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Hearth Star: Cookout

By Psion

All Rights Reserved

With Lighthouse Station taken care of and the worst of his indigestion behind him, General Carbloat had a message sent off to Bargebottom's ship and promptly received one back. The endless game of one-upmanship between their services continued it seemed. The Star Corps saved a hidden colony of a previously unknown species; Space Fleet rescued the colony's leader plus about twenty-nine others that were either enslaved by Alyssa the pirate or about to be sold to her. Regardless, the matter was resolved and Bargebottom said she would be with him shortly, signing off with a catty reminder to keep from eating everything in the Wuff's monster zoo before they got there.

Carbloat merely snorted and looked over the reports coming in on his command console. The battle was over and the Star Corps were just cleaning up at this point. A few squads had been dispatched to help the local militia sweep Lighthouse Station for any lingering beasts, none had been found, while the rest were either helping with repairs or preparing for a well-earned celebratory cookout. Repairs were coming along… slowly, there was a lot of damage left over from previous attacks on the station since Governor Blackman was captured trying to lead a counter-attack on a smuggler that managed to get the jump on the station. Some feline named Starfang that feigned being a free trader in distress tricking them into letting him aboard and making off with a number of their people. The fight that the Star Corps had just interrupted was the last of several attacks that had taken their toll on the orbital colony. Even with the handful of combat mechanics Carbloat brought with him helping the locals, repairs would take the better part of a month standard before this station started looking like a proper Republic colony again. The troops definitely earned that barbeque and so did their new friends.

The cooking could have definitely been done aboard his troop carrier; the mess hall facilities were built to carve and grill up any space critter the Star Corps shot and killed in the field without difficulty. But an offhanded remark made by Mess Sergeant Crem got him thinking, when was the last time any of these human folks had a proper meal that didn't consist of someone else's dinner scraps? Even the healthy ones looked too skinny for Carbloat's GalRep tastes. So after a polite request and some explaining, the general managed to get Sergeant Crem and the rookie Mess Chefs cooking in and around an old civvie cantina the humans had been using as a cafeteria on the residential deck. While they cooked, other troopers drug the corpses of slain beasts and brought them to the improvised mess kitchen to be butchered and eventually served up. The Wuffs had collected these critters from across the known galaxy, domesticated and trained them to be fierce warbeasts, and now they ended their lives carried on a dinner plate towards a trooper's wide waistline or a human's growing one… Yes, that was something to quietly test the waters on once Bargebottom and he were able to sit down and talk with Governor Blackman. See just how open the humans would be to the idea of becoming members of the Galactic Republic and if so, how much integration would they be willing to do…

Mess Sergeant Crem smiled as she grilled up steaks of Orion Terrosaur on a Fusion Mess Unit. The smell of meat being cooked hung heavy in the air around the Bov Mess Chef as she cooked outside of the ratty-looking cantina that the humans had been using as a cafeteria. Civvies and militia alike stopped and watched her work for a few minutes before continuing on with whatever errands they were running. Apparently the humans found it odd to see a bovine lifeform cooking huge slabs of meat on a grill. But there was also no denying they weren't intrigued by the smell, which was ultimately the wisdom in Carbloat's decision to have the unit's Mess Chefs work on station instead of on the Liberty's Bastion. Have the new species smell and taste GalRep cooking first hand to help warm them up to the idea of becoming friends with the Galactic Republic. Help them associate the Galactic Republic with a belly full of warm food and the promise of more to come would go a ways towards making them friends. And looking at some of them, Crem was convinced that the humans could certainly use a proper GalRep meal. Good thing there was plenty of food and it was all coming along nicely. As the red-haired bovine chef turned her attention towards the Amph steaks sizzling on the grill, she wondered where Corporal Donka had waddled off to.

Corporal Donka had joined one the repair crew currently inspecting and fixing up the life support and hydroponics systems aboard the station. The big-bootied tan-furred Vul found that as educational as it was depressing. Unlike the rest of the station, the life support area had most of its equipment still in place and its efforts were bolstered by a sprawling hydroponics garden that was impressive in scale, yet lacking crop diversity or volume with rows upon rows of various leafy vegetables that were as small as they were green. If harvested right now, the vulpine combat mechanic estimated the produce wouldn't feed a handful of GalRep citizens for more then a week yet the humans had to stretch it for months. Still, it was an ingenious little system that was fed by a fertilization system that drew raw material from the station's sewage cisterns, even the Kultivars would have been hard pressed to come up with something better given the circumstances.

