Fern soon returns with a droid in tow, and within just a few minutes the milk is all cleaned up. Typhin seems thoughtful, but I can’t really figure out what. Instead, I fight the urge to ask for seconds. I could probably (definitely) eat the entire food storage, but that’s probably not a very good idea. Hm. I wonder if I’m edible? I mean, I can eat myself, sure, but if I bit off an arm or something, could the cook on here cook it to make it palatable?

...Actually, I don’t like that thought. Let’s not tell anyone I thought it.

I’d better remember to check my species page to check if I contain any toxins though. Just in case.

Soon enough, dinner concludes. I remain at my seat until everyone else at my table has finished eating, and then I just sort of leave to go back to researching. As strange as it might seem, the thought of checking what had been written about my own species had completely slipped my mind. I was preoccupied with very important things, I swear! N-, not at all how space soap was invented and developed! Not at all.

I stick my little data-thing into the socket beside the door to the computer room and slide inside. The door hisses shut behind me.

Hm. I wonder why this place is kept so dark? Like, most other parts of this place is really well-lit, but here it’s almost dim. Weird.

Excitedly, I hop back into the seat and put my id thing into the hole in the computer. It boots up without any issues and I breathe a light sigh of relief. It would’ve been a little embarrassing if I couldn’t get it started on my own, right?

Alright, let’s see here… What did that droid decide to call my species, anyway? Hrmm.

I tap the name “Mortholomew” into the search bar. No results. How about just “Mort,” then? Huh? Nothing?... Mrm. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have expected my name to do anything, but still. Since that’s a bust, I’ll just try finding something about like, all races and species of space. Like, human-ish ones.

...I’m a human-ish creature, right?

Hmm. After a bit of searching here and there, it seems like there are a lot of species. Like, a lot. Most are the majority on their home planets, but a lot of them take to the stars to find happiness in other places. They often become (space) pirates or (space) bounty hunters, often leading to some races (like the Rhodians - bug-eyed fish-like people) becoming known for this sort of aggressive behaviour.

It seems a lot of species become primarily known for a few specific traits for no real reason. There’s a whole lot of generalizations going on here, which is a little weird. Like, the Twi'lek (carnivorous people with two tails on their heads - apparently called “Lekku”) are known as dancers and strippers or whatever, but that only came to be cuz they’re more naturally beautiful than other species, and since they’ve been enslaved by so many peoples so many times, that was just their primary use. So even now, a Twi-lek who isn’t on their home planet of Ryloth can mostly only find jobs as strippers and stuff. It’s actually kind of disgusting?

Like, I get where it’s coming from, but the only Twi’lek I could find info on who was famous for anything but being a dancer or whatever was Orn Free Taa, some sort of Senator guy. Though, when looking at pictures of him, I feel a bit hard-pressed to call him a Twi’lek…

He’s just fat. Like, really fat.

Speaking of fat people, there’s a species of creatures that are just really fat and can barely move at all. Though, I guess the Hutts are more like a clan than a species? Hrm. Anyway, they hang around in the outer rim, amassing great amounts of cash and… Slaves.

Space slavery. It exists.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

That makes me… Unhappy. I guess I can understand why it exists. I mean, a galaxy is an impossibly huge place, so it’s not like the government can reach everywhere, but still… Bro, you have spaceships and robot servants. Why would you want objectively worse slaves? Worst of all, it’s not like it’s widely accepted either. It’s just that there isn’t enough manpower to do anything about it.

...Heck, according to older reports, even the Republic (you know, the bad guys?) tried to do something about it, even though they failed at every turn and really just wasted resources that could have been spent better elsewhere.

Personally, I don’t see any better use for resources than freeing slaves, but the writer of the report seems pretty adamant that the Republic was engaging in total folly for even trying to save them, so I guess it wasn’t a good idea.

After all, these writers know a whole lot more than I do, and expecting space-morality to be the same as Earth-morality will just set me up for both conflict and ostracization.

