Categories
Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 4

Ik’itili idly kicked her legs in the soft dirt, her work-booted heels making little ruts in the ground. Her leggings were already dirty from fighting that evil Terror-beast, and the sudden voice call from Ngruzren was worth taking a bit of a break to catch up anyway. Admittedly, Ik’itili was hoping to get the gang back together and start hanging out again; ever since Ngruzren had his pups he dropped off the face of the earth…

“[-So then they showed this video of a baby little-needs-protecting and it couldn’t stand and kept falling over-]”

…but she hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise for the past 15 minutes.

“|-ok so-|”

“[-aaaaa and they weigh like nothing at all so when the baby little-needs-protecting would fall it would just land with a pomf and then look around all confused and just-]”

Not that she’d want to – this was gold.

“ÖẘÖ”

As Ngruzren continued to babble about incredibly adorable things, Ik’itili gave the side eye to “Bench”, the evil terror-beast. Her manager, the other handlers, and every little-needs-protecting she ever ran into refused to admit the malice, the pure evil cunning that lay behind those compound eyes.

“ÖẘÖ?”

Ik’itili watched as the pure animalistic evil of the terror-beast’s machinations was made manifest; with malicious purpose Bench beat its’ wings, bumping his head against the aluminum canopy. The shock of the impact caused the animal to float down for just a moment… before evilly attempting it again.

Well. Assumedly evilly attempting it again. Point was, Ik’itili was not going to trust this animal ever, and it’s always better to err on the side of caution.

“|…especially with evil.|”

“[I’m sorry, what?]” Ngruzren said, the confusion of the statement stopping him mid-rant.

Ik’itili sat up on her haunches, slowly standing up to her full height, stretching the knots out of her legs. “|Nothing, nothing. I’m just… the last thing standing between civilized society and the beasts that prowl the night.|”

“[… wait I thought you were a farmhand-]”

“|I am an omni-agricultual facilitation engineer, non-sapient existence technician, bio-genetic disposal professional and a class 2 rated biological assistant.]”

[Yeah. You plant crops, tend animals, shovel shit and are a cheap, talking forklift.]”

Ik’itili paused for a moment, then shrugged. “|. . . Yeah well black fur on you is tacky.|”

There was an over-exaggerated gasp from her friend, followed by a stream of faux-insults. Ik’itili smiled as she walked out of the cage, making a point to look as pure and innocent as possible.

She knew. She knew the mind of evil.

“[-three-feathered crest! That’s what I get for befriending a south-side degenerate like yourself! I bet you’re still sending primary pictures to guys you like-]”

Ik’itili ignored the playful rant, continuing to pretend to be innocent, which, of course, she was. The gentle bonking subsided, and there was an inquisitive flap of wings-on-air.

Good.

“|Mmm, yes, yes. I learned it from you – what was that trick you used to do? Rip a few holes around your scarf so your mane would poke through-|”

Another gasp from her implant, and a playful growl. “[That was high fashion you computer nerd! I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand art-]”

Another wingbeat, this time closer. Ik’itili looked down at her feet, the bright light of the arena casting shadows on the ground.

And one of those shadows grew closer. More defined.

3…

“[-ing to find anyone out there anyway and I doubt you’ll be more flexible as-]”

…2…

“[-flip the switch, the trolley car would just run over-]”

…1…

“[-lled himself Pickled Rick. It was the funniest thing-]”

NOW

“|RAAAAAAAAAAAAA-|” With a mighty roar, Ik’itili squatted and launched herself into the air, clearing the side-railing and the first few rows of bleacher seats, arcing her back and tilting her head to start a slow, controlled backflip. She had practiced this maneuver before because defeating evil and protecting the little-needs-protecting is what she did.

Well. That and resetting the farm’s router.

Òẘó?!” Went Bench, the evil terror-beast, as his natural inquisitive state betrayed him yet again; with a mighty thok Ik’itili slapped the bright blue helmet on the terror-beast’s head, the sound of two hollow coconuts slapping together ringing throughout the auditorium. Bench wobbled in his flight before landing on the ground, his wingbeats kicking up the dust around his form.

Ik’itili landed on her feet, one hand punching into the soft dirt, her muscles flexing as her body ate the force of impact.

“[WAO THAT WAS SO COOL-]”

“[Good heavens I had no idea you could jump that high-]”

“[Momma why did she talk to herself-]”

“[Look buddy if that’s how I have to get flight trained I’m leaving right now-]”

Ik’itili tensed and turned her head, letting out a nervous trill. Standing not 15 feet away from her was her first group of trainees… and the owner of the ranch, Juan Esteban, who was covering his face with his hands.

“|I can… explain.|”

“[Wiggles, you do know that Bench has a roosting command, right?]” Juan sighed, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

“|Well yes, but-|”

“[And that if you had just closed the cage door he wouldn’t have gotten out? As protocol dictates whenever we suit up a terror-beast?]”

“|Certainly, but-|”

“[Not to mention, you haven’t suited up any of the other terror-beasts-]”

“|Well you see-|”

“ÖẘÖ.” Bench the moth added, idly walking along the dirt floor towards the group of little-needs-protectings.

Ik’itili pouted, pointing an accusing claw at the retreating fuzzy little bastard. “|You’re not helping-|”

“[Just… ok. Anyway.]” Juan turned towards the group of flight hopefuls, clapping his hands together. “[We’re a little short-staffed today, so Wiggles is going to be your trainer-]”

“[Wiggles!]” a few of the younger little-needs-protectings chanted, doing that full-body wiggle that made the name worthwhile. Ik’itili smiled, waving a hand in their greeting custom, as the parents and adults… smiled. Kindly.

“[-and before anyone gets concerned, yes, she is flight training rated. Today, however, we’re just going to be doing clutch training.]” Juan continued, reaching over to pet the helmeted head of Bench, the inquisitive moth, as the animal gently poked the humans’ leg.

“[As you can see, this is Bench, and he’s a very friendly fellow.]” Juan emphasized, staring pointedly at Ik’itili as she sassily snapped her teeth at him. “[He’s what we call a training moth; we make it a point to take some of every clutch and have them imprint on multiple people, and have our trainers re-enforce the same commands. This means that he will respond to commands given to him from anyone – as such, please only give commands when you’re in the pilot’s seat.]” Juan kneeled, clasping the helmet’s strap under the moth’s chin with a little click. Bench looked up at the human, somehow seeming more… determined.

“[Wiggles, if you’d continue explaining, I have to go help in the parlor. If anyone has any questions or concerns, Wiggles here is one of our best employees and will make sure you’re all safe and protected. With that-]”

“|Ah, yes. So. Today is clutching training, so nobody will actually be gaining altitude today. The goal of today’s training is to get you used to being …handled by these beasts in a safe and effective manner.|”

“[AAAAAA-]” Ngruzren suddenly yelled, being so kind as to remind his friend that he was still on the call.

“|NGY’’’AH!|” Ik’itili screeched, doing a full-body flail.

The little-needs-protectings flinched, a few of the adults tensing up in a fight-or-flight response. Juan, for his part, just… stared at his farmhand, silently mouthing ‘why can’t you be normal’.

. . .

“|…I can explain.|”

The Karnakian sat against the side of the training barn, sighing as the sun began to set and the wind shifted, the temperature starting to drop. She had finished her 5 hour fill-in, and was… exhausted wasn’t the right word, but the right word was definitely neighbors with it.

“Not bad.”

“[Hmm?]” Wiggles trilled, tilting her head to examine her boss. “[Listen, I know I’m not supposed to take calls on company time, but I wasn’t working with any heavy machinery-]”

“Nah, not that.” Juan said, sitting down next to his larger farmhand. “We all do it, hell, I’m making calls as I walk everywhere. You’re smart enough to know when to go on DND. I mean, more, we only had what, 6 ejections?”

“[I think it would have been fewer, but once we started practicing quick releases a few of our cadets kept angling themselves to be launched into the foam pit.]”

“It is fun, you have to admit.”

“[It’s fun to jump in, sure, but I’m not about to let a couple of those things work in tandem to drop me into a pit.]”

Juan whistled softly, and Wiggles furrowed her brow before relaxing. “That sounds like a terrifying amount of common sense.”

“[Yes, well. All in all, a good day? How did the cows fare?]”

“The girls are fine, but they’re getting spooked by the smoke coming in from the east.” Juan took off his hat, running his hand through his hair again in a worried tic. “I know we’re not going to keep a monopoly on this, I get it, that’s fine, but people are just clear-cutting and burning hectacres of land, sometimes even without a MOTHER in sight.”

“[Don’t you need a slew of permits to start a Moth hatchery?]”

