FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The buzz of enormous anti-grav thrusters filled the air, sounding like the largest, angriest hive of bees ever amassed. Thankfully, the insectoid colonies were on the opposite side of the star system. And they tended to be rather even keeled, all things considered. It didn't change the fact that the physics-defying engines had the most obnoxious buzzing sound imaginable. Marcus hated listening to them, but he didn't really have much choice. He went where there was work, and that usually meant chasing jobs halfway across known space. If he could afford the fare.

The big, rusty-colored dragon sighed as he watched the latest transport come to a soft landing. It really was a marvel of modern technology, able to lift off and go into orbit as well as return from outside the atmosphere to soft-land, all without using chemical rockets. It allowed for exploration beyond the homeworld. And that homeworld felt so very distant now. It was just one little speck among millions in the night sky. Expand or die. That was the motto. Marcus had been doing a bit of that himself.

The doors to the space port finally opened, occupied by a number of guards who metered how many were permitted in. Off world travel was something of a premium. Only the super rich got to travel for leisure. Everyone else had to find a way to make the trip into something related to a livelihood. After a few moments of seeing the throngs of canines, felines, avians, reptiles, and even a few aquatics trying to push their way to the front in the hopes of being granted access, Marcus realized he wasn't going to be getting on board anytime soon. It would be at least a couple of hours before he could make his way to the guards and request passage.

So, rather than remain stuck in the pulsing, writhing crowd, he opted to slip his way out and head elsewhere. The intention was to get something to eat. It had been a while since he woke up, and he hadn't had breakfast yet. He had originally hoped he could get on board and eat there instead. Transports almost always had aeroponics in at least a couple of compartments. It was enough to feed the crew and passengers. Of course, the higher up on the ship you lived, the better the vegetation you got. At least there was plenty of resequenced meat. But that was rationed out in the same way. He would have to settle for the less than stellar food stuffs the outer region of the city had to offer.

After a brief shopping trip, Marcus had a small bag of what amounted to emergency rations. They weren't marketed as such, but they were virtually identical. Some food processor had the idea of re-branding to sell to the lowest of the low income. At least they were required to meet the most basic of nutritional standards. The dragon found a quiet little public lounge and rented a private room for a couple of hours. It would give him plenty of time to charge, eat, and rest before he had to be back at the spaceport gates.

He took a seat in one of the too-small chairs, finding it to be just cheap enough to not worry about breaking it but just nice enough to actually be somewhat comfortable. He pulled a cord from his satchel and plugged it into the wall. The other end he brought up to the back of his neck and plugged it into a port just above the line his shoulders made across his back. He stiffened and grimaced as the connection was made. After the initial shock of linking in, he relaxed and sighed.

The interface appeared in his vision, giving him a notification that he was indeed charging. It wasn't entirely necessary, given that he could just charge up his power cells by eating, but this was far cheaper. And he didn't have to choke down any more of the nasty 'econo-meal' bars. It was one of the benefits of his condition; flexible fuel sources. He still felt hungry if he didn't eat anything, though. With the connection made, and the standard diagnostics completed, Marcus dove online. The private room came with a generous supply of bandwidth and a high cap on data use. He wouldn't get anywhere near the limit in just two hours, and it would let him conduct his little side business.

"Let's see if we've got any nibbles." he said to himself before opening the door to a virtual shop he had set up.

There had not been any visitors since last he looked the night before. That left him slightly disheartened. He almost always got a customer or two well before now. It looked like he was going to have to work extra hard on this next trip. He sighed and renewed the pop-up notification he had put out on the central net, but with very little hope. With it being so close to time, anyone he got would likely just be desperate, and that usually came with a few unwelcome risks. Still, money was money.

Within half an hour of sitting patiently, charging up, and perusing the feeds looking for potential jobs so he could plan his trip, Marcus heard a chime indicating someone was interested in his services. Since money was money, he had no reason to turn them away. It didn't hurt to at least hear someone out, no matter how desperate they were. A rectangular window appeared in front of the dragon, semi-transparent, with a thin green line running through it. The words 'voice call only' appeared in small green letters just beneath it. That meant one of three possibilities; the caller was trying to keep their identity a secret, the caller was off world already which meant they wouldn't be of any real use to him at that moment, or the caller was pure organic and couldn't put on a VR headset at the moment. There was only one way to find out.

"Hello, is this Discrete Deliveries?" asked the disembodied voice, making the green line come to life as a waveform.

"You're in the right place. What can I do for you?" Marcus asked.

"I'm interested in your transport services. Do you have any limitations on what you will or won't carry?" asked the voice, which sounded male now that they were speaking more than just a few words, possibly canine.

"Transport is limited to anything with a class one rating, safe for contact with bio-matter. Stasis available upon request but carries a surcharge." the dragon replied, sounding casual as he tried his best to not come off bored.

Usually, situations like this ended up resulting in the caller declining. If they weren't carrying at least some sort of implant or wearing a headset so they could speak face to face, then they usually just weren't terribly serious about his offerings. It was an assumption that gave him a roughly ninety percent kill rate. But occasionally, that other ten percent carried a surprise or two.

"That sounds fine. Would it be alright if we met in person? I can't stay on too long." the perspective client asked.

That caught Marcus' attention. If they wanted to meet face to face without even discussing what was to be transported, then that usually meant they were eager for a fast contract. Of course, he had some idea of what it was they wanted moved. He catered to a certain clientele after all.

"That depends on your location. If you're not in system with me, I can't help you-" the dragon said, quickly looking over the connection information that had scrolled by when his ID algorithm kicked in earlier, "But from the looks of things, you're not just in system, you're actually pretty close by. I'll give you the address to meet me at. Since I'm on a short timetable, you have five minutes to get here if you want me to consider your job."

He hated being so heartless on how small of window to offer, but he wasn't going to spend most of his time waiting for someone to show up only to have them flake. It had happened a few times before, and that had prompted the abrupt nature of his opportunities. If they were serious, they'd make an effort to get there.

"Five minutes. Understood. I've got the address. Thank you for your time." the caller said.

Without even giving the drake a chance to offer his own farewell, the line disconnected and he was left to sit in his little storefront by himself. He let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes. The digital world dissolved away and the material world reappeared when he opened them. He didn't bother unplugging, but he wasn't going to dive back in. He sent a quick message to the caller's number with a phrase to tell the lounge manager when they arrived. That way, they could be directed to his little temporary sanctuary. The drake sat himself upright, no longer slouched in a more comfortable, laid back position he took while online. Instead, he crossed his legs and let his arms fall slack on either side. His breathing became slow and even as he settled into a brief moment of meditation.

This was a little trick he had developed over the years he had been doing this. It helped to calm him if he had been overly anxious or annoyed by the throngs of people desperate to get aboard ship. It also gave him a chance to run a couple of diagnostics, which he did frequently. Past experience taught him to do so at least twice a day just to be sure nothing was going wrong with his cybernetic components. But the biggest reason why he preferred to do so--especially right before meeting a potential client--was because it created a sort of atmosphere, a mystique. He hesitated to think of it as intimidation, but it gave the other person the impression they were interrupting him. That combined with his size and the exotic nature of it--since virtually no one meditated unless they were a monk or extremely serious or something--created this sense of power, tipping in Marcus' favor.

Given his line of work with this side gig of his, it was certainly a good thing. It helped to cut through the nonsense that was all too common in dealing with the public. He wouldn't have time to finish a full diagnostic but he'd certainly be able to get a good portion of it done. And he could complete it later. Of course, if things went the way he was hoping they might, he would likely want to start all over again. Before he had time to finish the first of several cycles in the diagnostic, there came a soft chime signaling someone was just outside and needed his attention. That was surprisingly fast. It hadn't even been two minutes. They must have been terribly close. That or they ran the whole way. That implied desperation.