At the moment, Donka was waist deep inside a water purifier set up outside of the main garden. The Vul techie squeezed her torso into the narrow ductwork as her bloated stomach still happily gurgled the half-digested Amph. Transforming her Omni-Fork into a screwdriver, the overstuffed combat mechanic listened to the two humans with her talk between themselves as all three of them tried to fix this water purifier. Neither of them seemed to realize her helmet was capable of translating English and for the moment she was content to listen with them oblivious to that fact.

“I hate clean-up duty. Nothing ever works right after a fight." Athena, a swordswoman that apparently fought alongside Carbloat during the final defense of the station, complained rudely as she gave an old filter a hard yank.

“Clean-up is important, if we don't have clean water and air after we've beaten back the Wuffs, we've still lost." That was the human scientist Gina “Yin-Yang" Stewart, a pale-skinned woman nicknamed for a tattoo on her shoulder, a tattoo that also identified her as someone that might be of interest to Donka.

“Bet you never had to worry about clean-up back when the Wuffs had you fighting in the arena. Just go in, kick some pirate ass, then go back and prepare for the next fight." Athena replied, mentioning something that caused Donka to listen intently.

The other female was silent; Donka pictured her focusing on the diagnostic readouts instead of replying to Athena's comment. Meanwhile the hot-blooded warrior woman was clearly not willing to accept being ignored. “Oh come on, you even won a manservant from the bitch queen herself, Captain Alyssa, when she was stupid enough to bet against you. Some geeky… what's thunder thighs species again?"

“Who's thunder thighs again?" Gina asked with a bored tone as she continued to watch diagnostic displays and press the occasional button.

“This fox bitch Briggs partnered us up with." Athena responded impatiently as she finished yanking out the filters and setting them on a nearby cart, Donka could just picture the human fighter gesturing to her expansive armored rear, jiggling inside her motorized BDUs as she feigned struggling with a simple repair job with the water purifier's inner electronics. Already the Vul combat mechanic didn't like the human swordfighter and she got the distinct impression Gina didn't either.

“Oh, Corporal Donka. She's a Vul. You know you really should come up with something more descriptive then thunder thighs or tank ass if you're going to make up rude names for each and every one of the Star Corps guys that came charging in like a bunch of limeade-colored Kool-Aid Men as they all have a spare tire big enough for a monster truck… I wonder if the stories of the Galactic Republic really are true and they really do have an endless supply of food." Gina replied.

“Right, you won a Vul that became your personal servant. Whatever happened to that guy anyway?" Athena replied, ignoring Gina's own comment.

“I took a risk and cut a deal with a gunrunner that smuggled him off of the Hearth Star… and never saw him again. Shouldn't you be taking that cart down to recycling?" Stewart answered in a cutting tone that clearly said that this conversation was done.

Athena huffed but ultimately complied, storming off with the cart in tow. Meanwhile Donka started to push herself out of the purifier's electrical system only to discover she couldn't budge. The Amph she ate earlier had the last laugh after all, wedging her belly and booty nice and tight in the narrow ducts. “Ummm, Ms. Stewart? Can you help me? I think I'm stuck." She called out, resisting the urge to smile as she pictured the antics that were about to take place.

Gina sighed and, with some effort, lifted up the vixen's legs and gave her a hard pull. One good, hard yank later, the corporal popped right out and knocked the human researcher over, landing butt-first on the other female's chest.

“Well then…" Donka smiled and took her helmet off as she turned around to face Gina. Oversized ears twitched as the vixen quickly listened for the sound of Athena returning or some other person coming by at a convenient time to interrupt her and make this any more embarrassing then it already was. “That Vul you saved from Captain Alyssa, what was his name?" She asked intently.

“How? How do you know?" Gina replied, arms squirming as she fought to deal with the heavy weight of Donka's rump sitting squarely on her pelvis.

“Translation software built into my helmet. Was the Vul's name Donge?"

“Yes… yes it was. Why do you want to know?" Stewart asked suspiciously as she tried to move her arms and reach for a weapon in case she had to defend herself, the corporal could tell that the other woman was very guarded about Donge.

Donka declined to answer, at least verbally. Instead she gave the human woman a passionate kiss squarely on the lips before pulling away with a smile and a wink. “Thank you for saving my husband. Was that a good show of gratitude?"

