"I am not hungry, Mama," I say again, pushing the fork away gently. "My stomach feels like it is tied in a knot. If I eat, I think I will just throw it up."
Mama sighs, placing the fork back down. She shifts in her chair, turning her body fully towards me. Her large breasts rest on the table, creating a soft barrier between us and the rest of the chaotic dinner.
"We are all worried, Fluffy," she whispers. Her hand moves from my wrist to stroke my hair, avoiding my sensitive rabbit ears. "Do not think you are carrying this burden alone. Look at them."
She gestures vaguely with her head towards the rest of the table.
I look.
Really look.
Chef is still scolding Navi, but her hand is resting on Navi's shoulder now, her thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of Navi's uniform. It is a possessive, comforting touch.
Prof is still staring at her screen, but she has stopped typing. She is chewing her lip, a nervous habit I know she hates because she says it is 'inefficient'.
And Arararan...
She is sitting on my left. She has been quiet, which is a miracle in itself. She is usually bouncing off the walls, making sound effects for her food. But tonight, she is eating silently.
"Arararan?" I whisper.
Arararan looks up. Her mouth is full of steak. She swallows hard, gulping it down like a snake.
"Eat, Xecta," she says. Her voice is serious. "You have to eat. There are only two things in this universe that scare me more than losing Ranyan."
I tilt my head. "What?"
"First," she holds up a finger. "Is when Vice gets that vein mugi-mugi out on her forehead. You know the one. It looks like a worm trying to escape her saba-saba."
I let out a small, involuntary giggle. I know exactly the vein she means.
"And the second," Arararan continues, pointing her fork at Chef, "is Gin when she is mad about food. If you don't eat that steak, Xecta, she won't just yell. She will stop making the garlic butter. And if she stops making the garlic butter, life is not gimibuka."
"She has a point," Mama adds, a twinkle returning to her eye. "A world without Gin's garlic butter is a dark, cold place."
I look at the steak. It is perfectly seared, the pink center glistening under the mess hall lights. The smell of the roasted garlic finally hits my nose, cutting through the anxiety.
My stomach gives a traitorous grumble.
"Fine," I sigh.
I pick up my knife and fork. I cut a small piece. I put it in my mouth.
It is explosive. The flavor bursts on my tongue. It's salty, savory, and rich. It melts instantly. It is so good it almost makes me want to cry.
"Good girl," Mama praises, patting my arm.
"So," a new voice cuts through our little bubble.
It is Capt.
She has turned away from Vice and is looking at us. Her eyes are dark and glassy, but there is a flicker of curiosity in them.
"How are things in the science department, Prof?" Capt asks, her voice lilting. "How are the parents?"
Prof finally looks up from her pad. The clone behind her vanishes into thin air, having finished its duty of feeding the original.
"Optimal," Prof replies flatly. "Though my arrival was... ill-timed."
"Oh?" Capt leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. She looks so feminine like that, so gossipy. "Do tell."
Prof sighs, adjusting her glasses. "I arrived at the family estate on Uranus. I entered the garden. My objective was to secure additional funding for the ship's upgrades. Instead, I encountered my progenitors engaging in copulation on the patio furniture."
The table goes silent for a split second.
Then, Capt bursts out laughing.
It is the first real laugh I have heard from her all day. It isn't strong, but it is genuine.
"On the patio?" Capt giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. "The neighbors must have had a show."
"The Alumos estate is secluded," Prof says, deadpan. "However, the visual data of two elderly Alumos attempting the 'Reverse Centaur' position is not something I can delete from my memory banks. It was... mechanically inefficient."
"I bet it was spicy!" Arararan chirps, grinning. "Old people sex is giga-giga wild!"
Capt is laughing harder now, her shoulders shaking. Vice is smiling too, watching Capt laugh. It is like seeing the sun come out after a week of rain.
"And you ladies?" Capt turns her gaze to me and Mama. "How was the hot spring? I heard you abandoned the ship to go boil yourselves."
I swallowed the piece of steak I was chewing.
"It was amazing, Capt!" I say, the enthusiasm bubbling up before I can stop it. "The water was blue! Like, electric blue! And it smelled like... like rotten eggs, but in a good way! A healthy way!"
"Sulfur," Prof corrects automatically.
"And the heat!" I continue, ignoring her. "It soaked right into my bones. My ears felt so floppy and soft afterwards. It was like... like being hugged by warm pudding."
"She fell asleep in the water," Mama adds, smirking at me. "I had to fish her out because she started to turn red. She looked like a boiled crab with rabbit ears."
"I did not!" I protest, though I feel my face heating up. "I was just... meditating."
