In response to your comments, N. ...
The time gap is intentional. I'm still writing both stories. It's more exciting to take Ernie on a magical mystery tour instead of connecting the story directly to this new one. In Ernie 073, I'm taking her through a survival story. This one is more like something to replace Alien 3 (though I have also been thinking about improving Ernie's prison adventure). I probably got this idea from watching too much Walking Dead, where they always go around the barn to get to the main story.
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Not exactly warm in that place, probably about fifty degrees. Some of the creatures wore blankets, or heavy capes over their wings, which I'd initially misidentified as wings. My feet rested in gritty sand, used, perhaps, for easy cleanup of blood?
The winged creatures had different races and colors, some with Canada goose coloration, or leafy growths atop their heads in a way that resembled hair...A couple had giraffe horns.
The wrinkled Yautja before me smelled of skunk, the type of waste water that backs up into a kitchen sink, and something fermented.
His...apparel did not appear to be very protective. Although resembling armor, after a fashion, with shoulder plates, bracers and a shirt of chain mail, the stuff appeared largely decorative. Thin, ornate, not one hundred percent metal - I detected bits of wood and a type of leather. Pants: Basically some colorful combination of leather and canvas.
The arena itself: Permeated with dry earthy scents. Something bleachy wafted down from the judge's stands. Based on my close contact with the warden, natural body odor. I can't compare the scents mingled with it, except to say they seemed vaguely floral or chemical in nature, perhaps a type of perfume or deodorant?
The spider headed birds made clucking and turkey gobbling sounds up there, along with the usual weird growling sounds...of course, it got hushed when the multi-ringed bug-ostrich banged a rock on its desk a few times and gave a speech.
It seemed the Yautja had no small pull with the court. Although he lacked neck rings, he had multiple gold bracelets that seemed to indicate the same thing. When he made the announcement of his wager, the rest of The Court made some deliberation, but the official result, from what I understood from Bishop's severed head: They agreed to the terms. Mr. Yautja would be fully responsible for what I did, and prosecuted to the full extent of the law if I did anything remotely illegal.
Mincha addressed The Court, it seemed, to make sure I'd get humane treatment under my new master, if I lost the match. The chaotic noise she got from the judges and my opponent could have meant anything. Vobogi attempted an explanation, but again, not my language.
The human's owner gave me an apologetic pat on the head...Well, she tried. Being a short creature, she had to get on her tiptoes to do it.
The Yautja leaned over the table, banging his fist impatiently on the border. Bishop translated his growling: "Are you going to make love to that Abreya, or are we going to play?"
I smiled, wagging my tail. "I agree to your terms...How do I play this game?"
The match commenced, the Yautja's escorts eying me with suspicion, clenching and unclenching their fists, hands near their waists like cowboys in an old movie.
Not your standard German `Chinese (Sternhalma)' checker board. It actually bore more similarity to its ancestor, Halma, with its non-hexagonal board, but it had four square `camps' sticking out the ends of the board, and depressions for the marbles.
My familiarity with Sternhalma and actual checkers did not help me in the slightest. Again, no hexagonal board, and the glowing marbles had two different allowable moves. I'd move my marbles in single hops, only to find my opponent doing double, and when I tried to match his double jumps, he growled something and made me move the marbles back. I couldn't move the marbles in certain directions...as if they were chess pieces. Also, capturing permitted. We had marble bowls for that purpose.
I made good progress in this `game.' In fact, the Yautja appeared to be helping me win. For instance, instructions on the difference between the two marbles, the ones containing the glowing gas could move forward two jumps, not the others, and camps were capture-free zones. Also, a bright `shooter marble' got involved. A little confusing about capturing it and `castling.' I couldn't quite figure it out.
Seeing that I made no aggressive moves, the creature's bodyguards slowly relaxed into the `At Ease' position, mandibles flexing as they observed us play the game.
A very good sport about the whole thing, I thought. Very gracious. Perhaps he truly desired my freedom? I wagged my tail, excited about the prospect of roaming free through their city, and the creatures that lived there.
A short game. It only took maybe five to ten minutes. I had my shooter marble in the opposite camp, surrounded by my marbles, with the Yautja's shooter marble in my marble cup.
