Casual Trade

 “Go on, touch it.”  Rover thrust a mechanical finger at his left cheek.

    “I believe you.”  Flyspur replied as he stepped around the long scaly tail of a sunbather.  The peach-colored beach was bustling with tourists of every shape and size as the two friends strolled along the water’s edge, feeling the sun on their backs and the sand between their toes.  A family of Crustaliations scuttled around them, the children snapping their claws at the pair as they headed into the warm water.  A flock of Turnblis soared in the colorful sky, enjoying the slight updraft and playing with the local ooflits. Unlike their rural home island of Loofa, the beaches of the spaceport city of Filniss were always abuzz with aliens.

    “No, no.  You got to feel it.”  Rover insisted, this time shoving both forefingers at his chin.

    “Um...no.  I really don’t.”

    The human had been trying to get Flyspur to feel his face for about ten minutes.  It was weird.  Weird, however, was Rover’s specialty.

    “Aw, come on!”  Without further warning Rover grabbed Flyspur’s blue upper hand and pressed it to the side of his face.

    Flyspur’s first instinct was to jerk back in annoyance but he didn’t.  His purple eyes blinked curiously at what he felt.  Rover’s usually smooth human face was...rough.  At least along his jaw, and near his oversized ears.  He squinted and  looked closer as Rover grew a smug smile and ducked down a little so so his shorter friend could get a better look.  “You’re right.  I can feel it.  I can see it too.”  It wasn’t much.  It really wasn’t.  Just a faint shadow beginning to creep down from his temples.  He frowned a little.  “Is that normal for humans?  I mean just to start growing like that?”  Jssfloon jaw and chin hair began growing even before they were born.

    “Why, of course!”  Rover said, although, Flyspur thought he wasn’t as certain as he let on.  “I mean, some folks are hairier than others, mind you, but a fellah’s gotta grow whiskers sometime.  Except womenfolk.”  A puzzled frown came across his face and he pushed the ever-present, oversized cowboy hat back and scratched his head.  “I wonder if they just don’t grow hair on their face or…”  He looked down at his friend.  “...or do they shave it?  I never seen seen a lady with a beard.”  Rover had never seen a real human female, of course.  At least not that he could remember.  He was speaking of the films contained on the tiny microchip that hung around his  neck.  It contained the entirety of his knowledge about his own species; a library of music and multimedia about humans and their everyday lives, which seemed to consist mostly of riding horses, wearing hats, and throwing ropes at horned animals

    “Why, I betcha that in just a spell I’ll be as furry as you.”  He tickled the purple whiskers on the side of Flyspur’s face and his grin just grew as his small blue friend gave him an annoyed look and pushed his hand away.  “I wonder where I could get myself a razor.”  He ran the back of his fingers along his chin, downright delighted at what he could feel beginning to grow there.  “And witchhazel.  You think they got witchhazel on Jssfloon?  Seems like I recall Hoss sayin somethin’ about witchhazel when he was--Whoa Nellie!”  He stopped in his tracks, placing a halting hand on Flyspur’s chest.  

    Flyspur looked around curiously.  “What?”  It could have been anything.  The beach was full of all kinds of creatures doing all kinds of things.  There was no way to pick out what exactly had caught his friend’s easily diverted attention.

    “You smell that?”  Rover’s turned up nose was in the air, sniffing like a bloodhound.  He moved forward across the beach as if pulled by an invisible string.

    “Smell what?”  Flyspur excused himself politely to the beachgoers as he picked his way across the crowded sand, chasing after Rover and his nose.  The air was a cocktail of smells, from a hundred different kinds of sunblock to alien body odor to the salty smell of the ocean.  Just like the crowd of people it was impossible to know which one Rover was after.

    Rover’s feet seeming to move on their own as he weaved through the crowd, stepping over tails and ducking under umbrellas.  He stopped at a tall tree that sat on the edge of the beach, shading a wide patch of sand.  He peeked around the wide, striped trunk and a crooked smile slid across his face.  “Eureka.”  

    Flyspur leaned over to look around him.  