Gina blinked, at first surprised that it happened, then smiled back sheepishly. “Well it certainly is better then how I expected this to go. Could you please get off of me though?"

Donka giggled and obliged her, standing up and giving her rump a slight jiggle as she rose to her feet. First contact was made and it appeared to have gone well…

General Carbloat sat in the main docking nexus and groaned as his expansive stomach churned the digesting jelly bugs, his command console notified him with a sensor report update from Liberty's Bastion. The Space Fleet ships Stout Defiance and Silver Pantry arrived in orbit around the station with Humanity's Vengeance, the human vessel the Star Corps found at Wannabang, in tow. The rhino commander smiled; finally they could start talking in earnest. Pirates and jelly bugs… well if things were simple they wouldn't need the Star Corps, the general decided as he watched the other ships dock with the station and their crews disembark.

First were Governor Gabriel Blackman with the crew and passengers of Humanity's Vengeance, fifteen human guerrillas escorting at least as many freed human prisoners from the bottom decks of Captain Alyssa's raider. The former slaves of the Amazonian pirate looked about as unsettling as the general expected, initially shielding their faces from the artificial light of Lighthouse Station until their eyes adjusted and they realized they were finally safe. All of them looked badly starved, alone an atrocity to anyone in the Galactic Republic, and several of them staggered or stumbled as they walked along the metal floor of the station. Those that were hurt were quickly helped up and taken to the station hospital by their peers while the rest were gathered up and counted for.

Admiral Bargebottom and the crews of the Defiance, Pantry, and the downed Forager lumbered in behind the procession of humans. The admiral herself looked as comfortable with the sight of things as Carbloat did while most of the Space Fleet crewmen behind her likewise appeared distressed or regarding the humans with a look of sympathetic pity.

“Things like this remind you why the Republic needs its defenders." Carbloat began as he approached the fleet officer and the others.

“Indeed…" Bargebottom replied, the urge to make a catty remark at the Star Corps clearly gone at the moment. “So, what have you been doing now that the shooting stopped?" She asked, more of a general question then a pointed dig.

“The station wasn't heavily damaged in the attack, fortunate as it's still badly rundown. I've sent my combat mechanics out to assist the damage control teams lieutenant governor Briggs assembled yet I'm sure they could still use more engineers. We've commandeered the station cafeteria to cook up the Wuffs' little pets and serve as a general mess hall, chow should be done in a few hours standard, the troopers earned a good barbeque after that fight and an introduction to GalRep cooking is long overdue for the humans."

“And the hospital?"

“Surprisingly fine if over its intended capacity. The corpsmen are helping what currently passes for medical staff. Apparently that Starfang fellow Longfoot rescued Gabriel and his men from made off with several human doctors as part of a slave raid."

Admiral Bargebottom nodded and exhaled. “Alright, Commander Longfoot!" The immense feline began. “Take your crew and the other Fleet engineers and find this Briggs fellow, see what else is broken on this relic and start fixing what you can. Master Chief Cottontail, Ensign Cheddah, go to where the Corps Mess Chefs have set up and see what you can do to help them." She ordered, issuing out assignments rapid-fire.

Longfoot nodded and assembled a repair team just as Governor Blackman finished making his way towards the gathered rotund soldiers. Master Chief Cottontail, Bargebottom's personal Lapeen chef, wrinkled his nose slightly at the prospect of being ordered to help Star Corps Mess Chefs while Ensign Cheddah took one, plainly perturbed, look at the humans they had rescued from Captain Alyssa before nodding his head and giving the admiral a brisk salute. That was one that would go much further in Galley Services then he realized, Bargebottom decided as she noted the concerned look in his eyes.

“Well, you certainly make yourselves at home fast." Blackman remarked dryly as Bargebottom dismissed her subordinates with their assigned tasks, regarding the general and admiral with the grin of someone that wasn't sure if he should be grateful or insulted by how quickly the two alien commanders took control of things on his colony.

“They'll need something to do while the three of us discuss your people's future. And it looks like you have plenty to pass the time." Bargebottom replied wiry.

“I had a feeling you'd want something. Do you want to continue this conversation in my office? Might as well use that room for something." The governor asked.

