Chapter 3 - Toothless
The long awaited and thrilling Chapter 3 is here!
Sorry it took a while...
As Tommy went about her day as described in the first chapter, other things were simultaneously underway across the city that wouldâve very much pricked her intrigue. If sheâd known, of course. As it stands, she did not, and instead had to deal with unpleasant customers and a teasing employer. We now return to our doggish Lieutenant at the start of his day, and the events that led him to Melderâs great capital. Â
By Meldarian standards, it was the morning of a new Cycle when they reached Trader City. Cpt. Skewlls had explained that technically, this was not true. A Cycle was simply a means to divide time, heâd said as they leisurely flew through the planetâs atmosphere towards the capital; a means to divide a planetary day that lasted a Standard Galactic week and then some. When met with the surprised and, in some cases, horrified expressions of his crew the Dhuuma cackled, green eyes catching the light from the closest navigation console and shining like an animalâs. Yes, heâd continued, two-thirds of the week triplet suns shone something horrible down on the populace, and somewhere in the middle, it goes dark for roughly three Galactic days. Two extremes, with only some reprieve during the 12-some Galactic hours it took for the suns to set and rise once more.Â
âYouâre somewhat lucky, pup.â Sharp teeth glinted behind the Captainâs playful grin, making the short hairs of Lieutenant Famillionâs neck prick uncomfortably. He was never quite settled around the Captain, no matter how much he trusted and respected the man, especially when he bore that expression and used that tone. It usually meant he spoke of equivocations whilst holding some sort of cleaning tool behind his back, readying to spring chores upon his crew unexpectedly.
âWhat do you mean?" He asked, nervously eyeballing the closet, which held all of the maintenance equipment. Surely not, his Captain wouldn't be so cruel as to- "It means you have less time in the sun, no chance of becoming a hot dog.â
The Captainâs amused voice brought the Mimicâs attention back to him, but the Lieutenant didn't hold his gaze for very long. The rest of the crewâs giggles, most prominently Jaylinâs, died out steadily; Cpt. Skewllsâ wicked grin fading with them as they all turned back to their stations. The mood which theyâd labored so hard to lift fell muted once more, just like all previous attempts. The shadowy Captain drifted over to his Lieutenant from the central station, silent like a ghostly mist creeping over the deck. Silent enough that Canis started when he felt a hand on his shoulder, head snapping around to see the Captain holding out a sponge and grinning a bit too toothily. The Lieutenantâs nose scrunched and his lip curled at the biting smell of vinegar-soap emanating from the sponge, and he looked up to meet Cpt. Skewlls gaze with wide eyes and furrowed brows. When his superiorâs grin only widened with amusement, he understood- face falling into a grimace.Â
âWhat, really? Now? I thought you were just joking!âÂ
âOf course not,â The Captainâs eyes glimmered a merry, mischievous green at Canisâ tone of sheer desperation. âNow, now, donât worry. The rest of the Jesterâs will be at it as well.â The others groaned, collectively slumping at their stations. Cpt. Skwells merely rolled his eyes.Â
âCome on now. Chip-Chop.â He clapped. âWeâll be arriving shortly and I want this cabin shining so much that I can see my non-existent reflection in the breaker-boxes.â The Captain made sure to stand there and watch until theyâd gotten up to gather supplies, then simply turned away and let them get on with their distraction. Thatâs what it was, and most realized it even as they happily settled down into the routine of cleaning. Joe stood at the closet and passed out the equipment- a broom to Ezio, a mop to Jaylin, and finally, the "dust-sticker stick" was handed to Canis- along with a bucket of vinegar-based product for the polishing sponge later.Â
And clean they did, until the call to get back to their stations and initiate Ramp-Landing procedures came over the high speaker. Despite the distraction, the cabin remained muted. Canis went through the motions, calling out positions and checking conditions on the outside of the locomotive as if he were merely watching from afar as someone piloted his movements. He tried to satisfy his aching chest by recalling all the good times, all their accomplishments- and all the tough times that brought them ever-closer. It failed miserably and only made his heart hurt more, a bitter taste spoiling his tongue. The Lieutenant didnât want to go, didnât want to leave his ridiculous crew and his questionable-but-kind Captain. He knew the others wanted him to stay too, they kept glancing his way and he could tell exactly what they felt about this separation, even as they made their last descent.Â
"So⌠I guess this is it.â Once the jostling of a smooth, ramp-assisted landing ceased, and the elegant Casino Royale was parked in her bay, the crew sat in telling silence. The Mimic looked quickly away from his stationâs screens, away from the shifting hot-red world outside that made his eyes water, and let his gaze sweep through the cabin to meet the eyes of his four other crewmates. He cracked a small grin, hesitant, biting his lip before he spoke again. âAfter you lot buy me a drink of course."
