Sample: RHATS!

Beyond the boundaries of civilized space lies the region of the Muto Empire. Mutos are a mammalian race that resemble a cross between a human and a Terran rat. Though spread across thousands of worlds, mutos—or rhats, as they are sometimes called—trace their lineage to a single dark world that orbits a ruined sta— Enough of that!

My name is Frohic, and I’m a muto. I’ve never seen the homeworld, and I couldn't care less about civilization, empires, or space. Especially space. All I want is to survive in a family that sometimes forgets I exist. My mother is always pregnant, my dozen siblings are swarming over available surface, and my father makes plan afer plan to send us all away. Sure, our hovel is crowded, the food is sparse, but at least it's home.

Then everything goes tails up.

Next thing I know, I’m conscripted to a smuggler’s ship and surrounded by enemies. I’m taken to a planet where I can barely see…to search for trinkets. Oh, and it is hot. Real hot. Plus there’s strange hum at night. I’m a litle worried about that hum.

Yeah, being a muto is great. Empires, blah, blah. Ruined stars. Smuggling. Money. But destiny?

Ha! Just give me a meal that isn’t from a machine and a friend who won’t try to steal it.

Beter yet, give me a ticket home.

Rhats! by Kerry Nietz

 Sample

CHAPTER ONE

T

he door was closed, but that made no diference. I crouched near, with an ear pressed against it. It is what any muto child would do. Any muto, period. Four of my siblings were doubtless doing the same at the central room’s other doors. Listening as my father instructed our oldest brother Deav. Preparing him for… something.

“Since the coming of the dark,” Father said, “It has been our way. This day that comes for you. The contract is signed.”

“This day of what?” Deav asked. “Contract to where?”

Father cleared his throat and spit. There was a phitz as it hit the front of the room’s heating unit—father’s favorite target. “The contract for you to go up. More importantly, for you to go out.

We need more out!”

Mother made a sof whimpering sound. I could visualize her in there with them. Buried beneath the blankets in the corner, only the end of her snout visible. She was pregnant, of course.

Four more on the way.

“Stop that,” Father said. “There’s no cause for it. Too many mouths around here. I’ve had my time for the out and up. Then came the siring. Now it’s his turn.”

I glanced behind me. My room would seem dark to most species, but my eyes—muto eyes— had litle need of light. Everything was clear. It was a small, wedge-shaped space that I shared with two brothers and a sister. Those three were asleep, nestled inside their wall nooks. Too young to care about the happenings in the central room. It was the middle of the day, afer all.

I should’ve been asleep, but this was too important. If Deav was leaving, that meant I’d be lead son. Meant I got first choice of the daily scraps. And clothing wraps too. Scraps and wraps.

Love them.

“It’s about survival,” Father said. “It will give him what he needs. Grow the hair on his nose.

Lengthen his tail.”

“Fables you’re telling now, Smerch,” Mother said. “Fables and legends.”

I crept toward the middle of the door. There was a crack in the fiber there that if I twisted right, I could see through. Dad was near the center of the room, and his tail was in his hand. His body fur was mostly grey now. His tail was no exception.

“Fable?” Father shook his tail. “Does this look like a fable? Gained a full length on my first up and out. Umans, silents, lots of spoils, that trip brought. Earned every bit of this.” He smiled.

“Earned me a wife too, maybe, huh?”

Mother snifed and made a cooing sound. She rarely fought Father. She rarely had time.

One of the sleepers behind me rolled over and started to whistle. Torture to a muto’s ears, but there was no helping it. Atempting to shif them would only wake them. I didn’t want that.

This was my door for listening.

I pressed against it again.

“When will I go?” Deav asked.

“Two days!”

“Days?”

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“Yes,” Father snapped. “Of course. Umans like the light. Can’t see plainly without it. Always known the sun.” He frowned. “Makes them weak, but don’t tell them that. Keep the diferences quiet. Let them find out on their own.”

“Will they like me, these umans?” Deav asked.

“Oh no, they’ll hate you. Probably try to kill you.”

“But he won’t be alone,” Mother said. “There will be other mutos?”

Father snickered. “Yes, but they’ll hate him even more.”

“Smerch! What are you sending—” Another phitz as father’s spit found the heater. “It is the way of it. The betering of him. Life is struggle.”

Mother whimpered again.

“It is and you know it. Dark made us the beter. Made us survivors. Made us free.”

I heard the floor creak, a sign Father was pacing the room. I checked the crack again, but couldn’t find him.

I could see Deav, though. He was circling in a tight patern, hands sometimes touching the floor, sometimes not. A nervous habit.

“A million planets are muto now. No longer are we confined to dark, but we honor it still.

