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).
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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).
“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).
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).
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“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).
The most interesting delivery jobs are the ones we were never supposed to do in the first place. Either some other courier ship has engine trouble, or the only supplier of a specific thing suddenly stops offering their own deliveries, or a customer is in an all-fired rush and we’re the only ones close enough to make it happen. Today was that last option.
“Congratulations, today you’re part of the catering staff,” Captain Sunlight told me in the hallway, handing over a payment screen with the job readout active. “Briefly, anyway.”
“Really,” I said, looking at the readout. “I’ve always wanted to deliver a cake big enough to trip over. There’s nothing hiding inside it ready to jump out, right?”
“No?” said the captain with that expression on her lizardy face that said she was refraining from asking for details about some Fresh Human Nonsense. “Just a very expensive dessert, for an equally expensive party, which is about to start and whoever was in charge of food managed to forget that part. Luckily for them, an establishment nearby has an appropriate item already made, though they don’t deliver.”
“And here we are to save the day. I wondered why it’s such a short jaunt.” I studied the map. “They really couldn’t spare anybody to run over and get it?”
Captain Sunlight said in an exaggeratedly snooty tone, “The wealthy never run.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I suppose they just pay us to do it for them, don’t they? A hefty rush fee, I assume?”
“Hefty enough to make it worth the risk of dangerous fauna.”
“Hang on.”
“…Which is the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Captain Sunlight took the screen back long enough to point out the large river on the map. It spread in countless tributaries that spiraled through the residential area in a way that was clearly artificial. She said, “At this time of year, predators migrate downriver, but all research says they prefer to stick to the deepest areas without bothering anyone.”
“But,” I prompted.
“But while their preferred diet is waterborne creatures, they can in fact walk on land, posing significant threat if they choose to.”
“So what are the odds that they’ll choose to while we’re there?”
“Low,” she said. “Everyone I ask swears that it isn’t a concern — you never see the things; they’re more a curiosity than a hazard; so on and so forth. But I’d prefer that you each bring a stun gun just in case.”
I felt my eyebrows jump to my hairline, but I didn’t question her judgement. We stayed away from anywhere dangerous enough to need that sort of thing as a general rule. (That hadn’t always been the case in the early days, which was why we had them in the storage cabinet in the first place.) The fact that this wealthy residential area rated that honor was more than a little ironic. But it seemed like a reasonable precaution just in case.
* * *
“Oh great,” Mur said, pointing with a tentacle toward the sign on the guard station. “Look what they don’t allow here.”
I found the line that listed any kind of gun, including stun. “Dang it. Hopefully we won’t need them. And hopefully we don’t have to go all the way back to the ship to leave them behind!”
It would be a moment before we found out, since the guard on duty was busy talking to the person ahead of us: a large purple Strongarm on a ritzy hoverstool. She waved her tentacles with a casual lack of hurry that said she didn’t care a whit for the pair of couriers clearly waiting for her to get out of the way.
The large cylindrical cake box was festooned with logos, barely fitting on our new mini hover sled. It didn’t look like anything other than what it was. I wondered if this lady was going to the same party.
Then a trio of other Strongarms came scooting out of the neighborhood on their own hoverstools, moving at what looked like a pretty sedate maximum speed. They passed through the scan field without stopping or even acknowledging the guard, who barely glanced over at them.
Their conversation was what really caught my attention.
“I am not visiting again until winter!”
“If that’s their idea of safe…”
“Did you see the TEETH on that thing?”
“Of course I did; they were hard to miss!”
I watched them go, then turned to Mur, who was doing the same. He folded his tentacles and made the popping sound that I knew was a swear word.
I said, “Maybe the guard will let us make an exception? Or call for an escort?”
“Unlikely,” Mur said, and I had to agree. Exceptions would just get the guard in trouble. A couple of strangers with a cake probably didn’t rate a personal guard, especially since this was supposed to be a safe place to live. It wouldn’t do to upset the very important locals, now would it?
I looked at the well-trimmed bushes with suspicion. They were probably all too small to hide any sizable predators. And the river was a ways off, though of course we were going to make our delivery to the party area on the shore of a main tributary.
Mur grumbled, “We can just keep our eyes open for dangers, and retreat if we see one. Make the security guard actually do some security. Bet he’s got a stun gun, or worse. Pity we don’t have anything else remotely weaponlike. Throwing cake at them would be right out.”
