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LAST EPISODE OF GREWREH, [HUMAN] WISPERER:
- Showers are fun times, especially when they stop injuries
- [Humans] apparently…are just way too lewd. Free love and all that, I guess?
- If your [Human] makes urgent yipping noises, back or head rubs will calm them down
- [Humans] have an innate desire to hug. If you don’t wish to hug your [Human], providing soft blankets will do in a pinch.
- Above all else, remember: You’re the alpha
THIS EPISODE OF [BILL] la [BILL]:
- We will create a weapon to surpass metal gear
- Grashak-of-Arhraf sacrifices himself. RIP.
- Greweh gets caught with his pants down. It’s not what it looks like, I swear.
A/N: Holy fuck this chapter got away from me – I thought I could wrap up the doggo arc here but nope. This is my longest shitpost yet.
————————————————————————————————————
To her crew, Rauleh-of-Nragren’s tense silence was unusual, but not terribly uncommon; there was always a little bit of anxiety that rippled through the station crew once the first few kinetic probes were launched. Spectrometry gave a rich amount of data, especially with the sensor suite they were packing…but nothing beat actually sifting through the crust itself.
Profitability engineers therefore had some of the most boring and most high-pressure jobs in the crew: do nothing until the probe arrived, and then make a decision on the quantity and ease of obtaining the material on this moon to make or break this current venture. As a post-scarcity society it’s not like there was any actual currency on the line, but, the empire still used resources and nobody wanted to man or command a station that was a net drain.
Although everyone was still “at work”, many sets of eyes regularly checked Rauleh’s body language. Rauleh-of-Nragren’s ears were perked forward, her back ramrod stiff, forepaws pawing her station’s seat. The staccato beat of her claws against diamond-carbide reinforced aluminum showing her anxious, but not worried.
Par for the course, really.
“{…say that again to me, but slowly.}” she muttered, her change in tone and voice catching some of the crew’s attention. It would be a one-sided conversation; receiving a call via implant provides privacy at the cost of making the user seem like a lunatic. The fact that the metal under her claws began to squeal in protest as her pawing turned into a grip didn’t help.
“{No! He – Damn your fur, Greweh! If [Bill] is injured you’re not supposed to move him!}” Rauleh bellowed, forgetting her inside voice – and getting the attention of her entire crew. “{How do you know he doesn’t have a concussion?! Or worse – his lungs could be damaged! There’s an atmo tank right next to the emergency st-}” With a growl she caught herself, blinking away a few status indicators with absent-minded acknowledgements. “{N-no! No don’t – look. I know you’re not a medic, alright? If he’s walking and up and about he’s probably fine, but that doesn’t mean you continue to risk injury! Take him back to the hangar and wait for us!}”
Rauleh paced back and forth, waving her hand at indicators only she could see. The crew status could wait – this was far more important. “{YES, escort him! He doesn’t have his communicator, we can’t track him through station systems! YES. No. NO.}”
More indicators. More distractions. More dismissals with emphatic flailing of her arms. “{STOP IT. Do what I say and you won’t be written up for not protecting our [Human] – YES, because he should have been in an environmental suit and he wasn’t! YES. No – I’m sending Dr.Ngralh-of-Drezneh to the hangar and you two better be there, and he better be in a medical pod. Yes. Well if you can’t find one just use any pilot capsule – they’re programmed for both biometrics and-}”
Rauleh-of-Nragren suddenly blinked, her tirade and Greweh’s protests ignored. Everything but her was silent… way too silent. ‘Why is my command deck empty?‘ she thought. With a bit of morbid curiosity, she pulled up the 20-some odd notifications she dismissed in haste.
‘Brera-of-Arhraz request dismissal from workstation: Acknowledged/Approved’
‘Egrezre-of-Frgan request dismissal from workstation: Acknowledged/Approved’
‘Zranf-of-Delzreg request dismissal from workstation: Acknowledged/Approved’
‘Grawfren-of-Rrelren request dismissal from workstation: Acknowledged/Approved’
. . .
Rauleh-of-Nragren swore, furiously, over the protests of an increasingly panicking Greweh.
“{No! Look he’s fine! He’s FINE.}” Greweh explained, his hands opening in a pleading gesture to no one. “{He was responsive and even joking! He could breathe! I checked! And his skin is pink and half of them are pink anyway so-}”
He paced back and forth infront of a silent, but curious [Bill], his footsteps the only sound in the empty corridor. “{Look I’m not a doctor, I don’t know [Human] anatomy like that, I’m not even on his sleep rotat-}” Greweh exhaled, an irritated growl escaping his lips.
