An Excerpt from Planets and Peoples of the Dark Arm: My Journey across the Spur of Leda, from Erostera to Lebenda and Back Again, and What I Discovered along the Way; by Professor Rouxaan Okkum of the University of Vyecourf, Published in the Seventeen-Hundred-and-Third Year of Our Lady, May Her Wisdom Guide us Always.
Chapter 85: The Dugan.
Dear readers, I know you may not believe me when I tell you that the Starting Line has been discovered, but I assure you what occurs in this chapter will turn you into as firm a believer as myself. It is the most wondrous discovery ever made by a man, and I say that with no ego.
We landed on Jurati, the junk touching down on a landing field near a city on an island in a small archipelago in the middle of a great ocean. “This is where the best wood is,” the Captain said. “They make kitarras out of it.” I could not have cared less about his stupid wood. I wanted to go out there and walk around. I needed to breath the air, drink the water, roll around on the ground. I needed to see everything and talk to everyone. I was about to be the first white man to ever set foot on the Starting Line! I was giddy with anticipation.
The ramp lowered and I followed the Captain outside. The rest of the crew remained aboard the ship. They were Mangalians, and they had been to Jurati a dozen times. They did not care. At the foot of the ramp were an assemblage of natives. Men in strange, billowy, flower-printed shirts played tiny kitarras, while women in grass skirts danced lewdly to the music. They all wore garlands of flowers around their necks, and, as I stood there in disbelief, one of the women danced up to me and placed a similar garland around my own neck. She said a word in a singsong tongue, kissed me on the cheek, and danced away.
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The Captain was similarly decorated.
The natives stopped playing and one stepped forward. The Captain spoke to the head native in the singsong language. After some discussion, the Captain turned to me. “We will go buy the wood in the city,” he said.
That was when I saw it. No, truth be told I heard it first. A sound every Fontishman, and truly every man and woman in the galaxy knows by heart.
“Blaf blaf blaf!”
Running around the edge of the landing field was a Dugan. A Dugan! I swear on Our Lady, May Her Wisdom Guide us Always. A Dugan!
I was flabbergasted. I started to babble. The Captain and the natives laughed at me. One of the natives called to the Dugan and it came gamboling up to him, its tongue hanging out. The native knelt down and rubbed the Dugan’s head. The Dugan wagged its tail.
I fell to my knees. The Dugan wagged its tail, just like in the stories. It ran on four legs, just like in the stories. It was covered in fur and had floppy ears, just like in the stories. It went “Blaf blaf blaf!” just like in the stories.
I am not ashamed to say I wept. I was a child again, with my mother telling me bedtime stories about the Dugan. The Dugan who protected scared little children in the dark. The Dugan who slept at a woman’s feet to keep her warm. The Dugan who was a man’s best friend. Stories for children. Too good to be true.
And as I sat there weeping, the Dugan wagged its tail and went “Blaf blaf blaf!” and came and licked my tears away. And I laughed like a child laughs, and I petted the Dugan’s head, and I rolled and played with the Dugan while the Captain and the natives stood around me and laughed. And I did not care.