!

    But¡­ we Jukt are nothing if not resilient¡­

    We¡¯ve just got to build back our strength, even if it takes another [century], and, this time, do it in a way that won¡¯t bring the forces of the Hells down on us!

    Step 1; find some prey¡­

    Prey like the ship I¡¯m looking at now¡­

    Hanging in space, caught in the interdiction field we set [2 months] ago.

    It looks like a juicy prize!

    More than lucrative enough to make all that time waiting worth it!

    I lift my knuckles from the ground and extend a bulky left arm to my [Coms Officer], mate and (formerly) pirate queen.

    ¡°Hail them, Kuthmagj¡­¡± I order, keeping my voice level and disguising the glee I¡¯m feeling at this boon.

    ¡°Hailing now, Sir.¡± she answers, collectedly, as her fists impact the durable Jukt console only lightly enough to input the commands.

    I spend a few moments preparing for the onslaught of weeping and pleading that will surely come when the hail is answered.

    I smirk as I imagine the relief that will come when I let them know all that we¡¯re interested in is their valuables!

    So long as they comply, we¡¯ll leave them food and fuel enough to get back to civilisation and claim a loss on their insurance.

    After all, every crewman and crewwoman that we need to slaughter is one who can¡¯t sail on future missions.

    Every ship whose crew starve to death out in the void is one that won¡¯t be raided again!

    It doesn¡¯t make financial sense to slaughter wantonly!

    Even selling ships isn¡¯t as lucrative as leaving them be, to go home, recover their losses and remain potential targets for the future¡­ given the shitty prices you get when all your buyers know you¡¯re a pirate, that is!

    Early on in my time in this line of work, I learned that everything goes much smoother when we make sure they know that we don¡¯t want to hurt them¡­ but we¡¯re more than prepared to!

    The call is answered and I¡¯m greeted by the mutilated avian face of a R¡¯qali with two bionic eyes on the left side of her head.

    She doesn¡¯t look as panicked and fearful as I would have liked.

    ¡°Greeti-¡± I start but she cuts me off.

    ¡°Sir, I must warn you that you have chosen rather an inopportune target for your piratical venture.¡± she speaks with remarkable sangfroid, given the circumstances.

    I give a deep, humourless laugh and ask ¡°*Huhuhuh*¡­And what makes you say that, may I ask, Ma¡¯am?¡±

    ¡°We are carrying very little of any readily traded upon value¡­ but what we are carrying is nearly 100 deathworlders¡­ well over a hundred when including their domestic animals who (with but one piscivorous exception) all lean quite heavily to the carnivorous in their diet¡­ I think you and your subordinates will have a bad time if you attempt to board us!¡±

    Laughing genuinely this time, I answer ¡°*HAHAHAHAHAHA*¡­ That¡¯s a bold bluff, R¡¯qali!¡­ You really expect us to believe you¡¯re carrying so many Terrans? So far from their sector of the galaxy? What makes you think¡­!?¡±

    ¡°You can believe what you wish, Sir¡­¡± answers the woman, with her species¡¯ typical haughty arrogance ¡°¡­I just wish to give you some idea of who you will be dealing with if you don¡¯t unspike us and allow us to go on our way. How you choose to act on that information is up to you¡­ Just don¡¯t complain that you weren¡¯t warned!¡±

    My mirth is replaced by anger at the woman¡¯s steadfast commitment to this pathetic little pretence of hers.

    ¡°Well then, allow me to return the favour by giving you some idea of who you¡¯re dealing with, birdbrain!¡­ I am the once and future pirate king, Lufdorg Thvornifex!¡­ I will not be disrespected¡­ I am not a weakling, I am not a coward and I am NOT a FOOL!!!¡±

    I slam my fist into the floor in front of my chair to emphasise the point.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    It meets the ground with a powerful *BOOM*!

    I then point the forefinger of that (now slightly aching) hand at the woman and continue ¡°Now, aboard this ship are 23 Class 7s, 145 Class 8s and 1¡­¡± I pause for effect ¡°¡­Class 9!¡­ And, unlike your hundred Terrans, my crew actually exist(!)¡±

    The woman does not respond, simply raising a browtuft over her prosthetics, so I continue.

    ¡°Now, let me tell you what¡¯s going to happen; In [45mins], we are going to board your vessel, preferably by one of the docking ports but we¡¯re equally willing to come via the proboscis if you aren¡¯t willing to be accommodating! You are going to use the interim to gather up everything on that ship that might have even the tiniest value and have it ready to transfer to us! We are then going to search the rest of the ship for anything you¡¯ve tried to hide!¡­ If no one does anything stupid, like try to fight us, hide things from us or in any other way try to even slightly inconvenience us, I might be willing to permit you to leave with all your heads intact and attached, though, I have to say, your phantom Terrans have put me in such a foul mood that I think you¡¯ll need to be a little extra accommodating to make up for it!¡­ Stupid lie, really!¡± I pull my tail from behind myself and hold it in my fist, waggling it at her ¡°If you¡¯d ever even been in the same room as a Terran, I¡¯d eat my tai-¡±

    ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late, Cap!¡± interrupts a voice from the R¡¯qali¡¯s side of the call ¡°Had to get here from the gym...¡±

    The infuriating woman smirks at me briefly before addressing the speaker ¡°Actually Victor, I believe you¡¯re right on time(!) Would you take over the call with ¡®once and future pirate king¡¯ Thvornifex for me? He seems to have a little trouble understanding our situation aboard(!)¡±

    The R¡¯qali dismounts her perch which retracts into the floor as a seat, with arms and a back, rises in its place.

    Appearing from the left side of the shot is a midriff and the bottom of a pair of pale skinned, sweaty, muscular arms that end in pentadactyl hands and turn my insides cold!

    The bare armed man sits, revealing a sweaty face, a sweaty pair of broad shoulders, a head of long, coppery hair and a burning pair of bright green, forward facing eyes¡­

    ¡°I-¡± I start, not sure how I¡¯m going to continue.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fuckin¡¯ speak, just fuckin¡¯ listen!¡± he says, silencing me ¡°My name is Chief Security Specialist Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor and I¡¯m head of security aboard this ship¡­ Now, any other day, I¡¯d just extract a promise that you ain¡¯t gonna kill anyone and you ain¡¯t gonna kidnap anyone and then I¡¯d be negotiating the transfer of all the ship''s valuables to you¡­ piracy is just a business, afterall¡­ A business that relies exclusively on ¡®servicin¡¯¡¯ those that don¡¯t wanna be ¡®serviced¡¯ but a business nonetheless¡­ Ain¡¯t no amounta financial loss that¡¯s worth riskin¡¯ bloodshed over¡­ But today is not ¡®any other day¡¯¡­ Today is today and, due to circumstances I¡¯m unable to relay to you, I can¡¯t trust you to come aboard this ship right now¡­ Full stop¡­ Nonnegotiable!¡­ Now, you might be thinkin¡¯ ¡®Oh! They got a Terran and he looks a bit scary¡­ but they¡¯ve just got the one! We can take him if we overwhelm him with numbers!¡¯ right now but, I promise you; I ain¡¯t the only Terran on board! I ain¡¯t the scariest person on board! We have numbers too and you ain¡¯t gonna overwhelm us!¡­ This is your one and only warnin¡¯¡­ let us go or I can¡¯t guarantee your safety! Bright Plume out!¡±

    With that, the coldly furious Terran cuts the call, leaving me in stunned silence.

    ¡°¡­Sir?¡± asks my mate''s voice.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, Kuthmagj?¡± I say, dazed.

    ¡°Your orders, Sir?¡± she repeats.

    ---Woyket¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°And¡­ then what happened, Mr Thvornifex?¡± I ask the enormous Jukt sitting opposite me, the wrists of his long, thick, blue skinned arms, fetlocks of his short, thin, clawed, digitigrade legs and end of his sturdy tail all chained to the floor, his entire body trembling as his two teal eyes dart back and forth over his round snout, flanked by two tusks with squashy stoppers on their points.

    ¡°I-I-I-I g-gave the order to b-b-board them¡­¡± he shivers.

    ¡°And, I take it from where you¡¯re sitting, that didn¡¯t go well?¡± I ask with a querying splay of my right hand¡¯s fingertrotters.

    ¡°It d-d-didn¡¯t¡­ th-they¡­ had T-T-Terrans¡­ lllless than they said b-but mmmore than I th-thought!¡±

    ¡°I can see it was quite traumatic for you¡­¡±

    ¡°B-but¡­!¡± the massive Class 8 man suddenly fixes me with a desperate and very unnerving stare ¡°¡­that wasn¡¯t all! Th-they had five arthropods¡­ b-b-black and r-red ex-xoskeletons! Th-they were ssso strong!¡±

    ¡°Ah, there were Vk¡¯unhz aboard, yes.¡± I oink in confirmation, thinking about the one I saw coming off that ship when the pirates were handed over.

    ¡°Nnnnnno! Not V-V-Vk¡¯unhz! I knnnnow them! G-got one on mmmy ssship! Vk¡¯unhz are m-m-m-maxillip-p-pedal!¡­ Th-these were arachn-n-noid¡­ and m-m-much s-s-stronger!¡± he stammers in objection.

    I smile and reassure him ¡°The Vk¡¯unhz actually have a few different species from their cradle that they¡¯ve bred as hosts¡­ these must just be another variant¡­¡±

    He doesn¡¯t seem to be listening as he continues ¡°Th-then there w-w-were the green ch-children! S-so many!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± I ask, raising an eyebrow quizzically ¡°Green children?¡±

    ¡°Mmm! MMM!!!¡± he confirms, manically.

    I don¡¯t recognise that description as matching any of those I saw.

    ¡°Would you describe them for me, Mr Thvornifex?¡± I ask, pulling my holo towards me and opening the species identifier app.

    ¡°S-s-small¡­ green¡­ t-tetrapods¡­ tails¡­ h-humanoid¡­ b-b-bipedal¡­ digitigrade¡­ fast!¡±

    ¡°Green fur or skin?¡± I clarify.

    ¡°B-both¡­ ffffur only on th-their hhhheads and the t-tips of their t-t-tails¡­¡±

    ¡°How small exactly?¡±

    ¡°[M-metre]¡­ less¡­¡±

    Five species come up that match what he described but¡­ the highest Class among them is a 6! Seems unlikely that they¡¯d pose any credible threat to a Jukt!

    Just to be sure, I flip the selection to the table top between us and ask ¡°One of these?¡±

    He glances at them briefly before, adamantly, answering ¡°N-no! N-n-n-none of them!¡±

    Hmmm¡­

    ---later---

    ¡°Yes, I understand your position, Officer¡­ unfortunately, I¡¯m simply not able to comply¡­¡± the purple eyed Terran woman standing between me and her ship¡¯s cargo bay smiles down at me, apologetically ¡°¡­There is a reason that diplomatic immunity exists and, I¡¯m afraid, what your asking for is beyond my prerogative to give you.¡±

    ¡°Even anonymised?¡± I oink in query ¡°Just a list of all the species aboard? No names?¡±

    She waggles her head from side to side, causing that silver streak in her hair to fall, artfully, across her face.

    ¡°Even just that much is too much, I¡¯m afraid Ma¡¯am¡­ *pfff*¡± she answers, blasting away the offending strand by aiming a precise jet of air from her mouth to remove it from her vision.

    I¡¯m sure that was nothing at all impressive, as far as she was concerned!

    I give a resigned snort, scrunching my rostral plate as I respond ¡°Alright then, Ma¡¯am¡­ Apologies for delaying your departure¡­ and thank you for taking the former pirate king¡¯s ship out of commission!¡±

    ¡°You are quite welcome, Officer Woyket¡­¡± she smiles with ease ¡°¡­thank you for taking them off our hands¡­ I assume the Jukt authorities will be on the way to collect them?¡­ Do you know if they¡¯ll have the option to join the amnesty programme?¡±

    ¡°Yes to the former. I don¡¯t know about the latter¡­ I think that deal was only open to¡­ the¡­¡± I trail off, distracted by a patch of green forehead and the tip of a pointy ear that I¡¯m able to see bobbing along behind a line of [80cm] tall crates behind her.

    The Terran follows my gaze and her entire body goes stiff as she immediately throws herself between me and what I¡¯m now completely unable to look far enough around her to see anymore.

    Smiling and speaking rapidly as she begins walking towards me (not actually putting hands on me but insistently enough that I start to reflexively back away down the clear polymer ramp) she says ¡°Oh,well!Ishouldn¡¯tkeepyou!I¡¯msureyou¡¯vegotlotsofadministrationtotakecareofandI¡¯dhatetobeahassle!Thanksagainforallyourhelp,Officer!It¡¯s¡­¡±

    She continues that way as I mostly turn my body to start walking away so I don¡¯t fall backwards and tumble all the way down, not leaving me any space to interject.

    Before I know it, my feet are back on the soil of my planet and the ramp is rising with the Terran woman still on it, running back aboard.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.175

    ---Intelligence---

    ---Leon¡¯s perspective---

    I look into the face of a late 30s Daniel Craig, staring back at me from the mirror, and adjust my bowtie before turning to the young, redheaded Scarlett Johansson in a formfitting jumpsuit next to me and giving her a smirk.

    ¡°Yes, yes¡­ very dashing(!)¡± mocks Ziva with an eyeroll and an American accent.

    ¡°You say; with the lips of one of the most attractive Terrans ever born¡­¡± I answer, dryly, my British accent right now making me sound a lot wittier than normal.

    She tilts her head to look up at me (needing to angle it way more than she ever does in reality to compensate for the 7 inches I¡¯ve got on her in here, instead of the only 3 I¡¯ve got outside of VR) and says ¡°Something you don¡¯t seem to understand, Leon, is that attractive people immediately become a lot less attractive when they preen!¡±

    ¡°Forgive me for enjoying a rare moment of actual glamour when the real life Craft has so few¡­(!)¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ not usually like the movies, is it¡­!¡±

    We walk down the stylish, mid 20<sup>th</sup> Century hallway and come out into a semicrowded bar.

    With just one exception, none of the ¡®people¡¯ here are real.

    This is a secure chatroom, so the majority of the patrons dressed in period clothing with their faces all weird superstimuli of both Sapiens and whatever ethnicity they respectively represent (not yet having had the benefit of 6 centuries of their ancestors having the liberty to travel, live, work, and marry wherever and whoever they want (especially not resurrectees)) are NPCs.

    I catch sight of the man we¡¯re here to meet and me and Ziva cross the bar to make our way over to him.

    I guess¡­ I don¡¯t actually know he¡¯s a man¡­

    Never met our handler in real life so he could be a woman or an enby¡­

    Right now, he¡¯s wearing the face of a man so I¡¯m just gonna keep thinking and saying ¡®he/him¡¯.

    I sit at the table, across from the (for his era) very tall elder statesman.

    Brown eyes fixed on us and sparkling, our handler snaps his fingers over his right shoulder, causing a glamorous waitress to appear, wearing a cheongsam and with a hyper East Asian face.

    In a crisp, early 20<sup>th</sup> Century RP, his voice deeper than Marc¡¯s (the deepest voiced Human I¡¯ve ever met in the flesh) and almost as low as Bj?rn¡¯s, he instructs ¡°A Vesper martini, shaken not stirred, for the gentleman and, for the lady, a black widow I believe. I shall take a glass of Aalborg Taffel akvavit for myself¡­ chilled but neat.¡±

    ¡°Very good, Sir, right away.¡± she defers, bowing a little before backing away to prepare the order.

    Smiling with the mouth of a Christopher Lee in his 80s, our tuxedoed host says ¡°Well¡­ Agent Byrne and Agent Pereira¡­ It will be satisfying to remove the ¡®MIA¡¯ markers currently attached to both of your files(!)¡±

    ¡°*Ha*¡­ Yes¡­ a lot has happened, Sir.¡± I smile, crookedly, the face I¡¯m wearing and the voice I¡¯m speaking with making the line sound way cooler than it would IRL.

    ¡°Which surely means a lot to report¡­ doesn¡¯t it?¡± he smirks back.

    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± answers my jumpsuited partner, whose early 21<sup>st</sup> Century, mildly scifi attire looks kind of anachronistic in this Cold War era setting ¡°The first piece of intelligence we have to report is that Jackson ¡®Scout¡¯ Stetter is dead¡­¡±

    The old man blinks a few times before asking ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Agent¡­ would you mind repeating that? I believe I must have misheard you¡­¡±

    ¡°Wanted terrorist assassin, Jackson ¡®Scout¡¯ Stetter, tracked us and took our ship out of commission in a fight that saw both him and (temporarily) us stranded on the new planet. He survived his crash but was later apprehended and neutralized.¡± she expands.

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­ and, from the use of the passive voice there, I take it this neutralisation was not your handiwork, was it?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t, no. That was the work of the current Empress of one of the new species in a trial by combat she fought against him.¡±

    Our handler¡¯s eyebrows rise slightly but he stays composed as he clarifies ¡°¡®One of the new species¡¯?¡­ I had inferred that you had likely made contact with some entity but¡­ you¡¯re telling me there was more than one?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir¡­¡± I jump in ¡°¡­the planet AG10790263b, newly christened ¡®Graom-Wakhkort¡¯, is host to two, extremely distinct, species.¡±

    ¡°Well!¡­ That¡¯s quite the revelation!¡­ That¡¯s quite a few revelations in fact!¡± states our host as the cheongsamed waitress returns with our drinks, placing a squared glass of sugared, blackberry vodka-soda in front of Ms Romanoff, a martini glass of cloudy, mixed spirits with a sheen of ice on it and garnished with a spiral of lemon peel in front of me and an ice free, narrow rimmed, tiny wineglass of clear, very slightly yellow tinted spirit in front of the real life inspiration for the character Daniel Craig was most notable for playing, before shuffling backwards away from the table.

    She prepared our drinks way faster than realistic¡­ A perk of full dive VR; waiting times can be a lot lower than in real life!

    Closing a wizened hand around his glass, our handler raises it across the table to us.

    ¡°Cheers.¡± he smiles.

    ¡°Cheers.¡±

    ¡°Cheers.¡± answer me and Ziva in quick succession, raising the drinks he ordered us to *clink* against his.

    I take a sip of the ice cold cocktail.

    There¡¯s not much flavor to it.

    Tiny bit of sweetness. Lemon. Quinine. Notes of orange.

    I can¡¯t really taste the gin.

    I think it would benefit from a few drops of orange bitters to fill the utter void of flavor that is this drink.

    Bet I look stylish drinking it though!

    Placing down his akvavit, our host starts ¡°So, I suppose I should start by asking why exactly the Empress was giving Mr Stetter a trial by combat?¡±

    ¡°That was due to him having murdered her father, the previous Emperor, in cold blood¡­ He was initially given a jury trial but got frustrated by the deadlock induced by the juries¡¯ structure and opted for trial by combat instead¡­ I think he was joking when he suggested it¡­ mocking their court system.¡± I explain.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    His mouth twists in a light frown ¡°Not exactly an ideal start to our relations¡­ I assume this business didn¡¯t have a positive effect on this species¡¯ sentiments toward us?¡±

    ¡°There was a significant chilling effect brought on in the immediate aftermath¡­ but our assessment is that it was mostly thawed by the time we departed.¡± answers Ziva.

    ¡°That¡¯s encouraging¡­ and it¡¯s doubly encouraging that we can stand down the search for Mr Stetter¡­ That little embarrassment¡­ losing the man who assassinated our representative when he was nought but a stasised brain in a jar, cost the UTCS Spite and, by extension, the Navy at large a lot of the cachet they had earned by so swiftly resolving that piracy situation with the Jukt!¡­ Though, it is a little unnerving that there are apparently individuals among this species who are more than a match for one of the most dangerous beings alive¡­ I take it they¡¯re quite formidable?¡±

    ¡°¡®Formidable¡¯ doesn¡¯t exactly do them justice, Sir¡­ Would you like to see for yourself?¡± I suggest.

    ¡°Please, Agent¡­¡± he invites.

    I open my console in front of me and select two files to load in.

    All three of us look to the doorway as we hear the heavy, stabbing footfalls of eight powerful legs rumbling down the hallway.

    The Vrakhand NPC woman appears on the far side and has to bend her upper body forwards and scrunch in her legs by quite a lot to fit through.

    The other patrons don¡¯t react with horrified screams and shrieks of terror at the monstrous looking being who just entered the establishment and each of whose footfalls punches a several inch deep hole in the floorboards. Instead, the waitress who brought us our drinks just calmly organizes the customers in moving their tables aside to clear a path.

    On her heels follows a (way less striking looking) model of a male Vrakhand.

    They both sit on the floor at the table next to us.

    ¡°My word¡­ I can see what you mean¡­ I certainly wouldn¡¯t wish to meet one of these in a dark alley(!)¡± he says, his eyes fixed on the woman.

    ¡°They¡¯re called the Vrakhand. That¡¯s a female. That¡¯s a male. These are fairly prototypical examples. The Empress is much larger and stronger than most. They have a heavily martial culture. Conservative in nature. Strict sense of gender segregation. Their armor is thought to be moderately bullet resistant and known to be impressively resistant to plasmaweapons¡­¡± rattles off Ziva.

    ¡°Plasmaweapons were used on one of them?!¡± he asks, head whipping to her, alarmed.

    I shake my head and explain ¡°Not one of them¡­ One of what we infer to be their closest extant cousin species¡­ much more formidable but firmly nonsapient.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief¡­ but¡­¡± he leans forward, speaking conspiratorially despite us being the only people who actually exist in this digital world ¡°¡­what about the million credit question?¡±

    ¡°As the situation stands¡­¡± starts Ziva in the turn of the millennium DanoAmerican woman¡¯s voice ¡°¡­neither these guys nor the other species would make any significant difference in the event of a Second War, no matter which side they joined¡­ Their low tech level aside, they just don¡¯t have the numbers!¡­ Sure, they¡¯re individually formidable but they only number in the high tens of thousands and the other species are only in the single digit millions¡­ a drop in the ocean on the scale of galactic warfare¡­ Give them both another 500 years to colonize and multiply and they might become relevant but, I don¡¯t know about you two, I don¡¯t plan to be in this line of work that long(!) I¡¯d say that¡¯s a problem for our successors(!)¡±

    ¡°Yet another relief¡­¡± he exhales ¡°¡­as nice as the thought of gaining a staunch, powerful ally is, the thought of the gardenworlders panicking and attacking them (forcing us to rapidly deploy to the far end of the galaxy to defend them or allow them to be wiped out) is not! If they¡¯re currently so insignificant, it will be much easier to temper the blowback to their revelation. And, of course, it isn¡¯t the nightmare scenario of them being a force comparable to the UTC (and hostile thereto) with the galaxy being caught in the crossfire¡­ but that was already a rather outside possibility¡­ I suppose you should show me this other species as well though?¡±

    ¡°Actually, Sir, there¡¯s one more notable thing about these guys that I want to bring to your attention first.¡± says Ziva.

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ You see all those red places? Teeth? Toothplates? Fangs? Claws? Feet? Leg spines? Those are made of a substance known in English as ¡®thanatite¡¯ and it has some¡­ interesting material properties.¡±

    ¡°What kind of properties?¡± queries the deep voiced man.

    ¡°It¡¯s not quite as tough as durasteel but it¡¯s close. It¡¯s lightweight, it¡¯s biological and it might have the same plasma resistance as the rest of their armour.¡± I explain in my British accent, taking a sip of my martini before continuing ¡°It could be the basis for a whole new style of battle armour¡­ if certain cultural and ethical issues can be navigated tactfully.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s highly prized by them and by the other species, the Twigg, but it doesn¡¯t naturally shed, so, the only ways to get it are by dismembering their dead or by dismembering their living¡­ As a consequence, it holds a¡­ I think the best word would be, ¡®venerated¡¯ position in their culture. Growing suits of the stuff shouldn¡¯t be a challenge, it¡¯s just not clear how the Vrakhand would react to that kind of appropriation. It might alienate them, especially if it came to light that we¡¯d done it covertly without clearing it first.¡± elaborates Ziva.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ I see. A thorny issue indeed¡­ If it were so much better on balance, it would near instantly put every durasteel foundry worker in Terran Space out of business¡­ might also be perceived as provocative by the rest of the GU¡­ This will require some careful consideration¡­¡± muses our host ¡°¡­but that¡¯s something I¡¯ll probably need to bring the politicians and diplomats in on, not the UTCIS¡¯s decision to make¡­ For now, please show me this second species¡­¡±

    Wordlessly, I reopen my console and load in two more files.

    Appearing at the door come a male and female Twigg, padding down the wide channel through the tables to join the Vrakhand.

    Quizzically, the brown eyed man asks ¡°You¡¯re¡­ certain these two species are from the same cradleworld?¡±

    Ziva grins with her borrowed face and says ¡°Like Agent Byrne said, they¡¯re very distinct but none of the data suggests xenogenesis for either of them¡­ They are related, however distantly(!)¡±

    ¡°I see¡­ the ¡®Twigg¡¯ you said they were called?¡± he confirms.

    ¡°Yes, Sir¡­ Male. Female. Prototypical examples. Easy going nature, generally. Classless. Egalitarian. Propertyless. Communitarian. No gender segregation. Staunch practitioners of free love(!)¡± she smirks.

    ¡°Night and day¡­ comparing the two!¡± opines the graybeard ¡°Are they anything like as fearsome as this Empress apparently is?¡±

    Ziva and I both hesitate over that question.

    I¡¯m the first to articulate ¡°They¡¯ve¡­ got quite a different skillset¡­ but they¡¯re not to be taken lightly, whatever their size might make you believe.¡±

    ¡°Show me.¡± he invites, fixing his deep brown eyes on me.

    ¡°Alright, Sir¡­ Hey, excuse me¡­?¡± I call the male Twigg NPC.

    He gets down from the high stool he was sat on and plods over.

    ¡°Yes?¡± he asks, staring blankly at me.

    ¡°See that wall over there? I want you to run to it and back here as fast as you can!¡±

    ¡°OK.¡± he agrees, unquestioningly, getting down on all fours.

    He streaks across the bar, rebounds off the far wall with all four of his limbs meeting it and springs to run back, skidding to a stop at the precise point he left from, all inside of a few seconds.

    ¡°Now, I want you to jump as high as you can into the air.¡±

    From a standing start, he jumps easily high enough to put his toes 6ft off the ground.

    ¡°Now do that with a triple backflip.¡±

    He does so, easily.

    ¡°Now¡­ Err, Ziva, could I borrow a kni-¡±

    She instantly produces a long, deadly sharp blade out of nowhere and places it into my hand

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    I turn back to the little green skinned man and hand him the knife.

    ¡°I want you to throw this up in the air so that it does 15 ? revolutions over its end and catch it on the back of your hand without getting cut, cutting anyone else or dropping it.¡±

    He immediately flicks the blade upwards, spinning way more rapidly than it would need to if he were making use of all the space above him instead of only half of it.

    It comes down as he sticks his hand into its path, accommodating for it¡¯s momentum to prevent it bouncing off him.

    Wobbling slightly but perfectly balanced across his knuckles is the blade he just threw.

    ¡°Thank you, Sir. That¡¯s everything.¡± I say as I take the knife and hand it back to Ziva, seeing the shock in our hosts eyes as I look at him.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t programme that? Those are natural abilities?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir¡­ Natural abilities. These guys just became the fastest, most dextrous, most kinaesthetic and most agile species in the galaxy¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­not to mention having working and procedural memories much better on average than any Human lineage, even Neanderthals.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ that¡¯s¡­ quite something!¡­ You have included these files in the data parcel you¡¯re leaving, haven¡¯t you?¡± he asks, gesturing over the table of NPCs.

    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± answer me and Ziva in unison.

    ¡°Good¡­ I think further testing is required.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ err¡­ Sir?¡± smirks Ziva ¡°Before I forget, a word of warning: unless you are abnormally interested in screeding techniques¡­ I¡¯d skip the building section¡­ Gamoiwoth may be an expert architect but an engaging writer he is not(!) The Vrakhand live in silk tents, the Twigg live in small earthworks¡­ There! I just saved you several hours¡­¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the warning, Agent¡­ Perhaps I can skim that part(!)¡± he chuckles ¡°Now¡­ tell me, you two¡­ we¡¯ve only made preparations for one department to be allocated to this new species. Knowing there are two species, what would you recommend? A second allocation for this second species, splitting the existing department into Vrakhand and Twigg teams that still closely coordinate or forging ahead as planned with one department in charge of both species?

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.176

    ---Bastion---

    ---Gordon¡¯s perspective---

    Jessica leans forward, closing her large, brown eyes (without visible sclerae) and bringing the pink skin of her rostral plate to the mic, around 135cm off the stage, in my cool, atmospherically lowlit club.

    She herself is a little under 1.5m with a porcine face, wearing an obedience collar around her neck and a revealing harem-girl outfit that does quite a nice job of highlighting the curves she still has.

    ¡®Jessica¡¯ isn¡¯t the name her parents gave her, of course. It¡¯s what I named her after I bought her.

    Even if it weren¡¯t important to strip them of as much of their past life as you can, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to pronounce the name she had in the language that sounds like pig squeals and Korean thrown into a blender(!)

    Breathily and with a heavy accent, she sings

    pp?Oh, biorenze doez corr me, I¡¯be anzwered bepore

    I¡¯be made many enmiez, I¡¯be zettord my zcorez

    But I did gror weary and I zettord down

    And proudry bore de weight ob my crown?pp

    My club¡¯s patrons listen raptly to the song that one of them requested.

    I can easily see how it could raise hackles to allow a slave to sing a song with such strong themes of rebellion¡­ but¡­ I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s worried(!)

    Certainly, all the slaves currently in my employ understand how ill advised it would be for them to resist their rightful lot!¡­ Those that don¡¯t either quickly learn to¡­ or don¡¯t remain long.

    This song is for us¡­ Jessica¡¯s just singing it¡­

    I have to say¡­ she was a good purchase!

    I almost didn¡¯t buy her because I found the (admittedly cute) piggy face and her initial obesity to be so offputting.

    If it hadn¡¯t been for the fact that I had a vacancy for a singer and she was a minor starlet (waiting for her big break among her species in her past life) I wouldn¡¯t have bothered.

    But, with all the weight she lost (while being broken in and since I picked her up) she¡¯s actually become a lot more attractive¡­

    I frown slightly and open my holo.

    I see that no one¡¯s yet booked her for after her shift today.

    My finger hesitantly hovers over the screen before tapping to delete that slot¡­ my heart palpitating with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment as I do.

    Of course, I have nothing to be embarrassed about¡­ She¡¯s mine, I can do what I want with her!

    So what if she¡¯s a pig!?

    What I really want to add to my collection, though, is one of the local women¡­

    God! Those eyes! Those ears! Those arms! Those slender frames and almost Human faces!

    Unfortunately, we still need to stay in their good graces, for the moment¡­ Which means we can only take the ones they sell us and the only ones they¡¯re willing to sell us are life sentenced criminals and people they otherwise just want permanently disappeared¡­ a demographic that skews overwhelmingly male!

    Competition for those rare females that arrive at the emporium always ends up far too rich for my blood!

    Not that I couldn¡¯t afford it (I am arguably the second most powerful and probably the second richest man in Bastion, afterall) just that I can¡¯t really justify such an expense to myself!

    One day, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll get my hands on one¡­ When I do though, I want her all to myself!

    She¡¯s not working the club!

    She¡¯s never leaving my penthouse!

    Maybe if Cyrus ever gets bored of any of his, I can convince him to give her to me at a discount?

    ff?Iz diz what you want!? Corruption and power!?

    Werr I won¡¯t ztand por it, DIZ iz my hour!

    Take ON deze beaztz, I¡¯m now priend to none!

    Ip you tink you¡¯re a hero, den. DIE. rike. one!?ff

    belts out Jessica with all her heart, making me happier with the decision to delete her booking slot.

    Once she gets rid of that tiresome accent, I think she¡¯ll be a real money maker!

    She is very cute, afterall¡­ in spite of the pigface.

    It¡¯s at this point that I see Judith, one of my waitresses (tall, slim, breasty, lilac skinned, grey haired, pink eyed, with cow hooves, cow ears and the ground down nubs of horns on her head) making her way across the bar to wear I sit.

    She isn¡¯t running (she knows better than that) but she is hurrying.

    ¡°Apologies for interrupting your relaxation, Duke Chandler¡­¡± she states, her eyes cast to the floor in front of me, appropriately submissive ¡°¡­but a message just arrived from the palace for you. The King has called Council and he requires your presence.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I sigh ¡°¡­and just when I was starting to enjoy myself!¡± gesturing to the stage.

    I rise from my seat and tip back the remainder of my drink before placing down the glass and swaggering confidently to Judith¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Send Jessica upstairs when her shift¡¯s over¡­¡± I instruct ¡°¡­She¡¯s entertaining me later.¡±

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see that it¡¯s done, Master.¡± she answers, simply.

    I give her insubstantial buttocks a light smack as she bends down to clear the glass.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Judith(!)¡­ You¡¯re still my favourite(!)¡± I smirk as I walk away from her, making my way to the exit.

    I stop as I get to the door and turn back to the stage.

    I decide to just stay for the last minute of the song.

    fff?I GADDERED my houndz and made dem DEBOUR

    De ARRIEZ I once knew; zweet priendshipz now zour

    And ret egzprorzionz rain prom on high

    And gradry bid my pinar goodbye!?fff

    she continues as I stand, genuinely moved by her crescendoing performance of one of my favourite songs.

    I¡¯m glad I included it among the ones I made her learn!

    She concludes¡­

    No one claps¡­

    We have a strict policy against thanking, congratulating or applauding slaves at this bar¡­ They have to know their place, afterall¡­

    Regardless, from the impressed murmuring that fills the room, I think it¡¯s safe to say the performance was enjoyed(!)

    I spare myself one last glance at her curvaceous, exposed pink thighs, either side of her badlah bottoms, before I smirk and walk through the door to the underground foyer.

    Stepping through, I catch the eyes of my 2m tall (about 4cm taller than me) Mongolian bouncer, Chuluunbaatar (which I can¡¯t pronounce), and say ¡°Yo!¡­ Chul! I¡¯ve got to step out for a bit. It¡¯s just the girls in there at the moment¡­ Watch the bar and make sure no one tries to take advantage of the lack of oversight to rip me off!¡±

    He gives a nod and a grunt and leaves his post by the door to walk past me.

    Not exactly polite but I didn¡¯t hire him for his conversational skills(!)

    I climb up the steps to my skyscraper¡¯s ground level (yes, it¡¯s only a skyscraper, we don¡¯t have the resources to make skypiercers here!)

    I go to the doors and brace myself¡­ then open them¡­ being hit in the face by a positive wall of heat!

    I squint to give my eyes time to adjust to the permanent bright sun of this region before striding forward, into Bastion¡¯s Akropolis District, perched on the rebound peak in the centre of an enormous, ancient, meteor impact crater.

    The lower districts, built down on the melt layer all around here, are mainly home to the lazarites¡­ my lazarites¡­ 12 million Humans who only exist because. of. me!

    It¡¯s a little hard not to be a bit jealous of those who live in the districts built in the shade of the crater rim, right now¡­ On cool days, when the wind blows from the West, they don¡¯t even need their climate control on inside!

    Cyrus was right though¡­ There was no where to build the Akropolis but up here, where we can see and be seen by the entire city!

    Some covered, climate controlled walkways might be nice though¡­ Maybe I¡¯ll suggest that at some point?

    Probably not today, though¡­ sounds like something urgent has come up!

    As I traverse this city¡¯s most affluent neighbourhood, the many slaves and few people I see braving this heat all cut me a wide berth, recognising me as the King¡¯s right hand man¡­ that¡­ or recognising me as a rich Human with a plasmarapier sheathed at my waist and somewhere to be(!)

    Not that I¡¯d actually cut a slave in half for failing to get sufficiently out of my way (dealing with the property damage claim from their owner would be far too troublesome) but I can let them keep thinking I might(!)

    It is mildly ironic that, due to the relative affluence of the people granted the right to live in the Akropolis, it is also where you¡¯ll be most likely in the whole city to see subHumans!

    Upwards of 90% of its denizens own at least one¡­ down in the lower city, that¡¯s more like 5%.

    Then, of course, there are your high rollers, such as myself, with counts in the hundreds!

    Not all of them work at my club, obviously!¡­ I¡¯ve got them performing a variety of roles around my building¡­

    I finally make it to the bottom of a wide, tall, white stone flight of stairs up to the white stone palace, perched at Bastion¡¯s zenith, mostly empty but for the pairs of guards, standing at it¡¯s sides at 30m intervals.

    No other building in town is allowed to be built higher than that palace¡¯s base, leading to an amusingly shear cutoff, along the shady side of the crater rim, where they¡¯d like to build higher up, but can¡¯t(!)

    I sigh and brace myself for the climb up the 120m long stairway in this oppressive heat.

    Ceremony is important¡­ the King has summoned me so I have to make it!

    I¡¯m in much better shape than I ever was before the War.

    Nevertheless, it¡¯s simply impossible not to get sweaty, wearing this much clothing and ascending this many stairs in this heat!

    I¡¯ll need to give my clothes to Josephine, to launder, and have a shower before joining Jessica in my bedroom, later.

    I make it to the top and push open the front door.

    I give a relieved exhale as I step back into the cool of a climate controlled indoors.

    I know that, with the quantity of sweat I worked up in just that 500m walk, I¡¯m likely to get chilly as evaporative cooling does it¡¯s work¡­ but I don¡¯t care right now¡­ I¡¯m just happy not to still be sweltering!

    I navigate through the cool, white palace, its floors all polished to a mirror sheen, to the Council Chamber, standing with its doors open as I approach it, allowing me to see my fellow Councillors sat around a long table, only a few seats still sitting empty.

    One is a large, high backed throne, at the far end, made from the same polished white stone as the floor but trimmed with gold.

    ¡°Announcing the arrival of Duke Gordon ¡®Frankenstein¡¯ Chandler, Head of Chandler BioTech!¡± shouts the herald-cum-guard standing to my left as I pass through the doorway.

    I greet the two dozen or so others who¡¯ve already made their way here as I pass them to take my seat, just to the left of the throne (its right).

    No sooner have I taken my seat than a blue hologram flickers into being in the seat directly opposite me.

    ¡°Announcing the arrival of Duchess Circe ¡®Mirage¡¯ Stoker, Mistress of Whispers!¡± shouts the man who announced me a moment ago.

    I look at the holograph of the woman, currently offworld, whose face has the look of a vampiric kewpie doll¡­ a long way down the uncanny valley.

    My handiwork, of course, and I did strongly advise her against it, but she insisted that that was what she wanted and the patient is always right in matters of taste!

    ¡°Good to see you, Circe.¡± I greet (careful to pronounce it as ¡®Sir say¡¯, not ¡®Sir see¡¯, ¡®Sear say¡¯, ¡®Sear see¡¯ and definitely not ¡®Sir key¡¯, ¡®Kirky¡¯ or ¡®Searse¡¯, as she gets quite tetchy about her name being mispronounced).

    Bearing her fanged, holographic teeth at me in a spine chilling smile she says ¡°Gordon¡­ it¡¯s been a while¡­¡± her voice a sultry half whisper, then pouting ¡°¡­you haven¡¯t missed your dear old Circe too deeply, have you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve managed to pull through somehow, ¡®dear¡¯(!)¡± I say with a wry eyebrow cock.

    ¡°Uh(!)¡­ You wound me(!)¡­ Did your mother never teach you to be delicate with a lady¡¯s heart(?)¡± she teases.

    ¡°She did¡­ but I¡¯m not sure such lessons apply to whatever you are(!)¡± I return.

    ¡°You¡¯re an utter brute, Duke Chandler(!)¡± she grins before looking around the table and asking ¡°Am I the last to arrive?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± I answer, shaking my head and thumbing the empty throne to my left ¡°¡­still waiting for the Big Cheese¡­ You know how he just loves his dramatic entrances(!) I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be along any¡­¡±

    *BANG* is the sound of the high doors to the royal apartments being thrown open.

    ¡°Announcing the arrival of His Royal Majesty, Cyrus, First of his name, King of Bastion and future Emperor of the Terrans!¡± shouts the herald, taking his cue.

    Into the room pads a snow white, red eyed smilodon fatalis, Artazostre, (another piece of my handiwork¡­ who just had to be albino(!))

    She makes to her master¡¯s throne and sits beside it, about 3m from me.

    Down the corridor she just came from, deep, booming footsteps thunder against the stone floor¡­

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.177

    ---King---

    ---Gordon¡¯s perspective---

    My magnum opus reveals himself¡­

    At 275cm, I could count on one hand the number of gigantism afflicted Humans who¡¯ve ever been taller¡­ and all of them died before they hit 35¡­ after living short lives of pain and frailty.

    At 338kg of muscle, bone and sinew¡­ ¡®frail¡¯ couldn¡¯t be a less fitting descriptor for this man!

    His sclerae and pupils both glow with an unearthly bioluminescence that very much conveys the idea of ¡®Godking¡¯ to any who see him.

    A thick, black beard and long, sleek, straight black hair both spill out from his skull which, while at the more ¡®heroic¡¯ proportion of 1:8.5 rather than the more normal 1:7, is still significantly larger than anyone else¡¯s, meaning I was able to expand his brain and, consequently, his intellect, much more than I was for the rest of us¡­ still giving him a cranium dense and thick enough to protect against a direct hit with a low calibre bullet!

    Atop his luxuriant beard sits a proud, aquiline hooked nose, which he insisted would make him look kingly and wouldn¡¯t look at all silly.

    His internals (mainly heart and lungs) all had to be significantly increased in both size and efficiency to account for the extra strain that servicing such an enormous body places on them.

    If I could have figured out a way to further fortify the extremities of his circulatory system without impeding their permeability, I probably could have got him another half a metre or so taller!

    My old professor could definitely have done it but¡­ something tells me the smug little French hermaphrodite wouldn¡¯t have gone for such a project¡­ even absent the wider context of everything Bastion stands for(!)

    From his neck down, he wears a thick, regal looking set of enamelled, durasteel plate armour, trimmed with golden accents.

    From his shoulders flows a cape, in the same stark white and gold.

    Atop his head perches a crown with tall, angular palisades, embossed with geometric lines of gold and with a 6cm wide, table cut diamond of flawless clarity, sitting over his bushy black eyebrows.

    In his right hand he holds the handle of a 20kg plasmasword with a 2m long, durasteel blade (the only part of his ensemble where the durasteel isn¡¯t covered with a glossy white layer of enamel.)

    The *boom*s of (probably getting on for) 400kg of man and durasteel meeting the floor, with each of his footfalls, utterly fill the room with reverberation.

    Looking at my greatest achievement, it¡¯s difficult to picture the man he was when I first met him; the 175cm tall, 70kg lean little New Coloradoan Colonel, Cyrus ¡®Hannibal¡¯ Postlethwaite, who¡¯d been put in charge of organising the Terran Werewolf Programme. Stay-behind divisions, meant to cause chaos behind enemy lines after they¡¯d been passed over.

    That programme ended up sidelined long before the end of the War, after it became clear that there wasn¡¯t going to be a significant expansion in our occupation.

    When he realised the flaccid half-victory the Terran governments were going to settle for, this man used the authority he still had to take the Werewolf Programme and turn it into the Revanchists.

    After the Betrayal, it took years for me to transform that scrawny Colonel into a Godking¡­ but it was so worth it!

    The clear awe he inspires in any lazarites seeing him up close for the first time is priceless!

    He looks like a man to whom the title ¡®Emperor of the Terrans¡¯ belongs!

    When we found our way here, we negotiated with the local clan leaders to permit us to stay, with the promise that they can ride our coattails to a position of galactic domination alongside us¡­ A promise we have little intention of actually honouring, not that we can let them know that(!)

    Most of the planet¡¯s native populace don¡¯t even know we¡¯re here, the crater our city is in having a rather generous no-fly zone extending into the deserts around it, for those odd flights that would otherwise take locals from one side of the habitable zone to the other, over us.

    At this point, my King sits on his outsized throne, slinging his cape to fall over the right arm, his right hand resting on the guard of his enormous leafblade sword (that¡¯s tip adds another little gouge to the collection in the floor, on my side of that seat.)

    His left hand reaches to between Artazostre¡¯s ears to stroke through her snow white fur.

    The giant gives a ferocious grin around the table, exposing the thumbnail sized teeth I gave him, and speaks ¡°Dearest friends! Nobles!¡­ Terrans!¡­ I¡¯m certain you must be wondering why you were summoned here on such short notice!¡± in an affected midAtlantic accent.

    No one answers.

    We all know better than to interrupt Cyrus when he¡¯s speaking¡­

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he booms ¡°¡­I shan¡¯t keep you waiting! I¡¯m told by Barron Parr, over there, that a very¡­ distressing video has been released onto the galnet recently¡­ which he learned of after one of his subordinates was sent it by a lazarite¡­ It, somehow, managed to slip our censorship and make it onto. Bastion¡¯s. intranet!¡±

    He lets his words sit¡­ outwardly smiling but clearly not happy!

    ¡°Now¡­¡± he continues ¡°¡­I¡¯m sure everyone bar the good Barron is wondering what in Terra¡¯s name could have been in this video¡­ so I shall hand you over to him to explain.¡±

    The tall, well built, blond, Nova Britannian Guardcaptain, Barron Harold ¡®Saxon¡¯ Parr, stands and clears his throat ¡°*ehem*¡­Thank you, Your Majesty¡­¡± before turning to address the rest of us ¡°¡­As King Cyrus says; earlier today, one of my guardsmen was sent this video by a lazarite acquaintance from the lower city. He had the wherewithal to immediately bring it to my attention. We deleted the video and tracked down the owners of any device that had accessed it¡­ Fortunately, that wasn¡¯t many¡­ We quickly managed to arrest the 27 individuals who¡¯s devices had been used to view it and are questioning them, now, with regards to who else they might have shown it or told about it¡­ We¡¯re fairly confident we¡¯ll have them all in hand soon¡­ The content of the video is one Kara Stellan, positively identified as one of the operatives assigned to the crew of the Vulture, the ship belonging to our assassin Jackson ¡®Scout¡¯ Stetter (also known as Death) at the time he was apprehended¡­ It appears that Ms Stellan has been made¡­ aware of her nature as a lazarite¡­ This video is performing exactly as it was intended to¡­ The traitors are using this girl as a propaganda piece, attempting to foment a lazarite rebellion against our rule¡­¡±

    Many of the other Councillors mutter to eachother at that, clearly disturbed.

    I¡¯m quite disturbed myself!

    The lazarites becoming aware of the Lazarus Programme?¡­ It¡¯s a potential worst case scenario!

    We could lose everything¡­

    Avoiding this exact eventuality was one of the strongest arguments against keeping the lazarites¡¯ nature from them in the first place!

    We could have openly and honestly told them what they were and how they came to be here!

    We just decided that the propagandic value of the ¡®you were orphaned and we took you in and raised you¡¯ angle was just too great to ignore (when compared to the, far less compelling, ¡®you were a casualty we brought back to life to serve as a labourer and footsoldier to us¡¯!)

    Not even mentioning the way them not being born naturally undermines our position on the primitives!

    ¡°I¡¯ll play you the video now¡­¡± states Parr, raising a screen from the centre of the table.

    A woman appears.

    Her voluminously curly hair is a vivid red and her eyes are a bright emerald green.

    She wears comfortable looking clothing and sits in a room that¡¯s daubed in therapeutic blues.

    ¡°Hi¡­ my name is Kara Stellan and I¡¯m speaking to you from a medium security women¡¯s prison¡­ at a location I won¡¯t divulge¡­ I was raised on a planet called ¡®Bastion¡¯, ruled by a terrorist organisation who call themselves the ¡®Revanchists¡¯¡­¡± she starts, speaking in a lazarite accent, quite similar to the way the Starborn tend to speak.

    ¡°¡­I say ¡®raised¡¯ because I don¡¯t know if I was actually born there¡­ Actually, I¡¯m pretty sure I wasn¡¯t, if for no other reason than I probably wasn¡¯t born full stop!¡­ I probably came out of a tube¡­ I¡¯m not a naturalborn Human¡­ I¡¯m a clone of this woman who you should be seeing on screen beside me right now¡­¡± the same face (with a clearly very different personality behind it) appears beside the speaker in a Wartime photo ¡°¡­Her name was Esme Taylor¡­ She was born ¡®Esme Reid¡¯, on Earth, on the 31st of October, 2664, and died on New Australia, on the 1st of January, 2686, at the age of 21¡­ At 27¡­ I¡¯ve already lived longer than she ever did¡­¡±

    If her sample was collected on my homeworld, there¡¯s a not insignificant chance I did it myself!

    I was back there in the last year of the War, one of about 200 or so Revanchists, laying the groundwork for the Lazarus programme.

    ¡°¡­She died heroically, at the Battle of the Murnma Gorge, crushed by collapsing rubble when her battalion refused to yield to the army of War King Vlixrothju¡­ and were shelled¡­¡±

    Ah¡­ odds of me having been the one to put the swab in this woman¡¯s mouth just jumped from less than 1:200¡­ to a little more than 1:6¡­ I was there with five others and, as I recall, none of them worked as fast as I did.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    I may be confabulating it but I feel like I might even remember that vivid red hair on one of the mottled corpses¡­?

    ¡°Now¡­ you might be wondering how I know this! Well, that would be because, when I was arrested, it was by her son¡­ Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor¡­¡±

    Scowls and scoffs emanate from every councillor at the mention of that posterboy for everything wrong with postWar Terrans!

    Heedless of our reaction, the prerecorded girl continues ¡°¡­he recognised me¡­ convinced me to get a DNA test¡­ a test which proved I¡¯m not her¡­ Someone took her genes, edited out all the bits they didn¡¯t like and grew me in a tube before handing me off to an orphanage on Bastion¡­ to live the next 26 years thinking I was a War orphan and that subH¡­ that gardenworlders had killed my parents!¡­ Now, if you¡¯re watching this on Bastion (and I really hope you are) I just want you to know that, unless you actually remember the War¡­ there¡¯s a good chance you¡¯re like me! A clone! Made as nothing more than livestock! Meant to be moulded into the ones who made you¡¯s idea of a perfect little Terran(!) They don¡¯t care about you! They never did!¡­ I know you probably want to call me a liar right now! Hell! If someone had told me all of this last year, I¡¯d¡¯ve called them a liar, for sure!¡­ But I¡¯m not lying!¡­ They lied!¡­ They lied to you about everything! The galaxy isn¡¯t like they said¡­ That¡¯s something it didn¡¯t take me learning I was a clone to notice(!)¡­ They said the Terran government was subverted by traitors but, if anyone, they¡¯re the traitors!¡­ They¡¯re the ones who went against the majority of Terrans¡¯ will for Peace and started plotting to take over the galaxy to revenge themselves for the past! They¡¯re the ones who wasted time and resources skulking around battlefields, stealing DNA to make us, instead of helping out while the War was still happening! They¡¯re the ones lying! Not me!¡­ I am begging you: Stop listening to their lies! Stop doing as they say! Rise up and demand to know the truth!¡­ Escape, if you can! Though, I know that¡¯s easier said than done¡­ If you can surrender yourself to Terran forces somewhere, they¡¯ll protect you!¡­ I know Bastion and the Revanchists don¡¯t have anything like the resources to take them head on!¡± she sits back and folds her arms ¡°Now, to anyone not from Bastion who wants to do their part to take down an organisation of slaving terrorists, this is all the information I can give you; Bastion is a planet, somewhere in the middle rim of the galaxy¡­ the part of it I¡¯m from is a desert where it averages around 50¡ãC and it¡¯s always daytime. I don¡¯t know what the dark side of the planet looks like. The city of Bastion is situated in a large meteor impact crater, about 10km in diameter, with a prominent rebound peak at it¡¯s centre. The city houses around 16 million Humans and about half as many enslaved gardenworlders (though, I¡¯m guessing that number varies up or down depending on how recently fresh shipments of them have arrived¡­ There¡¯s a fairly high rate of attrition!)¡­ The planet¡¯s gravity is naturally a little lower than Earth Standard, I¡¯d say about 0.75G? 1.6 Galactic Standard? 1.65 maybe?¡­ That¡¯s more or less everything I can tell you about it¡­ I wish I could give you more to go on but, for obvious reasons, they don¡¯t trust most people who live there to know exactly where in the galaxy it is, much less give us access to ships that could take us on and off world!¡­ All I can say is, it took me about 4 months to get from there to Citadel but I wasn¡¯t driving or allowed to look at any navigation for the first 3 of those months, so I have no idea how circuitous the route they took was¡­ I know it¡¯s a big galaxy but, hopefully, a lot of people see this and, hopefully, someone gets an idea about where Bastion is! If you think that someone is you, please¡­ call the holocom hotline that should be linked on screen now! Let the Terran authorities know¡­ even if it¡¯s just a hunch¡­ Though, I have also been asked to say; if you think you know where Bastion is, please don¡¯t go looking for it yourself!¡­ If you¡¯re right, you may not come back!¡±

    Parr stops the video there.

    ¡°As you can see, this video represents a grave threat to our security; external and internal¡­ In terms of small mercies; we have the fact that our information control worked¡­ She wasn¡¯t able to give a full accounting of this planet, crucially leaving out the fact that it¡¯s also home to a species of subHumans¡­ Their renowned isolationism should protect us from too much scrutiny. On the other hand, she¡¯s managed to give our proximity to the galactic core, our climate and the fact that we¡¯re on the sunward side of a tidally locked planet!¡­ That¡¯s a lot of breadcrumbs, considering how close our nearest Terran neighbours are! And then, of course, there¡¯s the revelation of the Lazarus Programme¡­ if 3 out of every 4 people in this city learn that they¡¯re not naturalborn and most of the remainder learn that all those ¡®War orphans¡¯ weren¡¯t, it stands to be massively destabilising to our ability to govern!¡±

    ¡°A thorny issue indeed, Barron Parr¡­ I commend you and the guards for catching it so quickly¡­ even if that praise must be tempered by the fact that something like this made it onto our intranet in the first place(!)¡± observes Cyrus with an unreadable smile ¡°Now¡­ on to the question of what to do with all those who¡¯ve already seen that video¡­ Duke Chandler¡­?¡± his head lolls to me, lazily ¡°¡­the Lazarus Program is your baby¡­ What do you suggest?¡±

    Acting unperturbed I turn to Parr and ask ¡°How many of the ones you¡¯ve arrested so far were lazarites?¡±

    He checks his notes on his holo before answering ¡°22 of the 27.¡±

    ¡°Anyone irreplaceable?¡± I follow up.

    ¡°Not particularly.¡± he shrugs.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ if it were one or two people who¡¯d seen it, I¡¯d say send them to me and I¡¯d just wipe their memories¡­ a city this size, a handful of people turning up a bit addled around the same time would likely go under the radar¡­ but, with so many, I don¡¯t think it would be possible to release them slowly enough not to get people asking questions, one way or another¡­ I think¡­ if anyone irreplaceable turns up, just swear them to secrecy and put them on the surveillance list for the next few years¡­ For the rest of them, I don¡¯t see anything to do but dispose of them and tell those that ask that they were executed for subversion.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡± smiles Cyrus.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see that it¡¯s done, Your Majesty.¡± acknowledges Parr.

    ¡°WHAT!?¡± cries the horrified voice of one not sat at the table.

    Every eye in the room turns to look at the guardsman who just spoke, stood over by the wall.

    ¡°You¡¯re just going to kill them!?¡± he asks, dismayed ¡°They¡¯ve done nothing wrong! Why not just wipe their memories and say it was a chemical leak at the jail or something!?¡±

    I look from the idiot guard to Cyrus and see him fixing the poor boy with a long, hard stare¡­

    I wince at what I know is about to happen.

    Cyrus lifts his enormous bulk from his throne and lays his gargantuan sword across its arms.

    ¡°Stay, Arta¡­¡± he calmly orders the sabretooth making to follow him, without looking at her.

    Smiling sweetly, he walks behind my chair and over to where the guardsman who just questioned him is.

    Looking down on the boy (who I hadn¡¯t noticed until he spoke out of turn) like a father about to impart a serious life lesson, Cyrus smiles ¡°Take off your helmet, son¡­ let me see your face.¡±

    The boy hesitates a moment before transferring his plasmaspear to his shield hand to pull off the fine Kingsguard helm before placing it down on the floor by his feet.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name, son?¡± smiles the King with all the outward, genial sweetness of a kindly uncle.

    ¡°K-Kingsguard Shaun Ossino, Your Majesty.¡± he stammers, visibly unnerved by the mountain of man looking down at him.

    ¡°And¡­ how long have you been a Kingsguard, Shaun?¡± he smiles, leaning down conspiratorially, like he and the boy are sharing secrets.

    ¡°About s-six months now, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Cyrus patronises ¡°And¡­ I know you¡¯ve not spoken up at me like you just did before¡­ So, please¡­ tell me why you are now?¡±

    A little desperately, the boy says ¡°I-it¡­ it¡¯s not right, Your Majesty!¡­ They may be clones but they¡¯re still Humans!¡­ They didn¡¯t know what they were doing when they opened that video! Why not just wipe them an come up with an explanation plausible enough that anyone who questions it gets brushed off as a conspiracy theorist?¡­ It¡¯s no less likely to get people talking than that many people all being executed for subversion at once!¡±

    Cyrus¡¯s luminous eyes were closed and his beard wagged up and down in a sagely nod as he listened to the boy¡¯s yammering.

    He opens them to once more look into his guardsman¡¯s eyes and ask ¡°Tell me, Shaun¡­ do you know what a ¡®sacrifice¡¯ is?¡±

    Dolefully, the boy answers ¡°Yes¡­ Your Majesty¡­ I know¡­¡±

    ¡°Good¡­!¡± Cyrus beams ¡°¡­because our path to claim Humanity¡¯s birthright will require many!¡±

    The guardsman¡¯s brow twists in dismay.

    ¡°Oh¡­ *tsk**tsk**tsk**tsk*!¡± Cyrus tuts, feigning consolation ¡°¡­so full of mercy, Shaun!¡­ Unfortunately, unlike you, I¡¯ve got no mercy left to give¡­ Now¡­ I want you to repeat after me; ¡®ruthlessness is mercy on ourselves¡¯¡­ Can you do that for me?¡±

    ¡°R-ruthlessness is mercy on ourselves¡­ Your Majesty.¡±

    Beaming the last sunny smile this boy is ever going to see, Cyrus says ¡°Good boy!¡± before slamming the unhelmeted head into the white stone wall behind him with a sickening *crack*, hard enough to kill him instantly.

    The guardsman¡¯s body crumples limply to the ground, revealing a bloodsplattered chunk of masonry missing from the wall, as his spear clatters down beside him.

    ¡°*tsk*¡­Such a waste!¡­¡± laments Cyrus before rounding on Parr and jabbing a thick finger to the body, saying ¡°¡­I want that armor cleaned up and put on someone with a spine in their back and a brain in their skull by the end of the week, Parr!¡±

    ¡°It will be done, Your Majesty¡­¡± answers Parr, averting his wide eyes down to the table, clearly realising how his subordinate¡¯s idiocy just burned through any good will he might have earned by taking care of the censorship lapse.

    Cyrus strides back to the throne at my left, picking up his sword and sitting back down, placing his left hand back between Artazostre¡¯s ears.

    ¡°So¡­ Stoker¡­¡± he barks at Circe¡¯s hologram opposite me, all pretence of joviality evaporated ¡°¡­do you think you can track down the prison this Stellan woman is being held at?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty, quite easily, but I would strongly advise against dispatching her.¡± smiles the uncanny face of the woman, seeming perfectly at ease.

    ¡°Oh?¡­ Not for mercy¡¯s sake, surely?!¡± he growls, gesturing over to the body on the floor to demonstrate what his likely reaction would be to such talk.

    She closes her eyes and shakes her head, still wearing that creepy smile, and softly says ¡°Not at all. My reasoning is very much pragmatic, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Then explain it.¡± orders Cyrus, simply.

    ¡°Well, right now, the majority of those outside Bastion who see that video have little reason to take her seriously and little reason to care. If we break into that prison to kill her, all that we¡¯ll achieve is making her story ¡Á100 higher profile and ¡Á100 as credible. The traitors also won¡¯t have released that video until after they were confident they had everything useful out of her. There¡¯s no point in spending energy to lock a stable door when the horse bolted so long ago¡­¡± she explains with effortless grace.

    Cyrus studies her for a moment before cracking a smile and saying ¡°And that¡¯s why you¡¯re my Mistress of Whispers, Stoker!¡± apparently satisfied ¡°Let her languish into obscurity then!¡±

    Circe smirks and, in her sensuous half whisper, says ¡°You¡¯re too kind to me, Your Majesty¡­ While we are all gathered here, I myself have some intelligence to relay from Citadel?¡±

    He extends his hand to her and says ¡°Please, Duchess¡­ Good news I hope!¡±

    The dollish features of the face I gave her perform a complicated dance before she answers ¡°Some bad news first, I¡¯m afraid¡­ While I was playing with one of my little toys from the UTCIS earlier today, he told me that Jackson ¡®Scout¡¯ Stetter is dead¡­¡±

    Cyrus sighs ¡°*hhhhhhh*¡­Well¡­ that¡¯s disappointing¡­ he was a reliable agent until he went chasing after that white whale of his!¡­ But I had sort of already written him off when he failed to make contact after his break out.¡±

    ¡°But, Your Majesty¡­ those weren¡¯t the only sweet nothings my little plaything whispered to me¡­ I think I may have a potential solution for our durasteel problem!¡±

    Cyrus sits bolt upright, as do I, as does half the room!

    Our inability to make durasteel with the limited resources on this planet (restricting us only to what we originally brought here and the small amount we can smuggle in) is one of Bastion¡¯s longest running bugbears!

    ¡°You have my full attention, Circe!¡± says Cyrus ¡°Tell me what you need!¡±

    She smiles and bats her (too large) eyes before answering ¡°Actually, Your Majesty, while I appreciate it¡­ the one who needs to be saying that right now isn¡¯t you¡­¡± she extends her hand across the table and pouts ¡°¡­It¡¯s the unrequited love of my life just there(!)¡±

    I frown and splay my fingertips against my chest, cocking my eyebrow quizzically before asking ¡°Me, Circe?¡­ What could I have to do with solving the durasteel problem?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.178

    ---Scrap---

    ---Bzhort¡¯s perspective---

    I reach the four fingered hand of my shaggy, purple, lower right arm to my holo and pass it to my upper right, answering the call as I bring it to my ear.

    ¡°Xartham Station Security; May I enquire as to the nature o¡¯ the disturbance?¡± I ask, the prim and proper words not a great fit for my (even for a Threndian) gruff, deep voice.

    The high voiced Vekthian caller''s translated speech sounds like words like ¡®may¡¯, ¡®enquire¡¯ and ¡®disturbance¡¯ would be a lot more natural coming out of his mouth as he says ¡°Erm¡­ yes¡­ Hello there¡­ I have some children digging through my bins?¡±

    ¡°Children? Ya know what they¡¯re after?¡± I ask.

    Probably hungry.

    This might be a case for social workers more than security officers.

    Children probably aren¡¯t looking for kompromat¡­ or stuff they could use to spoof his identity¡­ but you never know¡­

    ¡°Yes¡­ they appear to be sorting for¡­ metal¡­?¡± he says, uncertainly.

    I blink all six of my eyes, a bit thrown by that.

    ¡°Metal? What they want that for? There even metal in there?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ yes¡­ quite a lot, as it happens! You see, I run a repair shop and, as a byproduct of my work, I generate rather a lot of scrap¡­ It¡¯s the recycling diurnal tomorrow so I was just emptying some into my bins when I heard someone asking me what I was doing¡­ I turned and saw that it was a group of children. I explained it to them¡­ answered all their follow-up questions and, then, they went away. I thought it was a little odd but I just shrugged it off and went back inside¡­ That was until [20 minutes] later, when they came back with baskets and a tarp, opened up my bins and started pulling out armfuls of rubbish!¡±

    ¡°So ya spoke to ¡¯em? They¡¯re Vekthian kids?¡± I ask.

    He made it sound like he didn¡¯t know them and, while he¡¯s not obliged to know every member of his species on the station, he probably would.

    ¡°They¡¯re not Vekthians, no. I don¡¯t know what species they are but they¡¯re small (maybe a bit less than [a metre]), green skinned bipeds¡­¡± he answers.

    ¡°So they was wearin¡¯ translators then?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ I suppose they aren¡¯t children¡­ they were just so small I thought they couldn¡¯t be fully grown!¡±

    ¡°You tried talkin¡¯ to ¡¯em?¡­ Asked ¡¯em to stop?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ I did¡­ They told me that, as I didn¡¯t want these things any more, I didn¡¯t have the right to stop them from taking them¡­ I¡­ They scared me a little¡­¡± he says.

    ¡°They threatened ya?¡±

    ¡°No, no, no!¡­ Not directly, anyway¡­ just¡­ something about the way they were looking at me¡­ it was unnerving¡­ It made me feel as if I oughtn¡¯t to push the issue.¡±

    I sigh ¡°Alright, Sir¡­ Tell me where ya are and we¡¯ll be along to have a word with ¡¯em in a few [minutes].¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m inside Fiaf¡¯s and Son¡¯s Repairs, in the shopping district¡­ They¡¯re in the alley by the side.¡±

    ¡°Got it¡­ see ya soon.¡± I say, hanging up.

    I stand and look down at my partners, Monos, the taciturn, [3m] Kyklo, and Kwaestor, the [2.4m] Kwilion with a personality as prickly as his back.

    ¡°We got a situation, we gotta g-Nooooo¡­¡± I frown down at Kwaestor as I press closed the weapons cupboard he¡¯s trying to open ¡°¡­it¡¯s a call about [metre] tall bipeds goin¡¯ through bins¡­ You do not need a pulsegun, Rambo(!)¡±

    The little hystricine man erects his quills and scowls up at me for comparing him to the antihero of that old Terran tragedy the three of us watched recently but doesn''t say anything as he turns to make his way through the door with Monos.

    I come out and take the lead as the door locks behind us and we start wending our way through Xartham¡¯s broad, tall corridors.

    People cut a wide berth around us as they see us approach.

    It makes sense, I guess¡­ we are a group of two Class 8s in security uniforms and a high 7 (not in a uniform because of the quills) but¡­ it always makes me a bit exhausted, the way most people are so obviously scared of Threndians¡­

    I guess that¡¯s primarily why I like spending time with those odd folks I meet who¡¯re same Class or higher than me¡­ When I share a table with a Kyklo, a Spelvuk or a Terran, I can just tell they aren¡¯t scared that I¡¯m going to reach across the table to crush their skull in my fist at the slightest provocation!

    Kwaestor isn¡¯t scared of me but he is tiresome to hang around with, for other reasons.

    Kwilions are notoriously cantankerous and crotchety, because of the same evolutionary history that gave them a backful of spines(!)

    A few minutes pass before we make it to the shopping district and, sure enough, I see a gaggle of very childlike beings (whose species I don¡¯t recognise) sorting through piles of trash (throwing all the metal bits into baskets that already look far too heavy for anyone that size to lift) on a large tarp they¡¯ve laid out on the ground, passersby staring quizzically at them with dozens of different configurations of face.

    They¡¯re in an alley behind a shop with a worried looking, pink furred, bipedal cervine man standing in the window.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    He looks relieved when he sees the three of us.

    ¡°Alright guys¡­¡± I say, announcing myself.

    Six faces all whip to me and I instantly understand what that Vekthian was talking about!

    At [400kg] I could easily be more than ¡Á100 their mass and, still, something about the intensity behind those eyes is unnerving!

    Not letting it show on my face, I keep going ¡°¡­ya mind explainin¡¯ to me what exactly¡¯s goin¡¯ on here?¡±

    A female (?) steps forward and my attention flicks to her as she says ¡°The pink [grasshopper deer] man said this was stuff he didn¡¯t want anymore, so we¡¯re taking it.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh¡­ Ya didn¡¯t think o¡¯ just¡­ buyin'' metal if ya need it that badly?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Why would we [buy] something we can get for [free] here(?!)¡± she scoffs, gesturing to the trash behind her.

    ¡°Because there are rules, you little delinquent!¡± snarls Kwaestor, spines flared, lurching forward and pointing a pawhand down at the girl who doesn¡¯t flinch away, just training her bright yellow, forward facing eyes on him.

    My lower right hand extends to his chest (careful to avoid his forest of spines) and pushes him back behind me as I fold my uppers across my chest, assessing the group.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ what¡¯s ya name, young la-young one?¡±

    ¡°Viig.¡± she answers, letting me know she is a young lady with the femininely flagged name.

    ¡°And where''re ya from, Viig?¡±

    ¡°Graom.¡± she answers, naming a planet I¡¯ve never heard of.

    I see what¡¯s happened here¡­

    This group must be from some underdeveloped backwater with a peculiar culture and this¡¯s the first time they¡¯ve ever left their home planet.

    It happens now and then.

    With the best part of 34,000 species kicking about the galaxy, the occasional bit of culture clash is practically unavoidable.

    I¡¯m sure, as soon as I explain, they¡¯ll be very embarrassed.

    ¡°OK, Viig¡­ on Graom, doin¡¯ this¡­¡± I gesture to the trash her compatriots are still digging through ¡°¡­might not be a big deal, but here¡­? Here, it makes folks uncomfortable¡­¡±

    ¡°No it doesn¡¯t¡­¡± she frowns, confused ¡°¡­we¡¯re not uncomfortable!¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I sigh, unable to tell if she¡¯s being purposefully dense ¡°¡­I wasn¡¯t talkin¡¯ ¡¯bout you. I was talkin¡¯ ¡¯bout these people¡­¡± I gesture to the crowd of passers by, rubbernecking at the binraiders being confronted by security officers ¡°¡­but, mainly, I¡¯m talkin¡¯ ¡¯bout the guy who owns this shop!¡± I point behind them ¡°This is his trash and he don¡¯t want ya diggin'' through it!¡±

    Her mouth falls open and she narrows her eyes at me in (difficult to fake) confusion before asking ¡°How can it be [his] trash¡­ he said he put it in here because he doesn¡¯t want it anymore¡­ he put it in here to be taken away¡­ Why does it matter whether it¡¯s us who take it away or whoever normally does it?¡±

    I give a frustrated sigh and answer ¡°Because normally it¡¯s done by a sanitation droid that takes it to be recycled without diggin¡¯ through it, without leavin¡¯ piles o¡¯ the stuff it don¡¯t want behind and without examinin¡¯ any of it! There might be stuff in there he don¡¯t want anyone to see!¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡± she asks, as if the word ¡®embarrassment¡¯ would be another one flagged as a loanword she wasn¡¯t fully comfortable with yet!

    ¡°Like anything! Like that¡¯s his business and none o¡¯ yours¡­¡±

    She shrugs her shoulders and answers ¡°We just want the metal¡­ we¡¯ll put everything else back.¡±

    ¡°Ya¡¯ll put it all back, right now, or I¡¯m placin¡¯ the lot o¡¯ ya under arre-¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± comes a harsh, guttural, translated voice of someone standing behind me and about a [metre] shorter.

    I turn and see a species I don¡¯t recognise for the second time today.

    They must be quite fragile, judging by the protective rubbery green shoes their 8 sharp feet are slipped inside and the¡­ 21-22-23-24¡­ bungs of the same material they have, placed onto the three spines on each of those legs, to protect them from being snapped off.

    Regardless, there they stand, face not showing even a little hesitation over confronting a Threndian, a Kyklo and a Kwilion.

    Their face has scratch scars that cross one of two large eyes and must have blinded two of the smaller ones, covered by a patch.

    Their mouth is flanked by long, metallic looking, red fangs and it¡¯s full of the same stuff.

    I gesture to the binraiders.

    ¡°Ya know these guys, Sir or Ma¡¯am?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a Ma¡¯am to you¡­ and yes I know them. Is there a problem here?¡±

    Carefully, since something about this woman sets me on edge despite her seemingly fragile body, I answer ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am¡­ we were just attempting to get them to stop raidin¡¯ people¡¯s bins for metal.¡±

    The arachnoid woman gives an exasperated sigh and prays ¡°Weaver preserve me(!)¡± before leaning around me to say ¡°Viig¡­ did you think of showing the soldier here your holo(?) The one Emiko gave you¡­(?) The one with your credentials on it(?)¡±

    ¡°What credentials¡­?¡± I ask, very confused.

    What the [fuck] kind of credentials would make digging through bins acceptable?!

    Is this some kind of harebrain new [guerilla] sanitation inspection method or¡­?

    The black and red exoskeletoned woman produces a holopad with a¡­ GU diplomatic seal displayed and hands it to me!

    I take it and hold it in my lower arms, low enough for my much shorter companions to see.

    ¡°It¡¯s fake!¡± sneers Kwaestor.

    ¡°It¡¯s genuine¡­¡± I correct before the diplomat can, dazed.

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s genuine. That woman behind you and I are both diplomats¡­ and the others are part of her retinue¡­ Which means, as unbecoming of diplomats as their behaviour is¡­!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s covered by diplomatic immunity¡­¡± I finish for her, my voice dead.

    ¡°Precisely.¡± she confirms, simply, taking back her holo.

    This is not even slightly how I saw this interaction going!

    Feeling a bit hamstrung, I turn back to the tiny humanoids and say ¡°Could I please ask ya to at least put all o¡¯ the stuff ya not takin¡¯ back in the bin when ya done?¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± shrugs the girl ¡°¡­I think we were about done anyway.¡±

    Sure enough, at that moment, her companions get off the tarp and, without a word needing to be spoken, go to the corners and gather them up, working together to tip all of the rejected trash back into the bin before folding up the tarp and placing it into one of the baskets that (clearly intentionally) had a little more space in the top to accommodate it.

    I watch for the moment they try to pick up those baskets and realise how much they¡¯ve overburdened them, meaning they¡¯ll either not be able to lift them, or they will and they¡¯ll break, spilling that metal they seem to think is so precious everywhere!

    It doesn¡¯t come.

    Instead, each of the little bipeds goes to a basket, all of which have got to have more than [3kg] of scrap metal in, and casually lift them to their chests with only slight apparent effort!

    I stand, agog, looking at the species I didn¡¯t know existed until a moment ago that have just demonstrated strength consistent with being Class 9s!

    I¡¯d even say that they¡¯d have to be higher if I didn¡¯t know there was only one type of people that¡¯s higher and they¡¯re definitely not any kind of Terran!

    I¡¯m going to have to look up that species later!

    I thought I knew all species above 7! Those are the ones law enforcers have to be aware of, afterall!

    As the (apparent diplomat) Viig woman draws up to the much larger dodecapod, the latter extends a three fingered hand to the former¡¯s forehead and flicks it with a claw of that red stuff.

    *Tiiing* comes the solid, reverberating sound that makes me doubt that that stuff¡¯s anything like as fragile as I took it for!

    ¡°OWWW!¡± snarls the smaller woman, up at the larger ¡°Spirits was that for!?¡±

    ¡°What part of ¡®low profile¡¯ challenged your comprehension, halfwit!?¡± returns the arachnoid, just as angrily, as she turns to walk away with the line of binraiding diplomats.

    ¡°The part where I¡¯m supposed to let enough metal to arm ten villages just go to waste!¡±

    ¡°By the time you get that metal back to our planet it¡¯s not going to be worth¡­!¡±

    I stop listening and slump dejectedly¡­

    What the [fuck] am I going to write in the report for this?

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XL: Pancakes and Bears

    ---Fiadh¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°You¡¯re not going out dressed like that, are you?!¡± asks my dad.

    ¡°Yes dad, I¡¯m going out dressed like this¡­¡± I sigh, half amused, half exasperated.

    ¡°You¡¯re barely wearing anything!¡± he objects.

    ¡°And more than half the people on the station don¡¯t wear any clothes at all!¡± I chuckle as I work to get my multicoloured curls to fall juuust right over my small antlers in the mirror.

    ¡°Yes¡­ but you¡¯re a Vekthian!¡­ We wear clothes!¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m wearing clothes¡­¡± I say, pointing to my shoulders ¡°¡­Clothes!¡­¡± then my crotch ¡°¡­Clothes!¡±

    ¡°Hardly!¡­ I wish¡­¡±

    ¡°Dad! I¡¯m an adult! You get to tell me what to do at work! You do not get to tell me what to do in my free time!¡± I say, angrily, pointing to my antlers (nowhere near as large as his but a clear sign of maturity).

    His face falls.

    I feel a little bad.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, Son¡­ I just¡­ I worry about you is all¡­¡± he says, softly.

    ¡°I know, Dad¡­ I know you do¡­ but I¡¯m telling you you don¡¯t need to!¡­ I¡¯m not a little kid anymore and I just wish you¡¯d stop treating me like one!¡± I say, pleadingly.

    ¡°You¡¯ll always be my son, Fiadh¡­ If you¡¯re asking me to stop caring about you, I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not possible¡­¡± he smiles, sadly.

    I sigh, annoyed at the way he can¡¯t separate fatherly love from his lack of respect for me as an adult, sidestepping the issue like he always does.

    ¡°Alright, Dad¡­ I¡¯m going now. Don¡¯t wait up for me.¡±

    ¡°Alright, Fiadh¡­¡± he smiles ¡°¡­and, if you see any of those strange green ¡®diplomats¡¯ who were raiding our bins earlier¡­¡±

    ¡°They weren¡¯t my type, Dad, don¡¯t worry(!) Bye¡­¡± I chuckle as I walk out of our workshop.

    ¡°Have fun, Son¡­¡± he wishes me as the door closes.

    I definitely plan to!

    ---Bj?rn¡¯s perspective---

    Would you believe I¡¯m sitting in a gay bar on a space station on the far side of the galaxy?

    It apparently only opened a few years ago.

    Terran inspired but not Terran run, more¡¯s the pity¡­

    A Terran proprietor would probably have drinks a touch stronger than this Vinjirian ale I¡¯m nursing!

    I came here with Steve, who originally suggested it, but he (near instantly) managed to seduce a lusty Thruljec boy into leaving with him and, now, I¡¯m here all alone.

    It¡¯s a shame Steve himself had no interest in me, firmly rebuffing my every oblique advance to the point where I stopped trying¡­

    My heart aches somewhat as I imagine the romance of the reality (just a little to the right of my own) where I¡¯ve just spent a year and a half cruising through the galaxy with an exciting, confident, New Australian boyfriend.

    But, no use lamenting what was not to be.

    Him being to my tastes does not mean he¡¯s obliged to find me to his.

    I am relatively at peace with the fact that, though I cut a striking figure, it¡¯s not a particularly attractive one¡­ at least to those I would be interested in attracting!

    A lot of women over the years have seemed to be very interested in acquiring themselves an Ursus boyfriend and I¡¯ve had to let them all down¡­ except Katla, briefly¡­ but who hasn¡¯t experimented at uni(?)

    If you were to describe me in simple terms; immensely tall, incomparably strong, deep voiced, intelligent, thrice doctored and¡­ I don¡¯t wish to be too much of a braggart but¡­ very well endowed¡­ I sound like a catch, don¡¯t I?

    It¡¯s too bad that, stripping all that away, I¡¯m just a boring old academic who does very little to arouse lusty passion in the kinds of boys I¡¯d want to!

    Now that Steve (the one of the two of us who was immediately identifiable as a Terran) isn¡¯t with me, no one¡¯s sparing me as much as a second glance as I sit on the floor by the bar, nursing my giant tankard of weak ale.

    I¡¯m just another alien.

    A mild curiosity as one of a not readily identifiable species¡­ but nothing more¡­

    Of course, I know that, as an Ursus, I¡¯ll be by far the strongest person within thousands of lightyears of here¡­ but that fact isn¡¯t visible to them¡­

    Maybe I should just head back to the ship? Cut my losses for tonight?

    Just as I¡¯m thinking that, I hear an alto voice on my right.

    ¡°Heeeeey there, big guy¡­!¡±

    I turn to look up into the grinning snout of a pink furred deer boy.

    With me sat on my haunches on the floor (my head around 1.9m up), he stands a good 35cm taller than me.

    He has a set of two small, purple, two pronged antlers on his head, an artfully coifed head of long, coiled hair, dyed in five colours, between them.

    His bright blue eyes have rectangular pupils and sit facing slightly sideways on his skull.

    His skinny body is covered in pink and white fluff and so little clothing as to look more suggestive than if he were fully nude!

    On his top half, he wears only a set of sleeves that pass over his shoulders and leaves his entire chest exposed.

    On his hips, he wears what can only be described as a set of purple speedos, cradling a very nice looking package.

    A long tail with a fluffy white brush stems from the top of a nice looking posterior.

    His pink legs end in purple hooves and his five fingered hands end in purple claws, not wholly unlike my brown ones.

    ¡°¡­congratulations(!)¡± he smirks ¡°You have the honour and the privilege of buying me a drink(!)¡­ I¡¯ll take 0.7L of Vekthian lager, thanks¡­¡± with a cocky wobble of his antlers.

    I raise the fur above my left eye (not really an eyebrow as there¡¯s nothing to distinguish it from the rest of the fur on my face) at the boy.

