See, there’s this joke going around among the other civilized species of the galaxy about the way humans have domesticated this one animal into so many different types that it’s hard to tell which Earth animals are, and are not, dogs. So I really felt like someone must have been messing with me when I looked at the large crate of animal cargo that we were supposed to deliver.
“Captain,” I said slowly. “These aren’t dogs. Well, one is, and it’s not the one you’d think.”
Captain Sunlight looked up at me, concern on her lizardy face. I could see how reluctant she was to ask me, “Are you sure?”
“Very,” I said, pointing at the Chihuahua. “That one’s a dog, one of the smallest kinds. But that is a ferret, that is a capybara, and that is a bear cub, and none of these should be in the same cage. Please tell me they’re going somewhere with an accredited zoo?”
Captain Sunlight turned to look at the client who had brought us the crate. He flicked his antennae and flexed pincher arms, giving away nothing but annoyance. Which wasn’t unusual for a Mesmer. “I was told they were dogs,” he insisted.
“They are not,” I said, pointing at the bear cub. “When that one grows up, it will be bigger than you, and able to rip the door off this ship.”
Captain Sunlight looked up in alarm. “How fast does it grow?”
“Not that fast,” I reassured her. “But it’s a bear. One of the biggest land predators currently living on Earth. Not a dog.”
The Mesmer hissed in irritation. “Can’t you just take them anyway? My supervisor wanted this to be handled quickly, and they’re contained safely enough.”
I was a little skeptical of that, but the four unlikely bundles of fur were behaving for the moment. The ferret was zipping about in a normal ferrety way while the bear cub and Chihuahua snuggled up to the capybara like it was an adoptive parent. Which it could have been for all I knew. We hadn’t moved the crate into our cargo bay just yet, pausing on the busy spaceport between their ship and ours. I asked, “Can I talk to your supervisor real quick?”
This hiss sounded exceptionally put-out, like an aggravated teenager forced to clean his room. “We need to take off.”
I retorted, “And I need to make sure these aren’t being sold as companion animals to someone unprepared for getting their ship ripped open.”
Captain Sunlight nodded, tapping the tablet with the details of this particular delivery. “The destination is a hub world with many species cohabitating. That tells us nothing.”
“Ugh, fine. Wait here.” The Mesmer stalked off back to his own ship, where he rapped on the door with a folded pincher and had a hissing conversation with someone just inside.
We waited. The ferret’s antics caused the bear cub to tumble over onto the Chihuahua, and now the three of them were roughhousing while the capybara watched calmly. This was clearly not the first time they’d shared a cage. Now that I was looking, I noticed that all four had collar dents in their fur, though they weren’t wearing any at the moment. The bear cub even had dents at its little wrists, and I did not like the look of that.
Someone left the other ship. I relaxed a bit at the sight of another human: a no-nonsense middle-aged woman who hurried over for a quick word with me specifically. I obligingly stepped aside, curious about what she had to say.
Her whispered explanation made it all better.
“I stole them from a circus,” she said. “Terrible place. I have a contact waiting to take them back to a sanctuary on Earth.”
“Oh, good!” I said in immense relief. “I was worried someone actually thought they were all dogs.”
She shook her head once. “That’s just for the paperwork. The circus owners are still looking for them. Think you can get in the air soon?”
“Yes I do,” I told her, giving Captain Sunlight a thumbs-up. The captain saw it and moved to finalize things on the tablet with the Mesmer. I told the other human, “This is not too different from how I got my cat.”
“Glad to hear it,” the human said with a smile. “I’ll be leaving them in good hands, then.” She didn’t press for an explanation of the cat thing, because we were all in a hurry here, and the circus types could come by at any time, and who needed that? Not us. She gave me a nod and a wink, then hustled back to her own ship.
I glanced around in what I hoped was a casual way. Not that I would necessarily recognize a representative of this particular terrible circus, but I’d encountered enough in my time that I felt like I’d sense the callousness rolling off them. There were entertainment groups that incorporated animals in a respectful way, of course, but those tended to not be the kind described as “terrible,” which inspired random humans to stage a spontaneous rescue.
I could relate.
Captain Sunlight asked me, “All good?” The other human was disappearing back into her ship while the Mesmer activated a hover lift under the cage.
I nodded. “They’re dogs for today. Fido, Ursula, Cappy, and Fairy. We’ll want to leave quickly.”
“I trust I’ll get an explanation once we’re up?”
“Yeah. You remember where Telly came from.”
Her expression turned stern. “Understood. I’ll tell Eggskin to get out the medical scanner, and Kavlae to prepare to leave immediately.”
“Thank you. Maybe Telly can say hi through the bars once they’ve cleared the health check.”
Already walking towards the cargo bay, Captain Sunlight gave me an amused glance. “I thought dogs didn’t like cats.”
I shrugged. “Who can say, with these four? A sniff through the bars should be fine. They’ll probably have lots to talk about.”
Captain Sunlight just smiled and hurried ahead.
I hoped they were healthy, and as tame as they looked. I was planning to spend a significant part of this trip in the hold, keeping our animal cargo comforted and calm. It wasn’t every day I got to pet a bear cub, much less a capybara and a ferret as well.
Pardon me, several dogs with absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about them. Even if one looked exceptionally cuddly, another had little ratty feet, and a third was long and lightning-fast. Totally normal dogs heading back to Earth where they belonged.
~~~
(The cat thing is a reference to this story: Bargains at the Space Market)
~~~
EDIT: There's a Part Two!
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
A gravelly voice complained, “They didn't come activated? No wonder they were so cheap.”
I looked up from the supplies I was unloading from the hoversled to find our ship’s mechanic slapping an irritated tentacle against a box. A long narrow box that could have held anything from beach umbrellas to Mesmer fashion accessories, but probably held spaceship parts.
I asked, “What’s not activated?”
“These,” Mimi grumbled, ripping open an end of the box and reaching several pale green tentacles in to retrieve rods of translucent gray. “I thought I could install them right away, but apparently not. Breakwater. This always takes forever.”
