Chapter 24

The Senator led them through breach door after breach door, Lambert and Mezul behind her, and her two bodyguards behind them. The service tunnels that made up the sides of the station were long and windy tunnels of metal, splitting off into the hundreds of service areas hidden beneath the public eye. These areas were clearly marked and wide enough for five men to walk side by side, though Mezul did have to duck to avoid bumping her head on a jutting piece of metal from time to time.

These service paths were commonly used to transfer personnel to and from the hangars, with the occasional lift and staircase leading down to the warrens, where all the life and water systems that kept the ringworld operating resided.

At regular intervals a path would lead off directly to their left, where the tunnels would bring them out onto the outside itself, but the Senator didn’t even glance at them, leading the two new Commanders further upspin. The fine curvature of the floor was almost nonexistent, but the way it gently sloped up and away in the distance made it obvious they were walking along the inside of a ring.

“The military quadrant will have to be your people’s home temporarily,” Astera said as they walked, eventually turning to face a set of elevator doors, the woman hitting the up button, her two guards cramming in after Mezul struggled into the lift. She almost plugged the box like a cork with her size, leaning a considerable amount of her weight on Lambert. “News is already out about you, but I prefer you stay near where we can locate you quickly.

Fortunately there’s an apartment complex just outside the quadrant, a minute’s walk from the closest barracks. Commander Hall will keep an eye on you at all times.”

“No problem there,” Lambert said, Mezul glancing over to see him staring directly at her ass.

They arrived at their specified deck, the procession squeezing out and into a T-shaped hallway, each path lined with doorways with numbers on them. The Senator walked up the northern branch, stopping at the far door, marked 201.

She swiped a keycard through the lock, the door opening with a click, Mezul ducking through while the humans just walked inside.

The first thing Lambert saw was a view of the habitat, the huge expanse of pseudo-urban housings curving away below them, the entire north face of the apartment made of glass. There was a wooden dining table right in the middle, with a marble kitchen on the left and a pair of leather couches on the right, positioned in front of a wall- mounted television. Walls to the side corners of the space sectioned off other rooms, the presence of wood and plaster a breath of fresh air to Lambert, who’d been living in metal barracks’ for most of his career.

“Two bedrooms with accompanying en suites,” Astera announced, leaning a hand on the marble kitchen counter. “A spare room in the back with terminals hooked up to the military network, all current pilot dossiers currently on file for your inspection, and a clean view.”

Mezul was stepping tentatively on a section of the white carpet near the couches, her talons feeling up the soft texture, while Lambert was standing by one of the support columns, a terminal built into the strut that provided an adjustable ambient temperature and lighting settings, even an audio mixer was available through a Bluetooth setting. The two guards were looking around in awe, he could tell they were impressed behind their expressionless visors. The place was like a palace.

“This is ... amazing, Senator,” Lambert said, eyeing one of the potted plants sitting in one of the corners. He touched the leaf and was surprised to see it wasn’t plastic.

“Of course it is,” Astera replied. “A place fit for Commanders, and I hope we all plan on keeping it that way. It’s not too small for you, is it Mezul?”

The Balokarid shook her beak, despite her feathery headdress just grazing the ceiling wherever she went. “I will be fine, thank you. How soon until we can begin ... Commanding? If that is the word?”

“While I can appreciate a woman of action,” Astera began. “we’ll have to wait to get your carriers offloaded before you can begin your program, get your people acclimated. Here are your keys.” She passed the two a pair of cards. “Don’t lose them. And until I say it is safe to do so, Mezul I would appreciate it if you kept indoors until the populace calms down. It’s not that I fear something may happen to you, but none of these people have fought with you in a battle like

Lambert here has.”

“I understand, Senator,” Mezul began, touching Lambert on the arm. “Lambert here can keep me company until I can explore your station.”

Astera looked from the alien to Lambert, a knowing look on her face as the corner of her lips turned up. “Then I’ll leave you two to it. Come on,” she said to her guards, the humans following her out, one of them letting his weapon hang in its sling as he shut the door.

“You sure this place isn’t too small for you?” Lambert asked, watching as Mezul ran a nail over the armrest of a couch.

