Chapter 5

The silver fox bounded down the corridor. He wore shoulder-length gloves that were polished black, leather jeans, glossy black boots and a crazed grin on his face.

"Ooooh!" he crowed excitedly, hugging the Synth tightly with an expression of delight. "So this is our new friend! You didn't tell me he had abs!"

"Please play nice," Jakob said, gesturing frantically.

"Who is this?" Xerian asked, looking nervous.

"Lord Ikaarion Daryil, at your service," the fox said and did a hand-stand.

"Him...?" Xerian asked Jakob, in frank disbelief. "He's your all-powerful father figure?"

"Incubi and succubi do have a reputation for deceit," Jakob admitted. "And that's not helped by our innate powers and abilities being tailor-made for deception. But I wouldn't do weird mind-games like that on our guest."

"Even so, he is nowhere near as tall as you described," the robot pointed out. "Even allowing for different measurement units, he is not the size of a building!"

"That's not really him," Jakob said. "It's... It's an Aspect of him, if your world has mythology like that. I told you he was extremely powerful... well, he can create remote drones to interact with the likes of you or I. It also means that if someone kills his avatar, it's just a minor inconvenience for the real Daryil."

"Ooh! He wants a demonstration, right?" Daryil grinned manically. Two more of him ran down the corridor, and formed a humanoid triangle. "We are the Lord Daryil," they chorused. "All shall love us or despair! ...Love us and despair? Something like that, anyway.
"Lord Daryil, eater of pies, expert in fear, wonder and lust at your service!"

"Lust?" Xerian asked. "Is that why he's dressed like... like a pervert...? Are those rubber gloves he's wearing...?"

"We are able to feed on people's emotions," Jakob said. "I should have mentioned that earlier. Daryil's clan is particularly attuned to lust and to fear. Dressing seductively is a good way to trigger emotional responses that we can draw energy from. And occasionally you get lucky, too," he added lasciviously.

"Truth be told, I wear shiny clothes a lot myself. I'm not doing so now, because... well, I didn't really want to thrust our own social mores on you. It can weird people out sometimes and I know you have a lot to take in. Besides, as a robot you might be asexual anyway."

"Thanks for your concern," Xerian said. "But about Daryil... if this isn't really him... what is?"

"We can show you the reality of Daryil later," Jakob said. "If you're up for that."

"I am worried he is some eldritch horror now," the robot said nervously.

"Actually, those do exist in our world," Jakob admitted. "But he isn't one. He looks just like his avatars, but gigantic and with three pairs of wings. He has a glowing mark on his chest, and often his eyes glow."

"I usually cover the glowy eyes up," Daryil said. "It scares people. No offence," he added brightly, and caressed the Synth's head. "Your glowy eyes are cute!" So saying, he booped Xerian on the nose with a shiny black finger, causing the Synth to blush.

"Still, in organic lifeforms, glowy eyes can be considered disturbing," Daryil continued brightly. "Anyway! How about you and one of me find a spare bedroom and make sure your systems are fully functional?"

"Erm..."

"You and two of me, then!" Daryil said, rubbing his gloved hands eagerly.

"DARYIL!" Jakob yelled, making the Synth jump.

"What...?" the fox said, pouting. "I've never done it with an alien before! Where's your sense of curiosity...?"

"Exactly!" Jakob insisted. "He's an alien! We have no idea how his society considers such things! It might cause him shame, or even punishment if he is found to have done that! Some of the medieval backwaters here still execute people for homosexuality!"

"Uh... Thanks for the offer... Lord Daryil..." Xerian said, his animated eyes blushing. "I mean... we're designed to be able to do that with each other and with organics, it's not a taboo... But I... I don't have the..."

"Ohhh... he hasn't got any bits," Daryil said, looking crestfallen.

"I was piloting a starship, not attending an orgy," the Synth said, looking embarrassed and slightly annoyed. "I had been thinking of having them always installed, and wearing trousers like the organics do, but... I didn't get around to it."

"Well, since you're a modular design, we can build you some new junk!" Daryil said, clasping his hands with an expression of delight. "I'll help test it for you! And as for trousers... I'm sure we can find some. Do you want leather, vinyl or rubber...? Or how about a nice catsuit...?" he added hopefully.

Xerian blushed slightly. Jakob face-palmed. And then Daryil's head-wings suddenly fanned out as the implication hit him. "Woah, woah! Wait, did you just say 'starship'...?"

"Yes."

"As in transstellar drive?"

"Yes...?"

Daryil's eyes narrowed, and Xerian backed away with discomfort, his own wings fanning out slightly as he saw a glimpse of the real Daryil beneath the clownish facade.

"Can you tell us how it works?" the fox asked intently.

"I don't know if I should," the Synth said uncomfortably. "Your culture is so aggressive! I mean... if I understand things right, I'm not even in my own universe anymore, so I don't have to worry about you invading us, but... you might still use that technology to attack some other world!"

