You Only Live 18 Times – #6

Geeus knocked on the door an hour later.

“Hello Geeus,” Ra’Jirra said when she opened the door. “Come on in. I’m almost ready.”

“I trust you find the room acceptable?” he asked as Ra’Jirra went back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“It’s very nice,” she said from the other room.

The argonian sat on the couch. “Arri, would you mind if I asked you a question? I don’t mean to be rude, but… the sandbox. What is its purpose?”

“Oh, that? It’s just a morning routine we like to do. We step in the sand and wiggle our toes in it. It’s just a little reminder of home. Why? What did you think it was for?”

“Oh! I… Never mind. It’s not important.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“The cat is coming too?”

“He is. He won’t be any trouble, will you Dar?”

Dar-Amon rubbed himself against the argonian, purring.

“If you’re sure,” he said dubiously, but Ra’Jirra came out of the bathroom and they proceeded out into the late afternoon.

The three left the hotel and proceeded down a wide dirt path crowded with other argonians. The occasional human or mer would be seen, but they saw only one other khajiit as they walked towards the center of the city. The ubiquitous trees’ limbs hung low over the paths, but Ra’Jirra noticed that there were far more argonians swimming in the canals than walking.

“Yes, we tend to swim rather than walk when we can,” Geeus said, noticing her looking at the canals. “We’ve eliminated all dangerous aquatic life here in the city so it’s as safe as walking. Outside the city though, I wouldn’t recommend it. Argonia is known for its lethal wildlife you may know.”

They turned onto another path, significantly wider than the others and they paused as a group of young argonians crossed the path, book-ended by an adult at both ends.

“School children,” Geeus explained as they continued on.

“So where are we going?”

“I thought you might be hungry and have scheduled a stop at a local restaurant we argonians frequent. If you prefer we could visit one that caters to foreigners. Our eating habits are somewhat more… vigorous than humans or mer prefer. But I understand that khajiits tend to appreciate our style more than they.”

“Oh yes! By all means!”

“But please, let me order for you. Some of our delicacies would prove a bit difficult for you to digest.”

The three entered into a small establishment through a beaded doorway into a room full of argonians sitting tail-to-tail on their left and right at two counters that ran the length of the restaurant. Behind those counters, staff were serving a variety of dishes. Ra’Jirra’s nose twitched at the wildly disparate smell of the place. At once she might pass something that smelled absolutely delicious, then a moment later she might actually have to hold her breath at something else.

At first she tried to avoid the tails of the other diners, but she noticed Geeus just waded right through them, apparently causing no discourtesy, so she did the same. At the end of the counter sat two empty stools that Geeus gestured to. The place was noisy with the sound of argonians conversing in Jel.

“Is it always this busy?” she asked over the din.

“Oh, this is quite light. During more busy times, even the aisle will be full of argonians. We don’t have quite the same sense of personal space that other races require.”

The argonian sitting to the other side of her turned and greeted her.

“Welcome to Argonia, khajiit! Are you new here? I recommend the Guark. It’s nicely fermented today!”

“Why yes, my name is Alli! Pleased to meet you!” she replied while Dar-Amon jumped into her lap. She felt the argonians tail intertwine with hers and she returned the greeting unique to the tailed races.

She turned to Geeus, “Guark?”

“A type of snake meat. You might find it a bit gamey, but perfectly edible to khajiits.”

“Then an order of Guark for me and my cat, please!”, she requested and the argonian beside her nodded.

Geeus caught the eye of a server and soon she had an impressively sided bowl of boneless meat placed in front of her, an identical bowl put in front of Geeus. She extracted a slice for Dar’Amon who jumped onto the counter and began wolfing it down. It tasted pickled but quite tasty and the bed of boiled grain it sat atop soaked up the juices well.

“Delicious! My first Guark!”

“I am pleased you find it so!” Geeus smiled.

