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You would think that refueling stations in space would come in a variety of layouts, depending on the species in charge of the architecture, and you would be right. But that doesn't stop it being funny when you’re confronted with a place that’s really not made for you.
Case in point, the convenience store next to this particular landing pad. There were only spots for a few spaceships to park at once, so this was a dinky establishment, but I was surprised to see a good-sized building. Once I stepped through the doors — those automated ones that are popular all over the galaxy — I found it to be shockingly empty.
Because the locals were ankle height, unless they reared up to reach their tiny centipede legs for a high shelf, which were towering way up there near my knees. The ceiling was high enough that I wouldn’t have been able to touch it even if I jumped, and that was clearly a concession to any larger customers. That and the generous width of the aisles. But nobody was going to stock things at a height that would make life difficult for the Manylegs who made up the bulk of their business; that would just be absurd.
I stepped out of the way of other customers, trying to rein in a smile while thinking phrases like doll house and kid sized. Most of the products on the shelves were very small. The shopping carts were too: long and low with steering bars on the sides instead of at the back, so the shoppers could tow them alongside with a few spare legs. All perfectly reasonable. My back was going to hurt from bending over, I could tell. But it was charming. Yes, even though the store was full of giant bugs.
I was pretty used to those by now. The door slid open behind me to admit an even more giant bug, who towered over me and stopped to let out a petulant hiss.
“This is undignified,” Trrili complained.
I smiled. “Little bit.”
Trrili folded her shiny black mantis pinchers and held them close, managing to look like a sulky teenager. “Snack variety may not be worth it if retrieving them involves groveling on the floor.”
“It’s not that bad,” I said. “I’m sure you can bend down quickly if you need to.”
“Of course I can be quick,” Trrili grumbled. “What do you take me for?” She swiveled her head at an angle that mine could never manage, and she made a show of looking over the front of the store, probably hoping for an employee she could persuade to do her shopping for her. She made an interested noise, and I had no idea what she was focusing on with faceted eyes that could see most of the room at once.
“What?”
Trrili pointed with a pincher. “I thought that was an advertising about the meat of the week, but it’s a criminal portrait.”
“A what?” I followed where she was pointing, and saw a blurry photo of what looked like a green bird with text promising a reward if caught. “Huh. I don’t know that species.”
“I don’t think it’s a person,” Trrili said, sounding amused. “I think it’s an animal. Now who do we know who’s good with those?”
I gave her a look. “Are you hoping I’ll catch it so they’ll gather your snacks for you?”
“What a marvelous idea,” Trrili purred. “How clever of you to think of it. Go ask for details.” She nudged me forward with a folded pincher arm.
I shook my head, but I was laughing as I walked toward the checkout counter. “Fine, but you get to help.”
“Ask them if they want it alive.”
I pointed back at her. “No gory dismemberments in the store!”
Trrili flicked her antennae dismissively. “Not if you want to do it the inefficient way.”
The Manylegs working the counter looked understandingly concerned after overhearing. I folded into a crouch so I didn’t loom too much. “Hi. Sorry about that. What’s the story with that wanted poster over there?”
“Oh!” he said, twisting to look. He had employee decals along his back to show that he worked there: green circles on his dark brown carapace. All different shades in no discernible pattern. He faced me again and explained, “Someone misjudged a landing awhile back and damaged the fence, letting in a troublesome specimen of local fauna. It keeps stealing food. No one’s been able to catch it, so they finally let us put up a sign.”
“Is it fast?” I asked. “Or dangerous?”
“Fast yes, dangerous … eh, not really? Unless it pecks you in the eye. It’s good at that.”
Trrili’s voice asked from above me, “How much is the reward?”
The employee looked up at her (way up) and named a price that would cover plenty of snacks. Trrili haggled, because of course she did. My knees were starting to hurt, so I stood up and let her, taking the time to look around the spacious store. I certainly had a good view of the place.
One thing I noticed was a lot of green. Many of the products had green labels, like there was a branding takeover in action. Some of the display cases were green too, along with certain areas of the floor. And almost none of it matched. I’d thought this was a deliberate choice at first, but really it just looked careless. The kind of thing that would aggravate a detail-oriented individual to no end. Pea green, pea green, lime green, why.
Another employee scuttled past with mismatched stickers, and I wondered suddenly if they couldn’t actually tell the different shades of green apart. That would explain a lot. Including why they were having such trouble finding a green bird.
Trrili was asking if they wouldn’t mind just a little blood in the aisles (they would) when a flash of motion caught my eye. It wasn’t moving like a Manylegs did.
I whipped around and pointed. “Is that it?”
It saw me and froze, dropping the bag of whatever and pointing its narrow beak skyward like it was trying to blend in with a bunch of reeds. It was not standing among reeds. It was, however, standing in front of a display of folded green sunshades, which were actually pretty close in shape to this skinny bird. Its eyes stuck out on either side of its head, staring at me even in this pose, telegraphing you don’t see me with every bone in its goofy little body.
