© Copyright 2007 by silli_artie@hotmail.com
This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior
express written permission of the author.
A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are
not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then
again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you
should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments.
Enjoy.
This is Part 3. You might want to read Part 1 and Part 2 first!
When I was young, decades and lightyears away, I broke my left wrist in a climbing accident. Not a big deal, except that I was left handed. As a result, having my left arm in a cast for many months, I learned to write with my right hand. As a grad student teaching classes, I developed the habit of writing on the board with both hands when I really got into something. Drove some people up the wall!
One of the things that happens in an advanced society is that some technologies naturally “mature,” or as I observed, go stagnant. Since a lot of this stuff was new to me, I didn’t know just what was considered was “mature,” and had been “fully developed” long ago...
In solving my little puzzles around Ship’s hijacking, I’d come up with new ways of looking at things, and some new analytical tools. I figured out the transitions the drive sphere shards took, a nice piece of math. It also showed that no matter how careful you are, some times you’re just in the wrong damn place at the wrong damn time.
Like me, right?
Nah, I was having fun. The other bit I had fun with was sussing out just what made the drive sphere go kablooie. I had the initial conditions; the driver putting one gigantic pulse into the drive sphere, which coupled the pulse to the trap generators through the trap fields. The trap fields were in essence a transmission line, and the trap generators formed the load.
So far so good. The monster pulse goes through the trap fields to the trap generators, and the trap generators overload and die. The trap generators die, the trap fields go away, and Ship flips back into a higher-order (FTL) brane. Not the necessarily the same FTL brane it had been in, but that’s a singularity for another time.
The drive sphere should have been able to handle what was essentially an open circuit, particularly since the energy in the fuck-you pulse had been transferred to the load, and done its job. To get the drive sphere to go kablooie took more than an open circuit -- it took a significant amount of reflected energy. But how did that energy get back to the drive sphere, particularly since it and Ship were transitioning (not all at once) back into higher-order branes?
That was the fun analysis I’d done. Oh, I had better a much better mathematical foundation, and much better tools -- imagine Mathematica after a few hundred years of development! The work I’d done interested the dozen or so colleagues I was giving a presentation to, scribbling with styluses in both fines, one colleague helping moderate questions and translating. And as is the case with a lot of these problems, the tools and techniques I’d developed were turning out to be of much more general utility.
And one of those “colleagues” couldn’t believe a spider had done it! I heard that remark -- while I didn’t have external ears, I could hear damn well. “I’m not a fucking spider!” I yelled at them. “I’m a damn monkey trapped in this fucking shell!”
And I wanted out!
You know how it goes -- be careful what you wish for, right?
I had to cut our session short -- we’d resume later, in a less formal setting, with beer. I had an appointment with some attorneys. I expected it was a deal Kay had set up; she’d told me about it, and that one of “our” legal representatives would be there to represent me. Okay, fine.
But when I arrived, I was quickly informed that Tarah and Nikki had found new native-spider crew, and were paying off my contract. The recordings of my old (human) shell had been transferred, along with my interests in things Earthly. Good bye and have a nice life.
!!!
I boggled as my legal representative reviewed matters for form. Damn, I’d wanted out, and if they’d asked, I would have let them off without paying two cents! But spiders are reliable, and follow the letter of their contracts. My contract with them, with Tarah, Nikki, and Ship, had a buy-out clause. They invoked it. Oh, I could keep the spider shell.
Leaving that office a few clicks later... Reminded me of my undergrad days when I worked for the University. I’d made an offhand disparaging comment about a particular emperor’s new clothes, a comment unfortunately overheard by one of said emperor’s lackeys. A few days later I was called into a short meeting in which I was relieved of my position. To say I was stunned, then and now, is an understatement.
Then as now, my response was to gather with colleagues and drink beer.
Ah, more advantages to being a spider -- I was a cheap drunk with a huge capacity; happy on a few beers, with the ability to consume liter upon liter without getting shitfaced.
But beer goggles affect spiders -- hey, as a spider I’ve eight eyes, so anything vaguely mammalian was looking good...
Damn, I wanted out of this shell!
Back then, when I reappeared at the Uni the following day, somewhat hungover, the director of a different lab (who also had a low opinion of aforementioned emperor) caught up with me and promptly hired me for his lab, a better position with higher pay.
I have learned a few things in the intervening years/lightyears... When I retired for the evening to my hotel I drank as much water as I could before crashing.
I guess the creaky joints the following morning were the spider equivalent of a hangover -- with eight legs, that’s a lot of creaky joints! And I spent a long time in the loo, voiding many liters of used fluids and replacing them with fresh.
Rather than using our private comm link, I decided to visit Kay. She was in a different section of the hotel/conference complex. The AI that runs things provided a path for me through the requisite locks and isolation chambers.
Another reason I was making the presentations rather than Kay -- a “comfortable” environment for her isn’t very comfortable for many mammalian lifeforms. “Isn’t very comfortable,” in this case meaning a monkey would be dead in around an hour from exposure to her atmosphere, and it would be a very, very nasty hour...
But as a spider I could tolerate it pretty much indefinitely. Oh, when I left, I’d need to be decontaminated, including flushing residuals from my breathing system, but that was to be friendly to others. Another advantage to being a spider.
I still wanted out!
And that was the thrust of our conversation, after spending a few minutes talking about presentations, how “Requiem” was being received (very well, thank you), that kind of thing.
So how do I get out of this gefratzing shell?
Kay had a plan. I should have started counting appendages right then... We needed to go to another system, about a three week trip. She was arranging for custom monkey-type forms for both of us, but they took a while to grow. The transition, for me, from spider to the new monkey form would be rough. The approach she suggested, which solved a number of problems, was for me to transition into a different mammalian form for the trip. That would also facilitate business at our destination. A few weeks after that, the new forms should be ready.
So many questions I should have asked, so many clues I should have picked up on, but instead, I just asked, what form did she have in mind for the trip?
She popped up a holo of the otter folks I’d been hanging around with. Seemed like they had a lot of fun. They snuggled a lot. They drank beer. They enjoyed swapping shaggy zanth stories, and making passes at members of the opposite (or even orthogonal) sex. Kay said there was a ship leaving shortly after the end of the conference with room for us. How did that sound?
I bought it, hook, line, and sinker. Get me out of this damned shell!
We can do this, Kay assured me.
Any time Kay assures me, I should count those appendages, twice.
Nah, Kay has my best interests at heart. Hearts -- she has multiple. And as a spider, so do I.
So what are we doing in this new system, I asked.
Oh, some interviews, another trip of about a week to pick up our new forms, and then looking for places to go, things to see.
Things to see, people to do, I suggested in a monkey attempt at humor.
Kay laughed, colours rippling across her. The way she ripples is so damn sexy...
I went along with it, not a fucking clue... Silly monkey, fresh from the trees!
Kay was busy with negotiations and scheming. I did the conference thing, enjoying meeting with colleagues, and really enjoying the non-scheduled get-togethers.
I tried not to cause scenes, really I did... One evening a furry bastard (well, don’t know about the bastard part, but he was furry) was ranting about Karl Jenkins, how bad his Requiem was, why had I used it, on and on, damn primitives. While the rant was ongoing, a colleague of his apologized. I thanked her, and told her I wasn’t offended; this is the kind of thing that happens when contraceptives aren’t available to the young. The bastard actually pounded on my shell with a beer bottle! And screamed obscenities as he did! Didn’t bother me -- I pulled in my fines and delicate eyes to protect them, and let him pound away. Some of his mates hauled him off. We agreed it was a waste of good beer.
I met some of the crew of the ship we’d be taking, otter types at a local bar. They were engineering crew to the ship, a nice design built to haul pods from place to place. Pods could carry cargo, pods could carry passengers. For the most part, pods were secured and that was that. Some connected to power and comms. A very few got power, comms, and crew/ship access. And if the contents of a pod got unruly, they could (and would) jettison it, and let pod and contents walk the rest of the way. I liked it. Kay would be in one pod, her own environment, supplied with power and comms. They’d have mostly cargo pods, and a few passenger pods. Did I know who I was with?