And then the meal began in earnest and no more talking was needed. It was refreshing to be able to eat in her normal manner and not have to worry about offending some stray human who happened along. She even let Dar’Amon nudge her out of the bowl in between bites until they were both full.

Water was brought after they had finished and all three lapped at it between picking their teeth.

“Very very nice, Geeus! You have anything else planned for us?”

“Indeed! One of our most favored sporting events is going on now nearby.”

“Oh!” said her neighbor. “Are you taking her to the fights?”

“Yes. I thought she might find it entertaining.”

“You’ll love it, khajiit! Do you wager?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t bet on things I don’t understand yet anyway.”

“A good policy,” the female argonian said. “But the fights are entertaining on their own regardless. Wagering just adds more interest. You have a good tour guide!”

“Why thank you,” Geeus said, nodding towards her, and they climbed off their seats, Dar’Amon taking the offered shoulder and they began to work their way back out through the forest of tails.

“Just this way a little farther,” Geeus said, turning left once they’d managed to get back out. Indeed, they had passed a couple of argonians standing in the aisle that Ra’Jirra had to squeeze past.

“Fighting in various forms does seem to be a standard sporting event across Tamriel,” she was saying to Geeus. “Some to the death. I hope that’s not the case here. I’m not really into blood-sports.”

“It’s not a usual circumstance,” the argonian replied, “though it has been known to happen on very rare occasions. I don’t think you’d deem it a ‘blood-sport’ though.”

They continued through the gates of a large auditorium where the shouting of argonian voices could be heard well in advance of them emerging into the stadium proper. They found their way to an empty space along a long row of stone benches where they sat facing a large rectangular pool of sorts. The action below was obvious, even if it was a confused mass of argonian tails, teeth and claws roiling out of the crystal clear water.

Geeus explained the basics, “The contestants start at the left side. When the game starts a large fish is released from an underwater gate at the far side. The contestants vie to capture the fish and get out of the pool first. Though you may not see it, there are rules though that…”

Suddenly a horn blared and one of the argonians swam away from the melee. She climbed out of the pool, obviously very angry and stalked over to where three other argonians awaited.

“Teammates?” she asked over the roar of the crowd, noticing the similar tail-band colors of the others.

Geeus nodded. “Disqualified. She bit another player.”

Suddenly something dark darted from the mass of argonians and they instantly broke apart, chasing it. The “fish” she assumed, though it looked more like an eel than a fish.

“That’s it!” Geeus shouted as all the spectators stood to cheer for their favorites. Two argonians converged on the eel and began fighting underwater over it. But before the others could join in, one of the two shot out of the water and sailed a good distance into the air before landing on the platform surrounding the pool, the eel still struggling in her teeth. Her arms raised in victory, the winner screamed something she couldn’t understand and bit the eel in two, each end squirming in it’s death throes on the ground at her feet. Some of the audience cheered, while most let out a groan and sat back down. Then a mass exodus began.

“They’re off to place their bets on the next game,” Geeus said. “Would you mind terribly if…”

“Oh, by all means, go ahead! Dar’Amon and I will wait here for you.

“Thank you! I should be back in 15 minutes,” he said and filed out with the others.

“Quite a show,” Dar’Amon said quietly in Ta’agra.

“Yes, isn’t it! Did you notice how big the players are? I swear every one is bigger than the biggest argonian I’ve ever met, and I’ve met some tall ones!”

“I did. But no comment on their swimwear, or lack of it?”

“Kinda didn’t expect any. Not unusual. But they’re all female I noticed.”

“I think they separate by sex. The hist glands would cause unfairness I’d think. But the teammates appear to be of both.”

When Geeus returned, she asked about that.

“Oh, yes, the contestants must be of the same gender. There are two of each on each team. Usually they are married couples, but occasionally they are siblings.”

They stayed to watch a few more games, but Geeus – though obviously enthralled with the sport – led them out of the stadium and back to the streets. Night had come and a fresh rain had obviously fallen while they were inside.

“Very interesting sport, Geeus. Did you win?”