Honor what made us. The machines it produced.” Father drifed to where I could see him. He stretched a hand in Deav’s direction. Pated his head. Calmed him. “You’ll be a smuggler like no other. Plus you’ll be out. Nothing beter for us. For you.”

Deav knelt beneath Father’s hand, eyes on the floor. Soon I could hear his cooing—a deeper echo of mother’s. It made me want to coo along. But I didn’t. They would hear.

“Tomorrow we hunt a malstus for your feast. The next day, you find the dark. You find space.”

Father pointed my direction. He next pointed east, west, and south. “I know you’re listening. I hear you breathing. Frohic, Kimik…the two other middlings. You should be asleep. But since you’re not, know this: Your day will come. Galaxies are spinning, and so’s everything. So get ready.” He spit at the heater again. “Now get some sleep.”

I quietly returned to my wall nook. I climbed in, pushed two of my favorite books to the side, and curled the blankets around me. Snuggled in tight and warm.

I couldn’t escape Deav’s upcoming adventure. Out and up? Space and dark?

Terrible.

Everyone was up by sunset. Preparations began for Deav’s departure. Mother waddled around the central room, one hand at her hip, the other holding her favorite switch. The switch was used to direct trafic through and around the room, guiding each of us toward our duskly tasks.

Gathering breakfast and geting everyone dressed and on their way.

Father and Deav departed afer the meal. Both took their rifles and small rations. Their intent was to kill a malstus in the woods near our home.

Malstuses were winged predators roughly twice the size of a full-grown muto. They were white and silver in color with thick and thorny bodies, a shrill scream, and a voracious appetite.

Like us, they were transplants from the home world. A remnant of those days without a sun.

All muto worlds had them.

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No one was precisely sure how the creatures came to be transplanted. Some blamed ineficient shipping ledgers, others open cargo holds, or even muto pranksters. Regardless, wherever there were mutos, there were malstuses.

There were few per planet, though. Mere thousands. Father and Deav’s hunt would likely bring back nothing more than an impressive story. It was a customary, ofen boring, gesture.

We’d feast on a fried wombit from one of the street-shills.

For that reason, I was sent to Candis Prime. “Fetch a wombit from Lempst’s, Frohic,” Mother said. “If we don’t use it, we’ll ice it.”

I bobbed my head and lef the hovel. From the outside, our dwelling was indistinct. A darkgreen lump among hundreds of lumps on a grass-covered hill.

Beyond the hill was the white forest. It was an open and breezy place that made most mutos uneasy. Too many openings meant less cover. Less cover meant more atack vectors for flying beasts. We weren’t known for bravery.

The shill stations of Prime were in the opposite direction. It was a larger hill formed inside a mud-slicked ravine. I could smell its musky odor from our front door. The wind always traveled up, bringing the scent. Prime mud was the scent of home. Boots were always in fashion.

I followed the trail from our hill to another wider trail. That trail led south toward the city. It soon became a mixture of mud and stone, and later became more mud than stone. I had to be careful not to get stuck.

As I approached Prime, the smell intensified. It was a multi-level hill with lots of vertical and lots of windows. Places for light and smell to escape. There weren’t many lights on that evening, but there rarely were. Usually only artists and alien day-dwellers used lights.

I heard a high-pitched thwoop-thwoop and instinctively looked up. Amid the backdrop of stars a long rectangle appeared. It was an interstellar ship, a decade or so old. A Rhatsibahn smuggling vessel.

The ship sloped gently from the midpoint to the front, and more severely at the tail end. A portion of the midsection could be independently lowered, I knew. A loading platform.

It was a familiar design. Children played with models of them. Smuggling was our biggest industry, afer all. “If it can be goten, it best be goten in secret,” the moto went.

I hoped to avoid smuggling. Maybe be a dentist.

The ship’s noise ceased as it slowed and approached the city hill. Was that the ship Deav would leave on? Possibly. It had uman markings. It disappeared behind the large mound. The far side had the landing bays.

Twenty minutes later, I reached the city gate. Already there was a line forming. Mutos reporting for their evening duties. Thankfully, the line moved fast. Tired guards gave me only a passing glance before waving me inside.

I was immersed in the sights and smells of Prime. The action at the lowest level was trade related. Shops and services devoted to possession multiplication and vice fulfillment. There was heavy foot trafic and the drone of whispered calls to potential consumers. “Hey, you, come here!” or “Shh, hey, I’m only showing this to you. Just for you.”

I ignored all of that and sought the nearest climbing pole. Poles were positioned at nearly every street corner. They were wide, net-covered structures that allowed access to the upper levels. I found one with litle dificulty, waiting for a break in the upward trafic, and ascended.

The third level was where most of the food shops were. I was tempted to continue a few levels higher to the landing bays. Despite the terribleness of space travel, I wanted to see Deav’s ship. I lef that temptation for later, though.

