cybermentalitypanther

[cybermentalitypanther]

The Token Human: Birthday Parties and Biological Differences

{Mild content warning for frank discussion of alien reproductive methods. Safe For Work, but TMI.}

~~~

I was eating a lunch of peanut butter and jelly (shipped straight from Earth) and green apples (grown on a colony world), when Kavlae joined me at the table.

“So,” she said, setting down her tray and plopping into a seat. “What is the big deal with birthdays?”

“Well,” I said around a mouthful of sandwich, “They’re what they sound like: a party celebrating the day you’re born.”

Kavlae flared her frills, looking like a curious blue fish. “But is this party only on the actual day, or is it celebrated every year?”

“Every year,” I told her. “It’s a big deal for kids, though not as much when you grow up. At least where I’m from.”

Kavlae shook her head and opened one of the food packs on her tray. “And everyone gives you presents every single time?”

“Sure, it’s just once a year.”

“Must be an expensive time of year.”

I was moving to take another bite, but paused to clarify, “It’s a different time of year for everyone. Humans don’t have a breeding season or anything like that.”

Kavlae looked up from opening another pack. “Sure, but every clutch of siblings comes together, right?”

“No, multiple births are super rare! Humans have only one kid at a time usually.”

“Whaaat? Just one? Your families must be so small!”

I put down my sandwich. “Why? How many siblings do you have?”

Kavlae shrugged. “I dunno, about twenty.”

“WHAT?” I blurted. “Twenty??”

“Yeah, we were a handful, too,” my coworker said as if this was the most normal thing in the world. “Closer to thirty at hatching, I’m told. Dad did a pretty good job. That’s got to be a lot of work to handle all by yourself.”

“And your dad was a single parent??” I asked, my voice spiraling upward even though I tried to be casual.

Kavlae looked surprised. “Sure, isn’t that normal for you guys? Or are two- and three-parent sets more common?”

“Two is standard!” I said, determined to hide my surprise better. “There are occasional exceptions, but two is what you’d expect to see.”

“Huh. That must make parenting much easier. Human parents must get a lot done.”

I shook my head slowly, thinking of the parents I’d known. “Pretty sure it’s still a lot of work. Everybody talks about newborns waking up every couple hours to eat, scream, and poop, then go back to sleep. Lots of diaper changes and not much sleep for the parents.”

Kavlae tilted a frill. “A lot of what changes?”

“Diapers,” I said. When she still looked blank, I went on: “The disposable clothes for catching poop, before babies are old enough to use a toilet? Yes, it’s gross.”

“Ew,” Kavlae said firmly, her expression revolted. “How long do you have to use those?”

“A year or two, I think?”

Kavlae’s eyes bugged out. “It takes YEARS? Never mind, I take back what I said about human parents having it easy!”

“Yeah, it’s a lot of work,” I said. “Sounds like your babies are more self-sufficient than ours, huh?”

Kavlae made a gesture with a hand and frill together. “I mean, they have to be kept from eating everything that’s not food.”

“Yeah, same.”

“And they’re famous for hurting themselves during the egg-free zoomies.”

I blinked. “I’m guessing that’s when they run around immediately after hatching? You probably don’t want to know how long it takes humans to walk.”

She looked at me intently. “How long?”

“About a year.”

“A year??” She threw her blue-skinned hands in the air. “I see why you only have one at a time; that is nuts!”

I pointed out, “Keeping track of a couple dozen little ones running around and biting things all at once sounds pretty nuts too.”

“You’re not wrong!” She picked up a forgotten food pack and held it up like a champagne glass. “Cheers to the child-rearers, who are clearly all insane.”

I chuckled as I raised my sandwich in an answering cheer. “From lack of sleep, if nothing else.”

Kavlae poured some of the grainy whatever into her mouth. It looked like caviar. She said around it, “Glad I won’t have to worry about any of that.”

I picked up my sandwich again. “Not going to have any kids?”

“Oh, no, I have a couple clutches out there. I’m just not an egg-keeper.” She chugged the rest of the bag.

I paused, feeling like I’d missed something. “Egg-keeper?”

“Yeah. The one who keeps the eggs.”

It was my turn to look blank.

Kavlae tried again. “Do you guys not — no, you said two parents is standard. So those two mate, then raise the offspring together?”

“Yeahhhh,” I said. “What do you do?”

Kavlae looked around awkwardly. “I did not expect to be explaining this. Blip and Blop aren’t near, are they?”

The other tables were empty, with the rest of the crew elsewhere on the ship. That included the other two Frillians. I said, “Pretty sure they’re helping Mimi with some heavy engine parts.”

“Great. Okay. How to summarize this.” Kavlae ran a hand over the little frills on the top of her head. “Sex needs somebody to lay the eggs and somebody to fertilize them — well, no, making babies needs them to be fertilized. Anyway, someone has to keep track of the eggs afterward, and raise them. Usually that’s the male, but there’s a lot of overlap.” She gestured like she was sketching out a diagram in midair. “Male and female; egg-keeper and egg-eater.”

“Egg EATER?” I asked.

She sighed, frustrated. “The trade languages never get the genders right. It’s an archaic term that doesn’t translate well.”

“So nobody’s actually eating their own eggs?”

She looked like she wanted to say no, but she just fiddled with the other food pack and said, “Not anymore. Like I said, it’s ancient. Things were different back in the old times, and food was scarce.”

“Okay,” I said, realizing I hadn’t blinked in a while. “I am learning a lot about your people.”

“It’s not that big of a deal!” Kavlae insisted. “Everything’s very civilized now, just with an outdated word. Eggs are laid and fertilized, and at least one person stays to keep an eye on them while the other scoots off to the rest of their life.”

I had several questions I wanted to ask, and was having trouble deciding which to start with. “‘At least one’?”

“Sure, sometimes keepers come in sibling sets.” She waved a hand at the doorway. “You know, like Blip and Blop.”

I may have left my mouth hanging open for a moment while I absorbed that bit of knowledge. “I am definitely learning a lot about your people.”

Kavlae leaned back in her chair. “You really didn’t know that? They go everywhere together, and they’re big and muscley.”

I shook my head. “That would mean something different among humans. Possibly a couple different things, actually. But definitely not that they’re in the market for a threesome.”

“I’m not saying that they are,” Kavlae said, glancing at the door in embarrassment. “Just that if they ever wanted to be parents, they’d be the ones doing all the parenting.”

I remembered something from a few sentences back. “But not you, because you’re an … egg-eater.”

“But not literally,” she confirmed. “Kindly don’t tell them I was talking to you about this. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.” Her frills flared in a way that looked almost like she was shading her eyes in embarrassment.

I smiled quietly. “I won’t say a word. They’re not your type, huh?”

“Don’t get me wrong; Blip’s kinda hot and Blop has nice coloring, but yeah. Not my type.” She made a visible effort to get over the embarrassment, opening a third packet and squeezing some sort of Space Ketchup into the second. “I like a little more intellect, personally. Forethought, good with words, that sort of thing.”

“What, like Trrili?” I said with a grin, thinking of our largest and scariest exoskeleton-clad crewmate, who worked in language translation and enjoyed planning ahead enough to jump out and startle the rest of us.

I’d meant it as a joke. “Well,” Kavlae said, stirring the food and staring into the distance. “I’ll just say it’s a pity she’s got so many limbs. I know some Frillians have been known to date outside the species, but I really don’t think we’d be compatible.” Then she spooned the food into her mouth, lost in thought.

My eyebrows seemed to have taken up new residence at my hairline. “I won’t tell her we talked about this either.”

“Yeah, best not.”

I ate more of my sandwich, trying to think of another direction to steer the conversation. “Why’d you ask about birthdays, anyway?”

“Wio was saying they’re just a human thing, but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard some Heatseekers talking about them.” Kavlae waved her spoon vaguely. “Their families are small enough that they could make that work.”

I thought about what I knew of the lizardy folk, who also laid eggs. But not as many at once. I was pretty sure. “We could ask Paint.”

Kavlae opened a tub of what looked like jello. “Paint loves parties. I’m pretty sure she’d immediately want to start celebrating a hatching day, if she doesn’t already.”

“She probably would.” I considered. “She’s never mentioned her hatching day.”

Kavlae pointed at me with the spoon. “You’ve never said when your special day is either,” she said, chewing on what was apparently crunchy jello.

“It’s honestly hard to keep track out in space,” I said, though it felt like a weak excuse. I had a digital calendar for Earth dates, and I made sure to send messages home when I could.

“Do you not want to have a party where everyone gives you presents?” Kavlae asked. “You did say it was mostly for kids.”

I thought about it. “I’d feel a little guilty if everyone onboard gave me things just for existing, especially if they didn’t have their own birthdays.”

“You could start a trend. I wonder if Trrili even knows when she hatched.” Kavlae leaned toward the hallway. “Hey, Paint!”

A scaley orange face popped through the door. “Paint?”

Kavlae pointed at me. “Did you know it’s her hatching day tomorrow?”

Paint’s face lit up in delight. “It is?”

I said, “It’s really not…” but they were off without me.

“We should have a party! Oh, why didn’t you say?”

“I was telling her she should have mentioned it earlier. We should find out when everyone’s hatching day is.”

Paint clapped her hands together. “We should! Do you think they all know?”

“If not,” Kavlae said graciously, “You should pick days for them.”

“Yes! I love this idea. Robin, what do you usually do on hatching days?”

With both of them waiting for an answer, I said, “Eat cake.”

Paint said, “Perfect! I wonder if Eggskin has any recipes for a cake that everyone onboard can eat. I’ll go ask!” She scampered for the door.

Kavlae hurriedly scooped out the last bite of jello and tossed the tub onto her tray. “Ask if there are any meat-flavored ones! Those fruits you like are going to make at least three of us gag.” She got up and dumped the tray into a trash can, then chased after Paint, pausing only to throw me a grin and a “Happy birthday!”

I shook my head. With as much dignity as I could muster, I finished my regular Earth sandwich and apple slices, then headed out to the wild party planning that was already underway.

~~~

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).

[cybermentalitypanther]

Scents and Scenery

It was strange to be descending to a planet while surrounded by small windows. Most of our planetary visits these days were direct landings in the ship, not leaving it parked in a bustling dock near orbit, then taking public transit down to the surface. At least this shuttle had chairs and seatbelts. With this kind of long drop on all sides, even I might have felt a little unsteady on my feet. And I wouldn’t want to stumble against any of the strangers here; most of them were shorter than me.

I looked over at Paint and Captain Sunlight to see how they were doing. Heatseekers in general weren’t fond of heights, and Paint in particular Did Not Like Them.

Unsurprisingly, Captain Sunlight sat calmly in her chair, yellow scales gleaming under the lights, eyes closed like she was meditating, expression as serene as ever. She dipped her head forward to sniff delicately at the booklike thing mounted to the seatback in front of her.

Paint, on the other hand, had her own orange snout buried in the open pages of her complimentary seat-mounted book, and her eyes were screwed shut tightly.

I glanced between the two of them. “Does that smell good?” I asked.

“No,” Paint’s muffled voice said. “Mediocre at best. They need to refresh the seaside page, and their choice of fruits is boring. But it’s a distraction. Are we almost there?”

A look out the nearest window — which I just now realized was at my head height, above theirs — showed a distant view of the cityscape with the sun sinking behind us. A lovely scene, though not what I’d call close. I tried to sound upbeat as I said, “We’ve still got a little while to go, but it shouldn’t be too long now.”

Captain Sunlight kept her eyes closed while she said calmly, “Be glad they installed the scent books. When I visited as a child, the only distraction was my siblings. And none of them smelled particularly good.”

Paint snorted in laughter, face still in the book. “I bet.” She paused, then added, “Did your aunt and uncle export things back then too?”

The captain shook her head. “No, this is a relatively new business. That’s why I’m so glad to help them out; they’re just starting to get really successful, and the way the local mail system is backed up because of the holidays could put a dent in customer satisfaction. But a direct shot on our ship will be nice and quick. Beneficial for them, and multiple deliveries with one pickup for us; good business all around. This arrangement suits everyone.”

