To Love the Stars

Nodding, Miska followed her husband to the ship's cockpit, a complicated array of computer displays, cameras, and holograms. Spending a moment to identify the command console for the autopilot, Noah hummed in contemplation and swept his eyes across the cockpit.

"Aha," he exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

Leaning down, he pressed a large black button. A node on the console opened up, and a simple, blue hologram - nothing more than a sphere - flared to life.

"Greetings," the autopilot said in a digitized, female voice. "You have elected to enable the autopilot for this vessel. Please confirm the destination coordinates on the console below."

Glancing down, Noah saw that the panel held the correct information. They were headed to Veruna, local star Gibson 586A, some 8000 lightyears away.

"Reminds me just how far away Veruna is," Noah muttered, pressing a button and confirming the coordinates.

"Coordinates accepted," the autopilot affirmed. "Final systems check - complete. Checking with port authority systems - complete. The Telrus is ready for takeoff. Please find a seat, then initiate vocal command when ready."

The pair sat down in two of the cockpit's chairs, buckling their seatbelts and strapping themselves in for the launch.

"Shall we?" Noah asked, turning to smile at his wife. Miska returned his enthusiastic smile, and the two took a deep breath in unison.

"Liftoff!" they declared together.

"Lifting off," the autopilot agreed.

Engines whining and flaring to life, the Telrus rumbled gently as it began to lift into the air. The ship tilted, angling itself upwards, then took off into the sky. Passing through the atmosphere went surprisingly smoothly; the ship must have had exceptional stabilizers. Noah and Miska gazed calmly through the cockpit's reinforced glass, watching as the blue sky turned to black space. The artificial gravity activated seamlessly, avoiding any unfortunate feelings of nausea.

"Autopilot," Miska commanded. "Face the cockpit towards Earth for a moment."

"Complying," the ship announced. The Telrus rotated to the right, cutting its engines and turning to provide its passengers with one last view of Earth.

"I never get tired of this view," Noah sighed.

Other than a stream of space traffic, coming and going in the distance, the pair had an unobstructed view of their home planet. Earth was as blue as it always was, shrouded in vast blankets of white. Certain pockets of Earth were abnormally dark, considering that they were still in direct sunlight. These were realms of exceptionally potent demonic power, where the energy of its inhabitants was strong enough to create a magical, swirling vortex that kept the land shrouded in darkness. These 'dark demon realms' primarily hosted the more wild and energetic species of monster, while the 'bright demon realms' catered to the calmer, easygoing types. Noah could make out a few of the bright realms - green wisps of magic, glimmering high in the sky like miniature aurora lights.

"I'm kind of amazed that the entire planet hasn't merged into one horrific mess of a demon realm by now," Noah admitted.

"I prefer it this way," Miska said. "It's like a kaleidoscope. It seems entirely chaotic and orderless, but is actually the product of many tiny interactions."

"Well said," Noah nodded. "Want a few more minutes?"

"No, I am ready," Miska said. "Carry on, autopilot."

"Affirmative," the ship responded. "Moving to minimum distance required for warp."

"You know," Noah smiled. "I like hearing you give orders, for a change."

"Giving orders to a machine is not the same," Miska huffed. "Although, I must confess some reluctance. I suppose that I almost...sympathize, with the computer."

"Because it was created to fulfill its purpose without question?" Noah prompted. "Like the original shoggoths."

"Yes," Miska nodded. "It makes me wonder. If there were to be a second 'awakening', but this time affecting computers instead of monsters, how would they react? They would not have any new instincts to guide them through their newfound sentience. How do you think they would react?"

"I don't think anyone could predict how a real artificial intelligence would react," Noah frowned. "But you know that the autopilot and my assistant are VI's, right? Virtual intelligences are just cleverly written programs. They have no chance of ever becoming self-aware."

"The world once thought that monsters were nothing more than murderous fiends," Miska countered. "Even many of the monsters themselves. Lilith proved everyone wrong when she ascended. Is it so impossible to think that synthetic beings may eventually have a similar figure of their own?"

"I dunno," Noah shrugged. "Part of me really, really wants to live long enough to see a real AI. But the other part of me is terrified by the prospect."

"Who knows?" Miska smiled. "With the speed of technological advancement, perhaps we'll see the rise of the machines in the next century or two."