While I was trying to figure out if that was a swear word or something else, Zhee piped up from the other side of the hoversled. “I’ll see if Blip and Blop are free.” He folded his pincher arms and clicked away toward the hall.
Mimi waved a tentacle instead of nodding. “Yeah, they’ll be the best at it. Thanks.” He pulled the rest of the rods out, laying them on the floor of the cargo bay and counting them. “At least they’re all here.”
I kept unloading boxes, but I was curious. “What do you have to do to activate them?”
Mimi rolled a couple idly. “Mix the internal components. There’s a barrier to snap, then they have to be swung around just so.”
I perked up. “Like glowsticks?”
“Like what? Oh, those little … sure, I guess like that. But they have to be mixed evenly, or else they conduct power wrong.”
“Evenly how?” I eyed the things, which really did look like glowsticks taller than me. I had many a fond memory of waving around little ones to work the colors all the way to the ends.
“You can’t just hold one end,” Mimi said. “Even if you flip it around afterward. You’ve got to move both ends together so it all activates at the same time, from the center out. Always a two-person job, and tedious.”
“I guess that would take a while.” I thought back to a folk dance I’d seen once that involved people hopping over bamboo poles. “Depending on how long you need to shake each one. Wait, why can’t one person just hold it in the middle?”
“Because they get floppy the moment you snap the inside,” Mimi grumbled. “And you’d think that would still be balanced, but no such luck. Believe me, I’ve seen the attempt. Turns out worse than spinning it from one end.”
“Can’t you just treat it like a jump rope?” I asked, mouth moving before my brain caught up. “Never mind, stupid question.”
Mimi, who was shaped like an octopus with roughly the same jumping ability, looked up at me. “What kind of rope is a jump rope, and why is that a stupid question?”
I picked up another box, phrasing my words carefully to avoid offending his Strongarm sensibilities. “It’s a human entertainment. Kids play with them for fun, and adults for exercise. You just spin a rope and jump over it a bunch. Humans are good at jumping, you know?”
Mimi repeated my words in his rough voice. “‘You spin a rope and jump over it.’ Spin it how, exactly?”
I pantomimed. “You hold one end in each hand, and hop when it goes under your feet.”
“Really.” Now that was a calculating tone if I’ve ever heard one.
I stopped jumping in place and smiled. “Should I give it a try? I don’t want to mess up your engine parts.”
“I think we can afford to try it with one,” Mimi said. He separated one from the pile and held it out, pointing at a mark in the center I hadn’t noticed before. “It’s important to snap it right here. If you can hold one end against the floor, I can lift the other and pull here.”
“Can I just snap it over my knee? Or would that hurt?”
He gave me a look, probably trying to remember which part on a biped was the knee, but not wanting to ask.
I stuck a leg out and gestured again. “I’d put it across here, then push down.”
“Right. Of course. Unexpected use for bones. Sure, I don’t see any reason that wouldn’t work.”
I grinned. “Bones are very useful.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Here, go ahead and give it a try.”
I took the rod and balanced it carefully with the little mark right over my knee. Hopefully this wasn’t going to pinch, or be too stiff to break, or cause some other embarrassing minor injury. I wasn’t about to change my mind now.
So I braced it in place and shoved both hands down. The rod crunched, then collapsed like a wet noodle. A bright, glowy yellow one. I laughed. “It is like a glowstick!”
“Hurry up and mix it!”
“Right.” I scrambled to my feet, grabbing both ends and spinning it to jump over. The thing was heavier and more awkward than any jump rope I’d used — plus I was many years out of practice — but I made do. I tried not to smack it against the floor on each jump.
Mimi watched, saying nothing as he tracked the progress of the glowy part. It spread more slowly than the little glowsticks I was used to. Probably I should have asked how long this usually took before volunteering. I was already a little out of breath. This had been easier as a kid.
Finally the glow reached all the way to the ends, shining like a strip of sunlight in my hands, and Mimi said I could stop.
“Whew!” I said, trying not to look as winded as I was. “It’s been a while.”
Mimi held out several tentacles for the rope. I passed it over to him and caught my breath while he inspected it.
Footsteps approached from the hall: clickety bug feet and heavier bipeds. Zhee returned with Blip and Blop, who were wearing their favorite tight-fitting clothes and looked ready to put all their muscles toward something useful.
Blip said, “Hey, you did one already!”
Blop asked, “Did it come out even, with two people of different heights?”
Mimi looked up from his inspection. “It did,” he said with a certain amount of smugness. “And I think we have a new technique that will get this done twice as fast. Or three times, since we have three of you bipedal types.”
I laughed, hands on my hips while my breath returned to near normal. “Yeah, I could do a few more.” I looked up at the Frillian twins. “I don’t suppose your culture also invented jump ropes?”
Identical baffled expressions spread across their fishy faces. “Jump ropes?”
Mimi handed me another rod, and I prepared to break it across my knee. “Jump ropes. Come on, you’ll like this part.”
~~~
Good news! Volume One of the collected series is now available in paperback and ebook form! (Check your local store, or this handy link hub.)
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
Travelling in such a multicultural region of space gave me plenty of opportunities to see people of all body types eating exotic food, and I generally felt like I was used to it. Sure, some of my coworkers had very inhuman mouthparts, and dietary choices to match, but that was all normal for somewhere. Experiencing lunchtime without batting an eye was only polite.
Sometimes it was a challenge, though.
“This has just the right amount of crunch,” Zhee enthused, flicking his antennae with more open delight than he usually showed. “They did an excellent job of drying it out. So many times these are soggy. I’m going to have to get some more from that stall on our way back to the ship.”
I looked the other way, pretending he was holding some regular Earth-style beef jerky in his mantis pinchers, or maybe a tub of crackers. Not something that looked like a roadkilled frog with too many heads.
Walking on my other side, Paint looked up with mild interest on her scaly face. “Is it treated to soften the bones, or is that one of those things you’re supposed to eat every part of?”