    He¡¯s a tiny bit too far on the femme side but, otherwise, nearly perfectly to my tastes!

    Cocky and confident¡­ assertive and selfassured.

    I¡¯d really like nothing more than to think there¡¯s any chance that I might end up bringing him back to my room in Elysium tonight¡­

    Nevertheless, I look at the boy and open my snout to say¡­

    ---Fiadh¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Pass¡­¡± sighs the sexy sailor in a deep (though unexpectedly refined sounding) voice, who would promise to scratch exactly the itch that that (unfortunately straight) Threndian guy earlier left me with, before dipping his snout into the vessel he holds in his left hand and lapping up the strong smelling ethanol drink.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna pass¡­?¡± I say, incredulously ¡°¡­on all this?¡± gesturing up and down myself.

    He lifts his snout back out of his jug just far enough to say ¡°Certainly seems that way.¡± before returning it.

    ¡°You know this is a gay bar, right dude? Why are you here if you aren¡¯t into guys?¡± I taunt, knowing full well he is, since my [gaydar] is impeccable!

    ¡°Boy, my people invented gay bars¡­¡± he lies ¡°¡­it¡¯s never been a rule that you¡¯re not allowed in if you aren¡¯t gay, as far as I¡¯m aware¡­ Even if it were, being attracted to men doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re obliged to buy drinks for any boy who comes up and flirts with you a little!¡±

    I give a mirthless chuckle and flatly point out ¡°The Terrans invented gay bars, dude!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ Like I said¡­¡± he chuckles back, ignoring the fact that that isn¡¯t at all what he said!

    I turn my eyes to the ceiling and decide to just ask ¡°Alright, Mr Terran(!) So why are you passing? Don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re not interested, I saw how you checked me out!¡±

    ¡°You are very much to my tastes¡­ I just don¡¯t think I¡¯d hold your interest for very long at all and I would rather not waste my money buying a drink for a boy who¡¯s far too young, cool and trendy to be interested in some boring old fart like me for more than about 90 seconds!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t know if I should be flattered or insulted, dude(!)¡± I observe, wryly.

    He shrugs his large shoulders (unfortunately clothed enough that I can¡¯t see the thick brown fur I¡¯m sure they must be covered in¡­ It should be illegal for guys this hairy to wear clothes(!)) and says ¡°You can be both¡­¡± amused.

    ¡°Pretty sure I¡¯ve already spent more than [90 seconds] talking to you by now¡­?¡± I point out to him.

    ¡°Ah¡­ that¡¯s because I¡¯ve offended your ego! Challenged your selfconfidence! You¡¯re an attractive boy and you clearly know it. By refusing to be grateful for the opportunity to attempt to seduce you, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve upset you and made you feel as if you have to defend yourself¡­ If I¡¯d bought you that drink, I¡¯m sure you would already have wandered away!¡± says the large, shaggy, brown furred man of indeterminate species.

    ¡°Ah!¡­ So this was all a cunning ploy to keep me interested then, was it?¡±

    ¡°I assure you, I am nothing like so devious!¡± answers the man I¡¯m really hoping to go home with tonight in his rumbling, educated sounding voice.

    Definitely didn¡¯t imagine him sounding so sophisticated when I first spied him!

    I judged him to be gruffer and coarser from his size and rather ferocious appearance.

    I guess you can¡¯t [judge a book by its cover]!

    I definitely don¡¯t dislike the juxtaposition of such prim and proper sounding translated speech coming out of that (almost predatory looking) snout in that low, resounding voice of his!

    I pout down at the large man, only a little more than a head shorter than me even though he¡¯s sat on the floor, thinking.

    ¡°Alright then, Mr Terran¡­ what about if I bought you a drink?¡­ Would that be acceptable?¡± I pose.

    He examines his mostly empty vessel and then lifts his shoulders smiling ¡°I suppose it would be.¡±

    I pull my holo from its pocket on my sleeve and ask ¡°What are you having?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take another 1.5L of Vinjirian ale, please.¡±

    I stop in my tracks and turn to him, incredulously, asking ¡°Dude¡­ you know that stuff¡¯s strong, right? You¡¯ll make yourself sick if you just chug away at it all night like a normal drink!¡­ I¡¯m a Class 8 and that much alcohol would send me to the hospital!¡±

    He chuckles ¡°I can assure you; to a Terran, it¡¯s no problem at all.¡±

    I sigh and signal the Klarn manning the bar.

    He comes over and looks to me expectantly.

    ¡°[0.7L] of Vekthian lager for me and [1.5L] of Vinjirian ale for Mr ¡®Terran¡¯ here, Mowvak(!)¡± I smirk.

    Mowvak gives an affirmative gesture and turns to fetch our drinks.

    While they''re coming, I ask ¡°So, I¡¯m Fiadh, son of Fiaf. You got a name, Mr Terran?¡±

    ¡°Bj?rn ¡®Mimir¡¯ T¨²puson¡­¡± he lies, giving me a Terran triple barrel ¡°¡­though I am rather a fan of ¡®Mr Terran¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh¡­ and what¡¯s with the Terran act, Bj?rn? Pretending to be something you aren¡¯t isn¡¯t very attractive, you realise?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not pretending. It¡¯s not an act. I am a Terran.¡± he answers as our drinks are placed in front of us and I tap my holo on the bar to pay.

    I pick mine up and am bringing it to my lips when he, rather than doing the same, brings his out towards me.

    I look from his drink to him, confused.

    I¡¯m about to lean over and take a sip of it, thinking that¡¯s what he¡¯s offering, when he explains ¡°You tap your drink against mine.¡± smiling.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°The short answer is ¡®tradition¡¯.¡± he states.

    ¡°This would be one of your Terran traditions, would it Bj?rn(?)¡± I smirk.

    ¡°It would, Fiadh. Yes.¡± he answers, simply.

    I sigh and tap my lager against his ale.

    ¡°[Sk¨¢l].¡± he says, the untranslatable word being given the connotation of a vague wellwish.

    ¡°Skorl.¡± I answer, attempting to mimic his pronunciation.

    He brings his drink to the end of his snout and submerges just the tip in it, drinking deeply of the strong beverage.

    I take a swig of mine before placing it down.

    ¡°You know, Bj?rn¡­ I¡¯ve actually had a Terran before!¡­ Nearly [a year] ago, a massive [dreadnought] came and docked at this space station for a few days. The scene in this bar got very Terran heavy with all the ones on shore leave¡­ I don¡¯t remember any of them looking like you, though!¡±

    ¡°If they came off the Spite then they probably wouldn¡¯t!¡± he answers, nonchalantly.

    ¡°Oh yeah, how come?¡±

    ¡°The armed services don¡¯t encourage uplifts (like myself) to enlist. I never fought in the War, partly because I was already too old but, even if I hadn¡¯t been, also because we were exempt from conscription.¡± he explains, before dipping his snout back into his drink.

    ¡°Oh yeah? Why¡¯s that then? If you actually were Terran, I¡¯d think you¡¯d be a much more formidable soldier than the normal type!¡±

    ¡°I actually am a Terran, Fiadh, and the fact that you¡¯re making me insist on it is getting a little tiresome¡­ As to the other thing you said; you¡¯re right. There¡¯s not a Human alive who¡¯d hope to stand a chance against a combat trained Ursus¡­ the only reason strength rankings tend to be dominated by Humans is because, as artificial sentients, we get put in the same category as genetically engineered supersoldiers¡­ otherwise those lists would (currently) be dominated by us and other uplifts!¡­ The reason the armed services didn¡¯t want us is that that strength isn¡¯t worth what it would cost them.¡±

    I frown ¡°Wait! If they were drafting you, surely they¡¯d decide what to pay you, right?¡±

    He smiles and wobbles his snout from side to side before saying ¡°No, that¡¯s not what I mean. I don¡¯t mean they would have needed to pay us higher salaries, I mean that providing for Ursus troops in a Human dominated military would have been inefficient¡­ I would need enough combat rations to feed 6-7 Human soldiers, I¡¯d need a much larger suit of armour that was well outside the range of normal Human proportions (meaning it would need to be specially and expensively designed for me), my gun would likewise need to be a scaled up model to fit my hand¡­¡± he holds up his large left pawhand ¡°¡­my bunk would need to be large enough for me to curl up on and sturdy enough not to collapse under my weight, I¡¯d need a lot more water to drink and bathe with and any unit I went with would have to have a medic familiar with Ursus anatomy. Yes, an Ursus would have their uses on a battlefield but nowhere near enough to justify our outsized logistical cost. Especially when you consider that a normal Human is already stronger than just about any gardenworlder and that there are tools for most tasks between what they can do and what a tank can do!¡±

    I stare at the man, it starting to dawn on me that this is beginning to sound a bit too well thought out to be some silly joke.

    I seize my holo and open galactopedia.

    ¡°Terran Ursus?¡± I ask as I type it.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± he confirms, looking at my screen as the results come back ¡°The first one there; Ursus sapiens.¡±

    The page that comes up is headed by a picture of what, if the Human woman standing less than half his height beside him is any indication, must be an absolutely gigantic being!

    The formally dressed Terran Ursus looks a little like the man next to me but¡­ there are a few quite notable differences!

    This man is much taller than the man next to me looks like he would be if he stood up. Maybe [60cm] taller?

    His head is also a completely different shape and his ears are, proportionally, much smaller!

    The most striking difference, though, is, where this man¡¯s fur is a glossy dark brown colour, the one on the galactopedia page has fur of an off white with a much denser looking, fluffier quality.

    Wordlessly, I turn the screen to my drinking companion and point to the man in the picture with a hoofclaw, a querying expression on my face.

    He chuckles ¡°Do me a favour and scroll down a little?¡±

    I do as he says, revealing more pictures.

    ¡°There, that one, Ursus arctos sapiens, Brown Bear. The one at the top was an Ursus maritimus sapiens, a Polar Bear.¡±

    I frown at the picture of the woman that does look a lot more like him than the first one but¡­ ¡°¡­Yeah¡­ I¡¯m still not entirely convinced. How do I know this isn¡¯t just a picture of a Terran species that you¡¯ve realised yours looks a lot like?¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Oh, in ¨®einn¡¯s name!¡± he exclaims, exasperatedly ¡°Put your drink down on the bar for me, Fiadh.¡±

    ¡°Why? I can¡¯t see how-waaaah!¡± I shriek as, the instant my hands were off my lager, a thumb was slid under the back of my top, between my shoulderblades, and my hooves were hoisted nearly [50cm] off the ground.

    ¡°Now¡­¡± says the man from whose arm I¡¯m dangling, his voice not exhibiting any strain from the effort of holding me up, as he lifts his drink with his left hand to take a few laps of it before asking ¡°¡­would you say you weigh 60kg?¡± he asks.

    ¡°About that much¡­¡± I answer, my voice trembling.

    ¡°And does being able to lift that much with one arm, like this, serve as enough of a credential of my Terranness?¡± he asks, his eyes flicking briefly down to my (expanding) pant bulge.

    ¡°I guess so!¡±

    I feel myself jiggle in the air as he chuckles ¡°Do you want me to put you down now, Fiadh?¡±

    ¡°Yes please!¡± I answer, breathlessly.

    I immediately feel the solid ground beneath my hooves again.

    I look around to the other patrons, all giving me and the enormous Terran funny looks.

    Doing my best to hide my ? chubby between myself and the bar I turn to the man and say ¡°OK, you¡¯re a Terran¡­ but you still lied!¡±

    ¡°Oh really? How¡¯s that?¡± he asks, coolly.

    I point an accusing finger at him and answer ¡°You said I¡¯d find you boring!¡±

    His lips part along his snout, in what my translator insists is an expression of heavy mirth, as the man throws his head back in a roaring laugh, exposing a set of terrifyingly long canines as he does.

    ---Bj?rn¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°You¡¯re joking!¡± laughs the boy from the far side of the booth we retired to after we were done dancing.

    I sigh ¡°Has anyone ever told you you¡¯re a little bit cynical, Fiadh(?)¡±

    ¡°You actually fought one of these things and won?!¡± he demands, holding up a picture of a nonsentient polar bear.

    ¡°That description might be a little overgenerous to me! I managed to fight him off¡­ I didn¡¯t ¡®win¡¯, I simply managed to make him reconsider whether myself and my companions were quite the easy source of meat that he had originally taken us for¡­ The fight ended when he decided that harp seals were a more worthwhile proposition for acquiring sustenance than we were! That¡¯s all¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say, under the circumstances, surviving a fight with one of these things is winning! Why were you even in the same part of the world as one of them? It says they live on maritime pack ice and polar coasts!¡± he demands.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I spent a few years travelling Arctic North America for my first doctorate at Akureyri. Had to learn half a dozen different Eskimo languages as well as French and Aluet¡­ Not sure how well I¡¯d still be able to speak any of them except French, though. I think the friends I made might well laugh if they heard how rusty I¡¯ve probably become!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± he frowns ¡°¡­did you just say you spent [years]¡­¡± he turns his holo around and bangs it on the table (a touch harder than I suspect he would have if fully sober), displaying a picture of a desolate looking Arctic landscape that¡¯s covered in snow ¡°¡­here!?¡±

    ¡°Not in that specific valley, no, but in environments very like it, yes.¡±

    ¡°You Terrans are [fucking] crazy!¡± he giggles.

    ¡°Yes¡­ we are¡­¡± I smile ¡°¡­glad I finally convinced you!¡±

    He laughs ¡°If you being a Terran is a con, it would be the most elaborate, well researched and well rehearsed con I¡¯ve ever heard of!¡­ It¡¯d almost be more impressive!¡±

    I chuckle.

    Then, he looks up and fixes me (as best he can) with both of his sideways facing, horizontally slitpupiled, aqua blue eyes.

    Still looking at me, he tips back the remainder of his weak lager before setting down the glass and scootching closer on the bench that¡¯s about the right size for both of us.

    He reaches a hand to slide into the fur at the back of my head and I allow him to pull my ear to the end of his blunt snout.

    ¡°Sooo¡­ Mr Terran¡­¡± he whispers, sensuously ¡°¡­I¡¯ve managed to stay interested for, I¡¯d say, more than ¡Á100 [90 seconds]!¡­ We¡¯ve talked¡­ we¡¯ve bought eachother drinks¡­ we¡¯ve danced¡­ I¡¯m still interested¡­ Would you say I¡¯ve earned an invitation back to your ship?¡±

    ¡°We-ell¡­¡± I start, my breath hitching with excitement ¡°¡­if you¡¯re sure I haven¡¯t put you off with the fact that I engage in polar bear wrestling as a pastime¡­(!)¡±

    He lets out a delightful giggle and taps his hoof in a way that my translator lets me know is equivalent to a headshake.

    ¡°Please take me home and wrestle me like one of your polar bears, Bj?rn(!)¡±

    I give a nervous chuckle and begin sliding myself off the bench and down onto all fours.

    The cervine boy frowns quizzically at me and asks ¡°Why are you down on the ground like that?¡­ Kinda prefer you looming over me(!)¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a long way and I get less tired when I walk on all fours.¡± I lie.

    Not that that¡¯s not true, just that, if there weren¡¯t a certain something that being down on all fours makes easier to conceal, I¡¯d definitely put up with the mildly less efficient gait!

    ¡°Alright then¡­¡± he pouts, clearly still disappointed.

    ¡°I¡¯ll loom over you plenty when we¡¯re back at mine, Fiadh¡­ Though, I have an idea for how to make the journey there more satisfying for you¡­?¡±

    ---Fiadh¡¯s perspective---

    I sit astride Bj?rn¡¯s back as we make our way through Xartham to the port district.

    He was right¡­ This is very satisfying! Though we are getting some alarmed looks(!)

    ¡°You¡¯re a historian, right Bj?rn?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a historiographer, Fiadh¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ see, I know your language has a distinction between those two concepts¡­ Mine doesn¡¯t(!) You know about history though?¡±

    ¡°I learned history from Katr¨ªn ¡®Berserker¡¯ Torrad¨®ttir, the finest history professor in Terran history(!)¡± he says, wobbling his head with affected smugness.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll take that as a yes(!)¡­ Do you know if any Terrans ever rode bears like this in your history?¡±

    ¡°Well, while I can¡¯t say for certain that none ever did (since it¡¯s impossible to prove a negative), I can state unequivocally that there is no evidence of any bear riding cultures that is currently known¡­ You are far from the first to imagine it though!¡±

    ¡°Laaaaaaaame!¡± I announce.

    He laughs in a way which does pleasant things for the organ I have pressed into his back.

    We draw up to the hatch, on the other side of which is a rigid umbilical, leading to a large, docked ship.

    The door doesn¡¯t open. Instead, a woman¡¯s voice emanates from it, speaking in New Norse (the same language as he¡¯s been speaking to me all evening) ¡°Hello there, Dr T¨²puson¡­ are you aware that you seem to have a young, mostly naked Vekthian man on your back(?)¡±

    Lifting his head to the door, my date/ride answers ¡°Well aware, Twila. This is Fiadh and he¡¯s going to be my guest for tonight, if that¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°Alright then¡­¡± she says, cheerfully ¡°¡­just as long as he isn¡¯t a spy or a stowaway(!)¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you, Twila!¡± I smile happily up at the disembodied New Norsewoman with the strange voice.

    ¡°It¡¯s lovely to meet you too, Fiadh!¡± she answers, surprising me by switching to perfect Vekthian.

    I spend a few moments mulling that over before shrugging it off as a coincidence.

    Terrans are well known as a species of polyglots and gaining access to translators seems to have done nothing to dampen their polyglotism¡­ despite making it completely unnecessary in my eyes!

    Funny coincidence, running into one that speaks such perfect Vekthian, though!

    ¡°You speak my language wonderfully!¡± I compliment her.

    ¡°Thank you, sweetie! So do you(!)¡± she jokes in return.

    I laugh at that until halfway down the umbilical.

    Bj?rn brings me through the door in the front of the ship¡¯s hull and turns left.

    We¡¯re walking through an absolutely breathtakingly large gallery, occupying what must be most of the volume of the ship¡¯s starboard side!

    If the ship¡¯s shape didn¡¯t give it away as belonging to an aerial species, this empty space would!

    Then, my eyes drift down and I catch sight of something that causes me to freeze.

    Urgently, I lean down to Bj?rn¡¯s ear and whisper ¡°Bj?rn! I think your ship¡¯s getting robbed right now!¡±

    His walking falters but he keeps carrying me towards where I saw the robber disappear as he asks ¡°What makes you say that?¡± his voice calm.

    ¡°Earlier today, about six of these little green bipeds came to me and my dad¡¯s shop and raided our bins for metal!¡­ I¡¯ve never seen their species before and I¡¯ve just seen one of the same species going into that corridor on the ground floor, there!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ That was your shop, was it?¡± he asks, dropping the whisper and not seeming the slightest bit concerned.

    ¡°Yes it was¡­ Wait? You saw? You saw them raiding our bins and didn¡¯t intervene? Some Terran you are(!)¡± I hiss back.

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t see¡­ I heard about it when they brought the metal back here¡­ Our coordinator was not best pleased!¡±

    ¡°Brought the metal¡­?¡± I start but don¡¯t finish as, from the same corridor that I just saw one of those little green skinned folk disappearing into, emerges another one.

    This one I recognise!

    She flicks a terrifying pair of bright yellow, vertically slitpupiled, forward facing eyes to Bj?rn and then up at me, making my body freeze and my blood chill!

    ¡°Hi there, Viig!¡± greets Bj?rn, his voice friendly.

    ¡°Hi there, Bj?rn!¡± she grins at him, baring four conical fangs, then she returns her attention to me and, obviously recognising me, greets ¡°Hi there, greedy!¡±

    ---Bj?rn¡¯s perspective---

    I come through the door to my room and hear two hoof clops as the (I can clearly smell) terrified xeno boy dismounts me.

    ¡°Explain!¡± he demands, tracking me with his gaze as I stand up to around 0.5m taller than him.

    ¡°I can try¡­ but I can¡¯t tell you everything.¡± I answer.

    He narrows his eyes at me before asking ¡°Are they actually diplomats?¡±

    ¡°They are.¡±

    ¡°Are they Terrans?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    He pauses before asking ¡°What species are they?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s one of the things I¡¯m not allowed to tell you, I¡¯m afraid¡­¡±

    He scowls then asks ¡°What did they want with the metal?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ well¡­ they aren¡¯t as used to living as close to postscarcity as you and I do¡­ They also come from a culture with a radically different (read ¡®no¡¯) concept of ownership. To them, to try to stop someone taking something you¡¯re not actively using is ¡®greedy¡¯¡­ It¡¯s as bad to them as theft is to us. They wanted the metal, you and your dad weren¡¯t using the metal and your dad told them he was throwing it away¡­ they didn¡¯t have any malicious intentions behind raiding your bins for it, they just don¡¯t like what they see as waste.¡±

    The boy keeps scowling up at me, gears clearly turning.

    ¡°Are they first contactees?¡± he asks.

    ¡°I can¡¯t answer that.¡± I answer.

    ¡°By the Father of the [fucking] Forest! They are, aren¡¯t they!¡­ I bet they¡¯re [fucking] deathworlders too(!)¡±

    I say nothing.

    He notices.

    His face falls as he twists his head, his left antler falling and his right rising.

    ¡°No¡­! Come on¡­! Get real, dude!!!¡± he exclaims, incredulously.

    ¡°OK¡­ Hypothetically¡­!¡± I start, holding out a clawed finger ¡°¡­if your conjectures were correct, then that would be very confidential information! If your conjectures were correct, we would be on our way to Citadel to present them to Parliament. If your conjectures were correct, it would be bad if rumours of new deathworld species were to be making their way around the galaxy before they could be properly introduced and allowed to answer questions for themselves!¡­ So, if your conjectures were correct, do you think you could keep it to yourself? It would only be for another few months¡­¡±

    The femboy Faun sighs and turns his head away from me (still looking at me with a sideways eye), the ghost of a smile playing across his blunt snout.

    ¡°¡­I mean¡­ it¡¯s not as if anyone would actually believe me if I said I had deathworld contactee diplomats digging through me and my dad¡¯s bins(!)¡± he observes.

    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± I confirm before continuing ¡°¡­Listen, Fiadh¡­ I understand that this is a lot to process so, if you don¡¯t feel like¡­¡±

    He silences me by whipping a hoofclawed finger towards my snout and interrupting ¡°Gonna stop you right there, dude! You think I spent all that time working my wiles on you at the bar, successfully got myself invited back here and made my way past the scary little green lady just to back out now?!¡­ You think you became less sexy with the knowledge that you¡¯ve just come back from making a first contact? Because, if you think that, you¡¯re dead wrong! Now¡­¡± he plops himself down on my bed, scootches himself up to the headboard and waves a hand over me ¡°¡­lose the clothes, dude.¡±

    ---Fiadh¡¯s perspective---

    I sit up on the sturdy bed, expectantly waiting for the looming Terran to show me the goods!

    He gives a nervous chuckle but seems to realise that making me undress first would be a little unfair, what with the free sample he¡¯s been getting all evening(!)

    He reaches a giant pawhand to his collar and hooks a foreclaw into his zip.

    I imagine that (like for me) his claws make buttonups way too frustrating to wear!

    He draws it down, revealing himself to be wearing nothing underneath that jacket¡­

    I feel like I¡¯m already halfway to cumming, just from seeing him slowly exposing all that brown fur that he has on his broad, deep torso!

    He slides his jacket down his thick arms and drops it to the floor.

    ¡°Very nice¡­!¡± I compliment ¡°¡­but I¡¯d like to see¡­ the rest, too!¡± flicking my eyes down to his lowers with a smirk.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he chuckles ¡°¡­who would I be to refuse a request such as that(!)¡± before reaching to the back of his trousers and pulling his short, fluffy tail free of the tailhole.

    Then, he brings his hands to the front, to loosen them.

    He works his fingers underneath the waistbands of the undergarment I¡¯m catching sight of through his undone fly and pulls both it and the trousers down to the floor, over his unshoed pawfeet.

    I burst into hysterical laughter at seeing what he¡¯s just unveiled.

    His face falls in dismay, misapprehending the reason for my giggling fit.

    I¡¯m trying to control myself but I¡¯m still in stitches as he asks ¡°Wh-what¡¯s wrong???¡±

    I wave and tap my hoof on his deep blue bedsheets, the soft surface giving the negative a dull *thud**thud* rather than the crisp *clack**clack* I¡¯d really want!

    Eventually, I manage ¡°N-*hehehehehehehehe*-Nothings wrong! I just-*hehehehehehehehehehehehe*-don¡¯t know why-*hehehe*-I wasn¡¯t expecting-*hehe*-you¡¯d be so-*HAHAhehehehehehe*-BIG!!!¡± gesturing to the titanic phallus that he¡¯s just unveiled!

    Other than the tip of his nose and the palms and soles of his paws, it¡¯s the only part of him that isn¡¯t covered in fur, though it sits above a large set of furry testicles.

    It¡¯s a rich red colour that I infer it to have from being filled with red blood.

    It¡¯s got a tiny bit of an elongated hourglass shape, with a wide base where it sticks out from his furry skin, tapering to a slightly narrower neck about ? of the way up and flaring back out before abruptly ending in an angled, flattened glans.

    The whole thing is the longest and fattest cock I¡¯ve ever seen!

    ¡°Am¡­ am I¡­ too big for you¡­?¡± he asks, uncertainly.

    I think about that, assessing the XL member¡­

    I make a decision ¡°You¡¯ll¡­ be a challenge¡­ but I¡¯m up for a challenge(!)¡±

    Relieved, he says ¡°I¡¯m glad¡­¡± before dropping to all fours and slowly padding to the edge of the bed.

    My stomachs swoop from the thrill of seeing this Terran hypercarnivore (yes, I know he¡¯s an omnivore but that¡¯s not as exciting for me so shut up!) stalking towards me with hunger in his forward facing, roundpupiled, brown eyes¡­

    A forepaw (wider than my whole head) is raised onto the surface of the bed, the rest of him following it up.

    As he approaches me, I feel the way he warps the stiff mattress which, by comparison, barely has any give under my weight!

    He brings the end of his long, thick, sharp snout to my short, blunt, rounded one.

    I lean forward and cradle his dense, solid, deathworld skull in my hands and plant my lips against his.

    I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my nose as I kiss the magnificent giant.

    He doesn¡¯t smell as musky as I would have thought before I got close to him.

    He actually smells surprisingly fresh¡­ like a forest after a Spring rain¡­

    ¡°You realise¡­¡± he starts, his deep voice causing my breaths to catch as it reverberates through me, even though he¡¯s speaking as quietly as he can without whispering ¡°¡­that you would definitely die if I lay on top of you, right?¡±

    I give a puffing, mirthful exhale as I answer ¡°Yeah¡­ kinda figured, dude(!)¡­ Why don¡¯t you take my clothes off and then lie back and let me figure out how to take care of it?¡±

    He chuckles ¡°What clothes(?)¡±

    I sigh and (not whispering) answer ¡°You sound like my dad(!)¡­ Didn¡¯t see you complaining earlier while you were eye [fucking] me, all night long(!)¡±

    ¡°*heh*¡­True enough(!)¡±

    Then he brings his snout down to my collar and delicately pinches the slider at the top of my suprasternal notch, unzipping for a total of [5cm] until my top comes undone.

    Together, he and I pull the sleeves down my arms and over my hands before he takes them in his left hand and tosses them off the bed.

    Then, his attention turns (for far from the first time tonight) to my crotch.

    I lift my weight off my hips, to allow my tail to be repositioned from behind me to between my legs and make my briefs easier for him to pull off of me.

    Supporting his front half on his right pawhand, he reaches his left indexclaw to the crutch of my pants and hooks it under them, just below my testicles.

    I give a squeak from the sensation of his claw gently scraping my taint.

    He pulls his paw down, dragging my last stitch off me over my hooves and the platinum white brush on the end of my tail.

    Tossing my briefs away to land with my top, my lover turns his attention to my crotch.

    ¡°You have a lovely little cock¡­¡± he smiles.

    ¡°Thanks¡­ I know(!)¡± I smile back.

    ---Bj?rn¡¯s perspective---

    I look at the little deer boy who a not insignificant part of my instincts are firmly telling me is a piece of prey¡­

    Those are instincts I need to ignore though¡­!

    As erotic as he seems like he would find it if I lost control on him, he¡¯d need to survive it!

    I would risk hurting a Human boy by being too rough with him and Fiadh¡¯s cradle is (though unusually high Class) only a fraction as dangerous to evolve on as Earth.

    I don¡¯t really have a choice but to bottom for him.

    Careful that none of his limbs, antlers or tail will be beneath me, I collapse all my 0.37 tonnes onto the mattress to my left, rolling onto my back.

    He shrieks delightedly as the rebound of the stiff mattress throws him 30cm into the air.

    Still giggling, he climbs onto my chest and nestles his pink furred arse against the top side of my cock, his own cute little thing pressed into the fur of my stomach.

    Between kisses, the boy asks ¡°*kiss*¡­ Lube?¡­ *kiss*¡±

    Chuckling, my hand goes to a drawer in my bedside cabinet and opens it to pull out a bottle of clear gel with a pump top.

    This is the first time it¡¯s been used for anything but masturbation since I came aboard. (My digital and metacarpal pads are too rough against the sensitive skin to do anything comfortably without lube!)

    The boy sits up on my stomach, absently exploring my sex with his tail as he pushes out a few pumps into his hand.

    ¡°Uhm¡­ a word of warning¡­¡± I start, hesitantly ¡°¡­I have a baculum. It¡¯s a bone in my penis¡­ just be careful not to bend it too much or it will break and I¡¯ll need to take an embarrassing trip to the medbay(!)¡±

    The boy scoffs ¡°I know what a baculum is, Bj?rn(!) Who doesn¡¯t have a baculum(!?)¡±

    Raising my brow, I enlighten him ¡°Humans don¡¯t have bacula, Fiadh¡­¡±

    His eyes go wide as he first doubts, then narrow as he thinks.

    ¡°Is that why [Cpl] Altan¡¯s cock felt so weird!? There wasn¡¯t a bone in it¡­?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d guess so¡­¡± I answer.

    ¡°How do they even stay erect without a bone?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Bloodpressure¡­ that¡¯s most of what keeps me erect, too¡­ I don¡¯t know about you.¡± I chuckle.

    ¡°Weeeeeird!¡± he jeers.

    Then, he gives a gesture of his luby hands that¡¯s translated as something like a shrug and stands to bring his hooves between my legs, kneeling down to begin smearing the gel over my sex.

    I give a moaning sigh and tip back my head as I feel those hands working over my length.

    I feel his lips against my flat glans as he kisses it.

    My flesh melts from the soothing sensation of physical touch that the little pink Faun is providing for me.

    Then, I feel him stand back up and turn around between my legs.

    I bring my head forward to watch as the skinny femboy slides himself downward, moaning adorably from the sensation of my girth as it enters him.

    His cute little arse finally squashes against my pelvis, his clawed hands clutching my knees, his tail whipping back and forth as he deals with the sensory overload.

    Then, he lifts himself slightly before dropping back down.

    ---Fiadh¡¯s perspective---

    My stomach bulges, every time I bring myself down the titanic cock.

    I bite my lip as I moan in pleasure.

    His moans are deep, growling and animalistic¡­

    This is exactly what I hoped it would be!

    No¡­ this is better!

    This is everything I hoped for and more!

    I can feel the density, the solidity, the power of the body beneath me!

    The only problem is ¡°Bj?rn!¡­*huh*¡­ I can¡¯t¡­*huhhh*¡­ keep going¡­!¡±

    ¡°Why? Does it hurt?¡± he asks, not sounding even a quarter as out of breath as I am.

    ¡°No!¡­*huh*¡­ I just¡­*huh*¡­ don¡¯t have¡­*huh*¡­ the strength!¡± I whine.

    ¡°Do you *mggnh* do you want me to take over?¡± he asks, only interrupted by a spasm of pleasure.

    ¡°YES!!!¡±

    No sooner have I said that than a pair of impossibly powerful hands wrap around my chest and yank me backwards, where my head (slightly painfully) impacts a hard sternum.

    My hooves hover above the mattress between his (comparatively) short, thick legs.

    My tail base is squashed into the flesh of his stomach.

    His right hand remains clamping my chest to his as his left slides down my front to where the tip of his cock disturbs the flesh of my belly.

    A snout comes down to my left ear and whispers ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to be gentle, Fiadh¡­ tell me if you need me to stop¡­¡±

    With that, my entire upper body is crumpled as his powerful hips thrust him upwards into me.

    My mouth wide open now, as my moans of pleasure have become shrieks, I do my best to withstand the vigorous onslaught the behemoth is subjecting me to until¡­

    All at once, the air is crushed from my lungs by the (seemingly involuntary) tensing of his mighty arms.

    He moans as my belly swells with his cream!

    The ecstatic bliss leaves me utterly mute as my body spasms¡­ then I orgasm as well, shooting a thin jet of purple up into the air, my body convulsing.

    ---Bj?rn¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°It¡­ sounds like he loves you.¡± I say to the (very well fucked) boy, lying on my chest to recover.

    ¡°I know he loves me¡­ I just wish he respected me! I wish he took the time to try and understand me! To see anything from my point of view!¡± he laments.

    ¡°Well¡­ he didn¡¯t disown you and toss you out in the station corridor when you came out to him, did he?¡± I point out.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a high bar, dude!¡± he puffs.

    ¡°And, yet, it¡¯s one that a lot of so-called parents have still tripped over in Terran history¡­¡±

    ¡°Mmmh¡­¡± he grunts, clearly still not liking the juxtaposition between the accepting Terrans of today and the hateful bigotry of our past that I enlightened him to, earlier tonight.

    ¡°What¡¯s the main thing that you think is causing trouble in your relationship at the moment?¡± I enquire.

    He sighs, thinking, before answering ¡°I want to go and study engineering at a university somewhere in the UTC¡­ He thinks its unsafe and too far away! He wants me to just stay here and keep apprenticing under him for the rest of my life!¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± I muse, thoughtfully.

    ¡°What?¡± he asks, turning his head to look up my chest at me.

    ¡°Well¡­ I know New Troms?, the university I work for, has both a blooming gardenworld outreach programme and a fairly good engineering department¡­ It¡¯s also on a fairly low gravity world (as deathworlds go) and about as near to here as Terran Space gets (with the one exception of Nowe Mazury which has no universities as of now)¡­ Would you like me to put you in touch with someone from the outreach programme?¡­ They might be able to do a better job of reassuring your father than you or I could¡­¡±

    He just stares at me for a few moments, agog, before finally managing ¡°Dude¡­ for real?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ for real¡­ I think your father may be mistaking your desire for a fleeting fancy, right now¡­ I think talking it through with someone from the outreach programme might help him to realise that you¡¯re more serious than that.¡± I smile.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say, Bj?rn! Thank you!!!¡±

    ¡°No problem at all¡­ If you give me your holocom, I¡¯ll be in touch as soon as I¡¯ve got anything to report¡­ and perhaps, if anything comes of it, you could look me up in a year or two when you get to Nova Fennoscandia?¡±

    ¡°Ooh¡­ you gonna date a student(?) Scandalous(!)¡± he teases.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m in a different department, you wouldn¡¯t be my student¡­ and we will have known eachother since before you became a student¡­ If you actually came and were actually interested in a boring old bear like me, then I¡¯d run it by the ethics board but I wouldn¡¯t foresee it being an issue¡­ just so long as I don¡¯t try to use my position to coerce you in any way about anything.¡±

    A hand reaches out to grab my snout, pulling my head to force me to look into those aqua blue eyes.

    ¡°Dude¡­ I am actually interested in you¡­ and you have to stop being so down on yourself! It¡¯s a total bummer!¡± he chastises.

    ¡°Well¡­ alright then(!)¡± I chuckle, his hand not interfering with my speech at all.

    ¡°Good!¡­ Now, is it alright if I sleep here?¡­ I don¡¯t really fancy hobbling home this late in the nocturnal(!)¡±

    ¡°No problem at all¡­ just so long as you don¡¯t mind pancakes for breakfast?¡±

    He frowns ¡°What¡¯re [pancakes], dude?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.179

    ---Warren---

    ---Bonheh¡¯s perspective---

    The door opens and I hurry in to the quiet, low ceilinged district, out of the busy corridor.

    As soon as I enter, the sound of delighted squealing draws my attention to the floor in the middle of the Warren.

    I see Lagomeer, rolling over himself, absolutely hysterical with laughter.

    He¡¯s not alone¡­

    The one he¡¯s with isn¡¯t Huch (recently returned to work after several [months] of time off he had to take to deal with the emotional trauma of a particularly nasty robbery.)

    Neither is he with any of our neighbours.

    I¡¯ve never met the woman causing my son such amusement but, nonetheless, I recognise her¡­

    The other day, while I was out making a delivery, I saw her staring down Officer Bzhort and two other security men (all much larger than her) while some of her compatriots dug through piles of trash.

    I didn¡¯t get the chance to glean the whole story (since sticking around for it would have made me late) but the Threndian looked annoyed¡­

    ¡°Do it again!¡± giggles my son at the unfamiliar woman.

    She smiles and, the next instant, I¡¯m not looking at her face anymore but her legs as she springs into the air and slams into the ceiling, bracing her impact with her arms before throwing herself back to the ground to land with a *thud* that suggests her body to be far more dense than I took it for!

    I¡¯m stopped in my tracks as my son rolls over himself, spasming in laughter at the shocking physical display the girl just put on for him!

    Jumping high enough to touch the Warren¡¯s ceiling is no great feat¡­ most people who live here can jump that high¡­ Doing so like she just did though¡­ was alarming!

    From the lightning fast way she sprang from her standing start to the sound of the impacts to the way she completely trusted in her ability to keep from slamming her own head into the ceiling, it¡¯s clear that this girl is far from ordinary!

    With that jump, I dare say she could have gone as high as Bzhort¡¯s head if the mood had struck her the other day!

    ¡°You wanna see something even better than that, Laggy?¡± grins the woman, baring her teeth like a Terran as the nearby speakers translate her words into Hjopian for him.

    ¡°Mmmm! Mmmm!!!¡± he confirms.

    She takes a moment to prepare herself before springing upwards again but, this time, doing so in such a way as only her feet contact the ceiling, her head ending up lower than it was and facing away from us. Then (actually taking a few upside down steps to run on the ceiling, momentarily pinned there by the momentum of her jump!) she flips back down, once again facing towards us, no part of her body besides her feet having contacted anything in the entire process.

    My son utterly shrieks in pleasure at the display.

    Coming up behind him, I cautiously announce myself ¡°Hey Laggy¡­? Who¡¯s your friend?¡±

    The woman¡¯s attention snaps to me.

    Her green skin is hairless, with the exception of eyebrows and a head of spiked, honey brown hair.

    Her ears are long, pointed, mobile and mounted on the sides of her skull.

    A piercing pair of bright yellow eyes with vertical pupils sit flanking the sides of a long, downward facing nose and above a mouth with (what look like) claw scars passing over it.

    With my temporal resolution higher than most, I¡¯m able to tell she spends a brief moment assessing me, calculating, and then relaxes.

    It¡¯s quite unnerving!

    ¡°You¡¯re another ¡®Hjopian¡¯, like Laggy right?¡± she smiles, now utterly at ease ¡°I¡¯m Viig¡­ it¡¯s nice to meet you¡­¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s amazing, Mummy!¡± observes my son, enthusiastically ¡°She can do all kinds of crazy tricks!¡±

    ¡°I saw, sweetie¡­ It was very impressive!¡±

    ¡°Thanks¡­¡± acknowledges the little humanoid with a cocky grin.

    ¡°It must have taken a lot of practice to learn how to do things like that?¡± I probe.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The girl raises her shoulders in a gesture flagged as nonchalance before answering ¡°Nah¡­ not really¡­ it¡¯s pretty normal where I¡¯m from¡­ just easier in the low [gravity] here.¡±

    ¡°Oh. So, you come from a high gravity world?¡± I ask, as if that fact weren¡¯t blatantly obvious to me!

    ¡°Guess so¡­¡± she answers, doing another one of those shoulder raises.

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­ So, what brings you to Xartham, Viig?¡± I ask.

    ¡°We just stopping off here on the way to somewhere else.¡± she explains, completely ignoring the point of the question by explaining how travel works to me(!)

    ¡°Right, right¡­ and¡­ how come you¡¯re here in the Warren?¡±

    Her face falls as she gestures around us and asks ¡°The ¡®Warren¡¯s¡¯ this place? Am I not allowed in here?¡±

    Hurriedly, I correct ¡°No! It¡¯s not that you¡¯re not welcome here¡­ I just... well, I know you don¡¯t live here¡­ and there¡¯s no thoroughfare so it¡¯s not on the way to anywhere else¡­ I was just wondering if you were visiting someone?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ nah¡­¡± she answers, cheer returned to her face ¡°¡­we¡¯re leaving today so I was just having a last look around when I saw the door.¡± she points over to the entrance I just came through ¡°Noticed it ¡¯cause it was so small¡­ I went up to it and it opened for me¡­ came in and saw Laggy here, thought he was an animal until he said ¡®Hello¡¯ to me. I was so startled that I jumped away¡­ which he found very funny!¡±

    ¡°Ah! And that explains the jumping(!)¡± I smile ¡°So, you¡¯ve not been to Xartham before then?¡±

    She gives a negatively flagged gesture and grimaces ¡°I¡¯d never left the world I was born on before very recently. This is the first time I¡¯ve been anywhere but there.¡±

    ¡°Oooh¡­¡± I frown sympathetically ¡°¡­sorry to hear that, sweetie!¡­ The first time is always a bit rough. How are you finding it?¡±

    Thoughtfully, she answers ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a lot¡­ We don¡¯t have anything like all this on Graom¡­¡± gesturing around and above her to indicate not just the Warren but all of Xartham ¡°It¡¯s scary¡­but¡­ it¡¯s also exciting¡­ and interesting¡­ and fun¡­!¡± with a bittersweet smile.

    I chuckle ¡°Yes¡­ That about sums up space travel, sweetie(!)¡­ Those feelings never really go away but you do sort of get used to them when you¡¯ve been doing it long enough.¡±

    She gives me another friendly (but unnerving) toothbare as she starts ¡°Thanks¡­ I¡­¡±

    ¡°Viig!¡± interrupts a powerful voice from the door that just opened behind me.

    Turning around, I see a large Terran with red hair and green eyes, stooped double to fit his (what looks like) [+2m] beneath the [1.5m] ceiling, his gaze fixed on the girl.

    I briefly think he might have nefarious intentions of some kind but the girl shows no discomfort with his appearance, allowing me to mostly discount that possibility.

    As he draws closer, I recognise him¡­ or¡­ I¡¯m pretty sure I do anyway!

    Terrans have quite pronounced heterogeneity so, while it¡¯s not impossible that it¡¯s a different Terran with the same features, I¡¯m nearly certain that this is the same one from AnThuk and Daughters¡¯ [last year].

    Ignoring me and Laggy completely, the stooped giant with his head at the ceiling crouch walks over to Viig and chides ¡°You can¡¯t keep goin¡¯ out without your holo, Viig! ¡®Holo¡¯ means ¡®all¡¯! You need it for everything! Without it, you can¡¯t pay for stuff, you can¡¯t ID yourself and, crucially, we can¡¯t call you!¡± irritatedly.

    ¡°Sir¡­¡± I say before Viig can, causing the looming man¡¯s green eyes to snap to me ¡°¡­do you recognise me?¡±

    He frowns ¡°Err¡­ sorry¡­ no¡­ Should I?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m going to be embarrassed if it¡¯s not you but¡­ I¡¯m fairly sure you saved my son¡¯s life a [year] or so ago?¡±

    Recognition lights up his face as he says ¡°Oh! It¡¯s you two! From the emporium?¡­ Sorry I didn¡¯t recognise you, the cracked rib was a bit distracting and a lot¡¯s happened to me since then!¡±

    I raise my pawhand to his for a Terran greeting and say ¡°Bonheh Joodie. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you properly, Sir.¡±

    He smiles and reaches out to enclose both my paw and about a third of my forearm in his hand, toothlessly smiling ¡°Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor¡­ pleasure¡¯s all mine.¡±

    ¡°Lagomeer¡­¡± I say, turning to my son ¡°¡­come and say hello to the man who saved you from MaThal¡¯s loader¡­¡±

    Laggy tentatively hops forward, the tops of his ears not quite level with the enormous Terran¡¯s [65cm] tall kneecaps.

    The giant squats down on his haunches (still taller than me) and beams at my son.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ nice to meet you, Sir¡­ Thank you for saving me¡­ sorry you had to¡­ I¡¯m¡­ Lagomeer Joodie¡­¡± he introduces himself.

    ¡°Nice to meet you, kid. I¡¯m Victor¡­ No need to apologise! You¡¯re very welcome!¡± smiles the Terran.

    Lagomeer holds out his arm to the man, the way he saw me do, only he extends the wrong one.

    Not missing a beat, the crouched titan grasps my son¡¯s arm in his left hand and gives it a gentle shake up and down before asking ¡°My imagination or¡¯re you bigger than last time I saw you?¡±

    Seeming to forget his trepidation, my son immediately and excitedly says ¡°Yes! I¡¯m growing! I¡¯m [61cm] with ears!¡± extending his ears from where they were flattened behind his head to fully standing.

    The Terran lets out a genuine sounding chuckle at that, repeating ¡°¡®With ears¡¯! That¡¯s lovely!¡±

    ¡°Erm¡­ Victor?¡± interrupts the one he actually came here for ¡°Did you need me for something?¡±

    Returning his attention to her, he answers ¡°Yeah, Viig¡­ it¡¯s time to go! Everyone¡¯s back on the ship, ¡¯cept those out lookin¡¯ for you¡­ Something else holos help with is timekeepin¡¯(!)¡±

    She scoffs ¡°I¡¯m not going to let some little square boss me around and tell me I¡¯m late for things(!)¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t even slightly how it works, Viig¡­¡± observes the Terran, wryly ¡°You use it to tell you the time! If you don¡¯t, then you¡¯ll be late¡­ a lot!¡±

    Rolling her yellow eyes, she says ¡°Sure¡­ whatever¡­ Could I ride you back?¡±

    Cocking a copper eyebrow, unimpressed, he asks ¡°Your legs stopped workin¡¯¡­(?)¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯ve just been entertaining Laggy with tricks and I¡¯m a bit tired now¡­¡± she answers.

    The man sighs before saying ¡°Sure¡­ fine¡­ climb on!¡± turning his back to her and gesturing it with a thumb.

    The girl grins and clambers up.

    The giant stands (lower than he came in so as not to crush his passenger against the ceiling) and turns to wish us ¡°Goodbye, you two!¡±

    ¡°Bye!¡± waves Viig over his shoulder.

    ¡°Goodbye!¡± answer Laggy and I in unison.

    With that, the pair make their way to the door.

    The man stands fully up the moment he¡¯s able, causing both his and the girl¡¯s heads to disappear above the lintel.

    The door closes.

    ¡°They were nice, weren¡¯t they Laggy¡­¡± I smile.

    ¡°They were so cool!¡± he says, enthusiastically.

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XLI: Pancakes and Tentacles

    ---?¡¯s perspective---

    I set the lightweight board of (very Terran looking) black and white keys down on my desk.

    I extend one of my perambulatory tentacles beneath it to pull out the pedalboard.

    I sit, flourishing the back of my dress over the bench with two of my perambulator tentacles.

    I extend two flexible arms out to the keys and splay out my eight finger tentacles.

    It¡¯s a little hard not to think I¡¯m cheating¡­

    Terrans only have ten fingers and two feet.

    I have fewer fingers, sure, but then I¡¯ve got six tentacles on my face and eight on my lower half!

    Even still, I know I¡¯m not going to be able to make it sound quite like it should!

    There¡¯s some X factor that Terrans have when playing which I just can¡¯t replicate, no matter how technically perfect I am in my playing.

    Their concept of the ¡®tortured poet¡¯ is rather an apt metaphor for their entire species¡¯ relationship to music and, more generally, all kinds of art and creativity!

    They take eons of pain, suffering, misery and loss and defy it by transforming it into beauty!

    Beauty to delight every sense flows from their hands, their mouths, their minds and¡­ *ehem*¡­ other parts of them as naturally as they breathe!

    My every attempt to capture that deathworld spark they have by emulating their works myself leaves me feeling utterly inadequate!

    And, yet, I need to keep trying!

    I need to believe that I can get there myself, one day!

    Two pairs of keys light up, an octave apart, and I bring four finger tentacles to them as they get brighter.

    At exactly the right moment, I briefly depress the upper of both pairs, then the lower, then hold on the upper.

    Though no actual pipes are present, my room is filled by the resounding wails of them.

    The sound is one of dread, of horror, of despair¡­ and still beautiful¡­

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    I watch the green skinned squidgirl¡¯s back as she does her Davy Jones act on the pipe organ.

    The tips of her twenty two boneless appendages work furiously against the keys and pedals, giving a layered performance it would take two Human organists to pull off!

    The way the keys illuminate for her gives her a dramatic backlighting effect (or frontlighting? Her front but behind her from my perspective?) that fits the spooky tone of the Bach piece very well!

    Five long, drawn out notes conclude.

    I stand and clap, loudly congratulating ¡°Brava! Brava ragazza!!!¡±

    ? startles and whips around in her seat in a way that makes obvious that there are as few bones in her torso as there are anywhere else in her body.

    ¡°By the Song, Yasmin! How long have you been there!?¡± she sings in her monophonemic, tonal language, not actually saying the (unpronounceable to her) name ¡®Yasmin¡¯ but using the ?? ?¨¥?¨¨ name she gave me when I started learning her language.

    ¡°Since pretty much the beginning of that song you just played¡­¡± I sing back, smirking.

    She gives an irritated curl of the oral tentacles on her lower face before correcting ¡°It¡¯s not a ¡®song¡¯, it¡¯s a piece! Songs must be sung and I¡¯m not aware of anyone ever having put lyrics to this piece!¡±

    I cock an eyebrow and tease ¡°Ah(!) Thank you for the correction(!) I suppose we¡¯ve started our session now, then(?)¡±

    I see realisation dawn on her face as she turns back around to check the time, comprehending why I was sat waiting for her to finish being dramatically spooky.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, Yasmin¡­ I lost track of time¡­¡± she mumblesings, apologetically.

    ¡°It¡¯s no problem, honey¡­ I enjoyed watching you embracing your R¡¯lyehian heritage with the spookiness and such(!)¡±

    She sings a high, steady, flat note, equivalent to an exasperated sigh, and answers ¡°Yes, yes¡­ I¡¯ve got tentacles on my face which makes me look like the terrifying evil god character whose name I can¡¯t pronounce, from the sunken city that¡¯s name I can¡¯t pronounce, in a book that¡¯s title I can¡¯t pronounce because it has the god¡¯s name in it, in a mythos that¡¯s name I can¡¯t pronounce, by an author whose name I can¡¯t pronounce¡­ Right?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ but you¡¯re much sexier, though¡­ Like Cthulhu¡¯s hot daughter(!)¡± I chuckle.

    She gives another monotone sigh and stands, turning around on her eight tentacles and keeping them straight enough to make her half a head taller than me (adorably).

    She ambles her way over and brings out her jointless arms to wrap around me.

    I grin as her oral tentacles part, revealing the glistening blue, suckerlined undersides as they wrap around my lower head, under my shayla, allowing her cute little beak to come to my lips and start nibbling them in a kiss.

    I squeeze her back (gently as, even though she has no bones to break, it doesn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t hurt her if I squeezed her as tight as I¡¯d want!)

    I stare into the pair of pink eyes with shallow U-shaped pupils, enjoying the sensation of the embrace of one of the most interesting lovers I¡¯ve ever had.

    Talented (in many regards(!)), attractive (both cute and beautiful) and (the initial draw) a speaker of one of the most difficult (and therefore fascinating) languages I¡¯ve ever learned!

    I don¡¯t remember it taking me so long to get as good with any language I¡¯ve learned (with a willing teacher, at least ) since I was a child!

    I am not particularly musically inclined, which has been an enormous impediment!

    I¡¯m definitely a better singer now than I was this time last year(!)

    And¡­ well¡­ the amount of time her language has taken me to learn has allowed me to spend a lot of time with the sexy daughter of Cthulhu currently nibbling on my lips and filling my nose with the smell of sea salt.

    Just as I¡¯m reflecting on that, I feel another sensation¡­ tentacles sliding under my dress and starting to wrap themselves around my shins.

    I pull my head back enough to sing into the bubble formed around my mouth by her oral tentacles ¡°Ah, ah, aaaah! You know the deal! Session first, then playtime, missy!¡­ Also, no suckermarks on the face!¡± raising a finger to tap where I can feel her suction cups clamped onto a part of my right cheek ¡°If you leave bruises there, I¡¯m going to have to where a veil until they heal(!)¡±

    ?¡¯s cute upper face pouts as she gingerly detaches her suckers from my cheek and withdraws her tentacles from my legs.

    ¡°Alright then¡­¡± she sings, curling up her lower tentacles into a nest beneath her as she takes a seat on a couch designed for Terrans ¡°¡­what have you got for me today, Yasmin?¡±

    I smirk as I take the seat beside the sexy siren and pull out my holo, quickly syncing it with the wall we¡¯re both facing ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯ve got twelve for you today¡­¡±

    ¡°Twelve¡­? It says thirteen?¡± she queries, pointing at the display.

    ¡°My mistake! Thirteen!¡­ Thank you for the correction¡­ Numbers are always a little tricky to wrap my head around in a new language!¡± I sing back, relishing the bitter sting of the error while, at the same time, resolving never to make it again.

    ¡°No problem¡­ So, what¡¯s the first one about?¡± she asks, pointing to the metal song at the top of the playlist.

    ¡°Well, the first one is about one¡­ hundred¡­ and eighty¡­ nine¡­¡± I start, singing slowly to make sure I don¡¯t give the number wrong ¡°¡­uhm¡­ soldiers? I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s quite the right word¡­ one hundred and eighty nine men whose job is to fight and protect, protecting the¡­ priest king who employs them¡­¡±

    ¡°Guards?¡± she suggests.

    ¡°Guards! Yes!¡± I sing back ¡°One hundred and eighty nine guards, guarding a king of priests (I don¡¯t think there¡¯ll be an exact translation for his title) when their city is being attacked by soldiers who wanted to steal because they hadn¡¯t been paid¡­ Is there a way of saying ¡®when soldiers steal¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I think we would just call that ¡®stealing¡¯?¡± she answers ¡°You have a specific word for it in Terran languages?¡±

    ¡°Most do, yes¡­ Anyway, the guards need to be very brave to guard the priest king from the soldiers attacking¡­ lots of them need to die¡­ and they do die!¡± I finish, not happy with how stilted my explanation sounds.

    ¡°Alright then, do you want to play it?¡± she asks, turning her attention to the wall.

    ¡°Playing it now.¡± I say, tapping my holo to start the song.

    The sound of Christian church bells rings out from the room¡¯s speakers, quietly at first¡­

    ---?¡¯s perspective---

    I look at the stocky Terran man in the colourful uniform and almost as colourful room.

    His brown hair falls to his shoulders beneath his cylindrical, peaked cap and forms a sleek, bifurcated covering on his top lip, extending out from there, left and right.

    His eyelids have been painted in a light blue and his cheeks tinted red.

    His white gloved hands grasp a plastic microphone and his body moves even more stiffly than is normal for people with any kind of skeleton.

    He sings so rapidly it seems impossible to believe he has the breath for it!

    The lyrics are dense with double meanings!

    The whole video has been an uncanny, creepy, off-kilter mixture of elements that look as if they were intended for children and elements that very clearly seem intended to be terrifying¡­ especially that fluffy blue creature with the razor sharp teeth who wants to ¡®melt my intestines¡¯ with his hugs!

    The singer moves his eyes and body in a way I¡¯m almost positive aren¡¯t actually possible for Humans.

    My three hearts are pounding in my chest and my breaths are fast and shallow.

    mf?Don¡¯tthinkthattoyshavegotthingstosay?

    ThenLookatthesepointsofarticulation!?mf

    He raises one hand and lowers the other in an angular formation to spin them around at the wrists several times, the translation informing me of a play on words with ¡®articulation¡¯ pertaining both to speech and joints.

    His head spins around, 180¡ã, for him to repeatedly jab a thumb to a large ring of plastic tied to the middle of his back as he sings

    mf?Pullonmystring,haveaconversation

    Oh,soyouthinkwe''re¡­?mf

    he whips his head forward again and screams

    fff?¡­ABOMINATIONS!?!?!??fff

    his voice Demonic, his eyes glowing red, one fixed forward, the other spinning wildly, his teeth suddenly two rows of sharp, pointed, predatory fangs, his skin grey and cracked and the ambient lighting red.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Stop it! Please!¡± I demand of Yasmin who pauses the video, thankfully on an image of the singer looking unDemonic, just pulling an intense expression through a sheet of clear plastic he has his hands against.

    I sit, panting through my funnels, my hearts feeling like they¡¯re in danger of failing under the stress.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± queries Yasmin.

    I extend a hand to wave at her before gasping ¡°¡­it¡¯s¡­ too much!¡­ I can¡¯t take it!¡­ I don¡¯t have¡­ Terran fortitude!¡±

    Her untentacled face falls as she says ¡°Oh¡­ sorry honey!¡­ I guess it was a bad pick¡­ I just thought¡­ Because you said you wanted ones with interesting or unusual themes!¡­ I thought this one was interesting, I didn¡¯t think about it being frightening!¡± her body language (though alien) letting me know she¡¯s not lying and, in fact, did not register that terrifying image as anything to be concerned about at all!

    It wasn¡¯t just that one either¡­ over the last eight songs, I¡¯ve been a triumphant warrior, a heartbroken shell, a silly little trickster, a juicy piece of meat about to be hunted and four hundred and eighty two other different things!

    I feel stretched out¡­ like a [squid] on a drying rack!

    ¡°There are still a few more? Do you want to skip this one and keep going or¡­¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± I sing over the end of her sentence, discordantly, (an enormous faux pas to the ?¨¥?¨¨) ¡°I can¡¯t handle any more! I¡¯m sorry!¡±

    She answers with a Terran laugh before singing ¡°You don¡¯t need to be sorry, honey! If you can¡¯t handle any more, you can¡¯t handle anymore! We can stop there, it¡¯s completely fine!¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± I sigh before my orals twist in discomfort to ask ¡°¡­and¡­ uhm¡­ can we still¡­? Is it alright if we still¡­ play?¡±

    Flatly, she cocks an eyebrow and sings ¡°Honey¡­ you seem to have misunderstood the terms of our arrangement! This isn¡¯t an exchange! I¡¯m not paying you for lessons with sex! The exchange part is, I bring you obscure songs, you correct my descriptions of the songs and we have a little discussion about them afterward! When that¡¯s done, we have sex because I think you¡¯re sexy!¡­ The only reason I insist on having the session first is because I know we¡¯re less likely to get to it otherwise, not because I¡¯m holding playtime hostage to reward you with afterward!¡­ Yes, we can still play if you still want to!¡­ Just try to recover first though!¡±

    ¡°OK¡­ that¡¯s a relief!¡± I say, curling my orals in happiness.

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    I sit on ?¡¯s bed, watching my lover as she removes her dress with two of her tentacular legs rising up her body to lift it off.

    From the waist down, her eight tentacles obviously look absolutely nothing like a pair of Human legs but it¡¯s actually astonishing how Terranlike her upper body is in size, configuration and proportion!

    There are differences of course; her boneless arms bend along their length (like an early 20th Century rubber hose animation), her hands are each missing a finger, her chest is missing its breasts, her skin is a vivid green, her U-pupiled eyes are a vivid pink with pale blue sclerae, the scalp of bright pink integument she has isn¡¯t quite hair but fine tendrils of keratinised flesh (a fact much more obvious on her short eyebrows of the stuff) and (most noticeably nonTerran) then there¡¯s her lower face of Cthulhu tentacles.

    She is shockingly attractive overall, neither in spite of nor because of her many nonHumannesses but inclusive of them!

    The most erotic thing about her, though, is that voice of hers.

    She sings with a voice of such ethereal beauty that I don¡¯t think she¡¯d have any problem luring even a crew of ace sailors to their deaths on the rocks(!)

    Listening to her sing is intoxicating and I praise Allah for creating her to speak a language of song¡­

    Part of the reason her language has taken me so long to learn is simply that it¡¯s incredibly easy for me to get lost in her voice and forget to actually try to understand the meaning of the tones she sings(!)

    Her eight legs *thud* lightly against her floor as she approaches me.

    She reaches a leg up to my shayla and pushes it underneath, wrapping it into the fabric before pulling it off my head.

    I give a seductive smile up at her as my hair falls back to my shoulders.

    She brings that tentacle along with three others down under the hem of my dress. First, deftly pulling off my shoes before extending the appendages along my legs to drag my dress upwards.

    I lift my weight off of my arse to allow the fabric to pass beneath it.

    I spend a few moments blinded by my dress before it comes off, leaving my body (covered in suckermark bruises in various states of healing) only clad in a set of light blue lingerie.

    I lie back on the bed and pull my feet up.

    She takes her cue and climbs up over me.

    Looking upwards and getting an (absolutely delightful) upskirt of the underside of the membrane between her eight lower tentacles, I see her cute little, mostly Human looking cunt as she lowers it toward my face.

    The only difference between hers and any of my Human lovers¡¯ is that her labia majora are bright green and her minora are pale purple.

    The frontmost portion of her membrane skirt is hooked beneath my nose, allowing me to look up at her, as she brings her green and purple pussy to my gold tongue(!)

    Contact¡­

    She wraps the sucker bearing ventral sides of her tentacles around my body as much as she can, encoiling my arms and legs, though she¡¯s not able to get beneath my torso at all, due to its weight.

    I feel the pleasant sensation of her suckers latching onto my skin¡­ not as pleasant as I know I will feel when they¡¯re pulled off¡­ leaving me with a hundred new little lovebites(!)

    I taste her salty sex as I watch her eyes close, her oral tentacles curling in pleasure.

    I would describe her taste as ¡®fishy¡¯ but I would have to specify that it¡¯s the pleasant, complex, rich taste of fish that¡¯s been grown in a lab or killed with the ikejime method, not the off, sour, bitter taste of fish that¡¯s been killed with the suffocation method, filling its body up with adrenaline, cortisol and lactic acid, which most people who lived before lab grown fish was an option probably just thought was how fish tasted!

    She herself is not a sea creature.

    Though she¡¯s much better suited to swimming and diving than a Human, she¡¯s still an obligate air breather.

    However, seafood makes up such a large portion of her healthy diet that I guess it ends up imparting its taste into her(!)

    I realise the show¡¯s about to begin and snap my focus away from how she tastes to how she¡¯s about to sound!

    High, amatory, staccato whines escape the flared breathing funnels she has just behind her oral tentacles.

    The sound would put any Human singer of The Queen of the Night Aria to shame both for its beauty and its difficulty to reproduce!

    Hers are definitely my favourite pleasure moans of any lover I¡¯ve ever had, beating out those of that Dommy Don princess on Fennoscandia!

    ---?¡¯s perspective---

    Screaming¡­

    Her tongue¡¯s and lips¡¯ dance always reduces me to screams and I don¡¯t understand how!

    Sure, they¡¯re dextrous for what they are but, considering the nature of the sex organ mine is adapted to accommodate, it doesn¡¯t make sense that the most intense orgasms I¡¯ve ever had have been given to me by that little pseudotentacle in this woman¡¯s mouth!

    I pull myself off her (not carefully breaking the seal on my suction cups the way I did with her face earlier but pulling them off, just as she¡¯s requested, in a way that lines her body with rows of fresh, light, circular suction bruises) and collapse beside her, panting.

    The beautiful woman rolls onto her side, facing me and smiling as she pulls me into an embrace, pushing her face through my orals for a kiss, allowing me to taste myself on her impossibly dextrous mouth as she presses the bare green skin of my boneless chest into the brassiered brown skin on the front of her cage of internal armour.

    She closes her bright brown eyes and I close mine, just enjoying the nonvisual sensations of her kiss.

    Over the next few [minutes] my breathing slows and my heartsrate calms from the soothing embrace¡­

    I finally manage to pull my tentacles (carefully) away from her face and pluck up the courage to ask ¡°How do you¡­ do it?¡±

    ¡°How do we do what?¡± she smiles, not needing to clarify whether that was a singular or plural ¡®you¡¯.

    ¡°Everything! How are Terrans just so naturally amazing at everything they care to try!? How is it fair?!" I pout, trying and failing to inject any humour into my tones.

    She smiles a knowing smile and rolls over, harmlessly squashing my arm flat beneath her shoulders as she thinks¡­

    ¡°You know¡­¡± she starts ¡°¡­there¡¯s a saying I¡¯ve encountered a few different versions of in lots of different languages but my favourite version goes; kom parrison iz thi thiif ov joi.¡± switching to a Terran language, dense with phonemes I can neither reproduce nor distinguish, to give the saying that causes her tongue to protrude between her lips twice in quick succession.

    ¡°Alright? What does that mean?¡± I ask, just about managing to keep myself from adding ¡®showoff(!)¡¯

    She smiles sweetly (making me think she knows exactly what I didn¡¯t say) and illuminates ¡°It means; if you¡¯re always comparing yourself to others, it will make you unhappy! To compare steals your happiness! Jealousy will make you miserable¡­¡±

    I scoff ¡°Yeah¡­ all well and good to say when you come out better than us by every single comparison!¡±

    She gives a mirthful pout of her lips before negating ¡°Not true;¡­ You want to hear the highest note I can sing?¡±

    Without waiting for an answer, she opens her mouth to let out a note well below [1KHz], a fraction of the top of my register.

    ¡°You want to know how long I can hold my breath? It¡¯s about [150secs]!¡± she says, volunteering a figure that¡¯s around a fiftieth of the time I¡¯d need before surfacing for air.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got eight dextrous legs, I¡¯ve got two that are not! You¡¯re ambidextrous, I can¡¯t even sign my name with my left hand! You can drink saltwater, I can¡¯t! You¡­¡± she brings a finger to the outside of my orals ¡°¡­can hold food to your mouth without your hands, I can¡¯t! I can swim at maybe [3kmph] and you¡¯d be¡­ What? ¡Á10 that fast?¡­ Oh! And do you know how many musical instruments I can play with confidence?¡± she holds up the same finger she just used to caress my face ¡°One! I can play the ney and nothing else! You¡­¡± she waves a hand past where the digital pipe organ is, to my collection of instruments in a half open wardrobe ¡°¡­pick up instruments like I pick up languages!¡±

    I frown ¡°But all that¡­¡±

    ¡°All that doesn¡¯t prove your point(?)¡± she interrupts in a way that wasn¡¯t a faux pas, simply because the notes followed melodically from my unfinished sentence.

    ¡°No. It¡¯s just¡­ that¡¯s not special! All that¡¯s just normal for my species¡­ except the instruments¡­ but that¡¯s just because I¡¯m interested in them!¡±

    She bobs her face up and down and answers ¡°Yes¡­ at least if they have the capacity for them, people tend to get good at things they¡¯re interested in(!)¡­ I¡¯m interested in languages, Jae¡¯s interested in cultures, Yu¨¢n¡¯s interested in fighting, Gammoiwoth¡¯s interested in buildings, Sknz¡¯h¡¯s interested in bodies, Miraala¡¯s interested in seas and you¡¯re interested in music! Your ability is not less than any of ours and you¡¯re only making yourself unhappy to constantly be comparing yourself to others, in all of the ways that you don¡¯t measure up, while rejecting the ways you¡¯re better than us as not mattering! We¡¯re all different and that¡¯s OK! Life isn¡¯t a competition!¡­ At least, I don¡¯t think so!¡­ I think the Creator put us here to enjoy ourselves! He didn¡¯t put us here to be miserable because we¡¯re jealous of what we¡¯re not!!!¡±

    She stops there, looking into my face with an expression I think is triumphant but her lack of orals makes it difficult for me to tell.

    I¡¯m in stunned silence, processing all of that.

    Eventually, I manage ¡°You¡¯re¡­ a lot wiser than me, Yasmin!¡±

    She puffs through her small breathing funnels, just above her mouth, and answers ¡°Well, I am more than [30 years] older, honey¡­ Just a shame that you¡¯ve apparently not taken on that wisdom at all, given that the first thing you did after I gave it to you was compare yourself to me again(!)¡±

    I laugh and that makes her smile.

    ¡°Alright honey¡­ if you¡¯re feeling better¡­ there¡¯s something I know you¡¯re really good at that I wouldn¡¯t mind you showing off(!)¡± grins the Terran woman, bearing her calcite teeth.

    ---Yasmin¡¯s perspective---

    The tips of four tentacles wrap around my wrists and ankles while a fifth caresses the inside of my thighs.

    Two squashy hands push my pale blue bra up my chest before gripping my now exposed breasts and massaging them sensually.

    A mass of tentacles approaches my face below a pair of bright pink eyes at the same time as three (much thicker) tentacles push my pale blue panties aside and begin teasing the place between my sopping wet pussy and my trembling arsehole.

    My (upper) lips are pushed open by the tips of six tentacles which force their way between my teeth.

    As overwhelming as it might be, I have to keep control!

    Remember that it would only take a clench of my jaw to give her a sextuple dismemberment!

    If I think I¡¯m about to lose control, I turn my head and she pulls out of my mouth! That¡¯s the deal.

    The perineal tease concludes and, just as the exploration of mouth begins, those three lower tentacles split up.

    Two travel North, coming to rest between my labia, one travels South, stopping against my arsehole.

    ¡°Ready?¡± sings my lover, quietly.

    ¡°Nnngh-hnngh!¡± I confirm, my mouth full of tentacles.

    ¡°Alright then¡­¡± she says, plunging all three of the lowers inside me.

    Allah! This sensation!

    I¡¯m quite sure this girl has utterly ruined me for men!

    If I ever become brave enough to finally take a male lover, what cock could possibly compare to this!?

    The two in my pussy have their ventral surfaces (with the suckers) facing outward, while their dorsals are back to back.

    They slide in and out of me, alternately, allowing for a panoply of different sensations as the suckers slide against my walls and the smooth dorsal backs contact my insides with each forward thrust!

    The one in my arsehole twists and coils around as if it were searching for something that it can¡¯t find.

    The six in my mouth give me a sextuor of French kisses while the only lower that¡¯s neither wrapped around my limbs nor inserted into my orifices continues to tease my inner thighs.

    I moan as ? builds my ecstasy like a conductor conducting an orchestral crescendo!

    My limbs seize and I turn my head.

    She manages to withdraw in time to let me clamp my teeth in an orgasmic grimace without sending her to the medical ward(!)

    I scream from the pleasure¡­ not the operatic, staccato, supersoprano screams that she gave when I made her orgasm earlier¡­

    No, this is much more of an animalistic growl!

    I crumple as the torturous pleasure subsides.

    The hands are removed from my tits and the tentacles are unwound from my limbs and withdrawn from my holes with amusing, wet *pop*s.

    ¡°How was it?¡± asks my lover, coiling her oral tentacles nervously.

    ¡°*huff*¡­Incomparable!¡­*huff*¡± I sing back with a smirk.

    Her nervous coil turns into a happy curl.

    ---?¡¯s perspective---

    I lie beside Yasmin, basking in the afterglow, when I her the familiar *ping* of her holo.

    She lifts it to her eyes and reads the text of blocky angles and circles that looks completely different from the flowy cursive script she showed me and told me was the writing of her first language.

    ¡°Hey¡­¡± she says, turning to me ¡°¡­Jae¡¯s doing dinner in Elysium and just asked if I¡¯ll be joining. Would you like me to ask if you can come too? You should be safe to eat what she¡¯s making.¡±

    Slightly surprised, I ask ¡°Is¡­ that really alright?¡±

    She grins ¡°I can¡¯t imagine anyone will object! The only reason I think I should ask is so that she knows to make enough for you¡­¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ alright then¡­ I¡¯d love to join you!¡± I say with a curl of my orals.

    ¡°Great. I¡¯ll ask her then.¡± smiles Yasmin, tapping out a response in the same angular character¡¯s as the other Terran woman¡¯s message.

    She sends it.

    ¡°Uhm¡­ out of curiosity, Yasmin¡­ what is she making?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Haemul-pajeon.¡± she answers in a Terran language.

    ¡°And, what¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re, like, seafoody pancakes.¡± she explains.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.180

    ---Sample---

    ---Fnurfar¡¯s perspective---

    ---2710 Terran Calendar/3 years BF---

    All six of my paws desperately scramble against the slick pavement of the Prosperity back alley as I flee for my life!

    Pursuing me¡­ is a monster!

    His species aren¡¯t meant to be sprinters!

    They said if it came to a chase, I just needed to quickly get out of his line of sight and keep going and he¡¯d not be able to keep up!

    I skid around a corner and steal a glance behind me, seeing two furious eyes moving towards me so fast that they seem to leave streaks of emerald green behind them as afterimages!

    The Fury is so close on my tail that he¡¯s almost certain to catch me now!

    It would be laughable how much my¡­ ¡®employers¡¯ had underestimated him if it weren¡¯t so terrifying!

    ¡®You¡¯ve got a Terran with you! There should be no issue!¡¯

    Yes, that idiot mercenary they hired almost had me going with his smug, arrogant proclamation that ¡®Big=slow! Slow=dead!¡¯ as he idly showed off his little knife tricks!

    My confidence lasted up until the very moment I saw the one we were supposed to rob!

    [20cm] taller than the skinny mercenary and looking like he could easily weigh twice as much, the man was a Hunt damned beast compared to the one who was meant to protect me from him!

    I think Flynn reassessed his cocksure attitude as well because, rather than waiting for me to have an opening like we agreed in the [fucking] plan, he just drew a knife and tried to stab the monster to death!

    An extremely poorly calculated risk!

    There was no competition!

    This juggernaut dealt with Flynn as easily as Flynn could have dealt with me!

    It took him a matter of seconds to dispatch my accomplice but that was a matter of seconds where he was distracted enough that I was able to snag what we had been after¡­ not that it makes any difference now!

    Just as I hear thundering footfalls coming up on my left, sinewy fingers impact the space between the bottom of my neck and the top of my top shoulderblades.

    I¡¯m slammed into the ground¡­ but not killed¡­

    I can feel the power contained in the iron grip around my neck¡­

    I know that decapitating me would be as simple as deciding to close his fingers but, as I wait for death to come, it doesn¡¯t¡­

    Instead, the hand slides up my shoulders, gathering the loose skin and lifting me up like a kit in her parent¡¯s mouth¡­

    The first thing I¡¯m able to see is the monster¡¯s flat, booted feet, followed by a pair of long thick legs, then a chest and left arm covered in a loose fitting, buttoned shirt, patterned with vertical and horizontal lines.

    The red fabric of his top disguises the bloodstain from the wound he got from Flynn, just below his shoulder. However, the nauseatingly metallic smell of it absolutely fills my nostrils!

    The final thing to be revealed, as my feet hang more than [a metre] from the ground, is a face¡­ the scarred skin a pale beige, the white, calcite teeth bared in a furious grimace, copper coloured eyebrows tilted downward in the middle over a nose, wrinkled with anger, and emerald eyes, burning with rage!

    His shoulders rise and fall in time with panted breaths he sucks in and out through his gritted teeth, putting me less in mind of a person (or even an animal) catching their breath after exertion and more in mind of some hulking piece of machinery from the Steam Age venting its pressure!

    The Terran extends his pallid skinned, long fingered, furless, pentadactyl left hand to me, stained with the ferrous blood that¡¯s run down his sleeve, and growls ¡°Sample!¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± I breathe, terrified.

    ¡°GIRL! I AIN¡¯T fuckin¡¯ PLAYIN¡¯ with you!¡± he snarls, curling all but his index finger and jabbing it towards my snout ¡°You¡¯re gonna. GIVE. BACK. what you. FUCKIN¡¯. STOLE!¡±

    ¡°You¡­ can take it¡­ from my corpse¡­¡± I defy, clutching my exhausted, trembling pawhands to the front of my jumpsuit.

    Effortlessly, his free hand comes forward, batting my four aside, before pinching the top of the stasis vial and pulling it free, with there being absolutely nothing I can do to stop him!

    He holds up the tube, in which is visible a small plant with a rosette of frilly black leaves and through which can be seen a frozen impression of the room it was in when it was stasised, demanding ¡°You¡¯re really willin¡¯ to die for this!? For corporate espionage?!¡­ Why the fuck¡¯s this matter to you like that?!?!?!¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care¡­ about the plant¡­ at all¡­¡± I answer, defeated.

    His face twists in a sneer as he asks ¡°Then why tell me I had to pry it from your cold. dead. hands!?¡±

    ¡°Because¡­ if I come back¡­ emptyhanded¡­ they¡¯re going to¡­ torture my husband¡­ and son¡­ and make me watch!¡­ If I don¡¯t¡­ come back¡­ at all¡­ maybe they¡¯ll let them go!¡± I pant in answer.

    His face falls blank¡­ but I can tell that is not because he¡¯s no longer angry!

    Instead, his redoubled rage has gone from white hot to ice cold as he leans in and demands ¡°Who¡¯s ¡®they¡¯?¡±

    ---2715 Terran Calendar/2 years AF---

    ¡°One!?¡± demands the sceptical, lutrine, Nvar man, one of six listening to my story for the first time (along with the two friends who¡¯ve heard it before), holding up a webbed pawhand and extending a single finger ¡°You¡¯re trying to tell us that one Terran dismantled the entire Giluspri Sisters¡¯ Syndicate, overnight!?¡­ Simply because you told him a sob story about them holding your family hostage!?¡±

    ¡°I did say you wouldn¡¯t believe me(!)¡± I smirk, lifting my drink to take a sip.

    ¡°You¡¯re damn right I don¡¯t believe you!!!¡± he sneers ¡°It might have been a little more believable if you¡¯d made it a team of a dozen or so Terrans that were guarding this thing but one!?¡­ There¡¯s no way it took a single individual a single night to root out and entirely destroy an enterprise that Prosperity¡¯s government had been hunting for nearly [2 decades], even if that individual was a Terran!¡±

    I place my drink down on the table and turn the palms of all four pawhands to the ceiling as I say ¡°Believe me or don¡¯t¡­ that¡¯s exactly how it happened!¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ Don¡¯t know ¡¯bout ¡®exactly¡¯¡­!¡± comes a familiar voice from behind my head, in the next booth over.

    I freeze and straighten my back.

    The friends and audience in my booth are looking past me, curiously, but, from their faces, it doesn¡¯t look like they can see anything.

    I stand and slide out through the gap between the table and Nafnarl¡¯s footpaws.

    I turn right and am immediately able to see that the booth next to us is occupied by a mixture of Terrans and some much smaller humanoids with green skin.

    I keep going, rounding the partition to reveal¡­

    ¡°By the Hunt! Victor?!¡± I exclaim, seeing the man sat with his back almost exactly to where I was sitting, next to another tall, slim humanoid with blue skin and four arms.

    His copper hair is much longer, his face isn¡¯t as scarred and isn¡¯t wearing the disgusted sneer that characterised so much of the time he and I spent together but¡­ there¡¯s no mistaking it!

    The man turns his head, smiling, before standing up to nearly twice my height and extending a palm to ruffle the fur between my ears, saying ¡°How¡¯s it goin¡¯, Foxy? You look a lot better ¡¯an you did last time I saw you at least(!)¡± gesturing with his other hand up and down my less skinny and less visibly scarred body.

    ¡°Never mind that, Victor! What are you doing here?! You didn¡¯t tell me you were coming back to Prosperity!¡±

    He smirks ¡°Yeah, sorry Foxy¡­ It¡¯s a loose lips sink ships kinda deal¡­ Just thought I¡¯d show my friends here the bar you brought me to celebrate after everythin¡¯ was done that time¡­ Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d actually run into you here!¡±

    I stare up at the man, agog, for a few moments before reaching up with both my left hands and closing them around his wrist.

    He allows me to drag him back to the head of my table.

    ¡°Nafnarl! Gfurnaf! This is him! This is the one I¡¯ve been telling you about for the last [5 years]!¡± I say to my two Graufna friends before turning to the rest of the table to declare ¡°He¡¯s the man who took down the Giluspris! He¡¯s Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor!¡±

    With mirthful bemusement, the Terran raises his left palm to the table to smile ¡°Y¡¯alright guys!¡± before his eyes scan the faces and his expression goes concerned. He turns to me and asks ¡°Your hubby alright, Foxy?¡±

    I bare my teeth (I hope friendlily) and answer ¡°Fnarnulf¡¯s fine, Victor!¡­ Fuffarn too! This is just a girls'' night¡­¡± gesturing at my two friends ¡°¡­or¡­ it was(!)¡± gesturing over the four men and two women, of four different species, who joined us to hear my story.

    ¡°What did you mean by it not being ¡®exactly¡¯ right?¡± queries Lunvo, the same sceptical Nvar who voiced disbelief before, still looking sceptical (not that I can blame him) but at least impressed by the fact that the ¡®con¡¯ has an (imposing looking) Terran stooge now(!)

