Racetracking
“The good news,” announced the gravelly voice of Mimi the tentacle alien, “Is that this model defaults to zero-g when it breaks.” He led the way down the corridor with tentacle slaps instead of footsteps, which managed to sound exasperated.
I had the brief thought that he was louder than Mur and Wio when he walked, possibly because he spent so much time in the engine room where everything was noisy. But I put that thought aside. I had a pretty good idea what the bad news was.
“The bad news,” Mimi grumbled, “Is that the carrying cage that these high-paying customers insisted on is so broken that I can’t fix it. Even with the right tools.”
“So we have animals in zero-g,” I said.
Mimi waved a tentacle in a way that I privately found hilarious. “We just took off! Just! It’s like they’re trying to frame us for damages!”
I looked at him in alarm. “Are we sure they’re not?”
He made a dismissive motion, still walking. “That’s what the cameras in the storage holds are for. There’s proof that no one dropped it or whatever. And I think Captain Sunlight is already talking to them about it, which is a conversation I do not envy her.”
I winced. “Yeah. Which animals? It’s just one of the carriers, right?”
“The little ones. I dunno what they’re called. They were alive when I left, but they looked pretty upset.”
That didn’t narrow it down. As the ship’s resident animal expert, I’d had a look at each of the half-dozen life support chambers that passed for carriers among the rich folks. Each of them held a different type of little furry whatsit in wild colors. Each was sealed with its own supply of air and gravity — or at least it was supposed to be.
I couldn’t hear any distressed noises yet, but when Mimi poked the button for the door, it slid open to a chorus of muffled squeaks.
The six chambers were lined up in a row, on display in the center of the room, with nothing close enough to so much as touch them. Five held animals calmly nosing around the bottom.
One held a whirling tornado of blue fur.
I dashed over to peer through the glass, hands dancing uncertainly. I shouldn’t touch it, shouldn’t open it. But—!
…But.
I looked closer. “They’re running.” I dropped my hands and stared.
Mimi plopped down next to me. “Is that bad?”
“No, it’s just — Look at them! They’re doing this on purpose!” I started to smile as I realized why the squeaks sounded familiar. “They’ve made their own hamster wheel.”
“A what now?” Mimi wanted to know.
I gestured vaguely. “It’s an exercise thing for animals like this where I’m from. A wheel that they run inside of, and it keeps spinning. These guys—” I pointed at the chamber. “—Have created their own.”
“Uh-HUH.” Mimi tilted his head to watch the antics, which were slowing down as they noticed us. “That is a strange reaction to zero-gravity.”
“I’ve heard of mice that did that, actually,” I said as a memory surfaced. “It took them a while to make a game of it. I wonder if this isn’t the first time the carrier’s gravity has gone screwy.”
Mimi held a curl of tentacle thoughtfully to his face. “That is an interesting data point. The captain will want to know.” He lowered it. “And if you’re sure these things aren’t about to die of organ explosion or whatever, then we should go tell her.”
The blue furry things — which did honestly look a lot like mice — had settled down to some more even-tempered bumping around in there. None were limping as far as I could tell, and none had been knocked unconscious or worse.
“I think they’re okay,” I said, looking closely. “The food dispenser is closed, thankfully, so there aren’t any pellets or globs of water floating about. They just got a bit of excitement.”
Mimi levered himself off the floor. “They’re not the only ones,” he grumbled. “Annoying little meatsticks must be in cahoots with the rich jerks, trying to make our lives harder. Why would they even do that?”
I gave the chamber one last look, then stood and followed him toward the door. “I dunno, it looks like fun. Probably a lot of animals would enjoy that if they knew it was an option.”
Mimi stared at me with one large eye. “Animals from your planet.”
“Well, yeah. Probably others too.”
He made a wet-sounding snort of skepticism and led the way into the hall.
I followed, smiling. “Come on, it looks like fun. I was just thinking it would be neat to try in a zero-g room, though flat walls wouldn’t be as good as curved ones.”
“Your planet’s full of weirdos. You know that, right?”
“Oh, it’s been said before.”
~~~
Thanks to this post for inspiration! It was too good an idea to pass up.
Anyways, this is the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. But you probably already knew that.
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Valan Luca will know no peace if he decides to stop in capitols on his touring circuit.
In Ebou Dar, he gets a look at the Empress, may she live forever, who is now his patron. Rescuing that strange woman with the boar-horse really had payed off. And it’s…that bald girl from the first time he left Ebou Dar, who used to torment Mat by calling him Toy. And her shadow. And Mat is there too, and the cheeky little scamp winks his remaining eye.
In Camelyn, he bows before the Queen- and seated on the throne is Morelin, his errant tightrope walker. She seems to find the look on his face funny. A few careful questions with servants reveals that the archer who had worked with the circus and left with her was Birgitte Silverbow herself, just as the woman had always claimed.
Eventually he ends up in Malkier, still rebuilding to a new height of glory. He stands at the center of the tent and in the booth reserved for the King and Queen he hears a familiar sniff. He turns to look and there she is, the beautiful, judgmental Nana. Woman of his dreams. Queen of the country, judging by her crown and holding hands with a solid looking man in the hadori, her familiar disapproving look in place.
He is never going to tour in a city again.
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