CYOA: Fuck Yeah Space #11

 Author's Notes: A takes the win this time with another Sensuality vote -- now, time to throw some curve-balls into the mix.

[story]

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Noolee nods, the pink tendrils that make up her “hair” swinging animatedly. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but unless you have a different outfit in your... belt, that might be your best bet.” She offers a big smile then, gesturing to the small ship docked at this wing of the hangar. “Anyway, hop in and I’ll get you to customs and get you on that ship. Shouldn’t take long at all.”

You nod back silently, making your way to the little vessel and examining it for a moment. A strange cross between streamlined inner-atmospheric ship and a helicopter, this has a raised back section where the control panels seem to be, allowing the pilot to look over the passengers and drive from behind. The front seems cramped, enough to hold two or maybe three people at most, but shouldn’t be much of an issue for you. You climb into the lower, front section, buckle yourself in, and wait for the q’orrine pilot to hop in back. “Alright, little blue lady, leeeet’s do this thing!”

The blades flicker out and start to rotate, sparks of electrical energy arcing between them and creating a net of power that lifts and propels the vehicle under Noolee’s input. The seats are somewhat cramped, but the trip is fast enough -- the roar of the small ship’s engine and propulsion even manages to somewhat drown out the sound of the pilot’s excited chatter. Noolee chirps on about her own desire to be an underworlder and frequent association with them, usually as a getaway driver, though also notes that she has a difficult time making long-lasting friends as the other operatives keep dying on the job. That doesn’t make you feel great.

The ride is over before you know it, however, the small aircraft humming to a stop in a more familiar-looking hangar, this one far larger than the tiny satellite connected to the Hall of the Emancipated. This place is all smooth metal and plastics, streamlined, utilitarian, a mere background for the copious neon advertisements that light up every flat surface... and some of the curved ones too, you notice.

“Take care, underworlder!” Noolee cries out after you as you climb out of the small craft, waving back at you. “You’ve got this, I know it!”

Nice that someone has faith in you, at least. Nobody else really seems to.

Straightening yourself and brushing off your outfit, you quickly check for the name of the specific dock you’re heading to. You have a little time left to get through customs, but you will probably have to hurry if you’re going to get on board in style. A hulking idina man blocks the entrance to the spaceway, grunting at you -- it’s the first time you’ve seen one on something other than PasTime, and yeesh, it’s monstrous. He’s monstrous, rather. Toweringly tall, with olive green skin, short, stubby legs and shoulders nearly as wide as he is tall, the thing doesn’t look all that bright or all that alert. Hopefully that ends up being in your favor.

“This is an idina ship,” the man grunts, narrowing his tiny eyes at you. His voice is thick with an accent and boomingly deep. “Why do you want on?”

“I’m working,” you say, offering a small smile that you think should be mysterious. It doesn’t seem to affect the man at the booth who’s blocking your way. “I’m a... lady of the evening, and figured that those on board may want some entertainment for their long journey.”

The idina man furrows his thick, knobby brow. “But it’s morning.”

You blink, pause, blink again. “Yes, but... I’m a lady, of the evening. For evening entertainment.”

“Why just evening? Why not work through the daylight hours? Get more done.”

“I’m, just...” you exhale through your nostrils. “I’m a courtesan. I have my credfile right here, you need to see it?”

“Yah,” he grunts, distracted from his previous confusion as he accepts the credfile and scans it in front of the mirrored holoscreen in front of him, similar to the one Siara had used when you two first met at the census. “Una Thax, nauelli. Says you don’t have a job at all, though.”

“Well, that’s because I work, um... under the table,” you wink. Attempting to drive the point home, you surreptitiously pantomime the act of fellatio, stroking an invisible cyllinder while making an indentation against the inside of your cheek with your tongue.

The man blinks at you, then finally smiles widely. “Ohhhhhhh. I get it. You’re a saucy lady. Gonna work that little blue body for the ladies on board?”

You sigh again softly, then nod. “Yes. A saucy lady. Can I go through now?”

“Sure you can, saucy lady,” the man giggles in his rumbling voice, handing you your credfile back. “Don’t have too much fun on board.”

Taking your credfile back and slipping it into one of the slots in your belt, you let out a sigh of relief as you make your way down onto the dock, nodding to the other aliens you see moving back and forth across it. Several more male idina are serving as security (nodding at you as you pass), while a few more are hauling cargo into the loading bay of a massive, black-hulled ship -- provisions for the long journey ahead. It makes you wonder, actually... assuming you manage to completely carry this mission out, how in the world will you get back to Au Prime?

Whatever. You’ll deal with that problem when you get to it. And Aia did mention that there will be a cloaked escort of q’orrine ships, so maybe that will be in your favor.

Nodding to everyone you see as you make your way onto the main deck and winking at the prettier, more delicate female idina that you pass by, nobody stops you. Apparently they have a lot more faith in their screening system than they probably should, but you’re content to thank the fates that you made it this far.

A tinny squeak is heard as a speaker switches on, and a voice calls out across the ship in a language you don’t understand. Its purpose quickly becomes apparent, though, as a massive plasma shield coalesces around the slaveship and it starts to move, gradually picking up speed as it heads towards the edge of the atmosphere and, eventually, out into open space.

You breathe in deeply; there’s no turning back now, not anymore.

“You, nauelli. Your presence is anomalous. Why are you here?” comes a voice from behind you, it’s Aui somewhat broken -- though strangely sorting itself by the end of the second sentence, as if auto-correcting itself. Quickly turning to look reveals the lean figure of an entity that doesn’t seem idina, or even any type of alien entity you’re familiar with. Segmented body pieces mimic skin while fading to a smooth, hard material at other points -- visibly feminine, but not visibly... organic. You’d heard sentient artificials had been outlawed years ago, but as far as you can tell, you’re looking at one right now.

“I was allowed through customs,” you clumsily murmur. “I’m... independent entertainment.” You backpedal a single step, eyeing the entity warily. She -- it? -- glares back at you, its unfocused crystalline eyes blinking and gazing slightly up, as she appears to be nearly half a foot shorter than you.

“A prostitute,” she confirms, her voice icy. “Pray that’s all you are.”

Your eyes widen, and it suddenly occurs to you that there were two jobs offered -- one to free to q’orrine in the hull, and one to protect the ship. It never occurred to you that someone would be there to take the other job.

A) Do your best to get away from the artificial mercenary and back on your mission. +1 Evasion

B) Try to figure out exactly why she’s here and what she’s capable of. +1 Inquisition

C) Try to seduce her, if that’s even possible. +1 Sensuality

D) Try to convince her you’re on the same job, here undercover to protect the slaveship. +1 Cunning