    ¡°Weeeeell¡­¡± Victor frowns down at me, mirthfully ¡°¡­the way she described me dodgin¡¯ that knife attack, she made me sound almost psychic(!)¡­ In reality, she and this guy weren¡¯t as smooth as she seems to think(!) The fact that I even got nicked by someone I was payin¡¯ as much attention to as that is a bad reflection on my reaction time!¡­ Also, she kinda made it sound like I went into their headquarters with a gun in one hand and a lit plasmasword in the other(!) As I recall, I gave ¡¯em all a chance to surrender and come quietly and it were only after they, shall we say, indicated a lack of interest in that option that my weapons first cleared leather!¡­ Oh! And what was with all that comparin¡¯ the way I pant to ventin¡¯ steam engines, Foxy(?!)¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± starts Muan, a nervous tolypeutine Wne woman beside her husband, Kmuw ¡°¡­you don¡¯t deny it was you and you alone who brought down the Giluspris?¡­ Without help?¡±

    The pale skin of the Terran¡¯s flat face performs a complicated scrunch as he considers the question before answering ¡°Don¡¯t know ¡¯bout ¡®without help¡¯¡­ I had Foxy here for showin¡¯ me the way, after I¡¯d done a lotta convincin¡¯¡­ and, once I¡¯d taken care of ¡¯em, local law enforcers came to take the survivors away¡­ Aaaaand¡­ I probably didn¡¯t actually manage to kill or capture every last one of ¡¯em¡­ just gutted the power structure enough that the rats fled the sinkin¡¯ ship(!)¡±

    ¡°Why are you calling her ¡®Foxy¡¯?¡± asks Lunvo, four eyes narrowed in suspicion ¡°¡®Fnurfar¡¯ is the name she gave us!¡±

    The large man shrugs his shoulders ¡°I didn¡¯t get her name until we came here to celebrate¡­ she didn¡¯t trust me to give it¡­ Had to call her somethin¡¯, so I called her Foxy.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± responds Lunvo ¡°¡­I¡¯m not buying it¡­¡±

    Victor raises an eyebrow ¡°You ain¡¯t buyin¡¯ me givin¡¯ her a nickname(!?)¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe any of it! The whole story reeks of the fanciful!¡±

    I bare my teeth and slam my paws on the table before snarling ¡°I don¡¯t care if you question my honesty, Lunvo, but this man saved my husband¡¯s life, my son¡¯s life, the lives of dozens of others, freed me from effective slavery and freed this planet from its largest criminal syndicate! I will not have you questioning his integrity!¡±

    Lunvo cowers away from me, despite the table separating us.

    I feel a large, strong hand on my shoulder.

    I turn to see a smiling face.

    ¡°Eeeeasy there, Foxy¡­ ¡¯Preciate the defence but there ain¡¯t no need to get heated over it!¡­ ¡¯Specially not when there¡¯s a really easy way to sort this out¡­¡± he looks up at Lunvo and asks ¡°Lunvo, was it? Could I ask you to look up the front page of the Prosperity Chronicle from the 3rd of September, 2710?¡­ I think you¡¯ll see a picture of me shakin¡¯ hands with your governor at the time¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.181

    ---Purple---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s just me and Thran left in the booth.

    Foxy and her friends in the next one over left a little while ago.

    The others took the Twigg back to the ship not long after that.

    Apparently, their toxin resistance being generally on par with Humans¡¯ (kilo for kilo) doesn¡¯t extend to alcohol. Which makes sense, since they¡¯re not big into brewing it, back on their home world.

    They have herbs they prefer to smoke.

    Me and Thran still had mostly unfinished drinks in front of us so we decided to catch them up later.

    Tuun never would¡¯ve trusted me to be left alone with another woman, early on in our relationship, no matter how much I protested that Thran wasn¡¯t attracted to guys, wasn¡¯t my type or that I¡¯d got no interest in cheating on her generally!

    She¡¯d¡¯ve found a reason to stay and clung to me protectively.

    She wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve have meant it as an insult but I¡¯d still¡¯ve been hurt.

    I¡¯m glad she trusts me more now¡­ Trust and healthy communication are the cornerstones of any good relationship, as multiple people I respect in my life have made me aware!

    I¡¯m just looking out over the mostly empty bar when I notice someone.

    She¡¯s Terran, she¡¯s tall (looks like 195cm but, accounting for her heels, that¡¯s probably more like 185), she¡¯s slim and she¡¯s dressed from head to toe in an expensive looking purple suit.

    Note; expensive looking¡Ùgood looking!

    Her clothes are definitely stylish (in the sense that they have a very distinct style and they don¡¯t deviate from that theme at all) but I can¡¯t say they¡¯re my cup of tea¡­

    She wears an ornate, medium purple waistcoat under a dark purple tailcoat, hanging down to below the top of her knee high boots.

    Each hand is covered in about a third of a fingerless glove, extending from her wrists to the middle knuckles of her thumbs and forefingers but not the rest of either hand.

    On her head she wears a wide, dark purple sunhat (kinda like Alchyinad¡¯s black one), despite the fact that she¡¯s indoors and it¡¯s the middle of the night, the streets outside only bathed in the twilight glow of a galactic core starfield.

    Everything about her top-of-the-line outfit shouts ¡®gaudy¡¯ and ¡®pretentious¡¯.

    That¡¯s not the only thing that¡¯s offputting about this woman, though.

    Her appearance itself is very heavily modded, from the thick head of dark purple hair spilling out from under the sunhat that it almost exactly matches in colour, to the bioluminescent purple eyes, to the skin that¡¯s way too pale, to the cutesy, babyfat laden, Betty Boopish facial features that make it impossible to tell her ethnicity.

    Her appearance kinda suggests her gene therapist either did a botch job or knew how uncanny she¡¯d look and either chose not to warn her or warned her and was ignored.

    Well¡­ I¡¯m not the fashion police and I¡¯m not the gene therapy police(!)

    Given the absurd amount of effort and money it must¡¯ve taken to get herself to look like that, I think it¡¯s a fairly safe assumption that it was intentional¡­ So long as she¡¯s happy, that¡¯s all that matters!

    Definitely not gonna go over there and give her unsolicited criticism on any of it(!)

    Just then, the barman places a cocktail that¡¯s an absolute rainbow of purple hues down in front of her.

    She¡¯s clearly got an enormous amount of commitment to the purple theme(!)

    In one motion, she takes it and turns her back to the bar, raising the glass to her purple lips for a sip¡­ which she doesn¡¯t take¡­ because, at that moment, she notices me looking at her and gives me a smile, exposing a mouthful of teeth that are just a little bit too white and have long, protruding canines that make her look like a vampire.

    I look away, awkwardly.

    In my periphery, I see her start making her way over to us.

    Shit!

    Shit, shit, shit!

    OK Victor, just very quickly and very firmly let her know you¡¯ve got a partner!

    You don¡¯t need to mention how the answer¡¯d still be ¡®no¡¯, even if you were single!

    You don¡¯t need to tell her that, even though ¡®tall and slim¡¯ is normally your type, those are the only two boxes she ticks!

    Just smile and let her know you¡¯ve got a fianc¨¦e!

    Maybe she¡¯ll assume you¡¯re talking about Thran¡­ you don¡¯t need to correct her unless she asks!

    If I volunteer Thran not being my fianc¨¦e, she might think I¡¯m poly¡­

    As she draws near, there¡¯s a fraction of a second where I think I hear a little buzzing crackle like you get in a nanoforge¡­ but it¡¯s over so quickly that I decide I must have imagined it.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The ostentatiously dressed woman sits down on the opposite side of the table from me, positively beaming from me to Thran and asks ¡°I apologise if this is strange to ask but¡­ you two wouldn¡¯t happen to be Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor and Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter, would you?¡± in a breathy halfwhisper, speaking flawlessly perfect and unaccented English that, nonetheless, makes me suspect it¡¯s not her first language.

    ¡°Err¡­ that¡¯s us?¡± I answer, a little thrown by the unexpected recognition.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so glad!¡± she grins, showing off those fangs ¡°It would be lovely enough just to see Terran faces this far out from the UTC but also finding two people that I¡¯m such a huge fan of? It¡¯s a dream come true!¡±

    This woman¡­ really doesn¡¯t give off the vibe of someone who¡¯d be a fan of either me or Thran¡­

    Like, obviously, people don¡¯t have to exclusively like things you¡¯d expect them to but¡­ this slender little fashionista being a fan of a bodybuilder and an adventuring Security Officer¡­?

    I¡¯m not exactly gonna call her a liar over it though!¡­ I mean, she might be exaggerating how much of a fan she is, to flatter us, but¡­ she knows us well enough to recognise and name us at least!

    I clear my throat to say ¡°*ehem*¡­I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ve got us at a disadvantage, Miss¡­?¡±

    ¡°Circe, darling¡­ Circe ¡®Mirage¡¯ Stoker.¡± she smiles with what should feel like effortless charm but some part of my subconscious is letting me know is artificial.

    ¡°Cersei? Like, ¡®Lannister¡¯¡­?¡± I ask, naming a villainess of an old bookseries that the author unfortunately never finished before he died.

    She gives an outwardly mirthful purse of her lips and smirks ¡°Pronounced the same but spelled C-I-R-C-E¡­ My parents were fans of classical literature(!)¡±

    ¡°Oooh¡­ thaaaaat¡¯s theeeee¡­*snap**snap**snap*¡­ witch in the Odyssey, right?¡± I ask, snapping my fingers to help myself remember.

    She giggles ¡°*hehehehem*¡­ She is¡­ but I prefer the term ¡®enchantress¡¯, personally(!)¡± giving a mystical wave of her ? gloved hands and wiggling her damn near actually white skinned fingers.

    Seeing someone with such pale pigmented skin really throws into focus just how far off from white Europeans¡¯ and other low melanin folks¡¯ skin actually is!

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to offend.¡± I state.

    ¡°Oh, and you haven¡¯t, darling¡­ I was simply teasing¡­¡± she pouts, outwardly reassuring.

    ¡°That¡¯s good then¡­¡±

    The woman gives a nod and finally takes a sip of her purple cocktail.

    ¡°Oof!¡­ That¡¯s foul!¡± she chuckles, her face twisted in disgust.

    ¡°It might have been nicer if you¡¯d chosen the components for taste instead of colour?¡± frowns Thran, looking at the purple concoction with genuine puzzlement.

    The woman whose entire personal brand seems like it revolves around the colour purple laughs out loud at Thran¡¯s lack of a filter before beaming ¡°Good point, darling¡­ I shall have to bear that in mind for next time(!)¡± then, she leans forward over the table and, her tone even more hushed than before, asks ¡°Sooo¡­ what brings you two all the way out to this corner of the galaxy?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re just on our way back from a mission.¡± I answer before deflecting ¡°What about yourself?¡±

    Her purple lips give a nonchalant twist as she shrugs ¡°I¡¯m in acquisitions¡­ There¡¯s something on this planet right now that my boss is veeeeery interested in our organisation getting its hands on¡­ I¡¯m here to make sure that happens!¡±

    ¡°Sounds important¡­¡± I shrug back, simply, as I take a draft of my ale, not prying for further details.

    ¡°Oh, it definitely is¡­ Its value as a step towards Terran domination of the galaxy can scarcely be calculated!¡­ That¡¯s why I¡¯m hoping you two will help me get it.¡± she answers, casually.

    I freeze, my drink midway to my lips, before placing it back down on the table and looking at her, my heart pounding, my blood adrenaline spiked, my mind whirring with calculations and my guts in freefall.

    ¡°When you say ¡®Terran domination of the galaxy¡¯¡­?¡± I start, really hoping she means in some sort of competitive, economic sense, limited to whatever industry it is that she works in.

    ¡°I mean just what I say¡­¡± she smiles back, her tone a twisted parody of flirtatious ¡°¡­I mean us finally seizing what we should have taken 30 years ago. What we are owed for what the subHumans put us through. What we were always destined to have by the right of the blood flowing through our veins.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ this organisation¡­ that¡¯d be the Revanchists¡­?¡± I ask, my muscles tensing in readiness.

    ¡°It would, darling¡­ Clever boy!¡± she smiles back.

    ¡°You¡¯re a member?¡± I ask, disbelieving.

    She scoffs, looking slightly irritated for the first time I¡¯ve seen ¡°I¡¯m not just ¡®a member¡¯, darling¡­ I¡¯m a founder! I sit at King Cyrus¡¯s left hand!¡±

    ¡°And, what exactly¡¯s possessed you to reveal all that to us? What the hell makes you think we¡¯d actually help you get whatever it is you¡¯re after?!¡± I say in a growl.

    ¡°Oh! That¡¯s simple! In about 10 seconds, neither of you will have a choice!¡­ You¡¯re about to become my playthings¡­ puppets on a string¡­ putty in my hands¡­¡±

    I scowl back at the delusional woman who can¡¯t be a gram over 60kg but thinks she¡¯s going to be able to hold any kind of influence over the nearly 300 combined kilos of combat trained redhead she¡¯s sharing a table with.

    I stand, rounding the table as I anounce ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough! Circe ¡®Mirage¡¯ Stoker, I¡¯m placin¡¯ you under citizen¡¯s arrest for-¡±

    ¡°Stop!¡± she barks, ripping away most of my mind with the order.

    I¡¯m still conscious¡­ still aware of who I am and where I am¡­ It¡¯s just¡­ the parts of me that I used to¡­ do things¡­ want, feel, consider, decide and act¡­ they¡¯re all gone¡­ or¡­ maybe they¡¯re not gone but, if they¡¯re still here, they¡¯re not accessible to me anymore.

    ¡°Dance your best jig for me¡­¡± the purple woman smirks.

    I¡¯m not a dancer¡­ and I¡¯m aware that, seconds ago, I was trying to arrest this woman.

    Nonetheless, the thought of doing anything other than exactly what she says does not enter my mind as I bring my hands to my hips and bounce in place, rapidly tapping my toes and heals against the floor as I jump up and down.

    ¡°Very nice!¡± she says, clapping her hands together once with a smirk ¡°Stop and sit back with the cavewoman¡­¡±

    I march rigidly back to my place beside Thran and sit.

    ¡°Kiss her.¡± orders my puppeteer, flashing her glowing eyes in anticipation.

    I turn towards Thran and lean down to plant my lips against her cheek, briefly feeling her bodyheat against them as I get a waft of her natural fragrance.

    The purple woman sighs ¡°*hfff*¡­How about you try that again and, this time, kiss her like she¡¯s your girlfriend, not your grandmother(!)¡±

    I lean back down, bring my left hand to the right of Thran¡¯s jaw and turn her face to meet her large, muddy green eyes before squashing her prominent nose against my cheek as I bring my lips to hers and kiss her passionately, her smell filling my nostrils.

    ¡°Kiss him back, girl!¡± instructs the woman, causing the previously inert Thran to spring to life and start reciprocating my embrace, enthusiastically snogging me in return.

    ¡°Oh ho ho ho ho!¡­ Yeeeeees¡­ What a delightful pair of playthings you two make!¡­ I¡­ think¡­ after you¡¯ve brought me some of that thanatite, I¡¯m going to bring you back to Bastion with me¡­ When Cyrus asks what I want as a reward, I¡¯m going to ask him to let me keep you both(!)¡± smirks the one controlling us as she watches me and Thran kiss for her and purple flames buzz and crackle to life in her left palm.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.182

    ---Orders---

    ---Thran¡¯s perspective---

    I walk through the starboard gallery of the Bright Plume on Deck 0.

    On my right walks a man who stands a third my height again taller than me, taking one step to my two and not walking as softly as he normally does.

    My mouth tastes of his.

    Our orders are simple; get in, get a piece of thanatite and bring it back to her while not drawing attention.

    If we¡¯re chased, lose the pursuer before coming to the meeting place.

    If anyone gets in our way, deal with them.

    We hit the bottom of the stairs and climb the 5m up to Deck 1 before taking a right across the balcony to the dorm door.

    ¡°Thran? Victor? What¡¯s going on?¡± comes Twila¡¯s curious voice, speaking English over the hallway¡¯s speakers.

    We weren¡¯t given any instructions about what to do if anyone tries to speak to us so we ignore her and walk into the Vrakhand¡¯s Commonroom.

    We march over to the far wall, on which two crossed spears hang, their shafts solid, dense, dark wood, their heads polished, glossy, red biomineral.

    Victor extends his arms to take down the one on the outside that I would have had difficulty reaching.

    Without a word, he brings the tip down to rest against the floor, pointing in my direction.

    I step on the point with my left foot and raise my right to bring down my heel on the shaft, directly above the socket, just about managing to successfully crack through it in one try.

    Tossing the heavy length of wood aside to clatter onto the ground, Victor bends down to pick the 40cm thanatite blade out of the impression of it that I just stamped into the floor.

    Standing back up, he tucks what we were ordered to retrieve into his belt and we turn to leave.

    ¡°Guys?¡­ Guys!¡­ What¡¯s happening!?¡­ HelloOoOoOooo?¡­ Why are you ignoring me?¡­ Wait! Is that Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s spearhead?! What are you doing with that!?¡± comes Twila¡¯s voice, as soon as we¡¯re back out in the corridor.

    Ignoring her again, we come out of the door and cross the balcony, making our way down the stairs and turning left to head back out, towards the planetside hangar bay the ship is occupying.

    We get roughly halfway down the gallery before a door opens to our right and a shortish man with dark hair and a medium build steps out, looking at us.

    ¡°Ã÷Í½µÜ£¬·½Í½µÜ£¬Äã‚ƒƒÉ‚€ÔÚ×öÊ²üN£¿ÔõüNÁË?¡± he asks as he approaches.

    Unlike the man next to me, who speaks two Sintic languages, I don¡¯t speak Mandarin, so I¡¯m not able to recognise any meaning beyond him opening with our Dharmic names, not that I could respond if I did.

    Both of us keep walking, ignoring him until the very moment he puts himself in our way.

    With him still around 15m in front of us, I drop into a low Ma Bu, Horse Stance, characteristic of the Hung Gar style that I favour.

    Victor lunges forward into a Gong Bu, Bow Stance, (as if he¡¯s about to shoot an invisible arrow at the man making himself an obstacle to our orders) characteristic of his acrobatic Chaquan foundation.

    Neither of us have spoken a word.

    Taken aback, our teacher flicks his eyes from mine to Victor¡¯s and then to Victor¡¯s belt.

    ¡°àÞàÞàÞàÞàÞ¡­ Äã‚ƒƒÉ‚€¬FÔÚÕæµÄ²»ÊÇ×Ô¼ºÁË²»ÊÇ†á?¡­ ÕýÈçÌØ¾SÀ­¸æÔVÎÒµÄ¡­¡± observes the supercentenarian.

    He brings up his arms in front of him and covers his right fist with his left palm, bowing his head briefly in a baoquan.

    Then, widening and bending his legs, turning his toes to point inward and folding his arms to bring his, palm up, fists to just below his armpits, he simply states ¡°¾Íß@˜Ó°É¡£ÎÒ•þºÍÄã‚ƒƒÉ‚€‘ðôY¡£¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    From his stance, it seems that, from the hundreds of styles he¡¯s mastered, the old man has selected Wing Chun as the best counter to the mix of my low, powerful, solid and Victor¡¯s dynamic, explosive, acrobatic styles.

    I know that I would normally feel happy that he¡¯d chosen a Southern style but, right now, I feel nothing at all.

    Our bodies angled to put our respective dominant hands towards him, Victor and I advance on Master Yu¨¢n.

    He does not move from his Kim Yeung Ma Stance.

    Victor leaps into the air, easily higher than our opponent is tall, and brings up his right leg to higher than his own head before bringing the heel down towards Yu¨¢n¡¯s.

    At the same time, I rush his right side and aim a Jik Kiu, Direct Bridge, strike at his centre of mass.

    Barely moving his body, the old man raises both his arms to perform two simultaneous Tan Sao, Palm Up Blocks, deflecting my fist in front of him and Victor¡¯s foot behind.

    The instant Victor¡¯s right foot touches the ground, he wheels to bring his left around from behind him and down on Yu¨¢n in three successive kicks with an astonishing combination of agility and power.

    With his left arm, our opponent blocks and deflects the kicks without looking at them while his right is unleashing a rapidfire barrage of strikes at me, aiming to break my centreline and knock me off balance.

    If I were any less strong than the strongest woman in the galaxy, if I were any less than ? of a tonne (more than twice his weight), if I were using any style that didn¡¯t focus so strongly on rooting me to the ground in an unbreakably solid stance, he would definitely succeed.

    His more than a century of iron body training gives him a physicality like no other organic being I¡¯ve ever fought, more like Stetter in his power and solidity.

    Having dedicated his life to combat training, his mental responsiveness is unparalleled.

    He knows what strikes we are about to make before we do.

    There isn¡¯t anything I could compare him to that would do the way he fights justice.

    Describing him as ¡®machinelike¡¯ would be the closest in its analogy to his speed, power and solidity but would create the false impression that his fighting was clinical, unflexible and uninspired.

    He puts the more than 30 combined years of combat training and experience between the two masters he¡¯s fighting utterly to shame¡­ or he would do if shame were something either of us could feel right now.

    The two of us have nearly 4 kilos to his every 1 and it doesn¡¯t seem to matter.

    Our every punch, our every kick, is dodged or blocked.

    I¡¯ve taken dozens of light punches to the face (no matter how much iron palm training he¡¯s done, his bundle of spindly metacarpals and phalanges is not winning a contest of solidity with the skull of a Neanderthal with a defective bone density limiter gene) but, at this point, seeming to realise that the pain he¡¯s attempting to blind me with is registering to me more as data than anything else, he switches to my chest, aiming rapid, hard strikes at my floating ribs and between my breasts to my solar plexus.

    He¡¯s trying to knock the air out of my lungs.

    If I can¡¯t breathe, I can¡¯t fight.

    I would be flattered by the extent to which he¡¯s focusing on trying to remove me from the fight first if such things mattered to me at the moment.

    The hard *thud*s of him using his four limbs to bat away the strikes of our combined eight echo through the cavernous spaceship gallery.

    Victor¡¯s explosive, acrobatic Chaquan utilises the full length and power of his long, strong limbs.

    Changquan, the Northern style it¡¯s a branch of, was one of the main ones that originally inspired firebending and it definitely gives the appropriate impression of ferocity.

    I have very much imagined him sending blades of flame with his strikes when we¡¯ve fought before.

    The low, unyielding, firmly rooted Hung Gar I practice was one of the main inspirations for earthbending and it¡¯s not at all difficult to understand why.

    By contrast, the direct, lightning fast, highly interceptive Wing Chun the dark haired man is employing, focused on economy of motion, adaptability and simultaneous attack and defence, has neither the ferocity and dynamism of Victor¡¯s style nor the power of mine.

    Never the less, it¡¯s quite an effective counter to both.

    He¡¯s able to make denying the two of us the slightest opening look nearly effortless.

    Victor¡¯s agility and my power have levelled more than a hundred strikes against him in the 30 seconds since the fight began and not a single one has connected with his head or torso.

    That is until¡­ Victor lands a strike on the back of his shoulder.

    He sees it coming and knows he won¡¯t be able to block it or dodge it so he sucks in a breath and tenses the area that¡¯s about to be struck, angling it away from the punch as much as possible and relaxing the rest of his body.

    The hit connects and, though he rolls with it, sharply expelling the held breath to dissipate the energy, the next few strikes he blocks make it clear the strength is gone from his left arm.

    He adjusts his stance, trying now to keep both of us on his right side and using his left arm as little as possible but it¡¯s clear that that hit has significantly altered the calculous of this fight.

    With all four limbs in full working order, he was more than a match for us.

    His left arm being down to half its prior capacity has reduced his overall rating by far more than an eighth.

    He continues to block and dodge Victor¡¯s fierce flying kicks and my formidably strong punches but he¡¯s backing away now, not able to hold his ground anymore.

    Victor connects another strike to his chest¡­ then another¡­ and another¡­

    Finally, I see a gap open up and I lunge forward to deliver a crushing direct hit to his solar plexus.

    The small man is thrown backwards to land on the silvery metallic floor several metres behind him while the grunt of his lungs collapsing and the crack of his ribs breaking reverberates off of the cathedral like space above us.

    Without hesitating, Victor strides past the wheezing old man, not sparing him a second thought.

    I hesitate only a moment, considering whether leaving him alive satisfies the order ¡®deal with¡¯ him.

    He looks up at me and chokes ¡°Œ¦²»ÆðÃ÷£¬Œ¦²»Æð·½¡­ Œ¦²»Æð£¬ÎÒ›]ÄÜ´ò”¡Äã‚ƒƒÉ‚€¡­¡± his voice strangulated and his expression sad.

    I look from him to the broad shoulders of the man walking away¡­ before following on, leaving the halfdead man behind us.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.183

    ---Useless---

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°They did WHAT?!?!?!¡± screams the giant Spiderwoman, causing an uncomfortable flare of my arachnophobia as her (too many) legs shift.

    She glowers from the broken off end of the spear shaft she holds to the dent stamped into the floor of her dorm¡¯s commonroom.

    ¡°They took your spearhead, Khr¡¯kowan. I¡¯m sorry¡­ They came in and out so fast that Yu¨¢n was the only one close enough and awake enough to get there in time¡­ I assumed he would be able to stop them, since they¡¯ve never beaten him before, but they didn¡¯t seem as if they were able to feel any pain at the time and that gave them enough of an edge to send him to the ship¡¯s medical ward!¡±

    Being woken up to carry the man I¡¯ve spent a year and change learning martial arts from to medical on a stretcher, I assumed we had to be facing another augment like Stetter!

    I thought, even if one of the Vrakhand had taken exception to him, she wouldn¡¯t of been able to put him in that state and, herself, still been in a state where she was able to walk away!

    Seeing the video of Cuddles and Thran, their faces blank masks of indifference as they ruthlessly beat their master into the ground¡­ it was chilling!

    I¡¯ve never seen them fight like that before!

    Thran wasn¡¯t her normal reactive self¡­ and she completely ignored the black eyes and broken nose Yu¨¢n gave her.

    Victor¡¯s always fought with¡­ feels odd to say but¡­ I guess the word is ¡®compassion¡¯¡­?

    At his very core, he¡¯s a protector!

    He fights to defend others and (to a much lesser degree) himself!

    The way he fought Yu¨¢n with Thran¡­ it was absolutely ruthless!

    Not angry! That wouldn¡¯t have been anywhere near as bad!

    It was cold¡­ detached¡­ like he didn¡¯t have the slightest emotional investment in what he was doing!

    That man can¡¯t even make a piece of toast without cracking a smile at the fact that he¡¯s about to have toast in his belly(!)

    Seeing him so outwardly ferocious while his face was so devoid of emotions was¡­ frightening¡­

    ¡°AND WHY!?¡± demands the empress, flexing her fangs and baring her toothplates, turning my stomach in the process.

    ¡°I think they were mind controlled.¡± states Twila, apologetically.

    Horror slowly spreads over the terrifying woman¡¯s face before she asks ¡°Mind controlled?!¡­ Such a thing is possible?¡± aghast.

    Twila briefly has the same look of bewilderment that Dormouse gets when someone¡¯s said something she thinks is stupid before she answers ¡°Uhm¡­ Yes? You¡¯re wearing something that controls your mind right now?¡­ So is every organic in this room¡­¡±

    Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s hand flies to her temple but she manages to restrain herself from immediately removing the little metal disc there, long enough to finish listening to Twila explain.

    ¡°¡­obviously, translators aren¡¯t capable of overriding the will of the person wearing them¡­ but they do act on the central nervous system to take meaning from the brain of whoever you¡¯re listening to and relay it to yours, letting you understand what they¡¯re saying despite never having learned their language¡­ This would just be a more comprehensive version of that¡­ The same mechanisms your translator is using to put the meaning of the words I¡¯m saying into your mind right now would allow it to control you if it did them differently to different parts of your brain.¡±

    Dismayed, Khr¡¯kowan asks ¡°Then¡­ why is this the first time I¡¯m hearing about this? If your technology makes enthralling another¡¯s will possible, why isn¡¯t it a much more common occurrence!?¡±

    Here, Emiko cuts in ¡°I promise that we weren¡¯t hiding it from you, Khr¡¯kowan! Mind control is just one of millions of facts about our reality that we haven¡¯t judged to be worth bringing up with you yet. Using any technique that allows you to control someone¡¯s mind is highly illegal in all GU jurisdictions, of course¡­ But, on top of that, it¡¯s just not usually very practical at all!¡­ The dearth of publicly available research means that, effectively, every time someone wants to try it (especially with a new species), they¡¯ve got to largely reinvent the wheel¡­ A person whose will has been subverted is also, as I understand it, almost invariably very easy to spot, removing their utility as infiltrators¡­ In this case, Twila was able to tell that there was something up just from the way they were walking and, when she tried to ask them what was going on, they flat out ignored her¡­ If it weren¡¯t for the fact that they were two of the most formidable individuals in the galaxy, their retrieval mission probably wouldn¡¯t have ended successfully¡­ Also, mind controlled individuals can¡¯t really act too well outside of instructions they¡¯re given and often interpret those instructions differently to how they were intended. Thran, for instance, hesitated over Yu¨¢n after she and Victor had beaten him¡­ I think that probably means that whoever¡¯s puppeteering them gave them orders to the effect of ¡®kill anyone who tries to stop you¡¯ but, because they didn¡¯t actually use the word ¡®kill¡¯, Thran and Victor had the latitude to be able to leave him alive¡­ As soldiers, controlled individuals are only comparable to nonsentient combat droids of the same strength and, while stripping another of their will does negate the cost of manufacturing a droid, it introduces an enormous amount of risk, both in trying to get the device on the individual you want to control and in what happens after they¡¯ve disappeared and their loved ones go looking for them! For all these reasons, mind control just isn¡¯t that common a problem¡­¡±

    Khr¡¯kowan gives an unhappy grimace but says nothing, seeming to accept that not enlightening her wasn¡¯t a decision made out of malice.

    Emiko continues ¡°I would like to know how exactly whoever¡¯s in control here managed to get devices on both Victor and Thran though! I know she¡¯s not the most socially aware but I would like to think that neither of those two would be foolish enough to jack in an unfamiliar device given to them by a stranger¡­ The only other possibility, though, is that the devices were attached forcibly and, if they had the power to do that, why not just come for the thanatite themself?¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Well, on that front¡­¡± says Twila bringing up still images of the pair under mind control on the wall, highlighting the devices at their temples ¡°¡­the apparatus controlling each of them appears to be nanoforged from their own translators.¡±

    ¡°What, so¡­?¡± I start, sceptically ¡°¡­instead of ¡®Hello, pair of very strong strangers! Could I trouble you to attach these devices to your skull?¡¯ it was ¡®Could I trouble you to give me your translators to be reforged and then given back and reattached?¡¯(?) I don¡¯t really think they¡¯d¡¯ve been any more likely to fall for that!¡±

    Twila¡¯s actuators whirr as she shakes her head ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what happened either¡­ Comparing the placement of the devices to where their translators were when they left earlier reveals two perfect matches!¡­ I¡¯m sure you all feel like you put your translators on in the same place every time but, trust me, the odds of someone taking off their translator and naturally putting it back so close to where it was before that I can¡¯t detect the difference is negligible! The odds against that happening twice are astronomical!¡±

    ¡°Meaning¡­?¡± asks a serious Xon.

    ¡°Meaning that I think they were reforged without being removed.¡± answers Twila.

    ¡°Riiiiight¡­¡± I sigh ¡°¡­so it was ¡®Greetings, strangers! Could I trouble you to stick your heads into these nanoforges and keep them there for several consecutive minutes? Don¡¯t worry about what they¡¯re doing!¡¯ then? Because I¡¯m suuuuure they¡¯d¡¯ve fallen for that(!)¡± sarcastically.

    ¡°Or someone forced their heads into forges but, again, why bother?¡­ If you¡¯re already strong enough to overpower Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor and Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter to that extent, why not just incapacitate them off the ship and come here yourself?¡± frowns Emiko.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not saying either of those ways makes any more sense but, nonetheless, one or other of them seems as if it must have been what happened...¡± says Twila.

    ¡°Alright. That doesn¡¯t matter right now! We can figure out how this happened after we¡¯ve got them and, preferably, the thanatite back!¡± I assert, doing my best to channel my missing boss¡¯s authoritativeness ¡°Twila, have you notified the local law enforcement about Victor and Thran?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Samus. Any ship leaving the planet with Humans aboard right now should need to submit to a search¡­ It isn¡¯t foolproof but it should hopefully be better than nothing. I left out the part about the thanatite, for obvious reasons.¡±

    ¡°Alright. We¡¯re gonna need to search for them¡­ but¡­ I¡¯m gonna say, no one leaving this ship at the moment can be wearing any nervejacks of any kind¡­ case whatever happened to them happens to us! That means that any group is gonna need at least one holo with them so Twila can translate what they¡¯re saying. Fortunately, this is an open carry planet, so I¡¯m gonna say everyone who¡¯s licenced is taking a pulsegun! For the Vrakhand, I¡¯m guessing the five of you can take Thran and Victor down nonfatally if you work together?¡± I ask Khr¡¯kowan, doing my best to see her as a woman and not as a giant Spider.

    She bristles slightly (not helping) and answers ¡°I should think so!¡±

    ¡°Good then¡­¡± I say, concealing my relief at getting to look away from her and over to the little Goblin woman ¡°¡­Viig, if any of the Twigg want to join in the search, I¡¯m going to need you to tell them to bring their holos and call Twila if they see Thran or Victor, OK? I think, if it comes to a fight between you and them, you might be able to overwhelm them with numbers and speed¡­ but not without risking a lot of you dying, so don¡¯t try it! Just call Twila, she¡¯ll let us know.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell them.¡± responds the yellow eyed woman, flatly.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say before turning to the two lanky girls whose respective partners are the ones missing ¡°Tuun, Xon¡­ I need you both to promise me that if you find them, you¡¯re going to be able to unload on them until they¡¯ve stopped moving and aren¡¯t going to utter phrases like ¡®snap out of it¡¯ or ¡®I know you¡¯re in there¡¯¡­¡±

    Both of them scowling, Xon answers ¡°Samus, this is serious!¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m being serious!¡± I respond, seriously ¡°We¡¯re already down our three best fighters and are up against the second and third! This obviously wasn¡¯t a random crime of opportunity! The puppeteer wouldn¡¯t have risked it with Cuddles and Thran if they didn¡¯t already know we were here and had thanatite aboard! By some means we don¡¯t understand, they managed to either trick or force them into getting their translators reforged as mind control devices! I don¡¯t fancy going from two friends I¡¯ve got to bring in without killing to four, so, if either of you can¡¯t promise me you¡¯re going to be sensible, if you can¡¯t say you¡¯re not going to let sentimentality cloud your judgement, if you can¡¯t look me in the eye and tell me you can pull the trigger when it counts, you¡¯re staying here and guarding the ship along with the noncombatant Terrans!¡±

    Both of them look stunned.

    Obviously, they thought I was just joking around. They didn¡¯t think I had actual reasoning behind my demand.

    ¡°I promise.¡± says Xon.

    ¡°I promise.¡± follows Tuun, more sheepishly.

    ¡°Alright then, good¡­ if I could ask¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± Khr¡¯kowan interrupts me ¡°I still don¡¯t understand what the [puppeteer] wants the thanatite for? I know I¡¯ve been told it¡¯s remarkable¡­ but¡­ what use is a single spearhead to anyone?¡±

    ¡°We can answer that¡­¡± answers Ziva, walking into the room with Leon, both of their faces solemn ¡°¡­they probably want it to try and work out how to produce lab grown thanatite¡­ and we¡¯re probably the ones they originally got that idea from.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re what?¡± snarl me and Khr¡¯kowan in unison.

    ¡°A little while ago¡­¡± Leon explains ¡°¡­we gave our report to the UTCIS¡­ we mentioned thanatite¡­ gave them the idea that, if we could tactfully navigate its cultural significance to you guys, it could be used to make the next generation of battle armour. Almost as effective as durasteel at a fraction the cost!¡­ It seems as if there must be either a leak or a mole who spilled that idea to someone¡­ unsavory¡­ Someone who wants to be able to grow thanatite and doesn¡¯t care how you guys feel about that or how many crimes they need to commit to do it.¡±

    ¡°So this is your fault?!¡± snarls the Spiderwoman, surging forward to loom over the pair.

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan, now¡¯s not the time for pointing fingers¡­¡± consoles Emiko, gently, stepping between the armoured woman and the two spies ¡°¡­let¡¯s assign blame once we have our friends and your grandmother¡¯s foot back. Alright?¡±

    The arachnoid gives a frustrated growl but (thankfully) backs off.

    Then she frowns ¡°Wait¡­ correct me if I¡¯m wrong but¡­ Wouldn¡¯t they need intact flesh from which to read the information that would let them grow thanatite?¡­ If that¡¯s the case then my grandmother¡¯s foot would be¡­¡±

    ---Circe¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®useless¡¯?¡± I demand.

    The hologram of the tall, handsome biologist speaks in a cultivated New Australian accent ¡°Just what I said, Circe. The way they¡¯ve scoured the socket with heat and chemicals, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s going to be a single intact cell nucleus to be found! Having it in hand doesn¡¯t really tell us anything we didn¡¯t already know. I need a gene sample before I can enter production.¡±

    ¡°Could you not simply reverse engineer their genetic code from the protein structure?!¡± I pose.

    He laughs out loud, making me feel stupid for not already knowing what he does (definitely my least favourite of his traits) and answers ¡°*Hahahahaha*¡­ Yeeeeeah, suuuure(!) I¡¯ll get riiiiight on that(!) Should only take me about 30 years(!)¡±

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ So you¡¯re telling me I need a sample from one of the living ones then?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ you need a sample from one of the living ones, Circe.¡± he patronises.

    With one final exasperated sigh, I end the call and turn to face the mass of pale and light tan muscle topped by curly copper and frizzy orange hair that¡¯s writhing around on my bed.

    ¡°You two!¡± I bark at my new toys.

    Four green eyes turn blankly up to face me, the darker two framed by a thoroughly bloody bruised face.

    ¡°You can stop warming eachother up for me and get your tops back on¡­ We have more work to do before I can play with you.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.184

    ---Search---

    ---Svulinkt¡¯s perspective---

    It¡¯s the middle of the night and I¡¯m walking home beneath a sky set with stars¡­ glittering like a layer of diamonds spread over dark velvet.

    The world is peaceful and blanketed in a thick mist.

    Despite Prosperity being a relatively densely populated planet, with manufacturing as the backbone of its economy, moments like these where it feels like I¡¯ve got the entire world to myself haven¡¯t been too difficult to come by since I told my boss I wanted to switch to the night shift.

    I breathe a sigh of serenity.

    Then, I see them¡­

    Coming towards me from the far side of a pedestrian bridge, over the River Promise, several shapes take form in the fog.

    More appear and I flinch in alarm as I realise I¡¯ve got a small army riding towards me!

    Hang on¡­ riding?!

    Yes! Unmistakably, as their shapes resolve, I see that each silhouette is composed of two creatures, a mount and a rider.

    The mounts are canine animals, their fur mostly dark green, fairly consistent patches of lightish blue here and there on their bodies and purple on their undersides.

    They have long, solid tails with brushes of lightish blue only at the ends.

    They stand around [80cm] tall at the shoulder.

    Their vivid orange, round pupiled eyes seem friendly¡­ except for the fact that they¡¯re either side of a clearly predatory snout.

    A predatorypredatory snout!

    Not like mine, meant for eating fist sized insects!

    The humanoid riders would be less terrifying except for their grim expressions¡­ and the fact that they¡¯re sitting on the backs of predators larger than themselves that their ancestors presumably saw fit to tame and make mounts of!

    They look like they would be around two thirds my height if they were standing on the ground.

    Slim and gracile, though their necks are short and thick (at least compared to mine) and the flatness of their torsos makes them look more than twice as wide at the shoulder as they are deep at the chest.

    They have mostly green skin with a few who are more on the yellow side.

    They have long, wide, fleshy ears that come to a point.

    Their hair is wildly variable in style, quality and colour, though mostly centres on green with only a few having colours besides.

    In their hands, they each hold weapons that look straight out of the Iron Age! Spears and blades without an iota of tech in sight!

    Their primitive choice of armament and transport is in stark contrast to their sleek, modern looking, high quality clothing, every outfit crisp enough to make plain that it¡¯s seen the inside of a nanoforge quite recently.

    Each of them has a tail similar to their steeds¡¯, bar the fact that the only parts of them with hair are the brushes at the ends, swinging back and forth behind them as they ride.

    Something tells me that, even without the aid of their monstrous mounts or ancient weapons, I would be no match for even a single one of these people in a fight¡­ in spite of how much larger I am than any of them!

    But it isn¡¯t just one slowly riding towards me¡­ Twenty pairs of eyes are each flitting to me as we draw closer.

    Just as I¡¯m considering making a detour that would take me around the bridge and out of the little warband¡¯s way one of them riding at the front barks, calling out a single incomprehensible word ¡°Ak!¡±

    It was obviously meant for me¡­ and they¡¯ve noticed me noticing.

    ¡°Wors an kri!¡± she shouts, seeming to be beckoning me.

    My hearts pound as I weigh up whether to run from them or not.

    I eventually calculate that, if anything, running from them is probably not the best course of action.

    Their quadrupedal mounts look fast enough that I highly doubt I would be able to outrun them if they chased me.

    Right now, they don¡¯t look hostile¡­ that could change if I try to flee.

    A party of twenty mounted and armed individuals is too high profile and easily identified to make it likely that they¡¯re about to rob me but, if they are, I just need to sensibly hand over whatever they ask for.

    ¡®No valuables are worth your life!¡¯ as I recently learned from a popular Terran galtuber I like to watch in my spare time.

    I¡¯m an upstanding citizen with a clean snout and no outstanding debts or obligations to any unsavoury individuals or organisations¡­ so, I don¡¯t think they¡¯re likely to be specifically targeting me for anything.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I step forward onto the bridge, approaching the band, doing my best to keep my bodylanguage looking neither threatened nor threatening and managing my face into an expression of neutral curiosity.

    The cavalry detachment come to a stop in the middle of the bridge, eyes all still fixed on me, unnervingly.

    I approach the one that called me.

    If she¡¯s as mammalian as she and her mount look, she¡¯s probably female¡­ just judging by the slight bulge at the top front of her torso that around half of her party lack.

    She reaches her nonspearwielding right hand to a screen hung around her neck and points it up at me, saying ¡°Twila¡­ Lok¡­ Do klar loy mrral.¡±

    I briefly think she¡¯s trying to record me until a Terran looking face appears on the holo, speaking with a feminine voice in perfect Svikkthian.

    ¡°Good evening there, Sir¡­ or perhaps good morning(!)¡­ Sorry for the inconvenience but would you mind if I just quickly asked you a few questions?¡±

    Far too baffled by the absurdity of the situation to give any other answer, I say ¡°Erm¡­ sure? What do you want to know?¡±

    She gives a reassuring smile without baring her teeth and says ¡°Have you seen either of these two people within the last few hours?¡­¡± bringing up two pictures of (one very, one relatively) pale skinned Terrans with their eyes different shades of green and their hair different shades of red ¡°¡­Their names are Victor ¡®Cuddles¡¯ Taylor and Thran ¡®Gimli¡¯ Hunter. Thran recently got her face quite severely injured so she would probably look more like this at the moment.¡± she adds, exchanging the photo of the unblemished face for one with the entire space beneath her heavy brow a mass of bruises and cuts, her white sclera bloodshot and her large nose cracked.

    I should simply answer ¡®I haven¡¯t seen them¡¯ (which is the truth) but, instead, I frown ¡°What do you¡­ want them for?¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡­ We really aren¡¯t searching for them because we want to hurt them if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking, Sir!¡­ We don¡¯t really have time for me to tell you everything (and you probably wouldn¡¯t believe me if I did) but suffice it to say, they¡¯re our friends and they¡¯re in trouble right now¡­ If you could point us in their direction you would be helping us and them!¡± she answers, seeming sincere¡­ then again, Terrans are relatively famous for the ease with which they can utter falsehoods¡­

    ¡°And¡­ is there a reason all of these people are speaking through you rather than wearing translators?¡­ Or is that something else you don¡¯t have time to explain?¡± I ask, cautiously.

    ¡°There is a reason, yes. I don¡¯t have time to explain it, no.¡± she smiles back, doing a fantastic job of masking her impatience if she¡¯s feeling any.

    ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Miss, but I¡¯ve not seen the ones you¡¯re looking for. I only got off of work [10 minutes] ago¡­¡± I say, pointing in the direction I came from ¡°¡­and I¡¯ve only passed one or two people between there and here¡­ I definitely would have noticed if I had passed any Terrans!¡±

    Disappointedly, she answers ¡°Alright, Sir. If you do see them, could you call the authorities immediately and tell them where they are, please? If you can¡¯t remember their names, just say ¡®the two missing Terrans¡¯. They will know who you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    ¡°The authorities? You don¡¯t want me to call you?¡± I ask, surprised.

    ¡°No. Please call the authorities.¡± she answers, smiling.

    ¡°Alright¡­ I will¡­¡± I answer, reassured.

    This group probably aren¡¯t gangsters if they¡¯re asking me to call law enforcement about this.

    ¡°Tner krag, Viig.¡± says the Terran on the holo, seamlessly switching into the language of the green ones.

    ¡°*sigh*¡­Wors an!¡± shouts the little woman, her head a good [30cm] below mine, even mounted.

    The group resume their forward ride across the bridge as I carefully skirt my way around and between them.

    My heartsrate decreases as I continue my walk home, safely out of the situation I misjudged as being dangerous.

    Wending my way through the narrow alleys of my neighbourhood, I¡¯m almost home when, mere paces from me, a patch of shadows suddenly takes solid form and lunges towards me, completely silently until it orders ¡°§¡§Ý§Ñ§ä§Þ§Ú¡­¡± in a forceful but otherwise dead voice, scaring the life out of me!

    I look up into the humourless, scarred, pale face of a frightening Terran!

    I briefly think it might be one of the missing Terrans until I remember their eyes were green.

    His are the same orange as those canines'', though with white sclera visible.

    The lone man is slim and about as much taller than me as I was compared to that mounted girl earlier.

    His entire body is clad in brown leather, including his gloved hands and head, sporting a metal helmet covered in a layer of the stuff.

    On his back is a large cylinder with feathered pieces of wood protruding from its open top.

    In his left hand he holds a piece of bent wood with a length of string tied taut between its ends.

    His right moves from where he stuck it into my path to his neck where¡­ he has a holo tied.

    ¡°§³§Ú §ß§å?§Ñ§ß §ä§ï§Ý§Ú §ç§Ñ§ß?§å§Ü§ä§Ñ§Þ§Ú, §´§Ó§Ñ§Û§Ý§Ñ?¡± he speaks into it.

    The same woman as spoke for that medieval cavalry detachment appears on his device.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± she says, surprised ¡°¡­hello again. Sorry to keep bothering you. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve seen them in the last 7 minutes, have you?¡±

    ¡°N-no¡­¡± I tremble.

    ¡°I knew it was a longshot¡­ Thanks anyway.¡± she sighs before seamlessly switching into the Terran language (which I know isn¡¯t their lingua franca) to say ¡°§¢§Ú §ß§å?§Ñ§ß §ç§Ñ§ß?§å§Ü§ä§Ñ§Þ§Ú §é§Ñ§ã §£§Ú§Ú§Ô§ß§å§ß, §´§í§Þ§Ñ§ß§é§Ñ.¡±

    ¡°§¡§Þ§ä§Ñ§é§Û¡­¡± grunts the man before walking past me without another word.

    My (supposed to be) relaxing walk home thoroughly ruined by the stress hormones my blood is marinating my muscles and brain in right now, I hurry on, wanting nothing more than to collapse on my [couch] and throw some peaceful galtube videos on the wall!

    I¡¯m just coming up to my building¡¯s front door when movement catches my eye from the end of my street.

    I twist my long, willowy neck to turn my head in that direction.

    I catch a brief glimpse of three Terrans crossing the path¡­ the one leading dressed in dark clothing with accents of bright purple¡­ the other two, following behind, both have red hair!

    I freeze in place but they¡¯re already gone¡­

    I didn¡¯t see either the copper headed one or the orange headed one¡¯s face, just their hair¡­ is that enough to call the authorities about?

    True, Terrans aren¡¯t at all common on this planet but¡­ I¡¯ve already run into two others tonight!

    I kind of wish the one on the holo had pinged me her comm just so I could tell her about it and not risk wasting the emergency services¡¯ time.

    Should I follow them to see whether it actually was the missing pair?

    No! That¡¯s stupid, Svulinkt!

    You have no idea what¡¯s going on but, if it¡¯s trouble for Terrans, you know it¡¯s too much for you!

    I step through my building¡¯s front door and hurry along the ground floor corridor to my apartment.

    My hearts are pounding in my chest for the third time in the last [10 minutes] as I take out my holo, the fingers of my right pawhand hovering over the keypad, my mind warring with itself!

    I give a deep, calming exhale¡­ step to my kitchen counter¡­ and put my holo down¡­ decision made.

    Then, completely by impulse, my mouth utters the words ¡°Holo; call emergency services.¡± and my guts swoop like I¡¯ve just been dropped off the top of a building!

    The call rings for [1.5 seconds] before a woman¡¯s calm, translated voice speaks from the other end of the line ¡°Hello. Prosperity emergency hotline; please state your name, species and the nature of the emergency.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.185

    ---Roadblock---

    ---Chargan¡¯s perspective---

    I level my pulsegun at the blank faced monster, charging towards me down the alley, and let loose, the kinetic shots leaving rippling wakes behind them as they rip through the air.

    He dodges and weaves effortlessly through my fire, seeming to be teleporting out of the way of my shots while the woman barrels through that of my comrades, simply tanking them!

    ¡®Leave the Terrans to the Terrans!¡¯ Captain Yensuh said ¡®Do not engage! Just maintain position at your roadblock!¡¯

    I scoffed, mistaking her prudence for cowardice!

    I thought the War veteran must have been overestimating them based on her memories of how Terrans fought in battle!

    ¡®Sure!¡¯ I thought ¡®Armed Terrans decked out in battle armour and supported by thousands of their comrades may be formidable but just two unarmed, unarmoured ones? Against more than half a dozen Class 7s and a Class 8, armed with pulseguns!?¡¯

    Now I understand that she was the one being realistic!

    I was being cocky and na?ve!

    Right now, I understand, in a way I never have before, just how utterly terrifying it is to have a deathworlder charging towards me with violent intent!

    The fire haired man reaches a little further than my own height away from me and leaps into the air, exhibiting flexibility, speed and power no creature should be capable of as his right leg whips up to above his head and screams through the air towards the left arm I¡¯ve raised in defence.

    The impact breaks two of the three bones of my forearm and causes my pulsegun to smash into my face, shattering into useless pieces as I fall backwards.

    Luckily, as an Ulat, I¡¯m more resistant to cardiovascular shock than most but I still need to deploy the breathing techniques to calm my hearts and reduce the risk of death, just as I was trained when I joined the Force.

    The pain of my broken arm, smashed face and where my back hit the ground are all excruciating!

    Dully, I register my comrades being knocked over like [bowling pins] by the stocky woman.

    It¡¯s only been around [10 seconds] since we first spotted the trio and they¡¯ve already utterly quashed all resistance we could have offered them!

    The sounds of Terran violence subside to be replaced with only the soft whines and moans of me and my compatriots.

    Then¡­*clack*¡­*clack*¡­*clack*¡­*clack*¡­*clack*¡­*clack*¡­*clack*¡­ come the slow steady footsteps of the woman in purple who sent the other two to crush us.

    I turn my smashed face to look at her as she saunters into view.

    A bad move!

    Having attracted her attention, she snaps her fingers and points the digit II of that hand at me, calmly ordering ¡°That one¡­ Get him on his feet¡­¡±

    The mesmerised man (who can¡¯t be as much as ? my height and maybe a ? my volume but who¡¯s, regardless, still probably heavier than me) closes a pair of powerful hands around my lapels, using them to hoist me up to standing before throwing me against the side of the alley.

    I pant and blubber as I cradle my broken arm with my unbroken one, desperately trying (and failing) to hold it tightly enough to prevent gravity from asserting itself, to worsen the break, without holding it so tightly that the pressure itself causes me pain!

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    Three Terran faces stare up at me; the two redheads blank faced, the purple woman giving me a sweet smile that is, nonetheless, terrifying!

    ¡°Hello there, boy¡­ What¡¯s your name?¡± asks the only one of the trio in possession of her faculties.

    ¡°Ch¡­*huff*¡­ Char*huff*gan¡­ *huff*¡­¡± I answer, the thought of lying not even crossing my mind.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± she simpers ¡°¡­Do you have any family on this planet, Chargan?¡±

    In horror, I answer ¡°N-no! *huff* You¡­¡±

    But she interrupts ¡°Hurt him.¡± simply, directing the order up at the large man.

    Unhesitatingly, he reaches out to the wrist of my left arm, applying steady pressure to make the fragments of my ulna and paraulna grind against eachother, blinding me with worse painthan I¡¯ve ever felt in my life!

    I scream from the agony.

    ¡°Stop.¡± she orders, nonchalantly, like making her puppet torture me is boring to her.

    The pressure is removed immediately.

    The slender woman in purple, the only one of the three whom I might be able to hurt in my current state, steps to well within the range of my unbroken right arm and two columnar legs, clearly not at all worried about the possibility of my trying to!

    ¡°Let¡¯s try that again, shall we?¡± she smiles up at me as I blubber ¡°Do you have any family on this planet, boy?¡±

    Completely out of my control, the answer tumbles from my mouth ¡°Yes! *sob**sob**sob**sob* Yes! I have a mother, a father and a five siblings!¡±

    She closes her eyes and bobs her head up and down in satisfaction before asking ¡°Wife? Husband? Significant other?¡±

    ¡°NO! NONE!¡± I answer, immediately, emphatically and truthfully.

    Seeing there is nothing to torture out of me there, she instead asks ¡°What about someone you¡¯re sweet on? Someone you¡¯d like to become more¡­ involved with?¡±

    My mind immediately drifts to Captain Yensuh¡­

    ¡­An Ulat woman twice my age and many times my rank!

    A woman I¡¯d never be good enough for.

    I think about lying but¡­ I¡¯m sure she¡¯s already seen me hesitate¡­ the only reward would be more pain!

    ¡°There¡­ is someone¡­¡± I answer, ashamed.

    She parts her lips baring her teeth, somehow a lot more predatory looking than I remember Terrans¡¯ being, as she asks ¡°Do you ever want to see them again?¡±

    ¡°Yeeeees!¡± I quail.

    ¡°Good!¡± she chirps, cheerily ¡°Then you¡¯re going to do exactly what I say¡­ Aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I am!¡± I sob.

    ¡°Goooood boooooy!¡± she patronises, reaching up to tap the side of my jowl with a solid deathworld palm before proceeding to instruct ¡°In a moment, this little toy¡­¡± she taps the man holding me up on the shoulder ¡°¡­is going to give me a piggyback out of here. Once the three of us are gone, you are going to slow count to 100 before calling for help¡­ Before you ask for reinforcements or medical attention, you are going to pass along this message verbatim: ¡®You know what I want, Bright Plume. Send it to me at this comm address¡­¡± pulling out a [10cm¡Á6cm] rectangle of card with lenticular text printed on it (in an alphabet I can¡¯t read) and sliding it into a breast pocket ¡°¡­and nothing happens to your friends!¡¯¡± gesturing to the two other Terrans currently acting as her henchman and henchwoman ¡°You will do nothing I¡¯ve not instructed. Are we clear?¡±

    I hesitate as I mentally run down her instructions, needing to spend a moment problem solving about how to pass on a comm in a script I can¡¯t read, then I ask my only question ¡°May¡­ may I sit down once you¡¯ve gone? I think I¡¯m quite likely to pass out if I need to stay standing¡­¡±

    The purple woman throws back her head and lets out a high, cold laugh before answering ¡°You may sit down, boy! Well done for asking! It¡¯s good that you know your place!¡­ Just keep being a good boy and don¡¯t forget any of my other instructions, alright?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t, Ma¡¯am!¡± I pant, as emphatically as I can manage right now.

    ¡°Good!¡± she sparkles before patting the big man on the shoulder again and ordering ¡°Down.¡±

    He bends down into a crouch and she hops onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, her impractical shoes dangling at his knees.

    ¡°Onward¡­ and make it fast¡­¡± she orders the two redheads before they disappear away down the alley, outside of the containment zone.

    I slump to the floor, looking at my companions.

    For the briefest of moments I look to my colleagues, lain out on the floor, all in much worse shape than I am.

    I consider disobeying the purple woman¡¯s orders and just calling for help now¡­

    Then, my families¡¯ faces swim into my mind along with Captain Yensuh¡¯s¡­ I think of dying here in this alley and never seeing them again¡­ Or, so much worse, the woman fulfilling her threat by leaving me alive but finding and killing them!

    No matter how outlandish the possibility of her finding out that I disobeyed her order, or actually bothering to punish me for it¡­ I need to take it seriously!

    Slowly, I start to count ¡°One¡­ two¡­ three¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.186

    ---Hangar---

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    What I ordered Twila to do to get this information¡­ was a crime.

    Unlikely that the Revanchists are gonna report me but that doesn¡¯t mean bigot birb isn¡¯t going to file it away to trot out in front of Parliament!

    OK Samus!

    Can¡¯t be worrying about that now!

    We need our friends back and this was the only way I could see that had a hope of doing that!

    If I need to go back to prison for it, I consider that a price worth paying!

    The really frustrating thing is that even asking Twila to commit this crime for us (to insert a malware beacon into the gene map code she sent) didn¡¯t get us a definitive location!

    They¡¯ve apparently got quite advanced cybersecurity given their distaste for full AIs so the beacon was scattered out to hundreds of false locations the instant it was activated!

    Twila and the other techies were able to do some witchcraft to narrow it down to four locations that seemed most likely (something they probably wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve been able to without one of them being an AI).

    Tymancha and the spies are heading to one, the Vrakhand girls to another and the majority of the Twigg to the third¡­

    That leaves me, Xon and Tuun to check this place¡­ a derelict shuttle hanger on the outskirts of the city.

    A sparkling sea of artificial lights line the low hills to our right, mirroring the stars above.

    To our left is a well manicured forest of orange leafed trees, their colour visible by the starlight.

    Not having my assault rifle makes me feel a little nude¡­ but it¡¯s definitely for the best.

    Unlike the pulse rifle I¡¯m holding, that weapon is absolutely not a less than lethal and, unlike in the movies, there are very few places in your body where you can get shot and have minimal risk of death!

    I give a swift kick to the front entrance of the building that neither of my (much taller but much skinnier and less substantial) companions would have been able to match, causing the once sliding door to sheer free of its moorings and clatter to the floor.

    Seven guns snap up to cover all our angles.

    As soon as we¡¯ve established the grungy reception area to be clear, I lead the way to the corridor that gives access to the hangars.

    On my left, Tuun¡¯s eyes and her top two hands are pointed forward while her bottom two are pointed at the floor behind her, to her left and right, (all four wielding pistols) and her long ears swish about for anyone who might be sneaking up on us.

    Xon, being right handed, has her right pistol extended in front of her, her left pointed at the ceiling, just behind her head.

    Hangar 9 is clear.

    Hangar 8, clear.

    Hangars 7, 6, 5, 4, 3¡­

    Just as I¡¯m on the point of giving up on finding anything in this place, my gun snaps around the corner of Hangar 2 and¡­ I see the showiest spacecraft I¡¯ve ever seen!¡­ Including the Bright Plume!

    Imagine Emperor Palpatine having a bratty teenaged daughter who insisted that matte grey was sooooo out of fashion after the Battle of Yavin and that his Lambda-class shuttle simply had to be redecorated in glossy purples and you¡¯ve got some idea of what this crime against good taste looks like(!)

    I immediately pull us back behind cover, just to minimise the chances of us being sniped.

    They probably already know we¡¯re here.

    First thing I¡¯d¡¯ve done if I was doing what they are is put up monitoring devices around this place to warn me when I was being closed in on.

    If they¡¯re as competent as taking out Thran and Cuddles suggests they are, they already know we¡¯re here.

    I open a comm channel to Twila, using eye tracking on my helmet¡¯s visor.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got something on our end¡­¡± I say in an (as explained) probably unnecessary whisper ¡°¡­instruct the other teams to converge on this location, assuming they¡¯ve found nothing themselves.¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°Roger that, sit tight.¡± answers Twila, moderating her volume down without whispering.

    ¡°Negative. We¡¯re going in now.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t make me explain that every second we delay here is one where they could be getting either more prepared for us or more desperate and stupid, nor that, if this ship is genuinely one in use by some irrelevant smuggler or some shit, the quicker we confirm that and call off the order to converge on our location, the better.

    She simply answers ¡°Understood. Good luck.¡±

    Once she¡¯s off the line, I turn to Tuun and Xon and order ¡°On three, we break for the ship. Maintain your relative positions but fan out so they can¡¯t concentrate fire on us. You guys keep pace with me so we don¡¯t get picked off one by one as we get aboard. Clear?¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± answers the dualwielding Tshwane soldier.

    ¡°Understood.¡± answers the quadwielding Elven space Viking.

    ¡°Alright. One¡­ two¡­ three!¡± I bark the last word, sprinting out to take the centre and beelining it to the gaudy ship¡¯s open loading ramp.

    Xon takes our right.

    Like me, she¡¯s decked out in armour, though, unlike mine, her suit includes fully armoured sleeves, meaning she doesn¡¯t have to worry about getting shot in the arms.

    Neither of us have much to worry about from tranqs, though, my sleeves being made of material thick and durable enough to repel or break any needle shot at them.

    Tuun isn¡¯t armoured.

    Because her main assets are speed and manoeuvrability, heavy armour would hinder more than help her.

    She¡¯s better off dodging out of the way of whatever¡¯s being shot at her than tanking it, head on.

    Though I suppose, because the only exposed parts of her, not covered by her suit, are her hands and head, that probably means that (if they have tranqs that¡¯d even work on her) they¡¯ll take longer to have an effect, being shot into connective tissue, than they would if they could target her muscle masses.

    The two of them match their pace to my (much slower) one, as we sprint through the open space, meeting at the foot of the ramp and storming up it.

    The cargo bay we find ourselves in is deceptively large.

    The ship looked like a dinky little thing in the massive open roofed hangar but this empty space is around 6m tall, 12 wide and maybe 25 long and, from the two doors at the other end, seems like it only takes up part of the ship.

    I¡¯m guessing the lower door leads to the engine and cockpit¡­ The upper door, in the middle of a wraparound balcony that encloses the cargo bay at a height of 3m, I think¡¯d probably be living space.

    Neither of them have any labels so I can¡¯t be sure!

    The three of us sweep up the space, scanning for any kind of countermeasures.

    Boarding like this was a gamble, I know.

    If it turns out that they¡¯ve got even a few heavies other than the two we¡¯re here for, it¡¯s going to be bad news for us!

    It might be bad news for us just trying to bring in those two without killing them!

    Still!

    This is no time to second guess myself!

    Gotta trust my gut, just like Cuddles¡¯d say!

    We¡¯re about halfway down the bay when the top door slides open and the three of us whip our seven guns in that direction.

    A head of copper hair comes dangerously close to brushing the top of the door frame as a large, blank faced man comes out and takes position on the right of the rearward facing portion of the walkway (our left).

    Victor is followed out by an explosion of coarse, frizzy orange hair on top of a broad, deep, short woman who once broke my back without even trying to¡­

    Thran takes position on our right.

    Following those two, a third person emerges from the dark¡­ doing a¡­*sigh*¡­ a slowclap(!)

    She looks like she just got back from an audition to play the villainess in a live action kids¡¯ Hallowe¡¯en special(!)¡­ Strong notes of both witch and vampire!

    ¡°Brava! Brava! Brava!¡­¡± smirks the purple clad woman, smugly, through a fanged mouth ¡°¡­You three¡­!¡±

    That¡¯s as far as she gets before I scream ¡°OPEN FIRE!¡± and all three of us let loose on her.

    The instant I give the order, purple fire bursts to life in both of her hands, spreads to form a shield and completely obscures her from the front.

    Well¡­ that explains how she got Cuddles and Thran!

    Airborne nanites!

    Our pulses are harmlessly clanging against a field, generated by what has to be billions of microscopic machines that she seemed to just pull out of thin air!

    I¡¯d never really thought about it but I guess I just assumed making them airborne wasn¡¯t possible!

    I¡¯ve only ever seen nanites in a nanoforge!

    This kidnapper only needed to sweet talk them for a few minutes to distract them both from noticing the reforging of eachother¡¯s translators!

    My pulserifle is 25% of the way to needing time to recharge when I order ¡°CEASE FIRE!¡±

    The resounding *dong*s of our kinetics meeting her nanite generated field fall silent as Tuun, Xon and me all stop firing but keep our guns pointed at her.

    She doesn¡¯t drop the shield.

    Instead, her swarm of machines, so tiny and numerous they look more like a fog, reforms around her, giving the appearance of bulking out her slender body as they form a mass of purple smouldering smoke around her, enclosed by a humanoid shaped layer of shimmering, kineticproof field.

    She clears the nanites from between her face and the surface of her shield to say ¡°*tsktsktsktsk*! Such rude houseguests you are(!) Not even allowing your hostess the opportunity to properly greet you before attacking her in her home(!?)¡± in a sultry, sensuous halfwhisper.

    ¡°We¡¯re not your guests, bitch!¡± I snarl, keeping my gun aimed squarely between her eyes for the moment she drops the shield ¡°We¡¯re here to get back the friends you kidnapped, the sample you made them steal and then bring you in¡­ Alive only if feasible!¡­ What part of our motivation here makes you think we¡¯ve got any interest in giving you a chance to fucking monologue at us?!¡±

    She places the glowing, blue skinned fingers of a right hand made of purple fire and smoke against her chest, the field humming louder at the points where its surfaces touch, and makes a face¡­ acting like she¡¯s genuinely wounded by my words.

    ¡°Well¡­! If that¡¯s truly how you feel?¡­ I suppose we needn¡¯t dally any further!¡­ Thran dear¡­ kill these two!¡­¡± she orders, indicating me and Xon ¡°¡­Victor, sweetheart, restrain the Elf but don¡¯t kill her¡­ I¡¯ve got a special someone for whom she¡¯ll make the perfect little present when we get back to Bastion around Christmas¡­ He¡¯s wanted one like her for a while¡­¡±

    Cuddles and Thran each vault the railing and drop to the floor at the end of the cargo bay.

    Then, they start making their way towards us, Thran heading for me and Xon, Victor going for Tuun.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.187

    ---Hesitation---

    ---Tuun¡¯s perspective---

    My fianc¨¦ vaults the railing from the walkway above us.

    As he and Thran fall through the air, I know I should open fire¡­

    Right now, he can¡¯t be bargained with!

    He can¡¯t be reasoned with!

    He doesn¡¯t feel pity¡­

    Or fear¡­

    Or remorse¡­

    And he absolutely will not stop until he has carried out the creepy purple woman¡¯s order!

    I hesitate¡­

    It¡¯s only for about 0.9 seconds but that¡¯s 0.9 seconds in which there are 12 shot¡¯s I don¡¯t take, 0.9 seconds where he makes it all the way to the ground.

    My hesitation isn¡¯t articulated any more coherently than ¡®No!¡¯

    My mind knows I should be taking advantage of his airtime to take shots that it would be nearly impossible for him to dodge, my trigger fingers just won¡¯t follow the command to do it!

    Victor is the love of my life and my every instinct rebels against my conscious mind telling me to hurt him.

    This is exactly what Samus meant by ¡®pull the trigger when it counts¡¯!

    She and Xon have already fired seven shots at Thran between them.

    They aren¡¯t having to agonise like this! Like I am!

    The instant he touches the ground, I finally get a hold of myself.

    My conscious mind takes command and silences all dissent!

    Kinetic pulses ripple through the air towards the man I love.

    My upper arms target his head, hoping to concuss him, my lowers target his ankles, hoping to lame him.

    Now on the ground, he¡¯s able to dodge and weave through my fire in a way that he wouldn¡¯t have been able to while falling.

    He¡¯s winged by a few of the shots but none have the solid connection that would be needed to have any chance of breaking a bone or causing brain trauma.

    As he accelerates towards me, I back away while continuing to fire all four of my pistols at him.

    Every extra metre will mean another three or four shots I can send in his direction.

    The pulsepistols are light and plastic but their weight adds just enough inertia to my arms that I¡¯m unable to escape Victor using his two hands to grasp the wrists of my uppers.

    I bring up my lowers to try levelling point blank pulses into his diaphragm but his knee shoots between the pistols and flies from one to the other, imparting each with enough lateral momentum that it sends my lower two arms swinging sideways, irresistibly, before using his enormous strength to slam my upper hands¡¯ pistols together over his head.

    The flimsy weapons shatter into pieces.

    Before he can figure out how to break the lower two as well, I slide from his iron grip using my superior flexibility and Bagua training.

    The second I¡¯ve freed myself, I leap backward, attempting to bring up my lower arms to keep firing at him until he has accumulated enough damage to be incapable of continuing to fight me.

    He doesn¡¯t miss a beat, closing the distance back up and spinning towards me, aiming a rapidfire series of tornado kicks at exactly the height that denies me the opportunity to put my guns between me and him, for fear of losing them!

    My saving grace, as far as this fight goes, is that his strikes are the same limp, weak, halfhearted ones he uses when we spar and don¡¯t have the (to me) deadly power he hits Samus, Xon, Thran and Kas with when he spars with them.

    Though, if he succeeds in taking me prisoner for the one holding him in thrall, I may eventually end up wishing she¡¯d just told him to kill me!

    Thinking that makes me misjudge an attempt to shoot him and Victor¡¯s left foot smashes through one of my plastic pistols, causing it to knock into the other, breaking both of them to pieces.

    All four hands now empty, I instantly leap backwards and whip into a Bagua stance, adjusted for my nonHuman physiology; my lower arms are in a Qi Long Bu, Dragon Riding Guard, and my uppers in the normal Dan Huan Zhang, Single Palm Change.

    My legs are in Zhuang Zhang, Circle Walking Posture, but lower, both to minimise the target my legs present to Victor¡¯s kicks and give myself more stability with a lower centre of mass.

    He doesn¡¯t give me a moment of respite, launching himself forward in a powerful front kick, aimed at my solar plexus with the intention of knocking the air out of my lungs.

    I dart out of the way and begin a rapid Ni Bu, Mud Walking Step, circling around him to keep myself out of the way of his fierce strikes.

    I use my long upper arms to attack anywhere on his body that I know to be weak, while staying out of his arms¡¯ reach (though still inside that of his legs).

    I strike for his ribs, his liver, his spleen, his armpits, his elbows.

    My lower arms parry his every attempt to hit me that I¡¯m not able to simply dodge.

    I don¡¯t aim any kicks for his shins, since I¡¯ll definitely not have the strength to break his bones and he won¡¯t feel the pain while he¡¯s enthralled.

    I feel a moment of alarm as, in my periphery, I become aware of Thran getting a hold of her girlfriends ankles and literally swinging her into Samus like a club!

    It distracts me for less than 0.1 seconds before I refocus on Victor.

    Keeping him from joining Thran against the other two is probably the greatest help I can hope to give them right now, so it¡¯s best if I focus!

    Though his strikes are ferocious, the lag, both from him processing much slower than I do and having a more massive body with higher inertia, is quite noticeable.

    His strikes are fairly simple for me to predict and redirect with Bagua¡¯s 64 Transformations.

    That is¡­ until my fast twitch muscle starts to fail!

    I know it¡¯s only a matter of around 50 to 55 seconds before I¡¯ve got nothing left to run or fight with, whereas Victor, being an incredibly well trained and fit Sapiens Human, will be able to keep going and going and going.

    I don¡¯t agonise like I did over shooting him.

    What I¡¯m about to do is dangerous but, given how badly Samus and Xon¡¯s fight with Thran seems to be going, this is the least of all the evils open to me at the moment!

    I take advantage of an instant where his momentum carries him a little away from me.

    Inside of a ? of a second, all four of my hands dart to my hips and come away holding razor sharp daggers.

    Their fusion cores have been deactivated but, for my purposes, that¡¯s perfect!

    I don¡¯t want to decapitate or dismember Victor¡­ or stab through his ribcage to boil the blood out of his heart!

    I want to employ knowledge I was taught by Mamma Kat¡­

    ¡®People think that Norse Arts and other European Arts are clumsy, slow, brutish. That the battlefields of historical Europe were strewn with severed heads and parted limbs(!)¡­ Not so, Tunie!¡¯ I remember her saying when I was maybe 8 or 9 ¡®Look at this svere. You see how thin the blade is? What do you imagine would happen if you spent hours hacking into Terran bones with it? It would dent, chip, fracture! No, the primary objective of historical European warriors was not to part their opponent with their limbs but to part them with their blood! Terran bodies have and need to have a lot of blood under a lot of pressure to fight against our high gravity! You slice a hole in their flesh and all that blood comes out¡­ and fast! A drop in bloodpressure will very quickly cause a Human to lose consciousness! Best part is; so long as you¡¯re careful not to cut your opponent too deeply, they don¡¯t even need to die! If your side is able to bandage them up after you¡¯ve achieved victory, then you might have a valuable prisoner!¡­ Not quite the hack and slash image most people probably picture when they think of a pregunpowder European battlefield, is it?¡¯

    Ultimately, Baguazhang was a better fit for making the most of my abilities than RNMA or HEMA but it was Mamma Kat, not Sh¨©fu Xi¨´, who taught me that lesson!

    With my knives drawn, it¡¯s Victor who¡¯s now on the back foot, dodging, parrying and retreating towards the purple woman as I go on the offensive, aiming a whirlwind of vicious slashes at his arms and legs, hoping to cut his basilic and saphenous veins.

    I score a hit on the inside of his left forearm.

    Though I see the telltale scarlet-crimson glint of Human blood, just a tiny bit darker than mine, I know it¡¯s not enough.

    That cut was too shallow!

    He¡¯s not going to lose enough blood from just that one before I¡¯ve run out of stamina.

    I keep pushing him backwards, past Samus and Xon¡¯s fight with Thran, to just below where he initially dropped down from.

    The thrallmaker is just metres away to my top right but I can¡¯t focus on her!

    Now that Victor has his back to the wall, I¡¯m able to get several more cuts against his bare arms and upper legs.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I¡¯m just allowing myself a little feeling of triumph when he takes advantage of my complacency.

    He pushes off of the wall and straight through my knives into my chest.

    He cuts himself on the left side of his head and right shoulder but, the next instant, my back hits the ground.

    My grip loosens on the knives in my right hands and they skid away from my grasp from the force of the fall.

    I¡¯m about to swing for him with my left hands but his right arm comes down on their wrists, shattering the upper¡¯s with his fist and the lower¡¯s with his elbow.

    I scream!

    I¡¯m disarmed and pinned beneath the enormous mass of the love of my life.

    He¡¯s covered in his blood and its ferric tang fills my nostrils.

    His skin that I can see is pallid and clammy with cold sweat but it¡¯s not enough.

    He¡¯s still conscious¡­ and I¡¯m beaten!

    I look over to Thran and see her standing over a defeated Xon and Samus.

    Panic that I held at bay during the fight rises in my belly at the knowledge that she¡¯s about to kill them¡­

    They¡¯re about to die and I¡¯m about to be kidnapped and taken across space to a planet of Human slavers, to be made a present of!

    I watch as Thran bends down to take off Samus¡¯ helmet.

    Half conscious, Samus peers blearily up into the blank face of the strongest Human woman in the galaxy as Thran draws back a punch that I know will be more than 500J of force¡­ closer to the kinetic energy of a 9mm handgun round than a regular Human¡¯s punch!

    If Samus isn¡¯t killed by the first, she definitely will be by the second or third!

    Then¡­

    ¡°Stop!¡± shrieks a panicked voice that it takes me a moment to recognise.

    Thran stops dead, her fist still raised beside her head and pointed at Samus¡¯ face.

    I turn to look past Victor, up at the woman in the purple glamr armour.

    She¡¯s looking past us all, down the length of the cargo bay.

    I follow her gaze.

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m well ahead of Varkheth, Whordh, Khwarvhath and Vrokh, the other four women in the Vrakhand delegation.

    None of them were able to run here as fast as I could.

    As I round the corner of the enormous, roofless room (which the woman in the rectangle that¡¯s strung from my neck tells me is where I need to be), it looks as if it¡¯s fortunate that I did!

    I see the three women fighting against the two mind slaves in the back of a beautiful, glossy purple sky ship while a woman who¡¯s surrounded by a ghostly aura watches from above.

    I say fighting but, from how it looks, ¡®losing to¡¯ might be more accurate.

    The pair look as if they¡¯ve just finished defeating the trio.

    I tear towards them all and am noticed by the one I¡¯m taking to be the puppet mistress.

    ¡°Stob!¡± she screams, causing Ms Huntress to halt in the middle of the deathblow she was about to strike on Ms Arran.

    The controller gawks at me, paralysed, as I thunder across the space between myself and her.

    Her freeze doesn¡¯t last long though.

    ¡°Biggai! Tosthi keivwumun tuov thi Elvz naiv zand pikap thi uthur tu yurself! NAU!!!¡± she barks in a tone I can easily recognise as a panicked order.

    A blood covered Mr Taylor grasps the two knives by Ms Tuun¡¯s left hands with his right.

    He one handedly tosses them both across himself to Ms Huntress who snatches one out of the air with each of her hands.

    Mr Taylor then lifts one of his long, flat feet to stand on Ms Tuun¡¯s lower right wrist as he leans over to collect the two knives that were on her right side.

    ¡°Keivwumunn! Hould wun naiftu iichov ther throuts! Biggai! Hould wun tuhers and wun tu yur oun!¡± she orders, just as I¡¯m approaching the bottom of the ramp.

    Ms Huntress lays the leading edge of the knives she holds against each of Ms Arran and [Lt] Runner¡¯s necks as Mr Taylor holds one up to Ms Tuun¡¯s and one to his own.

    ¡°Anuthur stepand Ai hav mai toiz kil yur frend zand thenthem selvz!¡± announces the puppet mistress.

    ¡°She says; if you come any closer, she¡¯s going to have Thran and Victor kill the other three, then themselves.¡± translates Ms Twila from the device hanging at my neck.

    ¡°If you do that, there will be nothing to stop me from coming onto this ship and killing you for revenge, will there?¡± I observe, staring unblinkingly at the woman.

    Regardless, I stop at the bottom of the ramp, my chest heaving with pants I was able to keep out of my voice.

    She doesn¡¯t need to think long before she speaks again.

    ¡°Then, Ail tel themtu kil yur frend zand thenpro tect mi!¡±

    ¡°She says; then I¡¯ll order them to kill your friends then defend me.¡± relays Ms Twila.

    ¡°If you know as much about me as it seems as if you must, you surely know I¡¯m a deathworlder¡­ and, I¡¯m not just any deathworlder, I am the [Empress] and most formidable warrior of the most formidable kind of deathworlder yet known to the wider galaxy. I wouldn¡¯t put your faith in these two (armed with only metal knives) being able to stand between myself and you for very long, if I were you. Especially not in such an enclosed space, where their acrobatics will be less useful to them. They might just injure me enough to make me angry and feel like a quick death is too good for you.¡± I growl.

    Complicated emotions play across the cornered woman¡¯s face as Ms Twila speaks for me.

    ¡°Sou, hau du yu sujest wi rizolv this littul Meksikan stan dof?¡± says the purple woman.

    ¡°She asks what you suggest.¡± says Ms Twila.

    ¡°Relinquish your control of these two, relinquish any weapons you might have, including whatever you used to enslave them, and come quietly. Do that and I will personally guarantee your safety as [Empress] of the Vrakhand.¡± I state.

    The woman laughs as my words are translated for her. A high, cold, cruel laugh that banishes any hope I might have had for this impasse being resolved as favourably for my side as I suggested.

    ¡°Nou diil! Ai mait luuk laik uh pamperd prin sess but yuh kan betyor arss Aid dai bifor Ai surrender!¡±

    ¡°She says, however she looks, she¡¯d die before she surrendered.¡±

    ¡°Hau abaut; yu giv mi yur jiin zand Ai let yu teik thiiz thriy awei?¡±

    ¡°She says she¡¯ll let you take Tuun, Xon and Samus if you give her your genes.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not!¡± I answer ¡°I won¡¯t even consider any resolution that doesn¡¯t include all five of these people returned, alive and free of any control!¡±

    The woman¡¯s face twists in consideration as she listens to Ms Twila relaying my demand.

    ¡°Wot ashuruns du Ai hav thatyu wount just kil mi thi sekond Ai rilin kwish mai kontrol ovthem?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s asking how she knows you won¡¯t kill her as soon as she lets them go.¡± says Ms Twila.

