Chapter 2: The Worst Date in History

Miller struggled his way out of the vent, emerging into a narrow space about the size of a broom closet that was packed with cables and pipes. He dropped to the floor and brushed himself off with his thick gloves, turning to secure the vent cover behind him. The damned Krell had made a mess, the agile little lizards had been through the whole quadrant, filling the maze of tunnels and shafts with droppings and broken eggshells. They might be gone, but their leavings still remained, and he was one of the poor saps tasked with sanitation.

His yellow overalls were caked in oil and dust, and he removed his breathing mask, slipping off his gloves and stowing them in his pocket. The overtime pay hardly seemed worth crawling through miles of ventilation shafts and cleaning up lizard shit, but it needed to get done. The station was like a living ecosystem, so large and with so many interdependencies that when one system was affected, it usually caused a cascade of problems. The air filtration system circulated throughout the Pinwheel and if it wasn’t properly maintained then contaminants could spread all over the place. Airborne viruses, foreign plant spores, molds and bacteria. Not to mention the problem of fresh air not getting where it needed to go. It could pose a serious hazard to the health of the occupants.

So many people were passing through these days, human and alien alike. The station was becoming a petri dish. In his opinion, it was only a matter of time before someone brought a horrible strain of flu onto the station or some alien disease, and the whole thing had to be quarantined.

He rummaged in his pocket for his phone, tapping at the glass screen for a moment before holding it up to his ear.

“Yeah this is Miller, I found out what was causing the pressure drop in section thirty-six D. Yup, same as in one-oh-four, eggshell blocking the ventilation fan. It’s out now, you can release the lockdown and put the system back online. No problem. I’m clocking out, so I’ll see you on the next shift. Yeah, take care.”

Miller slid aside an access panel in the wall, crouching as he stepped out into an apartment. It was a night and day difference. On one side of the hidden panel were the inner workings of the station, its guts naked for all to see, and on the other was an attractively furnished apartment no different from one that you might find on any of the more developed colony worlds. The average person only saw the veneer of white metal. They didn’t realize that behind these walls were hundreds of miles of pipes, vents, and cables that circulated power and water throughout the station.

It was the most impressive structure ever built in Miller’s opinion, halfway between a city and a spaceship, at least that was the way he felt when he wasn’t crawling through it on his hands and knees.

They had needed to close up a dozen of the apartments in the residential quarter today because of a pressure drop that had been registered in the vent system. Something was interrupting the flow of oxygen and was causing a dangerous backwash of carbon dioxide, stale air in other words. It had turned out to be a blocked fan, and now it should be working correctly again.

It was a small victory, every day there was something new that needed fixing or cleaning, but the engineers were the unsung heroes that kept the Pinwheel spinning.

He made his way out of the apartment and onto the torus, and immediately the sounds of a thousand conversations assaulted his ears. He waded into the ever-present crowd, eager to get back home and take a shower. He wasn’t too far from his own residence today, he wouldn’t have to walk halfway around the station. He could also avoid going through the tourist quarter, lest he be accosted by that strange Polar again.

“Jeff!”

Miller froze up as a voice like a foghorn rang out across the torus. He turned to see a white mass struggling through the throngs of people, recognizing it as Kofe. How the hell had she found him?

“Hey Jeff, wait up!” She succeeded in pushing through the crowd, the smaller humans parting to let the giant alien pass lest they be crushed underfoot, and she came to a stop beside him. She peered down at him excitedly, her eyes bright, a warm smile on her face as if he should be happy to see her.

“Kofe? What the hell ... how did you find out where I was working today?”

“Well, first I checked the personnel files to see how many engineers were named Jeffrey, and there were only three. I knew that you were Miller, because your photo was in your file. Then it was just a matter of calling your shift manager and asking him where you were.”

“And he just gave you that information? He didn’t ask who was calling or why? Wait, how did you get access to the personnel files? Those are supposed to be confidential.”

“I have my sources. Anyway, are you on your way home? Do you want to stop for some food? You must be hungry after working all day, right?”

He wanted to scold her, and he was certainly going to have some words with his manager about giving random people his personal information, but something about her persistence was endearing. He sighed, waving for her to follow him.

“Come on then.”

