Tales From the Terran Republic

“So, how are you settling in?” Jessica Morgan asked a withered old man’s face on one of her archaic flat panel “OLED” screens (holograms gave her headaches).

“Quite well!” the man replied with a smile. “The Baleel have been excellent hosts.”

“Good to hear,” Jessica said, “Where do they have you stashed?”

“Believe it or not,” the man chuckled, “an abandoned salt mine, just like the ones on Old Earth.”

“A salt mine?”

“It turns out they need the stuff as much as we do,” the old man replied with a shrug. “You should see about importing some. This is really good salt. It’s damn near a dietary supplement.”

“How do they mine it without melting?”

“They have a much lower surface area than the slugs we are used to,” the old man replied, “And their mucus is much… better? They just used some protective clothing and something they call ‘sauce’ back in the old days. Now they use a spray on polymer and respirators as PPE and use robotic mining equipment. They are actually still mining this deposit, but they have us in an area that is no longer active. This place is huge! When she says she can shelter as many people as we want to send, she isn’t joking. You could fit thousands of us in just this one mine alone.”

“Interesting,” Jessica said as she sipped her cup of tea. “Any progress on the contracts?”

“Already done,” the old man replied. “Karashel already had those ready for us when we arrived. She just wanted us to look over them… Jesus, Jessica… This thing is… Fuck...”

“Let me guess,” Jessica smirked, “It’s inhuman, like something from the depths of Hell itself?”

“Yeah,” the old man replied, “She didn’t need us for the contract. She just wants us for ‘phase two’, whatever that is.”

“Did she give any hints? I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

“All I know is that we need to prepare to challenge the individual clauses in the contract.”

“Don’t you mean defend?”

“I asked the same question,” the old man replied. “Karashel was quite clear with her wording. She wants us to be able to tear apart the whole thing line item by line item.”

“Did she say why?”

The old man smiled a vicious, feral smile.

“That she did,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “It’s… beautiful...”

“Enlighten me,” Jessica said as Terence refilled her cup.

***

Two Baleel undulated through the dark and crowded station accompanied by two dangerous looking Z’uush and a single human male, their eyestalks rapidly darting in all directions as they took in the sights.

Large holographic displays in numerous languages floated above stalls and makeshift buildings along the shabby concourse, promising guns, drugs, pirated media, ship parts, carnal delights, and things not readily understood by the two happily overwhelmed Baleel.

“Ooh La La… Ah Oui Oui...” the pair sang, bouncing their “heads” in perfect unison in time with the strange tune.

“They’re singing again,” one of the Z’uush grumbled. “I hate it when they do that.”

“I don’t know,” the other replied, “I think it’s kind of nice.”

“That’s because you don’t know what it means,” the human smirked.

***

“Can you believe that one of them had the impertinence to present themselves at our treasury demanding payment?” A Vosoon scoffed as a server refilled his glass.

“You as well?” the Gvortan councilor sneered. “The Baleel did the same thing recently. Of course, they are desperate, but still… the absolute nerve...”

Veeka rolled her large eyes behind the visor that shielded them from the much higher light levels favored by most species as she daintily picked up a morsel with artfully curved silver chopsticks.

Species like the Vostoon and the Gvorta annoyed her to no end.

“The Whelxk councilor did the same thing to us,” a Havvaridan snorted. “What’s worse, it demanded to know why we weren’t paying them. Well, I just told them that payment was impossible due to the fact that we were unable to make transfers.”

!!!

Veeka’s head shot up as the morsel fell from her chopsticks and onto the table.

“That annoying Karashel did the same thing,” the Gvortan councilor said in an annoyed tone. “My secretary said she just wouldn’t let the issue drop until we gave her a good reason why we were unable to pay.”

Unable to pay...

Veeka’s large ears twitched as she heard a quiet chuckle from another part of the restaurant. She turned her head slightly as her eyes swiveled behind the conveniently opaque visor.

The chuckle came from the Vulxeen councilor who was dining with a Kraxxitan!

