Ether For Sale
or,
Those Who Hunt Moogles

Chapter One:
Squeeze the Mog!

Jymbo Gak was not a man to mince words. He looked his wife Anuella straight in the eye - no easy feat since she was at least a foot taller then him - and said emphatically: "No."

He reconsidered after she beaned him with a frying pan. "Perhaps."

He reconsidered again after she beaned him again. "Okay," he said from his place on the floor.

"And take your grandson with you!" she howled. "You need to spend some time with the boy."

Jymbo Gak stepped outside his hut, and glared around at Kilika. "Bags to you, you old bat!" he grumbled as he walked to the bar. The young girl behind the counter gave him a bag of ice and smiled knowingly. He scowled a scowl that had seen better days, and stalked outside, ice pressed to his head. When he reached the wharf where the ferry would stop, he sat down. He waited, fuming, until the ice was all melty and running down the side of his head.

What his wife had demanded of him was this: "Go to work!"

Now, it should be noted the Gak family had never been the most avid workers, even before the days of Sin, when their livelihood was repeatedly killed by Fiends. But now, as his wife would repeatedly bonk into him, things were different. There was no longer an excuse not to work. Sin was gone, and Spira was a different place.

(A much different place,) he thought bitterly, watching temple guards scrambling, Al Bhed rifles in hand. Machina was becoming more and more commonplace, and while it made no difference to him - the Gak's had never been much for church-going either - it was still a bit odd to see Yevonites carrying forbidden Machina. (Sign of the times, or hypocrisy?) he wondered.

"... What was that?" a guard growled, coming at him. The two guards walking next to him grabbed his arms, pulling him back Jymbo scratched his head, and realized he must've been thinking out loud. Shrugging it off, he got to his feet.

"What's the matter?" he shouted. "Got a guilty conscience, you dirty-lying-hypocritical-Sin-loving Yevonite?!?!"

The guards holding back their comrade let him go, dusting off their hands symbolically. Jymbo raised his fists, grinning maniacally. Some might say an old man in overalls and floppy hat who was shorter then most Hypello had no right walking unarmed into a fight with New Yevon soldiers, but Gak's usually left things like 'reason', 'common-sense' and 'strategy' to those good at it.

A Blitzball shot out of the water, bouncing off the guard's head, sending him flying off the pier and into the water. A young man flipped out of the water, landing lightly on his feet and spinning to face the guards. He held out two fingers in a victory sign. "OH YEAH!!!"

The two other guards looked him up and down, and cracked up, falling on their backs with hysterical laughter.

Jymbo cleared his throat, and tapped the young man on the shoulder. "You left your shorts in the water, Teityr my boy."

The man looked down, turned bright red and leaped back into the water. Seconds later he reemerged, fully-clothed; an open blue shirt, over a pair of black trunks, and blue sandals. "All right!" he yelled, reaching to his belt, and grabbing air. He frowned, feeling around, and looking about himself quickly. "Er, uh, Grampa, a little help?"

Jymbo shrugged. "Don't ask me. I don't know what you did with it."

At this point, the semi-altercation had started to draw some attention. Most of the young people were members of the Youth League, a faction that'd sprouted up once word of Yevon's misdeeds spread amongst the citizens of Spira. Despite the fact that Jymbo and his grandson were facing off with New Yevon guards, almost everyone took the comical antics to be a joke.

Jymbo smirked. "Only man in Spira that can lose his weapon," he said. He held up a finger suggestively, causing a group of girls watching to laugh uproariously.

Teityr whirled on him. "HEY! You shut your mouth!"

One of the guards managed to regain his composure, and took the boy by the arm. Teityr grabbed the guard, flipping him over his shoulder and into the water. The other two guards lifted their rifles, and started firing. Jymbo and Teityr bailed over the side, landing with a big splash in the water. The two emerged beneath the pier. Jymbo grinned evilly at his grandson. "Y'know, this is much more entertaining then work. Your grandmother would've thought so too, a couple of years back."

Teityr scowled. "If you hadn't picked this fight, I wouldn't have had to rescue you!"