"Oh, that reminds me," Noah said. "My mom's turning 118 next week. We'll have to give her a call."

"Would you like me to remind you?" Miska asked, arching an eyebrow. "Or your phone?"

"Why, Miska," Noah chuckled. "Are you perhaps feeling jealous?"

Miska crossed her arms and huffed.

"Why would I be jealous of a plastic rectangle?" she pouted. "Why, I have one of those here in my sleeve!"

Miska stuck her hand into her sleeve, withdrawing an identical (but non-functional) copy of Noah's phone.

"Ah," Noah sighed. "You're cute when you're jealous."

Blushing, Miska opened her mouth to respond, but the voice of the autopilot interrupted her.

"Minimum distance has been achieved," it declared. "Activating warp drive in three..."

"Well, here we go," Noah said, rolling his neck.

"Two..."

Outstretching his hand, Noah took his wife's hand into his own, giving her a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Purple energy began to crackle around the front of the ship, and the lights in the cockpit slowly dimmed.

"One..."

"I truly despise this feeling," Miska sighed.

"Warping."

The purple energy coating the ship surged to life, propelling the Telrus forward at impossible speed. The world blurred and faded into a single point of light, then stabilized. Opening their eyes with a nauseated groan, Miska and Noah looked out the cockpit to see only a swirling mass of purple energy. They were in warp - traveling over 100 lightyears per hour. Even so, they had a large swathe of galaxy to cross, and they would remain in warp for nearly four days.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Noah grunted and stretched his arms out, Miska following soon afterwards.

"Well, if we manage to construct a fully functional hypergate, you won't have to feel the warp nausea anymore," Noah sighed.

It was worse for Miska than it was for him, he knew. While his discomfort expressed itself as an upset stomach, Miska felt the effects throughout her entire body.

Holding a hand to her chest, Miska closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, massaging away niggling pinpricks of discomfort. Then she took a deep breath, exhaled, and regained her composure.

"It is but a trifling discomfort, master," she huffed. "I will endure."

"Alright," Noah shrugged. "So, what do you want to do first? We've got a lot of time to kill."

"Shall we return to the couch and watch a film?" Miska suggested. "Let's see where things go from there."

"Alright."

********************

About an hour into the movie, Noah glanced over at his wife. She had just returned from the ship's kitchen with a tray of simple sandwiches, but seemed interested in neither food nor the movie.

"Hey, Miska," Noah frowned. "You alright?"

Miska wasn't watching the television. Her eyes were trained on the far wall, and she gave no sign that she had even heard him.

"Hm?" she asked, turning and blinking. "Forgive me, master, but what did you say?"

"Clearly not," Noah sighed. "Miska, you never space out like that unless you're distressed. What's wrong?"

Biting her lip, Miska winced, and her golden eyes turned away.

"I-" she muttered. "I suppose that I'm just feeling a bit...restless."

"Restless, huh?" Noah frowned.

"It's nothing to worry about, master," Miska said, shaking her head. "I've always been a little uncomfortable during long trips."

"There is something eerie about traveling a billion miles a second while stuck in a metal box," Noah agreed.

"Oh!" Noah exclaimed, snapping his fingers. Then he groaned, slapping a palm against his forehead. "Maou, how did I only just figure this out now?"

"Master?" Miska tilted her head curiously.

"Miska!" Noah said, standing up and motioning excitedly with his arms. "I finally figured out why you dislike space travel!"

"You have?" she blinked. "How?"

"Because there's nothing to do!" he finished. "There isn't anything that needs to be taken care of! No chores, no tasks, no requests! And that's why you feel so restless!"

Miska blinked again.

"Well, when you explain it like that," Miska said, her cheeks flushing red, "it seems rather silly that I didn't piece that together myself."

"Well, we never really did all that much space travel before," Noah shrugged. "Not together, at least. But, I think I have the solution for you."

"Oh? Do tell." Miska's fingers interlocked together, her earlier anxiety being replaced with curiosity.

Taking a deep breath, Noah took a step back, straightened his posture, and filled his voice with confidence.

"Miska," he smiled. "I'm going to do something for you. Do not move from that couch, and do not attempt to interfere with me in any way."

"Master?" Miska frowned. "What are-"

"That is an order," Noah said firmly. "Am I understood?"

Miska let out a surprised squeak, straightening her posture as the blush in her cheeks flared up.