“{Alright so I’ll just send him back by himself while I calibrate a factory, I don’t need to escort him pe- Really? It’s just down the hallway he can turn arou- Look all I’m-}”
In the back of his mind, Greweh wondered what this all looked like to [Bill]. Did [Bill] think he had lost his mind? Maybe the moondust had driven him insane? [Bill]’s eyes never left him, and he never moved.
“{Look, let’s just be efficient here with our time – You can’t write me up over this, how is this my fault – So I’m supposed to make sure he’s – Graah!}” Another bark of frustration, but at this point he didn’t care. Rauleh was chasing in her territory, and it was getting old. “{FINE. But if I activate one doesn’t that send a signal to Regional? I don’t know what the new ones look like – FINE. I’ll use a capsule then! Will you calm down now?!}”
There was silence, if only for a moment, before the cursing began. “{It’s not that bad! It’s not THAT BA- Pack damn you!}” Greweh, tired of being chewed out over an unforseeable accident, cut communications with his superior.
If he was going to be written up, it’d be for insubordination…. but not for [Human] abuse.
With his hands he motioned for [Bill] to follow him back to the hangar. Reluctantly, he followed.
Grashak-of-Arhraf was running, breathlessly, his only saving grace being that he worked closer to the hangar than the rest of the crew. “{Hah – no, YOU don’t understand! You need to den with him, now.}”
“{Why is everyone ordering me around?! I don’t see wh-}” Greweh began to whine, but Grashak cut him off immediately.
“{Listen. To. Me. He doesn’t have any scent glands, he can’t mark anything – including himself.}”
There was a brief pause. “{No. Nip the right one.}”
“{You took the basic [Human] care course, but you didn’t sit through the advanced class because you’re not one of his denmates. Scent him, right now. Just do it.}”
There was a pause in the communication, and Grashak slammed against a corridor intersection’s wall, panting heavily.
No matter the race, running while talking sucked.
“{Ok, I had to pat him a couple times to calm him down, but yeah. He smells…I. Like something. It’s tickling the back of my mind-}”
“{Pups.}” Grashak said, swallowing hard before he began to run towards the hangar. “{Like a newborn pup.}”
For the first time today, Greweh began to swear.
‘Well that didn’t sound good’ Bill thought to himself as he powerwalked/half-jogged behind an irritated, damp killing machine back the way they came.
“I guess they didn’t want us to wander off?””?Rrealah. N’Gr*srkrll?”
“I know. Gargling rocks sucks, dude. Almost as much as this security blanket. You know it’s super heavy? Gotta be at least 20lbs.”
“?Grrrrhns. Ra! Ng’%hasn-t’ttk.?”
“Yeah. I figure this is your version of our mylar blankets. But I gotta say, with all this runnin’ around – I’m sweating like a dog.” Bill grinned, looking up at Grapes. “Get it? Like a dog? Cause, yanno, the thing with the convergent evolution and…”
The Hangar doors hissed open again, presenting the crime scene in all it’s glory. The hill of powder remained behind the probe, as well as a gray streak from that to the showerwasher9000. Scraps of clothing littered the trail – a boot here, glove there, half of a shirt tossed haphazardly to the side –
“Still no sign of my pants.” Bill mumbled, looking around. He felt a gentle pat on his head and turned to Grapes, who was pointing at one of the construction drones nearby, and who began to play charades.
“Swimming… no. Climb? Me.” Bill pointed to himself and Grapes ‘nodded’, and then pointed to the open egg-like control suite nestled within the machine itself. “Me, drone station. Oh. No, no.” Bill shook his head and tapped where his communicator would rest, trying to indicate that he couldn’t read nor control such heavy machinery and that it would be negligent at best, and suicide at worst, to put him in it.
Insistently, the same hand signals were mimed. ‘You, egg. YOU egg. Mouth’ no, that’s not right, ‘shut egg’. Ok.
Then, some new gestures: ‘Me, you, Egg….’