I thought for a minute. Pingri guild, Pingri nest, something like that?
Really?
Yah, Pingri, I told them, sipping my brew and watching passing females with a spare eye.
A low whistle from one of the crew. Another told me, “I’ll come visit!” Her buddies laughed, and one poked her, saying, “Not even in your dreams!”
What’s the deal, I asked? Something wrong?
No, they told me; you’re in for a great trip. Another changed the subject, talking more about the design of their ship. I was interested in that, and particularly interested in their FTL drive, as it was a different design from the one the spiders used.
Oh, would I be interested in working for a few days after the end of the conference,? They could use the help, they’d pay, and I’d get to learn about their ship.
Sounded like a great idea to me. From what Kay had told me, I wouldn’t be making the transition until the pod with Pingri nest arrived and docked.
A few days later, I’m on the outside of their ship’s hull, growling and swearing as to why the process of docking and securing pods isn’t automated, why it has to be done working outside the hull in the most fucking primitive manner imaginable. One of the engineering team (safe and warm inside) replied that while it was possible to mechanize and automate the process, this way was simpler, cheaper, safer, introduced far fewer failure modes, and since everything was outside the hull, any tampering or other such funny business had to take place outside. Got it, I told her -- I understand. Made sense, but I didn’t have to like it.
I learned about their ship, how it worked, and how it ran, technically and personnel-wise. The executive crew were a different race/species, and pretty much stuck to their own part of the ship. The engineering crew had their own nest. Never saw it, as I couldn’t fit through those passages (and neither could the executive crew, which I assume was the idea behind the size of those passages).
We docked Kay’s pod, and more cargo. Pingri nest came in, another ship coming alongside to transfer them. They got one of the slots with power, comms, and ship access.
We were waiting for three more pods, due to arrive in the next forty or so clicks. I offered to wait and take care of them, but Kay told me I needed to get started.
I was finally going to get out of this shell!
And you know what, some parts I was going to miss! Eight legs, eight eyes were handy at times. Standing naked on the hull and looking at Saturn’s rings was a real trip.
Snuggling, nesting, screwing with my mates...
Let’s get on with it!
I went inside, thanked the crew once more, and made my way to the internal passages to the pods. The lock was pressurized, and the passage way was still at vacuum. Some of them were waving to me still. I waved with a main, a vulgar gesture if they knew spiders that well. Ah, someone flipped me off -- I guess they knew. I closed the hatch behind me and asked ship to pop the inner hatch. The pressure release propelled me down the passage, tumbling gently. I caught the pod’s hatch, commanding it open. I entered and sealed it behind me. I felt the lock pressurize; the inner hatch opened.
Two of them were waiting for me, two females. Most of the engineering crew were female; I think there were eight females and two males, the females larger than males. These females were larger yet, and much better looking.
“Welcome,” one said, trilling melodiously. “Are you ready?”
I brought my fines together in front of me and bowed a bit. “Thank you, yes.”
“Just relax,” the other said, and the world went soft around me.
The world came back soft, nestling into soft fur, holding and being held, making love, snuggling. Things different and familiar -- having two arms, two legs, two eyes, familiar yet different. A tail was different, very different!
Females have much softer fur than males. They have a patch around their necks that’s softer and denser, and fills with their scent. Being held, burrowing my nose into that soft, dense fur, a hand holding me, pulling me closer, another hand on my lower back, our tails entwined as we made love.
Moving, stretching, snuggling -- the joy of the nest, snuggling and sleeping with kin, waking partially to make love, snuggling and going back to sleep.
I was a slim, sleek beastie. I learned to move, to dance. I learned the joy of living in my body, and along the way learned that I’d spent much of my previous life living from the neck up. But an essential to life in the nest is snuggling. No, life in the nest is snuggling.
Much of the time I spent snuggling with two of them was also therapy. I was surprised to learn how much emotional baggage I carried, how deep it went. We worked through the loss of my wife Linda, my relationship with Dina, and so many other things. It wasn’t easy, but we did it, and I was better for it. Through it all, dancing, chanting, moving, making love, snuggling.
We arrived. So soon? My nestmother gave me a necklace to wear, the symbol of Pingri nest. “I will always cherish this time in the nest,” I whispered, burrowing into her soft fur one last time.
Standing in the lock again, fastening the field belt around my waist, waving to them as the inner lock closed. Turning, the field snapped into place around me. Ship lowered the pressure in the lock. The outer lock opened and I stepped into the passage.
Pushing off, I used the hand control to send me along the passage to the other end.
Inside the lock, releasing the field, cacophony to ears and nose! One of the engineering crew I’d worked with before, a female, stood before me. She looked me over and whistled. “Sure you wouldn’t like to stick around for a while?” One of her mates, inverted in low gee, growled in agreement.
We had time for hugs anyway, then it was flick on the field again and ride with one of the crew to the transfer station.
Even though I’d been in this form for weeks, it was strange to be outside the ship and only have two eyes! And such limited vision, in terms of wavelength and focal length both! A transport was undocking Kay’s pod; she was headed to the transfer station as well. She’d be in one section, I was going to another. We did a quick pass over the ship, and headed off; the transfer station was only a hundred thousand clicks away or so.
Approaching, it was large, well lit, and surrounded by a cloud of activity; that’s one reason ships park a ways off. Lagrange points are usually popular.
I entered and dealt with formalities, speaking with an organic/AI composite. I received a bracelet, sealed around my left wrist, for identification and tracking purposes. Did I need a guide? I’d been coached -- an automated guide to my hotel room, I replied. I was welcomed to the system; enjoy your stay.
I stepped through, into light gee and local cacophony. A bug with the hotel’s logo floated up and introduced itself. I wasn’t born yesterday; I used my links to verify it. Did I wish a tour, directions, or to be taken to the hotel? Lead me to the hotel, I told the bug (an AI remote), thank you. The bug settled on my shoulder and we started off.
One of the traits of smart folks; they know what they don’t know. And I knew, when it came to the planetary system, their customs, their do’s and taboos, you name it, I don’t know for squat. I’d been lucky at the conference, in a smaller environment, and situations I was nominally familiar with. Here, I needed help, and I knew it.
Kay and I had discussed this. She suggested, and I agreed, that a companion/guide was in order. Such services are commonly available and socially acceptable; I’d use my first day here to select a guide from candidates that had been arranged and culled before our arrival. After that I had a local week or two to look around. I had one specific appointment on the surface, two days out. Other than that, it was play tourist, have fun, and stay out of trouble. Hah -- I had the feeling Kay would be taking care of the last bit for both of us.
I needed better clothing, and something for my feet. I was wearing a simple jumpsuit, not out of prudishness or cultural taboos, but to keep my fur and happy bits from getting tangled, snagged, or dirty. On the surface, under full gee, some protection for my feet would be useful.
Walked by shops and places to eat. My queries told me that the bug worked on commission, and the establishments we were passing were in the higher price tiers. Passed one bar that sounded and smelled interesting. Maybe later. Got some waves/chirps of interest from members of “my” species.
The bug showed me to my room, small but comfy. I programmed the gee field to gradually come up to planetary norm.
Some things never change -- messages waiting... The service we’d hired to find a guide had narrowed the field to four candidates, with recorded interviews of each. Number one seemed to have a hangup on my background -- nope. Two and three were more interesting. Four seemed bored and wanted over twice what the others had quoted -- nope. Okay, set up live (video) chats with two and three.
Three was otter-born, and had been in-system the last five years. She seemed ditzy and bossy. Part of that I suppose came from a matriarchal societal structure, females larger than males and dominant. What she suggested seemed to match a package tour I could do on my own for a twentieth the cost. Nope. Two had been in otter form about six years, in-system for four. She was a lot more upbeat, sounded interested, and asked me questions about not only what I’d like to see, but how I was interested in seeing it, suggesting things I hadn’t seen in the standard tourist faire. A side-screen message popped up from Kay -- we could do another round if I wanted, or I could go with an AI-based bug. AI-based bugs don’t snuggle, I replied. When could I meet two for an in-person interview? She was on-station, and could meet in a few clicks. Sounds good; I gave her my location and told the hotel to let her through.