The Yautja raised his fists in triumph, the roaring noise he made sounding a a lot like `Yeah!'
The creature's bodyguards congratulated him.
I stared, thinking, `There goes the most gracious loser I've ever seen in my life! Such Christian humility! To put himself last, and cheer about it? Indeed, the last shall be first, and the greatest shall be the servant of all!'
But then realization dawned. "Uh-oh."
The spider-ostrich thing with the most neck rings stood up, uttering a string of noises.
"The Ss'sik'chtokiwij has lost the match. According to the terms of this court, she is officially property of Kilotrix Abbokinase, pursuant to Gazibe Matnevu Ownership Guidelines 1017-0933, 30022-2 and 88169X. Report to Woipida for Decontamination and Domestication Testing."
Mad Magazine Monopoly, I thought.
In recent decades, a publisher had brought the Mad game back. On Hadley's Hope, I briefly experimented with it. Unlike regular Monopoly, where the objective is collecting more dollars than anyone else, Mad's objective was getting rid of money, the loser collecting the largest wad of cash.
So...not a winner. My arms got fitted with restraints once more, and a bodyguard hooked a chain to my glowing collar, presenting it to my new master like a dog leash.
Although difficult to read an expression on a Yautja's crab-like face, he seemed to grin as he tugged the chain.
Mincha said something to him, possibly in regards to my gentle treatment, but, judging by his noises and body language, I guessed the reply to be `That's no concern of yours,' or maybe `I will obey the letter of the law, but not the spirit.'
I believe that the phrase "Going the extra mile," derives from Matthew 5:41, and as a Christian space alien, I naturally made a comparison between my captor and some Roman centurion that conscripts random passerby into carrying his shield and Bronze Age luggage. I made it a point to not fight the leash at all, and keep close to his heels at all times.
He patted me on the head, like `Good doggie' and joked about me with his companions, but I took it in stride.
They opened a gate opposite the one I'd entered, taking me down another weirdly built tunnel.
My `Master'...Not a `By the Book' sort of individual. I think we only paused at a security station because they wouldn't let us out otherwise.
An orange, leafy haired spider-ostrich and a white giraffe horned one with bat-like ears scanned me with little devices. They got into an argument with my captor...about...something...as they pointed to the screens. From what I glimpsed, I believe they did not approve of my reproductive capabilities and wanted me neutered.
Whatever they decided, Mister Abbokinase ended up giving them a hand print and a retinal scan. A small beaded wampum, I suppose, signified that he could go on his way.
Although all this seemed very official, it seemed...not as complicated as what the court described, and instead of going to pet licensing, getting my Distemper shots, or whatever it was they did there, we visited the market.
To be fair, it stood outside the court, but in just moments, Kilotrix made it clear we weren't out for official business.
He raised my chain above his head, giving a roar like `Hey! Look at what I got!'
First time I'd ever had a good look at the civilization that imprisoned me.
We stood within an immense hexagonal building, its multiple storied design similar to a shopping mall, except prison-like homes appeared to be in the upper levels. High above, a skylight looked out into space.
With all the mention of cold, I wondered how I could see the stars, but the answer presented itself when a grumpy Yautja in a thick coat scraped a layer of ice off the glass, and checked warming elements around the frame.
The `party' lay at ground level. A rainbow of tents, canopies, market stalls and vendors on rugs, occupied by an assortment of creatures as weirdly diverse as you'd find in your average science fiction movie.
Large amounts of Yautja, spider ostriches in many colors and feather patterns, guinea pig faced creatures similar to Mincha, but also gnomes with bat facial features, caterpillar monsters with cyclops heads, eyeless green...plant monsters that looked like something out of Sigmund and the Sea Monsters, beetle things (also lacking eyes), human sized crocodile men...
Here and there, these creatures led pale humans by glowing leashes, clad in the bare minimum of fabric for decency...and maybe incontinence. Was this a picture of Adam, had he never ingested the forbidden fruit? An animal, after all, makes no moral decisions, it only follows the program God gives it...Or was this just what a human becomes in a vacuum of ignorance and barbarism?