That aside, I really can’t find anything about myself. The more I use this computer the better I get at searching with it, but even if I look at the most recent additions to this ship’s database, there isn’t a single peep about my own species. Hm. Maybe I don’t have clearance? As far as I can tell, the ID I have only grants me clearance for the lowest level of information, which is probably just the kind of stuff that’s common sense for most space-people.

In that sense, I guess it makes sense that a completely new species would be at least a little secret for the time being.

...But I’m not giving up yet!!

After all, I know many people who have more clearance than me!

Hrm. Should I ask Fern?... I’d feel better about bothering him than Typhin since Fern usually isn’t up to anything important, but I don’t think he has the necessary clearance either. One of the first things he said when we met was that he might not have clearance to so much as talk to me. Hence, Typhin would be the more surefire option.

...But he’s always busy! Which in and of itself is weird since he’s technically a guest on this ship!

Hrm, maybe he’s less busy now since we aren’t doing anything like battling or whatever? Okay, yeah, that makes sense. I should be able to talk to him now.

...But I’m still nervous! He’s a nice guy and all, maybe a little overzealous in his work or whatever, but now all of a sudden he’s so unapproachable! When it was just the two of us on a random planet he was just an imperial and I was just a space octopus, but on this ship, he’s the damn highest-ranked guy around, and I’m just a glorified pet! Well, I’m really not sure at all what my role here is, so I guess, if anything, I’m more of an official stowaway, but still!

Okay. Okay. Calm down, Mort! Even if he’s got a surprisingly high space-rank in the space-military, he’s still your friend! Just go!

...Alright, fine. Let’s go!!

With that decision in my heart, I stand up from the computer, dislodge my ID, and leave.

Uh… Which way is the cockpit again?...

There are only two ways to go down on either side of the hall. I went to the right to go to the cafeteria, and I didn’t pass there with the droid, so I guess I’ll head left. As always, the hallway feels perfectly clean without a single speck of dust. I’m still not sure what it’s made of, but it looks metallic. At a few points, small groups of troopers pass me. Since neither of us have any idea how to react to each other (salute? wave? kiss on the cheek?), we just sort of ignore each other and walk on by. It works pretty well, since nobody stops and/or screams at me.

After a surprisingly long time spent walking, I finally find myself in front of the doors to the cockpit. I only know it’s the cockpit since two troopers are still standing guard outside. I wonder if they switch out every hour?

They stare at me. I stare at them. It’s a little awkward, so I start talking, mostly since they probably won’t let me in without stating my reason. “Uh, hi! I’m here to meet Typhin?”

I can’t see it due to their helmets, but I’m pretty sure they share a quick, sidelong glance. “The Commander is not present at this time.”

Eh? He’s not? “Then, where is he?”

“The Commander did not tell,” the other trooper said.

Hrm. Well, that’s a bit of an issue… Oh! But there is one way I can check if he’s in his room, at least. “Thanks for the help! Bye!” I run off down one of the hallways before pausing. I close my eyes. The first thing that greets me is the endless abyss of space. My countless arms move slowly and strenuously, carrying chunks of hefty flesh and fragments of bone to my many, many mouths. The half-eaten carcass of the Leviathan stretches out before me. Since I’m using points unconsciously to grow, my body is now about the same size as the leviathan. And still, breaking down the body and eating the chunks left over takes an immense amount of time.

However, this isn’t the body I was going for. Again, I close my eyes, letting my consciousness switch once more.

I creak open one of the four eyes added to the little body as a courtesy at best. The sight that greets me is the interior of a room. I can’t see all of it since my tentacles are wrapped around and over my cores and eyes, but I can make out a few things. However, the only thing I really need and want to see is what I can currently see; namely, the back of Typhin.

He’s sitting at the desk along the side of his room, tapping away at a computer. Man, even when he’s just sitting, he’s still got that ramrod-straight back. How long did it take him to learn it until he does it even in private?

I wonder how he grew up. Anyway, this does answer my question.

I switch back to my small body, realizing pretty much instantly that I’m lying face down on the floor. Oops.

I heave up my body to a sitting position, only now realizing I’m not alone. Huh?

“...Atte?”

Atte, wearing his full gear and all, almost looks a little flustered. “Uh, yeah. Guess that means you’re okay, then?”