The pair exchanged a look and smug little smirks as they looked at the Gvortan councilor and the rest of them with predatory eyes.

“This is going to be hilarious,” the Vulxeen whispered to the Kraxxitan so quietly that most in the room wouldn’t be able to overhear them…

Well, anyone except for a race that used echolocation…

“Indeed,” the Kraxxitan buzz-hissed, “Do you know the Gvortan actually said ‘races like us’ to me the other day?”

“Unbelievable,” the Vulxeen whispered in reply.

Veeka tucked her chopsticks into her robe, hopped down from her chair, and rushed towards the exit.

“Excuse me, Madam Councilor,” an ornately dressed Kreneel said as it rushed towards her, “Was the meal not to your liking?”

“Oh no, Yalk-Ton,” she replied, “Some urgent business has arisen that I must address immediately. Just put the meal on my account.”

“Very good, Madam Councilor,” the Kreneel said, dipping its bill respectfully as Veeka waddled urgently from the room.

***

Veeka rushed into the “Food Concourse” underneath the Council building, issuing little clicks and squeaks inaudible to most people inside.

Her mind rapidly sorted through the sound-shapes before her, seeking the familiar, reassuring bulk and soothing rumble of an old friend.

She soon found it and quickly hurried through the open area frequented by various mid-level government employees and councilors from systems not wealthy enough to provide lavish expense accounts or were disgraced or otherwise of insufficient status to be allowed into one of the nicer “clubs” such as the one she just left with such haste.

As she navigated her way through the maze of booths, tables, and perches, she felt the sound-shapes shift, hiss, mutter, and buzz in a decidedly unfriendly manner. “Upper class” people like her were never exactly welcome here because they often heralded the abrupt end to someone’s break…

...but this was different… almost… dangerous.

Veeka’s first paw instinctively reached up and stroked her hair, feeling for one of the definitely not a weapon long pins that she used to secure the long hair streaming from the top of her skull and down her shoulders, almost to her tail if it wasn’t bundled up and restrained with a couple of traditional long skewers (which were totally not deadly weapons in the hands of a master of one of her people’s martial arts).

She was happy (and relieved) when her old friend’s friendly rumble was reassuringly the same.

“Councilor Veeka!” the large being covered with thick leathery plates exclaimed upon her approach, slicing off a piece of his meal. “Here! The choicest piece of fat for the choicest piece of fat!”

“I will take that in the spirit it was intended,” Veeka laughed as she produced her chopsticks and put the offering in her mouth.

“Oh, that is scrumptious, Labkale!” Veeka gushed, “Your wives spoil you.”

“This is from one of my husbands, actually,” Labkale replied proudly. “He is a genius at the grill. You should come to one of our cook-outs someday.”

“I would,” Veeka laughed, “but your ‘recreational activities’ are a bit… much… for my very boring sensibilities.”

Labkale let out a loud guffaw.

“We could restrain ourselves until your departure, you know,” he laughed, “Or you could join us...”

“You say that,” Veeka smiled, “but what would you say when half of your family follows me home instead of you?” triggering a loud bellowing laugh from Labkale.

“I would say that the victor is entitled to the spoils of war,” Labkale said between gasping laughs, “But perhaps it would be you that follows me home instead? You never know until you try, Madame Councilor.”

“Considering the differences in our biology,” Veeka snickered, “I would honestly be very, very surprised.”

“So, what brings you down from your lofty tower to crawl among the lowlies?” Labkale laughed.

Veeka winced.

“It’s not like that, Labkale,” she said. “It’s never like that.”

“I know,” Labkale replied, “It’s why I say it. If it were true, I wouldn’t bother. So, what brings you down here? I know that expression, Veeka. What’s wrong?”

“I just want you to know,” Veeka said, taking a deep breath, “that we can pay your people. We have the money, desire, and capacity to pay. We willfully choose not to because it is not convenient due to the current state of the Federation. If you wish, you can present yourselves to our treasury and receive any amount due upon demand.”

