A small havenworlder has a highly trained Saint Bernard as their mount, their protection, and their friend. -- BKF
Humanity had the same joke for large dogs for centuries: "Put a saddle on that thing," they would say, or, "Have you tried riding it yet?" And for centuries it got at least a sympathy chuckle. Until Humanity met species that actually could ride those things.
Tiny Havenworlders using enormous dog breeds as mounts and personal security became commonplace almost overnight. Often the dogs were adopted long before any of those Havenworlders ever met a Human.
But there's always someone who wants to spoil it for everyone.
Trader Syr'kika had been bargaining for some interesting flavourants when such an intrusive soul made their presence known. It was a piercing and insistent ahem noise, followed closely by an irritating, "Excuse me? Ex-cuse me?"
The speaker was tall, bipedal, and wearing the least-conflict minimalist nod towards and isolating livesuit. It would barely stand up to a spontaneous decompression emergency, but that was secondary to the weaponisation of their voice. There was a gender identity pin, lazily attached to her tracer pin and overwritten by a handmade sticker that said, I DO NOT CONSENT.
She had worked just hard enough to cover over the mandatory identifiers, but the sticker was already peeling and revealing her chosen truths.
"Ex-CUSE me," she shrieked. "Do you know that you're abusing that poor animal? I demand you get off before I call Security!"
Syr'kika had been planning to perch by the counter anyway. She hopped from her saddle to the perch and said, "Sit, Tyrtu."
The dog plopped his butt down, tail wagging lazily.
Now that she had one victory, the newcomer had further orders. "You do not have the right to order around a free being! What makes you think you can command any living creature? This is bio-slavery! I should have you imprisoned!"
The concourse around them had cleared of casual passers-by.
Syr'kika sensed that this newcomer was never going to give up on establishing her authority. She was seamlessly making up issues to be righteously angry about and screeching to gain dominance on the subject. Syr'kika attempted to maintain the affect of calm as she covertly pressed her panic button.
Tyrtu could sense Syr'kika's stress and stopped wagging his tail. Stopped happily panting with his tongue lolling out. He turned his massive head to the large newcomer and started to growl.
"Call off your monster," screamed the newcomer, suddenly playing the victim like a virtuoso. "Help! Help! I'm being attacked!"
"You told me I do not have the authority to command a living creature," said Syr'kika calmly, which was a performance also worthy of an award. She knew without a doubt that Tyrtu was picking up on the truth and acting accordingly.
Even though he was told to sit, he was standing now. Tail down, hackles raised, and teeth bared.
"Stand calm or be stunned," ordered someone in a more battle-ready livesuit.
The newcomer wheeled on the Security Officer. "You can't tell me what to do!" At least, that what's she tried to say. The stunner pellet was already flying when the newcomer disobeyed. The 'do' stumbled out on the way down, sounding more like a 'duh' as she slumped slowly to the floor.
Tyrtu, knowing that the danger was over, sat back down and looked to Syr'kika for affirmation.
"Good boy," she cooed, getting a treat out of her pouch with one hand and readying Tyrtu's paperwork in the other.
He was a trained mobility assistant and security aid. And a very good friend, too.
[Photo by JJ Shev on Unsplash]
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