---Names---
“So, you’ve decided?” I ask, uncertainly.
“We have.” Responds Taylor, his emerald green eyes set and serious.
“…And your decision is?...”
“Well… we decided…” he shifts his position in the loveseat, beside Tuun.
“…We decided on… ‘mirklets’…” he says, raising a mirklet from his lap to coo into its face.
“I’m glad the ship’s most controversial issue, ever, is finally resolved(!)” I mock, dryly.
“We had an all night discussion… the crew gave us some great suggestions but… ‘mirklets’ was the clear winner! I was surprised… my bet’d’ve been on ‘mirkittens’. ‘Mirkits’ was very popular, looked like it might take the lead for a minute there. ‘Mirkpups’ was another that people were tepid on. Other suggestions were ‘fluffkits’, ‘mirkpeeps’, ‘mirkies’, ‘duskkits’, ‘flufflets’, ‘mirkbites’, ‘mirquats’, ‘mittens’, ‘mircubs/mirkubs’, ‘nuglets’, ‘mirknuggets’ (very popular), ‘cuddles’ (might’ve got confusin’), ‘flumps’ (standin’ for ‘fluffy murder potatoes’), one crewman was surprisin’ly resolute on an English pun involvin’ the slang verb ‘merc’ and, some of my favourite from the crew; ‘gloamkits’ and ‘murmurs’!”
“Well… I’m not surprised it took all night to decide… what with how incongruently indecisive Terrans (and apparently Sahas) can be about trivialities like what the cutest name for the cute thing is(!) What about individual names?”
“This…” he gestures at the one with the largest eyes and widest mouth, returned to making a bed of his and Tuun’s laps, post face cooing “…is Chesh, that…” he gestures at the only one with fully black fur, nestling into Hasiakh’s stomach on the floor “…is Nox, that’s Catbus,…” gesturing a the largest, squarest one, wrestling with the end of Hasiakh’s tail “…that’s Kit, that’s Gloam, that’s Murmur, that’s Nugget…” gesturing at the smallest, only purple, most slyly mischievous looking and roundest ones, respectively “…and that…” he gestures at the single albino “…is Snowflake.”
“And were eight all-nighters of [gemot] required to decide on those(?)” I say, with a mirthful chitter.
“No, they just, sorta, came out and we all agreed on ‘em. Obviously, every one’s Fluffy-approved!”
I reach up to Sam’s ear to give him a grateful scritch.
He’s been assigned as my bodyguard in Triple M while it is a churning mass of chaos, with eight [6 to 8kg] mirklets, who don’t know their own strength or my weakness, tumbling hither and thither.
Every now and then, one of them gets curious and tries to approach me. Sam, effortlessly, redirects them and they quickly lose interest and resolve to play with one of the sturdier beings.
I look at Hasiakh, with mirklets burying her, coiled into Fluffy’s stomach. Her slitpupiled, green eyes are crossed and her boyfriend is admiring her from the couch.
“You alright Hassi?” asks Dhawan.
“Just drinking at the Oases of Warm and Soft…” she says, still apparently stupefied by her condition.
Dhawan feigns woundedness “You’re saying this Oasis isn’t enough for you(!?)” gesturing at himself.
“You’re warm, their warmer, you’re not soft… you’re an Oasis I drink at to satisfy… other thirsts(!)” she’s probably fine if she has the wherewithal to flirt.
Dhawan, MacLeod, Arran, Tuun, Zunberi and Taylor all give mirthful woops, hollers and whistles to indicate appreciation for Hasiakh’s brazenness. The noise stirs the eight, fluffy beans to great excitement causing Sam’s bodyguard services to be called on to make sure none of my bones get broken.
Once things have calmed down, I ask “How’s the weaning looking?”
Zunberi answers “It looks good, it really didn’t take long. They're still suckling but they’ve all started sampling some of their mum’s food. Fluffy says she feels like it’s about halfway done which puts us nicely on track for our arrival at my homeworld. I guess, in the wild, mirkbeasts must undergo a sequential niche transition as they grow, meaning that they don’t need to suckle for too long… which works out nicely for us.”
“And, Fluffy?...” I say, causing that enormous head to raise and turn toward me.
“You’re still at peace with them being given to Terrans as pets? You’re at peace with, possibly, being the progenitor of an entire lineage of domestic mirkbeasts? You’re sure that, after Zanzibar Mpya, you don’t want to keep your translator?” I don’t know what I’ll do if she says she’s changed her mind and wants to go back to a’Teksia 3 now that we’re so far from it!
“Peace being… happy homes for kinchilds wanting… proud of [allmother] being… words getting in way… take talk box if needing. Signal having.” she returns her head to the floor and closes her eyes again.
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Why any two creatures would ever choose not to be able to communicate is beyond me but Taylor and Fluffy are weirdly agreed on the fact that their relationship is better without words. She has agreed to keep the translator until the mirklets are transferred to the Deathworld Faunal Taming and Domestication Research department of the Taasisi ya Utafiti na Teknolojia ya Zanzibar Mpya, Zunberi’s old university.
“What’s the signal?” I ask Taylor, sensing Fluffy to be in the mood to rest not converse.
“She stamps all her forelimbs, that means she has something to say and wants us to put a translator on her…” he says, attention seemingly entirely focused on Chesh but still able to answer me, somehow.
A few moments pass, as the only movement in the room is eight mirklets and the reactions they get from the Triple Ms.
Then, turning his eyes to me, Taylor speaks.
“I’m really not a fan of the shortcut you’ve plotted, Cap. I want to say again that I think we should stick to the cleared spacelanes.”
