“Tell me about this place, Zip,” Littlefoot said as she and Charlotte flew across the countryside in an armored grav cargo carrier. (Zip didn’t want Charlotte punching holes in a normal van like last time.) “Is it legit?”

“Venus Ranch is both very legit and very upscale,” Zip replied, “The place is a ‘bespoke beef producer,’ whatever the hell that means. From what I can see, they just raise cows like any other ranch. They also have horses, lodges, riding trails, nature tours… the whole song and dance. They are pretentious as all get out, but they are good people… at least the ones who take deliveries are. Shanda Lagrange (She’s Venus) is pretty cool, too. A couple of her people are kinda snooty, but they are doing that whole ‘cowboy chic’ crap that went out of fashion like forty years ago.”

“Cowboy?” Charlotte asked.

“It’s some ancient thing,” Zip replied, “It has to do with cows, horses, and revolvers. They have movies about it, but they are about as historically accurate as my heat vents… Actually, those are vintage. They’re more historically accurate. Want to watch one while we travel?”

“Another time,” Charlotte replied.

“Thank God!” Zip exclaimed. “I don’t like Westerns one bit.”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s the whole genocide thing,” Zip replied, “They either ignore it or minimize it. Other times, they focus just on that and go on and on about it to the point that it loses all impact. Every now and then, they actually make it look noble and make the indigenous population the villains! Can you believe it? Well, you don’t get too much of that these days. The Nations own most of the continent. A studio doesn’t intentionally piss off an entire continent if they can help it.”

“Huh,” Charlotte replied. “That’s… disturbing…”

“You think the Sol Wars were a one-off thing?” Zip electronically snorted. “Read up on Earth history if you want to find out how ‘human’ those walking psychopaths really are, especially if your people are considering establishing relations with the fuckers. I love the little shits, I really do, but goddamn. They can be the best, most noble beings in the entire universe or complete and utter monsters, sometimes at the same time. Most of them are good, and I cherish each and every one of them, but the ones who aren’t? They are so horrid they make up for all of the good ones some days. I love humans, but damn. The really messed up thing is that they came so close to becoming something more, something better. Then, one disaster happened, and they all just went back to being animals all over again. Yeah, it was a huge disaster, but my beloved humans showed their true colors that day and every day for the next ten years, and it broke my heart. Charlotte, I love my humans, but study them closely before your people enter into any agreements with them, please.”

“Wow,” Littlefoot laughed, “you don’t pull punches, do you?”

“Not when there aren’t any humans around to get their panties in a bunch, no… Hey, are you really going to bring that gun into the restaurant?”

“Thumper?” Littlefoot asked, hefting a short-barreled semi-auto .410 shotgun, “You betcha! This thing smells funny from top to bottom.”

“How can you even shoot that?”

“Extra short tactical shotshells,” Littlefoot replied. “Paid a mint for them, but they are nasty, AND I can pack a lot more of them in the magazine than people expect. They don’t normally make them in .410, but you can special order them if you want. Clarence adjusted things so they feed properly and the gun cycles quicker. It doesn’t have a whole lot of range, but nothing is getting close to us.”

Littlefoot sighed.

“I would have rather brought my Little Buddy, but I already gave it to Clarence to work on. Wouldn’t you know the one time I actually needed that thing, I wouldn’t have it? Thumper will have to do.”

“Am I not here for your protection?” Charlotte asked.

“You’re just here to cost that asshole more money,” Littlefoot laughed. “I figured you deserved a treat for all you do around the Drop… and an extra set of eyes never hurts. With all the ones you have, it’s like bringing a whole crew. Just keep your eyes open and stuff your face with as much ‘bespoke beef’ as you can.”

“That will be a great deal of flesh,” Charlotte replied.

“So much the better,” Littlefoot laughed, “I want to burn his asshole so bad he never comes back… Hey, Zip?”

“Yes?”

“What’s the most expensive thing on their menu?...”

***

“You are certainly well… accessorized…” the man said as he approached their armored car, “and I love your ride.”

“Charlotte here shreds normal ones,” Littlefoot smiled.

“While we do value our right to bear arms,” the man said, “It is not customary to bring in something so… notable… into an establishment of this nature.”