She beamed, practically skipping as she walked along beside him. She reached down and took his hand in hers, her palm coated with soft, downy fur. Immediately his hand began to warm, almost uncomfortably so. Their insulating fur was no joke, how on Earth did she tolerate the station’s human-centric temperature?

“There you go getting in my personal space again,” Miller complained, glaring up at her as she smiled innocently. “So, are you going to tell me what this is all about, why you’ve been hounding me over the last couple of days?”

“You’re interesting,” she replied, as if it should have been obvious to him.

“Interesting? What about me is so interesting that you’re stalking me?”

“Let me ask you a question,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “Do you like me?”

“Do I like you?” Miller repeated incredulously, “why would you ask me that? I don’t even know you, I’ve talked to you for a grand total of about fifteen minutes.”

“Well then let’s get to know each other better. That’s what dating is for, right?”

“We’re not dating,” he protested, feeling her squeeze his hand as she marched him along.

“You’re taking me out to dinner, sure sounds like a date to me.”

She was doing it again, outplaying him. Was he slow, or was she just that fast?

“I’ll ask you again,” she continued, her loud voice rising over the sound of the crowded torus as she led him towards the tourist quarter. “Do you like me?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he grumbled. He noticed that her round ears were swiveling to track him like a pair of furry radar dishes, her hearing no doubt far more sensitive than his own.

“Well ... do you like aliens?”

“Aliens are fine. I don’t work with any, but I see them around on the station.”

“And what about my species, do you like us?”

“You’re the first one that I’ve ever met, so I couldn’t tell you.”

“What kind of girls do you like? Or do you like boys? Some humans are like that.”

“I like girls,” he insisted, “and never you mind what kind. What’s this all about anyway?”

He was playing coy. He knew what she was getting at, he’d have to be a real bonehead not to pick up on the signals that she was sending, but it just didn’t make any sense to him. Why did she like him so much? Why was she going to such extreme lengths to track him down? He thought that he had made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested, and yet here she was. Maybe this date would be worth his time just to pick her brains and find out what the hell was going on here. The curiosity was starting to eat at him.

“Well,” Kofe said as she began to swing his arm back and forth. “I’ve noticed that most human males seem to like their partner to be smaller than they are. Very sexually dimorphic your species, the men are usually bigger and stronger than the women. I know that isn’t the case for everyone, so I wondered which category you fell into? If we’re going on a date, I should know where we stand, don’t you agree?”

“We’re not going on a date,” he insisted, quickly realizing that it didn’t matter what he said. His protests were falling on deaf ears. How the hell had he gotten into this situation anyway?

He needed to go about this with a new perspective. He got the impression that if he tried to ditch her or turn her down, then she’d just find him again. Kofe seemed to have taken an immediate liking to him for reasons that he couldn’t fathom, and so no amount of avoidance was going to get her off his back. He couldn’t lie to her and tell her that he wasn’t into aliens or that he didn’t find her attractive, because it wasn’t entirely true. She seemed pretty sharp, and he got the impression that she would see through it. As he walked beside the giant creature, he began to formulate a plan. What if he gave her the worst date of her life? Surely then she would lose interest and leave him to his own devices? Yes, he would take her to the worst restaurant on the station, give her the cold shoulder, that would send her packing. If she ignored everything that he said, then he would have to make her think that breaking off this non-existent relationship was her own idea...

They came to a stop in front of a building, its decorative facade carved out of the white hull of the station. There were large windows along the front that looked out onto the crowded torus, people eating in small booths and around tables visible through the glass. There was a large awning with the restaurant chain’s logo displayed prominently upon it, and he smiled to himself as Kofe looked it over.

Nobody would ever think of taking their date to a fast food restaurant, it was borderline insulting. He waited, anticipating a comment from Kofe, but rather than complain she clapped her massive hands together happily.

“Oh! I love this place! You come here too, Jeff? You can get so many burgers for such a small price.”

His heart sank as she gripped him by the hand and dragged him towards the door. Of course she had been here before, she had probably cleaned out every restaurant and food stand on the station at least once. Food was her job, and it seemed to be her hobby too.

She hesitated at the door, examining the glass panels like a cat about to try a difficult jump from a bed to a dresser, judging it carefully.

