Brother Flit-Tail

by
Daron Patton
(with guest author Matt Crymble)

"Damn my leg hurts, Doc. Hope Glook and K'zak Ree made out better than I did.

What in gods' names is that?!!! You're not gonna knock me out. I don't care about any flippin' oath of yours. I'm the team leader until I get fired or killed. I don't need help in either of those categories just now!

I don't care about that. You want to dope me up, you wait until the rest of my team checks in, you got me? Huh, oh that's just a tattoo I got on my first tour of duty.

Ow!! Hey, I thought I told you no drugs, you son of a krik! Just Staydose, eh? Well see this blaster here? Next hypo you stick in me without my crew around me and I'll be the one giving the shots. Damn leg.

Gahhhhh, that hurts. Easy with that thing! Huh? It's supposed to be Brother Flit-Tail. He's kind of a... Wha--.

Sorry, zoned out there for a second. Glook back yet? Huh? Brother Who? Oh, Brother Flit-Tail. Yeah, he's kind of a myth back where I come from. You sure ask a lot of questions, Doc. Yeah, I guess I got nothin' better to do.

Let's see, I must have been about ten when Great-grandfather first taught me about Brother Flit-Tail. That was what he and all the old timers used to call dzelts. They're bugs about this long and they are everywhere on Yast's favorite moon. Yeah, everyone who's ever been to Exib knows about flit-tails. They're just about as common there as mulkis riding and gett-birds.

Anyway, dzelts used to, and as far as I know still do, scare a lot of Yazzie children. Mainly because they look so scary, the bugs, I mean. Of course, It's been a dozen years or more since I've last been back. I guess that's part of the reason, the flit-tails being scary, I mean, that somebody made up the story in the first place. Brother Flit-Tail, that is.

If you dread the Medib fly
Let your Brother Flit-Tail lie
If by chance Flit-Tail you kill
Fill a bowl of mulk to spill

Kind of an idiotic little verse, isn't it? Funny how a little thing like that can bring back such memories though. Great grandfather was a warrior, too, you know. Didn't talk about it much, but you could tell he was proud of having fought beside the humans in the Big War.

He knew funny alien words, human and dral words for things. Used to use 'em now and again. 'Course, I didn't understand 'em back then. They were phrases he picked up from soldiers during the War, I guess.. He'd use them without really thinking. Never really dwelt on how he knew them, as far as I know. Unconscious link to his younger days, I suppose.

Damn this leg. I thought Staydose was supposed to make it stop hurting. Oh, that's all it does then?

No, I told you already, I don't want to be unconscious. I've got troops unaccounted for out there. You just keep a sharp look out for them and make sure we don't get jumped by the worms. Damned stupid trying to hit this convoy. Those Saurians sold us bad intel, Doc. They're first on the list when we get out of here. Mark my words. We got juked here, pure and simple.

What'd he do after his warrior years? Well, after soldiering Great-grandfather mined for awhile. That is he did up until the blue lung set in and forced him to retire. When I knew him, I was a young whelp then you understand, he was just a part-time farmer.

He was short and bony, 'bout as tall as your average human. But Zow! What amazing strength for his size. I remember trying to wrestle him, as pups'll do and having him hold me down like I was nothing. He didn't have to use his body weight to subdue me, his limbs were more than strong enough to do the job nicely.

Sometimes I wish I had spent less time trying to wrestle and more time listening. You ever regret stuff like that, Doc? I guess everybody does.

He and great-grandmother raised a small garden and enough gett-hens to keep the family fed. Occasionally they'd have a good year and produce enough eggs to sell, but mostly they just raised enough for us to get by on. Ha, ha. I spent a lot of warm autumn days chasing those four-legged birds around the yard and just about as many shivering autumn evenings salving the welts great

gran put on my backside for running the fat off them.

She and great-grandfather raised me and Heena after our parents died in a crash on some world. I never see her anymore, Heena. 'think she joined SpaceFleet, but nobody in our family really knows for sure, though. We really didn't get along too good after our parents died. We were both pretty angry about a lot of things.

Hey! My leg's not hurting anymore, Doc. From the way you're looking at it, I guess that's not good, is it?