“Alas no, not tonight.”

“Well, I hope it was fun for you anyway. It certainly was for me!” Ra’Jirra said, then a glittering signpost caught her eye, shimmering in the torch lights that framed the path.

“Oh! What’s that place?” she asked, noticing a significant number of argonians entering the establishment.

Geeus seemed a bit embarrassed. “That… It’s a place for… uncoupled argonians.”

“What, like a brothel?”

“Oh no! Not that! Of course, we’re not above such things either, but we have our own version of modesty too. We don’t allow brothels in the city. But, certain activities we find, stimulating. So uncoupled argonians will go there to watch.”

“Ah. Would we be allowed in?”

“I still don’t think you comprehend, Arri. No one would be bothered by your presence, but I don’t think the activities within would be to your liking.”

“What, do they dance naked? Mating on stage? Geeus, we have similar things in Elsweyr you must know. There’s always an audience for such things.”

“Not… exactly that, Arri.”

“I want to see,” she said firmly. “We don’t have to stay long. It’s safe, right?”

“Safe, yes. But…”

“I want to see,” she said, determined, and Geeus shrugged and led her to the door.

Within there was an odd, low hooting from the crowd and she suddenly felt truly surrounded by a species that was undoubtedly not her own. Geeus ushered them to a table away from the center stage. It took her some time to understand what she was seeing.

A large argonian was there, gyrating her hips in a fashion not unknown to khajiits and probably all the other races of Tamriel. Dancing in imitation of mating was a standard practice. She watched for a time, fascinated. The performer was amazingly good at her dance, even given her size, and the crowd around the stage hooted her on. It finally reaching a crescendo as her tail rose to the ceiling and she crouched on her stomach, her rear in full view of the customers.

And then it became obvious what was really happening.

She looked at Geeus and he shrugged. “I’m sorry, but it’s a very erotic thing to us,” he apologized.

She took his hand, “No. It’s okay. I guess I can understand that. It’s just a different part of the fertility cycle after all. But…”

They rose and headed for the door.

“It’s just not something I’m terribly eager to watch. I should have listened to you.”

They exited the establishment and she looked at the glittering sign again as they emerged back onto the path. Why it hadn’t been obvious before, she couldn’t imagine. The egg was not a trivial design element of the sign.

“Do you want to return to your room?” Geeus asked, apparently as embarrassed as an argonian could be.

“No way! Geeus, this is all fascinating to me! But I could use a drink. What do you have that passes for a bar around here?”

You Only Live 18 Times – #5

The ship left Senchal, crossing the mouth of Topal Bay before stopping at Soulrest in the Black Marsh to take on more passengers and supplies before continuing on to Lilmoth. Ra’Jirra and Dar’Amon had a small private cabin for the trip, but it was too confining to stay in long. Instead they walked the deck with the other passengers. The crew were a mix of khajiit and argonians, but they didn’t interact with the passengers much. After Soulrest, the majority of the passengers were argonian. Though she spoke Jel passably, Ra’Jirra preferred to listen to the argonians, who never suspected she could understand their language. For his part, Dar’Amon never spoke at all when out on the deck, but submitted to the occasional interest of juvenile argonians who found him irresistible.

The ship stopped overnight in Lilmoth, but was underway again early the next morning heading for their destination of Archon, the capital of the Marsh. By the time the ship had sailed up the deep river into the capital, both Ra’Jirra and Dar’Amon had gotten used to the humidity and atmosphere of the Marsh, but it’s regular daily rains had put a damper on their enthusiasm to visit the strange land.

“Well, at least it’s sunny for a change,” Dar’Amon said as the early afternoon sun shone through their portal.

“There is that,” Ra’Jirra said, lazily stroking the cat while they waited for the signal to disembark.