"You misunderstand," Daryil said gently. "We already have limited forms of interstellar travel. But we need magic to do so, lots of it. And lots of time. And that excludes most of the lesser races here. A working transstellar drive would just democratise it. "

"After all, it may not even be possible for us to build one," Jakob pointed out. "If it requires a sufficiently high enough circuit density it may not be technically feasible with the ambient magic in our realm."

"He has a point, though," Niall said. "Things are comparatively rosy now, but all that could change in the space of a few centuries. At the moment, the gulf of space is a barrier that keeps our daughter colonies safe from whatever pogroms may happen on Furrae. Do we really want to take that protection away...?"

"On the other hand, space is big," Daryil said. "Security by obscurity. With a true transstellar drive, we might be able to seed a colony in a different galaxy!"

"Why did they build a ship that needs a pilot anyway?" Niall asked suddenly. "Why not just install one of your cyber-brains in it?"

"It's a bit hard to explain," Xerian said. "We were designed to look draconic, as you put it. So we like staying close to the basic design. It gives us a sense of identity. Having a more wolf-like body, that's unusual, but not unheard of. But being built as a spaceship... that just... seems wrong to most of us."

* * *

I'm a stranger in a stranger land, Xerian thought sombrely, as he sat in the bedroom he'd been allocated. They had set up an inductive charging rig in the bed, and he curled up on it, basking in the warm feeling of electricity charging his power banks like an animal basking in the sun. He sat up quickly as someone knocked.

"Happy birthday," Niall said, dropping off a bundle of clothes on Xerian's bed.

"Thank you," Xerian said, examining them. "We call it 'sparkday', actually. Though mine isn't for quite a few tendays yet."

"'Sparkday'?" Niall asked, curiously.

"Well, when a new Synth is built, we refer to the brain as being 'sparked' when it is first activated. This is the point at which we come to life. Hence... sparkday."

"Makes sense," Niall said.

"It gets a little bit complicated keeping track of your age, though... since we have multiple star systems with slightly different lengths of year."

"That's a problem we don't really have yet," Niall said, "Anyway... as per Daryil's instructions, a few sets of trousers for you. And he insisted on sending you some opera gloves as well - they should fit your three-digited hands."

Xerian blushed, and Niall had to stifle a chuckle.

"I know, I know... Daryil tries to dress everyone up as a whore. But if you want my honest advice, I'd try the rubber leggings or the stretch-PVC as they'll conform to your body. The leather ones might be a bit of a weird fit because we don't have anyone quite like you here. Between you and me, I can probably find some denim ones if you want something more tasteful. But we 'Cubi do love to dress outlandishly and no-one here is going to judge you if you want to give that a try yourself."

"Why is that, anyway?" Xerian asked. "Is it a racial thing?"

"Somewhat," Niall said. "'Cubi do like life's little luxuries, dressing fancy is a big part of that. Most of us enjoy looking pretty as well. But incubus and succubus fashion has a practical reason behind it as well. We can shapeshift, as you may be aware, but there are limits. We have to keep the same body type - no adding or removing legs. With a bit of effort we can change species, change our hair and fur colour, enough to impersonate someone or create an undercover identity if we need one. But I digress.
"The thing is, if we get caught without our clothes for some reason, like when Dad was kidnapped a few years ago, we can shapeshift a close approximation. You can make leather leggings by shifting the fur somewhere else and changing the texture of your bare skin. You can flow your wings into trousers.
"But when you do things like this, it has to be snug and tight-fitting because if your clothing snags or tears on something, it'll hurt like hell, maybe even enough to make you revert. So we generally like to wear tight clothes because they're easier to fake if we need to.

"Makes sense," Xerian said. "Can I see?"

"Hmm? Oh, a demonstration?" Niall grinned, and turned into a German Shepherd.

"That's impressive," Xerian said. "But also a little scary."

"Yeah, it doesn't help people love us," Niall sighed, briefly turning into a black jaguar before reverting to his base form. "A lot of the Dragon war propaganda was about how we habitually murder someone's true love and take their place. And some of us have misused their talents to do that, but it's rare and not looked upon kindly these days. Mostly we use these abilities to hide from our persecutors. This marking," Niall said, pointing at the yellow symbol on his bare stomach, "This clan mark is the one thing we can't shapeshift away. In the past, people would chop your head off for having a mark like this. Even non-'Cubi died, if they thought it was just a cool tattoo and got one of their own.

"Anyway, I'd best be getting back... my code should have compiled by now. Catch you later."

Xerian experimentally tried on the stretch-PVC leggings, and carried the other pieces of clothing to a dressing-table, eyeing the opera gloves with suspicion. Suddenly he let out an electronic-sounding screech and dropped them. In the mirror, a ghostly figure had just stepped through the wall.

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Chapter 6: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/37745114/
Chapter 1: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/36864702/