I was playing with a flit-tail, ya see and I must have been playing too rough, 'cause he pinched me. I didn't really mean to crush 'em, but it was kind of a reflex. You know reflexes, Doc. Anyhow, I picked him up and took him to Great-grandfather. I was all teared up by the time I got to the house. I figured he was going to yell and scream at me, maybe even beat me. Killin' a dzelt's a superstitious thing on Exib.

You know what he did? He patted me on the head and took me inside the kitchen. He told Great-grandmother what had happened. She looked kind of upset, but she could see that I had been crying, see? I tried to be all grown up about it, but I figured I had really messed things up for the farm. So, she whispers something in his ear and he reaches up in the shelf and pulls down a little bowl. Then me and him, we walked out to the barn where old Beex stayed.

Ever seen a mulkis? You've not missed much. Great-grandfather hands me the bowl and tells me to fill it up with mulk. I'd mulked Beex for a couple of years by that time, but I was so nervous that I grabbed her too hard. She yelped and gleephed like I shot her with a gyrojet or something. I got my nerve back, though and pretty soon, I had the mulk.

What was the purpose? Well, legend has it that if you kill a flit-tail, you gotta leave a bowl of mulk out overnight for his family. In the morning, if you find sting-fly pieces floating in the mulk, the dzelts accepted your apology. Unhh. Heh, heh, heh.. I guess after all these years, it's finally caught <cough!>, caught up with me. Doc, you gotta promise me something. You gotta make sure Heena knows that I appreciated what she did for me.

What did she do? Well, she knew how upset I was that night and she didn't go out to the barn until after she thought I had fallen asleep. But gods knew I couldn't rest and I wondered what she was doing leaving the house in the middle of the night. She was the one who put the sting-fly wings into the mulk. She didn't want me to worry, to spend my whole life thinking I was jinxed. Guess I was pretty lucky after all, huh, Doc? Yeah, pretty lu--........"

Your brother died a valiant death, Heena. He wanted you to know how much he appreciated you and the gesture you made so many years ago. He also wanted you to know that he was very proud of you. I enclose his khad'dan and a voucher card for an unspecified sum that he wanted you to have. I am a better person for having known him.

Respectfully,

Dr. Sadzit Lepnum

Senior Physician

CapFreeMerch Merc Team 5011A

Dzelt (Flit-tails)

TYPE: Tiny Carnivore

NUMBER: 1-10

MOVE: Slow ( 35 meters/turn)

IM/RS: 9/90

STAMINA: 2

ATTACK: 90 (Base Column +9)

DAMAGE: 1d2 Bite (2 Cobalt)

SPECIAL ATTACK: None

SPECIAL DEFENSE: None

NATIVE WORLD: Exib (Yast (Athor) ) - peridomestic

Description: Dzelt are tiny arthropods that share many Yazirian houses on Exib. They are useful creatures as they hunt the harmful sting flies that typically fill Exibian nights with their buzz and itch and which also carry Milo's Disease. Dzelt are built somewhat like scorpions except they have wings, which they rarely use, and their tail ends not in a sting, but in a third pincer which they use for securing and subduing prey. They can scale walls and ceilings with ease and often suspend themselves from such perches while they wait for their next meal.

Dzelt are common pets among young Yazirians and because they keep sting fly populations in check, a myth surrounding the killing of a dzelt has evolved. Yazirians killing a dzelt (accidentally or not) must leave a small saucer of mulkis milk out at night in apology to the dead creature's family. The mulk actually draws sting flies, which in turn, draws dzelts. The offender is assumed to be forgiven if the remains of sting flies are found floating in the mulk. Failure to leave the mulk offering or if it is not accepted supposedly bodes bad luck for the offending Yazirian.