“Then you should have invited us to somewhere that…”

Mooooo….

A cow mooed in alarm at the sight of Charlotte as it fled. While not the smartest creature on the planet, it couldn’t help but feel that her appearance was not a good sign.

“Oh…” Charlotte purr-rumble-hissed, “Those are lovely… so… plump… so… fleshy…”

Her legs started to twitch.

“We’ll take one!” Littlefoot said happily.

“One… cow?!?”

“I said Charlotte could eat a lot, and you said we could order anything we want! Charlotte orders the cow!”

“I see… You truly do want me to fuck off, don’t you?”

“I will have the wagyu boneless ribeye… A5 please…, a whole one, with a bottle of Chandreux ’58, and I think to start…”

“I see where this is going,” the man said, “Shall I just save both of us the trouble and tell them to put together the most expensive meal that they can?”

“That would be great!” Littlefoot smiled.

“Aren’t you just a little afraid of offending your potential client?”

“Not one bit! He can go and fuck himself… which is exactly what I am going to tell him over dinner!”

The man just faintly smiled.

“Just to be clear,” he said, “Charlotte eats her meat raw?”

“Yep?”

“Does she want the animal dressed, or will she just grab one out of the field like a lion or something?”

“Hey, Charlotte, what do you think?”

“Wha?...” Charlotte asked, still staring at the cattle, her claws digging little furrows in the earth.

“Do you want the cow cleaned, or are you just going to grab one?”

“…grab…one…”

“She will take hers to go,” Littlefoot said brightly.

“Allow me to speak to the manager. Do you think your friend can wait just a few minutes?”

“…wait… stalk… choose…”

“She’s good… I think…”

“I will make this as quick as possible.”

***

“Holy shit!” an old woman in blue jeans and a straw hat said as she approached. “You’re one big scary-looking motherfucker…”

She looked over at Littlefoot.

“And one little scary-looking motherfucker.”

“…black one… white spot… number fifty-two…”

“An excellent choice,” the woman said as she wrote a number on a little ancient notebook.

She handed it to the man, who winced… and nodded…

“One problem, though,” the woman said, “I do raise animals to eat, but they are raised and handled humanely. We aren’t doing a bullfight or any fucked up shit like that. You can have the whole thing as-is, but it will be killed…”

“… won’t… feel… it…”

“It will cost you dearly if it does,” the woman said. “And you aren’t just running out there and scaring the other steers, either. We’ll lead it over behind the restaurant where we are going to be serving you… people… You can take it there. When you say it won’t feel it, how fast…”

“…instantly…” Charlotte said as her mandibles slid over each other, making a sound exactly like a pair of shears… a very big set of shears.

“Alright,” she said. “They are setting up a table outside. Go around back, and we’ll get you started.”

***

The man sighed as he sipped the wine.

“You may be perhaps the most annoying creature on the planet,” he said, “but this wine is excellent.”

“Bleah,” Littlefoot said, sticking out her little tongue. “Hey, she said to the server standing nearby. Can I get a beer?”

“Certainly,” the server said as the man twitched, “We have a wide selection of artesian…”

“Do you have any Shitz?”

“Shitz, ma’am?”

“You have to be fucking kidding me!” the man exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Littlefoot grinned, “good ol’ Shitz, it does exactly what it says on the carton.”

“I’m… I’m not sure, ma’am…”

“You are doing this on purpose!!!” the man shouted.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Ma’am,” the server said, desperately trying not to burst into laughter, “do you wish me to check?”

“Yes, please.”

***

“…We were able to find a few containers among the workers,” the server said as he approached a bit later with a small cardboard carton and a frosted mug.

Barely able to contain himself, the server, with great ceremony, snipped open the carton and carefully filled the mug, setting it in front of Littlefoot.

“Oh yeah!” she grinned as she took a big (for her) gulp. “That’s the stuff!”

“I suppose you are going to ask for steak sauce for your wagyu as well?” the man sighed.

“They don’t have ketchup here?” Littlefoot asked, reminding herself to thank Zip for all of the anti-pointers.

The look on the man’s face was priceless.

Charlotte fidgeted anxiously as the man twitched and sipped fine wine, and Littlefoot, absolutely delighted with herself, guzzled Shitz.

