Chapter 7

In the first thousand years of its existence, the headquarters of the Starship Corps was known by the significantly more prosaic name as FORCE: Space. But after the FORCE program was reorganized into less of a military endeavor and more of a general purpose disaster and emergency response system, the old FORCE space station – with its bristling defense arrays and heavy duty armor and shielding – was taken apart and replaced, piece by piece, with the equally prosaically named DIRT Headquarters.

Disaster Immediate Response Team Headquarters.

Catchy.

But when the first developments in altering Starships from kilometer long battleships with thousands of crew to the smaller, sleeker, more efficent platforms started to pay dividends, and Starships became smaller and smaller, the name of the organization morphed over time to simply refer to the Starships that were their bread and butter. Eventually, DIRT became nothing more than a subdivision of the vast intergalactic bureaucracy built around maintaining and running the Starships until ... eventually ... it was just the Starship Corps.

But the prosaic original station endured. In a galaxy with spheroid and noodle structures, with agrav systems that could produce castles that drifted on clouds of ferrogel and impossible Escher buildings that required constant low-level E-space warping to even exist, the Starship Headquarters looked downright primitive. Consisting of a pair of counter-rotating armored tori, each one approximately a kilometer in diameter, the station was shrouded by a haze of microgravriy scaffolds and free-floating constructions, all of which held the berths for the Starship Corps rocket fleet.

Hornet watched the scaffolds drift by as her cramped transport pod flew towards the axial docking airlock of the station, where the rotational gravity was nill and they could just socket in. She glanced back at her crew, and tried to give each of them an encouraging smile, even as the alarming thumps and crashes of the pod berthing into the airlock filled the small space. When the doorway opened, she was the last one out, letting everyone drift through – Hugh requiring the most help with his quadrupedal form and Rotting Caracas needing the least as his support-dish had several cold gas thrusters concealing along its rim.

At last, Hornet was out and in the axial corridor of Starship Headquarters. It was, like the outside, a bit of a let down.

Until you noticed the Starships.

Heinlein whispered, very softly. “As your ops officer, I suggest you, uh, close your mouth, Hornet?”

Hornet closed her mouth. But she noticed that even Heinlein was looking blown away, his eyes watching the Starships flit by. There were almost fifty of them just in this corridor, though a great many of them had left by the time Hornet had blinked, and even more had arrived afterwards. The central axis corridor had many doors leading off into the tori, and it seemed that every single one of the ships preferred to use the central corridor to get anywhere – so the whole middle of the station was this buzzing nexus of brightly colored, glittering, metallic forms.

“Yeah, we usually have about a hundred Starships here at any one time – we’re not just good for blowing up space pirates and punching tin pot dictators,” Sting said, having entered through ... Hornet glanced around, but didn’t see how the Starship had gotten into the station. “Our computer cores are actually faster than most of the automation on this station – and we can carry digitized consciousnesses in style and comfort. A lot of these visiting Starships aren’t even here for their personalities – they’re here because they’re carrying people who the Corps needs to talk to, or use, or even fork.”

Hornet nodded, slightly. “Right. W-Where do we go?”

“Well, your crew is going to go to the digitization chambers for their preps. You?” Sting took her arm. “You’re coming with me.”

“Good luck, Nettie!” Hugh called out.

“We’re pulling for you, dame!” Heinlien added.

“Don’t get killed,” K’iren shouted last of all, which caused Hornet to jerk her head back as Sting carried her through the axis of the station.

“How the heck can I get killed in the starship headquarters?” Hornet’s voice was more bemused than irritated. K’iren’s tail flicked a playful salute up after her – the momentum imparting just a bit of spin to the slender Trisk.

“I have faith that you can find a way, Abernathy!”

Sting chuckled. “They like you, huh?” She smiled, enigmatically. “Don’t worry, your crew’s going to be just fine. Digitizing is way easier than building a ship the right way.”

Hornet’s brow furrowed. “That ... the right way? Wait, I’m ... not...” She trailed off as they reached the airlock at the end of the station’s main axis. The door there opened to space, from the other direction. Sting, though, didn’t stop. She pushed Hornet into the airlock, while Hornet started to wonder if maybe there was a way for her to get killed during this part of her training. As the airlock door cycled shut behind Sting, the slender blue starship caressed Hornet’s cheek.