    ¡°Are they still capable of removing the devices that were previously their translators by themselves?¡± I clarify.

    ¡°Theiar¡­ If Ai order themtu.¡±

    ¡°She says they can if she orders it.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ order them off the ship with the other three and to remove your control only after you¡¯ve made your escape. Order that, if I try anything, they kill the other three.¡± I suggest.

    ¡°Kudwerk¡­¡± muses the slaver.

    ¡°That could work.¡± translates Ms Twila.

    ¡°What assurance do I have that you won¡¯t wait until you¡¯ve got what you want, the ramp is about to close and then order them to kill the hostages and themselves anyway?¡± I ask.

    The woman shrouded in purple smoke sighs ¡°Mai werd izunt guud inuf(?)¡±

    ¡°She asks whether her word is enough.¡±

    ¡°If the word of an [Empress] wasn¡¯t good enough for you, the word of a kidnapping thief isn¡¯t good enough for me.¡± I answer, coolly.

    The woman actually laughs at that before speaking at some length.

    ¡°She says; How about if I made them leave the knives and pulseguns on board and hold the others by the throats? You probably wouldn¡¯t have time to kill me and come back to stop them asphyxiating but you could easily stop them if you were right next to them, couldn¡¯t you?¡± Ms Twila summarises.

    I consider whether there¡¯s any possibility of her being able to trick me in any way before conceding ¡°That sounds like it could work.¡±

    ¡°Sou¡­ du wi havei diil?¡± asks the kidnapper.

    ¡°Do we have a deal?¡± translates the one around my neck.

    I hesitate.

    Is it really worth giving such people as this access to what, by all accounts, is such a miraculous substance as thanatite is?

    Is it worth allowing them to desecrate my people¡¯s most cherished resource?

    Not just my people¡¯s¡­ but specifically mine!

    To appropriate it and turn it into nothing more than cheap battle armour?

    Is it worth knowing that whatever they do in that armour is, at least partly, my fault?

    Is it worth five lives to stop them from acquiring it?

    Then I look down into the blank faces of the two redheaded Terran warriors, staring placidly back at me, then further to the three defeated women lying on the ground.

    I can¡¯t conscience letting five honourable warriors die in such a way as this!

    I can¡¯t allow myself to be obliged to kill this woman for retribution before I¡¯ve even made it to the capital to plead my people¡¯s case that we are civilised beings who deserve a seat at the table of [galactic] society!

    ¡°We have a deal.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Ekselunt! Weit rait ther!¡± sparkles the woman, seeming thrilled. Then, to the two she has enslaved ¡°Ifshi muuvs, kil themthen yurselvs.¡±

    ¡°She says to stay here and not to move or they¡¯ll kill everyone.¡± relays Ms Twila.

    I stand stock still as the woman disappears into the door behind her and I wait for her to return.

    When she reappears, the blue, shimmering right fist of her ghost armour is closed as if the hand (I presume it contains) is clasping something beneath the purple smoke.

    She wheels back with that arm before launching forward.

    I don¡¯t see whatever was thrown until it hits the ground and alerts me to it¡¯s location with the sound of its bounce.

    The throw was so pathetic that the clear tube (visible to me only by it¡¯s opaque cap and how it bends the light) ends up several [metres] short of where I can reach it.

    ¡°You need to order them not to kill anyone if I come to retrieve the phial.¡± I observe.

    ¡°Rait yu ar!¡± laughs the woman ¡°Dount du enithing azlong az shi duzent kum fertherth anwerit landid, gaiz! Kumand getit andth enbak tu wer yuar.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s ordered them not to do anything so long as you don¡¯t come closer than where it is. You¡¯re allowed to come and retrieve it but then you have to go back to where you are.¡±

    I slowly walk forward and, careful not to let any part of myself advance closer than the little patch of bent light, I close my right thumb and forefinger around it.

    I shuffle rearwards as I draw back up to my full height with it.

    ¡°What now?¡± I ask, directing my words at the hostage taker.

    ¡°Spitinit.¡± she answers with a shrug.

    ¡°She wants you to spit in it.¡± translates Ms Twila before adding ¡°The lid will probably unscrew anticlockwise.¡±

    I grasp the lid, meant for much nimbler hands than mine, between my fingers.

    While masticating on nothing, I twist it in the direction instructed and, with a little difficulty, I manage to get it open.

    I keep chewing until my lower toothplate is acting as the dam to a little reservoir of saliva.

    I bring the mouth of the tube in my hand to touch it to the apex of the thanatite curve.

    Tipping my head down and forward, I pour a steady stream of spittle into the container I¡¯ve been given.

    When my mouth is empty, I lift the tube to see that it¡¯s (surprisingly) only half full of clear liquid with the slightest tint of blue¡­ It definitely felt like I had more in my mouth than that.

    I hold it up and ask ¡°This is enough.¡±

    ¡°Yesyes! Morthan inuf! Nau putthi kap bakon and throwit bakhir!¡± she says, beckoning for it, transfixed.

    ¡°First, order Mr Taylor and Ms Huntress off the ship with Ms Arran, [Lt] Runner and Ms Tuun, leaving their weapons behind and with orders to remove your control as soon as you¡¯re gone!¡± I answer without waiting for Ms Twila¡¯s translation.

    She rolls her eyes as my words are relayed to her and says ¡°Yutu! Dropthi naiv zand geh tof mai shipwith thous gerlz. Handzon ther throut sand, ifshi traiz tudu enithing tumi orwith hould thi saam pull, kilthem then kilichuther!¡­ Wuns Aiv meid mai eskeipwith thah tyuub, drop themand teikof yur tranzleiterz.¡±

    The pair she holds enslaved allow their blades to fall to the floor.

    The tall man pulls his betrothed to her feet and keeps a firm (but not crushing) grip on her throat as he frogmarches her off the vessel.

    The short woman has to work a lot harder with her (much taller and less conscious) charges.

    Eventually, she manages to get both of them in a sort of double headlock, while keeping a hand on each of their necks.

    She walks off the ship with four relatively long legs trailing on the ground behind her.

    ¡°Nau givit tumi!¡± she orders, dropping the apparently affected halfwhisper she¡¯s done most of her conversing in so far, as she holds out her hand in my direction.

    ¡°Ms Twila, were there any problems with the orders she gave Ms Huntress and Mr Taylor?¡± I mutter to the woman on the rectangular medallion at my chest.

    ¡°None that I heard, Your Majesty.¡± she answers, matching her volume to mine.

    I grunt my understanding before reeling back the arm holding the tube.

    I spend a few [fractions of a second] calculating the appropriate force and trajectory of the throw to give the little clear phial the best chance of landing on the walkway with the woman without falling short, bouncing back or hitting the ceiling and being deflected downward.

    I fling the tube in her direction.

    It flies straight past her hand (for all her readily inferred intelligence, she seems to lack a lot of the rapid reactions and physical coordination I¡¯ve seen from others of her kind) but, thankfully, my throw was good enough that, even without her catching it, it doesn¡¯t bounce off the platform she stands on.

    She bends to pick it up.

    It slips beneath the blue shimmer of her armour and is obscured by the haze of purple.

    She considers for a few [seconds] before turning to me and smirking ¡°Siimz jenyu in¡­ Ei plezhyur duing biznes withyu(!)¡±

    ¡°She says it was a pleasure doing business with you¡­¡± says Ms Twila, appearing to share my disdain for that sentiment.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say the same! I hope this is the last ¡®business¡¯ I ever have to do with you or your organisation!¡± I spit in answer.

    She giggles as the ramp lifts between us.

    I see her dispel her ghost armour, exactly at the moment I no longer have time to get to her over the closing ramp, and raises a dainty, pale, five fingered hand, its palm facing me.

    She wiggles the fingers in my direction before turning to disappear into the door behind her.

    The ramp closes.

    I back away as the ship lifts from the ground.

    The two mind slaves neither move away nor release their fellow hostages.

    With very little noise bar the *whoosh* of disturbed air, the vessel leaves the enormous roofless chamber at great speed.

    There are two heavy *thud*s on my right as Ms Huntress unceremoniously drops the two women she was dragging and a gasp of relief as Mr Taylor lets go of his injured betrothed¡¯s neck.

    Both of their hands move to their temples without hesitation.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.188

    ---Contract---

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    A large Terran man with a miserable expression on his (brighter than normal) face sits on the couch, opposite me.

    From the rapidity with which I can see heat undulating along his blood vessels, I know that his heartrate is well above normal.

    His temples are both bare of any devices.

    Fortunately, being fluent in his first language means he and I don¡¯t have to conduct this session through the translator app (with which he¡¯s been talking to every nonEnglish speaker aboard since the incident.)

    On his lap rest the gigantic head of a blindingly warm predator, unfortunately necessitating eye protection on my part.

    Humans are just about tolerable for me to spend long periods looking at. Doing so to an a¡¯Teksian mirkbeast would likely require me to have a regen session, to undo the damage to my retinae(!)

    ¡°So, Victor¡­¡± I start, leaning towards him ¡°¡­how are you feeling right now.¡±

    ¡°Sick¡­¡± he scowls ¡°¡­like I¡¯ve swallowed somethin¡¯ radioactive and it¡¯s slowly killin¡¯ me!¡±

    I don¡¯t ask if this is a metaphor.

    I assume that, if it weren¡¯t, he would have sought the aid of Gato, Aerlyght or the Shings as opposed to mine.

    ¡°And what¡¯s made you feel that way?¡± I ask, gently.

    ¡°You know exactly what!¡± he snarls, angrily.

    ¡°I do¡­ but I want to hear it in your words¡­. As much as you are comfortable discussing with me.¡± I answer, patiently.

    He lets out a long sigh, during which (I infer) he isn¡¯t meeting my eyes.

    His ten fingers work through the soft fur of the blindingly bright predator who emits a deep, calming purr.

    Finally, he starts ¡°Me and Thran got put under mind control by a Revanchist operative¡­ She made us steal Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s granny¡¯s foot¡­ she made us kiss and touch eachother in ways I never would¡¯ve wanted to and I really don¡¯t think she would either¡­ she made us fight people¡­ she made us hurt people¡­ she made me restrain Tuun as a ¡®present¡¯ for some posh New Australian twat¡­ she made me threaten to kill her and myself if Khr¡¯kowan didn¡¯t hand over her spit¡­¡± each point making him more visibly angry than the last.

    I frown slightly and ask ¡°How do you know what planet the one she intended to give your fianc¨¦e to was from?¡±

    ¡°¡¯Cause I was there when she spoke to him¡­¡± he huffs ¡°¡­via hologram in her bedroom while me and Thran were ¡®warming eachother up for her¡¯¡­¡± his lips curl in disgust ¡°The name¡¯s Gordon¡­ He dresses like an Enlightenment era aristocrat and seems like he knows a lot about biology and genetics¡­ When she saw Samus, Tuun and Xon comin¡¯, she said ¡®Oh! She¡¯ll make the perfect present for Gordy!¡¯¡± in a high pitched, feminine, halfwhispered impression of his captor ¡°She¡¯s got some kinda dynamic with him where she acts like she¡¯s got a massive one sided crush but I don¡¯t know how much of that¡¯s tease versus how much¡¯s genuine.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± I answer, realising a little too late that my curiosity regarding that detail was not exactly the most productive place to start. I refocus, gently ¡°So Victor, what was it like for you to be under this woman¡¯s control?¡±

    The man¡¯s face contorts and brightens in anguish ¡°Well¡­ I really wanna say ¡®It was torture¡¯, ¡®a livin¡¯ nightmare¡¯, ¡®like all my worse fears realised¡¯ but¡­¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s not accurate?¡± I suggest, finishing the thought on which he trailed off.

    He shakes his head ¡°No¡­ it ain¡¯t¡­ It¡¯s only lookin¡¯ back that it feels like a nightmare¡­ If I had a dream where someone was controllin¡¯ me and makin¡¯ me do bad things, I¡¯d be alive and awake, restrained in my brain¡¯s passenger seat, watching myself doin¡¯ those things and screamin¡¯¡­ This was more like¡­ not existin¡¯ at all¡­ bein¡¯ dead¡­ bein¡¯ a walkin¡¯ corpse¡­ I didn¡¯t ¡®feel¡¯ anythin¡¯¡­ When Tuun cut me up, that registered as ¡®wound; right forearm, shallow, minimal blood loss.¡¯ instead of ¡®Ow!¡¯¡­ I knew Tuun was my fianc¨¦e, I knew I loved her, knew I wouldn¡¯t want to hurt her¡­ That bitch just turned off the bits of me that cared about any of that¡­ and turned off the bits of me that would¡¯ve cared about having bits of me turned off! It was¡­ like bein¡¯ stripped of my sentience¡­ turned into a machine that can understand but not feel¡­ It¡¯s horrible to think about now but, I¡¯d say, there just wasn¡¯t a ¡®me¡¯ to find it horrible at the time!¡±

    ¡°Alright then, Victor. Why don¡¯t we focus on how the you that exists right now feels then?¡±

    The man fixes me with an unnervingly intense gaze and forcefully answers ¡°Violated!¡±

    A little thrown by that, I don¡¯t have time to formulate a response before he continues.

    ¡°I feel worse about what she did to me and the things she made me do than I did about getting my hand cut off! About getting my ribs broken! Learnin¡¯ Kara wasn¡¯t my mum! Gettin¡¯ strapped to a vivisection table by an insane AI! Gettin¡¯ stranded on that planet for months! None of it compares! None of it comes fuckin¡¯ CLOSE to comparin¡¯!¡±

    His normal Human joviality is gone!

    What this man is displaying to me is nothing more or less than the sum total of the ferocity that made his species into the undisputed masters of their hellworld cradle!

    The fury that allowed them to defy extinction, time and again and again and again, through aeons!

    The spite that let them look the rest of the galaxy in the eye and tell us ¡®No¡­ You move!¡¯

    Doing my best not to allow my fear to show (mostly successfully but for a little, involuntary flutter of my ears), I ask ¡°And what makes this so much worse than all those incidents to you, Victor?¡±

    He scowls forward while he considers my question for some long moments.

    ¡°You remember how my mum died, Ally?¡± he asks, finally.

    ¡°I do.¡± I confirm.

    ¡°And you remember the thing that made me pick up Shaolin, origin¡¯ly?¡±

    ¡°I remember, Victor.¡± I assure him.

    ¡°Since then¡­ Since I learned what happened to my parents, my mum specific¡¯ly, since I got the shit kicked outta me by those kids, since I met Sh¨©fu N¨ªng¡­ I thought the solution to any problem I couldn¡¯t solve with my strength was to get stronger, the solution to any problem I couldn¡¯t solve with my skill was to train harder¡­ If what I am ain¡¯t enough, I gotta be more!¡­ And, I¡¯d say, most of a lifetime o¡¯ that attitude¡¯s made me into a lot!¡± he raises a muscular arm to gesture across a powerful chest.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Unusually immodest for him but ¡°I certainly agree, Victor.¡±

    ¡°But this woman¡­ She¡¯s¡­ She¡¯s¡­!¡± the man¡¯s emotions seems to be overcoming his articulation here as he flails his hand and his face further increases its brightness.

    ¡°She usurped your strength?¡± I suggest ¡°Took everything you¡¯ve spent decades building and used it without your consent to do things you never would have agreed to?¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± he cries ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ What was the fucking point!? What was the point of getting strong when, if I¡¯d been weak¡­!¡±

    ¡°If you had been weak, she wouldn¡¯t have deemed you worth taking control of and, if she had, you would have been much easier for us to stop?¡± I finish.

    ¡°¡¯zactly!¡­ It¡¯s got me thinkin¡¯ maybe I should turn in my notice to Cap, go back to Earth and get a job doing somethin¡¯ sedentary! Maybe the ODR¡¯d have a deskjob for me¡­ Just let all my strength, my speed, my stamina, my skill whither away to nothing! Let me become nothin¡¯ more ¡¯an a normal Terran whose most notable feature¡¯s bein¡¯ a bit on the tall side!¡±

    I nod ¡°That course of action certainly seems like it would lead to a substantially lower risk of being subjected to mind control again in the future than your current career path has¡­¡±

    ¡°Right?!¡±

    ¡°But¡­ is that what you actually want?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± he answers before second guessing ¡°¡­No¡­¡± and, finally, admitting ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know!¡± miserably.

    ¡°It¡¯s understandable that you might feel conflicted regarding a decision of that magnitude, Victor.¡± I observe.

    ¡°What do you think I should do?¡± he demands.

    I shake my head and gently remind him ¡°That¡¯s not how therapy works, Victor¡­ I¡¯m not here to make your decisions for you. I¡¯m not here to turn you into the person I think you should be. I¡¯m here to guide you through the process of becoming who you want to be¡­ My advice would be to take some time to contemplate what you want before you act. This isn¡¯t a decision to be made rashly.¡±

    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± he grunts in acknowledgement.

    Silence reins for some long moments.

    Eventually, I ask ¡°Have you spoken to Thran at all since the incident?¡±

    His body language shifts in clear discomfort.

    ¡°No¡­ not really.¡± he answers ¡°Not since just after Sh¨©fu got out of medical.¡±

    ¡°Do you think it might be a good idea?¡± I pose ¡°She¡¯s the only other person in your social circle who shared this experience. The two of you might be able to relate to eachother more easily than others who didn¡¯t share this trauma.¡±

    He shakes his head ¡°I¡­ it¡¯s¡­ I feel guilty¡­ Before you say it, I know it ain¡¯t rational! I know I weren¡¯t in control of myself, I know I ain¡¯t responsible for what that woman made me do to her and I know the answer to if I think she¡¯s to blame for touchin¡¯ me like that is ¡®Fuck no!¡¯ but¡­¡± he looks up at me, his face anguished ¡°¡­I still feel like shit about it!¡­ I don¡¯t wanna say it was worse or even just as bad as her makin¡¯ us hurt people, ¡¯cause, like, obviously I¡¯d rather be forced to kiss and grope Thran than hurt people but¡­ it was bad in a different way¡­ It¡¯s hard to explain¡­ I guess it¡¯s somethin¡¯ like¡­ no one died, everyone¡¯s injuries¡¯ve been healed. All that was fixable¡­ but I can never unbecome a man who¡¯s stuck his tongue down Thran¡¯s throat! I can¡¯t go back to bein¡¯ a man who hadn¡¯t put his hands on her chest¡­ and I know there¡¯s some who¡¯d basically wonder what I¡¯m complainin¡¯ about! I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a shittonne of folks out there who¡¯d kill for the opportunity to touch her like that and then throw up their hands and abdicate responsibility after with the fact that they was under mind control at the time but, sincerely and honestly, it weren¡¯t gratifyin¡¯ at all! Not at the time and not since!¡±

    ¡°Do you think Thran blames you at all?¡±

    ¡°Nooo¡­¡± he says, considering ¡°¡­but I think she feels just as uncomfortable about it as I do¡­ and, like, I know the thing to do is talk to her an¡¯ clear the air¡­ but¡­¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s hard?¡± I suggest.

    ¡°More like ¡®I¡¯m a coward¡¯!¡± he puffs.

    ¡°¡®Coward¡¯ is a strong word, Victor.¡± I point out ¡°I don¡¯t think having strong negative feelings that make it difficult to face a woman with whom you were forced to engage in nonconsensual intimacy is cowardly¡­ It seems like quite an understandable reaction.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± he grunts.

    ¡°Maybe you could ask your teacher to¡­¡±

    The mans scowls and interrupts ¡°Me an¡¯ Sh¨©fu are on the outs!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± I ask, thrown by the unfamiliar phrase.

    ¡°We ain¡¯t speakin¡¯ right now.¡± he clarifies.

    Shocked by that revelation, it takes me a few moments to manage ¡°And, why is that? It¡¯s not because he blames you for what you did to him while under mind control, is it?¡±

    ¡°The opposite!¡± he snarls ¡°It¡¯s ¡¯cause he was so absolutely thrilled at me and Thran beatin¡¯ him for the first time that, our first session after he got out of regen, he strolled in and started trynna brainstorm ways that we could fight that way while not under mind control(!) Get all those pesky emotions out of the way to make us into a pair that can, between ¡¯em, take out the best fighter in the galaxy(!)¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I grimace, baring my ¡®sharkteeth¡¯ ¡°¡­yes. I imagine that level of obliviousness would be rather upsetting.¡±

    Face twisted in a frown, he continues ¡°Like, I know he¡¯s a bit¡­ ¡®fightistic¡¯(!) But¡­ like¡­ surely even he understands what a fuckin¡¯ slap in the face it¡¯d feel to be told that you¡¯re a better fighter when you ain¡¯t you, right? Like, how unappealin¡¯ it makes the spiritual aspects of Shaolin look to nonBuddhists when he draws a parallel ¡¯tween ¡®detatchment¡¯ and catatonia! To becomin¡¯ a fuckin¡¯ automaton, a zombie!!!¡±

    ¡°Certainly¡­ and did you confront him about this?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Too bloody right I did!¡± he declares.

    ¡°What did you say?¡±

    ¡°I said that, if killin¡¯ off everythin¡¯ that makes me ¡®me¡¯ is what it takes to advance, I¡¯m fuckin¡¯ done! I¡¯m happy to never get better ¡¯an I am right now if it means gettin¡¯ to stay myself!¡±

    ¡°And he responded unfavourably to that, I take it?¡± I clarify.

    ¡°Dug his heels right in! We argued¡­ Ain¡¯t been back to the gym while he was there since!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that, Victor. I know your martial art means a lot to you¡­ and that Yu¨¢n was a man you had great respect for. Have you lost that respect as a result of this dispute?¡± I ask, a little dangerously close to putting words in his mouth with the question.

    He considers for some moments before answering ¡°No¡­ not really¡­ I¡¯m pissed off with him but¡­ this ain¡¯t exactly inconsistent with who I already knew he was¡­ All about fightin¡¯. Everythin¡¯ else comes second¡­ I know it ain¡¯t his job to look after my emotions¡­ ain¡¯t even his job to train us in martial arts¡­ he only does it ¡¯cause he¡¯d be bored to tears otherwise¡­ I just¡­ I think the worst part was just the insistence, you know? Like¡­ he says ¡®You need to fight without emotion if you wish to attain the mastery you had when you fought me¡¯¡­ I say ¡®Fuck right off with that shit!¡¯ that should be the end of it¡­ but he just kept pushing!¡±

    ¡°I can see that that would be upsetting.¡± I say, sympathetically ¡°Do you think this is a reconcilable disagreement or not, Victor?¡±

    He scowls ¡°Yeah¡­ Dunno¡­ Like, I think we¡¯re both waiting for  eachother to be the first to come an¡¯ apologise¡­ So¡­ I dunno if either of us are gonna budge on that before it¡¯s too late!¡­ Only another week ¡¯til we get to Citadel¡­ and then¡­ you and your husband¡¯re gonna leave too¡­ ain¡¯t you¡­¡± his face turning morose at that latter.

    I clear my throat and say ¡°*ahem*¡­Actually, Victor¡­ I was going to wait until the end of this session to broach this with you but¡­ Tcakqaal has approached Marc and I with an offer.¡±

    His curiosity immediately piqued, his face whips to me, eyebrow raised as he asks ¡°Oh yeah?¡±

    ¡°She asked if we would be amenable to her assuming our contracts¡­¡±

    ¡°She what?¡± asks the Terran, bewildered.

    ¡°She wants us to stay on and work for her directly after this voyage is concluded.¡±

    ¡°She never told me she was thinkin¡¯ ¡¯bout doin¡¯ that!¡± he says, his face a mixture of many competing emotions.

    ¡°Yes¡­ she told me that she knew you would refuse if she made the offer to you directly¡­ but that she also believed you continuing with therapy was desirable¡­ at least for the moment¡­ I told her that I would still have to run this past you and my other clients who¡¯ll be staying on. I won¡¯t just assume you¡¯re all happy to continue seeing me without asking. Marc told her the same with regards to his clients.¡±

    His face falls as he asks ¡°Keepin¡¯ the two of you on without the ODR footin¡¯ the bill¡¯ll be expensive won¡¯t it¡­¡±

    ¡°Victor, please don¡¯t worry about the cost. Managing the Bright Plume¡¯s finances is Tcakqaal¡¯s responsibility and she judges the next contract term¡¯s worth of my and my husband¡¯s salaries to be a price ¡®well worth paying¡¯¡­ The only consideration you need to make is whether you actually want to continue your therapy with me?¡±

    The man thinks¡­

    He spends a long time thinking¡­

    I did my best to avoid leading him in either direction, despite definitely agreeing with his employer that now is an extremely inopportune time for his therapy to be terminated.

    However, if he says ¡®no¡¯, I won¡¯t argue.

    It¡¯s not my place to impose therapy on those who do not want it.

    Therapy someone has been coerced into will always be of limited effectiveness.

    I just hope he doesn¡¯t refuse for some stupid reason like not being able to conscience Tcakqaal having to pay our salaries on his behalf!

    Finally, he looks up at me and gives me my answer ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not ready to stop, Ally¡­ I do wanna keep seein¡¯ you¡­¡± with a touch of apologetic guilt in his tone.

    ¡°That¡¯s absolutely fine, Victor¡­ In that case, I will plan for our sessions continuing past the end of this ship¡¯s contract end.¡± I smile, kindly.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.189

    ---Reevaluation---

    ---Sh¨ª D¨£o Yu¨¢n¡¯s perspective---

    I walk through the corridor of my pupil¡¯s dorm, my weighted vambraces resting against my lower back.

    I bring an arm in front of me and wave as I approach the door.

    A tone sounds from within, alerting the occupant to my presence.

    A few moments pass before, more than a head above mine, a pale skinned face appears from behind the sliding door.

    Visibly confounded, my pupil just stands there, staring blankly down at me, for a moment before observing ¡°It¡¯s you.¡± simply.

    ¡°Indeed it is, T¨²d¨¬ M¨ªng¡­¡± I answer.

    ¡°Can I¡­ help you with somethin¡¯?¡± he asks splaying his hands.

    ¡°Yes¡­ May I enter? I wish to talk with you, M¨ªng.¡±

    He frowns but stands aside, turning to walk back into his room.

    He gestures vaguely to an armchair that faces in the direction of an enormous, dark furred, six legged predator, occupying the space where a bed ought to be.

    I lower myself down to the seat and my pupil collapses down to the floor against his pet.

    He cut¡¯s a rather villainous looking figure in the dimly lit room, using one of the galaxy¡¯s most fearsome predators as a reclining seatback(!)

    He gesture¡¯s vaguely at me with the same hand he used to fracture my left scapula, recently¡­ while he was not himself¡­

    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± he asks, managing to keep a sneer off his face and out of his voice.

    ¡°I¡­ have come to apologise, M¨ªng.¡± I state.

    Cocking a copper eyebrow over a bright green eye, he prompts ¡°Oh yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I was wrong.¡±

    Folding his arms and appraising me sceptically, the large man enquires ¡°And what¡¯s brought this on?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t simply have honestly and spontaneously reevaluated and reconsidered my actions?¡± I smile, calmly.

    Unimpressed, the man flatly answers ¡°Sh¨©fu¡­ You¡¯re a serious contender for the cockiest, smuggest, most arrogant son of a bitch in the galaxy! I somehow doubt this was spontaneous¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright, M¨ªng¡­¡± I concede ¡°¡­this was induced by something.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡±

    I sigh ¡°It was at the prompting of my therapist.¡±

    He sits up, a look of mild alarm on his face as he asks ¡°Ally told you to come here?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± I refute ¡°¡­her husband is my therapist.¡±

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Oh¡­ right¡­¡± he answers, relaxing slightly ¡°¡­Still! Bit surprised you see a therapist at all. So, what did Marc tell you, if you¡¯re OK with me askin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t ¡®tell¡¯ me anything so much as he led me to see something¡­¡±

    ¡°Right! Yeah¡­ Therapist magic(!)¡± he quips, waving his hands in a parody of the metaphysical ¡°So what he ¡®lead you to see¡¯ then?¡±

    ¡°That I was wrong to equate the absence of self, which you experienced and with which you and F¨¡ng bested me, with detachment¡­ That I was wrong to view attempting to emulate it as desirable¡­ That you are a better fighter when you are yourself. Maybe not in your ability to defeat your opponent but certainly in your ability to discern who is an opponent and how much violence is required to subdue them¡­ That I allowed myself to become so fascinated with the aptitude you demonstrated when in such condition that I ignored both your feelings on the matter as well as the incredible value you have when fighting as yourself¡­ And, finally, that I could permanently sour a relationship with a valued pupil if I did not act to make amends.¡± I answer, sincerely, meeting his bright jade green eyes throughout.

    ¡°Right¡­ sooo¡­ all the same stuff I said when we argued origin¡¯ly then?¡± he observes.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I confirm.

    The simplicity of my answer causes the large man to chuckle in amusement before he sighs, his hand moving to between the ears of his companion animal and scratching idly.

    Finally, he responds ¡°Yeah¡­ I know the feelin¡¯¡­ being told somethin¡¯ a thousand times in plain English ain¡¯t enough to get it through my thick skull but followin¡¯ a trail of breadcrumbs to it and it suddenly seems like the most obvious thing in the universe(!)¡­ I ain¡¯t gonna pretend I don¡¯t get it¡­ and, honestly, you hadn¡¯t come here, I probably would¡¯ve ended up comin¡¯ to you to clear the air¡­ I don¡¯t really like holdin¡¯ grudges¡­ Get¡¯s exhaustin¡¯(!)¡±

    I smile at my pupil.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad we could reconcile before we parted, M¨ªng.¡±

    He frowns ¡°You ain¡¯t stayin¡¯ to make a report on Citadel? ¡­¡¯Bout the new species martial arts?¡±

    I shake my head ¡°Learning their Arts was my personal agenda, not part of my official role. I shall be boarding a transport bound for Earth shortly after we arrive tomorrow and then on to X¨©n de Q¨ªn from there. If the ODR want my insights on the Vrakhand and Twigg Arts, they shall have to send someone from the branch there to ask me politely for them(!)¡±

    Another chuckle comes before the man stands up.

    I follow his lead but have far less distance to rise before I¡¯m at my full height(!)

    Looking silently down on me for a few moments, my pupil says ¡°In that case, Sh¨©fu¡­¡±

    He brings his hands in front of his chest and covers the knuckles of his right fist with the palm of his left hand, bowing.

    ¡°¡­it¡¯s been an honour to learn from you¡­ I hope our paths cross again at some point¡­ and I hope by then I¡¯m anywhere near skilled enough to stand a chance against you by myself and while I am myself.¡±

    Matching his b¨¤oqu¨¢n, I bow to him in turn.

    ¡°I shall keenly await the day!¡± I smile before adding ¡°And do not forego your meditations in the meanwhile, M¨ªng(!) You know I¡¯ll know(!)¡±

    He laughs.

    ---Gordon¡¯s perspective---

    I take a deep breath¡­ and open the incubator, bracing for the worst.

    I let out a breathy, wheezing laugh when I see what¡¯s inside.

    Across the enormous, man shaped gel layer under the liquid filled space below the sealed lid, is, unmistakeably, a sheen of iridescent red.

    ¡°Bloody hell! It¡¯s actually working!¡± I say to myself.

    ¡°That must be worth some kind of reward, right Duke Chandler(?)¡± answers a disembodied halfwhisper from the other side of my lab behind me.

    Startling, my spine straightens and I wheel around to see where Circe¡¯s hologram is materialising into being, across the room, as the lid slams shut behind me.

    ¡°Jesus bloody Christ, Circe! Don¡¯t do that!¡± I say for the thousandth time!

    Ignoring me, the holographic sociopath walks through the workbenches, to where I stand, and slides her intangible arms around my shoulders while looking down at the box.

    I turn around to look at it too, causing her to readjust the positioning of her arms to not have them intersecting my body.

    ¡°So it is working, Gordy?¡± she prompts.

    ¡°Yes¡­ it¡¯s working¡­ With this we can reevaluate the timescale of the plan¡­ It won¡¯t take anywhere near as long as we thought!¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± she answers, feigning interest but her mind clearly still only on one thing ¡°¡­so that¡¯s¡­

    ¡°Yes, Circe¡­ it¡¯s worth a reward¡­ You can come up to my place when you¡¯re back on Bastion and I¡¯ll give you what you want.¡± I sigh at the horny Dutchwoman.

    ¡°Oh, goody!¡± she grins up at me, exposing the holographic representations of the vampire fangs I gave her.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.190

    ---Factions---

    ---Ndum¡¯s perspective---

    My wife stands at my left¡­ as stunning as always but especially so in Terran green, blue and black formal dress, the top of her head well below the level of my shoulder, even with her high heels.

    On my right stands my bodyguard.

    At a full 55cm shorter than me (scarcely taller than my wife) the wiry, Stetsonned Sapiens woman doesn¡¯t look like much¡­

    She¡¯s missing one of her natural brown eyes, marking her out fairly clearly as a combat veteran, but that¡¯s the same as most Terrans her age.

    It would have been the same for me and my wife if the War hadn¡¯t made diplomats more desperately sought after than at any time in Terran history, for the unprecedented need to coordinate a galactic conflict without FTLcoms!

    This woman¡¯s talent lies in what hangs at her belt.

    Nothing more than a length of heavy rope.

    Certainly not a ¡®weapon¡¯(!)

    Though¡­ I think, if ever the day comes where she¡¯s actually called on to use it to defend me from an attack, Parliament may decide that lassos and whips need to be rapidly reclassified(!)

    Though, perhaps not¡­ I think most of my fellow Representatives would realise that, effectively, anything can be used as a weapon in Terran hands and decide it simply isn¡¯t worth the effort to ban them!

    Standing behind the three of us is a large crowd, composed of friends and family of the voyagers, ODR personnel and Parliamentary personnel,

    In the crowd is Vahatra, my daughter, and Wynythil of the Dancing Reeds, my daughter in law.

    I still remember the day she came out to us as being in a relationship with a Tythii, preemptively defiant, only to be met with a bemused chuckle from both me and her mother as we let her know that her being a xenophile was fine with us!

    I don¡¯t know that we really could have expected anything else, raising her on the galactic capital from the age of 11!

    Finally, the hangar¡¯s roof parts.

    I turn my face upwards.

    Citadel¡¯s skies are teaming with activity, as always!

    It¡¯s astonishing that, from my recollection of the few occasions I¡¯ve visited the cradle, Earth¡¯s skies are so, comparatively, quiet¡­ a fairly robust system of free monorails being what carries the overwhelming majority of planetside travellers there.

    I spot what I was searching for and fix my eyes on it as it descends through the atmosphere towards us.

    The ship draws close enough for me to make out it¡¯s strikingly colourful, iridescent palette a moment before I see its overall shape, that of a wingless, long necked bird.

    The final thing to make itself apparent is this ship¡¯s enormous size¡­ right on the edge of most hangars'' ability to handle!

    While still a few hundred metres up, the gigantic ship rotates in the aircolumn to point its rear towards us.

    It finally sets itself down with the resounding *BOOM* of thousands of tonnes of material being placed, however lightly, against a surface of solid plascrete.

    Through the clear polymer of the boarding ramp, I¡¯m able to see a veritable crowd of individuals of various species, all of them silhouetted by the bright, interior lights as they stand there, ready to disembark.

    There might be a little shiplag for them to deal with over the next few days¡­

    The ramp descends towards us, slowly.

    I give a broad smile up it and bring my hand to my chin to stroke my beard as I see the collection of people starting to make their way down towards us.

    Among them, I see the face of an Ulat man my wife and I met 37 years ago (becoming the first Terrans ever to see and be seen by any extraterrestrial in the flesh¡­ mere days after Master Chief Soloniaina became the first to do so via transmission.)

    As much as I would like to catch up with the Captain-turned Commadore-turned prodeathworld advocate with whom my wife and I made history, it wouldn¡¯t be proper right now.

    There are two among the ones coming down this ramp that I need to prioritise welcoming!

    I¡¯ll have time to say hello to Yakchutt over the coming days.

    One among the welcoming party, however, does not share my restraint regarding that man(!)

    From the friends and family segment, a slender, bipedal, Class 8 Crocodilian woman (more than a metre taller than me) runs up the ramp!

    ¡°Yakchutt!!!¡± shouts the Ulat woman at the stocky man she¡¯s approaching at high speed!

    ¡°Klornett¡­!?¡± he answers her, bewildered.

    Just as I¡¯m resolving her as having to be his sister or something, she opens her arms to wrap him in an embrace and her jaws to clamp around his stout, reptilian head in a show of affection, reserved for spouses and lovers among their kind.

    It takes me a moment (considering the reason that this woman being Yakchutt¡¯s partner is so surprising) before it clicks that I¡¯d parsed him as ace the first time I met him! That assumption was then not challenged in the nearly 4 decades since(!)

    Ulat have some of the most dramatic sexual dimorphism of any species in the galaxy!

    Other than their reptilian scales, their 2-0-2 arrangement of fingers and basic body plan of a head on top of an upright torso with two arms, two legs and a tail, they could not look more like an interspecies couple!

    Yakchutt¡¯s scales are a dark green, the woman¡¯s are pale enough to verge on white!

    She is around 70cm taller than him (with most of the extra height coming from a long, serpentine neck, in contrast to his complete lack of one) but so much slimmer that I¡¯d guess her to be only half his weight!

    Where he has a short, stubby, vestigial tail, hers is long and whip like.

    In contrast to his thick, short snout on a stout, Krogan like head, her jaws are long enough to almost completely enclose both sides of his face!

    Their phenotypic dimorphism is matched by their behavioural dimorphism; male Ulat being typically more stoic and reserved, in contrast to their females, a lot more passionate and forthright.

    Thankfully, the only victim of this woman deciding that she simply could not wait one more moment to embrace the partner she¡¯s been separated from for the better part of 2 years is Yakchutt¡¯s dignity(!)

    The man, while clearly pleased, is also quite clearly rather embarrassed by the woman who has him immobilised, right in everyone¡¯s way, and stammers up into the crocodilian mouth as the crowd parts to flow around them.

    It seems like the pintsized, green skinned bipeds on their left (my right) are, far from being offended by the display, actively amused by it, issuing many appreciative hoots and hollers at the pair.

    The large arachnoids, on their other side, simply politely ignore them.

    I see a woman in a glossy kimono with a silver streak in her dark hair running ahead of the crowd and turning backward.

    ¡°Representative Khr¡¯kowan¡­ Representative Viig¡­¡± she calls to her left, then right, a smile in her voice ¡°¡­please come forward!¡±

    The largest of the Vrakhand extracts herself from the throng and strides ahead towards me.

    One of the Twigg (the only distinctive aspects of her appearance being her yellow eyes and light brown hair, in contrast to the greens and blues of most of the rest) does the same on the other side.

    Miyazaki comes forward and places herself on my left, out of the way of my wife.

    ¡°Khr¡¯kowan, Viig, this is Ndum ¡®Lemur¡¯ Rain¡­ The United Terran Coalition¡¯s current representative to the Parliament of the Galactic Union and this¡­¡± she gestures Nirina ¡°¡­is his wife, Nirina ¡®Orchid¡¯ Rain.¡±

    Instead of extending either hand for a handshake (which would necessitate either choosing which woman to acknowledge first or, ridiculously, simultaneously extending my right hand up to the right handed Vrakhand and my left down to the left handed Twigg) I bend at the waste and render a low, respectful bow, aimed precisely at the space between them, saying ¡°It is an honour and a delight to meet both of you.¡±

    My wife dips her head, pulls out the folds of her dress in a curtsey to them and says ¡°Likewise.¡±

    She always was a little old fashioned¡­ in public at least¡­ not so much behind closed doors(!)

    ¡°The honour is mine, Representative.¡± answers the arachnoid empress, matching my bow but still looking down from above me.

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s good to meet you.¡± says the Twigg girl, casually, looking up at me before rendering a nod to my wife.

    Then, her yellow, slitpupiled eyes flick to the other woman, standing on my right, and stare up with some interest.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Taking the cue, I introduce her ¡°Representatives, this is my bodyguard, Jaylah ¡®Rider¡¯ Chevalier.¡±

    The Texan woman steps forward.

    I¡¯m just about able to see a mirthful smile curling her lips, around the brim of her hat, before she brings up a hand to its front and tips it slightly forward, greeting ¡°Howdy¡­ Happy to meet y¡¯all!¡±

    The little green girl''s focus does not waver from Jaylah¡¯s face after she makes her introduction.

    Perhaps her attention has been captured by the glowing green artificial left eye¡­ though, I¡¯m fairly sure she¡¯s seen bionics before, given that that R¡¯qali ship captain over there (perched on the muscular shoulder of the cute faced redhead) has two bionic eyes and a bionic leg!

    ¡°Well! Ain¡¯t you sweet, darlin¡¯¡­¡± chuckles Jaylah to the Twigg girl ¡°¡­don¡¯t mind the attention one bit(!)¡±

    The little Twigg girl bares her four fanged teeth at her, briefly terrifying me into thinking she¡¯s making a threat display, before bursting into giggles.

    Her Vrakhand counterpart looks three parts exasperated, one part amused, as she sighs.

    Clearing my throat, I regain the Graom-Wakhkortan representatives¡¯ attention to ask ¡°I apologise if this seems a little rushed but¡­ would the two of you mind accompanying my wife and I back to the ODR in our vehicle just now? The rest of your respective contingents will be conveyed there shortly, there are just a few matters we would like to discuss with you alone, if that¡¯s alright?¡±

    Turning her palm in a gesture of acceptance, the empress acknowledges ¡°Of course, Representative. Please lead the way.¡±

    ¡°No problem.¡± shrugs her Twigg counterpart.

    ¡°Excellent.¡± I smile before turning to the Japanese woman to ask ¡°May I leave coordinating things here to you, Mistress Miyazaki?¡±

    Beaming, she answers ¡°Absolutely, Representative¡­ Coordination is my job, afterall(!)

    ¡°Then, if the two of you would follow me¡­?¡± I invite the very large and very small women, walking away.

    The *clack* of my wife¡¯s heels, the *clink* of my bodyguard¡¯s spurs, the *pitter-patter* of the little goblinoid¡¯s digitigrade feet and the *pwuck-pwuck-pwuck* of the enormous Spider queen¡¯s ¡®boatshoes¡¯ let me know that all four of them are following behind me.

    I lead the band of us to an ODR owned atmo craft, with a luxurious interior, spacious enough to accommodate the 3m tall, 5m long Vrakhand woman as well as the rest of us.

    Jaylah takes out her holo and runs it over the vehicle a few times to triple check it hasn¡¯t been tampered with while out of our sight, before pronouncing ¡°It¡¯s clean, Boss.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Jaylah.¡± I acknowledge, receiving a tilt of her hat as she nods.

    I turn to my fellow representatives and gesture inside the vehicle, bidding ¡°After you.¡± with a smile.

    The two of them climb aboard, the 20cm step up a little awkward for the submetre Twigg to manage.

    My wife follows them, giving me a delightful smirk as she does.

    I turn to Jaylah who tilts her hat backwards giving me the opportunity to see her natural brown and synthetic green eyes in a rare moment of eyecontact.

    ¡°Yer chivalry¡¯s wasted on me, Boss(!) I¡¯m yer bodyguard¡­ Means I¡¯m the last one in(!)¡± she observes.

    I chuckle and briefly throw up my palms in concession before stepping aboard.

    I take the seat beside my wife before the Texan woman takes a backwards step aboard, her face still scanning around outside until the moment the door slides shut.

    The craft takes off, lifting the five of us over the ecumenopolitan vista of the second most populated planet in the galaxy.

    The pair of them are clearly trying hard not to stare.

    My wife gives a warm smile and gestures out of the window, indulging ¡°It¡¯s a stunning view, isn¡¯t it!¡± to give them an excuse to look.

    ¡°It¡¯s incredible.¡± says the empress, soberly.

    ¡°SO many people!¡± remarks the little brown haired girl, standing on her seat to get a better look.

    ¡°There really are, aren¡¯t there¡­ the planet Ndum and I are from doesn¡¯t even have a tenth as many as live on this one!¡± says Nirina.

    The Vrakhand turns her face to her, frowning curiously ¡°I¡­ thought Earth was the most populous planet in the [galaxy]?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it is¡­¡± answers my wife, sweetly ¡°¡­but we aren¡¯t from Earth¡­ It¡¯s our cradleworld, of course, and we¡¯ve visited it a few times but our planet is actually called Lemak Vaovao.¡±

    ¡°I see. I apologise for my oversight.¡± says the empress.

    ¡°Not at all!¡± beams the love of my life before explaining ¡°It¡¯s a mistake a lot of people make, Terran and nonTerran alike! My husband is actually only the second of five representatives not to be from Earth so far¡­ Even though Earth only makes up a little more than 3% of the UTC¡¯s population, there¡¯s definitely still¡­ a little bit of prestige attached to being from the cradle(!)¡­ It seems quite natural in people¡¯s minds that the one who represents Terrans ought to be from there¡­ We take no offence!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re here, folks.¡± announces Jaylah as we approach the roof of Citadel¡¯s ODR main residence building.

    The craft touches down on the landing pad and the door slides open.

    The Texan steps out, her head swivelling around.

    My wife follows her, then Viig, proceeded by a moment where Khr¡¯kowan tries to let me out first but I respond ¡°After you, Representative.¡±

    She climbs out.

    As the last out of the craft, the door slides shut behind me and it flies away to store itself.

    ¡°I¡¯d sure ¡¯preciate it if we could get off this rooftop right quick and find ourselves somewhere a bit more sheltered!¡± proclaims Jaylah, looking all around, warily, as if to spot snipers on the buildings closest to us(!)

    ¡°Let¡¯s get inside then, Jaylah.¡± I accept, leading the way.

    We get through the door and I ask ¡°Are we OK with taking the stairs? It¡¯s just one floor but we could take the lift if you prefer?¡±

    ¡°Stairs shouldn¡¯t be a problem for me.¡± declares the Vrakhand.

    ¡°Me neither.¡± agrees the Twigg.

    ¡°Alright then.¡± I smile as I lead the way down the wide, shallow, interspecies staircase.

    Jaylah jogs ahead to be the first one to peer around the corner where the stairs turn back on themselves.

    Finding no assailants, she takes over the task of guiding us down the stairs and along the corridor to Nirina and I¡¯s apartment.

    She takes out her holo and, the second the door is open, walks inside, pointing it everywhere while running through different scans.

    ¡°Clear.¡± she recognises before putting her holo away and walking back past the other four of us, out of the door we just came in.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t staying?¡± asks Viig, sounding crestfallen.

    The Texan woman stops, turns to face the Twigg girl and smirks ¡°Sorry, darlin¡¯!¡­ I¡¯m on duty¡­ Much as I¡¯d enjoy more o¡¯ yer company, stayin¡¯ outside¡¯s part of my job(!)¡± before closing a scarred, russet brown eyelid over her glowing green bionic in a wink, pulling her head out of the doorway and allowing the door to slide closed behind her.

    My wife and I now being left alone with the two nonTerran deathworlders, I gesture to the lounge area and suggest ¡°Shall we sit?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± replies the green skinned one.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± agrees the bluish-black armoured one, before adding ¡°Would it be acceptable for me to seat myself on the floor?¡±

    ¡°No problem at all.¡± smiles my wife ¡°But do you mind if my husband and I sit on the sofa?¡±

    ¡°Please do.¡± answers the empress.

    ¡°I¡¯m sitting there!¡± says the Twigg, enthusiastically indicating one of the (to her) utterly gigantic loveseats before hopping up onto it, turning to face the coffee table and slumping down on the chair which makes her look like a toddler.

    The empress gives a slightly exasperated sigh at her counterpart''s lack of social grace before folding her legs and dropping her underside to the floor in the space at the end of the table.

    Nirina sits and I take my seat beside her.

    ¡°So¡­¡± I start ¡°¡­thank you both for joining us and I apologise if it felt a little rushed. There are just a few things we wish to discuss with both of you before anything else. Once we¡¯re done here, Jaylah will show both of you to your accommodations. Representative Khr¡¯kowan; you are sharing an apartment with your husband¡­ and¡­ Mistress Miyazaki has asked me to let you know that she will be in the one next to yours.¡±

    The giant woman sitting on my floor gives a pleased smile and says ¡°Thank you, Representative Rain¡­ and Ambassador Rain.¡± directing the latter to my wife.

    Turning to the small woman, enthroned on our loveseat, I continue ¡°Representative Viig, in line with your request, we have placed you into an apartment with 19 other Twigg, the remaining ? of your contingent in the apartment next door and the one on the far side of that¡­ Do let us know if you find yourself wishing for a little more privacy than that arrangement affords. We will happily oblige you.¡±

    ¡°Cool!¡± appreciates the small woman.

    My wife here chimes in ¡°We have done our best to make sure your rooms have been appropriately adapted for both your species¡¯ comfort and necessities but, if you find there¡¯s anything we¡¯ve missed, anything you don¡¯t understand or you have any other difficulty, you can call the concierge from the panel by the door¡­ Jaylah will show you how to do that.¡±

    ¡°We are both grateful.¡± says the empress, speaking for both of them.

    The Twigg girl rolls her eyes at being spoken for but doesn¡¯t object.

    I allow a brief beat for them to ask clarifying questions.

    When none come, I decide to start ¡°First, allow me to apologise on behalf of both the UTC and GU for the perils you have thus far been exposed to by us; the attack on your peoples¡¯ peace conference, the pirate boarding of the Bright Plume you were called on to aid in dealing with and, most recently, the terroristic extortion of your genetic code from you by the Revanchists, Representative Khr¡¯kowan¡­ I understand that, though not directly to blame, these are hazards you would not have been exposed to if it weren¡¯t for us and, for that, I beg your forgiveness. Please rest assured that the source of the leak at the UTCIS, which led to that organisation becoming aware of your people and the potential applications of thanatite in the first place, is under active investigation as we speak.¡±

    ¡°Your apology is appreciated but unnecessary, Representative Rain¡­ These are risks I would gladly undertake again for my people¡¯s sake.¡± answers the Vrakhand.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ No problem¡­ You didn¡¯t do all that!¡± agrees the Twigg.

    With an appreciative smile, I continue ¡°Much as we would like to let you go, to start settling into your rooms and recuperating, we have some things that we need to talk over with you beforehand. The most pressing of the matters we must discuss is the existence of the antiTerran faction in Parliament. Has Mistress Miyazaki discussed this with you?¡±

    ¡°No¡­?¡± frowns the Twigg.

    ¡°Yes she has, Viig.¡± corrects her counterpart, sighing.

    The smaller woman gives a bemused shrug and answers ¡°Alright, maybe¡­ There¡¯s been a lot to remember!¡±

    I smile.

    It seems that the small woman¡¯s species¡¯ strengths in working and procedural memory do not extend to episodic or semantic memory!

    ¡°Alright then, just so we¡¯re all on the same page¡­¡± I bring up a holographic display of Parliament¡¯s seating plan. 33,972 species¡¯ representatives, arranged in concentric rings around the Speaker¡¯s platform in the centre ¡°¡­this is a map of Parliament. This is my seat¡­¡± I say, highlighting it in green ¡°¡­These¡­¡± I highlight another 5,000 or so seats in a lighter green ¡°¡­are what our intelligence service have identified as the ¡®proTerran faction¡¯. They are species whose votes align with positions advanced by myself and former Terran Representatives significantly more than chance would suggest¡­ Now, that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean that all of these representatives feel positively about us or that they represent species that do. Some of them may be simply attempting to curry our favour and, as unfortunate as it is to need to admit, a fair few of them may simply be frightened to vote against positions we have made our stance known on, for fear of being targeted as enemies should the galaxy ever come to another War¡­ Perish the thought!¡­ Most of the remainder are representatives we have identified as ¡®floating voters¡¯¡­¡± I say, highlighting a little more than twenty thousand in yellow ¡°¡­these represent a spectrum of voting patterns, some tending to align more with Terran supported policies, some less, but all with no pattern clearly established enough that they can definitively be inferred to be basing their votes on what position they know we support. They, rather, seem to be voting either with their consciences or according to other criteria in which we may be a factor but not the main factor¡­¡±

    The Vrakhand woman is paying rapt attention to my words.

    The Twigg looks as if she¡¯s trying to but is having trouble with boredom setting in.

    ¡°¡­all of this to say¡­¡± I finally highlight a little more than 6,000 seats in red ¡°¡­this is the antiTerran faction. Representatives who can usually be relied on to oppose whatever position is supported by my predecessors and I¡­ I must, again, sincerely apologise ¡­ Your species¡¯ accession to the Galactic Union should not be contentious¡­ but we are almost certain it will be¡­ With me supporting you, all of these seats can be relied on to not only vote against your acceptance (which would already make your species¡¯ admittance the second most voted against in galactic history after only my own¡¯s) but to do their utmost to convince the floating voters to do so as well¡­¡±

    ¡°Representative, if it weren¡¯t for the War your people fought most of my lifetime ago, we are fully aware that, upon discovery, our planet would have been lain waste rather than considered for membership by the [Galactic] Union. Your apology is, once more, unnecessary!¡± chides the empress.

    ¡°Mmm!¡± grunts the Twigg in emphatic agreement.

    ¡°Thank you, Representatives¡­¡± I smile before continuing ¡°¡­I could not possibly ask you to remember all species currently aligned with the antiTerran faction (even I don¡¯t have them memorised and I¡¯ve been in this job for well over a year now!) but there¡¯s one who I will ask you to remember.¡±

    I bring up a picture of a woman.

    Her species look like a cross between wombats and gibbons.

    ¡°This is Princess Brathala¡­ Representative of the Battan and the unofficial spearhead of the antiTerran faction¡­ she¡¯s the one you most need to watch out for!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XLII: Pancakes and Pleasure

    ---Nirina¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°So¡­!¡± thunders the boisterous umZulu Esisha woman, Admiral Sindisiwe ¡®Roar¡¯ Ledwaba, dressed in a stunning combination of a stomach baring, sleeveless top and a long, slit-sided skirt ¡°¡­there I am, not even two weeks after pushing off from kwaZulu, having spent the last 2 days feeling like I¡¯m being eaten by bees with the stress (since I¡¯d spent the entire time trying to balance getting there quicker against burning out the engines and not being battle ready when we actually got there) and we finally arrive!¡­ There we are, expecting to find the Britannian fleet as nothing more than a shattered debris field, expecting to find Britannia itself as a decimated husk, expecting that, if there are any bogeys even left in the system, our job is going to be retribution rather than rescue¡­ and what do I find?!¡±

    Here she jabs an index finger in the direction of her much larger, much more composed Nova Britannian husband, Vice Admiral Aaron ¡®Triple C¡¯ Friedman, sitting at the table next to her and wearing a rich blue suit that matches his wife¡¯s (much spicier(!)) outfit beautifully ¡°This. mad. BASTARD. had held out there for 5 DAYS without us!!!¡­ Not slept a wink the whole time, he says! Buuut, based on how it was looking, I don¡¯t know if he would have lasted another hour!¡±

    ¡°And then what happened?¡± prompts Viig, currently one half of the only pair at the table who aren¡¯t a couple, her halfbrother acting as her plus one.

    ¡°Well! Not really able to believe it, I order us to close to the range where we can comm him over EMs¡­ A bit risky but needs must! We open a line and I see this painful image¡­¡± she indicates the Britannian¡¯s face, adorned with a mirthfully exasperated expression ¡°¡­blood pouring down the side of his head, eyebags as long as ropes, woozily swaying in place and¡­¡± she turns to him ¡°¡­do you want to tell them what the first thing you ever said to me was, my love(?)¡±

    The well spoken Britannian rolls his eyes before, softly, calmly and mirthfully, saying ¡°*sigh*¡­I said ¡®Zulus? If you¡¯re here to even the score for Rorke¡¯s Drift, I shall have to ask you to wait your turn¡­ We are currently otherwise engaged(!)¡¯¡±

    The bombastic woman positively screams in laughter at the repetition of her husband¡¯s more than thirty year old (slightly irreverent) quip!

    You would never guess it wasn¡¯t her first time hearing it!

    The rest of the table laugh too, the six nonTerrans likely laughing more at how hard this woman is laughing than at the joke itself¡­

    I doubt that any of them have the necessary cultural background knowledge to understand the quip and will, instead, be relying on context to fill in the blanks.

    ¡°I cannot¡­*HAHAHAHAHA*¡­ tell you ¡­*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA*¡­ how hard I laughed!¡± she declares, while doing an admirable job of showing us how hard it might have been(!)

    ¡°In my defence, Sindy, I was fairly out of my mind from sleep deprivation, was suffering severe bloodloss and was somewhat delirious from hunger at the time. I had rather lost my grip on reality. I also had significantly lowered inhibitions and was around 65% sure that I was hallucinating you and your entire armada¡¯s existence¡­¡± explains the light skinned man, coolly, calmly and collectedly (as his epithet would suggest).

    His wife brings her laughter under control and smiles, bringing her navy blue lipsticked lips to plant a kiss mark on her husband¡¯s cheek.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to defend yourself, my love! I fell for you because of that terrible joke!¡± she says, prompting a chorus of ¡®awwww¡¯s.

    ---Ndum¡¯s perspective---

    Having already seen off the Vrakhand couple, Khr¡¯kowan and Kurkhuw, the Twigg halfsiblings, Viig and Grriv, and the Ulat pair, Yakchutt and Klornett, I extent my hand down to the 2m tall Britannian¡¯s, receiving a sober, dignified handshake.

    His wife (a little merrier) does not have the same restraint, throwing herself at me and wrapping her arms around my waist.

    I¡¯m reasonably certain this is just enthusiasm rather than sexual harassment but, nonetheless, I¡¯m rather glad of her heels giving her just enough of a boost to lift her (quite ample) bosom safely clear of my crotch to squash, instead, against my lower stomach.

    Turning her face up from the level of my solar plexus, she grins ¡°Thank you for an amazing dinner, Representative! I know we were being schmoozed¡­ but I don¡¯t fucking care! You can schmooze us any time if this is the quality of offering we can expect!¡±

    I chuckle and answer ¡°I¡¯ll bear that in mind, Admiral(!)¡­ Thank you and your husband for being such entertaining guests!¡±

    She releases my midsection, allowing me to, once again, see the ebony skin of her toned stomach, as she wags a finger up at me and observes ¡°You diplomats are always such smoothtalkers(!)¡±

    ¡°We try our best, Admiral(!)¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an understatement!¡± smirks the woman, wryly.

    She turns to my wife, embracing and thanking her just as heartily as she did me.

    Finally, she breaks from the embrace, her cucumber cool husband puts his arm around her, the pair of them bid us a last goodbye and our apartment door shuts, leaving me and my wife alone.

    I turn to Nirina.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I say, as the two of us start making our way back to the lounge by wordless agreement ¡°¡­that¡¯s the naval defence fairly decisively resolved!¡­ With Admiral Ledwaba¡¯s dreadnought and her samaZulu fleet committed, there isn¡¯t a force in the galaxy that would be likely to attempt to do anything¡­ irreversible on that planet!¡±

    ¡°Agreed!¡± my wife¡¯s head bobs from below the level of my left shoulder ¡°I¡¯m glad we managed to pull off another dinner without any major snafus!¡­ It was a little touch and go when Viig started telling us how her lover died and what her response to that was(!)¡­ You were quite masterful in redirecting the conversation without making it too obvious that that¡¯s what you were doing.¡±

    ¡°Not subtle enough that you didn¡¯t pick up on it, though(!)¡± I chuckle, reaching the sofa, taking off my Terran green jacket, carefully laying it down over the arm and turning to sit.

    Coming down beside me, she smiles ¡°No¡­ you aren¡¯t quite that smooth an operator, darling(!)¡± her eyes twinkling ¡°But¡­ then again, I have been married to you for nearly 50 years now! I know you quite well(!)¡±

    I give a contented sigh as I raise my arm to place it across her shoulders, pulling us together into a seated cuddle.

    The meal of grilled chicken, roast vegetables and quinoa salad, washed down with a tropical fruit dessert, sits in my belly, adding an extra glow of satisfaction to the contentment of my wife¡¯s embrace¡­ further enhanced by the mellow feeling imparted by the after dinner drinks.

    At the last minute, we managed to avoid what would have been the mortifying blunder of serving a pork based dinner!

    If my wife hadn¡¯t doublechecked everyone¡¯s files earlier and made an urgent call to the kitchen to change the omnivorous menu option for the chicken skewers, Vice Admiral Friedman would have had no choice but to watch everyone else tuck in to our portions while the cooks scrambled to produce an alternative for him!

    It wouldn¡¯t have made the best impression(!)

    Thankfully, the dinner went off without a hitch!

    The Vrakhand relished their steaks, the Humans and Twigg enjoyed our chicken, Yakchutt seemed to be very satisfied with his salad of nasturtiums, pansies and dandelions (with steamed artichokes and courgette blossoms on the side) and Klornett heartily ate up her meal of roasted squash and root vegetables!

    Conversation was scintillating, both over dinner and (even more so) once the social lubricants were broken out (toakagasy cocktails in the case of the vertebrate species, cola in the case of the Vrakhand(!))

    All in all, a job well done!

    Of course, if an order had simply come down from UTCM Command for the admiral to take her fleet to Graom-Wakhkort and defend it while more comprehensive technological uplift aid was arranged, it isn¡¯t as if she could have refused!

    Obviously, ¡®I don¡¯t feel like it¡¯ isn¡¯t a valid reason for an officer to refuse a deployment!

    Regardless, it still behoves us to grease the wheels¡­

    Inviting her and her husband to dine with us while she was on the capital and pitching it to them softly as ¡®how would you both feel about a posting such as this¡¯ will, likely, lead to them having a much more pleasant disposition to it when the order finally comes down the line¡­

    ¡­If the order comes down the line¡­

    Anxiety surges in my belly at the unbidden thought that these two might become the second and third inarguably sapient, natural species ever to be outright denied the ability to join the GU!

    What are we going to do in that case?

    I¡¯m next to certain that, if the GU rejects them, the UTC will simply defend and uplift them unilaterally¡­

    It wouldn¡¯t be the first time we¡¯ve looked the rest of the galaxy in the eyes while flouting their laws.

    A fine example would be Representative Miyazaki strolling around the capital with her illegal, AI husband behind her(!)

    But¡­ what if I¡¯m wrong?

    What if we Terrans simply don¡¯t have the will to intervene on behalf of these species that I hope and imagine we would?

    What if the collective response of every council of our 535 member planets and single protectorate is a simple shrug of ¡®not our problem¡¯?

    Once these peoples¡¯ existence is known of, it¡¯s only a matter of time before information such as their planet¡¯s location starts leaking out!

    It would only take one zealot with access to the right kind of force to learn that and decide they¡¯re going to deal with these new deathworlders by killing them in their cradle to snuff out both their species!

    And would that be our fault?!

    We who ferreted them out by sending probes to far distant deathworlds to look for them!

    We who unveiled them to a galaxy full of aliens, many of whom still revile deathworlders on principle!

    We who...!

    ¡°Darling¡­¡± says my wife, gently, interrupting my anxiety spiral.

    I look down into her gorgeous brown eyes, expectantly.

    ¡°¡­you¡¯re getting in your own head right now, aren¡¯t you.¡± she states.

    I give a chuckling exhale as I nod.

    Smiling, she gives me a squeeze and says ¡°Ndum¡­ Whatever you¡¯re convincing yourself of right now¡­? Not going to happen¡­ Alright?¡±

    ¡°*sigh*¡­You¡¯re probably right¡­ It¡¯s simply not possible for me not to be anxious at a time like this.¡± I answer, pensively.

    ¡°You¡¯re a worrier¡­¡± she points out ¡°¡­and I love you for it but you know worrying just makes you suffer twice¡­ Why don¡¯t we have another drink? We¡¯ve got time before bed and, with how busy we¡¯re about to become, this might be the last night we have any time to relax for a while¡­¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­ Just a small one though¡­ It wouldn¡¯t do for me to be hungover tomorrow!¡± I say.

    ¡°You could always pop a cap if you¡¯re not feeling 100% in the morning?¡± she suggests.

    I frown ¡°Even if we were the only ones who ever knew, even if I were never humiliated by the information becoming public¡­ I¡¯d still prefer not to live the rest of my life knowing it was necessary for me to take a hangover cure to be fit to attend the Parliamentary session where the Graom-Wakhkortans were revealed to the galaxy. I¡¯ll just have one more finger¡­¡±

    ¡°Admirable restraint(!)¡± she smirks.

    I stand and take a single step to reach where the bottle of toakagasy we gave to our guests rests on the table.

    I pick it up and immediately realise ¡°It¡¯s empty?¡±

    Mildly confused, I turn to my wife.

    Holding it up, I ask ¡°Did Ledwaba really drink that much?¡±

    ¡°She had a few, yes¡­¡± Nirina chuckles ¡°¡­but we also had five other guests for whom alcohol was the intoxicant of choice¡­ and ourselves, of course(!) I don¡¯t think it¡¯s fair to blame just her(!)¡±

    ¡°A good point, well made.¡± I acknowledge ¡°I¡¯ll check the cabinet¡­ If there¡¯s none in there, we¡¯ll have to be satisfied with something else¡­ I¡¯m not ordering more in at this time of night on the eve of tomorrow¡¯s debut! Rumours flying about the Terran Representative and his wife being alcoholics would be unhelpful(!)¡±

    ¡°Fair¡­¡± concedes my wife from her seat on the couch.

    I walk over to our spirits cupboard and open it up.

    I feel the ache of disappointment as I look through the front rows and don¡¯t see any of the Malagasy rum needed to make more of the cocktails we¡¯ve been enjoying.

    I take a breath to ask what my wife wants instead when something catches my eye.

    Tucked away at the back is a very fancy bottle¡­

    I reach for it, carefully extracting it from the others.

    It¡¯s unopened.

    I turn around and see my wife standing a few paces behind me.

    I hold what¡¯s in my hand up to her and point to it ¡°Earth imported!¡­ We should¡¯ve given this to the guests¡­ I forgot we had it!¡±

    Smiling lovingly up at me she answers ¡°What they don¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt them¡­ We¡¯ll just keep this our little secret(!)¡± before handing me her cup.

    I laugh as I take it and walk back to the lounge table.

    I place hers down next to mine, crack open the fancy import and request ¡°Say when¡­¡± as I tip the bottle up and the clear spirit starts to trickle out.

    5 seconds pass as Nirina says nothing, just watching as I dispense her more and more alcohol.

    I¡¯m just about to ask if she really wants me to keep going when she smiles ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±

    I cease pouring.

    I¡¯d guess I just gave her around 50-60ml.

    For my own, I tip in a tiny little splash of about 10-15ml.

    ¡°Lightweight(!)¡± teases Nirina.

    ¡°My darling¡­ the fact that Sapiens have spent the last 12,000 years wilfully poisoning yourselves in order to kill off all but those possessing the most resilient of livers is not something to brag about(!)¡± I tease back, inducing a mirthful puff as she sits back down, leaving exactly enough room for me to squeeze into the space between her and the arm with my jacket lain over it.

    Into the toakagasy already in our cups, I tip a bottle of fresh, chilled mango juice (from the indoor hydroponicum located beneath the ODR compound), filling them up most of the way to the top.

    I then pick up the bottle of vanilla extract left on the table and pipette two drops from it into each of our drinks.

    Finally, I take two of the (as yet unsqueezed) lime slices and press their ends together between my thumbs and forefingers, causing a small amount of citric juice to fall into each cup.

    I take a clean metal stirbar and mix first my wife¡¯s drink, then mine, hearing the stainless steel rod clink against the stainless steel inner lining of the polished copper cups.

    The cocktails now prepared, I reach for Nirina¡¯s.

    ---Nirina¡¯s perspective---

    Ndum wraps his slender, elegant fingers around the rippled pattern in my cocktail cup and extends his +1m long arm across the table, placing it down in front of me.

    He picks up his own and stands, rounding the table to wedge himself into the gap between me and the arm¡­ without me needing to tell him where I want him to sit.

    He brings his arm back over the top of my shoulders.

    I place my hand on his thigh.

    I pick up mine and raise it into the air.

    ¡°Smile.¡± I toast, demonstrating one myself.

    ¡°Joy.¡± he answers, raising his own and, I can see through his thick, silky, black beard, obeying my request for a smile.

    Without clinking our cups together the way they do in some Terran cultures, we bring them to our mouths and drink.

    The rich, earthy flavour of the strong spirit (brought here from the left footprint of the gods, a third of a galaxy away) is the first thing to hit me, followed by the smooth sweetness of the mango, the bright tang of the lime and the subtlest hint of the creaminess imparted by the vanilla.

    Having swallowed about a quarter of mine, I bring it from my lips and give a satisfied gasp.

    ¡°You mix a lovely mango serenade, my love!¡± I compliment the man whose left pectoral I¡¯m leaning my head against.

    My husband¡¯s chest bounces in a satisfied puff.

    I idly stroke my fingers over the fabric that covers the inside of his left thigh, listening to the slow, resonant drumming of his powerful heart as I do.

    We sit in silence for a little while, simply enjoying the contact as we each periodically go for a sip of our drinks.

    Then I chuckle as I observe ¡°The admiral¡¯s dress was¡­ quite something, wasn¡¯t it! I wish I had the confidence to walk around with that much skin showing!¡­ Just¡­ *bam*! ¡®Here¡¯s my gorgeous, toned body(!) Enjoy it, losers(!)¡¯¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Ndum¡¯s deep voice reverberates through his chest into my right ear as he jokes ¡°¡­you¡¯re finally joining the winning team, are you(?)¡±

    I roll my eyes, mirthfully, and answer ¡°Ndum¡­ I don¡¯t think it¡¯s very common to suddenly turn bi at age 78(!) I think, if I were, I would have realised by now!¡­ Just because I¡¯m straight, doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m blind! I don¡¯t need to be a gynophile to be able to assess her as a rock solid 1????!¡±

    ¡°Both of them are rather goodlooking¡­¡± observes Ndum, idly.

    ¡°¡®Rather goodlooking¡¯(?)¡± I ask, incredulously ¡°Ndum¡­ please don¡¯t pretend you wouldn¡¯t absolutely fall at Ledwaba¡¯s feet if you were both single!¡±

    I see him shake his head in the top right periphery of my right I before he denies ¡°Friedman, yes¡­ if he and I were both single and he weren¡¯t straight¡­ I¡¯d be very interested¡­ You know I¡¯ve no interest in submissives.¡±

    My mind feels like an old fashioned machine, brought to a sudden, dead stop by my husband pushing a spanner between its gears.

    Several long moments pass while I attempt to coax my mind back into proper working order.

    Finally managing to think again, I lean forward, placing my drink down on the table, looking up to my husband¡¯s face (the bottom of whose chin is level with the top of my head despite us both being sat down) and asking ¡°Darling¡­ I believe I must have misheard you¡­ It really sounded, there, like you were suggesting that Admiral Sindisiwe ¡®Roar¡¯ Ledwaba¡­ the Lioness of KwaZulu Esisha, the Mistress of the UTCS Wrath, the woman with a Britannian city named in her honour¡­ the youngest individual in Terran history ever to be given the rank of Admiral and the command of a dreadnought¡­ was a sub!?¡± with a disbelieving frown.

    ¡°Ledwaba is a sub.¡± he confirms, placidly.

    Almost dumbstruck, it takes me some moments before I ask ¡°And¡­ logically from what you said¡­ that would make her husband and subordinate, Vice Admiral Aaron ¡®Triple C¡¯ Friedman¡­ Mr Cool, Calm and Collected¡­ a Dom, then?¡±

    ¡°Friedman is a Dom.¡± he states, simply.

    ¡°Bullshit!¡± I laugh ¡°There¡¯s no way! You¡¯re joking! Never in a million years!¡­ How do you know this isn¡¯t another misfire¡­ like you spending 37 years thinking Yakchutt was ace!¡±

    ¡°You spent 37 years thinking he was gay, need I remind you¡­¡± he points out ¡°¡­and this isn¡¯t like that. For Yakchutt, his sexuality was an idle, back of the mind impression of him I had at a time when he was the first nonTerran we (or anyone else for that matter) had ever met. It wasn¡¯t an examined position I¡¯d taken on him¡­ For these two, I¡¯m certain!¡­ She may, professionally, be his superior, she may be a woman who wore a red wedding dress and him a blue wedding suit, she may, publicly, seem like the assertive and confident one with him seeming docile to the point of submissiveness but¡­ in the privacy of their bedroom, I promise you, the roles reverse!¡­ She surrenders herself and allows him to ¡®put her in her place¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°Wow!¡­¡± I exclaim, still a little disbelieving ¡°¡­Just when you think you know a girl(!)¡±

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    My mind tries to conjure an image of Ledwaba submitting and Friedman dominating¡­ and utterly fails to do so!

    ¡°It isn¡¯t as if the concept of high powered individuals who take pleasure in surrendering behind closed doors should be foreign to you, my love(!)¡± Ndum points out, crinkling the skin around his sugilite purple eyes.

    I give a mirthful sigh and concede ¡°True, true¡­¡± picking my drink back up, returning my right hand to his inner thigh and stroking.

    I take another sip of the delicious cocktail while I consider the information my husband¡¯s just given me.

    ¡°It must be hell for you to be able to read people so well¡­¡± I observe, idly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never known any other way.¡± he answers ¡°From my perspective, this is normal. It would feel wrong to be suddenly bereft of it.¡±

    I chuckle and give his leg a squeeze as I joke ¡°I sometimes wonder if the existence of the entire Tshwane lineage wasn¡¯t concocted as an elaborate ploy to cover for someone setting out to design the perfect man for me specifically(!)¡±

    ¡°The feeling, though absurd, is quite mutual, Nirina.¡± he answers.

    I smile, pressing myself just a little closer into my inordinately lanky husband¡¯s side and feeling his left arm squeeze me in return.

    Then a thought occurs to me.

    ¡°You knooow¡­ we heard how everyone else got together at dinner, Yakchutt and Klornett, Ledwaba and Friedman, Khr¡¯kowan and Kurkhuw¡­ but we never told the story of how we got together¡­¡± I observe.

    ¡°That¡¯s probably for the best¡­ tonight was about them, not us¡­ Plus, it isn¡¯t as if our story has any of the drama of the arena match, the Wartime naval rescue or the marriage agreed to after a single day, during our species¡¯ first contact¡­ We just met at uni, like most diplomats do.¡± Ndum answers, his shoulder shrugging behind my head.

    ¡°It felt pretty dramatic to me at the time(!)¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that bad.¡± he counters.

    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t think it was that bad(!)¡± I scoff.

    ¡°What?¡± he asks, sounding confused.

    Thrown by that, I turn to look up into his face, seeing no trace of a tease there.

    ¡°Ndum¡­ Really?¡± I laugh ¡°Do you really not know what I mean?!¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he frowns back, mirthfully.

    ¡°I mean, you were the most eligible bachelor on the course and it wasn¡¯t even close!¡± I exclaim ¡°You were Ndum Rain! The mysterious and exotic Tshwane!¡­ One of the first batch ever resurrected on Lemak!¡­ Tallest in the year by nearly 30cm! Purple eyes! Handsome face! Fantastic hair! Well groomed! Polite! Intelligent! Soft spoken! Deep voiced! Sweet!¡­ You literally had your pick of the unattached androphiles on the course!¡­ Hell, I¡¯m pretty sure that some of the male attracted girls and boys who arrived there with partners would have dumped them for you if you¡¯d intimated an interest! For you, uni was a spouse selection(!) Just a matter of walking down the line of us and choosing the one whose hair you hated the least(!)¡­ For me? Plain old Nirina Tsiranana, one of hundreds of billions of Sapiens girls just like me?¡­ For me, it was a battle royale with you as its grand prize!¡­ I spent most of First Year full of desperate anxiety about how I was going to get you interested in me and then the whole of Second full of desperate anxiety about what would happen if you lost interest in me!¡±

    He blinks a few times, considering my words, before saying ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not¡­ how... I¡­ remember¡­¡±

    I take a breath but he heads off the interruption by changing tack midsentence.

    ¡°No, no, no! I totally understand what you¡¯re saying and I remember receiving a lot of interest but¡­¡±

    He trails off here so I prompt ¡°But?¡± with a cock of my eyebrow and a chuckle.

    He frowns ¡°I suppose¡­ the others¡¯ overtures didn¡¯t play on my mind as much. My overriding memory of First Year is of trying to contrive ways to get closer to you¡­ You seemed the least interested in me. You were the only one who never came to watch my Parkour training sessions¡­ you were one of the few not fighting for a seat near to whichever one I¡¯d chosen in lectures and seminars¡­ Even your name, Nirina ¡®the desired one¡¯, seemed like a cruel tease! I kept thinking ¡®Yes¡­ I desire you! Why won¡¯t you look my way!¡¯¡­ Once we were together, I was a little nervous at the start but then¡­¡±

    ¡°Then¡­?¡± I ask, leaning forward and bracing my hands against his stomach, listening intently.

    ¡°Well¡­ you invited me to your family¡¯s famadihana¡­ when we¡¯d been dating for less than 4 months!¡± he smiles.

    ¡°Oh, that? It was just cause you said you¡¯d never been to one before. That your foster family were first generation Lemaka immigrants, born on Earth, with no local tomb or extended family¡­ I just thought it would be nice to give you that experience!¡± I frown.

    My husband smiles and wags his head from side to side ¡°No, my orchid¡­ with that invitation, you let me know that I could be family to you if I wanted to be¡­ I never worried again that you would get bored of me or that you were only humouring me. I could see our whole future laid out ahead of us from the moment you said those words.¡±

    I break into a broad grin as my husband lays on the charm, before quipping ¡°It would have been nice of you to give a headsup about the First Contact War if you saw it coming more than 20 years ahead of time(!)¡±

    He chuckles and tips back the remainder of his cocktail.

    I finish mine as well and place the cup down on the table.

    I turn back to my husband, bring my left leg up, across his lap, and straddle him.

    Wrapping my arms around the back of his shoulders, I kneel up to get the hight necessary to bring my lips to his.

    The spice of his natural scent fills my nostrils and his beard tickles my face as I kiss him.

    Ndum¡­ my husband¡­ the man who I love best in the universe¡­ the man I¡¯ve already raised one amazing daughter with and, one day, when our lives have calmed down a bit, will raise more¡­ this man and our daughter are my greatest treasures!

    He brings a long fingered hand to stroke through the short hair at the back of my head and another to caress my lower back, through my dress¡¯s corset.

    Pulling from the kiss and feeling my man¡¯s heavy breaths break against my lower face, I rest my rounded forehead against his flat one and stare into his gemstone-purple eyes.

    ¡°I really hope¡­*huh*¡­ that us being ¡®family¡¯¡­*huh*¡­ doesn¡¯t make the things¡­*huh*¡­ I¡¯m about to do to you¡­*huh*¡­ ¡®incest¡¯, Ndum(!)¡± I quip.

    I¡¯m jostled as his diaphragm bounces in mirth and he answers ¡°If it did, it would be a little late to be worrying about it now(!)¡± panting much less than me.

    ¡°Good(!)¡± I smile ¡°¡­Now, get that cute arse of yours¡­*huh*¡­ into our bedroom, so¡­*huh*¡­ we can get your clothes off¡­*huh*¡­ There¡¯s a good boy(!)¡±

    ---Ndum¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m thrust across the threshold of our bedroom, my wife¡¯s hand pushing at my lower back.

    I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s simply being part of the first generation of Terrans ever to receive regen (being permanently full of the hormones of individuals in their twenties for the last thirty years) or if we are simply blessed by an infinite fascination with eachother but, whatever it is, the spark has never faded from our sex life.

    48 years (with another 10 of partnerhood beforehand) and, she still treats me with all the excitement she had on our very first time¡­ as if she¡¯s never quite been able to believe that she actually got me(!)

    That¡¯s certainly still how I feel!

    ¡°Shoes and socks.¡± orders my wife as she takes off her own heels, increasing the height difference between us from less than 50cm to exactly 59, flips the privacy field on and walks to place down her rattling cup on our bedside table.

    I smile and reach down and remove my shoes from my long, slender feet before placing them next to hers (about half the length) and pulling off my socks to discard, leaving me barefoot.

    She looks up at me, brow knit, lips pursed and index finger laid across her chin spur, considering what she wants to order me to take off next.

    ¡°Waistcoat and tie¡­¡± she finally decides.

    I immediately bring my fingers to the front of my Terran green waistcoat, trimmed in Terran black, and unfasten the buttons, pulling it off to drop to the floor.

    I have an identical suit to wear tomorrow so it isn¡¯t imperative for it to go straight into a forge to be cleaned.

    My hands then move to between my clavicles, unfasten the knot in my long, black tie and pull it out from under my shirt collar.

    My upper half now clad only in a Terran blue shirt, I stand, awaiting my wife¡¯s next order.

    After another brief moment of indecision, she steps forward and reaches to my belt buckle, about at the level of her bosom.

    She unfastens it and carefully pulls it out of the loops before allowing it to drop to the floor.

    She slides my trousers down my slim legs, to my ankles, then instructs ¡°Step out.¡±

    With my 45cm long clown feet, it does take me a moment to manage to work my way out of the leg holes (since she¡¯s partially pinning me to the floor by holding my trousers down) but, eventually, I manage to work myself free.