Officially, yes.” Juan Esteban said, frowning. “But my brother, Juan, did some digging because our complaints to district weren’t getting anything done. Apparently they’re not burning to start a moth hatchery, but if a MOTHER just so happens to land and spawn in their bonfire as they’re “clearing” dead brush…”

[Ah.]” Wiggles said, nodding her crest. “[So they suddenly find themselves the ‘lucky’ owners of ‘wild’ moths…]”

Juan Esteban frowned. “There’s too much money for everyone involved right now – farmers, breeders, the entire industry… government too.” He reached down to run his hand through the brittle gray ‘grass’, tiny stalks breaking off in his grip. “They don’t pupate ‘em, Wiggles. They barely raise ‘em, and I’ve yet to see one actually trained. They grab too tight, they fly aggressive-

Wiggles smiled as Juan ranted; it was nice to see him so animated, so passionate about his work. As he continued to talk and complain about … well, a little bit about everything, the wind picked up. It would have been un-noticeable save for a gentle flurry of something that began to gently fall to the ground.

“[W…what?]”

“See? Damnit, what did I just say!” Juan growled, holding out his hand to catch some of the ash. “They’re burning the rooters too hot! A MOTHER doesn’t want to land on the fucking sun, she needs coals!” Juan stood up, coughing at the irritation. “Ah, fuck. Just great – I can’t tell if I’m coughing cause Jim got me fucking sick or if it’s this smoke shit…”

Wiggles hummed to herself, the sickly-sweet taste of the slightly-ashy air filling her lungs. “[Mmmm. I know a guy in code enforcement I could give a call-]”

“You get something about this done – I don’t care if they’re burning, but they don’t need to burn this close to my farm – and you get a month off with pay.”

“[Deal! I’ll give Persimmon a call.]”

“Oh! Oh yeah! How is that stick-in-the-mud doing, nowadays?”

The hallways were busy with the buzz of constant activity, the beeping of machines behind doorways, and of course, professionals moving to and fro in their daily rounds. However, none of them would be confused with anyone in Code Enforcement, because checking in on Persimmon is for next chapter, and we are, of course, in a Hospital.

Ngruzren kept chuckling to himself; Ik’itili was always a bit of a scatterbrain – brilliant, sure, but sometimes she just… forgot things. Forgot to carry an integer, forgot to load a level, or forgot that she was on a call and suddenly launching into a battle-scream would cause anyone else on the other end of the call to freak right out. Surrounded by people. In the cafeteria.

Ngruzren licked her thumb and smoothed out a food stain on his forearm; most of his snack found it’s way onto the ceiling, but a few errant drops on his clothing here or there were to be expected.

“[Well. I hope you all enjoyed your break.]” Dr. Hre’preshn said, cool eyes scanning across the room. “[Everyone’s paperwork is mostly in order, but we should be good to continue for the rest of the day. Everyone excited to continue orientation?]”

Dr. Hre’preshn smiled wide as there was a roar – a reasonable roar – of approval, palpable excitement in the air. “[Excellent, that’s exactly what we like to hear! Our tiny-chomper hosts should be returning in the next few minutes, so let’s all get set up beforehand. If you’ll all log into your consoles and pull up ‘Day 1 – Orientation pt.2’-]”

There was a slight pause as Dr. Hre’preshn tilted his head to the side, before giving the class a knowing nod. There was a change in the atmosphere almost immediately; still excited, sure, but now professionally excited. A few moments later there was a telltale click of a magnetic door lock disengaging, and the sound of 3 sets of small feet.

“[Ah. Welcome back.]”

Dr.Tiny-chomper-wiggle-hands gave a light bow of his head as Dr. Hre’preshn moved away from the podium. To say all eyes were on the tiny-chomper group would be correct, but also a misnomer; they had everyone’s rapt attention.

Exactly as kekaiku.

“[Good afternoon! Our next presentation will also be a bit of a test; you are simply graded for the length of time you pay attention. This is critical, because you are not going to be doing any normal job – this is a hospital, and you will be expected to be professional regardless of the situation that arises.]”

Ngruzren frowned, slightly. If it was boring material, he was used to it – half of what he learned in training already was nothing more than weights, measurements, and appropriate ways to take body temperature. Some more of the same wouldn’t be-

The terminal in front of Ngruzren turned on, suddenly, his implant pinging to life with incredibly low-fidelity audio. A body-cam, apparently.

It was a maternity ward; a tiny-chomper had given birth. The person wearing the body camera was yelling orders, and the group of tiny-chompers were moving as a cohesive unit.

That wasn’t what Ngruzren was noticing, however. There was… blood. So much blood. He was there when his wife gave birth, so he wasn’t… afriad, but. Some viscera from the mother – an umbilical cord of some sort – seemed to be entwined with the newborn…

…and the infant was blue.

“[We have gone over, briefly, how we live once we are born.]”

Dr. Tiny-chomper-wiggle-hands looked over the auditorium with cool, unflinching eyes, watching as people violently turned away from their screens.

“[Now, we will go over, briefly, how we die.]”

Categories
Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 3

“-st, with object permanence forming in our species forming between one and two years after birth. This also, unfortunately, coincides with our inability to recognize danger or things that would cause harm until three years of age or so.”

The screen behind Dr. Nicholas Silver switched to a silent movie – OIH approved, of course – of a human toddler happily walking off of a porch, being saved from certain death just in time by the child’s father. As it played out behind him he scanned the audience, noting the almost universal inhalation of breath, the panicked expressions, followed by the relaxed exhalation of relief.

It seemed that trait, at least, all species shared in common.

Dr. Silver continued to scan the crowd as another video of peek-a-boo played behind him. He wasn’t looking for aliens who were unphased by what he was saying and what they were seeing – by now those who were in the know realized that humans held a special… position in the galactic hierarchy, even if that position was nebulous at times. Quite the contrary, he wanted to make sure everyone in attendance was enthralled by the darling little angels behind him; there was a reason these lectures had a sub 5% pass rate.

That reason being, of course, that nobody saw the other shoe drop.

Dr. Silver smiled to himself as he reached a natural stopping point. “Well, seeing as how I’ve been talking non-stop for the past few hours, how about we take a break here and reconvene after lunch and a rest period. My team and I are going to compare notes, and then begin the second half of today’s lecture… ah. Hmm.”

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr, after 3 hours of the initial lecture, had made a mental note of a few very important things:

(1) Baby tiny-chompers don’t got no bones

(2) Female tiny-chompers carry between 1-2 young per pregnancy, rarely 3, and in extremely rare cases 4. The pregnancy is incredibly difficult for them with even one infant tiny-chomper, and their body is just trying it’s best-

(3) Baby tiny-chompers will sometimes look away from you because the dopamine flood they get from the overwhelming joy of seeing you is sometimes too much

(4) Baby tiny-chompers eyes go the wrong way. Everything is blobs for a long time. This is usually fixed

(5) No bones means pointy heads at birth they have tiny lil pointy head-

“[Excuse me, Sir?]”

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr stopped his uncontrollable full-body wiggle, doing his best to turn on his Serious Presentation Mode(tm) as his console lit up from a button pressed by the tiny-chomper at the podium. “{Yes, Doctor Tiny-chomper-wiggle-hands?}”

“[We just wanted… to make sure you were ok. I don’t know if your high-pitched… noisemaking was disrupting anyone else around you, but we please do ask you to pay attention during the presentation.]” Dr. Tiny-chomper-wiggle-hands said, adjusting his glasses. “[And from what I can tell, you’re currently sitting in an unregistered seat – who are you?]”

Ngruzren stood up, giving a slight bow. “{Ngruzren-of-Arzgr, Doctor. I’m a late addition, but my paperwork is all in order.}”

“[Mm. Yes, well. We’ll get your terminal unlocked during our break here. Please uh… make sure not to disturb your guests.]” Dr. Tiny-chomper-wiggle-hands said seriously, squinting slightly as the light hit his eyes wrong.

Ngruzren bowed again, then took his seat silently. I mean, internally he was screaming with joy because by the First Pack this was information he never knew about tiny-chompers, but still. The handling courses he was taught were basically “if you see an abandoned infant tiny-chomper, pick them up as delicately as physically possible, support their entire body with your arms, place them face-up in a pod and key in an emergency priority code, then wait”. There was nothing on the nuances of their behavior.

Serious Presentation Mode(tm). Gotta keep the mask up. Gotta not let on that this was probably too cute to be legal.

“[So, well. With that out of the way, I’ll turn it over to Dr. [Hre’preshn] to review what we discussed and to keep you entertained until we return. Doctor?]”

The elderly Jornissian made his way back onstage, giving a little deferential bow to the tiny-chomper doctor as he stepped down from the podium. The group of tiny-chompers moved as a unit, collecting bottles of water, paperwork and their chairs, dragging everything backstage in a coordinated… well, that’s a bit of a strong word. Unified? They all moved in the same direction, at least. Without a word the Dr. Hre’preshn pushed back in the step, keeping his torso and head facing forward while he rolled the rest of his body into a coil underneath him.