I spotted an artful spread of decorative river rocks, and I had an idea. With a glance to see that the guard was still talking to the long-winded resident, I sidled over and grabbed a double handful. They were each the size of a healthy chicken egg, polished smooth, and very clean. Perfect. I hurried to pile them on a corner of the hoversled out of the guard’s eyesight, pulled a pen from my back pocket, and set to work.
Good thing I hadn’t bothered to put the pen away earlier. I’d used it for labeling boxes in the storage cabinet. Now I was giving each of these rocks a face and a personality.
In other words, plausible deniability.
“What’s that?” Mur asked, lifting up on his tentacles for a look.
“My new best friends,” I told him. “Who I carry everywhere with me, in case the guard asks.”
“Ah. Gotcha.”
The guard did ask, a minute later when my pockets were weighed down and the scanner threw a question about it.
We’d already surrendered our weapons, prepared to accept them back after leaving, and now I was delighted to show this lovely guard my collection of Emotional Support Rocks.
He’d asked.
“This one is Smiley, because he’s the classic smile. This one’s Grumpyface for obvious reasons; he’s great to have along on bad days, you know? And this is Egghead because she’s shaped exactly like a chicken egg — that’s an animal from my planet — Oh, and this one is Spot because of the…”
The guard didn’t need to hear the whole rundown. He just told me to make sure I kept track of them, and to steer the hoversled along the side of the road instead of the center.
I thanked him brightly. Then I led the way into the gated community, heading for the party.
It was a nice place. I wouldn’t fit inside any of the houses without crawling on hands and knees, since they were built for the octopus-style Strongarms who didn’t have Mur’s tall squid head, but I could appreciate the rounded and elegant architecture. Everything was colored in pastels, which had to be several people’s full-time jobs to keep clean.
First we heard the music. I assume it was music. Sounded kinda like industrial bubble wrap synthesized into a drumbeat, then tone-shifted deeper with squeaky balloons on top. Not exactly my thing, but I’ve enjoyed worse.
Secondly, we reached an offshoot of the river: a carefully sculpted spiral of blue water and green floating leaves, with plenty of scattered platforms for sunbathing or whatever.
Thirdly — okay, second-and-a-halfly, we saw the wet footprints, but then we met the aggressive fauna. It strolled around a bit of topiary like it had every right to be there, and I could see why it might think that. It’s easy to have confidence in your own superiority when you’re fifteen feet of semiaquatic terror. If alligators and sharks had gotten together to create the scariest of both worlds, they might have come up with this. It was gray, sleek, four-legged, and full of teeth that it was happy to bare for us in an open-jawed growl.
I stopped. Mur swore. The sharkgator rumbled at us. The music thumped merrily along, and no one else was in sight.
Moving slowly, I pulled out a couple of my new emotional support rocks and silently pleaded with them to fly straight.
The first shot cracked the beastie across the snout, making it shut its mouth and regroup. The second hit near its eye. It reared back and hissed at that, making my next shot go wide. But then it opened its jaws again for a proper threat. Rock number four smacked into the roof of its mouth with a sound like hitting bone.
The sharkgator shook its head vigorously, retreating towards the water and hissing at me.
I hissed back. Two more rocks were ready to throw, and I knew how to make threat displays too. I waved my arms and lunged a bit. There was no way I was actually going to chase this thing, but it didn’t need to know that.
It turned toward the water, hissing and moving slowly, then another rock to its hindquarters made it abandon dignity and scramble away to disappear with a splash.
“Woo!” I declared, fist in the air and heart beating wildly.
“Nicely done!” Mur said. “I’ll tell you, I was ready to run for it and hope that thing liked cake.”
“It probably doesn’t,” I told him. “Unless this cake is fish-flavored, actually; I didn’t ask.” With thoughts of not wanting anyone to step on rocks where they shouldn’t be, I grabbed up my projectiles. The first two were easy to spot on the street, though the third was down a ways, and I’d heard the last one bounce into the water.
Rock number four lay on alien moss near the shore, with a touch of what looked like blood on it. I winced. Then I gave it a salute and kicked it into the river. “Farewell, Eyebrows McGee. You made us proud.”
“You’re going to keep all the rest of those, aren’t you?” Mur asked, pushing the hoversled.
“Heck yeah, I am. These new pocket friends are the best. They can live on my bookshelf back at the ship.”
