Been cleaning my parents’ house, which has produced some Bonus Treasure. Back in my field-jacket-wearing days* (of course I had field-jacket-wearing days, hush) USMC Light Attack Helicopter Squadron 775’s patch lived there. Now, I am not sure what I want to do with it. I do not really have a good bag for that sort of thing, even.
Hmm, hmm hmm hmm...
*:
Staying level-headed, that was his job. The Long Tall Sally’s cargo ramp was still lowered when he returned to the landing bay. Two figures were engaged in conversation next to the ramp. One of them was Casey. The other—
“Oh, Jesus Christ.”
The other turned at the sound of his voice. She grinned. “Hello, coyote.”
“Hello, coyote.”
Xocoh Zonnie was a treasure hunter, a tomb raider, and the kind of all-around scoundrel that gave coyotes their reputation. She’d hired the Long Tall Sally earlier in the pair’s career to help her find the fabled Lost City of Sjel-Kassar.
Which they had done, along with the planet-destroying superweapon to which it had been key. Getting to that point involved the near-destruction of the ship—twice!—and earning the ire of every criminal syndicate across two sectors.
He did not like the way she smiled. “Casey here was just catching me up on your last run. It sounds productive.”
“Pretty decent,” he said carefully. “Thirty-six thousand credits to get here from the Jalet System.”
“A whole thirty-six,” the jackal echoed, and Dev realized both that Xocoh had already pitched her on a job, and that their meeting had been unplanned. “It pays the bills.”
“That’s true. Casey says you put in an auxiliary power generator, too. Bet that’s come in handy.”
The coyote’s field jacket had earned a few more scorch marks since the last time he’d seen her. “Yeah, a couple times. We can run off it when we’re parked instead of having to keep the main reactor spun up.”
“Not exactly what I meant. Anyway. Come here. Give me a hug, coyote. You do hugs, right?” She didn’t give him the chance to answer, wrapping strong arms about him and pulling Dev in close. Her sharp muzzle—he was sure it still sported the same grin—found his ear. “Sixteen million.”
He held the embrace a respectful two or three seconds, then let go. Then, when that didn’t work, he unhooked the coyote’s arms one at a time. “What’s the job?”
(From “Reasonable Hobbies,” the story that augured The Trouble With Coyotes, Vol. 2)
The field jacket has been the only thing she’s ever worn, when she is wearing anything :P Anyway, Xocoh comes by her style... ...honestly? Can coyotes come by things honestly?