I take Stephanie into herself via the docking canopy, of course. It's a tight fit and takes some time to navigate, but taking Stephanie's remote off plane to go the quick way isn't the brightest of ideas: She'd lose access partway through, I'd end up needing to carry her.
So we walk through her corridors, into her quarters (she's using an officer's cabin to store the accessories for her remote, but she IS the ship… and I get the captain’s cabin). I then activate my Ring of X-Ray Vision (I'm immune to the Constitution damage, so the drawback doesn't matter for me), and look at Stephanie’s remote… and yes, she looks eight months pregnant with twins at this point. She has a big round belly to go with her big round massive milk makers.
Power armor is interesting… this one still has the gap to fit a small humanoid, just because she's still fundamentally built as power armor. The babies aren't growing in that gap, though: They're growing in her womb. And no, I did not put that there: Patricia's power did. Inside, there's two “babies” growing, each with a bright blue soul. One I recognize as what it's going to be: A hologram core, much like Euler's, and nearly as big… so I'm guessing he's close to done.
I still don't know what to make of his brother. He's a shifting mass of very, very tiny robots styled much like ants. They're not quite nanites, as I can make them out individually with my eyes: Each component robot is maybe a sixteenth of an inch long… but he isn't just the ant-like robots: There's a roughly baby-sized and baby-shaped frame there, looking much like a skeleton… except that the ribs connect to each other, forming the torso into a solid sealed unit, and his pelvis is similarly a larger sealed unit… the skull as well, for that matter. He's roughly humanoid, but… well. Watching a while, it becomes clear the ‘ants’ are produced within the pelvis area, they don't make each other. Huh.
Both are larger than when I last looked, and I can see their bright blue souls, so they're still alive and growing. Well… ‘alive’ at least. They're not the same as organic life but… they tick the boxes of gathering energy, using it, and apparently making more of themselves, so… maybe they are life, full stop?
Regardless, I have their larger forms to check on as well, “They seem healthy… they're getting bigger, almost ready to come out, I think. Ready for me to check on their big bodies?”
Stephanie smiles, “You can check me out anytime….” wait… that's more of a lecherous grin, isn't it?
I deactivate my Ring of X-Ray Vision, “Okay. I'll see you in a bit…”
Stephanie waves, and I head… not exactly outside, but out of Stephanie's main body, to the space between her inner and outer hulls. Even if I was properly outside… we're in the drift, there's very little there, Stephanie's shields work fine for random things, and invisibly does wonders for defense against active threats.
Oh yes, and I'm basically immortal.
So no, I’m not even slightly concerned as I slip in under Stephanie's outer hull and make my way to her “womb”.... and yes, both ships are coming along nicely, up to a good eighty feet long (basically nothing to Stephanie's fifteen hundred) and still growing. At this point, I can make out what the weapons are going to be: Tzibeams. A light one in front, and a heavy one on the turret. Not a weapon I would have picked - I like Long range weapons to avoid return fire, and the light one is only Short range, while the heavy one is Medium - but they're excellent for capturing ships intact. Against a shielded ship, they do full damage to the shields, and a tiny amount of damage to the crew members. When used against an unshielded ship, it does minimal damage to the hull, and a lot of damage to the crew. It’s hilariously good against most larger ships: On ships larger than large, the officers are leveled, but the crew is a bunch of unleveled fodder… and there’s a certain minimum number of people needed to keep the ship running. A couple of hits, even through shields, will knock out or kill the crew, leaving just the officers mobile… who won’t be enough to run the ship, leaving it dead in space. It’s actually pretty great for someone who’s otherwise outgunned. It does have a significant drawback, though: The crew damage is all negative energy. If the ship is run by creatures that don’t care or even like that - undead are called out as being healed in the Death Field property description - then anyone relying on Tzibeams as their primary weapons are going to need to run… and there’s an entire planet with it’s own fleet in Starfinder that runs that way, with some dozen different sample ships in the books.
Of course, I have a practical ethical dilemma coming up from this: The two babies are not invisible, and the docking canopy doesn’t completely enclose a docked ship. Once they’re born, if we keep them with us, they’ll give away our positions… and we’re being hunted at the moment… possibly. Which means we’d be putting the kids at risk. Abandoning them, though? Obviously not a great choice. I could make them invisible…but they’re babies, and male ones at that. I don’t want to warp them…
“Bless them,” my pink partner Patricia interjects.
…right. Regardless… the same way I’ve done to my companions. Euler and Linda chose it, Cowbird and Stephanie deserved it. These are kids; babies, even: They don’t know what they’d be losing. I mean, I'd ask my companions, but they all greatly enjoy their state, so I already have a fair idea what they'll say….
“If you only ask their opinion when you know (or don't care) about the answers,” Patricia interrupts my musings, “then are you really treating them as equals?”
Umm….
“Not that I care, mind,” she continues, “I'm all for you being their goddess and making decisions for them most of the time, but…” she makes a sound in my head reminiscent of licking lips, “your current path doesn't have us eating those tasty, tasty essences - newborn souls are the best - so I'm hoping they can convince you otherwise.”