“It’s better if you just let things happen,” she said. “It gets harder if you struggle, or freak out. So, do you promise to not freak out?”

Hornet gulped. The feeling of the other woman’s fingers against her cheek was causing her gooseflesh to pop to life. Her nipples were growing achingly hard under her shirt and she found it remarkably hard to think of anything but how very naked Sting was. Sting’s thumb brushed, comfortingly along her skin – and Hornet realized how very easy it would be to turn her head, to take that thumb between her lips and suck on her gently, to nibble her impossibly tough hull material. To let herself...

Hornet shivered from her toes to her head, then shook herself and mumbled out: “Promise.”

“The transfer process from sophont to starship doesn’t involve digitization,” Sting said. “You are the only part of the starship that can’t be digitized – because starships need to be core hardened. That means some of the automation has to be biological.” She smiled, slightly. “The human brain might age and get distracted and damaged if you bump it to hard, but it has an advantage over all other computers. All biological sentients do: Their quantum functions are innately core hardened. If they weren’t, there wouldn’t be any sentience in the galaxy, considering how many of us evolved within the slow zone.”

Hornet’s hand went to her own temple. She felt acutely aware of every frailty of her brain. Her brow furrowed. “Okay, wait. Wait. Wait. Core hardening just means its proof against cosmic rays and radiation and gravity gradients and a-all the other stuff that makes delicate technology not work in the Core. My brain isn’t rad hardened.”

“It will be,” Sting said as the airlock opened up above them, revealing an empty space, leading into a dark, dark room. “They’ll make sure of it.”

Looking into the chamber, Hornet realized that she was looking into a docked rocket. But who’s? She cautiously took stock of every part of the room – but the smoothness of the interior and the darkness of the lighting within left her groping without any information. Sting gently put her hand on her back and shoved her up, with merely human strength. Hornet let herself float upwards into the chamber and the airlock closed behind her.

“This is a Pantheon ship, isn’t it?” She asked.

“That is is,” a warm, masculine voice spoke. It was somehow perfectly calculated to both put Hornet at complete ease and make her imagine bronzed, broad shouldered Terran men in very, very, very tight underwear. Her cheeks heated and she licked her lips. “I am Mander, the automation system for this vehicle. We will be in E-space for approximately one hour. Is there ... anything ... that I can do to make your time within me more comfortable.”

“H-Hah, uh, wow!” Hornet said, stammering. “W-Where are we going?”

“The Magallanic Clouds, Miss Abernathy.”

In an hour!? She thought, but aloud, she said: “S-So, this is something only the Pantheon can do.”

“It may please you to know the construction of a Starship to Concord standards takes a single God almost three percent of its operating power,” Mander said as the ship shuddered and she felt the little lurch in the belly that even the most advanced inertial dampeners and supression fields couldn’t counter-act. They had dropped into E-Space. She drew her legs up in the microgravity, her excitement and her wonder mixing together at the same time to create intense nervousness.

That seemed unfair to her.

“Wow,” she whispered. “Three percent.”

“You know, one of the reasons why I like this duty so much is that canditates for Starships actually do recognize the compliment.”

“What’s the difference between Concord compliant ships and, uh, other ones?” she asked. “I know there are rogue ships, and not all of them are defections.” She rubbed her hands up and down her shins.

“I believe, having never met any and only heard through the grape vine I add, that the main problem with mortals attempting to convert someone from sophont to starship isn’t their effectiveness, their weapon systems, their armor, their screens, or anything such as that.” He paused. “I believe it is primarily because the starships emerge from the process irrevocably, uncontrollably insane.”

Hornet’s throat went dry. She gulped.

“C-Can maybe I get a four percent focus for this?” She asked.

Mander’s laugh reverberated through the hull. It was remarkably comforting. “I shall ask the God that will take you under their wing. But enough of talking about distressing topics – we have another fifty minutes to kill. Would you prefer to discuss your favorite holo? Or...” He chuckled. “Well. I’d be shy about bringing this up, but my emotional heuristic system has done a quick skim of your facial expressions and body language and believes with near eighty percent certainty that you would be amenable to this suggestion...”

“What suggestion?”