The room announced her arrival; I told it to let her in.
She stepped into the room and the door closed behind her before our eyes met. I saw her ears, her fur shift. Her pupils dilated and her claws extended, a low growling coming from her throat.
As I stepped closer, I could smell her. I dropped my clothes, and she practically tore off her own. As I moved closer, she practically knocked me down, carrying me to the bed. I nestled into soft fur, so enticing.
That part of the interview was horizontal, with not many words, but a lot of noise.
Snuggling later, I asked her, “Are you still interested in the job?”
“How much do I have to pay?” she growled, pulling my head back into soft enticing fur.
Her name was Lara. We decided, later, that we really should clean up before we went out for a meal. The room facilities did a good job. Getting dressed afterwards, I found my necklace on the floor. Guess it had come off in a hurry. I put it on.
“Where did you get that?” Lara asked, touching it.
“I was with them,” I told her. “Why?”
She gave a low trill, shaking her head. “Makes sense -- you certainly don’t ... act ... like you’ve only been in this form for a short while...” She moved closer.
I held her, nestling in for a moment. “Guess I learn well.”
She gave me a squeeze. “You certainly do! Hide that though, I don’t want to have to fight for you!”
We managed to make it out of the room. She led me down a few levels and around to a different section of the station. We had dinner, discussing ground activities, traveling styles, a lot more. I wanted plenty of time to snuggle; she readily agreed to that, bringing up views of some romantic looking places on her tablet. I suggested some sightseeing, and a few days at a particular place that reminded me of New Zealand, doing that after my interview, and scheduling the rest later. I’d been told my interview could go from one to three days, and I’d be tired after. Sounded more like a deposition to me. Should I get clothes and shoes here? No, wait until we’re on the surface.
We talked about the trip down. Many options, ranging from a bubble for two pretty much direct to any spot on the planet we wanted (very expensive), private shuttles, shared shuttles, or scheduled public transport (very cheap but crowded). I had money, but I didn’t want to spend it all at once. I suggested a shared shuttle, since it was only a little more expensive than public transport. She agreed and started scheduling it. What time? I smiled and ran a claw up the inside of a forearm. Not too early tomorrow, so we can snuggle?
We made it back to the room. She suggested low gee for the first part of the night, as variable gee was expensive down on the surface. Fine with me.
Now don’t get me wrong, making love in low gee is fun. But there’s something very special about waking up in the morning with that luscious weight pressing into you, snuggling closer.
Guess I did learn well -- there’s a thing I’d learned to do with my tail, wrapping it around, entwining, and squeezing just so at the right moment... When I did that to her, she went wild! Glad I was holding on!
We cleaned up, again, checked out, and made our way to the shuttle dock, getting cleared for the surface. Four others on the shuttle, from a different vaguely mammalian species. We traded bored nods, took our seats, and enjoyed the ride down.
Interesting, yet... I drifted back to riding the sensor pod down through the atmosphere of Four, being driven by the stellar explosion and pulled by gravity... Yah, a boring flight is better.
We’d left the orbital station in the middle of our day, and made planetfall early in their local morning, giving us a full day to look around. We did tourist things in the morning, caught high-speed rail to the city where I had my “interview” the following day. I had a history teacher (long ago and really, really far away) who harped at us that “civilization” meant city-based society, nothing more. I’ll still say that civilized societies seem to have workable, efficient mass transit. We did more tourist things, ate, found our hotel, and found a soft, inviting horizontal surface. We got to know each other better... We didn’t leave until next morning.
My appointment was for about ten in the morning in a nearby office building. We walked over after breakfast. I told Lara to have fun, and I’d see her whenever. We hugged, and I checked in and was passed on to an upper floor.
Office blocks haven’t changed that much... Random hallways, random doors, small offices. It’s only when you get to the inhabitants that the difference becomes apparent.
The inhabitants of this office included two more-or-less humanoids, probably two meters tall if not taller, a leathery-skinned I’m not sure what with tentacles and overall bilateral symmetry, an AI-composite, and a box that could have been another entity, a recording device, or someone’s lunch box.
There was a seat for me; I took it. Comfy, might recline. Did I agree to recording this session. Yes, I agree. We went over name, origin, and a short version of how I came to be here, with some emphasis on meeting Kay.
Some interesting exchanges. Has Kay ever taken advantage of me? Of course, I replied quickly. The leather-skinned one made a sound I assumed was laughter. I expounded on that answer -- she had taken advantage of me on many occasions involving sexual behaviour, but never, ever, in anything resembling a business transaction. She has always been scrupulous in our business transactions. One of the humanoids wanted to pry into some of those transactions, and finally I told them I considered the details confidential, and I would only release such information with Kay’s consent. Grumbling and some quiet conversation among them.
Did I know why I was here?
I avoided the usual wise-ass litany, starting with providing a warning to others, and told them I had no idea, other than Kay told me it was important, so here I was.
The humanoids threw up their hands, muttered something in a language I didn’t understand, and one of them left. Yeah, at least two and a half meters tall, very skinny. Skin like the rough side of suede.
The leather-skinned one laughed more, and said she thought so. She explained that they were interviewing me for insurance on the starship Kay and I were buying.
!!!
Yes, this was a surprise! I knew we’d be meeting a ship, but I had no idea it was our ship!
The other humanoid left in a mixture of disbelief and/or disgust.
Oh, the AI-composite entity was the lunchbox; the larger box was the recording - transcription - testing system, AI but not sentient.
We had an interesting chat. I understood the issues quickly, deducing some of them myself.
Now once you get over the hurdle that a starship is incredibly expensive, consider that starships are extremely powerful. While some processes such as the metric drive are very efficient, others, such as moving the ship and its contents to other branes as part of a FTL drive takes huge amounts of energy. This energy is derived from the total conversion of mass into energy. Total conversion -- nuclear processes such as fusion in stars or (primitive) atomic weapons on Earth release under 2% of their mass as energy. Think you’re nervous handing car keys over to a sixteen year old? A starship with no weapons can wipe out planets.
As an example, the (secondary) metric drive is used to putt-putt around star systems, with a top speed asymptotic to the speed of light. Metric drives are very efficient. Ship’s shields are definitely needed to protect the hull and the contents from impacts with object micro through macro, and are also very efficient and reliable. Even without resorting to armament, you can cause a whole lot of trouble by grazing through a planet’s atmosphere at an altitude of 20 kilometers or so from the surface at a quarter the speed of light. “Sonic boom” doesn’t even start! Or how about doing the same to a star, grazing the photosphere? The shields and inertial damping will protect the ship. The resulting solar disturbances, though...
Add armament sufficient to ward off pirates, and even a small starship makes a really, really formidable weapon.
One of the ways (polite) society protects itself is by placing ships under the control of an AI. A starship is a very complex system, and it takes a network of powerful computers acting together to get it to work. Having that system directed by an AI makes a lot of sense. The next step is to have the AI work under a set of (ethical) constraints. Yeah, I’d run into one of those that wouldn’t replicate some drivers for me. Of course such constraints are only built into ships available in polite society. Pirates tend to have access to ships without those picky limitations.
A side on AIs -- two major flavors, sentient and non-sentient. The sentient ones are a lot more expensive and picky. Non-sentient are favored on larger ships; hard and fast rules. Sentient AIs are better for smaller ships. There’s a wide range of “sentient.”
Another societal approach to self-preservation is insurance. Also a mechanism avoided by the less scrupulous. Unless your ship and its crew are insured (vetted), you can’t land, dock, get supplies, or even enter some systems. Some systems demand, verify, and only accept vetting by top tier organizations. Other locales are less picky.