Mur just rolled his eyes and pushed industriously. I hurried along. The delivery spot was right up ahead; hopefully we weren’t about to be late. There had been something of a delay, what with the lady at the gate and the monster just past it.
But the timing ended up perfect. When we arrived, someone with an air of authority swept up to us and made a big production of the cake as if he had planned to have it delivered at the last moment for the most dramatic entrance.
I was glad our new hoversled was stable. The cake hadn’t slid against the box even a little bit. And this model had a gravity platform for transferring the cake to the table flawlessly, not that any of the assembled rich folks needed to know that we’d never tested it before. Whew.
As Mur discretely handled the payment tablet and the guests made a big deal of portioning out the cake, I took in the curious sight of the music setup. Those were clearly speakers, mounted next to the swimming grotto that connected to the main river. But the things under the water next to them also looked like speakers, just a slightly different model for underwater use. Colored lights glowed around them and all throughout the grotto. Strongarms appeared to be dancing underwater.
Alligators would hate that, I thought. So would sharks.
I looked around some more at the way all the recreational water areas connected to the deep river, and I was certain that I knew why the migrating predators had decided to leave the water today. These partiers were unlikely to take my word for it, but I was going to have words with that security guard on the way back. And I’d make sure Captain Sunlight found someone to complain to if that wasn’t enough.
Maybe she’d do that anyway. Two of her best employees had nearly been eaten, after all. A narrow escape thanks to some pocket friends and a good throwing arm.
Something tugged on my pant leg. I looked down to see the smallest Strongarm I’d ever encountered: a little blue guy about the size of a kitten. I immediately crouched down to talk. “Hi there!”
“Where did you come from?” he asked in the voice of someone very young indeed.
“I helped deliver the cake,” I said. “I came from a spaceship.”
“But where did the ship come from?” he insisted.
“A planet called Earth.” (The ship itself had come from somewhere else entirely, but I could tell that wasn’t what he was asking.) “We have rivers and parties there too.”
“Oh,” he said, thinking about it. Then he said, “This party is supposed to be for me, but it’s not very fun. It’s all the grownups talking.”
“That’s a pity!”
He continued, “I thought a land party would have more fun stuff to do on the land, but instead it’s just talking like they always do. I guess they’re proud of me or whatever.”
Going on what I knew of Strongarm life cycles, I made the educated guess that this was something like a birthday party to show off the young one who had fully grown out of the swimming stage. I thought they usually had more kids at once than just one, but I wasn’t certain.
Poor kid, though.
“I’m sure they are proud, but it’s sad that your party isn’t more fun,” I told him. “Would you like a present?”
“Yeah!” He bounced in place while I dug into a pocket, checked which one it was, then held out the rock.
“This is Smiley. I carry him around with me, and now he’s yours. See how these marks look like a face? Two eyes and a mouth?”
He made an awestruck noise as he accepted the gift, needing several tentacles to hold it. “Thank you! What does he do?”
“I like to think he brings good luck,” I said. “And can I tell you a secret?”
He was 100% on board with secrets.
I leaned down further and whispered. “You know those big scary animals that live in the river, with all the teeth?”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes wide.
“He helped me scare one of those away. I can throw really well, and I threw this guy at it, hitting it in the face. It ran away.”
“Wow!” He clutched the rock like it was the most valuable thing he’d ever been given. “That’s amazing!”
“It was pretty exciting, that’s for sure,” I agreed. “You know, I don’t think those animals like it when the grownups play music this loud. I think it’s why they keep leaving the water to walk around scaring people.”
“Really??” He looked around frantically. “I’ve got to tell them. Thank you!” he clambered away awkwardly but quickly, holding the rock with as many tentacles as he could spare.
“You’re welcome! Have a good land party!” I got to my feet, and Mur immediately walked up to me.
“There you are! How am I supposed to find you when you suddenly get shorter like that?”
I laughed. “Sorry. I was having an important conversation. I think I figured out why the predators are wandering into the roads.”
“Great! Tell me all about it as we hurry out of here. I’m not going to feel safe until we’re back on the ship.” He moved toward the hoversled and added, “Plus this music is terrible.”
I followed with a smile. “I think the predators would agree with you, actually.” I readied a rock in each hand — one smirking and the other sticking its tongue out — and I was all set for the walk back.
~~~
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).