And the Manylegs couldn’t tell what I was pointing at. “Is what it?”
I laughed, pointing vigorously. “That right there! See the bag on the floor? By the sunshades?”
I flicked her mandibles with the kind of casual daring I wouldn’t have dreamed of when I’d first started work on our ship. “No. Bad. No blood in the aisles, and anyway I have a better idea. There’s another door over there, right?”
There was. And there was also a display of lacy-net-shawl-things that were both on sale and perfectly suited to a cartoonish trap. Trrili was on board, thankfully. I kept my eyes on the bird while I explained. It was still doing its best to blend in, not even moving a feather when a pair of Manylegs passed by without seeing it.
The employee wished us luck. Trrili vanished out the other door with a net (green of course), and moments later she appeared outside this door, standing just to the side of the sensor. She lay the netting down with her unfolded pincher arms under the edges. She clearly didn’t mind lowering herself to ground level for this, because this was honorable prey-catching. Even if the goal was a bloodless catch.
I thought, Silly solutions for silly problems, and walked very deliberately toward the bird.
It held position for a moment. I could see it breathing rapidly as I approached: the flightless wings tucked to its sides twitched while it kept its goggle-eyed attention on me.
I was starting to wonder if it would actually let me close enough to grab it when I stepped into range of the door sensor. In a flash, the bird grabbed its treasure — a little paper bag of crunchy snacks — and it bolted for the door almost too fast for me to follow.
But not too fast for a Mesmer. Trrili snapped the net upwards at exactly the right moment to tangle her quarry in it, and she hissed in victory as it thrashed. I hurried forward to make sure it didn’t hurt itself.
With a bit of awkward maneuvering, we managed to get the bird held in place without any injuries that I could see, though the bag ripped. The net held. A pair of small Manylegs came out of nowhere to pounce on the snacks that fell, to the sharp scolding of several adult voices. That part wasn’t our problem.
I spared a look for the fence, which wasn’t too far and was hopefully not too tall for Trrili. “Can you reach over that?”
“Close enough,” she said.
“Let’s do it.”
We both kept a hold of the mess of net, bird, and torn bag. I managed to keep the rest of the snacks from spilling out as we walked. When we got to the barrier, I appreciated the decorative patterns in what otherwise looked like regular chain link fence, and I eyed the dense greenery on the other side. Quite a cutoff between nature and tarmac.
Time to get this larcenous beastie back on the other side of it.
The bird held mostly still as I slid my hands free. Trrili didn’t give it a chance to escape, rearing up to place her forefeet high among the links and reaching her long pincher arms over the fence. The bird leapt straight into a bush the moment she let it.
“Woo!” I cheered as Trrili folded herself back into place beside me and the bird wiggled its way to the ground. A glance told me the bag of snacks was still among the netting. While Trrili detangled her pinchers, I plucked it out, tore it all the way open, and flung the snacks between the wires of the fence. The bird had earned them.
The bird and its three dozen cousins, as it turned out; those bushes exploded with little green beaky creatures who had just spotted free food. I stepped back in surprise.
Trrili laughed. “Admirable,” she said, folding the net into a tidy bundle. “Well, that worked out for everyone. Let’s go get our own prize.”
“Yeah, let’s,” I agreed. I followed her with a look back at the ruckus among the greenery. “It’s probably a good thing those can’t fly. Or climb.”
“I’m sure they’ll be keeping a close watch for any further security breaches. Best of luck to whoever has to deal with it when we’re not around.” Trrili sounded understandably smug.
I smiled. “You don’t think every random pair of customers will be ready to spot and catch feathery little thieves?”
“They should be so lucky. I certainly hope that the snacks at this establishment are worth all the effort.”
I watched several long necks poke through the fence to snap up the last few bits on this side. “Well they certainly seem to think so. Hopefully we do too.”
~~~
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.)
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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).
The least bittern is really the most when it comes to agility! Though they're the smallest heron, standing at only 36 cm (14 in) tall, they are often found in water that is far too deep for their larger cousins. This is because the least bittern has very long, agile toes which allows it to grip onto the slender reeds of its hunting grounds, keeping it suspended over the water as it searches for prey.
(Image: A least bittern (Botaurus exilis) by Andy Wraithmell)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"One of the smallest herons in the world, adapted for life in dense marshes. Rather than wading in the shallows like most herons, the Least Bittern climbs about in cattails and reeds, clinging to the stems with its long toes. Its narrow body allows it to slip through dense, tangled vegetation with ease. Because of its habitat choice, it often goes unseen except when it flies, but its cooing and clucking callnotes are heard frequently at dawn and dusk and sometimes at night."