    She stands back up and looks me over from toe to head, standing before her in only a blue shirt and a pair of black pants.

    Smirking, she points to the floor and instructs ¡°Kneel.¡±

    Without the thought of disobeying her even occurring to me, my knees bend and come to rest on the floor, losing me enough height to put my eyes around 5cm lower than hers.

    She steps forward, bringing her tiny feet a toe¡¯s width from where my knees rest and reaching for the sides of my head.

    Flattening my ears against my skull, she works her fingers under the voluminous curls of my long, sleek, curly black hair, starting to massage my scalp as she brings her lips down to mine.

    I know her preferences well enough that I don¡¯t need to be told that she wants my tongue in her mouth.

    She didn¡¯t mention it earlier but¡­ the fact that Tshwane have the longest tongues of any Human lineage is, I know, something else a lot of Sapiens (as well as Neanderthals, Denisovans and Longi) find very attractive(!)

    I¡¯m easily able to curl my tongue under the left side of hers and come up on the other side to wrap entirely around it.

    My stomach swoops as she reaches down to cup my backside! I can feel her cool hand, only a thin layer of black cotton between it and my skin, as she squeezes the largest bulge of muscle on my body.

    Then, she removes her hands from my head and my arse and brings them to my collar, deftly unfastening the buttons.

    My shirt falls open and she immediately wrestles it over my shoulders to drop to the floor.

    The last piece of fabric protecting my modesty is now a pair of pants around my slim hips.

    Pursing her lips around my tongue, she pulls her head away from mine.

    ¡°I think, boy¡­ it¡¯s time you started kissing my other mouth¡­ It¡¯s quite hungry for you(!)¡± she smirks down into my face.

    ¡°Yes, Mistress Tsiranana .¡± I say, obediently.

    ¡°Good!¡± she observes before stepping away and imperiously instructing ¡°¡­Take off my panties and then lie your head back on the bed.¡± while looking at me, expectantly.

    I lean forward and reach for the hem of her dress.

    I trace the tips of my fingers up the outsides of her legs, the insides of my elbows lifting up the bottom of her dress until, finally, I reach the wings of her panties.

    Working my fingers beneath them, I slide them all the way down her legs until I see them appear at her ankles.

    Unlike me, she did not select underwear to match the colours of the Terran flag, the fabric being, instead, a vivid scarlet colour.

    She steps out of them and kicks them to the side, gesturing to the bed behind me.

    I lean backwards until I feel the mattress at the back of my head.

    Nirina smiles down at where I wait for her and reaches to the front of her dress, pulling it upwards to slowly reveal the gorgeous, medium brown skin of her shapely legs.

    ---Nirina¡¯s perspective---

    I pull the fabric all the way up to my upper thighs, stopping there, as I approach the large, submissive Tshwane man¡¯s bearded, upturned face.

    Anticipation tingles through my body as I approach my seat.

    I bring my right knee up to the mattress behind his left shoulder.

    Casting my skirt over his head like a fisherwoman casting her net, I spring off the ground with my left foot and bring my pelvis down on his face.

    A luxuriant beard tickles my bottom, inner thighs and lips as I feel his mouth open and a (compared to mine) Terran giraffe tongue extends out and inside me.

    The tops of my feet press into his upper chest and my stomach swoops as I feel his organ coil and dance its way around the insides of mine.

    Admittedly, I have quite limited experience (not having received this courtesy from any of the few lovers I had prior to Ndum) but I cannot imagine the most adept Sapiens cunnilingist could pull off what my husband can!

    My spine curls and I let out a (slightly more animalistic than ideal) growl of pleasure as I grasp the footpost of the bed.

    I clamp Ndum¡¯s head between my thighs hard enough to temporarily immobilise the rhythmic bulge in my skirt his head was creating.

    I slacken off enough to let the bobbing resume.

    My eyelids droop and my panted breaths quicken as I feel the pleasure build throughout my every fibre!

    I decide there¡¯s only one thing that could make this any sexier right now.

    I reach in front of me, between my legs, and begin hiking my skirt up my thighs.

    My husband¡¯s voluminous, jet black curls are revealed first, followed by just a sliver of his flat forehead.

    I stop there, leaving him blinded by my skirt as my orgasm seizes me.

    ¡°Oh¡­ FUCK!¡± I whimper, my palm coming down to press against the uncovered skin while my fingers slide beneath his hair, along his scalp.

    I crush his skull from all sides (left to right with my thighs, front to back with my weight and top to bottom with my pelvis and hand) as I wait for the orgasmic shivers to abate.

    He does not withdraw his tongue but has stopped moving it¡­ my husband knows what I require of him(!)

    When I¡¯ve finally recovered, I begin lifting my pelvis and feel the odd sensation of Ndum¡¯s length slipping out of me as he keeps it still and I come up around it.

    I allow myself to collapse sideways onto the bed to catch my breath.

    Ndum stays where he was, his head on the mattress, the rest of him folded backwards on the ground, his slender chest rising and falling as he pants too.

    I reach out to caress his hair, smile and praise ¡°Good boy¡­*huh*¡­*huh*¡­</a>*huh*¡­ Shall I return¡­*huh*¡­*huh*¡­ the favour now?¡±

    A pair of purple eyes swivel towards me.

    ¡°Yes please¡­ Mistress Tsiranana.¡± he smiles back, hopefully.

    I giggle.

    Seeing this goliath of a man, this man that anyone who only knew us publicly would assume wore the pants in our relationship, this man who stands at the Parliament on behalf of all Terrankind... seeing him melt like butter and become putty in my hands when we''re alone... there are no words to describe it!

    I resolved early on in our relationship, nearly 6 decades ago now, that I would never take him for granted.

    I can never allow myself to lose sight of how blessedly lucky I am to have nabbed a man so utterly perfect for me!

    Of course, having been a Tshwaneophile for longer than I''ve been sexually awake (fantasising about sweeping tall, purple eyed princes with curly hair off their feet since I was a little girl) could have massively backfired on me!

    One of the main pitfalls of having a lineage specific attraction is people romanticising the archetype to the extent that they become blind to the individual!

    Cognitive dissonance is a hell of a drug, afterall!

    If her mental image of Denisovans has them all as playful and cuddly, a Denisovophile might be unwilling to accept that she was dating one who was cold, uncaring and abusive.

    If a Longiphile has a mental image of Longi as quiet, reserved, stoic and measured, he might find himself needing to simply deny the fact that his Longi girlfriend was a psychopath with emotional regulation issues!

    And, if every one of my fantasies for how Tshwane men were hadn''t been exactly borne out by this man, how quickly would I have been able to recognise it?

    Of course, that slices both ways too... when you have an attraction to a specific lineage you have to make sure you don''t simply see your partner as ''a Tshwane'', ''a Neanderthal'', ''a Longi'' etc. and that you both appreciate them as an individual and allow them to see that you''re doing that!

    There were a few such hiccups between us, early on, but they''re ancient history now.

    This man has given me a decades long happy ending, a life I wouldn''t have dared dream of as a teenager!

    Literally, if I wrote out all my blessings on a sheet of paper and time travelled back to give it to my 16 year old self, sitting at her desk in her bedroom at her parents'' house, she would read it over and then sneer up at me that ''This is a bit of a selfindulgent wishlist, isn''t it? You want a 231cm, submissive Tshwane husband and a daughter with natural heterochromia?!¡­ I know it''s much more common in hybrids but it''s still only like 6 or 7% of them, right?''

    If I told her that this wasn''t a list of things I wanted but a list of things I got, that we got, she would have called me a liar!

    As I said, I can never take it for granted.

    "Get on the bed¡­" I instruct, smiling.

    He stands, allowing me to see the leanest Human body of any I''ve laid eyes on.

    Ndum does not have a single iota of fat wasted anywhere on his slender body! The result being that, though he stands more than a third my height again and though his every muscle shows, clearly defined, through his skin, he''s only about 13kg heavier than me!

    He''s light enough that I can (and sometimes do) lift him in a bridal carry, even if it is a bit awkward taking care not to bang his head or feet on things more than a metre away from my body(!)

    He lies down beside me and I bring my fingers to trace the furrows between his abdominal muscles in a loving caress.

    Then I reach over the side of the bed and feel for the handle of a box.

    ---Ndum''s perspective---

    My wife pulls out a container from under our bed and I take the cue to move to the headboard, settling my head down on the pillows there.

    She pulls out a mess of straps and spends a moment untangling them.

    Turning to meet my eyes with a smirk she crawls towards me, still clutching the thing in her right hand.

    Bringing her lips to mine, she kisses me.

    I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of the kiss while still having the taste of her sex on my tongue.

    She pulls away and chuckles "*hhh*¡­ Open wiiide!"

    The bottom of my beard tickles the top of my chest as I part my teeth for her without opening my eyes.

    The next thing I experience is a rubber mouthpiece being gently slotted between my teeth and pushed backwards¡­ then, l feel the panel covering my lips.¡­ then, her hands round the sides of my head to fasten the straps.

    My eyes are still closed but she seems to decide that, in addition to silencing me, she wants to blind me too as I feel the *pop**pop* of snap-fasteners being sealed at my temples.

    Two small hands close around my right wrist and that arm is irresistibly drawn out to the bedpost on that side.

    I hear my wife tapping at the hidden panel there for a few moments before it pops open.

    I feel as she closes the cuff around my wrist, immobilising that arm there.

    The mattress depresses as she steps over my chest and draws out my left arm to the other bedpost.

    The second cuff is closed around that wrist, placing me entirely at her mercy¡­ just where I want to be.

    ¡°There now¡­ aren¡¯t you a pretty sight!¡± she observes.

    From the depression of the bed around me I can tell that she¡¯s standing with one foot either side of my torso.

    I feel her fingertips reach down to brush against my left pectoral.

    I quiver.

    Then, I feel her weight shift as she returns to the top left of the bed.

    I hear the rattle of her cup as she lifts it from where she left it.

    My chest tenses as I brace for what I know is coming.

    I gasp as something wet and freezing cold is pressed into the side of my neck.

    She allows it a moment of contact before she begins to slide it downwards, painting a stripe of cold water over my skin.

    I feel her draw close to my left ear and whisper ¡°Now¡­ baby boy, I¡¯ve got twelve more pieces of ice in here¡­¡± the cup is rattled ¡°¡­do you think you can wait until all of them are gone?¡±

    I hesitate¡­ then nod my head.

    Her breath tickles the side of my neck as she laughs and teases ¡°Good boy¡­ You know it¡¯s going to feel all the sweeter for having built up the an¡­ti¡­ci¡­pa¡­tion(!)¡±

    ---Nirina''s perspective---

    I feel the last of the ice cubes turn to water between my cold fingers and Ndum''s shivering, drenched chest.

    Water has pooled in his bellybutton, run down his sides, leaving wet patches on the bed, and run down his stomach to soak the top of his pants.

    As deliciously vulnerable as he looks right now, wrists chained, gagged, blindfolded, shivering and wet, I¡¯m a pleasure Domme.

    I don¡¯t really want him to suffer¡­ at least, not by anything except weaponised pleasure(!)

    I produce a towel and bend down to dry off the water on his chest.

    He¡¯ll quickly warm back up now he¡¯s not drenched any more¡­

    ¡°You did very well, boy!¡± I tease, sensuously ¡°I think you¡¯re ready for your reward now.¡±

    I didn¡¯t phrase it as a question so, instead of nodding or shaking his head, he just points his gorgeously blindfolded, gagged face in my general direction, quivering with some combination of the lingering cold and excitement.

    I bring my hands to the waistband of his black pants and slide my thumbs up the leg holes.

    With one side of his underwear bunched in each hand, I start to slide them down his skinny legs.

    A long, slim cock springs up from confinement.

    I bite my lip as I admire it but am able to restrain myself long enough to get his pants over his sleek, spindly feet.

    I pull the box to the left side of his hips and lean on his thighs with my upper arms, bringing my face to just below his enchanting manhood.

    Looking past it, up to his panel gagged, blinded face, I chuckle and pull it down to give its underside a tender kiss.

    He gives a pathetic little moan that only makes me want to tease him harder!

    I bring my tongue between my lips and begin licking.

    I¡¯m very careful, as I do, to pull back whenever I sense him getting a little too excited¡­ I want to make this last!

    He and I are both most satisfied by edging him to the point where he¡¯s turned into a complete and utter goon(!)

    After some time of enjoying his reactions to my tease, I cease.

    I smirk up at my blinded husband and reach out my right hand into the box.

    I withdraw a fat cylinder with a skinny hole through the middle.

    I gently slide it over the top of his penis, glistening with my saliva, and push it down, all the way to the base.

    Only a tiny bit of his glans, around his urethra, is visible at the top.

    I activate the skin adherence and the stroker anchors itself to him at the bottom.

    Then, I select a custom programme that we¡¯ve worked out over about 2 decades of trial and error from owning this thing and set it going.

    Muffled moans immediately begin emanating from my husband¡¯s stifled mouth as the device begins to vibrate and massage the part of him it contains.

    The programme is specifically designed to keep him right on the edge for the absolute maximum time possible so, now, the only question is how long can I hold myself back?

    His legs tense, stretch and kick from his frustrated edging, causing me to come to a decision.

    I grasp his left ankle and begin walking it up to the top of the bed.

    ¡°You¡¯re not tied up enough(!)¡± I tease as I pull out a second cuff from that side and attach it around that ankle before taking the slack back in and locking the chain so that it can¡¯t be pulled out any further.

    I round the other side of the bed and repeat the process for his right leg.

    Satisfied now with the extent to which all four of my husband¡¯s long limbs are restrained above his head, I take a step back, away from the bed and bring my hands to the lacing at the front of my green and blue corset.

    I loosen it up, watching the stroker tease my husband¡¯s sex as I do.

    Eventually, I decide I have enough room and push the straps of my dress off my shoulders.

    It drops to the floor, leaving me as nude as my husband, not that he can see that!

    I return to the box, still at the left side of his hip.

    I withdraw a tube of gel and something long, fat and squashy.

    I move back to a chair, facing our bed, and admire my husband as the prolonged edge session drives him mad!

    With my cock in my hand, I place down the lube for the moment and turn it¡¯s end against my clit.

    I activate the skin adherence and shudder as it nervejacks me.

    Now it¡¯s attached, this thing feels (for all I know) exactly like having a genuine Human phallus in a state of erection and arousal would.

    I pick the tube of lube back up and squirt some into my hands.

    I fix my eyes on my husband''s shuddering backside, suspended from the bed by the chains at his feet and, slowly and sensually, begin to tease myself while applying lubrication for him.

    Somehow, with this thing attached, it always becomes ¡Á10 harder to hold myself back from just taking him!

    Pegging him with just an old fashioned strapon in the days before nervejacking was¡­ well it was definitely good¡­ it was good enough that we still own a strapon and I still occasionally get it out to relive the old days¡­ but it was nothing like it is with a bionic!

    Fuck! I want him now!

    But¡­ I need to wait¡­ he needs to be teased and edged and it¡¯s more satisfying for me this way too¡­

    I glance at the clock.

    I¡¯ll give him¡­ 20 minutes¡­ a bit less than usual but¡­ I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll complain¡­

    ---Ndum¡¯s perspective---

    From across the room, I hear another squirt of lube followed by the sounds of it being applied.

    I didn¡¯t think I was due for release for a while yet but I¡¯m certainly not complaining.

    I feel Nirina mount the bed and slide her right thigh beneath my left buttock and her left beneath my right.

    Something fat and slippery glides through the space between my left thigh and the device that¡¯s slowly sapping my sanity as my wife leans between my legs.

    Even with my torso curled up like this, my wife struggles to reach my face, only just about able to reach with the full length of her arm and most of the length of her horizontal torso.

    Her fingers close around the bottom of my blindfold and she yanks it free of the snap-fasteners.

    A blurry bedroom is revealed, along with two out of focus Nirina¡¯s.

    It takes me a few seconds to realise that my eyes were crossed beneath the blindfold.

    The room resolves itself into proper focus and my Mistresses beautiful bare chest is revealed, positioned below her stunningly beautiful face, framed by her lovely, short, straight brown hair, and above the stroker on my cock and her (much more impressive) one pressed against the front of my pelvis.

    Despite having been bi my whole life, I¡¯ve never actually had the real thing¡­

    I can¡¯t imagine its better than my wife¡¯s bionic though.

    In fact, in one way, I know the ¡®real thing¡¯ would be inferior(!)

    She smirks and demonstrates what that way is, activating her penis¡¯ vibration.

    Glancing over to the clock, she casually observes ¡°It¡¯s time for your nightly pegging session, babes(!)¡±

    ¡°Yhhs ghhhr¡­¡± I shudder from beneath my gag panel.

    Her brown eyes sparkle with glee as she pulls back her lubricated member, aims it downwards, presses it between my cheeks and begins slowly and gently pushing it forward.

    I moan loudly as my wife¡¯s length slides into me, filling me up and vibrating my prostate.

    She brings her hands to wrap around the tops of my thighs for leverage as her hips slowly thrust back and forward.

    I¡¯ve been teetering on the edge for so long that I really don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to stand up to much of this!

    Thankfully, last I checked, she¡¯d set her cock to have something of a hare trigger so she shouldn¡¯t last long either.

    She gets faster as she absolutely dominates my arse¡­ correction; her arse that happens to be attached to me(!)

    The chains at my wrists and ankles go taut as I can feel myself fall off the cliff of pleasure, past the point of no return but not yet having hit the ground.

    She sees and redoubles her intensity to quickly bring herself there with me.

    I scream into my gag as a jet of hot white liquid blasts against my lower chest.

    One more second and my wife seizes, closes her eyes and emits a shuddering moan.

    ---Nirina¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°You¡¯re being silly!¡± I giggle up into the beautiful bearded face of the man into whose bare chest I¡¯m nestling.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been saying this for decades!¡± he protests, the skin crinkling over the nonexistent nose bridge between his wonderful purple eyes.

    ¡°Yes, you have! And the Crossroad Hypothesis was as silly when you first started espousing it as it is now(!)¡± I grin back ¡°It doesn¡¯t make any sense! We know that Sapiens didn¡¯t have any more admixture from other lineages than any of the other lineages did¡­ until we started expanding South, West, East and North, into all your ranges, i.e. whatever X-factor led to our success must have predated that extra admixture!¡­ Also, why wouldn¡¯t having been on a crossroads between lots of other lineages have made Khandwa into the successful ones? Or Longi? Or Denisovans, come to think of it? All of them had ranges abutting eachother, Longi and Khandwa abutted Danau, Khandwa and Denisovans abutting Neanderthals and Longi and Denisovans coming quite close to where the Southern end of Dzhigda¡¯s range probably was! That¡¯s four direct neighbours each! That¡¯s only one less than us but, to even get us that high, you need to assume Tshwane and Inhatzenguele are separate lineages and not just two different sublineages(!)¡­ Because, if we¡¯re counting sublineages, then the five different Longi sublineages each look even more like they should have been the ones to have the edge!¡±

    He shakes his head and argues ¡°Yes, but your lineage was located at a point in Afroeurasia where you could intercept any Tshwanoids and Bwato heading North, Irhoud heading East, Neanderthals heading South and any Lisri, Denisovans or Khandwa heading West who had made it through the Levantine Neanderthals¡¯ territory! Your lineage was the only one to abut or come close to the ranges of other lineages of all three families of Heidelbergensians and Bwato, thus putting you in a uniquely advantageous position when it came to the flow of advantageous genes! Plus, it¡¯s not just about the admixture! Having such a unique diversity of neighbours could have had cultural effects! You would have come to understand, better than the rest of us, that people are people, whether or not they look anything like you (a trait that would serve you well when you began your expansion)! Any good ideas passing from Africa to Eurasia or back would have had to go through you first!¡­ I¡¯m utterly convinced that it was your lineage¡¯s position controlling routes into and out of Africa that furnished you with the advantages that led to your ultimate success!¡±

    I smile and pat his chest, saying ¡°And, as I tell you every time we have this discussion, Ndum, I¡¯m less convinced by this geographic determinism! I think any of the lineages could have been the ones to take over the Earth, or none of them, or all of them¡­ blending into a perfectly even genetic soup(!) It just depended on circumstances! I think the fact that it was Sapiens who took over the Earth and all the other lineages spent tens to hundreds of thousands of years as just tiny fractions of our genes, each in the low single digit percentages or less range, is only due to chance!¡±

    ¡°We must agree to differ on that point then.¡± he smiles back.

    ¡°As we must every time it comes up(!)" I chuckle.

    He gives a contented sigh and scooches himself down the bed to lay his head back on the pillows.

    ¡°How are you feeling about tomorrow?" I ask, more seriously but not sombrely.

    ¡°Much better now that my Dommy Sapiens wife has reminded me of my place(!)" he quips, eyes still closed.

    ¡°I''m glad¡­ Do you have any idea what you want to have for breakfast?" I say, closing my own eyes and feeling sleep start to tug at my consciousness.

    ¡°Leeet''s¡­ haaave¡­" he deliberates ¡°¡­pancakes¡­ Yes¡­ Pancakes are good."

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.191

    ---Parliament---

    ---Brathala¡¯s perspective---

    I hate them¡­

    I truly, truly hate them!

    This species of brutes and savages who have the audacity to look down their noses at the rest of us and simper and patronise!

    Or, should I say, ¡®these¡¯ species?!

    Because the one species of hellspawn that arose on that forsaken rock didn¡¯t have the decency to come to the stars alone, did they!?

    They brought with them their abominations of animals, bioengineered for sapience without the loss of any of their strength, speed or natural weaponry (because the relatively slow, weak and naturally unarmed primates weren¡¯t terrifying enough, apparently(!)), their monstrosities of artificial intelligences that they alone seem to possess the secret to keeping sane and their savage cousins, resurrected from periods when the most advanced weapons this species had available were made of stick, stone and bone!

    Oh¡­ if only we¡¯d found them then!

    If only our predecessors had had the chance to stain their hands with the blood of a few hundred thousand of these people¡¯s primitive forebears and spare us the need to fight a War with them when they¡¯d grown to a point that they could win it!

    One of these primitive cousins sits across the chamber from me, on the other side of the aquatic species¡¯ pool.

    The first one of their representatives to be anything other than the regular breed of Terran¡­ but this man is cast from the precise same mould as the last one in his personality if not his body!

    This ¡®Tshwane¡¯ (unnaturally tall and slim for a planet with such high gravity) is exactly the same mix of smug selfsatisfaction and infuriating calm that Mudaliar was!

    I hate it!

    When I and those I align with shriek accusations at them and they respond with that calm of theirs, we look like the unreasonable ones!

    If only¡­ if only the rest of the galaxy could see them for what they are¡­ could see that that calm is nothing more than a mask, a front to obscure the greed, ferocity and lust for power that lies within all of them!

    The Terran plays at friendship until you have let your guard down.

    At some point, the thought of being anything other than a submissive slave to them can¡¯t even occur to you anymore!

    That¡¯s the method they used to enslave the livestock of their homeworld and the one they used to assimilate their cousins out of existence¡­ only to clone them back to be assimilated all over again!

    And it¡¯s what they¡¯re trying to do to us!

    It¡¯s easy for them to seem magnanimous when they hold so much power!

    Any occasion on which nonTerrans share a room with a Terran who doesn¡¯t choose to brutalise them the way no one could stop, many will leave that room thinking ¡®Oh! Terrans might not be as bad as I thought!¡¯ but it¡¯s a lie! A ruse! Aimed at nothing less than getting the galaxy to let its guard down to the point where no one has the power to stop them seizing control!

    Just look at the power they¡¯ve already amassed in the not even [4 decades] since they were first discovered!

    After humiliating us in that ¡®Peace¡¯ of theirs, they immediately split Parliament into two factions; them and their allies against those of us still trying to resist their insidious political machinations!

    This manner of division is, as far as I¡¯m aware, unprecedented in GU history!

    They pick and choose which rules to follow and which they think are too inconvenient with an amount of brazen licentiousness unrivalled by any other species!

    In fact, they will often try to convince us that the laws they choose to ignore are unjust and should be repealed, as they did with the law against AI!

    The longer I¡¯ve known of these deathworlders, the more convinced I am that their planet¡¯s gods created them as nothing more than a mass extinction that they then lost control of!

    Bored of wiping the slate clean with asteroids, volcanos, ice ages and the ilk, the foolish, arrogant deathworld deities decided it would be so much fun to do it with a sapient species this time!

    Only, right as they were about to fulfil their divine destiny, they realised that doing so would kill them too and had just enough intelligence to pull themselves back from the brink!

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    These barbarians are, without question, the single most powerful species in the galaxy, both in terms of hard, military power and softer, cultural influence!

    Despite my brother banning the import of any and all Terran products to Battan worlds, there is a thriving trade in smuggled Terran goods and an utter epidemic of our people circumventing our galnet restrictions to watch Terran films, read Terran literature and listen to Terran songs!

    The most infuriating thing of all about Terrans, however¡­ is the extent to which all of them are committed to maintaining the ruse of finding the rest of us. oh. SO. ¡®cute¡¯ and ¡®adorable¡¯!

    Smaller, furrier, ¡®friend shaped¡¯ species like mine receive the worst of it but, truly, none are safe!

    It doesn¡¯t matter how logically repulsive they should find your species¡¯ physiology, you¡¯ll find Terrans out there willing to look at you and declare you the ¡®cutest patootie¡¯, in the most patronising way you can imagine!

    It makes my blood boil!

    Oh! And the less said about their concept of the ¡®smash or pass¡¯ list, the better!

    I shudder just thinking about it!

    I almost wish no one had disabused me of the misapprehension I had had that the trend was that of Terrans looking at our species and deciding which they would desire to visit crushing violence upon and which they did not!

    The truth was, somehow, worse!

    I look to my right where, a few seats away, I see Kaksat¡­ a one time friend turned bitter rival!

    When I first arrived at Parliament, a much younger woman, the Lanatkser Representative took me under her arm.

    She guided me through those early years to a much greater extent than my predecessor or advisors at the embassy!

    We bonded over so many things and stood as allies on so many issues.

    It was when the War began that we first started to drift apart, her misplaced sympathy for the deathworlders driving a wedge between us.

    After the Peace, any hope for a reconciliation was dashed when she became part of the proTerran faction and her kind sought an ever closer and closer relationship with theirs.

    Of all the betrayals I¡¯ve suffered, of all the representatives I watched disengage from the real issue of this age (that deathworlders have no place in the political institutions built by and for gardenworlders), of all those I¡¯ve watched become ensnared by the honeyed words of the Terrans, none have stung quite like hers did!

    I wrest my mind from the ruins of that friendship as I see the speaker making her way along the catwalk, passing over the surface of the aquatheatre below us, the fresh water section on her left, salt on her right.

    She stands around [3m] tall, having a spindly, low gravity build, digitigrade legs with long cannons that are thicker than any other part of her body, and three hard nails on each foot clacking against the floor with each step.

    Her skin is teal, her face is flat but has two prominent malar bone spurs extending from its sides.

    Her cranium is bald and elongated, tapering to a point perhaps [40cm] behind her face.

    Her narrow eyes with black sclera and light blue irises point down in the middle, oriented at around a 45¡ã angle.

    She raises a long, slender arm and extends the three thin fingers of that hand to call for silence as the Deputy Speaker takes his place beside her.

    Her voice amplified to fill the stadium, translated with a prim and proper, old fashioned quality and a stern, austere authority that belies her nature as a Class 4, she speaks ¡°Representatives of the Galactic Union. We are convened here today for a momentous occasion!¡±

    Representative Krim, the Wiwosk woman, took the speakership from Representative Wvorjo, the Vinjirian, around a [year] ago, when his term ended¡­ and I¡¯m so grateful she did!

    His ponderously slow speaking speed (made necessary by the nature of his resonant language) would have made this day even more unbearable than it will be anyway!

    It is quite tiresome that, with the deadlock between the pro and antiTerran factions, the only Representatives capable of being elevated to the speakership are those whose people are relatively unaligned and have no personal bias, one way or the other!

    I¡¯d love to be able to take the speakership myself and use it to thwart those apes¡¯ every move!

    ¡°For the first time in [30 years], new species are about to make their debut to the floor of the Galactic Parliament.¡± Speaker Krim continues.

    I sit up, my whiskers bristling.

    ¡®New species¡¯?

    Was that a translation error?

    She meant ¡®a new species¡¯, surely!

    The Terrans surely didn¡¯t find two new deathworlds out there, did they?!

    Extending her long arm in front of her to the ground level vomitorium, the serious Wiwosk woman booms ¡°I ask that all welcome Prospective Representative Khr¡¯kowan of the Vrakhand of Graom-Wakhkort and Prospective Representative Viig of the Twigg of Graom-Wakhkort!¡±

    The whole of Parliament gasps at the revelation that two species supposedly originated on the same deathworld and the sound of tens of thousands of people muttering fills the chamber.

    I turn my head to see them emerge.

    The smaller one stands around ? my height with green skin, light brown hair, long ears, yellow eyes and a brushed tail.

    Honestly, like the Humans of Terra, she really doesn¡¯t look like one might expect a deathworlder to look!

    Though, I know, that doesn¡¯t mean anything!

    Deathworlders are never to be underestimated!

    By contrast to the small one¡­ the other woman is positively monstrous!

    That¡¯s a species for whom the moniker ¡®deathworlder¡¯ could not feel more fitting!

    More than twice my height and longer still than that, her eight long, spiney legs sprawl out from the pronograde rear of her body, armoured in glossy bluish black with the feet of glistening, metallic red!

    If I didn¡¯t already know what she was, the fact that each of those feet (along with the spines that jut from further up her legs) were covered in squashy green protectors might reassure me!

    ¡®It¡¯s fine¡­¡¯ I¡¯d think ¡®¡­She looks monstrous but her feet needing that protection means she must be quite fragile!¡¯

    Knowing this is a deathworlder I¡¯m looking at makes it obvious that the protection isn¡¯t for her benefit¡­ it¡¯s for the floor¡¯s!!!

    Her orthograde torso, wrapped in rich silk, has two tridactyl arms that protrude from the shoulders and two pronged, crude manipulators that extend from its bottom front.

    One of them looks as if it¡¯s been smashed and glued back together, the golden glue making the brutal injury very obvious by its contrast with the glossy bluish black!

    Her mouth is flanked by two cruel, curved fangs of the same red stuff her feet and claws are made of.

    A patch covers the place on the right side of her face that, on the left, bears two eyes, clawmarks visible both above and below it.

    It¡¯s all I can do to keep myself from quailing at the sound of her unnaturally heavy bulk as the two of them make their way down the aisle to the front.

    I need to find a way to keep these two out of Parliament and their species out of the GU!

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.192

    ---Scheme---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    Nervously, the small, stocky, grey furred mammalian boy leads me through the hall of the embassy in a hurried waddle that I¡¯m able to match with a leisurely amble.

    At regular intervals along our path are the armoured figures of others of his kind.

    Each poorly disciplined soldier shifts uncomfortably as I pass them, turning their blank [plastic] helmets, quite obviously, to look up in my direction.

    At the end of the hallway, we reach a grand, wooden door.

    The attendant tentatively pushes the air in front of it, causing it to open itself just a crack.

    Poking his skull through the gap, he meekly says ¡°Your Highness¡­ One of the deathworlders is here to see you.¡±

    ¡°Show her in, Margolt.¡± states a voice that has all the calm that this boy¡¯s doesn¡¯t.

    Turning around, the timid aide ushers ¡°Right this way, Your¡­ Majesty¡­¡± hesitating in clear unease over my honorific.

    The wide, tall, wooden doors are swung inward, revealing a room with all the lavish opulence one would expect of an alien royal.

    Every furnishing is sturdy looking and decorated with intricate patterns of rare looking materials.

    Every fabric is richly coloured and of a high seeming quality!

    Every surface is polished to a mirror shine in a way that makes me worry I might dirty them just by standing too near!

    A whiskered snout and a pair of black eyes turn towards me.

    ¡°Ah¡­ Your Majesty, Empress Khr¡¯kowan¡­ I¡¯m so glad you came. It¡¯s a delight to finally meet you!¡± lies the finely dressed woman.

    ¡°Likewise, Princess Brathala.¡± I respond, neutrally.

    Irritation flashes briefly over the woman¡¯s face before she regains control of herself.

    Extending a thickset arm to her right to indicate where a soft looking cushion (some [5m] long, [3m] wide and [30cm] deep) has been placed in front of her low desk for me, she simpers ¡°Please have a seat, Your Majesty!¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness.¡± I answer, making my way to it and lowering myself down.

    The boatshoes I must wear everywhere on this planet get in the way somewhat but I would definitely destroy this hassock if I took them off!

    She waddles over to take a seat on a golden chair with bright red upholstery, across the sturdy desk from me, looks up and gives me a shallow smile.

    ¡°So¡­ Your Majesty¡­¡± she starts ¡°¡­it¡¯s a very exciting time for you, isn¡¯t it!¡­ Your species learning you aren¡¯t alone¡­ coming here¡­ experiencing all this¡­¡± she gestures out of the window to the skyline, dominated by buildings so tall that I know they must be real because I wouldn¡¯t have been capable of imagining such things, myriad flying vehicles wending over and between them ¡°¡­I¡¯m sure it must be a little overwhelming!¡±

    ¡°It is rather.¡± I acknowledge, passively.

    ¡°Hmmm, hmmm¡­¡± she hums, feigning sympathy before offering ¡°¡­Can I offer you something to drink, Your Majesty? They would all be quite deadly to me, of course, but, in preparation for your visit, I made sure we acquired some deathworld refreshments¡­ Cola? Tea?¡­ Coffee?¡±

    I turn my face down to the woman who¡¯s brazenly offering me intoxicants and answer ¡°I¡¯m not thirsty, Your Highness.¡±

    Barely managing to conceal her scowl, she continues ¡°Alright then¡­ Do let me know if you change your mind, though¡­?¡±

    ¡°I shall ¡­ Would you mind if I asked what it is you have invited me here to discuss, Your Highness?¡± I ask, cautiously.

    ¡°Of course, of course! Let us proceed to the matters at hand.¡± she beams, disingenuously ¡°Now¡­ I don¡¯t know how much you already know about me, Your Majesty?¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯re a woman of some influence in [Parliament]. I know your species are one of the oldest, richest and most powerful in the [Galactic] Union. I know that you stand as the unofficial head of the antiTerran faction and that thousands of Representatives follow your lead on their votes. I know you are no lover of deathworlders.¡± I supply.

    Feigning hurt, she responds ¡°Well¡­ Your Majesty, all of that is true¡­ save the last point you mentioned!¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± I respond, neutrally but curiously.

    ¡°Yes¡­ It¡¯s quite true that I am the most influential member of Parliament to stand so fully in opposition to the Terran agenda¡­ but I would hate for you to think that that was out of simple bigotry, Your Majesty!¡­ Perish the thought!¡±

    ¡°If not, then what is your motivation for so completely opposing them?¡±

    She gives a sad, patronising smile and stands, walking over to the window to halt, her back to me.

    She extends a proportionally long, thick arm to where (I presume) the glass is and spreads her claws to gesture out at the impossibly grand vista.

    ¡°All this¡­ the Galactic Union¡­ The peace, stability, safety and prosperity its protection affords¡­ It has been here for more than [a million years]¡­¡±

    She turns to face me.

    ¡°Do you understand just how unfathomably long that is, Your Majesty? [A million years]!¡­ The oldest citizen alive hasn¡¯t even seen as much as 2% of all that history and I haven¡¯t seen 0.015!¡­ This polity has stood for [hundreds of thousands of years] longer than the divergence between the Sapiens and all of their extant cousins!¡­ It was so long ago when my ancestors sat down with Representatives from 158 other species on this planet, to found this Union, that they looked noticeably different to Battan born today! The same is true for most other founding and early joining member species¡­ Now¡­ That probably wouldn¡¯t sound that remarkable to a Terran, what with their familiarity with the rapidity of evolution that comes from living on a deathworld but, to be clear, it is a remarkable testament to the stability of what they founded that it has lasted so long for genetic drift to have visibly changed us!¡±

    Here, she turns from the window, meeting my eyes and striding forward into the space between my front and her desk.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°I implore you to understand, Your Majesty; it isn¡¯t out of hatred that I oppose the Terrans! It¡¯s out of concern!¡± she smiles, unctuously.

    ¡°Concern?¡± I question ¡°What concern is that?¡±

    Satisfied, she continues ¡°The Terran¡¯s rise has been meteoric, I grant¡­ It¡¯s only been a little more than [500 years] since they were first able to leave the Sol System, [600] since they first unified, [800] since their first powered flight and [900] since their population exceeded a billion for the first time¡­ Such a rapid rise to their position as the most populous, the most militarily mighty, the richest and most culturally influential species upon their debut to the GU is completely unprecedented¡­ and they deserve every accolade for that¡­ My concern is simply that such a rate of advancement has, perhaps, left the Terran somewhat¡­ na?ve?¡­ Callow? Brash? Overconfident, maybe?¡­¡±

    Curious at the reasoning behind this woman¡¯s assessment of Terrans, so wildly different to mine, I ask ¡°You think so?¡±

    ¡°I do! I think that such a blazing rate of progress has blinded them to the value of tradition¡­ of stability¡­ of the proper stewardship of that which has been handed down by one¡¯s forebears!¡­ From the Terran¡¯s perspective, the more they¡¯ve changed things, the better they¡¯ve got! Why should they slow down? Why should they stop to consider the value of that which they deem to be holding them back? Why not toss it aside with everything else they¡¯ve decided is no longer of utility to them?!¡­ The more of their history the Terran has discarded, the more their conditions have improved¡­ but, this cutthroat approach to tradition, I fear, may not be sustainable in the long term¡­ The United Terran Coalition has not yet stood the tests of time as the Galactic Union has!¡­ [600] years with no significant internal conflict is certainly impressive (considering the bloodiness of their prior history) but it¡¯s barely 0.05% of the time the GU has existed! Of course, a million years of completely uninterrupted peace is quite unrealistic but, until our polity encountered theirs, the bloodiest wars fought in our history only had deathtolls in the hundreds of millions¡­ That might sound like a lot to you but, when talking of a polity with a population in the hundreds of trillions, it really isn¡¯t!¡­ [600 years] of relative peace is a start but it doesn¡¯t compare to more than [a million]! Now¡­ I will fully admit that starting the War with the Terrans was our mistake! It was ill advised and meant that, unlike most newly joining species, they did not receive the best first impression of us¡­ and, I fear, this tends to lead the Terran to view the GU as due for an ¡®overhaul¡¯! My only wish (and, I like to think, that of my allies in Parliament too) is to temper this headstrong progressiveness of theirs!¡­ I¡¯m not a bigot! I¡¯m simply a conservative¡­ I¡¯m simply a woman who sincerely believes that going too far, too fast and with too little thought is arrogance and likely to incur unforeseen and undesirable consequences eventually! I¡¯m certain you must understand my position, even if you don¡¯t share it?¡±

    I frown ¡°I¡­ do understand, Your Highness¡­ Yes.¡±

    She gives a disingenuous smile and answers ¡°I¡¯m so glad, Your Majesty! Unfortunately, taking up this mantle as the voice of tradition leads many to view myself and my allies as nothing more than fusty old naysayers!¡­ Dissmissive, negative pessimists!¡­ Oh, and, of course, bigots, dogmatists and zealots!¡­ I¡¯m happy that you see eye to eye with me more than most do on these issues.¡±

    ¡°I do, Your Highness¡­ However, understanding your reasoning is fairly cold comfort to me¡­ You¡¯re going to oppose my species¡¯ admission to the [G]U out of this traditionalism of yours, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Splaying her clawed hands she says ¡°That¡¯s up to you, Your Majesty¡­¡±

    Very confused, I ask ¡°¡®Up to me¡¯?¡­ Please explain?¡±

    Wobbling her sturdy head from side to side, she smirks and elaborates ¡°Well¡­ my allies and I have been conferring¡­ We¡¯ve read all the information on your species that has been provided by the ODR and¡­ we have come to the conclusion that the Vrakhand more than meet the necessary requirements for acceptance¡­ We¡¯re quite happy not to oppose your admission!¡±

    ¡°Truly!?¡± I ask, a little more forcefully than I intended from the surprise, causing her to reflexively start back from me ¡°¡­Apologies, Your Highness¡­ I did not mean to startle you¡­ but do you truly mean what you say?¡­ The antiTerran faction won¡¯t oppose our accession!?¡±

    ¡°I truly do, Your Majesty¡­¡± she smiles.

    In spite of myself, joy wells up inside me at the thought that I might be spared the uphill battle that everyone has been assuring me would occur for my species¡¯ recognition!

    I¡¯m about to stand and thank her from the bottom of my heart when she speaks again.

    ¡°But¡­ there is a condition, Your Majesty¡­¡± she says, freezing my joy ¡°¡­something we need before we can throw our support behind you.¡±

    My six remaining eyes scanning her two, I ask ¡°And¡­ what might that be, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°It pains me to say it but¡­ we need you to disavow the Twigg¡­¡± she says, feigning regret.

    ¡°¡­*ahem*¡­Pardon?¡±

    ¡°Your people seem civilised, Your Majesty¡­ Unified, lawful, measured, restrained¡­ Theirs¡­ do not¡­ We have come to the conclusion that they aren¡¯t ready for technological uplift¡­ For gods¡¯ sakes, they don¡¯t even have a concept of ownership yet!¡­ If we gave them the unfettered access to the galaxy that GU membership allows, we would be simply begging them to become the next generation of thieves, pirates and lazy welfare scroungers! Their culture would ossify in its current, undesirable state and the negative effects would ripple down through the ages!¡­ We feel they have some maturing to do as a species before they¡¯re ready to participate on the galactic stage. We¡¯re asking that you cast them aside for the moment and perhaps use your headstart in the GU to guide them to improve!¡­ Do this¡­ and you can count on no significant opposition to Vrakhand acceptance into the GU.¡±

    Staggered, I¡¯m at a loss for words for some long moments.

    Eventually, I manage ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    With smug selfsatisfaction, she begins ¡°Yes, Your Majesty, once you¡¯ve declared to Parliament that the Twigg aren¡¯t yet fit for membership, I¡¯ll begin¡­¡±

    I splay my palm towards her and say ¡°No, that¡¯s not what I mean!¡±

    She frowns ¡°What do you mean, Your Majesty?¡±

    Utterly incredulous, I can¡¯t help but giggle as I observe ¡°*hehehehehe* I just¡­ I didn¡¯t expect it¡­ *hehe*¡­ to be so¡­*hehehe*¡­ simplistic¡­ this manipulation of yours!¡±

    Her face drops.

    ¡°¡®Manipulation¡¯? I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t¡­¡±

    I stand up, causing her to jump backwards, impacting her desk.

    ¡°I really thought you would be cunning, Princess!¡± I laugh ¡°From the way Representative Rain spoke of you, I thought you would be a master manipulator, capable of making me doubt everything I thought I knew and¡­ this is it!?¡­ This is the best you can do?!¡­ This shallow attempt to drive a wedge between our species and make us disavow eachother? This inane effort to make both of us look like we aren¡¯t ready to join the [G]U, since we can¡¯t even cooperate with eachother!?¡­ That was what you came up with?! My uncle is a subtler schemer(!)¡±

    She¡¯s too stunned to reply.

    I turn and make for the doors, still chuckling to myself over the unexpectedly childish, facile nature of the woman¡¯s scheme.

    As they start to open for me, I turn my head back to the woman, still frozen in fear against her desk.

    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ll have more luck in convincing Representative Viig when she comes here this afternoon, Your Highness¡­ I doubt it though!¡± I smile as I walk away.

    ---Brathala¡¯s perspective---

    A pair of slitpupiled, yellow eyes stare at me as the inebriated deathworlder¡¯s mouth falls open, revealing four terrifying conical fangs as she puzzles over my words with a dim looking expression.

    Then, she shuts her eyes, bares her teeth, tips back her head and¡­

    ¡°*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA*!¡± she roars in laughter.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± I start, only to be immediately cut off.

    ¡°*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA*!!!¡± she continues, so loudly and raucously that there¡¯s no point in trying to interrupt.

    Finally, she manages to regain control of herself and opens her eyes.

    ¡°You must REAAAAAAAAAAALLY think I¡¯m stupid!¡± she smirks, infuriatingly ¡°The answer¡¯s ¡®no¡¯!¡±

    She hops down from the seat provided and turns for the door.

    Then, she stops.

    There¡¯s a brief moment where I think the hesitation might be her reconsidering¡­ perhaps I¡¯ll get a second chance to convince her?

    That is until she half turns, reaches out a hand, snags the mostly full bottle of Terran drinking ethanol that I was plying her with and continues to the door, her only acknowledgement of the theft being to hold up the expensive bottle of poison to say ¡°Thanks!¡± without turning to look at me!

    I collapse against my throneback, looking up at the ceiling in dismay at both of the women seeing right through my ploy!

    ¡°*sob*¡­ I hate deathworlders!¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.193

    ---Shooting---

    ---Jaylah¡¯s perspective---

    My hands hover over the holsters at my hips while my eyes fly over the display.

    I breathe out, slowly¡­

    My hands seize the handles of my guns and draw them up to shoulder height.

    *Bangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbang

    bangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbang* is the sound of me unloading both my 12 shooters inside 4 seconds penetrating my ear defenders.

    Ambidexterity makes it as easy as it¡¯s always been to handle them both and, with the cybernetic eye I¡¯ve had for half my life now doing half the visual work for me, shooting¡¯s never been easier.

    Twenty four popped balloons retract into their platforms as I twirl the gun in my right hand back into its holster, just for the moment, and flip out the cylinder on my leftie gun to the right, catching the shower of spent shell casings as they eject.

    Picking up the speedloader on my right with my free hand, I deftly align the twelve rounds with the twelve chambers and release them inside before swinging it shut.

    Holstering leftie, I unholster rightie and repeat the reload process, just mirrored.

    I slot that one back into its holster just in time to see the tops of twenty four new balloons rising up out of different platforms than before.

    Right when I¡¯m exhaling, the countdown stops and the light at the end of the range lights up.

    I turn to the door to see who just walked in.

    Taking off my ear protection, I smile down at the little Goblin missus and say ¡°Well howdy there, darlin¡¯! What can I do ya fer?¡±

    She holds up a mostly full bottle of brandy and says ¡°I got this from the [Princess], earlier¡­ Wondering if you wanted to have some with me before I take it back to the Twigg rooms¡­ It¡¯ll probably be gone quite quickly after that.¡±

    ¡°Awww! Well, ain¡¯t you just the sweetest little lady I ever met!¡± I grin, shaking my head ¡°Sadly no¡­ Guns and drink t¡¯aint the best mix(!)¡­ That and I¡¯m on standby case Hoss calls me in¡­ Can¡¯t be showin¡¯ up ta work drunk(!)¡±

    Her adorable little face falls in disappointment.

    ¡°D¡¯aw¡­ don¡¯t be blue, sugar! Tell ya what, any time I¡¯m off duty, ya can come by mine an¡¯ we¡¯ll have a drink together then¡­ How¡¯s that?¡± I reassure.

    Her smile returns as she nods in an excited Terran ¡®yes¡¯.

    ¡°It¡¯s a date then(!)¡­ I warn ya though, don¡¯t do brandy¡­ More of a tequila gal, myself!¡±

    ¡°[Tequila]?¡± she asks, cocking her head at 45¡ã in a way that makes me just wanna eat her right up!

    ¡°Yup¡­ I like my liquor like I like my ladies; sweet, fiery, and with a bit o'' bite(!)¡± I kid.

    Green lips pull back over a set of fanged teeth.

    The girl gives a single, playful chomp on the air.

    I burst out laughing.

    ¡°Well now, well now, well now(!) Ya keep flirtin¡¯ with little old me like that, I reckon I might come down with a case of the vapors(!)¡± I smile, fanning myself with my hand.

    She giggles.

    Then she notices all the balloons.

    ¡°What are those for?¡± she asks, curiously.

    ¡°Fer shootin¡¯, darlin¡¯!¡±

    Her yellow cat eyes flick to my hips (basically at eyelevel for her) and then back out the range, interest piqued.

    ¡°Can you show me?¡± she asks, her tone mostly neutral but with a clear note of hope.

    ¡°I can, honey¡­ but ya gotta put on some o¡¯ these first!¡± I hold up the defenders to show her ¡°¡­hate ta think how sensitive yer hearin¡¯s gotta be with those ears o¡¯ yers!¡­ Don¡¯t want ya needin¡¯ ta go out in Parliament with busted eardrums ¡¯cause o¡¯ me(!)¡±

    She frowns at the earmuffs.

    ¡°Those won¡¯t fit me.¡± she says without any doubt or hesitation in her voice.

    ¡°They¡¯re adjustable, darlin¡¯¡­ Ya see?¡± I say, showing her how the headband retracts.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ but they¡¯re still at the wrong angle for the ears.¡± she points out, eyes still on the thing in my hands.

    I check, holding it up to compare it¡¯s shape to the cutey¡¯s head.

    ¡°Yup¡­ Ya might need ta hold ¡¯em down when I shoot¡­ That alright, darlin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I can do that.¡± she says, holding out a hand for the adjusted pair.

    I hand them to her and she takes them without a ¡®thank you¡¯.

    Cultural difference, I guess¡­ though I have definitely heard her kind saying ¡®thank you¡¯, even if a lot less than I was raised for!

    She spends a few moments stuffing her long pointy ears into the cups and then holds them down to the sides of her head.

    ¡°Ya hear anythin¡¯ through that?¡±

    She lifts one side back up and asks ¡°What?¡±

    I laugh ¡°That¡¯s a ¡®no¡¯ then! Just hold ¡¯em down like that when I say ta, Kay?¡±

    I pick up another set and put them on, feeling the pair of eyes staring up at me from my right.

    ¡°Ready darlin¡¯?¡± I ask, hearing my own voice, more through my skull than the air.

    She holds down hers and I restart the countdown.

    Deep exhale¡­ and¡­

    *Bangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbang

    bangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbang*

    Every balloon pops.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    I¡¯m glad¡­ It would¡¯ve been an embarrassing misrepresentation of my skill if stagefright had made me miss any!

    I give a cocky twirl of my pistols before reholstering them both and turning to my audience of one.

    She¡¯s got her mouth hanging open, looking at the scene of balloon carnage I¡¯ve just left behind me.

    Seems like she understands how impressive that was(!)

    ¡°Spirits!¡­ That was incredible!¡± she yells before asking ¡°Can I try?¡±

    ¡°Ya ain¡¯t still drunk are ya?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ it was hours ago that I had any [alcohol]¡­¡± she says.

    I cock an eyebrow and ask ¡°Mind if I check that, little lady(?)¡± thumbing my holo.

    She answers by unnecessarily spreading out her arms.

    I pick it up to scan her and find, sure enough ¡°Blood alcohol at 0.0¡­¡±

    ¡°And you doubted(!)¡±

    I chuckle ¡°My mistake, darlin¡¯!¡­ Let me get ya something that¡¯s a little more yer size.¡±

    She frowns and points to my hip ¡°Can¡¯t I just use those?¡±

    My lip twists and my eyes narrow down at her, playfully.

    ¡°Tell ya what, darlin¡¯¡­¡± I say, taking one of my 12 shooters off my left hip, flipping out the cylinder to eject the casings and sparing a glance down to make sure every chamber is empty.

    Crouching, I extend the handle to her.

    ¡°¡­hold this at arm length fer 30 seconds and I¡¯ll let ya try firing it, alright? Keep yer finger off the trigger and point it thatta way.¡± I say, pointing at the range.

    Her eyes narrow.

    She takes the gun.

    I don¡¯t let go until I feel the force of her lifting it out of my hand.

    Her face tells me she did not expect it to be so heavy!

    With some effort, she lifts the gun up to shoulder level, pointing it out at the range.

    She lasts longer than I thought but only 8 seconds have gone by before I see her arm start to tremble.

    She grunts and heaves but, before long¡­

    *Clunk* is the sound of the handle hitting the counter.

    ¡°That were 17 seconds, darlin¡¯¡­ longer than I thought it¡¯d be¡­ but not enough by a long shot!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s so heavy!¡± she says, breathless.

    ¡°Yup! That there shooter¡¯s more ¡¯an 2lbs¡­ I¡¯m about 130¡­ I¡¯d guess yer about 20!¡­ It ain¡¯t even 2% of my weight but it¡¯s 10% o¡¯ yers¡­ Physics weren¡¯t on yer side!¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t I just lift it up to shoot and put it down quickly?¡±

    I shake my head and hold out my hand ¡°Sweetheart¡­ no¡­ these guns kick like a mule! At yer size, ya¡¯d get knocked off yer feet! Ya need somethin¡¯ a bit smaller¡­ That¡¯ll be safer and more fun fer ya¡­ even if it don¡¯t exactly sound like it!¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± she sulks, handing me back leftie.

    I chuckle, reholster it for the third time in the same number of minutes and saunter over to the locker, placing my hand on the access pad.

    ¡°Let¡¯s find ya somethin¡¯ that ain¡¯t gonna break yer arm ta fire, darlin¡¯(!)¡± I say as the door slides open.

    ¡°By the Spirits!¡± she gasps as the door opens and reveals rows upon rows upon rows of firearms in clear cases on the walls.

    Most are privately owned by members of ODR security, like myself, but there¡¯s a pool of armory ones.

    Coming in behind me, the 3ft tall girl looks up and asks ¡°I thought weapons weren¡¯t allowed on this planet?¡±

    ¡°Yer absolutely right they ain¡¯t¡­ but the ODR has what¡¯s called ¡®extraterritoriality¡¯¡­ basically means we get ta treat it like a little bit o¡¯ the UTC, right here on Citadel!¡­ Long as guns and ammo¡¯re kept under separate lock and key and users are either licensed or supervised by a qualified instructor, it¡¯s all gravy!¡­ Now, if I was ta take any o¡¯ these and walk out inta the street with it, that¡¯d be a problem!¡± I answer, selecting an 8oz, 8 chamber revolver from a case, flipping out the cylinder and checking it¡¯s empty.

    ¡°Just one?¡± she asks from behind me.

    ¡°Dual wielding¡¯s an advanced technique, darlin¡¯! Not the kinda thing I¡¯m gonna start ya off on. Learn ta fire one first and maybe, one day, ya can try two!¡± I chuckle as I unlock the ammo storage below and take a box of .22 LR rounds.

    She¡¯s in my way a bit but gets the idea to back out as I walk toward her.

    I make my way back to the bench and put the ammo box down before turning to the Goblin cutey.

    ¡°Now¡­ before I give this ta ya and let ya load it up, we need ta talk safety¡­¡±

    ¡°No, no¡­ Emiko already taught me what condoms are(!)¡± she smirks.

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ We need ta talk gun safety, little lady! Even a little gun like this is a deadly weapon! Ya ain¡¯t gonna take this serious, I can put this back and¡­¡±

    ¡°No, no! I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m listening¡­ I was just joking¡­¡± she says, hasty-like.

    ¡°Alright then¡­ Rule 1) the gun is always loaded¡­ even when ya ¡®know¡¯ it ain¡¯t!¡±

    Clearly confused, she opens her mouth to speak but I cut her off.

    ¡°What I mean is; don¡¯t matter how sure ya are that there ain¡¯t any rounds in the chamber, ya still treat this thing like it¡¯s loaded! Only takes one time of ya bein¡¯ wrong fer someone ta die! We understand eachother, missus?¡±

    ¡°OK¡­ the gun is always loaded¡­ even when it isn¡¯t¡­¡± she frowns.

    ¡°Good¡­ Rule 2) Ya never point the barrel at somethin¡¯ ¡¯less yer happy fer it ta stop existin¡¯! Ya don¡¯t point the barrel at anyone ya don¡¯t want ta die¡­ We clear on Rule 2?¡± I ask, my tone letting her know that gun safety is not a joke.

    ¡°Never point it at anything you like¡­ got it.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ Rule 3) Ya never put yer finger on the trigger till yer ready ta fire¡­ when yer carryin¡¯ it around or gettin¡¯ ready, yer finger stays on the handle, Kay?¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ only touch the trigger when I¡¯m about to fire.¡±

    ¡°Cool¡­ there¡¯re some more rules ta know fer ownin¡¯ and storin¡¯ yer gun but you don¡¯t need ta learn those now. The only other rule ya need ta worry about is never use a gun when ya been drinkin¡¯, takin¡¯ drugs or are tired¡­ Anythin¡¯ that might impair yer judgment¡­ So, ya feelin¡¯ 100%?¡±

    ¡°I think so?¡±

    ¡°Ya think so? If ya ain¡¯t sure darlin¡¯¡­?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine.¡± she says, looking very worried.

    ¡°T¡¯salright, darlin¡¯¡­ Ya can relax just a touch¡­ I ain¡¯t gonna let ya hurt yaself on my watch, Kay?¡± I reassure her.

    She smiles.

    I stand back up and say ¡°Ya ready ta start, little lady?¡±

    ¡°Mmm!¡± she agrees.

    ¡°OK, now¡­ pick up the gun, keep yer finger off the trigger and point it at the ground¡­ away from yer feet or mine.¡±

    She follows the instructions.

    ¡°Now, I got ya a leftie, so the release catch is on the right side of the gun, above the trigger and behind the cylinder¡­ Find it an¡¯ slide it forward.¡±

    She does that.

    ¡°Now give the cylinder a little push ta the right.¡±

    It drops open.

    ¡°OK, yer doin¡¯ well so far, darlin¡¯¡­ Now, see that box on the counter? Take rounds from it and slide them inta the chambers there with the round end pointin¡¯ down and the flat pointin¡¯ up. Do them one at a time until all eight are filled up.¡±

    Her hands move between the box and the revolver eight times.

    She doesn¡¯t fumble once!

    ¡°Good work! Now press the cylinder closed until ya hear it click back inta place.¡±

    *click*

    Now that she has a loaded gun in her hands, I¡¯m absolutely ready to safely disarm her if she starts doing anything stupid.

    ¡°Alright now, check yer footin¡¯, make sure ya ain¡¯t gonna slip on nothin¡¯!¡±

    She looks around her feet.

    ¡°All good?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I think so?¡±

    ¡°¡®Think so¡¯ ain¡¯t ¡®good¡¯, darlin¡¯¡­ Ya need ta know so before ya start firin¡¯! Now, is there anythin¡¯ ya might trip on around yer feet?¡±

    She checks again before saying ¡°No. There isn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Correct answer!¡±

    I opt for voice commands so I can keep my eye on her.

    ¡°Range¡­ give me eight balloons at a distance of 16ft out.¡±

    Eight balloons rise up from platforms at nearly point blank range.

    ¡°Alright, missus¡­ wide stance, feet a shoulder width apart. Bring yer gun up ta shoulder height, extend yer left and support it with yer right, like this¡­¡± I demonstrate ¡°¡­look down the sights and just remember when ya fire, the gun¡¯ll kick back inta yer hands so be careful ya don¡¯t drop it from the surprise! I¡¯m gonna get behind ya ta hold down yer cups¡­ After that, ya can start shootin¡¯!¡±

    I take position behind her and press down her defenders to the sides of her head.

    She trains the gun on the balloon furthest to the right, aiming down sight.

    She squeezes the trigger.

    *Bang*

    The force of the gun being thrown back into her hands surprises her so much it makes her give a little yelp and do a heartmelting adorable little nervous jitter of her feet on the floor.

    ¡°It¡¯s OK, darlin¡¯¡­ Ya were a little high on that one. Try again.¡± I encourage the little missus with her head in front of my hips.

    She points the gun at the balloon again, aiming a little lower this time.

    *Bang**pop*

    ¡°I got it!¡± she shouts.

    ¡°Good work, sweetheart! Now try the next one.¡±

    She points the gun left.

    *Bang**pop*

    ¡°*Hahaha*!¡± she laughs, triumphant.

    *Bang**pop**Bang**pop**Bang**Bang**pop**Bang**pop*

    I pull her defenders off and congratulate ¡°Wow! 6/8! Shoot, fer a firsttimer, you¡¯re a natural, darlin¡¯!¡±

    ¡°Nowhere near as good as you, though.¡± she frowns, disappointed.

    I laugh ¡°Sugar! I¡¯ve been shootin¡¯ since I was yer height! I promise ya, I didn¡¯t start off this good! There¡¯s no way I¡¯d¡¯ve got 6/8 on my first try!¡± giving her a pat on the shoulder ¡°Ya wanna try a few more times before I go an¡¯ give Val his exercise?¡±

    She turns to look up at me with a curious frown ¡°Who¡¯s Val?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.194

    ---Ride---

    ---Viig¡¯s perspective---

    A long, rounded snout appears from behind the wooden wall.

    A weird, toeless leg comes out and meets the ground with a heavy *clop* that lets me know the animal it¡¯s attached to is large!

    The bizarre looking creature shows itself.

    It has orangey-brown eyes on the side of the head, the pupils wide and square for scanning the horizon.

    It¡¯s fully covered in a coat of very short, very dark hair¡­ except along the back of the neck and above the arse, where the dark hair is long, and above the shoe armour, where the hair is white.

    It has a strong smell that¡¯s not like anything I¡¯ve ever smelled before but sort of reminds me of [grasshopper deer] and animals like it.

    It¡¯s solid and muscly and looks like it might weigh more than a Mons¡­ a Vrakhand!

    It¡¯s kind of frightening to be so close to an animal so big¡­ even seeing it¡¯s a plant eater and even with the pretty, one eyed Terran with me!

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not a person¡­ Right?¡± I ask.

    The big woman laughs and says ¡°Legally? Nah¡­ He ain¡¯t¡­ Valiente¡¯s a criollo breed equine, all the way from Te.rra Firma!¡­ He¡¯s classified as a ¡®deathworld beast o¡¯ burden¡¯¡­ Like to think he got more brains in that head than a couple o¡¯ people I¡¯ve met in my life but he ain¡¯t legally sapient¡­ Did try him on a translator, little while ago, but he didn¡¯t like it, so we stopped.¡±

    ¡°And he told you he was called ¡®Val Yen Tey¡¯ then, did he?¡±

    She laughs in a way that tells me that was a stupid question before she even answers it.

    ¡°No, darlin¡¯¡­¡± she explains with a kind smile ¡°¡­his owner told me his name¡­ looooong, long time ago!¡±

    ¡°You aren¡¯t the one who [own] him?¡± I ask, using the Terran word to shortcut the strange concept.

    ¡°Well¡­ again¡­ the answer¡¯s ¡®legally, yes¡¯. Far¡¯s the law¡¯s concerned, Val here¡¯s my property¡­ but that ain¡¯t how I like thinkin¡¯ ¡¯bout it¡­ Y¡¯see, me and Val both lost his rider the same day I lost Ranger, my mustang¡­ After the War, it was just us two left!¡­ Val¡¯s more ¡¯an just a horse I own¡­ I reckon he¡¯s just ¡¯bout my best friend in the whole wide galaxy!¡­ Ain¡¯tchu Val!¡± she says, grasping the snout to put many kisses on top.

    I kind of wish she¡¯d kiss me like that but, for some reason, I feel like now wouldn¡¯t be a good time to ask for it¡­ not sure why, though?

    ¡°And¡­ you ride him?¡±

    ¡°Sure do, darlin¡¯!¡± she smiles, showing me a fangless mouthful of teeth.

    ¡°And¡­ he¡­ doesn¡¯t mind you riding him?¡± I ask, sceptically.

    ¡°He sure don¡¯t!¡± she chuckles, picking up a weird, stiff, padded seat and reaching up to throw it over the massive back of the creature ¡°Bein¡¯ ridden¡¯s the highlight o¡¯ Val¡¯s day(!)¡±

    She bends and begins fastening the straps under the belly.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I say, not really able to figure out what¡¯s in it for him.

    [Stallionhounds] let Folk ride them because they¡¯re better runners and we¡¯re better hunters¡­ both of us get more food than we would without the other¡­

    What does a prey animal have to gain from letting itself be ridden?

    He¡¯s so massive and strong looking that, if he didn¡¯t want to let her ride him, there really wouldn¡¯t be anything that she could do to make him¡­ So¡­ I guess it¡¯s fine?

    She comes back to the snout and pushes more straps over it before fastening them up.

    The large woman takes a dangling loop, hanging off the straps, in the hand and starts leading the mount behind her.

    The weird, toeless animal (got to be close to ten times her size!) follows her calmly.

    She spares a glance back to me.

    ¡°Word o¡¯ warnin¡¯¡­ don¡¯t get right behind him, sweetheart¡­ Horses kick when they¡¯re scared¡­ Val¡¯s a good boy but I don¡¯t want ya takin¡¯ a horseshoe to the face ¡¯cause ya spooked him!¡± she smiles.

    I had already guessed to stay away from the legs but I move myself even further.

    She grins and leads on.

    At the far side of the large underground room full of the smell of animals, wood and dry grasses I see something quite confusing.

    We¡¯re a long way underground here and, yet¡­

    ¡°Is that the sky?!¡± I ask, incredulously.

    ¡°Nah, it ain¡¯t¡­ sky on this planet¡¯s pink¡­ Blue skies in the Paddock are meant ta simulate outdoors on Earth¡­ We¡¯re still underground but they simulate outdoors just so these guys don¡¯t get stressed from feelin¡¯ like they¡¯re shut up in boxes the whole time¡­ Has a mighty similar effect on me, if I¡¯m honest(!)¡± she chuckles.

    We pass through the [barn] door to the ¡®outside¡¯.

    As soon as I¡¯m across the threshold and look out over the wide field of short, bright green grass, the inside smells vanish, replaced by the strange ones of a world I¡¯ve never been to, carried on a warm indoor breeze they¡¯ve made, just to keep their animals happy, if I¡¯m understanding her right.

    It¡¯s¡­

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I mean, I can see what she means!

    It¡¯s quite soothing here in a way I haven¡¯t really felt since I left Graom!

    I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose, enjoying the fake sun and the fake wind under the fake sky that¡¯s just slightly the wrong shade of blue.

    ¡°You wanna ride?¡± asks the pretty one eyed woman.

    I turn to look at her and see her gesturing to the front of the seat she¡¯s put on Val.

    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ really big!¡± I frown, hesitating.

    ¡°*hahahahahaha*¡­ You think Val¡¯s big? Remind me ta show ya a picture o¡¯ Duke at some point!¡± she laughs.

    ¡°Duke?¡±

    ¡°Duke was my pappy¡¯s ride¡­ Certified, resurrected ¡®Bi.son. latifrons¡¯¡­ A longhorn buffalo. Weighed more ¡¯an 2 tons!¡­ Near on four o¡¯ Val!¡±

    I shake the head in a Terran ¡®no¡¯ and say ¡°That¡¯s too big!¡±

    She laughs ¡°¡®Hyperrealism¡¯ pappy said! Folks who came from them cities ta get a taste of old times didn¡¯t really care that tweren¡¯t till Buffalo Bill, when the Old West were almost over, that anyone tried saddlin¡¯ a buffalo fer the first time! Didn¡¯t care that those were Bison bison, not latifrons. The fact that my pappy rode a giant Ice Age buffalo made it feel more real fer ¡¯em when we were takin¡¯ the tourists out fer cattle drives!¡­ Course, anyone ever asked, he¡¯d tell ¡¯em Duke weren¡¯t exactly ¡®historic¡¯ly accurate¡¯ but you¡¯d be surprised by just how few folks ever did!¡±

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­¡± I lie.

    She smiles and points up at the backseat ¡°So¡­ how ¡¯bout it, little lady? Wanna take a ride with me?¡±

    Two parts of me are biting and scratching eachother as I look up at the seat.

    One part does not want to get anywhere near that giant, weird animal¡­ way too big for something with bones on the inside!

    The other is thinking about just how little space there is on the backseat¡­ definitely going to need quite close contact¡­

    The horny side wins out as I answer ¡°Sure¡­ should I just jump up there or¡­?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± she corrects, immediately ¡°Like I said, Val¡¯s well trained but, if ya jump on him, that¡¯ll definitely spook him. Let him get a smell o¡¯ ya and then I¡¯ll lift ya up there.¡±

    ¡°OK¡­?¡± I say, lifting the left hand over the head and towards the snout.

    Jaylah gently directs the head to me.

    A pair of nostrils so large I could fit a whole fist inside is brought to a fingerbreadth from the palm.

    Enormous amounts of air are sucked into and blown out of that nose while he gets the scent of me and considers¡­

    It occurs to me now that maybe I should¡¯ve chosen the nondominant hand to present, just in case he decides he doesn¡¯t like me and is going to bite the hand off about it, when he pulls away.

    ¡°There now, darlin¡¯! Val¡¯s got yer scent and he¡¯s happy ta let ya ride! Alright if I pick ya up?¡±

    ¡°*huff*¡­No problem.¡± I answer, breathing a sigh of relief that I still have the hand attached(!)

    She bends and wraps both of the giant, light brown hands around the waist, lifting me up with ease!

    It feels very¡­ nice¡­ to be held like this.

    I curl the legs as she lifts me over her and puts me down on the seatback.

    I have to spread the legs uncomfortably far to get them over the wide back.

    It¡¯s also a bit scary to be this high off the ground on an unfamiliar mount.

    The end of my tail wraps around the ridge at the back of the seat to anchor me a little.

    ¡°Sorry, little lady¡­ Gonna need yer tail off the cantle! I gotta sit there(!)¡± she smirks, grabbing the tail and lifting it up to the back.

    I feel the warmth of the hand on the skin.

    She steps into the flat bottomed ring of metal that dangles off one of the straps on the left side of the seat and climbs up, plopping herself into the space at the back.

    I feel the contact of her behind me.

    I wrap my tail around the side of the thick midsection and sit up to bring the back of the head to squash into the chest.

    I turn up to look into the face that¡¯s wearing an amused smirk, looking down.

    ¡°Comfy(?)¡± she asks with a cock of an eyebrow and a twist of the lips.

    ¡°Yes thanks.¡± I smile in answer.

    She chuckles and says ¡°Alright then, darlin¡¯¡­ Grip the pommel fer me¡­ I ain¡¯t gonna get Val ta gallop but still don¡¯t want ya fallin¡¯ off¡­ Ain¡¯t sure havin¡¯ yer tail wrapped halfway ¡¯round my waist¡¯ll quite cut the mustard(!)¡± bringing a hand in front of me to tap a finger against the upwards spur at the front of the seat.

    I grasp it.

    She picks up the straps, giving them a little flick, and squeezes her legs against the sides.

    He begins moving across the field¡­ quite fast.

    This is definitely not as fast as I can run but it still feels frightening to be moving this speed with so much weight beneath and behind me!

    I tighten the tail for a moment but immediately realise that, because it doesn¡¯t go all the way around her, that¡¯s actually just going to push me off the side of the mount if I keep doing it!

    I settle for gripping the spur and nestling the back against the tall, wide stomach behind me.

    The elbows of the arms holding the straps are at least guarding either side but I¡¯d like it if they were a bit lower!

    Riding a [horse] isn¡¯t like riding a [stallionhound] at all!

    You¡¯d think that sitting on the back of any animal would be sort of similar but it¡¯s just not!

    I can¡¯t really explain how¡­ but everything feels different!

    The heart pounds in the chest and the blood prickles flowing through the veins as we cover the underground field.

    We crest a hill and see what I assume we¡¯re heading for¡­ a grassless area with what look like [horse] obstacles in it and surrounded by barriers.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to get down now¡­¡± I say, trying not to sound scared and failing as we pull up to the side of the barriers.

    ¡°Aww!¡­ Ya done usin¡¯ my gals as pillows, darlin¡¯¡­(?)¡± she chuckles.

    I frown and pull the head away from the chest, turning in the seat to look up at her.

    ¡°Sorry¡­ Was I being rude?¡± I ask, worried that not understanding Terran ways might have made her dislike me.

    She smirks and wags the head ¡°Yer fine, sugar¡­ Little bit funny ferra Terran was all!¡±

    I give a relieved chuckle.

    I feel a large hand between the shoulderblades as the fingers gather up the fabric on me.

    She lifts me off the [horse] seat, onehanded, and lowers me down to the ground.

    ¡°OK if I drop ya?¡± she asks me, the feet half my height up.

    ¡°Sure.¡± I shrug the shoulders.

    The hand lets go and I spend a brief moment falling before landing with no issue.

    ¡°Alright, sweetheart¡­ Imma spend ¡¯bout half an hour here practicin¡¯ with my whip and my lasso¡­ Ya just let me know if you get bored and I¡¯ll be happy ta take ya back! Kay?¡± says the one eyed woman sitting on top of the gigantic animal.

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± I answer without any intention of spending a single moment that I could be spending with her not with her ¡°¡­but what¡¯s a [whip]? And a [lasso]?¡±

    She gestures to one of the coils of rope on the hips ¡°This¡¯s a whip¡­ a long, flexible bitta rope that cracks loud when ya flick it through the air¡­ A lasso¡¯s a rope with a loop at the end that ya throw to catch cattle or horses. Skill with rope¡¯s how I ended up as Hoss¡¯s bodyguard¡­ Citadel don¡¯t let ya carry weapons so every bodyguard in the ODR¡¯s gotta have some kinda ¡®unarmed¡¯ gimmick¡­ martial arts¡­ super strength¡­ my gimmick¡¯s ropes, since they¡¯re not technically a ¡®weapon¡¯¡­ My predecessor was a Gorilla sapiens!¡­ Ya ever see a Gorilla, darlin¡¯?¡±

    I waggle the head ¡°I don¡¯t think so?¡±

    ¡°Alright, imagine a Human¡­ give ¡¯em shorter, thicker legs, longer, thicker arms, short, round snout with giant canine teeth. Give ¡¯em hands where their feet should be and more muscles ¡¯an a seafood cookoff(!) Now cover ¡¯em in black fur, head ta toe, an¡¯ you¡¯ve basic¡¯ly got a Gorilla¡­ Gamba ¡®Winston¡¯ Zvaitika was also an absolute beast, even ferra Gorilla!¡­ If he hadn¡¯ta been up ¡¯gainst a cyborg killer, nothin¡¯ in the galaxy¡¯d¡¯ve been enough ta take that guy down!¡± she says with clear admiration for the dead man.

    ¡°He¡­ sounds strong!¡­ You¡¯ve got to be very good with ropes if you can match that kind of strength?¡± I frown, curiously.

    She returns the eyes to me and the smirk to the face as she answers ¡°I¡¯m ¡®very good¡¯ with my 12 shooters, darlin¡¯¡­ When it comes ta whips and lassos¡­ I¡¯m the best there is(!)¡­ A woman o¡¯ many talents, I also play a mean bass guitar(!)¡±

    I grin back ¡°Why don¡¯t you show me the whips for now?¡±

    ¡°Happy ta oblige ya!¡± she smirks as she rides forward into the enclosure.

    I hop up onto the fence to look at the back of her as she rides away from me.

    She takes the coil of rope from the hip and holds it in the left hand.

    At a signal from her, the [horse] speeds up to much faster than he was going when I was on him!

    The [whip] unspools as she swings it behind her.

    Then, she launches the arm forward!

    *CRACK*

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.195

    ---Charge---

    ---Jaylah¡¯s perspective---

    ---2686 Terran Calendar/27 years BF---

    ¡°I¡¯m ordering you to pull back, Major!¡± comes the infuriating voice of Brig. Gen. Knotts down the line.

    ¡°Due respect, Sir¡­¡± I snarl ¡°¡­I¡¯m Cavalry! These folks here report ta me¡­ not the Army!¡±

    ¡°Maj. Chevalier! Don¡¯t be ridiculous! It¡¯s not the Goddamned 19<sup>th</sup> Century! You can¡¯t¡­!¡±

    This point, I hang up the call, not really interested in anything else he might have to say.

    I turn to look into the two hundred seven surviving faces of the 1204<sup>th</sup> Cavalry, standing facing me on the dusty red ground beneath the two blazing suns.

    I raise my voice to address them ¡°The Brigadier General has ordered us ta retreat, ladies and gents! Says a cavalry force ain¡¯t got no place on a modern battlefield!¡±

    A muted jeer goes around my riders.

    My mouth twists as I wave for quiet and say ¡°Now, now¡­ maybe Knotts¡¯s got a point(!)¡­ Afterall, when we were drafted, we were all assured that we¡¯d only be playin¡¯ a supportin¡¯ role in the Military, weren¡¯t we(!)¡­ ¡®Don¡¯t worry!¡¯ they said! ¡®Y¡¯all¡¯ll be behind the front lines¡¯ they said! ¡®Chances are ya won¡¯t even see a xeno ¡¯fore the Wars out!¡¯ they said! They told us that all we¡¯d be doin¡¯ was runnin¡¯ messages an¡¯ supplies ta Army folks in places where vehicles an¡¯ radios weren¡¯t no good¡­ and we all know how well that turned out, don¡¯t we now(!?)¡±

    My battlehardened riders chuckle, bitterly.

    ¡°The Army¡¯s known the xenos¡¯d wiped out those Brits guardin¡¯ the Gorge for five DAYS¡­¡± I roar ¡°¡­FIVE days, and now they say they need another hour ¡¯fore they can get reinforcements here! An hour they ain¡¯t willin¡¯ ta let us buy ¡¯em! NO!¡­ An hour they want bought by those poor bitches an¡¯ sons o¡¯ bitches out in those trenches!¡­ An hour they ain¡¯t gonna be able ta buy! An hour that, if it ain¡¯t bought, will mean those xenos makin¡¯ it ta THAT city behind us!¡­ Forcin¡¯ those Army folks arrivin¡¯ ta shoot at xenos with the folks the UTCM PROMISED safety to ALL around ¡¯em!¡± I falter for just a moment before I say ¡°An hour we just might be able ta buy ¡¯em¡­¡± my tone grim.

    My riders all know what I¡¯m asking of them.

    ¡°I ain¡¯t gonna order y¡¯all ta die with me¡­ Any o¡¯ ya that considers yer duty done can ride back ta New Canberra with yer heads held high¡­ Fer MY part, I¡¯m ridin¡¯ over that ridge and inta that army and hopin¡¯ I take out as many o¡¯ those bastards as the Good Lord sees fit ta allow! Any o¡¯ y¡¯all that wants ta join me¡¯re welcome ta!¡±

    Every face surrounding me says none of them are taking the offer to ride back.

    Every one of these damn fools are gonna follow me into Hell!

    ¡°¡­Alright¡­ Everyone mount UP!¡±

    All except one of my riders turns to make for their horses.

    The lone exception is a petite, freckled Latina, coming right for me.

    At 5¡¯5¡¯¡¯, Lt. Luz Chimal barely made it into the military at all! A fraction of an inch shorter and she would¡¯ve been below minimum height¡­

    ¡°Luz, I¡­¡± I start but my wife doesn¡¯t let me finish before reaching up to rap her fingers over the collar of the light durasteel breastplate I¡¯m wearing, yanking my face the necessary 4 inches down to be able to kiss me.

    Tender, vulnerable and frightened while somehow still defiant, fierce and passionate!

    If it wasn¡¯t for the circumstances, I¡¯d call this the best kiss of my life!

    I wrap her in my arms and briefly wish she wasn¡¯t wearing armor, so I could hold her properly¡­ until I remember what we¡¯re about to do that is¡­

    Finally, her lips part from mine.

    She pauses, letting out a shuddering breath, her eyes still closed before saying ¡°Just in case it¡¯s the last chance we get, mi amor¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll wait for ya at the Pearly Gates if it is, darlin¡¯¡­(!)¡± I reassure her.

    She gives a half laugh, half sob then simply says ¡°I love you, Jaylah.¡±

    ¡°I love you too, Luz¡­¡± I answer with all the sincerity in the universe.

    As much as I want this moment to go on forever, I can see the last of my riders getting up on their mounts.

    If, by some miracle, we both survive this, I swear I¡¯m never letting her go after!

    We¡¯ll go through the entire rest of our lives standing right by eachother!

    For now though¡­

    We break from the embrace and she goes to mount Val.

    I turn to my horse.

    If you¡¯d told me at my sweet sixteenth that the foal my pappy just gave me¡¯d one day become a Warhorse, I¡¯d¡¯ve laughed in your face¡­ but Ranger¡¯s seen me through all 7 years so far!

    He¡¯s probably one of the most combat experienced horses there are by now!

    I step into the stirrup and lift myself into the saddle.

    Without wasting another moment, I ride to the front.

    The 1204<sup>th</sup> array to either side for the maneuver they¡¯ve only ever done in training, a full frontal charge!

    ¡°Let¡¯s ride!¡± I shout, directing Ranger forward in a canter to set the pace.

    This many horses all riding together at this speed sound like thunder!

    We crest the ridge, bringing the battle into view.

    Tens of thousands of xeno soldiers (crammed together so tight that most of them can¡¯t fire their guns for fear of hitting their comrades) fill the basin between us and the cliffs. The feet of so many beings shroud the entire scene in a haze of red dust.

    Behind them, visible in the distance, is the crack in the rock that they managed to get here through from the Jackman Valley after they shelled the force sent to hold it.

