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.

A Temporary Shipwreck

Our luck was just garbage lately. First the client for our latest delivery wasn’t on time to pick up their order, then once we were finally ready to take off, the exceptionally dense asteroid field had shifted to the point where our word-of-mouth map wasn’t accurate anymore. And then, as we tried to maneuver through the mess, some local jerk in a sporty cruiser sideswiped us and never looked back.

Good news: our shields did their job and prevented any damage.

Bad news: that asteroid field was full of junk, including the remains of something mechanical that turned out to be a broken gravity generator. Our little yellow ship got stuck to the side of the scrap heap like a lemon on a pile of compacted cars. At least Kavlae got the solar sails folded in time.

So, there we were, with no other ships in sight. Our own ship’s gravity tech was enough to counteract the pull coming from this thing, so nobody was falling down in the hallways, but escape velocity was going to be a problem. Mimi came up from the engine room to study the readings on the scrap heap, and he didn’t like the odds of igniting something with our thrusters. He also wasn’t wild about the idea of getting up close and personal in a space suit to try turning the generator off. Everything was unstable out there.

Captain Sunlight decided we would send out a distress signal before trying anything rash. The disagreeable client we’d met earlier (by docking ship-to-ship, not landing anywhere sketchy) was long gone, and there weren’t any official civilization centers nearby. But we’d seen other ships on the way here, not to mention the terrible driver who hit us, so surely someone else would be along who could help out.

The captain muttered about raiders in a way that suggested she didn’t want to worry the rest of us, then she shooed everyone away from hanging around the cockpit, and told us to find something else to do.

Fuzzy Eggs

After several deliveries that we had to cross alien terrain for, it was nice to have a client actually meet us at the ship for pickup. We didn’t even have to leave the spaceport, small though it was.

“I can’t wait to try this out,” said the green lizardy guy as he tapped away at the payment tablet. “The advertising promises it will repel any small pest with a sense of hearing, and the last three repellents we tried did nothing.”

I asked, “What kind of pest?” (Was I about to find a hard downside to meeting someone right outside the airlock? I really didn’t want any kind of infestation on our ship.)

The guy handed the tablet back and gestured vaguely. “Round furry things. I don’t know what planet they’re from, but they could easily overrun this one if we don’t get a handle on the situation fast. The colony’s already having to keep every window and door shut, but they slip through the tiniest cracks. At least they’re wildly colored and easy to spot before they eat all your food.”

Mur tentacle-walked over with the package, holding it up like he was a squid-shaped butler with a tray of champagne. He gave me a look as the client snatched it up eagerly. “Well, animal expert?” he asked me. “Any insights?”

Honorable Battle Wounds

“I sprained my ankle really badly once,” I said as I opened the meal box. “I was running sideways and stepped on the edge of my shoe with all my weight, and went down hard.”

Coals, a lizardy fellow who didn’t wear shoes, nodded politely. “Sounds painful.”

Mimi, who didn’t even have feet, waved a tentacle and asked, “How does the shoe factor into it exactly?”

I stuck my leg out from under the table. “The flat part’s at the bottom, and if it’s bent to the side like this, then you could end up stepping down and really tearing up your ankle.”

“Right right, got it,” Mimi said with his rough voice, curling a tentacle. “I’ve seen that happen with machine couplings. Those bones of yours sure give you a lot to keep track of, with everything needing to face the correct way.”

“I’m sure you just have different problems,” I said, going back to my food. “Squishing instead of breaking will only take you so far.”

Heights and Heroism

I only glanced at the briefing for this delivery, since I was called in as last-minute help to make sure we got everything unloaded quickly. Lots of boxes; unreliable local weather. So I was pretty sure the set of eyes peering down at us through the viewport in the very large door belonged to one of those elephantlike giants, but I really wasn’t sure. The lighting inside wasn’t great.

Also the glass in that little window was broken, and the massive door was peppered with dents like the big folks had been playing dodgeball with bowling balls outside their front gate. The dense jungle of tree branches above seemed to be missing some chunks, which were scattered across the ground. A memory pinged with the phrase “lethal hail” among the hazards to be expected here. Uh oh.

A different memory reminded me that the elephants were called Sizers — or “Those Who Are the Correct Size” if you want to be formal — but I had other things to focus on right now.

Blip was yelling politely that we were here with the delivery they ordered, while Blop made dramatic gestures toward the massive pile of boxes on the hoversled. He looked like a game show assistant displaying the prizes to be won, if the game show was run by fishy bodybuilders and the prizes were held down with industrial cargo nets. Windstorms were also a concern here. Blip and Blop had even gone with their tight-fitting clothes instead of the filmy flyaway ones just in case. I’m sure getting their natural frills tossed around would be annoying enough without the clothes getting in on it too.