At least you're honest about your motivation.
“I can't deceive you.”
Right. But if you were lying, you'd say something very much like that, wouldn't you?
“I suppose so. But I'm part of you now, so if you think about it, you should be able to directly review my memory of this conversation….”
I don't want to assimilate your sparkling personality by accident, Patricia.
“No risk there.”
Hmm. Unless… paranoia is an ugly thing, but you devour pieces of souls, so I'm keeping it up here.
“Have it your way.”
But she does have a point. It is hypocritical of me to only ask when I expect I'll like the answer. And who knows? They may surprise me with an option or possibility I haven't considered: One person can't think of everything, after all: “In the multitude of counselors there is safety.”
So I will stop and ask them.
…eventually. We're in uncharted territory, here. Given exactly what's growing inside of Stephanie, it's entirely possible they'll be born as adults in all ways that matter. So really, there's little reason to worry about it now, there's no reason to go looking for trouble.
And of course, Stephanie is waiting for a report, “They seem healthy,” I send her over my magic com unit, “Would you like to bring your remote out here to look for yourself?” You can, now.
I get a squee back over the com. I'm not sure if it's a good thing that the magic com doesn't go through my eardrums. On the one hand, this means I don’t go deaf from the volume. On the other, it means I “get” to hear the entire squee.
“I'll take that as a yes,” I send back once she's done, “See you shortly.”
I wait, and soon enough her remote unit climbs through the access hatch I've been using to reach the space between her inner and outer hulls, her giant jugs jostling each other in the zero g environment… and yet the twin basketballs on her chest don't get in her way.
“Klutzy isn't in my source fantasy,” Patricia sends me the mental equivalent of a shrug, “so everyone affected remains exactly as competent as they were previously, even when that makes little or no sense.”
It's still bizarre.
“It’s normal to me…” of course it is, Patricia. I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually.
Stephanie takes a look around,taking her time to examine her pending birth offspring… and I wonder, “I'm curious: You haven't been particularly interested in your prior children… why the interest in these ones?”
She shrugs, not looking at me, “The others were just soulless things, without even a useful virtual intelligence. These ones have souls. They're actual people… or will be. I'm not exactly clear on where that starts.”
Neither is anybody else, really, outside of religious works, “There's no universal answer for that one. But souls are confirmable here, and they have them.”
I give her a bit to examine her children, amd eventually… “I'm heading back inside. Have fun.”
She waves at me as I walk off, and enter her big body properly.
I take Stephanie into herself via the docking canopy, of course. It's a tight fit and takes some time to navigate, but taking Stephanie's remote off plane to go the quick way isn't the brightest of ideas: She'd lose access partway through, I'd end up needing to carry her.
So we walk through her corridors, into her quarters (she's using an officer's cabin to store the accessories for her remote, but she IS the ship… and I get the captain’s cabin). I then activate my Ring of X-Ray Vision (I'm immune to the Constitution damage, so the drawback doesn't matter for me), and look at Stephanie’s remote… and yes, she looks eight months pregnant with twins at this point. She has a big round belly to go with her big round massive milk makers.
Power armor is interesting… this one still has the gap to fit a small humanoid, just because she's still fundamentally built as power armor. The babies aren't growing in that gap, though: They're growing in her womb. And no, I did not put that there: Patricia's power did. Inside, there's two “babies” growing, each with a bright blue soul. One I recognize as what it's going to be: A hologram core, much like Euler's, and nearly as big… so I'm guessing he's close to done.
I still don't know what to make of his brother. He's a shifting mass of very, very tiny robots styled much like ants. They're not quite nanites, as I can make them out individually with my eyes: Each component robot is maybe a sixteenth of an inch long… but he isn't just the ant-like robots: There's a roughly baby-sized and baby-shaped frame there, looking much like a skeleton… except that the ribs connect to each other, forming the torso into a solid sealed unit, and his pelvis is similarly a larger sealed unit… the skull as well, for that matter. He's roughly humanoid, but… well. Watching a while, it becomes clear the ‘ants’ are produced within the pelvis area, they don't make each other. Huh.
Both are larger than when I last looked, and I can see their bright blue souls, so they're still alive and growing. Well… ‘alive’ at least. They're not the same as organic life but… they tick the boxes of gathering energy, using it, and apparently making more of themselves, so… maybe they are life, full stop?
Regardless, I have their larger forms to check on as well, “They seem healthy… they're getting bigger, almost ready to come out, I think. Ready for me to check on their big bodies?”
Stephanie smiles, “You can check me out anytime….” wait… that's more of a lecherous grin, isn't it?
I deactivate my Ring of X-Ray Vision, “Okay. I'll see you in a bit…”
Stephanie waves, and I head… not exactly outside, but out of Stephanie's main body, to the space between her inner and outer hulls. Even if I was properly outside… we're in the drift, there's very little there, Stephanie's shields work fine for random things, and invisibly does wonders for defense against active threats.
Oh yes, and I'm basically immortal.
