by Russ Colson
Grenitschee (noun) (pronounced grin-itchy). An omnivorous giraffe-like denizen of Gnossis Prime, highly prized and feared by Gnossian traders. Known for its irascible behavior, the Grenitschee can be quite affectionate toward any person it has formed a strong attachment to while remaining quite surly towards others. Having two sets of teeth, an outer ring of omnivorous teeth for eating meats and an inner ring of teeth for cracking water-bearing Gnorth palm nuts, the creature is well-developed for desert life.
The beast grinned at me with teeth the size of teas saucers while it sat on its zebra-stripped rump. It scratched parasites the size of small kittens out of its leopard-spotted upper shoulder fur. The rest of its hide-pattern was just as random.
For anyone reading this who doesn’t have The Galacticas Compendium of Beasts downloaded to their wrist-reader, ‘giraffe’ is a pretty apt description of the creature from a distance. Up closer, one immediately notices the extra set of mid-abdominal legs, and closer still, the fact that the beast’s neck tends more to serpentine than giraffe-like. That, and the beast’s head can rotate in a 720-degree circle like a demon-possessed being and articulate like an owl’s.
Grenitschee (continued.) The Grenitschee’s cryptic coloration is thought to be an adaptation to confuse its predators—i.e. Sand leopards and Tarnags.
Cryptic my ass. The thing looked like it was stitched together by a blind taxidermist’s conference in Kenya.
The beast in question stared back at me indifferently, as if bored with its new owner. At least I thought it might’ve been staring at me. It was difficult to tell because its four sets of crossed eyes roved independently from one another.
I noticed the whole tavern of locals had vacated their seats and now stood outside, watching me, waiting for something to happen. Under the scorching twin suns of Gnossis money changed hands, as bets were obviously being taken.
The two traders who’d taken everything but my robe and spaceship in a local game of chance called Grpth showed the keenest interest in what would transpire next.
As well they should. After taking nearly all my credits, they’d offered me a chance to recoup them all; in fact, they offered to double my credits, if I’d approach a rich Gnossian Clan and open up trade negotiations with them. They even sold me some cheap transportation to get me there; the Grenitschee that was licking its rectum now. Long necks come in handy, I guess.
I felt I’d nothing to lose and lacked the credits even to buy fuel to get to another world. I agreed to take the commission.
There was a catch, of course.
The Clan I was to approach was very traditional, insisting that all traders must approach their village by Grenitschee-back. They’d slay anyone attempting to land a speeder or spaceship anywhere near their village.
I felt one of the Grenitschee’s parasites climbing up my ankle and stamped down hard, catching one of its many feet under my boots. It squealed in pain. As fast as a striking cobra, the Grenitschee swung its neck in my direction and snapped the parasite in half in a huge crunch. The beast’s lips brushed my ankle.
The creature lifted its head, slowly masticating the parasite. And then it lifted its head to my eye level. The munching paused—several vermin body parts protruding from wrinkled, purple lips.
That must’ve been the first time it became aware of me. It rumbled a sound deep in its upper throat as if to say, “Hmm, what do we have here?”
An extended thundering sound from behind the beast—the Mother of all Flatulence. Several of the bar’s patrons backed away from us, pinching their noses. One bent over and threw up. I was lucky I guess. I’d lost most of my sense of smell when a stink bomb went off near me in the Telurian Wars.
The frantic betting stopped. It turned quiet while all eyes regarded me. I think at least half of the Grenitschee’s, also. A deeper rumble from the beast—the ground trembled beneath me; and then, silence.
Suddenly, a deluge of steaming, purple effluent gushed from the beast’s mouth and covered me entirely. It singed my eyebrows off and burned my eyes, and my robe and pantaloons melted from me and fell to the ground. I screamed and looked frantically in every direction for help, spying only the water trough in front of the tavern. I flung myself, bare-ass naked, into it.
The water, surface slimy and well-saturated with Grenitschee drool, provided instant relief. I pulled myself up to a sitting position within the trough and gazed about me.