They had other pets, of course. The tentacle faced, dog sized hamsters I'd seen out in the plains, flying catfish they kept like birds, and bird sized insects, cats with sugar glider attributes...
It seemed a redundancy to have tents indoors, but such a thing isn't unheard of, especially if the ceiling leaked.
The denizens of this place had as many electronic obsessions as humans did, though vastly more advanced, and catering toward non-human body types. For example, not everyone had eyes, or the same type of hands, or binocular vision, so the word `screen' did not always apply. Some employed `Braille,' holograms, scent or a honeycomb glass monitor. Those with eyes on the sides of their heads wore digital `blinders' rather than employing goggles or a `phone screen.'
I noticed a strange flickering jump from device to device, the same flickering I'd seen in the Sulaco's computers after the Coronal Mass Ejection. It did not seem to be a natural feature of the devices...Perhaps the storm still continued on in their sun?...Or did it have something to do with the creature I encountered in the wilderness before my capture?
Although in an apparent `food shortage,' a number of creatures traded things suspiciously food-like. Perhaps they were not everyone's favorite consumable, or did not provide quality nutrition, like the candy bars advertised as `meals' during the Industrial Revolution. Or maybe they could not be consumed by all species? Only cows can enjoy pure cellulose. I have read stories about humans doing strange things in time of famine, eating sawdust sausages, boiling shoe leather for a soup, lard sandwiches, cannibalism, the consumption of insects...
The food being traded at this market did not appear to be ideal, and it seemed to trade for other items of great value, disproportionately so.
That being said, The phrase `Economics of Scarcity' puts shortage in a rather positive light. Sometimes people struggle to find jobs when Unemployment is at an all time low, and the Great Depression inspired the practice of Recycling and the manufacture of alternative breads, such as potato, as well as an interesting recipe involving onions and peanut butter.
Not being native to the planet, difficult to say whether the foods being passed about in that place were normal, or the ones being eaten in desperation.
I believe the creatures practiced some form of prostitution. Although not overly clear on their method of sexual reproduction, I did notice certain individuals becoming overly friendly in exchange for goods.
I thought I saw someone trading a few sets of camo fatigues. They seemed to be of...human manufacture.
I tried to hang back and investigate, but Kilotrix just jerked my chain and moved me along. Lost sight of the traders.
The same thing happened when I spotted an assault rifle...Decidedly not of this planet. Unable to see who found it, or where the item went to.
A great deal of beggars among the crowd. Handicapped, uncared for individuals, spider birds with missing feet, or wings, sickly vulture creatures with sores like purple and yellow polka dots, some kind of leprosy. A few opted to replace their missing feet with wheels or mechanical instruments.
Some of the spider ostriches lacked an upper set of hands, due to various injuries or birth defects, forcing them to do work with their feet. In terms of disability, this one limited them the least, for the upper arms tended to be small and stubby anyway.
The Warden and the Jury appeared to be the most powerful telepaths in the place. The others in the compound could only send me...vague feelings, unfamiliar scents and images...except for the street performers. As I passed by a couple, I temporarily forgot who I was, becoming convinced that I wandered in a swamp, a forest, or had just made passionate love to one of their species. Kilotrix, apparently bored of such trickery, did not react, but only jerked my leash to snap me out of it.
Kilotrix proudly led me through the crowd, growling to the various inhabitants of the place, likely bragging.
A three eyed yellow vulture monster clomped up to him on cloven hooves, gesticulating with its two sets of arms. Two gold neck rings. An official of some sort.
Kilotrix and this ostrich bodied creature engaged in discussion for several moments, Vulture Head snapping his monkey tail in nervous agitation. I think it considered me unsafe.
Kilotrix responded by forcefully backhanding me.
I frowned. Unable to understand the language, I could only attempt to convey `Brother, I forgive you' nonverbally.
Vulture Thing leaned in close to me, squawked, and struck me in the face.
When I presented my most saintly expression, the creature scratched its head and muttered to Kilotrix, probably wondering if I were sick.
Kilotrix, though, disagreed, and put an arm around me.
