#haso

“Sure do.” Mur tapped a couple buttons and the little cover slid open to show a palm-sized hole in the wall. I was privately glad I didn’t have to stick my hand in there. Despite the cover and the clean state of the ship, it always seemed like the kind of dark crevice that might hold spiders or worse.

Mur had no such worries. When the external cameras put a view of the grabber arm onscreen next to the space junk waiting to be gathered, he went for it. Stuck a tentacle in there as easy as putting on a house slipper, and got to work manipulating the large metal tentacle that reached from the hull, following his every motion.

Another type of ship might have a more fingerlike pinching design, but as Kavlae had said, this ship wasn’t designed for us.

Mur easily curled the grabber arm around the largest chunk of metal drifting outside — leftovers from a crash that hadn’t been cleaned up properly, by the looks of things — and he pulled it carefully to the cargo airlock. Didn’t bang the sides or anything. On a different screen, Blip and Blop waved from the cargo bay when they had it safely cycled through. The airlock’s scanner reported no contamination.

“Ta-da,” Mur said, sounding pleased with himself. He pulled back and pressed the right buttons to close the little hatch again. “Think I can cross this one off the list.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it down,” Kavlae said. “We’ll let you know when there’s a good opportunity for something harder.” She made a note on the digital chart of who had mastered what in the cross-training that Captain Sunlight was having us do.

Honestly, it made a lot of sense to have as many crewmembers as possible ready to step in for the essentials. I was surprised more ships didn’t give everybody a rundown on how to launch a distress beacon, or diagnose a red alert in the engine room, or turn on the basic self-operated machinery in the medbay. I was certainly enjoying the chance to learn it all, and taking lots of notes.

Today was just practice, though. Because some things are easy to understand but tricky to do.

“Righto, somebody else’s turn!” Mur said as he swung down to the floor. “I’m off to lunch.”

“Can I go next?” Paint asked.

I stepped aside and made an after you bow toward the chair, which Paint received with a sunny smile full of sharp lizard teeth. She scrambled up and tapped out a different set of commands.

This time a controller popped out of the underside of the console, moving forward on its own metal arm until Paint positioned where she wanted it and locked the thing in place.

The first time I’d seen it, I’d had to laugh. Somehow I’d been expecting a joystick or a grid of more buttons, but nope. It was a small model of the grabber arm itself, which would follow the shape this one was pushed into. Really, this was the same idea as the hollow one in the wall, but it looked like a funny little toy. According to Wio, the proper term was a “manipulating simulacrum,” or mani-sim. I always thought of the tiny plastic steering wheels you might give a toddler who wants to try steering the car from the back seat.

Paint was more focused than the average toddler. With the controller arm locked in place, she watched the screen while curling the mani-sim into a spiral that almost got a good grip on a warped piece of some other unfortunate ship’s hull. She huffed in annoyance and tried again. Her scaly orange hands were a bit too small for this, even with the adaptive design.

Eventually she got it, beaming as she deposited the chunk into the airlock. “Yes!”

“Well done,” Kavlae said. “I think it’s safe to say you can do it, just not super fast.”

“Right, yes, I won’t be volunteering for something time-sensitive unless I need to,” she said. “Can I try again?”

I didn’t mind waiting for my turn, and the two pilots were in no hurry since our schedule had plenty of wiggle room today, so I took a seat in the third chair while Paint got some more practice. She left plenty of detritus for me to work with when she was done.

“Your turn!” Paint said, unlocking the stabilization so she could push the mani-sim toward me.

I took it and sat up straighter while Paint vacated Kavlae’s chair and everybody shared pointers for me. I had done this before, though only once, and there hadn’t been much time to get a feel for it then.

The metal was cold as I felt it now. Which made sense, of course; Paint’s coldblooded fingers were hardly going to warm it. But it just seemed like all the more immersion into the idea of manipulating the big metal thing that reached into the blackness of space.

The really awkward, unwieldy metal thing. My fingers were longer than Paint’s, but it was a lot to keep track of.

“I need more hands,” I grumbled. “I’ve got to keep this part bent to the side to get around that thing, because I’m trying to curl this part around that thing, and I could try to grab the other bit, but I don’t want to break up the clump of tiny bits because then the visibility will be shot…”

“Yep,” Kavlae said cheerfully. “It stinks. That’s why I usually let Wio do it.”

“Can I — nope.” I tried to get an elbow involved, then my chin. Neither was helpful. “I swear, I should just take off my shoes and use my feet.”

Wio brayed in laughter. “That sounds hilarious; you should definitely do that.”

Kavlae frowned. “Then it’ll smell like feet!”

“And? Surely that can be cleaned,” Wio said, with all the confidence of someone who didn’t have shoes, or feet, or any reason to care what the mani-sim smelled like. “Go on; let’s see if it helps.”

Kavlae sighed dramatically while Paint tittered behind me. What the heck, there were cleaning supplies just down the hall.

“All right, fine,” I said. I kicked off both shoes and reached around the controller to pull off one sock, then the other. “You’re all lucky I haven’t been walking all over on deliveries in some hot climate today.”

“You get to clean it,” Kavlae told me.

“Yep,” I agreed, dropping the last sock and unlocking the controller arm. There was no way to make this dignified. I adjusted the height to where I could get at it with all four limbs, then I Did My Best.