    There, sitting contentedly in the shade was a massive creature.  Four thick, clawed feet supported a insectoid thorax that connected to a tall neck-like body that sprouted six small arms.  It’s head supported spiked mandibles and four shiny, pupiless eyes.  A long ridge of blazing red fur trailed down from the back of it’s head down to it’s lower body.  It seemed to be enjoying itself, making small trilling noises as it weaved its head back and forth in the warm air.

    Sitting beside the creature was an intricately painted box and Flyspur could see the steam rising from it.  He could smell it now, a thick meaty aroma with a swirl of foreign spices.  

    “You hungry?”  Rover asked, his grin growing wider.

    “Not really.”

    “I’m hungry.”  

    “There’s a line of food carts right over there.”  Flyspur pointed to an area of beach with a series of small huts and portable cooking stations.  

    “You kiddn’?  I’m sick of Jssfloon food. I mean I like dunefruit as much as the next fellah but come on!  You guys wouldn’t know how to spice things up if someone hit you with a bag of pepper.”

    “Soorn told you not to beg.  It’s impolite.”

    “It ain’t beggin’.  I never beg.  Well, except for that one time with the sand blaster and that skimmer engine...and that other time when my toes…”  He waved the tangent away like it were flies buzzing around his head.  “Never mind.  It ain’t beggin’.  It’s tradin’.”

    “You don’t have anything to trade.”

    “Don’t worry, I’ll find somethin’.  Now give me a rundown on this fellah.  What species is he?”

    Flyspur let out an annoyed chuff from his nose.  “It’s a ‘she’, and she’s a Xepher.  A adolescent by the looks of her fur ridge.  Don’t you ever do your Xeno homework?”

    “Nope.  That’s what I got you for, Little Blue.”  He ducked further behind the tree with just his green eyes peeking around it, like a predator stalking his next victim.  “Now, what do we got?”

    "Come on, Blue.". Rover snapped his fingers.  "What do we have here?"

    Flyspur clicked his tail defiantly but did as his friend asked.  He took a deep breath and recited:  "They are from the star K'kol, in the Mantirus sector.  Their skeleton is a mixture of both endo and exo-, the main bodys' structure is on the inside while they have an exo-cranium.  Their blood is mercury based and is toxic to--"

    Rover waved the information away, his face puckering up in annoyance.  "No no!  I don't want another science lesson, Mr. Biology Mouth.  What do they like?  What do they need?"

    Flyspur looked both hurt and annoyed at being shot down right in the middle of a sentence. But considered Rover's words anyway.  After a moment he began again.  "Their society is democratic, and rulers are elected by general popularity, often gained by the creation of fads.  In fact, the creators of trends are always admired and can gain both wealth and popularity.  They are carnivorous--"

    Rover held up a hand, a devious grin creeping across his face.  "Just what I need."  Without further explanation he turned on his heel and marched to the edge of the beach, found a trashcan and dove inside.

    Flyspur’s mouth dropped in horror, looking right and left to see if anyone was watching his crazed friend.  There were.  Several beachgoers watched with shaking heads as bits of trash flew out of the can along with Rover’s unsatisfied mutterings.

    Moments later his head popped out of the can, his hat askew and his curly red hair exploding out from under it.  A satisfied grin was fixed on his face as he hopped out.  Goo splattered his pants and some sort of green, off-world pasta wiggled on his shoulder.  He brushed it off and straightened his hat as he heaved an old fishing net out of the trash.    

    Flyspur raised a skeptical eyebrow.  He knew exactly what his friend had in mind.  “You’re not serious.  It has holes in it and…”  His nostrils let out a chuff of disgust.  “...it smells.  There is no possible way she’s going to want that.”

    Rover shook his head with a look of pity and condisention.  “Blue, Blue, Blue.”  He threw an arm over Flyspur’s shoulder.  “It ain’t WHAT you’re sellin’.  It’s HOW you sell it.”  He tore three holes in the netting, his mechanical arm snapping the thin ropes easily, then slipped his head and arms through the holes so he wore it like a vest with a long train that trailed behind him.  