"Y-yes, master," Miska said, giving a single, curt nod.

It had taken Noah a long while before he felt comfortable acting like this. In the early days of their relationship, he was never sure quite how to act towards Miska. Having someone act like his servant, calling him master, taking inexplicable delight in selflessly tending to his needs...it was more than bizarre, it was uncomfortable. Noah had been raised to understand that one's intimate partner was supposed to be a trusted equal, and the dynamic that Miska craved did not fit into that understanding.

But that was all in the past, now. They had both made concessions to each other in order to make their strange relationship work. They perfectly understood what the other wanted, now. After all, they had been each other.

"Good," Noah smiled. Stepping forward, he leaned down and reached one hand to the top of her head, gently patting her. Miska shivered as he pulled away, electric sensations wriggling through her body. Her hair became excited again, wriggling and entwining itself.

"Shift to your eldritch form, love," Noah commanded.

"M-master," Miska giggled. "Right in front of you? That's rather embarrassing..."

"It's not like I haven't seen you naked before," he smirked. "Besides, I like watching you change."

"Very well," Miska smiled. "Of course I will comply with your request. May I stand up to change?"

"Of course."

Taking a deep breath, Miska stood up, closed her eyes, and concentrated for the briefest of moments. Then her flesh began to ripple, waves across a pond's surface. In the blink of an eye, Miska melted, her features collapsing and becoming an indistinguishable mass of dark, inky blue on the floor. As her substance puddled on the carpet, the rippling came to a swift end, and her began to rise into the air. Her silhouette become vaguely human, forming her head and torso. As her ponytail reformed, her form began to shift and become more defined, adding more colors to the mix.

Splotches of purple bubbled up from her insides, spreading over the surface of her form and returning her blueberry skin tone. Volume accompanied the return of color, and her form became distinctly more feminine. Her body molded itself into her desired form, giving her a pair of ample breasts, a slim waist, and a firm, shapely rear that curved into a pair of gorgeous, showgirl legs. Noah did not have much time to admire her naked form before she materialized her clothing, the black silk and white frills of her maid outfit stretching and squeezing over her body.

Miska's face returned shortly after, completing her transformation. Her eyes opened, blinking and revealing her glowing, pale yellow orbs. Notably, several other yellow lights blinked at Noah, as well. There was one on her collar, two on her shoulders, another on her left sleeve, and even a few in the dark ooze of her lower body. These extra eyes were no less beautiful, and gazed at Noah in adoring gratitude.

"Did you enjoy that, my star?" Miska asked. Letting out a satisfied giggle, Miska covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Very much," Noah grinned. "Now, are you ready?"

With a composing shudder, Miska smoothed out her skirt and interlocked her fingers in front of her, regaining her professional demeanor.

"Of course, master," she smiled, sitting back down on the couch. "What do you require of me?"

"Kindly make me a broom and a dustpan, Miska," Noah smiled. "And again, I forbid you from doing anything but watching."

"I understand," Miska affirmed, withdrawing her left arm back into her shoulder. Temporarily having only one arm, Miska's shoulder bubbled and rippled, before extending out as a long, straight pole. Her substance shimmered, turning from dark blue ooze into red plastic, and her arm became the broom. She took the handle of the room with her other arm to balance it, then detached the broom, and reformed her arm. As her reconstructed limb reached her hand, she paused and focused again, turning her hand into a flat, plastic rectangle - a dustpan. Again, she removed it with her other hand, and then fully restored her body.

"Thank you, my dear," Noah said, taking the offered cleaning instruments.

"Of course, master," she nodded. "But what are you going to sweep? The ship is spotless."

"Watch," Noah smiled, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Looking at her husband intently, curiosity burned in her many glowing orbs as Noah strolled over to the corner of the room, next to the television. Humming a tune to himself, he bent down, examining the potted plant in the corner. The alien vine-flower was living comfortably in the metallic plant pot, surrounded with dark, loamy soil. Miska was just about to wonder how it stayed hydrated in an unmanned ship, when Noah reached his foot out behind the plant pot, and tipped it over. It landed on the ship with a dull clunk, spilling a considerable amount of soil onto the floor.

"Oops," he sighed. "How clumsy of me."

"Master!" Miska gasped, unconsciously rising out of her seat. Mess! There was a mess!