“[Thank you very much, Dr. Tiny-chomper-wiggle-hands.]” Dr. Hre’preshn said, messing with the control system on the podium to pull up another lecture presentation. “[What will follow is a brief Q&A session during the tiny-chomper’s break period to highlight and reinforce anything you may have missed during the initial lecture.]” Dr. Hre’preshn held up his hand as he talked, both in a commanding gesture… and as if to say “be quiet”. “[I’ve already called Technical Support for the few of you who had issues, and during the lecture I’ve verified paperwork that was coming in. If your seat has an orange indicator light, please come up to the front for assistance…]”

The Jornissian’s head turned slightly; the auditorium was silent, save for the light residual echo of his words, and every listener subconsciously turned an ear to hear for something.

There was a click. A door closing.

“[Wait.]” Dr. Hre’preshn said, his hand still held out, middle digit ticking off a timer only he could see in his mind. After a few agonizing moments there was the click of the doors automatically locking, and the Doctor’s body language changed completely.

Dr. Hre’preshn grinned, widely. “[Alright, let it all out.]”

There was the briefest of silences before someone in the front just screamed. This was the signal, and the entire class erupted in a cacophony of screams, flailed limbs, excited burts of noise and a general consensus of ‘there’s no heckin’ way’. Ngruzren-of-Arzgr would later swear up, down, left, right and center that he remained dignified, professional and personable throughout the entire training series.

He was just grabbing the nearest seat-mate to him – a Karnakian – and full-body wiggling with him in unison. Professional unison.

Dr. Hre’preshn laughed, giving a little bit of applause as well. No one realized he was in on the act; no one realized the encouragement was part of the production.

And that was the entire point.

“Oi! Wiggles!”

Ik’itili sighed, if only internally. The first few years with that name were fine, adorable even; juvenile little-needs-protectings calling out her name, sometimes even acting it out was precious and absolutely worth the snickering from her peers at the name she was given. The adults would say her name with a smile, and the story of how she got it was, of course, fascinating. Also got her a few drinks, if she was being honest.

“Wiggles? You in there?”

However, that was then and this is now and after a human decade worth of the name, it had gotten old. She already petitioned the government to change her translated name, and she got that request finalized about 2 years ago – She was Wiggles no more; “Bright Sunset” spoke more to her charming personality and overall lifestyle. Ik’itili had happily shared that update with her friends, family, and of course, her little-needs-protectings.

That apparently didn’t matter. That especially didn’t matter to Juan Esteban Aleman, Father of Mothing, Owner of TTT Ranch and Manager of an incredibly nonplussed Karnakian who was staring off into space.

“Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-”

Ik’itili’s eyes refocused, and she sighed again. “[I’m here, Juan.]”

“You doin’ alright?” Juan said, turning around and hopping up to sit on a stack of hay bales. “I know doing the mindless tasks is a bit of a pain, but the feed needs to go out to the dairy barn if we’re going to try to grow the herd this year.”

“[What? Yes, I’m fine.]” Ik’itili picked up a commercial-sized roll of hay – a feat that would require heavy machinery to do otherwise – and tossed it onto the back of a flatbed transport, adding to the stack already on the vehicle. “[Sorry, just zoned out there for a moment.]”

“Awh, that’s alright Wiggles, we all have those moments.” Juan smiled, taking off his hat and smoothing down his sweat-slicked black hair. “And I’m sorry we don’t have nothin’ as fun as programming drones or handling security; I know that’s much more up your alley.”

“[Eh. I’m here for the long game.]”

“And we appreciate it, truly.”

There was a brief pause as Ik’itili bent forward to pick up another rolled bale of hay. Juan said nothing, and Ik’itili shrugged and began to heft the dried straw up –

“So Jim called in sick today-”

Thump went the hay onto the ground as Ik’itili groaned. “[Oh come on. Juan, you know I’m no good when it comes to training-]”

Juan held up his hands in a placating gesture, nodding his head forward. “I know, I know. He’s apparently come down with something, probably just a headcold from the sound of it, but we asked him to stay home because we don’t want it spreading – especially not to our customers.” Juan leaned back, propping himself up on his hands. “So, point being is that we don’t have anyone to cover, and it’s just clutch training today.”

“[No flight?]”

“No flight. At least, no scheduled flight training, but…”

“[Juan.]”

“Bench is in rotation.”

“[Juan! That terror-beast is the most ornery, maladjusted, evil little-]”

Juan laughed, leaning forward. “Wiggles! Are you listening to yourself?! He’s not evil, you just keep spooking him!”

The karnakian lowered her body, baring her teeth and frilling her feathers in an over-exaggerated aggressive display. “[Don’t believe his lies-]”

“Wiggles, Wiggles. Please. Wiggles.” Juan reached forward, gently patting his subordinate on the snout. “It’s just for a few hours, and then you can cut off for the rest of the day. Deal?”

Ik’itili frowned.

“ÖẘÖ.”

Ik’itili frowned. After a few minutes of back-and forth for the sake of pretending this would be a giant pain in the tail to do, Ik’itili found herself in the flight training barn – one of 7 that dotted the landscape. The floor was mostly loosely packed dirt – the kind that had some give if you took a dive – with a sharp line of demarcation bisecting the circular training area. The other half of the training area was a deep pit, filled with cast-off foam squares; logic being that if you needed to take a high fall it was better to cannonball into a foam pit from 30 feet up as opposed to, well.

“ÖẘÖ?”

“|Don’t you take that tone of voice with me.|”

The terror-beast hung upside down in front of Ik’itili inside the giant Barn, on a specialized rack that mimicked their native perching habitat. As Mothing was a hot new sensation sweeping the nation, TTT ranch was doing it’s best to standardize practices across the planet. From proper hatching techniques to animal husbandry using military equipment, new ideas were tested, adapted and adopted to provide the highest quality experience from silken egg to full-grown adult terror-beast. What TTT ranch had found over the past 20 years was that, in the end, with all the advancements of technology, there was absolutely nothing that could replace hands-on training.

Hence, the Barn… and the trainee moths.

Ik’itili opened up the giant cage, the terror-beast’s antennae moving independently of each other to identify the new guest. It’s body was a muted gray, but as a trainee moth it had a bright red vest on – unlike service animal vests, this one encouraged touching, the vest sporting multiple hand-holds and straps to help the new rider feel safe in the arms of an admittedly dim animal.

“|Now look, I don’t like you and you don’t like me…|”

“Òẘó.” Bench, the trainee moth said, somehow furrowing brows that didn’t exist in defiance.

“|But I’m going to have to pull you out of this cage and get you prepared for the day-|” Ik’itili moved her hand from behind her back, producing the final part of the training moth’s “uniform”: a bright blue helmet with a small, flashing light on top. The purpose of the helmet was twofold: On one hand, as a moth with new ‘riders’ the likelyhood that it would be taking dives into the dirt was a certainty, and the helmet was to protect the animal. On the other, it was to identify this moth and rider as brand-new to the sport; the other training moths would give it a wide berth and other riders would know not to get close to the unpredictable duo.

However, the lettering around the helmet that said “PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME; I HAVE MOTHISM” seemed a bit redundant.

“|Now, all I need you to do is just hold still and let me put this on-|”

It was only a whisper of a touch, a small fraction of air current moved the wrong way, but apparently the signal that Bench’s antennae received told it’s brain to go from “resting but curious” to “BOOK IT”. With a tremendous flap of its’ wings the terror-beast launched itself at the unprepared Karnakian, headbutting the poor girl halfway through her sentence. Ik’itili accepted her fate, letting the animal bowl her over into the soft dirt below. With another triumphant wingbeat Bench flew out of the cage, gaining altitude in the enclosed Barn, performing lazy circles in the still air.

Ik’itili rested on the dirt, a nonplussed look on her face. She would have been surprised, if this kind of crap didn’t happen to her every single ti-

Pip

Oh. An indicator – from Ngruzren?

Ik’itili sat up, resting on her legs as she mentally commanded her implant to answer the call. She still had a few minuntes before any of the other little-needs-protectings would come in for their orientation, and it would be good to catch up with an old friend. He’d dropped off the face of the planet ever since having his pups – which was to be expected – so mayb-

“[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-]”

Ik’itili found herself on her back, again, as her ears rang from a sound that formed only in her mind.

It was going to be one of those days, wasn’t it.

Categories
Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 2

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr inhaled the fresh air deeply, then sighed.

The bright warm sun bathed his tired frame, sounds of the city melting into a comfortable background haze. His pups – all five of them – harassed each other in the bubble cart, it’s deep bowl-shaped reinforced cloth basket squirming as his children burned off what seemed to be an endless amount of energy trying to burrow through the basket and possibly each other.

Ngruzren, for his part, looked every bit the new father; on his back he wore a pack filled to the brim with toys, food, medical supplies and multiple changes of clothing (for both him and his young), his outfit put together to achieve maximum comfort while still being street legal. Idly, in the back of his mind, he was certain there were a few stains on his robe or his leggings, but… but he was far too tired to care.

“{Rabla!}”

“{I’m not talking to you, you little bastard.}” Ngruzren sweetly smirked, resting his hand on his fifth daughter and gently pushing her down into the stroller-cart. He was rewarded with a chorus of ecstatic squeals and a half-dozen little paws scratching at his hand and wrist, and Ngruzren laughed to himself as he fussed with his children before removing the attacking limb.