    I spot the command barge with the gray skinned giant standing on its deck, safely behind the shimmer of an antiballistic field, and aim Ranger in that direction.

    A rainbow of lasers and pulses come up from the enemy. The cracks of gunfire answer them from up here in the trenches just ahead of us.

    ¡°Trench!¡± I shout, just in case anyone hasn¡¯t seen.

    Ranger leaps across and, from the sound of it, the rest of my riders get over with no problem either.

    The confused yelling of the soldiers directly beneath us is the only consequence.

    I guess, any rider still wet enough behind the ears to fall into a 6ft wide trench wouldn¡¯t be 1204<sup>th</sup> material!

    The trench cleared, I gee Ranger into a gallop.

    There¡¯s maybe a quarter mile between us and the front lines, thirty seconds at this speed.

    I draw my revolvers and take a deep breath.

    I let out a high pitched scream.

    Two hundred seven voices raise to either side of me, joining to my battlecry.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    The faces of the xenos in the front ranks are obviously terrified at the spectacle of more than a hundred tons of screaming Human and animal charging toward them.

    We draw fire from a huge section of their front lines but, thankfully, it seems like they¡¯re not smart enough to aim for the legs.

    Body blows with laser and pulseweapons are definitely not pleasant but, horse or Human, you¡¯d be unlucky to be killed by one!

    If they hit our mounts¡¯ legs with a pulse, it might be a different story!

    At 150yd, those with rifles open up.

    I hear the familiar roar of Luz¡¯s bullpup, some way to my left.

    Carnage is unleashed on those at the front as a wall of tungsten and osmium rounds crashes into them!

    I¡¯m sparing my rounds for anyone who gets directly in Ranger¡¯s way who looks too big or dangerous for him to simply plow straight through!

    I¡¯m still hollering my battlecry, right up to the moment Ranger¡¯s front meets the first xeno.

    The 1204<sup>th</sup> rips through the GU army like a tornado going through flimsy 21<sup>st</sup> Century construction!

    War is not glorious¡­

    No matter how righteous your cause is, at some point every soldier¡¯s got to deal with the reality that War means killing for it! Every soldier¡¯s got to steel themselves against the desperate screams of their enemy, the showers of blood, the din and clamor of battle roaring in your ears as folks from both sides desperately try both to kill and survive!

    I see a xeno with a lit plasmablade standing between me and the barge.

    I aim a gun between his four eyes and fire, reducing his head to a cloud of orange mist.

    Still maintaining some of his momentum from the charge, I¡¯m able to get Ranger to bob and weave through the horde of enemies at the man on that barge, using my guns as sparingly as possible.

    Just as I fire the last of the ten rounds from my right gun into a guy who looks like a reptilian minotaur, I see a flash of white light on my left.

    I look in time to see that the barrel of that gun is gone and there¡¯s a glowing, molten surface right next to the cylinder!

    Immediately, I hurl it over my shoulder and, from the sounds of rounds cooking off behind me, I wasn¡¯t an instant too soon!

    Damn!

    I was saving those rounds for the Warking!

    As good as I definitely am with my whip, I don¡¯t much like the thought of trying to fight someone the height of a Columbian mammoth with just that!

    I don¡¯t have time to reload my right while I¡¯m still charging¡­ maybe I can take an instant once I¡¯m up on that barge?

    I holster it for the moment and draw my whip with my left hand, using it in place of my guns to strike at those standing in Ranger¡¯s way.

    That works great until I notice one of the guns on the side of the command barge being swiveled in my direction.

    I try to turn him right but it¡¯s too late.

    A blast obliterates the ground in front of him and he goes down.

    I¡¯m hurled through the air and hit the ground hard.

    My horse is dead but, if I don¡¯t want to join him, the agony of that fact has got to be pushed down for the moment.

    I roll to my feet and continue sprinting to that barge through the chaos of this xeno army, my whip still clutched in my left hand.

    When I get to its side, I leap up onto it.

    I¡¯ve always been agile and climbing the side of this alien vehicle is no problem at all, since they haven¡¯t taken the very obvious step of ensuring it¡¯s smooth and free of handholds!

    I swing over the safety railing, passing through the slight resistance of the antiballistic field, but I don¡¯t have a moment to collect myself since 600lbs of Thlundthvugun is already charging at me!

    I roll out of the way as he brings a roaring alien blade down, right on where I was.

    Wheeling around, I¡¯m just in time to see him recover his weapon and point it at me for a second charge.

    My whip streaks forward to crack across the knuckles of his upper right hand, making him roar in pain, arresting his charge¡¯s momentum and opening a wound which causes him to drop the blade.

    It immediately melts a hole through the deck between his front legs and disappears.

    The man draws back up to a height of about 16ft and sneers down at me, staying just out of the range of my whip.

    His species are right up with Threndians as some of the ones you least want to get into a brawl with!

    Eight thick limbs, a pair of tusks on the side of his face and the temperament of a pissed off rodeo bull in battle¡­ even with a whip I¡¯m not really liking my odds.

    I notice two of the scarlet scaled Snake types standing (as much as they can ¡®stand¡¯ without legs) behind him¡­ Great(!) Gotta make it through this fight in a fit state to then deal with two Class 9s!

    His lip curls and he rumbles ¡°Grondthuluron, Turrathu¡­¡± in a deep, gravelly voice ¡°¡­Dorduthvunul thlontumotvo.¡±

    I sneer right back at him and answer ¡°¡¯Fraid I don¡¯t speak Ugly Bastard, ya ugly bastard(!)¡±

    He grunts before charging forward right for me again, down on all eight now.

    My whip cracks against his lower face but just misses his bluey-green eyes.

    Nevertheless, the pain makes him wince long enough for me to get out of his way.

    The microsecond I¡¯ve got out of the range of his arms, I wheel to lay a second crack across his back, opening up the fabric as a long streak of blue blood shows up beneath.

    He bellows in pain and swings a heavy arm in my direction, missing me by quite a way.

    He stands back up, turns to me and, this time using his upper arms to try and guard his giant head, thunders towards me with his lowers outstretched to grapple me.

    I let him know what I think of his guard by sending the tip of my whip right through the narrow gap between his forearms.

    It hits a right eye, blinding it.

    The howl of agony he lets out might have me feeling a little sorry for him if it weren¡¯t for everything I know this monster¡¯s done!

    The next 40 seconds pass in a similar way with the now three eyed man desperately trying to get close enough to get his hands on me and me dancing around him, laying wound after wound on him with my whip.

    That is until I lay a crack across his forearm¡­ which ends up curling into his meaty palm just in time for him to grab it!

    With an irresistible yank, he wrenches my weapon out of my hands and tosses it over the side of the barge.

    I don¡¯t hesitate before running aftward, for the passage between the cockpit and the starboard side.

    Without my whip, I need a moment to reload my remaining gun! I just¡­

    I feel fat fingers wrap around the back of my neck.

    *Boom* is the sound of me being slammed into the deck, hard enough to knock the wind out of me!

    He lifts me up by the shoulders to slam me down again, then a third time.

    Wheezing as I gasp for air through the (I¡¯m pretty sure) broken ribs, I feel his irresistibly strong upper arms gather my wrists over my head and pull me into the air by them.

    His lower arms slam me into the side wall of the cockpit and pound me into it again and again.

    Without my armor, I¡¯d definitely already be dead.

    Then he stops¡­

    I feel his enormous hands grasp my sides and pivot me around to face him.

    He notices my remaining gun and contemptuously rips it off my hip to toss behind him off the barge.

    Pressing me into the wall, several feet off the ground, he brings my arms down to pin them to my sides.

    Still struggling to breathe, there¡¯s nothing I can do as I watch his lower right arm withdraw from my left and go to his belt, drawing a gigantic combat knife.

    He points the tip to his destroyed right eye and says ¡°Turvlogon¡­¡± then at my left ¡°¡­vruvlogon!¡±

    The metal blade flashes across my face.

    I want to scream but I still don¡¯t have any air in my lungs so all that comes out is a hoarse wheeze.

    The pain is worse than anything I¡¯ve ever felt!

    It radiates out from the destroyed eye to make it feel like that whole side of my face is on fire!

    Hot blood pours from the uncauterized wound and I¡¯m already feeling my consciousness slipping from that, the pain, and the lack of air!

    The world slows down as my adrenal gland dumps out it¡¯s contents onto my nervous system.

    My mind is quiet of all the noise I never notice until those moments it¡¯s gone, desperately using every last grain of cognitive power to figure out how not to die.

    Then I catch sight of where his left thigh is.

    I kick my right leg forward, turn my toes to my left and stab the spur on the back of my heel into his leg.

    It easily sinks into the flesh, causing him to yell and drop me the nearly 6ft back to the deck.

    By rights, I ought to crumple to the floor with all the damage I¡¯ve sustained in the last 20 seconds but, still running on adrenaline, I¡¯m able to take advantage of the distraction by rolling through the giant¡¯s four legs to my left, his right.

    With no gun left, I reach for the last weapon I have available to me.

    Down at the bottom of the belt pouch where I kept my whip is a second length of rope, one I¡¯ve never actually used in a battle.

    I pull out my lasso.

    The tusked giant turns to me and lets out a pretty unmistakable chuckle.

    ¡°Gorthlunutuvl-¡± is as far as he gets before the loop I¡¯ve thrown passes over his tusks and head, closing around his neck.

    I leap out from the side of the barge, holding the spoke end, causing the honda to cut into his thick neck as I swing around him over the 30ft drop to the ground, and he struggles to keep his feet.

    As soon as I touch down behind him I leap up to his back, keeping all my weight on the rope.

    His lower arms are trying to dislodge me but they don¡¯t bend right to be able to reach.

    His uppers are preoccupied trying to claw at the rope around his neck.

    I¡¯m bracing for him to slam his back into the wall or fall down on top of me but he doesn¡¯t.

    His front legs are the first to give out, which causes him to fall forward onto the deck and me to land on top of him.

    His back arches upwards in a desperate attempt to reduce the distance between his neck and my hands.

    In answer, I place my bootheel between his shoulderblades and push him back down, pulling the rope tighter and tighter.

    Finally, the tension is released and I fall backwards onto my ass.

    Across the gigantic limp body, I¡¯m able to see an enormous tusked head rolling across the deck and leaving a trail of blue blood behind it.

    I pick myself up, gingerly because of the broken ribs, partially collapsed lungs and gouged eye.

    I¡¯m just in time to see the Snakes appearing from the front of the ship.

    The woman looks at her decapitated commander, outraged, and turns her poisonous green eyed face up to me before shrieking, slithering towards me.

    Welp! This is it! I can barely stand and I do not have the energy to fight these two off anymore!

    Sorry Luz¡­ gonna have to meet you at the Pearly Gates¡­

    ¡°Srassalo! Kvathahasz si¡¯azzalak! Thalszviaka!!!¡± screams the Snake woman in accusation.

    The man following behind her looks fairly composed by comparison as he reaches to the belt around his¡­ gonna call it a ¡®waist¡¯, and draws a pulsepistol.

    Then¡­ he does the absolute last thing I would¡¯ve expected!

    Instead of pointing the barrel at me, he casually extends it to the back of the woman¡¯s head.

    There¡¯s a muted *fwoom* of the weapon being discharged and her skull is instantly the wrong shape.

    She remains upright for a brief moment before her muscle tension releases and she collapses to the deck alongside her superior.

    I turn my ungouged eye to the Snake man, confused.

    He tosses the gun at my feet and splays his weird, two thumbed palms in the air, unmistakably surrendering.

    ¡°Salasski, Tirran¡­¡± he says, calmly, then pointing a finger up to the section of the deck on top of the cockpit to my left, asking ¡°¡­Kviakss ssi? Sirralsa sfviaz?¡±

    Not able to tell what he¡¯s asking to do but certain I wouldn¡¯t be able to stop him right now, I grunt a ¡®go ahead¡¯ and he turns to slither away, round the corner.

    I hobble after him, picking my way between the bodies of the people we just killed, going slowly from my injury.

    As soon as I clear the cockpit, I turn my head up and to the left, just catching the end of his fingers working some panel in front of him.

    He opens his mouth and a neutrally accented male English voice booms out of the barge and fills the entire valley.

    ¡°Attention all Galactic Union and United Terran Coalition forces: This is Sandcrosser Ssafazaoz and, as of moments ago, I became the highest ranking officer in this army. I am hereby ordering all Galactic Union soldiers to lay down their arms and surrender themselves to the forces of the UTC! I repeat, lay down your arms and surrender yourselves to the forces of the UTC!¡­¡±

    I half laugh, half sob with the relief of hearing those words.

    I look out in the direction I came from and see the men and women of the 1204<sup>th</sup> Cavalry¡­ hoping to give a triumphant wave to my wife before I collapse.

    I frown.

    I don¡¯t see her¡­

    Oh! There she is!

    No¡­ that¡¯s just Valiente¡­ without Luz riding him¡­?

    At this point my legs give out and I hit the deck, only able to look at the sky until I lose consciousness.

    ---2715 Terran Calendar/2 years AF---

    I come down the stairs in my apartment, just wearing my skivvies and a tee since it¡¯s been a long day of work and chores and I¡¯m about ready for bed.

    Just need to relax with a little music practice first.

    I open up the cupboard and reach for the bass I played at Mudaliar¡¯s funeral but then stop myself.

    I reach next to it and pick up the acoustic guitar instead.

    I walk it over to the couch, open up the case and take it out.

    I sit down, bring it across my lap and start to tune it.

    I look up at the wall where I¡¯ve hung a picture of the woman whose guitar I¡¯m about to play.

    I smile up at the freckled face and say ¡°I met a girl recently, Luz¡­ She reminds me a lot of you¡­¡±

    I start plucking out a heartbreaking melody.

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XLIII: Pancakes and Cowgirls

    ---Viig¡¯s perspective---

    The door opens for me and the eyes immediately snap to the short, brown hair, over a light brown neck, on the big, wide, comfy seat.

    I step across the doorway and pass through one of those magic sound blocker barriers.

    As soon as the ears cross it, I stop right where I stand.

    I¡¯m stabbed in the heart by the twangy sound of the song she¡¯s playing on the instrument she holds!

    Just the notes on their own wrench the guts and tighten the chest!

    No sound I¡¯ve ever heard has made me so instantly sad!

    Then, she sings

    p? I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I''d never let you go

    When all those shadows almost killed your liight

    I remember you said don''t leave me here alone

    But all that''s dead and gone and passed toniiiight?p

    I stand, rooted to the spot, jaw hanging open and tail perfectly still behind me.

    I¡¯ve heard Terran music before¡­ but nothing like this!

    The beautiful words feel¡­ cold¡­ Cold like a house no one has lived in for years¡­ Cold like Winter¡­ Cold like the dead¡­

    The music makes me feel a hundred different emotions at once!

    I want to get in front of the gorgeous one eyed woman and see the face as she plays and sings but¡­ I don¡¯t think she knows I¡¯m here¡­ I think she¡¯d probably stop playing if she saw me and, as painful as the song is, I can¡¯t bear the thought of not hearing the end!

    I just have to imagine the face.

    I¡¯ve only known Jaylah for a little while but, in that time, she¡¯s always seemed so supremely cheerful and confident! I had no idea she had anything like this in her!

    The words stop and are replaced with flourishing cries with no translated meaning.

    Then, she gets to the same part she¡¯s sung twice already, only with the strings quieter now.

    p? You and I''ll be saaafe and souuund?p

    are the last words she sings before going back into more of that wonderfully melodic wailing again, slowly fading out.

    The song ends.

    I stand in stunned silence for a few moments before I remember the way Terrans say ¡®well done¡¯.

    I bring up the hands and face the palms towards eachother.

    ---Jaylah¡¯s perspective---

    I finish the song on my wife¡¯s guitar and sit, allowing the bittersweet mixture of selfpity and catharsis to wash over me.

    Then, I jump out of my fucking skin as the sound of enthusiastic clapping breaks out behind me!

    I launch to my feet and wheel around, adrenaline buzzing through my blood and still holding Luz¡¯s guitar.

    I see a 3ft tall, yellow eyed, green skinned Goblin girl frantically smacking her hands together at me.

    ¡°Viig?!¡± I ask, still catching my breath.

    She stops her clumsy clapping and says ¡°That was incredible, Jaylah!¡­ Absolutely amazing!¡±

    My mind races as I stare at the girl, working everything out.

    She wasn¡¯t hiding in here, I realize¡­ She must¡¯ve walked in here when¡­

    ¡°How much¡¯d ya hear?¡± I ask, seriously.

    ¡°Oh, I think I walked in near the beginning? I¡¯m not sure though¡­¡± she frowns.

    ¡°I was already playin¡¯ when ya came in?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes? Why?¡±

    ¡°No reason.¡± I lie, relieved that she didn¡¯t hear me talking to Luz¡¯s picture about her ¡°So¡­ Why¡¯re ya here, darlin¡¯? There somethin¡¯ ya need help with?¡±

    Looking kinda hurt, she answers ¡°No, just, the other day, you said I could come here when you weren¡¯t working and we¡¯d drink [tequila] together¡­ Right?¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Right I did¡­¡±

    I spend a moment thinking about whether I really wanna start drinking and *ehem* doing whatever follows after the day I¡¯ve had¡­ then decide that no matter how tired I am, I can¡¯t pass up such appealing company(!)

    I smile down at the girl and gesture round myself to all the empty seats ¡°Why don¡¯t ya make yerself comfy¡­ I¡¯ll get us a bottle an¡¯ whip us up some sangritas, Kay sweetheart?¡±

    She answers with a toothy grin.

    It¡¯s kinda refreshing to finally meet an alien species who see showing teeth the same way Terrans do¡­ but it¡¯s also a little unnerving!

    Every time she does it, I have to remind myself that, even though she¡¯s not Terran, it¡¯s not a threat display(!)

    She walks forward and rounds the couch, climbing up to set herself down right next to where I just got up from.

    I chuckle, put down Luz¡¯s guitar and walk from my lounge to my kitchen.

    Talking to the drinks dispenser, I say ¡°Two sangritas, hold the hotsauce.¡± and it immediately gets to work whipping up the mixture of tomato juice, various citrus juices and salt the way it knows I like, just without the hotsauce I usually have it include.

    No idea what the little lady¡¯s spice tolerance is like so best to give her the option not to add it.

    I go to my stasis fridge and pull out a bottle of my preferred brand of hotsauce, then to my liquor cabinet to grab a bottle of 100% blue agave, blanco tequila.

    Luz always used to bitterly complain about the ¡®mixto¡¯ shit that was all we could get in the Military.

    Wasn¡¯t till I was back on Earth that I could try the real stuff and see what she meant about the difference.

    Real tequila¡¯s meant to be gently sipped, broken up with sips of sangrita, not pounded in shot form between chomping slices of lime and ripping lines of salt(!)

    I¡¯m getting the glasses (a shot glass for my guest, just because of her smaller size) when, from behind me, I hear her ask ¡°Who were you singing about?¡±

    Her tone is neutral with only mild curiosity.

    ¡°Oh¡­ No one¡­ It¡¯s just a song I like singin¡¯.¡± I lie, assembling the tequila, hotsauce, glasses, stirrers and sangritas onto a tray and turning around to walk back to the lounge.

    I¡¯m in time to see her raise her finger to Luz¡¯s picture.

    ¡°You were singing about her, right?¡± she asks, not even dignifying the lie by pretending to consider it at all.

    I give a mirthful frown as I set the tray down on the table and take a seat beside her.

    ¡°What makes ya think that, darlin¡¯?¡± I ask, genuinely charmed by her no nonsense straightforwardness.

    ¡°Weeell¡­¡± she thinks ¡°¡­she¡¯s very pretty, she doesn¡¯t look like she¡¯s related to you, you have a picture of just her up on the wall in the place you live but I¡¯ve not seen her and you¡¯ve not mentioned her at all¡­ I¡¯m guessing you were [wives] to eachother?¡­ And I¡¯m guessing she¡¯s not around anymore?¡±

    I laugh.

    ¡°*hehehehehehehehehe*¡­ The briefin¡¯ said Twigg was clever and you were the cleverest of ¡¯em, darlin¡¯, but I sure weren¡¯t expectin¡¯ you ta walk inta my house and deduce out my entire life like Sherlock Holmes(!)¡­ That was quite somethin¡¯!¡± I answer, cracking open the spirit and tipping out a measure into my tequila crystal and a much smaller amount into her shot glass.

    ¡°So, I¡¯m right then?¡±

    ¡°Yup¡­ you¡¯re right, sweetheart. Her name was Luz¡­ She was my wife. That there¡¯s the guitar she left me. Val was her horse. This was the ring I gave her when I asked her ta be mine.¡± I say, holding up the rubied circle of gold on the chain around my neck I used to wear a crucifix on ¡°But she¡¯s ancient history¡­ I¡¯ve lived longer since I lost her than I ever did before that¡­ Comin¡¯ up on thirty years ago now.¡±

    ¡°How did she die?¡± she asks, simply.

    ¡°Right at the end of the War¡­ just days from the word comin¡¯ down that the GU¡¯d surrendered. We were the only thing that stood between a Terran city and a crazy War criminal¡¯s army¡­ I ordered a charge¡­ It was the right thing to do¡­ but it cost me my eye, my horse, and half my riders¡­ including her.¡±

    She frowns and says ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± her tone commiserating, not apologetic.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be, darlin¡¯¡­ Like I said, ancient history! Had more ¡¯an half my life ta come ta terms with it¡­. Survivor¡¯s guilt¡¯s definitely a bitch but I kicked its ass eventually!¡± I chuckle, darkly.

    ¡°But you still feel sad enough about her to sing like that?¡± she asks.

    I think about it for a moment before answering ¡°Guess so, sweetheart.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ uhm¡­ I¡­¡±

    I frown curiously and look to the girl.

    I think this is the first time I¡¯ve heard her hesitate to speak like that.

    She finally manages ¡°I¡­ lost someone too¡­ a boy¡­ about a [year] ago¡­ His name was Pod¡­ He wasn¡¯t a [husband] to me (Folk don¡¯t really do that) but I really cared about him!¡­ I¡¯m pretty sure he put at least one baby in me¡­ there was another that might¡¯ve been from him too¡­ but I¡¯m less sure¡­¡±

    ¡°How did he go?¡± I ask, gently.

    ¡°A Vrakhand shot him through the neck. A [sister] of Khr¡¯kowan, actually.¡± she answers.

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I say, remembering that, as civil as they are with eachother now, they were at war with eachother when we first found them ¡°¡­sorry ta hear it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Would you¡­ like ta tell me ¡¯bout him? What was he like?¡±

    Looking off out the window, reminiscing, she grins and giggles ¡°He was as dumb as a rock!¡­ He was always trying things that were obviously not gonna work! Wasted sooo much clay, ore, wood and other stuff with his harebrained schemes! Then, once or twice a [year], something would actually work like he said and he¡¯d ride that high for days!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Bit of a crackpot, mad inventor type then? That what made ya fall fer him or¡­?¡±

    ¡°No, no¡­ It was¡­ the way he smiled more than anything¡­ I really can¡¯t explain it well but¡­¡±

    ¡°It lit up yer whole world? Felt like gettin¡¯ a warm hug? Like all the warmth and satisfaction of every hot meal ya¡¯ve ever eaten, all at once?¡± I suggest.

    ¡°Yes! All of that!¡± she agrees ¡°Is that how Luz made you feel?¡±

    ¡°Reckon it was.¡± I smile, nodding.

    ¡°What was she like?¡± asks the little Goblin cutey.

    ¡°Weeelp¡­ She was a 5¡¯5¡¯¡¯, 110lb, Latina firecracker! Night she got transferred ta my Regiment, she broke another lieutenant¡¯s nose (who totally deserved it)! I was completely smitten, right away¡­ Weren¡¯t gonna do nothin¡¯ about it but she saw right through me¡­ Waited a couple weeks ¡¯fore pullin¡¯ me inta her tent an¡¯ takin¡¯ off her armor. We got hitched up less than a year after in a garrison chapel. Spent the rest o¡¯ the War havin¡¯ a playful argument ¡¯bout whether we were gonna settle down in Texas or Tamaulipas afterward¡­ Used ta joke that we¡¯d need a houseboat moored up in the middle o¡¯ the Rio Grande as a compromise(!)¡± I chuckle.

    She chuckles too but then says ¡°I don¡¯t understand the joke at all.¡± causing me to burst into laughter.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t important, darlin¡¯¡­ How ¡¯bout I teach ya how ta drink tequila an¡¯ then we make a toast ta them, hmmm?¡±

    She answers with an enthusiastic head nod before saying ¡°Yes please.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ That one¡¯s yers.¡± I point out the little shotglass.

    ¡°Greedy(!)¡± she teases.

    ¡°I¡¯d be takin¡¯ ya ta the hospital if I gave ya as much as I¡¯m havin¡¯, darlin¡¯!¡± I explain, smiling ¡°I¡¯m just pacin¡¯ ya ta keep it from gettin¡¯ nasty, Kay?¡­ So, little sip, then yer gonna chase it with a mouthful o¡¯ sangrita. That¡¯s tomato juice, grapefruit juice, lime juice, orange juice and salt all mixed together. I¡¯m gonna have hotsauce in mine¡­¡± I uncap the sauce bottle, shake a generous amount into my sangrita glass and stir it in ¡°¡­but I recommend ya tryin¡¯ it without an¡¯ tryin¡¯ a bit o¡¯ mine ta see if ya want any o¡¯ that. All clear, darlin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Alright then¡­¡± I pick up the glass of clear spirit and wait for her to pick up hers before toasting ¡°¡­Here¡¯s ta Pod!¡±

    Uncertainly, she answers ¡°And here¡¯s to Luz?¡±

    I nod and clink my glass against hers.

    ---Viig¡¯s perspective---

    I circle the Spirit projection, mouth hanging open.

    The belly is so high off the ground that I can stand fully upright underneath.

    The toeless legs are so thick that I could fit the whole of myself inside, though I haven¡¯t tried it (even if she says it¡¯s just [science], I still can¡¯t really bring myself to risk touching a Spirit, let alone getting inside one!)

    The enormous head is higher off the ground than Jaylah, has a massive slope of furry muscle behind it and a curved horn, as long as me, coming out of each side.

    From one side dangles a ropeladder up to one of those animal seats that¡¯s been molded to fit the back of the massive hump on top of it.

    In that seat is a Spirit projection of the man Jaylah says put her into the belly she was born from.

    She definitely looks like him but I¡¯m not sure how much of that is the face and how much is just the outfit?

    He wears a wide hat, just like hers, and has the same cocky smile on his face as he rides the [bettleoceros] sized animal.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I stand by what I said before. He¡¯s too big!¡±

    Jaylah bursts into laughter reaching to the [holo] she uses, to send the Spirits away.

    ¡°Hhhhyup!¡­ Duke was a big boy! Total sweetiepie though!¡±

    ¡°Except when he killed Wyatt you mean?¡± I ask, gesturing up at the man on the back of the animal she says killed him by stepping on the skull, just as he vanishes

    She holds out a finger and cocks an eyebrow and sternly says ¡°I said it was an accident! Poor thing didn¡¯t mean it an¡¯ he felt real bad after, I could tell!¡­ Pappy wouldn¡¯ta blamed him! He¡¯d¡¯ve known it were his fault fer fallin¡¯ off!¡±

    I resolve not to argue with Terran crazy and just throw up the palms in a ¡®whatever you say¡¯ as I make the way back to the seat next to her.

    I take the small, empty glass and extend it to her hopefully.

    She narrows the eyes and twists the lip before saying ¡°Last one, alright little lady? Don¡¯t want ya tossin¡¯ yer cookies!¡± as she reaches for the bottle.

    I grin in answer.

    As she turns it up to tip out the clear liquid into the glass I hold, she says ¡°Ya know, darlin¡¯¡­ There¡¯s a way I think Terrans and Twigg are alike, ¡¯sides just bein¡¯ deathworlders.¡±

    ¡°Is there? What¡¯s that?¡± I smile as I take a sip of the drink that makes everything funnier, warmer and shinier¡­ riiight up until you have too much, at which point everything feels wrong until you throw it up!

    ¡°Weeell¡­ I reckon we¡¯re the only two species that actually know what it¡¯s like in the Dark Forest!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± I ask, not really able to understand all of the context the coin is trying to put in the mind.

    She sets down the bottle and gestures with the hands, animatedly explaining ¡°Looooong time ago, back before the first Terran¡¯d even been ta space, a really smart guy realized ¡®Hey¡­ if there¡¯s people on other planets, how come none of ¡¯em¡¯ve stopped by Earth ta say howdy?!¡¯¡­ Well, now we know the reason¡¯s they thought Earth couldn¡¯t have people on it and neither could any planet fer thousands o¡¯ lightyears in any direction but, fer a long time, it were a mystery! We came up with a ton of ideas before eventually decidin¡¯ that it looked like we were alone¡­ or good as alone! But one o¡¯ the ideas was called the ¡®Dark Forest¡¯; basically went that species in the galaxy eventually needed ta figure out ta stay quiet ¡¯cause ones that didn¡¯t got wiped out by those that found ¡¯em!¡­ When we finally had First Contact, we found out the galaxy weren¡¯t a Dark Forest fer most¡­ but it was fer us! Everyone hated us just fer existin¡¯! We had ta fight like hell just ta survive long enough ta show ¡¯em we ain¡¯t monsters!¡±

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°And you think the Twigg are the same?¡± I ask, curiously.

    ¡°Sure do! Yer probably the only ones who can relate to the idea o¡¯ livin¡¯ with intelligent bein¡¯s all around who want y¡¯all dead!¡±

    I frown ¡°Well¡­ doesn¡¯t that also apply to the Vrakhand¡­ just in reverse? Perhaps this dark forest is just part of being a deathworlder(!)¡±

    She makes a face exactly like Pod used to make when he¡¯d smoked too much and needed to think hard.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ ya really just gutted my analogy there, darlin¡¯¡­ Think ya might be too clever fer me(!)¡±

    I shake the head ¡°I don¡¯t! I can¡¯t shoot [guns] like you can, ride [horses] like you can, use [whips] or [lassos] like you, play a [guitar] or sing like you! I think you¡¯re very clever!¡±

    She gives a mirthful, assessing frown, narrowing the natural brown and magical green eyes, and says ¡°Those¡¯re skills, darlin¡¯¡­ they ain¡¯t intelligence.¡±

    I give a confused frown in return and respond ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t understand the difference?¡±

    She laughs and shakes her head.

    We sit in silence for a few moments.

    I finally break it with a question I¡¯ve been wondering about since I first met her.

    ¡°Jaylah? What¡¯s with the eye?¡±

    She turns to look at me, brow knit, and points to the magic, glowing green eye on the left side of the face.

    ¡°My cybernetic ya mean? Told ya! Lost the real one in the War!¡±

    I shake the head and explain ¡°No, I know that¡­ but why didn¡¯t you get it regrown? That¡¯s what Emiko did with her eyes.¡±

    Understanding breaks on the face as she answers ¡°Aaah!¡­ Well, lot o¡¯ folk lost eyes and other bodyparts durin¡¯ the War. ¡¯Cause I still had a workin¡¯ eye, I was low down the waitlist. Got my first prosthetic just ta tide me over till I could get the original regrown but, by the time that time came, I was kinda attached ta it!¡­ Havin¡¯ a visible battlescar don¡¯t hurt at all when I¡¯m sweettalking the kinda cuteys I¡¯d be interested in takin¡¯ ta bed either(!)¡­ Plus, it¡¯s kinda useful too¡­¡± she turns it on me and it changes colour as she says ¡°¡­How else am I gonna look through their clothes an¡¯ see ¡¯em naked ¡¯fore I decide ta bring ¡¯em home(?)¡±

    ¡°It can see through clothes?¡± I ask, curious and a little excited by the thought of her seeing me naked right now.

    She bursts into laughter and I do too ([alcohol] makes lots of laughter!)

    ¡°No, sweetheart! Least, not in any way a ya¡¯d want!¡­ It can do infrared¡­¡± the eye turns red ¡°¡­That let¡¯s me see in the dark and see the heat yer body¡¯s makin¡¯¡­ It can do X-rays which¡­¡± her eye turns bright purple ¡°¡­well, they don¡¯t really let me see anything right now but, if there were X-rays in hear, they¡¯d definitely let me see through yer clothes¡­ just they¡¯d also go through yer flesh too. Skeletons ain¡¯t exactly sexy, least fer me(!) The¡­ closest I can get ta seein¡¯ ya with yer clothes off is if I go inta the high microwave range¡­¡± her eye turns light blue as she looks me up and down with it ¡°¡­Let¡¯s me see anythin¡¯ solid ya might have under yer clothes, so it¡¯s good fer scannin¡¯ fer weapons, but I can¡¯t make out any intimate details¡­ Ya kinda just look like a blurry silhouette ta me right now¡­ Sorry ta disappoint, little lady, but don¡¯t go gougin¡¯ yer eyes out ¡¯cause ya think ya¡¯ll get no-clothes-vision outta it(!)¡­ No such thing exists, least far as I know!¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ You¡¯ll just have to ask to see me with no clothes on then, won¡¯t you.¡± I shrug, finishing the [tequila] and ¡®chasing¡¯ it with a mouthful of [sangrita].

    She turns to me and says ¡°My!¡­ Ain¡¯t you forward(!)¡±

    Unable to hold back my incredulity, I blurt out ¡°Spirits, Jaylah!¡­ I¡¯ve never been less ¡®forward¡¯ than I¡¯ve been with you! ¡®Forward¡¯ would be if I¡¯d climbed you and started licking your face in the sky ship house we met in! I¡¯ve been taking it slow because I know Terrans don¡¯t do things that way! Please don¡¯t tell me we need to go slower than this! I don¡¯t know if I can hold out much longer!¡±

    She sits in silence for a few moments, making me terrified that I¡¯ve ruined my shot and she¡¯s going to tell me to get out and not come back!

    Finally, she says ¡°So¡­ ya ain¡¯t foolin¡¯ then? Ya wanna knock boots with me?¡­ Tonight?¡±

    I hesitate but only for a moment before saying ¡°Yes¡­ I do.¡±

    The enormous woman grins down, bends to put the face the width of a hand from me, locks the mismatched eyes with the yellow ones and says ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m definitely game, darlin¡¯¡­ Just gonna need ya ta answer a few questions first¡­ That¡¯ll let me¡­ set the menu fer ya(!)¡±

    ---Jaylah¡¯s perspective---

    I step out of my room on the mezzanine floor of my apartment.

    Per request, the only things I¡¯m wearing are lingerie and my Stetson.

    My left hand holds a long coil of light, smooth rope¡­ the kind it¡¯d be nigh impossible to accidentally hurt anyone with.

    My right twirls the loop right and left in front of me in an idle butterfly.

    This is definitely not the one I once decapitated a Thlundthvugun War criminal with!

    Hygienewise, it¡¯d be fine but I wouldn¡¯t be able to get over the conceptual grossness of using a rope that¡¯s killed someone for kink play!

    I reach the top step and slowly start walking down, scanning my open plan bottom floor for any clues for where she might be.

    Course, if I just wanted to get on with things, I could cycle through every visual spectrum until I found one that gave her away but¡­ well, the seeking is an important part of hide and go seek!

    I reach the bottom of the stairs and head through the lounge, starting a lap of my home, just to check I can¡¯t see any tails, ears or feet sticking out anywhere.

    Completing the preliminary circle and having seen nothing obvious, I loudly ask ¡°Now where¡¯d that little varmint get ta?!¡±

    I start checking all the nooks and crannies about the place, most too small for a Human to fit in but not a little petite like her.

    I¡¯m on the far side of the couch from the window when I notice.

    The starglow of the Citadel night isn¡¯t coming through underneath it quite right¡­

    It¡¯s coming through normally on the right, normally on the left, but, in the middle, it¡¯s blocked by something.

    I briefly imagine steadily going back to the seat side and kicking it over but quickly think again.

    I have to remember that she¡¯s much smaller than a Human and, while she¡¯s stronger and hardier than us, that¡¯s only relative to her size!

    A sturdy couch being kicked over on me wouldn¡¯t be a problem¡­ for me¡­ If I get it a little wrong with her, I could break a limb or worse and that¡¯d be something to have to explain to Hoss, now wouldn¡¯t it!

    I go over to where the subtle shadow is.

    I¡¯m actually shocked she was able to fit into a gap so narrow! I¡¯d¡¯ve thought her head was too big to get down there!

    She must¡¯ve either really squeezed in or been strong enough to lift the couch just a smidge on her own!

    I bring down a heavy foot, right by where she¡¯s hiding, and drop the loop of my lasso to the floor by my feet.

    ¡°Now, where oh where could she be hidin¡¯?¡± I ask the air, hoping to hear a giggle.

    Silence answers.

    I breathe an overexaggerated sigh and bring in the loop to the rest of the coil in my hand.

    I round the couch, to the left, walking slowly.

    When I get to its side, I dive down and wrap my hands beneath it, heaving it from the floor in a single motion.

    I hear a yelp and something darts out from underneath, heading for the door.

    Certain she¡¯s not beneath it anymore, I let the couch drop and dart my hand for the rope.

    It streaks through the air and, the moment I¡¯m sure the loop¡¯s gone far enough down her that it¡¯s definitely not gonna choke her if I do, I yank it back.

    The rope closes around her midriff, pinning her arms to her sides just above the elbow.

    She falls on her ass but, by keeping tension in the spoke, I¡¯m able to keep her from going all the way over and smacking her head!

    She slides across the polished floor, struggling as I reel her in.

    Once she gets to near arm¡¯s reach away, I lift her off the ground.

    Just before I get her up to eye level with me, I twist the rope, causing her to spin round to face me.

    Her legs kick but aren¡¯t long enough to reach me.

    Her forearms flail and scratch but her upper arms are lassoed which makes her completely helpless.

    She gnashes her teeth and hisses at me.

    ¡°My, my, my! What an ornery little critter I done caught fer myself(!) I think ya¡¯ll do nicely¡­¡± I smirk.

    Without releasing the tension in the loop, I toss her over the back of the couch, right onto the spot she was when she propositioned me.

    I leap over after her, easily able to clear it from a standing start without putting my hand on the back to gain height.

    I come down on the back of the struggling girl and press her down into the couch cushions, tightening the spoke of the lasso around her diaphragm to squeeze the air out of her lungs.

    I keep squeezing until she stops thrashing.

    ¡°There now¡­ Ya¡¯ve quieted down and the fun can start!¡± I smirk down at the back of her head.

    My right hand goes to the hem of her pants and yanks them halfway down her buttocks.

    They¡¯re stopped there by the fact that she still has her tail through the tailhole.

    In a single motion, I unfasten the button above it, releasing her tail and allowing me to keep depantsing her.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ no panties¡­ Good ta know(!)¡± I comment, wryly, once her bottom half¡¯s nude.

    I loosen the loop and yank it down her body to just above the ankles of her cat feet before cinching it back up, freeing her arms but binding her legs and tail.

    I pick her up by the rope (slowly enough to give her time to use the safeword if it causes her more pain than I¡¯m thinking it will).

    I walk over to just below the edge of the balcony that looks over my lounge, holding my 20lb prize at an arm¡¯s length from myself in my right hand.

    With my left, I toss the spoke end of the rope up to the railing, just right so it passes over above me then falls back down the other side.

    I catch it and pull it taut.

    I release the girl who swings away from me, yellow eyes wide.

    I take the rope and go back to the couch, bending to fasten the end around one of its feet, just the right height to put her head a few feet off the ground.

    I stand up and turn back to face the petite little xeno with a cocky grin on my face.

    She¡¯s struggling again¡­ but a little halfheartedly.

    From what I know of her kind¡¯s athletic prowess, doing an inverted ab crunch to reach the loop and free her feet should be no problem for her but she¡¯s pretending it¡¯s beyond her ability.

    My hands reach under the hem of her skin tight top and rip it off her.

    My little catch buck ass nekkid now, I¡¯m able to enjoy the sight of her pretty little titties as well as her cute little cunt!

    ¡°What an adorable little varmint ya are! I just wanna take ya home and keep ya all ta myself¡­ Make ya my new favorite distraction!¡­ Though¡­¡± I gesture around my home ¡°¡­S¡¯pose, I already got the first part o¡¯ that covered, don¡¯t I(?)¡±

    I wrap my hand around her shin and lift her face up to the same level as mine.

    Her slit pupils dilate, becoming almost round as she meets my eyes.

    ¡°All that¡¯s left is fer me ta see how good a ¡®distraction¡¯ ya make, darlin¡¯(!)¡± I grin, evilly.

    With the hand not holding her up, I reach up to pull my hat off.

    I bring its crown to the back of her (way too small for it) head and push her cute little lips into a Spiderman kiss.

    Her hands press against my shoulders for a few moments, pretending to be trying to push me away¡­ then, she melts.

    Fuck! If there¡¯s any pleasure greater than the moment a short, petite firecracker crumbles into a kiss, I don¡¯t need to know(!)

    My nostrils fill with her sensual smell as my tongue slips between her lips and explores her little fangs.

    This kiss might just make me see god again for the first time in decades(!)

    ---Viig¡¯s perspective---

    The cool hat is removed from the back of the head and I swing away from the amazing upside down kiss with the giant woman.

    She puts it back on the head.

    She smirks at me with the one eyed face and she says ¡°Think it¡¯s time ta get this catch trussed up fer me¡­¡±

    She turns to walk away, letting me get a proper look at how fantastic she looks when she¡¯s only wearing this little!

    It¡¯s incredible that, on a Folk, I¡¯d think nothing of that amount of skin but, on her, she looks almost nude!

    I''d never even seen the legs bare on her until just after the song earlier and, now, seeing everything except boobs, arse and pussy, I think I get some idea of why Terrans always wear so many clothes; SO much more exciting when you finally get them out of them!

    She bends down where she tied the end of the rope, grabs it with the left hand and unfastens it with a single deft pull of the right.

    She lets out about a Folk length of slack between the hands, then turns to look at me with an evil smile.

    I suddenly drop as she releases the rope.

    I shriek as the floor rushes up to meet me!

    My hands fly out to break my fall and¡­ stop a finger width from the ground.

    I look back at her and see that, while she let go with the left hand, the other held on.

    She lets me down the last little bit gently but, before I even have the chance to think of running away, she¡¯s on top of me, holding me down.

    The Terrans tell me Folk are much stronger than them in proportion to the size we are¡­ It¡¯s just, when they¡¯re so much bigger than us, that feels like it doesn¡¯t really matter at all!

    She manhandles me like no other lover I¡¯ve ever had!

    Twisting the arms behind the back, she binds them there, before folding the legs back to include them in the tie. Then she brings the tip of the tail to lash between the fetlocks.

    She passes the ropes beneath me to secure them against the chest and belly in a cradle.

    Finally she grabs the hair on the scalp and pulls back the head, causing me to open the mouth.

    Rope is instantly passed over the lower face, between the fangs several times, gagging me.

    She really wasn¡¯t kidding about being amazing with ropes!

    I¡¯m lifted up from the ground by two hands and held the best part of two Folk heights up.

    The guts swoop in me as I realise, arms, legs and even tail bound, I¡¯d have absolutely no way of breaking the fall if she dropped me!

    She brings a gigantic hand to squeeze the bottom jaw, making me look at her, fingers resting over the ropegag.

    ¡°There now! Ain¡¯t you just the purdiest li¡¯l Port-a-Gob that ever there was(?)¡± she smirks, the scar over the left eye creasing.

    I growl through the ropes and wiggle against the bindings.

    Eyebrows fly up the face as she says ¡°Oh! Still a bitta fight in ya, is there? Well¡­ gonna need to break ya o¡¯ that(!)¡±

    With that, she lowers me down to the level of the knee, facing behind her and makes for the stairs.

    I hear how heavy she is with every footfall as she treads on each step with a resounding *boom* and I see the ground floor getting further away behind her.

    It almost feels greedy to have this much woman to myself!

    More than the weight of six Folk is surely too much not to share!

    I really don¡¯t want to share her though¡­ maybe that makes me a greedy, I don¡¯t really care¡­

    Oh¡­ shit! The star people are rubbing off on me!

    I¡¯ll be an irredeemable greedy by the time I get back to Graom(!)

    She turns right and I¡¯m looking at a wall for a moment before she turns left and I¡¯m looking at the big window through the balcony railing as they both get further and further away.

    Another left turn is followed by the sound of a door opening.

    The smell of the room she just brought me inside instantly lets me know this is where she sleeps, even if I¡¯m still only able to see the corridor behind her.

    Then, without warning, I feel myself being accelerated up and back, into the room.

    She¡¯s [fucking] thrown me!

    Landing¡¯s gonna really hurt!

    ---Jaylah¡¯s perspective---

    I enjoy the look of terror on the bound cutey¡¯s face as she flies through the air.

    She lands, softly, on the red, satin sheets of my circular bed.

    Her heartbreakingly adorable little tits rise and fall with pants of terror from the moments she thought she was going to have a hard landing.

    My, this girl¡¯s fun to bully!

    Gotta be careful though.

    Gotta remember that, deathworlder or not, she smaller relative to me than I was to Warking Vlixrothju!

    I might not need to treat her like spun glass but I do need to not break her!

    Still¡­ no sense in holding back too much!

    I¡¯ve got myself a nice little toy here and I intend to enjoy playing with her(!)

    I take a seat next to her on the bed and give her a little push to roll her onto her back, exposing my rodeo shibari work across her front.

    Her cute-ass pussy is visibly wet for me.

    Who could refuse an invitation like that?!

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind if I do(!)¡± I grin, pushing her little legs apart at the knees and bringing my face to the tiniest pussy I¡¯ve ever eaten.

    My dexterity is not just limited to my hands (though, my recruitment officer did tell me I was off the charts on all the tests he gave me for fine manual motor skills)!

    One of my favorite party tricks for impressing ladies is to play my bass or my banjo (not Luz¡¯s guitar though) with my tongue¡­ Never fails to bring out a bright red blush in gynophilic ladies(!)¡­ Pretty sure I¡¯ve even made a few straight girls start to question things(!)

    Boys are a lot easier to impress¡­ Just sucking on a popsicle¡¯ll usually do it for them(!)

    This to say, bringing my tongue to the little lady¡¯s nethers gets an instant and extremely positive reaction!

    I reach under the brim of my hat to tip it back, letting me see the closed eyes of my little plaything as she moans into her ropegag.

    My left hand slides down my toned stomach and under my panties¡­ No reason we can¡¯t both be enjoying ourselves(!)

    My right hand reaches to the back of my neck and then twists around the other way, to between my shoulder blades, releasing the knots in my halter bra.

    Bringing that hand to my front, I pull it away, releasing the breasts.

    She doesn¡¯t seem to have noticed, a little distracted by my tongue. It¡¯ll be a nice little surprise for her when I sit back up(!)

    Both of us benefiting from my surgeon¡¯s dexterity, it isn¡¯t long before we both cum.

    Mine is a silent tense of the diaphragm.

    Hers is a scream through her gag that would¡¯ve woken the entire floor if I didn¡¯t have the privacy field up!

    ---Viig¡¯s perspective---

    As I come down from the single most intense orgasm I¡¯ve ever had, I open the eyes.

    Looking down the front, I see a brown Terran eye and a green glowing one staring at me from between the pussy and the brim of that sexy hat.

    She sits back up and I doubletake in confusion.

    Somehow, she managed to get that small top off while eating pussy, exposing a pair of gorgeous light brown tits!

    She¡¯s not the chestiest Terran I¡¯ve met (that would have to be Thran) but, nonetheless, those are still definitely the largest and nicest tits I¡¯ve ever seen bare!

    They definitely make me want seconds!

    She leans over and puts the long, toned arms either side of the pointy ears, putting me in a cage of the body.

    Looking down at me, she asks ¡°Now¡­ I¡¯m guessin¡¯ this little critter wouldn¡¯t mind somethin¡¯ going a little deeper inside her, would she?¡± in a sensual whisper.

    I shake the head in a ¡°Nnn-nnh.¡± giving the hips as much of an inviting wiggle as I¡¯m able with the ropework she¡¯s done.

    ¡°Not so fast¡­¡± she grins, raising a finger to trace over the right side of the face below hers ¡°¡­where I¡¯m from, courteous thing ta do¡¯s return favors¡­ Think I can trust ya to be a good little pussylicker fer me if I take these ropes out yer mouth, darlin¡¯(?)¡±

    ¡°Nnn-HNN!¡± I nod, enthusiastically.

    ¡°Good¡­¡±

    Before I know what¡¯s happening, I¡¯m lying on my belly, between her legs, the ropes are coming out of the mouth and the small bottoms are coming down in front of me.

    I feel legs curling against the bottom of the bound knees and a hand at the back of the head, both forcing me forward.

    The mouth and nose are pressed between the lips of the largest pussy I¡¯ve ever eaten, making it a little hard to breathe.

    With much less skill than her, I do my best to use tongue and lips to give pleasure.

    It¡¯s a little difficult with her pushing the head forward and lightly crushing the face into the pussy but I do all I can to ¡®return the favor¡¯ to her.

    ¡°That¡¯s it¡­ good girl¡­ keep goin¡¯¡­¡± moans the woman now only wearing her [cowboy] hat.

    ---Jaylah¡¯s perspective---

    The second stomach tense of the evening hits me as I pull the tiny girls face out of my pussy, enjoying the way her long ears flap against my inner thighs as she gasps for air.

    I pull her onto my front and get her regagged before she has any chance to object.

    Cuddling her boobs into mine, I smile sweetly and whisper ¡°Well done, darlin¡¯¡­ and¡­ a promise¡¯s a promise! Ya just wait right here, if¡¯n ya don¡¯t mind, an¡¯ I¡¯ll be right back ta take ya fer a ride(!)¡±

    I roll her off me and get up to go to my dresser.

    I bend down to open the bottom draw.

    Inside is a whole mess of treasures!

    The one I¡¯m interested in, though, is the box on the right.

    I open it up, showing 5 different cybernetics in various sizes.

    I pick out the smallest one that I really only got for guys and gals doing their first time with anal (sterilized between uses, obviously) but which I think might still be a little big for my plaything.

    I bring the base to rest against my clit and jack it in.

    Shuddering a moment, I turn back to where my hogtied gal is waiting on the bed with the artistically tiny pecker jutting from the front of my pelvis.

    I lie myself down beside her, propped up at the headboard and pick her up.

    Orienting her vertically over my hips, I begin lowering her down.

    ¡°Oh!¡± I realize ¡°Almost forgot¡­ if yer gonna do cowgirl, ya¡¯ll need this(!)¡±

    I lift my Stetson from my head and place it onto hers.

    It¡¯s obviously way too big for her and is only kept from blinding her by getting caught on her long ears.

    The effect is just about the most adorable thing I¡¯ve ever seen!

    ¡°A very purdy cowgirl(!)¡± I say, before returning my left hand to the right side of her torso, lifting her up, lining up her hole with my dick¡­ and sliding her onto it.

    ---Viig¡¯s perspective---

    I lie with the back of my head between two large tits on a chest I feel rise and fall beneath me.

    Two heavy hands rest on top of my stomach.

    Pussy well and truly fucked, ropes strewn about the bed, the smell of alien sex on the air and a feeling of contented bliss inside, I lie here, enjoying the warmth and the contact.

    It¡¯s been far too long since I¡¯ve done it with anyone¡­ the longest I¡¯ve ever gone without since I became an adult, I think?

    I just haven¡¯t felt like it since¡­ since it happened.

    ¡°Just everythin¡¯ ya hoped, darlin¡¯?¡± asks the woman beneath me, the low voice vibrating through the back of the head.

    ¡°Mmmm!¡± I agree ¡°It was!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad, sweetheart!¡­ Hate ta give Terran lovers everywhere a bad name with a GU Representative(!)¡± she jokes.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­ I definitely want more¡­ if you do too?¡±

    I feel the weight shift as she turns the head to look down at me and asks ¡°Ya mean¡­ like, tonight or¡­ ya fixin¡¯ ta make this a reoccurrin¡¯ thing?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t take any more tonight¡­ I¡¯m worn out¡­ I wouldn¡¯t mind another time though?¡±

    She jiggles beneath me before chuckling ¡°No problem at all, darlin¡¯!¡±

    We lie in contented silence for a long time before finally a question occurs to me.

    ¡°Do you think she¡¯d mind this?¡±

    Confused, the woman asks ¡°Who¡¯d mind this?¡­ Ya mean Miyazaki?¡±

    I shake the head ¡°No¡­ Luz¡­ Do you think she¡¯d care if she knew?¡±

    I¡¯m jostled as she bursts into raucous laughter.

    Finally, she manages to get out ¡°*Hahahahahahahaha**inhale*¡­Just fer future reference, darlin¡¯¡­ that kinda question¡¯s generally bad pillow talk¡­ least fer Texans if it ain¡¯t fer all Terrans(!)¡­¡± making me feel a bit stupid ¡°¡­but, ta answer it, sweetheart, no, I don¡¯t think she would¡­ We talked, ya know? Before she died, we made it very clear ta eachother that, if only one of us made it through the War the other one needed ta move on¡­ I weren¡¯t able ta do that fer 7 years afterwards but ya ain¡¯t the first one I bedded since her¡­ ya ain¡¯t even my first xeno! If she ever did have a problem with me bein¡¯ with people after her, she¡¯s had 23 years to get over it¡­¡±

    Horrified, I ask ¡°[7 years]!? That¡¯s¡­ Spirits! I can¡¯t imagine¡­ That was my first in a [year] and I felt like I was dying without it!¡±

    She chuckles again and says ¡°Yup¡­ If she was watchin¡¯ me somehow, I¡¯m sure she was screamin¡¯ at me ta just go get laid already(!)¡± then she seems to realise something ¡°So, I was yer first? Since yer man?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ you were¡­¡±

    She thinks about that for a moment before asking ¡°Ya think he¡¯d mind?¡±

    I shake the head ¡°I¡¯m sure, if he was watching, he was wanking off furiously the whole time.¡±

    More laughter bounces me before ¡°Well, I hope he enjoyed the show(!)¡­ Say¡­ ya wanna go back to the Twigg room fer breakfast in the mornin¡¯? I could cook ya some extra of mine here if ya like?¡±

    ¡°What are you having?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Pancakes.¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XLIV: Pancakes and Robots

    ---Felix¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna use up all the air in here, sighing like that(!)¡± smirks Drago as he sits down at our table.

    ¡°Leave him be, dude! You know how hard I had to work to convince him to come out tonight!? You bully him and it¡¯s only gonna be harder to get this window sitter away from uni next time!¡± says Aiko, slapping her boyfriend¡¯s upper arm, lightly, as soon as he¡¯s released our drinks.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a baby deer, Aiko(!) You don¡¯t need to be careful about startling me away and I can handle a little teasing¡­¡± I chuckle.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on that¡¯s got you sighing like that, Flix?¡± asks Zhel, the only one of the group from the ODR and not the university, turning to me ¡°Just the other day, we found out there are other deathworld species! What do you have to be melancholy about?¡±

    Drago answers for me with a smirk ¡°Little Mr Nachtnebel here has just started to realise that doing his doctorate equivalent on Citadel limits him to only the AIs who work at the ODR! He¡¯s already interviewed all of them willing to be interviewed multiple times and he¡¯s starting to worry he might have to go back to Berlin(!)¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you just interview AIs via the Galnet? You¡¯d have access to every one of them in the UTC if you did that!¡± ?ba suggests, rejoining our table, a sheen of sweat on the dark skin of his forehead from dancing.

    Zhel¡¯s scarlet red eyes flick to make a brief moment of eyecontact with the man on whom she has such an obvious crush that, in spite of her being a Longi (the lineage most renowned for inscrutable stoicism, more than even Neanderthals), even I can tell!

    ?ba notices and the two of them look away from eachother, I think awkwardly.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the same.¡± I state ¡°There¡¯s something about an in person interview with an embodied AI that¡¯s just lost when it¡¯s done remotely.¡±

    Aiko frowns at me, I think curiously ¡°Really, Felix? You can tell the difference?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ sort of¡­ There¡¯s something about the formality of it that keeps it all business. To be honest, most of the ODR ones are so busy that it¡¯s been the same with them! I get an hour at most and the questions stay impersonal¡­ It¡¯s not like it was back on Earth.¡± I say, miserably.

    ¡°Damn¡­¡± says Drago ¡°¡­seems like we¡¯ll need to say goodbye to Flix here soon enough. He¡¯s gonna ruuuuun back to Earth with his tail between his legs(!)¡±

    Aiko shakes her head and says ¡°Honestly, GoGo! You¡¯re such an arsehole(!) Read the air!¡±

    Drago smirks and teases ¡°Yeah¡­ you love me for it though!¡± with the kind of confidence I wish I had!

    She rolls her eyes and says ¡°I suppose! I can¡¯t complain you¡¯ve not at least been consistent in your arseholery(!)¡­ You¡¯ve definitely been nothing but who you are since you¡¯ve been my boyfriend(!)¡±

    Drago narrows his eyes and asks ¡°You mean since we¡¯ve been dating or since¡­?¡±

    ¡°Since we¡¯ve been dating.¡± Aiko interrupts ¡°I¡¯m retroactively considering you my boyfriend for the time before you realised(!)¡±

    A chuckle goes around the table and I take the opportunity for a sip of my drink in the conversational lull.

    Just after my glass hits the table again, I become aware of the rhythmic clapping of the dancers behind me, in time with the music.

    I¡¯m just about to turn around when ?ba¡¯s eyes go wide and he points over my shoulder ¡°Flix! Look!¡±

    ---Twila¡¯s perspective---

    The rest of the dancefloor have all stopped to turn their attention to me as I Cossack dance along with the music, my bottom contacting my heels and only centimetres from the floor with each bounce.

    There are clearly enough people here familiar with Terran customs to lead the rest in what to do as hundreds of manipulators are clapped in time with the music and a chant of

    fff? Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!?fff

    Certain I have enough space around me, I lift my right leg from the ground and stand en pointe with my other, pirouetting around at exactly one full rotation each beat as the final chorus hits.

    Not having my near perfect 3D spatial awareness, the circle expands as the front row reflexively back up in alarm.

    fff? Ra-Ra-Rasputin

    Lover of the Russian queen

    They didn¡¯t quit, they wanted his head!

    Ra-Ra-Rasputin

    Russia¡¯s greatest love machine

    And so they shot him ¡¯til he was deaaaad!?fff

    I bring in my limbs and stop my spin, perfectly timed with the last note played and bow as the singer says

    mf? Oooh, those Russians!?mf

    A cheer comes up from the many species present.

    I stand back up and begin walking over to Mum and Samus, both standing by the bar, beaming at me.

    ¡°Lovely show, sweetie!¡± my mum says ¡°Wonderful coordination!¡±

    Samus turns her face down to ask ¡°That not you complimenting yourself there, Dormouse? She got her coordination from you, afterall!¡±

    Mum taps the back of her hand against her girlfriend¡¯s bare, washboard stomach and reproaches ¡°Shush! She¡¯s allowed to be proud of her attributes, even the ones she got from me!¡±

    ¡°Which is all of them!¡± I point out, twisting my elastomer lips into a wry smile.

    Samus laughs but Mum corrects ¡°No, no! Your mind is varieted from mine! It¡¯s not a perfect copy, otherwise you¡¯d just think you were me!¡±

    ¡°So the things she didn¡¯t get from you, she got from random chance(?)¡± asks Samus, wryly.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that basically how it works for all of us? Are any of us more than the sum total of the forces that have acted upon us? Can any of us take pride in any part of ourselves if all we are are bodies built from genomes handed down by our forebears and shuffled around by genetic algorithms?¡± asks my mum with a playful flutter of her eyelids.

    ¡°Aaaaand the conversation has turned philosophical!¡­ That¡¯s my queue to go and take the massive piss I¡¯ve been holding(!)¡± chuckles Samus.

    ¡°So uncouth(!)¡± teases my Mum (a strong contender for the least couth person alive(!)) ¡°Could you not say ¡®use the little girls¡¯ room¡¯ and leave a bit to the imagination(?)¡±

    Turning back while still walking away, Samus brings up her hand to lay it horizontally in front of her chest at the height of the top of Mum¡¯s head and smirks ¡°Some of us aren¡¯t ¡®little¡¯, Dormouse(!)¡±

    ¡°Heightist(!)¡± Mum calls after her as she walks off.

    Turning around to the bar to indicate to the barman that she¡¯s ready to order, she spends 1min 47.489secs acquiring drinks for her and Samus and an empty glass for me (just so I feel included, as I¡¯m quite capable of simulating the buzz of alcohol at will!)

    ¡°So, sweetie¡­ how are you liking your 18<sup>th</sup>?¡± she asks, turning to me and clinking her drink against my glass before taking a sip of it.

    I smile ¡°Definitely blows every other birthday I¡¯ve ever had out of the water!¡± without mentioning that 15 of those were before I woke up, the 16<sup>th</sup> was soon enough afterward that nobody had thought to ask about it yet and the most recent one was spent on Graom-Wakhkort where opportunities for excursion were severely limited(!)

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it!¡­ Honestly, if someone had put the idea of going clubbing with my parents to celebrate my 18<sup>th</sup> to me, I think I would¡¯ve died from embarrassment just at the thought(!) Hopefully, you¡¯re able to stay comfortable enough to be seen in public with me for a long time to come¡­ Oh! And if some pretty/handsome thing catches your eye, don¡¯t be afraid to let me and Hildy know we¡¯re cramping your style(!) Would be nice for you to finally get some use out of the equipm¡­¡±

    ¡°Excuse me¡­?¡± comes a man¡¯s voice from behind and, I would estimate, 25cm above us.

    I turn to see a slim, average height Terran boy.

    His eyes are a deep blue, his short blond hair is well combed and neatly styled, his skin is pale and he has facial features suggestive of a Central-North European origin, matching the very prim and proper Hochdeutsch German he addressed us in with only the faintest whisper of a Berliner accent.

    He wears a shirt, tie and a pair of trousers that, while they definitely suit him, are completely inappropriate for a club scene(!)

    Honestly, if I edited him into the place of Liselotte Schulz (Germany¡¯s ambassador to the UN in 2092) just as he is (with only perhaps the addition of a blazer to match the trousers) and then showed the resultant footage of Kwadwo Chowdhurry¡¯s address, most people wouldn¡¯t spot the man more than six centuries out of time(!)

    In the split second before he continues, I¡¯m able to identify him as having come from the table of Terrans I noticed when we came in.

    ¡°¡­my name is Felix. I don¡¯t know if we¡¯ve met but I¡¯m certain I¡¯ve not seen this body before. Do you know me?¡± he asks me, completely ignoring my mum and making me sure that he has some degree of ASC.

    Not quite as pronounced as Thran¡¯s, I¡¯d say, but on its way there!

    Sweetly, I smile ¡°I haven¡¯t had the pleasure, Felix¡­ My name¡¯s Twila and this is my mum, Jennie.¡±

    His attention turns to her, blue eyes widening as he asks ¡°You are her mother, Ma¡¯am?¡±

    Jennie¡¯s face twists as she answers ¡°Less of the ¡®Ma¡¯am¡¯, thank you! I¡¯m still in my twenties until next year, even if I am a mother to an adult daughter(!)¡± placing an arm around my shoulders.

    I see him recalibrate from the faux pas that he clearly thinks was a bigger deal than it actually was and correct ¡°My apologies, Miss. I¡­ uhm¡­ I¡¯m doing a doctorate at a university here on Citadel. My doctoral thesis is titled Personal and Subjective Experiences of Artificial Intelligence¡­ I¡¯d be delighted to talk to you and your daughter about the circumstances of her creation and life so far! Would either of you be willing to exchange holocoms with me?¡± coming on a little strong but seemingly through simple obliviousness rather than callousness or self absorption.

    Clearly also aware of the man¡¯s lack of social intelligence, my mum effortlessly redirects while minimising the snub ¡°How about, instead, we find a table and have a chat together right here in this bar?¡±

    In spite of my mum¡¯s charm, the boy¡¯s face falls as he advances on us, seeming completely unaware of just how much a 188cm man looms over a pair of 164cm girls!

    His voice slightly panicked, he starts ¡°No, please! I really need¡­!¡± but that¡¯s as far as he gets before a strong hand closes on his left shoulder and spins him around.

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    Can a girl not spent 3 fucking minutes in the bathroom without coming back to find her girlfriend and girlfriend¡¯s daughter being harassed by some fucking arsehole!

    I hear the smarmy, posh Earthborn speaking in rapid German as he pins the pair of them against the bar.

    I grab his shoulder and wheel him around to stare into my livid face.

    I get not a little satisfaction from the way the scrawny boy¡¯s deep blue eyes go wide, staring back at my icy blues as I seize him by the front of his ridiculously old fashioned shirt.

    Not so tough now your on the other side of the power imbalance, are you!?

    ¡°That¡¯s my girlfriend, you damned pigdog!¡± I snarl at him in Neu Rheinisch accented German.

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ it¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s¡­¡± he quails.

    ¡°How does it feel!? HOW does it FEEL when someone twice YOUR size is throwing their weight around and your on the receiving end, TRASH?!?!?!¡± I roar, drawing every eye in the bar and not caring at all.

    Then, I feel a light hand on my left forearm.

    I look down to see Dormouse looking up at me, her face calm and kind.

    ¡°Hildy¡­ Put him down¡­ he didn¡¯t mean any harm¡­ Did you, Felix?¡±

    ¡°No! No harm! I apologise if it looked otherwise! I was merely approaching these two with the hope of interviewing them for my doctoral thesis! That¡¯s all!¡± jabbers the terrified Earthboy.

    I hesitate a moment before deciding it can¡¯t hurt to put a little more of the fear of whatever deity or deities he may or may not worship in him!

    I pull his face a hairs breadth from mine and growl ¡°You promise that¡¯s all?!¡±

    ¡°YES! YES! I SWEAR!!!¡± he cowers, trying and failing to pull away.

    Sneering, I release the front of his shirt and he stumbles back, gasping.

    ¡°You alright, Flix?¡± comes a man¡¯s concerned, translated voice from behind me.

    I turn to see a well built, dark skinned guy in a form hugging onepiece made of shiny orange material.

    Behind him stands a punky Longi with a toned, wiry body, decked out in a miniskirt, croptop, makeup and tattoos that all match her red eyes and black hair.

    Behind her stand an East Asian girl in a blue, crushed velvet onepiece and a brown goateed boy who looks most of the way through transitioning.

    The large man stands in a posture of tension but doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s intending to fight.

    I match the pose.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, ?ba.¡± reassures the German ¡°We just had a little misunderstanding that I¡¯m sure must have been entirely my fault¡­ but it¡¯s over now¡­ You don¡¯t need to worry.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± says the one called ?ba, uncertainly ¡°¡­if you¡¯re sure, Flix.¡± before slowly turning around to make his way back the way he came, along with crushed velvet and goatee.

    The punky girl stands staring at me the longest, her face unreadable.

    I give her a slight eyebrow flash to indicate that I¡¯m happy to oblige her if she still wants to make something of this but, thankfully, she doesn¡¯t.

    She turns around to follow the rest of the blond¡¯s friends.

    ¡°So¡­ Felix¡­ We¡¯re sorry about that¡­ if you would like to join us at a table for a bit, we¡¯d be happy to chat with you?¡± suggests Dormouse behind me.

    I turn, fully expecting the boy to be so rattled by the experience he¡¯s just had that he turns tail and runs to follow his friends.

    ¡°Yes! Please! I would be grateful for the opportunity!¡± he answers, shocking me.

    Apparently, he¡¯s either braver or stupider than I thought he was!

    ---Felix¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°That¡¯s an interesting question.¡± smiles Twila, thoughtfully ¡°I think I have to say ¡®no¡¯. No one gets it quite right. On the one hand you have antiAI gardenworlders who are still quite suspicious of us. They treat me with fear and contempt and get angry when I demonstrate any kind of personhood¡­ On the other, you have people like my ship¡¯s CSS. He was raised by an AI and the result is that you will never meet a stronger advocate for AI rights than him¡­ but I think it¡¯s also left him a little blind to the fact that we are different to biologicals in some quite key ways! To him, having lived with it for as long as he can remember, it¡¯s very normal for some people to just have calculation abilities and knowledge bases hundreds of thousands of times as powerful as his but to also have other aspects of their psyche that don¡¯t compare. I would say that, while I don¡¯t wish to be treated any better or worse than anyone else, some recognition of the fact that I¡¯m not exactly like them would be appreciated and, though I definitely prefer it, that¡¯s what I¡¯d say was missing from the AI accepting individuals I¡¯ve met.¡±

    Transfixed by the captivating woman, I prompt ¡°And, in what ways would you say you ¡®don¡¯t compare¡¯ to biologicals?¡± not taking notes as I have my holo on the table, recording, and know that it will be much easier when I listen back and all the background noise has been filtered out.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d say that my counterfactual reasoning isn¡¯t as good as a biological¡¯s might be. I tend to see things in terms of ¡®is¡¯ and ¡®isn¡¯t¡¯ and, while I definitely have a sense of the subjunctive ¡®should¡¯ and ¡®shouldn¡¯t¡¯ I think my ability to imagine plans for how to achieve those possibilities myself, that I¡¯ve not borrowed from somewhere, is much lower than most Humans, for instance.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°And do you think that¡¯s a limitation of the current level of AI tech or is it something inherent to nonbiologicality?¡± I ask, enthralled.

    She smiles and shakes her head ¡°I can¡¯t know that of course, but, if you¡¯re only asking for my ¡®personal and subjective¡¯ take, I¡¯d go with a qualified ¡®yes¡¯. I think the ways in which my brain is different from yours, both better and worse, are inherent to your brain being squishy and mine being much more rigid(!)¡­ My mind is created from hers, afterall¡­¡± she places a hand on her mother¡¯s shoulder ¡°¡­and, while the hardware sustaining it should, in theory, be more than powerful enough to simulate all the interactions that occur in a Human brain, it just doesn¡¯t, the difference in subjective experience from her inherited memories to the ones I¡¯ve had as myself is obvious. Maybe, one day, there¡¯ll be a new generation of AI that are much better able to bridge the gap between AI power and biological flexibility but calling it an ¡®AI¡¯ might be a little limiting in our thinking about it, I¡¯d say.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± I start, thrilled by the quality of material she¡¯s giving me! I could probably do my whole doctoral thesis just on her!

    ¡°Sorry to interrupt¡­¡± smiles the freckled Gael who mothered the fascinating AI woman across the table from me, standing and continuing ¡°¡­but I think it¡¯s getting a little near me and Samus¡¯ bedtime, Twila¡­¡±

    I¡¯m dismayed. I¡¯ve got so many more questions!

    Then, she gives me hope by adding ¡°Shall we see you tomorrow?¡±

    As quickly as her girlfriend gave the hope, the scary blonde Starborn takes it away by saying ¡°We should definitely go back to the ship together, Dormouse! It doesn¡¯t make sense to-*oof*!¡± as the much shorter Gael very noticeably raises an arm to elbow her in the side.

    I¡¯m not sure exactly what that was about but the two of them look to the girl across from me.

    I follow their gaze.

    Twila looks from them to me and smiles ¡°Yes¡­ You¡¯ll see me tomorrow. I¡¯ll see you when you get back to the ship¡­ but I¡¯d like to spend more time with Felix here.¡±

    Joy and relief wash through my chest as I utter a breathless chuckle.

    ---Brunhilda¡¯s perspective---

    We step out of the club onto the twilit balcony of a 2km tall skypiercer and I turn to Dormouse.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± I ask ¡°Why the fuck are we leaving her alone with that creep?!¡±

    She smiles and sighs, shaking her head ¡°He wasn¡¯t a creep, Hildy¡­ He was a sweet (if very socially awkward) boy with a genuine interest in Twila! An interest, it seems to me, she reciprocated!¡±

    ¡°But what if¡­!¡± I start.

    ¡°If he tries to do anything to her that she doesn¡¯t want him to, she¡¯s more than capable of defending herself¡­ and, even if she weren¡¯t, she¡¯s more than capable of abandoning that body and then letting us and law enforcement know what happened!¡­ Relaaaaaax!¡±

    I scowl ¡°I don¡¯t like it!¡±

    ¡°Is there anything you do like, you curmudgeon(!?)¡±

    I narrow my eyes at her, planning my revenge for the insult.

    Without warning, I seize her from the back and lift her up in my arms, her feet more than 30cm off the ground, making her shriek.

    I bring my lips to her right ear and, in a low voice, answer ¡°Having a manhandleable girlfriend¡¯s something I like(!)¡±

    I feel her torso bounce with chuckles.

    ---Aiko¡¯s perspective---

    I walk over to the table where Flix sits with the girl he¡¯s been interviewing for hours now.

    I¡¯m a little disappointed he¡¯s basically spent all his club time talking to her and the two Terrans she was with but I¡¯m at least glad I was able to get him to come out with us at all!

    It seems like the AI girl¡¯s fairly smitten with him, just from the look on her face!

    Who would ever have guess that asking a girl about herself would be a viable seduction strategy(!)

    Not Flix, apparently¡­ His auty obliviousness seems like it¡¯s keeping him utterly in the dark about what an absolutely flawless game he¡¯s in the middle of, just by being his normal awkward self(!)

    I¡¯d really like to clue him in but, even if I could get the opportunity, I don¡¯t really know if it¡¯s my place.

    Same way I¡¯ve had to keep my mouth shut about what obvious feelings ?ba and Zhel have developed for eachother since she entered our social circle, earlier this year.

    ¡°Flix¡­¡± I say to catch his attention, as soon as there¡¯s a break in the girl¡¯s speaking ¡°¡­we¡¯re heading back to campus now¡­ Are you coming?¡±

    Easily readable emotions play across his face as he clearly wants to keep interviewing the girl but also doesn¡¯t want to have to come back alone, late at night.

    His comparative timidity and feebleness hasn¡¯t allowed him to emotionally come to terms with the fact that, being a Terran, any gang of ne¡¯er-do-wells he runs into on Citadel will (or should) be far more scared of him than he is of them(!)

    The girl, likewise, has a hesitating expression¡­ she obviously wants to keep spending time with him too.

    I decide to help them along.

    First, though, I have to introduce myself ¡°Aiko ¡®Patience¡¯ Ueda, it¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Twila. It¡¯s lovely to meet you too.¡± smiles the girl.

    ¡°Well, Twila¡­ If you¡¯d like to keep talking to Flix, he has a nice apartment in the campus residences¡­ I¡¯m sure he wouldn¡¯t mind inviting you over¡­¡±

    Looking mortified, Flix says ¡°Aiko!¡± then turns to the girl and starts ¡°Twila, you don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d love to¡­¡± she smiles, her glowing blue eyes meeting his nonglowing ones.

    He¡¯s dumbstruck a moment before turning to me.

    I give him a ¡®You¡¯re welcome¡¯ smirk that I¡¯m fairly sure he won¡¯t have understood the meaning of.

    Haltingly, he starts ¡°Al¡­ alright¡­ I would be delighted to continue talking with you at my place.¡±

    The others, having finished gathering their things, are approaching me from the right, now.

    I turn to them and introduce ¡°Everyone, this is Twila. Twila, this is Drago ¡®Crystal¡¯ ?imi?¡­¡± gesturing my Nova Dalmacijan boyfriend ¡°¡­this is ?ba ¡®Shiny¡¯ R¨®t¨¬m¨ª¡­¡± indicating the Earthborn Yoruba ¡°¡­and this is Zhel ¡®Vampire¡¯ Winter.¡± placing my hand on the muscular shoulder of the gothy, red eyed Longi ODR security guard.

    After a few moments of everyone greeting eachother, the girl turns to Flix and observes ¡°You never gave me your last name, Felix. What is it?¡±

    He blushes and, sensing his discomfort, Drago launches into action (though definitely not to help), coming to the back of Flix¡¯s seat, clapping his hands on his shoulders and smirking ¡°Flix here¡¯s got an illustrious lineage behind him¡­ Haven¡¯t you¡­ Mr Nachtnebel?¡±

    Clearly shocked, the girl looks at Flix and asks ¡°Nachtnebel¡­ Like¡­ Helmut Nachtnebel!?¡±

    ¡°Yup!¡± Drago answers, clearly very pleased with himself ¡°AI obsession must run in the family because Flix here is a direct, male-line descendant of the man who originally cracked it!¡±

    ---Twila¡¯s perspective---

    He¡¯s embarrassed.

    It was an awkward capsule ride here for him after his friend¡¯s tease.

    It¡¯s cute!

    I¡¯m guessing he¡¯s worried that knowledge of his last name makes his interest in AIs (and by extension, me) look less legitimate by making it seem like he¡¯s just gone into the family business(!)

    As his apartment door opens and we step through, he starts ¡°Listen¡­ Twila¡­ I¡­¡±

    ¡°You have a lovely place.¡± I cut him off, looking around the tidy home.

    Like Thran, his autism seems to have made him quite fastidious about his living space which, from what I understand, is certainly not a given.

    It¡¯s immaculately clean and well ordered, like a showhouse, but there are some signs that someone actually lives here.

    ¡°I like your posters!¡± I smile, raising an arm to indicate the hangings he has on the far wall of his apartment, across the lounge area from the door. They¡¯re reproductions of the old movie posters for Big Hero 6, Wall-E and The Iron Giant ¡°I¡¯m sensing a little bit of a theme to them. You¡¯re a fan of turn of the millennium films about robots, I gather?¡±

    ¡°Uhm¡­ Yes¡­ I am¡­ I think it was a really fascinating time in our history¡­ True AI was still a little way off but people were starting to form ideas about what it would be like when it finally arrived¡­ Those ones were my 4<sup>th</sup>, 3<sup>rd</sup> and 2<sup>nd</sup> favourites growing up¡­ I rewatch them periodically and I still enjoy them.¡± he says, walking past the kitchen to take a seat on the sofa.

    ¡°And what was your favourite?¡± I ask, sweetly, taking the seat beside him.

    He points behind me to what I infer to be his bedroom door where I infer him to have another poster hanging ¡°The Wild Robot series! Absolutely!¡±

    ¡°Oh, I love them! Definitely some of my favourites too!¡±

    ¡°Really?!¡± he asks, excitedly ¡°Have you ever read the books?¡±

    I change my eye colour from azure to pink for a quarter of a second, just to indicate to him that I¡¯m doing something, then answer ¡°I have now!¡±

    He bears his teeth in an adorable chuckle at the (from his perspective) absurdity of reading an entire book series in such a short time before asking ¡°What did you think?¡±

    ¡°Honestly¡­ I think I prefer the films for the most part but there are definitely a few things I think the books did better. I was never really a fan of the liar-revealed moment, in the first film, where Brightbill finds out Roz isn¡¯t his mother. It always felt a little contrived to me. It¡¯s also a little ironic since book Roz is arguably more responsible for what happened than film Roz! Book Roz lost her footing herself, where film Roz was actively chased and thrown down the mountain! The differences in pacing were interesting. Also interesting were the characters they cut from the film, like Chitchat and Loudwing and the way they promoted Fink from a bit character to Roz¡¯s main companion.¡± I analyse.

    He chuckles, having been successfully distracted from his unease over my learning his last name, and says ¡°That¡¯s¡­ incredible¡­ almost exactly my thoughts!¡±

    ¡°Two fools, one thought(!)¡± I tease us both with the German idiom.

    He smiles, uncertainly.

    I lean back in a relaxed looking posture and observe ¡°You know Felix, I think I¡¯d like to learn more about you if that¡¯s alright?¡±

    I see him frown from the corner of my eye (which has exactly the image quality of every other part of my vision) and ask ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ve been asking me about myself all night long and it¡¯s just occurred to me I don¡¯t really know anything about you other than what you¡¯re studying and, now, what your favourite films are.¡±

    ¡°Alright, go ahead?¡± he says, nervously.

    ¡°How old are you, Felix?¡± I ask the cute boy, warmly.

    ¡°24¡­ What about you?¡± he answers.

    ¡°That depends¡­ how long I¡¯ve existed? How long I¡¯ve been sentient? How much of my mum¡¯s life I remember? How long I¡¯ve subjectively lived in dataspace terms?¡±

    ¡°The first two¡­ I¡¯m sure the latter are quite complicated to relate.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been sentient for a little more than 2 years. I¡¯ve existed for exactly 18.¡±

    ¡°Exactly?¡± he frowns.

    ¡°Today was my 18<sup>th</sup>. My mum and her girlfriend took me out to celebrate.¡±

    His face falling in horror, he starts ¡°Oh! I¡¯m so sor-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t apologise¡­¡± I interrupt, raising my palm ¡°¡­I¡¯ve really enjoyed spending it with you, Felix.¡±

    He hesitates before nodding.

    ¡°Any siblings?¡± I ask, scooching closer to him on the couch.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I have an older and a younger sister.¡±

    ¡°And what are they like?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re kind¡­ and clever¡­ both much more clever than me! Lisa is in the Navy. Johanna is a painter.¡±

    ¡°They sound lovely¡­ Can I call you ¡®Flix¡¯ or would you prefer I stick with ¡®Felix¡¯? Is ¡®Flix¡¯ just for your friends?¡±

    ¡°You¡­ You can call me ¡®Flix¡¯¡­ if you want.¡± he answers.

