"Great," she answered. "Mixi and I can now recognize hundreds of words. We should be able to begin regular training soon and learn the rest of the pertinent words along the way."
That was excellent news. Perhaps we would be able to make use of her communication skills soon at Clark's station. The only problem was that she was simply too thin to be human. Those ears might not be a dead giveaway to her alien origin, now that human women underwent some sort of surgical procedure to obtain that appearance. But combined with her physique it wasn't worth the risk. We certainly couldn't let Mixi be seen. Even if we managed to hide her wings, she was absolutely too beautiful to pass as a child without drawing attention. I wasn't even sure if it was acceptable to have children on a merchant ship these days.
If Vanilla had her way, it wouldn't be too long before we'd have a baby. How would that work? Would we convert one room into a nursery? The child wouldn’t even need toys. He or she had a living Teddy bear and dragons to play with. There would be no pretend world for my children. They would be living the fantasy.
"I know what you are thinking, Captain," Vanilla whispered to me. "Those slender hips of hers would not be able to birth a half human child. But you need not worry about that. I will make the experience nearly painless and return her vagina to its current condition quickly, should you want to try for a second child."
I gave the doctor a queer look. The elegantly sexy physician was turning into a creepy scientist. Would she hold my child up and laugh hysterically when it was born?
CHAPTER TWELVE:
A few hours later and we were ready to attempt contact with Clark's Station. I invited everyone to the control room except for Vanilla. There was no reason for a medical expert to be on hand if there was no strain on the ship's life support system. There was actually a protocol for who to have in the room for the variety of circumstances, but I was adjusting those as I went along.
I sat in the pilot's chair ready to make speed or trajectory adjustments based on the station's response. Strawberry sat next to me at navigation prepared to plot a new course should we change our minds. Directly behind me was Cinnamon at the comm station. The seat beyond that, typically reserved for the cargo specialist, held the ultra slim buttocks of the alien elf Aeren. Left side of the room held Honeysuckle at systems, the tiny forms of Mixi and Teddy behind her. We looked like something on the science fiction television network that asinine popcorn guzzlers would voice over.
I knew that the alien trio would not be able to follow along very well with the data we allowed to display on their screens. Still, this would be a great learning opportunity. And it could help us start thinking about how these three could fit into our crew. I already had my heart set on Aeren learning communications due to her persuasive ability. Of course, she may be considerably less effective when speaking to someone that is not physically present.
Mixi's uniform was essentially open back design. It had to be to accommodate her wings. She appeared as much like a crew member as possible for a Divinifae, but it certainly wasn't going to pass on a human station. There was a flap rolled up at the top of her back. When released it could cover her alien appendages, but I imagined there would be a lumpy hump there instead. Not much of an improvement.
Teddy's clothes had been redone as well. Black fabric, tighter fit, he looked good. I suggested that the crew stay with the current uniforms since the new recruits were matching now. Of course, I had ulterior motives. I enjoyed all the exposed skin of these lovely ladies. I was worried that something new would dramatically reduce the view. Not reading the situation as well as I had hoped, Aeren assured us that she could make new ones without a problem.
The recently acquired girls were much less familiar with my personality than the others. I would have to choose my words more wisely with them around. Hopefully, in time they'll get accustomed to my peculiar ways like the others.
That reminded me. I hadn’t been singing to myself much lately. Why did I do that anyway?
Because I’m a creep.
I’m a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I guess now I belong here.
Because I’m so fucking special!
"Clark's Station," Cinnamon spoke into the highly advanced microphone that was part of her station. It was designed to only pick up the voice of the person seated there, blocking out all other noise and chatter. "This is the class C17 vessel Mavdaios approaching for commercial business. We have a variety of cargo to sell and are requesting a list of current outgoing prices and contracts. Please advise with final approach instructions and docking. This will be our first visit to Clark's so we may need to register our ship. Let us know if that is required in advance. Thank you."
There was a pause before Strawberry announced that the computer confirmed the transmission was sent. Unless there was an error in the system, we should receive a response in a few minutes. That is if they reply immediately after receiving our message.
"Who normally registers our ship with a new station?" I asked. I had already congratulated them on successfully changing the name, though they weren’t entirely sure that they had wiped Arketa Koreta from the registration data.
"It has only happened once since I've been a member of the crew," Strawberry answered. "It was handled by King and Coffee. I don't know the specifics."
