Head down to engineering to thank Goob

When your crew makes mistakes you let them know it, but when they do well you like to let them know that too.

Without Goob's engineering skills you never would have been able to outrun Scugg's ship. You desend in the rickety lift to the underdecks of engineering. It's dark and noisy down here, low-ceilings of grates that drip oil into your patchwork uniform. A drip of hot oil splatters on your chest and drips down your cleavage.

The corridor leads you to the engine room, which is much more open. The engine powering the Velvet Hammer belongs to a much larger vessel. An imperial attack corvette, to be exact. The engine was looted two decades ago by your father from the debris field of some galactic battlefield. It's huge and tempermental and only Goob has ever allowed it to work reliably. The fact that he can climb up the two-story engine housing and swing from perch to perch using hanging chains unlike any normal engineer probably helps.

"Goob," you call over the loud engine. "Come down here."

The orange-furred Oranguman sees you and descends the chains quickly. He's about a foot shorter than you with a rotund body covered in long, orange-red fur. His face is not furry and it could easily be mistaken for a terran orangutan were he not in the habit of smoking a pipe and wearing a backwards cap. He wears overalls over his fur as a concession to human modesty, though he leaves his hand-like feet bare to manipulate wrenches and screws and various other objects. You've known him most of your life and he worked for father before he worked for you.

"Hannah it is good to see you," Goob says, swinging his long arms around you for a hug. No other crew member would dare risk your infamous temper. "You don't come down here often."

"That was quite a lot of trouble you got us out of. Without your gift with that engine we might have been caught by the worst of the worst."

"It's my job," says Goob, saluting you with a greasy wrench.

A cheeky image enters your head. You sitting on one of Goob's workbenches and the dutiful simian thrusting the knobby end of a wrench into your steaming slit.

"I wanted to commend you on your..."

Another flash and another image of Goob, this time pounding you from behind, howling as he slams your shivering slit. This happens every time you get near Omicron-69. Something in the air there. You're already reacting to the memories of it.

"I wanted to thank you," you finally spit out, feeling your face flush.

You look at the moon-faced oranguman and you fight to resist the urge to reach into his overalls and grab hold of his big monkey cock.

"Well thank you, Hannah," Goob says. His smile displays his crooked teeth.