"Enter." the dragon said in as even a tone as he could muster.

The door slid open into its little hidden pocket and in stepped a hooded figure dressed in rags. Marcus had not actually opened his eyes, but rather used a suite of sensors he happened to be rather fond of. He could pick up the life signs of the newcomer, reading them to be canine, roughly late twenties, and in good health.

"I'm sorry to intrude," said the dog, the voice matching the one from the call, "You are Marcus, yes? From Discrete Deliveries?"

"That's me," the dragon took a slow, deep breath, then softened his posture and opened his eyes to look at the canid, "You wanted to discuss a job?"

"Yes, that's right. My name is Bale. Am I correct to assume that your services are not limited to transporting... inanimate objects?" the dog asked.

"I help people book passage, that's the reason why I'm discrete. Where are you headed?" Marcus asked.

"Where are you headed?" Bale asked in response.

"The transport I'm slated to board is headed for Kor Tyvus, docking at the outer-most station. Either you can get off there or I can get a puddle jumper to one of the planets or moons in system and then you can disembark. The added leg will cost extra." the dragon explained.

"Oh, Kor Tyvus?" Bale asked, looking a little sheepish, "I was hoping perhaps... you were headed for one of the outer colonies. Is that at all possible?"

Marcus narrowed his eyes and peered closely the dog. It made the already nervous fellow even more anxious.

"How many of you are there?" the drake finally asked.

"How... many?" Bale replied, sounding confused.

"I've been in this business for a long while. You pick up a few things along the way, like how to read a person. You called me, voice only. Which meant you wanted to stay anonymous or you were pure organic. I scanned you when you walked in. There's not a cybernetic circuit in your whole body. The fact that you're pure organic means anonymity is pretty easy. You raced over here as soon as I gave you the address, meaning you didn't want to discuss anything over the net, and meaning you're probably desperate. Then you tell me you want to get to the outer colonies but you're not part of any big expedition or research group. And you used a scrambled network ID to call. All the earmarks of someone trying to flee the core systems. And usually, they don't travel alone." Marcus explained in detail, shocking the dog with his accuracy.

"I... how... you guessed all of that from those little details?" Bale asked incredulously.

"It's not guessing. It's deduction. I told you, I've been doing this for a long time," the dragon said, beginning to sound just ever so slightly annoyed, "How many of you are there?"

The dog dipped his nose in shame, feeling a bit like a child who had been caught lying. He turned back to the door and poked his head out. He said something in a whisper then retreated back inside. As soon as he did, three more figures entered and the door closed behind them. They were all similarly built, virtually identical in fact. Marcus looked them all over, taking scans of them as discretely as he could.

"Please forgive us for the secretive nature of our meeting. Things being what they are, you can understand why we have to operate with the same kind of discretion as yourself." Bale said.

"You're clones. Service class. You should be in someone's royal chambers or some high class executive's office or home, maybe their sex dungeon. What the hell are you four doing trying to book passage to the outer colonies? Hell just off planet alone?" Marcus asked, reading over the scan data he was pulling in as it showed up.

"We would be, but there is a conflict brewing. Our kind were meant to be kept near our masters. We each came from a different family in the financial district. I assume you heard about the recent bombing?" Bale asked.

A knot began to form in Marcus' stomach. He had heard of service class clones snapping and going feral, some even retaining intelligence and doing highly complex, incredibly monstrous things. When a service clone's mind broke, either they turned comatose--which was the usual result--or they turned into the perfect, most sadistic psychopath. But those instances were incredibly rare, and here there were four of them. Surely they had not all snapped.

"Are you saying you had something to do with it?" the dragon asked with an audible note of caution in his voice.

"No!" Bale replied quickly while his three companions cowered together at the accusation, "No, we did not! Please you have to believe me! We were not involved in that violent, tragic act! But our families, our owners were. They engineered the whole plot. They were taken into custody, one even assassinated last night while he slept in his jail cell waiting for trial."

"Okay, so... you should have been handed off to the state or a relative. Why aren't you with them?" the drake asked, still looking over the data.

He had no lack of sympathy for the cloned dogs, programmed to lack aggression or even any truly distinct features that would mark them as a particular breed. He hated the fact that they existed, that someone -made- them. It was just wrong, hateful. Even more so given how they were treated and given no rights or autonomy. Marcus could relate to that. He had gotten similar treatment after he had been discharged. The military was quick to advertise how they took care of their own, but they didn't say anything about how soldiers got kicked to the curb after they reached the end of their 'useful life'.

"We were slated to, but the state was slow to process us. Service clones. We spent days waiting for someone to come and collect us. With our owners incarcerated, there was no one to grant access to the computer or other systems. We had no food, no water. We couldn't even operate the facilities to maintain any degree of hygiene. We all nearly starved to death in our own homes. The state didn't care about us. Our owners didn't send anyone to tend to us. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, we were property, possessions that would just sit there and need nothing in order to exist. That was when I came to the conclusion that in order to survive, we had to escape. I broke out of my owner's home and sought out the others. Our owners brought us with them when they gathered to plot and scheme, and tended to close out those meetings with... certain acts we could not refuse." Bale said, showing a great deal more emotion than the dragon had expected of fabricants that were designed to be submissive and demure.

"You broke out? How the hell did you--you know what? I don't want to know. You've been out on your own, trying to survive. No money, no identities or files on record other than as being property. How long have you been hiding?" Marcus asked.

"A little over a month. As constructs, we don't require as much nourishment, but it's still difficult to find enough food to keep from going hungry. Thankfully, we are able to blend in well with the homeless communities. Work has been... difficult to come by. We were hoping to save up enough money to buy new identities, then disappear off world. The assassination last night has forced us to accelerate our plans." Bale said.

He had been the only one to speak. The other three remained huddled close together, barely saying anything, and only ever little more than an inaudible whisper. Bale was clearly the leader of their little pack. And that was exactly how they were structured. It clicked in Marcus' mind that they would default to that. Dogs had been a prime species for the cloning industry because they could be so easily domesticated while retaining a strong sense of loyalty to their owners, pack bonding. That started to fill in several gaps in the drake's ability to complete the picture.

"Without a new master, you all bonded with each other. You couldn't stand the idea of being alone because you're biologically programmed to seek out another and serve them. So why didn't you just go find some rich asshole looking for a bunch of dog clones he didn't have to buy?" Marcus asked.

Bale didn't respond. Instead he slowly turned to look at his pack. There were two other males and a female standing between them. It was a posture that suggested they were protecting her, possibly even trying to conceal the fact that she was female. Males were used for all manner of debaucherous things, but the females were shown especially violent treatment, then patched back up so they could go through it all over again. And that biological programming prevented either the males or females from rebelling against their owner, or even harboring hatred for what was done to them. The perfect victims.

That alone should not have been enough to inform someone of the why behind their actions. It took Marcus finally reading the last of the scan data from the trembling lady. His blood ran cold as soon as he saw it. It was impossible. There was no way his readings could be right. And if they were, the consequences would be absolutely heinous.

"She's pregnant." the dragon said breathlessly.

"Yes," Bale replied, "She is."

"But it shouldn't be possible. You're all designed to be sterile," Marcus froze and his eyes widened, "Her owner had her resequenced, didn't he? He has a fetish for impregnating his... 'partners', doesn't he?"

The female shook her head violently, her eyes huge and fearful, but she never spoke. Bale stepped in closer to his pack and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into her cheek to help sooth her. The other two males joined in as a series of soft whines created a quiet, mournful chorus.

"No resequencing has been performed. On any of us." Bale replied, putting special emphasis on the idea that none of them had been altered.