“Um… Not to be overly demanding,” she said, “But when can I expect my meal?”

“We… we were planning on presenting you with… um… your meal at the same time the other guests were receiving their entrée. Would you like something while you wait?”

“It may take me longer to feed,” Charlotte replied, “Perhaps I could be given the beast now?”

“Very good… ma’am?”

“Yes, I am female.”

“One moment, please.”

“If it starts to run,” Charlotte said, “let it.”

“Um… Yes, ma’am.”

The server departed.

The owner soon appeared, leading number fifty-two.

Moo?

“Okay, here he is,” she said. “Now remember, I will not allow it to suffer,” she added while patting a large caliber revolver now on her hip.

“… Step… back…”

Shaking her head, the old woman started to back away.

M—

Before the steer could even “oo,” Charlotte covered the distance in a blur.

The cow fell. Its head also fell, just a little bit farther away.

“Son of a bitch…” the old woman gasped.

Charlotte knelt in front of the fallen cow.

“Thank you, fellow creature, though you have been judged less fit than I, I hope your life was full and your passing quick. I welcome you, brother, into my maw, my body, and into my soul. May your substance become my substance, your soul my soul, and may we now, as one, wander the trails, joined together in the hunt, until I, too, fall and we join yet another. May our blood and our souls flow ever forward through life and death now and forever.”

“That was… disturbingly beautiful,” the old woman said.

Charlotte buzzed quietly as she rose.

“Forgive my distraction earlier,” she said, “It has been far too long since I have hunted such a large creature. It… inflamed… my passions.”

“It’s alright,” the old woman said as Charlotte effortlessly picked up the cow and carried it over to Littlefoot and her increasingly reluctant dinner companion.

“Will this be okay, Littlefoot?” Charlotte asked, “I am aware that my style of dining can be… distressing… to others.”

“You’re good,” Littlefoot said as she took another gulp of her incredibly cheap beer. “It’s not that much different than nature shows… or watching my brothers clean lopers back home.”

“I wanted to ensure that to be the case,” she said, “I shall tuck in.”

“So,” Littlefoot said, raising her voice to be heard over the tearing and gnashing noises, “When is this mysterious client supposed to show.”

The man, now quite beyond being rattled, refilled his glass.

“He specified that you be treated to a fine meal first. We shall speak with him after dessert.”

“Cool.”

***

Littlefoot and Charlotte enjoyed their meal immensely, and while Littlefoot did indeed ask for ketchup, she could not bring herself to pour it over the most amazing cut of meat she had ever tasted in her entire life (much to the relief of their host).

Charlotte was beside herself. The meat was impossibly tender and fatty, a true luxury.

“So,” the old rancher asked, “how is fifty-two.”

“Astounding,” Charlotte replied, “It does not have the character of the game back home, but its tender subtleness is absolutely sublime… and to think you actually cook it…”

“With meat of this quality, you don’t cook it much,” the rancher replied. “I like mine almost as rare as you do. I pretty much just sear the outside and warm the middle not much hotter than what’s in your mouth. If someone orders my beef well done, I throw them out. I will not have my animals wasted like that.”

The woman looked at Charlotte as she ate.

“You’re one of those Nopes, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“You one of them, ‘trail layers’?”

“You know about us?”

“Only what I’ve read since I heard you were coming. So, what does a trail layer do? Recon? Trade? Diplomacy?”

“All and none,” Charlotte replied between bloody mouthfuls. “I don’t think you have an exact equivalent. We go ahead of the swarm and lay trails to follow. We search out opportunities, find hazards, and lay scents so those who follow are forewarned and forearmed… Of course, we just use email these days,” Charlotte said with a rumbling laugh.

“Oh, like an old-school explorer.”

“Explorer is the best term for what we do,” Charlotte replied.

“And your kind are carnivores?” the old rancher asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“That we are…” Charlotte rumbled with a similar glint in hers.

***

“I have to say,” the man smiled, “You aren’t nearly as unpleasant once you have a belly of cheap beer and fine steak. I’m also relieved beyond words that you did not slather that steak in ketchup.”