Paint said, “Except for this part of the trip.”

“Yes, except for this part of the trip.”

I smiled quietly. Paint could have stayed back on the ship with everybody else, but she’d wanted to meet Captain Sunlight’s extended family. The two of them had been friends since long before the captain got promoted. Plus the description of the family home had included something cryptic about good smells, and I suspect that was a bonus as well.

I was coming along because the captain had wanted three people to wrangle the cart full of packages. I was a good middle ground between strong enough to be helpful, and narrow enough to fit through Heatseeker doorways without catching a bug leg or overly muscley arm on a doorframe. (Height was another matter, of course, but I had ducked my way through many a low doorway in my time, and I was confident in my ability not to smack my forehead on anything.)

I leaned toward the porthole and looked out the distant ground, watching the sunset catch on tiny windows far below. As the shuttle sped toward its destination, that light moved, flashing from one part of town to another, lighting up buildings and ground transportation as it went. It was a striking view. Another minute later, and we might have missed it.

I said, “It’s a pity you don’t like looking out the windows; it’s really pretty down there.”

Paint didn’t move. “No thanks.”

Captain Sunlight smiled. “Care to describe it for us?”

I studied the play of lights. “The sunset is reflecting off windows and windshields, making the city sparkle as we pass. Some of the roads full of traffic look like glittering necklaces winding through town, and the houses are like a handful of jewelry scattered across the hills.”

“That does sound pretty,” the captain said.

Paint said, “Ah, but what is it in smells?”

“Well,” I said. “It would be a lot of little sharp spikes of scent, together in a rolling wave like a breeze passing through a field full of really memorable flowers.”

Paint considered. “Yeah, okay, I like that.”

“And the clouds over there are about level with us, lit up all pink and peachy like the candy algae Blip and Blop brought back that one time.”

“Ooh, that was delicious. Okay, it sounds very nice out there. But it’s still too far to the ground.”

“Not as far as it was,” I said as the landing pad grew beneath us. A faint change in engine pitch suggested reverse thrusters, or a change in the degree of gravity manipulation, or whatever kind of tech the shuttle was using. I don’t know; it’s not my specialty.

Captain Sunlight must have heard it, because she opened her eyes. “Almost there.”

Paint sighed in relief, eyes still closed. “Oh good.”

The captain patted her on the shoulder. “The drop box would have been worse.”

Paint turned her head slightly and opened one eye. “How?”

“Bigger windows.”

“Yeah, that’s worse.”

I craned my neck back for a glimpse at the space elevator that reached up to the docks, a technological spear stabbing into the sky like the kind of thing that religions are based on. I asked, “Isn’t it supposed to be faster than these shuttles?”

Captain Sunlight told me, “Yes, but it leads to the wrong part of town. My family lives closer to the shuttle station.”

“Right, that makes sense.”

Paint stuck her face back in the book. “Tell me when we’re there.”

The artificial gravity made a comical bounce, like the shuttle had hiccuped, and the view outside the window showed a stable landing pad. The sun had just set.

Captain Sunlight said, “We’re here,” and unfastened her seatbelt.

Paint and I hurried to follow as the other passengers shuffled towards the door. Once outside, my impression of the place was that it felt like a comfortable summer night: warm breeze, enough light in the sky from the fading sun to rival the electricity of the city, and heat still radiated up from the sun-warmed pavement. It smelled like asphalt, jet fuel, and several competing perfumes.

Captain Sunlight led the way through the crowd, which was mostly other Heatseekers with a few Frillians. “Smells just like I remember it,” she said. “This way.”

She found the ground transportation that would go straight to her family’s street: a hoverbus that was a similar riding experience to the shuttle, except for its length. This thing was snake-long in three segments, each with a nifty little rotating section where it hinged to turn corners. I chose a seat in one of those parts, enjoying the way the floor moved. Paint shook her head and sat in what she probably considered a more sensible location, with the captain beside her.

Normally we’d stay together when out on business, but it wasn’t like they’d lose track of me. Everyone else on this bus was elbow-height and covered in scales.

When we reached our stop and got out, there was a huddle of Frillians who averaged out at human size, which felt both normal and strange for a moment. Then Captain Sunlight led the way past, down a sidewalk made of rubberized brown pavement that smelled vaguely like strawberries, and the architecture brought things back into feeling exotic. Every building was a single story tall, and I could see over most of the rooftops. It was all gentle curves and bright colors, though the gathering darkness under the reddish streetlights made it hard to say exactly which colors.

Captain Sunlight led us to one house out of many, this one with a domed roof, and as we got close I realized that the pattern I had taken for the leaves of spreading vines was actually a collage of clawed handprints. Tiny ones at the bottom, getting bigger as they went up. While the captain pressed a button somewhere that made a crescendo of chimes sound inside, I looked around to see that yes, all the houses on this street were covered in handprints.

I wondered how many cousins Captain Sunlight had, and how often they got to put new handprints on the wall. Maybe it was a birthday tradition. I’d have to ask when I got a chance.

Then the door swung open, and several voices were talking over each other, welcoming us inside. I went last, ducking low. Once the door was shut behind me, I saved everyone some awkwardness and just sat down on my heels. Then I took in the sights. Also the smells. While the home was visually charming, all warm lights and painted walls with furniture and people everywhere, the smell was a burst of potpourri and black pepper. I conquered the urge to sneeze, and was proud of myself for that.

Captain Sunlight was finishing the rounds of greeting each family member with the Heatseeker version of a hug: rubbing cheeks like they were cats scent-marking each other. I heard someone comment to her, “You smell like space,” and wondered what smell that was. Paint, meanwhile, was going with the equivalent of a bow: chin lifts so everyone was baring their necks at each other. It was interesting to watch for the split second before the closest Heatseeker greeted me.

“Hello and welcome!” he said, sounding both elderly and pleased. His scales were a faded beige, and a couple were even missing. He tipped his chin towards the ceiling. “Here, let me get you a cushion.” He was gone before I could do more than raise my own head and thank him.

Another elder took his place, her own scales a yellow-green and her voice a little stronger. She greeted me and began introducing everyone. I immediately lost track, but pretended to keep up. Greetings came from all sides.

A large tasseled pillow was thrust between people, then the old man appeared and set it down with ceremony in front of me. I made a point of thanking him graciously as I scooted forward to sit on it cross-legged. I didn’t kick anyone with my long human legs, but it was a near thing.

Captain Sunlight appeared beside me, towing Paint, and stood there to talk with someone whose yellow scales were speckled with black, like an artist had scattered watermelon seeds over her. (For all I knew, someone had. Scale painting was uncommon, but not unheard of.)

The rest of the cheerful crowd settled down to observe this conversation. My keen sense of deduction told me that this was probably the aunt who had invited us here in the first place. They were talking business: numbers and locations and all very no-nonsense. They didn’t need any input from me.

Paint was having a quiet and enthusiastic side conversation with someone about the scented heat bracelets they were wearing. Nobody was addressing me, so I admired the decorations. This main entry room had the higher domed ceiling, colored in a lovely mural of the sun and clouds. Lots of hooks held decorative paper bird-things that looked handmade. I was wondering how often they had to dust those to keep them clean when the business conversation wrapped up.

“Agreed!” said Captain Sunlight, in the carrying tone of someone finalizing an agreement in front of an eager crowd. All the family members made a single cheer in unison, then dissolved into conversation again.

This time the speckled aunt quieted them. “Everyone go pick seats at the dining circle. Be sure to leave space for our guests. We’ll be along in just a moment.”

Oh. Apparently we were staying for dinner. I supposed that made sense. I kept my elbows in as the chattering crowd filed through a door somewhere, leaving the three of us alone with the aunt and uncle. He turned out to be an unassuming golden-brown fellow who blended in with the walls surprisingly well.

Captain Sunlight asked her aunt quietly, “Did you have something else to discuss?”

“Just a minor favor to ask,” the aunt said with a glance at me. (Uh oh.) Then she pointed up at the paper decorations. “Our hoverstool has broken, and we haven’t been able to take down the flights from last holiday. Perhaps someone with a bit of height could unhook them for us?”

I snorted in amusement at the look at Captain Sunlight’s face. She said, “That’s why you wanted me to bring a tall crewmate? So you didn’t have to go to the store for a new hoverstool during the rush?”

The aunt spread her hands innocently. “Always efficient,” she said with the tone of someone reciting a mantra.

Captain Sunlight sighed. “It is efficient, I’ll give you that.” She turned to me. “Would you mind? You can set them on that table there.”

“Sure thing,” I said, getting to my feet. The center of the dome was just about high enough for me to stand up straight. With the sun mural up there and the warm lights aimed up at it, I felt almost like I was outside in the daytime as I carefully unhooked the paper birds. Maybe a convincing stagecraft version of day. Working carefully, I gathered all of them onto the table without damaging any or bumping into anyone in the process. It helped that the four Heatseekers stood to the side, talking about the items ready for export.

“All done,” I said, folding back down onto the cushion. I was pretty sure we’d be moving into the next room in just a moment, but I felt awkward looming over everyone.

And the aunt was giving gifts.

“Call it a free sample,” she said, handing Captain Sunshine a collection of angular glass beads on strings. Necklaces? Yes, necklaces. “These ones are pressure-activated, with a shutoff at the clasp. Refillable. A popular model, especially with our newest offworld dealer’s clients.”

The captain thanked her, then handed a necklace to Paint and one to me. I didn’t need Paint’s delighted exclamation to figure out that these were a scent thing. Fortunately, they held a pleasant sort of perfume as far as my preferences went — kind of cinnamony — and the shutoff was easy to lock in place. It wouldn’t do to gas myself during polite conversation.

And also, it was pretty. I put the necklace on while Paint gushed about the beautiful range of scents, and I admired the string of glittering cubes set against my dark shirt.

Paint looked up at me. “Oh! Does this look like what you saw out the window?”

I smiled. “It does! And it even comes with scents so you can appreciate it too.”

Paint ran a claw along the string, tapping each bead and inhaling deeply. “Beautiful,” she announced.

Captain Sunlight told her aunt, “You do good work.”

The aunt beamed. “Of course we do! Now come sample the food; your cousins have been fighting over who got to plan the meal, so we let everybody make their own offering. It ought to be a delicious mess.”

The uncle spoke up, leading the way. “And you haven’t seen our new dining circle yet.”

“That’s right, they haven’t! Right this way. Watch your head on the doorway.”

That last part was directed at me. I did my best to walk bent over with dignity, following the others into the next room where a festive conversation was underway. The dining circle turned out to be a giant round table, with an outer ring set lower than the rest, holding everyone’s plates. The plates were empty so far, while the promised variety of dishes sat along the edge of the top circle, waiting to be scooped, forked, tonged, and grabbed from. There was a centerpiece made of crystal flowers.

Once we honored guests were shown to our seats (another cushion for me), the pale elder from before set the table slowly spinning. Another cheer went up, and the grabbing began.

Captain Sunlight sat beside me, and I was grateful for her brief descriptions of what each passing dish was made of. I picked out a selection from the many options while Paint exclaimed over how good they all smelled, and I had to agree.

