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“Cal… We need to have the baby talk.”
“Do we?” He pet a hand slowly over her head.
“This isn’t a dealbreaker for you, is it?” she asked.
“Adealbreaker?”
“Like… you won’t want to be with me if I don’t want kids?”
“An ultimatum. It’s not like that.” A speculative glint entered his gaze, which veered directly to her face. He wrapped an arm around her waist, hauling her in. “I can simply strap you into one of the medical pods and breed you.”
“Breed,” she choked, shoving at him and feeling a million dirty, wrong things. His arm tightened on her stomach, sending her blood skyrocketing. “You—you can’t.”
His face broke into a smirk before he chuckled, the laughter bouncing in his chest. “I’m messing with you.”
“You are?”
“The topic gets a rise out of you.” He loosened his hold on her and resumed his petting and stroking.
“Because it’s wrong!”
He laughed a little harder, revealing a smile. “It’s so wrong that bringing it up made you wet enough for my whole fist.” His face was plastered with comfortable amusement. “I would never force that on you, and it is not adealbreaker. It simply appeals to me.”
“How would we even raise children here? It seems kinda hazardous for them.” How would she go about childproofing this dangerous spaceship? There was no way. She would have to land on a planet and give up her dreams.
He gave a shrug. “We make them. They raise themselves.”
“I… would like to pretend you’re joking, Cal. Are you joking?”
“Any child we had would have a carapace. They grow quickly and become extremely destructive. You would have more holes in your spaceship than you could keep up with. It’s normal to release them after a year or so.”
“Um, wow, yeah, it’s a good thing we’re not doing that.”
“Humans keep their young longer?”
“Mmm…” She rolled her lips in.
“How much longer?”
“Eighteen… years?”
He thunked his head noisily on the tree trunk. “Oh.” Another chuckle came from him as his tail thumped in the grass. “I’m not fixated on the concept, just… having a biological process. See soft mate—want to breed.”
Heh. Funny wording. He had a point, she supposed. The subject made her feel things, deep in her nether region where logical thought could never touch.
“But it works? You know this for sure?” She peered at him sideways.
“It works. It requires medical equipment. From what I hear, our process is far safer than yours and it doesn’t come by accident.”
“That’s a relief.” She stared at the false sky—the ceiling which was a light silvery pale color. “Let’s save the baby talk for after all this is over, please. I don’t want to think of it while there’s… well…”
A warship coming to destroy everything.
Their hands linked together.
The day which had unfolded so slowly seemed almost too short once it was nearly gone. There was something vaguely magical about the way the hours rolled together.
Caligher finally dropped a new translator in her hand. It was so tiny—small enough to fit in her ear and comfortable enough that she would forget she had it installed.