Labkale sigh-hissed with irritation.

“Those damn (strong words for one of his kind) troublemakers…” he grumbled, “Veeka, please tell me you don’t believe that we are in league with those people. Our people have always had a good relationship with the K-(click)-eep, and nothing will change that. We know you are good for your end of the deal and extend to you the same flexibility you have always extended to us. We can settle everything up once the real network is up and running again.”

Veeka sighed with relief.

“Thank you, Labkale,” she said, “that means a lot to both me and my people...”

She winced.

“Labkale, I truly hate to do this,” she said apologetically as she produced a tablet, “but would you accept this document that officially states what I have just told you?”

“You doubt my word?” Labkale asked in disbelief.

“No! Good Creators above, below, within, and without no!” Veeka exclaimed, “I trust you completely! I mistrust just about everything else right now. I have a responsibility to my people that cannot rely on just my heart alone. I would stake my life on your words, old friend. However, I cannot stake my people’s lives on my judgment, which I mistrust far more than your word.”

“Fine,” Labkale grumbled, “I accept this on behalf of the Ulk,” he said formally as he accepted the tablet. “Are you happy now?”

“No,” Veeka replied, “far from it. I have cast a shadow over your day due to my timidity and fear. You don’t deserve this.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Labkale snorted, giving Veeka a playful little swat, “Ilb herders come home covered in turds, and we both go home envying them. You bring light, as always, Veeka, not shadows. Now, sit! Sit and share my bounty!”

“Oh, I couldn’t...” Veeka said, eyeing the absolutely overflowing gigantic lunch basket filled with deliciousness.

“Your tiny mouth and stomach can’t rob me of my meal!” Labkale exclaimed, pulling out a lovely olana fruit (a big export item to Veeka’s system) and waving it seductively.

“Well...” Veeka said as she sat down next to the giant, “If you insist.”

“I do,” Labkale said, “and you know how we take our hospitality being refused. You quite simply have no choice.”

“(Nom)… I guess I’m your prisoner then… (nom)...” Veeka smiled, olana juice trickling down her chin.

“… So tell me, Labkale,” she said a few moments later, “Who are these troublemakers you speak of?”

“Oh… the party...” Labkale said, chuffing derisively. “Some of us ’little guys’ have decided to go insane, that’s all. Think nothing of it.”

“There is a new political party?” Veeka asked, “I haven’t seen anything about it.”

“Nor will you,” Labkale said as he popped a whole polg melon into his gaping maw like a grape, rind and all, “It’s not an official party. They say it’s more of a caucus at the moment, whatever that is. It’s just a couple of dirt systems playing pretend. It’s embarrassing how many people are listening to their nonsense. They are as bad as K-Anon.”

“What are they saying?” Veeka asked as she nibbled on her olana, “And what is K-Anon?”

“I don’t even want to repeat it,” Labkale grumbled, shoving a fistful of greens into his steam-shovel of a mouth. “Pay it no mind.”

“Humor me...”

Veeka’s eyes slowly widened as Labkale reluctantly filled her in.

She shuddered, her delicious second lunch forgotten and abandoned like the first, as she listened to her old friend inform her of the “pointless nonsense” that was taking place right under her nose.

“So… Labkale,” Veeka asked as casually as she could manage, “Are there any members of this what did you call it, ‘Communalist Party’ here?”

“Oh no, those crazy morons are holding their (snort) ‘caucus’ outside. Can you believe it?”

“I don’t see why not.” Veeka replied, “It’s a lovely day, and the gardens are—“

“Not the courtyard,” Labkale snorted,” Out front.”

” What?!?”

“You heard me,” Labkale chuffed, “They are across the street in Aspiration Park having a picnic, just begging to get their heads blown off. They say that the sniper or snipers aren’t going to waste a bullet on lowlies like them. Karashel and the rest are out there right now holding court.”

Labkale leaned in close.