"You were snoring, Fluffy," Mama teases. "You were making little bubbling noises."
Capt smiles at me. It is a soft, affectionate smile that makes my insides melt.
"That sounds nice," she whispers. "Warm pudding. I could go for some warm pudding right now."
She reaches out and takes Vice's hand. Her fingers entwine with Vice's on the table.
I watch their hands. Capt's pale, slender fingers against Vice's gloved ones.
"Maybe..." Capt says, looking at Vice. "Maybe we can go tomorrow? Just you and me, Iya? A little vacation?"
Vice freezes. Her eyes widened slightly. A blush, dark and furious, creeps up her neck, clashing with her red uniform.
"I..." Vice stammers. The iron-willed Vice Captain is gone, replaced by a flustered woman. "The schedule... we have repairs... the logistics..."
"Screw the logistics," Capt says softly. She squeezes Vice's hand. "I want to boil like a crab with you."
"Okay," Vice whispers. She looks down at their joined hands. "Okay. Tomorrow."
My heart aches again. A sharp, jealous pang. But seeing Capt smile, seeing the hope in her eyes... I can't be mad. I just want her to be happy. I want her to live long enough to take that vacation.
Suddenly, the kitchen doors swing open.
Chef and Navi march out. The tension from earlier seems to have dissipated, replaced by a unified culinary purpose.
Chef is holding a large silver platter. Navi is following her, carrying bowls.
"Dessert is served," Chef announces.
She places the platter in the center of the table.
It is a sorbet. But not just any sorbet. It is glowing. A soft, iridescent purple light radiates from the frozen scoops.
"Girrufun fruit..." Prof gasps. She actually puts her datapad down. "Where did you acquire this? It is critically endangered. The export tariffs alone would bankrupt a small colony."
"I have my sources," Chef says with a smug grin. "And don't ask about the budget."
"To make this," Chef explains, gesturing to the glowing dessert. "You have to flash-sear the fruit at two thousand degrees to break the toxic skin. Then, you have to freeze the pulp instantly to minus two hundred degrees to lock in the sweetness. If you miss the window for a second, it turns to ash or poison."
She looks at Navi.
"We nailed it," Chef says.
Navi beams. "Fire and Ice, baby."
So that's how they made up. They channeled their frustration into cooking. I bet the kitchen is a disaster zone of scorched walls and frosted countertops.
Chef scoops the sorbet into bowls. She slides one to Capt first.
"Eat, Capt," Chef orders. "This will help with the transformation sickness. It stabilizes the core temperature."
Capt picks up her spoon. She takes a bite.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh," she breathes. "That is... gagaragu."
She looks at Arararan and winks.
We all dig in.
The flavor is indescribable. It is hot and cold at the same time. It tastes like berries, like starlight, like electricity... with a hint of spiciest chilli in the world. It makes my tongue tingle. It makes my womb clench in a pleasant, surprising way.
For a moment, everything is perfect. We are just a family, eating rare fruit in a metal box floating through the void.
But then...
I look at you.
Yes, you. I know you are disappointed.
"Where is the sex, Shorty?" you are asking. "Where is the Felt? Why aren't you under the table giving Capt a head while eating sorbet? Where is the orgy?"
I am sorry. I really am. I want it too.
God, you have no idea how much I want it. Watching Capt lick that purple spoon... watching her lips wrap around it... it makes me so wet I am leaving a mark on the chair. I want to be that spoon. I want to taste her. I want to feel her inside me, even if she has to use a toy, even if she has to use her fingers.
But look. Look closer. Stop looking at my cleavage and look at Capt. Look at her hair.
Do you see it?
It was black a moment ago. Pitch black, like the night sky, but now? Under the harsh lights of the mess hall? The roots are changing.
They are turning red.
A deep, blood-red. The color of a warning sign. The color of a Krall's skin, and look at her eyes. She is laughing at something Arararan said, but as she turns her head, look at her pupils.
They aren't round anymore. They are elongating. They are turning into vertical slits.
My blood runs cold. The sorbet suddenly tastes like ash in my mouth. I look at the bracelet on my wrist. The red light isn't blinking anymore. It has stopped. It is solid red.
And then, the glass of the display cracks. A single hairline fracture running right through the critical warning. Capt turns to look at me. She smiles. But it isn't her smile. It is a hungry smile. A predatory smile.
"Shorty," she whispers, her voice vibrating with a growl that shouldn't be possible from a human throat. "I think I am still hungry."
Oh, God.
You wanted to be explicit? You wanted to be dangerous?
I think you are about to get your wish.
Run!