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I hopped from the pole and made my way through a narrow accessway to the level’s center.

The action here was a muted echo of the floors below. The stomach does its own shilling, so food merchants didn’t need to persuade. In fact, the beter ones discriminated.

Lempst’s Meat-ery was the fourth shop on the right. It was easy to spot due to the long chains of sausages that hung above the entrance. The interior was a delight. It was painted in light blues and greens, and the floor was a sof yellow.

Meats of all varieties were on display, both planet native and ofworld. It dangled from the ceiling, and was shelved on either side of the shop. Reds, whites, and blacks. Sausages, cuts, and rounds.

There was a wide service counter near the back. Lempst and two of his sons were there.

Another black-furred son was hanging meat near the front. He scowled at me as I passed by.

Lempst was greyer than Father, and bent with age. He crouched over the counter, watching everything. He wore a pistol at his hip. Always ready for trouble, that Lempst.

He nodded when he saw me. “Smerch’s mischief, ain’t ya? Look like a Smerch.”

“Frohic,” I said.

Lempst pufed out his cheeks, looked me over. “Not Deav? Thought the oldest was Deav.”

“That’s my brother.”

He waved a hand. “So it is.” He glanced at the sons nearest him. One was red-furred, the other chestnut. “Why are you bothering us today?”

“Mother wants wombit. Enough for twelve.”

Lempst scowled. “Only twelve? That’s small.” Another wave. “Hardly worth my time.”

“I’ll pay less then,” I said.

Lempst tried to straighten. Failed. “Less? You add insult to my discomfort?” He motioned to his boys. “Open a window. We have garbage to put out.”

Both sons looked at me with narrowed eyes, but neither moved.

“I will scream your cheapness the entire way down,” I said.

Lempst’s cheeks expanded. He squinted at me. Said nothing.

“I have a shrill voice,” I added. “All of Candis will know. Your enemies. Your competition.”

His cheeks deflated. He glanced at his boys. Both shrugged. “I don’t like shrill,” he said. “Hurts my ears.” He laid a hand on the counter and leaned closer. “If you go quietly, I will give you a wombit and a half…because…” He raised a hand and waved it in the air, looking at me.

“Because my brother is leaving for space?” I said. “A charitable gesture?”

Lempst slapped the counter and pointed at me. “Exactly the thing. A wombit and a half for Denten in space.”

“You mean Deav?”

He squinted. “Is that your brother?”

“Yes, Deav,” I said. “You said—” He slapped the counter again. “Right, that’s the one. Son of Smerch. The epic sons of Smerch.”

He looked at the red-furred son. “Get mighty Frohic his birds. He drives a hard bargain.”

Two minutes later, a bound, white sack was placed in my hand. It felt heavy. Like there might actually be two birds. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d made a good purchase. It was all I could do to keep my tail from twitching.

I nodded and took a long step backward. I collided with something heavy, then was immediately thrown aside. My hands touched the floor, but I managed to recover before falling completely. A spot on my back ached, though. The point of collision.

Who was that? Lempst’s other son?

I straightened and turned to look.

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Occupying the space where I’d been was a fully armed uman. His coverings were dark and heavy. There was a long blade on his back. He wore goggles, and the botom half of his face was also covered. He had a billed black hat on. He wasn’t looking at me. Only at Lempst. “I need to order, rhat,” he said, speaking perfect mutish. His dialect was surprising, because our language was known to be dificult for other species.

There was an insignia on the man’s shoulder. A sunburst with some writing inside. I wasn’t sure what it meant.

Lempst bowed his head. “What do you want?”

“What have you got that’s good?” the man said. “Something fresh.” He pointed my direction.

“Not like what you gave that one.”

Lempst cheeks flared. “We don’t sell old here.” He looked at his sons. “Boys, escort this uman —” The uman crowded the counter. “You all sell old. You’re rhats. Always looking to cheat.” He slid a hand to his hip. There was a holstered gun there. “I don’t like cheats.”

Lempst drew his own weapon. Pointed it. “That’ll be enough of that, uman. Now you’ll be going.”

The agent laughed. “Do you even know how to use that?”

Lempst nodded. “I do.”

There was a flash of movement and a metal shriek. The next thing I saw was the agent’s blade embedded in the counter. Beside it lay the front half of Lempst’s gun.

Lempst’s eyes grew and his cheeks fully pufed. A full minute passed before his cheeks diminished. “You broke my gun, uman…”

Another laugh. “I was aiming for your hand.”

Lempst nodded slowly, clearly beaten. “How many to feed?”

The man selected a com unit from his belt. Held it up where Lempts could see. “I have a list. I expect top quality. And your best price.”

Lempst tapped his hands on the counter. “The best price… hmm… yes.” He nodded at the chestnut-colored son. “Go get him everything on his list. Be quick.”