“Do you want to get dicked down hard?”

Hornet opened her mouth, shocked. She closed it. Opened it again.

And to her greater shock, the thing that popped out?

“Fuck yes,” she said, then laughed. “I ... am so fucking horny, I was actually tempted to suck on Sting’s thumb when she was caressing my cheek.” She flushed. “I ... god, don’t tell my crew, but they’re all really hot, except for Carcass, I mean, but in my defense, he is ... a...” She trailed off as the room around her went blurry and when it came back, she was sitting on a familiar, infinite beach, with an endless silver sea. But rather than being near someone unknown and impossible and vaster than heaven, she was instead watching as a golden brown skinned Terran with long, raven black hair emerged from the waves. He was broad shouldered. Muscular.

Hung like a horse.

Silvery froth dripped from his elbows, glittering liquid dripped along his eight pack, and his thick thatch of black pubic hair gleamed with the moisture from the infinite sea. His cock was already hardening, thrusting proudly from his thighs as he advanced towards her. Hornet gulped, then whispered. “W-Wow...” She bit her lower lip, slightly, then slowly leaned back on the sandy ground, feeling the warmth of it pressing against her back, her rump. Her nipples ached and she spread her thighs instinctively as the gorgeous Terran prowled up to her, moving with liquid grace despite his bulk.

“Why hello there,” he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek.

This time, Hornet didn’t hesiate. As his thumb caressed along her lips and she opened her mouth as the powerfully built man – Mander – thrust his thumb between her lips, into her mouth, along her tongue. Hornet let herself lay her head back, her eyes closing as his hands swept along her. Her cupped her breast through her shirt, his finger finding her nipple and gently coaxing a moan from her by rolling her hard nub between his fingertips.

His thumb drew back and his mouth replaced it, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, conquering her with effortless ease. Hornet spread her thighs ever so slightly and her mumble was soft. “C-Can you ... have a knot...” She breathed, and his laugh became soft and playful.

“Eager for Hugh?”

“Uh...” Hornet’s cheeks burned.

“He can be here, you know. He’s hooked up. We have a live transmission to him and Heinlein and Carcass, all of them.”

Hornet’s heart hammered. “B-But...”

“I’d ask first,” his lips quirked up. “Would it help if I asked whether you said yes or not? Because I can see the indicision on your face...” Mander’s warm lips pressed to her throat. His teeth teased her. Hornet whimpered, rolling her head back, awash in ... wants and needs and fears. But there was a tiny, swirling nugget that felt oddly ... empowered by how naked she was before this automated system. Mander was just a sliver of the Pantheon – but even he could see through her microexpressions and her body language, and read her more intimately than many people in her actual life.

It was freeing.

She couldn’t hide what she wanted from him – and he still caressed her.

“D-Don’t ask,” she whispered. Desperately wanting him to ask.

His dark eyes glittered. “Close your eyes.”

She closed her eyes.

And then the feeling of his touch began to fade. After a second, it was more ephemeral and faint than the breeze – and then, it was gone entirely. She wanted to open her eyes, but ... she didn’t dare. Her heart hammered in her chest as she heard the crashing of the waves. Then something warm and prickling slid along her skin. It was gentle, and it was soft, and it was silky smooth. It slipped under her legs, making her leggings rustle. Excitement and fear both burst in her breast, but before she could do so much as twitch her legs, the warmth that was enfolding her rushed along her sex, along her belly, cupping her breasts. She opened her eyes a slit, just in time to see something dark and fast growing from under her jaw, over her lips, above her eyes.

Hornet trembled. She felt utterly naked, despite the fact that her clothing had not been removed, because her entire form was encased in the warmth. The smell of it was intoxicating – an intense musk that reeked of a raw, virile maleness. She opened her mouth, and her tongue dragged along the material that pressed against her lips. That allowed the material to flow into her mouth, like a tongue of its own. She closed her eyes as ‘hands’ – pressure points that mimicked the sensation of being caressed – pressed against her skin from every part of the softness around her. Hands cupped her breasts, rolled her nipples, squeezed her rump, teased her cunt, stroked along her calves. She had never felt so touched, so intensely...

Felt.

And she realized who it was. She tried to speak, and obligingly, the material slid away from her lips. She breathed out. “C ... Carcass?”