It still wasn’t great. The detritus floated away at the slightest touch, and glittering flakes of broken stuff made the view iffy. But it did help. I pressed the lower part into place with my toes and curled the top into a careful grip with my much more dexterous fingers, and I managed to grab what I was aiming for. Paint applauded when I did.

Wio thought it was the funniest thing she’d seen in ages, nearly falling out of her chair while laughing at the sight of somebody with only four limbs trying to use them all on the same task.

“Congratulations,” Kavlae said when I shoved my catch into the airlock. “Now how much cleaning is that going to need?”

“Not too much.”

Still laughing, Wio declared, “It is absurd that your feet smell bad, just because you cover them up all the time. Do you really need the shoes that much?”

“Well, maybe not onboard,” I admitted with a glance at Kavlae, the only other shoe-wearer in the room. “But I definitely wouldn’t want to leave the ship without them.”

“And it just feels wrong,” Kavlae said. “Full clothes, on the job, but no shoes? Pshh, garbage behavior. Something you’d expect of unwashed bandits with no sense of pride.”

Paint put in, “Or someone who just wants to manipulate more controls at once?”

Kavlae frowned at her. “That is a wildly inefficient way to do it.”

“Probably depends on which controls,” I said as I unlocked the arm and pushed it away.

“None of these are made for feet!” Kavlae declared, spreading blue-skinned hands to wave at the control panel. “They’re barely made for fingers!”

Wio said, “No, you could probably do some of this with feet.” She sounded like she was just arguing to get a rise out of her copilot, and enjoying every moment. “This doesn’t take much dexterity, and that could be pressed with anything. Oh, and the slider for wormhole scans! Super easy.”

Kavlae argued back on principle while I gathered my shoes and socks. I didn’t bother to put them on. “I’ll be right back with the cleaner.”

Paint looked at my bare feet as I left, raising one browridge in question. I just smiled and hurried down the hall to fling my shoes and socks into my quarters, wash my feet, and gather a couple cleaning scrubs.

“I’m back,” I said over a discussion of propriety and social standards. Kavlae and Wio didn’t even look up. I sat down again and cleaned the mani-sim thoroughly while only Paint watched. Then I put the scrubs on the floor and deliberately pressed the button sequence to retract the apparatus with my big toe. “All done! What’s next? Should we do a wormhole scan?”

Paint giggled. Kavlae stared at me. Wio burst into laughter again.

I said, “It’s fine, I cleaned them. With soap and everything.”

“Good enough for me!” Wio declared. “Can you reach that slider? Wait, lemme see if you can turn a sensor dial.”

I could, in fact. Wio was delighted. Kavlae sank into her chair like a teenager who didn’t want to be seen with embarrassing family members. Paint stood close and suggested other awkward things to try.