Jaws hung open and eyes wide—this was clearly not what the locals had expected. The tavern’s patrons rushed to the traders, demanding they pay up on their bets. The S.O.B.’s must’ve been the ones giving the odds.
The fellow that’d yakked it up earlier walked up to me and handed me a fist-full of credits, chuckling.
“I didn’t expect that, Outworlder,” he said, shaking his head, still chuckling. “You’ve made me a wealthy man.”
“Expect what?” I replied, dumbfounded.
“Masinna and Norfats never lose a bet. Now they’ll be forced to really go through with their trading with the Eye-Feast Clan to recoup their losses.” The celebrant smiled. “They were betting at 25-to-1 against you.”
“What do you mean, really and Eye-Feast?”
“The Grenitschee chose you. That’s never happened with an Outworlder before.” The drunk tucked the rest of his credits quickly into a pocket on the inside of his robe, and then gave me a puzzled look.
“You don’t understand the ways of Gnossis, do you?”
I shook my head.
“Then, my new friend of fortune, I must tell you. Had the Grenitschee not chosen you, it would’ve bitten your head off. Under Gnossian law everything you owned would’ve become the property of the two traders now approaching. That includes your spaceship.”
“Ah, Westley, our close friend!” Norfats gushed, his rotund frame shaking in professed pleasure at our acquaintance. Masinna stepped forward and reached for the credits in my hand, then opened his robe to show my blaster tucked into the waist band of his pantaloons when my hand refused to open. I reluctantly gave them up, glaring at the two murderous thieves.
“It’s only for your own safety, friend,” Norfats beamed, the very picture of beneficence, while he took my credits from Marsinna. “You must approach the Eye-Feast Clan with only the tender nut of the Gnorth palm and whatever the Grenitschee provides.” Both of them nodded their heads like dashboard dazzlers.
I looked down in the cloudy water at my naked form, now turned boiled-lobster red by the Grenitschee’s stomach acids. No way could I travel naked in the light of the Gnossian suns.
“Surely I may wear a robe?”
“Not even that, our friend,” Norfats shook his head sadly. “On first trading, one may only approach a Clan to trade with the nut and what the Grenitschee provides, I’m truly sorry, but that is the way of Gnossis!”
“Blessed be the way of Gnossis!” Massina cried.
“I think the way of Gnossis sucks!” I said.
Massina stepped forward and drew back his hand to cuff me for my insolence—and then stumbled back quickly and fell in the dust as the Grenitschee put its head between us and snapped at him.
“Be careful that you do not say such a thing as that to the Eye-Feast Clan. They’d surely feast on your eyes for that. They’re very observant of the way of Gnossis,” Massina said, scowling.
“I’ll bear that in mind.” My eyes hurt and felt swollen from the fumes of the Grenitschee vomit. I was sure they must look very red. I also hoped they wouldn’t look too appetizing to the Eye-Feast Clan.
“Now, it seems like we’re trading partners, whether I like it or not,” I said. “What else must I know to open up trade with the Eye-Feast Clan?”
Norfats grinned again.
“Head east in the direction of the suns’ rising. Yet you must travel only by night, to protect your tender Outworlder skin from the harshness of our blessed suns.” Norfats nodded significantly at my nakedness. “There’s a constellation called the Sand Crab. Are you aware
of it?”
I lifted my arm and toggled my wrist-reader for constellations. Found it. The Pleiades. No problem, there.
Norfats held his hand out. “That’s all you need to know. Merely follow its nightly journey and you will find the Eye-Feast clan.”
I sighed and un-strapped the wrist-reader reluctantly. It was made by Rolex and worth quite a bit.
“Only for my own protection, right?” I asked, noting the beam of avarice in Massina’s eyes when he tried to take the wrist-reader from Norfats, who slapped his hand away and secured it to his own wrist.
“But of course, our friend. You’ll be able to buy many such as these once you’ve secured a trading partnership for us.” Norfats spoke reassuringly, turning the wrist-reader in the suns’ light, admiring the burnished duralloy sheen.
