(33.2)
“Captain’s log, stardate 403.02.28. More old friends in the civilian lanes. We crossed paths with a passenger ship carrying some of the Plastic Courtesans of Galatea IV. The madam I’d met there was traveling with them and holy nebulas was she excited to see me. Started measuring right away. I, uh, I’m seven feet around, now. And that was before we had lunch.
“Or course, I should add that she’s gotten a little bigger, herself. A lot of them have. Nothing like anyone on the Goose, but there’s no denying the courtesans have been living pretty well since getting free. The extra weight just means more mass they can move from one part of their body to another. And the things they can do with those bodies…” She leaned back in her chair and blushed.
“They’ve left Galatea behind and are looking to establish a colony of their own. I bet wherever they end up, it’ll be the most popular place in the sector. Oh—and they made sure to give me a parting gift. Something to remember them by.” She held up the tiny metal bikini. It hadn’t fit back then and beside her now it looked like little more than a joke. The top couldn’t even reach across her breasts, much less contain them. The cups couldn’t even cover her nipples. The bottoms had pinched painfully enough when her waist had been 36 inches. Each of her thighs was rounder than that now. “Not that anything else fits me. I tried on some of Lucine’s mesh leggings the other day and I looked like an Antarian sausage.”
She chuckled and tossed the bikini across the room. The service drones raced to pick it up.
“Captain to kitchens,” she said, before she could stop herself.
“Go ahead, captain.”
“Do we have any of that Antarian sausage left?”
“Captain’s log, stardate 403.03.04. Just a couple weeks from the gate. After we fuel up at…where are we fueling up?”
“Aerostaticus Beta,” said the head of stellar cartography, without opening her eyes or losing her dreamy smile. “It’s suspended in a toroidal gas cloud. Everyone just…floats…”
The cartographer was in a lounge chair across the spa, absently rubbing lotion into a fold of hip-fat. She was completely naked, again. In fact, now that she considered it, Estelle couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the cartographer with clothes on. “Right. That place. Uh, it’s the last station on this edge of the sector, anyway. After this, no more planets or outposts until we get to the space-gate. So we’re hoping for some smooth sailing. Finally, a chance to relax. Feels like it’s been all work, work, work lately. Lower, please.”
The massage-bot worked lower.
She relaxed. “Perfect. What’s that you’ve got there?”
The cartographer finally stirred. “What? Sorry, I’m really high.” She nudged the jar toward Estelle. “Uh, it’s a luxury mellowing cream. Very…mellowing.”
A service arm delivered it the rest of the way. “I can’t believe all those days I wasted in the workout center,” mused Estelle, scooping some with her finger. “This spa was right here the whole time.”
“Captain,” whispered the sensor technician, backside filling the doorway. “The station’s signaling. They’ll have a dock open for us in about two hours. Full service.”
“Full service. Now we’re talking. Invite their technicians aboard for dinner. Have we had dinner yet? Invite them for whatever. I could eat.”
“Turn over, please,” chirped the massage-bot.
She grunted and waved. Service arms unfolded from the wall and gently rolled her onto her back. “Two weeks with no missions,” she groaned. “What are we going to do with ourselves?”
“Bror-oorr-oorp,” she announced the next day, punctuating a two-hour poolside dinner. The belch echoed through the deck. She adjusted her bikini top, adjusted it again, and in the end simply untied it. The pool chair creaked beneath her. The bikini slipped down onto a pile of empty plates.
“Impressive,” said Lucine, hands atop a rather bloated belly of her own, “most impressive.”
“Well, those toroidal beverages were pretty fizzy.”
But Lucine held up a hand. Everyone waited; she released a shorter but much deeper belch, all of her psi-gems momentarily aglow.
“Nice.”
Straya, the only one actually in the pool, slapped her buoyant stomach and produced an even louder, bubbling burp. They applauded her.
Zora looked at Maura. They belched together in perfect unison and, somehow, in perfect harmony.
All eyes turned to Csilla. Her burp wasn’t much, compared to the others, but it was proceeded by a hiccup that rang off the Lido deck’s glass. More applause.
Io silenced them. Her eructation seemed to shake the hull. She’d eaten a highly radioactive coolant-compressor before dinner, though, so the contest wasn’t entirely fair. But it was well-received; they were all well-received. They were all too stuffed and too comfortable to be unhappy about anything at all.
They sat there awhile, gazing at one another over their glutted bellies. “Hey,” said Estelle, when the meal began to settle and her breath was coming in more steadily, “I just wanted to thank you all.”
Straya propped her fat elbow on the edge of the pool. “Us? Taco night was your idea.”
“No, I mean…crossing the half the galaxy with us. Doing everything you’ve done. Dealing with all—hic—well, dealing with the—hic—oh, stars. Look, I know there’ve been some changes you’ve had to adjust to, is what I’m trying to say.”
“Are you saying we’re getting fat?” gasped Maura, with all the innocence she could muster.
“Technically I’m not fat,” Csilla reminded them. “Just…stretchy.”
Estelle regretted not planning her speech better. “I just mean—huck!” She tried a longer breath. “It’s still change. I’m sure it’s meant some…some big changes.” She made it through the sentence before the next hiccup caught her, but when it did come it was an even stronger one than she’d prepared for and she fell back with an overindulged groan.
Straya shook her head. “Captain, I’m a big fish outgrowing her pond. I’m living my people’s dream. I’m the closest any Balaenan has been to our ancestors’ glory in centuries.”
Csilla capped her thermos. “When I was a princess at court, it was all prescribed appearances, etiquette, suitors, performances, expectations…and then when I went on the run it was just living off bad girlfriends, bad boyfriends, bad ternary-friends…transforming myself all the time to hide from my heritage, or to appease somebody, or to meet expectations. When this thing filled up with jelly and people had to carry me around…captain, that was the first time I ever really felt like royalty.”
“And look at Io,” grunted Zora.
They looked. Io took up half the volleyball court. Her tentacles were splayed lazily along the deck and her four arms were massaging a belly that held a deployment-pod full of food, along with a highly radioactive coolant-compressor. Her rounded face was pure happiness.
“You know,” said Maura, “when we first found her, she was seconds from being swallowed by a Dentalian crawling colossus. Biggest crawler we’d seen in all our years of bug-hunting. Had skinny little Io right in its jaws.”
Zora grinned at the memory. “What a fight. Took almost all our ammo.”
“And you know what? Looking at her now…she’s bigger than even that colossus was. I think if they met again the shoe would be on the other foot.”
Io licked her lips.
“Still,” Estelle continued, “thank you. I know it hasn’t all been easy. You’ve all left your homes and societies and careers to help a bunch of stray—huck—humans. I just…I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“We’ll get you home, captain,” Lucine assured her.
“Though if you keep this up,” said Straya, watching her wince at another hiccup, “when we get there we’ll probably have to roll you out of the ship.”
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NEXT WEEK: It’s good to be captain