Finally it came and Ra’Jirra awaited her turn to climb down the ladder to the waiting longboats that would take them ashore. Dar’Amon clung to her shoulder like a furry parrot and she did her best to resist making a joke. A laughing cat would seem awfully strange. They weren’t the only khajiits on-board to depart at Archon, but there were far more scaled passengers. As the longboat was rowed ashore, she saw the larger baggage being offloaded onto a much bigger boat at the stern of the ship where she presumed the CATv3 was.

Upon stepping off the boat onto the dock, they were greeted by a dark brown argonian who called himself Geeus Pedorees.

“Welcome to Argonia. You are Arri I presume?”

“I am she,” Ra’Jirra replied.

“Very good. Follow me. Your cat?”

Ra’Jirra glanced at her shoulder where Dar’Amon sat. “He is his own cat, but we travel together.”

“I see. We have accommodations for you prepared. I expect you will desire to refresh yourself after the journey.”

“That would be nice, Geeus. And my equipment?”

“We will leave in the morning with a small troupe for your destination and will bring your equipment along. That which you seek remains there as of last we heard. In the meantime, might I interest you in a tour of Archon after you are settled?”

“A tour eh? Yes, that would be nice.”

“Have you been to Argonia before?”

“Never.”

“Then perhaps you will find it edifying. But come, we will take a gondola through the canals to your hotel. It is faster than walking.”

“Oh joy. More boats,” she said under her breath.

They climbed into the small craft. “But where is the gondolier?” she asked, noticing no one else around.

“I will serve that role,” Geeus said plainly and removed his clothing before diving into the water beside the craft.

Ra’Jirra eyed Dar’Amon who glanced back at her and turned his head as if to say, “Whatever.”

The argonian resurfaced with a rope around his neck and began swimming up the canal. Ra’Jirra noticed other similar craft with the same means of propulsion when she looked closer and they rode deeper into the city.

The city itself was like none she’d seen before. To call it verdant would be an understatement. Large trees with snakelike limbs were everywhere, vines crawling up their sides, and she soon realized that the trees housed the populace. In some places elaborate tree-houses adorned the huge branches, while in others she saw that the trees themselves provided the shelter, having apparently been guided into shapes fit for habitation over years of cultivation.

Stone buildings were, in fact, the exception here. But when the gondola stopped, it was beside one of these more traditional buildings. Geeus slid up out of the water onto the path that ran beside the canal, mooring the boat in an empty spot with the rope he’d worn around his neck. He took Ra’Jirra’s hand to help her out of the gondola while Dar’Amon jumped onto the path on his own. Ra’Jirra handed Geeus his clothes back, which he quickly donned.

“You have not seen an argonian naked before, have you?”

“I must confess I have not.”

“You are discreet. That is good. We know that our physiology is not yours. But you have come to the capital of Argonia. Here you will need to accept us as we are. I apologize if I have offended, but here we are home and live as we are made to live.”

Ra’Jirra shook her head. “It’s not a problem. Sorry if I was staring a bit.”

“I fear you may find us more different than you expect. But we are the same up here,” he said, indicating his head. “Though we are born of the Hist, we are more like you than the physical body might suggest. Please, just treat us as equals and we will do the same. But enough of that. Come, you will find your accommodations pleasantly familiar I believe.”

The three entered the open-air lobby of the hotel where Geeus spoke with another argonian behind a desk before escorting Ra’Jirra and her pet to their room.

“I hope you find it comfortable. I will return at dusk and show you the city.”

“Excellent,” Ra’Jirra said, and she meant it. Inside, the room was indeed very familiar. It could well have been a room in any Elsweyr hotel. It even had a sandbox in the corner.

She closed the door and watched Geeus pass back down the hallway through the window. She closed the blinds then.

After a cursory look around the room, she began to pour a bath.

“Did you see, Dar?”

“Ra’Jirra, remember that I used to be a biologist before this happened and I became valuable to the HMSS. He is not the first argonian I’ve seen… all over.”

“Oh? What’s the deal?” Ra’Jirra asked as she slid into the bath.

Dar’Amon jumped onto the edge of the bath at her feet.

