This post is inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #532 - Pet Sellers
It's a sequel from a space opera series I posted over the last few months, each episode also inspired by one of the writing prompts. I'm hoping to do something similar here. This series (however long or short it ends up being !) will follow the subsequent tale of Alex Deroma, one of the characters from the first saga I feel particularly drawn to.
I hope you enjoy it; if you do and would like me to add you to a readers' list, pop me a comment to say so and I'll add you 馃榾
Every world has a smell. A distinctive aroma, composed of the contents of the atmosphere and the activity of the inhabitants. An industrial world will stink of oil, ozone and pollution. A mining planet will smell of dust, metal, and the vapour of earth burned away by mining lasers.
But Relat is an agricultural planet, and smells of rich soil warmed by the sun but not baked by it, tree leaves, fruit, grass, and the sweet smell of ripe cereal crops. No-one mentions the undertone of cabbage that pervades the place.
It is a sleepy world, which tries unconvincingly to market itself as a resort planet. But it lacks the casinos, nightlife, shopping and drinking establishments and general excitement of a true R&R world. The only people coming here for R&R are the types who like long walks in gentle safe woodlands, picnics, staying with locals in a spare room or barn, and sleepy rural towns where the most exciting thing to happen for the last century has been farmer Jones getting more drunk than usual and being found asleep on the village green.
In other words, the perfect world for Alex Deroma to recover from the Battle of Tharwell. The surgeons had fixed her wounds. The skull fracture and broken ribs had been fused back together and just ached a bit. They had regrown her ruptured eyeball, although she would have to wear a patch for a few more months until the new eye was less light sensitive. She still needed a cane to walk over rough ground, but the shattered femur was almost healed and would be as good as new by the end of the month.
The mental wounds would take longer to heal. Her whole squadron had been wiped out, as well as most of the Battle Corps it had been part of. Her own battleship, the Servalan, had given good account of herself before being ripped to jagged debris by Einheriar weapons. But of a crew of nearly two thousand, less than a dozen had survived.
So now she walked along the dusty high street of the town of Wattle. It wasn't the capital of Relat, it was just another country town, and Alex loved the sense of peace and daily routine she could see as the locals went about their business. Walking by her side was her X.O. and friend, Lieutenant Trass Yalandri.
The Mufl girl's blue skin, bald head and two antennae made her stand out on this planet where non-humans were very much a rarity, but none of the locals stared. That would be impolite, and the Relaters were famed for their politeness.
The conversation between the two was the same one they had been having for days now. Trass was desperately trying to convince Alex that she hadn't failed, and that she shouldn't take all the deaths as her personal responsibility. Somehow, she had to help Alex get through this depression and feeling that it was all her fault. She knew that being on this peaceful world was starting to make a difference, but it needed just a little extra push to finally lift the shadow over her friend.
Then she saw one of the market pens by the side of the street which made her think about a different approach.
"Look, Alex; they're selling animals here. Livestock and pets. They've got uzaks, let's go and see them !"
Alex allowed herself to be led, limping slightly, over to the pens. As well as livestock, there was a section for pets and working animals. It included half a dozen uzaks with various coloured fur, bobbing up and down with excitement each time someone approached and filling the air with their distinctive staccato bark. "Zak ! Zak !" every time someone came near.
Uzaks had been bred as ferocious guard and war animals. At a first glance, they looked a bit like a cross between a dog and a Tasmanian Devil. But dogs with heads that were about three times the size they ought to be, and oversized massively powerful jaws which could tear the hind leg off a horse effortlessly. They had virtually no necks, and their bodies and legs were solid muscle. The forelegs were long and strong, while the rear pair folded under them like springs, angling the body.
Despite the formidable (and frankly, terrifying) appearance, they were highly intelligent and loyal animals. One they bonded with an owner, they'd guard that person and their loved ones to the death, but could be as soppy as a puppy if the situation was calm. Trass happened to know that Alex had grown up with them in the family.
As Alex and Trass entered the pens, the uzaks crowded around yapping with excitement. For the first time in days, Trass saw that Alex had a real smile on her face as she knelt down with no fear of the huge jaws, petting and nuzzling the animals.
Then she stood, shaking her head sadly. "A space cruiser is no place for an Uzak. I know what you're thinking, and you're probably right. A pet would be good for me. But not an uzak. It wouldn't be fair on the poor thing."
Behind them, the stall-holder cleared his throat. He was a middle aged man, a bit plump in the middle and his shoulder-length hair already showing straggly strands of grey. But his hands were tough working man's hands, with thick tanned skin, and his bare arms were corded with the muscle you get from years of honest physical labour.
"Excuse me lass, I couldn't help overhearing you say space cruiser. My son went to the fleet, and tells me of the good work you girls and boys do up there. I might have just what you are looking for, although it's not like an uzak."
He held his hand up, and sitting on it was a black and white bird the size of a crow. "It's an Endellian Magpie. Very rare, very clever, and very, very unusual. Some call them Shadepies."
The bird tilted it's head, looked at Alex, chuckled quietly to itself and hopped over to land on her shoulder. Then it leaned into her, nestling closer and making coo-ing sounds.
Image by Katrin B. from Pixabay
The stall-holder continued his explanation. "They're not telepathic, but they sense what their owner needs. I hear they're good on spaceships, they can get around in zero gee and can stay quiet inside a space suit."
Then, thoughtfully, he added, "But in case you were thinking of buying an uzak as a guard animal, Shadepies have one more trick up their feathery little sleeves. Kneel down next to that uzak there, the grumpy one and get ready for a surprise."
Alex moved over to the uzak. The scarred old beast eyed her suspiciously, and she started to worry for the safety of both herself and the bird. As she knelt, it growled softly, and she readied herself to back away fast.
That's when the shadepie moved. It flapped it's wings to lift off her shoulder, and in a heartbeat .... changed. Suddenly, it was ten feet tall, it's spread wings flapping with a sound like a thunderclap, great talons like swords raised ready to strike. It screamed at the uzak with bloodcurdling ferocity, the kind of sound that's a precursor to an all-out strike with beak and claws.
The uzak whimpered and backed away. Then it was all over, the shadepie back to normal size, sitting calmly back on Alex's shoulder chirping and chattering to itself in a thoroughly satisfied manner. She wasn't sure whether the bird had somehow transformed, or it was just a clever illusion, but she was impressed and felt the bond from the little fuzzball.
Alex grinned. "I love him. What is his name, and how much do you want for him ?"
