Page 1 of Space for More

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“All incoming passengers must submit to decontamination and a routine inspection of their bags. Please see a dock attendant if you have questions about this procedure.” A glowing hologram of a lithe, androgynous ankite with a ponytail made of solid, ooze-like matter smiles with programmed cheer as it gestures toward an interminably long, snaking line of people trying to leave the docks. People that are allaliens.

I can’t believe it. I’m actually on Spire. And surrounded by aliens! Not that I wasn’t surrounded by aliens on the multiple days-long transit ships I took to get here, but I was confined to cramped passenger cabins most of that time. But now? Gods, this place…it’s beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I only wish my cabin had a viewport, so I could’ve seen Spire as we approached the massive city-sized space station. Though when I managed to look through a viewport leaving the last transit hub, I felt lightheaded and queasy at the vastness of space. Who even knew space sickness was a thing? This whole trip has been mind-boggling, and now that I’m here, it feels like my life is ready to begin. It feels like?—

A chittering curse behind me is the only warning I get before I’m unceremoniously shoved by an aespian with enormous glittering eyes, knocked off balance as their hard yellow carapace collides with my shoulder. I stumble to the side and directly through the hologram, which flashes a bright warning light. “Please refrain from standing on the holo platform,” it says calmly.

I scramble off of it, my cheeks flushing as I notice a crowd of aliens gathering to watch the bumbling human spectacle I must be right now. I swallow down my embarrassment and push my glasses back up my nose, smiling as big as I can and waving at the aliens staring at me. A pair of dragon-like, scaled green aliens just a few inches shorter than me wave back and smile, showing off rows of pointed teeth. One of them points at my chest and giggles to the other, and I realize my loose top got tugged down enough to be almost indecent in my tumble. The flush on my cheeks creeps down my neck as I right the neckline. A much larger alien of their same species—a vuloi, I think—shakes their head at them with a chastising grumble and tugs them away toward the exit queue. The rest of the aliens that were gawking at me seem put off by my open acknowledgement, turning away as well, though I don’t miss a few lingering looks at my chest.

Of course the first thing aliens would notice about me are my big tits. That’s what most humans notice about me, but they’re polite enough not to stare for too long. The alien species that populate the Xi Consortium either don’t have breasts or they’re muchsmaller than mine, so I must look like an oddity to them. I make a mental note to skip wearing any low cut tops while I’m here to reduce the amount of potential gawking.

I make my way over to the exit line with my bags in tow, heart fluttering with excitement as I slowly wind my way toward the security checkpoint and decontamination scanners. I still can barely process that I’m here. The bruise forming on my arm from where the aespian collided with me helps me stay grounded in reality, so I’m oddly thankful for the encounter.

When I applied for a sponsorship to the annual medical conference on Spire, I had zero expectations. After all, the Xi Consortium was only sponsoring the expenses of one human to attend. There was no chance in the universe that they’d pick me. Sure, I padded my resume with some exaggerations and embellishments—it seemed only fair for someone who’s been stuck on a backwater colony her whole life and not afforded the opportunities of other doctors. But even with my creative liberties, the odds were infinitesimal.

And yet, here I am. When I got the comm telling me I’d been selected for the sponsorship, I screamed so loud that my mom thought I’d hurt myself. My parents were filled with trepidation about me taking this journey halfway across the galaxy, since I’ve never even gone off colony before. But by the time I left the spaceport on Europa 3, I think they were glad to have a break from me babbling about the conference and all the sightseeing I wanted to do on Spire. Even Dad’s placid demeanor cracked to show a hint of annoyance as I told him about my sightseeing itinerary for the hundredth time.

Mind abuzz with thoughts of whether I should visit the massive golden arboretum in Orion district, or go to the neon-soaked nightclubs in Sagittarius district first, the hour wait in the security anddecontamination queue feels like nothing. When I’m not considering my itinerary, I’m glancing at everyone around me and trying to recall what species they are and all the facts I’d memorized about them prior to the journey. The ankite in front of me keeps looking back over their shoulder at me, and though they pretend to be looking elsewhere, I notice their features shift to resemble mine each time they look, their broad eyes growing closer together and narrowing, their lips plumping and widening, and the solid drape of gelatinous matter hanging from their head shaping into an approximation of my chin length curly hair. I desperately want to talk to them, but since their observations of me are surreptitious, I resist the urge.