“{Seriously though. I don’t even know how you got between those couch cushions…}”

Ngruzren sighed once more. Yes, his pups were little shits, and yes they were worth it, but damn if it wasn’t so much work. He’d burned half the day doing basically nothing: caring for a single non-threatening head wound, finding his lost daughter burrowed under the couch cushions, then getting them all fed and cleaned – If you had asked him, Ngruzren would swear that he woke up before dawn to get a head start on the day, and yet now here he was, trying to get out of the house to find some place nice to eat lunch.

Alone.

“{Well, aren’t you great at putting yourself down.}” Ngruzren said to himself, reaching behind the cart to pull it’s transparent shield over the top. His species learned millenia ago that leapers meant leapers, and the last thing any father needs is his children orchestrating an impromptu prison break once they get their back legs fully developed. Checking his pockets once more to make sure he had everything necessary for the excursion ahead, Ngruzren stepped out into the sidewalk proper, pushing his cart of pups before him, the gate to his starter home locking automatically behind him. The excitement of being out and about at first had a calming effect, as each pup stared bright-eyed at the flora, fauna, buildings and other sapients that passed them by.

This docile effect lasted, at best guess, about 2 minutes at most. With a full-body wiggle one of his pups bounded – well, leapt – eer. Her legs aren’t that developed, so let’s just generously call it a hop with ambition and gently booped her whole head against the soft reinforced rim of the basket. This was apparently the sign that all of Ngruzren’s other pups were waiting for; within a few seconds each pup was leaping, hopping or just plain full-body wiggling in an attempt to escape the bubble-cart and see the wide world around them. The more Ngruzren pushed the stroller, the more animated his pups became, tiny little balls of mottled fur popping up into the clear plastic top shell before gravity inexorably pulled them back down onto their sisters.

Ngruzren exchanged polite pleasantries with the people who walked by, every so often stopping to let an older mother or father playfully poke at the clear dome much to his pups’ delight. It was an ideal day in an ideal city on an ideal planet, and he was living an arguably ideal life with all his needs taken care of.

And yet.

Ngruzren waved kindly to the elderly Jornissian couple as they finished cooing over his pups, another soft sigh escaping his lips. Everything was going “right” for him, and he really had nothing to complain about at all – so why did he feel so empty? Was it really just him being so needy as to have to have a wife with him at all times? Was he always this boring? Or was this all there was to life? Is it so wrong to want more? What doth life-

smek

Ngruzren frowned as an errant piece of litter – an ad, it seems – pressed up against his pups’ pushcart. They attacked it with ineffective and curious zeal, of course, and Ngruzren quickly snatched it away. Turning it over in his hands he hummed, softly.

*

[WE NEED VOLUNTEERS]

[ARE YOU A [HUMAN] TRAINED PROFESSIONAL?]

[DO YOU HAVE A CARING AND NURTURING SIDE?]

[GENTLE EXPANSE NEEDS NURSES FOR MIXED-SERVICES HOSPITALS AND CLINICS]

[INQUI-]

*

Ngruzren turned the ripped sheet over in his hands – apparently someone else had pulled out the contact information – and thought for a moment.

He did have free time to volunteer.

He was a tiny-chomper trained professional.

He was already caring and nurturing pups, on his own, so-

Ngruzren nodded, pulling up his implants’ HUD as he started to walk to a transportation hub with purpose. “{Search term: tiny-chomper nurse practitioner opening…}”

The door to the hospital side entrance opened up silently, a gentle chime and the change of air pressure the only indication that someone stepped through. Multi-species hospitals were, by their nature, built to the lowest common denominator of every species, made to accept the widest variance possible of the sum total. Therefore, doors were unreasonably wide, tables are far too low, vending machines are boring, seating arrangements were universally uncomfortable, and almost to a clinic the walls were just… bland. Eventually, once you were put into a more species-appropriate wing things became more tailored to your genetic triggers, but until then the cold beige welcome room screamed professionalism, and that was absolutely fine for everyone who came in and for those who worked there.

“[Um, Hello?]”

Rrr’ssrpprinsse looked up from her terminal, the sky-blue and white Jornissian shaking the notifications out of her vision. Standing before her on the soft foam floor was a Male Dorarizin, an obviously confused look on his face. “[Ah, I’m sorry. Welcome to Caring Touch Hospital and Clinic.]” She gave the male a quick once-over, noting no limping, tilting, unfortunate discharges or flaking fur, then noticed the still-rambunctious bowl of pups-

“[Oh! Here for a checkup? Do you have an appointment, Mr…-]”

“[No, no. Eer, I’m Ngruzren-of-Arzgr, but I don’t have an appointment.]” Ngruzren gently placed a torn ad on the countertop. “[I saw this, and I was wondering-]”

Rrr’ssrpprinsse sighed, rippling her neck in a gentle no. “[Oh lightspice, hon, unless you’ve got a tier 3 handling clearance-]”

“[Oh! But I do – you can run me through the system, I used to be a tour guide – an unaccompanied one – for the warm-cuddles. Ngruzren-of-Arzgr, ID#: 255-7’’-$~~4@-]”

“[Ah, I got you, I got you.]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse interrupted, pulling up the public file of the citizen before her and giving it a very quick once-over. “[Yeah, it seems like you’re more than experienced – sorry. You have to forgive me, once those ads were placed we got a flood of well, everyone wanting to play doctor with the warm-cuddles. I’m Rrr’ssrpprinsse, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Arzgr.]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse raised herself up, giving a slight professional bow to the young father. The Dorarizin copied the bow, uncertainly, his pups bouncing around with the infinite energy of youth.

“[So, uh, congratulations? You’ve basically passed the first few hurdles-]”

“[Wait, there’s no interview process or vetting-]”

“[Oh! No, no there definitely is-]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse leaned down, working the controls on her console. “[We’ve… well, talk about luck, we’ve got a new hire orientation going on right now. It’s the first step after warm-cuddle handling qualification – which you’ve already passed, and your cert is still good – so we can just slide you in there.]”

“[Uuuhhh…]” Ngruzren blinked, looking down at his basket of pups, rolling his shoulder to let the bag of supplies he was carrying drop to the ground. “[I am in no way prepared for an interview, Rrr’ssrpprinsse – ma’am. I just wanted to inquire-]”

“[Mr. Arzgr, it’s not an interview. We ask all prospective new hires to sit in through about 10 days of orientation to understand what we’re actually asking them to do, and the ones that stick through it are the ones that are then interviewed for positions. We find that this sifts out all those who are here out of curiosity from those who are called to help. The lucky part is that we’ve just started a new round, so you can begin at the beginning. If you’re not interested, then it…]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse checked her terminal, hands flying over the keys. “[It’ll be another few months before we open up for another orientation round.]”

Ngruzren grimaced. “[10 days…]”

There was a pregnant pause as Ngruzren looked down at his pups, letting out another sigh. “[I don’t think I’m able to make that commitmen-]”

Rrr’ssrpprinsse thought for a moment. “[You know, we have an on-site nursery that’s free for employees-]”

“[DEAL.]”

Rrr’ssrpprinsse chuckled, rumbling as she shrank back down. “[Wonderful. Give me a few minutes and we’ll go drop off your pups and get you into class.]”

To the uninitiated – or those just passing by – it looked like Ngruzren was just talking to a giant pile of baby supplies sitting on a desk.

“[-and Rgez needs to be fed at least twice an hour-]”

“[Sir-]”

But to anyone who bothered to dig under said supplies, you would find one very bemused Karnakian day care receptionist processing a waiver for a new batch of young Dorarizin pups.

“[Gragd only likes minced food; she’s not on solid just yet-]”

“[Sir-]”

Of course, Ngruzren had no reason to use day care up until this point; it was very much an alien concept to him, and so he just defaulted to what he knew: Treat the adult like they’re a babysitter, give them the run down, and pray no one gets hurt while you’re out on a date night.

“[-to be laid down for a nap, even if Re-]”

“[Sir.]”

Ngruzren tensed up a bit before relaxing, looking appropriately sheepish. “[Sorry, I just-]”

“[Sir, it’s all right. We’ve got 80 other pups that we take care of on a daily basis; I’m certain another 5 won’t be an issue.]” T’ciki’briiki said, laughing softly, her sandy yellow-orange feathers shaking with joy. “[Trust me, you’re not the first new father to do a drop off, everyone will be fine. I promise.]”

“[I just… alright.]” Ngruzren said with a certain twinge of defeat, rolling his stroller of pups to the side of the reception desk. “[I’ve just never, yanno.]”

“[I know. Trust me, I know.]” T’ciki’briiki said, gently pulling the stroller of pups to her side. “[We’ll put them in a play den within view of others their age, get them used to the attention and smell and then tag’em and let them out.]”

