"We organic Type Threes usually have blood-borne plankton or lichens that absorb radiation." Explained Cloudheart, cheerfully indicating the swarm of purple crystalline spires crawling across her upper neck and jaw, "In my case, I have symbiont crystals growing here as well as a healthy population of plankton. No lichens on this girl, you'll find. But-- the lichens themselves are perfectly safe if you encounter them. They're soft and clean. Really, you'll get more radiation from walking around in your engine room than you would from sharing a bed with any of us. In fact, I have to swallow a small metal pill that's been heavily irradiated every morning just to keep from getting sick on a ship like this."
The tiny 'Spacer hopped down from the table and moved back to her own chair. Once again, the tiny eight-legged drone that'd been bothering her earlier scuttled up to her and climbed onto her shoulder. She patted it affectionately and went on, explaining it was well. "We also have automata like these. Some are directly controlled and others are independant. This one is a Junker drone with modified behavior parameters. Most Junkers-- and you'll notice that they even make their homes here on Nepleslian ships, are programmed to build new Junkers out of scrap metal and fix any machines they find that they can work on. They have roughly the intelligence of a dog or a cat, and building new Junkers is their way of reproducing. This one is modified, which is why it's made itself so small. It's not interested in reproduction, or in fixing machines. Its purpose is to serve and observe."
Cloudheart slid a palm beneath the tiny robot and hefted it down onto the table where it skittered around adorably for a moment before stopping to look up at PO Hartley, who was in the process of rousing out an ashtray for Lisa. He looked down at it for a moment, and then grumbling he pushed it away from himself and set down an ashtray in its place. The machine instantly skittered around to Lisa's side and clung on to the Corporal's arm, its monoeye extending over her mass to examine the Petty Officer from a distance.
"And on the note of sexuality," Cloudheart changed topics, raising a finger and closing her eyes so she could speak with some reverence, "You'll find that Freespacers, organic ones who have their gentials still intact, are anatomically compatible with Nepleslians. We do tend to value sex differently, as many Nepleslians view it as a component of romantic intimacy-- whereas most Freespacers are both sterile and polyamourous. Incestuous practices are viewed with no more cultural disdain than breathing, and multiple partner interactions are perfectly acceptable ways to spend time when there's no work to be done. We do have romance, but sexuality is really more of a recreational endeavor for us, and many do not pursue this endeavor. In fact, I was what you would call a 'virgin' until I began my research in Nepleslian culture and found that sexual stimulation is such an important feature for them, specifically males."
She didn't tell the story of the poor idiot who she'd tricked into actually taking her to bed, nor did she mention that her last romantic partner was a starship. These were things that seemed of little importance, though they were no doubt of great curiosity to the people around her. Still, Cloudheart felt she'd done a good job so far, covering the most important topics: Radiation, sexuality, and robotics. Looking satisfied, she leaned back in her chair again and added thoughtfully, "I think you'll find us to be industrious, loyal companions. My people are proud to be working with the Imperium, and we're even more proud to be learning how to take care of ourselves on the galactic frontier. While the Consensus has yet to create a working government for us, it's pretty much everybody's opinion that we should be able to police ourselves."