I cast my eyes skyward, regretting everything. Then I looked back down and caught sight of a food stall with something on offer that I hadn’t tasted in ages. “Oh wow, honey! Straight from Earth, even! Hang on, I’ve got to get some.”
I was halfway there when I registered the questions they had both responded with. I didn’t let that bother me as I bought a jar. The human running the booth gave me a complimentary spoon and directions to a nearby bread stall, which I appreciated.
Then I walked back to where my coworkers waited with questions on their alien faces.
Zhee asked, “What is that?”
Paint said, “I’ve heard of it, but no one ever explains it when I ask. Something sweet? Is it a fruit spread?”
“No, but it’s used the same way,” I said, unscrewing the jar. “Good for putting on other foods to make them sweeter. Here, have a smell.”
Paint obediently sniffed the open jar with her long lizardy snout, browridges furrowed like she was thinking hard. I knew that she enjoyed fruit as a general category, so I was curious if this would smell good to her.
“What a strange scent,” she declared. “It’s like a flower, but … thicker. Kind of waxy. How is it made, if not from fruit?”
I scooped up a tiny bit, deciding how to phrase my answer. It was delicious. I hadn’t tasted honey in forever. This was going to be an interesting conversation. “It’s made by animals. Honeybees. Little flying insects that drink flower nectar and spread the pollen between flowers to let the fruits grow.”
“Okay,” Paint said. “So it’s nectar with other ingredients? Or cooked to remove most of the water? How do they make it?”
I ate another small spoonful. So tasty. I told her, “By partly digesting the nectar, then throwing it up again. In a very sanitary way, of course.”
Her eyes went wide, and Zhee clicked his mandibles in what was probably shock. Paint asked, “What?”
“They have a special stomach for it,” I clarified. “This is food that they make for themselves, and store it for later in their hive. When humans care for them, they make more than enough for their own purposes, and we get to eat some too.”
“But it’s vomit?” Paint insisted.
“Not really, no. It’s nectar that’s broken down chemically. And you’re right about removing the water; they put a lot of work into making sure it evaporates until the sugar percentage is so high that it can’t even ferment. It basically lasts forever when it’s stored away from moisture.” I looked at the jar and turned it to show her the logo. “See, that’s a honeybee.”
Paint stared, mouth open. I could almost see the many questions stuck in a traffic jam behind her eyes. She finally said, “So it’s only digested a little bit.”
Zhee hissed and lowered his roadkill jerky. “Why would you even think that was worth eating in the first place?”
“Because it smells great, and tastes even better,” I told him, scooping up another tiny amount. “If you have a nose and mouth that appreciate sweet things, anyway.” I ate that bit and licked the spoon. I’d really have to find that bread stall for something to put it on.
Zhee made a choked hiss that was his version of a derisive snort. “Right, condensed nectar-vomit for fruit eaters. Going to give it a try, Paint? You eat fruit.”
Paint shuddered dramatically. “Thank you, but no. I am not in the market for food that has already been eaten once. Even if it’s sweet.”
“Your loss,” I told her. “There are all kinds of animals on my planet that go nuts for this stuff. Did I tell you the bees have venomous stingers to protect their hive with? Because any passing creature that enjoys sweet things will want a taste. And some of those will eat the bee larvae too.” I screwed the lid back on. “Not humans, though. Just in it for the honey.”
Paint stared at the jar in morbid fascination. “So how do the humans get it, if the hive is defended with venom?”
“Partly by making friends with the bees,” I told her. “But mostly by wearing protective clothing and blowing smoke into the hive to distract them. We’ve been doing this for thousands of years, and it’s a pretty good system.”
Paint shook her head wordlessly. Zhee looked down at his food like he’d forgotten he was holding it.
I said, “Anyways, the vendor said there’s a stall over that way selling bread, which is perfect for putting honey on, so I’m gonna get some of that too.”
Zhee laughed. “Of course that’s what you put it on. Isn’t that the one made from seed powder that’s partly digested by even smaller creatures?”
I tipped my head in thought. “Yeah, I guess yeast does count as microscopic creatures. Totally different process, though.”
Paint shuddered again, and declared, “I am going to find something normal to eat. Oh look!” She pointed to a stall with a colorful banner. “Sugar grubs! Fed with six different flavors of sugar! That looks amazing; I’ll be right back.”
I shook my head as she scampered off without another word. Beside me, Zhee took another bite, crunching away on the dried-out frog skull. I made a face, then told him, “Have fun with that. I’m off to get some more of my own normal food.”
~~~
Good news! Volume One of the collected series is now available in paperback and ebook form! (Check your local store, or this handy link hub.)
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
It was my turn on the cleaning rotation, which meant I was busy wiping down the tables in the crew lounge, singing loud enough to keep myself entertained. I usually went with space shanties or neutral classics. Today’s choice was neither, though it did count as a new twist on an old Earth classic. I hoped Zhee would walk by on his many legs and have an opinion about it.
“Head, shoulders, knees and knees,” I sang, “Knees and knees. Eyes, antenna, pinchers, please…”
Zhee didn’t walk by, but Paint did, stopping with a question on her scaly face as I moved to the next table and finished the verse.
“Why are there so many knees? So many knees.”
A smile quirked the corner of Paint’s snout. “Is that another song about Mesmers?”
“Yup!” I said with a grin. “By the same people who did ‘What the Hell is a Shuwog.’ Very fun.”
“Do they sing about other species too, or do they just like poking fun at Mesmers?”
“Oh, they sing about lots of stuff!” I said, scraping at a bit of food someone had missed. “I think they had a whole album about culture clash, though I haven’t looked up all their songs.”
Paint cocked her head. “Any poking fun at humans?”
“Probably.” I thought about it. “Yeah, the sunburn song! That definitely counts.”
“I don’t think I know that one.”
“It’s pretty catchy.” I scrubbed faster. “I think the chorus was something like ‘Sunburn, sunburn, your health will make a downturn. Wearing nothing but a grin, and your fragile skin!’”