It was uncomfortable and challenging and hilarious, made entirely worth it by the antennae-tilting expression on Zhee’s face when he clicked by in the hallway later, with silent judgement in every angle of his insectoid body. Wio just laughed louder. Zhee left before anyone could try to explain.

~~~

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.

I shook my head with a rueful smile. “You missed out on a lot of fun growing up on a space station, you know. Stomping in mud puddles, getting grass stains on your knees — heck, even gardening. Was there any kind of garden there?”

“Of course,” Kavlae said. “With protective clothes and a hygiene station to keep at the dirt where it belonged.”

“Missing out,” I repeated. “All right, how do we play this game?”

Paint said, “You have to move your piece through the maze to different targets. I only played it the one time, but it was really fun.”

“Really complicated too,” Kavlae said as she unfolded the instructions. “Lemme find the rules of sabotage. Ugh, why did they have to use paper?” It fluttered in the breeze and resisted unfolding.

“No batteries,” I said.

“Purely to aggravate you,” Zhee said at the same time.

“Well, it’s doing a great job,” Kavlae griped. “Ow, voidsong!” She stuck a finger in her mouth.

“Are you okay?” Paint asked.

“Papercut?” I guessed.

“Yeth,” Kavlae replied to both.

I winced. “Ugh, those are the worst.”

She took her finger out to look at it. “Not too deep, at least. I’ve definitely had worse. Stupid gravityfailing paper.” She took a tiny sanitizing spray from a pocket and set about disinfecting it thoroughly, holding the instruction booklet down with her elbow.

Paint tilted her scaly head, staring at the offending crumple of paper. “That really doesn’t look like it should be able to cause bleeding,” she said in the careful tone of someone with scales who’d never dealt with that kind of nonsense personally.

“It really doesn’t,” I agreed. “But paper’s made of wood, and it’s stiff enough to be a blade when pulled at just the right angle.”

“Or the wrong one,” said Kavlae.

I nodded. “Yeah, the wrong one.” I turned to Paint. “Have you never gotten cut between your scales? Something sliding in at just the wrong spot?”

“Not something that I could tear apart by hand,” Paint said with an embarrassed laugh. “I mean, you’ve got to watch for kitchen knives and plant thorns and predators’ teeth, but…”

“Well, papercuts are horrible,” Kavlae said as she put the sanitizer away. “They look like nothing, but they’re deep enough to hit the nerves that say ‘Oh no, a major injury!’” She spread blue fingers in sarcasm. “An incredibly stupid way to be injured.”

Zhee said mildly, “And it leaves an unsightly mark.”

The three of us turned to look at him with his shiny purple exoskeleton, which no paper was likely to damage.

I told him, “That part’s not as important as the ow factor.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Zhee replied with a flick of an antenna.

Kavlae leaned on an elbow. “You’ve never gotten a minor injury in your life, have you? It’s either a cracked limb or nothing for you guys.”

“Untrue,” Zhee said. “Sand rash of the joints is very irritating. And eye injuries of all degrees are possible, plus other vulnerable areas.”

“Mm-hm,” Kavlae said skeptically. “But any little scrape is a matter of aesthetics. A papercut for you would be like somebody getting a ding on their shiny new shuttle.”

Paint snorted in laughter, then looked apologetic. “Sorry! But I saw a hovercar earlier that was exactly your color.”

Zhee held his head high in the face of our smiles. “Clearly owned by someone with the most impeccable taste.”

“Clearly,” I said through a grin. “Anyways, I believe we were going to play a game here. Who goes first?”

Kavlae shoved the instruction booklet across the table to me, and I gave the rules a once-over. The breeze behaved while we got things underway. Nobody else got a papercut. Kavlae was even winning, and looking happier about being out in the uncivilized natural world on our downtime.

Then something birdlike flew by with a screech like bending metal, and Kavlae flinched, sending her game piece tumbling off the table to roll under a bush.

“For the sake of sun-warmed hull creaks…”

“I’ll get it,” Paint volunteered, hopping down from her chair to peer into the snarl of crystal-sharp brambles. “Oh dear. Those are quite some thorns.”

Kavlae threw her head back dramatically. “Of course they are.”

I got up for a look. Paint wasn’t exaggerating; the crystal-clear thorns were as sharp as snake fangs. “Wow, yeah. I see it, though. Not too far in there. What do you think, Paint? Are your scales up to that?”

“Iiiiiiii would rather get a tool from the ship,” she said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I definitely don’t want to stick an arm in. Unless someone with an exoskeleton wants to be the big hero?” I added, turning toward Zhee.

He didn’t move. “Those are silica thornbushes. I categorically refuse.”

Kavlae snorted. “Not gonna scratch the hovercar’s colorwork just for a game piece.”

“And just how permanent of a blemish would you risk, just for a game piece?” Zhee retorted. “If you weren’t going to simply cover it with decorative fabrics.” He waved a dismissive pincher at her clothes.

“You might look good in decorative fabrics; you should try it sometime.”

A quiet noise that I recognized as the engine of Wio’s hoverstool zipped up to stop near the ship. “Hey everybody, what are we arguing about?” she asked cheerfully. When I looked, she was already hopping down with a couple small shopping bags held in her tentacles.

“Papercuts,” Kavlae said.

“Who’s arguing?” Zhee asked.

“Minor injuries and fashion,” I said.

Paint pointed at the bush. “There’s a game piece stuck in the thorns!”

“That blue thing? I can grab it for you.” Wio set down her purchases and tentacle-walked over to simply flatten herself to the ground and reach into the maelstrom of thorns. After a moment of careful maneuvering, she wriggled her way back out like a master spy evading the sensors in a TV drama. She handed the game piece to Paint. “Here you go.”

“Thank you!”

I shook my head. “That’s definitely the best route for tiny cuts: not getting them in the first place.”

“Oh for sure; those would hurt,” Wio agreed. Another breeze gusted by, this one making the bushes shudder. “Hey Kavlae, I got that new expansion set for the dancing game. Wanna play?”

Kavlae perked up. “Yes! Indoors, where the civilized people live! You guys have fun without me.” She got to her feet and put the tokens she’d won so far back into the box.

Zhee moved his own game piece, sounding amused. “You realize she’s going to wipe the floor with you.”

Kavlae aimed double fingerguns at him. “Don’t care! Enjoy the obnoxious nature.”

“Oh, we will. Especially when I win this game.”

Kavlae and Wio bid us a cheerful goodbye and went into the ship, where a video game awaited that was far more suited to people with many tentacles to press all the buttons with. But they were both pilots, and thus good at pressing buttons, so I was sure Kavlae could hold her own.

And anyway, I had a different game and some obnoxious nature to enjoy.

“Three points for me,” said Zhee.

Paint put Kavlae’s game piece in the box and climbed back into her chair. “Do you smell that? I think there are spicenuts growing here!”

I smiled. “Maybe we can go on a nice nature walk in a bit. The rest of the game probably won’t take long.”

“Oh, it won’t,” Zhee said.

Paint agreed on both counts. We played a fast and entertaining game, surrounded by a breeze that stopped buffeting the instructions when I shoved them under the box, and which smelled both like exotic spices and dirt.

~~~

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.

Međimurje peered out of the tiny window with one large eye. Alas, na was either still too far away or the window was facing the wrong direction; na was greeted only by a void of icy stars. With a huff, na went back to sit on nu pallet to go over na mission directive one more time.

Međimurje was extremely proud to be able to call nuzelf a respected xenolinguist—and na had even acquired a research position with the largest Universal Interplanetary Language Regulation Board in the universe.

