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While our traditional mining operations provided an array of in-demand substances, dollar for dollar Mother outperformed them ten to one. The worms ate what they could, their excreta nourished Mother, and it provided them with safe haven. Fact is, I had to fudge the numbers to draw attention away from the disparity between Mother and the others. The numbers dwindled, dropped to its pre-meal levels, spiked for a few days, then settled back down. I countered them with vague answers about unknown alien biology. And there was just something about her Mother wanted. Nothing left but tattered rags and a large blood stain. As Director I made good money, didn't have any place to spend it out here, I figured I'd retire comfortably. Discretion is key in her business and aliases and whatnot not uncommon. Ali reclined on what looked like mucous covered pillows. Worms slithered over her in seemingly random fashion.
I'm a miner, not a biologist, so it never occurred to me to try to figure out how the worms did what they did. But the main reason I called it Mother was that it was the mother load. *** It was about three years later when Mother's numbers started to drop. I also reasoned that on our visits to the chamber we were being analyzed. I paid up front and made arrangements to fetch her. The worms ignored me as I set it up in the chamber. It took a while to dial it in, but eventually I managed to peel the outer layers off and see inside the creature. Another adjustment to the scanner and I saw a worm similar to the one that had been in her sex, except the tendrils had worked their way deep into her colon. Sure enough, the constant sucking of the worms had got her to lactating. And when one left her nipple there was a drizzle of milk. *** Timing is everything, but some things you can't control. It was the same with the ship as it slowed near the planet, the shuttle detached, then reattached itself. They've made some serious breakthroughs in engine technology recently.
I called it Mother not because, as I said, I understood the biology, it just seemed to be a safe haven for the worms. Orifices dotted its surface and whenever there was a threat, from outside worms say, Mother's worms would slither inside while the warrior worms did battle. The composition went from purely alien to mostly earth-like, with a purity I've never seen come out of the ground. There was a high percentage of compounds that not only were human-specific, but extremely rare. And hard as it was to believe, the rarest elements were present in the greatest percentages! I had placed the call through one of my dummy accounts, people who didn't exist except in my computer files. Fighting the urge in my loins, I drove the cart into the cavern. But the next morning Mother's numbers were back up and greed trumped conscience. I borrowed the hospital's portable scanner saying, honestly enough, that I wanted to get a look inside Mother. Ali's cheeks concave, moving in rhythm with her throat. Further down another worm had worked its way into Ali's sex. Presently the worm extracted itself and I saw there was yet a third worm inside her, in her ass. I noticed that Ali's already ample breasts appeared larger. Not nearly as entertaining as a naked Ali, impaled and squirming in a goo-filled Mother. Britt Sorenson was cute in a college girl sort of way. Average height, average body, kind of a piggy face with a pushed up nose and chubby cheeks. But Mother's numbers started to drop, not off the chart, but the decline was obvious. We called it a hobo because it was, well, like a hobo, riding the rails, waiting for the train to slow so he could jump off, running along side and jumping on before the train gained speed. She approached one of the monocarts, opened the door, tossed her duffle bag behind the single seat, climbed in. The population is growing and I'm not a people puppy. The plans are complete, construction is underway, the ship should be finished in a year. You see, Mother gave me a gift - or maybe I stole it.
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