“You saw how cramped my Sala’ci was, this is nothing.” Mezul gave him a dismissive wave, moving over to the TV and just missing the arch by an inch. “What is this material on the floor here? It feels like your hair.”

“Carpet, it’s made from a soft plant,” Lambert explained. He stood by the window while Mezul explored the rest of the apartment, drinking in the sight. They were about five storeys up from the habitat’s ‘ground’ floor, the stretch of greys interspersed with patches of green, the designers of the station adding a bit of colour to the artificial landscape.

The curved world stopped abruptly at a wall on the far side of the ring, where the opposing canopy towered hundreds of meters into the sky, the top just visible below the ceiling of the apartment. The atmosphere trapped between the sheer faces created a strange haze above the ring, where the Galaxy could be seen without interruption, the system’s harsh star simulating a daytime one would find on a planet.

Looking left, Lambert’s eyes followed the ring as it curved into the horizon, gently sloping up and thinning into a band. The landscape slowly lost its definition as the ring distanced, his eyes going upward as he followed the station’s arc.

It was dizzying watching as the station swept into the sky, knowing that from this perspective the people living up there were standing sideways. The opposite side of the ring was temporarily blocked by the Hub, the diameter of the ring stretching on for kilometres, and then the station finally looped back round to the other side, the buildings and streets coming back into focus.

He felt Mezul’s hands come to rest on his shoulders, her long talons almost reaching his chest. Her arms were cool to the touch, the rubbery material pressing against his skin as she leaned on him from behind.

“Your station is amazing,” she said, craning her long neck down so that her beak was level with his face. Her head turned in a circle as she likewise studied the station. “What you humans lack in size, you make up for it in technological wonders.”

“And we just got the best seats in the house,” he said. “No more cramped crew quarters for us.”

“I have something for you,” Mezul said, her hands falling away. He turned around and couldn’t help but stare at what he saw. Mezul had slipped out of her flightsuit at some point. Gone were the vambrace coverings securing her arms and wings, the long displays of feathers sweeping up along her limbs, folded beneath their protective sheaths, their iridescent tips ending just above and beside her feathery elbows.

Her torso had also been shed of some of its bulkier parts, Mezul now sporting a chrome tank top made from some kind of polymer, the plates segmented around her waist so as to not limit her range of motion. It looked a little like a medieval cuirass, the plates curving in a way that accentuated her curves.

She also wore a skirt that hugged her waist loosely, the blue cloth cut into two knee-length strips that covered her front and back, while leaving the lower half of her thighs bare. Her flared hips were covered by a pair of small plates that connected to her chestplate.

It was the first time he got a look at her legs properly. Her thighs were muscular powerhouses as thick around as Lambert’s torso, concealed beneath her coat of sparkling black and blue feathers. Her veneer of feathers ended at her knees, giving way to darker, more scaley flesh that made up her lower legs. They curved into their odd, digitigrade shape, her feet ending in three talons that reminded him a little of Velociraptor feet, long and sharp and the colour of onyx.

There was a wave of sudden colour, the wings on Mezul’s arms unfurling to show off their blue and black palette in full, their wingspan adding meters to her width, Mezul manipulating them like she was about to perform a fan dance. The way they seemed to sparkle in the light was oddly mesmerising.

After so long wearing such a bulky spacesuit, it looked like she was practically bare in comparison. Every inch of her save from her knees down was covered in her azure feathers, and he wondered if her concealed parts were also like that.

“My gift is up here,” she teased, blinking her eyes at him as he lifted his gaze from her legs, his cheeks flush with embarrassment. She smiled playfully as she held something up in her hand.

“What’s that?” He stepped closer, seeing she was clutching something boxy between her nails. She held it out to him for a better look, and his jaw dropped. “My MP3! How the hell did you...?”

She laughed as he took it from her, holding it up and inspecting the casing. There should be a bullet hole right in the middle, yet the damage was gone, and a tap on the power button confirmed it was working, his familiar playlists right there on the menu.

“The human who installed the radio on my Sala’ci had a way with electronics, so I had him take a look at it after the battle,” she explained. “It took him a while, but he said he was glad for the distraction, said he hadn’t worked on simple tech in a long time.