That subtle intonation had been enough to complete the picture. That was why they were fleeing. They were in danger of being discovered.

"One of you is the father. How... how is that possible?" Marcus asked.

"We are not sure. But since we liberated ourselves, we have been trying to get our paws on whatever educational data we can so that we might be able to pass more easily as ordinary citizens. Colt has discovered a fondness for biochemistry and his studies tell him that it is quite possibly an instance of epigenetics. There are no previous reports of service clones pack bonding with one another the way we have. It is possible this triggered a micro-evolutionary change." Bale said, finally pulling himself away from his pack.

"You're saying... that if service clones are allowed to exist with one another, without any owners, you'll all spontaneously become fertile?" the dragon asked, finding the discovery to be both miraculous and horrifying.

"That is one hypothesis. It is also possible that we are part of a defective batch, possessing genetic aberrations that prevent sterility the way standard manufacturing is intended to incorporate. In either case, it means our very existence endangers the existence of hundreds of other service clones at best, or the entire species at worst. If we are found out, we will all be destroyed. And then they will track down everyone from our batch and destroy them too. Before they do, they will most certainly want us all dissected, probably while we are still alive, to find out where the genetic error occurred and how." Bale explained.

"Holy shit," Marcus said quietly, feeling the weight of it all as it came crashing down on him, "And when your owner was killed, you realized there were factions out to silence them. Which meant they would be coming after you guys. They can't have anyone who knows about it left alive. They would turn you in as defective to be destroyed."

"At which point, our miracle would be discovered, and it would become a mass extermination. We cannot allow that to happen. Please, you must help us." Bale said, stepping forward, lifting his paws clasped together to beg.

"This complicates matters, there being four of you and all. Well, five I guess." the dragon said.

"Yes, you mentioned that stasis would be possible for a surcharge." the dog replied quickly.

"Usually, I'm only doing this one person at a time. Physical limitations and what not," Marcus said, sighing as he let the enormity of their situation force him to shift priorities, "And on top of that, you want to head to the outer colonies. That's a significant layover, which increases the risk of being discovered. Multiply that times four."

"We do not have much we can offer in compensation, but please... there must be something you can do. Even if it means only taking Sky." Bale said as he stepped in closer, gazing into the dragon's eyes pleadingly.

"No!" cried out the lady.

It wasn't much of a noise, a soft yelp, but it was the first thing any of the other three had said.

"Sky, please. We have to keep you hidden. For your sake. For our sake. For all our sakes." Bale said as he turned to look at the trembling lady.

The other two dogs nodded in agreement, desperate to protect their pack-mate. It boiled down to simple logic. Her pregnancy was what endangered the whole of their batch, possibly the whole of their race. If it meant saving their kind, they would hide her and send her out into the stars, even if it was painful for them to shatter their pack.

"No! I don't want to leave you! I don't know which of you is the father! Please! I can't leave you behind! They could still discover your fertility!" Sky replied.

"We talked about this. If we can't all go, then you go alone." Bale said.

"She's right," Marcus said with a sigh, "Even if you send her alone, they could still catch you, find out you're 'defective', then tear down the whole line. And going one at a time is a no go. It's all or nothing."

The 'alpha' of the pack turned to look back at the dragon, his ears pricking up hopefully.

"Does that mean-"

"Yeah... it does." the drake cut Bale off with a sigh.

He was already completely sure this was a bad idea and that it was a rotten situation. If they stayed, they would be found, mutilated and killed in the most horrible ways possible, and then the rest of their production line would follow. Maybe even the whole species. That was a lot of needless death that he didn't want to be indirectly responsible for.

The other three dogs brought their gazes from their 'alpha' to the dragon as well, each one looking identically hopeful. They even shared visible emotional responses. It was a little eerie, but then the idea of making clones as slaves was pretty good at making Marcus squirm unhappily. The cable connecting him to the hard-line network and the power was removed. He didn't want to be online when he set this up.

"What do you need us to do? And how much will this cost?" Bale asked, not having missed out on the fact that this whole endeavor was part of a business after all.

"Are you at all familiar with this style of... private transport?" Marcus asked, already rubbing his neck as the weight of how terrible an idea this was weighed down on him.

"We haven't had the chance to research it all in great detail, but we have read about the basics. Are you sure this is safe?" Bale asked.

"Yeah, sure. Physically speaking. Legally, that's another matter. You're all going to need new identities when you get where you're going, and it would be a good idea to get you all set up with at least one implant. Easiest, fastest, least invasive is a simple CBI. That can be added while in transit. You won't even feel a thing. And it will let you access all the knowledge and entertainment any of you could possibly want. Hell you can get an online degree in a particular field if you can find a spot at one of the online academies. Then you'd be able to start a career and make some real, livable money." the dragon said.

"A CBI," Sky said, sounding uncertain, "Can you... explain?"

"CBI, computer-brain interface. Almost everyone has one. It lets you interact with any digital device that has the input capability. To get one, a surgeon installs a small port in your neck that connects to the base of the spine, then sends a series of micro-fiber electrodes up into the brain. It's pretty painless when they do it. But this way, I'll be using nanites to gradually build the implants from scratch directly from your tissue and minerals available. Like I say, you won't feel a thing. And having an implant help throw folks off the scent, keep someone from putting two and two together thinking you're all constructs." Marcus said, opting to leave out the more in depth description of the 'building' process.

"We will need identification, personal files in government systems to refer to us. Your online service description said that you are able to accommodate that as well." Bale said.

"Yeah, I can whip up a few fake ID files for you guys. That stuff is pretty easy. It's changing the physical features that's gonna be tricky. If you're gonna ditch the slave life for good, you gotta be able to pass as something other than what you really are. Since most people don't consider your kind worth noticing, most people don't have a real good idea of what your kind look like other than 'they look like canine constructs'. I'll run some image changes by all of you once we're on the way and get you all started once you approve," Marcus replied, "Are we ready? I'd like to get this show on the road. I don't have much time before the transport makes last call."

"Yes, of course. We are ready. We don't have anything to take with us so that should make everything easier," Bale said, then frowned a little, "You still have not said how much it will cost."

"Consider it pro-bono. Surrogates get a stipend from transport ships and local municipalities, especially if you're carrying for an expedition to the outer colonies. Now let's go. Time's running short." the dragon said.

"Thank you," Bale said, his face and his voice betraying how entirely overcome with relief and gratitude he was, "We cannot possibly repay you for your kindness."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just get to it before I change my mind. I'll even throw in free stasis once we've got you situated. Get undressed. All of you." Marcus said.

The drake climbed to his paws, towering over the four dogs. They scarcely came up to his waist and each was a slender, thin specimen of their breed. And that breed was intentionally designed to be nondescript and frail. It made it easier to overpower them should one of them 'malfunction'. Marcus began unfastening the straps and buckles holding his backpack against his spine. It was fairly thin, but it was heavy, landing on the floor with a solid clunk. It suggested to the four dogs just how strong he was, as though his obvious physique didn't convey it enough. He stripped out of a simple long coat and shirt to reveal what parts of him were still organic and what parts had been modified. At first glance, most of him still looked to be 'original parts from the manufacturer' or 'OEM' as he liked to put it. But if they could scan him the way he had scanned the pack, they would have seen a creature that was almost half machine.

Lines ran along his dull-crimson and grey hide, showing where normal flesh and synth-tissue met. From what little research the dogs had done online about the dragon's kind--those who were so heavily modded--they decided he probably could lift something at least five times his bodyweight without any trouble. There was a sort of tattoo on the front of his left shoulder, almost down onto the adjacent pectoral. It was a three-digit number in a narrow, tall font reading "305" with a square only half as tall next to it. It was a QR code, meaning it was a form of body identification.