“I was gonna,” Littlefoot said as she sipped from her mug, “but I just couldn’t. There is screwing with you, and there is ruining that.”

“I can also see you enjoyed your dessert,” the man smiled.

Littlefoot grinned through the chocolate sauce and whipped cream on her face.

“So that’s what ice cream is supposed to taste like!” she exclaimed. “I had no idea!”

“That’s the real stuff with real cream,” the man smiled.

He looked over at Charlotte and the rancher.

“Looks like they are getting along famously.”

“And it sounds like Charlotte does a lot more than pour coffee,” Littlefoot replied. “They are talking about supplying the swarm, and I don’t think she’s talking about a few whores who want help with their homework… unless she is planning on fattening them up a lot.”

“Interesting,” the man replied.

He smirked.

“And now my revenge,” he said smoothly.

“Your revenge?” Littlefoot asked, not reaching for the shotgun beside her but idly moving her hand under the table towards a .25 ACP in her skirt. (The ammo made the exact cartridge irrelevant.)

“Allow me to introduce your potential client,” he said as he pulled out a small disc from his pocket and set it on the table.

“Little fella, isn’t he?”

The disc glowed, and a handsomely dressed and absolutely gorgeous Loo appeared floating just above it.

Littlefoot’s jaw dropped.

“Did you enjoy your meal and your entire cow?” the Loo chuckled. “Do you have any idea what the bill for tonight is? A cheap date you are NOT.”

“I… I…”

“If that ‘iced cream’ is as delicious as you made it appear,” the Loo smiled, “I will definitely see if I can obtain some. I believe there are some cattle on Raylesh. But, unfortunately, it is rather difficult to get shipments from there. More precisely, it is rather difficult to get those shipments without having to answer some rather inconvenient questions.”

“I… I…” Littlefoot stammered, suddenly aware of how underdressed (in every sense of the word) and chocolate-covered she was.

“I’m so sorry!” she finally managed to blurt as she furiously wiped her face with a napkin. “I had no idea you were one of us! If I had known,” she added, looking at the human across from her with death in her cute little eyes, “I would have never…”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” the Loo laughed. “In fact, I made a point of telling him not to reveal who I was, especially once it was clear how you would approach this.”

“Wha?”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the Loo said as he idly groomed his magnificent fur. “I am Councilor Longpaw and have the rather dubious honor of representing our people’s interests in the Federation.”

Littlefoot’s blood almost literally froze in her veins. (Her heart considered stopping. It would have been much simpler that way.)

“I… I… I’m Littlefoot.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Littlefoot,” Longpaw smiled, “It was also a pleasure to watch you shaft my representative and commit a culinary war crime.”

Littlefoot made a strangled squeaking noise.

“No, it was,” he smiled, “It honestly was. I admire a woman who isn’t afraid of enjoying herself regardless of appearances and will plunge her face into… whipped cream?... like that. I also truly enjoyed watching you put the screws to my representative. Once you realized that he was truly committed to getting you here, regardless of the cost, you made sure it cost him. You showed no hesitation in making him pay… even if it was the Loo who will foot the bill for this one.”

Littlefoot squeaked again.

“I… I didn’t know…” she said with true agony.

“It’s quite alright,” Longpaw chuckled, “There are most likely a few other things concerning the Loo of which you are also unaware. It has been a most eventful year…”

A few minutes later, an even more stunned Littlefoot stared at Councilor Longpaw.

“We did to the whole Federation what you just did to me,” he laughed. “However, we didn’t stop at just one cow. By the way, ordering the most expensive bottle of wine they had and then requesting… Shitz?… A masterstroke! I wish I had you on this side of the blockade.”

“Almost gave me a real one,” the man snickered. “That was just evil, Littlefoot.”

“Setting aside amusement, though,” Longpaw asked, “did you actually enjoy the meal?”

“Very much so,” Littlefoot replied, absolutely mortified, “It was the best meal of my life… sorry…”

“You wouldn’t have celebrated our people’s victory as freely if you knew it was courtesy of our people and comes nowhere near what you are owed.”

“Owed?”