Didn’t even ask for repayment, which I’ve come to expect from you humans.”

“I could kiss you, Mez,” Lambert said. “Check this out, we can hook it up to the surround sound system using this terminal.”

He made his way back to the column with the built-in screen, quickly connecting the music player with the speakers spread throughout the apartment, classical music coming through from every direction.

“What’s a kiss?” Mezul asked, watching him play with the volume.

“It’s something partners do,” Lambert said. “A way for humans to show affection.”

“And you wish to do it with me?” Mezul asked in a low, playful tone. Lambert felt his face go red, turning to see her standing right behind him

“What?”

“You wish to kiss me?” she elaborated, her smirk growing as he nodded silently. “How does it work?”

“Well, first you ... you know what, I’ll just show you.”

Mezul watched as he slowly brought his arms up, cupping her beak by the sides where her cheeks would be if she were human. She blinked her dilated eyes as she let him bring her down until they were eye-level, the alien practically leaning over to do so.

“Close your beak,” he asked, and she shut her snout obediently, her expression best being described as alarmed desire. He brought his face forward, his hands still cupping her beak as he pressed his lips against her snout. Her beak looked like it would feel hard and rough, but he was surprised to find it was soft, with a little give behind it when he pressed down, much like rubber. The texture was smooth like glass, made up with scales so small he would need a microscope to see them, her beak parting a little as he pressed deeper.

Her headdress erupted to stand taller than he’d ever seen it before, adding half a meter to her overall height, Lambert smiling behind his kiss before gently pulling away with a quiet smack of his lips. Mezul crooned out a “Krrrawwt,” –sound as she blinked down at him, not quite touching the place he’d kissed her with a nail.

“Did you ... like, that?” he stuttered, not sure of her reaction. “I ... may need another demonstration,” Mezul said, this time taking the lead as she leaned into him. Lambert held her at bay, though, her headdress twitching with irritation as he put a hand on her torso.

“Hold on lady, this time, open your mouth during it,” Lambert said, his heart racing as she pushed him into the support, her hands on his shoulders. Once more her beak met his lips, and when Lambert pried at her mouth with his tongue, she opened them, his organ delving in and exploring as much as he could, tracing her thin, long teeth with slow strokes, noticing that her mouth was lined with blue flesh, not pink like a humans.

Mezul caught onto the idea quickly, her own tongue coiling around his, trapping it like a snake traps its prey, her strange taste sending shivers down his back. Her beak parted a little more, her tongue sliding its way into his mouth, deftly painting the roof and sides of his mouth until his cheeks bulged. He knew her tongue must be long given the length of her beak, but it just kept coming, Lambert gagging reflexively as she glanced his throat with it.

She drew back a little, not entirely, but enough that she could reach every inch of his palate without him suffocating. She leaned her weight on his chest, one hand slipping behind his head to deepen their contact. Lambert’s head was spinning like a top, his partner continuing to drag on her lurid kiss.

She finally released him, their mouths smacking audibly as they separated, Mezul’s headdress bristling like a startled porcupine. Her eyes were slightly lidded as she looked him over, tracing his jawline with one of her nails.

“I changed my mind,” she said. “Surprises are fine.”

The two laughed, Lambert cupping the side of her face, feeling the impossibly soft feathers brush his fingers, little bits of dust from Dur’shala still lingering on her.

“I’ve got a question,” he asked, pointing at her head. “your headdress.”

“My...?” She touched the back of her head, the same way a woman might fix her hair. “What about it?”

“Why do you move it like that?” he asked. “You never keep it still for more than a few seconds.”

“I can’t really control it,” she explained. “Depending on my mood I can influence certain patterns and signals, not unlike the subtle body languages of you humans. This one right now means I’m... excited.”

“But I’ve seen you do that particular wave before, like back on your carrier, when I touched your feathers the first time. Were you ... feeling then what you’re feeling now?”

“Did the idea not cross your mind as well?” she asked. “You were so strange and alien, and when we confirmed you were male, well ... there was a moment I considered the thought.” She put her forehead to his, forcing him to stare her in the eyes. “I saw the way you reacted when you found out I was female. Maybe I wasn’t alone in my way of thinking?”