After a brief tour through the main areas of the station, Bargebottom and Carbloat sat in Blackman's office off of the main command and control module. Outside of the small office, humans stood and observed displays or sat at monitoring stations built to comfortably sit beings much larger then they were. In Blackman's office, most of the room was taken up by the furnishings of the original stationmaster and stripped of any real identity. A few trinkets here and there lined the desk and shelves but hardly gave a glimpse into the mind of the man currently occupying the room, more telling was how he looked positively claustrophobic in the relatively small space with two hovering military officers that were each as big as a small ground car. Pantry-sized stomachs wobbled slightly as both officers shifted their weight to make themselves comfortable for a long chat.

“Well then… what do you want?" The weathered human leader began finally.

“Not much of a politician, are you?" Carbloat replied with a slight grin. Already he was starting to like this guy.

“I was a civil engineer before the Wuffs sacked Earth, dealt with enough bureaucrats in my old life. And I never knew anyone that offered something without wanting something in return." The stationmaster replied matter of fact.

“Well then, while your tact may leave something to be desired, your upfrontness is a pleasant change from the Senate and the diplomatic corps." The admiral had to admit; something about this older human intrigued her even though he was on the scrawny side of things. “As for what we want. Well in the short-term we would like to establish a military base and a GAS research outpost on the station to help protect you, further explore this sector of space, and make this a proper station again. Your agricultural system, while inventive given what you have to work with, is absolutely laughable by GalRep standards. And your manufacturing capabilities are likewise below GalRep standards. That is something we will have to change if we were to set up a base on Lighthouse Station."

“And long-term?" Blackman asked with the casualness of someone who was slightly suspicious but didn't want to appear so.

Carbloat decided to just skip Bargebottom's niceties. “In the end, we want you to join the Galactic Republic. There is resistance to the idea of course. Many in the Senate think you're a bunch of hot-blooded space barbarians like the Wuffs but that's why we need you. You can fight and fight surprisingly well for a species that's at a disadvantage against everyone else in the known galaxy as far as technology goes. Plus, the fact that we're even having this discussion means you're much more reasonable then the Wuffs. Join us and you can stop being a race of refugees and scavengers and start being more like us."

“That's not particularly hard. As for joining you, that's a decision I'm not going to make without getting the rest of my people off of the Hearth Star first. Even still… do I dare ask what you mean by becoming more like you?"

“Well for starters, like Bargebottom said, your food production is a joke and your storage methods are not much better. That needs to change, and it will, once the Galactic Academy and we get settled and start showing you how we grow and store food. Rationing like your people are probably used to is something the Republic hasn't had to do for centuries and dang it, we aren't going to start now." The Star Corps general replied, slapping his sprawling bug-fed gut for emphasis.

Blackman sighed and snorted. “So many rude comments come to my mind, all of them entirely justified. I've been fighting with resource shortages since we found this station and fighting with the Wuffs for twice as long, you think I'm scared of an entire civilization of blubberballs that refuse to go on a diet?"

“Yet you also acknowledge that there is an entire civilization where every last being is wonderfully corpulent. Yes, even our rank-and-file eat enough to feed four of your people; I do not recall denying that. I also do not recall saying we wouldn't share." Bargebottom countered, watching the governor's face to gauge his shifting disposition. “Dr. Soufee's notes on you said you were friends with guild master Ironbelly, leader of the Guilder holdouts on the Hearth Star, you should know-"

“What I 'know' admiral are stories about your Republic that I politely pretended to believe to get Ironbelly and her engineers to talk to us so we could start figuring out how to control the Hearth Star's many systems. She's probably still trying to figure out how to get a Traktor farm started on-"

“Actually the Traktor farm was finally started about a week after your first settlement, Blackman's Junction I believe it was called, mysteriously disappeared as far as any of them know. They should be having their first full harvest anytime now. And those stories are all true."

“Entire planets devoted to farmland? Provision Generators that replicate full meals from a nutrient paste made from grinding up various otherwise unappetizing odds and ends? Refrigerators that can keep food perfectly preserved for centuries? A post-scarcity capitalist society where the essentials are made so cheaply that they're practically given away?"

“Yes to all the above. We could easily give you the Silver Pantry's entire cargo of food rations, several times over no less, and it wouldn't be a noticeable blip in the Republic's overall food production." Bargebottom replied, reaching around to rub her massive belly as well as she could. “Be reasonable governor, how else do you think the Republic has gotten so round?" She asked, pressing her hands into her gelatinous middle for emphasis.