Also, the crystal centerpiece sparkled under the lights as the table turned, and it was spectacularly beautiful. Even with no scent at all.

~~~

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).

[cybermentalitypanther]

Liz, Biotechnician

Part 6.5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh shit shit shit!” Liz cursed, baby Armeater still teething on her metal thumb, as she stood over the now smashed tank that had been their enclosure. With all the glass scattered around it was impossible to tell if it was broken from the inside or not, but since the babies were practically the size and weight of cats, Liz doubted they’d done this themselves. That, and the tank was ripped out of the wall.

Someone had trashed her lab.

Liz was seeing red.

“Human Friend Liz,” Coco started from the doorway, “the two others are not in the lab.”

“Coco, on my console, recall all the drones and send them through the ship. We gotta find them immediately.”

“Of course,” Coco started hitting buttons and a soft pinging sound resonated from the computer. The whir of any tiny motors running together came from the vents. “Human Friend Liz, what are you doing?”

Liz finished zipping up her uniform, the baby Armeater safely scooped up inside popping its head out to mewl and look around.

“I’m really really hoping these guys will come out to find one of their own… or I’m gonna hit the mess hall and get a slab of meat, see which works first.”

“You are exhibiting predator behaviors again,” Coco chimed.

“You bet your ass I am,” Liz practically snarled. “Somebody on this ship trashed my lab and let my fucking cats out.”

Liz made for the door, baby Armeater squeaking with every step.

“Stay here and scoop them up if they come back. If anyone else comes in here, call me, okay?”

“Not security?”

“Danny isn’t on the ship right now, thank god, he’d kill me for letting this happen.”

A whole ship full of non predator species, it was only a matter of time before one of them freaked out seeing one of the babies, her babies, and fried it with something.

“They couldn’t have gotten far, they got tiny legs,” Liz said, now out the door. “I’ll be back soon!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I find out who touched my fucking stuff I swear to space god I’m gonna get medieval on them, Liz thought, cradling the wriggling creature inside her jacket. It didn’t seem distressed, more welcoming the body heat she was sharing, so that was probably a good thing. The other two are probably looking for food or heat, she thought. Mess hall.

None of her other crew mates seemed to show any signs of distress or confusion, so Liz guessed she had that going for her. This truly couldn’t have happened at a worse time, but she supposed that was the point. If she was going to trash a whole department, she’d also choose when the majority of security staff weren’t on board.

Liz smiled to herself with grim satisfaction. Wonder if those cameras I set up caught them in the act?

In her rush to find the infant creatures, she’d all but forgotten about the micro-cameras she’d set across the lab. Jane had told her about a certain graffiti incident in the med lab which prompted some late night paranoia. There was no way she hadn’t caught the whole thing on tape.

Liz was gonna nail whoever did this to the wall.

But first, gotta find the babies, she thought.

Nearing the mess hall doors, Liz slowed to a more casual pace, so as not to alarm any of the many more… prey-esque species among the crew. Many in the GAIL weren’t predator descended, and some were prone to overreact to aggressive behavior. It’d taken some races years to acclimate to the behavioral patterns humans presented on the regular, and Liz would do her level best so as not to shake the already unstable reputation Earth had in the galaxy.

While holding an infant apex predator in her jacket and mildly stalking several more.

Liz, you remember when we just had to work with microscopes and test tubes? Yes I do Liz, those were simpler times.

She peeked through the window into the mess hall. Nothing seemed to terribly out of the ordinary. Members of the crew, milling around, vending machines printing out various planet’s cuisines. Liz almost thought she could have been wrong before noticing o e of the recycling cans teetering back and forth in the far corner of the room, a little furry head poking up over the side with leftovers splattered across its snout.

“Oh thank god,” Liz sighed, relieved. She hurried across the hall, ignoring the stares, and grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck.

“I was so worried about you!” She chided it. In response, the little baby Armeater mewled and licked its nose clean of whatever alien dish it had been rifling through. “Time to get back to the lab babies, now tell me where the third one of you is, yeah?”

Liz didn’t really expect an answer, instead just stuffed the second baby creature into her jacket and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible with the squirming bulges in her clothes as she vacated the mess hall. Truthfully, she thought only a handful noticed, and even fewer cared.

Thank god they already think humans are weird, she thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Coco, I found one, any sign of the third?” Liz asked, huffing and puffing from the awkward jog she’d done back to the lab. The two baby aliens she’d been carrying were being remarkably uncooperative as they kept trying to squirm out of her grasp. She was pretty sure one of them had nipped right through her shirt as well, and could feel one of their wet snouts against her abdomen.

“I believe the last creature has made its way to another section of the ship,” Coco said from their station, monitoring several screens at once. “I saw it, briefly, in the stairwell leading to the floor below us, but I lost sight of it when one of our crew members kicked the drone by mistake. The feed was terminated…”

“Here,” Liz said, gently lobbing the two infants she was carrying into Coco’s branches. “Hold onto these until I get back, and try to start fabricating another tank for them!”

“Human Friend Liz!” Coco’s voice synthesizer actually changed an octave. “Why have you-?”

“Look, hon, I love you but you move so slow so I gotta go get the baby, just let them climb around on you, you’ll be fine, you aren’t made of meat, I’ll be back okay bye~!”

Just as quickly as she’d returned, Liz was back out the door and hauling ass to the stairs. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out why the baby Armeater had gone this way, there wasn’t anything warm down here to get heat from, and all the food in the mess hall was the other way, so what was it doing going to the-

“Oh god damnit,” Liz sighed. There at the landing was one of her drones, half flattened, very clearly non-operational. “Fuck man, that was so much work,” she muttered to herself, scraping up the pieces and shoving them in her pocket.

“Fix it later,” she told herself. “Gotta get baby.”

She cornered on the stairs and jumped the rest of the way, jamming her shoulder into the door with a resounding thunk! and back into the halls she went. There wasn’t anything even in this section, just empty sim rooms kept clean for staff meetings and the occasional religious service, one of which seemed to be ending just then. Some pink humanoids in robes were leaving one of the sims, carrying trays and pitchers of various things that smelled pretty good…

“Oh god damnit!” Liz hissed. It was a Scrib party! Jane had told her about the one she’d gone to, told her all about the delicious food and all!

And there, as if on cue, was baby Armeater number three, waddling along the wall, trying to be invisible, adorably and awkwardly stalking its prey like the infant predator it was.

I miss having cats, Liz thought, tilting her head at how cute the little bugger was. As quickly as she could, she cozied up behind it, easily now that its attention was on the leftovers the Scrib were carrying, and right when she saw its adorable little butt wiggle, she pounced.

“Get scooped, nerd,” she chuckled as she scooped it up into her arms, letting it chew on her metallic fingers like the others had. One of the Scrib looked back at her, smiled, bowed, she waved back, and like that everyone parted ways to go about the rest of their day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I did not enjoy that, Human Friend Liz,” Coco pouted. It’d taken almost ten minutes to get all three creatures out of their branches. It hadn’t helped that Coco couldn’t stop shaking the whole time. By then, the fabricator had finished the new enclosure, so Liz had just plopped them down with a freshly Vended steak, leaving them happy as could be.

Liz, on the other hand, was exhausted.

“Running is bullshit,” she said, putting her feet up on her console. “Last time I ran so much I lost an arm, clearly stating that it is indeed bullshit.”

“I am simply content that the specimens are back in their enclosure,” Coco stated. They still hadn’t moved yet, choosing to stay rooted securely in their pot in the corner. “I still do not understand what a cat climbing tree is, or what I have to do with that.”

“Don’t worry about it, it was just a joke hon,” Liz smirked a little.

“We are reporting this to Security and the Captain, yes?”

“Oh, right!” Liz shot back up. “Totally forgot, my cameras!”

“Your unsanctioned recording devices.”

“You say that now, but this is what’s gonna save my job, okay?”

Liz punched a few commands into her console, and watched as the feed began to load. When it was finished, she hit play.

Seconds went by. Minutes. Finally, with the suspense killing her, Liz finally saw it. And what she saw was outright confusing.

“What do you see?” Coco asked. Liz continued to stare at the monitor, open mouthed.

“Oh what the hell?”

[cybermentalitypanther]

different cakes different shapes

"Human Kim!" shouted the alien simian.

"Yeah Marl-Oh boy!" the human staggered back, arms windmilling to regain balance until gravity unfortunately won sending the human to the floor. A butt-to-back roll, like a woodbug or armadillo, the human went until finally motion left them.

"...Yes Marl?" she asked the small youngling hugging her face.

"Why are you brown??"

"...you hug-attacked my face to ask me that very important question?"

"Yes. Why are you brown??" the youngling asked again lightly bouncing on the human's face.

"...I'm brown because of a thing called melanin. It makes my skin brown...and my hair and eyes."

"Do all humans have mel-ah-lin?"

"Yes. Yes, all humans have it."

"Then why isn't teacher Max brown too?"

"Because his is different than mine...I think that's it." the human muttered the last part to herself trying to remember her high school biology classes.

"Why?"

"Uh, because his parents are that color so he's that color. I'm brown cause my parents are brown. Like your fur is blue and purple because of your parents."

"But why are you different colors if you're part of the same species? All of my kind are the same colors." the youngling scooted down to sit on the human's chest.

"Well...you all have different patterns right? Same species but different patterns."

"...Why are you hairier than teacher Max?"

"...Marl why?" snickered the human covering her face.

"Why are you laughing?!" Marl tugged at the humans hands. "What's so funny?!"

"Marl. What did we say about sitting on teachers?" Max scooped up Marl, drawn to the two from Kim's spectacular fall.

"Are you sure you're a male??"

"Yes. I am sure."

"Then why is she hairier than you?! Anthony and Piper told me that boy humans are hairy and girl humans aren't!" the youngling scurried up to Max's head to headbutt him. "You don't even have face hair! But teacher Kim does!"

"MaRl! WHHY!" wheezed the human on the floor. Face red from laughter and embarrassment. Max was also turning a similar shade.

"Damn my beard genes...Okay, humans come in all different shapes, colors, and fluffiness. There are hundreds of different...versions of us and we all look a bit different than the other. Sometimes by just a little and sometimes by a lot."

The youngling looked at the adult and it was clear to Max that none of that would stick or satisfy their curiosity.

"We're like cake." Kim piped up. "Y'know cake Marl? Yeah? Okay well humans are like cake. There are hundreds of different types of cakes, some are big some are small, some have fruit while some have nuts, but the basic parts of all cakes are the same.

Flour, sugar, baking powder, etc. I have some things that Max doesn't have and he has some things I don't have. He has freckles and bright hair while I have dark hair and fluffy arms." she raised her arms to show the difference between her and Max. "But we are still made of the same things."

"...like blood and bones and mel-ah-lin?"

"Exactly."

"Okay. Bye teachers!" and with that the youngling leaped away.

"...cake? Really?"

"Hey it worked." Kim laughed.

"Let's just hope none of the kids try to eat us now." Max chuckled.

[cybermentalitypanther]

The Heat Outside the Box

The temperature at this spaceport was sweltering. I didn’t know how the ships weren’t melting where they stood. Maybe the captain would want to take us up for a jaunt through the chilly upper atmosphere before heading out to the vacuum of space; some alpine heights sounded pretty nice right now. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stick my head out a window on a spaceship in flight, but I could imagine. And that was keeping me going.

At least we had shade. It was from a singularly huge leaf on an alien plant, but it would do. I stood squarely in that shade next to Mur, who seemed pretty ambivalent about the sauna-on-max weather conditions. He probably would have cared more if it was a dry heat, since he would have had to worry about his tentacles drying out.

Paint, on the other hand, was actually enjoying this, because of course she was. She stood in the full sun, soaking up the heat on her orange scales, occasionally sighing happily.

“This is so nice,” she said. “The ship’s warm enough to get by, but I’ve missed proper heat.”

Mur waved a blue-black tentacle between the sun and the shade. “I like the moisture content of the air,” he admitted. “It is pretty nice.”

I stood there dripping sweat and flapping my shirt for some hint of a breeze. “For you,” I said.

Paint cocked her head up at me. “Why is your— Right, I forgot humans did that. It looks unpleasant. Doesn’t it get your clothes wet?”

I nodded, still flapping. “Yes and yes.”

“But it cools you down, right?”

“Only if there’s a breeze,” I told her. “Otherwise it’s just an added layer of discomfort.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing,” Paint said, pointing a claw. “I wondered.”

Mur pointed a tentacle in a different direction. “You’ll be back in ship temperatures soon enough. That has to be the customer.”

I followed where he was pointing to see a Strongarm slightly smaller than he was, colored in a lighter shade of blue that showed the dust that hadn’t been fastidiously wiped off. The most notable difference, though, was that while Mur would have been carrying the brown package, this person was dragging it. It didn’t even look that heavy.

I glanced at Mur. Even from above, I could see his scowl. He didn’t say anything, though. It wouldn’t do to badmouth a customer, even such a poor representative of the species as this.

Paint whispered, “I thought there were supposed to be more packages than one?”

Mur said, “We’ll ask.”

I wiped my face and hoped we wouldn’t have to wait for somebody else to bring the rest. If we did, I was going to volunteer to take the first box back to the ship and stay there.

When the other Strongarm got close enough, Mur moved forward with an official greeting and a thankfully temperature-resistant datapad. He handled the conversation. That was great, since I didn’t have to leave the shade of that one glorious leaf. Paint stepped up to accept the box while Mur was handling data entry and discussing the missing packages.

Yes, there were supposed to be more. No, the customer didn’t have them ready after all. Was there any chance of a discount for delivery, since we wouldn’t be dealing with as many? Nope. We were still making the same trip. Mur was firm on that.

Thankfully for all our sakes, the customer didn’t feel like arguing about it. Soon enough, those dusty blue tentacles were waving goodbye and plopping along back down the walkway. Mur turned off the datapad. Paint brushed dirt off the box.

I rubbed away sweat dripping down my neck, and pointed toward the ship. “Shall we?”

They both fell in behind me, and I led the way, grateful for any kind of breeze. It was a pity they weren’t as long-legged as I was, but even this faint bit of air was an improvement.

Mur grumbled something that sounded like “Disgrace to the species.”

I didn’t comment, busy breathing.

Paint turned the box over with quiet taps of her claws. “Look, the tape isn’t even sealed down all the way! They’re lucky we aren’t going to toss this somewhere it’ll get caught and pulled loose.”

“Typical,” said Mur.

I looked back at it. The thing was a surprisingly Earthlike cardboard-type box, and the packing tape was the paper stuff. I asked, “Is that the kind that’s activated by water?”

Paint tried to press it down and failed. “I think so. It’s not sticky.”

I squinted at the distance still to walk, then stopped and held out my hands. “Gimme. I’ll fix it.”

Paint lifted it towards me. “How? I wouldn’t recommend licking—”

I grabbed the box, wiped my sweaty forearm on the tape, then smoothed it down with a damp palm. Perfect. “Done,” I said, handing it back. “If you don’t mind, I need a drink of water. See you back onboard.” I took long-legged strides toward the ship.

Behind me, Mur was laughing.

I heard Paint mutter, “Do you think that’s sanitary?”

Mur said, “I don’t think this customer would care in the slightest. And that’s a risk they run in being that late, then giving a package to a species that gets damp in the heat.”

