It had been a much busier transit then Pylo was used too, normally there would have been plenty of time to rest and recoup between reviewing Tunie’s bulkheads for stress and overseeing her general care and health.

Cargo mostly as a rule was durable, long lasting and when not simply robust saw to its own needs.

Passengers were different.

They had needs, personalities and moods.

And these passengers were so delicate that Pylo wondered if it would have been easier to ship a sculpture of spun sugar then the three flat landers.

“You really don’t have to talk to her Tunie, that is why you have me”

“ ▁▂? ⌒◷⎌▃”

“Well yes she is a passenger and yes I did leave that communication network open... and yes she did access it and use it to contact you on a crew line”

Pylo jammed her massager against her itching ducts where her oviriticuli were at that last stage of horrible burning agitation as they sloughed off dead tissue. It was a terrible ache all up and down her ventral side and especially in her mouth.

It was only how bad the memory of what failing to do decontamination risked that made Pylo go through this every trip.

That and how incredibly good it felt to treat cramps of the freshly grown tissue afterwards.

The sensation of tense body fibres being buzzed into relaxing and clogged up dead spores shaking loose was truly incredible.

But on this journey she had not gotten enough time to herself to properly care for her recovery from the decontamination shower. Which had made her feel bloated and crampy.

And probably was not making keeping civil with the passengers any easier. Especially Omega.

“↻↺⌒↻↺”

That made Pylo pause in luxuriating against the massager. She was practically marbled with aches and pains from not taking enough time to rest and recoup from her exertions shift after shift.

Not the healthiest lifestyle, even less so when a highly intricate and massively complicated communication organ full of very sensitive sensoria and sequencers was in the process of regrowing.

But even though relief was literally wrapped up in her forelimbs waiting to be pressed into all her pains this deserved undistracted attention.

“What do you mean she’s funny?”

“▟▗▁ ▂▂▝▁”

Oh that just made Pylo seeth in a way that brought her aches out even worse and she quickly stabbed the decadent tool into a stinging painful lump in the ventral pocket of her mid body mouth cavity. Practically grinding stale enzymes and sloughed off skin out of the crevices.

“You take that back! My jokes are excellent! I’m a great joke thrower! You just don’t know how to catch most of them properly”

“▂⌒↬”

Pylo huffed and shifted her massager so she could jam the wonderful percussive instrument of relaxation into a particularly rigid knot in her side and momentarily forgot how to see or understand the idea of sight such was the relief as the clogged and over-exerted flesh relaxed.

It helped her let go of the implication from her traitor of a ship.

“Whatever... I’m just glad they finally stopped staying in the canner death trap of theirs. I can finally relax and stop coddling them like a nurse-sister. I mean seriously who would want to live in that monstrosity?! It’s not even a GOOD canner death trap!”

“↭▁⌒”

Another clogged rivulet of the oviriticuli was shaken clear and the surrounding muscles pummeled into wonderfully fluid relaxation. Pylo ran some of the insulating cushioning filters she had lined the Flatlander’s habitat over her skin and scrubbed a bit for good measure, picking up and sequestering the refuse.

“Okay yes it’s an outreach, they don’t know any better yet. But I hope the port they are building is made of stronger stuff then that, otherwise they won’t even be there when we arrive”

“◍⎌⎌▃⎌⎌ ↺↶ ↻◷⎌▁ ◸⑇⎌ ◴⌒▁▂▂▂ ▁▄▅█▂▇▁ ▆◬⑆▁▂↻↺ ◴⌒▄ ◆⌒ ▁▅▆↻↷◶ ◴⌒▁▆”

She reached over for a flat wedge of metal to scrape a bit so some of her dermal layers would start peeling free.

“Well okay that is pretty sturdy work... For Metal mongering canners anyway. But you are sure they seeded it with a metal can ship? Really? Who shelled out their hull for that?”

“▂ ▁⌔▂▃▅ ◇◎ ◎ ↺↺◎”

Then with the skin loosened massage and a breach made by metal scraping she slipped her slender forelimbs under the dead exterior layers and peeled herself free. Dragging thin threads of dead tissue out of her itching oviriticuli. It made her sigh silently into the wonderful open and fresh feeling of shedding the accumulated death of so many cells counterpointing her relaxation. Until one twinging chunk of her body refused to let go.

“Oh really? They decided to retire? Good family that. Slow shippers sure but they really decided to go local? Did someone have a falling out over an inheritance or something?”

“⎌↻ ↹↺◎◇⎌◶ ◆◹⑆”

Apparently Pylo had missed a bit of cramped muscle and brought the massager over to loosen up her tissues so that the peeling could finish.

“Huh, I guess that would turn one off from continuing the enterprise, can’t really see it for us though... well for you obviously but I wouldn't ever want to go local like that. Knowing mum, my sisters would probably drag some poor government's capital down on top of me wherever I actually settled down to ‘keep me company’ ugh”

And there, the last wiry bundle of painfully cramped musculature and cortical fibre was unwound.

And with it Pylo could finish stripping the last of her old exodermis and throw the shroud of muck into the recycler for making into some rations later.

Truly Pylo loved her massagers.

Almost enough to fantasize brooding a child with one. But sadly they didn't last. This one’s motor was already starting to shudder and wobble in a sickly way and the sharper edges had already been worn smooth from just a few dozen transits working on her tension.

“◸⑇◴⌒”

“Okay yeah I do love my family, but they get kinda pushy. I mean you remember what they were like when we were growing up right?”

“▅▃▁⌔▁▃▅”

Pylo laughed and shook her head. She loved Tunie but the big ship had very simple wants and desires.

“You would remember all the extra grist they slipped you growing up. Ya big glutton”

“↻”

It was nice that things seemed to be easing back into some kind of normal.

Just in time for the arrival at Red Weed.

“So who are these Red Weed Locals and how am I going to need to hold myself when talking with them?”

Tunie opened up her resonance to Pylo and the two of them began to soak in the song of commerce and exchange.

Drinking up guides and best practices.

Soaking up the local customs and laws as seemed pertinent to traders and visitors.

Arranging a docking position and reviewing/advertising the assorted goods and services available between the Ship and the Port.