A small town to souls who have lived in the safe environs of various rings, spheres, beads, and habitats knowing only the altruistic largesse of emergents governing the climate-controlled comforts of Omelae unimaginable beyond the civilized shells of human influence.
But intrepid vagrants, some from reefers and others from family ships accented with old-style twodee explorers, found themselves drawn to the snakeshine of 12 Ophiuchus like Heterocerae of old Earth to streetlamps. 2/x
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Those who desire busy hands instead of eternal playtime of a spotless mind.
Others who knew no better, whether these survivors of imperfect hibernation left old Earth centuries before or only know the inside of a stuffy starship held together with duct tape and good will, and embrace the opportunity to claim their new home under a crude mockery of familiar constellations twisted unrecognizably to new angles of mythologies.
Such are the 13,584 souls who now call Glycon home. 3/x
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As for that humble and distant metropolis, cultivated from modified Astractiniae along the edges of Glycon's native clonal colony sylvamorph stretching across the northern hemisphere's sole continent, being the 39th, and final, day of second December heralded street closures for the bimonthly bazaars. Among the merchants hawking queer spices, fabbed artifacts, rare meats like beef and pork, alongside everyday goods was a small stand arrayed with garbage from old Earth.
Terra. 4/x
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Below a sign emblazoned with "Notions" in black slab serif lettering, the proprietor sulked while a holographic amusement twiddled atop her fingertips.
Ursula was a big woman having served among the Terran marines with distinction, evinced by the anatoo of a sword slicing an ancient colony dome in two upon her formidable deltoid. Her height was above the mean for a female. Her buzz grew out as long, silver-streaked locks of obsidian tickling her shoulderblades. 5/x
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The very same shoulderblades fitted with latches enabling her to pilot a techa and lay waste to all who stood against the will of Barron the XI of Nova Caesarea and Terran acquisitions.
Her dark mood was shaded by her shame of being a groundpounder rather than piloting her machine. Now she kicked dust up into her eyes instead of those of rebels, infidels, contrarians, and dissidents fleeing justice administered by titanium and ceramic burning with the heart of a star and human fury. 6/x
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What compounded her situation, above and beyond being #relegated to the frontier of human influence and forced to share oxygen with ecksters, was being broke.
No one wanted to buy her trophies. All turned away from her vintage paraphenalia screaming, tacitly or implicitly, "Fuck Yeah Humanity!"
Ursula needed to buy food but lacked enough to afford a sandwich let alone protein crackers.
Above her stomach's grumble was another sound. Something high pitched like a bird. 7/x
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"Hi!" Atop tippy-toes was a small girl who wasn't old enough to be alone by Ursula's reckoning. "Whazzat?" A small finger directed Ursula's attention to an old NNB pistol hung on a wall.
She spoke precisely, "A Groening-Price Non-Newtonian Mark 7 pistol. Manufactured in 2208 on occupied Mars." She boasted, "It was mine."
"How much?"
The brawny broad cocked her head, "What would be your offer?"
A small hand spilled out several crowseeds, a tarnished martian coin, and a Nom-Bar. 8/x
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Ursula's belly growled again. She swore the child gasped.
"I want it." A huge smile lit the booth, "This is enough."
Snek, Glycon's smallest moon, neared the western horizon to herald the bazaar's close. This human girl was her only patron. In her tent was a half-empty canteen and her aerogel mattress.
Ursula last ate two days ago.
Ursula barely shit yesterday.
"Deal" she barked and extended her meaty, scarred hand.
They shook. 9/x
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Ursula ensured the weapon was empty and handed it over as two shadows crossed the counter.
A human female and a krink female. "Jilly!"
Jilly spun and leveled the gun, "Pwang! Pwang! I'm a megamutt" then barked.
The krink knelt, "May I see, please?" with a perfect martian accent. Indignance rose in Ursula's heart having led pogroms to rid Terra of that plague of frogs. 10/x
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Black eyes glared at the human woman for betraying their species and polluting the little girl with ecksterlove.
"Wow, this is neat" cooed the krink. She stood and showed it to her partner who whistled and nodded before feigning a violent sneeze. The pistol flew from the krink's hand into a recycler. "Oh no!"
Jilly pouted as tears welled.
"Oh don't be sad, Proctor Minh #informed us it's fishberry chicken for dinner at the commune!" 11/x
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Jilly turned on a dime, forgot her purchase, and cheered.
Each female took one of the girl's hands and let her swing between them as they walked away in a cloud of laughter and dust.
Ursula's attention turned to the recycler's friendly ding.
Her gun was now gone for good.
With a grunt, she unwrapped and inhaled the Nom-Bar in one bite.
"Domorrow" she sprayed crumbs as she spoke, "… ish anover gay." 12/12
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