I thought I understood. I suggested to my interviewer that since I was most likely from a planet they hadn’t encountered before, they wanted to be sure I wasn’t likely to go lay waste to a star system because someone served me burnt toast or my skin was breaking out.
Exactly, my interviewer responded. While my species overall had known propensities, I as an individual was an unknown, where Kay...
I interrupted with a very rude noise. Kay? Dependable, reliable Kay? Just what had she done to receive the high honor of being escorted out of her home system?
She laughed, very melodious, part of her ... mantle? ... and tentacles fluttering. She didn’t know exactly what the scam was, but Kay set up a scam, an obvious, undeniable scam which on its face was illegal, immoral, and quite enticing... For the contribution of a sum roughly equivalent to a few thousand dollars, you could bring great embarrassment to someone.
Kay did this very quietly, very carefully, seemingly one at a time. And the kicker -- she snared close to a million people! Almost a million who were supposedly above all that! Times a few thousand each, a nice haul. And as it started to unravel, as it eventually must, Kay went public with it all, doing as she promised, bringing great embarrassment to quite a few.
And she was rewarded by being run out of town, with great fanfare and flourish.
I assume she kept the money?
More fluttering laughter. It’s a good guess.
After speaking about Kay for a while, I asked what we were doing next.
The next part of the process, she explained, was to observe my responses to a set of scenarios. Had I used [mechanical education]?
Yes, I had. I described what I’d gone through when we’d repaired our ship to the point it could take over, and decided I need repairing...
She told me the process was quite similar. They were a testing subcontractor for the insurance company. I’d be immersed in an artificial environment. When I woke up, I wouldn’t remember any of it. I’d be tired, might have a mild headache, but that was about it. They’d send their results and analysis to the company, and they’d make their decision.
The humanoids returned shortly afterwards. Was I ready to start? Yes, I was. My chair reclined, and things faded.
When I was a grad student, at the end of one semester I went out celebrating with some mates. I got really, really drunk, unusual for me. So drunk that someone decided I/we couldn’t walk home and called a cab. I remember arguing I didn’t like the color of the cab, but I got piled into the back anyway, and more or less passed out.
Our cab got hit by kids in a stolen car speeding away from the police. When I woke up next, in the hospital, I was battered, bruised, lacerated, had a very bad concussion, and was very, very hung over. Quite the combination.
All in all, I felt better then than I did waking up from that exam. I hurt. My vision was distorted and blurred. I had a hard time walking, talking, thinking, doing anything. If I’d had anything in my stomach, it would have been on the floor.
Those humanoids (hot, dry skin) helped me down the hall to the lift. My friends had been called, they told me, and abandoned me to the lift. I leaned against the inside of the lift, and stumbled out into the lobby. Lara? With someone? I took a few steps and fell, twitching.
Most of what went on I learned in retrospect. Kay had switched to otter form; she was with Lara to meet me; they’d been called to pick me up and had rushed over.
And that’s what they did, after I stumbled from the lift and collapsed. They picked me up, Kay quickly calling for help.
Meanwhile, in an office on an orbital station, one of the main offices for the insurance company, a senior partner received an automated notification when my testing concluded. He was interested in the results, having worked with Kay, and having followed our past antics. He brought up the preliminaries, and was puzzled. The opinions of the two hominids weren’t what he expected, particularly from someone who had spent a month with Pingri nest and received such glowing recommendations from them. So he pulled up the tests. After a brief scan, and some nasty words under his breath, he pulled and secured records of all the tests, and tried to contact the office as he pulled in other partners. No response -- he tried to contact Kay.
By this time, I was at an emergency medical facility being scanned. The insurance company partner reached Kay. A rapid conversation ensued, and not a polite one, either.
I learned about this and more from reviewing court records... What it amounted to was that the humanoids didn’t want to pass me, and over the objections of the others, subjected me to more and more tests, more intense tests, to the point that they caused me damage. They tested me to the point of organic damage! They damn near killed me!
When Kay and the doctors working on me realized that, they put me in stasis, freezing me in time, so things wouldn’t get worse. Kay brought Pingri nest into the picture. About the only thing to do was to prepare another (otter) shell, and transfer “me” to the new shell; the old shell had suffered too much damage, neurological and endocrine damage extending into more systemic problems. The psychological side of things Pingri nest could address. Preparing the shell took a while; they wanted to match what I had to minimize transfer shock.
And during that time, Kay took out her wrath, systematically and legally. A pair of humanoids were out of work and in deep trouble. Among other things, they’d tried to cover their tracks, but copies of everything had already been secured, so that only made things worse.
When I woke up, I was in the nest, snuggled in. I wasn’t comfortable; I hurt, and just didn’t feel good. I tried snuggling in closer, trying to make it go away. It didn’t go away.
It took many, many days. It took time for my head to clear. It took time for me to get some semblance of coordination back.
I recovered physically. I could move without pain. But mentally? Still damaged, still recovering. No drive, no spark, no sense of humor. All I wanted was to snuggle and be held.
We were making our way to another star system, where we’d pick up our ship. Even that didn’t excite me. Kay had arranged that first time with Pingri nest for me; Pingri owed her one. When we reached that system, for my “interview,” Pingri nest was supposed to go on their own way. But one of their seniors decided, just a hunch, that they should stick around... I’m glad they did. The first trip they’d done out of friendship for Kay. This trip, the insurance company was paying for it.
Kay -- in otter form -- took me to another part of the nest. We made love, we snuggled, we talked. Kay was still upset at what had happened to me; she thought she’d worked out all the details, having me spend time with Pingri nest beforehand. Then those bastards...
What I didn’t understand, I told her, one of the hospital staff mentioned that I would have been far more resistant to damage if I’d been in spider form for the exam.
Kay sighed and explained. Pingri nest couldn’t have worked with me if I’d still been in spider form. Did I feel that experience had been beneficial? Yes, very much so! Additionally, she told me, the spider shell I’d had included nonstandard augmentation which would have raised eyebrows (or the functional equivalent) in the exam setting. The new shells we were picking up were also augmented. It was best to undergo that initial examination in a “normal” shell.
So why hadn’t she told me about this beforehand?
Another big sigh. Part of it, she wanted to surprise me. Okay, you did that! Another part, and Pingri nest agreed, is that they didn’t want me to be worried about the interview beforehand. They knew I handled new situations really well, and the work we’d done further prepared me for the process. They had debated the issue hotly. Could I forgive her?
I pulled her more on top of me, wrapping my tail around hers.
An interesting meal once we arrived in the target star system, Kay and I, two of the Pingri nest folks I’d been close to, and two interesting humanoids. The pair, male and female, about four and a half feet tall, purplish, sprite like. They were here at the behest of the insurance company. It became clear to me as we spoke and ate that they’d spent a good bit of time with the Pingri nest therapists before Kay and I joined them. Oh, I was doing better -- it was easier to draw me out, to draw me into conversation. Didn’t take the prybar that had been needed a few days ago. Yet... We talked about a lot of things, the ambivalence to what shell you currently wore, advantages and disadvantages. I talked about standing on the hull experiencing the glory of Saturn’s rings, and of pulling in my delicate eyes and fines as a twit pounded on my shell with a beer bottle, yet missing warm, soft snuggling.
We talked. And as we did, it hit me. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so I did both. I finally noticed -- the sprites had been lobbing me big, fat setups, and I’d ignored or not spotted them up to now. They’d been lobbing straight lines at me that I would have run with in the past.
The female sprite asked me why I was laughing. I explained part of the game of baseball to them, tossing a ball to a batter who sought to strike the ball. With skilled athletes, it was quite a contest, a duel between pitcher and batter. But consider instead of skilled athletes, parents dealing with developmentally disabled children. Rather than trying to throw the ball past the batter, an adult serves up slow gentle pitches, which everyone hopes the kids can hit.
And I felt like one of those kids who finally woke up to the fact that someone was pitching to me, swung mightily and missed the ball, but whacked a nearby adult in the genitals with the bat... Humorous, but painful at the same time.