The man nodded, then retrieved his blade.

I retreated a step and looked at the door behind me.

The uman glanced at me. “Like to watch, do you?”

I shook my head, unsure of what to say. Another step toward the door.

He pointed his blade at me. “Go on. Back to your mama.”

I was happy to oblige. Clutching my wombit-filled sack, I scurried from the shop to the climbing pole. I no longer wanted to see that ship. Or any ship, for that mater.

I only wanted to get home.

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CHAPTER TWO

The family was in the central room when Father returned. Mid-meal was still underway.

I was seated by one of the room’s three tables. With me were two of the middle siblings—Jasic and Jensen, I think. Two of the brown members of the family, of that I’m certain.

They were crowding my space, bumping elbows and shoving my plate as they ravaged theirs.

It was all I could do, through force or threat of force, to keep them from my food. To get a single bite of my meal. But I was used to it.

Mutos are always hungry. I think that comes from the dead star. It was hungry too, I’ve heard.

My oldest sister, Kimik, had paused her eating and was now parked next to the circular heating unit. It was a grey machine that looked like a large multi-legged insect, its legs the conduits that carried heat to other parts of our home. They gave of a sof, green glow.

The conduits weren’t as uniform in their positioning as insect legs. They sort of sprawled out at awkward angles. More like an insect caught in a web. That imagery might make the room feel like a scary place, but it wasn’t.

The three youngest were nursing on Mother, all bundled within her coverings. They were on the side of the room opposite the heating unit.

My other four siblings were circling the central food table. Picking and bickering. Jostling and joking.

It was a small family, but it was mine. I was content.

Father entered from the North entrance, ration pack in hand. His face showed irritation and his tail was twitching rapidly. Something was wrong.

“Well, that breaks it,” he said. “Tears it all.”

Mother sat up, pulling away from the nursing siblings. “Smerch, what is—” Father dropped his pack. Raised both hands. “Deav is gone,” he said. “Far away.”

Mother whimpered. “Gone, Smerch? How is he gone? The smuggler sh—” “I barely believe it myself,” he said. “We were walking the trail, minding our business, searching for whatever we could find.” He clapped his hands together. “Then like thunder! Gone!”

I forgot my food. “Like thunder? What?”

“Malstus!” he said. “Swooped from somewhere and—” Another clap. “No more Deav.”

Mother receded into her covers. More whimpering.

I stood and took a couple steps toward Father. “Should we look for him?”

He frowned. “No looking for that, boy. Biggest beast I’ve ever seen. Doubtless the swifest.” He looked at the ceiling. “Rolled out of the dark. Wham.” He shook his head. “It’s a pity.”

Deav and I weren’t close. I’m not sure I was close to any of my siblings, really. But Deav’s end was unsetling. Abrupt. I wanted first choice, but not like this. I felt fear. Discomfort.

Then I felt relief. Deav wouldn’t have to go to space with the bladed uman. Probably the other men on the ship were equally dangerous. More than smugglers. More hidden. Furious and terrible.

Kimik freed herself from the heating unit and crept slowly toward the seat I’d just occupied.

She glanced at my food. “What should we do?” she asked.

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Father studied the siblings still gathered around the food table, then paced toward the heating unit. “I alerted the constable, of course. He filed a report.” Father wrinkled his nose.

“Warnings will be posted.”

Kimik sat in my spot. “Poor Deav…”

Mother mewed sofly.

Father looked at her, then scowled. “There are worse ways to go. Taken by a malstus—that’s an honor. You could almost say he was chosen. That’s more than most get.” He scratched his chin.

“I was nearly chosen myself…”

The youngest siblings ate. Kimik and I looked at Mother, then Father. A minute passed in silence.

Father cleared his throat, then studied the heating unit. I expected him to spit, but he didn’t.

Instead he walked to the plate in front of Kimik, my plate, took a chunk of purple wombit meat, and stufed it into his mouth. Chewed. “Puts me in an uncomfortable position.” He studied Kimik, and then Jasic and Jensen. “I’d signed that boy to space. There was a contract. A family contract.”

“The guild will understand,” Mother said.

Father stole another piece of my meal. Why had I lef my spot? Kimik was comfortable there now. Females and parents. Trust neither.

“Understand?” Father chewed hard. “No, no, don’t think they will. They have a crew to fill. A mission.” He shook his head. “Deav was the best fit. Most likely to survive. Trained already.”

The hair on my snout began to rise. I tried to snif the feeling away, but all I got was a stronger scent of my meal. I started to salivate.

“We’ll have a service for Deav,” Mother said. “The reading from the Book.”

“Of course,” Father said. “But that won’t stall them. There’s a ship. Probably already here and packed.”