Open air drinking establishments dotted the marketplace here and there, creatures gathering at tables beneath brightly colored canopies, slurping foamy drinks from horns. Although light on food, it seemed one could always find a way to ferment something and loosen brain cells. Creatures passed out on the floor, and a Yautja would pick them up and drag them off somewhere.
To be fair, didn't see any actual chairs in those places, mostly perches and benches, or they drank standing up. It might have been hard to keep upright without such supports.
Kilotrix tugged my leash, leading me beneath a burgundy canopy.
"Hey! Hey!" a thong wearing human pet barked at me. "Fug fug fug hey!" The woman growled, retreating behind a blue vulture creature. Not much for conversation: She only seemed able to say "Fug" and "Hey."
A brown spider ostrich rushed up to us and argued with Kilotrix, likely, `You can't bring that thing in here!' But after Kilotrix slapped me a couple times, the creature changed its mind and...discussed drinks?
They had gambling there. More complicated than human games: A `card game' that involved dice. Not your standard cards, either. You touched the corners of the oblong cards to others, and it meant different things. They had a pair of pale human `pets' as wagers. A blue skinned man had already been given as `winnings' to a vulture beast.
I thought Kilotrix would use me in such a game, but he instead seated himself at a table, giving the brown spider ostrich an expectant look.
It seemed Mincha had been trailing us. The moment she stepped beneath the canopy with her human pet, Kilotrix growled and pulled me closer with the chain.
The female spoke in a very non-threatening manner, and...asked to sit with us, I believe, but Kilotrix just snarled and waved her away.
She didn't leave, though. She and Vobogi sat at a nearby table and watched us.
The proprietor of this establishment brought Kilotrix a horn of something foamy and glowing, which he quickly gulped down and asked for another. Mincha drank a horn of something similar, but hers had...lawn clippings in it.
The female approached Kilotrix, showing him a little device. `Master' replied with some grumbling sounds and a dismissive wave that seemed to say `Okay, whatever.'
Smiling, Mincha offered me the device, demonstrating how to open an application.
A highly advanced, extraterrestrial version of Duolingo. A slug creature on the screen presented me with images, asking me to repeat them back in real time. I got the impression that the creature worked as a language instructor, and possibly existed somewhere in reality...for it behaved in a semi-realistic manner.
What made it seem less than realistic: The creature did not appear to be shocked by my appearance or intelligence at all, and its patience exceeded that of any mortal lifeform.
I certainly exceeded `Master's.' Although my display of intelligence impressed the other drinkers, and Kilotrix got a few offers of trades and gambles, it seemed he disliked the sound of my voice, for after a few hornfuls of fizz, he snatched the device out of my claws, smashed it to pieces, and struck me across the face until I stopped speaking...including such phrases as `Stop, please' and `Please do not hurt me.'
Supplemental language lessons:
Cuzajpu: "Shut up!"
Wofjaii yaen: "Obey me!"
Kavork, riscurk fipogep, hua cakoh cuzajpu: "Dammit, you worthless piece of slag, I said shut up!"
Mincha shouted protests, but Kilotrix only shook his fist at her and screamed something.
The business owner approached him, saying, I suppose, `If you continue to disturb the place, I will have to ask you to leave,' but Kilotrix pointed to his shiny bangles. `Don't you know who I am?' The proprietor caved.
Something appeared to be troubling `Master'...If I gauged his body language correctly. After all, I sneeze to express emotion.
His head sank lower over his drink. I thought him ready to slump unconscious, but he only stared vacantly at the...swirling purple wood-mica combination table surface. Kilotrix kept turning over a jewel encrusted silver medallion and muttering, fingering its inscription.
Kilotrix put an arm around me. I don't know what he was going on about, but he made a lot of noises, ranging from murderous tones to blubbering weepy ones, again, not sure which happened to be which - he could have been joyful for all I knew.
Even when he slapped me...could have been a joyful slap...I think.
Mincha approached him, put a hand on his shoulder.
Kilotrix...got confused, grabbed her forcefully, and tried to eat her mouth.
...Okay, maybe that's how he kissed things.
