The interstellar train dropped them off at the orbital station, the elevator platform lowered them to the planet’s largest metropolitan center, and the intercity jumpwarp shot them to the nearest southern capital, and that’s where all convenient forms of public transportation ceased. Despite being a capital city, it was the planet’s most destitute. Not even the paid caravans were available past the morning rush.
And so the crew legged it the rest of the way, carrying their luggage with them. A 3 hour hike through the dilapidated urban center, the yellow sands which were quickly encroaching upon the city, the mud, the thickening vegetation, into the humidity of the freelands. Along the way, the road shrank and shrank until the walking path was merely the telltale triplet set of tire tracks in the swamp.
By the time Ace announced “it’s this one” to the group (entirely for Rook’s benefit - Gus had been here many times before), their shoes were filthy with mud. Ace’s family house was small, too small for a family of large crocs. But they were industrious folk, and so built upon their small house whenever they had the spare materials. The downside was it looked very handmade and the difference between the original house and its addons was apparent. A thick leafy vegetation huddled up against the outside of the house, and large overhead leaves did more to keep the humidity in than the heat out.
They moseyed up to the front porch where a stocky clone of Ace sat leaning back in a well-suffered chair. “Ma,” he said in a raised voice when he noticed the approaching guests. “Best set out the pest trap, we got some real ugly nematodes agin.”
“Why didn’t you tell us you were terrestrial, your brother woulda come picked y’up!” Ace’s mother was working to loosen an elbow joint under the kitchen sink.
Ace glanced dubiously outside at the rusted triloader tractor with its broken down trailer sitting in the overgrowth.
“Don’tchu be eyeballin my ride sis, she can pull way more than 3 nematodes,” said Ace’s twin as he grabbed a cider from the icebox.
“Ahh, go back to your porch Braz.” Braz considered cold canning Ace, but after the hike in the heat, it might’ve been too nice, so he didn’t and returned to his post outside.
Ace’s mother poked her head out from under the sink and pointed to the straw rug in the middle of the front parlor. “You can set your things down there, doll.” Rook turned to where she pointed. “Gus honey, Rufus is out back if you want to say hi,” but as she looked in the direction of where Gus was a second ago, it was gone. At the sound of a cheerful bleat, everyone saw out the back window that Gus was already astride a two-headed goat and they were off on some merry adventure.
Rook set his small bag and Gus’ heavy clattering duffel down in the parlor. The front parlor took up most of what must have been the original house, and it was full of knick-knacks and the start of various hobby projects. Seated in the corner armchair, one smaller croc in a scout’s uniform stared wide-eyed at Rook. Rook started, “Ah! Oh. Hey, kid,” and held up his hand in greeting. The scout stared for a second, then quickly got up and ran on four legs across the parlor and up the stairs.
“Now Sam, you be sweet now!” Ace’s mom shouted up to the kid, before a door slammed upstairs. “Well Theodora, ain’tcha gonna introduce me to your new friend?” She wiped her oily claws off with a handkerchief.
At the sound of the name ‘Theodora’ Rook gave Ace a grinning, teasing look.
Ace shot Rook a scowling glance, then waved a hand dismissively. “That’s just Rook, we picked him up from some gutter planet and haven’t been able to get rid of him.”
He held out a hand to the older woman. “A pleasure, Mrs. Parosa.” And when she took his hand, he gave her a small kiss on the back of hers. She giggled, “Please, so formal! You can call me Ezme, doll.”
Ace groaned, “Ma…”
“Oh hush, your daddy ain’t been around for a while, and I’ve been having a good time lately.”
Behind Ezme’s back, Rook’s grin deepened and stared a dark look at Ace. In an even tone, he added “I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Parosa. Theodora never told me.” Ace made gestures of strangulation.
“Oh, that was many, many lovers ago, doll.” Ace groaned again. Ezme gave a sigh in the general direction of her plumbing project, put her hands on her hips. She was large, taller than Rook, but shorter and thicker than Ace. She wore a stained jumpsuit with a tool apron around her generous hips. “That sink has been giving me trouble for weeks. Y’all must be starved after that walk, lemme make ya something.”
When everyone was seated at the meal table but one, Ezme leaned her head out the back window and called “Gus honey! There’s food on the table!” And a few seconds later came the sound of trotting and bleating. Gus came in, washed its 2 hands and 8 tentacles then sat at the table. “Golly I’m starved,” it said, which came across more as the initiation of a ritual than a genuine statement.
