Chasing Cthulhu (Urf Oomons #2)

Following a few paces behind Gloria, I am careful to remain unobtrusive and quiet. It has become a joke to others on this ship that I refuse to be in the same room as Gloria. I will not interact with her. She brings out the absolute worst in me. There is a part of me that has always been locked away, but in her presence, a key is turned, and I am a possessive, violent male. Willing to do murder on her behalf, take on a whole ship-full of drones, align myself with a monstrous Arana-Vora just for the chance to save her, to avenge her. She never asked me to do these things, but I would do more. There is a dissatisfaction to me now, darkly waiting to do battle on her behalf. I am no longer the male I was, but perhaps if I can avoid her and go about my tasks as if I am not changed—

But I cannot keep myself from following her now. It is embarrassing, but I have stalked her this way at least fifteen times since she has come to live with us. She is not overly loud the way Tiny is, but humans have a certain obliviousness to their surroundings and one can hear them coming before they enter a room. And when they do enter, they will not always look around. They just assume their surroundings are safe, that no one is stalking them.

Gloria is especially oblivious right now because she has been drinking booze with Mandy. They had been having a ‘girls’ night’ which is when human women drink inebriating substances, talk loudly, and laugh a lot. Seven, Ken, and I had watched anxiously from a security alcove as they consumed serving after serving of Urglassi wine. Humans have very robust biologies. Knock-out gas does not work on them, and Mandy has even woken up while immersed in regen goop. But wine works exactly as prescribed on these delicate little humans.

‘Werk werk werk werk werk…’ She’s singing this song that is not translating at all as she teeters down the hall.

Seven had rushed Mandy away from their ‘girls’ night’ because some kind of alarm had gone off in their room. Perhaps one of their spawn was trying to escape the tank? At such an early point in their development, Homeworlder young are nowhere near close to independence. They must remain in a tank of nutrient-rich water until they mature. What of their human genetics though? Humans develop at a different pace and a different way—

‘Werk werk w—’ Gloria suddenly spins around, dancing as she is singing, and loses her footing.

One of my tentacles snakes out and wraps around her, cushioning her before she hits the floor.

‘Oh,’ she says, smiling crookedly at me. ‘There you are.’

I lift her into my upper arms, holding her close as I continue toward her quarters.

‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ she accuses.

She has not protested, it must be allowable for me to hold her this way. Her scent is divine, though tinged with Urglassi wine. She is soft, warm, and happy right now, not shocked or tense at my handling. Is it inebriation that is making her so relaxed in my company and in my embrace? With her in this state, this is the best way to get her safely to her quarters.

I move slowly to make this last.

‘You’re big,’ she comments then pats me on the chest.

I do not respond, but I do find myself carefully detangling her mane as I move through the corridors. She does not seem to notice, and it takes all of my concentration not to purr in her ear. Her mane is soft and smells good.

‘So, how does it work?’ She has angled her head back to look up at me.

‘How does what work?’ I ask.

‘Mandy and Seven. They’re together. They have babies. Did they do it? Is it the same as when humans do it?’

Obviously, the it she is referring to is breeding. Do Tiny and Seven breed in the same manner as humans? I have never watched humans breed. But I know they have two sexes: a breeding type and an insemination type. That’s already very different from Homeworlders who only have one sex which is an implantation type. Or is she only referring to the act itself?

Finally, I reply with, ‘There is a video log. You could see for yourself.’

That should answer her curiosity.

She jerks in my arms, startled, and I tighten my hold to keep her from falling.

‘Mandy and Seven made a sex tape?’

The translation matrix is having difficulty with the word tape. Cleary, she is not referring to an adhesive strip. Tape seems to be another word for video.

‘There is a security feed that runs continuously. They mated in the shuttle-bay and the record is saved in the video log that you can watch in one of the security alcoves.’

She is twisting her head around looking all around the corridor. I cannot tell what she is looking for, but I hold her securely while she does it.

At length, she says, ‘Um, I don’t think Mandy wants me to watch that.’

‘Then she should not have mated with Seven in the shuttle bay. They could have moved to a private room if they were concerned. Or deleted the footage.’

‘Does Mandy even know about the footage?’ She sounds accusing. I cannot know what she thinks I have done, but she is upset with me about something.

‘She knows. I have seen a log of her watching it, she definitely knows about it,’ I explain.

‘You just sit around watching videos of Mandy? What are you stalking her?’

Gloria scents very strongly of alarm and accusation right now. It is not pleasant.

‘The security logs are available for anybody to review. If you do something in a public area of this ship, it is recorded and logged. It is not private. It is not a violation to review the log.’

She is no longer happy with me holding her and we have reached her quarters, I carefully set her on her own two feet. She is still a little wobbly.

She stares up at me, hands in little fists on her hips, eyes ablaze with this mysterious accusation. I get the impression that even though she is head and shoulders shorter than me, she is attempting to look down her nose at me.

‘Does Seven know that you’re obsessed with Mandy?’

‘No. Because I am not.’

Her face is a storm cloud. Deeply brown eyes sparkling, eyebrows drawn together. She is adorable, like if a little woodland creature were to hop out at you and squeak to berate you for some offense.

‘Why are you smiling?’ she asks, waving a hand toward my face.

‘You are adorable,’ I tell her in honesty.

Now the hand is a fist, and she is still waving it at me. As though to strike me. This is the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life. Her scent still conveys irritation, but also pleasure. My female enjoys compliments, does she?

‘Don’t try and flirt with me!’

‘Is that what this is? Flirting?’

She shakes her head vehemently. ‘No.’

‘So, if I tell you that you are gorgeous—’ there’s that pleased scent again, ‘that you smell divine. That it is you that I obsess over. You and your scent and your softness and your beauty—’ She is trying to maintain her indignation, but she is so pleased. I can smell it. ‘This is flirting?’

‘You—you’re messing with me!’ she accuses.

‘I am sincere.’

‘But you’ve been avoiding me.’

‘I—’

‘You know what? I can’t deal with this.’ She makes a gesture at me. ‘It’s too weird. I just can’t. I’m going to bed.’

With that, she storms into her room and the door closes behind her.

I am left to wonder, what is it that’s too weird? Me? Us?

She may have a point.