“It is unlike me to wish ill on anyone,” he whispered, “But if that sniper decided to prove them incorrect, it would not displease me.”

***

Veeka summoned her courage as she rushed through the building.

As she did so, she overheard, “If you can’t pay us at this time, could you please send an email to my office?” or words to that effect several times.

Oh, this was bad. How did they all not hear what they were saying?

It was like when the ocean pulled away from the shore. There is always that one family that has to be told to climb, no matter how many times it’s happened. (and it happens a lot on her homeworld)

She reached the front entrance, guarded by a squad of armored troopers.

“Do you need us to call you a transport, ma’am?” their sergeant, a reassuringly burly Threen, asked.

“No, I’m just stepping outside for a moment.”

The Threen just sighed and took a deep breath.

“Very well,” he said in a sing-song voice, “I cannot and will not stop you from exiting. However, I must inform you that there are snipers still active in the capital, and while no councilor has been shot at this time, there is no guarantee that the sniper or snipers will not change their tactics. You pass these doors solely at your own risk. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sergeant, thank you,” Veeka replied.

The sergeant unlocked the front doors and then scrambled behind an armored panel. While councilors haven’t been shot, the same couldn’t be said for the military.

He also hoped his comical rushing for cover would dissuade yet another privileged idiot from being a privileged idiot.

He shook his head as Veeka took a deep breath and ran through the doorway.

***

As she sprinted across the once busy street, the surreal reality in which she now lived struck her as darkly funny.

She had crossed this street countless times over for many years without a care in the world. Now, she was absolutely terrified as she sprint-waddled across it and down a walkway that was, only weeks ago, crowded with people of countless species.

Now it was abandoned.

Shaking with fear and glancing at every rooftop that she passed, she reached Aspiration Park an eternity later.

As she rushed past the entrance, she stopped in her tracks.

It looked… normal!

People lounged on benches, strolled through the statues, and sat on the grass, still perfectly maintained by robotic mowers.

Everyone seemed relaxed and happy, free from fear or concern.

She almost wept.

But… It wasn’t normal…

From her “safe” vantage point, she started to realize that while there were several councilors of lower tier races, most of the people in the park were aats, wttl, other lower races, or people clearly of low status, certainly not the sorts who would enjoy this “nice” place before.

They were precisely the sorts of people that Labkale described, people that a sniper wouldn’t waste a bullet on…

People who actually were safe here, not only from the sniper but from the assholes who made their lives unpleasant.

She realized that they were using the sniper as cover, protecting them from the real threat…

People like her.

I don’t belong here, she realized as a lump formed in her throat. She wondered if there actually was a human sniper hovering over this place like a guardian angel, just waiting for someone like her to show up.

However, she had to know. Was what she was feeling just a product of her species’s naturally excitable and cautious nature, or was what she feeling real?

Taking a deep breath with her knees literally shaking, she stepped into the park, praying with each step that she didn’t go pop.

It didn’t take long to find them, this “communalist party”. They were sitting under one of the pavilions, surrounded by tables of food that seemed to be free for the taking.

She paused. Sitting at a table in the middle of this “buffet” that was being enjoyed by a short line of diners was a group of councilors she had seen in passing many times, minor races of little consequence…

But here… They didn’t look of little consequence…

They looked different.

There was Councilor Longpaw of the diminutive Loo. Normally he looked “cute” and fluffy, but now, his fur seemed… slick (?), and his mouth was hanging slightly open in a feral smile revealing entirely too many teeth.

Next to him was Councilor Maypawk, of the Yuii, abnormally large for a sophont, he usually was “folded in” on himself as he clumsily lumbered through the halls. Now, he loomed even bigger than ever, his ropy, cable-like muscles rippling as he laughed a booming laugh.

At the far end of the bench was Councilor Rillrillrillrill, of the… well, the Rill, a strange species even by Federation standards, her long multi-legged serpentine body stretched a ways from the bench.

Were her mandibles always that long?