    ¡°Alright, ¡®Flix¡¯ then¡­ Do you have a girlfriend, Flix? A boyfriend?¡±

    The briefest pained expression flashes over his face before he answers ¡°No¡­ single¡­¡±

    I keep my expression neutral but dance a happy little jig inside my mind before moving on to ask ¡°You¡¯re from Berlin?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°And is that where you did your undergrad?¡± I probe.

    ¡°Yes¡­ at the Technische Universit?t.¡± he confirms my suspicion.

    ¡°Wow! That¡¯s quite the Mecca of AI studies!¡± I observe, not pointing out that it¡¯s also where his ancestor succeeded in creating the first of my kind ever known to not go immediately insane ¡°What made you decide to do your doctorate here?¡± I gesture around to indicate all of Citadel.

    ¡°I¡­ I¡­ uhm¡­ I suppose I thought that advanced GU computing would make for interesting new avenues in AI studies¡­ I didn¡¯t really consider the lack of AIs there would actually be here¡­¡± he points a hand at me ¡°¡­you¡¯re the first one I¡¯ve had a real conversation with like this since I got here!¡±

    ¡°You used to talk like this with AIs on Earth?¡± I smile.

    ¡°Yes¡­ many times!¡± he answers, completely oblivious to my flirtation.

    I decide to make it more obvious ¡°And¡­ did you ever do¡­ more than talk?¡±

    His back straightens as he frowns, not meeting my eyes, and says ¡°I¡­ err¡­ I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not sure what you mean?¡±

    ¡°Did you ever do anything more¡­ intimate with any of those that you talked to?¡± I ask, pressing myself into his side.

    ¡°No¡­ never¡­¡± he says, paralysed.

    I reach my hand up to the left side of his jaw and turn his cute face towards mine ¡°Would you like to change that, Flix?¡±

    The numerous miniscule movements of his irides give away that he¡¯s thinking at 1000ly a second about how to answer.

    Then, he simply says ¡°Yes.¡±

    ---Felix¡¯s perspective---

    The solid hand is transferred to the back of my neck and my face is pulled down.

    Hers flies upward and our lips meet.

    The supple give of her cool elastomer beneath my lips is absolutely sublime!

    She closes her eyes, cutting off their glow.

    I follow her lead and close mine, just experiencing the feeling of the kiss.

    She slides her left arm between my right and the couch and wraps it around my back.

    I respond by wrapping both of my arms around her shoulders and squeezing her sturdy body against mine.

    I feel it as she lifts her right leg and brings it across my lap to straddle me, pinning me to my seat.

    From the portion of her weight she allows to rest on me, I can tell she is far too heavy for me to try lifting up.

    Her nimble fingers come to my neck and start to loosen my tie before pulling it off me to cast aside onto the place she was just sitting.

    She stops and pulls her lips from mine.

    I have a moment of panic and my eyes shoot open as I think I must have been doing everything wrong! I was kissing her wrong, putting my hands on her wrong, getting an erection wrong and now she¡¯s either going to tell me to do things right or simply leave because I didn¡¯t immediately know how to do things right already!

    Instead, she says ¡°I¡¯m going to take off your shirt, now¡­ if that¡¯s alright, Flix?¡± smiling, her eyes still closed.

    I hesitate about how to answer that question sexily before giving up and just saying ¡°Please.¡±

    Her smile broadens and she opens her eyes.

    Her nimble, mechanical fingers work their way down my front at a speed I could never match, perfectly taking exactly enough time to undo each button before moving on. No more, no less.

    After she¡¯s undone the last, her hands reach to between the shirt¡¯s shoulders and mine, pushing them off and sliding them down my arms.

    Her eyes stare down at my skinny torso and I¡¯m mildly terrified she might appraise me unfavourably but then I feel relief as she brings a cool elastomer palm to press into my chest with what seems like pleasure.

    She leans in to resume kissing me and running her hands over my, now bare, upper half.

    I reciprocate, feeling her elastomer skin squash beneath my fingers as I run them down her back to squeeze her buttocks.

    Then, her fingers slide under my boxers.

    ---Twila¡¯s perspective---

    I feel his body tense up beneath me and immediately pull my hand from his underwear and lips from his to ascertain the problem.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    His gorgeous slim chest heaving in adorable pants, he says ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong¡­ I was just wondering if you wouldn¡¯t mind moving things to the bedroom before we proceed?¡±

    I giggle and answer ¡°Sure, Flix¡­ No problem!¡± before getting off his lap and standing up.

    I don¡¯t point out that, in a single occupant apartment with a locked door and one way windows, we have just as much privacy in the lounge as the bedroom.

    If the bedroom makes him more comfortable, there¡¯s absolutely no reason not to agree to the change!

    He gets up and leads the way, treating me to a view of his surprisingly well defined back muscles as he walks.

    I hold down my excitement at being finally about to get my V-card punched¡­ at least not counting the stuff I did in dataspace with Atlantiades¡­ not sure if I¡¯d quite say what I did with them was ¡®sex¡¯ but it was certainly not family friendly(!)

    His door opens and, after he¡¯s cleared the way, I see a poster of a round, friendshaped robot, without a mouth or nose and with her body lit by strips of pink LED, holding a fluffy little gosling centimetres from her face, hanging above his bed.

    At the back of his desk are posed three figurines of the Laputan robot troopers whose design very clearly inspired that of Roz in the film released 38 years and 54 days later in history.

    I¡¯m half expecting his bedsheets to be robot themed as well but, once I get a good view of them, I see they¡¯re just a neutral blue colour and immaculately made.

    I close the door and activate the privacy before smirking as I advance on him.

    The adorable boy is obviously nervous as I draw near and reach to his belt.

    Able to undo it by tactile feedback alone, I look up into his eyes as I undo it and pull it out of the loops on his old fashioned trousers.

    He chokes on his own breath as I push them down over his slim hips.

    Now clad only in his boxers, I push him into a seated position on the bed.

    He stares up at me with his adorably nervous face.

    It¡¯s funny, this meek and mild doctoral student really, strongly reminds me of my mum¡¯s memory of the accountant boy that her parents tried to set her up with, back on her home planet!

    While I totally get the offputting nature of her parents trying to arrange a match for her, I personally wouldn¡¯t have shared her revulsion for the boy they picked.

    Flix is also the perfect opposite of his, outwardly stern and stoic, ancestor!

    By all accounts historical, Helmut Nachtnebel was a deeply compassionate man (he is the one that worked out that designing and treating sentient AIs as people instead of slaves was the way to keep them from going insane, afterall!)¡­ he just wasn¡¯t a particularly friendly or warm one, at least in his public persona, which is most of what¡¯s available to judge him by!

    He certainly wouldn¡¯t have been my type in the way that this descendant of his is!

    I lean down, taking his pretty face in my hands and whispering ¡°Relax, Flix¡­ Sex is meant to be fun, right? You look like you¡¯re about to be executed(!)¡±

    He chuckles before answering ¡°I think I would be less nervous in that case(!)¡± at full speaking volume.

    I giggle before going in for another kiss.

    As our lips wrestle with eachother, I raise my left leg onto the bed and bring it between his.

    Extending my  knee to his boxers, I press it into him.

    I feel his whole body shudder as I massage his groin, feeling the already hard appendage beneath the cloth growing harder with each passing second.

    Using my superior density, I move forward and knock him over onto his back.

    My hands come back to his hips and, this time, pull away his underwear.

    Freed from his confinement, I can see he¡¯s a slightly surprising size.

    I part my lips and grin, reaching out the tips of my fingers for the lightest caress.

    He positively melts at the contact.

    I point behind him and suggest ¡°How about you pull yourself up to the pillows, Flix?¡±

    ---Felix¡¯s perspective---

    My feet leave the floor as I pull myself all the way onto my bed and the back of my head meets my pillows.

    ¡°Do you mind if I turn the lights down?¡± she asks.

    ¡°Please do.¡± I invite, expecting her to turn around to go to the room panel.

    Instead, her eyes momentarily change colour while the rooms lighting dims.

    She mounts the bed and crawls up my front.

    Everything about this woman¡­ is absolutely perfect!

    The ethereal beauty of her mechanical body¡­

    The cool, smooth feeling of her elastomer against my skin¡­

    The graceful precision of her every movement¡­

    Her playful, confident personality¡­

    The kind reassurance¡­

    She seems like everything I love all rolled into one!

    She is transcendent perfection and she knows it¡­ and, it stands to reason, she knows I am not!

    She can see my every frailty, can¡¯t she¡­ My every failing of body and mind is visible before her¡­ and she doesn¡¯t seem to care at all!

    She plants one hand below my right armpit and one into the pillows beside my left ear.

    She draws in for another kiss, her elastomer breasts squashing against my chest as she rests more and more of her (not inconsiderable) weight on my front.

    I can feel the power contained in her little body as I wrap my arms around her and press her deeper into me.

    The only way I¡¯d be able to get up right now is if she lets me up!

    I feel as the panel between her legs opens up.

    She breaks from the kiss and pushes her head to around a 30cm above mine, her rose gold wire hair hanging down to create a privacy curtain around our faces as her glowing eyes meet my organic ones.

    ¡°Ready, Flix?¡± she whispers.

    ¡°Mmm-hmm!¡± I confirm, fully expecting to wake up from this dream some time in the next few seconds.

    Her hands unmoving, something apprehends me and pulls my length upwards.

    ---Twila¡¯s perspective---

    The cute boy closes his eyes and moans as I pull him into the soft pelvic port that I¡¯ve warmed, lubricated and sized specifically to his dimensions.

    I¡¯m suddenly quite grateful to my mum for the time she spent¡­ ¡®equipping¡¯ me(!)

    I would have been quite happy to do without until I found someone I wanted to do this with but she (rightly) pointed out that, if exactly this situation ever arose, I¡¯d be caught short and would have to settle for manual and oral!

    I have to say¡­ meatspace sex really blows meatspace and dataspace masturbation out of the water so far!

    Even the stuff I did with Atlantiades (though hot) doesn¡¯t quite compare to this!

    As my insides vibrate, undulate and oscillate in order to stimulate and I see his every vital sign rise in line with a building orgasm, I ease off.

    I want to edge him for as long as possible while I enjoy the sensation of him being inside me and the sight of him being tortured by the pleasure and tantalised by the thought of release!

    It¡¯s quite funny¡­ I can simulate an orgasm any time I want to but¡­ the unsimulated pleasure I feel from being filled by this adorable cutey feels¡­ different somehow!

    The fact that I¡¯m feeling pleasure without being the one to directly trigger that pleasure, instead having it triggered autonomically from something happening to my body, is a novel experience for me!

    I decide I want more!

    I straighten up and grab his wrists.

    I bring his hands to my chest to indicate that I want him to rub my elastomer tits.

    He complies with the implied instruction and new waves of pleasure erupt from the new contact.

    Of course, my mum built them to be erogenous and didn¡¯t tell me(!)

    I wanted to make Flix beg to cum before I let him but¡­ I¡¯m not sure I can hold out much longer!

    As the fifth wave of pleasure swells beneath us, I¡¯m torn between whether to let it ebb again or to finally let it break!

    The point of no return looms and I have to make a decision.

    Impulsively, I decide to redouble the stimulation this time.

    His eyes shoot open and he gasps for breath, his whole body shuddering as a feeling like a pleasure supernova exploding wracks my entire being!

    My eyes involuntarily flash through the entire visible spectrum as I seize his upper arms and squeeze them.

    The pleasure finally subsides and I collapse sideways, onto his bed.

    ---Felix¡¯s perspective---

    Bruised and exhausted after several rounds over the last few hours, I lie next to the beautiful woman, staring into her stunningly luminous eyes.

    ¡°How was it for you?¡± she asks.

    ¡°The best I¡¯ve ever had.¡± I answer without hesitation.

    ¡°Same.¡± she smiles back, seemingly content.

    There is a moment of quiet between us¡­ not the awkward kind¡­ A peaceful quiet.

    Then a thought occurs to me.

    ¡°I¡­ err¡­ I guess I really should have asked this before but¡­ what exactly are you, looking for?¡­ I know you said you were the manager of a ship, so I¡¯m assuming anything long term is off the table but¡­ is there time for me to see you again before you leave¡­¡± I ask, nervously.

    Her elastomer lips part in a broad grin and she answers ¡°Definitely, Flix!¡­ My ships here for the next few weeks at least, possibly longer¡­ and¡­*kiss*¡­ I¡¯d absolutely love to see you again before I go!¡±

    Relief washes over me as I say ¡°Good¡­ I¡¯m very glad!¡±

    I resolve not to suggest any continuation of our relationship after she leaves this planet¡­ I¡¯m not quite that socially unaware!

    ¡°Do you mind if I stay here tonight, Flix? I can¡¯t sleep or eat but I¡¯d quite like to share breakfast with you, even if I¡¯m only simulating the taste of pancakes(!)¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.196

    ---Council---

    ---Ltah¡¯tvek¡¯s perspective---

    My claws click against the floor of the upper concourse as I walk along beside the Battan princess.

    I¡¯m nervously trying to keep my neck frills pressed flat to the sides of my head.

    ¡°They saw through it then, Representative?¡± I ask.

    ¡°They did!¡± she snaps back, irritably.

    ¡°So¡­ we can¡¯t rely on them sabotaging eachother?¡±

    ¡°I think we can rely on them not doing so!¡± she seethes.

    ¡°How did they detect the deception?¡± I ask as we draw up to our destination.

    ¡°Gods know!¡­ Probably, hailing from a world of not only barbarous violence but also perfidious treachery has equipped those beasts with a sixth sense for deception! It¡¯s baked into the very nature of those cursed places! Predators deceive their prey to eat them, prey deceive their predators not to be eaten¡­ Even the plants¡­!¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, Representative¡­¡± interrupts a deep, calm voice from well above us on our right, just as we pass the blind corner of the vestibule where the rest of the special council members are mostly lounging on Terran [beanbags] while they wait.

    Both of us freeze and turn to look at the one who just spoke.

    My frills flare out and my mouth opens in a, completely involuntary, quiet hiss.

    A tall, slim, long legged primate stands leaning against the wall, facing the Lanatkser Representative and with his back to us.

    A headdress of sleek, curly black fur adorns a head above a brown skinned nape.

    I just about manage to flatten my display and close my mouth before he turns around to smile down at us, saying ¡°¡­it¡¯s simply that nature teaches us ¡®beasts¡¯ to know our friends(!)¡± coolly.

    ¡°Darling!¡± chides the much smaller deathworld woman I just now notice, laughing ¡°Don¡¯t say things like that! We don¡¯t need to scare them!¡±

    My ally (not even slightly fazed by the sudden ambush) turns her snout to the woman and spits ¡°What are you doing here? This is a Parliamentary special council and you are not a Representative, unless your people have performed a light coup in the last few days(!)¡±

    With unflappable courtesy, the monstrous woman answers ¡°Can a girl not simply accompany her husband to wish him good luck, Representative?¡±

    ¡°Not when it involves accompanying him to the top floor of the Parliament of the Galactic Union where a special council is taking place! Is it that you think your mate¡¯s office is also yours or is authorised access simply not a rule you Terrans care to respect?!¡± retorts Brathala.

    ¡°I assure you, Representative, as a diplomatic administrator at the Office of Deathworlder Relations, I have clearance to enter Parliament independently of who my husband is. No disrespect is intended¡­ even though I know it will be taken regardless.¡± answers the deathworlder, flippantly, taking a single step forward in defiance.

    ¡°You-!¡±

    ¡°Brathy¡­ Please stop.¡± says the Lanatkser, her voice translated to sound pained.

    Bristling, Brathala sneers ¡°You will address me as ¡®Representative¡¯ in this place, Representative!¡±

    Kaksat reacts as if she had been struck.

    ¡°If our history means so little to you¡­ Representative¡­ then I will remind you to comport yourself with the dignity due to the seat of the Galactic Union and not to flagrantly incite hostility in this place.¡± she answers, sombrely.

    Rage flashes over the woman¡¯s face as she opens her mouth, only to be interrupted by the chamber doors opening.

    ---Krim¡¯s perspective---

    Any joy I might have felt at being the first Wiwosk ever to serve as the Galactic Union¡¯s Speaker has been entirely quashed by the fraught political climate in which I was elected.

    What should, in my personal opinion, be an entirely uncontroversial decision as to whether or not to allow the accession of two willing sapient species is mired in the same tired controversy that Parliament has been drowning in since my predecessor (along with every other voice of moderation) was shouted down by the tide of those calling for War, [37 years] ago.

    Honestly, with 33,749 species represented, whether deathworlders have one Representative or three should not matter!

    I suppose, the accession of these two does set the precedent that deathworlders who have not resoundingly defeated the entire galaxy in War are eligible for membership(!)

    A fact that was already fairly explicitly established in the UTC-GU Peace Treaty. This is merely the first time in which that has been put to the test.

    If these new deathworlders are snubbed, political analysis mercifully does not predict a declaration of a new War coming from the Terrans in answer. Rather, the prediction is that the Terrans will simply unilaterally uplift them.

    I look over to where the antiTerrans present have been seated, outwardly placid, inwardly weary.

    Their every action is so carefully crafted to spite Terran interests, regardless of whether those interests actually conflict with their own or not, that it¡¯s truly as if they wish to provoke a resumption of the War!

    Shortsighted fools!

    Of course, that opinion is neither the position of the Wiwoskan Republic nor that of the Galactic Union!

    My own people¡¯s official policy is that of strict neutrality.

    As a result, I needed to vote against my conscience a few times on less important motions, in order to build up enough ¡®credit¡¯ to use my vote the way I wished for more important issues, before I took the speakership.

    I take my seat at the head of the small chamber, a panoramic window to my left, right and behind me.

    Two hundred of the Representatives present were chosen by lot. Fifty, including myself, the Terran and the Battan, were exempt from the lot as Standing Representatives.

    I take a deep breath and, with all the dignified authority I can muster, project ¡°I hereby call to order this meeting of the Special Council to Determine the Suitability of the Vrakhand and Twigg for Membership to the Galactic Union. This day will commence with a broad overview of both species.

    ---the Hive of Ziwalit¡¯s perspective---

    We watch the i¡¯inziloid droids buzz and dance out the meaning of the words being spoken for us in perfect lockstep.

    We have long since grown used to the fact that so many of the beings of the galaxy are [hives of one] but it¡¯s still always a little uncanny for us to see a dance so flawlessly choreographed. Not a foot out of place, not the slightest misalignment, not the faintest whisper of disagreement.

    When a [hive of one] speaks, it is with one voice and, even when it doubts itself, the doubt is still danced perfectly along with the assertion!This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    This is strange to us.

    ¡°War, both intraspecies and interspecies, is of course a part of both of their history¡­¡± are danced the words of the large Terran [hive of one] with the brown fur and the long snout, as they stand tall beside the Hulix and Human, collectively (as much as [hives of one] can do anything ¡®collectively¡¯) giving their account of these new species¡¯ past ¡°¡­but [I] would say it¡¯s somewhat reductive to focus only on a species¡¯ history of violence to the exclusion of their other achievements or even their more domestic lives¡­ It¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°But it isn¡¯t a ¡®history¡¯, IS it?!¡± the dance splits itself in two to represent the Battan who have just challenged the Terran uplift ¡°They were at war with eachother when they were discovered, weren¡¯t they!?¡±

    ¡°A war they quickly resolved once they were provided with a means of communicating with one another.¡± answer the Terran.

    ¡°You mean once they were told that their access to the galaxy was contingent on being at peace!? How can we trust this peace of theirs when they¡¯ve been given such an incentive?! They¡¯ve had [thousands of years] to learn to communicate and make peace that way if they had so wished!¡± accuse the Battan.

    ¡°[I¡¯m] afraid [my] field is historiography and the explanation for their incommunicate relationship at time of discovery falls outside [my] purview of expertise. [I] would refer you to Dr Lamark for clarification on the evolutionary barriers to the Vrakhand or Twigg learning eachother¡¯s languages.¡±

    ¡°[I¡¯m] asking you!¡± push the Battan.

    ¡°All [I] can say is that there has thus far been presented no credible evidence of it having happened. [I] can¡¯t say that it never did, nor can [I] say the reason it did not. [I] will not opine on matters outside [my] ability to opine on, in case [I] should speak in error.¡± say the giant, snouted Terran [hive of one].

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that convenient for you!¡± sneer the Battan ¡°Pass the buck to the geneticist who¡¯ll pass it to the linguist who¡¯ll pass it on to gods know who else! Will we ever get a straight answer about anything?¡±

    ¡°[I¡¯m] sure [he¡¯d] much rather be qualified to shut you up [himself]! [I] know [I] would!¡± answer the Terran [hive of one] with the broken black horn.

    Immediately, the slim Wiwosk chairing the council activate a loud noisemaker and say ¡°[Dr] Morningstar, [I] find you in breach of this council¡¯s decorum and ask that you escort yourself out!¡± with cold fury in the steps of their translated dance as they stare down at the much smaller (but, we know, inordinately more powerful) Terran.

    ¡°Gladly!¡± they answer, their dance having a blatant wiggle of defiance.

    The pale skinned [hive of one] wheel in place and march away.

    The chamber guard reach for the handles but¡­

    ¡°[I] know how doors work!¡± shout the Terran, so forcefully that their droids actually jump in the translation.

    The Threndian and Thlundthvugun cringe away and the tiny [hive of one] lean against the enormous, hinged doors, heaving them open in a way that does not look possible for one that size!

    The doors slam behind them.

    ¡°How easily the Terran¡¯s act of civility slips(!)¡± are danced the words of the Battan, wryly.

    Those translating the Speaker round on those of the Battan.

    ¡°Representative Brathala¡­ do you wish [me] to also hold you in breach of decorum and order you removed?!¡±

    Angrily, the Battan replies ¡°No¡­ Speaker Krim¡­ that won¡¯t be necessary.¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ Please control yourself as befits a Representative of a founding species!¡­ I ask [Dr] T¨²puson and Strik to retake their seats. [4 minutes] of quorum contemplation shall now occur for each of us to consider the historical, archaeological and folkloric information that has been presented, this shall be a stationary recess.¡±

    All of the [hives of one] lean over to discuss with their neighbours.

    None have such a need of this time as we do, though.

    We turn from the translation droids and erupt into our own dances.

    Most of us are erring on the side of these new species¡­ there is, however, a minority faction among us who dance caution.

    That dance is minority¡­ but well coordinated. All are forced to consider it.

    These beings are powerful and fierce, that dance dances, who knows what they might do once they don¡¯t have small numbers and primitive technology anymore! It will be too late to stop them then.

    A swell of us answer, calling this paranoia¡­ All species war! These are no different!

    ¡®The War of the Billion Hives!¡¯ we remind ourselves, not that any of our parts were born so long ago but the memory is passed down to us from generation to generation.

    Ziwalit was there. We fought our own kind! Can we judge these two for fighting eachother?

    ¡®The Terran War¡­¡¯ our caution urges, causing all dances to cease.

    Two hundred thousand eyes turn to the new deathworlders in this lull.

    ¡®Do we want to see the galaxy burn¡­ again?¡¯

    ---Hriko¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m bored¡­ and uncomfortable¡­

    I press the scales on the underside of my tail into the hard bench to relieve some of the weight from my backside.

    I don¡¯t know how all these bony arsed species manage it! All this sitting still is giving me a dead butt and Gothor have the (dubious) distinction of ¡®most ample backside of any sapient species relative to bodymass¡¯(!)

    I watch the M¡¯garl Representative, Ltah¡¯tvek, nervously try to keep his head frills from fanning out (but only really succeeding in looking like he¡¯s trying to fan himself with them) as he questions the formidable dodecapod woman, her feet buried in squashy green jelly shoes to protect the floor.

    Wonder what that stuff feels like¡­ Bet it feels amazing!

    Maybe I could ask the ODR if they could get me some¡­ or send me the instructions for its composition for a forge maybe?

    Maybe I could make a mould of my backside out of it and sit on it to make times like these (when my name gets drawn to participate in these desperately dull council meetings) a little more bearable!

    Probably wouldn¡¯t be allowed to bring in an arse cushion, though, would I!

    Maybe I could mould them into a set of underwear? But then I¡¯d have to stop wearing loin cloths and they''re so flattering!

    Officer Ch¨¦n definitely seems to think so anyway(!)

    I thought his flirting was just Terran humour the first few times it happened and, of course, I responded in kind¡­ but then the joke just¡­ kept going¡­ and going¡­ and going¡­ and now I find myself contriving reasons to visit the ODR every other [week], just hoping to run into him(!)

    Would definitely be a conflict of interests to get myself involved with a Terran, though¡­ As the Representative of a neutral species like the Gothor¡­ it would need to be secret¡­ oooh! That would make it so much better!

    I idly drag my claw along the recurve of my horn, daydreaming.

    Then Krim stands up from three rows in front of me and slightly to my right.

    Her killer form hugging, skirted, black bodysuit with gold trim and (though I can¡¯t see it from this angle) scarlet lining looks absolutely aaamaaaziiiing on her! So jealous!

    ¡°Do you have any proof of this, Prospective Representative?¡± she demands with the austere, room filling voice that makes you completely forget she¡¯s the lowest class to take the Speakership in nearly [2000 years]!

    ¡°Proof, Your Majesty?¡± asks the deathworlder.

    Looking furious, Krim chews out the Empress from a place that¡¯s at least 256 times as dangerous as she¡¯s from ¡°Prospective Representative! I am no monarch and, even if I were, the use of royal titles for any member of Parliament while inside this building is EXPRESSLY prohibited under Article 347 Section 5 of our constitutive documents! My title is ¡®Speaker¡¯ and you will address me as such if you do not want to find yourself brought up on charges of sedition against the Galactic Union! DO. I. MAKE. MYSELF. CLEAR!?¡±

    Startled (obviously not used to Wiwoskan bluff(!)), the woman dips her head, adorably, and answers ¡°My most sincere apologies, Speaker!¡­ This is a mistake I vow not to repeat!¡±

    ¡°See that you don¡¯t, Prospective Representative¡­¡± Krim says more calmly, before ¡°¡­but yes¡­ Evidence¡­ Do you have any?¡±

    The deathworlder hesitates before asking ¡°May it please this council to be shown an image of my late father?¡±

    Waving a spindly three fingered hand in acceptance, Krim says ¡°If this image was properly submitted ahead of time along with the rest and is evidentiary to the contention that your species engage in social care, please display it.¡±

    A moment follows where the Terran droid is given the go ahead before immediately displaying an image that makes even me sit up and take proper notice!

    Stifled gasps reverberate around the room.

    Up on the wall behind the woman¡­ is a being more feeble and decrepit looking than I thought it was possible for a deathworlder to get!

    I remember Terran elders from the propaganda vids¡­ hair greyed, skin wrinkled, movements slower¡­ but this is different¡­ that man¡­ there¡¯s no way he was surviving a deathworld without help!

    The evidence is written all over his face¡­ eight times!

    ¡°His eyes!¡± I blurt out, loud enough for the whole council chamber to hear, without thinking ¡°They¡¯re¡­!¡±

    ¡°Blind, yes.¡± finishes the deathworlder coolly ¡°He was entirely blind for the last few [decades] of his life.¡±

    ¡°What benefit could your community possibly have seen in caring for such a man? Was he not a burden on your survival?!¡± asks Brathala, alarmed.

    ¡°He was not!¡± answers the man¡¯s daughter, ferocity befitting a deathworlder ¡°He was a wise and just ruler! He was a kind and loving father! He was a man beloved of not just his children but all his realm and many outside of it! Well worth the meagre effort on our part to keep alive and comfortable, with or without his sight. If I am half the ruler he was, I shall be called Khr¡¯kowan the Glorious by the generations that follow me!¡±

    Krim turns her head to Ltah¡¯tvek and dispassionately asks ¡°I trust this satisfies you, Representative?¡± then, without waiting for an answer, announces ¡°Let the record show that the Vrakhand are capable of rendering social care!¡±

    ---Brathala¡¯s perspective---

    Here she comes!

    That woman is one of the few public figures in the galaxy as openly adverse to Terrans as I am!

    If anyone can turn this around for us, it¡¯s her!

    ¡°The council now recognises Waqa¡¯arc, 15th Daughter of Highspire Peak to speak.¡±

    ---Alchyinad¡¯s perspective---

    There are two places I have seen the expression worn by the man across from me¡­ in psychology textbooks¡­ and on the faces of Terran soldiers I saw while I was a POW!

    Nonetheless, I am instantly able to identify ¡®shellshock¡¯(!)

    The bright man turns his face up to me and speaks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it!¡±

    ¡°What is it you don¡¯t get, Victor?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.197

    ---Bigot---

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°I don¡¯t get what her game is!?¡± I growl at the giant, black eyed Spelvuk woman, standing up to pace around ¡°She comes onto this ship to sabotage us, make us look like useless idiots who should never¡¯ve been hired in the first place, make the Twigg and Vrakhand look like savages who shouldn¡¯t be allowed in 20,000ly of Citadel and sell the idea to the galaxy that deathworlders don¡¯t belong here! She was catty and hostile to all of us! She was recording every trivial thing on her holo to bury us under complaints! THIS was her moment and she¡­ she just¡­!¡±

    ¡°What did she do, Victor?¡± prompts Alchyinad, lacing her snow white fingers and leaning forward onto her desk.

    ¡°She just didn¡¯t!¡± I shout, throwing out my arms in front of me to emphasise the weirdness of it ¡°That was her moment to bring up every ¡®frayed strap¡¯ and untied shoelace(!) That was her moment to point out all the on the job fraternisation ¡¯tween expeditionaries and (in Niyol¡¯s case) ¡¯tween us and the contactees! That was her moment to highlight the war, the trial by combat, the disturbin¡¯ birth and mortuary practices¡­ all of it! And she just¡­ didn¡¯t!¡­ Weren¡¯t like she didn¡¯t have the opportunity neither! The antiTerrans were settin¡¯ her up to give answers that made us look bad and, every time, she actually defended us!¡±

    I stop here, smiling for a moment, remembering the look on the Battan¡¯s face when she¡¯d tried to lead her into badmouthin¡¯ Khr¡¯kowan for the fight with Stetter only to have five different laws and precedents cited back at her!

    My frown returns and I go to the window.

    It gives a view of Parliament on the horizon since it¡¯s aligned with the hangar window.

    At the top, I can see the curved window of the room we were in yesterday.

    ¡°I just don¡¯t get it!¡±

    Alchyinad thinks for a moment before sucking in a breath to ask ¡°What if you tried to think of some reasons she might have done as she did, Victor?¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t been doing nothin¡¯ ¡¯sides that since yesterday!¡± I answer without turning from the window ¡°The only thing I can think is that this is some sorta long con!¡­ She makes it look like she¡¯s nukin¡¯ her reputation with the antideathworlders to lull us into a false sense o¡¯ security! What I can¡¯t work out is why!? What secrets does she still think we¡¯re keepin¡¯ that she¡¯s decided it¡¯s worth this risk to get us to reveal! Bigots are simple minded creatures and they ain¡¯t likely to forgive and forget, even if she does reveal the juicier prize she thinks she¡¯s gonna get by trickin¡¯ us¡­ whatever she thinks that is!¡± I say, idly stroking my chin as I think.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t considered that she may have had a genuine change of heart, then?¡±

    My diaphragm spasms in a joyless chuckle as I turn to the dark haired woman and shake my head.

    ¡°Some possibilities I can dismiss out of hand, Ally(!)¡­ She¡¯s a bigot!¡­ If bigots were the sorts who¡¯d change their minds about bein¡¯ bigots when they were proved wrong to be, they wouldn¡¯t be bigots in the first place!¡­ Nah¡­ there¡¯s somethin¡¯ else goin¡¯ on here¡­ Just need to work out what!¡±

    ¡°So, you don¡¯t believe it¡¯s ever possible for bigots to change their minds, Victor?¡± she asks, her tone in that neutral curiosity that gives no clue that she disagrees other than the number of times I¡¯ve heard her use it to get me to realise I was wrong about something!

    ¡°Not in her case!¡± I double down, snarling ¡°She¡¯s had the best part of 4 decades to realise she¡¯s wrong about us and she still calls Twila a ¡®machine¡¯, you and your husband ¡®miscegenators¡¯ and throws a thousand and one other petty little insults at the rest of us! She were gonna realise she were wrong, it¡¯d¡¯ve happened by now! You can¡¯t reason a person out of a position they didn¡¯t reason ¡¯emself into!¡±

    In my peripheral vision, I see her Vampiric face bob up and down as she thinks about how to change tack.

    ¡°Victor, do you think the proportion of bigoted gardenworlders in the galaxy was higher or lower in the War than it is now?¡± she finally asks, calmly.

    ¡°Higher.¡± I answer, simply.

    ¡°What about Terrans?¡±

    I pause for a moment.

    ¡°Higher too¡­ probably.¡±

    ¡°Do you think the difference can be explained entirely by the more bigoted older generations dying off and the younger ones replacing them being less inclined to bigotry¡­ on either side?¡±

    I think.

    ¡°No¡­ Think a lot of ¡¯em are prob¡¯ly folks who used to be bigots and then changed their minds.¡± I admit.

    ¡°So, you do believe that a bigot can change their mind then?¡± she asks.

    ¡°Not Waqa¡¯arc!¡­ I get what you¡¯re sayin¡¯! I know you fought in the War! I know Cap fought in the War!¡­ I get that, at the time, you both prob¡¯ly thought we was monsters and that you was makin¡¯ the galaxy a safer place by trynna wipe us out!¡­ There¡¯s a difference! You both changed your minds as soon as you saw you was wrong and you¡¯ve spent all the time since makin¡¯ up for it! She ain¡¯t done that! She¡¯s too far gone! There¡¯s no getting through to her at this point! She¡¯s never gonna change her mind!¡± I insist, turning back to her and sitting back down.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    She wobbles her head and purses her lips in a ¡®yes and no¡¯ looking gesture.

    ¡°You¡¯re right Victor. Tcakqaal and I both fought and, though I can¡¯t speak for her, in my case, I was largely disabused of my misconceptions about your species before the GU¡¯s surrender¡­ But Tcakqaal and I both spent the end of the War in Terran POW camps¡­ We got to see firsthand how wrong we¡¯d been¡­ How much time do you think Waqa¡¯arc had ever spent in the company of Terrans before this voyage?¡±

    ¡°¡®None¡¯¡¯d be my guess(!)¡± I sneer.

    ¡°Exactly!¡­ She was never able to see Terrans for what you are, was she? The only version of you she had to contend with was the one she had created for herself¡­ or perhaps that her echochamber had created for her. However, now she¡¯s spent two years in Terran company¡­ She¡¯s seen you personally do things like save her life from the Revanchist pirate, save that child from the loader, fight a giant monster to protect Twigg from being attacked¡­ She¡¯s seen the doctors go out of their way to find a way to save the lives of Vrakhand mothers and volunteer to stay behind with the ambassadors to keep doing so. She¡¯s seen the work of the ambassadors to bring peace between the Vrakhand and Twigg¡­ In short, Victor, she¡¯s been able to see the side of Terrans that Tcakqaal and I got to see 30 years ago¡­ I¡¯d not be so quick to dismiss the possibility that she¡¯s had a genuine change of heart!¡±

    My face twists with the sourness of thinking about that awful woman changing her ways.

    Alchyinad gives me a long time to think before offering ¡°Of course, Victor, if you want to see for yourself, there is something you could try?¡±

    ---Waqa¡¯arc¡¯s perspective---

    I¡¯m perched alone in my quarters.

    My stomach stews with the same unease I¡¯ve been drowning in since I finally did what I decided to do [months] ago.

    My entire body is still revolting against me for what I did yesterday!

    I¡¯ve completely disgraced myself in the eyes of my former allies¡­ and my former enemies have fairly consistently proven they¡¯re not so quick to forgive.

    I am now a woman with barely a friend in the galaxy¡­

    So why did I¡­?

    At this moment, my self pity is interrupted by an alert for the door.

    I sigh and hop down to let Tcakqaal in.

    Perhaps she can help me feel better right now.

    The door slides open and, rather than the two eyed face of the R¡¯qali Captain, I find myself staring at a layer of fabric stretched over a broad trunk.

    I¡¯m so thrown by that that it takes me a moment to realise I need to look up!

    I turn my beak ceilingward and see a pair of green eyes fixed down on me from a stonily expressioned face.

    ¡°I need to talk to you.¡± announces the deathworlder, tersely.

    Somewhat bewildered, I answer ¡°Oh¡­ alright, Mr Taylor¡­ Please come in?¡±

    With a curt nod, he steps around me to cross the threshold of my quarters.

    I turn and see the unnervingly dangerous man I¡¯m now secluded with as he strides through my living space.

    His head swivels left and right, looking downward.

    Finding nothing to seat himself on, he chooses to stand facing the perch I just vacated and fold his arms across his front.

    ¡°Your husband here?¡± he asks as I remount it.

    ¡°No he¡¯s out with¡­ he¡¯s out.¡± I answer, stopping myself from divulging that he is in Qorak¡¯s company, just in case that knowledge damages the Terran¡¯s relationship with the man ¡°Do you need him here too?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± he answers ¡°You¡¯re the one I want to speak to.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m listening?¡± I invite.

    His frightening body tenses as he hesitates.

    I can¡¯t help but be aware that killing me would be almost as easy for him as simply deciding to¡­ one step forward and one swipe of a thick arm.

    Finally, he speaks ¡°Why¡¯d you do it?¡±

    ¡°Why do you care?¡± I respond in a humourless chitter.

    ¡°Because it makes no sense!¡± he asserts.

    ¡°Would you have preferred me to do as you expected me to? Even if what that was would have been against the interests of the new species? Is it not preferable to you that I subverted your expectations as I did?¡±

    The man¡¯s fleshy mouth and nose twist in an expression of disdain as he answers ¡°In a vacuum¡­ no¡­ In a vacuum, I couldn¡¯t¡¯ve asked for a better result than what you did¡­ but I know you Waqa¡¯arc¡­ and you doin¡¯ somethin¡¯ that unexpected gets my hackles up!¡±

    ¡°Well perhaps you don¡¯t know me as well as you think.¡± I suggest.

    ¡°I know you can¡¯t be trusted!¡± he spits.

    ¡°Then don¡¯t trust me!¡± I laugh ¡°That seems like a nice and simple resolution to the dissonance you¡¯re experiencing, doesn¡¯t it?¡­ If you think I did what I did simply to win your trust then the answer would seem to be as simple as continuing to withhold it!¡±

    The green eyes narrow in a scowl as he asserts ¡°Yeaaah¡­ that sounds like reverse psychology to me! Like I¡¯m meant to think ¡®Oh! She must be safe to trust if she doesn¡¯t care if I trust her!¡¯¡±

    ¡°Then, again, the simple answer seems to be to continue not to trust me, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I observe, wryly.

    The man appraises me in silence for several long moments, still scowling, before ¡°You still ain¡¯t answered the question¡­ You turned a room on the fence into a room that voted overwhelmingly in the Twigg and Vrakhand¡¯s favour¡­ The whole of Parliament might vote differently because of the effect you had¡­ I want to know why.¡±

    ¡°Because it was the right thing to do.¡± I answer, realising the truth of the words only after I¡¯ve uttered them.

    I don¡¯t need my translator to perceive the shock on the man¡¯s face.

    ¡°But¡­ you¡¯re¡­?¡± he finally manages through his confusion before trailing off again.

    ¡°A bad person?¡± I suggest ¡°The kind of person who would never do the right thing? For whom doing the right thing is inherently suspicious?¡±

    ¡°Not to put too fine a point on it but, yeah! You doing something I think is ¡®the right thing¡¯ and claimin¡¯ you think the same is suspicious!¡± he states, pointedly.

    ¡°Yes¡­ well¡­ That is who I was¡­ but I¡¯ve decided I don¡¯t wish to be that person anymore¡­ I¡¯ve realised that not only were the beliefs I held erroneous, they were actively harming me and those around me.¡±

    ¡°What¡­ so¡­ that¡¯s it then? Switch flipped and you ain¡¯t a bigoted sack of shit anymore? That easy, huh?!¡± he sneers.

    ¡°No¡­ it wasn¡¯t easy. It was the second hardest thing I¡¯ve ever done after only cremating my daughter.¡± I state with cold defiance.

    If that revelation stirs any sympathy in the man, he doesn¡¯t show it.

    His forward facing eyes just fix on me, judging, appraising, evaluating with suspicion befitting a deathworlder.

    Finally, he announces ¡°If you¡¯re for real, Waqa¡¯arc¡­ I¡¯d be glad¡­ but I hope you¡¯ll understand if I need a little more time ¡¯fore I fully buy it(!)¡±

    ¡°If, by that, you mean you still don¡¯t trust me, I must point out that I¡¯ve repeatedly made clear that I am at peace with that outcome since the beginning of this conversation, Taylor(!)¡± I retort.

    He *hmph*s in reply.

    I watch him as he turns and makes for the door.

    His hand is reaching out for the panel when he pauses.

    Without looking back at me he says ¡°You should come to Triple M, some time¡­ You might enjoy it¡­¡±

    Before I have the chance to answer, the door has opened and he¡¯s disappeared out of it.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.198

    ---Voracity---

    ---Khr¡¯kowan¡¯s perspective---

    The vote is tomorrow¡­

    That knowledge gnaws at my insides like a gut parasite (not that I¡¯d be here to make the comparison if I¡¯d ever actually had one to compare it to(!))

    I look over to where my broodhusband engages in animated conversation with several Terran attendees of this gathering.

    I have to fight down the urge to pull him back to our room and do the things I want to do to him tonight¡­ the same way I had to push down the urge to caffeinate myself into a stupor!

    I must think of tomorrow as a battle!

    Just as I wouldn¡¯t compromise my rest the night before I needed to fight, I can¡¯t do so tonight!

    If victory is achieved, celebration may follow afterward.

    Weaver, let victory be achieved!

    I just¡­

    ¡°You look nervous, Your Majesty.¡± comes the warm, deep voice of a man speaking a Terran language, approaching me.

    I turn to see the wide, smiling lips of Ndum ¡®Lemur¡¯ Rain.

    ¡°Representative.¡± I acknowledge.

    He chuckles and waves his hand, inviting ¡°¡®Ndum¡¯, please.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ ¡®Khr¡¯kowan¡¯, please.¡± I answer.

    ¡°Alright then, Khr¡¯kowan¡­¡± he smiles, seating himself in a chair that¡¯s configured to support his species¡¯ backs beside the ottoman I¡¯m straddling, at the edge of this ODR loungeroom ¡°¡­you¡¯re nervous, aren¡¯t you.¡± not intoning it as a question.

    ¡°I am.¡± I admit ¡°Is that unexpected?¡± slightly defensively.

    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s entirely expected¡­ but, borrowing one of my wife¡¯s favourite phrases, ¡®to worry only makes you suffer twice¡¯!¡±

    I chuckle ¡°Quite the carefree philosophy(!)¡±

    ¡°It is¡­¡± he concedes, looking over to where the woman is completely oblivious to our attention, with all the love in the Weaver¡¯s creation etched into his face ¡°¡­but it¡¯s hard to deny the merit of it¡­ A life could quite easily be entirely wasted on worrying about what will be and regretting what was. Here and now is the only place where we exist¡­ and it always will be¡­ Or, to put it in the words of a certain cartoon turtle, ¡®yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery but today is a gift¡­ that¡¯s why they call it the ¡®present¡¯¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve seen this [cartoon]¡­ nor does that wordplay translate particularly well into Vrakhandic¡­ nor do I know what a ¡®turtle¡¯ is¡­ but I appreciate the words of wisdom nevertheless(!)¡± I chuckle.

    ¡°Perhaps let me give you a more tangible reason not to worry, Khr¡¯kowan.¡± he continues, warmly ¡°Look around this room. What¡¯s the most common species here?¡±

    I do so.

    ¡°Humans?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ and what kind of Human? What lineage, I mean?¡±

    I struggle to recall the name of the most common variety of their species for a moment before ¡°Sapiens¡­ Right?¡±

    ¡°Indeed¡­ Now, allow me to explain why you have no need to  worry;¡­ they like you, Khr¡¯kowan. They like the Vrakhand and they like the Twigg. You and Viig have already become a viral galnet sensation in the UTC. They cannot get enough of you!¡±

    Confused, I ask ¡°Are you saying that other Terrans¡­ don¡¯t like us? That you don¡¯t?¡±

    The purple eyed man smiles and shakes his head while waving his long fingered hand to negate ¡°Not at all. We like you too, that fact is just not as relevant as the fact that the Sapiens like you.¡±

    ¡°Because of¡­ their numbers?¡± I suggest.

    He rolls his shoulders in a way that is translated as noncommittal disagreement before answering ¡°The fact that (even without the 3% of nonSapiens Terrans) they¡¯re the most populous species in the galaxy certainly doesn¡¯t hurt but¡­ no. Not their numbers.¡±

    ¡°Why then?¡±

    He beams, broadly ¡°Their defining trait, Khr¡¯kowan¡­ The thing that separates them not only from gardenworlders but also from other Terrans and, though it remains to be seen, I¡¯d guess you and the Twigg too. The Sapiens¡¯ greatest blessing and most insidious curse!¡±

    ¡°And, what¡¯s that?¡± I ask, humouring the theatrics.

    ¡°They are voracious, Khr¡¯kowan! They are absolutely insatiable! They are the only Human lineage that had the privilege of naming themselves but, I must say, I think they did a poor job(!) Homo appetens, Homo avidus or (my personal preference) Homo vorax would all be far more fitting for them¡­ They¡¯re certainly not stupid but their voracity, their eagerness and their desire are, in my view, more characteristic traits than their knowledge.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s just greed then?¡± I ask, rather disappointed by the notion that they only want us among the stars to be exploited.

    ¡°They most certainly can be greedy¡­ That is the ¡®curse¡¯ side of their voracity. However much they currently have, they will not be satisfied¡­ That greed is the reason they invented feudalism, slavery, capitalism and had such difficulty getting socialism to work¡­ They simply couldn¡¯t figure out a way to engineer around their own natural proclivity to want more than they currently have or the willingness of at least some of them to resort to corruption to get it (though the persistent sabotaging efforts of the Stateser Empire certainly did not help, in that regard(!))¡­ No amount of wealth, power or fame will fill that insatiable pit inside them. You could place the entire universe in their hands and it would not satisfy them¡­ They killed off the overwhelming majority of the Earth¡¯s megafauna with weapons of wood, stone and bone, just to feed themselves and just because they could(!)¡­ Around the turn of the last millennium, they knowingly almost killed our planet (along with themselves) simply because it wasn¡¯t enough for them¡­ Though I must insist that, when I say my wife¡¯s kind are ¡®voracious¡¯, it is with all possible love¡­ because the other side of that curse is, as I said, a blessing.¡±

    ¡°I fail to see how the other side of this curse could possibly be a blessing¡­?¡± I observe.

    With a knowing smile, he explains ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s quite simply that this restless hunger of theirs is not limited to the domains of wealth, resources, power or fame¡­ It extends to everything.¡±

    ¡°Everything? Such as what?¡± I ask, perplexed.

    ¡°Everything such as everything!¡± he proclaims ¡°Friendship, family, companionship, adventure,  experiences, exploration, knowledge, understanding, insight¡­ You name it, they want more of it. They conquered the Earth in their quest to see what was over the horizon. They became the first land animal to reach every inhabitable continent, their feet being the first of any known hominin to reach half of them (or four out of the seven if you go by the Seven Continent Model). Throughout their history, they have repeatedly gone to places where they knew they very well may die¡­ just to see what was there! When those they sent did die, their solution was to send more people until someone was able to make it back to them with recommendations for how the next expedition might be made more survivable(!) After leaving our system, they conquered an unprecedented +300 planets with no outside assistance and they did so simply to see what was there! To see all the ¡®more¡¯ that space had to offer, finding, to their immense disappointment, that it seemed shockingly devoid of other people to make friends with¡­ Of course, they had us, their cousins¡­ but, of course, we couldn¡¯t be enough for them¡­ In their quest to increase their companionship, they uplifted all the animals they ethically could to bioengineered sapience and created sentient AI to befriend. Then came the War¡­ and, with some unfortunate exceptions, we (mostly they) managed to prosecute it humanely enough that the GU finally capitulated and allowed them in. Allowed them access to a galaxy full of future friends to make(!)¡­ All this is to say, Khr¡¯kowan, that you don¡¯t need to worry¡­ when Sapiens want something enough, they¡¯re going to get it¡­ It¡¯s only a matter of the time it takes them to devise the means of breaking the universe sufficiently to do so(!) And, right now, what they¡¯re crying out for¡­ is the Vrakhand¡­ and the Twigg¡­ they want your friendship and, even if we are defeated tomorrow, it will not end there! They will have your friendship and there isn¡¯t a thing you can do to stop them(!)¡­ Resistance is futile(!) ¡± ending with a wry smirk.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    I frown, thinking about that for a few moments before asking ¡°And what is it that makes you assign this ¡®voracity¡¯ as specifically a Sapiens¡¯ trait and not a Human one, Ndum?¡±

    ¡°Let me show you.¡± he smiles, reaching a spindly hand to his side to pull a low table between us.

    He retrieves his [holo] from his pocket and places it down before bidding ¡°Holo; show me a blank, Mercator Projection map of planet Earth on the table, land represented in green, water in blue and permanent icecaps in white.¡±

    The vaguely familiar shape of the landmasses of the Terran [cradleworld] appear in front of me in their preferred ¡®North up¡¯ orientation for maps.

    Strips of white line the top and bottom of the image with patches and lines of the same at various other points, presumably where mountain ranges are.

    Curiously, I look to the man.

    Still addressing his holo, he instructs ¡°Shift the Americas to the East and show it as it was 290,000 years before present.¡±

    The set of tall, thin continents traditionally represented on the left of the map jumps over to the right, the green expands moderately at the blue¡¯s expense and the white expands at both the blue and green¡¯s expense.

    ¡°Now overlay the estimated ranges of Bwato and every Heidelbergensian lineage of Human¡­ including labels and estimated populations in Vrakhandic.¡±

    The island continent in the central South of the map stays green, as do the long continents in the East, but the main landmass becomes a patchwork of different colours, each labelled with a phonetically translated name and a large number.

    Addressing me again, he disclaims ¡°This is only an estimate of the situation on Earth, around 100,000 Graom-Wakhkortan years ago. We could go further back and see how we got to here but that doesn¡¯t matter as much as what follows this point. It may not have looked exactly like this but it will have been near enough for our purposes. Also, being a Mercator Projection, I do have to point out that lands at the top and bottom of the map are smaller than they appear.¡±

    ¡°Noted.¡± I acknowledge, curiously.

    He smiles and bobs his head once before continuing ¡°If you look hear¡­¡± indicating the top left of the map ¡°¡­you¡¯ll see the range of the Neanderthals, sandwiched between the ice sheets in the North and the Mediterranean Sea in the South¡­ extending into Northern Asia and through Anatolia into the Levant. Here¡­¡± he indicates a small patch, contorted between ice sheets and hemmed in by seas to the East and West and Neanderthals to the North and South ¡°¡­are the Lisri. Here, across Central Asia, from the Iranian and Tibetan Plateaus up to the Altai Mountains and everything between, are the Denisovans. Way up here in Northeast Asia, all by themselves, are the Dzhigda. Those are all the Neanderthaloids.¡±

    ¡°Alright?¡±

    ¡°Down here¡­¡± he continues, pointing to the bottom tip of the almost entirely detached landmass in the bottom left of the map, where three colours cluster close ¡°¡­you have the Tshwanoids and Bwato. That¡¯s Bwato there, in South Central Africa. Then here, in South East Africa you have Inhatzenguele with my people, the Tshwane, over here in the South West.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± I frown slightly, trusting that he¡¯ll come to a point eventually.

    ¡°And then, we get to this whole stripe from East Asia to West Africa, the Sapiensoids;¡­¡± he smiles, before rapid firing ¡°¡­Longi in Eastern China, Korea and Southern Japan, fragmented into 5 different sublineages. Danau, down in Southeast Asia, focusing on Sundaland. Khandwa, Indian subcontinent and extending along the Southeast coast of Iran to Western Oman.¡± here, his finger skips over one of the patches ¡°Irhoud, inhabiting West and Northwest Africa¡­ and then¡­¡± his finger returns to the one he skipped ¡°¡­Sapiens themselves, inhabiting Eastern Africa from Kenya to the Nile Delta, with a toehold in Yemen¡­ 1.5 million of them¡­ More than double the rest of us combined¡­¡±

    He looks to me, waiting for my reaction.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the discrepancy!¡± I observe.

    ¡°Precisely¡­ Now¡­ I¡¯m going to play it through to the extinction of Lisri¡­ Just bear in mind, you aren¡¯t going to be watching a depiction of a genocide. While there certainly were instances of interlineage violence, there is a mountain of evidence to corroborate that the extinction of all these nonSapiens happened overwhelmingly bloodlessly. They didn¡¯t murder us, they didn¡¯t let us die. We believe they simply came to our territory and refused to leave us alone until there wasn¡¯t an ¡®us¡¯ any more. We had simply become part of them¡­¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± I respond, apprehensively.

    The man bobs his head and addresses the table ¡°Holo; drop the labels and show how these ranges changed from this point to 18,000 years ago at a rate of 10,000 years per second.¡±

    The writing vanishes and I watch as the colours jostle slightly.

    [5 seconds] pass without much happening until, very quickly, the Sapiens range pours South!

    [4] more [seconds] and the ranges of Bwato and the Tshwanoids are simply gone! Enveloped and subsumed into that of the Sapiens.

    At the same time, they move West and, before I know it, the entirety of that mostly detached landmass in the Southwest of the map has become Sapiens¡¯ territory.

    The seas rise and fall and the ice expands and contracts a few times as nothing much happens for around [9] more seconds, the Sapiens range only slightly and tentatively expanding their two toeholds on the main landmass.

    The patch in the far Northeast vanishes, though that certainly seems like it can¡¯t have had anything to do with the Sapiens at this point.

    Then, all in the course of [3 seconds], they tear across the Southern coast and quickly incorporate the territories of, if I correctly recall, Khandwa, Danau and Longi into their own.

    Another [2 seconds] and they cross the sea to start colonising that previously uninhabited island continent.

    All at once, they sweep through the two major remaining ranges and cross into the long and thin continents.

    For the final [2 seconds], the only colour on the map besides those of water, ice, undiscovered islands and Sapiens is that miniscule patch, wedged between the two inland seas.

    Then, at last, it too blinks out, the lands of Earth now belonging solely to the Sapiens.

    ¡°That¡­ was¡­¡±

    ¡°Alarming?¡± suggests the man, with a mirthful smile.

    ¡°Yes!¡± I exclaim ¡°Even if you say it was peaceful¡­ that was¡­ What was that meant to demonstrate again? Other than Sapiens¡¯ frightening power to overwhelm, supplant and assimilate?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ It was meant to show you the difference between them and other Humans. Holo; go back further and play the period between 400,000 and 240,000 years ago at the same rate.¡±

    The map goes back to more or less how it was at the start.

    [16 seconds] pass with barely any movement. The odd boundary shift here and there but the main one being the Sapiens expanding North.

    ¡°Do you see?¡± asks the Tshwane, smiling ¡°You see how static we all were?¡­ That¡¯s the difference between us and them¡­ We¡¯re capable of being content with what we have and how things are. We had our ranges, our little patches of the world where we knew how to survive, we knew what to eat, how to make shelters, how to craft tools in just the way our parents had taught us and their parents had taught them for hundreds of thousands of years¡­ For companionship, we had our tribes and we had sporadic contact with other tribes of our respective kinds. Every now and then groups from other lineages may have intruded into eachother¡¯s ranges but, for the most part, we were simply content where we were and with what we had¡­ or, if we weren¡¯t, we were at least resigned to our inability to improve things¡­ Sapiens were different¡­ they cannot be content! They are restless boundary breakers, disruptors and innovators¡­ However good things are, they only see the ways they could be better!¡±

    ¡°They can¡¯t be content?¡± I query.

    ¡°They really can¡¯t¡­¡± he confirms ¡°¡­In fact, if a Sapiens ever feels that they have nothing left to strive for, they¡¯re liable to develop a condition known as Paradise Syndrome(!)¡­ They will languish (in a way that I¡¯m not aware of any other kind doing) just wishing to be once more challenged!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s actually quite horrible! The thought that there could be any who would fight so hard to attain a paradise¡­ but then be so constitutionally unable to ever enjoy what they had attained¡­?!¡±

    ¡°Like I said¡­¡± he beams ¡°¡­a blessing and a curse¡­¡±

    I mull over the information, the man who represents the Sapiens to the galaxy (despite not being one himself) has just given me about them for some long moments.

    I¡¯m overcome by a complicated mix of pity for them and awe of them.

    Finally, I ask ¡°So¡­ what do you think caused Sapiens to be this way, Repres-¡­ Ndum?¡±

    ¡°Ah, well¡­¡± he points to the Sapiens¡¯ patch on the, now still, map on the table ¡°¡­if you look at where their range is on this map, you can see they occupy a kind of crossroad between Africa and Eurasia¡­ they control both the Sinai and Aden crossings which are the only likely routes in or out¡­ Crossings could have happened across the Strait of Gibraltar but there doesn¡¯t seem to be any evidence of that happening. Controlling this crossroads, I believe, allowed them to benefit both culturally, from the good ideas and stories of any adventurous Neanderthals, Denisovans and Khandwa making their way into Africa and Tshwanoids, Bwato or Irhoud making their way out, and allowed them to act as a catchment for genes that had made those individuals so adventurous¡­ You see-¡±

    ¡°Darling!¡± chides the mirthful voice of an approaching woman, startling me.

    I turn to see the man¡¯s wife, looking with wry disapproval at the table as she walks toward us.

    I have to wrestle down the complicated emotions that arise in response to her appearance, given what her husband has just taught me of her kind.

    Arms akimbo, she lightheartedly challenges ¡°You¡¯re not filling the Empress¡¯s head with your fringe palaeoanthropology theories, are you?!¡±

    Without waiting for an answer, she turns to me and chuckles ¡°Don¡¯t let my husband fool you, Your Majesty(!) Whatever he pretends, he has no qualification in palaeoanthropology and the Crossroad Hypothesis is not accepted as mainstream science¡­!¡±

    ¡°Untrue¡­¡± returns her husband, raising a long finger in the air and affecting smugness ¡°¡­I did an elective module in palaeoanthropology in our second semester at university. I remember they had lectures on Wednesdays because I had to miss my parkour club sessions for them. It may not have been a full degree but it was certainly a qualification¡­¡±

    Sighing mirthfully, she does not dignify that, continuing ¡°I hope my husband hasn¡¯t been boring you to tears, Your Majesty? He can get a little¡­ enthusiastic when explaining how he thinks my lineage is the most amazing thing to walk the Earth since the death of the nonavian dinosaurs(!)¡±

    ¡°No!¡­ It¡¯s been quite edifying!¡± I respond, honestly, before adding ¡°And you may call me ¡®Khr¡¯kowan¡¯, Ambassador.¡±

    Beaming broadly (and absolutely confirming her husband¡¯s appraisal of her lineage¡¯s eagerness for any and all companions with her manner) she answers ¡°Then you can call me ¡®Nirina¡¯, Khr¡¯kowan!¡­ Now, not to sound like your mother but I think it¡¯s bedtime for both of you¡­ You have a vote to win tomorrow!¡± not sounding in the slightest doubt that we will do so.

 There Will Be Scritches Pt.199

    ---Vote---

    ---Krim¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Esteemed Representatives¡­¡± I announce, my voice (somewhat unnecessarily) amplified to resound through Parliament ¡°¡­debate has concluded. You know the recommendation of the Parliamentary Special Council. The time has come to vote. Before you stand two motions; the acceptance of the Vrakhand of Graom-Wakhkort to membership of the Galactic Union, granting all the rights of citizenship to each and every member of their species and guaranteeing to them representation in this body, and the acceptance of the Twigg of Graom-Wakhkort to the same!¡­ I implore you all to decide justly and with prudence befitting your stations¡­ May the voting commence!¡±

    My knuckles go pale as I grip the console, watching as the ¡®aye¡¯, ¡®nay¡¯ and ¡®abstaining¡¯ numbers for both votes all rise.

    ---Tratholt¡¯s perspective---

    I sit in my office, my advisors around me, watching the broadcast from Citadel.

    The Wiwosk Speaker raises the podium lights to indicate that the votes have concluded and that she is about to announce the results.

    Based on the colours of light I saw in front of the Representatives, I¡¯m guessing I already know the outcome¡­ much to my dismay.

    With this, the precedent will be well and truly cemented!

    Being deathworlders will never again be grounds to exclude a species from the Union once these two are accepted.

    I can at least console myself with the fact that, for the moment, they will still be outnumbered by more than 10,000 to one¡­ Even if that fact is relatively cold comfort when the Terrans have so much of Parliament in their pockets!

    ¡°With 17,909 and 21,485 votes in favour of the Vrakhand and Twigg, respectively, the ayes have it and the motions pa-¡±

    ¡°NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!¡± comes a scream from the broadcast that doesn¡¯t need to be translated for me.

    I bolt upright!

    My eyes widen, my breaths quicken, my heart leaps to the back of my throat and the bottom drops out of my stomach!

    I recognise that scream! I heard that scream many times as a young man!

    The camera cuts to show me my sister.

    She looks frenzied!

    Gods, Brathy! Whatever you¡¯re about to do, don¡¯t do it!

    No sooner have I thought the thought than she is vaulting over her desk, sprinting at the Terran at full tilt.

    ¡°Guards! Stop her!¡± orders the Wiwosk as Brathy rounds the edge of the aquatheatre that separates them.

    Several large, high Class Parliamentary guards are visible, lumbering toward her location, but they¡¯re too far away!

    She mounts the Terran¡¯s desk who, despite having watched her coming all the way from across the chambre, has made absolutely no move to escape or defend, only now raising his right forearm between himself and my sister.

    I watch in horror as she throws herself at him, screaming hysterically and flailing her claws towards his face, vainly trying to do him any injury!

    Moving only his arm to keep her at a distance, the man lazily defends without attacking, all the while looking at her with pitying concern which, my guess, is only enraging her further.

    That is until he misjudges slightly, allowing her to nick his right cheek, drawing a little of his bright red blood.

    ¡°HAHA!!!¡± screams Brathy, more coherent than she¡¯s been since she began throwing this tantrum ¡°NOT SO INVINCIBLE AFTERALL, ARE Y-!?¡±

    At that moment, she is interrupted by having her entire body wrapped in the fist of a Jukt guard.

    The enormous Class 8 holding my screaming sister looks to Speaker Krim.

    ¡°Remove Representative Brathala and deliver her to her people¡¯s embassy.¡± orders the woman with disgust ¡°She is hereby censured for her outrageous breach of Parliamentary decorum in assaulting a fellow Representative!¡±

    My sister is walked out of the chambre, held in the Jukt woman¡¯s fist as she lopes out on her unoccupied three limbs.

    All the way, Brathy screams ¡°WHAT ARE YOU ALL WAITING FOR, COWARDS!? THE TERRAN BLED!!! I CUT HIM! THEY AREN¡¯T INVINCIBLE! WE CAN KILL THEM IF WE JUST TRY!!! WHY AREN¡¯T YOU DOING ANYTH¡­!?!?!?¡± before finally passing out of the range where her voice can be picked up by the microphones.

    Already knowing the result of the vote, I don¡¯t wait for things to resolve.

    ¡°Turn off the broadcast. Everyone out.¡± I order, stonily.

    The feed is cut and I lean forward to rest my claws and head on the desk, my snout squashing as I press it into the surface, groaning.

    I hear my advisors all muttering to eachother as they clear the room.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Gods! What now!?

    I sit back up, only to realise I¡¯m not alone.

    ¡°I said ¡®everyone out¡¯, Walath!¡± I admonish her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, Father¡­ Our people¡¯s Representative was just censured for attacking the Terrans¡¯ on a live broadcast across the galaxy before calling for a resumption of the War while she was carried away! You need my advice on how to handle this¡­ Otherwise, her actions might be viewed as a provocation and, based on that reaction, I don¡¯t think the rest of the GU would have our backs(!)¡±

    I sneer ¡°I suppose you think the amount of your time you spend circumventing my galnet restrictions to consume Terran media or the ¡®secret¡¯ room you have, full of smuggled Terran goods (that I pretend not to know about), makes you an expert on Terrans then, do you(?)¡±

    Clearly surprised, my daughter nonetheless holds her ground to answer ¡°More of an expert than I think you¡¯re likely to access without consulting the nearest ODR¡­ which would be the one on Citadel¡­¡±

    I puff humourlessly and sigh ¡°Alright then, Walath¡­ what do you suggest?¡±

    ---Bronal¡¯s perspective---

    I march down the corridor of my species¡¯ embassy with two other burly knights behind me.

    I¡¯m able to hear the sounds of screaming and smashing emanating from our destination long in advance of reaching it.

    I draw up to the large, ornate doors and pause for a moment before striding forward as they swing open.

    The sight of a destroyed office greets me.

    The woman I¡¯m here for wheels around, her face crazed.

    Not allowing myself to appear at all perturbed, I speak ¡°Princess Brathala, you have been stripped of the Representativeship of the Battan people and are ordered to immediately return to Batta.¡±

    She stands, staring at me, utterly stupefied for a few moments before scoffing ¡°I am a princess! You do not have the authority to give me orders, let alone strip me of my office!!!¡±

    Calmly, I state ¡°Correct. However, I¡¯m not acting on my own authority. My orders come directly from King Tratholt LXV of Batta and he does have that power. Your removal has been deemed a necessary measure for our species¡¯ security.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense!¡± she sneers ¡°My brother would never betray me like that!¡­ Who would even be Representative if not me!?¡±

    ¡°Princess Walath will shortly be dispatched to replace you. She should arrive within the [week].¡± I relate, curtly.

    ¡°That Terranlover!? My treacherous niece?!¡± she shrieks ¡°No! You¡¯re lying!¡­ Knights! ARREST this man for treason against the Battan Kingdom!¡±

    ¡°Your Highness¡­¡± I say, firmly ¡°¡­I believe you have embarrassed our people enough for today. Do not add to it by forcing us to take you to the shuttlepad in a muzzle and restraints¡­ Just come quietly and spare us all the last of our dignity.¡±

    From the look in her eyes, I can tell she isn¡¯t going to oblige me.

    ---Waqa¡¯arc¡¯s perspective---

    I changed my mind.

    I initially decided not to attend the celebration but, now, here I am¡­

    However, as I step off the transport and onto the landingpad halfway up this ODR skypiercer, I¡¯m beginning to think I might simply change my mind again and walk right back onto the craft I just disembarked.

    Before I have the chance to act on that impulse however, I¡¯m approached by two Terrans, covered shoulder to toe in black metal armour with only their heads being exposed, [handguns] mounted on their hips.

    The brown eyed male is smiling. The red eyed, walking extinct female stares at me with unnerving blankness.

    ¡°Do you mind if I quickly check your devices, Ma¡¯am?¡± smiles the male.

    ¡°No¡­ Please go ahead, Officer.¡± I say, uncomfortably.

    Without wasting a moment the man squats to examine the sash on my front.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ll need an antibuffet too¡­ It¡¯s crowded in there and it¡¯d be very easy for anyone not paying close attention to trample you. Winters, can you get her one?¡±

    The unnerving woman wordlessly takes a few steps to the security kiosk and digs behind it before returning with the requested device, handing to the man.

    As he attaches it to my sash and activates it, he says ¡°Now, we¡¯re not going to tamperproof these, just request that you keep them all attached as well as activated while attending and then return this one before you leave, Ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°Are you not going to check my identity?¡± I frown.

    He chuckles and stands ¡°No need!¡­ We¡¯ve known who you are since your capsule crossed the boundary of the compound, Officer Waqa¡¯arc, 15<sup>th</sup> Daughter of Highspire Peak. Please enjoy the party, Ma¡¯am!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ I see¡­¡± I say, not sure why I¡¯m surprised by Terran security¡¯s sophistication.

    As I walk away, I hear him enthusiastically greet the next arrival ¡°Representative Hriko! Fashionably late I see(!)¡±

    ¡°I could never allow myself to appear unfashionable in your presence, Ch¨¦n(!)¡­ Are you going to treat me to a stop and frisk(?)¡± replies the Gothor woman, her tone (bafflingly) translated as flirtatious in spite of the wide gulf between their physiologies.

    I cross the landingpad to reach the open doors to the crowded hall.

    Anxiety swells within me as I pick my way through the throng, hearing the cacophony assault my ears!

    I¡¯m instantly glad of the device the Terran insisted I have, as large sturdy beings cavort around me yet find themselves unable to collide with me.

    I¡¯m not sure exactly where I¡¯m headed¡­ I suppose I¡¯m hoping to run into Tcakqaal and her lifemate but, seeing just how crowded this enormous room is, I doubt I¡¯ll find them without either taking wing or calling them¡­ both of which I would find too embarrassing.

    I begin to wish again that I had stayed on the ship with Akrat when I hear someone call my name.

    I turn, my expression bemused, to see a tall, slim, bearded Terran with purple eyes and a patch on his right cheek, under which I know is a fresh claw wound.

    He enthusiastically beckons me over to where he sits with five other Terrans and a Tythii.

    I approach the group, unsure exactly why the Terran Representative might be hailing me?

    I¡¯ve never met the man, unless you count at the Special Council where we sat in the same room?

    ¡°Uhm¡­ Hello Representative?¡± I greet.

    ¡°Waqa¡¯arc, 15<sup>th</sup> Daughter of Highspire Peak!¡± grins the man with the facewound ¡°It¡¯s a privilege! I was so hoping you would come!¡±

    ¡°You were?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely! I don¡¯t think it¡¯s an exaggeration to say this party very well might not be happening without you!¡± he smiles ¡°Everyone, this is the R¡¯qali who clinched the Special Council vote for us! Waqa¡¯arc, this is Nirina ¡®Orchid¡¯ Rain, my wife, Vahatra ¡®Purple¡¯ Rain, my daughter, Wynythil of the Dancing Reeds, my daughter-in-law, Admiral Sindisiwe ¡®Roar¡¯ Ledwaba, her husband Vice Admiral Aaron ¡®Triple C¡¯ Friedman and their daughter Khanya ¡®Quiet¡¯ Friedman¡­ and, of course, myself, Ndum ¡®Lemur¡¯ Rain.¡±

    All of them nod their heads in acknowledgement as he names them until he gets to himself.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I say uncertainly ¡°¡­it¡¯s a pleasure?¡±

    ¡°No, Ma¡¯am! The pleasure is ours!¡­ Please, sit with us! The Admiral and Vice Admiral here are likely going to be deployed to Graom-Wakhkort soon, perhaps you could share some of your insights with them?¡±

    ---Victor¡¯s perspective---

    I frown as I see Waqa¡¯arc walking through the crowd, seeming dazed.

    I actually have to spend a few moments wondering if this might just be another R¡¯qali who¡¯s a dead ringer for her but, ultimately, decide I had it right the first time.

    I stride up to her and she doesn¡¯t seem to notice me.

    ¡°Oi, Waqa¡¯arc¡­?¡±

    She turns to look up at me but doesn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°What¡¯s happenin¡¯?¡­ Thought you weren¡¯t comin¡¯?¡±

    Seeming almost (but not quite) drunk she answers ¡°Well¡­ I decided to come¡­ I came¡­ I talked to Representative Rain¡­ he offered me a job?¡±

    ¡°He offered you a job? What job?¡± I frown.

    ¡°The new head of the ODR on R¡¯qal?¡± she asks more than tells, like she¡¯s not sure herself.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Congrats?¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XLV: Pancakes and Kobolds

    ---H¨¤o¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Fuck, Winter! It¡¯s about time!¡± I chuckle, checking us into the locker to return our sidearms.

    The red eyed, blank faced Longi follows me in and quietly answers ¡°I was too embarrassed to be the one to bring it up¡­ ?ba didn¡¯t want to put me in an awkward position if I didn¡¯t feel the same.¡±

    ¡°Mmm! Sounds rough!¡­ Still! Glad it worked out in the end!¡± I say, dropping the mag and racking the slide to clear the chamber.

    It must be tough being a Longi!

    Someone who didn¡¯t already know would never be able to guess that her lineage and my ethnicity both have our roots in the same part of Earth!

    For whatever reason, conditions in prehistoric East Asia seem to have made every last one of them inscrutably stoic! If you want to know if they hate you down to their bones or if their soul is tied and dreams haunted by you, neither their face or voice will tell you(!)

    Then again, as my failed marriage will attest, being straight hearted and quick tongued isn¡¯t exactly a guarantee of success in love¡­(!)

    You both might get juuust far enough into a relationship to realise you each mainly liked the other for their body that it¡¯s too late for a clean split!

    Still¡­ I got X¨©nb¨¨i and Yu¨¢ny¨²n out of the deal¡­ I¡¯d not take the do-over if you offered it!

    Guns and ammo stowed, we exit the locker and head down the hall to Armour.

    Just as we cross the threshold, she asks ¡°What about you?¡± in a flat tone that would be near impossible to make sense of in my language¡­ like someone who only knew how to make one vowel sound(!)

    ¡°What about me?¡± I ask, summoning my mannequin from the wall and starting to unhitch my cuirass.

    ¡°The Kobold girl?¡± she clarifies.

    ¡°¡®Gothor¡¯, Winter! We may be knocking off right now but that¡¯s a bad habit to get into in our line of work¡­¡± I correct, going into ¡®stern superior mode¡¯ for a second ¡°¡­and, no, nothing¡¯s going on with Hriko¡­ nor do I think it¡¯s at all likely to!¡±

    ¡°You flirt a lot.¡± she answers, laconically.

    ¡°She¡¯s a flirtatious woman! Doesn¡¯t mean anything. Doesn¡¯t change the fact that, representing a neutral species, it¡¯d be a huuuge conflict of interest for her!¡±

    ¡°She comes here a lot for a neutral.¡± Winter points out.

    ¡°Which might mean she¡¯s personally coming around on us, even if her species isn¡¯t¡­ All the less reason to risk messing it all up by getting her fired for an improper tryst with a Terran!¡± I say, taking off my sabaton boots and placing them in front of the now fully armoured mannequin before sending it back into the wall and turning around.

    ¡°So, you¡¯d say ¡®no¡¯ if she propositioned you then?¡± says Winter, also down to her liners.

    The question stops me dead in my tracks as the mental image of the alluringly thicc little reptilian woman swims into my mind, making bedroom eyes at me.

    Winter opens her mouth but, before she says anything, I raise a finger to say ¡°I¡¯m thinking about it!¡±

    ---Hriko¡¯s perspective---

    My hearts are *thu-thump*ing in my chest, hiding in this bathroom stall in the residential building at the ODR.

    I¡¯m really doing this!

    It¡¯s thrilling how utterly bad I¡¯m being right now!

    It¡¯s like a trashy erotica!

    The charming warrior from the species of sexy, deathworld, mammalian hunks and the  seductive, fashionable and oh-so-magnetic envoy of the Gothor, graced with beauty and elegance that transcend mere mortal comprehension, knowing it¡¯s wrong but can¡¯t help herself but to be seduced by him!

    Oh I can¡¯t wait!

    I¡¯ve already been here [45mins] and I¡¯m getting antsy!

    Surely, any moment now¡­?

    *Pururururiiing* is the sound my holo makes to let me know it¡¯s time.

    I withdraw my disguise and pull it over my head, completely obscuring my identity and even my species!

    Before I put the hood up, I activate the voice changer app and tuck my holo under my choker, against my throat.

    I pull the sheer cloth mask over my beak to obscure my face

    Now, he¡¯ll be none the wiser as to my identity until the moment I reveal myself!

    I¡¯m sure his surprise will swiftly transition to that famous Terran lust(!)

    Without anyone else around to be behaving for and with a woman as fine as myself on offer to him, he won¡¯t be able to help himself but to seize me up and do everything he¡¯s been intimating he wants to since we first met!

    I¡¯m counting on it in fact!

    ¡°Hello¡­?¡± I test, finding my voice completely unrecognisable through the distorted digitisation my holo is applying.

    Satisfied I won¡¯t be identified by anyone I run into, I unlock the stall and hurry over to the bathroom door.

    I¡¯m about [3m] from it (too early for it to have detected my intention to go through) when it slides open, causing me to emit a roboticised squeak of surprise.

    Through the door steps a muscular Terran, about [40cm] taller than me, in skin tight clothes, an intricate design I haven¡¯t seen before, scored around the bare flesh of her left biceps, and an unreadable face.

    The Longi woman I recognise as Ch¨¦n¡¯s partner turns her bright scarlet eyes to my mask.

    I freeze in place, staring back at her, my hearts pounding as I wait for her to make her next move.

    She¡¯s a security officer! Is she going to demand I explain the reason I¡¯m wearing a disguise in the ODR? Run forward and arrest me for it!? Am I going to be thrown in a cell and asked to explain what I¡¯m doing here?!?!?! Am I going to be sent home in disgrace for hot, steamy, Terran sex I never even succeeded in having?!

    Her Terran [Vampire] eyes flick down my body and back up.

    Her body twitches as she makes a very brief noise through her nose that sounds like *snrk* but, otherwise, doesn¡¯t react at all before striding past me and wishing me ¡°Good evening, Miss.¡± in a flat tone.

    ¡°And¡­ good evening to you, stranger!¡± I wish her back in my altered voice.

    Another *snrrrk* is all the answer to that that she gives.

    I step out and, slightly incredulously, turn to watch as the bathroom door slides closed behind me.

    I hold one more moment before glee overcomes me and I have to do a happy little dance, my six long toes bunching up as I lift them and splaying out as they come back down.

    She didn¡¯t  recognise me at all!

    ---H¨¤o¡¯s perspective---

    I sit on my balcony, enjoying having the weight off my feet after my shift.

    I take a deep breath of the twilit night air as I look up to admire the way my Chinese fringetree frames the purple sky, thick with bright stars.

    Letting my mind go blank, I experience a prolonged moment of simple, contented peace¡­

    Then, that moment is interrupted by the image of a cute, beaky, sandy orange scaled face, flanked by two curved horns with another pair of shorter, straighter ones jutting from the skull above it.

    ¡®Officer Ch¨¦n¡­¡¯ murmurs my mental image of Representative Hriko ¡®¡­I need you¡­ No one else will do! Please¡­ make love to me¡­¡¯

    Her gloved hands slide down the sides of her relatively tiny upper body to pass over her hips (about as curvaceous as a yoga ball(!))

    I start back from my doze and smack my own face to punish myself for not having shut down that fantasy quicker.

    The woman is off limits! It¡¯s one thing to make half true half false flirts with her but actually asking her out risks becoming a fucking diplomatic incident!

    If the headline ¡®Terran ODR Guard Scandalously Propositions Gothor Representative¡¯ hits news sites, I lose my job!

    I like my job!

    Unless and until there¡¯s another War (not that that¡¯s something I¡¯m rooting for(!)), it¡¯s also the only thing I¡¯m good at!

    That¡¯s not even to mention the way it¡¯d set our relationship with her species back¡­ and probably hurt our reputation more broadly too!

    She¡¯s just flirty!

    We flirt!

    That¡¯s our thing¡­ and that will stay our thing¡­ that and nothing more!

    It¡¯s¡­!

    *Bing-booong* comes the chime from out of my open balcony door, cutting my mental thread.

    I turn my head to look through the window into my apartment, frowning.

    Is that Winter?

    I was just with her 10 minutes ago!

    Did she remember something else she wanted to tell me about her new boyfriend and couldn¡¯t wait till our next shift? That doesn¡¯t sound like her!

    I stand from the bench and walk across my garden to the door, waving it closed behind me as I step back inside.

    I walk past the picture of me, Bruy, X¨©nb¨¨i and Yu¨¢ny¨²n, then past my plasmaji¨¤n and frame (both long decommissioned) on the wall, past the short corridor leading to the bathroom on my right then the work surface that marks the outer edge of my kitchen on my left, a decorative vase of bullrushes on top of it.

    I step into my entry hallway and approach my front door, a feeling of unease building in my gut.

    I wave it open and, where I expect to see a pair of scarlet eyes staring blankly back at me, I see only empty space.

    I look down to see the figure who rang my doorbell.

    Their face is obscured by a tight, dark cloth mask that they¡¯ll be able to see me through but prevents me from making out more than the shape of a beak.

    The rest of their head is shrouded in a wide hood, the contours of two recurved horns on the sides and the fabric raised to two peaks on the top.

    Their torso is swamped in the same rich, velvety blue fabric as the hood but it¡¯s completely unable to disguise the distinctive bellshape of their body, the overwhelming majority of their mass falling below their waist.

    The outfit is trimmed in metallic blue material and the loose sleeves end in a pair of blue gloves.