That received gentle laughter. I remarked that I guess I was getting better -- that’s the first time I’d used my humor muscles in a while.
One of my Pingri nest lovers/therapists gave me a hug. And what would help me get those muscles back in shape?
Hang out somewhere drinking beer and swapping shaggy zanth stories, I told her. I looked at Kay and added, go cause trouble -- and have fun doing it.
That brought more laughter. The male sprite said he didn’t want any more information. Louder laughter, and Kay and I hugged.
A private interview with the two sprites after lunch. Yeah, they were therapists. How did I feel? Better, but still damaged, I told them. But thanks to them I’d spotted something else to work on. They quizzed me somewhat obliquely as to whether or not I felt ill will toward those who’d put me in this position. I expected that Kay and their ex-employer had most likely caused them more discomfort than I’d be able to, and I most certainly had no ill feelings toward the AI-composite or the betentacled individual who I’d dealt with; both of them had been most helpful. They thought my assessment was correct. It was, I remarked, sad-curious that the more things changed, the more they remained the same; bias and discrimination still exist. And ill will? I shook my head, fingering the necklace I wore, remembering what it represented. If anything, I’d most likely go out of my way to be fair to members of that species. May we all be free of suffering; may we all be at peace. They said something together in their own tongue that I imagine was the functional equivalent of what I’d said. We clasped hands and they departed.
Kay and I were met by a shuttle and crew. The lead was a (humanoid) sales rep for the shipyard. He was accompanied by two biological composites reminiscent of Ghost in the Shell. The interior of the shuttle was plush, quite plush. The shipyard was on a moon orbiting six, with four the humanoid-populated planet. Six was a gas giant, as is usual in such systems, between Saturn and Jupiter in size, no rings though. A great place to pick up raw materials. There was an asteroid belt between six and seven, a good place to hunt for heavier elements.
The sales rep thanked us profusely for our order, and was sure we’d be quite pleased. The schedule, as we’d agreed (we had?), was to pick up the ship, then make a quick trip to the four orbital to pick up supplies and crew. From there, we’d take a shake-down trip to another system, a week or so. While we were getting our new shells, they’d go over the ship from end to end, tuning and tweaking what was needed.
The rep told us “our” design had been an interesting challenge. Would we have a few minutes to stop in the business office before going to the ship? They had some questions for me. We could take care of initial documentation at that time as well.
Me? Kay looked at me and smiled. Guess he did mean me. Sure.
Approaching the moon, we saw larger (some huge) ships in various stages of work, from ribs through to completion. Some of the hulls, the ships, were hundreds of years old.
We docked at a small station orbiting the moon. Not sure just how they verified our identities, but they did. Another pair appeared, more reptilian. Again, many thanks for our order and the challenges it presented; they expected we would be pleased, and welcomed comments, of course. Reminded us of the shakedown period and warranties. Of course the warranty only applied to their systems, and not to things we had installed; for anything we added or changed we were on our own, and any needed requals or recerts were ours to worry about.
Attention turned to me. As I may have heard, the defensive tweaks I’d invented were now required by most insurers. They were interested in making my modifications standard on all the applicable drive systems they handled. Was I interested in negotiating a reduced royalty in exchange for a substantial price reduction on our ship?
Kay just smiled. Thanks, dear. I told them we would be happy to entertain proposals.
They would send them to the ship by the time we reached the orbital; that way we would be able to review them over the shakedown. Would we like to go to the ship now?
Yes, please!
In the shuttle again, we swung around to the sunside of the moon. They had a staging area for delivery of ships capable of surface landings; that’s where we were headed. We moved down close to the surface.
We passed larger ships at first. All shapes and styles, all forms of decoration.
Moving to the more personal ships, weekenders and better -- I started laughing. What huge egos those represented! The exteriors, in terms of shapes and colors, far beyond what was required for stability and/or aerodynamics, rows and rows of ego support!
Oho -- I spotted it. I hugged Kay. “It’s perfect! I love it!” I chirped in laughter.
“Think you spotted it?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, that has to be ours,” I told her.
It sat near the end of a row of ships. The ships on either side had overly dramatic curves, fins, and hulls awash with color.
In contrast, the ship we were approaching had the sex appeal of a delivery van. It was grayish-white in color, utilitarian in shape, with symmetric bulges along a smooth hull.
“Oh, it’s perfect!” I chirped again. Perfect camouflage for a pair of jokers. “I’m feeling better already!”
Kay laughed and gave me a squeeze.
We passed through a protective field surrounding the ship as we set down. Eighty or so meters long? Oval cross-section with a delta-wing lifting-body shape. Simple. Dull. “Something tells me it’s not so dull on the inside,” I muttered.
The sales rep nodded and smiled. “We placed bulkheads and conduits where you indicated.”
We walked around it. It was sitting up on retractable landing skids, designed to actually land using the metric drive, or impulse - thrusters. The hull could sustain repeated aerodynamic reentry from orbit without shields, but you were expected to use one of the sublight drives. We had a hold amidships with a small shuttle, smaller than the one we’d arrived in, and one with a far more utilitarian interior. Walking around the ship, the rep pointed out bulges representing sensor systems, defensive and offensive systems, comm and nav, primary and secondary locks.
“Shall we go to the bridge and give you the details?” he asked.
We nodded and entered through the secondary lock.
The interior was plain but comfortable. The bridge was set up to be run by one or two, although it could accommodate six humanoids. The rep’s two accomplices took the control seats and activated systems. The rep pointed out a pair of seats. “If you would.”
“We’re operational,” the one in the left hand seat called out.
Kay and I sat down. “Link to the ship,” she told me.
I reached out with my link.
I felt welcome! And that welcome turned into a flood of information. Suddenly I knew the ship, inside and out. Systems, capabilities, what had been shaken down, the results, what was remaining to be tested. So much information!
I also knew that full capabilities hadn’t been turned over to us yet.
Curious -- we had equipment aboard to store, produce, and move us to new forms. We had a medical bay (something the spider ship lacked). We had areas which could be used for cargo, or equipment, or a lot of things. We were cramped in other areas; a hull this size normally supported at least twelve people. We could take six, or eight if we got real cozy.
Our systems -- normally, drive, sensors, and such, didn’t take up a lot of room, particularly the low-end package we'd gotten. But on our ship, a huge amount of space was dedicated to those systems. Their “standard” package was practically sitting in a corner, with flanges, conduits, and attachment points prepared for a whole lot of gear to be added later. And the hull -- it wasn’t grey-white, it was polychromic -- we could make it anything we wanted. Kay, I think I love you!
Our cabin was first rate, cozy but luxurious. Good automated galley.
The AI wasn’t first rate -- she was next year’s state of the art, sentient and with a personality. She would operate the drones, and more. I understood better now; drones under the control of the AI were part of the insurance process. The AI took up a fair amount of space, some integrated into other systems, some distinct. The drones shared a cabin. We had guest cabins, and a cabin next to ours was reserved for a system to be added, but could also be used as a guest cabin.
I linked to monitor systems, watching as the crew and the AI ran checklists preparing to lift us off the surface of the moon. Damn! This was going to be our ship!
We could operate the ship through links, manual controls (both through the AI), or just tell the AI what we wanted. I knew from the test records that all systems had been exercised. While the crew were actually using controls, they could have just as easily told the AI where we wanted to go, and sat back to watch the view.
Which is what Kay and I did, watching the view and monitoring things as we went. The ship had so much capability, and we were using so little of it! We received clearance, and lifted from the moon’s surface.
One of the crew asked if we had any requests. Kay wanted to move out of the ecliptic so she could test sensors. Four was on the other side of the star from us, so going out of the ecliptic plane to get there was reasonable. Goose the metric drive, and we’re moving at half the speed of light, no sensation of motion at all and still accelerating! I linked Kay and the control systems, suggesting to the AI that we’d like a hint of acceleration as feedback. Verified and configured.