The old man looked around as he treaded water. "Hmm."

"Don't say it!" Teityr snarled, grabbing onto the planks above him, and pulling hard. It collapsed, and one of the guards fell through. Teityr grabbed his rifle, and pulled himself back up. Raising the rifle, he smiled at the last guard. "Dance," he said, pulling the trigger. Nothing happened.

The crowd laughed again, and the guard scowled, apparantly feeling the laughter was at his - or perhaps New Yevon's - expense. He tried to lift his rifle, but Teityr lunged forward, swinging the gun down and to the right, slapping the soldier's gun away. He bashed his head against the soldier's viciously, then staggered backwards, dropping his weapon as he stumbled around dizzily. The metal clang of head-on-helmet action echoed through his skull.

The crowd exploded in laughter. The New Yevon guard fumbled with his helmet, which had gotten stuck over his eyes, blinding him. Teityr fell on his backside, and could only watch in stunned amazement as the last guard walked straight off the pier.

Jymbo finally was helped back up after all his yelling and spluttering finally caught someone's attention. He stepped in front of his grandson, and bowed grandly. "Now, if you please, ladies and gentlemen, could you show your appreciation for our little act by throwing a few Gil our way?"

Teityr got to his feet, rubbing fiercely at the lump appearing on his forehead. "Act?"

A few people threw gil, but most started dispersing as soon as money was mentioned. Jymbo counted what he'd caught in the palm of his hand, and flipped one coin towards Teityr. "For your effort, sonny."

Teityr arched an eyebrow at it, not letting go of his head. "Thanks. I'm sure it'll stop the swelling."

"Maybe not," Jymbo said, walking past him quickly and snatching the coin from his hand. "But it'll sure buy us passage on the ferry."

Teityr said nothing, sticking his tongue out at his garndfather's retreating back. he looked around for a place to sit, and found himself a large crate. He was staring at his feet, resting his head in both hands, when he saw his Blitzball roll up next to him. He looked up, and swallowed hard.

"Hey," Iya smiled at him, her hands folded behind her back. She paced along the dock, graceful and beautiful, even in a simple white skirt and tied-up blouse. The young red-head was an orphan, and thereby the only girl in Kilika willing to consort with a Gak, since she had no family to risk humiliating. (She would often say she would've been Teityr's friend regardless of his family history, but the truth of that statement could hardly be judged without altering the past.) "I saw the fight," she said.

"Oh, um, that? I mean, you saw that?" Teityr cleared his throat nervously.

Iya smiled. "Yep. You were pretty cool. Of course, your grandpa was the same as ever."

Teityr tried his best to furrow his brow, but seventeen-year-olds just aren't built for furrowing. He had the feeling she was trying to get on his nerves, but why, he couldn't imagine.

Iya looked away, smiling mischeviously. "You know, there are reinforcements coming from the temple."

"WHAT?!" Teityr howled, falling off his crate.

The red-head nodded. "Tensions are running high between New Yevon and the Youth League. They think you're an activist, Teityr." Suddenly she frowned, looking thoughtful.

(Crap, I gotta get out of here,) Teityr thought. When he noticed Iya's thoughtful look, he braced himself. As children, Iya had always had the ingenuity between them, and it had gotten him into trouble more then once, trying to please her by pulling off one of her schemes. Gak men didn't get much wiser from the day they were born, but they did develop keen senses of self-preservation.

"Teityr," Iya began. "Which side are you on?"

He looked around suspiciously. "Which side of what?"

"New Yevon or Youth League?" she prompted.

He gawked at her. (Didn't she say she saw the fight?) he wondered. (I'm not on any side!) He opened his mouth to answer, but someone else overran him.

"He's on whichever side pays him for our product," Jymbo said, holding another bag of ice to his head. He unslung a strap and flung a heavy-looking pack to Teityr, knocking him down again. "Sorry 'bout the wait kiddo, had to get something from the house."

"Whichever side?" Iya asked. She looked at Teityr disappointedly. "Isn't that kind of mercenary?"

Jymbo snorted rudely. "That, my dear, is good salesmanship. C'mon Teityr, we've gotta run."