The main issue with a universal language, in Međimurje's opinion, was the diversity of vocal boxes and communication methods that existed—it was impossible to use a completely mutually intelligible vocal range. To get around that, UIPL only required a species be able to make twenty distinct phonemes and understand a basic vocabulary set. If the phonemes were difficult to reach vocally, then other signals such as claps, waves, or nods could be substituted in their place. Each species had their own, species-specific, variation of UIPL, and if the sounds of one species didn't translate to the hearing range of another, transposers could be used modify the pitch into something each could understand.

Unless, of course, one happened to be one of the most prolific recorders of UIPL variations in one’s star system, as Međimurje was, and did not need to transpose at all. Na, as a bynizaa, was able to produce and receive a truly absurd range of sounds, meaning na didn’t need to rely on translation devices to communicate. In addition, bynizaas had complex native languages anyway, so UIPL was simple to learn in comparison. Na had memorized over a hundred and twelve variations so far, and hoped to add one more to nu repertoire after this trip.

Na was scanning through a few more pages of the mission directive when ping on nu communicator let nu know the ship had docked the space station.

Na went to the airlock to wait for docking procedures to be finished, then for them to be double and triple checked. Međimurje winced as the door hissed open and na was assaulted by the grating cacophony of buzzing lights and utilities that was a constant on the ships of less noise-sensitive species. When na had adjusted enough to focus, na stepped out into a crowd of curious, thin, bipedal creatures. They had craggy faces that were fuzzy at the top, and adorned their entire bodies with fabric. Some skirted closer to nu, others huddled by the wall, squinting in nu direction.

“Hello,” na greeted in the most recognized base variant of UIPL, one that used rapid clicks to conjugate. The word na used was picked very intentionally; its subtext was polite, friendly, and open to correction. Hopefully the humans would take it as such.

“I am Međimurje, bynizaa, na/nu, and a xenolinguist. I believe you were informed I was coming?”

The humans chattered among themselves as they heard nu voice for the first time. Međimurje startled when one shoved the other and, only having two legs, it unbalanced and knocked others down. Na braced nuzelf for chaos when a few let out shrieks as they fell, but they paid nu no mind. Na relaxed slightly and glanced at nu recorder to make sure it was picking up their sounds. Their volume modulated without clear rhythm; also surprising was the physicality of their interactions. Na made a mental note to consider the possibility of them using tactile language modifiers.

Finally, one with mahogany skin and dressed in icy blue fabric stepped forward and spoke slowly.

“Hello, we greet in peace,” the tone was flat, with no conjugation and a very odd word choice. Međimurje marked the inclusive "we" that indicated Međimurje nuzelf was included in the group, which was rudely presumptive of nu internal state, if it had been used intentionally. Nu skin rippled reflexively, but none of the humans reacted. Na was glad of their ignorance of nu body language.

The being continued, “I am Charlie, human, and, wait–” they turned and grumbled to the humans behind themself; multiple got out their handheld translators and flipped through a primitive dictionary function. After a few moments, Charlie faced Međimurje again and said more confidently, “Charlie, human, and they/them. This way,” They bared their teeth at nu and then stomped away. Međimurje was left for a second before na realized na was meant to follow. Na felt the stares of the rest of the crowd on the back of nu neck and shivered again.

As they walked, Međimurje thought on what na learned so far. The humans seemed gregarious, and with only Charlie addressing nu, there was a strong likelihood of social hierarchy. However, Charlie didn't end their introduction with a title or explanation of their role, so Međimurje was unsure of how to refer to them in reference to others or nuzelf.

The humans were also smaller than na expected from the rumors na had heard of violence, but the physicality of the species was still evident. Even as na watched, Charlie grasped hands with several humans they came across and pulled them forward in order to slap their backs and exchange a few words.

After a while, Charlie turned out of the main hall and entered a room with a low rectangular table. Charlie walked around to sit at the far end, but, unsure of the cultural norms, Međimurje hesitated in the doorway. Charlie glanced at the table, surrounded by chairs. They got up to pull a few away from the long side, and went back to their seat.

“You sit, thank you,” Charlie gestured to the cleared area. Bemused, Međimurje lowered nuzelf to the floor by the table. Charlie nodded, satisfied. They stared at each other.

“Well then,” Međimurje attempted to mimic how Charlie spoke in simple present tense, but added a lilting rhythm to convey tone, “I am here on behalf of the UIPL Regulatory Board. I take down phonemes your settlement uses for UIPL and start an official dictionary, along with any unique grammar and deviations that your species uses to make UIPL easier for yourselves. The board tells you this beforehand, but I want to ensure your willing participation. Is this acceptable to you?”

“Um,” Charlie frowned as na spoke and Međimurje excitedly marked down the sound as a species-specific filler, “I do not understand.”

Međimurje hummed and rephrased, flattening the tonality of nu speech to a simple, slow rhythm: “I speak UIPL and you speak UIPL, but we speak in different ways. I am sent to learn how you speak. I write it down so more beings can learn how you speak UIPL and speak to you, too. Ok?”

“Ah! Yes, comprehension,” Charlie nodded vigorously and Međimurje settled nuzelf more comfortably. Na caught nuzelf buzzing sub-sonically as nu brain raced to design experiments to figure out how the cultural and linguistic elements of human speech affected their abilities in UIPL.

Was the lack of conjugation unique to this population? Would they be capable of parsing other species versions of UIPL without translators or transposers? And Međimurje just knew nu colleagues would be aching to figure out how all the physical elements na had seen played into human understanding of communication as a whole.

