Regrets of Discipline

I was regretting the punishment. There's an old saying: don't casually take in a black-haired beast. I wanted to travel back in time, find my past self who hadn't listened to that advice, and smack him upside the head.

Eve, this kid. Her gluttony was on another level. Sure, I'd taught her words to improve communication and fill that blank-slate brain of hers... but this was the result?

"Kal! I'm hungry!"

"Kal! Food?"

"Kal! Meat! Let's eat!"

She was like a damn parrot. The moment our eyes met, it was food, food, food. As the sole crew member of the Night Raven besides me, the captain, you'd think she'd pick up the useful terms I'd taught her—like "engine reserves" or "supply status"—to assist me. Nope. She forgot those in a heartbeat but soaked up "meat," "food," and "let's eat" like a sponge.

Ever since she'd devoured that Grok meat and regained her color, Eve's digestion was downright terrifying. She'd polish off enough calories to feed ten grown men for a full day in one sitting, then turn around and tug at my pant leg, whining that she was hungry again.

"Grind..."

I ground my teeth and pulled up the ship's food inventory.

Every time I saw those numbers, I felt my lifespan shortening. At this rate, we'd starve before reaching the deep Outer Rim—or worse, I'd end up as Eve's emergency rations.

"Haa..."

I let out a deep sigh and rubbed my dry face. That was when it happened—hiss. The cockpit door slid open. Familiar footsteps were followed by an even more familiar, utterly tiresome voice.

"Kal! Hungry! Let's eat!"

It was Eve. She marched right up to me, bold as brass, and patted her belly. It hadn't even been thirty minutes since her last snack.

Something inside me snapped.

"Eve! I told you mealtimes are separate, didn't I?!"

I barked at her. But Eve didn't flinch. Instead, she widened her red eyes in mock grievance and shot back loudly.

"But you said so yourself! If you're hungry, you eat!"

"That's...! That's just 'don't starve,' not 'gorge yourself all day'—!"

"Hungry! Gotta eat or it hurts! You said you'd give me food!"

She wouldn't back down. She was even twisting my own lessons against me. That childish stubbornness mixed with shamelessness was impossible to counter. Rational talk wasn't getting through.

I pressed my throbbing temples.

"Not yet! We eat together at mealtime. Now get out! Out!"

"Food!"

"Later! Uncle's busy! Go play!"

I shoved her back and herded her out of the cockpit. Even as the door closed, she was yelling, "No fair! Kal dummy!" and pounding on it.

Only after it locked did silence return.

"...Raising something like that as a daughter would break my back before it bends."

I grumbled for a bit, then turned back to the monitor. Fuel status was critical too. To secure both food and fuel, I'd have to risk scavenging the ship graveyard.

Meanwhile, Eve had been booted out into the corridor beyond the cockpit door.

"Ugh..."

Eve squatted in the hallway, lips pursed in a pout. Her stomach was still rumbling, and Kal wouldn't give her food—he'd even locked the door. But what hurt most was something else.

"Won't even pat my head..."

Normally, after eating, Kal's rough palm would ruffle her hair. That scratchy warmth felt so good, but today he'd just yelled and chased her away.

Eve kicked at the floor, grumbling.

"Kal dummy. Mean. Mean!"

She muttered every bad word she knew in petty revenge. That's when she spotted it—at the end of the corridor, something moved beneath the dark pipes.

Poing—

A translucent, pale white blob like jelly. It was Meomeo, the ship's cleaner. It crept slowly along the floor, melting away stray dust.

Eve's red eyes lit up. Her gloom vanished in an instant. She sprang up, instinctively crouching low, stalking Meomeo like a predator with silent steps.

Oblivious, Meomeo focused ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on scrubbing the stuck grime.

And then—chomp.

"Poing?"

Meomeo felt itself lifted into the air. It twisted in confusion, only to come face-to-face with a massive shadow. Two glowing red eyes stared down.

In that moment, Meomeo remembered... the humiliation of being trapped in a lab beaker.

Eve gripped the wriggling Meomeo tightly in both hands. Soft, cool texture filled her palms.

Kal's nagging echoed in her mind, the one that had made her ears ring.

'Eve! Meomeo isn't food! Never eat it!''It's our ship's cleaner friend. Eating it would hurt your tummy, so absolutely no. Got it?'

Eve swallowed hard.

'Can't eat. Kal will scold. Kal will hate it.'

Reason screamed that. But instinct was honest. The perfect grip in her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hands... and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠above all...

'Feels so squishy! Chomp chomp... Just like nutrient solution.'

It matched the texture of the nutrient packs Kal had given her when she first awoke here. No—even fresher, bouncier.

"Pwaing! Pwaa-ing!"