We felt motion cues as we decelerated, coming to a relative stop.
Kay linked into the sensor systems. She layered sensor data onto the visuals, adding and weaving in more and more. Very impressive! Vehicles moving in the system, showing predicted and past tracks, adding identifications, flicking to asteroids, checking masses, wow! Zoom in on four, tracking objects around the planet.
The added data flicked off. “Thank you,” Kay told them. “Please continue.”
We started moving again. As we approached four, standard vectors appeared on the viewscreens. We followed one of the vectors in to the orbital. We were cleared for docking. The AI took us to a company bay.
We disembarked and went with the sales guy to a nearby office as the ship was swarmed by uniformed service-creatures.
A mix of sales talk and the usual BS, meeting with a humanoid pair, a pair that could walk through many diverse cities on Earth without drawing more than whistles. We reviewed our ship’s test data so far. All systems, including FTL, had been tested. The course to our next destination had been carefully chosen, and the crew would not deviate unless absolutely necessary. This was done so that in the unlikely event we did have major problems, we’d have at least half a snowball’s chance in hell of being found. I remarked dryly that I was familiar with such issues. One of the folks talking to us perked up a bit and agreed that I indeed had!
While Kay held qualifications as a pilot and captain, those were for other vessels. It was suggested that we use some of our time on the qualification simulations. Yah, we’d do that.
We signed a bunch of stuff. It wasn’t our ship, yet. Kay had restricted certification in case anything wild happened. I was still considered little better than a wild animal who shouldn’t be allowed to soil the decks. Well, I had restricted certification as ship’s engineer, thanks to not only the time on the spider ship, but working as crew on the trip with Pingri nest.
We met our crew, three of the purplish sprite folks, two females and a male. At least one of them would be on the bridge at all times. While they could be of assistance with technical issues while not on duty, they weren’t around for our entertainment. Not to worry, not my type.
Back in our cabin, Kay asked me, “What did you think of them?”
“Who?”
“The officers in the briefing -- the forms they wore.”
“Nice,” I admitted. “They could walk down the streets of New York, Paris, a bunch of places without problems. Why?”
She smiled. “They represent a well-known spacefaring race. Our new forms are based on theirs.”
“Nice -- that will work.” I missed tits and they had them.
“Want to watch from up front?” Kay asked.
I pulled her to our bed as I linked controls. “Why?” I knew the capabilities of our ship, and the extras we had. The nominally bare surfaces in our cabin, walls and ceilings, were displays. I brought up outside views as I fell back and pulled her on top of me.
That’s how we watched our departure from the orbital. Kay linked course projections and status into the displays. We snuggled and made love as we moved leisurely out of the system. We unwrapped a bit to watch status info as the FTL systems were checked and checked again. We’d be covering the equivalent of huge distances over the next few days.
Transition was a non-event, displays going to computed/synthesized views.
We talked as we snuggled, about all that empty space, and some changes I wanted to make. I thought I’d deduced what Kay was up to pretty well. After the ship was ours, we’d be meeting with some folks she’d used in the past. Most of what we had would be gutted and replaced. We’d have sensor, effector, drive, and defensive systems that outclassed pretty much everything we knew of. As usual, it’s the ones you don’t know about that can be the issue...
We didn’t spend all our time in bed. Once I started running simulations, I was hooked. Since they were AI driven and adaptive, I made it through the beginning material very quickly, getting into more fun stuff. Oh, I decided to name our AI “Eliza.”
The simulations weren’t all just having neurons tickled, either. I’d have to go find, diagnose, and occasionally swap out a module or part. And Kay and I broke for meals, snuggling, planning, lovemaking, and snuggling and sleeping afterwards.
The first day or two the simulations were guided, teaching, drilling, reviewing. But their nature changed, becoming more open-ended, where I had to figure out what was going on. Some had Kay in them, and I was never sure until afterwards whether it was really Kay in the sims, or I was dealing with the AI. Those were more challenging, and a lot more fun. There were also some that were not fun, ones where we lost the ship, or occasionally, our lives. There’s a time dilation in the simulation technology; things run twenty or more times faster than “real” time. That meant I could go through a days-long gut-wrenching experience and open my eyes to find that only a few clicks had passed. A series of those changed back to more basic stuff, going over systems, operations, diagnosis, and repair. I think I had an unfair advantage in a lot of those, with my “primitive” background, it was easy for me to use to what were probably considered antiquated or backup systems.
After lunch, two days from our destination, I sat down in my chair, reclined, and linked to Eliza for more fun, and instead of dumping me into something, she asked what I wanted to do! To my startled response, she replied that I’d completed all the training and certification simulations, and even the recertification ones! She was very proud of how well I’d done! I linked Kay, and either Kay knew all about it, or was very cool. I’ll bet on very cool.
So Kay and I spent more time snuggling and planning mods to ship’s systems. We also reviewed the shipbuilder’s business propositions. They wanted to incorporate my mods and advertise the fact, expecting that to bring in more business. Sounded like a good deal to me; we’d get a significant price break in exchange for a reduced royalty stream. Kay had a hunch that the shit she’d started for the insurance company for mistreating me would have them coming to us with quite a nice offer as well. We could make out all right on this deal. Yeah, if you ignored the pain and the scar tissue...
She held me, our lovemaking so intense, collapsing together afterwards.
Once we arrived in-system, we assumed that we’d get our new forms, get our vetting from the insurance company, and take care of business details. Then we’d make a trip -- in our ship! -- to get our hot-rodding done. After that we’d make a recertification run.
Ships are expected to meet and be certified to certain performance standards. Once we alter key systems, we’d need to recertify. But those certifications and recertifications are on a “meet or exceed” basis; meet or exceed particular standards for performance. Hah! Our only decision was what levels to go for. When you enter a (reputable) system your ship is queried and replies (if you’re polite) with information on hull type, certification of systems and crew, and who did the certification. All this is cryptographically signed (authenticated), of course. We had a class-2 hull, with the bog-standard 2A systems installed. Yeah, bog-standard 2A systems installed in an area quite obviously set up for something quite different. I expected that when we were through, we’d be more like 3E, way out there. You have to figure that info on the as-sold configuration will get out. I’d trained to 3E in the simulations. We fully expected that we’d get a reputation fairly quickly; there were other wolves-in-sheep’s-clothing about. Most folks with any sense spotting a dull looking class-2 that had 3-advanced certifications would leave us alone. We hoped. And for those that didn’t, well, we’d have to be ready for them.
Our last dinner, we reviewed punchlists with the crew, and with Eliza. She had a surprising number of things that needed attention, most of them thankfully minor.
The next day Kay and I sat on the bridge for the transition out of FTL, entry into the system, and orbital docking. We popped out, were identified, and given clearance and routing to the orbital. The crew let Eliza take us in. Actually, the orbital insisted the AI take us in.
Another busy system... Airports are airports wherever you go... But the planet looked very interesting. Not that we’d planned time visiting it.
The usual deal, long periods of not much happening with brief flurries of action. We docked and reviewed the lists. They’d have everything done in two days. Kay pointedly postponed business dealings until after we switched to our new forms. And yes, the insurance carrier did want to meet with us. Fine -- later.
We were met by representatives of the group who’d prepared our new forms. They looked gorgeous, advertising their own wares. A brief conversation, letting us know that everything was ready and checked out, and that Kay would be doing my initial patterning in the new form. They’d prepared training materials to assist us in achieving peak performance and had already delivered them to Eliza on ship. They’d also been in touch with the insurance carrier, working with them on drones and other issues that Kay was aware of; they needed to review details with her, if I’d like to get things underway...
Why not? I knew I could return to this form again. You needed extensive patterning the first time you changed; the spiders (and the AI on their ship) had taken care of that quite nicely. You needed some patterning when you moved into a new form, but not much when you went back to earlier forms later on. Kay had quite a history of swapping forms.