I knew that it was here. I also knew the sort of umans that were on it. I moved to hover over Kimik. I reached a hand out. My plate!

She slapped my questing fingers. My tale twitched with anger. Hunger.

Father looked at me. Chewed. “Frohic!” he said. “Frohic could go!”

I shook my head. “Kimik is older than me. She should go.”

Father looked at Mother. “Your mother will need her soon. Pinkies are coming.”

My hunger was forgoten. “I can’t go to space.”

“Course you can. Guild won’t know the diference. Say you’re Deav. We all look alike to umans. Mutos won’t check.”

Mother began to moan. That’s what I needed, her support. She wanted me to be here. To fetch things!

Father frowned. “No reason for that, Mother. Frohic will do fine.”

Mother shook her snout and squirmed in her covers. She pushed the nursing siblings away.

Two snorted in protest.

Father walked toward her. “I know it’s a shock, Deav gone. But we’ve had a good run. Most of ‘em are still around.” He glanced at me. “Lots of them still here.”

Mother’s movements became more violent. Her groans filled the room.

Kimik stood and joined Father. They hovered over Mother with hands together, looking concerned.

I was torn. I didn’t like the space idea hanging overhead. I was tempted to use Mother’s current state as a diversion. Sneak out one of the doors. The South exit was very close.

My seat was open again too. My food.

Decisions.

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Mother leaned back. One hand peeked out beneath the covers and pressed against her midsection.

I held my breath. Mother was due soon. Were the pinkies, my new siblings, coming now?

Right now?

I grabbed a handful of wombit and gobbled it down. It was cold, but still tasty. I glanced at the door again. Took a step that direction.

Father started to pace the room. “Get the small ones away!” he said. “Take them to their rooms. Kimik, Seris, help Mother.” His eyes found me. “Frohic! You’re coming with me. Time is short. We have things to discuss.”

“I’m not made for space, Father,” I said. “I should be here—” “Nonsense!” He put an arm around my shoulder. “This is the perfect time. The best plan.

Opportunity for everyone! Come along.”

Father led me through the East door into the utility room. There were sacks of varying sizes stacked tightly around us, and a small, narrow workbench to the lef of the door.

“With the new ones coming, it will be busy here,” he said. “Crowded. You might as well be out now.”

“I don’t want to go,” I said. “I can’t—” Father struck my snout and my face exploded with pain. I crouched down, cowering.

“That had to be done, Frohic. This is important. It’s family business. There’s a contract.”

I shook my head cautiously. I was beyond his reach now, but I didn’t want another atempt.

My nose still ached.

“I know it’s quick,” he said. “A big change. But so was that malstus. Qick.” His tail curled forward. “We need to adapt.”

“I’m not a smuggler,” I said. “I like to read. I don’t want—” “Course you are! We all are.” He indicated the bag nearest him. A brown bag about waist high.

“See this? Where do you think it came from? Smuggling!”

He pointed at me. “You can have this too. Your own bags!”

“My own bags?”

“Your own whatever!”

I surveyed the bags. Most of them held dried foods and extra garments. Nothing special. But I would like my own things. “Could I buy my own home?”

Father squinted. “Your own home? Sure! Of course.” His voice sofened. “Eventually.”

He stepped toward me and I retreated, keeping the distance the same. He frowned. “I’m not going to bip you again.”

“And I don’t want you to,” I said. “So, good.”

“Right.” He looked at the floor thoughtfully, then raised a hand. “That’s one thing you need to learn, Frohic. How to survive. You want to know how to scrap, don’t you? This trip will help with that.”

“Who’s going to teach me?” I asked. “You said they’d hate me.”

“Did I say that?”

“Said it to Deav…”

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Father slapped the nearest bag. Dust dispersed in a cloud. I think the bag had seeds in it.

Looked like it hurt to hit.

Father shook his hand. “Eh, see there. I said they wouldn’t like Deav. But you’re diferent. At least, I think you’re diferent. You are, aren’t you?”

“I’m diferent,” I said. “Smarter and faster. Hungrier.”

“Perfect.” He cleared his throat, then searched for a place to spit. He setled on a spot on the floor near the door. “This has to be done. Either way I have to move you out.” He glanced toward the central room and wrinkled his snout. “Not sure what to do with the rest of them…”

“So there’s really no diference,” I said. “We’re all burdens. Just mouths to—” Father lunged at my nose. I managed to duck, finding a spot behind another bag. I stayed there with only my eyes peeking over the top. The bag smelled of ginger. I stifled a sneeze.

“There’s a diference. Course there is.” Father’s face showed rage, but it quickly sofened.

“Mother keeps track of the details…” His hands started to shake and he looked at the floor.

“Listen, somebody has to do this. I’m too old. Deav is gone.”

I raised my snout above the sack. “Why does it mater?”