The strangest feature was her “head”, typically bowed down, it was held high, searching the area with her “secondary” forward-facing eyes, and extending from the sides of her “neck” were great frills extending out in hood above and beside her head that she had never seen opened before.

Beside her was Councilor Laek~Vet of lowly Besl, struggling under management. To be honest, she really didn’t know what he normally looked like because he rarely left his office, poor thing…

He looked… feral. His multiple glossy black eyes set in blue-black scales were gleaming malevolently as his taloned multiple arms broke a loaf of some strange substance into six equal pieces. He laughed pleasantly as he offered Rillrillrillrill a portion.

Rillrillrillrill took a bite and spat it out with a strange rattling hiss that sent chills up Veeka’s spine as Laek~Vet let out a howl of what she only could assume was laughter, as Rillrillrillrill head-butted him to the delight of the table.

Finally, sitting in the middle was a brightly colored slug.

It was Karashel, a being that she barely knew and only because she was Caw’s shadow these days. Caw spoke quite highly of her, though, and apparently, she could out curse an Xx, quite the achievement.

She looked… well…

She looked the same way she always did and completely out of place among the more disturbing and threatening looking beings on that bench.

A strange feeling came over Veeka. She wasn’t quite sure what it was.

She just felt that this moment was important.

She looked at them and, with an ultrasonic squeak, triggered a micro-camera in her completely not a set of spy tools sun visor, and took a picture of the people at that table. It wasn’t to incriminate them or to use for analysis.

She just felt that this precise second was important, that’s all.

The table turned silent, and she realized that they were all looking at her. Well, in for a credit, in for the lot.

Besides, they were her fellow councilors, right? There was no reason to feel as afraid as she was. It was just silly. She was scared of snipers, not fellow councilors, and especially not those councilors.

Navigating past the beings enthusiastically filling their plates, Veeka made her way to the center table.

“Good midday,” Veeka said pleasantly.

“Midday,” Rillrillrillrill buzzed, flaring her hood.

Veeka noticed that all of them were wearing a small “party pin” similar to the one she was wearing, but it was strange, alien looking.

It disturbed her for some reason.

It shouldn’t have. It was just a stylized spiral galaxy surrounded by a “wreath” of grain-bearing vegetation with a strange golden symbol superimposed over the galaxy in the center.

There was just something… ominous about it.

She looked at the symbol more closely. It was a curved implement, a “scythe” used by many species at some point in their technological development, crossed with what looked like a stylized hammer.

An eyeflick and ultrasonic squeak triggered an archive search that yielded no results. Then again, she could only access what archives were available. The blasted humans cut the link to the Locus shortly after they wrecked the clock.

“What do you want?” Councilor Longpaw asked with a faint hiss and none of his normal bowing and scraping. “You want to take a plate of food meant for the proletariat? Go ahead, gorge yourself on what is meant for others.”

The prole-what?

“Um… no, I’ve eaten, thank you,” Veeka said uncertainly, “I just heard that you guys had formed a party and wanted to say hello, see what your platform is.”

Everyone at the table glanced at Karashel.

“Oh, it’s not a real party,” Karashel said smoothly, “I mean, seriously, look at us. There is no political power here. It’s just a little caucus we put together for fun. We meet up, have a dinner party, chat about things, and practice our parliamentary procedure, you know, ’cause we are councilors and shit. We should know something about running a government.”

Suddenly Councilor Qvvven of the Klaxx rushed up.

“I did it!” they squeaked excitedly, “I actually flipping did it!”

They then pulled out one of those pins and fastened it to their jacket.

“Did you get it in writing?” Karashel asked pleasantly.

“I did!” Qvvven squeaked. “It went exactly like they said it would. They sent me to some office peon who pretty much wrote exactly what I asked them to, and then the asshole stamped it!”

“Perfect,” Karashel replied. “You are a little late to the party in multiple senses, but welcome.”

“Are you meeting tonight?” Qvvven asked.

“Not tonight,” Karashel replied as the table chuckled. “We have some things to take care of. You will be informed of the next party meeting.”