"We'll send you off with a nice swig oâ milk." Cpt. Skewlls smirked after another moment, teeth glinting as sharp as his eyes as he spoke. âAfter all, wouldnât want our doggy officer getting poisoned with his last drink with the Jesters.â
"Ahah! Milk is as bad as alcohol for dogs, because, dogs! Again! Unlike Mimics! Again! Are lactose intolerant!" Canis huffed in mock annoyance, cheekily tutting as if disappointed in the Captainâs refusal to remember. âI am a Mimic, therefore, bring on the booze bitches.â He spread his arms wide, daring the Captain with a sheepish grin.Â
In the meantime, the crew had moved towards the door. Ezio stood in the corner, already anticipating the eminent jaunt into the infamous Trader City. He followed the conversation with slight bewilderment, eyebrows hiking ever further up as, finally, he looked to Jaylin, then to Joe for an explanation. The Tobitoan saw Canis' smug-looking face, wondering if all of these facts were meant to confuse, or were indeed legitimate. To the short Commander standing at his left, he leaned over and stage-whispered behind a raised hand, âHave we been⌠feeding our Mimic poison? Is synth-milk really that bad for him??â
"I donât think heâd lie?" Jaylin didnât know any more than he did and seemed to be just as confused, watching their Captain smirk and advance on Canis curiously.
"But⌠the whole⌠synth-milk in a saucer thing! The yogurt treats! Dogs are mammals, arenât they?? Mammals drink milk. From their maâs. Right?"Â
The other Tobitoan Lieutenant looked back at his counterpart, who met his gaze and winked in a comically forced manner. Joe merely shrugged. âThe Lieutenant is not a Dog.â
Canis, who was most definitely not of the class Mammalia, curled his lips into a grin that showed far too much tooth to be all that innocent. âSee, now the whole crew thinks Iâm a common mutt!â He nudged their Captain, now standing to his right, with an elbow. âExcept Joe of course, because Joe is the best person here.â At this point, they had all migrated from their stations into the antechamber of the engine, waiting for one of the Sub-Lieutenants in the wagons to give the âO.K.â to open the airlock.Â
"I've been a bird owner my whole life, really, my family owned a Rockroc. I wouldnât be able to tell you much." Jaylin provided with a shrug, sending an apologetic grin to a still-befuddled Ezio.Â
"You donât say?" Lieutenant-Commander Joe perked up. Heâd always wondered about those birds, it had been rumored that only a handful had ever been tamed, most notably the one thatâd made its perch upon the shoulder of that one infamous space pirate. Hemlock? Herlock? Something like that, concluded Joseph, who came from a small moon of an even smaller solar system, the news of which, before heâd joined the SDF, had consisted solely of the occasional old, drunk spacemenâs yarn.Â
"Yes," the Cpt. Skewlls interrupted sharply, fingers snapping once to set the wandering thoughts of his crew back to the task at hand. Jaylin and Ezio straightened up so quickly from their semi-conspirative hunches that their spines cracked, and Joe, well. Joe, whoâd been paying attention no matter how distant and birdish his thoughts became, only set his expression into something altogether sterner with barely a twitch of his lips.Â
âYes, the milk thing is true. Moving on now,â The Captain glared momentarily at the youngest Lieutenant, blaming him in full for this quick, albeit appreciated, digression.Â
âWeâre heading to the nearest pub, which I believe is the Dustdog, off-duty, and weâre getting drunk. The Sub-Lieutenants and the deckhands will join us once they finish up with things here at Royale. Catch is, we only have 3 hours or so to do it, so tab is on me.â Half the ranking officers present were near-vibrating in anticipation. Then the Captainâs tone dropped suddenly, dangerously- the antechamber became visibly darker, and green sparks- tricks of the light, they didnât really exist, or did they?- danced in the corners of the mortal crewâs perception. âHowever, if one of you show any, and I mean any sign of inebriation whatsoever when we check in with HQ, you will regret it.â The oppressive darkness disappeared as abruptly as it had come, and the âfearlessâ ones took a breath of relief. Cpt. Skewlls merely grinned something akin to a shark and clapped his hands in delight. âPerfect!âÂ
The call to unlock the bulkhead rung loud above their heads, timed near-perfection with the Captain, as most things were on the Casino Royale.Â