“Taylor…” I say, activating a 3D map projection of the 1000³ lightyears currently around the ship, from my holopad.
“…sticking to the cleared spacelanes would take us a month longer!” I say, highlighting the circuitous route he wishes us to take.
“By that time, the mirklets might be starting to reject eachother’s company! I truly do not wish deathworld predators to kill one another aboard my ship! It would be a crime to allow that to happen… Saying nothing of the fact that they’re Fluffy’s babies and… extremely adorable, even to me! The shortcut…” I zoom in on the narrow point, we’re currently traversing, where two cleared lanes come mere lightyears from intersecting “…will require an extra stop to degauss but still puts us being there, right on schedule!”
Still rubbing his hands on Chesh’s thoroughly fluffed sides, his attention is now entirely turned on me… It’s unnerving to be so focused on, even by a friend.
“Cap… pirates? Did it occur to you that pirates might be thinkin’ the same thing you did? ‘What a nice little shortcut, perfect place to just hop between lanes, save a long trip round’? If it’s the perfect place to stray from the lanes, it’s the perfect place to set an ambush! With the interstellar haze uncleared, we won’t see ‘em till they're right on top of us!”
I wave my wing, dismissively. This is one of those occasions where deathworld caution runs away with them.
“Taylor… pirates are… exceedingly rare!... The GU estimates the galaxy’s total population engaged in piratical activities to be only in the tens of thousands, currently! We have Terrans to thank for that, of course! Your antipiracy fleets reduced that number from tens of millions to its current level. We’re as likely to see pirates as… I don’t know… dragons? Unicorns? And, to be frank, I pity the pirate crew who think that they can take a ship with two roughworlders (one of whom is deathworld raised), five deathworld sapients and a mirkbeast mother aboard! They’d be in for quite the rude awakening!... That is… in the last few moments before they were reduced to a stain on the wall!”
Still unconvinced, he asks “What if they were Terrans… Cap?”
The question wrongfoots me… Terran pirates? The thought is chilling! How had it never occurred to me!?
I’m about to open my mouth to say… something, when the sound of warp falters and fails.
There are a few moments of deathly silence…
Then the lighting switches to blue… klaxons sound… and the computer pings all the holopads in the room.
“Computer, report!” says Taylor, his holo in his hand before anyone else’s.
“The Bright Plume has been pulled from warp, CSS. A ship has revealed itself, within lightminutes of current location. Projecting a 97% likelihood of it being a pirate vessel, please arm and prepare all Security Personnel and deputies to repel boarding action.”
Taylor stands, his face harder than iron.
He looks around “I'm giving anyone in this room, who’s sapient and whose cradleworld is classified above an 8, the option to be armed and deputised. I won’t force you four but, if me Samus and Tuun can’t handle it, you might end up fighting anyway.”
Dhawan, Hasiakh, Zunberi and MacLeod stand as well, there’s not a shadow of a doubt that all of them are taking the deputisation.
Speaking clearly into his com again, Taylor commands “Computer, this is a security override. I am temporarily relieving the Captain of Command, to be returned after the threat is neutralised. Succession order, following me, is Brunhilda ‘Samus’ Arran followed by Tuun ‘Elf’ followed by Jennie ‘Mouse’ MacLeod followed by Msia ‘Mage’ Zunberi followed by Hasiakh followed by Krish ‘Cookie’ Dhawan followed by…” his voice falters for a barely perceptible moment “…Command returning to Captain Tcakqaal… in the event of the deaths of all of the above. Confine all crew to current location. Calculate most likely boarding point and clear a path to it from Starboard Dorm, Deck 5. Security officers and deputies are in the process of arming and readying.”
“Understood, Acting Commander, rear Loading Bay projected as most likely board point. May personnel, currently in rear Loading Bay, be evacuated?”
“Confirmed, guide them to nearest relative safety.”
He turns to Tuun and Samus “Go to your rooms, arm yourselves.” he turns to the others “You four, come with me. I’ll arm you.”
The bottom has dropped out of my stomach.
I disregarded the first rule of having a Terran on my ship: ‘listen to the Terran! If they say they have a bad feeling about something, don’t do it’!
Guilt wells up in me as I start “Taylor, I’m sorry, I…”
Not looking in my direction, he interrupts “Regrets are for the living, Cap. You can be sorry later. Now is not the time. Guard her, Sam. Keep her safe from the babies and anyone who comes into Triple M. Understood?”
Sam barks “Understanding!”
I follow the group, including Taylor, to Taylor’s room and Sam follows me.
By the time I catch up, Taylor has already pulled down the cover of his weapon rack and is taking holstered handguns down and handing them to nonSecurity Triple Ms. For each one he gives out, he explains the safety and the UserID that keeps anyone from firing it unless the current User transfers possession.
I’m frantic, I’m loosing my head, we might die and if we do… it will be my fault!
I’m about to open my mouth before remembering Taylor’s words… 'be sorry later'. I have never wanted to be sorry more in my life. Being sorry means there’s a later to be sorry in.
Please, let this be one of those nightmares the Terrans tell me about!
This isn’t real! I can wake up scared, tap my beak against Qorak’s and then check on Tcakak in her incubator! Please…?
All the deputy Triple Ms armed now, the group makes its way back down the corridor to the balcony door.
Just as the door is about to close, sealing me in here until I’m safe or dead, I call out “Victor!...”
He turns.
“…stay safe! Come back here alive, you hear me!?”
He smiles “That’s the plan, Cap!”
The door closes.