A ship is headed to a colonial planet and they have several full-sized clydesdales in deep sleep, the animals often otherwise having trouble with such confinement. Some of the other passengers, being dropped off in other places on the way to the planet, get to see the sleeping animals up close before leaving. -- Anon Guest
Tucked up in sleep pods made for Gaux[1], the frosted windows display an enormous land mammal. Those who peer closely at the animals realise their ungulate nature.
"Everyone wants to see them," said Cargo Handler Bede. "They can't believe somebody went to the expense of hauling full-grown animals halfway across the Alliance. Well. Three quarters of the way. Halfway is more what you'd call the most direct path."
"That's enormous," the departing passenger would say. "How could they possibly handle the cost of storage[2]?"
"Considering they have twenty of these? I reckon going on a multi-hop transit just about fits the bill."
"They had to have spent Years on this[3]..."
"Almost a Decade, I heard," said Bede. "All for a little colony world nobody's heard of."
This would light some curiosity in a rare few. "Where are they all going?" the curious would ask.
"They're calling it New Agraria. Kind'a makes you wonder what happened to Old Agraria."
"You're right, I've never heard of it," they would say. Then they would check that they had all their belongings and take the most convenient exit.
Now they had arrived. Bede just had to look out at the small, blue-green marble now named New Agraria. From space, it looked like any other 1-G habitable planet. Clouds. Blue oceans. Green to beige land masses. People born there would never have their fill of staring, but Bede had seen hundreds just like it.
The spaceport was... spaceport-y. Landing areas. Runways for atmospheric vehicles. Unbelievably vast spaces for the people to hurry up and wait in. Even more vast spaces to store things in. Bede had been saving up his shore leave just to answer the questions: Where do the horses go? and, What kind of lunatic orders twenty full-grown giant flakking horses from halfway across the Alliance?
The answer to both came in the form of Mucilenius Estate. A place that had all the trappings of pointless wealth, and a rustic farmhouse in the midst of sweeping botanic gardens. Standing out like a sore thumb. Or, in this case, a Folly[4]. There were four acres ready for farming and a stable set aside for the horses.
There were also technicians and a burnished Human in incongruously rustic clothing. It was more a costume than a practical outfit. No farmer in the history of history had ever worn a tailored set of overalls. They looked upset at the presence of the technicians, but it seemed to be something they were prepared to put up with.
"I expected floats," grumped the individual who had to be Valerian Mucilage. "I wanted to set my hosses directly into the pasture." The accent break at 'hosses' told a larger story. A wealthy individual yearning for a simpler life, and building it wholesale. Including the horses.
"That's not how this works," said Bede. "I thought these were for a bunch of otherwise natural, artisinal lifestylers."
"Oh, those already have their horses. Frankenbeasts. I want the authentic experience."
One of the technicians, clad head to foot in a surgery-grade livesuit, rolled their eyes in a way that said, Please don't get them started about this.
"Bad enough that I have to suit up in a ridiculous tin can just to watch my hosses wake up."
"I traveled with them all the way from Earth," said Bede. "May I see them wake up too?"
Valerian Mucilage reluctantly agreed, and 'slipped into' their own livesuit. It had gemstones on it. Because of course it would.
The horses were taken down into a lab via a camouflaged elevator, carefully unpacked, and revived into a slumbering state. Then, just as carefully, hauled back up into the stables that would be their new home.
The technicians were giving instructions to Mx Mucilage. "They're going to be groggy at best for five hours, and we recommend you let them pasture for a minimum of forty-eight hours. It's for their health. Good farmers look after their animals."
Valerian was most put out. "I can't believe I have to go through this again when my pigs get here."
[1] Often referred to as "High-G Centaurs" the Gaux more closely resemble a rhinocerous centaur with no perceivable head. They have evolved in higher gravities than most other cogniscent life and are not often seen in Alliance spaces.
[2] Ironically, storage space is one of the most expensive things to have in artificial environments.
[3] In the Galactic Alliance, time is literally money. So one can, with determination, save Time in a bottle. Many Humans do this for the laughs.
[4] The extravagantly wealthy used to put fake ruins in their estates like most people use garden gnomes. These were called Follies. As in, "A rich man's folly." This practice stopped after the revolution came.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Travelshots]
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