Father looked worried now. His voice became a whisper. “What do you know about umans?

The ones that come here.”

I shrugged. “Only that they bring in ships. Help with smuggling.” I stared at the door, remembering the butcher shop. “And they’re terrible.”

Father nodded. “Yes, they are. Terrible when crossed.” He pointed a finger. “And if you don’t go, we’ve crossed them. The whole family.”

Again, I wasn’t that close to my family. But there was something about Father’s insistence.

His eyes, and the way his hand shook. Real fear.

Not what I expected.

Through the wall, I heard Mother’s screams of labor. Pinkies on the way. Others who would fall under the umans’ wrath. Also, another reason to be up at night were I to stay.

Would I sleep beter on the ship?

“Where will it go?” I asked. “This ship. How far?”

“You don’t need to care,” Father said. “Just make sure the stuf gets delivered. Do what you’re told. See some things.”

“Will I be alone?”

I wanted to ask if it was safe, but given what happened to Deav, that seemed ridiculous.

Nothing was safe. Even walking in the woods.

It was hard to forget the uman at Lempts’s. His blade. I shivered.

“Look,” Father said. “I know some of the muto crew. They may not like you, but they shouldn’t kill you. And against umans, mutos stand together.”

I stood up. The thirst for profit was strong. Dificult to describe and harder to fight. Even when facing the gravest danger.

“Will you go willingly?” he said. “If not for your family and the father that sired you, for yourself?”

Terrible. Space and umans, all terrible. But what was the alternative? Live outside?

I nodded my head and Father smiled.

Everything changed.

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CHAPTER THREE

M

other delivered three girls and a boy. The family seemed twice as large, though it had grown by just over a quarter, including the loss of Deav.

Part of the next day was spent in rearranging the hovel. The three that used to share a room with me were split between my older siblings. The nursing youths graduated to my room, and the newborns moved into the center room with mother. My things, what few there were, were either bagged or given to the others. I had litle to call my own, and now no place to sleep.

Father packed me some supplies. I suspect he simply recycled the ration bag from the illfated hunt. He then slapped me on the back and wished me “fortune”.

On the night following my siblings’ birth—the night afer Deav’s death—I lef home. Possibly forever.

The Candis Prime landing bay was worse than I’d expected.

It was a large area, but was dwarfed by the mass of the smuggling ship, which seemed a hundred times larger than when it appeared in the sky. Wide and silver, with deep furrows running from front to back. Whether the furrows were for aesthetic purposes, or required for its operation, I didn’t know. They gave it the look of speed, though, despite its size.

I noticed irregular furrows on the surface too. Deep scratches earned in the trade. There were sear marks. Remnants of past batles?

The characteristic loading platform at the back of the ship was closed up and sealed, but smaller ramps were open near the front. I had anticipated more action around the ship—more loading and unloading—but it was relatively quiet. Only small groups of mutos and umans gathered. Many with smokesticks in their mouths.

One of the mutos, a brown, held a device in his hand that he frequently glanced at. When he saw me, he wiggled his snout, and hurried over. “You’re late!” he said.

“I was told—” He squeaked disgustedly. “Forget what you’ve been told.” He consulted his device. “Name?”

“Fro—” I cleared my throat. “Deav,” I said. “Of Smerch.”

He scowled at the device’s screen. “No Frodeav. Who’s your signer?”

I shook my head. “Not Frodeav. Just Deav. My father’s a Smerch.”

“Are you sure? There are penalties for misrepresentation.”

“Yes,” I said. “Deav. That’s me.”

He squinted and checked the device again. “Ah yes,” he said. “Deav. Smerch.” He wrinkled his snout. “Late!”

I looked at the floor. “Sorry, I—” He shook his head, reached into his shirt pocket, and produced a small, purple oval. Held it out for me. “Here’s your new tongue.”

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“My what?”

“Your translation pellet.” He shook his hand. “Come on. Take it.”

I took the pellet and turned it with my fingers. It looked like a medicine tablet, yet larger.

“What’s it for?”

He rolled his eyes. “For speech, muto. Helps you hear and speak other tongues.” He indicated a nearby group of umans. “For them mostly. Some of them use the pellets, but most don’t. They’d rather we have the inconvenience.”

I examined the pellet closely, then brought it near my ear. “Do I just press it in? Looks like it’d hurt.”

He scowled. “Not in your ear, muto. Your mouth. You swallow it.”

Father never mentioned translation pellets. What else hadn’t he mentioned? “It works from my stomach? I thought—” “Disperses to your throat and ears. Small machines make sound adjustments. They simulate what they hear.”

“Small machines? Inside me?” There were legends about cybernetics, but they were big machines. Larger than umans.

“Required by contract. I have to see you swallow it.”