“Oppressing lesser sapient species and using them like livestock… I'm joking. I suppose I don't really have a choice then. We either continue on the way we have, which is not particularly well, or I accept your immediate offer to set up a military base and a research laboratory in exchange for an end to our problems with rationing and the Wuffs trying to raid our settlement. In that case my choice is simple, I'll see what space we can set aside for a base then. Speaking of raids though, I found the location of a Wuff wrecking yard that's chopping up GalRep military vessels shortly before I was captured, they have a number of my people enslaved there. Since we're both trying to be friends, it's just something I thought you'd be interested in…" Governor Blackman quipped as the three officials began discussing the finer details of humanity's first agreement with the Galactic Republic.

Meanwhile, Mess Sergeant Crem continued to cook as her time dwindled down. There was still so much to do and not enough hands available to get it done; General Carbloat only had three Mess Chefs to handle fifty hungry troopers and at least twice as many hungry humans. There was no doubt there was enough meat for everyone to have plenty, there definitely was enough Jelly Bug jelly to serve as a nice glaze over all of the meat, but there were still other things she needed to get done before dinnertime.

“Excuse me ma'am, are you the Mess Chef in charge?" A soft voice squeaked, causing her to look up from her Fusion Mess Unit. The owner of the voice was an effeminate Rubent male in a black Space Fleet uniform with the colored highlights and floppy hat of a Galley Services officer. Standing next to him was a Lapeen Space Fleet petty officer wearing the same uniform colors and a frumpy scowl silently leering at her.

“Mess Sergeant Crem and yes I am." She greeted, reaching over the grill to shake the Rubent male's gloved hand.

“Ensign Cheddah, a pleasure to meet you. This is Master Chief Cottontail, Admiral Bargebottom sent us to help you prepare dinner."

Crem fought to avoid visibly cringing, two Galley Service cooks from Space Fleet with three Star Corps Mess Chefs in the same kitchen. Cottontail already looked like he had made up his mind on whether or not he was going to enjoy it and the rotund Bov could feel her two sous chefs glaring right back at their Space Fleet rivals. Military cooks in both branches had been rivals for as long as there was a Galactic Republic. Still, it wasn't like she could refuse the help. “Good, I'm glad to see you. We need someone to finish up a soup I started for the worst cases and we need someone to prepare a starch to go with the meat and the gravy."

“I'll take the bread." Cottontail stated simply, picking the assignment that puts him the furthest away from the others.

“Oh I love making soups, my best dish in the academy was a four-cheese soup." Cheddah smiled, seemingly unconcerned that the task would sandwich him right between Crem's sous chefs.

Crem nodded as her rivals took their positions, watching as Cheddah waddled over to the bubbling cauldron of thin soup the Mess Chef has started for a handful of humans she had seen brought aboard the station after being rescued from the lower levels of a pirate ship. Almost on reflex one of her assistants had tried to block the Rubent from the stove but the pear-shaped blond rodent merely snickered and gently hip-checked the other male out of his way before turning his Omni-Fork into a tasting spoon and sampled what Crem had started him.

“Hmmm… interesting flavor but I can see where you were going with this." The big-bottomed chef mused before tossing in pinches of a few choice spices Crem had brought over from her ship.

Having already felt or seen the inertia Cheddah was packing in his expansive rear, the two Star Corps Mess Chefs left him alone as he continued to stir Crem's soup and adding a few things to taste before replicating the recipe into a second towering pot of soup. Meanwhile the meat was done, the bread was almost ready to come out of the oven, and the station's inhabitants and guests were just starting to form a line. Time for chow…

Bargebottom ignored the slight rumble in her cavernous stomach as she observed the crowd in the cafeteria and how the locals handled it. First in line were the humans liberated from the Crown of Thorns, each of them handed a bowl of soup by Ensign Cheddah who did his best to smile as he ladled out bowls. After they were seen to it pretty much became whoever got in line first behind them. Crem and Cheddah continued to serve, doling out generous servings to everyone and getting a few disbelieving stares from the humans in response, the locals apparently hadn't eaten this well in a while. Meanwhile the immobile feline admiral studied the humans as Carbloat, Longfoot, Cyptal, and herself waited behind the rest of the procession with Blackman and his command staff. The population of Lighthouse Station appeared to be mostly male, with few females and fewer children. Of the children, none of them appeared to be below a certain age. Gina Stewart, Blackman's acting chief scientist, noticed the fleet officer's gaze.

“Most of the women are still trapped on the pleasure decks on the Hearth Star, we had never been particularly successful at piercing that deeply into the Wuff-held portions of the ship. The few that made it down were hardened fighters like Athena or troublesome girls like me that were too smart for our own good." Stewart began, trying to answer the admiral's unspoken question while seemingly lost in thought as she scanned the crowd, seemingly for someone in particular.