I’ve heard that ankites are considered the most universally appealing species out of all the Xi Consortium aliens, due in no small part to their ability to alter their features. But out of all the aliens I’ve seen so far, the pretty pink nexxit with their beautiful large eyes and four—yes,four—arms intrigue me the most. Just think of what a partner with four arms, and hands to match, could do.

Not that I’d know what a partner with just two hands is like.

Visiting Sagittarius district goes to the head of my list of activities, as I consider that depressing thought. I’m thirty years old and I’ve barely even kissed someone, let alone done more than that. Impossible, right? A cute, smart girl like me with massive tits, a decent personality, and a libido the size of this space station couldn’t be a virgin. But alas, it’s true. One of the many downsides to growing up as the “miracle” baby to older parents on a retirement farming colony was the lack of eligible partners. Unless I wanted to date someone at least twice my age and even then…

I shudder as I recall the time I tried flirting with my widowed neighbor, Artem. He was strong and handsome for a man his ageand my dumbass twenty-five-year-old self thought my interest would flatter him. Too many age gap romance novels and not enough practical romantic experience combined to make me bold. Instead of sweeping me up into a lust-fueled, forbidden affair, Artem took one look at me, laughed, and then told me to go home because it was “past my bedtime.” And not in a sexy way. More of an exasperated, somewhat revolted way.

Yes, a brothel in Sagittarius district is stop number one tonight after I check into my hotel. I’ve already done some research into which places to go. I considered going to a pleasure simulation, but I’ll be damned if my first time is with a holosim. I want to feel some sexy alien’s body pressing against mine, and feel their muscles tense beneath my hands as they hold me. I want to taste?—

“Either keep moving or get out of my way, human,” a terse voice grumbles behind me as two pink hands land on my shoulders to move me to the side. I snap out of my heated thoughts and scurry to the security agent that’s waving me forward with an impatient frown, throwing an apologetic look over my shoulder at the nexxit behind me.

I really need to pay more attention to my surroundings. And get laid ASAP, judging by the tingles I feel when the vuloi dock officer winks his column of eyes and tells me I don’t need to undress to use the decontamination pod. They should really have a sign or something, how was I supposed to know?

When I finally exit the security checkpoint, I barely have a moment to take in the dazzling sight of the artificial blue and pink sky and the sprawling maze of walkways and multistory buildings filling Orion district’s massive habitation ring before I hear someone call out my name.

Shit, did I leave something back at the checkpoint? I spin around in place to find the source of the voice.

“Over here, Dr. Mori!”

I turn to see a pale green ankite in a fitted gray suit waving at me, holding a datapad with “Dr. Eden Mori” written on the display in universal. I didn’t know I’d have someone picking me up when I arrived. How thoughtful! I smile and head over to the ankite, who returns my smile.

“Glad I caught you before you wandered off. It’s surprisingly difficult to spot the sole human in a crowd due to your height.”

I laugh as they look down at me and run a nervous hand through my hair. “Ah, sorry about that!” I apologize, despite not doing anything wrong—a bad habit I’m trying to break.

They nod. “If you’ll follow me, we’ve arranged a private air taxi to take you to your hotel for the week.”

“Apologies. I didn’t know that I’d have someone waiting on me out here.” Shit, I did it again. “While I appreciate the greeting, I’d like to take some time to explore before I head to my hotel.”

“I fear I must be the one to apologize, Dr. Mori.” They reach inside their suit jacket and pull out a badge, then hold it out to me. There’s a holo image of them on it, along with the name “Agent Tysea” and the symbol of the Xi Consortium. “Things have changed since we extended our sponsorship to attend the conference this week. It was meant to be a charitable offering to extend the goodwill of the Consortium to our new human allies, however…” They pause and look around, taking a step closer to me before speaking so only I can hear. “We require your assistance in return on a covert mission of grave importance.”

“You need a doctor?” I ask, confused why they’d need me when the station is crawling with far more qualified medics.

“We need the full array of skills you mentioned in your application for the conference sponsorship, not just your medical knowledge.”

“W-what?” My eyebrows shoot up as I startle at their statement. “I think I may have given you the wrong impression.” I search my memory, trying to recall what I wrote in my resume. I may have lied a lot, but I didn’t mention anything about being able to work on “covert missions of grave importance.” Unless that part where I said I had years of experience uncovering mysteries and getting to the bottom of problems was misleading. I meant figuring out that Mrs. Greene had a rare allergy to spriskroot-based medications, not actual sleuthing.

I clear my throat and give Agent Tysea an apologetic smile. “I’m just a medic. I don’t have any…” I lower my voice to a whisper, “secret agent type skills.”

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