Iya pursed her lips, watching silently as Jymbo ran along the dock, and Teityr tried to lift the heavy bag. "Wait -" he called after his grandfather. "Wait!" he said to Iya, who began to walk away.

She shook her head, not looking at him. "I can see you're busy," she said. "And I've got something I need to be doing too."

Teityr dropped the bag. "No wait! My grandpa doesn't speak for me! He's stupid! And old! Iya!" He sighed heavily, watching her sprint down the wooden walkway towards the main part of town.

He took a step to follow her, but a curious whistle emerging from the bag stopped him. He looked at the bag, then back at Iya. Jymbo ran up, huffing loudly. "Son, we gotta run. NOW."

Teityr sighed, picking up the sack. "What's in this?"

"Product," Jymbo said. "Run." He took his own advice, heading towards the end of the pier at a run. Teityr frowned, turning to see if he could spot Iya one last time. What he saw was two dozen New Yevon guards, charging straight towards him.

Teityr made a break for it, catching up with his grandfather easily. "So you know about the guards?" he asked.

Jymbo looked behind them, and yelped. "Yentas!" He shaded his eyes, scanning the horizon. "I do now. What I was worried about, was being late for the ferry," he said. "But I realize too late its not coming today."

Teityr gawked at him, though he was not entirely surprised when his grandfather dropped to his knees and started unhooking a fishing boat from the pier. "Are you stealing that?" he asked.

"He owes me money," Jymbo said, leaping in and grabbing an oar. Teityr glanced back at the guards, biting his lip. "Ah hell," he said, before leaping into the boat. He dropped the pack, grabbed an oar and started paddling furiously. Jymbo turned, grinning maliciously at the soldiers on the end of the pier, and the priest at the head of the line.

"Curse you Jymbo Gak!" the priest howled.

"Your wetnurse had a beard, Mep!" Jymbo cackled back, laughing at the agonized expression on the priest's face.

Teityr sighed, not letting up on his paddling. "We'll never be able to come home, will we?"

Jymbo waved dismissively. "Ha! Yevon'll keep me away from somewhere I want to go the day a High Summoner starts singing pop music!"


"Achoo!" Yuna sneezed.

"Bless you, lady Yuna," the shopkeeper said courteously from behind the counter.

"What's the matter, Yunie?" Rikku asked quietly. Yuna shrugged helplessly.


"Yep, that'll be the day, haha!" Jymbo laughed.

Teityr shook his head in disbelief. "Where to, gramps?"

"Luca!" the old man said, "To Luca, and the setting sun!"

"Luca is north of us, kupo," Teityr's backpack said.

"Yeah, Luca is north of here-" Teityr looked at the backpack blankly.

Jymbo clapped his hands loudly. "Ah yes, I remember now!" He reached over, pulling the drawstring and yanking a small creature out of the pack.

"Wha-what the hell is that?!" Teityr exclaimed.

Jymbo leaned close to him, conspiratorially. "This my boy, is a Moogle, and your rightful heirloom." He sat up, picking up the Moogle happily. "Yep, this little baby is the reason Gak's are so famous and world-reknowned!"

"Please don't touch my pom-pom, kupo," the Moogle said pleasantly.

Teityr said nothing, looking from his grandfather to the creature, and back again. "... Are we going to sell it?"

Jymbo looked aghast. "Are you mad? We're Ether salesmen, not Mog-slavers!"

"Ether?" Teityr asked, looking at the Moogle. "So you're saying ... oh no ..."

"Oh yes!" Jymbo laughed. "Welcome to "Squeeze-The-Mog Enterprises! Or 'Etherprises', if you wanna be cute. Now get squeezing, we gotta meet a quota you know."

The Moogle sighed heavily. "Aren't you forgetting something, kupo?"

The old man scratched his chin thoughtfully, before yelling "Ah-ha!" and producing a flask. "You'll have to make it last, Mog my pal, since its all we got until we reach Luca, and a bar!"

The Moogle seized the flask, and downed the contents in a gulp. "(hic) kupopo," it said drunkenly.