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skonen_bladesJake was a milliboy.
The millipede was as big around as a tree trunk, bright red and armoured. The saddle looked ridiculous on such a creature but it served its purpose; it kept Jack astride his steed.
This planet’s dominant life was insectile and large. It was a special breed of ranch-hand that was needed.
The milliboys. Jake and a few hundred others worked this ranch. Breaking in the tranchlas, the kaydids, the scorps and the jackflies. Wasn’t one insect a body could trust. It just wasn’t in the creatures. They operated on a completely emotionless level. You couldn’t build up a rapport with them, it was said.
Jake and the other milliboys would beg to differ on that point.
You spend enough time around the ‘sects, you got to know the way they thought, what the twitch of a leg meant, the angling of a huge multifaceted eye. The ‘sects knew you were watching. They learned to avoid pain.
Jake’s mount was addicted to meth. It was easy to make around here. The millipedes were the easiest to hook, easiest to train, and damn near impossible to kill. Slow movers but they almost never turned on their riders after they had been broken in and addicted.
Those pincers up front underneath that bulbous, eyeless face could cut a prayer in half or so they say.
Penelope was breaking in a mantis. We were the milliboys, they were the womants. Only the girls could work the female mantii. The milliboys just got their heads nipped off. With the pheromones in the air, the female mantis could tell that it was a problem of dominance, not survival. A contest of will.
Penelope hadn’t lost one yet. She was there, hat in hand, whooping as the mantis bucked, kicking up fantails of brown dirt. Penelope had a hold of the wings with her legs and she was smiling from ear to ear, freckles dotted on her red cheeks.
After a long time, the mantis calmed down and knelt. The contest was over.
“Well, hell. I think this’ll be my new mount.” She said and slapped her knee after dismounting, laughing as she walked over to me.
“You always were a firecracker, Pen.” said Jake, smiling underneath the brim of his hat.
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The millipede was as big around as a tree trunk, bright red and armoured. The saddle looked ridiculous on such a creature but it served its purpose; it kept Jack astride his steed.
This planet’s dominant life was insectile and large. It was a special breed of ranch-hand that was needed.
The milliboys. Jake and a few hundred others worked this ranch. Breaking in the tranchlas, the kaydids, the scorps and the jackflies. Wasn’t one insect a body could trust. It just wasn’t in the creatures. They operated on a completely emotionless level. You couldn’t build up a rapport with them, it was said.
Jake and the other milliboys would beg to differ on that point.
You spend enough time around the ‘sects, you got to know the way they thought, what the twitch of a leg meant, the angling of a huge multifaceted eye. The ‘sects knew you were watching. They learned to avoid pain.
Jake’s mount was addicted to meth. It was easy to make around here. The millipedes were the easiest to hook, easiest to train, and damn near impossible to kill. Slow movers but they almost never turned on their riders after they had been broken in and addicted.
Those pincers up front underneath that bulbous, eyeless face could cut a prayer in half or so they say.
Penelope was breaking in a mantis. We were the milliboys, they were the womants. Only the girls could work the female mantii. The milliboys just got their heads nipped off. With the pheromones in the air, the female mantis could tell that it was a problem of dominance, not survival. A contest of will.
Penelope hadn’t lost one yet. She was there, hat in hand, whooping as the mantis bucked, kicking up fantails of brown dirt. Penelope had a hold of the wings with her legs and she was smiling from ear to ear, freckles dotted on her red cheeks.
After a long time, the mantis calmed down and knelt. The contest was over.
“Well, hell. I think this’ll be my new mount.” She said and slapped her knee after dismounting, laughing as she walked over to me.
“You always were a firecracker, Pen.” said Jake, smiling underneath the brim of his hat.
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Date: 22 Jan 2008 08:50 (UTC)