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Ghuran followed an apprenticeship as a stone worker, but did a side dish of metalworking and even clothing. Skilled at many things, master of none. Ayo had gotten her new clothing and armor from him, and after a call from Ohtremnek he'd decided to expand that favor to everyone. Jarrod along with Mahad and Frank had been called over to assist; Ghuran wasn't shy of exploiting the fact that while he could not request help from ordinary servants due to his low rank, nobody minded if he kept the humans out of the house.
He had a lone work bench way back in the storage rooms of a greater craftsyautja. There, he used his metal tipped claws to engrave dread rings. While every day life asked for no more than simple rings, every now and them ceremony and status allowed more. Ghuran loved the world this gave him, even if he only provided for the entourage rather the center of attention.
Jarrod was less than thrilled.
He did understand that working with Ghuran was about as lucky as he could have gotten. He really did. Nra'tex-ne and Karga'te seemed to attract the more tolerant yautja, so Jarrod didn't have much beating to fear, though Ghuran had little understanding for how much more fragile humans were.
But damn it all, he was a skilled deal and smuggler, he had no business struggling with a needle in a backroom full of junk. They had no equipment for mass production of clothes, and probably wouldn't have had it even if they were more interested in clothing. Every method to produce clothes was primitive beyond imagination. Somewhere in the past hour, he'd pinched his hand enough that the wall leeches started an exodus in his general direction.
The click of the door was a welcome distraction, followed by the rustle of a small person slipping past the mosquito nets. Melanie slipped in, sporting new wounds and clutching her chest with the remnants of her shirt. Her pants weren't in much better shape. It had been long since he'd seen her, usually he sent over the new clothes because they were not meant to meet.
He stood up to hand her a bit of discarded curtain, which she quickly wrapped around herself. Jarrod picked up the tattered shirt.
"What happened?" he asked.
"The kids thought I was hiding deformities," she muttered. "Are you doing alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"
"Your hair's gotten worse."
Oh, that. His hair was rapidly turning gray and his skin became thinner, more wrinkly, not unlike Carly. Sharpening cheek bones, gnarlier hands. He didn't particularly feel weaker, but there were undeniable signs of aging. He now knew an explanation for that and didn't like it one bit.
"I wouldn't if I could refuse. Hey, I don't see you turning gray. So we're all gonna have different effects?"
"I think we should stop assuming it's just ... genes. It's too complex. Did you hear that Carly is starting to be able to imitate yautja tongue? Ayo also has the first vocal mutations ... our bodies aren't just adapting, there's some sort of mechanism that can reason beyond ..." She breathed out deeply and hid her face behind her hand, leaning heavily on the nearby table. "Sooner or later, they're going to notice we aren't just humans."
Her shoulders shook, Jarrod looked away awkwardly. "What kind of mutations are you getting then? What did they notice?"
"I don't know," she said in a strangled voice. "Maybe they see or smell something, but I don't. Maybe it's just cause they don't get why we cover us up so much."
"Do ... do you think they're going to hunt us if we get too strong or weird?"
He realized it was the wrong thing to say when Melanie tensed up.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you."
"Heh ... spook? I can't be more spooked than I already am. Why is this happening to us?"
He knew better than to answer that. They knew pretty well why, being the scraps of a plot by an AI with devious plans. Melanie continued without prompt, her voice soaked with anger.
"We're only here because Meidache and her mother are amused. If we become something troublesome, that little tolerance will be gone."
"I'll take that as a yes," he said.
"Yes," she echoed, broken toned and smiling hopelessly.
"So, uhm ... maybe we should try making you something new ..."
"We're all getting new clothing. Jor said so. Also said we are to be grateful for it and not let Ghuran get any wild ideas that might cost us movement rights. The other should be here soon."
"Good ... uhm, ... I'm going to have to take some measurements. I don't think I can do that without ..."
"Ask Ghuran to make scans with his helmet," she said. "I'm not ready to drop my modesty just because we're here."
They managed to pry Ghuran from his precision work for long enough to find Melanie some healing liquid in the mess; this was more to cover up the generation that was already starting than an actual need. While Melanie howled in pain at the injection, Ghuran made a scan and gave Jarrod the numbers he needed.
Ohtremnek strolled in not much later, followed by Ayo and Oihana, the latter whom hung like a potato sack under his arm. You'd think he had a pet he didn't know how to handle, the way he carried her around. The girl seemed to think it was funny, and maybe she knew better with that freaky power of hers, but Jarrod couldn't shake the impression. Once she was set down, she ran to a corner and sat there cross legged, waiting as a spectator and a good little pet.