“Humans aren’t the only ones with skin, though,” Paint objected.
“I forget the next part, but it talks about clothes and how easy it is for the palest humans to get sunburned. Some of us are pretty fragile when it comes to that.”
“So I’ve heard,” Paint said, impervious in her orange scales. “It sounds unpleasant.”
“It definitely is,” I told her. “I’m pretty lucky as far as that goes, but I’ve had my fair share of sunburns. Mostly on hot summer days when I forgot to reapply the sunscreen. Though there was the one time I went skiing, and got sunburned on the underside of my nose.”
“What?” She looked like she was having a hard time wrapping her head around that one, and I didn’t blame her.
“The sun reflected off the snow,” I explained. “It was cold out, so who would have thought that was enough to burn? Stupidest thing.”
“Really??” Paint asked.
“Yep. I still feel like somebody should have warned me about that one.”
Paint shook her head. “I am very glad that’s not something I need to worry about.”
“Yeah, it would take some pretty intense solar radiation to get through those scales, wouldn’t it?” I gave her a look. “Though you probably have to protect your eyes if it’s too bright.”
“Well yes, of course. And I know it’s possible to suffer sun damage, but not under what I’d call normal conditions.” She glanced away and stepped to the side, which was my only clue that Trrili was approaching on silent feet.
Shiny black exoskeleton with red highlights came into view, moving with a predator’s grace and an idle click of her pinchers. The same blade arms that the shuwog song was about.
As Trrili passed by, I asked her, “You never get sunburned at all, do you?”
Trrili hissed in laughter. “No sssun would darrrre.” She glided out of sight, quiet as a fading nightmare.
Paint waited until she was out of earshot, then leaned forward to whisper, “She does need to wear eye protection in exceptionally bright sunlight. And it looks really stupid.”
I snorted, moving to clean the last table. “I can just imagine. Eyes that big probably need a whole helmet.”
Paint nodded. “I’ve seen Mesmer sunshades. There are a few different types, but even other Mesmers seem to agree that they’re unfashionable.”
“Which is funny, because humans tend to think sunglasses make you look very stylish.”
Another crewmate walked down the hall, this time with a different body type entirely. I pointed and asked before Paint could.
“Hey! Do you get sunburns?”
Mur paused, blue-black tentacles twisting to rotate his pointy squid head in our direction. “Do I what?”
“Get burnt by the sun if you’re out too long,” I said. “You don’t have scales or an exoskeleton, so it makes sense, though with that much pigmentation you’re probably less susceptible than I am.”
Mur looked at me. “Probably,” he admitted. “I haven’t taken sun damage since I was a child. Any Strongarm worth the name knows to apply protection. Most moisture creams have a UV barrier anyway.”
I nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. If you’re putting that on every morning to deal with dry air, it might as well prevent sunburn too.”
“It had better,” Mur said. “I suffered through a bad case once. Never again.”
“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” I commiserated. “And you probably have a worse time of it than I do, since every motion of a tentacle is going to hurt it all over again.”
Mur flicked several in irritation. “Walking was painful.”
“Oh, I had that once!” I told him. “Got sunburned on the bottoms of my feet.”
Paint looked up at me. “How?”
I shrugged, finishing the last table and straightening up. “I was lying on my stomach in the sun. Reading a book that was good enough that I didn’t think about how long I’d been out there. Walking back into the house over the rough ground was a special kind of terrible.”
Mur laughed. “Yep! Sounds about right.”
Paint just shook her head. “The things I miss out on.”
“You also don’t have to worry about tan lines,” I said as I gathered the cleaning supplies. “Though that’s not painful. Unless you’re easily embarrassed, I guess. Or your friends play mean pranks.”
She pointed a claw at me in excitement. “You told me about that! It is wild that your skin changes color that precisely.”
“Wherever the sunlight touches,” I said. “When I was in college, my left arm was slightly darker than my right. Go ahead and guess why.” I stepped away from the tables, ready to go put the stuff away as soon as Paint solved the riddle. Mur was looking curious too.
“Did … you sit by the window in all of your classes?” Paint asked.
“Good guess! But nope. I drove my car with the windows open on warm days, and it was a long commute. There’s a song about that too, actually.” I launched into the last song of the day, another classic. “Driver’s tan, driver’s tan, from my shoulder to my hand. Drove around, windows down, now my left arm is all brown.”
Mur just said, “You don’t get that problem on a spaceship.”
I grinned while Paint shook her head some more. “No, you do not!”
~~~
Good news! Volume One of the collected series is now available in paperback and ebook form! (Check your local store, or this handy link hub.)
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
I stepped off the spaceship into desert heat. “Bluh. That’s horrible.”
Beside me, Paint spread her scaly arms and beamed, a happy little lizard in the sun. “This is great!” she said. “We haven’t been anywhere this warm in a while.”
Mur said, “Nope, it’s bad. Gonna dry up into some of that fish jerky you like so much.” He held his tentacles close, several of them pressing the fins flat on the sides of his squid head. As I watched, he turned and scrambled back into the airlock. “I tried it; it’s just as bad as I thought it was. Best of luck.”
I waved goodbye as the door shut. While Paint just shook her head, I said, “Can’t say I’m surprised. This really isn’t the place for him.”
“Good thing this delivery doesn’t need three people,” Paint said, hefting the bag of small packages. “Let’s be off and enjoy the sun!”
I followed her, squinting at alien buildings that wavered in the heatwaves. “Hope it’s not enough to give me a sunburn.”
“Oh, we should have brought stickers, so you can make those patterns you told me about!” Paint exclaimed. “It’s such fun that your skin changes color like that.”
“It hurts when it changes fast, though,” I reminded her. “I’d rather have sunscreen than stickers.”
“Aw, boo. Is there sunscreen that makes it only change color a little?”
“…Yeah, probably. But it’s hard to calibrate.”
“We should do that next time we go somewhere sunny!”
“I would much rather draw on my arms with pens.”
“I guess that’s fun too.”