“What’s the matter?” Miller asked, watching her as she scratched her furry chin with one of her black claws.

“This station isn’t really built for my kind,” she explained, “human-sized doors are sometimes a problem for me.”

“How do you even access half of the station?” Miller asked skeptically. Come to think of it, she was so tall and wide that she wouldn’t be able to even fit inside half of the buildings that he worked in on a daily basis. How had she even gotten onto the station in the first place? Had they put her in the cargo bay of a carrier and then let her in through one of the docking bays? If a Krell could fit in a dropship, then he supposed that Kofe could too, but her size must be a hindrance in more scenarios than he could even imagine.

“Alright, stand back,” she said as she crouched in front of the door. Luckily it was a double door, and so her girth was less of a problem than her exaggerated stature. A patron who had been about to leave the establishment took a few steps away from the entrance, his eyes wide as the furry alien prepared to enter. She looked like she was about to compete in a limbo competition.

She pushed the two glass doors open with her padded hands, her claws squeaking on the panes, the opening just large enough that her furry shoulders brushed the frame. She let go of the doors, her bulk preventing them from closing on her. Her hips were wider than her shoulders, and they blocked her, so she twisted sideways and wriggled until she managed to slip past. She emerged into the restaurant and stood up at full height, the ceiling high enough that she only had to stoop a little to save from hitting her head, brushing herself off and straightening her woefully inadequate t-shirt. It was far too small for her. Her furry belly protruded from beneath it, and her mammoth breasts struggled against the fabric. It looked as if she was one meal away from exploding out of it.

Miller followed behind her, feeling a little self-conscious as the other restaurant goers stared at them. Kofe was impossible to ignore, seven or eight hundred pounds of snow-white fur crammed into clothes that looked more suited to a hot summer’s day than a climate controlled space station.

She strode over to the counter and planted her hands on it, leaning close to the digital menu boards that were displayed on monitors near the ceiling. She was tall enough that they were at head-height to her, her pink nose only a couple of inches away from the screens as she read off the menu. The poor employee who was waiting to take her order behind the cash register was presented with a faceful of her impressive cleavage, his cheeks reddening as he adjusted his colorful hat.

“Sorry. I’m not so good at reading human characters yet,” she admitted, mouthing the words silently as she followed the sentence with her claw like a child reading from a picture book. “Oh, they still serve those fish fillet sandwiches with cheese, those are great. I’ll take twelve of those.”

“A dozen?” the employee asked in disbelief, craning his neck to look up at her and holding his paper hat in place with one hand. “I mean ... sure, but that’s gonna take us a few minutes. Is it to go?”

“That’s okay, we’ll eat it here. What are you having, Jeff?”

Jeff crept forward reluctantly, no longer able to conceal his association with her. He glanced up at the board for a moment, playing his eyes over the menu of cheap burgers and junk food.

“Gimme the ... cheeseburger menu, with the fries and soda.”

“Small, medium or large menu?” the employee asked. He seemed relieved to be dealing with another human.

“Make it a medium.”

“Jeff,” Kofe protested, “you’ll waste away at this rate! What if there’s a cold winter and you have to live off your fat reserves?”

“I live on a space station,” he shot back, “there’s no such thing as winter here.”

“Oh well, if you find yourself in need of warmth, just come see me. I have enough to spare.”

“You’ve got that right,” he muttered under his breath.

“Jeff!” Kofe exclaimed, reaching down and giving him a playful shove. Well, playful by her standards, it sent him reeling. “For someone who plays so hard to get, you’re quite the flatterer.”

He implies that she’s overweight, she takes it as a compliment? Typical. Her hearing range was incredible, she must be able to pick up someone whispering across the damned torus. This plan was already backfiring massively. The restaurant employee glanced between them, one of his eyebrows raised, and Miller felt his face begin to warm with embarrassment.

“It’s not like that,” he said, lowering his voice so that the other patrons couldn’t overhear them. “I’m not with her, we’re just-”

“We’re on a date!” Kofe bellowed. Miller glanced around nervously, reflexively trying to shrink his head into the collar of his overalls like some kind of flustered tortoise.

“We’re not on a date,” he clarified, “she just calls it a date.”