The attractive female I followed to their section was surprised to see the Pingri nest necklace I had; they’re not given out freely. She offered to help verify my patterning later... Her smile was clouded by that pulsing blue light as things faded out...
I woke to skin against skin, moving in twilight to find a full breast and a nipple. Feeling a soft, warm body next to mine, having her feeling me, moving atop me and riding us.
Our patterning was brief and very pleasant. I adapted the movement/dance I’d learned from Pingri nest to my new form. As before, I was a sleek and healthy beastie. The form I was, the form I wore, was strong, healthy, and moved easily. I think Kay liked the way I moved; I liked the way she moved. I’d missed tits, and Kay had them, in abundance.
We were healthy, pretty, very fast, and very strong... But that’s to be expected. Let’s talk about enhancement and augmentation for a bit. Enhancement usually refers to genetic tinkering, which may or may not extend to your offspring. Augmentation usually refers to modifications and/or additions ranging from drugs and hormones to replacement or add-on systems. The occurrence of both is more of a matter of preference and style, varying widely, although some patterns hold. Most races have gone through rounds of enhancement to extend basic life expectancies and the like. Some groups, such as Pingri nest, avoid augmentation. With others, it’s hard to tell what grew and what was installed.
Spiders are an interesting example. They went through many rounds of genetic enhancement, not unusual in space-faring races, adapting themselves. But that was a long time ago. Now they use augmentation, particularly for those who leave the planet. Once an individual reaches full size, their exterior is treated, turning that home-grown chitin into a material more akin to synthetic armor plate -- very lightweight and a superb insulator. It’s not unusual to have augmentation in the form of implanted links and such. Hell, some ship’s crew even have small metric drives and the required power sources implanted in their shells. I could go for that -- be able to step outside and be your own ship, touring the local system at 0.9 times the speed of light! Pull those legs in close, or they’re going to get burned off! On second thought, I’d rather ride around in a hull, with proper nav aids, comm gear, galley, and head... Of course another problem is that any number of systems are quite reticent to let folks wander around with matter to energy conversion systems inside them. Even though metric drives and their required shields are quite efficient, and the required converter is the size of a fingertip, if you managed to get it to self-destruct ... (quickie calculation) ... on the order of a megaton equivalent? No, I don’t want that riding the subway, either!
But garden variety augmentation is far more reasonable. The otter crew I’d worked with, they had links and shields implanted, enough to communicate with ship and crew, and make quick trips outside the hull without having to suit up. The legal and actuarial professions, from what I’ve encountered, seem to go in for AI-style augmentation (but they’re weird). (The music: Ptahil by Artrium Carceri.) We (Kay and I) had links and basic shields implanted. Our links support quite advanced crypto, and our shields have some interesting tricks. But that general package was common among diplomats, highly placed business types, and the rich and paranoid. As with everything we had, we’d train (and retrain) to be proficient.
Even under reasonable scrutiny, we wouldn’t seem out of place. Not that I’d want to show up at the Mayo clinic, though... An Earth-type doing anything more than a cursory medical exam on us would be both confused and curious. Externally, we could walk down any street without getting more than whistles, more pretty athletes or Hollywood stars -- I mean Bollywood... Our skin is a beautiful olive color. That pale pink stuff, sad to say, is genetically unsuitable as it carries with it a much lowered tolerance to radiation.
I groused to Kay when she insisted we had to get moving. She had meetings to attend and pain to inflict. I guessed it was related to me and didn’t press things; I was at the least ambivalent about meeting some of those parties again. I muttered something about more patterning, running my hands over her luscious body and large, firm breasts -- she’d done that for me, bless her.
She laughed and told me we’d have plenty of time once we got on our ship. And, she seemed to remember, I’d had the offer of some shapely help. I shook my head, but smiled.
She told me I’d been getting it quite easy -- in military and similar deals, the usual routine was a very accelerated three or four clicks! In an infamous incident about a hundred years ago, an invading force slotted tens of thousands of mercenaries into new forms while en-route in their dropships, doing the quickie patterning on the way. Tens of thousands of fresh (expensive) mercenaries, dropped onto the surface of an unsuspecting planet...
...Dropped onto the surface of a high-gee planet, and all those mercenaries had been quickie patterned with reflexes for low-gee environments. It was a remarkably short-lived invasion, with the mercenary force self-destructing, their patterning guaranteeing debilitating injuries just about whenever they moved.
“Stupidity or sabotage?” I asked.
Kay gave me a big hug. “I knew I picked the right one!” she laughed.
I laughed, or tried to.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, frowning.
I pulled us closer, feeling her breasts against me. That made both of us smile.
“Can’t trill and chirp like I’m used to,” I confessed, shaking my head. I’d become more otter-like than I’d thought, the influence of Pingri nest. “If the roof of my mouth was just a little different, I think I could do it.”
Kay gave me a sly smile and almost a cackle. “If you mention that in passing, I think you’d get immediate and very personal interest...”
I laughed, more human-like this time. “I’ll do that...”
“Really?” she asked with raised eyebrow.
I nodded. “To pass the time away from you...” I gave an overly dramatic sigh.
She squeezed me and laughed all the more.
And she was right... As Kay and I walked from our recuperation room - lovenest, we were greeted by some of the staff, including the cutie I’d been with before. When they asked how we were adapting, I remarked how I could almost trill and chirp, and it felt as if a little reshaping of the roof of my mouth might do the trick.
Well! Kay barely had the chance to wish me luck as I was whisked off to a treatment room that was a cross between a medical office and a studio apartment, with a comfy looking sleeping pad in amongst the medical looking gear. I sat in a medical looking chair and explained to a very interested (and very pretty) young lady. I demonstrated, or tried to, trilling and chirping. She brought up a display, which changed rapidly, most likely as she linked controls. She had me do it again. We looked at some very nice sectional image captures of what was going on in my mouth. I posed my hypothesis, reshaping a little along here would do it. She nodded, told me she was getting more information, and asked how I was accommodating otherwise. Very well, so far, I told her. I laughed a bit. At first, in otter form, I’d had trouble getting used to the tail. Now I was having trouble getting used to not having a tail.
Another window popped up, with a pretty otter lass in it. She introduced herself; she worked for the same organization, on another orbital the other side of the planet, and was glad to help. I introduced myself, or tried to, not quite getting the sounds I wanted, so we switched languages. Soon we had a similar sectional image of our otter lass doing the trills and chirps I wanted to do again. They guessed I was close in my hypothesis.
Let’s try this... A brief blue glow, a little woody feeling in my head. Try again, they asked. I tried again, a brief trill -- a lot better!
We went through a few more cycles, fine tuning, also having me speak in other languages to make sure we didn’t screw up something else. I even got off a string of profanity in German, spitting from the back of my throat, that would have made one of my Physics advisors proud...
They thought we had it, and asked me to try again.
Some times it’s good enough to be lucky... I closed my eyes and trilled out the chant we did in the nest so many times. I did it, feeling the warmth and love of the nest, feeling the words I sang.
When I opened my eyes (and wiped them), I noticed our otter lass was looking at me most curiously. “Where did you learn that?” she trilled.
I laughed, chirping easily now, and showed her my Pingri nest necklace.
Oh that look -- the subtle shift in ear position, dilation of the pupils, other small but distinct changes -- and she growled...
I laughed again and thanked her for her help.
I think something was exchanged between her and the cutie working with me... She laughed, thanked her colleague for her help, and signed off, closing the comm and medical windows.
And the look she gave me -- well, what had Kay suggested? “What can I do for you, dear?” I asked, looking her in the eyes.
“Let’s make sure your mouth isn’t affected,” she whispered. The lights in the room dimmed somewhat as she moved closer.
She checked my lips with hers. Tongues, too. We moved to the sleeping pad for more checking.
I wanted to make sure my mouth worked well, so I tested it on her nipples before moving lower. She gave me confirmation that my mouth worked. After a while I moved back up and settled on a nipple, holding her close as she recovered.
After a while, she started checking out other parts of me. We moved to sitting yab-yum, with her impaled on me.