---------------------
I stepped off the spaceship into stifling sauna humidity. “Wow,” I said. “That’s like getting hit with a wet towel.”
“It’s so nice and warm!” Paint said, surprising no one.
Mur said, “This place does have a proper moisture level; I’ll give it that.”
“You say proper, I say excessive,” I told him, flapping my shirt. “I’m already sweating through my clothes, and the sweat does nothing.”
“Must be nice, being able to self-moisturize like that,” Mur said.
“Sure, when it works,” I said. “The whole point is evaporation so I cool down. That’s not happening with air this wet.”
“At least it’s not too dry!” Mur said cheerfully, slapping a tentacle against the box strapped to the small hoversled. “C’mon, let’s get this delivered before you drip all over it.”
“The sooner the better,” I said.
---------------------
I stepped off the spaceship into a pleasant afternoon: cool and breezy with the air full of alien birdsong. I took a deep breath. “Ah, that’s nice.”
Paint said, “Bit cold.”
Mur added, “Bit dry.”
I shook my head. “It’s a wonder we ever agree on anything.”
Mur said, “The ship’s environmental settings are a good middle ground; we agree on that.”
Paint put in, “I mean, it’s not awful. Not cold enough to really need a heat scarf, but I wouldn’t say no to one.”
“I could do without the wind,” said Mur.
“This barely even counts as wind,” I told him. “A gentle, playful breeze at best.”
“Playfully dry.”
I sighed theatrically and pushed the hoversled. “There’s no pleasing some people.”
“Lemme ride on the sled and I’ll be pleased.”
“Fine, there’s enough space. Climb on up.”
---------------------
I stepped off the spaceship and shivered as cold wind sliced through my jacket. Over the gusts, I said, “Good thing this is a quick trip!”
Paint clutched a heat shawl tight around her shoulders, head tucked in close. “Yes! What horrible cold!”
At the second hoversled, Mur covered his fins and twisted the rest of his tentacles into a spiral. “Dry, too! I thought this place got regular rainstorms, but this is the exact opposite!”
Zhee stepped up beside him on many bug legs, exoskeleton glossy and his antennae at an angle that looked pleased. “I don’t know what you’re all complaining about. This is lovely weather.”
Paint shook her head in disgust. “You are welcome to it.”
Zhee set his pincher arms against the hoversled and pushed it forward at a leisurely pace. “Very lovely. A fine cleansing wind, suitable for washing away all specks of dust.”
I pushed the other sled and had to free a hand to brush tendrils of hair out of my eyes. “At least someone’s appreciating it.”
“Oh yes. A pity the walk isn’t longer.”
Mur said, “You are the only one who thinks so.”
The edge of the spaceport was just up ahead, with low-lying shrubs shuddering in the wind, and a few locals visible through the windows. Everybody else had the good sense to be indoors, I saw.
Then the wind changed direction, blowing hair into my face anew, and I saw something else. “Mur, I think that’s one of those rainclouds you wanted,” I said, pointing behind us.
“Hooray, moisture!” Mur said at the sight.
“Oh no, cold!” Paint said with honest concern.
To my surprise, Zhee hissed in irritation and walked faster.
We all hurried toward the biggest building where we’d been instructed to take the delivery. I asked Zhee, “What have you got to worry about? A bit of rain is just going to make you even cleaner and shinier.”
“Droplet blindness,” he snapped.
“What?” I asked, before immediately realizing what he meant. “Oh right, you don’t have eyelids!” His eyes were faceted and huge, with a great range of vision, but no rain protection whatsoever.
“My eyes are nowhere near as fragile as yours,” he said scornfully. “But I do not enjoy having my vision blocked with water.”
“Yeah, I’d hate that too,” I said, then ran faster. “C’mon! Last one there’s a rotten egg!”
That was something we could all agree on. Nobody wanted to be a rotten egg, or more importantly, doused in cold rainwater.
~~~
Good news! Volume One of the collected series is now available in paperback and ebook form! (Check your local store, or this handy link hub.)
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
“What is it doing?” Paint asked, pressing scaly orange hands over her earholes.
“Whining,” I said tersely.
“Can you make it stop?”
“No luck yet,” I told her as I skimmed over the very short briefing on this animal in our cargo hold. “They didn’t give me much to work with. Hey, buddy, it’s okay, really.” That last was aimed at the vaguely canine creature pacing back and forth in its pen, whining at a pitch liable to work screws loose soon. It had about eight legs, fur the color of dry grass, a long snout, and quite a talent for noises that set my teeth on edge.
“Is it sick?” Paint asked with some desperation.
“Nope. Checked that first. It just doesn’t like being on a strange spaceship alone, which is entirely reasonable.” I shook the bag of treats again, but only got a brief flicker of attention. “And before you ask, I can’t pet it because it doesn’t know me well enough to trust me.” I stepped forward with a hand outstretched, only for the whines to turn into a warning growl.
“At least that’s a different sound,” Paint said, lowering her hands.
I looked back at the briefing screen. “It’s familiar with the people who raised it, and apparently it’s trained to follow a number of commands, but of course they didn’t think to include any of those. Anything familiar would be good right now.”
“Do we know what it was trained to do?” Paint asked. She stepped up to read over my elbow. “Does it hunt pests like Telly?”
“I think it’s a livestock guardian,” I said. “Pests are a bonus, but mostly it’s trained to protect other animals from predators.”
“Oh. I guess it thinks we’re predators, huh?” Paint closed her lizardy mouth with all its sharp teeth.
“Probably,” I said, taking a step back. The growling stopped, but it wasn’t silent for long. The whine started up again. “Poor thing. Even if we leave the room, it’s lonely. Pity the owners didn’t send it with a friend.”
“Or any kind of toy,” Paint agreed.
I put those two thoughts together, and had an idea. It probably wouldn’t be any more of a distraction than the treats were, but it was worth a shot. “Hang on, let me get something,” I said, putting away the info screen and hurrying into the hall. “Be right back!”