~~~

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).

[cybermentalitypanther]

"Max can you get Nova while I get Pollix? It's going to get messy!" the human yelled running across the youngling centre.

"Sure thing Kim!" The human male dropped the markers and papers in his hands and sprinted across the youngling centre, opposite direction of his partner, towards the one of the tighalaxes. Dropping into a crouch he scooped the feline humanoid into his arms and football carried them towards the 'time out corner'.

Said time out corner was designed to withstand tantrums and violent outbursts from younglings of all species. Scorch marks, acid burns, claw marks, and dents from bites and hits showed it was well used. That was where the tighalax in Max's arms was going.

The 90 pound youngling thrashed and wiggled in the human's arms. Whining and growling. Large paws batted at the human's face. Still the human persisted.

"Come on Pollix! You're old enough to know better! You need help with someone you call a teacher, not fight them."

"Teacher I know-!"

"Then why am I carrying you to the time out corner?" Max huffed throwing the human over his shoulder. "We all have bad days but that's no excuse for-"

"MAX! What are you doing?? I said get Nova!" Kim raced past her coworker, carrying a much smaller tighalax hissing and scratching her teacher. "OW! Dammit Nova-she's the one in trouble!" the human yelped as a tiny claw scratches her wrist.

"...Oh. Sorry Pollix. I was wrong. What do you need help with?"

"I really need to poop. But I can't move or it'll go."

"...I am so sorry buddy!"

"Ball carry me! I need to go more in this carry!"

"Right! Sorry!" the human resumes carrying Pollix like a football, leaping and bounding towards the bathroom. "And sorry Kim! I'll bring the band aids when done!!"

.

"So you thought I meant Pollix?"

"Yep. I know no kid is perfect but Nova never gets mad so I just assumed...sorry." he applies another neon band aid to his friend.

"But I said it's going to get messy...like it's going to get messy if he doesn't get to the bathroom in time."

"I thought you were referring to the time when he coughed up a hairball after angry crying too hard...or that male tighalaxes have venomous spit and well spit when mad."

"...okay I guess that's fair. Your buying lunch for me tomorrow though."

"Also fair...you look like a neon rainbow. Maybe next time we should buy Paw Patrol band aids."

[cybermentalitypanther]

Good Food and Bad Smells

My crewmates generally got along, which was why I was so surprised to hear the tones of a disagreement as I headed toward the exit. Most of the crew were out getting food at the spaceport; what kind of argument could be happening in the halls?

One related to food, as it turned out. I heard the personnel door close right before I turned the corner. Once there, I found Kavlae and Wio walking towards me.

“What’s up?” I asked, looking between the two pilots. They didn’t look like they’d been arguing with each other.

Kavlae waved her blue frills diplomatically and started with, “Nothing really—”

“Paint’s food stinks,” Wio interrupted, standing indignantly on tentacle-tips. “Had to tell her to eat it outside the ship.”

“Oh,” I said. “Why was that a big deal?”

Wio curled a tentacle. “Search me. Apparently she was surprised neither of us want that smell soaking into the air filters.”

Kavlae looked apologetic. “Even with a sealed package, eating it only in her quarters, we’d smell it all the way down the hall. I’m familiar with that Heatseeker delicacy; it’s almost a biohazard.”

I added, “Which probably hurt her feelings.”

Kavlae winced. “Probably.”

“I’ll tell her you’re sorry but haven’t changed your minds, shall I?” I suggested. “I was about to go visit the food stalls too.”

“Please,” Kavlae said with a nod and flap of her head frills.

Wio said, “Don’t let her convince you the door to her quarters would contain the smell. Those doors are designed to NOT be airtight, for safety reasons.”

“Righto,” I agreed. They walked past and I headed for the door to the outside. I was already breathing shallowly, braced for stench.

But the air outside was clean — well, spaceport-level clean, with tinges of exhaust and sun-warmed pavement. Other ships sat in their designated landing spots.

Paint stood a few steps away from the door, holding a small plastic tub and looking sulky. She lashed her scaly tail and glared.

“Hey,” I said, though she was already talking over me.

“They said it smelled bad!” Paint exclaimed, in the aggrieved tones of someone whose favorite thing had been deeply slandered. “This is the best smell of all foods ever! I followed it across town!” She waved the tub around, which was thankfully still sealed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Geology cake,” Paint told me. “I used to ask for it at every celebration back home. It’s called that because of the layers.” She held the tub with one hand, using the other to gesture in horizontal slices. “Made with perfectly ripe bitterfruit, and fermented worm cream. Plus a few other flavors that I forget. I was never the one to make it back home. I’d love to learn how! Though SOME people would apparently have a problem with that.” She huffed and turned a lizardy glare toward the closed door to the ship.

“They say sorry for the offense,” I told her. “And you know, they probably like some foods that you think are gross too.”

“But it’s my favorite!” Paint said plaintively. She held the tub close like someone might try to take it away from her. “I’d eat it every day if I could. My parents never let us have enough; they said it was unhealthy to have too much.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been there for sure,” I said. “It feels like all the things that taste the best are the ones that are bad to eat too much of. Which makes sense, I guess, since probably every civilized species figures out what flavors they like, then maximizes them.”

Paint nodded. “You told me about that aisle of salty snack food in your home store.”

“Right! Salt tastes good because we need a certain amount to be healthy, and in nature it can be hard to find.” I waved my own hands, warming to the subject. “But we’re not in nature anymore, and we’ve made tons of delicious things with more salt in a meal than we need in two days. Such a problem to have.”

“It’s unfair,” Paint agreed. She looked sadly down at the tub. “This really is my favorite, though. That’s important. Do you have a favorite food? Probably one of those toxic ones, right?”

I laughed. “Chocolate is pretty darn tasty, I won’t lie. I don’t really have one single favorite food, since there are so many good ones. I usually just say pizza.”

Paint nodded as if that was what she expected. “You told me about that. Every ingredient takes multiple stages of processing, and two of the most common ones will give most sentient species intestinal troubles.”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” I admitted. “I didn’t used to think bread stuff was strange at all until I got to space, to say nothing of cheese.”

Paint made a face and shook her head. “The less said about cheese, the better.”

“Did I tell you that some humans can’t digest it properly either?”

“Yes! Which makes it all the more baffling that it’s so popular in human spaces!”

I shrugged. “There are pills that you can take to help with lactose intolerance. It tastes good enough to be worth it. Especially with all the other ingredients.”

“Toxic ones. With blood-red sauce that causes organ failure.”

“Not for everybody!” I objected. “Some people can eat tomatoes. Just not everybody.”

“I am not about to try,” Paint said. She looked down at the tub again. “I am going to eat this, though, no matter what those two brainless noses say.”

I didn’t comment on the Heatseeker phrasing. I was curious. “Before I go get my own food, can I smell it? Will it put me off eating all together?”

Paint was delighted by this, and assured me that of course not, it was a lovely smell, the best around, etc etc. I just nodded as she opened the tub.

She held it out. “There! Isn’t that amazing?”

I only got a glimpse of beige frosting before getting nose-punched by an odor that was both sharp and rotten. I tried to keep a neutral expression as I stepped back, exhaling forcefully and hoping the stench wouldn’t follow me.

“Hm. Not for me, I think.”

“But it’s so good!” Paint repeated. “Where’s Captain Sunlight? She’ll back me up. Clearly all of you just have inferior noses.”

“Possible,” I allowed, breathing through my mouth. Ugh, I could taste it too.

“Wait, there’s Eggskin! They’ll like it!” Paint waved at the approaching cook/medic, who was also a small lizardperson with apparently horrendous taste in cake.

I tried to sound normal when I joked, “They’ll probably just caution you not to eat it all in one sitting.”

“They’d better not!”

When Eggskin got a little closer, I could see that they were carrying a bag that might have come from a food stall.

When they got a little closer still, the wind changed and I honestly almost threw up. “What is that?” I demanded, covering my nose.

Eggskin approached and sighed. “I probably should have just eaten this back there, shouldn’t I? The chairs were all full.”

I suggested, “Did you try waving that around and waiting? I suspect they would have cleared out pretty quickly.”

Paint just cocked her head curiously. “What is it? It smells familiar.”

Eggskin managed to look guilty. “Three-month pneumonia. It’s not the healthiest choice, I admit—”

Paint pointed. “That’s why it’s so familiar! It was my cousin’s favorite!”

“Three-month what?” I asked, certain I’d heard wrong.

“Pneumonia,” confirmed our ship’s medic. “Whoever invented it got creative with the naming. I would have preferred something less ominous.”

Paint hurried to explain it, waving the lid of her own still-open food around. “It’s knife-wing lungs! Filled with fermented greedbeast-fat sauce!”

Eggskin nodded. “And slug garnish.”

“Wow,” I managed. “That sounds special.”

“It is! A rare treat.” Eggskin turned to Paint. “Would you like some?”

“Oh, no thank you; I have my own food,” Paint said politely, finally putting the lid back on. “Also I can’t stand knife-wing. Sorry.”

I made a rather gurgling laugh and pointed toward the edge of the spaceport. “I think I see some empty tables over there. Maybe you two would like to eat and reminisce about parties and strong-smelling food?”

Paint perked up and followed my finger. “Oh! Yay!”

Eggskin gave me a knowing look. “You’re going to run off in the opposite direction, aren’t you?”

I was already walking. “I think I spy something promising way the heck over there.”

Paint headed for the tables. “Enjoy your toxins!”