“Mmhmm,” his voice was the voice he used in the simulation, when the translation program was better wedded to his own personality. It was the dark, rich voice that could be sarcastic and wry and painfully droll. He tweaked her nipples.

“B-But ... we’re not even the ... I ... how do...” she stammered out, then gasped as she felt his ‘hands’ gripping her shoulders, her knees, the inside of her thighs. His musk made her head spin and she didn’t resist him as his body forced hers open. He enfolded her in his warmth and kept a blindfold over her eyes, leaving her only with the faint rustling of himself, the crash of the waves, and the voice that rumbled into her ears, into her bones.

“I had a great many reasons to join the Starship Corps. But there was one I never mentioned.” She felt the hardness of a cock pressing to her. It was not a cock, though. It was his body, reshaping itself, clumping together spores to form ... it felt like a cock. Her head swam and she listened to him with growing eagerness while the body around her contracted, lifting her up so she was sitting up. “Humanoid women are ... a fascination of mine.”

“Y-You never mentioned...”

“And how, exactly, was I to politely mention I have a prediliction for bipeds?” Carcass asked, his voice sarcastic, even as his cock began to slide into her cunt. She opened for him. She had no other choice, and she loved it. Hornet moaned – but as her mouth opened, she felt something warm and salty press against it. Her nose flared and she scented, behind Carcass’ smell, the smell of something fiercer and more primal.

“Who knew Carcass was such a perv, huh?” Hugh murmured. He sounded chagrined. “W-What a freaky guy.”

Hornet tried to say something about throwing stones in glass orbitals. But Hugh had clearly the same idea that Carcass did – and he thrust his hips, pushing the thick, wolfish tip of his cock past her lips, onto her tongue, sliding up against the softness of her mouth. She found herself opening her jaw more and more, whiel her throat relaxed, preparing herself for him. The mental image of Hugh poised above her – with his paws to either side of her mostly prone form, his cock jutting from his sheath, was nearly as erotic as the skintight black sentient bodysuit that was, even now, fucking her senseless.

Hornet accepted Hugh’s cock, groaning as she did so, while her nose whuffed and flared, breathing in. Soon, his knot was slamming against her lips and his furred balls were slapping against her chin. Carcass grunted, softly, and the whole of him contacted around her, tightening and drawing her arms behind her back, binding her more securely. His hands played with her nipples and one of his fingers rubbed circles around her clit as his cock slid into her cunt – and a second began to tease the puckered rosebud of her asshole.

Hornet’s eyes rolled back into her head as her first orgasm – the first of many – rocked through her, setting her nerves on fire and leaving her vision full of white spots, even through the darkness of her enfolding blindfold.

Hugh panted, then whined. “N ... Nettie, I’m so close! I’m so close!”

“Cum down her throat, I think that is the preferred place for such things, yes?” Carcass asked, but even his casual, snide attitude couldn’t hold firm in the face of the pleasure he was wringing from her with every thrust. His gripping form was getting more and more spasmodic, as he lost control of his ability to focus his grip. Rather than making hand-like impressions against her, he instead was squeezing over her whole form, straining against her as if he was living latex. His cocks drove deep – and he groaned as Hugh howled.

Their cum filled Hornet, like a dam breaking.

Hornet swallowed.

Swallowed.

Swallowed.

The feeling of Hugh’s knot against her lips only added to the raw feeling of it – the throbbing sensation of his heart beat, tramsitted against her lips by the tiny bucks of his hips ... the sensation of him made her head swim and her heart race. Her eyes closed tightly and she felt the dark warmth of Carcass inside of her ... and then Carcass slid away from her. She was able to move again, her skin tingling with the after sensation of his touch. Hugh pulled out of her and she opened her eyes in time to see the silvery sweep of his belly, the swinging of one of his legs, and a thick, white strand of his cum connecting her lips to the tip of his impressively huge wolfcock.

“Wow,” she whispered as she turned her head and saw Carcass looked significantly less creepy in this digital world. Rather than a collection of spores, molds and funguses, he simply looked like black liquid that flowed and dripped along the sand. She watched him move away from her and stammered. “Y-You don’t need to go right away...” She said, while his black cum oozed from between her thighs, hot and tingly against her skin.