A Simple Repair

By Vanessa E. Howard

I’m a sucker for a sob story and a fuzzy face. These stinking adorable Pandeera pups blinking their big eyes at me are going to get my tail in the fire, I just know it.

Over the chatter of the pub, they tell me their hovership’s chargelink got sheared off while navigating through a narrow canyon. They say they’ve acquired the spare part but are too small to manage the repair. I’m not real big myself, but these pups are smart enough to know we Xintixa can climb just about anywhere.

I plunk my acorn coffee on the table. “Where are your parents?”

The smaller one, a male, has red fur, black markings around the eyes, and tan horns curling near his ears, and the feisty female has white fur in contrast with her dark mask and black horns. She’s been doing the talking. “Ain’t got no parents. We was orphaned early on. Our guardians say they’re bringin’ us to a new pack in Makia. They sent us to find a repair guy.”

I give her a sharp look. Beneath her mask, her eyes glimmer with shrewdness. Guardians dropping off orphans in Makia? Nobody in that stinkhole is taking in orphans out of the kindness of their hearts. More likely, these guardians are delivering child labor and fetching a tidy pouch of coin in exchange. And the pup knows it.

I’d wager my knives these Pandeera gave their guardians the slip and now they need help escaping. They don’t know it yet, but they came to the right creature. Phezz Maplebark loves nothing better than siding with the underdog.

“Are your guardians Pandeera, too?”

“Naw, they’re Slizzans.” She grips the edge of the table and lowers her voice. “They’re off buyin’ supplies. I’ll be honest with ya. This is our only chance to get shed of them.”

Yep. That settles that. Slizzans are a nasty lot and won’t take kindly to income wiggling out of their claws. I down my coffee. “I’ll help you.”

After tossing a coin to the pubkeeper, I follow the pups down a potholed lane. They’re still young and ungainly, with no sign yet of the tall, slim build of adult Pandeera. But they’ve already got the swagger. Stinking adorable.

“What are your names?” I ask.

“Our first foster pack give me the name Whitey and him Red, but that ain’t very imaginative, so I go by Blossom and he goes by Storm.”

I cock an eyebrow. Maybe they’ll grow into their chosen names.

At the edges of this industrial-flavored town, the trees encroach on the concrete and metal, like the forest is trying to take back over. I hope it does. These manufacturing districts make me twitchy, and I can’t wait to get back to my natural habitat. I need grass, twigs, and leaves under my feet.

“Here’s our ship,” Blossom says, gesturing to a silver hovership that’s nicer than I expected. I sniff the air. I don’t smell danger. Not yet, anyway.

The Pandeera clamber up the steep stairs. I grip the railing and curl my lips in distaste. Slick metal feels wrong beneath my paws. I’ll take mosquitoes and gnats over metal and plastiglass any day.

Inside the hovership, I catch a whiff of Slizzan and automatically go for my bandolier of knives. The creatures are cantankerous, and I’d prefer to avoid them. Especially their barbed, reptilian tails.

Blossom hands me the spare chargelink and points out the hatch.

I stare her down. “So, you can fly this thing?”

“Oh, sure. We been flyin’ for a couple years now. Started with float pods and worked our way up. Storm’s better’n me. He can skim a pig hair on a flip turn in point-four.”

I have no clue what she’s just said and no desire to pursue it.

Storm climbs into the navigator’s chair and starts flipping switches. He hasn’t said a word this entire time, but he seems at home in the ship. I’ll get them going, wish them well, and be on my way before trouble multiplies as it tends to.

I climb through the hatch and onto the roof. Now I see why they couldn’t do the repair themselves. The part attaches at the top of a tall, coiled tower. Most creatures would use a harness for this, but I scale it easily. The new chargelink clicks into place. I nod in satisfaction.

Suddenly, the fur on my back lifts. A sharp scent drifts across my nose. Here we go. Trouble multiplies.

I scramble down the tower and run to the edge of the roof. Two male Slizzans brandish stun clubs. They’ve already spotted me. No use in delay. I slide down the side, catching seams and ridges to slow myself. I launch toward the bigger reptile, stabilizing my short flight with my tail. The stun club lifts, but I’m ready for that, flipping in mid-air to avoid it. My hind feet hit him in the chest and he staggers.

Gripping him with my toes, I yank a poly-coated blade from my bandolier. One quick slice and the prongs of the stun club fall to the ground. I push off him toward the other one. A tuck and a roll, and he has no time to blink before his stun club is similarly disabled. His barbed tail comes around, but I spring away, and it only pulls out a few tufts of fur from my shoulder.

I crouch between them and the ship, a knife in either paw. “You want the pups, you gotta go through me.”

The hovership rises behind me, humming and whirring. Blossom leans out of the door and gives me a saucy wink. Then she yells, “See ya, ya filthy Sliz! Thanks for the ride!”

I twirl my knives and grin as the Slizzans chase futilely after their ship. The craft rockets away. Stinking adorable pups. If I’m not careful, I’ll be offering to adopt the brats myself.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Vanessa E. Howard writes primarily fantasy for young adult and middle grade. She has been a newspaper reporter, magazine writer, and college composition teacher. A member of the Flash Fiction Magic writing community and ACFW, she is also a homeschool mom and co-op teacher. She has been published by Spark and Havok and has upcoming publications with Twenty Hills and Nightshade. Ms. Howard lives with her family in Central Texas.

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