“You as well!” I said. “I hope your biohazard is delicious.”

~~~

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).

[cybermentalitypanther]

"Oh my god can we just duct tape them in place?? I'm low key serious right now...okay I'm actually serious for some of them."

"I know we have like little to no licensing rules to follow but I'm pretty sure the parents would object to us ducting taping their children's limbs to their sides and their feet to the floor."

"...What if we used clear tape--harder to see!"

"Max no."

"Who are you abducting?" asked Kal walking by their cafeteria table. "If they're a death-eater's mother I'll help."

"No abductions just trying to figure out how to keep the kids still so we can video them." sighed Kim.

"Honestly kidnapping someone would be easier than this." groaned Max into the table.

"Can't you just tell them to stay still? And what's the video for?"

"We're trying to record the kids singing a song we learned for one of Earth's holidays. I've recorded them Five. Times. Already. And we can't use a single one of them."

"They know the lyrics it's just that we keep having someone do something that ruins the video." further explained Max. "In the first video we have two of them body checking each-other into the wall. The second we have one trying to climb the bookshelf. Third, giant sneeze and barking. Fourth, a kid keeps trying to strip because she hates wearing clothes. And in the last and final attempt we have three in the back holding hands and dancing a creepy tribunal dance of some sorts!!"

"...why not just have only the human kids in the video? It's an earth holiday, I'm sure the parents won't mind." the avian shrugged his wings.

"Kal...it's the human kids who are the problem."

"...barking??"

"Human kids have a large fixation on animals, pretending to be them is a large part of our development."

"...Huh, and here I thought my neighbors baby was a xenophobe. She hissed at me after chirping."

"Goose." both humans replied. "Or swan." added Max.

[cybermentalitypanther]

Minor Heights

As usual for times when something seems amusing to my Earthling sensibilities (but likely wouldn’t to everyone else), I kept quiet about it. Nobody wanted their delivery person to laugh in their face about whatever they’d ordered. Even blue-furred aliens with the wood-gnawing habits of beavers, who were receiving a cubic foot of carefully-packed tweezers. All I could think about was irony and splinters. I kept my expression at customer-service neutral and approached the info booth, with Mur tentacle-walking beside me.

“Welcome,” grunted the curmudgeonly fellow stationed there, eyes squinting from a face of graying blue fur. The stripes down his back seemed more gray than black too. “Is that for me?” He chuckled like that was a joke.

Mur leaned his squidlike head backwards, his version of craning his neck without actually having a neck. “Only if you’re working a double shift as head of the medical center,” he said.

I added, “We were hoping you could tell us how to get there.” Our ship had a decent map of this loose settlement, but it was hard to tell from the air which tributaries we’d need to cross in which order to get to it. The info booth was clearly stationed near the spaceport for a good reason. And not just for the high ground in rainy weather — it was built into a rocky cliffside that held many holes. A different species might have built their civilization right up that cliff, but these folks were strictly a “ground level or lower” sort.

The elder perked up. “Oh sure, I can tell you where it is,” he said. “But it might as well be for me, since my wife is the head bonesetter around these parts.” He reached furry little webbed paws in a gimme gesture.

I read the name on the label to him, and he confirmed it. Mur held up the payment tablet that he’d so carefully carried with his rear tentacles. (He’d refused to let me carry the box AND the tablet.) He handled getting the fellow’s name and other information to approve the delivery, while I set the sturdy white box on the counter and thought privately that there should be another word than “handled” when the person in question doesn’t have hands. “Tentacled” just didn’t sound right.

I also wondered about the scratching noise from the roof, but didn’t think much of it until the guy complained.

“That again?” he grumbled, glaring up at the rocky overhang as if he could see through to whatever was hiding in the low bushes on top. “Something’s been rattling about up there for an hour now, wrecking the ambiance.” He sniffed and looked up at me. “You’re a proper tree-height. Suppose you can get a look and shoo whatever it is away?”

“Sure,” I said, taking a step back to inspect the bushes. The ledge was higher up than I could reach, but one of those local trees with the spiral trunk grew next to it, making for plenty of handholds. “Before I go sticking my face up there, do you have any dangerous animals around here that you might expect to be waiting to jump out at me? Anything fond of leaping claws-first, or projectile attacks?”

“Nah, nothing small enough to be up there,” the guy said with confidence. “The only troublemakers we have are big ones, and there are defensive measures keeping them away from town.”

Mur spoke up. “That doesn’t rule out offworld fauna. The spaceport’s right there.” He pointed a tentacle back the way we had come. “Could be somebody’s pet or prize face-eater. Good thing we’ve got an animal expert right here, though!” He patted my ankle with a tentacle.

I looked down at him. “You know it would be simpler for me to just lift you up so you can stick your face in the danger zone.”

“No no, I wouldn’t want to rob you of your glory.”

“Of course not.” I peered back up at the foliage, which was holding still now.

The elder was concerned. “I didn’t think about offworld creatures. Now that I think about it, there was a cart full of stuff parked there awhile ago, and something could have jumped off it. Horrible thought. Glad you’re here! Do you need any tools?”

I sighed. “Let me just take a peek at what’s there. I don’t suppose you have a stick or something for moving the plants aside?”

“Oh, always,” said the old beaver, and grabbed a bouquet of walking sticks from under the counter. They were all intricately carved, bare wood. “Got to keep chewing when there’s nothing to do.”

“Very nice,” I said, picking up the longest one, which was still pretty short. “Thank you. I’ll try not to get it ruined by some offworld pest.” The shapes of alien vines spiraling around it were truly lovely.

“No worries; I can always make more.” He waved me on.

Hoping I wasn’t about to do something monumentally unwise, I stepped over to the side of the booth and got a grip on the spiral tree trunk. It was the perfect natural ladder, narrow enough that I could carry the stick and rough enough that my shoes didn’t slip. Moments later, I was raising my head up past the level of the roof, though at a good distance. I reached out with the stick to part the leaves. Mur and the elder beaver watched from below.

Nothing, nothing, just leaves … blue fur. A smaller beaver face glaring at me, managing to look scared and angry at the same time. I blinked.

The elder called, “See anything dangerous?”

I answered honestly. “No, no offworld pests here. I think you’re okay. Gimme just a minute. It this ledge strong enough for me to climb on?”

He said it was, sounding relieved. Mur launched into a story of the most troublesome animals we’d had to deliver as cargo, and the two of them promptly left me to it. Good.

Judging by the size and the sulky expression, I figured the person on the roof was roughly teenage, and regretting their choices. I climbed up another couple steps, then took a seat casually on the edge. Setting the stick down, I admired the view and kept the youngster in my peripheral vision. “Hi there. You okay?”

I didn’t get an answer, which didn’t surprise me. The furry blue alien was clutching the stem of a bush with both hands, and shivering ever so slightly. That made twigs scrape on the rock. The scowl dared me to mention it.

Instead, I asked, “So what brings you up here?”

She said, “Schoolwork,” and left it at that.

“Ooh, what kind?” I asked. “Is it to find out how far you can see from up high? This really is a great view.” I waved a hand, encompassing the trees, tributaries, distant spaceport and scattered buildings. “You can see what ships have landed, and who’s crossing what bridge, and even where all the fruits are on the top of that tree.” I pointed out what looked like an apple tree but probably wasn’t. Beaver-people were using longer sticks to knock down the fruit from ground level.

The teenager perked up a little at that, but didn’t let go of the plants. She also didn’t answer.

I prompted, “Did you finish what you came up here to do?”

“No,” she admitted. “The giant web-spinners are gone.”

I looked around, more concerned by that statement than I wanted to let on. “Are they? Hmm. Did you want to find them?”

She hunched her shoulders and said in a rush, “We have to find an efficient way to suspend something lightweight, and I thought the webs would be perfect, but they’re not here anymore, and now the cart’s gone so I can’t get down. And this is very high up.”

“Ah,” I said. “Well, I can help with that if you like. Actually,” I added as something occurred to me, “I might be able to help with both problems. Did you just need one strand of web, or the whole thing?”

She looked at me suspiciously. “Just a couple strands would work. One to use and one for backup. Why?”

“What about really long fur?” I asked, untying my braid. This wasn’t the first time I’d found an unorthodox use for hair, and knowing my life, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“How strong is it?” she asked. I noticed that her grip on the bush was loosening, and she wasn’t as tense.

“Strong enough to hold up a pencil, easy,” I told her as I finger-combed my hair in search of loose strands. “Probably a few pencils. I haven’t tested it. But human hair’s pretty tough as these things go.”

“Human?” She said the word like it was unfamiliar.

“Oh yeah, that’s me. Hi, I’m a human.” I waved one hand in an awkward greeting.

“Right. I knew that,” she said, sounding utterly convincing, and not at all like she was trying to save face.

I shrugged, hands back in my hair. “There’s a lot of species to keep track of. For example, I don’t think I’ve actually caught the official name for yours. Which is embarrassing, since I’ve been here twice.”

“The interplanetary name is Rivershapers,” she said. “Which is boring, but they didn’t ask me. I guess not all the aliens making the decision could pronounce ‘hhuinhkt.’” The word in her native tongue was part hoot, part squeak, and yeah a little tricky.

I nodded. “Guess I’m lucky. My species got to keep our own name for ourselves, probably because no one could agree on a descriptive one. And actually, I’m doubly lucky because it’s a word from my own language. We have lots of them.” I separated three loose strands of hair. “Speaking of lots, here you go! One to use and two backups for weight testing.”

She took them between her webbed fingers and gave them a gentle tug. “Those are pretty strong,” she admitted.

“Yup!” Then I remembered we were on top of a roof. “Say, do you want me to hold onto them until we get down?”

She reflexively grabbed the bush again with one hand, leaving the one clutching the hairs out where they wouldn’t snag on leaves. “Yes, please.”

I took them back, wrapped them around a few fingers, then tucked the loose coil into a pocket. “Right, so there’s a couple ways we can do this,” I said as if I was a co-conspirator planning a heist. “I can carry you down. You can ride on my back. Or!” I held up a finger. “I can show you where to put your feet so you can do it on your own.”

I didn’t expect her to take me up on that last one, given the blatant fear of heights, but she surprised me.

“Show me,” she demanded. “I want to come back when all the low fruits are gone from that tree. Bet I can get a couple that everyone else missed.”

“Great plan. Scoot on over here, and grab this branch.” I tied my hair back into a quick ponytail, then stepped back onto the spiral trunk, taking the nearly-forgotten stick with me. “The most important thing about climbing is to focus on where your hands and feet are, and not on how high up you are. Put both hands here, then one foot over here…”

With detailed coaching, we made it to the ground one inch at a time. I was sure to keep a hand free in case she slipped, which meant I did a lot of my own climbing with one elbow looped over a branch so I could keep hold of the stick, but I’d had worse climbs. And nobody fell.

My feet reached the ground first, and Mur was waiting there with an expression that said he was very curious, but would wait for an explanation. I handed him the stick and finished guiding the young Rivershaper’s descent. The elder leaned on the counter and watched.

“Perfect, now keep hold of that and bend your knees until you can put a foot down here; see that? Yeah, almost got it. Great. Now you can move this hand over here, then I’ll bet you can reach the ground … Got it! Good job!”

Her webbed feet slapped the dirt and she stood tall (relatively speaking), breathing hard but looking triumphant.

I remembered to give her the hairs. “Here you go,” I said, passing over the delicate coil. “Best of luck with the project!”

She nodded curtly, ignoring the others, and scampered off.

“So!” Mur said. “Not an alien pest at all, then.”

The elder asked, “What in the floodplains was she doing up there?”

“Schoolwork,” I said simply. “She might be less afraid of high places now — or more likely to ignore that fear, which is almost the same thing. Anyways, if she gets stuck up there again, remind her the human said to watch her hands and not look down.”

He shook his head. “Kids. I’ll tell my wife to make sure the medics are ready for any fall damage.” Then he heaved a bundle of carved sticks onto the counter, all tied together top and bottom with festive bows. “Here you go, young feller! Enjoy.”

“My thanks,” said Mur smoothly, then waved a tentacle up at me. “My tall assistant here will carry them.”

“Tall assistant, am I?” I asked in amusement, though I did pick up the bundle. I moved to give back the stick I’d been holding, but the elder waved it away.

“Thanks for clearing out my foot space!” he said, settling comfortably into his chair and bringing out a fresh uncarved stick. “If those turn out to be wildly popular among the fancy spacefaring folk, you know where to find more. I might even charge you a price.” He chuckled, then began gnawing industriously.

Mur strode happily toward the ship.

I followed. “He gave you these?” I asked quietly. “They’re amazing.”

“Yup!” Mur agreed. “And they’re easy to make with teeth like that, and everybody here has something of the sort lying around, and why would he dream of selling them?”

I looked at the one in my other hand, with the vine carvings. “I’m surprised this isn’t already a thriving business.”

“Maybe it is, and nobody’s told him yet. But these are just the right size for Heatseekers to use as canes. Maybe we can keep a couple in case the captain or somebody sprains an ankle, then sell the rest. I tell you, this has been a surprisingly productive visit!”

I glanced at the fruit trees as we passed. There were still plenty of fruits in the top branches. “It sure has,” I agreed.