"You are former military?" Bale asked.

"Yeah. Dishonorably discharged. Refused to follow orders on a number of occasions. Apparently I was part of the early batch they were testing cognitive override software on. The brass hits a button and any doubt a soldier has about a mission goes away. You turn into a cold, calculating robot that only follows orders. It was still buggy back then, easy to crash, dumping the subject back into lucidity right in the middle of the action. Had a bad experience, told the engineer back at the barracks to get that shit out of my head. My Ex-O got wind of it and said removing the software was only one step below desertion. I think my exact words to him were 'blow me'. After that... well... had to find a new way to make a living." Marcus explained as he began unbuckling the belt sewn into his pants.

"They tried to take your conscience away." the dog said.

"Tried. Still feels like they scraped out a good chunk of it, but there's still bits of it left. Now who's going first?" the dragon asked as he let his pants fall to the floor.

That caught the attention of the group. They had understood what the practice entailed, but reading about the basics and actually going through the process were two very different things.

"I suppose it would be prudent for me to go first," Colt said, stepping forward, "I can make sure it is safe, then help Sky follow."

"Whatever. It's safe enough but if that makes you feel better, then fine." the drake said.

The short, slender dog in question stepped a little closer, eyeing the big creature's groin. It was almost eye-level for him. Were he back in his old role, he might have been compelled to do something lewd to the satisfaction of the beast offering him safe passage. As it stood, what was coming would be lewd enough. The canine shuffled himself into position, staring at the example of manhood before him. The dragon lifted one of his arms. A panel on the back of the massive forearm split open and folded back, revealing a small storage compartment. Marcus reached in and retrieved a circular object. Light glinted off its golden surface as he turned it about and twisted open the back of the pocket watch. He retrieved a small object from the confines appearing to be a data-storage node.

"What is that?" Colt asked as he watched the dragon put the watch back in his arm and close the panel.

"This whole process requires special software. I don't like to keep it running locally, so I store it on an external node I plug in during loading and unloading. In between, if I get scanned, the authorities don't find anything out of the ordinary." Marcus explained as he pressed the node into the back of his neck.

The drake stiffened as it connected and the subroutines he needed began to run. He sighed and spread his legs, widening his stance, ready to start. Colt lowered his head once he was sure all was ready for him. He reached up and cupped one of his paws against the two impressive swells resting just behind the dragon's length, drooping down over them. He gently coaxed the features out of the way to find something waiting just behind. This fellow was in possession of both male and female genitals. This was something Colt and his pack weren't unfamiliar with, but to see it on a military grade model was unusual. It had to have been after-market, no doubt to facilitate this side-business of his.

The dog closed his eyes and lifted his nose to press against the smooth folds just above. There wasn't any sort of unusual exaggeration about the dragon's form that had become so popular among the elites. It was almost alien to Colt to see something he would consider to be 'ordinary'. The thought only briefly distracted him from his task, but the act did elicit some of the old behavior from when he was under his former master's ownership. His tongue slipped out and traced softly along the delicate lips waiting to consume him. Marcus grit his teeth and inhaled sharply. His toes splayed across the ground a little, forcing his claws to extend and dig into the concrete floor.

"Ooo, easy there little guy. This isn't a pleasure cruise. If we had more time, I'd say go for it, but we're kind of on the clock." Marcus said as his voice quavered for a brief moment.

Without waiting for Colt to reply, the big drake bent his knees and began to sink down over his first passenger. The dog's head slipped into the waiting passage without any real difficulty. The data node he had plugged in was already going to work, making sure the dragon could stretch more than usual. He also made it a point to tone down the sensory input, at least at the point of entry. There was no sense in getting so carried away that he ended up missing his transport. Colt yelped quietly as he was suddenly inserted into the warm, sticky tunnel. The smooth, slick surfaces that wrapped around him squeezed and relaxed, urging him deeper as moisture dribbled down over his neck and shoulders.

Another firm drop sank the former slave deeper. His chest vanished from sight as the other three dogs watched with a mix of fascination, concern, and even hints of arousal. This was something they had never done before. Up until they found their freedom and hunted for a way off-world, they had not even heard of such a thing. But they were all intimately familiar with what pleasures could be extracted from stimulation similar to this. Surely it had to be at least somewhat enjoyable. The steady pulsing of the dragon's length as it slowly began to come to full attention confirmed their suspicions.

Marcus huffed softly as he moved a paw to his stomach. It was already showing a pronounced swell. Colt's head was now in his womb, finding the space to be curiously inviting. The dog whimpered softly, though it was almost inaudible. He had lost contact with his pack and it was troubling him. He began to squirm, feeling a tinge of hesitation. He was beginning to think this wasn't the wisest idea and wanted back out to be with the other three. Marcus wasn't having any of it. He had already come this far, and time was short. He just dropped himself down harder.

In one quiet squelch, the dragon mashed the dog in up to his waist. It stole the red fellow's breath away and his grey stomach surged outward, showing even greater sign of what he was doing. No matter how much he turned down the sensory input, it still came back as just a little overwhelming. He paused after that to catch his breath for a moment. Colt wasn't stopping. If anything, his squirming had intensified. Hopefully the little guy wasn't claustrophobic. When the former soldier stood himself back up, his thighs were forced apart by the presence of the creature sliding into him. The legs dangling from between his own kicked and fought, suggesting that his client was unhappy.

"Is he... alright?" Bale asked.

Marcus nodded and held his middle as he took a few breaths.

"He's...he's fine. Probably just... first time jitters. Everyone's... a little nervous... first time they do this. C'mon little guy, gotta get you the rest of the way in!" the dragon said with a grunt.

He didn't bother to crouch back down. Instead, he flexed the muscular tunnel Colt was half-lodged inside. Another quiet squelch could be heard leaking out of the dragon's groin. The dog he had inside him slipped deeper, moving at a slow pace until his knees were hugged by the warm embrace of his petals. At that point, Marcus let out the breath he was holding during the exercise. After a few additional breaths, he repeated and dragged the canine's calves deeper. His abdomen began to round out, no longer looking quite so lumpy and misshapen. Once he felt Colt's ankles at his entrance, Marcus relaxed again. From there, the steady, powerful, repetitive contractions finished the job. The first of the four dogs was hidden away, held securely in the dragon's wriggling belly.

"I had no idea it was such an intimate act." Bale said in a hushed tone.

"Intimate... yeah... sure... let's go with that," Marcus said, still working to catch his breath, "You're alright in there, pup. Just take it easy. You got company coming. You guys said Sky was next?"

The female dog stepped forward, still a little shaken by what she had seen. As Colt's form began to slow, it suggested that perhaps he was acclimating, or just wearing himself out. It still seemed as though no harm was coming to him. Marcus looked off into space as he peered at the time in his HUD. They really didn't have much time left. He would have to do the next three fairly quickly, even faster than Colt. He reached out and cupped a large palm against the back of the nervous canine's head.

"Will it hurt? Either of us?" Sky asked.

"No, we'll both be fine. But we gotta hurry a little," Marcus lifted his gaze, "If you two wanna help push her in while Colt pulls from the other side, it'll help a lot."

Bale nodded and turned to the other remaining male.

"We should do as he says, Tor. He is being more than generous after all." the de-facto leader of the pack said.

The other--now properly identified--nodded in return and they both stepped in close to assist. Sky's head was guided into position and the dragon immediately began to practically sit down on her. She yelped quietly in surprise, just as Colt had, but she remained more at ease. Likely it was because she could feel the paws of two of her pack mates pushing her into the waiting chamber beyond. The dog already stored within managed to get enough sense about him after his brief panic that he turned about to help. He shoved his paws down through the entrance he had unceremoniously been crammed through and took hold of the lady.