“Well, it is best if you understand argonians a little better. Though I wouldn’t call it ‘embarrassment’, they do prefer not to make their differences known to other races. They’ll tell you anything you want to know, but they prefer to blend in with the other races as best they can, so their differences aren’t widely known.”

“I gather they keep their sexual organs internal,” Ra’Jirra suggested.

Dar’Amon began pacing up and down the edge of the bath. Ra’Jirra smiled, thinking of Em’s Pontification Walk.

“Oh, it’s more than that. By our terminology, they’re both male and female, depending on their desire at the time.”

“Both?!”

“Oh yes. We often refer to them as reptiles, but they have more in common with fish than reptiles – though even there they diverge astonishingly. They’re like nothing else on Tamriel – nothing else on Nirn probably. No one knows much about the Hist – the argonians would never allow it – but whatever the mechanism, their physiology is unique among every species we know of, and if the religion of the argonians is to be believed, those sentient trees are the cause. Yet, psychologically, they’re amazingly similar to us. They laugh, they lust, they love, they grieve. That level of similarity when the physical form is so different is amazingly unlikely.”

Ra’Jirra began washing herself while the cat watched, apparently amused.

“Wait, so if they’re both male and female…”

“Ah! But that’s the thing! From their point of view they are male and female. However, it’s not based on their genitalia as we would assume. It’s based on the Hist glands… their ‘mammaries’. Only the females have them. The ‘males’ can give birth as readily as the females, but only the females can nurse the young with Hist sap away from their mysterious Hist trees directly. And apparently, without the sap the young do not develop intelligence.”

“That’s… just weird. But, can they nurse? I’ve seen argonian breasts before. They don’t even have…”

“They can and do! But those only appear when needed. Otherwise they’re hidden behind scales. The scales slough away when nursing.”

“But their mouths – how can they possibly nurse? Their mouths can’t suck!”

The cat’s eyes brightened. “Oh, you give them too little credit, Raj. Their tongues are the most flexible and adaptable in all of Tamriel. It’s amazing what control they have over them. Ours are like prehensile tails in comparison. But the argonian tongue is incredibly adaptable. Oh, they certainly can nurse from the youngest age!”

“Huh. The things I never knew.”

“There’s something else you don’t know I should probably tell you.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Ra’Jirra said as she began to wash her more private areas.

“Though I have the form of an Alfiq, I have the mind of a Cathay.”

“So?” she said, her head turned away from the cat.

“A male Cathay.”

Suddenly she understood. She spun around and dropped back under the water while at the same time throwing the soap at where the cat had been, but he ducked and ran out of the bathroom laughing.

You Only Live 18 Times – #4

“Besides,” said Dar’Amon, “I’m not technically an Alfiq. We have a rather specialized research division working on our unusual biology. In some ways, we khajiit are even more unusual than the argonians in that regard. With the dwindling of magic in the world, there is some real concern that we khajiits may die out. So we had been experimenting with moonbeams, moon sugar and lycanthropy some years ago.”

“Lycanthropy?” Ra’Jirra asked, sitting back in her chair.

“Oh yes. We were making interesting strides too. But our research was terminated. I’m afraid I’m the only tangible result.”

“What, do you turn into a werewolf or something?”

“Well, technically I turn into the Alfiq form you see here. However, unlike werewolves, this is now my more stable state. But when Secunda is full, and Masser is waning, I return to my original Cathay form. It’s really quite annoying”

“I’ll bet!”

“You get used to it,” said the cat, and leaped onto Ra’Jirra’s lap.

Ra’Jirra found herself reflexively petting Dar’Amon, who accepted her attention happily.

Em continued, “Dar’Amon has proven himself quite useful with his unique abilities, as you can imagine. I think he will be valuable to you on this mission.”

Queue stood up then. “I have something that I expect you’ll find useful as well. Come with me. Let’s go down to the lab.”

The cat reluctantly climbed down off Ra’Jirra’s lap, and she stood up to follow.