~~~

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).

[cybermentalitypanther]

Humans are weird: Vitality

There are races out there that have been harmed by evolution. They are sentient, but every now and then they require the vitality of other races, typically in the form of bodily fluid like the plasma of most species. It's a leftover trait from their ancestry, not truly necessary to survive anymore, but they often can't help it and have to be restrained until the moment passes. This somewhat common fact was neglected to be shared with the new human on the ship. When the moment for our Desmodian crew member to be restrained came, we found that no one had mentioned to the human that they should be avoided and they had instead spent the solar cycle with them. When the crew rushed around the ship, believing they would find a deceased human and grieving friend, only to find a satisfied friend and perfectly ok human wrapping something around her wrist.

"Oh, hey guys." Sally greeted.

"What....exactly happened here?" The captain had asked.

"Oh, you won't believe this, Val, I call them Val by the way, went kinda nuts and started warning me to get away or they'd drink my fluids, which sounds really weird let me tell you. When I managed to get a proper explanation, or as proper as I could with how they were acting, I offered them some of my blood." She said cheerfully.

The crew stared in barely concealed horror. "How are you not dead?" Someone asked. It was a fair question. A thirsty Desmodian could drain most sentients in seconds.

"Pfft, it was just a little blood, no big deal. Besides, it was kinda hot." She said. No one knew how to process that.

It was after that that humans were more widely recommended on ships with Desmodians, and a statement was released that they were even more terrifying than previously thought if they had enough vital fluid to survive that. What on that horrid planet necessitated so much of it?!

[cybermentalitypanther]

Humans are weird: Paratroopers

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Do you understand your orders?”

Vin’all nodded, but still looked skeptical.

“I do, but may I ask a question?”

His commander motioned for him to continue.

“What does the empire gain from this subterfuge?”

Vin’all flipped the pages of his orders. “Attaching me to their special forces will place me under great observation making any attempts at espionage difficult, if not impossible.”

“You are correct in that assumption.”

He motioned for Vin’all to take a seat before continuing. “Your objective priority is to observe the observers, if that makes sense, rather than gather critical intel. We wish to see how they react to better prepare for future operations.”

“So I am a sacrificial Ghi-ga?” Vin’all could not hide the disgust from his voice.

“Yes.”

Whatever Vin’all had been expecting, his commander’s words were not on the list.

“While we encourage you to gather as much information from them as you can, you are ordered to not push them to the point they feel the need to neutralize you.”

“Even if I am alongside these special forces, what critical information do you think they have access too?”

His commander shrugged. “By all accounts this is one of their top military units in the Terran military, which means they are given detailed briefings and access to critically sensitive information for mission parameters.”

“Fine.” Vin’all said, his final hope of getting out of this farce of a mission evaporating before his eyes. “What is the name of their detachment?”

The commander looked at the file, their mouth moving silently as they struggled to pronounce the terran words before giving up.

“They’re called “Sky Forces”, or something there abouts.” --------------------------------------

“Take a long hard look at yourself, because you will not survive this jump.”

Vin’all was not sure if the human leader was joking or not, but leaned towards the latter given how serious the human lieutenant was acting.

“This drop will break you. That is not an assumption, nor a figure of speech, but a fact.”

The dropship jostled side to side as it descended through the atmosphere. It carried thirty humans inside, not counting Vin’all who was accompanying them on their mission to infiltrate a Grenthen Fortress protecting a prime landing site for the rest of the relief force.

Every one of them stood silently facing the Lieutenant at the closed ramp giving a pre-battle speech.

“The moment you step out of this craft,” the human continued, “the person you are now ceases to exist, and the person you are meant to be will be waiting on the ground.”

The light at the back of the craft started flashing red and the lieutenant donned their helmet.

“Make them proud of who you once were.”

 With that the light shifted to a bright green and the ramp retracted into the vehicle. Vin’all looked out at the night sky of the world below. The stars flickered between the clouds like gems of a riverbed as the other dropships of the human battalion formed up around him. It felt like he could live in this moment for an eternity.  The first shrapnel round detonating outside the craft however snapped him back to the present.

As if the floodgates of hell had opened soon the entire space around the dropship was awash with bursting shrapnel rounds. A nearby dropship took a shell to the cockpit before it detonated inside the confined space, reducing it a headless bird spinning out of control as the front was consumed by flames.

It was too much for Vin’all to take in as his eyes darted left and right, the miasma of chaos unfolding before him almost too much to handle let alone function in. Yet when he turned to see the humans he was sent to spy on none of them showed any such fear. No, they showed something else as one by one they leapt from the dropship and descended upon the world below like vengeful angels of their history.

Anticipation.

[cybermentalitypanther]

"MAAAX???" aggressively whispered the human from across the centre.

"Yes Kim?" the male said as nonchalantly as he could so as to not draw attention.

"Meltdown coming."

"Where." he scanned the centre looking for the signs/large groups.

"Carpet. Magnets. Ataktos." his eyes narrowed at the name. The little mischievous fyreian. The youngling was arguing with the others, looks like he knocked their base...and it looks like they're about to return the favor.

"Get the fire blanket just in case while I-"

"HE'S ON FIRE! THEY BROKE HIS TOWER!"

Both humans ran. Kim towards the fire blanket and Max towards the carpet.

"ATAKTOS! KIDS BACK AWAY!!" the human was too far from the carpet. He wouldn't make it in time before the youngling lashed out. Why was the centre so damn big?!

Blue flame began to quickly consume the Fyreian's head and shoulders. Heat ate away at the oxygen in the room making younglings run towards the other side of the centre. The one's in front of Ataktos somewhat trapped as he stood between them and saftey.

The human male tripped and fell over some scattered toys. The human female sprinted towards the carpet but was even further than her companion. Neither adult would make it time.

"I got him teacher!" water drenched Ataktos from head to toe. Steam rose from his once flaming head and shoulders. A fire blanket was then thrown over him and without missing a beat the youngling was swept into a from the back bear hug.

"I got Ata now. You guys can go now. Teacher I got 'im!" the human child nodded tightly hugging the wriggling and screaming fyreian.

"Brooks, Brooks, he's about to heat up again-!" Kim and Max scrambled towards him.

"Glyka, here you go." the 5 year old handed his angry classmate to his friend who hugged Ataktos with a wide smile. The smile grew even wider Ataktos' flames burned through the fire blanket and licked at his face.

"Tickles!" Glyka chirped.

The adults looked on in horror and dawning realization.

"...we forgot that Brooks and Glyka were here."

"And we forgot that Glyka's species is an apex predator that matches majority of other species..." Max tiredly laughed before giving the two children a big smile. "Great job you two. How about we go get something from the treat basket while Miss Kim deals with Ata?"

The children smiled and followed Max while Kim carried Ataktos to the time out corner. After wrapping a more heat resistance blanket around him and dumping another cup of water over the youngling.

"Teacher can I have more water? I dumped my water bottle on Ata."

"Sure thing Brooks...you should ask your parents for a bigger water bottle by the way."

"Cause I keep dumping water on Ata?"

"Yes, cause you keep dumping on Ata...for good reason."

[cybermentalitypanther]

"Why is the human Kim punching the wall?"

"Apparently she is happy..."

"...oh good, here comes human Max."

"Ah, yes, he should be able to calm her-- [= <- /\!! She's fighting him! Wait...he's fighting back! ...talk some sense into your fellow human Max...they're violently embracing??"

"I believe the orcs do that...bear hug it is called? ...the punching and shaking, however, makes me think otherwise."

"Oop, now he is jumping onto her back...I think the ehalia's do that as a victorious mockery...they jump on the loser's back and ride them like a steed. Often while cheering and shouting...like the humans are doing now."

"Yes, I have heard of that, I don't believe there is a loser though."

"...are they still on shift??? The younglings-oh my gaia look! Look! The human young are joining in the...bloodlust-no that's not it...battle crazed...madness of joy! The madness of joy is overtaking the humans!"

"I'm going over there."

"Why???"

"I wish to know what the madness is about."

"...hold on. Ahem, HUMAN KIM!"

"YEAH!!!" the joyfully crazed human shouted back.

"WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF YOUR CRAZED JOY?!"

"MY BEST FRIEND GOT A BOYFRIEND!! AND I THINK HE'S ACTUALLY A GOOD GUY!!!!"

"..." "..."

"...MY BEST FRIEND GOT A MATE WHO TAKES CARE OF HER AND IS GOOD!!!"

"JOYOUS NEWS!!"

"CARRY ON WITH YOUR CELEBRATION OF AQUIRING A PROTECTOR OF YOUR KIN!!"

With that the two aliens watched the humans, both adult and child, carry on with their whooping and cheering. The adults because they were happy for their friend and the children because the madness had simply spread to them.

[cybermentalitypanther]

Launching

I had some time to kill at the spaceport. We’d already made our delivery, and a different client was due to bring the next package to us later today, for transport to some other population center. Captain Sunlight was currently in discussions with a third individual, who sounded like they were fine with whatever delivery time we could manage. That was a nice change.

Also nice was the fact that I didn’t have to worry about any of the details. The captain was on top of things, with a couple other crewmates at hand (or in Mur’s case, at tentacle). I was free to wander a bit.

So I did, strolling through the civilized area with all its concrete and murals, and out toward the edge of the area where plants grew. It looked peaceful out there.

Plus I heard excited shouts and laughter on the breeze, and I was very curious.

This seemed to be the forgotten area of town. There was a big pile of machine parts near what passed for a doorway, and I had to climb around some of it. I thought briefly about seeing whether it was legitimately up for grabs — might be worth selling as salvage offworld — but that didn’t seem worth the trouble. It probably belonged to somebody. Plus most of the pieces were huge: cogs and gearshafts that weighed more than me, unwieldy cables, and things I couldn’t identify. One part looked like a broken teeter-totter.

I stepped over a warped panel, trying not to lose my balance as a stack of gears shifted when I leaned on it, then I immediately forgot all of that. I could see the hills outside town.

There was a mock-battle going on.

The mossy green hills were covered in dozens of Heatseekers with a variety of scale colors, split into two factions wearing either brown or silver belt sashes. They used hand weapons that were clearly toys: blaster-shaped things that launched foam balls soaked in some sort of temporary paint. Or maybe it was a perfume. Either way, they were aiming at each other with the kind of childlike abandon I hadn’t seen since my last water balloon fight back on Earth.

I moved past the junk heap and took a spot on the hill, sitting down on the springy moss to watch. The Heatseekers I knew were either too sensible or too shy for this kind of shenanigans. I tried to decide whether it was racist of me to assume the little lizardy folk weren’t into recreational combat as a species-wide generalization, or if my sample size was just too small.

Then a recently “killed” combatant saw me watching, and came over to rest on the moss while her perfume faded. (It was salmon-colored, and smelled like recently cut ivy vines.)

“Hello!” she said with a smile, sounding out of breath. “My side is losing.”

I had to smile back. “I’m sorry to hear that!”