Ayo gave a curt nod to Ghuran and Jarrod before joining Melanie. They quietly spoke about what clothing she should get, particularly something that'd make periods easier. Jarrod would've responded with exaggerated disgust in the past, now he didn't care. In a society dominated by females there was no stigma against acknowledging the existence of periods anymore than it was taboo to say one needed to take a shit. This shop even had a section especially for clothing articles for that little issue.
Ayo herself already had new clothes and a lot of gold coating over the metal parts, just for kicks. Ghuran had taken up her requests for particular details with glee, as it involved unusual creativity on his part, though he was confused as to why the gold rather than some other soft metal. Ayo had put his mask on his face with the light setting on. Yautja had no interest in beauty, but Jarrod had seen how Ghuran went to work on that order, light setting on the entire time. They should have a word for beauty, Jarrod thought. Maybe they'd have something else to do in life but kill.
Mahad and Frank came in next, the latter leaning on the former's shoulder. Frank was still in poor shape, suffering from about three diseases and an infection. When Jarrod wasn't working here or running some malicious random errand, he was taking care of Frank. Mahad often had no energy left for that; his mind made him adept at using technology and he was employed far more. They too had their share of ruined jeans, shirts and the complimentary scratches and bruises. Most of them were small sized; at least Mahad didn't have to do any babysitting. Melanie had both luck and misfortune with Kso's attention; Kso was perhaps the most forgiving of Nra'tex-ne's wives but her children were ... unpopular due to her lax attitude. They were spoiled and entitled.
Karga'te came in alone and made some degrading remarks about how the workspace had gotten even stuffier with more ridiculous things. Ghuran never took it serious, or at least ignored it.
Neither Carly nor Nra'tex-ne had arrived, which started to worry Jarrod, so he took a risk and asked the irritable little brother.
"Karga'te, where is your brother?"
Karga'te rattled something about a jehdin-jehdin, which was a one on one battle if Jarrod recalled right. Not uncommon for yautja, violent as they were. You'd think a civilization this advanced would have gotten over it, not even down in Cable Lock did people fight each other with such frequency.
"Any idea where Carly is?"
"Watching."
"What? Where?"
"Right out the door. She's got this far sight thingy," Karga'te said, curling a hand as if he held a binocular and making a confused face.
Jarrod didn't need more of an excuse to get rid of the needle. Carefully he put it down in a way that left the thread tense, he didn't want to redraw it once he got back. He excused himself from Ghuran, who wasn't happy with him running off but was too busy making sure Karga'te would stop touching that unfinished work of art, thank you very much.
In one of the hall windows sat Carly, looking through a scrappy telescope. When she heard Jarrod approach, she looked up briefly. Then she returned to staring.
"Took a while to find some decent glass, but it works like a charm."
"Why didn't you come in?"
"Duh, I'd miss the fight. Nra'tex-ne is totally owning one of brothers. Look at this!" She didn't actually hand the item so he could take a look.
"Waaa?"
"Nobody told you? We ran into some jerks, one of whom was an older brother of Nra'tex-ne. Challenges ensues and now they're on the terrain down there, duking it out. I've got a great spot here."
Jarrod stood at her side and looked down. All he saw were some tiny figures, though it was unusual he could tell them apart at all at this distance.
"Tex, the poor sucker, thinks he's actually in a fair fight, but his brother is cheating the hell out of it. Or he would have, if our little mindfucker wasn't busy giving him hunches about how to dodge before any cheats can be put into work. ... it's bloody glorious, that asshole's getting owned."
"Wait, that's what she's doing?"
"Yep. Only time those two will be in the same room and ignoring one another. Otter knows. Don't tell Ghuran or Kea though, and especially not Tex."
"Carly, what if they notice that Nra'tex-ne usually isn't this good a fighter, without enhancement?"
"Oh, don't worry, he is good. They'll just call this a — yes, break another mandible! — better day or something. Or maybe just a worse day for the jerk."
Jarrod made a face. "Why are you cheering for him?"
"As an unrelenting underworld girl, I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't root for the lesser evil ... who, by the way, just won." With a huge grin she lowered the telescope, and jumped of the windowsill. "So, I hear we're getting new clothes from you?"
"Yeah, I do this when Meidache wants me out of the house, which is whenever she's got a soirée, and that happens a lot. I stink, she says. Ghuran's got work for me."
"Neat," she said with a clatter that no human mouth should produce. Not the only thing she copied from them. She gave him a friendly hit on the back. "Why so gloomy?"
"Nothing... just that I'm not sure what I can do. There are no templates here for anything. Nobody here is interested in complex clothing. Even the higher up females only throw on a simple robe if they're dealing with claw happy toddlers."
"The priestesses wear fancy stuff, I just saw some this morning."
"Like they'd lend me a template."
"Got a point."
They went back in. Jarrod tried not to remark on why she thought it was more important to watch that damn fight when they hadn't even seen each other in two weeks and there was no telling when they'd see each other again.