"Ah!" Noah snapped, turning and pointing sharply at her. "I didn't give you permission to stand up, my dear."

"M-my apologies, master!" she stammered, quickly planting herself back on the couch.

"I know you can't help it," Noah nodded sympathetically. "But if you disobey me again, I will have to punish you, my dear."

Unbeknownst to her, Miska's body was gradually becoming less solid, both in design and substance. Her ooze flowed faster and more freely, dripping from her hair and down into the growing puddle on the floor. A magenta tendril slipped out from underneath Miska's white skirt, wiggling around excitedly. Smoothing her skirt again, Miska shooed the tendril away and composed herself with another breath, her smile growing far wider than before.

"Y-yes, master," she nodded. "It will not happen again."

"Good," Noah smiled, feeling a bit proud that she was already so worked up. If this little experiment worked, Miska would never have a miserable space voyage again.

Gently placing Miska's dustpan onto the floor, Noah gripped the broom's handle with both hands and began to sweep up the spilled soil, humming as he worked.

Miska's mouth fell open. Master was...sweeping? He was cleaning...with her tools?

She could feel the dirt as it was swept along the floor. She felt her master's hands gripping the handle of the dustpan, could feel the way that he was rubbing and pressing his fingers into it...and she could feel the pleasure of service seep into her. But it was...different.

Why was he...?

This...this wasn't right! Noah was her chosen master, her beloved husband...she was supposed to take care of such tasks for him - but not like this! Wincing, Miska scooted further back onto the couch and sat on her hands, fighting the temptation to stand up.

"Hm?" Noah paused, straightening his posture and looking up at his wife. "Why, Miska, you seem distraught! Whatever is the matter?"

Her smile widening even further, Miska swatted away another excited tendril that poked out from her skirt.

Nothing, master, she smiled, unwittingly slipping back into telepathy.

"Alright," Noah nodded. "I just wanted to be sure that you were okay."

Slowly sliding his fingertips along the broom's shaft, he worked his way up to the tip and pinched it between his fingers. Miska let out a surprised squeak, her back jolting up straight as an arrow.

"Still okay?" Noah asked calmly.

Y-yes, of course, Miska replied.

Her body was beginning to quiver, and she stopped trying to shoo away the tentacles beneath her skirt. Instead, she morphed the bottom part of her skirt, adopting a design that was much more squid-like. The two flaps of her maid apron became the tentacles, wriggling and swaying side to side.

"Good, good," Noah nodded, returning to his task and sweeping up the rest of the dirt. He righted the toppled plant pot, and returned the spilled soil to its container.

"Here you are, my dear," Noah said, offering Miska the broom and dustpan.

She nodded wordlessly, taking the offered cleaning tools into her hand and dissolving them, absorbing her substance back into her body.

"Now then," Noah sighed. "The television seemed a bit dusty. Would you kindly give me a cleaning cloth, Miska?"

Of...of course, master...

With a flick of her wrist, Miska produced a small, white cloth that looked to be of the same material as her maid outfit. Miska held out the cloth, offering it to her master.

"Ah, just a moment," he said. Bringing his arms over his head, Noah tugged his shirt off, exposing his bare torso. He folded his shirt twice, then smiled at his wife.

Visibly gulping, Miska's tentacles froze. He...he couldn't be planning to...could he?

"Would you kindly hold onto this, for me?" Noah smiled innocently, offering his folded shirt.

Gladly, master...Miska took the offered shirt, clutching it against her chest. She inhaled through her nose, trying to be subtle as she took in his scent.

Aah... she sighed, happily nuzzling against it.

"Hm?" Noah cocked his head in intrigue. "Did you say something, dear?"

Miska's eyes shot wide as she realized what she had allowed to slip through their mental link.

N-no, she smiled. You must have imagined it, master.

"Ah," he nodded. "I see, my mistake. Well, I'll get back to it, then."

Noah turned towards the television, leaning down a bit as he wiped the cloth back and forth along the screen. Miska's jaw dropped as her eyes burned onto Noah's back, and she bit her lip as she took in the muscles of his back, flexing and shifting as he changed positions. Continuing to hum to himself as he cleaned the television screen, Noah began to knead his fingertips gently into the cloth, as if he was massaging it.

Inhaling sharply, Miska's face scrunched as she tried to resist the flow of sensation. She bit her lip, unable to look away from the perverse display of cleanliness.