She glanced over at Veeka.

“I’m sure that you have questions concerning certain… opportunities...”

The Klaxx bounced up and down excitedly.

“But we have a visitor,” Karashel continued, “give me your number, and we will set up a time where we can speak more freely… or just hang around. I’m sure our esteemed colleague will be leaving shortly.”

“Actually,” Veeka said, her annoyance giving her courage, “I was interested in perhaps joining your party.”

“No,” Karashel replied, “you are interested in our party. It has piqued your curiosity or perhaps your concern. You have no interest in joining our party, nor do you have any interest in its principles.”

Karashel lowered her eyestalks to peer directly at Veeka’s visor.

Veeka shuddered. She had never realized exactly how strange Baleean eyes were.

“As far as any curiosity or concerns you have,” Karashel smiled, “all will become very clear very soon. Now, if you will excuse us, we have someone truly interested in joining, and we have a few things we would like to discuss with them. Forgive my abruptness,” she said politely, “And I know this is a public park, but I would deeply appreciate it if you would leave… now.”

Veeka was beyond startled. She was unused to such treatment from any species, especially a…

a lower…

As she was inhaling to state in no uncertain terms that she was not leaving until she got some answers, Karashel continued.

“Besides, Councilor,” Karashel said with a smile. “It isn’t safe. While we are perfectly safe here, someone of your stature...”

Rillrillrillrill placed her manipulators around her head and rapidly moved them away, making a very accurate “pop” sound with her mandibles.

There was a whole bundle of implications in that statement that Veeka did not like.

“Well,” Veeka replied with an annoyed huff. “I will not impose my presence where it isn’t desired. However, many would be grateful for my species’s assistance and would be careful not to draw our ire.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that,” Karashel replied, causing the table to snicker.

With a combination of fear, rejection, annoyance, and… a feeling of “denied privilege” that she would never willingly admit to, Veeka waddled off.

As she made the long, frightening walk back to Parliament, she muttered to herself, calling Karashel and the rest of them every name in the book (including “uppity”). She was so discombobulated that she almost missed one teeny tiny detail.

She froze.

With squeaks and eye-flicks, she quickly confirmed her concerns.

The councilors at that table and taking their lunch in that park represented almost twenty percent of the Federation’s entire agricultural production capacity!!!

She broke into a panicked sprint, but it wasn’t the outside chance of a sniper’s gyrojet that drove her…

It was the certainty of what she now saw all too clearly.

***

“Ooo La La… Ah Oui Oui...” the pair of Baleel sang as they wandered the maze of open promenades and crowded passages of a space station floating an ice giant on the outer edge of a solar system that most people didn’t even know existed.

They stopped at a transparent hatch behind which there was a clean, brightly lit shop filled with beautiful plants and animals.

They entered and marveled at all of the wonders inside.

“These can’t be real!” one of them enthused as they gazed at a wall of beta fish.

“Robots?” the other asked.

“No,” the proprietor, a silver-haired human woman, said pleasantly. “They are very much real. Genus, Betta, from Earth… or Terra if you prefer. They are a bit of a hobby of mine.”

“They are beautiful!” the first Baleel exclaimed.

“Very beautiful!” the other agreed.

“And they make perfect pets for spacers!” the woman said brightly, “Those little glass containers are all the environment they need at the oxygen levels preferred by most sophonts. They eat very little and have a lot of personality for such a little thing.”

“I want the pink one!” one of the baleel exclaimed with delight.

“And I want that blue one!… No! That one!” the other one squealed.

“Excellent!” the woman smiled. “Here is all of the information you will need,” she said, handing them a crystal as a younger human male took the two spill-proof fishbowls from the display.

“And over here,” the woman said with a smile, “we have our hermit crabs, another favorite.”

“Ooo!” the Baleel gushed.

“And we have a wide assortment of reptiles, insects, both livestock and decorative…”

“Look at that one!” one of the Baleel said, pointing at a brightly colored gecko. “Is that real?”