As Ezme set down bowls for everyone and insisted on portioning out the stew, she took a moment to squeeze Rook’s biceps. “Ooh, he’s so muscular!”
Ace banged a fist on the table. “Ma.” Braz snickered and Rook cocked his head with unabashed pride.
“But look at you, you’re so thin. You’re an athlete, doll! You need calories. You get double.” And she spooned out his portion. A tsk and a “man” from Braz.
Without breaking grinning eye contact with Ace, Rook replied in his even tone, “Gosh that’s real swell of you, Missus P.”
Ezme went around the table for the others. Ace shook her head threateningly at Rook. Rook nodded his head threateningly at Ace.
Gus quickly slurped down the stew, patted its belly and uttered liturgically, “I’m stuffed! Thank you Ezme, I’m gonna go play with Rufus now,” and quickly hurried out the back door. The departing sound of bleating and trotting followed.
They were all seated in the parlor after dinner, Rook and Ezme sitting next to each other on the couch, talking, giggling, whispering. Ace fumed in the corner armchair, drumming her fingers. When the flirting got to be too much for her, she went out to the porch where her twin was sitting.
“Dang, relax.” Braz rocked slightly in the chair not meant for rocking. “She’s got a life too y’know. That guy’s probably the nicest of the folks come around here for ma.”
“He’s about as nice as a weasel.” When they heard the two inside retire up the stairs, Ace growled, “I’ll kill ‘im.”
The next morning, Rook slipped out of the master bedroom, hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. He walked down the hall and happened past Sam in his room. He would have kept walking, but he saw a familiar face on a poster on the wall. A coliseum champion. He pointed at it, “Oh hey, I knew that guy!” before remembering how exactly he knew that guy. He’d been skewered by Rook’s sword months ago. It hadn’t mattered before, another 9-to-5 task. It hadn’t occurred to him then that this was someone’s favorite champion as he buried his hilt into the man’s five beating, bleeding hearts.
Sam stared at him, and Rook had the feeling that he was being impaled by a thousand daggers. He would’ve left the kid to his activities then and there, but his eyes fell upon a dark corner of the room where another coliseum champion poster hung on the wall, this one of unmistakable familiarity. A scout’s knife was stuck in the poster, buried in the bullseye on the champion’s chest.
Rook felt like maybe he should say something before immediately leaving the room, but was at a loss. Sam was still staring at him and Rook finally recognized the smallest hint of rage in his eyes.
He cleared his throat. “…I know I’m not in a position to ask for a favor…” and he stepped towards the kid. “But when you get there, make it quick.” He leaned in close. “And don’t miss.”
Sam gave him a toothy, promising smile.
Ace sat on the porch stairs in the light morning sun. She heard the door behind her open, and the sound of the footsteps told her who it was. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”
“Yeah.” Rook sat next to her, handing her a cider, and opening his own.
As he took a sip, Ace shot him a pained look. “You didn’t actually go through with it, did you?”
Rook looked down at the can and gave a small smile. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
There was a silence between them.
“Eh.” He leaned back. “I’d make a terrible step-dad anyway.” Then he added in a snickering mock-fatherly voice “Theodora.”
Ace gave his shoulder a stout punch. “Ow, fuck!”
“You wait until I find out what your deadname is. ‘Til then, I’m gonna call you Vinny.”
Rook rubbed his shoulder, “I’ll have to kill you.” Ace shrugged. Another break of silence.
“I think your little brother wants to kill me.”
“Everyone wants to kill you. You’re an asshole.” She took a sip from her cider. “What’d you do to piss Sam off? He’s sweet normally.”
“I killed his favorite champion.”
“Oh right I forgot he watches that trash.” She hadn’t forgotten.
The sound of trotting and bleating approached. “Have you two been out all night?” Ace asked.
Gus was wearing a feathered cape and hat made of straw. Rufus the two-headed goat was now Rufus the three-headed goat. “It was a busy day at the office.”
Back home on the ship, the three reclined on the couch. Four of Gus’ tentacles idly stitched a third head onto a two-headed goat doll.
A mechanical chime from the corded device at Rook’s hip. He picked it up, its spiral cord dangling. He smirked at the gadget, removed the stylus and started typing into it.
Ace caught sight of the name - ‘E❤️’. “That better not be who I think it is.”
Rook bit his lip and held the device closer to his chest, still typing into it. “Nah, don’t worry about it,” and he hit send.