“Hey man, I don’t judge,” the employee said. He just looked like he wanted to get away from them, pointing across the room towards one of the booths by the window. “That booth over there is free, we’ll bring your order over when it’s ready.”

Miller gave up, vowing never to visit this establishment again lest he be recognized. He gave Kofe a disdainful look as she plunged her fluffy hand into a bowl of sauce packets, practically emptying it.

“Are these free?” she asked.

“Yes, b-but we do ask that customers only take-”

“Thanks!” she said, turning about and heading over to their booth. Miller mouthed sorry to the employee, then followed behind her.

Kofe stopped beside it, dropping her sauce packets in a pile and planting her hands on her hips as she examined the seating arrangements. A fat human would have had trouble getting into one of these booths, never mind a Borealan. Miller edged past her bulk, pressing into the fat of her thigh as he skirted around her and took a seat. His Polar companion turned her head, surveying the room, and then marched out of view.

He waited, curious as to what she was doing, and then there was a horrible sound like nails on a chalkboard. He covered his ears, watching as she dragged a table across the floor, the metal legs screeching against the station’s hull. The conversation in the restaurant went silent, the other customers either covering their ears or glaring at Kofe as she brought it to a stop in front of the booth. She tested it with her hand, leaning some of her weight on it to see if the frame could hold her. It creaked ominously, but she shrugged and planted her plump ass firmly upon it. The table was a remarkably good fit for her, allowing her to sit comfortably without having to stoop or crouch.

“They really need to bring this station up to date,” she complained, shifting her weight uncomfortably. With an ass like that, she could probably sit anywhere she wanted, it was like a portable waterbed. “Good job the gravity is lower here,” she joked, crossing her long legs and beaming down at Miller. “Now where were we?”

He leaned across the table in the booth, cradling his face in his hands as she snapped her thick fingers.

“Oh yes, I remember. I was asking you what kind of girls you liked.”

Miller shook his head, grumbling muffled complaints.

“I don’t know, I’ve not dated for a long time.”

“No? Why not? You’re a fine example of your species, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“It just ... didn’t happen for me. I work too much, I don’t have much free time. Being an engineer on this station is like being a doctor. You’re on call at all hours of the day and night, because if something breaks on the Pinwheel, then it can put lives in danger. You have to be available to crawl through a vent, or spacewalk across the hull if it means solving a problem before it threatens the integrity of the station.”

“Sounds like a hard job,” she mused, “must pay well though.”

“Erm ... not really,” he lied. She was entirely correct, it did pay well, but this might be an opportunity to make himself even less of an attractive prospect.

She gave him a sideways glance, perhaps trying to gauge if he was telling her the truth or not.

“I mean it would pay well,” he added, “but all of my income goes towards ... paying off my massive gambling debts.”

“You’re a gambler? You don’t strike me as somebody who takes a lot of chances.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, spreading his arms in a shrug. “I love gambling. I’ll put a wager on anything, it’s an addiction.”

“And where do you gamble on the station? I was under the impression that gambling was illegal in UNN space.”

“Oh ... right. Yeah, it is, but I gamble at the ... underground gambling place. You wouldn’t know it, on account of it being underground. I can’t tell you where it is of course.”

Was she buying it? Hard to tell...

“Well, what are you attracted to? Do you like big girls, small girls? Fur, skin or scales? Big boobs, no boobs?”

“Those are all ... fine.”

“You ever been with an alien before?” Kofe asked. She grinned as she leaned closer to him, Miller struggling to keep his eyes away from her bust. It was like a black hole, he could have stuck his entire head in there. “I heard that the Marines enjoy training with the Borealans on the station. It’s become a right of passage, some say, survive a night with a Shock Trooper. Kind of like a hazing ritual for the newbies.”

“I uh ... hadn’t heard about that,” he replied. The Equatorials were the furless, heavily muscled variety of Borealan, Kofe’s distant evolutionary cousins. They were just as big as she was, though somewhat less wide. If they fucked anything like they fought, then it was no wonder that sleeping with them had become a way to prove one’s courage. Miller didn’t even like making eye contact with them, they had claws that looked like they could tear through the hull and their exposed skin was covered in battle scars.