“Everything in here is ‘real’,” the woman smiled. “But for the record, that guy has been manipulated a little bit. The original species isn’t quite that brightly colored. However, these ‘poison dart frogs’ are one hundred percent as they were in nature.”

“Omg!” One of the Baleel gushed. “How hard are they to keep?”

“It’s not too bad,” the woman replied, “You have to maintain the proper temperature and humidity, and feeding them can be a bit of a challenge, but we could set you up with an insect habitat that would produce plenty of food for them both cheaply and in a very space efficient package if you are interested.”

“Oh absolutely!” one of the Baleel replied.

“How many frogs?” the woman asked with a smile, “They are quite social, and we recommend at least two for the health and happiness of the little guys.”

“How about six?” one of the baleel asked happily.

“Fantastic!” the woman beamed. “Barry? Work up a dart frog hab pac for six!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Barry said with a grin. Today was certainly looking up.

The woman saw one of the Baleel admiring an orchid.

“You like plants?” the woman asked.

“Ooo!” the Baleel enthused, “We LOVE plants!”

“Plants are our thing!” the other added.

“Well, let me tell you about our orchids, another great addition for any ship...”

Multiple purchases later, the woman was starting to feel just a tad bit guilty.

These slugs were so nice and never even tried to haggle. (You wouldn’t believe what they paid for some betta fish and a couple of frogs)

“So, is there anything else you are interested in?” the woman said, smiling broadly.

“Yes!” one of the Baleel exclaimed happily.

“The real reason we came here!” the other added.

“Oh?” the woman asked.

“We are looking for your father!”

The woman’s smile faded.

“Get out.”

“But we need to talk to him!” one of the Baleel said.

“Pleeeeeese!” the other added.

“Get out and NEVER come back!” the woman hissed. “Barry! Give these ‘nice people’ a refund!”

“Can we at least buy the betta fish?”

”OUT!!!” the woman yelled as silver drones flew into the shop from the back room.

***

“That was disappointing.” One of the Baleel said once the drones stopped chasing them.

“I wanted that fish,” the other said sadly.

“Is there another place to find those betta fish?” the first Baleel asked the human, who was trying very hard not to laugh.

“What?” he replied between snickers (Christ, a “running” Baleel is funny!). “Yeah, Bettas are pretty easy to get.”

“As nice as those?” One Baleel asked.

“Those were really nice.” The other added, “I really wanted that pink one.”

“We can just send one of the crew over tomorrow to buy them,” the human shrugged.

“Oh good!” one of the Baleel replied.

“But what about our mission? We need her father for Ooh La La.”

“Well,” the human mused as they walked past an open seating area where a pack of dazed Chuckies were sitting at a table, each with a large partially deflated transparent balloon filled with pastel-colored vapors in their laps, “latest intel we have placed him here. I bet that woman knows where Daddy Dearest is. We’ll put a tail on her and see what turns up.”

“That sounds great!” one of the Baleel said cheerfully.

“But if we can’t find him,” the other one said, “is there someone else we could talk to?”

“Oh yeah,” the human replied, “If it goes twang, bang, or boom, it’s in here somewhere…”

He then chuckled and patted one of the Baleel on the back.

“… or cough, as the case may be.”

“We don’t want anything to go cough,” one of the Baleel corrected. “We want things to go wilt.”

“Well, don’t you worry,” the human said confidently, “You want a bio-weapons engineer? I will get you one.”

“A Terran one?” one of the Baleel asked. “We want a Terran bio-engineer.”

“They are the best!” the other one said happily.

“Oh!” the other Baleel exclaimed excitedly, “What’s that?” and started scooching towards a holographic orgy of a food cart, with the other one following shortly thereafter.

The human just looked at the Z’uush, laughed, and shook his head.

“I know they are evil as the Devil herself,” he said, “but I just can’t help but like those guys.”

“Yeah, delightfully creepy little motherfuckers, ain’t they?” one of the Z’uush chuckled.