Carly blurted loud, cheery hello to the others and whistled as she looked around.
Ghuran's room was filled with odd fabrications. Most of it was useless metal work, bent and molten into strange shapes. There was jewelry lying around that never would be worn, devices that would never work. When Jarrod had stepped in here the first time it had been something out of yet another world, almost surreal (now it was just cramped and annoying). Some people would probably call it art, and judging by Melanie's enrapture by an metallic xenomorph queen, some of those people were here.
"So ... what of this stuff is wearable and what isn't?" Carly asked, making a face at a weapon band.
He snickered. Yautja did have a preference for wearing metal more than clothing.
He led her to his working spot, which was on a thick fur on the ground surrounded by scrap and bits. The only real technology here was a projection device that created a holographic form. Switching it on, he found the details of Melanie downloaded already. Now he'd have to be creative.
Carly dropped down on the fur and said, "So what about the local fashion styles?"
"I'm not going to go around in a loin cloth," Jarrod said. "I'm not supposed to screw anyway, so I have no reason to show off. What, you wanna?"
Carly made a face. "I want to get as little scratches and bruises as possible, so I'll take more clothes and evolve to deal with the heat. But we could do the neckrings. I know a few jerks who just love to grabs necks."
She made an effort to be helpful, at least. Stitching wasn't an uncommon skill down in the Ghilsaer netherworld, though that was a different thing than actually making clothing and fashion.
Oihana wasn't in her spot anymore, hanging around a wall with things up for repair. She was telling Ohtremnek all sorts of things about their owners, he might be double checking them considering he was typing rapidly on his wrist band. She looked tired, but was smiling. He almost missed the fact that Frank stood on Ohtremnek's other side. Jarrod felt a ping of sympathy for the boy, the one who had least options on making himself useful. A hardware expert in an alien world were none were interested in tutoring him.
Jarrod went to work, taking into account all the queasy details and didn't bat much of an eye when Ayo explained cup sizes. That was another thing he'd needed to get used to in this society, there wasn't a taboo either against female chests. Boobs weren't such a big deal anymore, particularly not in the context of their distinctly undesirable local population.
Ghuran agreed on the neck ring idea and would take care of them, Jarrod was in charge of the hides pants would be made of. Ghuran suggested some extra things, like getting Mahad something to match Ayo. Carly wanted an extra jacket with padding on the back, since her shoulderblades and spine hurt from all the climbing she had to do. Melanie suggested the pain might come from mutations, but Carly wanted the jacket anyway. Oihana decided it was time to pull out the cloth paint on the long shirt she'd be wearing; Jarrod barely grasped normal sized shirts and wasn't ready to try downsizing for a child. That was for later.
It took crude thread and two hours, but he managed to get something basic done for Carly and Melanie. In another hour, he conjured up some lower arm guards and then he was out of the gray leather, lest the others had nothing. The rest was improvised with scraps so she ended up with scrappy gloves. Belts there were plenty, in all sizes. The tribe was fond of wide belt, a custom originally from the females — stomach kicks were a favorite cause it cause damage the womb — which the males had copied.
The whole group hung out without being called, Jarrod started to suspect it was an effort to hide. He asked Oihana eventually, she told him the two brothers had been called before their mother cause the fathers had made issue about the whole fight. Yes, they were hiding out here, just a little. Just in case any others got the idea to pick on humans now Nra'tex-ne was in dubious territory.
Nra'tex-ne arrived four hours after the others, by which time Jarrod had gotten around to making improvements in response to complaints.
"You better have won, brother!" Karga'te hollered.
Nra'tex-ne thrilled his mandibles, which Jarrod recognized as low laughter.
"I did," he said proudly. Karga'te slapped him on the back and Ghuran took a moment from his work to do the same, before asking what the hell was going on. Nra'tex-ne gave a lengthy speech in yautjan, which was met with derisive remarks about older family members by Karga'te. Nra'tex-ne didn't look too happy with that, but let his little brother have a time.
Nra'tex-ne didn't quite seem to grasp everyone here was hiding, and nobody felt like explaining. Jarrod had picked up from Carly that this particular yautja was very clingy to his idea of his tribe as honorable people, not particularly open to the finer details of another cultural approach.
He displayed exactly that when he skeptically looked at the clothing that Jarrod was resewing (Frank's shirt was too wide for his narrow frame, he tried taking it in).
"Why do you humans even wear so much?" Nra'tex-ne asked.
"Warmth and protection. Why do you guys wear so little? Seriously, tell me, is there some mystical meaning to dressing like space sluts?" Carly said before Jarrod had a chance to respond.
Nra'tex-ne's reply was drowned out by Karga'te dropped his head against the nearest wall and roaring. Jarrod didn't need a translator or alien experience to know frustration when he saw it.
