Lan'l Constant

The pair continued their discussion of the mundane details of the mission and the ship for another hour or so before Dustin stretched and went over to the automat dispenser mounted in one wall. Punching in a request for a mocha, he glanced over at his officer. “Can I grab you anything to drink, chief science officer?” he asked. Meli’a smiled and nodded. “A Velcasta would be good; we took some on board when we were docked, so assuming the ship has brought it into the system already it should be there.” Dustin prodded the interface and took the beverage that came out - something that looked like black coffee but smelled faintly of aniseed. The drink was an acquired taste for non-Velca, but was about as ubiquitous amongst that race as tea was to humans, so he hadn’t been surprised by the order. Setting it down in front of her carefully, he returned to his own seat and took a sip of his chocolate-tinged coffee.

“So, with everything else out of the way, what was that business about me being the ambassador all about?” He asked - and was somewhat worried to see his officer blush as she stared at her hands for a moment before bringing up yet another hologram and beginning to explain. “As you are aware, part of your role in space is to support cultural exchange. Umm… have you heard of the Lan’I constant scale? No?” Dustin shook his head, at which she sighed and continued. “Right, well. First of all, ‘cultural exchange’ is a stupid translation, and I’m still not entirely sure how the council thought it was appropriate. I personally think it should be translated as ‘political relationship’, ‘interspecies marriage’ or possibly ‘diplomatic harem building’ if you want to really emphasise one aspect of it. Some - not all, mind you - but some species that you encounter will ask or expect an ambassador to enter into a relationship with one of their kind as part of any negotiation. These vary from species to species - I really wish we had a proper cultural expert here that could go into more details - but can be anything from a purely titular form where you appear in public a couple of times all the way through to a more…” and her she paused, seeking an appropriate word even as Dustin’s mouth hung open and his cheeks caught fire “…intimate arrangement. Lan’I’s constant scale, as an aside is a scientific term for the physical compatibility of different species. For example, Velca like myself are a 0.4; we can in theory have progeny in relationships with a wide range of species in the galaxy without any adjustments or modifications.”

Dustin raised a hand shakily “and humans?” he asked, still trying to process the idea that he’d somehow signed up for some kind of interplanetary dating service. “0.7 officially according to the Research Council, but my own studies suggest it might even be as high as 0.85, with some additional quirks on top. For the record, that high a value means basically almost every species in the galaxy that is carbon-based. 0.9 is the theoretical carbon based maximum, but that’s practically impossible due to atmospheric and pressure differences. No species gets a 1.0 - that’d require compatibility on a reproductive level without adjustments for both carbon life and mineral or artificial intelligence based lifeforms, and that’s impossible according to all known laws of physics and biology.” She paused then to stare at her captain for a moment before her sighing. “I really wish you’d been properly informed about this already. For what it’s worth, I thought you had been hence my comments earlier.”

The captain of the Solar Ascent rested his face in his hands. “What even… what am I supposed to say to that?” then suddenly he looked up, eyes wide. “Are the Velca one of the races that…” Meli’a shook her head quickly. “No. Not as a species at least - there’s no requirement for us, we look for research partners in other species not reproductive ones. Although…” and here her eyes took on the same flirtatious look he’d thought she’d had previously “…I personally am very, very interested in my human studies. And your file was quite the interesting read if you would be interested in the pursuit of some, ah, additional research projects during our travels?”

That pretty much short-circuited Dustin’s brain for a few seconds before he was able to half-stutter out “are you saying you’d like to…” Meli’a raised her hands rapidly in a pacifying gesture “only if you want to! I mean, I know I’m not the best looking Velca” and here her voice dipped in volume as her ears drooped “I’m too short, and I’ve got these curves and I’m far to into my own research and…” Dustin cut her off with a half **** sound. “I’m sorry” he said, continuing “let me get this straight. I’m supposed to do all that stuff you said, and my chief science officer who is absolutely stunning is not just interested in me despite… that. But also thinks she isn’t attractive enough for me to want to…?” and here he trailed off realising what he had just said before shaking his head and ploughing on regardless. “It doesn’t matter. Mission, err, I’ll say exchanges for now, leaving those aside. You are gorgeous Meli’a and if it isn’t a massive breach of the mission protocol then I most definitely would like to assist your research.”

The Velca woman looked up from where she’d been staring at her hands, ears flattened into shocked-surprise at his comments. ”You mean that? You really think I’m attractive?” Dustin nodded encouragingly, adding “by Earth standards you’re more than attractive, Meli’a.” She looked at him for a moment, blinked, and then facepalmed hard. A fraction of a second later, a pained “owww” came from between her fingers.” Dustin sighed - he might not have much experience with Velca women, but despite only having known her for a few hours he was beginning to understand his science officer really well. “You’re not supposed to go full **** into your head when you face palm. And I’m guessing you’ve just remembered everything you’ve ever seen about Earth women and attractiveness and are realizing how those comments must have sounded to me.” From behind the hand, a small voice muttered “Yes. Especially umm, Reubens, right? He painted all the pictures with all the cherubs and women with not many clothes on?” Dustin walked around and gently pulled Meli’a’s hand away from her face, looking down at her. She’d really gone full ****; there was half a hand-print on her forehead and her eyes were watery - although that might have been embarrassment as much as it was pain from the self-inflicted slap. Having made sure that she was ok, Dustin then stepped back a pace, glancing at her thoughtfully. “So umm. What now?” he asked, feeling an absolute idiot even as he said it.