So no, I’m not even slightly concerned as I slip in under Stephanie's outer hull and make my way to her “womb”.... and yes, both ships are coming along nicely, up to a good eighty feet long (basically nothing to Stephanie's fifteen hundred) and still growing. At this point, I can make out what the weapons are going to be: Tzibeams. A light one in front, and a heavy one on the turret. Not a weapon I would have picked - I like Long range weapons to avoid return fire, and the light one is only Short range, while the heavy one is Medium - but they're excellent for capturing ships intact. Against a shielded ship, they do full damage to the shields, and a tiny amount of damage to the crew members. When used against an unshielded ship, it does minimal damage to the hull, and a lot of damage to the crew. It’s hilariously good against most larger ships: On ships larger than large, the officers are leveled, but the crew is a bunch of unleveled fodder… and there’s a certain minimum number of people needed to keep the ship running. A couple of hits, even through shields, will knock out or kill the crew, leaving just the officers mobile… who won’t be enough to run the ship, leaving it dead in space. It’s actually pretty great for someone who’s otherwise outgunned. It does have a significant drawback, though: The crew damage is all negative energy. If the ship is run by creatures that don’t care or even like that - undead are called out as being healed in the Death Field property description - then anyone relying on Tzibeams as their primary weapons are going to need to run… and there’s an entire planet with it’s own fleet in Starfinder that runs that way, with some dozen different sample ships in the books.
Of course, I have a practical ethical dilemma coming up from this: The two babies are not invisible, and the docking canopy doesn’t completely enclose a docked ship. Once they’re born, if we keep them with us, they’ll give away our positions… and we’re being hunted at the moment… possibly. Which means we’d be putting the kids at risk. Abandoning them, though? Obviously not a great choice. I could make them invisible…but they’re babies, and male ones at that. I don’t want to warp them…
“Bless them,” my pink partner Patricia interjects.
…right. Regardless… the same way I’ve done to my companions. Euler and Linda chose it, Cowbird and Stephanie deserved it. These are kids; babies, even: They don’t know what they’d be losing. I mean, I'd ask my companions, but they all greatly enjoy their state, so I already have a fair idea what they'll say….
“If you only ask their opinion when you know (or don't care) about the answers,” Patricia interrupts my musings, “then are you really treating them as equals?”
Umm….
“Not that I care, mind,” she continues, “I'm all for you being their goddess and making decisions for them most of the time, but…” she makes a sound in my head reminiscent of licking lips, “your current path doesn't have us eating those tasty, tasty essences - newborn souls are the best - so I'm hoping they can convince you otherwise.”
At least you're honest about your motivation.
“I can't deceive you.”
Right. But if you were lying, you'd say something very much like that, wouldn't you?
“I suppose so. But I'm part of you now, so if you think about it, you should be able to directly review my memory of this conversation….”
I don't want to assimilate your sparkling personality by accident, Patricia.
“No risk there.”
Hmm. Unless… paranoia is an ugly thing, but you devour pieces of souls, so I'm keeping it up here.
“Have it your way.”
But she does have a point. It is hypocritical of me to only ask when I expect I'll like the answer. And who knows? They may surprise me with an option or possibility I haven't considered: One person can't think of everything, after all: “In the multitude of counselors there is safety.”
So I will stop and ask them.
…eventually. We're in uncharted territory, here. Given exactly what's growing inside of Stephanie, it's entirely possible they'll be born as adults in all ways that matter. So really, there's little reason to worry about it now, there's no reason to go looking for trouble.
And of course, Stephanie is waiting for a report, “They seem healthy,” I send her over my magic com unit, “Would you like to bring your remote out here to look for yourself?” You can, now.
I get a squee back over the com. I'm not sure if it's a good thing that the magic com doesn't go through my eardrums. On the one hand, this means I don’t go deaf from the volume. On the other, it means I “get” to hear the entire squee.
“I'll take that as a yes,” I send back once she's done, “See you shortly.”
I wait, and soon enough her remote unit climbs through the access hatch I've been using to reach the space between her inner and outer hulls, her giant jugs jostling each other in the zero g environment… and yet the twin basketballs on her chest don't get in her way.
“Klutzy isn't in my source fantasy,” Patricia sends me the mental equivalent of a shrug, “so everyone affected remains exactly as competent as they were previously, even when that makes little or no sense.”
It's still bizarre.
“It’s normal to me…” of course it is, Patricia. I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually.
Stephanie takes a look around,taking her time to examine her pending birth offspring… and I wonder, “I'm curious: You haven't been particularly interested in your prior children… why the interest in these ones?”
She shrugs, not looking at me, “The others were just soulless things, without even a useful virtual intelligence. These ones have souls. They're actual people… or will be. I'm not exactly clear on where that starts.”
Neither is anybody else, really, outside of religious works, “There's no universal answer for that one. But souls are confirmable here, and they have them.”
I give her a bit to examine her children, amd eventually… “I'm heading back inside. Have fun.”
She waves at me as I walk off, and enter her big body properly.