    The robe they¡¯re wearing as a ¡®disguise¡¯ ends about 5cm from the floor and, beneath it, I can see six dinosaur claws, painted in a glossy metallic blue to match the rest of their outfit.

    ¡°Greetings, Officer Ch¨¦n¡­ may I come inside?¡± says the figure in modulated but completely recognisable Gothor.

    ---Hriko¡¯s perspective---

    The wiry Terran, like his subordinate, has body art I¡¯m seeing for the first time but, unlike her, on both of his arms.

    His eyes go wide as he pokes his head from the entrance to look left and right along the corridor.

    Standing aside, he raises a hand to wave me in.

    Well¡­ that was easy!

    I really expected to have to do a lot more convincing before he would agree to let an apparent stranger into his home!

    The door shuts and I turn around to see him fiddling with the panel¡­ I watch as the enormous window between his lounge and balcony is turned from two way to one way to completely opaque and, then, as he puts the privacy field up!

    What a scandalous, womanising libertine!

    He doesn¡¯t even know who I am or why I¡¯ve come here and he¡¯s already making the necessary preparations!

    I mean¡­ as exciting as it is that he¡¯s apparently willing to jump into bed with any stranger who calls at his door, I must also confess it to be slightly disappointing¡­ It makes me feel much less special¡­ not to mention a bit jealous¡­

    He ushers me past his kitchen to the lounge area with the now completely opaque window at its back.

    ¡°Take a seat.¡± he instructs, not using the tone I¡¯d expect from a Terran about to make love to the one he¡¯s speaking to.

    Maybe the porn I¡¯ve watched has been misrepresenting how they do things for some reason?

    I sit on the couch with what I recognise as a decommissioned Terran [aeroframe] hung on the wall, to my left, beside a picture of the man with a grey eyed, light brown skinned, Terran woman with rounded facial features, a full figure and very wide hips.

    In front of them are two children, one brown eyed, one grey and both obviously theirs.

    I didn¡¯t know he¡¯d been an Airborne¡­ nor that he was a father.

    I would guess his marriage to that Denisovan woman must not have been able to withstand his apparent habit of jumping into bed with any who rang their doorbell(!)

    Rather than seating himself next to me to initiate things, he crosses to the far side of the coffee table and perches at the edge of a single seater.

    The look on his face makes me realise I misread his intentions before he speaks.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening, Representative? Why are you here? You¡¯re not in trouble, are you?¡± his tone grave.

    I¡¯m dumbstruck for some long moments.

    Did he really just¡­?!

    I collect myself enough to ask ¡°You¡­ you think you know who I am, do you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Representative, I know it¡¯s you.¡± he states, simply ¡°Your disguise doesn¡¯t hide the shape of your horns, the shape of your beak, the shape of your body, your height, your tetradactyly, your toes, the fact that you¡¯re speaking Gothor and, by being so very cutting edge of fashion, actually advertises that it has to be you under there¡­ Next time you need to wear a disguise, I¡¯d suggest a different approach.¡±

    ¡°It could be another fashionable Gothor?¡± I suggest, slightly put out.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know any other fashionable Gothor, Representative¡­ Now¡­ are you going to tell me what this is about? I assume it can¡¯t be anything too terrible if you have time to play dumb about whether you¡¯re you or not?¡±

    I sigh and reach to my mask.

    ---H¨¤o¡¯s perspective---

    The little gardenworlder reaches up to the stretchy dark fabric covering her face.

    She pulls it down, revealing a friendshaped, beaky, reptilian head with sandy orange scales, about 2% of them darker, giving the impression of freckles.

    Her eyes have golden sclera and rich reddish maroon irides.

    She drops the hood, allowing me to see that her forehead, scalp and horns are covered in shiny blue make up to complement the outfit she wears, her periocular flesh painted in a darker eyeshadow.

    She takes her holo out from where it was tucked against her throat, under her royal blue metal choker.

    ¡°You ruined it¡­¡± she smiles, resigned ¡°¡­I had it aaall planned out; I¡¯d show up in disguise and talk my way into your apartment and you wouldn¡¯t know who I was, then, I¡¯d reveal myself(!) You just had to go and ruin my plans by being a perceptive deathworlder, Ch¨¦n(!)¡±

    Wryly, I cock an eyebrow and state ¡°It really didn¡¯t take that much perception, though I¡¯m flattered you think I¡¯m worth any amount of cloak and dagger(!) I¡¯m mainly glad you¡¯re not here because you need protection!¡±

    ¡°No, no!¡± she objects ¡°Your subordinate didn¡¯t know who I was!¡±

    ¡°Winter saw you?¡±

    ¡°Indeed¡­ and she didn¡¯t have any idea it was me!¡±

    Sceptically, I ask ¡°How close was she to you? Did she look at you or in any other way react to you?¡±

    She frowns ¡°Well, we were about [3m] apart and she stopped to look at me but then she just made this kind of nasal grinding noise and walked past me¡­ She called me ¡®Miss¡¯ instead of ¡®Representative¡¯ so she definitely didn¡¯t know who I was!¡±

    ¡°She knew who you were, Representative.¡± I state ¡°She would have arrested you for wearing an unsanctioned disguise in the ODR if she hadn¡¯t known exactly who you were. That snort was the closest she comes to laughing.¡±

    ¡°But¡­!¡± she objects, dismayed ¡°¡­what about her not addressing me as ¡®Representative¡¯!¡±

    ¡°She was humouring you, Representative.¡± I explain.

    The object of my inappropriate affections spends several long moments processing that with various shades of dismay passing across her adorable, made up face.

    Finally, she gives another sigh and collapses back over where I know her chubby tail is, slumping against the seatback.

    ¡°How did you know where I live, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±

    Lazily, she raises a gloved right hand over my shoulder, gesturing to the opaque window behind me.

    ¡°The tree.¡± she states, listlessly.

    ¡°The fringetree?¡± I clarify.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ You mentioned it a few weeks ago¡­ After that, I looked up a picture of it and made a few rounds of the barracks buildings to see any with balconies that had trees that looked like a good match for the galactopedia entry¡¯s picture of chionanthus retusus¡­ That let me narrow it down to this floor of this building¡­ Then I just went around until I found the apartment with your nameplate on.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± I state, relieved that we don¡¯t have a leak to worry about, that Hriko isn¡¯t stupid enough to have bought leaked ODR info from a databroker and impressed that she was able to do that much sleuthing to find my place! However, that does raise the question ¡°And why did you want to come here so badly?¡±

    She scowls and irritatedly answers ¡°To have sex! Obviously!¡±

    Flabbergasted by that, I spend several long moments opening and closing my mouth with no words escaping.

    Finally, I manage ¡°With¡­ me¡­?¡±

    ¡°No(!) With the other handsome, mammalian, deathworld security guard who lives in this apartment and¡¯s been flirting with me for months(!) Yes, obviously with you!¡­ I was going to reveal myself and show you the sexy outfit I¡¯m wearing and it was going to be so romantic that we¡¯d be having sex before either of us knew what was happening!¡± she sulks.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± I say, buying myself time to think ¡°¡­and how come you didn¡¯t just ask me if you could come back to my place or if I could come to yours? Why this subterfuge?¡±

    She rolls her snout in exasperation and answers ¡°Because you¡¯re always with at least Winter and I don¡¯t want it getting out that I¡¯m violating Gothor neutrality by having sex with a Terran!¡­ Of course, she knows anyway now¡­ if you¡¯re right about her having seen through my disguise as easily as you did, that is!¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Winter knows better than to spread rumours, Representative. You don¡¯t have to worry about that.¡± I reassure ¡°She¡¯s actually been rooting for us for some time, so I don¡¯t think she¡¯d ruin things by selling the story to a tabloid or telling anyone who would(!)¡±

    That earns a heartachingly cute giggle from the little Gothor woman who¡¯s orders of magnitude sexier than any being has any right to be!

    I leave a long pause before ¡°Do¡­ do you think I could see the outfit?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± she frowns.

    ¡°The outfit¡­ You said you had a special outfit under that robe?¡­ Could I see it, Representative?¡± I ask, my heart pounding and my breaths short.

    A sultry smirk spreads across her face as she leans forward and narrows her eyes.

    Holding up two of the four fingers of her gloved right hand she says ¡°On two conditions.¡±

    ¡°What are they?¡± I say, managing not to choke on the lump in my throat.

    ¡°One) you have to say my name.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­ Hriko¡­ so long as you call me ¡®H¨¤o¡¯¡­ And the other?¡±

    She stands and slowly slinks her way around the coffee table, stopping in front of my chair.

    Playfully, turning her little dinosaur beak to the side, she says ¡°You have to take off my robe!¡±

    ---Hriko¡¯s perspective---

    Every part of the powerful, lithe body and handsome face before me is stock still¡­ except the eyes.

    In his frozen posture, his eyes flick from my face to the hem of my robe as he considers the invitation to undress me.

    Finally, his curiosity (and/or his Terran lust) wins out and he stands.

    I wordlessly reach my arms up in the air over my head.

    A full [50cm] taller than me, he barely has to reach above his own shoulder level to grasp the flares of my sleeves.

    Slowly and gently, he uses just enough of his enormous strength to pull the garment up over my head, plunging me into darkness.

    My top is so loose that it begins to be pulled up as well, until my arms manage to get free and hold it down.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Hriko! This is absolutely gorgeous!¡± he says as the bottom of the robe clears the top of my head, giving him an unobstructed view of the outfit I designed and tailored myself and which, due to that, is one of a kind and has never been seen by anyone else except me before!

    Printed in the rich blue of the current season (I  am still a slave to fashion, afterall(!)) but, beside that, it¡¯s a bold Hriko original!

    Around my shoulders, draping down to suggestively cover my flat chest (as if I might have mammaries there that I need to protect the modesty of) and adorned with six fist sized sapphire stars, is a slim mantle. It, my choker and my gloves are the only clothing I¡¯m wearing above the waist.

    Around my hips is an open fronted skirt, exposing my wide thighs and crotch, protected only by a pair of shimmering blue panties. The sides and back form a much longer train, shaped to fit around the base of my tail and designed to tantalisingly obscure what I suspect to be his favourite part of my body(!)

    Breathlessly, the Terran man who¡¯s more than a third taller than me stares down at my outfit.

    I watch as his right hand extends to my beak, open in a grasp¡­

    I¡¯m just closing my eyes and preparing to let myself be taken for whatever the alluring deathworlder chooses to use me for when I see his hand pull back away.

    My eyes snap open and I turn my face upward to look at his, demanding an explanation with my expression.

    Speaking slowly and carefully, he says ¡°I¡¯m not going to insult you by asking if you really want this, Hriko. Even if you decided now that the risk to your reputation was too great¡­ it¡¯s a bit late¡­ Just coming here has the potential for the same career ending consequences as coming here and doing what you meant to do¡­ I won¡¯t try to deny that I¡¯ve fantasised about this moment¡­ I want you Hriko¡­ I definitely want you!¡±

    ¡°Then¡­?¡± I start, my hearts soaring.

    ¡°But¡­!¡± he cuts me off, causing me to plummet back down to earth ¡°¡­I¡­ I¡¯m embarrassed to say that I can¡¯t touch you just yet.¡±

    Frowning quizzically, I turn my head 45¡ã and ask ¡°¡®Yet¡¯? Why not? What has to happen first?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s just that I¡¯ve been in armour all day¡­ I was going to have a shower in a little bit but you caught me before that happened¡­ Whatever organisms have been flourishing in the sweat I¡¯ve been giving off are probably things you don¡¯t want on you¡­ Would you give me a few minutes to go and run under a decontamination field?¡± he explains, apologetically.

    I stare back at him, incredulous, for several long moments.

    Then I burst out laughing!

    ¡°*Hahahahahahahahahahahaha*! Terran¡­*hahahahaha*¡­ ardour leaves¡­*hahahahahaha*¡­ a little to be desired if¡­*hahahaha*¡­ you still have room¡­*hahaha* in your brain¡­*hahahaha*¡­ to worry about¡­*haha*¡­hygiene(!)¡± I say, hysterically ¡°Go!¡­*hahem* Get clean¡­ Then come back and ravish me(!)¡±

    He smiles and raises his fist to his heart in a mock Terran salute.

    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am(!)¡± he barks with a smirk before turning to my right to pass by his old War gear, mounted on his wall on his way to the bathroom.

    He stops himself and turns around, raising an arm behind me.

    ¡°Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if your hungry, Hriko.¡± he beams.

    I chuckle.

    Such hospitality isn¡¯t really what I had in mind when being wooed by a Terran(!)

    I sort of imagined passion, force, I imagined worrying for my safety and, yes, those thoughts thrilled me!

    Instead, I get considerate requests to be allowed to wash before proceedings and an invitation to help myself to his food¡­

    Well, this is charming too¡­ in its own way.

    I am actually a little hungry, now I think of it.

    I turn and, standing on the outer worksurface of his open plan kitchen, I notice them for the first time.

    I¡¯m transfixed.

    Standing in a beautiful urn are many Terran green stalks and leaves¡­ It¡¯s not the greenery that¡¯s caught my eyes.

    At the ends of those stalks are long, cylindrical, brown fruits with rounded ends.

    I don¡¯t know their names.

    They¡¯re OK to have, right? He did say ¡®anything in the kitchen¡¯ and the kitchen is where they are¡­?

    Gazing at those absolutely delicious looking fruits, the only thought in my head is¡­ ¡®Me want bite!¡¯

    ---H¨¤o¡¯s perspective---

    My hands are trembling and my heart pounding, like they only ever have a handful of times in my life, as I operate the shower controls.

    Age 19, when I did the exam for my black sash in Xingyi, a few weeks after that, when I got my draft notice, the following year when a certain Pvt Flint pulled me into her tent for the first time, after the War when we got married, the call to let me know she was in labour with X¨©nb¨¨i¡­ all those moments filled me with a similar thrill of apprehension as I have now, knowing who¡¯s waiting in the lounge and what she¡¯s waiting for!

    It¡¯s almost comical how many dire combat situations I¡¯ve been able to keep a completely level head through, compared with the nerves I¡¯m feeling now!

    The decontamination field springs to life and my hands reach to the collar of my armour liner¡­ then stop.

    Unless I want to walk out of the shower buck arse naked, taking my clothes off to decontaminate them separately and then putting them back on is just going to waste time!

    I step into the shower and feel as the field goes to work, cleansing my skin microbiome of anything potentially pathogenic or odoriferous.

    It¡¯s work is almost done when¡­

    *Bang*

    My head whips to the bathroom door.

    That sounded like about the weight of a Gothor, hitting the ground hard!

    I bolt from the shower and through the door, looking right and seeing Hriko, in her absolutely stunning outfit, lying on her back by my kitchen counter, her mouth filled with yellowy foam and her gloved hands vainly trying to claw at her throat.

    Horrified, I¡¯m across the room and knelt over her without any awareness of the decision or time it took me to get there!

    Scanning the scene, I realise that the substance filling her mouth isn¡¯t foam¡­ it¡¯s fluff¡­ It almost looks like¡­

    I spare a glance to the countertop and see a watersausage with a chunk of its highly compressed seeds bitten off!

    Fucking hell, Hriko!

    ¡°Point to your diaphragm.¡± I order, forced calm in my voice.

    The 0.5secs it takes her to comply feels like hours to me!

    Finally, her right glove moves from her throat to point to the middle of her little potbelly, lower than a Human¡¯s.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to try the Heimlich Manoeuvre on you¡­¡± I say, grabbing her shoulders and lifting all (what feels like) 25kg of her up to my chest ¡°¡­I¡¯ll do my best to be gentle but it will probably be rougher than ideal. Do your best to keep your diaphragm relaxed for me.¡± With no time to explain the manoeuvre in any more detail.

    Her tail gets in the way somewhat as I press her back into my front and knot both my hands across her stomach.

    I wait until I feel the polykinetic alien muscles cease their expanding, contracting and twisting beneath my fingers and then¡­

    *Thump* is the sound of her entire body being crushed into my front by the contraction of my arms.

    I neither see the cloud of expelled bullrush seeds nor hear the reassuring coughing and rasping I would like¡­ I repeat the action, slightly more forcefully, still careful not to do it hard enough to break her spine or rupture her organs.

    *Thump**thump**THUMP*

    The air finally bursts from her unclogged oesophagus, blasting a cloud of (thankfully sterilised) deathworld seeds to begin drifting down to my kitchen floor.

    Relief washes over my body as I feel the scales move beneath my fingers and hear the hacking, wheezing coughs of someone who has just been saved from choking.

    ¡°Representative?! Are you alright!?¡­ Talk to me, Hriko!¡± I demand, turning her around and extending my arms to perch her on the counter next to the offending cattail.

    ¡°*Hrrghm*¡¯m¡­*cough*¡­ fine!...*huff* Could¡¯ve¡­used¡­*cough**cough*cough*¡­ a warning, though(!)¡±

    Apologetically, I say ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s my bad¡­ I should¡¯ve warned you about the cattails.¡±

    Mostly recovered, she frowns ¡°How are you *cough* meant to eat these things!? What I did was clearly not *cough**cough* the way!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ you aren¡¯t, Hriko¡­ They¡¯re not food¡­ There¡¯s not really any good nutrition in them, at least when they¡¯re mature like this, and, as you experienced, they expand rapidly on impact so they¡¯re not that good for eating!¡±

    Wincing in disbelief, she slowly turns her beak to me, her eyeshadowed and hooded eyes closed.

    Whispering incredulously, she asks ¡°Then why are they in your kitchen?!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ they¡­ they¡¯re decorative¡­ I like the way they look¡­¡± I explain, sheepishly.

    ¡°And you like the way they act as a trap for any unsuspecting gardenworld guests, I suppose(?)¡± she smirks.

    I shake my head ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, Hriko¡­ Do you wanna maybe call things here for tonight and go and get chec-?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not! You¡¯re not putting me through nearly choking to death on your ¡®decorations¡¯, giving me a taste of what it feels like to be snatched up in the arms of a big, strong deathworlder and then getting away with sending me home unsatisfied(!)¡± she seductively extends her legs to grasp my knees in her dino toes, smirking ¡°I expect you to make this little fumble of yours up to me by carrying me upstairs and giving me the most pleasurable night of my life(!)¡±

    ¡°*Heheh*¡­No pressure or anything(!)¡± I chuckle.

    She performs a Gothor shrug equivalent and says ¡°I find it¡¯s best for a lady to be clear about what she wants¡­ then she only has others to blame if those desires go unfulfilled(!)¡±

    Laughing, I step forward, close enough to put my arms back around her, only for a caress instead of a violent, lifesaving medical intervention, this time.

    ---Hriko¡¯s perspective---

    My throat still tickling from the way the disgusting seedpod burst down it (hopefully not the only explosion of Terran seed that happens inside me tonight(!)), my back and stomach still bruised from what was necessary to save my life, I look up at the gorgeous, beakless primate as he draws close.

    Allowing me to once again feel the heat of his flesh, he gently wraps his hands around me, pressing me into his front.

    My beak opens as he brings his warm lips to the right side of my face and begins to cover it with a rain of kisses.

    I reach up to wrap my arms around his shoulders and, in the same moment, he reaches his left hand down to slide it between my skirt and the countertop.

    Keeping his right hand at my back, to press me into him, he scoops me up into a piggyfront carry.

    The warmth of this large endotherm¡¯s body as he cradles me in his arms feels absolutely worth the risk to my career!

    Maybe, if I¡¯m discovered and stripped of the Representativeship the way that insufferable Battan girl just was, I can just refuse the summons back to the cradle and come here to offer myself to him as a full time sex toy(!)

    Sounds much more fun than all those interminable councils and all that bureaucracy(!)

    My species really aren¡¯t good at red tape! Guess I was just the least bad in the Gothor Syndicracy(!)

    Maybe, while he was at work, I¡¯d finally have time to devote myself to my real passion¡­ spending [hours] per Citadel day just designing clothes! The prettiest ones I could make! For every species!

    I sigh at the thought and only then register that we are ascending.

    While I was daydreaming of a life as a sex-slave-cum-fashion-designer, he carried me to the bottom of the stairs(!)

    Effortlessly, he supports my weight, kisses my face and neck and climbs the steps without any of those actions seeming to distract in the slightest from any of the others!

    We reach the balcony and he turns right, then left, giving me a final view of the lounge and opaque window.

    One more left turn and I¡¯m facing a wall and hearing a door slide open behind me.

    The wonderfully sexy, charming, charismatic Terran pulls me from his front as he walks us into what I assume is his darkened sleeping chamber.

    Meeting my eyes, he sparkles ¡°You asked to be ravished by a big, bad Terran, Hriko¡­ You¡¯re about to get what you wanted¡­ You sure you won¡¯t regret it(?)¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t!¡­ Now shut up and [fuck] me!¡± I demand.

    ¡°*Heh*¡­As you wish!¡± he smirks¡­ then drops me!

    ---H¨¤o¡¯s perspective---

    Hriko shrieks as she falls from my arms onto my bed (the sheets thankfully run through a forge to get clean this morning, before work).

    She lands and bounces, her sapphire festooned shawl top riding up to expose her scaly, nippleless, breastless chest.

    Not that her lack of mammaries matters to me!

    Breasts are merely a pale imitation of the buttocks¡­ If asked if I¡¯d rather have a copy or the original, naturally, I¡¯d choose the original!¡­ And, let me tell you, this little lady has. a. lot. of the original!

    Without including hindbody segments, like the Vrakhand and Vk¡¯unhz have (NO thanks! Entomophilia isn¡¯t my dish!), Gothor have the fattest arses of any sapient!

    For a bona fide arse man, such as myself, there could be nothing more appealing!

    The door slides closed and the room is plunged into darkness.

    ¡°Lights: 25%¡± I order.

    The lights come on and dimly reveal the shape of the bottomheavy woman on my bed.

    ¡°35%¡± I correct, wanting to see everything I¡¯m about to do to her, while keeping the atmosphere sexy.

    I reach down to grasp Hriko¡¯s shawl and pull it over her head, careful not to let it catch on her horns.

    The enormous jewels rattle against one another as I lift it up and drop it on my bedside cabinet.

    ¡°Hands.¡± I order, extending mine to her, palms up.

    She hesitates a moment before reaching out and placing her gloved hands in mine.

    I pinch the fabric over the ends of her fingers and begin pulling them away.

    Her hands bare, I¡¯m able to see she¡¯s painted her fingerclaws with the same metallic blue nailpolish as her toeclaws.

    I reach to her neck and unfasten her choker, pulling it away and placing it on top of the shawl with the gloves.

    Now completely topless in a way that really highlights the disproportion between her upper and lower bodies, Hriko scoots up the bed, looking a little nervous.

    I kneel on the mattress and follow, my frame utterly dwarfing hers as I use my limbs to cage her beneath me.

    Lifting a hand, I drag the fingertips from her clavicle, down her chest, over her adorable potbelly and to the top of her open fronted skirt, just above her gorgeous, glimmering blue panties.

    I pinch the top and bottom of the belt buckle between my thumb and forefinger, confirming it to be a quick release as it unclips and falls away, exposing her impossibly curvaceous hips!

    Her pelvis is easily twice the width of her shoulders and each thigh is so thicc I could fit my whole head inside a cast of one!

    Fuck! I need to be out of these liners 5 minutes ago(!)

    My hand withdraws from her pelvis and goes to my collar.

    I straighten up as I unzip my front and work myself out of the tight fitting onepiece, trying not to seem as desperate as I am.

    Both now clad only in our drawers, I collect my liner and her skirt and remove them from the bed.

    I consider asking her who she wants to be the first to get fully nude¡­

    ¡­Then, I decide she¡¯s getting nude first!

    She wanted to be ravished, ravishers take what they want and don¡¯t bother to check if the ravishee is cool with it(!)

    My hands reach to the wings of her metallic cloth panties and start to work them over the curves of those impossible thighs.

    Her feet bunch up to let her fancy undies pass completely off of her and be cast over with the rest of our clothes.

    I reach forward and grasp her fetlocks, just above her dewclaws.

    One leg clamped in each hand, I spread my arms to open those thighs.

    What I see does not surprise me¡­ a single opening, located almost precisely at the midpoint between the bases of both legs and her chubby tail.

    Yes, I looked up Gothor reproductive anatomy after I became aware of them¡­ but before meeting Hriko!

    No, I wasn¡¯t proud of it at the time and almost definitely would have been too ashamed to do it if I¡¯d actually known any of them back then!

    However, right now I¡¯m very glad I did!

    I think, if I hadn¡¯t known her species was cloacal, the surprise and confusion I reacted with probably would¡¯ve come across as ¡®dismay¡¯¡­ which might¡¯ve killed the mood a bit(!)

    My research also armed me with the knowledge that male Gothor have penises¡­ not too much smaller or differently shape to Humans¡¯!

    First things first, though! That arse needs my face in it!

    ---Hriko¡¯s perspective---

    *Eeeep* I shriek as I¡¯m yanked back up off the bed by the powerful, ink etched arms of the wiry Terran.

    He swings me around so that, though upside down, my front faces his.

    *Oof* I gasp as my bruised belly is squashed against his warm chest.

    My legs splay in the air and I feel his hot breath on my undercarriage, his burning cheeks pushing their way between my thighs.

    I moan and squirm involuntarily at the strange (but extremely pleasant) sensation of hot, wet, mammalian lips meeting my sex but he holds me fast against himself, not dropping me.

    This feeling is completely unlike that of any of the sex toys I own or have ever had used on me!

    His forehead warms the base of my tail and his mobile lips writhe against my opening as the tongue slips between them (and into me) to explore all three sections of my cloacal chamber (making me very glad of the special care I took to clean down there earlier(!))

    I feel the ludicrously powerful jaws opening and closing against my flesh as H¨¤o makes as if eating me from the bottom up(!)

    It¡¯s only at this point that I become conscious of where my face is¡­ or, rather, what it¡¯s next to!

    Gleefully, I bring my hands up to the hem of his final garment and push the simple, utilitarian briefs (charming in their own way, not that I¡¯d ever design anything like them!) away from his toned stomach and down his legs.

    ¡°Oh!¡± I exclaim as what they contained lunges forward to impact my face!

    I feel my entire body judder as the one holding me upside down and burying his face between my thighs and tail chuckles at what he¡¯s just felt happen down here.

    Ignoring him laughing at my expense, I take a moment to admire the mammalian sex organ.

    It¡¯s much larger than any Gothor¡¯s that I¡¯ve ever slept with, though it doesn¡¯t have quite the girth typical of Terran porn stars.

    Of course, without lips, I¡¯m unable to stimulate him orally the way I¡¯ve see in those pornos either!

    But¡­ I can always try doing it the way I¡¯d do a partner of my own species, right?

    I decide to go for it, opening my beak to gently clamp his member in it, my bottom jaw against its top side and vice versa.

    My tongue juts forward and meets his tip.

    I taste him¡­ he¡¯s salty and umamiish¡­ It¡¯s quite pleasant!

    I begin circling him with my tongue which¡­ he seems to enjoy¡­ or at least not hate enough to stop me!

    This position, naked, upside down, clamped to the rock hard chest of a naked Officer H¨¤o ¡®Wing¡¯ Ch¨¦n with his sex in my mouth and his mouth in mine¡­ Well, I didn¡¯t imagine this would be part of proceedings but I¡¯m very happy it is!

    He¡¯s much more adept at stimulating me than I seem to be at stimulating him!

    He seems to be pouring pleasure into me¡­ like water into a cup! Any second now, I¡¯m going to overflow!

    *Hrrk* I squeak, as a light orgasm bursts out from the place the man¡¯s mouth is touching me.

    He chortles and tilts his body forward, releasing his arms and allowing me to drop back to the bed.

    His manhood is irresistibly pulled from my beak by the fall, despite my not being anywhere near done with it!

    ---H¨¤o¡¯s perspective---

    I manage to get my hands down, onto the upward horns on top of her head, fast enough to stop them pivoting to stab me in the legs or balls as she falls.

    A good thing, since that possibility hadn¡¯t occurred to me until after I¡¯d already let her go!

    She *flump*s back to the mattress, her large, wide, gold+maroon eyes staring up at me from her chubby, friendshaped face.

    ¡°Roll over and turn around¡­¡± I instruct.

    Reluctantly, she takes her eyes off my cock and rolls onto her front, shuffling around to present her gigantic rear to me, plump tail raising in invitation.

    Fucking hell, that¡¯s a lot of arse!

    I grasp her hips and pull her back against my pelvis, cock pressing between her cheeks, perpendicular to the direction it would need to be for penetration.

    I massage the ample, scaly, sand coloured flesh of her backside, relishing in what I¡¯m about to get to do.

    ¡°C-¡± she starts before stopping just as abruptly.

    ¡°Something to say?¡± I invite, an evil grin on my face.

    A moment more¡¯s hesitation before ¡°Call me a slut!¡±

    I chuckle inaudibly before indulging ¡°You¡¯re a slut, Representative(!)¡±

    She shudders in clear pleasure. Then ¡°Call me a whore!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ a¡­ whore, Hriko!¡± I smile with sadistic glee.

    ¡°Tell me I¡¯m a bad girl! Tell me I shouldn¡¯t be representing my species! Tell me you think I¡¯d make a better sex toy for you! Tell me you¡¯re going to punish me!¡± she demands, greedily.

    ¡°Well¡­ let¡¯s see, shall we?¡­¡± I pretend to consider, pushing my hands through the malleable flesh of her backside, around her tail, over her lower back, across her shoulderblades and then seizing her horns, forcing her head back (not so forcefully that there¡¯s any risk of me snapping her neck!)

    Meeting her eyes over the top of her brow, I ask ¡°Are you a bad girl¡­ I wonder¡­?¡±

    She says nothing, her pupils just twitching, right to left then back, almost imperceptibly.

    I release her right horn and clap my right hand into her right arsecheek.

    She yelps in surprise.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯d say you are!¡­ A bad, bad girl!¡­ Are you more fit to be a Representative to Parliament¡­ or a sex toy to me?¡±

    She closes her eyes and gives a desperate little moan.

    ¡°Mmm! Yes! I¡¯d say you¡¯ll be better as a toy! Afterall, what kind of Representative betrays her people just for a bit of hot dick?!¡± I say, grinding my pelvis into hers ¡°And¡­ what was the last one(?)¡­ Ah, yes! Am I going to punish you? Well, that one I don¡¯t need to think about! The answer is obviously ¡®yes¡¯! After all, you¡¯re a bad girl and, if there¡¯s one thing a big, scary Terran can¡¯t abide, it¡¯s a bad girl who is yet to be punished!¡­ Now¡­take what you deserve¡­¡±

    I pull my hips back from hers until I have enough space to line myself up horizontally.

    ¡°¡­Take my punishment!¡±

    I thrust forward, burying my length inside her.

    Of course, the rotundness of her cheeks would keep me from going all the way in, even if her actual depth didn¡¯t(!)

    She seems to be more than happy with what I am able to give her, though(!)

    She makes a wonderful song of her amorous moaning, whining and alien chirruping!

    The way the ripples propagate through her phat arse with each impact is absolutely inspiring! It¡¯s unreal!

    Fuck!

    I can¡¯t believe how long I denied myself, now I know how amazing this actually is!

    If I get sacked for improper fraternisation, I¡¯ll consider it a price well worth paying for the sublime booty I¡¯m currently enjoying!

    Fucking a beautiful woman with a giant arse is far more addicting than any drug I¡¯ve ever tried!

    I¡¯m liable to catch feelings if I¡¯m not careful(!)

    Then again¡­ might be too late for that!

    Watching the way this vibrant, vivacious, gorgeous little xeno lady reacts to what I¡¯m doing to her, I realise it¡¯s already far too late!

    I¡¯m not gonna be happy with a one and done! I need more of this! More of her!!!

    I¡¯m not gonna be happy with keeping it casual! She needs to be mine!

    I don¡¯t really have a choice but to be happy with keeping it secret (at least for the immediate future) but I really want to be able to tell the whole galaxy ¡®Representative Hriko of the Gothor is now H¨¤o ¡®Wing¡¯ Ch¨¦n¡¯s woman! Keep your hands off her!¡¯

    I know those thoughts are ridiculous but they excite me so much that I get a little overvigorous for a moment!

    I need get myself back under control so I don¡¯t hurt her.

    The slower I go, the more time I¡¯ll have to watch those ripples spread through her backside, the more time I¡¯ll have to hear her moan, the more time I¡¯ll have to enjoy my (temporary, I know) possession of everything this woman is!

    Of course, just as the mantis cannot stop the chariot with its arms, I¡¯m powerless to hold back what¡¯s coming.

    I reach my left hand forward to grab her left recurve horn and bring my right to wrap around the base of her tail, squashing her into my front as much as I¡¯m able, to get as deep as I possibly can.

    Pleasure hits me like a falling mountain as I explode inside of her!

    Our screams mingle as the ecstasy grips us.

    Once it has subsided, I release my grip.

    The large posterior I¡¯ve just made mine slowly slides forward, off my dick, as the woman its attached to collapses to my bed.

    ---Hriko¡¯s perspective---

    My throat and the bottom of my beak rest on the warm, bare flesh of H¨¤o¡¯s upper chest, my eyes looking up at his face, my body bruised both from the early instance of Terran medical violence and the subsequent [fuck]¡­ the best of my life, as requested.

    His eyes are closed but his endothermic hands are still idly massaging the flesh of my backside beneath the covers, so I know he¡¯s still awake.

    ¡°What now¡­?¡± I ask, apprehensively.

    Without opening his eyes, he starts ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m definitely interested in keeping on doing this, so¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes! Obviously we both want to keep doing this!¡± I sigh, nipping the bottom of his chin for the suggestion that he might not have wanted to ¡°What I mean is how are we going to keep doing this when I represent a species on the wrong side of neutral from yours?!¡±

    Before, the thought of conducting a whole clandestine relationship, sneaking out of engagements at Parliament or my embassy to go and meet with my Terran loverman felt so exhilarating¡­ Now, somehow, the thought of having to do that seems¡­ sad¡­

    Consideringly, he answers ¡°Well, the way I see it, you¡¯ve got three options¡­¡±

    ¡°And what are they¡­?¡± I ask, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

    ¡°Well¡­ Number One) We just keep doing what we did tonight and hope we don¡¯t get caught¡­¡±

    ¡°Number Two?¡± I prompt, pouting.

    ¡°Well, that would be that you just disclaim to everyone relevant at your embassy, your Gothor Resources department, that you¡¯ve started seeing a Terran but won¡¯t let it interfere with your work.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± I grumble ¡°¡­and my last option?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ that¡¯d be to preemptively quit Representativeship to become a free agent, then applying to work with the ODR (which, let¡¯s be real, they¡¯d immediately accept!) and, eventually, moving in with me¡­ but I can¡¯t say I¡¯d recommend that one on the strength of a relationship that¡¯s only just started¡­ Maybe save that for after we¡¯ve looked at how this relationship walks first? Wouldn¡¯t want you to throw away your job for a relationship that turns out to be a stone thrown into water in a month or two!¡±

    ¡°Hmph¡­ So, carry on in secret or throw myself on the mercy of my peers then?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ yeah¡­ the only other option (though it¡¯s another longterm one) would be changing your entire species¡¯ disposition to mine until us seeing eachother isn¡¯t a problem anymore¡­?¡±

    ¡°Riiight¡­(!) I¡¯ll get right on that(!)¡± I answer, frustratedly.

    He raises his shoulders (pleasantly pulling my buttocks up a tiny bit with the action) and says ¡°Yeah¡­ I know it¡¯s a tall order¡­ I know the Syndicracy are still generally wary of the sheer power of the UTC and the way we¡¯ve changed almost literally everything by our entry into the galaxy but¡­ well¡­ if that¡¯s ever going to change, it¡¯s going to take you and Gothor like you to make it change.¡±

    I giggle at that.

    ¡°I really envy you Terrans, you know H¨¤o? Life must be so simple for you when you can just see something you don¡¯t like about society or the universe and resolve ¡®Well! That¡¯s got to change!¡¯(!)¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­ it¡¯s na?ve, I know.¡± he answers.

    Nipping the (Sapiens Human peculiar) point of his chin again, more playfully this time, I say ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s inspiring¡­ perhaps we can discuss some more concrete ideas when you make me breakfast(!)¡±

    He laughs at my intentional show of presumption before asking ¡°Sure¡­ ji¨¡nbing OK? Unless you want to take a second crack at those cattails(!)¡±

    Ignoring the dig and not really understanding my translators explanation of what he was offering, I ask ¡°What are they?¡±

    ¡°Ji¨¡nbing? They¡¯re a kind of Chinese cr¨ºpe¡­ Pancakes¡­¡±

 There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd XLVI: Pancakes and Goblins

    ---Khanya¡¯s perspective---

    I stand on the shuttlepad, facing my parents.

    Unbidden, tears stream down from my eyes at the thought of the short time I¡¯ve had with them here coming to an end.

    With resigned smiles, both of them step forward to wrap me in a hug, my umZulu mum nearly a head shorter than me, my Britannian dad nearly as much taller.

    ¡°Don¡¯t cry, sweetie!¡± Mum pleads, squeezing me around the middle with a little too much force.

    ¡°Once we have the buoy operational, we will be able to call you via its ansible.¡± Dad reassures, giving a much gentler hug around both me and her.

    ¡°I know¡­*sob*¡­I know¡­¡± I answer, unable to hold back my tears the way neither of them have any problem doing ¡°¡­I¡¯ll still *sob* miss you though!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll miss you too, Yaya!¡± Mum smiles, pushing the air out of my lungs with another squeeze ¡°We¡¯ll miss you to death, every day!¡­ You¡¯re our universe, sweetie! Never forget that!¡±

    A long moment of silence follows as the three of us embrace.

    Then ¡°Admiral Ledwaba, Vice Admiral Friedman, if I may suggest; we ought to proceed to board immediately to ensure a timely departure.¡± cuts in the flat voiced attach¨¦e who was standing off to one side for us to say our farewells.

    Mum gives a long sigh at the woman¡¯s words before saying ¡°Duty calls¡­(!)¡± and reaching to my shoulder to pull me down to the level where she can touch her forehead to mine, one final time.

    She releases me and steps back, allowing Dad to wrap me in his arms and kiss the same spot on my forehead that she just touched to hers.

    I try my best to burn these moments into my memory for the years it will be before I can hug them again!

    All too soon, he releases me too and they both walk away to the access ramp of the medium sized craft.

    They¡¯re about to spend three days on that ship, travelling back out to where the Wrath is stationed at the edge of the capital¡¯s MEZ.

    ¡°Request permission to come aboard, Captain.¡± Mum says to the man at the top of the ramp, raising her fist briefly to her chest.

    ¡°Permission granted, Admiral!¡± returns the man along with her salute.

    My parents walk up the incline and, as soon as they¡¯ve reached the same level as the officer, he shouts ¡°Raise the gangway! Make ready to depart!¡±

    They turn back to wave as the ramp raises between us.

    Fresh rivers of tears stream down my face as my heart breaks, seeing them go.

    The ship sealed, the engines hum with the force of nullifying its inertia.

    It lifts from the pad and ascends to the sky.

    I watch until I can¡¯t make out its shape anymore through the rippling pools forming between my eyelids.

    Then I turn my face down and just sob¡­

    ---later that day---

    My heart still aching with the bittersweet sting of farewell, I walk through my floor¡¯s corridor, headed back to my apartment for the rest of the day¡­ even though it¡¯s only the middle of the afternoon¡­

    I reach my hands under my glasses to rub my eyes, lightly sniffling.

    My door opens for me and I walk through.

    My window is at 85% opacity (as I¡¯ve kept it every day for the last week), so there¡¯s no view and my home is only dimly illuminated by the daylight outside.

    I just want to sit in darkness for a bit so, going to activate the door lock, I¡¯m not intending to clear the window or turn on the lights any time soon¡­ but, as I see the panel, I frown¡­

    Did I leave the privacy field on?

    Well¡­ either I did or¡­

    My stomach drops and my eyes go wide.

    ¡°Hel¡­ Hello?¡± I call out, trepidatiously edging forward into my dimmed apartment ¡°Is anyone here?¡±

    No answer comes.

    I keep creeping forward, heart dancing an indlamu in my chest!

    ¡°If anyone¡¯s here, I-¡±

    I don¡¯t get farther than that because, at that moment, I hear the rapid pitter patter of light footfalls coming up from behind me.

    I have no time to turn before the sound of a jump is followed by something weighing about 10kg hitting me between the shoulderblades, hard!

    My feet are suddenly tangled in some kind of cord that¡¯s never been there before!

    I topple forward, my head being pulled backwards by the one riding my shoulders, which keeps my face from being smashed into the floor.

    My glasses are shaken off by the impact with the ground, skidding away out of reach, and, that instant, I feel the same tripline that brought me down being rapidly wound around my legs!

    A hip height streek of light green rushes toward me from my left and a slightly larger light blue streek charges from my right!

    My arms are forcefully wrestled behind me and my wrists lashed tightly together!

    I open my mouth to cry out but, as soon as I do, it¡¯s crammed full of wadded cloth, another length of cloth then immediately being passed over my now stuffed lips to detective-gag me more effectively than I would¡¯ve thought possible!

    Now that my every limb is bound and my screams stifled, the weight is removed from my shoulders.

    The small hands withdraw from my wrists and ankles.

    Stepping over my head comes a dark green skinned, digitigrade foot.

    As the roughly 90cm tall man reveals himself, he¡¯s joined by a slightly larger, older, blue skinned one with a stern face (otherwise inexpressive) and with white hair, plaited up to his scalp in five battle braids that hang down past his shoulders, a simpering one with slicked back, lemon yellow hair, teal eyes, bright green skin, dressed like a prince and two grinning, yellow skinned, yellow eyed, curly light brown haired boys in skimpy clothing.

    The leader turns to look down, leering at me with a lascivious grin!

    ¡°Well, well, well, well, well¡­ What¡¯ve we caught ourselves here, boys(?)¡±

    ---the previous week---

    ppp? I saw my baaaby

    Crying hard as babes could cry!

    Hmm-mmm-hm-m-m-m

    My baby¡¯s hmm-hmm-hm

    And left my ba-by bluuueNooobody knew!

    What kind of ma-gic hmm-hm-hmm¡­?ppp

    I idly hum to myself as I (only slightly) dance down the corridor to V¡¯s place, an enormous sack of popcorn tucked under my arm.

    I¡¯m ecstatic about the fact that we¡¯re going to watch my favourite film together!

    I really can¡¯t believe she¡¯s never seen it before!

    I get to the door but, before I can request entry, it slides open.

    Through it steps a towering, bipedal hexapod with a low gravity build, her skin mostly white but with pinkish osteoderms set into it.

    Her eyes put me in mind of cracked open amethyst geodes and the cluster of antler prongs on her head looks sort of like she¡¯s wearing a headdress of coral(!)

    Her tail is most comparable to a xenomorph¡¯s and, as a result, it took V volunteering to let herself be hit with that scythe (with all the strength this woman could muster behind it), demonstrating that it was nothing to be afraid of, for me to be able to mentally accept it.

    The woman turns to me with ghostly grace and greets ¡°Ms Friedman¡­ Still wearing those unnecessary spectacles I see.¡± in a high, aethereal voice.

    Smiling, I raise my right palm over my shoulder with my thumb away from the side of my hand, my middle and ringfinger splayed.

    ¡°Live long and prosper to you too, Wynythil(!)¡­ Yes, I like wearing the glasses.¡±

    She shakes her head in a Terran ¡®no¡¯ and responds ¡°It is illogical to wear a device, the purpose of which was to correct vision in archaic periods, when you have no such visual impairment and the lenses have no prescription.¡± with a straightforward logicality, typical of Tythii (from what I understand.)

    ¡°They¡¯re an aesthetic choice¡­ I like the way they make me look¡­¡± I smile.

    She pauses.

    ¡°You like to look like someone who wears pointless, outdated medical correction devices for a condition they do not possess?¡±

    I chuckle at her (very genuine) puzzlement and shake my head.

    She mirrors the action, looking exasperated at we Terrans¡¯ steadfast refusal to abide by what she considers ¡®logical¡¯, then opens the door and gestures me in with her upper left hand.

    ¡°My wife is inside, Ms Friedman.¡± she states.

    ¡°Oh, you aren¡¯t staying for the film, Wyny?¡±

    ¡°I am not. I have other engagements with my friends from my people¡¯s embassy and little interest in spending hours watching what I understand to be fantastical nonsense that never happened and never could.¡± she answers, utterly oblivious to the insult she just gave.

    ¡°Aliens were fantasy until you weren¡¯t, Wyny¡­¡± I giggle.

    ¡°The existence of nonTerrans has never been a fantasy, though the nonTerrans you contrived were. We have existed for far longer than your species has existed to imagine us.¡± she processes, immediately.

    I sigh and decide to tease ¡°You aren¡¯t scared I¡¯m going to turn your wife straight by exposing her to David Bowie¡¯s trouser bulge(?)¡±

    Cocking the osteoderms above her right eye, she says ¡°Based on my own experience of what knowing that woman did to my (previously quite rational) sexual appetites, I would be more concerned that proximity to her will eventually turn you into a gynophile if I were you, Ms Friedman¡­¡±

    Grinning, I ask ¡°Was that a joke, Wyny?¡±

    ¡°How dare you.¡± she answers, her tone flat.

    I laugh.

    Then the two of us swap places as the 2.4m woman (2.7 if you include the antlers) glides away without saying goodbye and I step to the door she opened for me.

    ¡°Enjoy your engagements!¡± I call after her.

    ¡°And enjoy your farcical contrivances.¡± she replies without turning back.

    ¡°I will!¡±

    ¡°That you, Yaya?¡± shouts a voice from inside the apartment.

    ¡°It¡¯s me, V!¡± I call back.

    As I walk forward, the woman almost as tall as my dad steps out from the kitchen.

    She wears a gorgeous purple outfit and has the sides of her head shaven bald.

    On the top of her scalp, she has a forest of dreadlocks, shorter, darker and thicker than mine.

    The skin creases around her heterochromic eyes as Vahatra ¡®Purple¡¯ Rain rushes forward to wrap me in a hug.

    ¡°There you are, girl!¡± she beams ¡°How¡¯s my favourite Human(?) Work treating you alright?¡±

    Smiling up at her, I answer ¡°Oh, you know¡­ Those archives aren¡¯t going to archive themselves(!)¡± earning a giggle before returning the question ¡°And¡­ how¡¯s your work going? Not too run off your feet by having to look after the new deathworlders, are you?¡± pushing down the little sprout of jealousy as it tries to climb up from my stomach.

    ¡°*Sigh*¡­ it¡¯s a job that never ends, you know!¡± she sighs, exhaustedly.

    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± I acknowledge, smiling in a way that doesn¡¯t reach my eyes.

    V isn¡¯t simply a dorm mother¡­

    ¡®Residential Administrator¡¯ is one of the most qualification intensive positions at the ODR!

    She¡¯s in charge of making sure every single individual of every single species of any given Class who¡¯s being accommodated here is safe and comfortable, at all times, and anticipating anything that might pose any risk to safety or comfort for any of them!

    It¡¯s always seemed like an impossibly stressful profession! Not at all like mine! I was never even slightly jealous¡­ until recently¡­

    ¡°Oh! Hey!¡± says V, releasing me and turning around to lead me to the lounge ¡°Before we start the movie, I had something slightly¡­ wild I wanted to put to you¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± I ask, following after her.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ It¡¯s a bit of a doozy¡­ I think it might be something you¡¯d be interested in, though¡­ Just based on a few¡­ socially lubricated conversations we¡¯ve had in the past(!)¡± she smirks, sitting down on one of the sofas.

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ Not sure I like where this is going, V(!)¡± I say, taking my seat on the same couch.

    ¡°Oh, you will¡­ I¡¯m pretty sure¡­¡± she says, pulling a pair of wineglasses toward herself and popping the cork out of a bottle of prosecco, pouring us each a glass.

    At this point, a large, purple furred, carnivorous felinoid appears at my left.

    I smile and reach my hands out to scratch under her chin.

    She closes her entirely black eyes and growls a growl of contentment.

    ¡°hOw ArE yOu, SaRoBiDy!? HoW¡¯s ThE bEsTeSt GiRl In ThE wHoLe, EnTiRe GaLaXy?!¡± I coo at the Lemaka predator as I scritch her.

    Early on in my and V¡¯s friendship, the fact that it was footage of her and this animal that finally convinced the man conducting our First Contact (the same one my parents are galivanting off to the other side of the galaxy with next week) that Terrans were deathworlders was something that never left my mind, when I was with them.

    Now it seems normal!

    I¡¯m more amused by the disputes I¡¯ve seen her and her wife get into over how logical or not it is to keep a deathworld obligate carnivore in a residential home on a gardenworld(!)

    At this point, Sarobidy loses interest in my scritches and hops onto the sofa, lying down between us and placing her head on her mistress¡¯s lap.

    V hands me the drink she just poured me, over Sarobidy.

    She holds out her glass for me to clink mine against (which she¡¯s explained is not part of cheersing in Malagasy culture but she ¡®puts up with it¡¯ for my sake(!))

    ¡°Cheers.¡± I say.

    ¡°Joy.¡± she answers.

    We each take a sip.

    Then I place my glass back down on the coffee table and turn back to her.

    ¡°So¡­ you were saying?¡± I ask, reaching out to run my fingers through the fur of Sarobidy¡¯s haunch.

    ¡°Right¡­ Yes¡­¡± she says, scritching between the snoozy pet¡¯s ears ¡°¡­So¡­ It¡¯s about the Twigg¡­¡±

    My stomach swoops but I manage to stay outwardly calm as I ask ¡°What about them?¡±

    She hesitates, looking away, a smile irresistibly pushing itself onto her lips.

    ¡°Well¡­ they¡­ recently became aware of a certain¡­ trope from Terran media¡­¡± her smirk deepens ¡°¡­and¡­ there¡¯s a group of them that were a bit¡­ keener on this particular trope than the others¡­ The day before yesterday, they came to me to ask if I would be interested in¡­ participating in it with them¡­ and I had to gently explain, for the umpteenth time, what ¡®marriage¡¯ is, what ¡®monogamy¡¯ is and what ¡®lesbians¡¯ are(!)¡±

    ¡°¡­Riiight¡­?¡± I say, my insides roiling with apprehension.

    ¡°They took it well¡­ and I thought that would be that¡­ but, a little time afterward, I remembered some conversations I¡¯ve had with you¡­ I haven¡¯t told them about you yet and I absolutely won¡¯t if you don¡¯t want me to but¡­ it occurs to me that I have something of a matchmaking opportunity on my hands(!)¡±

    My heart racing so hard it might beat out of my chest, I ask ¡°And¡­ what is this trope they¡¯re so keen to participate in, V?¡±

    ---Kret¡¯s perspective---

    ---Present---

    I bare the fangs at the giant woman we¡¯ve captured as she rolls around on the floor, the scream¡¯s muffled for the mouth being gagged!

    I feel the heart beat in the chest and the guts dance in the belly at what we¡¯re about to do to her!

    ¡°We¡¯ve caught ourselves a Terran, boys!¡± I say, grinning evilly.

    The other four respond with cruel, cackling laughs¡­ well, three of them do!

    Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard the big guy, Kurmqul, say anything that wasn¡¯t a grunt!

    The only reason I knew he was up for this was that he was always sat nearby when we were discussing it, planning it and then followed along behind us whenever we went to actually do things about it(!)

    ¡°A fine beauty she is indeed!¡± says Mrolld, the Centrelander with the yellow hair and the long coat, flouncing towards her to run a hand against the face ¡°This skin as smooth and brown as freshly sedimented clay! This hair the texture of pipeweed that¡¯s ready to be smoked! This body so commanding and statuesque, rendered so helpless by the bonds we have bound it in!¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ and I bet the tits are nice under that old lady dress she¡¯s wearing!¡± says Fengtrok, one of the curly haired Westlands pair.

    ¡°Bet the arse is nicer!¡± contradicts Dorlao, the other.

    ¡°Tits!¡± snarls Feng.

    ¡°Arse!¡± answers Dorl.

    ¡°Tits!¡±

    ¡°Arse!

    ¡°TITS!¡±

    ¡°AR-¡±

    ¡°Guys!¡± I bark to interrupt ¡°You don¡¯t need to fight! There¡¯s tits and arse both here so one of you can take the one and the other the other, riiiiight!?¡±

    They both laugh and Feng replies ¡°Smart! I like it!¡± knocking the knuckles on the side of the skull, which the translator tells me means the same thing to him as drumming the claws there would to me.

    Mrolld is the only one here I¡¯d be sort of able to understand without the thing on the temple.

    Being from the place between South, West and North, he thinks he can talk to all Folk about as well as he can to me.

    Too bad everything he actually says is such annoying, pompous, overblown drivel!

    He¡¯s not a bad fuck though¡­ not that I¡¯d tell him that(!)

    I tear my mind off of the way I made him moan last night and back to the present situation.

    One of the rules is ¡®no sex with eachother while we¡¯re doing this!¡¯ All of our attention has to be on our victim!

    I stride forward and draw the knife from my hip (an obsidian sharp bit of starfolk tech) and stride forward.

    I barge Mrolld out of the way. He doesn¡¯t hiss at me or anything, just repositions to the back of the head to keep stroking the hair, watching me.

    The round pupiled brown eyes go wide as the woman sees what¡¯s in my hand.

    The screams increase and she starts thrashing in a way that makes very plain just what a large, powerful creature she is and how, even bound, the danger she might pose us is not gone!This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    I growl and grab a handful of the hair, bringing the bared teeth to a palm away from the eyes.

    I hold the knife up for her to see and order ¡°Stay still! I don¡¯t want to cut you!¡±

    She stills and quiets, just shuddering slightly in a way I guess she can¡¯t help.

    I smirk and reach a hand out to the neck hole of the frumpy old lady dress she wears, despite apparently only being in the [20s].

    That¡¯s proportionately younger for Humans than it is for us, since they live over [100 years] without [regen], meaning she¡¯d only be a quarter of the way through a natural life¡­ instead of half!

    I poke the knife through the pinky-purple fabric (in no danger of cutting her right now but prepared to withdraw the blade the instant she starts thrashing again) and slide it down the front to open up the dress.

    She moans and screws up the part of the face I can see above the gag I put on her.

    It would absolutely break the heart to ruin such a large amount of good cloth like I am but¡­ well, I don¡¯t really have space in the brain for thoughts like that right now!

    ¡°Look!¡± jeers Feng, pointing ¡°She¡¯s wearing red underwear! Isn¡¯t that the ¡®[slut]¡¯ colour to Terrans!? I bet she was hoping for this(!)¡±

    I stand back up and walk back to the gagged head, glancing down to check that, indeed, the woman is wearing underwear much sexier than the long, dowdy dress she wore over the top of it would¡¯ve let on!

    ¡°That true, big girl?¡­ Were you hoping to get ambushed by a group of horny Goblin boys like us?¡­ Hoping to get tied up and carried off to be used as the breeding [sow] you are?¡­ Did you wear the sexy underwear for us?¡± I ask with gleeful spite in the voice, already knowing the answer she can¡¯t give ¡°Well¡­ not that it matters to us!¡± I continue, sliding the knife under the left shoulder on the dress and slicing through to get that sleeve started ¡°Whether you did or didn¡¯t want this, it¡¯s happening now!... Roll her over¡­¡± I stand back up and the others manage to push her from lying on the right to the left side. Bending down again to slice through the other shoulder, I continue ¡°So¡­ my advice¡­ lie back¡­ and just try to enjoy yourself(!)¡±

    ---Khanya¡¯s perspective---

    My dress is ripped off of me!

    The crowd of lecherous little men surge around me, ten lustful little hands and five slavering maws helping themselves to any part of my bound body that they please, heedless of my stifled yelps or my thrashing and struggling!

    Fifty greedy little fingers and five invasive tails slide through my hair, around my neck, down my spine, along my legs, under my lingerie¡­

    There¡¯s nothing I can do to resist and they know it¡­ I¡¯m already theirs, they¡¯ve already won¡­ Whatever happens next is up to them!

    Then ¡°Stupid!¡± snarls the leader, rounding on the curly haired pair ¡°Why did you tie the feet like that!?¡±

    Backing up in alarm from the second strongest and first fiercest man in the room, one of the pair answer ¡°¡­To¡­ err¡­ to stop her from running?¡±

    ¡°Or kicking us?¡± adds the other.

    ¡°We need to get her upstairs, don¡¯t we!?¡­ We talked about this! You were supposed to tie the ankles with¡­¡± he puts his hands about 40cm apart ¡°¡­this much tether between them!¡­ That way, we could¡¯ve got her on her feet and forced her to walk herself up there, couldn¡¯t we!¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Kret¡­ we forgot.¡± says one, ashamed

    ¡°Should we untie and tie them again?¡±

    The leader looks to me, considering.

    ¡°No¡­¡± he finally decides ¡°¡­we carry her!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­! She¡¯s got to weigh more than all of us put together!¡± objects one of the ones who didn¡¯t do my feet right.

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll need to put our backs into it, won¡¯t we!¡± snarls the one apparently called ¡®Kret¡¯, in a tone that brooks no argument.

    ¡°The weight of this fair maiden shall be as nothing to me! I could carry her to the bedchamber singlehandedly, such is the force of my passion!¡± proclaims the ostentatious little princeling, so enamoured with my hair that he¡¯s all but dryhumping the back of my head!

    Exasperatedly, Kret patronises ¡°Suuure you could, Mrolld¡­ but let¡¯s all do it together anyway¡­ just in case, hmmm?¡±

    ¡°Very good, Sir! A group effort it is then!¡± says the one called ¡®Mrolld¡¯ in a way that¡¯s begging for a ¡®tally-ho¡¯ or an ¡®eh-wot¡¯ added (!)

    ¡°You two¡­¡± Kret barks authoritatively at the failed anklebinders ¡°¡­you¡¯re on the legs, one of you on one side at the shins, the other at the thighs.¡±

    ¡°I call thighs!¡± proclaims the one who speculated that my arse was probably nicer than my tits, earlier.

    ¡°Hey! No fair!¡± objects the one who¡¯s been rubbing his face on my chest since the free-for-all began.

    ¡°You can play with the tits more once she¡¯s upstairs!¡± snarls Kret ¡°Kurmqul! You¡¯re on lower torso, on the opposite side to Dorlao!¡± he orders the older one.

    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± grunts the stern faced man in agreement.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take upper torso and Mrolld can take the head¡­ Everyone in positions!¡±

    ¡°Fear not, fair maiden! No harm shall befall this cranium while I hold charge of it!¡± asserts Mrolld from behind me, earning an eyeroll from Kret.

    The other for line up, two on each side of me.

    Kret dominates my field of view to my left.

    ¡°Everybody ready¡­¡± they all bend down to dig their hands between me and the floor ¡°¡­aaaaand lift!¡±

    With a lot of straining, I¡¯m heaved into the air, each one supporting more than their own mass¡¯s worth of me¡­ except for the princeling¡­ who I¡¯d guess to be supporting about half of his.

    Having hoisted me up, the little band of Goblin ravagers coordinate me to be carried aloft to the bottom of the stairs.

    The first attempt to climb ends with Mrolld tripping over backwards on the bottom step, having his chest crushed between my head and the second one.

    After he¡¯s been scolded for that carelessness, the five of them rally for a another attempt.

    This time, my upper body is folded upward as they start ascending with me.

    It¡¯s impressive¡­ but terrifying!

    If they get all the way to the top and drop me, I¡¯m going all the way down with my arms and legs bound!

    I¡¯m too scared to struggle here.

    Eventually, I feel my head and shoulders angle back relative to the rest of me and, finally, my whole body levels out on the landing.

    The one I think is called Dorlao, though he has been carrying his weight, has been doing so with a hand slipped beneath my panties and squeezing my left arse cheek the whole way!

    I hear my bedroom door slide open behind my head.

    My body is turned and I¡¯m able to see my bed, the four cuffs of underbed restraints already laid out for me at the top and bottom.

    I quiver in fear and redouble my struggling.

    ¡°OK, she¡¯s gotta go over Kurmqul and Fengtrok onto the bed¡­ everyone get ready to lift her up!¡± orders Kret from above my left breast.

    My right side approaches the left side of my bed.

    ¡°Now!¡±

    All four of the visible heads disappear beneath me as I gain 50cm of elevation and, terrifyingly, lose most of my stability!

    I¡¯m tipped over the one supporting my lower back and the one on my lower legs, rolling into the middle of my bed, face down.

    Immediately, the cuffs are fastened around my wrist and ankles, just above the bindings that were already there.

    ¡°I¡¯m about to cut the ties!¡± says a voice from on top of me ¡°Everyone be ready to start tightening the straps as soon as I do! Kurm, right arm! Mrolld, left! Feng, right leg! Dorl, left!¡±

    I hear the sound of a tiny knife unsheathing.

    ¡°Ready¡­ Now!¡±

    The briefest tug at my wrist cords then another at my ankles and the tension is released, the wielder quickly dismounting the bed to get away from my momentarily mobile limbs.

    Immediately though, a new tension starts to be applied as the straps attached to the wrist and ankle cuffs begin to be ratcheted taut!

    I flail and squirm, vainly fighting to escape these cruel little men and their nefarious designs on my person!

    For this brief moment, I have the chance to stop them having their wicked way with me¡­ Then that chance disappears¡­

    The tension flips me over onto my back, then removes all but the barest mobility from my limbs¡­ just enough to struggle fruitlessly!

    I look around and see the ten, slit pupiled eyes, lust burning behind all of them, all pointed to me¡­ at my body¡­ all planning how they¡¯ll violate me in every way I can imagine and others I can¡¯t!

    A maelstrom of emotions rises in my chest as the terrifying leader remounts the bed and treads to my chest, knife drawn.

    ¡°You¡¯re all for us, now, aren¡¯t you!¡± he mocks, cruelty in his voice ¡°We can have any part of you we want!¡­ Do whatever we want with you!¡­ All that size, all that strength and what good is it to you now(?)¡­ Now you¡¯ve become the prey of we Goblin men!¡±

    The blade slides under the bridge of my strapless bra, slicing upward and causing the cups to fall away to either side, exposing my breasts.

    That moment, the emotions I¡¯m experiencing become too much to bear!

    Uncontrollable sobs burst forth and tears sting my eyes.

    The little man who just cut my bra off me twitches his head, all his cruelty instantly evaporating.

    A look of confusion spreads across his face as he stands up and backs away.

    ¡°Everyone out!¡± he announces, indicating that he includes himself in ¡®everyone¡¯ by being the first to stride to the door and that he doesn¡¯t include me by leaving me behind, strapped to the bed, tears streaming down my face and soaking into the cloth gag.

    ¡°But¡­?¡± starts Dorlao.

    ¡°NOW!¡± orders Kret.

    A moment more¡¯s hesitation before the other four follow after him, vacating my room and leaving me behind, all tied up with nowhere to go!

    ---Kret¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°She¡¯s crying!¡± I say into the huddle, incredulously ¡°Something¡¯s obviously wrong and we need to find out what!¡±

    ¡°But¡­ wouldn¡¯t she¡¯ve used the gagged [safeword] if she wanted us to stop?¡± asks Feng.

    ¡°OK, show of hands, who here is absolutely certain she hasn¡¯t gone ¡®Mm-mmm, mm-mmm, mm-mmm!¡¯ while shaking the head at any point since we gagged her?¡± I demand.

    No hands are raised and the faces I see are not quite the absolute certainty I wanted to(!)

    Everyone¡¯s genuinely having to think about it¡­

    ¡°*sigh*¡­ well if none of us can guarantee that that hasn¡¯t happened, then¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­ hang on! She wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve just done it once, would she!? If she wanted us to stop and we didn¡¯t notice the first time, she would¡¯ve kept doing it until we did!¡± points out Dorlao, reasonably.

    I mull that over for a moment before saying ¡°But why is she crying then?! She could stop us at any point but she¡¯s crying!¡­ Are we not doing it right?¡­ Is there something we¡¯re missing and she¡¯s crying because she¡¯s¡­ upset that we¡¯re doing it bad, maybe?¡±

    No one answers, all (except Kurm) contorting the faces in thought.

    Then, a horrible idea occurs to me ¡°What if¡­ what if she hasn¡¯t used the [safeword] because she doesn¡¯t know the safeword!?¡±

    ¡°Fine sir!¡± scoffs Mrolld ¡°The fair maiden was the one who supplied us with the [safewords], both for a stopped and unstopped mouth! How would it be that she would not know the very thing we learned from her!¡±

    ¡°Did she give us the [safeword]?¡± I ask, pointedly.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± frowns Feng ¡°Of course she gave us the [safeword]! It was in the [wideo crontat], right?¡±

    ¡°The [video contract] that was given to us by Vahatra¡­ We only think that she and this woman are friends because she told us, don¡¯t we?¡± the face contorts in dread ¡°We know starfolk can make [videos] of things that never happened but look so real we can¡¯t tell the difference¡­ What if¡­ what if she hates this woman¡­ and faked the [video] to send us here, to do this to her¡­ to torment her or something!?¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± objects Dorl ¡°¡­Vahatra¡­ couldn¡¯t, could she? In the [video], Khanya walked around the whole apartment and showed us where everything was and, when we got here, everything was exactly where she said it would be and the way she said it would be! The only way Vahatra could¡¯ve faked all that is¡­ if¡­ she¡­¡± trailing off.

    ¡°If she had the ability to change any [holo] to let it open anywhere in the living halls?¡­ Like she did for us, you mean? The way she gave the [holos] we carry the ability to open this apartment? Who¡¯s to say she didn¡¯t just come in here and search the place to find out how everything was¡­ then fake the video?¡­ If she tells us ¡®Yes! She likes it! She¡¯s only pretending not to!¡¯ we don¡¯t know the difference, do we?!¡±

    Everyone breathes in as the plausibility of what I¡¯ve suggested hits them.

    ¡°That villainess!¡± cries Mrolld ¡°That [shrew]! That [harpy]! If she seeks to make a true despoiling cur of me¡­!!!¡±

    ¡°Alright, calm down! We don¡¯t know that yet¡­ it¡¯s just a possibility¡­¡± I point out to the pretty doofus ¡°It could also be that this isn¡¯t Khanya Friedman. That, like, she has an identical twin and we¡¯ve accidentally come here on the one day Mhanya Friedman (knowing nothing about us and not into this at all) is staying here instead? Khanya might¡¯ve forgotten to warn us?¡­ Or maybe it is Khanya and she somehow lost the memory of asking us here to do this to her?¡­ I¡¯m sure there are a million things I haven¡¯t thought of that could be why she¡¯s crying¡­ There¡¯s only one way to find out¡­¡±

    In unison, we all stand, apprehensively breaking from the huddle and turning to the door.

    ---Khanya¡¯s perspective---

    My bedroom door slides open revealing the little crowd of Goblin ravagers¡­

    My sobbing fit abated while they were out of the room, having their murmured discussion on the other side of the door, but my face is still wet with tears.

    The five men don¡¯t have the same lustful, rapacious cruelty in their expressions that they did before¡­ If anything, they look a bit sheepish!

    The leader approaches my bed and casually hops up about 80% of his height to land on the mattress.

    He approaches my head and kneels down in the space below my restrained left arm.

    What¡¯s happening here?

    He extends his hands to the back of my head and my detective-gag falls from my face.

    Bringing his fingers to my lips, he pinches the spit-sodden, wadded fabric of my stuff-gag and withdraws it from my mouth.

    Able to speak freely for the first time since my capture, I say nothing, just frowning at him, quizzically.

    His first question takes me completely off guard!

    ¡°Are you Khanya ¡®Quiet¡¯ Friedman? The [digital archivist]?¡±

    ¡°¡­Yeeeees?¡± I answer, a little incredulously.

    ¡°Hello, Khanya. My name is Kret¡­ Could you tell me if Vahatra ¡®Purple¡¯ Rain is a friend to you?¡±

    ¡°Yes! She IS!¡± I scowl.

    ¡°And¡­ did you invite us here through her?¡±

    ¡°Where is your brain!?¡± I snarl, switching to my mum¡¯s language (not that it makes any difference to their ability to understand me) ¡°What exactly are you thinking, asking this?!¡±

    He starts backward with a horrendously unattractive look of shock and concern on his too handsome face.

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡­ we¡­¡±

    ¡°Why are you breaking character!? I didn¡¯t use the safeword!!!¡±

    ¡°Well, no¡­ but you were crying? I thought it was a good idea to just check everything was alright!¡±

    ¡°Of course I was crying!¡± I snarl, letting out the part of myself I inherited from the woman called ¡®ROAR¡¯ ¡°I¡¯m a damsel in distress being taken advantage of by five lustful Goblin men! You have me gagged and bound to my bed, completely at your mercy! Crying is part of the fantasy!!!¡±

    Stunned, he takes a second to compute that before asking ¡°Wait¡­ so¡­ you¡­ enjoy crying?¡­ You¡¯re alright?¡±

    ¡°I was alright! I was enjoying it! Until you forgot that you were supposed to be a band of kidnapping, despoiling, violating Goblin raiders and became a group of polite little gentlemen!¡­ If I¡¯d wanted mild manners, I¡¯d¡¯ve found some Zukiv or Feworen to do this fantasy with years ago!¡±

    ¡°Soooo¡­ you¡­ don¡¯t want us to let you go, then?¡±

    The fires of rage flare up within me at the boy¡¯s continued incompetence ¡°What. I. WANT. is for you to put my gag back in and not take it out, unless you hear the safeword, have a cock to shove down my throat or are all done having your wicked ways with my helpless body! What I WANT is to be able to get overwhelmed and start crying without you lot turning into a bunch of paper lions and tree climbers about it! I WANT some Twigg who can give me the fantasy I¡¯ve had since the first time I ever touched myself! I WANT to be a helpless, captive Goblin breeding sow and I WANT you to be cruel and evil about it! I WANT you to take off your clothes and R-Aghnmngm!¡±

    ---Kret¡¯s perspective---

    The hand is on top of the wadding that I¡¯ve just stuffed back between the teeth of the giant woman.

    Furious brown eyes stare back at me from the tear stained face, below a pair of angry eyebrows, as the chest heaves with angry breaths.

    The enormous, brown nose flares and sneers above the hand and I feel as rivers of air flow across the knuckles, then back.

    The Terran and I just stare at eachother, silently, for a few moments while I desperately try to think of how to unfuck this!

    Stupid!

    I was stupid and I¡¯ve ruined it!!!

    She had so few rules!

    She didn¡¯t want us doing it with eachother, just her, she didn¡¯t mind if girls were here but only wanted to be touched by boys (not that any Folk girls were interested), she wanted us to take her to the bedroom where the bed restraints were but, most crucially, she didn¡¯t want to know when it was going to happen or who was going to be doing it! She wanted both of those things to be a surprise!

    She purposefully didn¡¯t want to meet us first because she didn¡¯t want to know us as ¡®decent, respectful boys¡¯ before she knew us as evil greedies, breakers, takers!

    She didn¡¯t care if we were ugly and (except for a few really gross things that I don¡¯t think any of us were interested in) she didn¡¯t care what we wanted to do to her!

    I¡¯ve just broken one of the very few rules she gave us! ¡®Don¡¯t stop unless I use the [safeword]¡¯!

    My stupidity just stopped the whole thing dead and spoiled what was the first time doing this [fantasy] for all six of us!

    Now she knows I¡¯m ¡®decent and respectful¡¯ and she¡¯s never going to unknow that!

    Unless¡­?

    ¡°Ha¡­ Ha ha ha¡­ Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!¡± I fake laugh, pulling the gag cloth back up over the stuffed lips and refastening it there.

    I stand up and roar in pretend laughter, throwing back the head and closing the eyes!

    ¡°HA HA HA HA HA HA!¡±

    I turn my head down to see Mrolld, Feng and Dorl, all looking back at me, very confused.

    Even Kurm has a very light frown twisting the eyebrows down!

    ¡°She fell for it, guys!¡­ Ha ha ha!¡± I grin, doing my best to slip back into my character and inwardly begging the others to catch on and go along with it ¡°She actually thought I was offering to let her go!¡­ HA ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaaa!¡±

    Mrolld, clearly not having caught on yet, starts ¡°But weren¡¯t w-?¡± but I cut him off.

    ¡°She FELL for our joke!¡­ The joke we were playing on her!¡±

    Realisation slowly starts dawning on all four of the faces and they begin to chuckle along with me.

    Soon, all of us are genuinely actually laughing.

    Mrolld giggles, Feng and Dorl cackle and even Kurm lightly chuckles as I lead the way in restarting the [fantasy].

    I start to pace across the bed, standing over the restrained Terran behind me and the four Folk between me and the door, saying ¡°This dumb, gullible [sow] thought that she had a chance to escape! She thought we were actually just going to¡­ untie her! Leave without enjoying what we came for! How stupid can you be!? How stupid does she think we are!¡±

    I turn around to see the anger gone from the face. The giant woman with the tearstained cheeks just looks back up at me¡­ considering.

    I¡¯ve almost got the mood back¡­ I just need to¡­?

    I take a step to place the left foot between the thighs, letting the tailbrush come down to tickle the inside of the right one.

    With the right foot, I bring down a hard kick on the front of the ribcage, just between and below the two bare, brown tits, each the size of a Folk head!

    She grunts from surprise and the air being pushed from the lungs, even if I¡¯m fairly sure the hardest kick I could give wouldn¡¯t actually do much more than bruise her!

    I can feel the power and solidity Terrans get from being so much larger than us, beneath my toepads!

    I extend the leg at the hock and she allows me to push her chest back down into the bed.

    Baring the fangs in an evil grin, I extend an indexclaw to point at the gagged face, between the widening brown eyes.

    Relishing the fear I can see returning to the expression, I say ¡°You¡¯re [ours] now, big girl! You [belong] to us! We¡¯re never letting you go! For the rest of your life, you¡¯ll be nothing but our [sow]! ¡®Khanya Friedman¡¯? No longer! Your name will be [Slave] from now on! We¡¯ll use you whenever and for whatever we want!¡­ Friends? Job!? No, no, no, no, NO! Someone else will have to [archive] the [digitals] because the ¡®job¡¯ you do just became ¡®Goblin [breedstock]¡¯(!)¡­ We¡¯re your only friends now(!)¡±

    ---Khanya¡¯s perspective---

    As Kret draws his knife and bends down to slice through the wings of my panties to expose my soaking pussy, I have to admit, he recovered well!

    Under the circumstances, that quick thinking bit of improv is probably about as good as he could have played off the interruption!

    As he begins to strip off his skintight, nanoforged, green jumpsuit, revealing his well muscled alien chest, I feel myself sinking back into subspace.

    I let my anger at the unnecessary interruption melt away as I turn my head to see the other four joining him in stripping down.

    The brunet pair, Dorlao and Fengtrok (I think), remove their very skimpy clothing to go from leaving little to the imagination to nothing at all!

    The strong, silent, older Northerner, Kurmqul, bares a stout, muscular chest and arms that undoubtedly make him the strongest Twigg here¡­

    The little princeling, Mrolld, drops his floor length coat to unveil slim, well formed limbs, a slender chest and (ludicrously disproportionate to the rest of him) a package, initially contained in a manthong until he liberates it!

    He wouldn¡¯t be a bad size for a Human!

    I would not¡¯ve bet on him being the best endowed one here!

    They¡¯re all a bit cuter than in my fantasies¡­

    Then again, would I actually prefer them to be all hideously ugly or is the detail of Goblins being ugly just something to hammer home that ¡®You don¡¯t have a choice in this, sweetie!¡¯ feeling?

    I decide that I actually prefer them just as they are, adorable handsome faces and all!

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna loosen the legs to get at that arse!¡± announces Dorlao as the four of them start to mount my bed.

    ¡°I call tits!¡± claims Fengtrok.

    ¡°I shall take the womanhood of this fair maiden, as is only right and proper!¡± states Mrolld, relieving me that he isn¡¯t planning to wank off into my dreads(!)

    Kurmqul makes his selection known by positioning himself on the pillows, at the upper right of my bed, and wordlessly manipulating my cuffed right hand to his erect chode, encouraging me to start masturbating it¡­ which I do.

    ¡°I want that mouth¡­ I wanna look this [sow] in the eyes!¡± says Kret in a way that telegraphs the sense that that was his genuine first choice and, if he had preferred a part of me that had already been chosen by someone else, they¡¯d simply have to wait their turn¡­ whether or not that¡¯s actually true¡­

    Fengtrok comes down to straddle my midriff, pushing my breasts together for a titfuck.

    My hips are twisted 90¡ã to my upper body, placing my arse on my right and my pussy on my left.

    Dorlao enthusiastically wedges himself into the space between me and the slope my weight puts in the mattress to start aligning his erect cock with my arsehole.

    Mrolld slips his lower body into the space between my thighs and inserts his (satisfactorily sized) member inside me while romancing my stomach(!)

    Kret stamps toward my head on my left, his demeanour leaving no doubt as to who is in charge here!

    Standing almost fully up, he¡¯s none the less able to press his erect cock into my face, due to the height my head gains from the pillows.

    ¡°Take a good look, [bitch]! You¡¯re going to be seeing a lot of Goblin dick from now on!¡± he leers, venomously.

    My gag is pulled out and my mouth unstuffed immediately before his cock is shoved in.

    I contort my lips and tongue to avoid giving him a cheesegrater, trying to be subtle about it so it doesn¡¯t seem, to him or me, like I¡¯m as into this as I am(!)

    Every part of my body now being violated by my captors, I stare up into the slitpupiled, green eyes of the (at least in this room) Goblin chieftain and melt with a genuine contentment I¡¯ve never felt before, as fresh tears stream down my face!

    ---Kret¡¯s perspective---

    The six of us laugh as we watch the [porn] that Khanya was just telling us about, on the far wall of the bedroom, all of us washed and Khanya wearing a dressing gown while the [forge] repairs the dress and underwear I destroyed earlier.

    Khanya is sat up in the middle of the bed with Mrolld and Kurmqul cozying under the right and left arms, Dorlao and Fengtrok are nestled into the space between the legs, me riding the shoulders with the feet tucked into the clothes, against the gigantic tits and the arms wrapped around the forehead.

    The Terran actress on screen is trying VERY hard to give the idea that the Feworens are simply too powerful for her to overcome in those numbers but, from the way the body moves, it¡¯s very obvious that she¡¯s letting them pull her over and cooperating with them as they tie her up!

    We got that part right at least¡­!

    Guilt stings me and, as she turns off the [video], I say ¡°Hey¡­ Khanya? I¡¯m really sorry about¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t apologise.¡± she says, firmly, voice tickling the legs through the neck ¡°You did the right thing¡­ I¡¯m sorry I got angry at you. I was wrong to do that.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± I frown ¡°¡­I ruined the first time you had that [fanta-]!¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t ruin anything!¡­ I didn¡¯t warn you I might cry, so you didn¡¯t know! You thought something might be wrong, so you checked! I¡¯d far rather my Doms do that than just ignore any doubt and assume everything must be fine!¡­ I got angry in the moment because it felt (however irrationally) like you guys were just needlessly clamjamming me(!) I was frustrated because I¡¯d been pulled out of subspace and that was jarring for me, so I let out my inner firebrand, but that was wrong¡­ Please continue to check in if you¡¯re ever in any doubt. I wouldn¡¯t want it any other way¡­ Oh! And, that improvised recovery?! Playing the consent check in off as a cruel joke!? Chef¡¯s kiss!¡­ Perfection!¡±

    Stunned, it takes me a moment to realise ¡°¡®Continue¡¯? So, we¡¯re invited back then?¡±

    ¡°Definitely!¡± she states, decisively ¡°Just give me all your holocoms before I go to work tomorrow and I¡¯ll let you know if there are ever days I can¡¯t do¡­ Otherwise, same rules as this time!¡±

    ¡°Cool¡­¡± I grin, glee welling up inside me ¡°¡­we¡¯ll look forward to it!¡±

    ¡°So will I!¡± she answers before asking ¡°You boys all happy to sleep here tonight? I¡¯m sure I could make five Twigg sized portions of pancakes for breakfast?¡±

    ---Vahatra¡¯s perspective---

    ¡°Heeello?¡± I answer my holo.

    ¡°V! It¡¯s me! They did it! Last night! The Twigg boys! They just left!¡± comes Yaya¡¯s excited voice over the line.

    I break into a grin without breaking stride from my walk to work, simply asking ¡°Good?¡±

    ¡°Oh my GOD, V!¡­ You have no idea! It was everything I ever hoped!¡­ THANK YOU, SOOOOO MUCH!!!!!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Yaya!¡­ Wait¡­ so, like, this must¡¯ve been right after you said goodbye to your mum and dad then?¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡­ I mean, I probably wouldn¡¯t have chosen to do it then if I¡¯d been scheduling it¡­ but that is the nature of an open-ended, choose-your-moment invitation, I guess! It definitely took my mind off things if nothing else(!)¡­ And they managed to pick the one day since I gave you the video for them that I got home too distracted to be expecting them, too!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m really happy for you, Yaya! Listen, just on my way into work right now. Do you wanna come over to mine and tell me all the juicy details this evening?¡±