Marcus tipped his head back and stifled a groan, fighting to keep his cool. His belly surged outward again as he bent his legs. With everyone's help, the process of sliding the slender lady in was fairly swift. He felt her shoulders, chest, then stomach pass without any real difficulty. Then a sharp tug with his impressive internal control ushered her hips, thighs, and knees in as well. Nectar began to drip down on the two remaining dogs as they watched their companion's paws slip out of sight with a slurp. The dragon's middle doubled in size, giving him reason to lean back and adjust where his paws landed on the swell. He had to hoist it up a bit now. And it was only going to get bigger.

"I must say, this is terribly impressive. I did not know such control was possible." Bale said.

"Yeah... lots of practice. Had to start off carrying cargo. Try shoving a watermelon-sized pod up there on a regular basis, and you'll get really good at it really quick." Marcus replied, more out of breath now than before.

"You're next, Bale." Tor said.

"No. You go next. I'll be last. I would rather be the one caught if someone walked in on us before it was complete." the other dog replied.

Tor whimpered and his ears flattened back against his head. He didn't like the idea of being caught, especially if it meant Bale was to be ripped away from them. It encouraged expediency. The faster he got in, the sooner Bale could follow and be concealed in the safety of this kind dragon's womb.

"Whoever's going next, just get started already. I'm gonna need to take five after all this is over to catch my breath and get you kids properly stowed. It's another ten minutes to get back to the port. Last call isn't all that long from now." Marcus said, sounding almost like he was complaining.

Tor did as his 'alpha' told him to, lifted his nose, and aimed for the hungry vulva that had just devoured two of his pack. He pushed up on the tips of his paws and saw his muzzle slide in. Bale wrapped his arms around his companion and pushed him in, lifting him as best he could manage. The suddenness had been expected, but it still took the dragon's breath away. The rusty-red beast clenched his jaws and squeezed his eyes shut. His legs began to quake under him as he worked hard to pull on his third passenger. He was already just past the limit he considered comfortable, mainly because his usual passengers were taller and thicker than the pack taking refuge inside him. He was beginning to question if this was worth the effort. He could have called for a second transporter, someone he had a relationship with. Two bellies would split the load better. But then they likely wouldn't want to be separated like that.

A strong shove came from underneath, making the dragon jerk and shout. Hopefully it wouldn't draw any attention from anyone outside the little private lounge. Bale had surprised him with that. Apparently the little dog had more fight in him than he gave the group credit. Unfortunately, while it did get Tor sunk in up to his hips, it also meant that Bale's arms were trapped as well. Or perhaps that was fortunate. He wouldn't have to wait to get started on the last one. He wouldn't get a chance to catch his breath between them, but at least it would save time.

Then came a tug from inside, not the dragon's doing. Colt and Sky had reached down to pull Tor in on their own. And it had been terribly effective. Marcus' stomach swelled further still, making him fight anew to keep his voice down. His length was painfully stiff by now, drooling heartily and leaving a bit of a puddle on the floor. He grunted and huffed as the fourth and last dog was lifted off his paws unexpectedly. It hadn't been Bale's plan, but he wasn't about to fight against it. A new head joined the thighs spreading the drake's canal. Up until that moment, he had found each one relatively easy. But now, with two passing at once, he could feel his hips bowing outward to accommodate them both. That was more akin to what he was used to. He still wasn't entirely prepared for it in that moment.

Claws dug into the floor, dragging backward and leaving marks in the concrete. The dragon's legs lost their stability, bringing him down on top of the last dog. With so much weight pushing between them, passenger and transport glided smoothly against each other. With a heavy thump, the big drake's rump landed on the floor. His nethers were wrapped around the last of the final dog. That meant his ankles. The slow, steady work of Marcus' undulating passage drew Bale the rest of the way in, then sealed up behind him. Motion claimed the heavily stretched gut. It was so large it more than filled the dragon's lap, making him wonder if he would be able to get away with this. All four dogs were now sealed away under his hide, settling in, moving to get into a comfortable huddle against one another. No doubt Sky would be in the center in their efforts to shield her even further.

"Holy shit... I... I've never done... four at once." Marcus mused, desperate to keep his voice low.

He leaned back against the wall and rest a paw over his bulging, massive stomach, working hard to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and began going through the rest of the program on the data node. He even attempted to send a little message to check on his passengers, forgetting for a moment that they lacked the ability to receive or reply. Quietly, he grumbled to himself and began making the necessary adjustments. There was a lot to do but the software coded into the data node would handle all the complex work.

Once he had gotten enough of his strength back to carry on, the dragon sat himself up properly. He gazed down at his vast middle, running both paws over it as he ran the first of what would be countless scans. He never let someone spend too long in there without running regular checks on their wellbeing.

"Everyone okay in there? Any complaints? It's not too crowded?" the dragon asked.

A muffled voice responded, though it was difficult to tell which of the three males it was. Logic dictated it was likely Bale.

"It is a little snug, but not uncomfortable. We will be fine. How long do you suspect we will be with you?" the dog asked.

"I dunno. Direct trip to the closest of the outer colonies is at least four months. We'll be leap-frogging it, so probably closer to a full term. That's fine by me. The longer I have a 'bundle' the longer I can draw a stipend. I've learned a number of tricks to really make a credit stretch." Marcus said, then shivered.

Every little twitch or kick was easily felt, making him wonder if he would be able to get away with walking at all. They would bounce and sway around in there, teasing and tickling him just by virtue of their presence. He would have to deal with it if he wanted to get past the authorities.

"You mentioned we would need to alter our appearances. How much are we going to change?" asked Sky, her subtly feminine voice easier to pick out now that the drake could identify it.

"Nothing enormously drastic. Change of hair and fur color, maybe eye color. I'll have to give you guys some facial markings, the kind of stuff you usually go to a tattoo shop to get. Fools facial recognition. As for your online records, I'll be able to fabricate something long before we get where we're going. Now, you all just take a nap and let 'daddy' get to work." Marcus replied.

The motion and voices died down, letting the dragon tend to his work. After a few moments, he saw in his augmented vision four distinct lifeform readouts appear, signaling he had indeed connected to them. They were his kids now. He had a whole litter of puppies. That made him snicker. Now that he was supporting them, he moved on to the next phase, and that was something he was a little concerned about. Dimensional compression had been a godsend. It let him carry much more than he would be able to sneak past the guards ordinarily, but it had its limits. This was the absolute biggest he'd ever been. He wasn't sure how much the process would be able to squeeze him down.

The subroutine ran and Marcus' belly began to shrink. It was slower than he was used to seeing, but it did have more mass than usual to contend with. The sense of weight didn't go away, nor did how much he had felt himself stretch. It was strictly a cosmetic affectation. He could even feel it struggling to squeeze down enough to be considered 'normal'. When at last the compression routine had reached its limit, his middle had lost a fair bit of size. Instead of spilling over his legs, it only filled his lap. It was a nice fit, but it was bigger than he was hoping for. He grumbled a little, realizing his usual cover story wasn't going to be enough. He would have to come up with something special.

"Alright boys and girls, train's pulling out of the station. We got a transport to catch." Marcus said, climbing to his paws.

He grunted as he stood himself up, thrown off a little by the weight. It was always a little awkward at first. He collected his things, as well as what little the dogs had been wearing. Everything was stuffed in his pack which was slung over his shoulder. It was difficult getting dressed. His shirt and pants refused to contend with his gut, but that was to be expected. He grumbled a little once again as he loosened the straps on his pack so that the buckles would all lock together. When he was sure that he wasn't pinching anything and that he was leaving nothing behind, the dragon reached around to the back of his neck and pulled the data node. He returned it to the watch which was hidden once again in the compartment in his arm.

