Sleepy Dee

I was wandering through the ship, checking every room and waving a bag of garlic butter bagel chips, attempting to relocate our navigator when I came across a sight. One that did not haunt or disturb or disgust me but that perplexed me on a level that transcended the disquiet the other emotions would cause. It was like seeing an apple wearing eyeliner. I ventured further in and inquired aloud to no one in particular.

'Why does that servitor have tits?'

There was a clank behind me as a familiar, not wholly welcome figure put down the servitor's legs on a bench behind me.

"Oh...it's not what you think. They're not generally out like that. They're usually under a metal shielding plate that houses a refractor field. She took a little damage on our last adventure so I'm giving her an overhaul. Had to take her apart for that"

I stared at the swaying techpriest, who eventually realised she hadn't answered my question.

"Honestly, I'm as surprised as you are."

'I don't think that's possible.'

She drifted closer to the servitor and in a thoroughly inept attempt to reassure me this wasn't something to worry about she reached up and squeezed it a little.
"They're not real, see? They're entirely synthetic. Mostly high impact resistant polyrubber and synskin."

I paused for a moment

'That raises even MORE questions.'

I gestured at the servitor.
'It would be weird enough if someone was making a servitor and decided to preserve the tits for some reason. But you're telling me these ones are custom made for this servitor?'

The techpriest nodded. Tapping away disinterestedly on a diagnostic device.
"For the most part, yes."

'WHY.'

She finished tapping and peered at the data, peering over glasses she didn't have.
"Breastfeeding."

'Breastfeeding.'

"Apparently. She's loaded with a bunch of nutrient sustenance formula in case she finds an abanodoned baby on the battlefield."

I threw down my bagel chips
'How often does THAT happen?!'

More tapping.
"uuuh...twice."

'In HOW many years of service?!'

"Better part of a century?"

I wiped my hand down my face.
'Can we agree then, perhaps, that that is a fucking OOBATZ addition to a servitor? Seems like a bizarre amount of work for a hugely unlikely scenario.'

She shrugged shifting her robe off her shoulders.
"Means we're up two lives, I suppose."

She noticed my stare and gestured to herself.
"Look, hey. I didn't build her , obviously. The data on who did is scrubbed and lost. By all accounts some absolute fruitcake. Seems obvious, right?"

I sighed and was about to say more before familiar footsteps past the door reminded me why I was in this part of the ship to begin with. I recovered the bag and left.


Much later, I recounted this story to my dad and he didn't seem that interested.

He hastily changed the subject

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Private journal
Anatia Millia
Ships Captain
Ave Maria