He titled his head to the side, as if to say maybe so. She licked him across the cheek, her beak slowly crawling across his nose and cheeks until it reached his ear, Mezul nipping at the earlobe as she whispered: “Now that we’re alone, we can put those thoughts into practice, can’t we?”

“When you put it that way...” He peeked over her feathered arm. “I didn’t get a good look at where the bedroom is.”

“Is it the one with the cushions shaped like a square?” she asked, Lambert nodding. “There’s two, the closest is the door on the right.”

“Let’s ... go then,” he said, ducking beneath her outstretched arms, the alien following behind him with a distinctly more desirous gaze as she played her eyes over him. He fumbled at his collar, pulling down the zipper that held his flightsuit up, exposing his rubbery underclothes. It was also held up by a zipper, Lambert the garment peeling away to expose his shoulders and torso. He had a strict exercise regimen that seemed to please the Balokarid, the man looking over to see her admiring his muscular back.

As he fumbled with the belt that secured the upper half of the suit from the lower, he eyed the spacious bedroom before him, easily as lavish as the rest of the apartment, with a pair of bedside dressers accompanying a king-sized double mattress, equipped with more pillows than seemingly necessary.

He felt a little self-conscious as he worked at his belt, Mezul’s golden eyes playing over his body as she walked with a slow, deliberate gate that was eye-catching in its sensuality. Her hips rolled heavily with each stride of her long legs, like a model walking down a runway, the strips of cloth on her waist clinging to the inside of her thighs, slipping against her soft flesh with each step.

Just as he was about to slip off his belt, there was a loud bang,

Lambert looking up to see Mezul clutching her head. She’d hit the top of the doorway with her face. “Ow, that hurt...”

Lambert tried not to laugh as he touched her on the arm. “You okay? I thought you said the apartment was big enough.”

“I was ... distracted,” she admitted, her gaze wandering over his naked torso. “It’s been a while since I’ve watched a male strip down in front of me.”

“Well, I’m not a stripper, Mez. And I’m not giving you a lap dance if that’s what you’re after.” He pointed a finger at her.

“Don’t put ideas in my head,” she said, gesturing to his leggings. “Please, continue.”

He could feel her eyes on him as he moved his hands towards his belt. The flightsuit was one piece of attire, and so he had to slip one leg out at a time, Lambert hopping on one foot as he pried his foot out of his boot. He then realised he could probably just sit on the bed and make things easier, so he did, his legs soon free of the equipment.

Now all he was wearing was a pair of briefs ending just above his knees, where a noticeable bulge was straining against the middle of the fabric, Lambert placing one of his hands protectively over his underwear like he was afraid they might fall off.

“You’re so ... smooth and pink,” Mezul said, taking a few steps closer. The way he had to look up to meet her covetous gaze made his stomach swim with butterflies. She sat down on the mattress next to him, the bed sinking with her tremendous weight, not that she was fat, she was eight feet of muscle and feathers, built like all pilots are.

Lambert’s cheeks started to warm as he was forced to lean into her, grabbing her by the thigh to brace himself. The flesh of her leg spilled wonderfully between his fingers, as soft as cookie dough, but they hid the powerful muscles needed to keep her large frame upright. The Balokarid took him by the shoulder as she ran her talons over his skin, tracing random shapes through the hair on his chest, admiring his biceps and his back. “Covered in little hairs,” she mumbled. “even muscle distribution, plenty of visible veins...”

“You sound like you’re doing an examination,” Lambert noted. “My carrier’s medical staff were eager to see you entirely, and so am I.” He flinched as she brushed over one of his nipples, the alien blinking her eyes at his reaction. “Oh, you have nipples? Are you sure you’re a male?”

“D-Don’t you guys have them too?”

“Our male’s don’t. That’s ... strange. Quite strange. What do they do? Do you lactate?”

“No! They’re for ... well I don’t know what they’re for, it’s a mammal thing.”

“Well, I’m certain this will intrigue my people,” Mezul said, pressing the feathery underside of her finger against his other bicep. “They seem sensitive enough...”