The lounge was left empty, though slightly damp. Hopefully he wouldn't get a surcharge for getting it cleaned. The manager behind the counter watched as the big, rusty-red dragon waddled towards the door. He narrowed his eyes at the beast and leaned forward over his counter.

"I don't remember you being that big when you came in," the manager said, "You didn't eat those poor fools who came looking for you, did you?"

Marcus stopped in his tracks and turned his head, just barely looking over his shoulder.

"You gonna call the cops on me if I did?" the dragon asked in a deep, irritated voice.

"Do I need to?" the manager asked in return.

"They were smugglers. They wanted me to be their mule so they could send contraband off-world. Threatened me if I didn't do what they wanted. I figure the cops won't come busting down my door for getting rid of a few criminals," Marcus said, turning to stand so that the manager could see him in profile as he turned to look back at him, "I got room for one more if you wanna make this into a thing."

The dragon then mustered the best fake burp he could get out of himself. That seemed to convince the manager and he lifted his paws in a 'not my business' sort of gesture. Satisfied, the drake turned and waddled his way out the door. Eating smugglers was a go-to excuse for him when he didn't have time to set up a proper meeting spot. No one ever missed one or two of them if they went missing, and they usually did. Just not into Marcus' stomach. Still, it had been tempting doing that as a bounty hunter. It might be worth another thought if this particular job didn't land him enough to break even. He would need that stipend.

The masses clamoring to be permitted aboard the transport had died down a good bit. Most had been turned away. Some had been permitted aboard. They were running out of slots, but it wasn't as though they were all that desperate to fill the ship to capacity. The first leisure ticket had cost enough to cover the entire ship's basic costs; fuel, docking permits, power cell charging. After that, the rest of the fares paid for more advanced maintenance, would-be-nice items, and bonuses for the crew. The various contracts that flowed in for cargo and military transport, colonists, and deep space research tended to fill out the rest of the ship's general needs. Then came the folks looking to work to afford passage. People like Marcus.

They were a cheap source of labor, and there was virtually no concern about the quality of work. Usually there were enough to balance out the good with the bad, and anyone who the main crew couldn't stand would end up disembarking at the next stop. That was how Marcus tended to keep himself on the move: book passage as temp crew, work to earn his food and bed, disembark and hunt for a temporary job waiting for the next transport.

Now though, he was in agony. He had never tried to carry so much in his gut at one time. Every step sent jolts of electricity shooting up his spine. He needed to get on board, get to his assigned quarters, lock the door, and 'take care of business' as soon as he could. He huffed as he waddled his way towards the space port, eyes locked on the guards waiting to admit or deny access. Had he been empty, Marcus would have drawn a couple of stares simply by virtue of how much bigger he was than most. Now, with a stomach pushing out far enough that he couldn't sit at a table without turning to one side, he was the only one in line anyone could look at.

When it finally came time for him to take his turn to be permitted or turned away, the guard looked him up and down, unsure exactly what to make of him. That was the usual case. Marcus had come to find it all too familiar.

"Name?" asked the guard.

"Marcus Gant." the dragon answered, not wanting to volunteer more than he absolutely had to, for obvious reasons.

"Former Dominion Army it says," the guard mused as he peered over the file that had popped up on his display after scanning the drake's identification, "Not often we see one of you around here. When we do, it's usually someone not as put together as you. More often than not, they're in a body bag. How'd you get out without losing your head?"

"It says it in the file. I'm applying for temp crew, engineering or maintenance is fine." Marcus answered.

"Dishonorable discharge. Wow. Even more rare. Usually only way out along those lines is firing squad. You musta hit the bullseye in that real narrow band between demotion and execution." the guard said, all too casual about the matter.

It bothered the dragon, but he did his best to not show it. After all, this wasn't the first time he had to endure such scorn, and it wouldn't be the last.

"This was back before discharge meant firing a weapon when it came to 'retirement' from the military. I got out before the policy was put in place." Marcus explained, "I've got a grade three rating on all civilian grade hyperspace window generators and intra-system jump drives. My last three captains can vouch for me."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure they can. What's goin' on here with all this?" the guard put the tablet displaying the relevant information down and gestured to the dragon's rotund stomach, "Pretty sure the military don't like fatties unless they plan on droppin'em like bombs directly onto the enemy."

Now came the time to see what sort of person this guard was. He was a dog, large breed, no doubt crafted for positions that required being able to strong-arm. That usually came with a less than stellar attitude towards things that were less conventional.

"I've got a contract to transport a small contingent of future colonists to Artoga Prime. Medical details are on file. You can even scan me to verify if you like." the dragon replied.

"Contingent? Future colonists?" the guard balked, "You're a surrogate!? Ex-military, big boy like you, and you're a mercenary mom!?"

"I wouldn't exactly put it that way, but it helps pay the bills. Does the ship have room?" Marcus tried his best to short-circuit the conversation and get back to the subject he was hoping to see progress made on.

"S'no wonder you got the dishonorable discharge. Shit, if I'd been in your unit and known you were gonna sink to this kinda... whorin' yourself out... damn, I'd have shot you myself." the guard said casually as he picked up the tablet, swiped through a few screens, and began clumsily thumbing his way through the instructions and forms.

"Then I guess I'm lucky we weren't in the same outfit." the dragon said, doing well to hide his distaste.

The guard was one of that sort; bigoted, close-minded, distrustful of anything that didn't measure up to their standard of 'manliness'. He probably couldn't stand the idea of anyone who wasn't completely male serving in the armed forces. But, this was to be a short visit. He would be out of Marcus' life in very short order.

"Right, captain's lookin' for another engineer, sure. You're clear. Get your tubby ass on up there. If you can fit through the door, fat boy." the guard said, handing the dragon's identification back to him, then began poking and prodding his stomach with his riot baton.

The crack about his weight had been unpleasant, but the unnecessary physical contact had been a step too far. With such a heavy load to carry, Marcus was more than just a little sensitive. If the guard had kept it up too much longer, he might have made a mess in his pants then and there. That would have been awkward, perhaps even a little suspicious. He really didn't need to be pulled out of line for 'additional checks'. A large, powerful hand gripped the baton and dragged it away from his stomach. Then, with the barest hint of a growl mixed with the sound of exceptionally cheap metal creaking and complaining, Marcus bent the baton upwards into a curve that pointed back at the dog.

"Don't. Poke. Me." he said slowly and with deliberate emphasis on each word.

It had likely been a poor idea to go about shutting the dog up in such a fashion. It was easy enough for him to lay some trumped up charges on the dragon like destruction of official law enforcement property, or maybe threatening a law enforcement officer. Thankfully, the dog in question was too stunned by the fact that his riot baton had been turned into a large, rather useless fishing hook with the absolute least amount of effort on the part of the large, pregnant, ex-military, and very angry dragon.

"G-g-g-go on through." the guard said.

Marcus turned without saying a word and waddled his way past the gate. He winced softly as he rubbed over where the blasted canine had poked him. He had only made things worse. There would be settings to tweak. As soon as he got to his quarters and could 'relax', he would pull the data node back out and fine tune his sensory inputs. This was still far too much to contend with.

The climb to get into the ship had Marcus panting for breath. It wasn't the exertion that left him winded, but rather the ache in his belly, and in his loins. Were he in the mood to actually explore this a bit further, he might have looked into finding the crew's gym and went for a little jog on the variable gravity treadmill. As it stood, he would need to report to the captain before liftoff and that left not much time for 'tension relief'.

