Tags: Unnamed serpentine alien (Coiling, gentle fdom) , Unnamed fluffy (Cuddling, gentle fdom) , mammalian alien, unnamed aquatic alien (Tentacle suction)

Following a catastrophe aboard your freighter, you find yourself alone in space on a life pod. You had been exploring a previously unexplored sector of space and the nearest inhabitable planet was days away at warp. In your current vessel you would be nothing but bones by the time you drifted that far. Your comms were down, and navigation was stuck in emergency protocols. Whoever issued the evacuation order wanted those who got out as far away from the wreckage as possible.

The away-team aboard the freighter must have seen something, you had never seen them so spooked before. Missions lasted anywhere between eight hours and a day, but never only four hours. Not even twenty-four hours after they returned the emergency procedures were put in place.

You had no idea what happened on your ship, nor did you know why you were alone. You weren’t the one who initiated the undocking sequence, the pod did that automatically as soon as the optional wait period was up. The freighter had been installed with life pod propulsion in mind, artificial solar wind launched your pod at speeds of one million miles an hour. You hadn’t even had time to see your freighter before it disappeared from view. So here you drift. To either find an inhabitable planet, or for some angel of mercy to save you from the infinite vacuum of space.

Your life pod stops. The deceleration from high speed to zero was barely slow enough to keep you from hitting the ground. Strangely your pod doesn’t detect any sign of a tractor beam. The proximity alert system in your pod suddenly goes insane. Alarms and lights flicker and blare for a few seconds before going silent. Scanners detect an unidentifiable mass, a ship of some kind, but its design matches nothing in the database. The makeup of the mass shocks you, it’s entirely made up of organic matter. Nothing on the outside of the vessel is made of inorganic compounds.

As your ship moves backwards you frantically go through the ships logs and readings to try and find an answer that makes any sense. You get the idea to treat the vessel as a lifeform and use biological scanners instead of ship scanning parameters. Almost immediately your pod detects evidence of psionic energy. The reason why you weren’t able to detect a tractor beam was because they hadn’t used one, the vessel was capable of using its own biological energies to pluck you out of space.

Your pod turns and you finally get a glimpse of the ship. The design is strange. The innermost section is a spherical mass of scales. The mass connects to a series of rings that circulate around it. The rings are covered by the same scales except for the parts of the rings that face you, there the scales have folded away revealing pink, fleshy tentacles that reach out towards you. Above and below the sphere float numerous tendrils, they seemingly connect to the sphere using psionic energy, allowing enough space for the rings to circulate without interference. It looked a fleshy, monstrous version of Saturn.

There are four rings in total, two moving vertically and two moving horizontally. With each rotation they deviate slightly, occasionally moving more diagonally. As the you approach the sphere the rings accelerate until they intersect to form a tunnel roughly the size of your pod and stop. The scales on the other side of the tunnel fold away along with the flesh underneath it to reveal an opening. Your pod detects a message through radio waves, a message seemingly trapped by the psionic energy. It’s severely degraded and your pod begins to decrypt.

Your pod enters the sphere and the sphere closes. As you exit the vacuum of space you’re able to faintly hear the squelches of moist flesh through the hull of your pod. Your pod scans the area outside of it, the air composition matched that of Earth perfectly, and apart from the moisture in the air the temperature was perfect. An alert rang out signifying that something was draining the power from the pod. The last thing it does before powering down is say the first line of the message it picked up.

“This is private [unintelligible] of the Valkyrie.”

The Script (3820 words)