Medib (Sting Fly)

TYPE: Tiny Carnivore

NUMBER: 1-20

MOVE: Slow (30 meters/turn)

IM/RS: 5/50

STAMINA: ½

ATTACK: 50 (Base Column +5)

DAMAGE: 1 Bite (1 Cobalt) + Disease

SPECIAL ATTACK: None

SPECIAL DEFENSE: None

NATIVE WORLD: Exib (Yast (Athor) ) - peridomestic/forest

Description: Sting flies are the bane of any Yazirian on Exib. These creatures not only leave a painful, itching wound when they bite they also vector Milo's Disease in Yazirians (no other races are affected). Feeding during the night, male medib take blood meals from any mammalian host they can find. During feeding, microscopic parasites that live in the fly's gut are often regurgitated into the wound. If a Yazirian victim fails a STA check, he will develop Milo's Disease in 1d10 days.

Milo's Disease is characterized by spiking fevers and a loss of dexterity (halve DEX scores). The only treatment is costly and does not provide further immunity. Haltine is the drug of choice for treatment and while it does negate the fever and dexterity loss, it does not cure the disease. Furthermore, should someone stop their routine haltine treatment, the symptoms will return within a day. Until a cure can be found, Yazirians with Milo's Disease remain infected for life.

TYPE: Large Herbivore

NUMBER: 1-5

MOVE: Very Slow (10 meters/turn)

IM/RS: 5/50

STAMINA: 120

ATTACK: 50 (Base Column +5)

DAMAGE: 1d10 Kick (10 Cobalt)

SPECIAL ATTACK: None

SPECIAL DEFENSE: None

NATIVE WORLD: Exib (Yast (Athor) ) - domestic

Description: The first Yazirians to explore Exib reported finding small herds of animals that "stupidly bleat-mooed" at them as they stepped down from their spacecraft. Little has occurred to change that perception and no wild mulkis remains on Exib as they were all captured and domesticated with relative ease inside of two years of the colonization effort. Mulkis are famously dull-witted creatures and a common insult among rural Yazirians is to claim that someone does not have the sense that nature gave a mulkis.

Yazirians use these creatures for pulling carts and sometimes plows if machinery is not available. Their violet milk, known as mulk, is used as a beverage and when cured makes a fine purple-hued cheese. They are perfectly useless as mounts due to their size and have wicked tempers, as many young Yazirians can attest, when attempts are made to ride them. They are also often the culprits in raids on grape-corn fields, their favorite treat food.

Many zoologists and ecologists have marveled at the series of events that allowed mulkis to survive as long as they have. A relative lack of natural predators coupled with their yearly foaling were definite bonuses for them and help explain their otherwise dubious survival.

by
Matt Crymble

The little dive appeared seedy and run down, but that was how it was supposed to look. Its shabbiness was a motif, part of the decor. It looked dirty and rowdy to impress the locals and keep them away. This was a fighting man's bar, but it was one where a fighting man could relax and leave the battle outside.

Yazin puffed hard on the third hand rolled choka cigar of the night. Immersed in the sticky smoke, he stubbed the last of the cigar in the proffered ashcan resting on the bar. Fessil, the weasly little dralasite bartender, was nowhere to be found. Yazin suspected that he was probably stocking the day's shipment in the back room.

Yazin was alone in the bar this early in the day, which was fine with him. He liked to drink alone when he wanted to think. Today was one of those times. He had ridden out here on his groundcycle to be away from the ebb and flow of his duties with Streel. Now he had the bottle Fessil had set up on the bar for him, and some peace and quiet.

But, as all things do, the quiet ended. The door to the bar cracked open and light spilled in washing over Yazin. The glare blinded his night eyes, but he quickly recovered. Yazin was very surprised to see that the newcomer was a familiar face. He smiled and nodded a slightly drunken nod.

Valence Dixton clambered onto the barstool next to him and rubbed his shoulder a bit in greeting. She was small compared to the big yazirian, but Yazin knew she was as tough as he was. Albeit, in a different way.

"Hawk's been looking for you Yaz," she opened, "We've got a mission in about 12 hours."

"Plenty of time to sober up then," Yazin said, slurring the words only slightly.

Valence regarded the big yazirian for a moment. She had known him for years, and this was not usual behavior for him. He only retreated this far out of town when something was bothering him. Of course, something was often bothering Yazin. But it usually did not affect his behavior like this.

"This is an important one Yaz," she intoned, "some kind of tech grab from an offworld lab."