“It’s okay,” she told me. “We’ll switch the teams up soon. Anyone stationed on the high ground has an advantage.” She waved a scaly green hand toward a big hill that did seem central to the battle. The brown-sash team had a stockpile of the foam stinkballs up there, and they were reloading while their enemies charged uphill.

I said, “Looks like fun either way.”

“Oh, it is.”

“I have to say, I haven’t seen this kind of thing often,” I told her. “Everyone’s always so serious about not wanting to get hurt.”

She waved her hand and her tail in the same dismissive motion. “Offworlders are boring.”

“Apparently so!” I watched a pair of sneaky individuals come up the other side of the hill and make a dash for the weapons stockpile. They got foam balls tossed at them by hand, and had to retreat in pinkish-orange defeat. I asked, “Oh, is throwing allowed too?”

“Sure, though the launchers are more effective. Nobody’s going to throw far enough to tag someone from a distance.”

“Well,” I said, remembering our differences in shoulder anatomy. “I could. But that would be cheating.”

“You could?” she asked. “How far?”

“Pretty far,” I said. I rotated my arm in a circle to demonstrate. “My species is all about throwing. We’ve been chucking rocks at dangerous things since the beginning.”

She raised her own arm, which didn’t make the same smooth motion. The bones were different. “Wow, that must be useful. And it would definitely fall under the historical cutoff!”

“Is this a historical thing?” I glanced at the ball-launchers, which looked modern enough to me.

“Yes, nothing from the last three centuries,” she said. “Inspired by, at any rate. These are all recreations, of course.”

“Of course.” I wondered if this planet had been using a different kind of ball for actual battles three centuries ago. Maybe poison berries or something like that.

Then she interrupted my thoughts with, “It’s a pity we can’t all use your arm.”

“What about other launching tools?” I asked, looking around. “If we had the right kind of sticks, you might be able to use one to throw those decently far. Or even a slingshot. Though that probably wouldn’t get any farther than the things you have. Or what about—” I turned to look at the pile of junk. “I wonder.”

“Yes?” she asked, visibly curious. The perfume-paint was already fading.

“Does all this stuff belong to anybody? Would they mind if we moved it around?”

She assured me that it did not, and any exciting offworlder cleverness would be most welcome.

“Great to hear,” I said, getting up. “Because there’s a distinct possibility that we can use it to make a trebuchet.”

She was immediately onboard, with no idea what that word meant. She called over a couple friends who were similarly dead-for-the-moment while I hauled a big broken thing free from the pile. It was the one that reminded me of a seesaw with one side snapped off. Pretty ideal for a trebuchet, especially if we could fasten a heavy gear to the short side. And there were even a couple of those about the right weight: just light enough for the group of us to shove around without anyone losing a toe. Plus plenty of cables.

The other team surely wondered what we were doing, dragging the unwieldy monstrosity out onto the moss. I told everyone that I couldn’t promise it would work very well.

“It doesn’t have the full range of motion that it should, so the aim is probably way off, but it’s worth a try.”

An exceptionally slender male said, “Even if it falls apart immediately, this is already fun. Who has the ammo?”

There were more silver-belted Heatseekers gathering around, some carrying small buckets of the stinkballs. The brown team retreated to their hilltop to regroup. Pretty perfect, really. I aimed the junkyard siege engine as best I could, then supervised the loading of one whole bucket onto the long side. Everybody grabbed the cables we’d tied to it, and pulled until the weight on the short end lifted high into the air.

“Annnd DROP!” I yelled, letting go. The others did too, jumping back as the long end of the trebuchet whipped skyward.

The foam balls soared in a glorious arc toward the startled enemy forces, who dodged with only partial success. Then they laughed and demanded a turn.

“Team switch!” yelled the green one I’d first spoken to. She said, “I think this calls for a new game.”

“What about just seeing who’s best at dodging?” I suggested. “You don’t even need teams for that.”

“Very true!” she agreed, fingering her sash. The other team was hurrying over while everyone chattered excitedly. “This is a genius bit of weaponry,” she told me. “Are you sure it’s more than three centuries old?”

I laughed. “This is thousands of years old. It’s far older than anything explosive, much less lasers and stun guns.”

“What!” she exclaimed. “Your people thought of this first?”

“Humans are all about throwing,” I said with a grin. “Remind me to tell you about slingshots and lacrosse poles. Oh, and bolas. And spear launchers. And boomerangs…”

“Please do. Next week is the big meetup, and they won’t know what hit them.”

~~~

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).

[cybermentalitypanther]

"Alright, you're resume looks good. I see that you graduated top of your class, re-wrote your professor's youngling theory, and are writing a paper about youngling development with an emphasis on humans."

"Yes, I am so very eager to add my experience working here to my paper!" grinned the ledintit, their mandibles clicking together in excitement.

"Well we look forward to having you but given your background we need to conduct a final test."

"I am most certain I will not pass your test but set a new record for it!" they took out a pen and began to clear the interview table.

"Oh, this isn't a written test-"

"Field test? Of course, shall I show you the theory I re-wrote in practice? Wait, what's the situation? Injured youngling? Teaching? Academy or wisdom?"

"Vibe check." the human smiled.

"...what is a v-eye-bub check?"

"It's simple really. Max? Send them in." the door opens and in walks two younglings. "This is Oscar, human, and Anwred ... well we forget what he is but he's part wilko." the two little one's peer up at the ledintit curiously and shyly. "Now, the test is to approach them. Introduce yourself and try to talk to them."

"...that's it?"

"That's is." nods the human.

"No theories? No scenario? Just introduction? ...very well." sighs the alien getting up and walking towards them.

"Ahem, I am Bex, how do you do?"

"..." "..."

"...I am a graduated student of the coalition's teaching program, specifically from the youngling program. I will soon be your new teacher, how does that make you feel?"

"..." "..."

"Speechless? I have that effect on many. Perhaps you would like to tell me what you are learning? Writing? Reading? Perhaps you have a favorite story, I had a favorite story growing up. I could read it to you if you have it in your classroom." the adult smiled at them.

"..." "..."

"They do speak yes? ...listen, it is not polite to not answer. Here, come, let me get a better look at you-"

"NoOoo..." whines Anwred scooting closer to Oscar. "...dun ike..."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Anwred doesn't like to be grabbed...he's little. He's only three." the little human holds up three fingers. "And...and I like spider-man."

"Spider...man...I'm afraid I don't know that one-"

"He's a superhero and is really strong! Can you tell me a spider-man story?"

"I repeat, I don't know that story-"

"Can he be fighting the Rhino! Oh, oh and Benom! And Batman helps him!"

"I don't know spider-man!" the ledintit hisses, mandibles chattering. "...ahem...I am afraid I do not know him."

The younglings stare at the adult and the adult stares back. For a moment is all quiet before Anwred huffs, sneezes, and then huffs again.

"Go!" the little wilko mix whines scooting back behind Oscar again.

"I beg your pardon??"

"Anwred doesn't like you...teacher. Miss Kim. Can you tell us a spider-man story? And then ninja turtles after! Anwred you like ninja turtles right?"

"Ye! I ike owrange." the youngling wags his tail.

"Mikey is the orange one. Anwred likes him."

"I am aware." nods the human adult. "And mister Max will tell you one because right now I need to talk to Bex, okay?" she motions for her co-worker to open the door for the two children.

"Aw, okay. Come on Anwred." the younglings leave the room.

"...did I fail the vibe check?" sheepishly asked Bex.

"Unfortunately you did." Kim nodded with an apologetic smile.

"...I didn't mean to come off as hostile to them." they drooped sadly.

"Oh you weren't I would have shut it down if you were. It wasn't hostility that they sensed, it was...whether or not you're teacher material."

"I had no idea humans could do such a thing."

"And wilkos, Anwred sensed it too. I think its a youngling thing."

"Wilkos sense hostility, I studied them in my studies-but he wasn't acting hostile...perhaps it's a side effect of being partially raised by humans?" chattered the ledintit.

"Oh we're not raising him-!"

"Human caregivers, human pack members, human media-oh I must add this to my paper! The impact of human culture in other species' upbringings! Good bye miss Kim, thank you for this breakthrough!" and with that Bex was racing out the door.

"...your welcome? ...next interviewee!"

[cybermentalitypanther]

Sledding

The architecture in this alien city was strange: undulating concrete all over the place, with some buildings underground and some set on top. Everything was painted in wild colors. It reminded me of a skate park. I was curious about the history behind it all, and whether the local Heatseekers had worked with any other species on it. I hadn’t seen the little lizardy folks build things like this before.

Zhee didn’t know. He also didn’t care, more interested in getting our delivery done before the distant rainclouds arrived. He clicked across the concrete on his many bug legs, hissing at me to keep up and not drop the package.

He probably would have liked to be the one carrying it, but I’d grabbed it first. My hands were more suited to carrying this size box than his mantis pinchers were anyway. I walked faster. Getting caught in the rain didn’t sound like a good time to me either.

Then we rounded a corner and topped a hill to where there was more ambient noise, and hmm: problem. It looked like the previous rainclouds had made for some unexpected flooding. A valley with high sides was filled with rushing, muddy water. Heatseekers stood on either side with their own signs of commerce, debating how to get across.

“Can’t we just go to the bridge?” one asked, sounding like she knew the answer already. Her purple-blue scales clashed with the orange vest she wore.

An older female in a similar vest shook her head. “Too far. The bosses want this fixed an hour ago.” She rapped scaly green knuckles on the hoversled holding tightly-strapped-down machine parts. “Traffic’s going to pick up soon, and the rich and powerful will be complaining.”

A truly ancient male with patchy blue scales peered at the contents of the sled. “Are you kids here to fix the water lock?”

The middle-aged female gave him a look that was part amusement, part exhaustion. “We are. Unfortunately it’s on the other side of the water.” She waved toward the gushing current.

Several other Heatseekers stood on the other side, three in orange vests. One cupped hands to his snout and yelled, “Ride it across!”

The younger female winced, shrinking back from the water far below. The older one sighed.

The old male cackled with the glee of an elder who was about to watch someone else do something he wouldn’t be expected to. “This should be good!” he declared, stepping to the side and waving at a couple newcomers who were just arriving behind us. “Step back, everyone! The mechanics are going to do something dangerous!”

The green female sighed again and rubbed her face, scales clicking along with the sound of water. “Thanks.”

Puzzled, I looked from the sled to the water and back. The slope wasn’t very steep. Were there predators in the water or something? Or was she worried about running out of momentum and getting stranded in the middle? That model of hoversled didn’t have an engine. Oh right, and Heatseekers were coldblooded. That could actually be a problem. But only if she didn’t go fast enough, right? These big halfpipe slopes ought to work just fine for that.

The younger Heatseeker looked terrified. “Please don’t make me,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to either, but it’s got to be done!” the older one snapped. She looked over the gathering crowd. “I don’t suppose there are any volunteers?”

It really didn’t look dangerous to me. Kind of fun, really.

When I turned to look at Zhee, I found him staring at me with his antennae angled into a judgemental expression. He rotated his pinchers and plucked the box from my hands. “This one volunteers,” he announced. “She’ll even enjoy it.”

Now everybody was looking at me, with more than a little hope in their eyes. “It really doesn’t seem that scary,” I admitted.

The young one snorted. “Okay!”

The older one addressed Zhee. “Is your friend right in the head?”

“Hey,” I said.

Zhee spread his mandibles in a creepy Mesmer grin. “As right as her species ever gets. Humans evolved swinging through trees, and they’ve never gotten over it.”

The elder cackled loudly at that, and the middle-aged one shook her head. “All right. Do you know how to steer this model?” That part was aimed at me.

I stepped over for a quick rundown of the controls. It was simple enough; this type even had built-in speed controls that required two hands to override. They couldn’t just give it a kick and hope for the best; someone really did need to ride it to make sure it coasted all the way across the water.

(Which did not have alien turbo-crocodiles or whatever lurking under the surface. They promised.)

There was no more reason to delay after that. The two mechanics held the sled stable while I climbed on and found a position that was mostly comfortable, with my legs wedged under the straps. I put both hands on the controls. Then they let go and gave it a push.

“Woooo!” I cheered, sledding down the hill. The hover mechanism was a good one, not even jolting at the transition between concrete and water. I skimmed across the surface with the smell of muddy alien river water in the air, then all too soon I was scooting up the opposite slope. I remembered to engage the brake before I slid back.

The mechanics on this side rushed down to meet me. “Thank you!”

“My pleasure!” I said, tugging my legs free of the straps. “That was a lot of fun.”

“Fun??” one asked in disbelief, pausing in the middle of removing one of the machine parts.

“Sure!” I said. “I haven’t ridden a slope that good since I went sledding as a kid. And this time I didn’t have to wait in line for a turn!”

The Heatseeker looked quietly horrified. He didn’t say anything, just going back to freeing the bit of machinery and hustling away with it.

“We appreciate the help,” said the one that seemed to be in charge, while others took the parts through a door that I hadn’t noticed until now. “How convenient that you enjoyed it. We should be able to get the water diverted very quickly, now that we have replacement parts.” He frowned at the door as if he could see through it to where various clanks and swear words could be heard over the river. “Honestly, that whole section was supposed to be replaced last year. Anyways! We’re very grateful.”

“Happy to help,” I said. “Say, will you need to take the sled back that way when you’re done with it? I could ride it back again.”

He picked up one of the last pieces and tucked a strap away. With a chuckle, he said, “I don’t think anyone’s going to stop you.”

“Excellent.”

The water level was already going down by the time I took off, but that didn’t make it any less fun.

“Wahoooo!”

I could see Zhee shaking his head from here.