I hesitated a few moments more, but finally put the pellet in my mouth. Swallowed. At least it tasted all right. Like sliced hempernuts.

Three mutos drifed up behind him. The lead one had coarse, black hair except for a bald strip on the side of his face. The baldness was due to a large scar. The other two were grey and brown, respectively. They reeked of smoke and hand-grease.

“What’s this, Rocan?” the lead one said. “Looks worthless.”

“And he may be, Grick,” Rocan said. “He’s a Smerch.”

The three laughed.

“Smerch?” Grick drew close enough that I could smell his breath: wombit gizzards. “There’s never been good Smerchs. All thieves or bums.”

The brown one wrinkled his nose. “We’re mutos. We’re all thieves or bums.”

The group snickered again. I didn’t smile at the joke. I wanted to board and be on our way.

Get away from these four. Maybe find a place to hide. The situation was frightening enough without snouts in my business.

Rocan addressed me again. “You’re in lower deck with the rest of the mutos.” He indicated my pack. “What did you bring?”

“Yeah, what have you got in the bag, Smerch!” the grey said. More laughter.

Rocan swiped a hand in the air, barely missing the grey’s snout. “I’m talking,” he said.

“Respect.” He looked at me. “The bag?”

“Change of clothes and some rations,” I said. “Litle of value.”

Rocan nodded. “You won’t need much. Meals and clothing are provided. But don’t be wasteful. Everything you use will come out of your share.”

“It’s a nothing in, nothing out sort of ride,” Grick said. “Especially if you’re new.”

Rocan raised a hand, but didn’t swing.

Grick didn’t even flinch. He stopped talking, though.

Rocan lowered his hand. “Mutos bunk together on the lower deck,” he said. “We stay in the lower deck until needed.”

There were several umans nearby dressed similarly to the one I met at the butcher shop. Two walked down the ramp nearest us with guns drawn. A larger one followed close behind them.

“Do we train together?” I asked.

Rocan squinted at me. “Train? Train for what?”

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“For the job,” I said. “For defense. Survival.”

Rocan chuckled. “Mutos have two defensive strategies: Swarm or run. If you’re here and breathing, you’re trained.”

My chest went hollow. Already Father’s words were meaningless. “Well… where are we going?” I asked. “What’s the work?”

He squinted again. “Smuggling, obviously. I—” The largest uman drew his sidearm and fired a round in the air. Everyone flinched. Some mutos covered their heads. The bay went silent.

“Enough talking,” the uman said. “Get on the ship.”

We moved toward the ramps and boarded. The interior was dim and lit in red. The floors were made of metal and seemingly thin. They gave a litle as we walked. I guessed they concealed things. The walls shared the aesthetic of the outside surface. Smooth and silver, but with furrows.

The whole ship had the feeling of a packed storage room. Like much could be hidden, and probably was.

Ten minutes later, I was in the shared quarters of the ship’s lowest habitable level. Below us were the engine rooms. They vibrated the floor as we lifed of.

The quarters were arranged to fit as many mutos as possible. There was a small lounge area near the entrance. The rest of the space was a labyrinth of walls containing recessed sleep nooks.

Some mutos stowed their few possessions and climbed into their nooks. Others milled around and talked.

I chose a nook as far back as I could find. Near a corner. Isolated, I hoped. I tossed my bag into the nook, and climbed inside. I wasn’t tired. I only wanted to hide.

The talkers were louder than they needed to be. As if everyone wanted to hear their conversation.

The muto in the nook below me was snoring loudly.

It was still evening. Too early to sleep. I wondered when we’d next eat.

The voices continued. I was fairly certain that Grick and his friends were part of that group. I heard Rocan’s voice in the mix too. Then I heard Grick’s voice geting louder. “Yeah, where is that one?” His volume started to fluctuate, as if he were searching. “Wait, you’re new too! No sleeping until you’ve got the rules. Get out there.”

I turned onto my right shoulder. There was no one in the nook across from mine and the muto below was calm now.

“Hey, Smerch! Where are you, Smerch?”

I groaned and climbed out of my nook. No sooner had my feet touched the floor than Grick found me.

“Ah, there you are!” he said. “Rocan wants a meeting!”

I nodded and turned lef toward the open portion of the quarters. Grick put his hands on my shoulders and coaxed me along. I wanted push his hands of. If he were one of my siblings, I would have.

When we reached the lounge area, most of the muto crew was already there. Every shade was represented—red, grey, brown, black, yellow, and blue. Most wore longshirts over their torsos with their lower bodies covered by their fur. Some wore small equipment packs across their chests. A couple had on flat, brown hats. I saw unlit smokesticks in a few mouths too. Rocan was in the center. His data device was afixed to his shoulder.

Grick guided me to the front. “Here he is,” he said. His hands remained on my shoulders.