Paint, on the other hand, wore only a heat sticker over her orange scales — a blue-white starburst on her chest that would make sure any sudden temperature drops weren’t a problem — and she also wore a worried expression. I couldn’t blame her. She held onto one corner of the cargo net like either it was in danger of getting blown away, or she was.

A voice that was both loud and muffled filtered through the door. “Right, the replacement parts! And other — Wait, I’ll be right back.”

I looked up to see the eyes disappear from view while heavy footsteps thudded away. The door remained closed.

Mysterious to You

Usually, in the space courier business, the things we’re given to deliver are packaged well. In containers that stay shut. Usually.

“Where does this one go?” Mur asked, dangling a cloth from one blue-black tentacle. “It’s got to be for childcare, right?”

Eggskin took it, buffed their scales briefly, then said, “Nope. This one’s for cleaning kitchenware. See the logo?”

Mur draped a tentacle across his squiddy head in annoyance. “See it, sure; recognize it, no. Here, this definitely goes in the childcare box. That much I know.” He passed a plastic-wrapped bundle of diapers to me. “It’s even your species.”

“That it is,” I agreed, placing it in the correct box. “And the package didn’t rip in the spill, which is good.”

Mur gave me a suspicious look. “Those are only smelly after they’ve been applied to an infant, right?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “It’s all the horrendous befouling that happens next that stinks, not the material of the diaper itself. I was more concerned about the diapers getting contaminated with something.”

“Well we can’t have that,” Mur said, picking up several more items with multiple tentacles at once. “The baby humans should only befoul the cleanest of disposable clothing.”

I boxed a pack of wet-wipes and a rattle. “Do your people not do diapers?”

Unexpected Blue

The ship’s engine changed pitch suddenly, and before I could worry about it, the intercom binged with an announcement from the captain.

“We’re making a brief detour,” she said. “A different courier didn’t quite make it to their destination, and they need us to do the dropoff. Should be an easy one. Mur and Robin, you’re next up.” 

So I was. Dang. I’d thought I had some time before the next delivery, but it looked like reading in the crew lounge would have to wait. I turned back toward my quarters, leaving the sound of Telly purring under the heat lamp behind me. She’d probably still be there when I was done. I left my reading tablet in my quarters and hurried to the cockpit.

Captain Sunlight was already talking to Mur while Kavlae took us in for a landing. The view on the main screen was eyecatching: a nearby sun brighter than the captain’s scales, and something exceptionally reflective on the barren landing pad.

Is that the other ship? I thought, squinting. Ow.

Kavlae muttered about manufacturing regulations and adjusted the screen’s filters. The view dimmed, but not to the point where she couldn’t see where to land.

Mur huffed. “I don’t trust the judgement of anyone who flies one of those.” Several of his tentacles were crossed in irritation, with others tapping on the floor.

Another Strange Earth Drink

I can finally say I’ve tasted the “worm jerky” that the one Heatseeker ship was named after. It wasn’t as bad as I expected. Extra chewy, and this kind had a sharp flavor that changed wildly between bites — because that’s the variety that Paint liked the most. 

She said, “It’s best if you hold it between your teeth and run your tongue along it to get all the flavors. It’s a full fan of sharpness values!” Her lizardy face was excited as she demonstrated, looking like a kid playing with gummy candy. If that kid was also an orange-scaled lizard alien.

I didn’t bother trying to make sense of the phrasing. “Full fan” was probably something like “rainbow.” I just cleaned my mouth with a handful of cheesy crackers that I wasn’t going to subject everyone else to, and waited for my turn. 

(We had a day to burn while waiting for our next delivery client to meet us, and a visit to the space station’s market had ended with half the crew picking items of their own species’ origins to share with the rest. Eggskin the medic was on hand just in case.)

Oh boy, it was my turn next. 

Ya like cheap ebooks? It's a great week for folks who are into that sort of thing.

"Read An Ebook Week!"

(You'd think they'd call it "indie authors hawk their wares at a discount" week, but I figure that just doesn't roll off the tongue in a festive manner.)

Anyways, all of my ebooks are half price here. Aliens, robots, gods and cyberpunk; take your pick.

March 2-8, 2025!

For day two, I wrote a Little Bit Of Something on another topic I've been rotating in my brain for years. Very pleased.

Happy February Fiction Fight, everybody!

February Fiction Fight

The easiest writing challenge, on the shortest month! The only goal is to write "a bit of something" each day.

Something. Anything. A cool scene that doesn't have a full story to fit into yet. A plot twist that would be great several books into a series. A description of the visuals in that one cool movie. A conversation between your favorite characters about an unlikely food combination.