This was going to be a long session, but a very interesting one.

“Just keep your distance,” the Frillian said. “As far as I know, we’ve found all the nests in this sector, but I wouldn’t swear to it. They track body heat and like to ambush prey. But! They’re bad at hiding, so just keep an eye out and you should be fine.” He gave us what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, then got called away to help pull a colleague out of the grip of vicious leaves.

Paint shuffled a little closer, bumping her lizardly head against my elbow. “Would you mind if I rode on the sled?” she asked, clearly trying to sound casual. “Better view from there, you know.”

“Fine idea,” I agreed.

I manipulated the controls for the hoversled full of packages so it sank lower, and waited for her to scramble on before lifting it up again. Once she had gotten settled with her legs stuck under a gap in the straps (looking like a scaly child on a roller coaster), we set off again.

I said, “Three reds, then left at the blue, right?”

“Yes. The blue immediately following the red.”

It was a weird sort of navigation system, but I had to admit it was much more user-friendly than the tiny street signs of home. Each short block in this settlement had pavement and buildings painted in a certain color, in rotating patterns as we went. I walked quickly, towing the sled and thinking about alien Homeowners’ Associations as I counted the red sections.

Paint pointed out interesting things, playing up the part of lookout. We both knew full well that her eye level was still lower than mine and she just didn’t want to be in range of sneak attacks, but we pretended otherwise. She was small enough that those plant things might actually be able to pick her up completely. I didn’t relish the idea of punching a plant to save my coworker from a messy fate. Not that that would probably work anyway.

I also don’t relish the idea of getting wrapped up in tentacle vines and yelling for help, I thought. I know the client’s in a hurry to get this order, but that’s a bit much to ask for.

Among the boxes listed as canned food and miscellaneous supplies, there was one marked “allergy medication” and “urgent.” I hoped we could make the delivery smoothly for a number of reasons.

But there are sayings about hoping too hard for exactly this reason, because guess what we found waiting by the gate once we turned into that last blue zone.

Paint exclaimed, “Oh no!” while I came to a stop with an inarticulate grumble.

Right there by the blue-painted gate hinge was a particularly large stand of alien grabberweed, or whatever it was called. No, it wasn’t in the briefing. Yes, we’d called back to the ship as soon as we saw the detour. No, the captain wasn’t happy about it, but no, there wasn’t much to be done now.

Unfortunately.

I sighed. “We’re gonna have to find another detour.”

Paint wriggled out from under the strap and stood up for a better look. “We’re so close. Are you sure it can reach all the way across?”

“Pretty sure. You saw how stretchy they were back there.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder, staring at the nest of tentacle vines. “I don’t want to risk trying to sidle past that.”

“Oh, but the gate opening button is right there!” Paint said in frustration. “Can you throw a rock at it?”

“I don’t see any rocks,” I said, scanning the ground. This would have been a great place for a convenient buckeye tree full of projectiles, or a decorative rock garden that could spare a few, but no such luck. Just smooth pavement and blue walls, all admirably clean.

“Well we definitely can’t throw the packages,” Paint said. She checked the sled’s side pocket, but found nothing useful. Sitting back with a huff, she gazed at the Urgent box. “And the medicine! They need that!”

I was already getting out my phone. “I know. Hope there’s a short detour. One without heat-seeking bastard plants.” A chill breeze gusted by, and I glared up at the sky. “And no bad weather on top of it!”

“Wait!” Paint said, intensely enough that I paused with my finger over the call button. “Heat seeking! That person said they track prey by body heat, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking fast.

But not as fast as Paint. She scrambled down and stared down the plant with fierce determination. That breeze tumbled a stray leaf past the grabbing fronds. They didn’t so much as twitch. Because it wasn’t any warmer than the surrounding air.

Neither, I remembered, was my coldblooded crewmate.

“Be careful!” I said as she crept forward.

Paint nodded once, focused on the giant tentacle plant and the tantalizing button that stood out in bright yellow among all the blue. It really was right there. If the Frillian was correct — and I realized now that it was possible he wasn’t — then this should be do-able. I got ready to dash forward if the plant struck.

But it didn’t move. Paint moved stealthily to the gate button and pressed it, jumping back as the gate swung open on hinges that didn’t squeak even a little.

What those hinges did do, though, was open the gate directly in front of the plant, pressing it against the blue-painted wall in a way that was probably annoying for the plant.

It was great news for us. With a whoop, I yanked the sled after me and ran through the gate. Paint scampered ahead of me, beaming. I gave her a high five once we were clear, fully appreciating how cold her scaly little fingers were. “Nicely done!”

“Thank you! I’m so glad that worked.” Paint scrambled back onto the sled, this time for better speed. “Let’s go! The client has waited for their medicine long enough!”

“Yes they have!” I agreed. I took off down the long driveway toward the cluster of buildings in the distance. “Hooray for you for thinking of the obvious. Can’t believe I missed that.”

Paint said cheerfully, “You can repay me with an animal-back ride afterward. Whatever you call it. It’s getting cold out here.”

I laughed. “Yes, a piggy-back ride is only fair. I will happily share a bit of heat after you used your lack of it to save the day.”