My quarters weren’t far. I ducked in, gave Telly a scritch where she was napping on my bed, then dug through the bin of cat toys in the corner of the room. Telly stretched and hopped down to see what I was doing.
I tossed her a catnip mouse. There at the bottom was the bag I was looking for: jingly ball toys that Telly had never really taken a shine to. It was a bag of a dozen, with eleven still sealed inside with no cat germs to worry about. I grabbed it and waggled my fingers at Telly, who was eagerly rabbit-kicking the toy and ignoring me completely.
Back to the cargo bay. I could hear the whining from the hallway.
Paint was shaking the treat bag with even less success than I’d had, one hand pressed to an earhole and her shoulder lifted on the other side. She looked relieved to see me. “What’s that?”
“A long shot,” I told her. “The briefing did say that it’s trained to herd very small creatures.” I took a jingly ball out of the bag, and saw the animal aim all of its attention in my direction. “Hey, buddy. See this? This is for you.” I jingled it and approached, bending to where I could hopefully roll it across the floor of the cage. Assuming the alien guard dog would let me.
It did. No growls, no bared teeth (which was good; I’d seen them before and they would have put an anglerfish to shame). It just watched with intensity as I slipped a hand through the bars just far enough to roll the ball towards it.
These were crush-proof cat toys, designed to be underfoot without risking a shard of broken plastic if someone big stepped on them. I figured that if this beastie decided the toy was something to destroy instead of play with, I wasn’t risking an injury to it. And it was nontoxic, inert, of a size that could be swallowed without choking, if it came to that. Jingly poops were the worst case scenario. Hopefully.
I needn’t have worried. The alien dog took one look at the little thing rolling toward it, and jumped into guard mode. It nosed the ball away from the edge, standing over it in the center of the cage in a clear protective stance. Watching me, waiting to see what I would do.
I gave it three more, rolled one at a time to where it gathered them together with much more pleased whuffing noises. When I stepped back, carefully keeping the bag from jingling, it clearly decided that was all of them. It circled the huddle of cat toys, then lay down with its long body in a protective circle around them, laying its head on its own haunches, watching me where I stood next to Paint.
“Good dog,” I said.
Paint pressed her hands together quietly. “Look how happy it is! Oh, good job!”
“I’m glad that worked,” I said. “If it gets fidgety before the trip is over, I can give it a couple more to guard.”
Paint lifted the treat bag. “Do you think it would want any of these now? It kept looking at them before, like it’s hungry but didn’t trust them.”
“Maybe,” I said. “We can toss one in to see if it’s interested. Wouldn’t want to get close.”
Paint opened the bag and took out a brown disc that certainly looked like a dog treat. She handed it to me for my long human arms to do the honors, then stepped farther back.
When I tossed it through the bars (not bouncing off even a little; hooray for me), the dog-thing took immediate interest. It scooted forward, bringing the jingly balls with it, then very carefully licked the treat into its long-toothed mouth and bit it in half.
It gulped down one half without a thought, but gently deposited the other half in the center of its protective ring, in case its charges got hungry.
“Aww,” I said. “Good dog.”
Paint made a happy squeak beside me. “Do you think the new owners will let it keep those? It would be so sad to leave them behind.”
“I hope so,” I said. “They could be useful if there’s any more travel in its future. Let’s tell Captain Sunlight to mention it when we arrive.”
Paint nodded eagerly, closing the bag of treats. With her carrying that bag and me with the other one, we left the cargo bay quietly. I waved at the livestock guardian that watched us go, all settled in with four very safe and watched-over cat toys.
~~~
Good news! Volume One of the collected series is now available in paperback and ebook form! (Check your local store, or this handy link hub.)
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
“We’re not even leaving the planet?” I asked. “Just going a little bit to the side?”
“That’s right,” Captain Sunlight told me with a wave of her scaly hand up at the cargo. “Packaging this to the point where it would survive local transit was apparently not worth the effort.”
I gazed up at the giant metal statue that was currently the only thing in our cargo hold. “Yeah, I can believe that.” It was an armored figure that was vaguely humanoid — weird proportions — frozen in a kind of kneeling victory pose that looked like a weightlifter without the barbell. Forty-five degree angles for every limb, palms up. I asked, “Is it supposed to be holding something?”
“No, I understand it’s from some fictional story,” said Captain Sunlight. “I honestly forget which one. But there’s some complicated metaphor involved.”
I shrugged. “As long as they’re paying this much for a solo run, it can stand for anything it likes. Well, as long as it’s not bigoted or whatever. Nothing controversial, right?”
The captain shook her lizardy head. “No, definitely not. This is some fictional hero harnessing the goodwill of the people to defeat an invading evil.”
I smiled. “Oh, one of those stories. Gotta love a classic.”
Mur arrived to the slap of tentacles, followed by Blip and Blop. The twins each carried a bundle of cargo straps and other things. Mur announced, “Time for overkill!”
The captain thanked him and gave detailed instructions about where to put the pads and anchor the straps. I helped, using my long arms to hold things in place while Blip and Blop put their muscle to work in tightening the straps. Mur untangled them and handed out more. Captain Sunlight supervised. By the time our ship was ready to take off, the statue was securely fastened to anchor points all around the room. No gravity fluctuations or other hiccups were going to shift it an inch.
“Good enough,” said the captain with a nod. “Let’s be off. I honestly don’t know whether to suggest everyone stay out of the room, or stay to keep an eye on it just so we can say it was under supervision.”
Mur made a burbling snort. “If it spontaneously melts or something, that is NOT our fault.”
“No, but I have Wio capturing the security footage from the moment it entered the ship, just in case the client wants reassurance.”
I asked, “They’re that bad?”
Captain Sunlight shook her head. “I’ve never met them. But I’m not taking chances with this kind of money.”
“Yeah. Rich people.” I nodded, then casually used a sleeve to wipe away a couple fingerprints. Judging by the feel of the statue and the echoing sounds it had produced when we placed straps across it, the metallic sheen was a layer of paint on top of industrial plastic. Possibly the kind used in spaceports. Durable, but still vulnerable to weak points in shapes like this. The statue was NOT going to tip over and test how much impact those elbows could take.