Ears flicked back, Grapes started to hug himself, hands going up and do-
WOAH. No way. Bill cleared his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “I mean, look, it’s not that I’m speciest or anti-gay or anything – I mean, ok, everyone experiments in college, but that was a long time ago-
Bill’s complaint died in his throat at the Dorarizin’s continued insistence. Doing such a thing would….scent him. Perhaps very potently. And very bad thingstm happened when you weren’t scented aboard a Dorarizin vessel. And it’s not like their race didn’t have some appeal…
“…Why’s the aliens always gotta do the anal probing? Why’s this gotta be a thing.” Bill grumbled, walking down the side of the hangar to the construction drone docking bay, shedding his blanket.
“Nobody ever realized that $20 is $20 shirt was a joke…”
“{Ok. Breathe, Greweh}”
The [Human] lay down on the seat, far too small to effectively fill it – his naked form sinking into the multi-g rated foam to contour around his body. He was breathing heavily, and as Greweh undressed he tried to tell himself that didn’t know why.
That was a lie. That look the [Human] was giving him was…
Greweh swallowed, hard. He was no [Human]-mater, sure, and even if he was he wouldn’t pack with one, but the gaze that [Bill] is piercing him with now made him seriously consider that and… other things.
Slowly he lowered himself into the pod, his weight pressing down on the [Human] – two small hands shot up to grip the fur on his chest, balled fists tugging at him slightly. He reached up with his forepaws once his hips rested on the [Human]’s thighs, placing a clawed hand on either side of his shoulders. He kneaded the foam absentmindedly and leaned forward, his eyes now staring deep into [Bill]’s
They were so small, and yet, so beautiful. The space between them closed, Greweh seeming to surround and engulf [Bill]’s tiny, hot bod-
“{BY THE FIRST PACK WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, GREWEH?!}”
Reflex honed by millions of years of evolution and a lifetime of combat training and absolutely not because of surprise, Greweh flew backwards, kicking off from the drone console with all four limbs. With an unceremonious ‘WHUD’ he landed on his back a good 30 feet away from the command pod, and [Bill].
Unfortunately for everyone involved, Greweh must’ve triggered something, as the pod with a protesting [Bill] quickly snapped shut, powered on, and inserted itself fully into a construction drone.
With an agile leap Grashak-of-Arhraf slams down on the deck beside Greweh, claws digging into the metal to stop his momentum. It was only a split second before Grashak made a second leap, taclking Greweh back towards the door, fighting the entire way
“{WHAT THE HELL WAS-}” Grashak begins, swiping at the prone profitability engineer
“{I’M NOT GAY YOU SAID HE NEEDED IT-}” Greweh responds, nipping at his attacker’s wrists
“{THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT!}”
Two muzzles, baring teeth, collide for a brief second – both bites miss.
“{I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW THIS WORKS OK?!}” Greweh roars, bucking Grashak off of him
“{I MEANT JUST HUG HIM FOR A WHILE.}”
Greweh tensed up, his eyes unfocusing as the epiphany hit him full force. “{…oh.}”
“{DID YOU HONESTLY FORGET YOU HAD SCENT GLANDS ACROSS YOUR CHEST?!}”
“{……..}”
“{How – Just. We rely on you to test profi- no. Just-}” Grashak shakes his head, growling to himself. “{I’m giving you an anatomy textbook next mailcall.}”
“{….I didn’t mean to.}” Greweh mutters, sitting down on his haunches.
“{You didn’t mean to try to mate with him?}” Grashak says, tapping the construction drone. He weakly hears a few taps in response, and sighs.
“{I don’t even know anymore. His eyes were just so deep….}”
Grashak clicked his teeth.
“{Look, I’m just going to chalk all this up to having a very stressful day and we can talk about you and your newfound open den desire later-}”
Greweh protested as Grashak ambled back down the deck, picking up [Bill]’s discarded blanket.
“{Shush. Rub this all over your body.}”
Greweh blinked and looked at Grashak. “{What.}”
“{He smells like a pup and we probably have half the station – females included – on their way here. We need to buy time to get their curiosity sated and [Bill] safe. You know how delicate [Human]s are.}”
Greweh took the blanket and looked at it, contemplating silently.
“{They’d rip him apart trying to protect him.}” he murmured.
“{Yeah.}” Grashak replied, beginning to strip. “{We establish a perimeter, get his other denmates in here, get him looked at and scented properly. We lose a day or two of work, but, it’s fine. Hey.}”
The Dorarizin made eye contact, passing the blanket between them.
“{Regional never has to know.}”
“?GR’SHRAK NE’GREN RETLEH.?”