The Grenitschee continued to grin its fool’s grin at me and scratch at its limitless supply of parasites. It rubbed what passed for stubby horns against my chest.
“Pet it between the horns,” the drunk said. “It will strengthen the bond.”
Norfats and Massina frowned at him.
Why don’t they want the bond strengthened? I earned a hostile glance from them also, quickly hidden, when I scratched its head.
It moaned and quivered in ecstasy. I felt like I needed to wash my hands. There was an almost palpable erotic vibe emanating from the beast.
“The suns will soon set,” Norfats began. He turned to a lackey and whispered into his ear. The man took off at a run.
“Remember, you must approach the Clan only with the nut of the Gnorth palm. I sent my servant to fetch one.” His eyes gazed down my naked frame and opened wide as I stood up.
Again, I felt the need to wash.
“You’ve turned purple,” he said. His glance turned speculative. The others pointed at my parts and spoke among themselves.
I looked down. Sure enough, the old boy and his hairy half-wits were now bright purple from the vomit stain.
“I take it this is unexpected?” I looked around me for something to cover myself up with, feeling suddenly uncomfortable amongst a large group of men in a population with very few women.
Half of the parasite shell the Grenitschee had munched earlier lay embedded in a mat of coarse hairs in the pool of purple vomit. Grenitschees evidently hacked up hair balls like cats.
I stepped out of the water trough, retrieved both shell and the fibers, washed them off in the trough, and quickly wove myself a belt, using it to secure my impromptu codpiece. I looked like a character from the campy soft-porn vid, Barbarina and the Levolian Love Slaves.
“This should be alright with the Eye-Feast Clan, right? It’s all supplied by the Grenitschee.”
Norfats nodded at my private parts. “Now that you are, ahem, purple, you will prosper with those with whom you trade. This is a sign of Gnossis’s favor.”
“Great, I’m finally getting a break and a purple package, to boot. Ah, speaking of nuts, here comes the nut man.” I turned and took the nut from the servant, who bowed.
It was then that I realized I didn’t know the first thing about riding Grenitschees, though I’d ridden Durgha Lizards on Ceti Proximus.
Norfats noted my discomfiture. “When you wish to mount or dismount, merely whistle. The Grenitschee will do the rest.”
I nodded. “Like this?” I whistled.
The Grenitschee reached down and picked me up with its jaws, stretching rubbery lips over its teeth to protect me from its fangs. Its snaky neck twisted and coiled back around to drop me into the thick, curly, buffalo-like hair just above its upper shoulders, adjoining the neck. I grabbed hold of the hair and wrapped my legs around its neck.
“You steer the Grenitschee with the inside of your thighs. Merely apply pressure,” Norfats said. “To make it go, say ‘Gah!’ To make it go fast, say ‘Gah-Gah!’”
“So to make him go, I say ‘Gah?’”
“It is a she, and yes,” Norfats replied, nodding.
“Gah!” I said. The Grenitschee stood up and took off at a break-neck pace down the main street. My spine whip-lashed at the acceleration. Damn, these babies can haul ass. A thought occurred to me and I turned to look back at Norfats, who ran red-faced behind me.
“How do you make her stop?” I yelled behind me.
“Nah-gah!” Norfats yelled back, while he and the village quickly faded into the surrounding desert.
¤
For being such an ugly, cantankerous beast I could see why desert travelers prized Grenitschees. Lola, the name I decided to give her, had a remarkably comfortable gait and traveled quickly. Still, I wasn’t looking forward to three days travel on her without food or water. I found out later that I needn’t have worried about this.
The first sun had already set. I felt the warmth of the second sun on the back of my shoulders and the back of my head as I headed East. The rest of me was buried deep within the curly shoulder ruff of my steed. I hoped it would offer some protection from the cold desert night.
I felt the first of the Grenitschee’s parasites crawling across my legs, investigating new terrain. I grabbed it and on a whim tossed it high in the air above Lola’s head. She snapped it up with a lightning-fast strike.