“[Well, socialization is important…]”

“[There, see?]” T’ciki’briiki smiled, crest rising with joy. “[And they’ll be isolated for the first few days, so there won’t be any teething accidents, and everything is under camera and full-spectrum monitoring. If something happens, we’ll know before these little ones even do.]”

Ngruzren stood there, at the desk, a tablet slid gently under his hand, the text on the screen gently but insistently asking for his permission to sign various forms. He looked back at his pups, the basket of wet noses and soft eyes all looking at their father in unison, knowing not what was going on but that it was a change and that change needed an adult to manage.

“[Mr. Arzgr, we need to go soon.]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse said softly. “[We can skip the initial paperwork signing and filing, but once the presentation starts the doors are locked.]”

Ngruzren looked at his pups, hard, and then at the form. With a titanic effort, he scribbled his signature, pressing his hand against the screen to record his biometric consent.

“[I’ll be back soon, sweetmeats, I promise. Be good, ok?]”

Ngruzren was strong enough to not look back once he walked out, which was to his credit.

Ngruzrenwas not strong enough to stop second-guessing himself once his pups began to cry.

The Jornissian pressed her keycard against the door, pushing it open with her free hand, the muffled voice behind the threshold suddenly ringing out clearly into the hallway.

“[-to help with further integration. I don’t need to explain to you all how delicate the tiny-chompers are; their physical attributes are weaker, yes, but do belie a surprising amount of resilience and strength. The goal over the course of these sessions is to introduce you to the tiny-chompers without the veneer of propaganda,-]”

Rrr’ssrpprinsse pointed to an empty seat near the back-middle of the auditorium, giving Ngruzren a reassuring pat on his forearm. The Dorarizin nodded his thanks, silently slipping into the room.

“[-to show you the state they will arrive in, and to truly explain to you what this job will demand of you. You cannot coddle them, you cannot make excuses for them, and you cannot let them break you; there will be those we save, and those we lose, and you need to be ok with both of those outcomes.]” The elderly Jornissian presenter, a doctor by the look of his uniform, switched to the next slide, the auditorium-wall sized presentation deck landing on it’s end slide.

Ngruzren took his seat, the terminal before him lighting up to ask for his login information… which he absolutely didn’t have. Frowning slightly, he turned on his own implant, recording everything he could for further note-taking later.

“[Without further delay, I’d like to present to you the first group of tiny-chompers who are going to be touring with us over the next few months; these doctors and nurses will be teaching us all through experience what you are expected to learn on your own through structured education and training. Tiny-chompers?]”

At that announcement, a door to the side of the stage opened up, a group of four tiny-chompers making their way to the center of the stage. The Jornissian presenter moved out of the way, giving the first tiny-chomper – a male, from the looks of it – a deferential bow. He walked up to the podium, flanked by three other tiny-chompers – another male and two females – all of which looked professional, well-groomed and totally nonplussed as they scanned the room. The first tiny-chomper reached down and did something at the base of the podium, then stepped up to it…

…oh. Oh. It was a pull-out step.

“[Aww…]” Ngruzren murmured, resting his chin in his hand.

“[Good day to you all. I am Doctor Tiny-chomper-wiggle-hands. Behind me are Nurses Tiny-chomper-sassy-slaps, Tiny-chomper-needle-poke and Tiny-chomper-lookit-him-jump. You are all well trained in how to handle, especially physically, our species. This course, as Dr. Hre’preshn stated, is to show you a deeper view into tiny-chomper physiology. Whereas all of you are trained in handling sapients who are sane, calm and collected, you will now be expected to handle us when we are dying, insane and in fear. In short, the worst and most vulnerable parts of tiny-chompers will be on display.]”

The slideshow started again, and a gasp – not of shock but of joy – rippled through the audience.

“[So we’re going to start with the most vulnerable of the vulnerable.]”

On the screen, on full display, were about a half-dozen tiny-chomper infants.

“[Now, in regards to infant behavior…]”

Categories
Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 1

The outpost stood, alone, in the middle of a small airstrip, in the middle of a meadow, in the middle of nowhere.

The beauty of having a robust Planetary Defense Force, or PDF, that could respond to almost any incident anywhere on the planet within the hour was that you put out problems before they became major issues, you had a decent clamp-down on illegal activity, accidental deaths dropped and the PR it generated basically sold itself.

The bad part about that is that someone has to man the stations that are out in the middle of absolutely nowhere – “nowhere” being “at least 1 hour by flight in any direction to anything interesting” on this particular planet.

Pip

-”[-ng the Iron Rock River. The new mixed development will provide more space for the tiny-chompers on [Gentle Expanse] to spread out in what is considered a ‘traditional rural community development’, with quick access via sky taxi to the center of the city 15 minutes aw-]”

However, the one constant to all these stations, be they floating in the sea or hewn out of the mountain, was a television in the mess hall/break room; the screen of which could be shrunk down to a personal viewport or, as it was now, enlarged to encompass the entire wall.

Pip

-”[-orial for what is widely being called [Mothhennacht], or “Night of the Giant Fuck-off Moth”. Twenty years ago today the Mother was awoken by an unfortunate but opportune industrial accident, and the repercussions of that night live on both in the hearts and minds of our populace, but also in the industries that have come from it. So far, four other Mothers have been identified on our world, and I’m certain with enough care and guidance we can co-exist peacefully with ea-]”

The Dorarizin female who was switching through the channels was, by and large, a rookie – only 15 years on the force. Hey, when your lifespan is measured in centuries, a decade and a half is basically an internship.

Pip

-”[-The good earth. Yes, I’m Juan Esteban – the Juan Esteban, inventor of Mothing and the current CEO of the Moth-racer’s league. I understand that in recent years, there’s been a surge of popularity in the sport, which is good. It’s what our ancestors would have wanted. But the one thing they wouldn’t want would be questionable standards, bad farmin’, and illegal moth breeding.]” The commercial continued with a vision of the setting sun, human livestock lowering their heads to graze on the “grass”, looking up at the camera with a grimace as they chewed the native foliage available to them. An older Juan Esteban, mid-20’s, stood leaning on a somehow-rustic fencepost, his tanned skin glistening in the sun, very obvious fake country drawl pouring from his lips. “[We here at Tierra Tara Terra Farms, the first farm on the planet, know a thing or two about sustainable harvesting and responsibility. Our moths are char-spawned, hand-pupated and raised with love and respect, able to form that flight-bond with their owner as sure as tea is sweet. So make sure you buy Triple-T rated Moths-]”

But it would be idiocy to let a rookie man a “remote” station by herself. So thankfully – luckily – she had a team with her. The only issue was, most of them were asleep or out on patrol.

Pip

-”[Coming around the second gate. Number 7, Kemosabe, is in the lead, with number 18 Lame Cerberus just behind. Both racers are going to have to direct their candlesticks at an almost 90 degree skyward tilt if they’re going to go for the extra loop-]”

“{Oh what? Finally. Hey Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh, when did they move [Mothing] to channel 87?}” Grzeren-of-Regren said, tilting her head back to make sure her voice carried over the announcer. There was a noncommital grunt of a response, followed by the shuffling of feet as the Dorarizin in question shambled over.

“{I have no clue, but I guess it got moved from the cultural section to the sport section.}” Zngrer murmured, taking a sip of her drink. “{Still though, I don’t like it.}”

“{Well, I mean, you were there, right?}” Grzeren said, grinning. “{Like, you saw it happen, you saw the tiny-chomper war machine, you saw-}”

“{Yeah, I was there, and yeah, you read the report the same as I gave it.}” Zngrer sighed. “{Every year, every new rookie, the same damn questions. Yes, I was there, yes, the tiny-chomper war machine held it back, no I don’t know how it worked, yes that’s incredible, no I did not single-handedly fight back the terror-beasts, no I did not catch a tiny-chomper elder before she fell a building, no there were no more additional explosions. Anything else?}”

Grzeren-of-Regren thought to herself for a bit. True, she was a rookie – especially compared to the decorated veteran that she was partnered with for the night shift, and due to a stroke of luck they were alone for the next hour or two – but it was obvious that she wasn’t asking anything new. She needed to impress, needed to get herself noticed, and this was a prime opportunity to do so.