    “Watch and learn.”  He marched confidently back up to the shady trees where the Xepher was still trilling to itself and watching the other beach goers.  He leaned up against the tree across from the massive tourist and began humming a little, watching the ocean as if he was perfectly content and barely even realized she was there.  After a couple of minutes he looked over, or more accurately ‘up’, at her and smiled.  “Purdy day, ain’t it?”

    The shiny, insectoid head looked down at him, it’s lidless eyes examining him curiously before looking back out over the sunkissed beach.  “Yes.  It is the second trendiest vacation planet this side of Kilnar, right after Flodira, of course.  Sun and water are very ‘in’ right now, you know.”

    Rover waved his free hand.  “Ah, Flodira’s full’a swamps and tirigators.  Ain’t nothin’ but a cheezy tourist trap.  You made the right choice.  Can’t beat these peach beaches.  An’ look at that sky!”  He swept a hand toward the colors that danced in the blue above them.  “Nothin’ like that noplace else.  Makes it more popular than Flodira any ol’ day.  Course you knew that, though.  A chic gal like you.”

    Her head weaved side to side, clearly pleased by the praise and Rover just smiled innocently.  “I am considered the most leading-edge of my egg mates.”

    Flyspur rolled his eyes from the other side of the tree.

    Rover nodded, his green eyes appraising her.    “I could’da guessed it.  You an’ me, we got that in common.”  He stepped a bit closer to her and extended a hand.  “By the way, the name’s Rover Finnigan.”

    The ridge of fur along the creature’s back lifted curiously as she stared down at his outstretched hand.

    “Handshake.”  He explained.  “Friendly greeting.  Popular where I’m from.”

    “Oh.  I see.”  She grasped his hand with her lowest one and he shook it firmly.  “My name is Q’imk*.  It means ‘thing of beauty that will bring us status’.”  

    “Well, it’s right accurate!”  He let her hand go and leaned up against the tree.  “As I was sayin’, you an me, we’re trendsetters.  Got an eye for what’s up-an’-commin’.”

    “You couldn’t have said a truer truth.”  She said, all six hands twidling their fingers in what Rover took for agreement.  

    “Take this jacket for instance.”  Rover hooked both thumbs through the netting and puffed out his chest as if displaying the most elegant finery.  “Why, I just picked out this little beaut.  It’s the newest fad.  So new in fact, nobody even knows about it yet!”

    “It looks a fine garment!”  Q’imk* weaved her head back and forth, examining the long net as Rover modeled it for her.  

    “‘Fine’?  It ain’t just fine.  Why this particular model comes from a long line of vintage boutiques, popular among beachgoers.”  Rover hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the row of trashcans somewhere on the beach behind him.  “It comes from a calumniate area and has been used by Jssfloon in the most respectable professions.”

    Her head bobbed excitedly and her large mandibles clicked together.  Her full attention was on him.  

    “It has the potential to reel in throngs, particularly in the school systems.  Of course the whole fad is startin’ in places full’a sun and water.  An’ then there’s the smell, of course!”

    “Yes.  I noticed it.  Quite strong.”

    Rover nodded once.  “Spose to be.  See, not only can folks not ignore you, it also tells them where you been, which, of course is the dandiest spot in the sector.”

    The ridge along her back began to puff and deflate rapidly.  “Where could one acquire such a chic garment?”

    Rover’s face pinched and he scratched the back of his neck.  “Weeelllll.  That is a poser.  See, there’s a particular technique in gettin’ ahold of these.  Just ain’t for everybody.”

    “I would be willing to go to great lengths!”  She insisted.  “What my egg-mates would say!  There would be envy and adulation!”

    Rover shook his head, biting his lip and looking torn.  “‘Fraid I just can’t divulge my sources.  Wouldn’t be right.  But…”  He suddenly brightened.  “I was thinkin’ of gettin’ me a new one.  As much as I’ve taken a shine to thissn’ it’s just a mite big on me.”  He shrugged his shoulders to demonstrate how the net sagged along his back.  “But I reckon it’d fit you like a glove.  It’d be a shame to part with it, though.”

    “If you were going to dispose of it I would be willing to purchase it from you.”

    Rover looked surprised.  “You want to by thissn’?”  He nodded thoughtfully.  “Tell you what, ma’am.”  He slipped the net from his shoulders and draped it over his mechanical arm.  “I like you.  You got some fashion sense in you.  What do you say about a trade?”