“Stop back by afterwards and I’ll give you all the details, Ra’Jirra. We’ve already briefed Dar’Amon,” Em said.

***************************

Ra’Jirra and Dar’Amon followed Queue through the labyrinth of rooms that comprised the HMSS laboratories, finally stopping at a large pool. Floating atop it was one of the oddest vehicles she’d ever seen.

“This,” Queue said, shooing various technicians away from the vehicle, “Is the Collapsible Aquatic Transport. Version 3.”

Ra’Jirra groaned, doubled by Dar’Amon.

“Oh, you’ll love it!” the argonian protested. “We have yet to build a successful, full ship-sized engine as the Imperials and Redguards have done. But we have managed to create a much smaller one that we’ve embedded into this. Please, climb aboard.”

“I’m not exactly dressed for the water, Queue.”

“Oh! Yes. Well, if you’re careful…” he started, but Ra’Jirra was already climbing out of her dress and shoes.

“This will have to do,” she said, ignoring the technicians as she managed to sit astride the main body of the device in her underwear.

Dar’Amon jumped aboard and sat between her legs as she put her hands on the handlebars. One of the technicians turned a switch and the CATv3 began to rumble quietly.

“How does it turn? Is there a rudder underneath?” Dar’Amon asked.

“No, actually,” Queue answered proudly. “The engine sucks water in at the front, and expels it at the rear, but the rear port is flexible. The handlebars bend it left and right. The throttle is that lever underneath the right handle.”

“Well, Dar, you ready for a ride?” Ra’Jirra asked.

“Hell yes!”

And with that Ra’Jirra gave the lever a good pull.

Seconds later she surfaced from the water with Dar’Amon swimming beside her. The CATv3 was on the far side of the pool, idling quietly.

“Damn,” Dar’Amon said as he paddled towards the edge. Ra’Jirra lifted him out before she hefted herself up to follow.

“It’s… quite powerful,” Queue said in apology.

“Yeah, I noticed. Can you please tell those dweebs to stop staring at me?”

“Gentlemen,” Queue said, giving the technicians an angry stare.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Dar’Amon said as he ran around the pool to where the vehicle rumbled. “Let’s try that again!”

Ra’Jirra ran after him and they both got back on, but this time Ra’Jirra was significantly more careful with the throttle.

“Woohoo!” she called as the vehicle sprang to life.

“Oh, this is GREAT!” called a small voice from between her legs. “Go faster!”

For an indoor pool, the area was quite large, but not nearly large enough to really test the machine’s limits. She did get a feel for it’s turning radius though, learning how leaning into the turn could significantly improve that radius, and how quickly it slowed when she let off the throttle.

Unfortunately, Queue had stepped too far away, anticipating the splash she had aimed at him when finally she pulled the CATv3 to a stop and climbed off.

“Thank you,” she said as one of the techs brought her a towel.

“Whew! That’s a hell of a machine Queue!” Dar’Amon said as he shook himself dry.

“It is indeed.”

“Got any secret weapons aboard?”

“There’s a mine deployment button in the center console. Only four though.”

“Nothing forward-facing?”

“Afraid not. Tests showed that it’s just not an aim-able platform. No, speed is your best weapon here. You’ll have your gun, if you want it, but it’s nearly impossible to aim on rough water. Also, be aware of the charge meter. It will recharge slowly over time, but will drain rapidly. On a full charge you have only an hour or two of power, and it will take at least 6 hours to recharge in full sunlight. Or overnight.

“Still, you’ve outdone yourself on this one, Queue,” Ra’Jirra said sincerely.

Dar’Amon nodded. “Indeed. But I have to ask the question. Version 3? What happened to 1 and 2?”

Queue’s moment of pride quickly passed. “Oh. Well, we lost version 1 to an accident with one of the mines.”

“And version 2?”

“That one was unforeseeable. We were testing it at sea. It seems that version’s rhythmic vibrations are apparently very attractive to sea life. Large sea life. Extremely large sea life. It was never recovered.”