“Fair indeed!” she said, sounding proud. “After we get back through the gate, though.”

“Yeah, best not to chance it.”

~~~

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.

But the Captain, or as she insisted she be called, Rox, has looked out for her continuously. She made sure to take her with her when she escaped from the zoo. She has gone outside that time schedule of her whenever she was asked to help in a task for running the ship or in making it more hospitable to Silvia's own physiology.

The Captain has really given no reason, other than this, for her to think she is actively put off by her.

After a while, Silvia arrived on a different conclusion. That being that she must not be doing well and that she might be too scared to show it. Her room was the darkest place on board after after all, not a single room showing the endless stars beyond.

Yes, the more she thought about it the more believable that conclusion became. Why, after all, would she be so distracted every time before she locked herself up? Or her one organic eye bother her so to be rubbing it every so often?

Silvia has seen the Captain's eye leak before. Once, when she lost her limb and half her face. When Silvia had asked what that function was at a later time, Rox had explained that it was something called "Crahing", and that human eyes did it when the human possessing them was very very sad or very very pained.

Silvia could not imagine any part of a body leaking that wasn't a wound, and so the rubbing could be a result of the pain, trying to keep the Crahing at bay.

There was so much she didn't know about how different species of aliens worked. Living with one was exhausting in all the ways actions could be interpreted and translated. But for this she was so nearly sure, and most importantly, worried for Rox.

She had planned a little something for Rox. Something that would hopefully show her that she didn't mind it if she had to Crah, and that she didn't have to hide away to do it.

The captain had made this stollen ship feel halfway near a home. She wanted to repay the favor.

If that human function was necessary to keep the Captain going through this endless abyss of space, Silvia did not want to shame her out of it.

During the last two scavenging missions on Glazier-E, she managed to find enough colored glass near the desert craters to make what her people call a Tink-ling-tang.

A chime made of beautiful materials that is supposed to remind the giftee that they are in the gift givers thoughts.

It is, Silvia conceeded, a bit of a useless gift in space. Since there is no breeze amongst the stars to make it ring out and all.

It's the thoughts and symbolism that matters most, she repeated to herself as she slithered back and forth one more time in front of the captain's door.

She should not be so nervous about knocking. Or about giving this gift away. She really wanted to give it but, what if it wasn't pretty enough?

The colored glass on Glazier-E was pretty but nowhere near pretty enough to compare to that the glassweavers of her home planet could make. What she herself could make, given the resources and time to make something better.

Maybe she should remake it? Or scrap it entirely and try to put together enough materials for a furnace and a blowpipe, she could use a regular pipe, and different kinds of sand and-

She was stalling. She had to stop stalling. She has stalled enough all her life on Lamicor and that got her nowhere. If she wanted that to change she had to start now.

She flickered her tongue, once, to calm down and knocked on Rox's door.

No response.

"Rox? Em, I know you asked me to not to disturb you unless we are on fire but, well," she gulped, "I would like to talk."

Still no response.

This wasn't like her, Silvia thought. She has never ignored Silvia before. Not when she spoke up. She knocked again.

Nothing.

She felt the urge to rattle her tail, something wasn't right.

She clicked at the controls by the entry and the doors retracted with a whooshing sound. Inside was pitch black and quiet, and despite Silvia's eyes being well adapted to darkness, she struggled to make out the captain's body, bundled up in cloth and unbearably still.

She slithered slowly in, careful to keep the chime from making any noise with the motion.

"Captain?", she asked, voice low.

"Captain are you okay?"

The captain did not stir and Silvia could feel herself panic. No. No no no Rox could not be this still. Humans are this still only when recovering from something bad. Ling'sha, did she get hurt in a mission and not tell her?

"Captain!", she yelled and slithered on her. Hands immediately searching in the dark for wounds, leaking things.

The captain's led eye suddenly lit up the room as she shot up from her cloth and her head, her human skull which must apparently be made of rocks or metal, collided with Silvia's.

The next moment the captain fell back down grasping at her forehead with her organic arm muttering "ow, ow, ow fuck", while Silvia did the same.

"Silvia, what on earth happened. Is the ship okay?", said the captain.

"You-You weren't moving", Silvia finally got out.

"You were still as death and didn't respond when I called and your room is so dark and-", the captain stopped her with her one hand on her shoulder.

"Breathe. You are fine, and I am fine. I was just getting some sleep", she said.

"Shouldn't you also be resting? Why are you in my room?"

"I-", she glanced at the Tink-ling-tang lying on the floor, dropped and half shattered, and decided to focus on something else.

"What the ling'sha is sleep?", she asked instead of answering.

"It's like...", the captain trailed off, hand rubbing her organic eye, "Every twenty four hours humans need to lie down and be unconscious for seven to eight hours."

"It helps our brains operate better. If we don't sleep we get dumb."

"What?", Silvia breathed out.

"We get dumb," Rox repeated, hazel eye finally opening again.

"It's a normal human function."

"So you just, lie down. For hours", Silvia repeated.

"Yes," Rox confirmed. "Could you please get off of me now?"

Silvia's eyes widened but she slithered off, somewhat embarrassed of how worried she had been a moment earlier.

"I apologise for jumping on you. I thought... I thought you were hurt."

The captain sat up, stretched her arm and jaw, before she finally spoke again.

"It's fine. You were worried and I never explained how sleep works to you anyway", she said.

"Don't stress about it. Now, is there something you needed me for?"

"Well, I had made you a gift", Silvia lowered herself picking up the chime and the two broken shards off the floor.

"But I kinda dropped it in my rush to check if you are alright."

Rox's led eye scanned the item in Silvia's hands and her eyebrows lifted. "Is that a chime?" she asked.

"Yeah! Do you also have those where you are from?"

"Oh yes, I used to have one made out of seashells in my childhood bedroom", Rox slid the cloth off of her, reaching for it. Silvia tentatively gave it to her, keeping the broken pieces herself.

"It's beautiful, are those Glazier desert glass shards?"

Silvia coiled the tip of her tail. "Yeah, I've been collecting them in the last couple of scavenge missions. I thought you might like them", she said.