Did Meomeo sense the shift in Eve's eyes? It thrashed wildly to escape.

But that frenzy flooded Eve's mouth with saliva. Like Pavlov's dog, conditioning overpowered reason.

"...Slurp."

A clear droplet fell from Eve's lips onto Meomeo's surface. Meomeo shrieked "Poiing!" in panic, but to Eve, it just sounded like tasty jelly bouncing.

"Just one bite... Just once..."

Enchanted, Eve brought it to her face and slowly licked the smooth surface.

Lick.

Cold, bittersweet, with a tangy metallic zing. So this is what Meomeo tastes like.

"...!"

Her eyes went wide at the novel flavor. Not especially meaty or anything... but the chew would be divine.

'But Kal said not to...'

Her head knew better, but the mouth on her chest stealthily yawned wider. Meomeo's fate hung by a thread.

*

Finishing the route settings in the cockpit, I leaned deep into the chair. The cabin had quieted. With my anger cooled, reason returned.

...Did I go too far?

Glutton or not, she's a blank slate who knows nothing. And for a growing kid(?), hunger ties straight to survival. Yelling at her for asking for food and kicking her out... not very adult. Not very guardian-like.

"Haa."

I sighed, standing up. Time to apologize—and bring something to fill her belly. I grabbed leftover Grok meat chunks and a nutrient tube from the fridge.

"Main computer. Locate Eve."

"Cargo corridor? What's she doing there?"

A bad feeling flickered, but I shook it off and headed into the hall. The meat smell would cheer her up quick. I softened my steps and rounded the corner.

"Eve, earlier I was a bit..."

My apology died mid-sentence. The meat and tube clattered to the floor.

"..."

The sight before me was pure shock.

Eve sat blankly in the middle of the corridor. But her state was a spectacle. Her once-slim belly was ballooned out like it might burst—a pregnant woman had nothing on this bloated gut. Clutching it, she blinked dazedly. Transparent, sticky white slime coated her mouth and chest.

I scanned around. No sign of the ever-present slime, Meomeo.

Lightning struck my brain—situation grasped.

"Hey!!! You didn't!!!"

I screamed, lunging at her.

"Uh, oof...?"

Eve's eyes widened in surprise at me. Without hesitation, I circled behind, grabbing her back tight.

"Spit it out! Now, you lunatic!"

I pounded her back mercilessly.

"Oogh! Eek, eep!"

Eve writhed, groaning in pain. But if I let up, either Meomeo digested or Eve's stomach melted from acidic slime—one or the other.

"Out! Spit!"

My rough hands hammered her back. Then, her chest's grotesque maw wrenched open.

"Pwaa-ing!"

With a light yet heavy splat, a massive white blob rocketed out like a cannonball. Meomeo hit the floor trembling in terror. It paused, assessed, then slimed desperately into a pipe gap for escape.

Eve's belly deflated instantly.

"Cough, cough... Uu..."

Eve retched, eyes tearing up. But anger surged before comfort.

"Eve, I said don't eat it! It's dangerous! What if you swallowed it whole?!"

At my roar, Eve shot back with a wronged face.

"No! Didn't eat!"

"Didn't eat? Your gut was about to explode! Look, the evidence just ran off!"

"Didn't eat! Jus... just tasted! Put in mouth! Didn't swallow!"

She huffed out nonsense excuses. Her miraculous logic: hadn't digested yet, so not eaten.

"Don't lie! You bottomless pit, I let you get away with too much—"

"Didn't eat! Kal dummy! Don't believe me!"

Far from remorse, she stomped in righteous fury. That brazen gall made me snap.

Snap!

A sharp, stinging crack echoed down the hall.

"Ow!"

Eve clutched her forehead. I'd given her a knuckle rap. I'd held back, but for a kid's brow, it stung plenty.

Silence fell. Eve stared up in disbelief, red eyes quaking like an earthquake.

First physical punishment in her life. From the one person she trusted and followed blindly: Kal.

"..."

Her lips quivered. Tears welled in those big eyes.

"...Hic."

Oh no.

"E-Eve, that wasn't..."

I reached out in panic, too late.

"Waaah! Hate Kal! Mean! Die, Kal!"

Big tears like chick peas poured as she cursed me. She slapped my hand away and bolted down the corridor.

"Hey! Eve! Stop!"

I stood frozen, watching her vanish beyond the cargo hall without ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a backward glance.

Quiet reigned again. Only scattered meat chunks and Meomeo's slime trail proved the chaos.

"...Haa."

I cradled my head. The sting of her forehead lingered on my fingertips. Chase and console? Or let her stew to correct her? With no kid-rearing experience, it was an impossible dilemma.