“You weren’t born to this form,” I suggested amidst kisses.
“How do you know?” she asked, moving in my lap.
“The way you held me,” I whispered, nuzzling her neck.
“It makes that much difference?” she asked. “Show me how,” she challenged.
I smiled, looking in her eyes. “It makes a difference,” I suggested. I held her, my hands on her lower back, pulling her closer.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” she hummed.
I moved my hands just a little lower on her sacrum, shifting my hips and pulling her closer.
She moaned and her hips started moving on their own; she held me and we kissed.
I got the chance to show her how to hold me better a few minutes later. Discussing it as we dressed later, we agreed it was one of those things that got programmed deep in infancy. She also offered to help explore those issues whenever I wanted.
Standing out on the walkway again, not so different from being in a shopping mall, except the clientele was a lot more varied. I linked to Kay: Where are you, and should I be there? She replied with a location, and yes! She linked in Eliza, who started feeding me visual route cues.
Okay, sometimes I’m better at following directions than others. But come on, it’s not like we had a tight schedule or anything. I’ve no idea if I’ll ever see this place again. Eliza is tossing me visual cues as to which way to go. Some times I follow them, but some times there’s something I’d like to see just a little bit down the way I’m going, just a peek, then back on the way.
I’d gone through this before, while on the spider ship. Their AI was good, adaptive, so it updated the route I was supposed to take, accounting for my diversions.
But Eliza is sentient, with a sense of humor. After a few detours, rather than the subtle visual cues I’d been getting, these HUGE FUCKING GLOWING ARROWS appear in my vision! I laughed out loud -- and ignored them. I just want to look! Back on track, at the next junction I get the subtle cues, and I experiment, starting off the other way, and HONK! Noises, and the HUGE FUCKING GLOWING ARROWS again! Okay! I can take the hint! After thirty or so meters of behaving, the cues returned to a more subdued form. At one intersection, as an experiment, I started heading away -- to a blank wall. HONK! I laughed and turned back on course. I heard Eliza’s laughter in my head.
In the AI field, there are levels of sentience. Some argue an AI only simulates sentience, but in such a discussion over beer a few weeks ago, I remarked that I had grad students who fell into that category, and my compatriots agreed. One unofficial but very useful scale of AI sentience relies on the shaggy zanth story (or its local equivalent). Now a simple recording device or a parrot can tell a story. It takes a certain level of sentience to be able to tell such a story adaptively, for example with interruptions. Higher levels of sentience can grade good from bad. While some AIs have synthesized stories from other stories, so far we don’t have any that have made up new ones on their own. I figured Eliza was near the top on anyone’s scale.
Curiouser and curiouser, as they say... Eliza led me to the offices of an insurance outfit, but not the one we’d been dealing with! In my research, I’d found that there were quite a few reputable firms. Not too surprising, business tended to cluster around species, location (in a broad, inter-stellar sense), and/or occupation. The outfit (cocksuckers) we’d been dealing with were the number one for Kay’s race, and number three or four for some other races, including a few humanoid. The place I was in front of was perhaps number three for Kay’s race, and two for any number of humanoid. Hmmm, I detect wheeling-dealing-positioning going on here.
The doors opened as I approached. A female humanoid, light bluish-gray, a little over five feet tall, smiling, wearing a company uniform approached. “Doctor Russell? This way, please.”
I liked this place already! Taken to an office/conference room with Kay and three more bluish-gray folk. One wall of the room was displaying a beach scene; nice. I sat next to Kay. Introductions, offers of refreshment, the usual chit-chat.
When a lull appeared, I turned to Kay and asked, “So, how much are they offering to pay us for our business?”
Our hosts laughed, and Kay kissed me.
Not quite that good a deal, they explained to me... Yes, they did want our business, and saw it as a marketing opportunity as well. They’d worked for a long time with Pingri nest and their cousins. They’d spoken with one of my Pingri nestmothers, reviewing what had transpired, including my less than hospitable testing, which I had done exceedingly well in, and recommendations for my continued recovery. They (and Kay) were of the opinion that the other company, while apologetic about what had happened, was still being overly cautious, making ludicrous demands, and not showing serious interest in helping me recover.
Another picked up the conversation. Under any objective standards, she said, ticking things off on her fingers (six -- hadn’t noticed that). I’d passed the normal set of tests. I’d passed an abnormal set of tests, in excess of what most systems did to their own military commanders! They figured the only reason I wasn’t dead was the time I’d spent with Pingri nest, and Kay’s quick action. And finally, and significantly, I had the backing of Pingri nest. Records from our ship’s AI showed I’d completed all the training and qualification sims. There was no reason I shouldn’t be treated the same as any sentient being.
They would certify me for essentially the normal learner’s permit. I could operate the ship under the control of the AI. I could take direct control if another qualified person (such as Kay) was on the bridge with me. There was the normal rule that I should not be alone on the bridge; a drone should be present with me. They, and Pingri nest, saw no need of restrictions such as bonded drones or therapy constructs. They’d worked out a plan with the approval of my Pingri nestmother incorporating ship’s drones that everyone expected would work well.
I don’t know if I liked Kay’s grin at that remark. Didn’t know what bonded drones or therapy constructs were, but that smirk on her face I recognized.
And after a set period of time (roughly seven months) and a minimum number of clicks of command time, they’d re-evaluate, and I’d most likely get my cleared command certificate. Oh, they were giving me a clear engineering certificate; they considered what I’d done to the spider ship close to miraculous.
Okay, so what’s the bad news?
Quiet and smiles. That’s what I was afraid of.
One of the females told me they did want to do a short set of simulations. A formality.
I closed my eyes and took a breath. Okay, this is getting back on the horse after a fall. And, I’d done all those sims on ship, some of them pretty damn nasty, and I’d gone back for more. But that had been my choice.
I opened my eyes and looked to Kay. She smiled. I looked to the others. “Let’s do it, right now.”
Blinking my eyes open, sitting up. I was in another room, a smaller room. Two of the three people sitting with me were familiar.
“How are you?” the unfamiliar one asked.
I felt -- rested, relaxed. “I feel fine, thank you.”
“That is good,” she replied, nodding to the others. “The tests were quite nominal, as we anticipated. We also performed additional diagnostics at the request of your nestmother. I was honored to speak with her, and to inform her that you are doing well.”
That was a surprise!
“Actually,” she continued, “from reviewing your records shortly after the ... incident, I am amazed at how well and how quickly you have recovered.”
I nodded. “I was very lucky to be adopted by the nest.”
“Indeed,” she agreed. She stood up.
I started to stand as well, but she waved for me to sit. “No, I’ll leave you with my colleagues. I hope to see you for your checkup. I wish you well.”
“Thank you.”
She left.
Her colleagues looked at each other. “Not much else for us to do,” the male said. “We’ve recorded your certification, sending it through our systems and to your ship.”
“Oh,” the female added, “Kay left for your ship already. You’re to contact your ship for instructions.” They stood up. “Any questions?”
Didn’t have any, at least not that they could answer.
They led me to the door, thanking me again for our business, and wishing me well.
Standing out in the mall again, I linked to the ship. “Kay? Eliza?”
Eliza answered, her voice in my left ear. “Kay is aboard. You are in command.” Information on a star system flashed into my vision. “This is our next destination, for my refitting.”
Gee, that’s nice. “Do we have an appointment?” I asked.
“Yes, we do.”
“When do we need to leave in order to meet that schedule?”
“We should leave within the next ten clicks.”
Okay, just like the boring sims I’ve done. “Plan and file a route to our destination. Start running departure checklists and advise on any anomalies. Do we need fuel or supplies?”
“All taken care of. We are cleared to depart when ready. Would you like directions?”
“Yes, please.” Even though I knew I was on an orbital, I smiled and added, “Let’s get our butts off this rock.”
End of Part 3
Rev 2007/06/26
On to Part 4
Time of Arrival 3
By silli_artie@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www