âOkay humans- and Mimic- Letâs go hit the bar at a planetary hour that would shock most and completely offend others!â
~
"I'll just start off slow, I think,â hummed Canis, voice smooth and languid, almost whimsical. The Dustdog, despite the local hour, bustled with the sight, smell and energy of a couple of dozen patrons. Most either with keen business interests on the planet or simply waiting out a stop-over on their way somewhere else. Some species the young Lieutenant could recognize, while some were completely foreign and drew his gaze, eyes blown wide and sparkling with unguarded curiosity. Scents rushed to clog his nostrils, the air sweet with sweat and a pungent fruity aroma, toned with earthy malts and fermented brews. Something rancid and bitter seemed to be emanating from a couple pitchers on the bar counter, probably some sort of local drink. Lights flashed, music played a bit too loudly, the rhythm buzzing in his ears like the low, throaty yowl of a Hellcat back home. Swallowing a lump that had risen in his throat, the Mimic tore his attention away from the patrons and back to the Jesters, looking to them as they gathered around the doorway. Eventually they all stood in the entrance with matching, stupidly large grins spreading across both Jaylin and Ezioâs faces. Joe, calm as ever, scoped the bar out with a few sharp-eyed glances and then turned to his crewmates.
"Starting slow is good advice, I say we all follow it. âEy Jay? Ezio?" He teasingly nudged the shorter Commander and earned a finger-flick for his troubles. It never hurt to urge the youth to be responsible, no matter how futile the effort.Â
Ezio, with a hearty slap on the back which nearly knocked the Mimic lieutenant off-balance, dismissed the very notion with a careless wave of the hand. "And where's the fun in that? Use that nose of yours.â He spoke straight to Canis. âDrinks are on the captain. We either all get plastered or we all wallow in a pitcher of sadness- thereâs none of this designated driver bullsh-â He cut himself off when he glanced Joeâs expression. âLook, ok, the Captain canât even get drunk, there is no reason we canât do this-â
"Oh, my Telyris- Is that peanut butter?" Canis distractedly interrupted Ezioâs fumbling, saving the Tobitoan from an early grave and earning his endless gratitude. Paying him no attention, Canis pardoned himself with a mumbled word and zeroed in on the scent of the delightful treat he hadnât had since leaving the SDFâs HQ. However, he did not expect the form in which he found his favorite snack; as he not-so-subtly passed around the table where four small shots of creamy, golden liquor had been served, he slowly realized that they were the source of the peanut butter. Eventually one of the occupants of the table realized he was there, and half-drunkenly told him what they were drinking, among other things. The lieutenant, now flushed deep blue at the ears, scurried off to track down his crewmates and order the first round of what would be quite a few, not dissuaded from his goal despite the minor hiccup.Â
He caught sight of the Captain first, sat at the counter sipping something strong and clear. The Dhuumaâs sharp gaze swept across the room, watching the patrons with the languid intrigue of a cat perched on a window sill, viewing that morningâs selection of finches at the birdfeeder. He met his lieutenantâs eyes, nodded, and promptly turned back to observing the bar-goers.Â
Much to Jaylinâs frustration, as for the first time that night she had to admit defeat and put down her hand. The luxury cards had shown a glorious green and black, bearing not a scratch or fold. Until a few weeks ago sheâd merely use the cheapest cards money could buy, however Cpt. Skwells had decided that his favorite and only card-playing crew-member could not use such a drab set. She was, in fact, the only one in the whole of the SDF who had not yet given up on the absurd notion of, one day, defeating the Demon King of Black Jack himself. Jaylinâs determination brought a faint smile upon the Captainâs face, and he put his drink down to reshuffle the cards for another game. They were going to be there for a while, and the scene brought up tender memories of the Lieutenantâs first couple of weeks on the force. Heâd learned his lesson on his second night with the Jesters, and soundly beaten heâd never tried his luck at poker ever again. Ezio would try once in a blue moon or when he was too drunk to know any better, in both instances resulting in solid losses that the rest would tease the poor Tobitoan with for weeks thereafter.