“{Ah, well. What good thing did come of [Mothhennacht]?}”

With an unceremonious thump Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh sat down on the seat next to her, leaning forward to watch the screen with idle interest. “{Nothing, except my husband.}”

Grzeren’s shoulders perked up a bit at that. “{Oh! Right – that’s one impressive first date, to be honest.}”

Zngrer laughed, leaning back. “{Yeah, can’t top that at all… but see? See?}” The special operations veteran pointed to the screen, where a dazzler, or a human whose sole purpose was to sew chaos among the other racers, had begun to twirl and wave his candlestick around his group to such a distracting degree that the majority of the racers lost momentum. “{This stuff right here is what I don’t like – if this was somehow strongly regulated, then this would be ok-}” Zngrer grimaced as one of the racers slammed into the “soft” dirt track below, harness detaching to let the moth sail free from the impact. Wordlessly she turned towards Grzeren, motioning at the screen with a “exactly this type of bullshit” look on her face. “{My point is made for me-}”

Grzeren-of-Regren shrugged. “{I mean, it’s not hurting any- well. Ah. They seem ok with it?}” She weakly corrected, tilting her head to the side noncommittally. “{Someone will step in if it gets too bad, right?}”

“{Oh you sweet child.}”

“{What?}”

Zngrer grunted again, taking a deep draught of her drink, letting the drone of the tiny-chomper announcer fill the silence. “{I miss him, you know.}”

“{What… the… r-racer?}”

Zngrer looked at the rookie quizzically, shaking her head. “{What? No. My husband, you idiot.}”

“{Oh? Right, didn’t you just have some pups recently?}”

Zngrer nodded. “{Yeah. Well, recent is … time flies. Most of ‘em are still burrowers, but we’re starting to see a few leapers in there too.}”

“{Oh wow. Time does go quick – I thought you just came back from maternity leave.}” Grzeren said, leaning back in her chair. “{So they’re starting to become an armful, eh?}”

“{Mmm. I’d know better if central stopped sending me out on deployment for so fucking long.}”

Grzeren flinched, grimacing. “{Ye-yeah… damn, I’m sorry. But at least the other girls are helping out, right?}”

“{Ah, we’re a single pack right now-}”

“{Wait. Wait.}” Grzeren said, holding up her drink to interrupt. “{You’ve got a stud of a male at home, which sucks but ok, fine. But now he’s basically a single father? How the hell does he manage?}”

Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh, “heroine of Mothennacht”, First Wife to an absolute stunning male, mother of 5 and actively-deployed special operations PDF soldier shrugged. “{Well enough, I hope.}”

The Dorarizin moved with purpose through the small starter home, cradling a wailing child in his arms. The small volleyball sized drone followed him, a grey-muzzled older male half-smiling on it’s surface.

“{DAD. DAD. DAD. DAD.}”

“{Son I’m going to let you finish but you need to calm down-}” The orb said, a smile on the father’s digital face.

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr, “Tipo of Mothennacht”, Husband-Den-Patriarch to a strong and beautiful female, father of 5 and actively-freaking-out temporarily single parent, growled. “{No I will not calm down she’s bleeding-}”

“{Ah.}” Dzgranra-of-Arzgr said, the wisdom of years of child rearing coming to bear. “{You know, pups just do that.}”

His words of wisdom were ignored, the new father pulling out a ridiculously large first aid case, cracking it open to rummage around the contents inside. “{No, no, this is bad – I need to go to the hospital – stop fighting you little shit-}” Ngruzren scolded his middle daughter, being rewarded with a wail, tiny scratches and ineffective bites as he attempted to apply first aid to what looked like a nasty head wound.

“{Son, look. If she’s still moving she’s fine.}”

“{Bleeding from the head, DAD.}”

Dzgranra sighed, rubbing the side of his muzzle. “{How do I reach these kids~}”

“{Ok, ok, ok sweetmeats shh let me – ok it looks like it’s just a scratch but it was bleeding so much-}”

“{Like I said, son. Pups just do that.}” The talking orb helpfully repeated, lowering it’s hover just a bit to get on eye-level. “{It’s your first round, I understand. Trust me, I understand. Just wait until your first stomach bug goes through the den – that’s terrifying.}”

“{Nnnnnnnnnnnn-}” Ngruzren said, an involuntary shudder crawling down his spine. “{Oh. Oh no.}”

“{Mmhmm. Look, pups fight, it’s just what they do – burrowers aren’t even old enough to realize that their claws and bites can hurt, and the instinct to den up is strong. She’s fine, you’re fine, they’re all fine.}”

Ngruzren moved his hand away from his daugher’s head, the bleeding slowing to a trickle. With unpracticed, concerned eyes he scanned her, noting to his chagrin that the pup was more distressed over being handled and “roughhoused” by her father than from the actual bite to the head she suffered from her sibling.

“{See? It’s fine.}”

“{Yeah It’s just…}” Ngruzren sighed, his body seeming to shrink slightly under an invisible weight. “{It’s so hard, Dad. I love her, I really do, but she’s gone now for weeks, sometimes a month at a time-}”

“{Well, you can always start working on getting another female for the den, son.}” The Dzgranra-dad-orb helpfully bobbed in the air. “{You should do so anyway – nobody likes seeing you run down like this.}”

“{Firstly, I just got this wife and these pups, I don’t need another. Not right now at least.}”

“{Damn. There goes my secret plan to have yet more grandchildren.}”

Ngruzren smiled. “{Yeah, well. I’m also… I’m still young! And I didn’t finish my degree – don’t.}” Ngruzren said, interrupting his father’s inhale. “{- all I’m saying is, is that I’m fine with a traditional den and clan, I’m deeply in love with my wife, I adore my pups, but I don’t want to settle down and be homemaker – not now, at least.}”

“{Well son, to be honest you should have come to that conclusion before you had pups.}” Dzgranra chided, gently. “{I don’t really think there’s much options to you without another female in the picture, and once you get her in the picture she’ll be wanting her own pups, and then it kinda spirals out of control from there.}”

“{You’d think someone would have figured out how to stop that from happening by now.}”

Dzgranra grinned. “{You’d think, and yet, here we are. And judging by my fussy little grandpup in your arms, I think she’s tired of being held-}”

“{Ah.}” Ngruzren held his middle pup up – well, middle in terms of birth, but they were all the same age – giving her the once-over once again. He was rewarded with a vocal yowp, and more squirming. “{Well that ended quickly.}”

“{I told you.}” The Dad-orb said, following his son out from the side-room back into the lower den. Most of the furniture had been pushed back, and a makeshift canvas jungle-gym/ball pit was in it’s place. Kneeling, Ngruzren gently placed his daughter in the loose cloth scrap pit, and with a squeal of delight the pup began to “burrow” down, the fastened straps of canvas mimicking the soft loam his far ancestors would have used eons ago.

“[Yeah. Thanks, Dad.}”

“{No problem son. Ah.}”

Ngruzren turned towards his father. “{What?}”

“{Sorry, it’s just a quirk of mine – a habit, really, but, I always do a headcount once I come back from another room and I have no minder.}”

“{Oh. Let’s see. One, two three four. Uh. One.}” Ngruzren said, lifting the top of the canvas jungle-gym “mountain” to uncover his first pup. “{Two I just dropped in, Three and four…}” With a little more rummaging around the pile he was rewarded with teething nips and happy yips. “{Five? Where’s five. WHERE IS FIVE – DAD-}”

“{I’m never getting off this call with you, am I?}”

“{DAD I’M MISSING A PUP-}”

“{Well it’s not like they’re gonna go anywhere! Did you check behind the couch? Find your baby and some change?}”

“{DAD NOT NOW-}”

Categories
Stories They are Smol

They are Smol – And it’s a Smol World After All. Epilogue, Part 3

The alarm clock – or what we would call an alarm clock – went off at 6AM, it’s gentle waterfall and rustling wind tone getting louder and louder as time marched inexorably forward.

The blanket den did not stir, so much as it exploded – pillows and blankets, fuzzpods and compression padding launching into the air and falling haphazardly across Ngruzren-of-Arzgr’s room. With a happy nonsensical noise the dorarizin male launched himself out of his bed, Ngruzren having woken up almost an hour before his alarm was supposed to go off.

The formerly-a-snooze-button-menace known as the alarm clock longed for the days when it got to be an annoyance, the Dorarizin almost daintly skipping over to the shelf it was placed on and stopping it’s wakeup routine with a gentle press.

“{Ssssh. That’s enough out of you for today~}”

The faux window began to open of it’s own accord, and Ngruzren stood there, mock-opening it with his outstretched arms. With a happy little wiggle he spun around, letting the daylight of a random alien world wash over his unkempt body. Today was the day! Today was the day!

No human would describe the sound that came out of the Dorarizin as a “happy little squeal”; if anything it was the sound of a vehicle spinning off a tarmac while it’s crankshaft shattered the transmission, but to the lad, his family and the entire Dorarizin species it was, well. Adorable.

With a single bound he leapt into his private bathroom, his paw haphazardly slapping the lights on as he dashed to the counter to begin his daily grooming ritual. It would be quick – two groomings in a day usually means the second one is quicker than the first – but he would still take his time. Everything has to be perfect, after all, because today was the day.

His brand-new brushbar worked out what few kinks and matted fur his anxiety-nap caused, Ngruzren grumbling softly to himself at his jitters. VR hadn’t helped, the GalNet hadn’t helped, he finished all his coursework, cleaned his room twice, helped with his little brothers and sisters – by the pale moon, he even helped his dad cook, much to his astonishment, and that only killed a few hours at best!