“The artist said it’s for a business,” Captain Sunlight said. “Something to put on display in relation to the things they make or sell. But yes, significant wealth is involved.”
Mur said cheerfully, “Hooray for spending it on offplanet couriers as well as ostentatious statues. I’ll dig up some fresh cleaning cloths so we can give it a once-over when we take the straps off.”
Captain Sunlight agreed and shooed us all out, having decided that an empty cargo hold was safest. Blip and Blop volunteered to stand in the hallway guarding the door while Mur got the cloths.
A few other crew members wandered by to take a look through the window. I considered finding something to do during the trip, but really, it was like ten minutes. Spaceships are fast, even when navigating local air traffic. I ended up standing in the hallway and chatting while the engines changed pitch several times.
Soon enough, we were back on the ground and removing all the careful fastenings we’d just placed. Mur’s cleaning cloths were just the thing for fingerprints and dust. By the time Captain Sunlight told us the customer was approaching our spaceport berth, the statue was all set.
Shiny and impressive, if you’re into that sort of thing. If it wasn’t clearly an expensive decoration, I would have thought it would make a decent playground accessory. Put a slide against one of those hands, and kids of many species would be lining up for a go.
Well, I thought, Mostly one species. Though Farsight kids would probably love it too. They’d probably hang a swing from the other arm.
My thoughts were interrupted by the bay door opening. I took up a position standing respectfully back, alongside Blip and Blop who were ready with the hoversled. The client probably had their own, since they had to get it home somehow, but it wouldn’t have been the first time that didn’t occur to somebody.
And with the kind of money this person was shelling out, they probably wouldn’t bat an eye at reimbursing us for a hoversled that they could take it back with.
The person who waited outside the doors with a beaming smile cut an interesting figure. She was a Frillian like Blip and Blop, with faded blue skin and the same beefy bodybuilder type, but very old. She wore enough fluttering red silks to make a dozen human-style outfits, almost obscuring the classy cane she leaned on. And she looked delighted.
“Ah, there it is!” she said, waving a gnarled hand at the statue. “A thing of beauty. They’re going to love it.”
Captain Sunlight stepped tactfully forward with polite greetings and the payment tablet. The client signed for it readily, talking all the time about her plans to display this fictional character in the front lobby of her business. Or outside. She hadn’t decided yet.
With a glance at the shiny finish, Captain Sunlight suggested, “I daresay it will retain its luster better indoors.”
The client waved a hand, brushing away the thought. “Oh, who cares? That scene looks better in the unrestored version where the armor is all beat up anyway.”
“A valid point.”
“We’ll get it out of your frills either way,” the client said, then amended the statement. “Not frills. You don’t have those. Some of you do!” She waved at Blop and Blop, who smiled and waved back from their position at attention. Then she caught sight of me and smiled anew. “Oh, and some of you have hair! How perfect. Tell me, do you think this will be a hit with any human visitors? They come in all ages, especially the young ones. Shiny is good, yes?”
“Uh, yes, definitely,” I said, glancing at the statue that gleamed in the lights. My earlier thoughts caught up to me. “Say, is it going to be somewhere out of the way, or in easy touching range?”
Her blue forehead wrinkled in thought. “I wouldn’t think that’s much of a concern. Too much touching will just make a Season Three patina.”
I shook my head, stepping forward to wave at it. “Not touching; climbing. Given a chance, a significant portion of human children will want to climb this immediately.”
Her frills fluttered in surprise. “Really? They haven’t climbed anything else on the premises.”
“Are there easy handholds and ledges?” I asked, pointing at the statue’s prominent knee, which was sticking out as if just begging for someone to use it as a step up.
“Hm. No, I don’t suppose there are.” She tapped her cane to her chin, glancing at the captain then back to me. “Can’t say that’s something I considered. I suppose I’ll have to account for it now. How significant of a proportion would you say?”
“Probably most of them, and some of the adults too.”
“Seriously??”
I pointed at a series of handholds. “I can tell you exactly where I’d start.”
Captain Sunlight asked tactfully, “Is there somewhere you can display this where it will be off-limits? Perhaps on a platform or behind a barrier?”
“Hm.” The client looked sad as she frowned about it, clearly not liking her options. “It feels wrong to separate him from the goodwill of the people. That’s the opposite of what he stands for.”
I said, “Well, you could always go the other route.”
“Eh?”
“Reinforce a few joints and put something soft on the floor,” I said, pointing at the elbows. “Maybe put up a sign about very young children needing an adult’s help before climbing on the hero of the people.”
The client smiled at that, laugh lines spreading in cheerful wrinkles like everybody’s favorite grandma. I remembered suddenly that the big Frillians were traditionally the ones who raised the children. When she said, “Perfect,” I could tell she meant it.
She turned in a whirl of silks to wave her cane at someone outside. “Let’s get this masterpiece out and ready for action! The kids are gonna love it. Get me that architectural genius who fixed the broken things last month; tell him rush fees are fine. We can’t have the hero of the people breaking an arm, now can we?”
Several younger Frillians hustled into view and did as she said. I was glad to see that they did have their own hoversled, naturally with the best lifting platform money could buy. They didn’t even need Blip and Blop’s help in getting the statue into place and out of the ship.
The client made a silk-fluttering gesture of respect at Captain Sunlight, then waved at the rest of us, still smiling. “Thank you for excellent service, and advice as well! Feel free to stop by at our grand opening next week to give it a climb.”
Captain Sunlight said, “We might just do that.”
Down at elbow height, Mur snorted. “One of us might.”
I grinned at him. “I’d be happy to give you a boost if you like.”
“I do not like.”
“You sure? The view from those hands is probably great.”
“Great and not worth it.”
He continued to grumble while I told him everything he was missing out on, exaggerating more than a little. The bay door closed, and everyone filtered out of the empty cargo bay. I hoped that we really would be in the neighborhood for the grand opening. I’d have to look up that TV show or whatever, so I could properly appreciate whose armored shoulders I’d be sitting on.