“Quit playing with my nips,” he said, slapping her hand away. “You’re not going to report on everything we’re about to do?”

“Purely for the advancement of knowledge,” Mezul replied, her attempt at being formal betrayed by her growing smile. “I’ll keep some of you for myself, of course. Now, what about this cloth?”

She tugged on his briefs, Lambert hesitating as he slipped a finger beneath the waistband. Mezul was watching his concealed crotch with the same expression she had when she smelt the cooking food back on the frigate. He pulled down his remaining clothing, kicking them off his feet and leaving him completely bare before the alien.

“ ... Hmm,” Mezul said, her eyes tracing over his erection. “That’s it?” he asked. “That’s all you’ve got to say? ‘Hmm’?”

“I’m not sure what I’m looking at,” she said, leaning down until her beak was a few inches away from his tip. He could feel the air move as she breathed him in.

“Take a wild guess,” he said. “it’s a dick.”

“Yes I know it’s a dick, Lambert. It’s not quite like a Balokarid’s, it’s less ... rigid, much smoother, and shaped entirely different, too...”

She reached down and gripped his head, the man twitching as she circled it with a thumb, tracing a visible vein running along the shaft. “Is the whole thing sensitive, or just certain parts?” she asked.

“The whole thing, but the tip is more, uh, responsive.”

She focused her attention on the head, scratching at it with two fingers like she was stroking a pet, drawing lazy circles on his foreskin, mapping out every part of it while being mindful of her nails. She brought in her other arm, her hands large enough to conceal his flesh completely from his view as she gripped and tugged at him experimentally.

“Don’t hold it like that, it’s not a flightstick, Mez,” he said, chuckling as she studied his organ.

“It certainly has the shape of one. Thrusters on,” she said, mimicking his voice as she bent his rod towards his belly.

“Ah! The fuck, Mez?” He wasn’t sure if he should scold her or laugh, Mezul delighting in his reaction as he writhed underneath her attentions, playing his body like an instrument, testing his limits and smirking all the while.

He had to resist the urge to buck up into her hand when she found out that the skin around the head could draw back, his sensitive glans exposed to the cool air. “It’s peeling back,” Mezul said, a touch of alarm in her voice. “is it supposed to do that?”

“You’d know if it shouldn’t,” he replied, leaning back on an arm. “Just ... watch the claws, thanks...”

He could feel her breathing on his crotch as she leaned closer to his member, her flexible neck twisting at an odd angle as she serviced him. He jolted when she ran the dull side of her nail over his glans, her eyes flicking to his. “Too sensitive? Got it. What about these two orbs?” She pointed at his testes.

“We call them balls,” he explained. “Also sensitive.”

“So the Senator thinks I have these balls?” Mezul said, cupping one of them in her palm, testing their weight.

“I-It’s a figure of speech,” he said, looking away when Mezul grinned at his reaction.

“You act so tough flying your ship, but here you’re so sensitive.

Humans are too cute.”

“Well you’re not playing fair,” he shot back, his cheeks warming. “How’s this supposed to work when I’m the only one naked?”

“You have a point.” The Balokarid moved away, her hands going with her, a part of him disappointed that her explorations were over. She turned her attention towards her armour, placing her shoulder pieces on the floor and then fiddling at a few clasps hidden just beneath her armpits, metal clunking together as she worked at removing the cuirass.

“There’s a button on the back,” Mezul said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Can you press it for me?”

He shuffled on his knees across the bed, getting a face full of feathers as Mezul accidently hit him with her wing – the thing was huge – until he was behind her, a groove between her shoulders drawing his attention. There was a button there like she said, and he pressed it, the plates splitting down the middle, making the neck hole wider.

“There’s another one a little lower, too,” she said. Did she really need help getting in and out of her suit, or did she just want him to undress her? Her arms were certainly long enough, so he guessed it was the latter.

He found what she was talking about, pressing the button and watching the vest split down the middle, leaving a sizeable gap.