“Uhhhhhhhhhh” Bill responded as the pod yelled at him. “Human! Human Bill Telito, Cosmic Code 11-AAB-4197-NC-V-“
“?GR’SHRAK NE’GREN RETLEH.?”
“Fuck’s sake. HUMAN. H.U.M.A.N. BILLIAM. TELITO. COSMIC CODE 11-AAB-“
“?GR’SHRAK NE’GREN RETLEH.?”
Bill kicked one of the screens in front of him and sighed. After he responded to the taps from outside – the universal sign of ‘are you dead in there?’ this voice just began to loop. Of course, it couldn’t recognize that he’s a human and change anything. Of course.
After being dumped on, friction-cut, stripped, pressure-washed and death-marched around the station only to end right back where he started….
He covered his face with his hands, groaning.
Then there was the whole ‘working-yourself-up-to-dick-or-be-dicked-by-an-alien-werewolf’ thing that, dare he say he was ….’anticipating’ is incorrect, and ‘excited about’ sounds wrong. It was like a force of nature about to happen, something inexorable and unstoppable and intimate and – and then suddenly THIS.
“?GR’SHRAK NE’GREN RETLEH.?”
“Oh FUCK OFF already! I haven’t been this confused since Freshman year!”
“?FRESHAHN. RELK## ANEN REK’K&** FR.?”
Bill stopped and blinked. “Are you… kidding me. You didn’t understand literally anything else I said, but-“
“?GR’SHRAK NE’GREN RETLEH.?”
“-but you got FRESHMAN.”
“?FRESHAHN. RELK## ANEN REK’K&** FR.?”
Bill thought for a moment. It was obvious even before first contact that humans and aliens – if they existed – would most likely never speak the same language or even have the ability to speak the same language. We slap meat together to make vibrations in the air to pass information. An alien race could, hypothetically, only use pheromones – or light, or body language.
It was a blessing and a curse to learn that meatslapping was a universal constant; unfortunately not everyone slaps their meat in the same way, but that’s ok. Everyone slaps their meat the best way they know how, and translators fill in the gap – everyone goes home satisfied.
The fact that humans could partially make the correct sounds was possible, but, it would serve no purpose… just inane babble at best, and mouthsounds at worst.
“That might be my only way out.”
“?FRESHAHN. RELK## ANEN REK’K&** FR.?”
“Whelp. I’ll start on F, then: Fricassee. Frenchman. Fried Rotisserie Chicken….”
The call had gone out; [Bill]’s denmates converged on the hangar with grim determination. It was now up to Greweh and Grashak to form a Dorarizin barricade, stopping their worried comrades from opening [Bill]’s secure pod and possibly starting a grizzly tug-of-war.
“{This isn’t going to work.}”
“{The theory is sound. The females smell us, we smell like a male pup, we’re able to calm them down and divert their protective territorial instincts. His denmates and the other trained doctors arrive, we push everyone back, open the pod-}”
“{That’s not why this is going to fail.}”
“{Oh?}”
The hangar doors slid open and Greweh pointed down infront of them, to the crowd of roughly 100 other crewmembers. As the doors yawned open, they began to rush into the hangar, spreading out in confusion and concern.
“{That’s why.}”
“{GREWEH-OF-AZREHS, WHERE ARE YOU?}” Sgt. Rauleh roared.
“{Ah. Die in glory, brother.}”
At an impressive 120Km/h, Sgt. Rauleh sped forward, her claws dragging deep furrows into the metal every time they landed, pushing off almost as soon as they touched down. “{IS HE ALIVE?! WHY ARE YOU BOTH NAKED?!}”
Grashak silently, but with purpose, positioned himself directly infront of the Sargent. Skidding to a stop she slammed into him, and they tumbled to the ground.
Only the sound of curious footfalls interrupted their heavy breathing
“{Y-you’re-Wh.}”
“{Sssh… I’m safe. We’re all safe, it’s ok, it’s ok.}” Grashak murmured, forcing Rauleh’s muzzle down to his torso – the Female was tense, her body shuddering as information flooded the primal part of her mind.
Male. [Bill]. Dorarizin. [Human]. Healthy. Not in Season.
“{I need you to spread the word, ok? We’re safe, he’s safe, we’re all ok. Ok?}”
Rauleh growled lowly, her shoulders rolling as the tension in her body started to release.
“{Greweh, you’re up.}” He chirped, his grip on Rauleh loosening up.
Sighing, Greweh broadened his stance, and with a courageous roar jumped forward.