The quartermaster didn't seem at all interested in going into the same degree of detail that the guard in the spaceport had. She was far too busy dealing with all the new temp crew to get bogged down with one somewhat unusual newcomer. She just issued him a single berth room, the largest uniform she could find, and a com-badge. Anything else he would need would be delivered to his quarters later.

Marcus didn't need to bother with checking the ship's diagram to know where his accommodations were to be found. He knew the exact model of transport all too well. He hurried through the corridors as best he could given his bulk and the presence of the other members of the crew. Most of them dove out of the way when they saw him barreling down towards them. The hatch to his quarters was sealed shut behind him as soon as he was in and he huffed loudly. One paw clutched at his stomach. The other tossed his pack onto the floor in the corner of the room. It was only just enough space for him to lie down on the floor and have his head in one corner, his paws in the opposite one, and just about touch the walls at both ends.

It would be enough, only just, but enough. Quickly, the rusty drake stripped out of his clothing and flopped into his bunk. It was as he expected it to be, too small for him to lie in head to tail flat on his back. He would need to curl up on his side for any degree of comfort. But then he wasn't looking for sleep at the moment. He lay on his back, one leg hiked up so that the knee stood alongside his rather rotund belly, the other hung off the edge of the bunk, paw flat on the floor for stability. He groped at his gut, feeling subtle hints of motion as his four passengers shuffled about from the change in gravity. One of his paws moved to his groin and began massaging his painfully stiff length.

"Dammit... I wanted... to wait... until after... temp crew... meets the captain. I can't wait. It has to be now!" the big fellow huffed loudly.

He pumped his fist furiously along his shaft. His tail swished about, curling upward before aiming to plunge in between his thighs. He had gotten quite good at tending to his own needs. It worried him slightly that perhaps it would leave any attempt at intimacy with another somewhat lacking. Then again, he didn't exactly have any plans on getting intimate with anyone else. The sounds of his groans were well muffled by the bulkheads surrounding him. Almost every ship had been built with soundproofing between compartments, even when it came to crew quarters for the lowest of the low. Even the brig had it. It helped drown out the engine noise. It also served as good radiation shielding. That meant no one would likely hear him making his cries of passion.

The dragon arched his back as he ran his free paw over his bloated middle. One or two passengers was bad enough, but manageable. This was turning into a form of torture. He could barely stand to even touch the dome. Even with how tender his belly was, it shocked him how quickly he reached the end. His entire form jerked and he let his voice hit a peak that some might call a roar. A hearty blast of white erupted from below, splattering across his stomach. The petals below pursed around his tail as it twisted about within. He clenched hard on the dexterous limb. A thorough soaking of nectar gave the invader a brilliant sheen. Marcus collapsed in a loose, relaxed heap as he panted for breath.

That was just the first of what would no doubt be very many sessions like that. He needed to adjust the sensitivity, and quickly. Otherwise, he might end up being known as the ship's lubricant dispenser. Not a role he relished. Before he did anything else, he cleaned himself up. That alone was a tricky prospect. He mopped up his stomach and groin with whatever he could get his paws on, then toss it in the small matter-fabricator for recycling--better than having a laundry station on board. As he did all of this, he found himself nearly hitting climax once again. Realizing how close he was, the drake delayed putting his pants back on to deal with the problem again.

This time, he hunched himself over the too-small toilet, hoping he could aim well enough. With the same rapidity of approaching the end, the dragon bellowed forth once more. His efforts to keep things contained did not go well. What had been a relatively clean facility--for a transport's temp crew quarters--was now fairly well coated in a splattering of dragon spunk. Through his pants to catch his breath, Marcus groaned and decided to not bother with cleaning the mess just yet. He had to get his sensitivity under control.

The big red fellow sat down on the edge of his bunk and prepared to open the hidden storage in his arm. Just as he was about to retrieve the watch housing the data node, a loud, heavy knock came from outside his hatch.

"Temp crew to cargo bay three! Meeting with the captain! Now!" called out a voice through the intercom.

"I need a few minutes!" Marcus shouted back after mashing the button to be heard outside.

"This ain't a fuckin' date! Get yer fat ass to cargo bay three! On the double!" shouted the voice in response.

The dragon grumbled again and picked himself up. It seemed everything would have to wait until he got back. He closed the compartment in his arm back up and dressed himself once more. It was difficult doing so without setting himself off, but he managed. The hatch was opened and closed with the hopes that no one saw the huge, sticky, white mess he had made already. Thankfully, the door's lock worked just fine, and his com badge was already registered to his room.

The gathering in the cargo bay was a decent size. Temp crew usually took up anywhere from fifteen to forty souls. Marcus' headcount told him he was one of thirty-two temps. He stood ramrod straight in formation with the others who recognized the importance of such a thing. There were eight who participated in it. The other twenty-four thought they were all absolutely mad. This wasn't a military ship after all.

"Attention!" boomed a voice, enunciating the word in such a way to suggest the speaker had spent plenty of time in the service.

Those who weren't in formation just turned to look, not really thinking too much of the voice.

"Captain on the deck!" shouted another voice, no doubt one of his prime crew.

"Why the hell aren't you all in formation!? Snap to it! Now! Or I'll have you tossed out the loading hatch! Who here thinks they can survive a twenty meter fall!?" roared the captain.

He was feline, spotted, stocky and fit. This was someone who had seen enough action to appreciate keeping himself in good physical condition. He had a scar over one eye, keeping it permanently closed. It gave him a grittier appearance than Marcus was used to seeing. There was the heavy overcoat expected of transport captains, then a thinner coat beneath. On the collar of the one underneath, he could see a couple of pips denoting he had been in the interstellar navy. Another serviceman who had been discharged?

"Look, captain. This ain't a military ship. It's a freighter, hauling people and cargo. Hell, the top three decks might as well be a pleasure cruise. If you think I'm gonna salute and snap to attention whenever you come in the room, you're out of your god damned mind."

It was one of the other temp crew, someone who had never been aboard ship before. All eight of those who had been in formation fought to suppress a wince. The old cat glared at the outspoken young avian and gestured to the crewman who had announced him. They moved to a nearby console as the captain gripped the bird by the collar of his shirt, tugged hard, and hurled him towards the closed cargo bay door. The crewman at the console operated the controls, opening the door in just enough time for the horrified avian to go flying out, then close back up with a loud slam of metal on metal.

"I hope featherbrain can fly. If not, I hope the port's safety nets are working. I didn't see any of them charged when we landed. Anyone else care to discover his fate?" the captain asked, slowly turning his gaze over the remaining temp crew who had not gotten into formation.

They all shuffled into position almost immediately. The demonstration had been effective. It made Marcus wonder if it had been for show, and the bird was actually part of the prime crew. No better way to guarantee obedience than to demonstrate how ruthless the captain was when it came to discipline, and it didn't require an actual sacrifice.

"I think they get the message, captain. Looks like this sorry lot can be taught." said the crewman who had worked the console.

"Good. Now listen up. My name is Captain Harris. I run a tight ship. You step out of line, you shirk your duties, you try to do things 'the easy way' rather than 'the right way', and you might just be lucky enough to be thrown in the brig rather than out the airlock," the captain said, slowly walking along in front of the first line of the temp crew, eventually stopping in front of Marcus, "You refer to me as 'Captain' or 'Sir'. Is that clear?"

"Aye sir!" reported the eight who had been in formation.

"What was that? I don't think I quite heard it." the captain said, intending for those who had been silent to speak up.

"Aye sir!" barked everyone this time.

"Good. Work well, and you'll be paid well. Work badly, and I'll make you wish you'd stayed on this god forsaken ball of dirt. Report to your department heads for duty." the captain said.

Everyone turned to leave, aiming to get as far from the frightening lynx as quickly as they could. Just as Marcus was about to do the same, a paw shot out and grabbed his arm at the elbow.