Ra’Jirra looked at Dar’Amon who was looking back at her.

“We’re pretty sure we’ve resolved that issue by randomizing the idle frequency. At least this one hasn’t been eaten yet.”

***************************

Wears-Only-Ropes stood up from the bed. For the first time in a week, she felt better. The hospitality of the villagers who had taken care of her after she’d staggered into their little enclave had been exemplary, but it had taken a week to recover. She had lost everyone she cared about in the disaster, and the grieving had been the bigger part of that recovery.

But life goes on, and she felt like it was time for her to move on as well. She had told the locals about her experience, but few of them believed her. Few even believed in the existence of large ships for that matter. Yet argonians helped argonians, and she dreaded to think what state she would be in had they not helped her.

She looked down at the shift they’d clothed her in. Apparently here it was standard garb for females, but she found it confining. Her appellation wasn’t true of course. Even at sea, sailors of all races certainly wore clothing, but female argonians – as well as other races – often dispensed with their blouses as cumbersome and unnecessary when out on the open ocean. Yet for some such as her who had been more generously endowed by the Hist, other means of support proved helpful and she’d learned early on that ropes were plentiful and handy aboard ship for a variety of uses. And so the appellation stuck.

Even in the centers of civilization, argonians didn’t care much for travel, and the ships that docked at their ports were always of foreign origin. Exceptions such as her weren’t exactly rare, but weren’t the norm. She would have to find her way onto a ship, hopefully Imperial, and work her way back to Cyrodiil if she was to continue her life as a sailor.

The thought of working with another crew, another Captain though… It was enough to break her heart. She wasn’t sure she could bear it. She’d worked on temporary assignments with other crews of course, but she always knew she would find her way back to her own eventually. They were her family, and now that family was gone forever.

She looked around the little room that was now hers. The widow who had opened up her hut for the stranded sailor was a gentle soul, and Wears-Only-Ropes owed her much. She decided then that she would stay here for a while longer. Now that she was recovering, it was the least she could do for these kind people. She walked out into the sunlight in search of the elders. It was time to find some work to do here. She hoped they needed something involving ropes. That was, after all, her specialty.

You Only Live 18 Times – #3

Upon arrival in Torval, the two walked together down the gangplank where Ko’Manir met an attache from the Hammerfell embassy.

“Well, good luck,” Ra’Jirra said, giving her a hug.

“You too. Hopefully we’ll meet again someday.”

“I’d like that. You take care of yourself!”

And with that, the two parted. Ra’Jirra walked towards the square that was the capitol of Elsweyr, then on to a nondescript building a few blocks beyond. There she descended a flight of stairs and through a pair of large doors where a single guard waited beyond an intimidating desk.

“Yeah?” he said, standing. The sword at his side didn’t look to be ceremonial.

“My name is Arij. I believe I’m expected.”

His demeanor lightened. “Certainly. Step this way,” he said, leading her to a hidden door in one wall then down another flight of circling stairs to a long tunnel, light by glow-pods on either side. She could not see the end of the tunnel.

“Proceed to the end, then take the stairs up. The door at the top will be locked. Knock twice. Not once, not thrice. Twice only. Then be patient,” he said and returned the way he had come.

Ra’Jirra had never been particularly claustrophobic, but the tunnel tested that. It must have been at least a mile in length, with no side passages nor curves. As expected, she reached another tight spiraling staircase which she proceeded to climb. However this one was substantially longer than the prior one and she estimated she had climbed at least five stories before she came to a landing directly in front of a finely crafted door. The door had the head of a lion carved in it – the symbol of the HMSS. She knocked twice.

And then she waited. She began to wonder if she had been heard – the door was massive and there had been only her knuckles to rap on it with. Yet no one came. Not only was the door locked, there was no handle on her side. Minutes passed. Then more minutes.