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr studied himself, his Navy Blue eyes looking over every inch of his nude body. He kept the Vantablack mane dye, the blue-on-black contrast drawing attention up to his eyes. With not inconsiderable skill he let it fade as you drew your gaze down his torso until his natural dust-blue fur took over, it’s gentle muted tones giving him an overall look of a captive droplet of space, landed to earth. He smiled as he checked himself again – a light white highlight at the tip of his tail and the beginning of white highlights just above his belt line…

…well. The message would be received. Surely. Yeah? Right? Right. Yeah. Sure.

Oh by the first pack you’re dressing like a slut oh no what if Mom sees – what if Dad sees-

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr inhaled deeply, resting the heels of his paws on the counter, letting his weight settle until he was rewarded with a light, protesting crack from the strain.

“{Calm down.}”

He looked at himself in the mirror again, staring into his deep blue eyes.

“{You’re the lord of the hunt.}”

Ngruzren smiled softly, tilting his head in a practiced come-hither look, raising his brushbar to slightly muss up his mane in that ‘wild yet styled’ look that was all the rage.

“{It’s just a date. You’ve had plenty of those before. It’s just a date.}”

He locked eyes with his reflection for a brief moment, looking his absolute sexiest…

…before gripping the brushbar with both hands, pulling it tightly to his chest and letting out another happy squeal

“{Aaaaaahhhhh it’s a Daaaaaate~}”

Dzgranra-of-Arzgr was an accomplished homemaker. He had married young – well, relatively young, given his people lived at or just past a thousand years old – and therefore had seen it all. I mean it.

Look. If you think raising a single human from larvae to negaqueen is a hassle, again – three dozen pups. He had seen it all, learned how to cope, stared into the void and then started aggressively mocking it for being such a little bitch, it’s just some projectile vomit, it’s not that bad just get the mop-

Dzgranra-of-Arzgr shook his head a bit, a soft smile on his lips. He had seen it all, and Ngruzren was not his first boy, nor was he his first boy to be courted, properly. Every species had their dance when it came to this, and it varied from clan to clan and from planet to planet. Some people did the old “threatening-not-threatening” you, some demanded a payment to prove the courtier was on the up-and-up (with such bribes going towards the wedding fund) – heck, Dzgranra even remembered stories of some families just straight-up going into the parking lot and fighting!

But really, who was he to complain? It just made family reunions all the more interesting.

Speaking of interesting, Dzgranra had his ear cocked to eavesdrop shamelessly from the kitchen into the lower livingroom. His place in this dance was to be in the kitchen, to do a proper “send off” to his son, but if he was actually cooking then he couldn’t hear a damn thing, and honestly pre-made boxed Txzg-grzg was just as good as homemade and only needed to broil in the oven for 2 hours.

Quietly broil in the oven. Silently cook.

Dzgranra-of-Arzgr smiled as he sipped on his bowl of Drzulr, letting the thick slurry slide over his tongue in a very relaxing manner.

Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh stood still, staring straight ahead into the wall, three mothers circling her in a not-at-all welcoming manner. Her dress-suit was properly ironed, chest stays flattened, wrist-grips polished to a mirror shine. She screamed “off duty military” and that was the entire goal: Show up, prove she would be a good provider, promise to be a responsible chaperon to an impressionable and really hot young stud, and then walk out of the house with him under her arm…

…and immediately take him back to her place and do a bunch of things to him that are not fit to print, but would prove very satisfying to both parties.

She knew the game. The mothers knew the game. She knew that they knew. They knew that she knew that they knew. There was no question as to what was going to happen; it was all about earning it, at this point.

And she wanted it. She wanted it willingly.

“{You scream wanna-be to me.}” Grenzgranr-of-Drezr, one of the elder mothers of the family grumbled, reaching up and tugging at her suit. “{Who’d you blackmail for these crescents?}”

“{No one, honored mother.}” Zngrer said, staring straight ahead into the wall.

The admittedly taller Rzkrenz-of-Zndzgara leaned forward from… her back right, Zngrer decided, before she felt the hot breath of the other elder mother at the back of her head. “{A little girl, playing soldier to feel special. We don’t need that trauma in this family.}”

“{Agreed, honored mother.}” Zngrer said, staring straight ahead into the wall, facial expression unchanged.

Kzdzgrar-of-Rzndzre – her date’s actual mother, based on her fur pattern – laughed mirthlessly. “{I’ve pulled your file. Rescues, sure. Drills, fine. No actual combat, so really you’re just a glorified paper pusher.}”

“{Agreed, honored mother – I’m glad you count me as one of your own.}” Zngrer said, staring straight ahead into the wall, facial expression unchanged as a weighty paw gripped the back of her neck and began to squeeze. Not hard enough to actually hurt. Not hard enough to even really keep a firm grip if Zngrer wanted to escape, but just hard enough to get the point across: if you want to start something, we’re ready.

Zngrer did some quick mental math, and realized that she would most likely not get her bed warmed by a cutie if she beat up his three mothers. She scowled, internally, and let the paw squeeze a bit harder before ever so slightly lowering her head just a fraction of an inch.

Message received, it said, and the pressure relented.

Kzdzgrar opened her mouth to continue, but a hesitant padding down the staircase stopped her. The thee mothers turned to look at their son – well, one of their sons, but he was their only son for tonight – hesitantly make his way down to the lower level. The mood in the room shifted the instant his foot touched the ground – the vice-like grip on the back of the neck became a gentle, if heavy open palm, the two other honored mothers leaving Zngrer’s peripheral vision, and some very pointed whispered conversation she could not make out happening before her date was ushered out of the room.

Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh stood still, staring straight ahead into the wall as her vision was filled by two older, slightly greyer faces, staring hard into her eyes.

“{If you harm him, we will kill you.}”

“{Yes, honored mothers.}” Zngrer responded, staring a hole into the wall, facial expression unchanged – but internally, she was cackling like a lunatic.

“{No. They will kill you. I will file and approve the paperwork as an accident.}” Kzdzgrar-of-Rzndzre said, matter-of-factly. Zngrer couldn’t look her in the eyes, but she knew in her heart that they tried to make her break, and she stood firm.

That cutie’s booty was as good as hers. She knew it. They knew it. She knew that they knew it. They knew that she knew that-

Zngrer let her mask slip, just a touch, an imperceptible smile flexing her ears, and the honored mothers growled.

Dzgranra-of-Arzgr fussed with his son’s robe, the fast-casual fashion movement utterly lost on him. “{Now, I want you to make sure to have your beacon on at all times.}”

“{Dad.}” Ngruzren-of-Arzgr sighed, immediately reaching up to mess his robe up again, letting his mane stick out of it slightly lopsided. “{It’s fine-}”

“{I’m serious. She’s military and that’s fine, but they’re not known for showing restraint and this is your first date with her-}”

“{DAD.}” Ngruzren said, reaching up to grab the back of his father’s head. Gently he leaned forward, the two males bumping foreheads together. “{Dad. It’s ok.}”

“{Mmmm. I don’t know what you used to get up to, but this is the first girl who’s actually tried to court you properly.}”

“{So isn’t that a good thing?}” Ngruzren responded, smiling as he pulled away.

His father looked at him flatly. “{Either she’s a keeper or she’s a sex trafficker.}”

“{DAD-}”

“{Eeeeh~!}” His father noncommittally ripple-clicked his teeth, arms lifting in the adopted human gesture of “eh, what can ya do?”. “{Anyway. I think your mothers have given her the once-over; let me walk you out.}” Dzgranra said, placing his paw on his son’s back…

…his son’s very tensed back.

“{…if you’re uncomfortable doing this, son, you don’t have to-}”

“{N-no. Just. She’s, um. She’s really hot, and uh. I mean, she saved my life and uh. I just…}”

Dzgranra nodded to himself. “{Ah.}”

“{Ah?}” Ngruzren-of-Arzgr said, looking at his father while he picked at his claws. “{Is – is something wrong?}”

“{Mmmm, no. Let’s get you out of the house, hmm? Beacon on? Emergency cred stash ready?}”

“{Dad… yeah.}” Ngruzren said softly, letting the older male walk him out into the living room.

“{Good! Now.}” Dzgranra-of-Arzgr left his son’s side as he checked his wives, pressing against them to share scent, warmth, touch and reassurance. His body language beamed approval, and the honored mothers of Pack Arzgr stepped back to let the father take a look at this new female in his territory.

Dzgranra-of-Arzgr stood before the taller female, tilted his head a bit, then smiled. “{Whelp! Let’s get you two kids out of here, hmm?}”

Zngrer looked at the older male for a moment, her eyes darting to meet his before she went back to the spot on the wall. “{B-bountiful… father?}”

“{Mmm, you heard me! Ngruzren, sweetmeat, go ahead outside.}”

The spot was comfy, the spot made sense. With all the other males she had… enjoyed in her past, the routine was the same: The Honored Mothers tried to break her, failed. The Bountiful Father would come, try to suss her out, fail. She gets the guy, they have some fun for as long as it lasts, and that was that.

But this? This made no sense.