Sometimes it strikes me as funny that there are dinosaurs in space, since dinosaurs are a Very Old Thing and space travel is a Modern New Thing, but I remind myself that they’re not related to the Earth version. I mean, probably. It’s one of those things I’ve never really looked into. But enough time has passed, and enough species have evolved to resemble each other on different planets, that I’m pretty sure the Armorlites are not in fact cousins of any toothy beasties from my own homeworld.
Which is great, because they’re usually jerks. Like the one we were delivering a package to today, who was clearly too important for any of this.
“Fine, hurry up,” she grumbled, despite the fact that she was the one typing her payment details into the tablet. She pressed hard enough to damage a weaker model, but luckily for our ship’s budget, we were prepared for the occasional set of cranky claws. She shoved it back at me and said, “Give it to them. You two! Deal with this.” Her tooth-baring expression was probably meant to be as threatening as it looked.
Two underlings hurried across the landing pad: a smaller Armorlite with scales of a brighter green-gray than the boss, and a Smasher in a breathing suit with lots of pockets. They were both shorter than the boss, but bigger and burlier than me (and Mur, who was holding the package up but otherwise keeping his tentacles close).
I said a polite thank you to the boss, but she was already stomping off toward the nearest building: an artsy bit of stonework that sprawled like a luxury vacation home. The native plantlife was a rainbow of green everywhere, and everything around here was pretty. But grumpy types will grump, I guess.
At least the underlings were reasonable.
Mur held out the box, and the small Armorlite picked it up without grabbing. “Great,” he said, looking down at us. “You should probably wait a minute before leaving.”
I nodded. “Go ahead and check. We took good care of it.”
He was already clawing the box open. “Not worried that it’s broken. Worried about what it might find. Boss didn’t say anything because she thought you might not make the delivery otherwise.”
Well that was sure a red flag. “What might it find?” I asked while Mur flailed his tentacles and looked back at the ship. He voiced little popping swear words under his breath.
“Toxins,” the Armorlite said. He removed packaging and what looked like a handheld scanner of a different model from the one in our medcenter.
The Smasher spoke up, voice deep behind his faceplate, busy removing something from one of his bigger pockets. “There might not be any in the air — or here at all — but the boss was worried.” He produced what looked like a plastic bag full of yellow leaves and rocks, then bent to dump it out on the surface of the landing pad.
“Step back, just in case,” the Armorlite said to Mur and me.
We wasted no time in doing just that. I wondered if Wio or Kavlae were watching from the cockpit. Would they have activated the ship’s scanners out of curiosity? Wio might. Probably if there was anything really dangerous here, they would already be calling for Eggskin to get medical supplies. But they always checked the atmosphere before letting anyone leave the ship without an exo suit, so … hopefully it was fine.
Hopefully this bag of whatever wasn’t about to blast us with toxic spores. I breathed shallowly and edged back a little further.
The Armorlite scanned it twice: once from a distance, and once close up, checking every inch of what looked like a single plant. The rocks were potato-style roots all clustered together and still covered in dirt. And apparently, safe ones.
“Not dangerous to breathe or touch,” he told his companion with clear relief. “I’d say to wash your hands, but you’re wearing gloves. Wash your suit.”
The Smasher nodded his bearlike head. “Fair. Glad I won’t be the only one digging.”
“Oh, you know the boss would just make me put on a suit and get out there too.”
“Also fair.”
Mur interrupted. “So are we clear to go?”
“Oh! Yes, go ahead,” the Armorlite said, glancing at us, then back down at the plant and the ripped-open box. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t get accidentally poisoned by our stupid invasive mystery plant. You might mark us as untrustworthy to deliver to, and then where would we be?”
Mur snorted. “Also poisoned, I assume.”
“And with a black mark on your record,” I added. “And that would never do!”
“The boss sure wouldn’t—”
The boss chose that moment to open the door and roar, “Quit wasting time and start digging!”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Sorry, Boss.”
The door slammed. The underlings scrambled to gather their things. The Armorlite said, “Thanks for the delivery. If you know anybody interested in a vacation somewhere without toxic plants, we re-open in a month.”
“Probably,” the Smasher rumbled. “We still have to dig them all up and plant the garden, plus all the other stuff.”
“Right.” The Armorlite sagged, looking like a very tired dinosaur. He looked over at me. “I’d say to send people looking for menial jobs our way too, but that’s hoping for too much. Boss is a tailbiter. Maybe you know somebody who wants organic mulch?” He sounded sarcastic as he pointed at the plant that his companion was trying to stuff back into the bag.