Oh, well. At least she won’t go hungry. I grabbed another one, chucking it even further from her reach. She extended her neck and snatched it up also.
We made a game of it, whiling away the hours, me growing ever more impressed with Lola’s prowess at snatching and grabbing. The game gave me something to do to pass the miles. Of course, there also appeared to be a never-ending supply of parasites.
The second sun disappeared and I turned Lola toward the Crab constellation, trying to see some sort of crab connect-the-star-dots, but failing. Anyway it was one of the brighter constellations from Gnossis, and would be easy enough to follow until morning, when I would have to find somewhere to hole up during the heat of the day.
I decided to sing a naughty little ditty about conjoined female Delorebian twins. Lola turned her head and brought it close to me, regarding me with her crossed eyes while she loped along while I crooned out the last line: “...and they shared one thing among them which caused some disagreement between their lovers...” Lola rumbled and began to hum along, pretty much in tune with me—not that I’m ever much in tune.
Thus we passed the hours until the dawn of morning in concert.
¤
Lola turned away from our eastward trek as the first sun began to rise. She obstinately ignored my “Nahs!” and attempts to steer her, heading north instead. After a time I finally gave up and just let her have her head.
An hour later she topped a dune and dropped down into an oasis, a large aquamarine pool circled with several Gnorth palms. A trade caravan with several Grenitschees was hobbled there, servants setting up tents. Several men turned and shaded their eyes with their hands to see who approached. I hoped they were friendly.
I pulled up short of them and raised my fingertips to brush my forehead, lips, and heart in what I hoped passed for the proper Gnossian greeting of harmless friendliness.
The servants just stared while an opulently dressed and robust trader waddled forward. How come all the rich ones are fat? He glanced at my Grenitschee and me for a moment before offering the greeting back. I felt it safe to dismount and whistled.
Lola did her thing, carefully depositing me to stand before the trader, and then moved forward and plunged her head into the pool. Gentle ride or no, I felt stiff and sore from the ride.
I’d only stopped a few times to make water. I stepped forward and introduced myself.
“Westley Farlings, Captain of the trade-ship Easy Money.” I repeated my earlier gesture of friendliness.
“Ndranna, trader to the five Clans.” He returned my gesture, as curiosity lit his expression. “I see you’ve bonded a fine Grenitschee, one of Norfats’s if I’m not mistaken?” A hint of avarice came to his eyes.
I suddenly felt wary and helpless but kept my tone frie
ndly. “Yes, to both your questions. But tell me: how did you know it to be one of Norfats?” Now it was my turn to be curious, in spite of my decision to be on my guard.
“I’d recognize the beast’s lines anywhere as s thoroughbred. It’s a fine animal. Perhaps you might be interested in having her bred?” Ndranna said.
Ah, there it was. The avarice full-blown. Since there was only me against a dozen men and their handlers, I decided to play along. “That sounds interesting. What is the normal rate of exchange for stud fees?”
I played the innocent, knowing by the excessively innocent expression that came over Ndranna’s face that I truly was going to get screwed. He waved me toward his tent. I turned to make sure Lola was alright, but she was already batting four pairs of coy eyelashes at a larger, obviously male Grenitschee that was hobbled nearby.
He drooled long slobbers of purple slime in admiration of her comely form, and struggled against his hobbles. If he was the one they had in mind, Lola and he would be in agreement, anyway.
“Grenitchees normally bear three or more young,” Ndranna said, while he held open the flap of his tent for me to enter. He waved me to some cushions, clapped his hands, and then sat down on a cushion. A servant appeared instantly. “Bring us refreshment,” he ordered. The servant disappeared.
“What usually transpires is that the trader who owns the stud shares fifty-fifty in any of the young that come from a mating.”
Again, that too-innocent expression. I almost agreed, then thought better of it. In Gnossian culture a bit of haggling is savored and to be expected. To strike a deal too quickly shows disrespect for those whom you trade with. Yet, one must also show respect in the haggling.