“{Come on! Out out out.}” Dzgranra-of-Arzgr said, grabbing Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh’s arm and leading the much stronger, much larger female out as you would a particularly scatterbrained pet. The door opened automatically, Ngruzren turning in the light of the streetlights to see his date almost pushed onto him, the female stumbling a bit before looking at Ngruzren with marked confusion.

For his part, Ngruzren just shrugged.

“{I bet you’re wondering why I didn’t try to press the marrow there, hmm?}” Dzgranra-of-Arzgr said, smiling as he shut the door to the family home behind him.

Zngrer looked, actually looked with her special eyes for the first time at the older male’s smile, and for some unknown reason she shuddered. Unbreaking of his smile or of his happy demeanor he reached forward, messing idly with Zngrer’s chest-stays.

“{I’m going to tell you a secret, something not even my son knows – mainly because he’s finally old enough to find someone to settle down with-}”

There was a pause, as if he was waiting for an interjection. When none came, his smile seemed to grow… and grow more savage.

“{-and because you’re the first girl he’s talked about with any sort of seriousness.}” At this, Dzgranra-of-Arzgr, Patriarch of his Pack, rested his paws on the young female’s shoulders, staring into her eyes, keeping that same smile on his face.

“{Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh, if you should know any one thing about me, it is that I fuck.}”

“{Whhhhhhh-}” Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh said, blinking hard as the absolute offness of that comment hit her with the subtlety of a brick to the face. “{Wh-}”

“{Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh, I fuck. I fuck my women to satisfaction, I’ve fucked through three separate honeymoons and more heat seasons than I’d care to admit, I’ve fucked dozens of pups into this world, I’ve fucked four healthy and bountiful boys into the great hunt of life with my ancestors blessings, and if you fuck with them you will fuck with me, and no woman outside of my wives who fucks with me will live to see the dawn.}”

“Oh.” Thought Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh, her body starting to relax as she realized this was where the bones were going to be broken. “Well, this makes sense at leas-

“{Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh, Sire Dregszr-of-Azrezr, two brothers, 5 uncles most of which are locals and one of which – Nzgrezt – is a friend of mine. You see, while my wives may have to look up things on their fancy computers, I just use the oldest network known to our kind – gossip.}”

At this, Dzgranra-of-Arzgr smiled, and it was not a kind smile. “{Zngrer, if you fuck with my son on this night or any night – and I don’t mean the type that produces my long-overdue grandchildren – I will immediately call a clan meeting, and a tribe meeting if necessary. I will use all the power in me, all my connections, all my will to have you disowned, I will have you branded unfaithful, I will have your clan’s doors shut to you, I will have Dregszr bite his palm and break his tooth and you will be cast out into the street and you will have no friend to turn to.}”

Dzgranra-of-Arzgr leaned forward and planted a soft kiss – a cold, heartless thing – on Zngrer’s chest, the ice from his lips seeping into her very core. “{And I will be there, as the sun rises, and I, with your brothers and your father and your uncles and all the males who have ever known you and seen you grow, will kill you in the street that we find you in, and no court on this planet will convict us.}”

Dzgranra-of-Arzgr, somehow looming larger, somehow seeming stronger than before, towered over the young, cold, small female, a wide smile breaking across his face.

“{Be home by 11.}”

The cafe was warm, welcoming, and dare I even say cheery – not in that “do you have enough flare on your vest, let’s all clap at the birthday table and see if we can induce a panic attack for instagram” kind of cheer, but in the kind of cheer of good friends getting together to have some wholesome fun. It was a place you could go where everybody knows your name and they’re always glad that you came – and it’s atmosphere welcomed everyone, regardless if you’d be a big spender or small, staying there for just a few moments or hours at a time. Due to it’s centrality in Silver City, it was one of the few places that allowed interior fire-like fire-light; it was all washed out with harsh bluelight as soon as you left the cafe, and the interior lighting wasn’t really heavily regulated with so many redundant systems in place.

Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh had only planned to be here for a few minutes to get a take-out order, set the mood and possibly grab some energy bars for electrolyte replenishment, because being uncomfortably sore in the morning was no fun at all. However, that whole plan was thrown out the window with the conversation she had with her date’s father, and now her eyes were glued on the proverbial clock.

“{Um… he’s… not that bad.}” Ngruzren murmured, sipping his warm drink to break the silence. Idly, he looked out the window, staring through his reflection in the glass. “{Though, come to think of it I always wondered why we never had any divorces in our entire clan…}”

Zngrer turned to respond and caught a glimpse of an older male – a great-great-grandfather, by the look of it – look around the room happily.

Well. His head did. His eyes stayed fixed on the table Zngrer sat at. He didn’t even look away when his table was serviced… by another male… looking directly at her-

“{Sweetmeat~?}”

Zngrer’s focus snapped back with a little too much zeal, her hands pressing flat into the table face. “{I didn’t do nothin!}”

Ngruzren sighed, placing his drinking bowl on it’s saucer. “{Please try to forget that, ok? I’m an adult, you’re an adult, we can have a good time.}” Ngruzren smiled, leaning over slightly to let his robe slip a bit, showing a bit more of his vantablack mane. “{Did you know? The white patch on my tail isn’t the only white patch of fur I’ve got~}”

“{Did you know that the land-speed velocity of an unladen Terror-Beast is roughly 25km/hr?}” Zngrer said, making sure to speak a little too loudly to make sure she lived to see the dawn. Ngruzren huffed and leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table.

“{Really?}”

“{What.}”

“{Really?}” Ngruzren said, licking at his prosthetic in irritation. “{What happened to that strong, confident PDF soldier who swept me off my feet?}”

“{I-I mean, I’m still here.}” Zngrer said, frowning. “{It’s just… damn. I’ve never been, I mean. That was, uh.}”

“{A lot?}” Ngruzren said, letting his arms slide forward to grab his date’s paws in his own. “{Look, he’s just like any father – he wants to make sure his little boy is taken care of, and that’s not something to make light of. Besides, I know you’re good people, You know you’re good people, so there’s no problem, right?}”

“{R-right. Yeah.}” Zngrer said, squeezing Ngruzren’s paws in her own. “{I mean, considering how close we got on that elevator ride down-}”

Zngrer grinned as she felt a firm kick under the table. “{That was … the heat of the moment!}” Ngruzren huffed, giving Zngrer a smoldering look. “{It’s not my fault you took liberties on that slow ride down~}”

“{Mmm, well tell me then – when can I feel another kind of heat-}”

Zngrer’s laughed as her shin was assaulted under the table again, gaining some confidence back from the shameless flirting going on. “{I’m not hearing a no-}”

“{Mmm, well. I tell you what… you have three guesses as to where my other white patch is.}”

“{And if I get it right? What’s in it for me?}” Zngrer said, leaning forward.

“{I’ll show it to you~}” Ngruzren murmured, huskily, as he leaned over the table as well, letting his robe slip open just a bit more.

“{That’s not good enough – I want more.}” Zngrer-of-Drgrabgh rumbled, the fear of a few hours ago melting away with the passion of the moment.

“{I’ll… let you touch it…}”

Their faces almost touching, breath hot on each other’s lips, Ngruzren locked eyes with Zngrer and time stood still.

“{You’ll beg me to take it before the end of the ni-}”

The window to the cafe wasn’t so much glass as it was a plastic polymer. It was incredibly well insulated, double-walled with an air gap, microbot washed and tempered to be 100% clear. The beauty of this clarity was that you could experience all the joy of the outdoors while still staying comfortable and climate controlled inside. You also didn’t have to worry about the pesky insects or fauna coming in to ruin your meal – heck, I don’t need to explain the benefits of windows to you, dear reader, you know. However, to most species (save for the new additions) they could intrinsically tell the pane was there, due to changes in air pressure, the way light refracted off of it, or just by payin’ the heck attention to their surroundings.

Humans… had trouble. Humans trying the sick new extreme sport of Mothing had absolutely no hope at all.

With an incredibly concerning WHAM a helmeted human slammed into the window pane, the moth-backpack helpfully flapping it’s wings to get towards the oranger light on the inside. This did nothing to get the Terror-Beast closer to the nice warm light but it did everything to gently and firmly smear the tiny-chomper against the glass, which did everything to absolutely disrupt every conversation in the cafe and ruin the mood of Booth 2A completely.

“[AHM OHKAY.]” The tiny-chomper said, one hand giving a “thumb’s up” and the other hand trying to push away from the window. The Terror-Beast, confused at the invisible wizardry at play, gripped it’s pilot a bit tighter and lifted off, erratically crossing the street at transport-height level, causing a few vehicles to slam on their breaks. Ngruzren and Zngrer watched, in silence, as a small group of mixed citizenry followed-without-following the tiny-chomper; every so often when the Terror-Beast would dip concerningly in the air a few dozen hands would reach up to provide insurance on the off chance the tiny-chomper fell.

He never did, though. He also didn’t appear to notice he had a following, or that hyper-clear windows were a thing.

There was another concerning but significantly muted WHAM as he hit a window’d bar a few stories up from across the street before drifting off into the night.

The two Dorarizin looked at each other, and a few moments later broke out in laughter.