    Q’imk*’s mandibles clacked.  “I do not have many things on my person.  Only my edibles.”  

    He nodded eagerly.  “See I’m a bit of a xeno-gourmet.  Heard some fine things about Xepher cuisine!  Ain’t never had a chance to give it a try, though.  And to be downright honest whatever you got in that box smells powerful good.”

    The ridge on her back stood straight up in surprise and delight.  “You would trade your garment for a meal?”  

    Rover touched the brim of his hat with a mechanical finger.  “Only for you, ma’am.”

    “By all means!”  She picked up the steaming box and handed it to him while Rover held out the netting.  She held her new find up in the light, all six hands caressing the knotted ropes.  “How do I wear it?”

    “Over your back.”  Rover instructed.  “Slip your arms in.  That’s right.”  He gave a wolf whistle and shook his head, as if he was in the presence of the most stunning beauty in the galaxy.  “Nobody can hold a candle to that right there!  I’d take me a picture if I had a camera on me!”

“Thank you!”  She cooed, trying to look over her shoulder to see how the net draped over her fur ridge.  

    “Much obliged, ma’am!”  Rover gave her a little wave and a dashing smile.  “Happy trails!”  Then he slipped out from under the trees and strolled away.

    Flyspur met him on the other side of the tree and followed him to a nice sandy spot where he plopped down with a self-satisfied smirk, the steaming box in his lap.

    “That’s how it’s done!”

    “That wasn’t honest.”  Flyspur said, disapproval written all over his face as he lowered himself to the sand beside his friend, his tiny lower arms crossed.

    Rover snorted.  “Ain’t nothin’ I said there wasn’t true.”  

    “It was still misleading.”

    He threw a hand toward the patch of trees.  “She’s happy, I’m happy.  What’s wrong with that?”

    Flyspur let out a chuff through his nose and flicked his tail in disagreement.

    Rover licked his lips in anticipation as he placed both hands on the top of the box and lifted the lid.  Steam billowed up into his face heady with the smell of cooked meat and spices.  The mist quickly dissipated revealing two long-necked vases.  Rover lifted one from the box and held it out to Flyspur who instantly held up his hands.

    “No thank you.  I don’t know what it is or where it’s been.”

    Rover rolled his eyes with a scoff.  “You’re really somethin’, you know that?”  He tested the vase to make sure the concoction inside wasn’t too hot, then he threw back his head and downed the whole container without taking a breath.  He lowered it and wiped his mouth, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Now you see?  Ain’t nothin to--”  He interrupted himself with a frantic wheeze, his eyes suddenly bugging out of his head.

    “Rover?”  Flyspur asked in concern.  

    Rover took in a gasp and clutched at his collar, his face quickly turning a dark red.  Tears filled his eyes and slipped down his face.  Without explanation he sprang to his feet and shot across the beach, his bare feet kicking up mountains of sand behind him.  He leapt over sunbathers and plowed through a game of kilaball.  Reaching the water’s edge he dove head-first into the surf, mouth open.

    When Flyspur caught up with him he was waist-deep in the waves and gargling with seawater.  “Are you alright?”

    He spit out a mouth full of water, panting, his face still red and eyes still watering.  He was panting a little.  “I wasn’t expecting that.”

    Realizing that his friend hadn’t actually been poisoned he let out an amused chuff.  “Well, you get what you pay for.”

    Rover blinked the tears out of his eyes.  He shook his head and whistled.  “Great galactic gravy!  Th-that nearly burned my face off!”  

    “It serves you right, you know.  I keep telling you eating off-world food without knowing what it is is dangerous!  If you had just--”

    “Yeehaw!”  Rover threw both fists over his head in an exhilarated whoop.  “That’s what I call spicy!  I ain’t never had nothin’ like that before!”  He bounded out of the water and headed eagerly back up the beach.  “Where’s that second one?”

    “What?”  Flyspur’s mouth hung opened, stunned.  Then he rolled his eyes with a smile and a sigh and trailed after Rover.

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(all characters and species from this story belong to me)