"They're all important Val," Yazin retorted with a bit of cynicism.

Valence chewed on that comment for a moment. Something was wrong with Yazin today. Her eye caught the khad'dan that was always strapped to Yazin's side. Its fastening was open and folded back. If she remembered her yazirian lore and etiquette properly, that mean that the wearer was expecting bad tidings on the way. Or something like that.

"What is it Yaz?" she asked him. Yazin did not look at her, and stared blankly off into space for a bit before answering.

"Well, if you saw the morning news brief you noticed that one of the Capellan Free Merchant teams had a tussle with the slimers. Usually they don't mention the unit name for us special groups, but this time they did."

"You had a friend in that unit?" Valence asked.

"I wouldn't say a friend exactly. More like a link to my past." Yazin remarked. Valence remained silent waiting for her teammate to begin his story. Yazirians did seem to enjoy stories.

"My grandfather, Fizzan, you remember him right? Anyway, my grandfather served with an older crewmate aboard the Morning Mist. Fizzan always spoke highly of him and said he learned a lot from him. Said the things that he learned saved his life lots of times."

Yazin took out another choka cigar and set his everflame on the bar.

"Well, this crewmate was killed in a shuttle accident while on descent to Yast after a patrol rotation. He was coming down to visit Fizzan and he even brought his mate with him. They were going to have a grand reunion and rehash old times."

Yazin took the cigar and set the flame to it. He puffed a few times and the tip glowed brightly.

"This was when I was very young, but I remember the day pretty well. Anyway, Fizzan was really upset about this. He blamed himself since his friend was coming to see him. My grandma tried to put that idea out of his head, but Fizzan was a stubborn old spacer. Heh. That's probably where I get it from."

After a few puffs, Yazin was enveloped in a cloud of smoke. Then he paused his puffing and continued.

"The main problem was that his buddy had two children. A son and a daughter. Fizzan had lost his father when he was very young and he realized that it would be hard on them. So, he gathered together some of his extra credits and tried to make it right for them. He only met the kids once, at their father's funeral. But he kept an eye on their progress from afar and tried to help where he could. He sent lots of letters to their new guardians about what a great soldier their father was. Their guardians, the grandparents, would read the letters to the kids and the stories in them."

Yazin puffed a few more times on the cigar and the smoke drifted lazily. He wasn't in any hurry to continue the tale it seemed. Valence could see it was painful for him.

"When the kids grew up, they had been filled with the stories of their father the hero. The daughter joined up with spacefleet I think. The son....," Yazin paused for a moment and then caught himself, "the son joined up with a mercenary team for the Capellan Free Merchants."

Valence could see the direction the story was taking and she suddenly felt a deep dread about the otherwise innocuous burden she carried.

"I don't really know the son, never even met him as far as I know. But I heard about him from my grandfather. He was important to Fizzan. The things that remind me of Fizzan are slowly fading away and I'd hate to loose one more. So I was just sitting here drinking, and wondering. That merc team took some heavy casualties they said. I wonder..."

Valence didn't say anything. She could see that Yazin was missing his family clan, and he felt alienated by a long absence from his homeworld. That made this all the harder for her. She reached into her vest pocket and plucked the sealed communication packet from its resting place. It had come for him just after he left, marked with the Delmire clan's crest, and Valence had hoped it would cheer him. Now she wondered if it carried news that would be unwelcome. There was no way for her to know if it contained an irony that she had unwittingly become the bearer of.

When the message was set in front of Yazin, he simply sat and stared at it. Then he brought the cigar up to his lips in a mock salute to those who had fallen. A message from home was rare enough to mean only one thing.

Valence patted him on the arm again and quietly got up to leave. She turned to go and then stopped. As an afterthought she poured herself a shot from the bottle that Yazin had left on the counter. Raising the glass in a toast, she downed the bitter liquid in one gulp. Then she turned, and quietly left.

A long while later, Yazin still sat in silence at the bar. His eyes had not strayed from the untouched communiqué in front of him. The cigar sat cold in his clenched fist. With his free hand he reached down and refastened the clasp on his khad'dan. Bad tidings, it seemed, had already arrived.