"Not so fast, Mr. Dragon," the captain said with a hint of a growl, "I need to have an extra word with you."

"Sir?" Marcus asked, moving to stand back at attention.

"I recognize your model. Enhanced infantry, special tactics. I even recognize the tattoo on your shoulder. You didn't try very hard to cover it up. Were you hoping to show it off?" Harris asked.

"Sir, no sir. I had only just gotten to my cabin when I was ordered to report to the cargo bay for inspection. I didn't have time to dress properly. I apologize, sir. It won't happen again." Marcus said, finding familiarity and a small degree of comfort in the formality of addressing a superior officer in such a manner.

"Right... you just happened to have just enough time to undress, but not get dressed again before inspection. I saw you when you boarded. I had you figured the minute you set foot on my ship. Dishonorable discharge. And you managed to avoid execution. Your file has a very colorful story detailing how you managed to get back out into civilian life without being dissected to salvage components." the cat said, hints of disdain seeping out around almost every single word.

"Sir, my record as temp crew on the last five transports should provide enough proof of my reputation since returning to civilian life, sir." Marcus replied.

This wasn't going anywhere good. He had encountered unpleasant captains before, those who had served and retired. Often the navy didn't take kindly to army, especially one that had a discharge like his.

"I don't give a damn how you've served on other ships. I want to know what the hell a former army raider is doing on my ship serving as temp crew, and why he's let himself go to hell the way he has!" Harris shouted, jabbing a finger forward at the dragon's stomach.

It made him wince, but he didn't allow himself to react with as much animation as he might have wished he could.

"I have a contract, sir. I'm transporting a group of future colonists, sir. I'm fit to perform whatever duties the chief engineer has for me to do, sir." Marcus replied.

"Future colonists," Harris spat the words out, "You mean you let yourself get knocked up with a bunch of test tube terraformers to be. Not much better than a common whore if you ask me. Since you're a former army raider, and you still have pretty much all your implants, would I be correct to assume you had all your weapons confiscated when you were kicked out?"

"Aye, sir. All military grade weaponry was extracted. The only features left that could potentially be considered weapons are my claws, teeth, and tail. And I'm not in the habit of using them for fighting, sir." the dragon explained.

"Right. You know, you're not the only one who's got himself a bio-scanner built in. I've been getting some pretty strange readings from that fat tub of lard of yours." Harris said, poking the drake's stomach again.

Once again, Marcus fought to keep his reactions measured and subdued. But it was getting more difficult. He couldn't do to the captain what he did to the guard outside. He'd end up removed from the transport. At least the captain wouldn't be able to throw him. Would he? Did he have any strength-enhancing augments?

"I'm currently using a compression agent to keep myself mobile while under contract. The field is stable and I should have access to enough power to keep it running until we land. There is nothing to worry about, sir. I won't let it interfere with my performance." Marcus said.

"Open the compartment on your arm." the captain said.

The dragon's blood ran cold. He had scanned him, certainly. He had no doubt seen that he had something hidden there. Trying to refuse would be unwise. Delaying or asking why would almost certainly raise suspicion. So, Marcus did as he was told. He slipped open the plates keeping the compartment in his forearm sealed and held out the limb for the cat to inspect. Inside, the pocket watch was resting quietly, looking terribly innocuous. Had the captain detected the data node?

"This one's full'a surprises ain't he, captain?" the crewman said, peering into the compartment.

"He is indeed," Harris said as he reached in and retrieved the item, "You've got a state of the art CBI, with a connection to the atomic clock network. Why the hell would you need an antique like this?"

"It belonged to my father, sir. It's all I have left to remember him by." Marcus lied.

He had bought it for cheap when he was looking for a way to conceal the data node. He had thought his efforts to insulate the interior with scan-blocking meta-material had been sufficient. Had he just been found out?

"It doesn't look like it works anymore. You keep a broken watch 'cause it reminds you of your daddy?" Captain Harris asked.

"Aye sir. It was damaged in the explosion that killed him. I cleaned it up best I could, but fixing it didn't seem right. Felt like it would be an insult to his memory." the dragon said.

"Don't try to win me over with stories of sentimental drivel, son. We've all lost someone. Attachment to things like this only get in the way." the lynx said, but there was something about the way he said it.

Marcus wasn't sure, but from the tone of the cat's voice, it suggested he might suspect there was more going on with the watch than had been overtly said. Maybe it was just that the captain simply didn't like him one bit, either because he was former army, or because of his colonist cover story. Really, the cover story was pretty close to the truth. He just had been dishonest about some of the details. He'd even created a special dampening field he designed himself. It would scatter a sensor sweep and send a false image to match his story. Had Harris seen through his deception? Had he dealt with smugglers in the past?

"With respect, sir, it's just a watch. I don't understand how it can get in the way of anything." Marcus said.

"Allow me to demonstrate." the captain said, then extended his arm out to the side.

The dragon watched, suddenly finding himself struggling to maintain his composure as the cat's fingers uncurled, letting the watch drop to the deck. It felt like it was happening in slow motion. The pocket watch hit the metal plate with a sickeningly loud clack, bounced once or twice, then came to a rest. Marcus stared at the antiquated thing with disbelief. The evidence was growing now. He had reason enough to believe that the captain might be on to him. If that was the case, then he was in trouble. And it didn't stop there. He might be in even more trouble than just being found out.

"Sir!" the dragon cried, moving to collect the dropped watch.

"As you were, crewman!" Harris shouted.

Marcus snapped back to attention, his heart beginning to race.

"Sir, I don't understand!" he cried in dismay.

"Something happens to this little trinket, you lose your head. It's already broken. Breaking it even more isn't gonna hurt it. I don't want you tinkering with this thing, then something happens and you show poor judgment because you just gotta save daddy's watch. Is my point clear now, Raider?" the captain said, spitting out the last word.

"C-clear... sir." the dragon said.

"Good. Go get yourself dressed and report to the chief engineer. And I better not hear reports of that gut of yours getting in the way of your work." the cat said, turning to leave.

In only a few moments, the drake was alone. He peered down at the watch as he tried to collect himself. After a moment, he carefully bent over to collect it. His stomach did indeed get in the way, but not in a fashion he wasn't used to. He turned the watch over and removed the back to examine the contents. His heart sank as he discovered what he had feared. The data node was cracked. Likely, it would still work. He could plug it in and pull some of the programming off of it, but it was guaranteed to have at least some corrupted and lost material.

"Shit... I gotta build another one pretty much from scratch now," Marcus grumbled, "Sorry guys... looks like you're gonna be stuck in there longer than expected. It took me over a year to get this one working right. Guess I better find a better way to hide it."

He turned to return to his quarters, idly running a paw over his swollen stomach. It wouldn't be all bad. He rather enjoyed having a load to transport. But this unreal sensitivity was going to be a nasty bit of business to contend with. If he was lucky, he might be able to slap something together to get that under control. In a few weeks. He was a terribly slow coder. He'd have to work even harder to keep the captain from coming down on him because his four 'pups' were going to keep him deeply distracted until he could block everything out.

At least the captain hadn't actually called him out for smuggling. Why didn't he? Maybe he would end up demanding part of Marcus' stipend as compensation for his silence. This particular transport assignment was suddenly looking a lot less profitable. At least he'd be able to extend how long he would get that stipend. And he could enjoy being pregnant for longer too. Once they were off world, there was a lot less chance of someone finding him out. Then he could allow himself to indulge a bit more often.

That was when it dawned on him. His pants were sticky. The poking into his stomach had made him 'pop' downstairs. Had the captain been picking on him? Was it all just to get a laugh at the dragon's expense? Marcus' cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Lube dispenser it is, I guess."

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