A Chronometric Defect

Let's give the order.

"Alright, listen up. Set course for sector seventeen q seven-seven-seven-one q one-one-nine-seven q six-eight-one-eight q forty-three q one-seven-eight-two, star one-three-eight-eight-two."

Navigation responds.

"Yes, sir."

Ah, coordinates. Unimportant. Let me check for the tenth time. Eleventh? I lost count, which means I need to check again.

"Are the food transferrers online?"

Food Management responds.

"Of course, sir. With plenty of extra."

Good.

"If we have food, we don't need anything else. Engage the boson slip drives."

Navigation responds.

"Engaged, sir. We're flowing through space like food in a wide pipe."

What a perfect follow through!

"Excellent. Now, for the meat of this dish. Our god has, for the first time ever, descended with promises of plenty. He did not send a tasteless underling. This, my scrumptious crew, is the most important meal plan we may ever prepare. Our god has tasked us with serving this dragon."

I hold up a three dimensional inscription of the dragon. He's quite ugly for a dragon, but food need not look appetizing to be delicious.

"Our goal is simply to feed him enough that he transforms into a gluttony god. Yes, you heard that right. Our god wants us to feed this dragon."

I point to the inscription's image.

"He requires PLENTY of food. Our god has also offered many suggestions in this regard. How famished must he be to instruct his chefs personally? Perhaps we must feed this dragon our weapons, our ships, and even ourselves, but he MUST NOT remain unfed!"

"YES, SIR! HE WILL BE STUFFED, SIR!"

Ah, it makes me ravenous when they yell about food in unison. Well, more ravenous than usual.

*skhraf*

*schraf*

Mmm, these cheese wheels are delicious. I'm so glad I can talk and eat at the same time. Gluttony is the best god.

*skhluph*

*schraf*

"Alright, get back to your meals. They won't eat themselves. The ship, however, can drive itself."

*schraf*

*schraf*

*schlaf*

Ahh, shoot. That was my last cheese wheel. I'd better go get more. I don't like the ones my crew picks out; they're always so small. I want at least a hundred kilos.

I get up and walk... Or slither, I guess, down the hallway.

*sphlop*

*slush*

*sluch*

It was a bit disturbing the first time I grew a tentacle, but I later came to understand why they were necessary. A gluttonous body needs food, and not all food can be easily gripped with other means. As I gained weight? Legs, too, became limiting.

*schkop*

*shjop*

*shphol*

So, although I now possess a meaty form similar to a slug, I remain satisfied. My hunger, of course, is less satisfied than ever. But that— that is merely the price for being satisfied in every single other way. It's a price I gladly pay.

*sluesh*

Eh? What's he want...

"Captain, we have some problems with the central boson plate array in section seven-five. We're swapped to the backup, but the team's been having intermittient issues with this main's array since the last mission. Now, the backup's also showing faults. We may need to drop to STL if we can't repair it."

We JUST started! You blithe idiots!

"Tell them to grab an array propagator from the reserve units and slap that on the main, then fix the backup once it's been disengaged. Meaning, put that repaired main into service in situ. We cannot drop from boson slip. Not now. Take the risk."

He bows to me, as he should.

"Yes, sir!"

Those reserve units are meant to come online if we hit a dense matter field. Uh, passing through an undetected stellar body. We could literally explode with a single one disabled.

But... What else am I supposed to do?

I must go eat to calm my nerves.

*slutch*

*slupsh*

Haah?!

"Captain, one of the crew ate a food transferrer."

"So?"

"He exploded. How should we deal—"

"Bring the moron to my room."

"He is—"

"I know. Skip my meal plan for tonight."

"Truly admirable, sir. You're a model we all strive toward."

He bows to me, as he should.

"Now go."

"Yes, sir!"

Ugh. A food transferrer? Really? I'll have to strike that off my list of things I haven't yet tried eating. Mostly because I was afraid of what would happen. Speaking of food, I definitely need some. More than I expected, actually.

*splosh*

*stlosh*

I'm mildly concerned that I may soon be unable to carry out my duties upon this ship, which I once so adored piloting and managing. My desire to manuever it has slipped away. It's been replaced by an endless ravening.

I... Fear, what I may yet become.

I spot an artsy wooden sculpture.

Oh, good!

*glom-gulp*

*sprosh*

*slorsh*

That should hold me over for a few minutes.

...

I've often debated whether this is what I want. The immense hunger constantly reminds me: what I want is inconsequential.

This ship may drive itself.

But what I need, is what drives me.

*sprosh*

*slotsh*

*slosh*