“What about the children?" The pear-shaped Commander Longfoot asked.

Almost immediately Gina's face developed a disheartened frown that told the GalRep officers they wasn't going to like the answer. “Those that were old enough were usually put to work crawling around the conduits and maintenance ducts aboard the Hearth Star. Those that were too young or not mentally quick enough to learn the task were… disposed of."

“How were the children disposed of?" The younger Bargebottom asked as the group ambled within earshot of the GalRep chefs, getting a brief glare from her mother. The admiral could already tell that this was not the kind of thing discussed right before a meal.

Gina's expression immediately changed, from depressed to a mixture of confused delight as if she wasn't sure if she was supposed to be enjoying the mental image that popped into her head. Seeing the look on his scientist's face, Blackman chose that moment to insert himself into the conversation. “Don't trouble yourself with that. Just sit down, enjoy dinner and if there's anything left after everyone's had their fill, feel free to have seconds… and thirds and fourths if you'd like." He interrupted loudly enough for both cooks working the cafeteria line to hear him, his tone and expression allowing everyone within earshot that had been listening so far to fill in the blanks well enough.

Crem's grip tightened around her knife as she began to serve noticeably larger portions to everyone left in line. Her free hand twitched as she fought the urge to subconsciously stroke the Bug Eater patch on her shoulder. Lt. Bakin was the last in front of the senior officers and civilian leaders, seemingly oblivious to who was behind her, the porcine medic looked like she was about to say something catty to the red and white bovine chef behind the counter then took one look at the fire in Crem's eyes and thought better of it. “Smells like you've done it again Crem." The Star Corps combat medic said instead, taking a whiff of the aromas wafting off of her tray before moving along.

There was an awkward silence as the redheaded female served the final choice steaks of the Orion Terrosaur to the general and the others before scraping up the odds and ends with the flat of her knife and making a big show of putting them in her mouth and chewing. “Can see why Terrosaur is your favorite sir; excellent texture, nice lattice of muscle and fat tissue spread evenly throughout, can definitely see why there's a rumor that you swallowed a live one whole."

Carbloat chuckled a little and rubbed his expansive olive-clad stomach wistfully as he balanced his offered tray on his bulging midsection. “Ah yes, I would have thought the troopers would have gotten tired of telling that story. Though judging by the smell of what you cooked up for me Sergeant Crem, if I had you with me then I wouldn't have settled for eating it raw."

“Thank you sir. We still have deep-fried spider beast, amph steak and roast, fifty gallons of jelly bug jelly, and a meat stew made from various odds and ends. Everyone's welcome to seconds and thirds." Crem replied with a smile after swallowing the chunks in her mouth, her free hand still twitching ever so slightly.

“You alright?" Blackman asked the chef as the rest of the group received their meals, his tone not quite concerned but definitely curious.

“Yes I am fine." She replied, succumbing to the urge to stroke her shoulder patch. Gauntleted Bov fingers gently caressed the cartoonish head of a Jelly Bug on her shoulder plate.

“Nice badge, is that for being in a particular unit?" He asked, noticing the Bug Eater insignia thanks to her none too subtle display.

“It's a Bug Eater patch, they're issued to Troopers at corporal or above that have served on five or more bug hunts." She explained, quickly serving everyone else the last of the Terrosaur steaks.

“Bug hunts?" Stewart asked inquisitively, his interest clearly stoked.

“Monster hunts would probably be more accurate, it means I went on at least five missions to kill things that were eating GalRep citizens." Crem elaborated, the mountainous pear-shaped bovine started to acquire a grim look on her face.

“Things like what you cooked up just now?" Blackman asked politely, gesturing to the full trays.

“Yes, and many other things like them that now have a new home on a GalRep waistline. Either mine or my unit's." The cow-alien replied, casting an eye towards the pile of food in the cafeteria kitchen behind her with a look of determination. One way or another, none of what she prepared was going to waste.

“I see then." The human governor replied as he looked over the portly mess sergeant in detail, the condescending outlook he had towards the GalRep soldiers and their wobbly waistlines acquiring a more sympathetic tone to it. “Well sergeant, let no one tell you that you do not have anything less then the finest monster-fed figure in your unit." He complimented, getting stares from Carbloat and Bargebottom as Crem blushed ever so slightly before turning back to serving the next course.