~~~

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).

[cybermentalitypanther]

Concurrency Point 1

Next

N'ren

It was the knowledge that was the worst, N’ren decided.

She - and the rest of the crew of the K’laxi Frigate Menium - knew that the missiles were coming. Worse, she knew that there was nothing to be done about them. Their little frigate had no way to dodge the incoming weapons of war. The Xenni always seemed to attack this way; exit the Gate, launch missiles, then follow up with energy weapons if cleanup was necessary. Sitting in the back of the command room at her station she could see the Captain’s fur puff out and then lower as she consciously tried to calm herself. K’laxi were originally a small mammalian species in the tall boreal forests of home, and it was evolutionary beneficial to puff your fur to make yourself look larger to the few predators that existed. Now, it, plus her tail that she couldn’t stop swishing just let everyone know she was anxious.

“Sensors! How long do we have?” Captain Ko-tas Weniar barked at the officer sitting in front of the sensor suite. N’ren saw him flinch. It was subtle, mostly in his large, pointed ears, but as a member of the Mel’itim - the secret police - she had extra training on body language. “No more than five minutes, Captain.” He said and his ears flattened unconsciously as he delivered the bad news.

Captain Weniar clicked the comm. “Weapons, can we defend against the incoming missiles?”

“We have three anti-missiles ready and waiting, with two more currently printing. Point defense slug throwers are at 50% capacity.” That would take care of three quarters of the missiles, but means that one or two missiles will still hit, if the point defense slugs can’t clean up what’s left. N’ren had observed their training when she first came aboard. Her hopes for a successful strike were low.

“We can’t outrun the missiles, even if we thrust away at emergency, we’d never gain enough speed,” Captain Weniar was talking to herself in her birth language, Kinmar, quietly. N’ren and Heli’n, the Captain’s XO were the only ones close enough to hear, and N’ren was probably the only person aboard who understood her. Not a lot of people spoke Kinmar, but N’ren had a knack for languages. She had already made a note in her report about the habit, but also mentioned that she didn’t consider it a security risk as she only did it during periods of high stress.

“What about-” Captain Weniar said and stopped, her ears straight up. “Menium! What is the thickest area of the ship?”

“One moment, Captain.” Menium, the ship’s AI said. After a moment they spoke up. “The ventral rear quadrant has thicker hull plating to account for drive emissions.”

“That’s it! Helm, rotate us such that that section of the hull is facing the missiles.” She clicked the comm again. “All Hands. Strike Protocol.” As the words left her mouth, a new alarm sounded, shrill and insistent. She continued, “Everyone except for point defense suit up and move to the rear activity room, now.”

Strike Protocol was developed nearly a year into the war. When missiles were incoming and it was confirmed to not be possible to destroy them all, everyone was to enter their spacesuits so that a hull breach didn’t kill everyone. N’ren grabbed her suit from the locker outside of Command and stepped into it with the confident motions of someone who practiced it until she could don her suit while nearly asleep. After completing her diagnostics and her suit told her it was secure, she went over to some of the younger officers, and helped them get their suits ready. They are younger and younger, every season, She thought to herself. Soon, we will run out of recruits to throw against the Xenni.

The crew walked quickly towards the rear activity room. It was still configured for their kem-ball tournament. N’ren sighed internally. She was at the top of the leaderboard, but now the whole thing was going to have to be taken down. If they survived enough to have another tournament, she’d start back at the bottom like everyone else.

The room was able to hold everyone, though towards the end it was slightly claustrophobic. The fact that everyone was suited and that gave a few centimeters of additional personal space helped N’ren. She hated crowds, especially ones that weren’t moving. Her large triangular ears on the top of her head felt Menium roll to present her belly to the missiles. She chuckled internally at the thought. Presenting one’s belly to an adversary to save one’s self was a very old instinct.

Before she could worry herself further, N’ren felt, rather than heard the missiles launch. The heavy thumps of the launcher vibrated the hull beneath her feet, and she counted four launches. They were able to finish one of the missiles after all. She thought. A good note for her report - should they survive.

A few minutes after the missiles launched, the braying roar of the slug thrower filled the ship with noise. Shooting in short bursts to conserve ammunition, they fired off and on for half a minute, and then ceased, having run out of ammunition. All she could do was wait.

N’ren opened the secure Mel’itim channel she had, and selected the Captain’s radio. She could do this to any suit aboard, but she didn’t like to do it unless she had to. “Ko-tas.”

Captain Weniar squeaked in surprise at the interruption. “Oh, Discoverer N’ren, I apologize. You startled me.”

“You may call me just N’ren, it’s all right, Ko-tas. Were the missiles destroyed?”

“All except one, Disc-er, N’ren. We shall have to endure the strike.” “What of our attackers?”

“After firing missiles, most of the Xenni retreated back through the Gate. Only one remains to follow up on the attack. If the ancestors are pleased, we shall live this day.”

Only one Xenni ship. It probably wasn’t a Warfinder, their largest ships, probably just a light skirmisher. Ko-tas was right; they could either defeat or escape from a single Xenni skirmisher. Not only that, but she had underestimated the point defense crew. She felt a twinge of guilt over thinking them unskilled. “Your missileers and point defense crew are to be commended. I shall mention their skill in my report.”

“T-thank you N’ren, that is very generous.” Ko-tas sounded genuinely surprised. N’ren wondered if she thought that her report was going to be negative.

“Captain, it is never my intention to come to a ship just to deliver a negative report. My edict is to report the successes of the K’laxi as well as our challenges.”

Before the Captain could reply, the missile struck. The hull plating beneath N’ren jumped up, nearly pushing her knees into her face. As it was, the knee protectors clacked against the front of her helmet. Everyone went down in a heap of bodies and for a few moments, chaos reigned. Eventually people realized that the breach alarms had not sounded and that there was still air in the ship. N’ren shook her head, once again annoyed at her whiskers brushing against the inner wall of the helmet. “Menium, this is N’ren. Damage report.”

“Er, yes Discoverer. I am concurrently giving a report to the Captain.”

“I understand, but you will give me the same report.”

“We have sustained minor damage, much less than expected. Sensors is reviewing footage of the missiles for confirmation, but either they were smaller than anticipated, or the one that struck us was faulty. Regardless, other than some buckled hull plating and scorching, we are fine.”

N’ren heard Captain Weniar’s voice in everyone’s comm. “We have survived the attack with minimal damage and no injuries. However, there isn’t time to celebrate, we must return to our stations - while still suited - and break for the Gate.”

Back in her seat in Command, N’ren shifted, trying to get more comfortable. She cursed the designers who never really thought about having to sit in a regular chair while suited. Her faceplate was open, to let in fresh air, her rebellion to the suit order. Looking around she saw that she was in fact, the only person with her faceplate open. The Captain was standing over the helm station, working out something with the officer.

Satisfied, she returned to her seat, and signaled the crew. “We are going to attempt to run past the Xenni guarding the gate. All available power will be shunted to the main drive - including environmental. Remain in your suits until I give the order.” She said, and N’ren saw her eyes glance over to her. She sheepishly closed her faceplate, and the Captain continued. “You have done well, but we are not finished yet. Keep this up and we will return home victorious.”

The lights dimmed, and N’ren could feel the normal background noises and vibration of the ship still. It was very quiet. Other than the creaks of people shifting in their seats trying to get comfortable, there was no noise. Then, the drive fired.

It was a wall of sound, higher pitched and much more ragged than usual. Even with the compensators set to maximum, she was pressed into her seat from the acceleration. They must have shunted power from them as well. This was it. They would either make the Gate, or the Xenni would get them.

“Missile incoming!” The sensor officer shouted. His voice crackled over the suit radios.

“Will it hit?” Captain Weinar’s voice was calm, though N’ren could hear the edge in it.

“One moment… No, our speed is too great, it will not be able to catch us.” He said, and N’ren’s shoulders relaxed, and she opened her hand which had been balled tightly.

“Gate control, please begin transmitting the addressing codes to the Gate. Send us to Celiton.”

Celiton was a small, uninhabited system, one of many such empty systems that nonetheless had a Gate. K’laxi scientists long wondered why there were so many empty systems with a Gate. Arguments about former empires, or some kind of Great War abounded.

Normally, one could not trace a Gate traversal, so it was standard protocol to not Gate back to K’lax when under attack. The Captain was to continue to Gate jump until they had successfully shaken off the attackers, and only then Gate to K’lax.

Their small ship streaked past the Xenni skirmisher, and as they did, N’ren’s small subroutine briefly commanded all sensors to make a very high resolution scan to the ship. She made sure that she did not unduly steal power from the engines, but she heard the surprised chirp of the officer when he realized he lost control of his sensor suite. It only lasted a moment and control returned quickly enough that N’ren hoped he thought it was just a glitch. She checked her repository and sure enough, it had been filled with high resolution scans of the ship.

The Gate ahead glowed the painful, blurry blue of activation, and as they dashed ahead, a noise like rain on a metal roof reverberated through the ship.

“We have been struck by multiple slugs from the Xenni ship,” Menium said. “Multiple small hull breaches, and reports of injuries.” “What? How?” Captain Weniar looked over at Sensors. “You didn’t see it?”

“I apologize, Captain, my station- the suite, there was some kind of glitch, I had no control over the sensors for just a few moments. I was regaining control and running diagnostics when we were struck.” N’ren was glad for once of the suits as her own fur puffed out and her eyes widened, realizing what happened. Her own scan of the Xenni ship must have caused them to retaliate, and with the sensors down because of ‘a glitch’ they didn’t see the attack.

“Captain, it appears that the Xenni attack struck the Gate as well, look.” Menium said and put a view from the forward telescopes on the large screen.

The Gate was a perfect circle dozens of kilometers across with a small rectangular thing on one side. That was the building where the addressing stone was kept. Currently, there was some kind of white vapor pouring out at a high velocity, and the active gate looked… wrong. Instead of a pure blue flat plane, it undulated and wobbled. “Full Stop, Full Stop!” Captin Weniar screamed, her voice so shrill that the radio peaked as she yelled.

“We cannot stop in time.” Menium said cooly. “We are going to trav-”

Moments after the K’laxi traversed the damaged Gate, the Xenni skirmisher approached slowly. Instead of shutting down, as it normally does after a ship traverses, the Gate field started to grow in large blobby waves, larger and larger. The Xenni immediately flipped 180 degrees, their drive flame huge and ragged from being overdriven. It was all for nothing though, because at that moment, the Gate’s field enveloped the skirmisher and it too, traversed.