Joe was the only one who ever came close to beating the Captain, though he rarely played- much to the laterâs deep, continuous chagrin.Â
Shaking off the creeping melancholy, the Mimic quickly searched for Joe and Ezio, knowing both would probably be together and saving a seat for him. Once he spotted them Canis quickly put in his order with the bartender, changing his mind from shots to an individual tumbler; seeing as everyone already seemed to have their drinks. That accomplished, he made his way over to the duo.Â
Joe, and with him Ezio, had taken a quieter seat at the end of the booze-stained counter and altogether not too far from Jaylin and the Captain. Canis perched on the stool to Joeâs right, watching curiously as the bartender approached the small group. With a quick glance around, he realized both his companions had yet to order and a smirking grin pulled at his lips.Â
âSo Joe, whaâcha gonna get? Milk? Water?â The Mimic snickered, Ezioâs eyebrow curving up in what seemed like surprise. The Tobitoan seemed about to correct his younger colleague, but the bartender interrupted him, flatly asking for their order whilst simultaneously placing Canisâ drink on the sticky countertop in front of him. He took a sip of it, savoring the creamy, artificially flavored peanut-buttery delicacy as he watched and waited for Joeâs reply with mischievously twinkling eyes.Â
âI would like an Argyenian Basilisk Spritz, please anâ thank yaâ maâam.â Canis sputtered, half his drink spat back into the tumbler as he turned to stare at Joe in wide-eyed shock. âWh-what??â Ezio snickered, in turn ordering himself a local Meldarian brandy heâd never heard of out of pure curiosity. The bartender left without sparing them a second look, and Canis was left reeling.Â
"No! Seriously? Joe? What in Tyrâs nation-??â
Joe smirked, shrugging in a sort of smug nonchalance that had the Mimic even more confused and looking to Ezio for answers. He merely laughed, shaking his head in amusement and eyes glowing warm with mirth.