“What? Oh I still mean everything I said to you two before I caved to your requests. But those things… I suppose what we haven't said about the Wuff warbeasts is far more telling then what we have said. So yes, eat up. Eat up and if some of you end up following some of my people home for some… dessert, well I don't know what your rules are on such things but well as long as it's consensual and no one has any diseases… I saw nothing." The governor explained, clearly enjoying the roundabout vengeance his people were having on the Wuff warbeasts.

Bargebottom and Carbloat said nothing but smiled inwardly. Yes there were regulations against frivolous fraternization with civilians, especially ones from largely unknown species, that were admittedly ignored more often then not but the fact remained that he was warming up to the notion of being at least allies with the Galactic Republic even if he refused to commit to anything significant. That was fine with them, there would be time later to push for anything further and besides, there was dinner to be had.

Longfoot groaned as she lumbered back to her quarters on the Silver Pantry. Well if there was any question among the humans if the Lapeens were a race of omnivores, she certainly answered it tonight. Her doughy stomach bulged full of meat from half a dozen different creatures, audibly groaning and churning as she slowly waddled to bed. Every step made her wide middle wobble violently, the Space Fleet engineer smiled uncomfortably as her brown-furred stomach stretched her elastic uniform as she undressed and went to sleep. Dinner had gone surprisingly well considering how stodgy some of the humans appeared to be in response to the sudden flood of GalRep sailors and soldiers. The cooks had outdone themselves in both quantity and quality; everyone got back up for thirds and fourths even their human hosts. The furless beings decided to relax and live it up. Probably because they were cynical enough to think that this wasn't going to be a regular occurrence. Bael couldn't help but giggle at that, those poor naïve little humans still had no idea that their world was going to be changing completely after today.

Even after tonight, there was still enough meat to last the humans for a few weeks. And if the rumors that the admiral had gotten Governor Blackman to cave to a request to establish a GalRep presence on the station were true, then the meat would run out just in time for GalRep rations to start coming in and with them the improvements to the station's agriculture. Longfoot could only wonder what they would do once they realized that tonight's dinner was only appetizer to an endless multi-course meal. Already she heard that some of her crew was placing bets on the amount of time before the humans started getting rounder themselves. Completely silly but she had to admit she was curious as well, maybe she'd see this pool and place a bet herself. Maybe if they returned after the admiralty was gone, they could see if the humans were interested in exploring the expansive frontiers of the Galactic Republic's people, she thought with a smirk as she got settled under the covers and let her stomach audibly groan and churn.

Lying down on her side, she gently rubbed her bloated middle as her body dutifully worked to turn consumed meat into soft lapine blubber. Today was a good day. Today she saved a civilian leader of a newly discovered species, showed up her rival, helped repair a struggling colony, and ended the day consigning alien monsters to her waistline. Tomorrow, the admiral wanted to speak with both Cryptal and herself, either to issue new orders or address the one lingering issue left over from the day's events. Regardless of how that particular matter played out, it wouldn't change that today had been a good day for Space Fleet…

Donka stared into space as she lay in her bunk back aboard the Liberty's Bastion. Her olive-clad stomach rose above her like a small mountain and groaned in protest of being crammed full of Crem's cooking before it finished digesting the war beast the Vul devoured during the battle for the station. Giving her belly a gentle pat, the gluttonous corporal suppressed a belch as she dug into her pocket for the one thing she had looked at a dozen times before. Her vulpine fingers trembled slightly as she opened the hard plastic box and examined the contents.

Lying on a felt interior was a black collar, several slender strands of highly elastic material woven in an interlocking braid. The throat of the collar consisted of a magnificent azure crystal wreathed by delicately assembled gold circuitry, the glistening yellow circuits intersecting with the data crystal at regular intervals. Donka sighed as she closed the lid on the Vul wedding collar, a mate to the ones around her and her husband's necks. Sliding the box back into her pocket, she went back to finding something interesting about the bunk above her, the alloy frame bucking ever so slightly under the weight of Crem. On the positive, she found the human woman who saved her husband from Captain Alyssa and kept him safe when he was stuck aboard the Hearth Star. On the negative, she had no idea what to do with that information now that she had it. Oh well, it looked like she still had time to figure that out and gather more data on the mysterious Gina Stewart, ex-gladiator and currently sole scientist in Blackman's retinue. Time to figure out how she was going to propose the idea of marriage to Ms. Stewart….