~~~
Good news! Volume One of the collected series is now available in paperback and ebook form! (Check your local store, or this handy link hub.)
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Paint asked, her scaly fingers twitching like it pained her to watch me do it the hard way.
“I’ve almost got it,” I said, tugging at the knotted canvas straps. “I just had to twist this part and push it back through.”
“It would be so much easier with claws,” Paint insisted.
“Probably!” I agreed cheerfully. “Still almost got it. See, there’s one finger under that part already. Now I’ve just gotta — ow — pull this part! Ha!” With more of a triumphant fanfare than was probably called for, I yanked the knot apart so the bag fell open.
“Good job,” Paint said in some relief.
“Didn’t even ruin a fingernail. Now let’s see what’s in here.” A tangle of differently colored fabrics greeted my eyes. Hoping it wasn’t as snarled as the knot had been, I started pulling things free.
Paint said, “They told me it was cold-weather accessories, something their human didn’t bother taking along to the new job.”
“Yeah, looks like,” I agreed, separating out one scarf after another. “Most of these are knitted; I wonder if the human made ‘em themself, and had more left over than they wanted.”
Paint tilted her lizardy head. “What are they? Do you wrap them around your hands or something?”
“They’re scarves,” I told her. “They go around the neck. For anyone warmblooded, they’re good for reflecting body heat back.” I twirled one around my neck to demonstrate. It was orange and itchy. I promptly took it back off.
“Ohh,” Paint said. “So they’re not heated themselves, then?”
“Nope. Probably not something that would do you much good. Though you’re welcome to keep one for fashion reasons if any strikes your fancy. None of these are exactly my style.” The next one I unearthed was a lumpy mix of hot pink and oatmeal beige; a practice project made with spare materials if I’d ever seen one.
“Hm, no thank you,” Paint said politely. “Smells like they’re not even scented.”
“Nope, not on purpose. They just smell like yarn and whatnot.” I sniffed one. “Stale breath mints.”
“Delightful.”
Zhee clicked past in the hallway, pausing with one purple bug leg held aloft as he took in the mess of fabric I’d made on the cargo bay floor. “Why?” he asked simply.
Paint hurried to explain. “The last client gave us this when I dropped off their order! They said they’d had a human working there before who left it behind, and they thought another human might appreciate it. These are cold-weather neckwear!”
“I see,” Zhee said, making it sound like he was refraining from sharing an opinion. Which was absurd, since he was never shy about telling us when he thought something was beneath him. “And do you indeed have a use for this much neckwear?” he asked as he put his leg down and stepped into the room.
“Not really,” I admitted, still finding more scarves. “Might make a cat bed out of them, honestly. Or a cat toy.” One scarf had particularly long tassels at the ends. Then I found a brown one that wasn’t knitted. “Ooh, this one’s soft!” I rubbed it against my cheek in appreciation.
Both of my alien coworkers watched without commenting. One had scales and the other had an exoskeleton, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise. I sighed and shook my head at the way they were missing out.
Zhee finally said, “I should hope it has something going for it, since it’s the color of dirt.”
Smiling, I gave it another look. “It’s probably supposed to be fake fur. Lots of fluffy animals are the color of dirt, after all. Good for blending in.”
Paint said, “Oh, like your hair!”
I had to laugh at that. “Yes, I suppose my hair would blend in with the right patch of dirt. Though I don’t usually have my head down that far. I like to think of it as blending with tree bark more.” I wrapped the fuzzy brown scarf around my neck and went back to the bag. There wasn’t much left.
Zhee clicked a pincher arm. “Incomprehensible fashion. Just imagine wearing something that would make you blend in.”
Sounding amused, Paint told him, “We can’t all be as flashy as you.”
Zhee posed so the cargo bay lights lit up his shiny purple exoskeleton to the best effect. “Clearly.”
Down at the bottom of the bag, everything was Christmas colored. My fingers found a particularly crinkly type of fluff, and I laughed aloud. They both turned to look at me as I pulled out a length of silver tree garland. “Found one for you, Zhee.”
When I held it up, he took it with such a look of serious consideration that I had trouble holding in my snickering. Then he draped it around his neck like a diva, only slightly awkward with the pincher arms, and I laughed in delight.
Paint clapped her hands. “It looks lovely on you!”
Zhee posed again. “As it should.”
Giggling quietly, I checked the bag. The only thing left was an opaque jar with a label in messy handwriting. I turned it upright and read the words “Xmas Stank.”
Paint asked, “What’s that?”
“Great question,” I said, though I had some theories. Unscrewing the lid very carefully, I peered inside. WOW the label was accurate. A wave of smell hit me before my eyes picked out the mess of candy canes, cloves, ginger candy, and pine needles. I coughed and put the lid back on, then croaked “Yep, that smells like Christmas.”
“Like what?” Paint asked. “Isn’t that a holiday?”
I held the jar out. “Yes. None of the scarves are scented, but this sure is. Might be about your speed.”
She opened it. “What a delightful mix!” she exclaimed. “There are layers to this. And all so sharp!”
I started gathering up the scarves. “It’s all yours if you want it.”
“Are you sure? You don’t want it as a reminder of that holiday?” She clutched it tight.
“Nah, I think you’ll get more mileage out of it than I will,” I said, still packing. “Have those spicy scent-nuts run out of good smells yet?” I hadn’t caught a whiff of them in the hallway outside her room in a while now.
“They’re still beautiful, but they are getting a little faint,” Paint admitted. “Thank you!”
“No problem! Glad we all got something out of this.” I shoved the last scarf into the bag and stood, still wearing the soft brown one.
Zhee said, “Mine is objectively the best.”
“It’s like it was made for you,” I told him with a grin. “Now to see if Telly likes her new potential cat toys.”
~~~
Good news! Volume One of the collected series is now available in paperback and ebook form! (Everywhere except Amazon. Check your local store, or this handy link hub.)
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