“I mean, it looks like a potato,” I said automatically. “It’s not really, is it?”
They both looked at me with the confusion of aliens who’d never heard that word before. Even Mur was waiting for my explanation.
“A food plant from my planet,” I said. “The roots are edible. For me, anyway; probably not for you guys. Does that scanner give other information, or just check toxicity?”
“Um.” The Armorlite squinted at a little control panel on the side of the scanner. He adjusted something and scanned it again. “Wow, it has a lot of names in this database. Rock roots, sun tubers, Jumbo Gold, potay — what did you call it? Potato?”
“Yes!”
“Huh. Guess it’s a potato. Wait, why does this name come with a toxicity warning??” He glared at the scanner, then at me.
“Probably because the green ones aren’t edible,” I told him. “Or the leaves. Or any new sprouts that grow from the roots. Oh, and it’s in the same plant family as some famous poisons.”
“What?! And it still counts as food?”
Mur waved several tentacles in my direction. “Welcome to life around an omnivore. They eat much stranger things than that.”
The Armorlite shook his scaly head, still looking shocked. “Just eating plants at all sounds vile.”
“I know, right?” Mur agreed.
“Hey, I’ve seen you eat plant matter before,” I objected.
“Not the roots,” Mur said, curling a tentacle and flicking it away. “That is disgusting. They’re the part that soaks in the dirt!”
I laughed. “You wash the dirt off before eating it.”
“Still vile.”
“And yet they’re delicious when cooked with butter,” I said. “Oh wait, you don’t like dairy products either.”
“Don’t get me started on your mammal squeezings.”
The Smasher’s deep voice cut into the conversation. “If this is a food, is it something that people would want to buy?”
I turned back. “Absolutely, if you clean them up and sell just the roots — the ones that aren’t green. Those ones look pretty good from here, but definitely check each one.”
The pair of them peered at the dirty bundle of tubers, with the Smasher turning each carefully and the Armorlite tilting his head like a confused dog.
The Smasher told him, “My color vision is better than yours. If it looks like you, it’s bad.” He pointed at the Armorlite’s greenish scales.
“I think you mean good at poisoning people,” the Armorlite shot back.
“Yes, of course.” The Smasher looked over at me. “Thank you for telling us! Actually getting money for these once we dig them all up would be amazing. Maybe it’d be enough to bribe somebody else to work here, though I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“Did you know you can cut them up and grow new ones?” I asked. “Let a few sprout, then cut them into half a dozen pieces and you’ll get half a dozen new plants.”
As one, they looked from me to the plant, which held far more than half a dozen tubers below the stems.
The Armorlite murmured, “We could plant them behind the shade grove. Nobody looks over there.”
“We could,” the Smasher said thoughtfully. “If the boss asks, we’re composting them; don’t worry about it.”
“Yes. Perfect, excellent, we’re doing this.” The Armorlite glanced back at the building. “At the earliest opportunity.”
“Best of luck!” I said. “Glad I could help.”
Mur put in, “Especially since it was probably someone of her species that made them an invasive mess in the first place.”
“Hey. Well … okay, maybe.” I looked at the resort house. “I can imagine someone finding a sprouted one among their food supplies and just chucking it into the field. Someone irresponsible.”
The Smasher said, “Their irresponsibility is our gain. I know of a station with a market where private individuals can sell produce; that might be just the place to visit.”
I smiled. “If it’s the one I’m thinking of, look for a purple Heatseeker selling ‘good luck smile berries.’ He’s got stuff marketed to humans too.”
Mur rippled a tentacle. “Can’t believe you’re making a habit of this.”
“The glamorous life of package delivery has many benefits!” I said. “Including meeting people all over the place who might like to know each other.”
“Because they’re both selling bizarre food that your people like for some reason.”
“Entirely valid reasons,” I insisted.
We said our goodbyes before the boss came out to yell again, then Mur and I went back into the ship with a suggestion for the captain to check in later in case these guys needed our services in delivering their new crop to the market. Amethyst would probably be happy to sell potatoes at his booth for a cut of the profits.
As we walked, I told Mur about French fries, hash browns, and the many other glorious uses for the dirty dirty root food, and he only pretended to gag a little.
~~~
(Thanks to @bibliophotography for the idea!)
~~~
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).
