Mandy and the Tentacle Monster (Urf Oomons #1)
Mandy and the Tentacle Monster: Chapter 24

There are four eggs. Tiny is hosting my young. Hosting. The word keeps floating about in my brain, trying to come out of my mouth. I keep having to clamp my lips shut to keep it from escaping. I have bred my adorable little human and made her into a host for my young.

These thoughts are so taboo as to be horrifying. But I do not feel horrified. My dermis has maintained an ecstatic pink-purple shade for the past hours. I cannot be anything but enraptured.

My precious female, my very favorite person in the whole universe, is hosting my young. I instinctually savor it. She is mine. She allowed me, no she encouraged me to breed her and now she willingly hosts my young.

The idea of it, the very words are filthy and taboo. And delicious.

I guess this all means that I am a deviant, exactly as Ken called me so long ago.

We are in the med bay, looking at scans of Tiny’s womb. Then looking at scans of each individual egg. I have never seen anything like it. Clutches of eggs are incubated in breeding centers on Homeworld 2. They are harvested, germinated, and hatched without being touched or observed by any living person. Many Homeworlders agree that this is all for the best. A citizen can go about their business. Working for the greater good in whatever assigned capacity without the emotional interruption of eggs, offspring, and familial attachment.

I know that hearing about and observing these eggs has caused an emotional upheaval in me. I have known about Tiny’s status as a living host for less than an hour and I am completely changed. My whole being, all my focus is centered on Tiny and the young I have seeded. I feel over-aware of how vulnerable she is. She needs to be kept from danger and upset at all costs. I need to procure better food for her. Her nest must be moved into my quarters.

We need to figure out if Baht is a threat and deal with him accordingly. If he is not a threat, he is a worthy ally. If he is a threat, we need to kill him. No more dithering about this. If he is dangerous to the host of my spawn, I need to plan a vicious and deadly surprise attack to end his life. leaving no chance that he might return and threaten her. Perhaps spacing him, then disintegrating him with a particle beam. This is over-kill, I am aware. The ship’s mounted particle beam is designed to defend against attacking ships. Baht is such a formidable opponent that I need every advantage though.

He appears in the doorway to the med bay as if my thoughts have conjured him up.

“I have important information,” he states and then stares from me to Tiny saying nothing.

“Good news?” Tiny asks, sitting up straight.

“Lu and Ken have been released. It seems our tactic of annoying and demanding until our wants are met worked on the ruling body of Homeworld 2.”

Tiny kicks her feet excitedly and exclaims, “That’s great news! When will they get here?” She reaches her arms out toward me and I help her off the platform.

“They were supposed to have already arrived.”

We both stare at baht, contemplating what it means that they were supposed to already be here, but obviously are not. I interphase with the ship’s computer and review Baht’s correspondence with Homeworld 2. There is an incredible amount, he has been working very hard on our behalf. The majority of these messages are Baht badgering Homeworld 2 officials to release Lu, Ken, and me.

Baht had sent a message two hours ago demanding that Ken and Lu be released and delivered to our home ship. The reply was instantaneous. Their cryopods had already been sent to our coordinates. They should have arrived.

Baht had scanned the whole route between ourselves and Homeworld 2, which is not far. We are very near their system. They would barely need to fold space. Nothing. No Autodrones or anything else that might carry two cryopods. Nothing.

I look toward Baht, who can no doubt feel when I am interfacing with computers. His kind has a deep affinity with electronic systems, so much so that they do not need implants to interphase.

“They may have never left the fold,” he says quietly.

“What?” Tiny asks, “What is the fold?”

“When traveling great distances, one must fold space,” Baht explains. “A fold is created in space, a ship enters the fold at the origination point and instantly exits the fold at their destination.”

Tiny nods her head, “Ok.”

“It’s very rare, less than one in three million folds, but sometimes a craft enters the fold and never comes out.”

Tiny’s eyes have gotten big and she scents of alarm. I pull her closer to me and pet her mane while I explain, “The chances of that happening are infinitesimal. It is far mor likely that their pod was intercepted by pirates or slavers. If you come across an auto drone carrying live cargo, one would assume it is livestock or slaves.”

I had meant to comfort, but the alarm-scent has grown thicker.

“I have heard rumors,” Baht interjects thoughtfully, “that a Seereechee hive has developed a method to intercept folds.”

“In what way?” I have not heard anything of the sort.

“It is unclear. You are acquainted with Treem?”

I nod.

“He told me that it happened to him. He was waylayed by Seereechees when they redirected his fold to catch him unawares and steal his shipment.”

“That is disturbing,” I shudder at the implications, “Seereechees can redirect a fold. That would explain it.”

“But what would Seereechees want with Ken and Lu?” Tiny demands to know.

We have no answers.

“Well, this is one possible explanation. Homeworld 2 could be lying about having sent them. Their pods may have been intercepted before they left the planet or after they exited their fold. We don’t know because we weren’t expecting them,” Tiny’s voice is small and uncertain as she tries to reason it out.

“You are correct,” I agree with my human, “We should investigate further.”

“We should hire bounty hunters to track them down,” Baht suggests.

“I have all those coin-credits. How many would I need to pay bounty hunters for the job?” For a moment I do not know what coin-credits she is referring to. Then I realize she is talking about her Crimbulonian credits.

“Snackling, we do not hire bounty hunters with Crimbulonian credits. You could use those credits to hire a whole army of bounty hunters.” Baht explains to Tiny in the most condescending tone. And what is this word “Snackling”?

Tiny’s cheeks color a little bit then she shrugs her shoulders.

“You have someone in mind?” I ask Baht.

“Yes. I will contact them and negotiate a price on your behalf. Sooner done, the better.”

I nod and agree.

Baht’s helpfulness is sparking suspicion. But I need to trust him because what else can I do? I have never hired a bounty hunter before and I am as likely to be robbed as hire a reputable professional.

Dismissing Baht from my thoughts, I follow Tiny to her pen. Now I  need to convince her to let me move her nest-not nest, bed- to my quarters.

At first, she is resistant, citing all o the hard work she has put into decorating her “room” and the lovely art on the walls. We go back and forth about it until finally, she agrees to stay with me tonight and “see how it goes.”

It will go wonderfully. I will sleep well with her close and she will feel safe and well guarded. No Host has ever been as well cared for as Tiny will be with me in my space.

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