Rox held it up in front of her organic eye and shook it a little, hearing the clicking of the glass. She smiled, a lopsided smile impacted from her facial scarring, but a smile none the less. When Rox looked at her with that smile, Silvia felt as warm as she did under her own star back home.

"Thank you for this. I'll put it up in the cockpit", she put it down on her lap when she stretched her jaw again, this time it seemed almost involuntarily. Silvia had so many things to learn about humans yet.

"I do need to get some more sleep still, if you don't mind. Don't want to be too dumb to drive the ship," she joked but her eye looked tired and her led dim.

"I'll leave you be then. I'm sorry to have interrupted this sleep. I'll try not to again in future," she lowered herself on her tail a bit, apologetically.

"I said don't worry about it Silvia," the captain said, covering back up with the cloth. She looked so vulnerable like this, bundled up with her prosthetic arm discarded.

"Good night."

Nighttime on this ship was a vague concept, since the various species onboard all needed slightly different amounts of sleep, and the individuals involved were adults who sometimes made the choice to stay up stupid late watching entertainment media in their quarters. What with some of us up late and others waking early, there was really a short span of time when everyone was asleep at once.

Everyone except the pilot on duty, of course. Kavlae had explained at one point that there was a medical scanning field in the cockpit to make sure there was at least one person awake in one of the two seats. If the only person there fell asleep, they would be subject to an unpleasant alarm and the attentions of both the captain and the medic, who would also be woken up.

According to Kavlae, that had only happened once on this ship. Her smug tone told me that it had been Wio in trouble, not her.

No alarms sounded now as I walked down the hallway. The only sounds were the faint engine hum and the hush of cycling air, along with faint noises through the walls from someone’s quarters. Probably a few of us were awake, though you wouldn’t know it from the hall.

The medbay was dark and the door closed. The cleaning alcove next to it was as well. I opened it and stuffed my armload into the cleaner, thinking not for the first time that I was glad I didn’t have to go through the medbay to reach it. I would have felt like apologizing to Eggskin for getting in the way with my stinky human clothes all the time.

The only clothes that Eggskin and the other Heatseekers wore were the occasional coat or vest just for the pockets, and maybe a heat shawl when leaving the ship. Coldblooded people have no use for things that reflect back the body heat they don’t have. Which meant I was in the minority about the amount of laundry I had to do.

The Frillians wore regular clothes too (well, mostly regular given Blip and Blop’s fashion sense; Kavlae’s was fine), but still. Doing laundry in the middle of the night was actually a nice change from feeling like I had to justify myself for dragging my laundry bin through the halls. Other people washed towels and whatnot, though it really wasn’t the same.

I set the cleaning cycle and headed for the kitchen to refill the water bottle. Maybe I’d look for shrimp stick packaging in much-too-accessible places while I was at it.

To my mild surprise, green tentacles clung to the edges of an open cabinet while rummaging noises sounded from inside.

“Need any help?” I asked as I moved to fill my water bottle.

“What?” asked Mimi’s gruff voice from deep in the cabinet. A moment later, his round face popped out to blink at me. “Oh, hi. I don’t suppose you’ve seen the new tub of protein poppers? I could have sworn it was back here.”

“The eel scented ones? I think they’re up higher.” I pointed to a different cabinet, and he immediately climbed up to peer inside.

“Yup, there they are. Obnoxious place to put them.” He pulled out a plastic tub full of lumpy reddish things that sparkled like they’d been dusted with powdered fish scales. “These should be easier to reach.”

“Maybe Blip and Blop moved them so Telly wouldn’t be tempted,” I said as I finished filling my bottle. “I doubt she’d be able to gnaw that open, but that’s not to say she wouldn’t try.”

Mimi shut the cabinet door with a snap of gravity-failure-proof magnets. “Can she get these open?” he asked with a flip of a tentacle. “I would think that even floor level would be safe.”

I wiped stray water drops off the bottle. “I haven’t seen her do it, but I wouldn’t rule it out entirely.”

“Great. Well, I’ll be sure to keep the door to the engine room shut,” Mimi said. “Have a nice night.” He tentacle-walked out of the kitchen, back toward the engine room where he’d probably be either doing random maintenance in the middle of the night, or watching more of the comedy show he’d been laughing so hard about last time Eggskin sent me to bring him lunch.

“Goodnight,” I said. I thought about getting a midnight snack too, but decided against it and went back to check the cleaner’s progress. Not too much time left.

For lack of anything better to do, I followed faint sounds down the hallway to see who else was awake.

The sounds were coming from the cockpit, which wasn’t a surprise. The sounds in question were a series of regular thumps, which was.

I stopped in the doorway to see Wio in her chair, blue-ringed tentacles doing her usual fidgets while she stared off to the side of all the screens.

To my right, something thumped. I was startled to see Telly make another run up the wall, chasing a familiar little red dot. Yes, that was a laser pointer held in one of Wio’s tentacles.

“Hello,” I said automatically.

“Oh hey there!” Wio said with a smile. “She’s really good at this. It’s like she has her own little gravity pack, with how high she can go.”

“Yep, cats are masters of reaching places you wouldn’t expect. Especially if there’s something to chase.” The red dot was still moving, with Telly still chasing it for another mad dash up the wall, and now I spotted the little narrow thing stuck to the wall up high. “What’s that?”

“Shrimp stick,” Wio said, highlighting it with the dot. “Stuck it up there with mollusk paste, which Eggskin says is fine for her. Enrichment!”

My mouth fell open. “You’re why my bed smells like fish!”

“What?”

Before I could explain or ask her to stop, the red dot landed on the shrimp stick and Telly snatched it off the wall like the triumphant predator she was.

Wio said, “Oh, great jump! What do you mean, though?”

Telly landed with another thump and dodged my attempts to grab her as she flashed out of the room, stinky treasure held in her jaws.

“She’s eating those on my bed!” I exclaimed, dashing out after her. If Telly got it all over the sheets, I’d just have to do more laundry.

“Sorry!” Wio called after me, laughter in her voice.

Instead of heading toward my room, Telly had gone the other way — oh right, to the nearest entrance to the cat tube. I dithered a moment. Maybe she’d eat in the kitchen instead. Probably not. The laundry dinged.

Telly galloped by overhead, in the clear tube that would lead her right into my room. I took off on my bare feet, hoping to beat her there.

Behind me, I heard Wio start up a documentary about cats that I knew to be wildly inaccurate. I’d find a better one to recommend for her, but later. That was several things down the to-do list for tonight.