"Carly, maybe you should go somewhere else? We'll go on here," Melanie said tensely.
"Yeah, sure." Without taking her eyes of Nra'tex-ne, Carly walked away. An annoyed Nra'tex-ne followed.
"This is going to take a while," Oihana told Jarrod.
"What do you mean?"
"They really eager to try and convert each other."
Come again? He didn't bother saying it out loud, but Oihana caught on.
"That's why Carly is speeding along with their language. Lots of bickering."
He shot a questioning look at Ayo, who shrugged. "I'm just in training because otherwise, Jormungandr might decide to get rid of us. I talk as little as possible. Your cousin can't keep her mouth shut, so she's talked to."
"Frank, I'll be back in a bit," Jarrod said. He stood up, walking over to where Carly and Nra'tex-ne were talking.
They were leaning on statue of a ziou'ra, or maybe it was a table. Sometimes Ghuran's works were hard to understand.
"I'm just saying, you guys have faster than light travel, invisibility tech, plasma casters, insta healing medicine, yet you limit yourself to hunting only in warm areas cause the cold makes you slow? You people can't wrap your heads around wearing clothing to keep yourselves warm? I bet you could make better clothing than humans, and we already got stuff that can withstand volcanic heat and arctic cold. Look at how tiny the area of any given planet is that you cover!"
"Funny, I remember you complaining about hunting, and now you're recommending a way to expand our territory?"
"Are you kidding? Off course not, you're just gonna murder more innocent people. I'm counting on the stifling rigidity of your society to not listen to you if I convince you. I just want you to acknowledge something stupid when you see it. By the way, nice dodge of the question."
"Stifling rigidity? We've thrived for thousands of years and have reached the peak of our civilization, what should we advance to?"
"Yes, stifling rigidity. Your society is not advancing or you wouldn't be so conservative about everything that ain't the glory of the hunt."
"Oh, is that so? We yautja are built for the hunt, and our society allows us to embrace that purpose. Yours only limits you in aspiring to what you should be, with your pursuit of money and abstract power. We have true freedom."
"That would hold a little more ground if we weren't leaning on Ghuran's forbidden art project, which he modeled after ... oh, look, is that one of those space chickens that your little brother likes taming? Oh, and what about that whole science house that you've got one pyramid away, who were being persecuted cause they weren't hunty enough?"
Nra'tex-ne tapped the top of the table thing with his claws and said, "This is just some odd pastime, it doesn't replace the thrill of the hunt. We gotta fill the rest of the time with something."
"Notice how Ghuran doesn't display a single skull here?"
Nra'tex-ne was about to rebuke when he realized where he was and that yes, there were no skulls. Ghuran was openly staring at him and Ohtremnek did the same more covertly. Jarrod wasn't good enough at reading yautja faces to understand what put Nra'tex-ne in his place, but something did.
"You are just as rigid in ignoring the benefits of adapting to our customs, as long as you live here," he quietly said. Carly probably would have thrown her hands in the air and hollered if she actually was so rigid she didn't learn anything. She just had a smug smile and started to argue that perhaps if Nra'tex-ne went on solo hunts and spread out his territory, he could be more picky about who he killed. Actual assassins, perhaps, or terrorists?
"I can't believe you're trying to give him ideas," Jarrod said.
Carly looked over her shoulder and finally noticed him standing there.
"He isn't—"
"You're sick," he said. Spinning on his heels, he marched out of the room.
"Hey!" Carly ran over him and caught up to him in the hall.
"Sick? He's not going to stop anyway! What's sick about making him target the worst of society!"
"We were amongst the worst of society! Now you're ... we can't become like them!"
"What is your problem? You want me to just lock up and play slave? I'm already doing that, Jarrod. Excuse me for liking a little company who doesn't want that."
"You have us, don't you?"
"Ayo, Melanie and Oihana are children, I've got like ten years on them at least. You're in another part of the freaking pyramid and Jor only lets us talk if it serves it and grandma is dead! I can't really talk with anyone and it's driving me nuts!"
And that would be why Carly tried punishing others with a silent treatment, she so hated it herself. Now she glared at him, and he realized she might stop talking soon. When she turned away, he grabbed her by the ponytail.
"Wait, listen ... I'm sorry. But I'm worried about you. That monster could take your head off if you offend him too much."
"He won't. He doesn't classify me as prey anymore. You should listen to us talk some time ... he gets by by considering honorless humans as animals."
Jarrod sighed. "As long as you're not going to believe him."
She reached behind his head and pulled his own ponytail.
"He's going to have to come a long way with his silly arguments. I don't have to be a genetic human to believe humans have rights, but he needs to be a yautja to justify himself."
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