âThatâs right, we never brought you to a bar before- My man here, Joe-â He clapped his partner on the shoulder, grinning, â-can hold his liquor like no oneâs business. He doesnât look it cuz he gives everyone the impression of a man who dines with his grandma every Sunday.â Joeâs harrumph at that had Ezio backpedaling, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. âLook, not that thatâs a bad thing Marge is the nicest woman I know-â the Tobitoan turned back to Canis, âpoint is, donât judge a book by its cover eh? Joe may look like the goodiest two shoes you ever did meet but he did some crazy sh-â
âThatâs enough oâ that there now,â Joe warned, but he had a look in his warm brown eyes that had Ezio rolling his eyes and sighing. âFineee. One day Joe, one dayâŚâ Pondering over what that could mean with a bemused half-smile, Canis turned to check in on the other two just in time to catch them making their way over. In lieu of greeting, Captain Skwells jutted his chin at the tumbler in front of the lieutenant. âWhat do you got there Lieutenant Famillion?â The tips of Canisâ ears warmed, and he just knew they were flushed blue in embarrassment.Â
âItâs a Reeses Meeses.â He muttered, much to everyoneâs delight. They shared a laugh, Ezio cackling as he answered, âPeanut butter eh? Thatâs a start of a bad joke right there, ya know. Dog goes to a bar, followed by a cat and a Dhumma-â he jutted a thumb at the Captain mischievously, âDog orders peanut butter, cat gets milk and the Dhumma orders a can of gasoline-âÂ
Canis interrupted him before the Captain could, blowing the dark-haired Tobitoan a raspberry. âIâm not a dog! Again! Canât relate.â
âYouâre canine-like, and you have this weird fixation on peanut butter- thatâs enough for me.â
A firm cough disrupted the argument before it could start in earnest, the Lieutenant biting his tongue to hold back his rebuke and glaring at Ezioâs smug grin before all attention was directed to the Captain. Simultaneously, the bartender arrived with Joe and Ezioâs drinks, darting away just as quick to serve a group of rowdy patrons who had just come in.Â
The corners of Cpt. Skwellsâ eyes crinkled as a pleased grin spread across his face, and with an approving nod at the new refreshments took up his own glass and held it in front of him. The rest of the seated crew took the cue and grabbed their own, waiting anxiously for whatever their beloved Captain was about to say.Â
âWell, while I would have liked to be able to get properly plastered with you all- not that these words will ever be repeated, mind you, in a professional setting-â he met each of their eyes carefully, and as that bright, swirling green gaze passed over him, the young Lieutenant felt the small hairs at the back of his neck prick up warily, on instinct.. â-It is to my great displeasure that I am forced to announce this round- our first- must also be our last. We do not have as much time as initially thought, so let this speech be brief.â The Captainâs attention turned solely to the Mimic, grin shortening into his everyday smirk. âIt was a pleasure to work with you, Ltn. Canis Lycaon Latran Lupis Famillion. You worked hard and played hard, fit right in with this band oâ misfits. Your first few years were hilarious, best entertainment Iâve had since Joe and Ezio began to crush on each other.âÂ
Both parties sputtered, but the dhuumaâs teasing grin was enough for them to keep their complaints unspoken. The Captain continued without acknowledging them, his expression schooling into something more solemn, smirk tightening into something more mature. Canisâ back straightened, and he stood taller. He was now being addressed by The Captain. Not Cpt. Skwells, not even Ethan- but one of the most respected and infamous captains of the SDF.Â
âYou are, and forever will be, a valued member of Jester Platoon. Call on us and we will be there, I will be there. You will always have a place with us, Lieutenant.âÂ
The young mimicâs eyes stung, but he could not discern whether it was due to the pungent odors in the air or the assurances given to him by his Captain. He did not want to know which it was, either. He only managed a nod back, unable to speak.Â
From the sidelines, there came a snort and suddenly Jaylin barreled her way forward to fasten herself around the Lieutenant.Â
âGroup Hug!â She proclaimed, quickly being followed by all the crew with the exception of the Captain. They remained like that a moment, Canis holding on to his friends, cheeks mysteriously wet as the others pulled away to reclaim their glasses. Cpt. Skwells waited for them to be ready before lifting his own tumbler with a sharp grin. âTo Lieutenant Canis! May we many more successful missions together, and may he finally find his beloved peanut butter!â
~
Somehow, one round turned into three before the Captain, the only one still and forever sober, wrangled his crew towards the docks. Canis had followed them, the good-byes had been long and tearful until finally, all that was left for him to wave at was the dark-red smudge of the Casino Royal ascending through the atmosphere.Â
Not that he would remember much, as he stumbled off to find shade during the hottest time of the Meldarian day. As it was, Canis found an alley to crash in and nap- mind fuzzy and body heavy from alcohol, until his thoughts were clear enough to explore and find his bearings. Propped against some buildingâs wall, the mimic felt his eyelids droop, his last wistful thoughts wondering about the crew that he had just left behind...
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3 (You are here)
Chapter 4 (Coming)