Annoyingly.

“I think we’ll start,” Rocan said. “I’ll make this brief because most of you know the rules already.” His gaze played over the group before resting on me. “We’re on an uman ship, so we

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play it their way. We will be paid handsomely for our eforts, but everything depends on discretion and obedience.”

“Umans always want it their way…” Grick whispered. Those behind me snickered.

Rocan glared until it was quiet. “Our first stop is Hilican Seven.”

“That’s a ten-day trip!” someone said.

“Ah, phant, does that mean we’re gassing?” another said.

“Ain’t nothing on Hilican.”

Rocan rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s why we’re going. For nothing.”

“This smells of Silents,” Grick whispered. “If so, then there’s something there. Something bad.”

Rocan flashed his teeth. “Circumstances aren’t our business. We’re just the movers.” He looked at me. “Generally, the less you know, the beter.” He smiled. “Afer Hilican will come delivery. At this point, that location is unlisted.”

“Unlisted means they aren’t telling,” Grick said. “But they know.”

Rocan shrugged. “I dispense information as I get it.” He scanned the group again. “We need to be on daytimer schedule for the loading process.”

“Uman schedule…” Grick said.

“Those of you who were in your bunks already had the right idea. Until further notice day is dominant.”

“Light is dominant…” Grick again. “Always about light with them.”

“Afer the load, we’ll go nocturnal again.” Rocan pointed behind him, to a recessed alcove in the wall. There was a black and blue machine there. “This room has its own food dispenser. DNA coded…” The dispenser was rectangular with a circular recessed portion in the center. There was a large dent in the surface below that. An unhappy customer?

“Any questions?” Rocan asked.

“What’s the cut?” A red asked.

“Standard salvage scale.”

There was a collective moan.

Rocan made a tsk-tsk sound. “It’s a fair rate,” he said.

“No risk pay?” Grick said. “There should be risk.”

Rocan shook his head. “There’s litle danger with this job. You should be grate—” “If Silent’s involved, there’s danger,” Grick said. “We should get risk. Dasp it, there’s risk just changing my schedule for ‘em.”

More laughter, followed by shouts of support. Grick’s hands were still on me. My back was warm. I shifed forward. His hands fell away.

Rocan raised his hands. “I’ll bring up your grievances. But for now we’re at salvage rate.”

“Yeah, you bring it up,” Grick grumbled. “Hilican and who-knows-where and he’ll bring it up.”

His hands found my shoulders again.

This trip was already bad. Deav was seeming more and more like the lucky one.

“Hilican has litle risk of exposure,” Rocan said. “But it will be warm. We’ll have suits.”

I raised a hand and moved forward again. Grick held on. “Exposure to what?” I asked.

Grick laughed. “To umans, Smerch,” he said. The laughter continued.

I kept my eyes on Rocan. His front teeth were bared in frustration. He waved a hand and the room slowly quieted. “Grick is right. We aren’t to reveal ourselves to umans.”

“But, on this ship—” “The men of this ship are an exception. They know of us. But the rest of umanity does not.”

He searched the room. “Any other questions?”

Grick slapped my back. “Got it all, Smerch?”

I’d had enough. I quietly walked to the opposite side of the circle.

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“Whoooo,” Grick said. “Someone is touchy. Needs his space. Like an uman.”

Rocan watched, but said nothing. “If that’s all, we’ll break for now. We’ll be FTL in a few minutes. Gassing starts afer middark. Get yourself fed and situated. Hilican in ten days. Hard work is coming.”

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COPYRIGHT PAGE

RHATS! ISBN 978-0-988758441-3-1 Copyright Š Kgruppe LLC 2017 Editors: Challis Tower Books Ebook conversion: Challis Tower Cover art: Mike Fong Cover design: Challis Tower Books A Takamo Universe book This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the authors imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to events, places or persons, living or dead or residing on a planet other than Earth, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This ebook has been made available without DRM, subject to individual retailer conditions. Please don’t reproduce in any form. (An exception is the use of brief quotations for the purposes of critical articles and/or reviews.) That includes printing, photocopying, scanning, uploading to torrent sites or any other practice that is somehow meant to circumvent a royalty being rightfully paid to the author.

The author and cover artist have asserted their respective rights to be identified as the author of this book and producer of the cover artwork.

The development team for Takamo Universe includes Randall Ritnour, Vanessa Emlich, Thom Walla, Bill Hayes, David Snodgrass, Aaron Groethe, Dale Hayes Sr., Sam Stockton, and Dmitri Borodin and Cooper the wonder dog.

Special thanks to L. Emlich, A. Edecker, and many others for their support and encouragement over the years.

The members of the original Takamo development team were Randall Ritnour, Bill Bunselmeyer, Alan Edecker, and Bill Hayes.