Mezul started to shrug the thing off over her head like a shirt, raising her hands to the collar, and here Lambert took a moment to admire her wings. They were collapsed against her arms, made up from longer stalks that were slightly broader than the rest of her coat. They felt fragile when he brushed them with his hand, each one densely packed with feathers and connected together via a kind of membrane.

Like a card player unfurling his hand, the stalks flipped out in symmetry as he delved his fingers into her wing, feeling the dense muscles press back reflexively. Mezul let out a surprised squawk as they stretched out to their full lengths, the whole wing wide enough to almost cover the entire length of the bed.

“L-Lambert, what are you-?” She tried to look back at him, but her wings plus the raised cuirass were blocking her view, and she couldn’t lift the vest off herself without getting stuck.

“How are these things so soft?” he mused, the feathers so light it was almost like touching nothing, if that was how one could describe it.

“Hold on, Lambert!” Mezul giggled, her face completely covered as she lifted the vest over her beak. She managed to slip one arm through, but the one he was inspecting was still at full mast.

“Ah, looks like I’m not the only one who’s sensitive,” he teased, finally deciding to help her out, squashing the stalks against her arm so that they could fit through the chestpiece holes. The feathers were so long the whole process was like trying to fold the sails of a boat in half.

Inch by inch, her feathered back slowly revealed itself as she lifted her vest. Not an inch of skin was visible, the azure feathers here following the natural curves of her waist towards her shapely rump. She was so thick around her midsection that if he wrapped his arms around her, his fingers would have trouble meeting on the other side, but her size only seemed to accentuate her hourglass shape. The subtle curve in the small of her back, the way her torso broadened towards her upper chest and shoulders, she was perfect. Lambert had always admired a woman’s back, something about the way it teased at what lay on their front was alluring to him.

Her tail got squashed between his chest and her back, the fan- shaped appendage made up of maybe seven individual stalks, flittering like crazy when he moved it aside to get comfortable.

Mezul seemed to read his mind like a book, her arms wrapping over her chest as she looked over her shoulder at him, a mischievous look on her face. Lambert took a moment to admire her before running his hands through her feathered shoulders, digging through the soft coat and relishing in their texture. She was softer than the mattress beneath his knees, his alien companion fluffier than any downy material he’d ever felt. He delved deeper into her luxurious coat, seeking more of her out, his hands disappearing up to the second knuckles, her muscles hidden beneath pushing back against his fingers. She was so soft, inspiring in him a need to run his hands over as much of her as he could.

He buried his face in the nape of her neck, breathing in her strange scent as he admired the way her feathers morphed beneath his questing fingers. “It’s been some time since I’ve preened my coat,” Mezul said, creating a strange warbling sound as he caressed her hips. “but it doesn’t look like you mind.”

Her headdress and the feathers on her neck bristled, some of them touching his face, Lambert scrunching up his nose as he sneezed, Mezul flinching as she peered back at him. “Or, maybe you do?”

“Sorry,” he said, laughing. “you’re a bit dusty.”

“Oh,” Mezul chuckled. She grabbed him by the chin and guided him towards her beak, delivering another one of her strange kisses as her beak split apart, the tips almost touching his ears as she engulfed his face, but he didn’t mind, not with that long tongue of hers shoved down his throat.

Mezul pulled away, a strand of saliva still connecting their faces as she smiled at him, turning around so that her front was to him, crossing her legs as she sagged further into the bed. Lambert’s eyes were drawn down to her impressive bust, most of it covered behind her arm, admiring the way her flesh spilled over her limb like melting wax. From what he could tell they were also covered in her feathery coat, although the blue tips of her feathers were more muted.

“You don’t have to be shy, Mez,” he said, motioning for her to lift her arm.

“S-Shy?” Mezul almost seemed insulted. “I’m twice your size, why would I be shy?”

He shuffled closer, linking his hand with hers and gently moving her arm away. Her boobs sprang back into shape, wobbling for a second before they settled. To call Mezul well-endowed wouldn’t do it justice, it was a wonder she managed to squeeze those things into her armour without hurting herself. They were distinctly tear-shaped, covered in light black feathers that bordered on grey, and as he suspected were not tipped with the azure blue that was common on the rest of her, her underbelly a much darker tone.