“What happened to you and so many of our people,” Longpaw snarled, revealing a Loo’s true nature for just a moment, “is unforgivable, as is the fact that we allowed it to happen in the first place. I swear upon my line that we will find every single one of you and bring you home. I also swear that we will make Jessica Morgan look like the paragon of forgiveness when it comes to those who have abused our people. We may not have the Harlequin, but we are not without our resources. Nobody will ever victimize a single Loo for a thousand years after what we do. Were it not for the blockade, I would be sending a ship immediately.”

“It’s… It’s okay…” Littlefoot said after a moment. “We both know how it was, and I was a fool to climb aboard a ship that…”

“No,” Longpaw said firmly, “it was desperation, not foolishness, and you are not to blame. It was my job, and those who came before me, to protect you and everyone else, and we were the ones who failed, not you. I only regret that it took as long as it did to pull the blade from our back and return it to its rightful owner. We own them, Littlefoot, all of us, including you.”

His eyes blazed fiercely.

“We fucking own them!”

He smirked.

“If you wanted, you could walk into any of their houses and simply take what you wanted,” Longpaw said with a malicious smile, “Of course, we aren’t doing that. We aren’t the Besl. But, we could.”

“The… Besl?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Longpaw said, and then he sighed. “I understand that you have had to resort to rather… extreme measures… to support yourself.”

For the first time in a long while, Littlefoot was filled with shame. She looked away, unable to even meet his gaze.

“You did what you had to do, and from what I understand,” Longpaw said, “You have achieved no small measure of success in more than one respect. What you and the others at the Drop of Oil have achieved for those in your circumstances and others is nothing less than inspiring. I also understand that you have assumed a position of responsibility and authority and are someone many rely on as both guide and protector. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of and much of which you can be very proud. You have my sincere respect and admiration.”

“I… I do?”

“You honestly do,” Longpaw said, “I know of few of our kind, or any kind, who would have not only kept themselves whole but step up and be a leader under not only the crushing circumstances in which you found yourself but in the face of the Harkeen. There is respect, respect, and then there is respect. You truly carry the essence of your line and of the Loo.”

“But I am a… a…”

“Prostitution is legal on our world,” Longpaw said, “And I personally believe that it should bear no stigma. If only all of our people would believe the same. The same desperation and lack of opportunity that drove you to climb aboard a ship drove many of them to do what they have done, and all of you… all of you… have simply done what you had to in order to support yourself and provide for those who rely on you. The only people who should be judged, and harshly so, are those who allowed our people to be put in such a state. Unfortunately, the real culprits have all passed away, or I would have them all divorced from their heads.”

Littlefoot started to weep, her tears mixing with the chocolate and whipped cream still remaining in her fur.

“Excuse me,” the man said as he rose and walked away, pausing to gently lay his hand on Littlefoot’s shoulder before entering the restaurant.

“We can never make it right,” Longpaw said, “but we will do what we can. You don’t have to return to the Drop of Oil if you do not want to. Your share of the spoils will be more than enough for you to be comfortable either in the Republic or anywhere else you wish to go.”

“I… I don’t know…” Littlefoot said, “I’m happy that things are better… I really am… but… the girls… Craxina… Sheloran… They need me. I… I can’t leave them… not yet…”

“Nor should you have to,” Longpaw said, “you will receive a rather significant stipend no matter what you choose. You do not need to leave the Drop of Oil if you do not wish to do so.”

“I don’t?”

“No, and it is to your very real credit that you do not wish to do so,” Longpaw said. “Once again, you have my respect.”

He paused.

“I have no right to ask, absolutely no right,” he said, “But, Littlefoot, you are in a prime position to help our people, the very people who failed you. I will not even attempt to sway you except to tell you that the opportunity exists.”

“You mean guns, right?”

“Among other things,” Longpaw replied, “We are interested in many things besides guns, and you have proven yourself reliable beyond measure, trustworthy, courageous… and quite willing to be a hard bargaining and nasty little irontooth,” he added with a smile, “exactly what we need in the Republic… It would also make you a very wealthy Loo. We have money, Littlefoot. We have so much money…”

Littlefoot just sighed a little sigh…

…and smiled.

“I’m not abandoning the girls… or the boys…”

“I wouldn’t dream of even asking you.”

“Bring me another ice cream, and let’s talk guns. Want to see my concealed carry?”