~~~

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.

“No?” I asked.

“Coworker’s been sick,” he said, staring down at the waterspheres. “And he’s bad at it. Old codger who’s been working out here since it was a lifeless floodplain, caring for everything but himself. Idiot’s going to pass out from dehydration again.”

Paint asked, “Again?” with her scaly hands clasped in concern.

“Yes, again. I told him I can get both our workloads done; I’m handling it; and he’d get better faster if he’d drink his fluids and rest, but of course not.” The Rivershaper ran frustrated fingers through his arm fur in much the way a human might tug their own hair. “If he doesn’t find these interesting enough to eat-drink on purpose, I’m going to have to call in a visit from the company medic, and neither of us will enjoy that.”

Aiming for optimism, I said, “Waterspheres are pretty fun. Did you get plain ones, or flavored?”

“Plain. The tailbiter would probably just complain about the flavors on principle. The only thing he actually admits to liking are my fish twists.” He opened the cabinet and scowled when he found it empty. “He took these ones too! That dirt-breathing dryfur!”

Paint said, “Oh dear,” which wasn’t exactly helpful, but certainly felt appropriate.

I asked, “Is it the flavor he likes? I’m pretty sure you can get fishy water; it just costs more.”

But the Rivershaper shook his head. “No, at this point he’s just being a splinter and taking my stuff because I’ve been on his case so much. As if I like doing double work while he drags this out.” He ground his gnawing teeth in irritation.

Paint asked, “Can you sit him down and have an honest conversation about it?”

At the same time, I asked, “What if you let him steal these on purpose?”

The client ignored Paint and looked at me. “How do you mean? They’re just water.”

“What if he thought they were fancy water?” I suggested. “An exotic treat that you got for yourself and didn’t plan on sharing? Not that I’m saying you should lie to your coworker, of course, but if he got the impression that these have some delicate flavor that people who are sick generally can’t even appreciate…”

The Rivershaper’s sour expression turned into a smirk. “Think you’re onto something there. He’s stubborn enough to keep trying them until he can taste it, too.”

“Ooh!” Paint said. “Then you can order some of the flavored ones!”

He huffed a tired laugh. “I might just do that. It’s a better plan than I had. All right.” He pulled out three small bags of spheres and placed them in the cabinet, making sure to shut it with a loud snap. Then he hefted the rest of the box. “Well, off to put these away conspicuously. Maybe I’ll get called away on urgent matters before I can finish. Who knows what might happen?”

I made space for him to walk back inside. “Best of luck!”

Paint added, “And you know where to find us if you need more!”

“That I do; thanks.” He bid us goodbye and closed the door, looking a little less tired already.

Paint was beaming on the way back to the ship, smiling in conspicuous silence so she didn’t talk about it and give things away, just in case a certain local curmudgeon was in earshot.

Just before we walked through our own doorway, on the landing pad down at the end of the driveway, I looked back and caught a glimpse of an arm reaching from the front door.

It had paler blue fur, and was the kind of scrawny that fit my mental image of a crotchety old man who’d been working the land for decades. It opened the cabinet, grabbed one of the bags, then disappeared in a flash.

I smiled quietly, and didn’t tell Paint about it until the door was closed behind us.

~~~

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.