At first, I thought she seemed to enjoy it a little...but then she glared and squirmed out of his grip and slapped him across the face.
Well...tried to. He caught her wrist and caused pain with it, snarling something unpleasant sounding.
Mincha's tail drooped. Her response: Possibly `A thousand apologies, now please let me go, I don't like you.' And then a wave of her free hand, jabbering something about witnesses.
`Master' snarled like a beaten dog and released her.
Proprietor asked Kilotrix something, probably `Ready to settle up?' Kilotrix pointed to his bangles, as in `I'm government, so drinks are free,' and got a `Sir, it doesn't work that way,' in response.
`Master' pointed a finger at me, like, `Take that thing as payment.'
`No sir, I don't want that.'
Kilotrix threw the jeweled silver thing at Proprietor's face.
Proprietor could have made a great butler. He caught the trinket expertly and gave a very emotionless `Thank you' sound.
Having overstayed our welcome, `Master' jerked my leash and dragged me out.
Was this a temporary debt, as in waiting for Friday's paycheck, or had `Master' amassed so much debt that an individual, even one of his power and position, had reached the point of actual poverty? Or did the `First shall be last' rule also extend to government? I hadn't learned enough of the language to ask, and Kilotrix would have just cuffed me and told me "cuzajpu" anyway.
`Master' dragged me around the market, attempting to barter me for various things.
A lot of vendors did not want me. I had a lot of injuries, and it seemed my species had a reputation in those parts, their pantomime indicating the various hazards a Ss'sik'chtokiwij possesses. To me personally, the gestures seemed very obscene. I'd compare it to someone saying "I don't want humans around me" and then pantomiming one humping you. I kept thinking, `Do you want me to lay an egg in your chest? I'd love to do that, if you're going to be so crude and make the suggestion anyway.'
Some of the creatures did appear willing to trade articles for me, but nothing Kilotrix considered valuable. Many of the paltry offerings I found insulting. At times they wished to trade my life for a pitiful amount of food.
Worse, quite a few of them seemed willing to pay to see me dead. Not out of vengeance, mind you, they didn't look super angry...just...frightened.
Mincha, who had been following us around during these...non-exchanges, kept arguing with Kilotrix, probably something akin to `You shouldn't have offered to take ownership if you're just going to sell her,' and `If you don't want her, I'll take her.' Kilotrix replied with something like `Mind your own damn business!'
Mr. Abbokinase did not succeed in selling me off. Instead, he brought me home.
An octagonal, prison-like apartment. Cold, only about 40 degrees. No mirrors or framed pictures, but he had an impressive collection of weapons and skeletal remains. I suppose it did feel a bit homey. For furniture, he had a hammock type bed affixed to the ceiling, a thing resembling an inversion table, and a chair, after the fashion of a bed of nails.
A holographic Yautja growled at us as we came in. As with any Yautja, I couldn't identify the gender, I only knew it didn't look like him...And it wore that silver thing he'd thrown at Proprietor.
I pointed questioningly, but Kilotrix just back handed me and dragged me to a small uncomfortable looking cage with a tiny door.
There...had been some thought put into this. The cage had glass components, corrosion proof metal pieces, and electrical `force fields' reminding me of something from Star Trek.
Kilotrix opened the little door and pointed. "Xoc moqo."
I balked. "It's too small! I'll never get out again!"
He smacked me, shoving me against the cage. "Moqo!"
"Sir, I absolutely refuse!"
I added words in his language equivalent to "I'm sorry" and "I cannot" and "Please no," but he only beat me with his fists and screamed, "Xoc moqo!" He beat me also with a club.
When that didn't persuade me to enter the cage, he brought out a pistol.
...Okay, a pistol-like weapon. The general form reminded me of those blasters robots used in Disney's The Black Hole: The shape of a letter U, held by the middle, a `horn' on both ends. I only knew it to be a pistol when he aimed it at a practice dummy and made its head explode.
With a growl, `Master' pointed the weapon at my skull.
Trembling, I squeezed myself through the narrow opening in a cage barely large enough to contain my whole body.
Kilotrix let out a satisfied grunt, like `That's what I thought!' latching the door closed practically into my face.