A page, a paragraph, a sentence. What's that cool story you're going to write someday? Jot down what you know so far. Maybe you'll know more tomorrow. Or maybe you'll be off and running with some other fascinating concept.

No limits, no minimum wordcount! Just write a bit of something.

You play February Fiction Fight by writing each day (or as many days as you can; no shame in being busy).

You win by having more fun than everybody else.

I plan to have an absolute blast!

The Many Uses for Earth Fruits

“Right,” said Paint, placing her scaly hands on the cafe table as if bracing herself for something unpleasant. “How do you eat these?”

I told her, “Well, you take the peel off first,” and picked up a banana.

“Okay, good to know. Glad I asked.” She lifted another gingerly, testing its softness with a claw and watching to see what I did. “So it just pops open?”

“If you do it quickly, yes,” I said. “And if it’s ripe. Moving too slowly will just squish it. Helps if you dig a fingernail in a little first. A claw.”

She followed my instructions while the sounds of the space station food court echoed around us. It wasn’t too crowded, but we’d picked a table next to the ramp down into the area, which felt more out of the way. Paint didn’t want to get her tail stepped on, and I didn’t want an elbow to the head while eating. Some of the people here were big.

“I got it!” Paint exclaimed, her lizardy face lit up with delight. “So you just eat this part?”

“Yep!” I said, demonstrating by taking a bite of my own banana. It was a little too green for my taste, but not bad.

Paint bit off a chunk, leaving sharp toothmarks behind. She chewed a couple times, then stopped and wrinkled her lizardy face in a fascinating way.

At Home in the Mud

“Hey Wio, does your hover stool work over mud?” I asked from the door to the cockpit.

“Not deep mud,” Wio said, glancing at me with her tentacles at work on the controls. “The sensors feel for solid ground.”

“Dang.” I sighed. “Guess I’m stuck with cleaning the exo suit after this delivery.”

“Yeah, sorry,” she said. “There are fresh batteries for the gravity wands, at least. Shouldn’t take you too long.”

Zhee stalked past me, his many bug feet clicking in what was probably irritation. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I, at least until he was out of earshot in the direction of the cargo bay.

I whispered to Wio, “And at least I only have two legs to clean.”

“Good point,” she agreed. “Best of luck!”

What else can be done with these? Kinesis for all occasions!

It would be interesting to write a time loop story where something small actually did change each time, but it takes the character a while to notice it, and longer to figure out what to do about it.

Maybe a single plant is getting taller while the others look exactly the same. Maybe the paint/clay/etc for an art project are actually drying while other things are still wet. Maybe one piece of food left out is actually getting moldy among the rest.

What's special about that one? Is it tied into the reason for the time loop, and the key to break it?

What else is subtly different?

You guys know about Writing Battle, right? The many-times-a-year writing contest with a short wordcount and a short deadline? Cool prompts, entry fee, big prize money?

It's pretty awesome. I've entered a couple times (honorable mention, woo!) and now I've been invited to be one of the Pro Judges!

The next battle starts this coming Sunday, January 12th (2025) -- since it's nearing Valentine's Day season, the subgenres to choose from will be along romantic lines. The other contests for this year will be different (SFF theme is in April, FYI).

If that sounds like your kind of fun, check it out! I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone comes up with.

Ways of Being Comfortable

(Related side project: Prank War! The last page is up today!)

~~~

“Good thing we're not here for Mesmer furniture,” Mimi said in his gravelly voice. “We'd need a bigger sled.”

“Is that what that is?” I asked, weaving past something vaguely shaped like a padded beach chair. “I thought that was a weightlifting bench.”

Mimi turned an amused look up at me from where he towed the small hoversled with one tentacle, saving the rest for walking. “Humans have furniture specially for lifting things?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “For exercising a certain set of muscles, though. Not for loading a shipment or something.”

Mimi laughed. “I was going to say. If you have to lie down in order to lift things, you might as well have someone else do it.”

Mimi's species were commonly called Strongarms for a reason. The opinions about physical capability were only part of that reason. 

We reached the front counter of the furniture shop before I could come up with a good answer about bodybuilders or forklifts. Mimi clambered onto the low table that was probably set there specifically for customers his size. He rang the bell (whistle) for service. I stood beside the hoversled that was partly full of other supplies we’d picked up elsewhere, and I wondered how much rearranging we were in for. I had no idea who on our ship needed new furniture.

Mimi did, though. When the harried-looking Frillian employee rushed over, all fast speech and fidgety blue frills, he said simply, “Pickup for the courier ship Slap the Stars.”