She considered her options. She could knock again, or she could go back the way she came. She had just raised her hand to knock again when the door opened. Inside sat Em’s secretary and she realized the door was a secret door that led directly to the head of the HMSS’ private office.

“Took you long enough,” said the khajiit behind the desk.

“Pardon me, but I’ve been waiting for someone to open that door for at least 15 minutes!”

“Why? Do you always follow directions? What kind of agent does that make you, Ra’Jirra?”

“What!? Was that some kind of demented test?”

“You can call it that. Go on in, they’re expecting you.”

Ra’Jirra stuck her tongue out at the secretary. Some gestures transcended race. The secretary returned the insult and Ra’Jirra closed the door firmly behind her in mock anger.

“Ah! Ra’Jirra! Come on in,” Em invited her. Beside him was the big argonian named Queue who was the head of the HMSS technology division.

“Em, Queue,” she said, acknowledging both, but surprising Queue with an unexpected hug.

“Oh!” he said in his oddly accented voice. “To what do I owe this? Have you finally recognized the worth of my department?”

“Actually, yes. Without that briefcase trick, I’d be a dead cat. I was remiss in thanking you for that last time.”

“Glad to be of service.”

Em grumbled. “What, no love for your mentor?”

Ra’Jirra smiled and stepped around the desk, making sure to give the head of the HMSS as much affection as she’d shown the argonian.

“That’s better!” he said. “Now if we can dispense with the mutual admiration society, let’s get underway. Agreed?”

She nodded and sat in the chair beside Queue.

“I presume all went well in Hammerfell?”

“It did. Though how much good it will do, I really can’t say. Dominion spies are awfully hard to spot.”

“Don’t we know it! Well, we can only hope it worked. But we have a mission for you. I’m afraid it’s of the utmost urgency so you won’t be staying the night.”

Ra’Jirra felt a little dejected – she’d honestly hoped she could at least stay for a few days. She did love Torval.

“Sorry,” Em said, reading her thoughts as he so often did. “Ko’Manir will be busy anyway. But let’s get down to business. Has she told you of the missing Hammerfell ship?”

“Somewhat, yes. Though she wouldn’t tell me what made it special.”

“Well let me fill you in then. It had sails, and could even be powered by oars or argonian swimmers in a pinch, but it had a device we call an engine. It’s a self-powered device, rather large, that drives a sort of water-fan underneath the waterline of the ship. It’s quite a remarkable device.”

“So, do you know what happened to it? She said it hadn’t been seen since leaving Valenwood.”

“No idea. Elsweyr, being ostensibly an ally of Cyrodiil, was not to be on its port-of-call list. We saw or heard nothing of it. But since the engine can run all day and all night, it could well have passed our coast entirely by the next day,” Em explained, then slid a drawing to her.

“We have a sketch of the ship, drawn by an agent in Valenwood when it docked. It was under sail when entering and leaving the port.”

“Looks like any Hammerfell ship to me,” she said, sliding the drawing back.

Em slid it back to her, “Keep it. It may come in handy. But there’s more. This engine is not, as you may surmise, quite as secret a device as Hammerfell would wish. The Imperials have come up with their own in fact. As in most things, Hammerfell is first in new technology, but the Imperials are quick to grasp it and add it to their own arsenal. Four days ago they launched their own vessel, using a similar engine.”

Ra’Jirra nodded, not surprised. “And we’re working on our own too I suppose?” she asked, turning to Queue.

“Once the idea is grasped, the rest is just engineering. We have a very qualified engineering staff,” he began, but Em interrupted him.

“Hold on, we’ll get to that soon enough. As I was saying, three days ago the Imperials launched their own engine-powered craft. It was to circle all the way up to Morrowind and return, to test the reliability of their version of the machine. It too was lost.”

“Another missing ship?”

“Not missing. Destroyed. There was a sole survivor this time – an argonian.”

“And she came to us? Pardon me, Queue, but your people aren’t exactly known for being friendly to other species – present company excepted.”

The argonian nodded in agreement, but Em stood up from behind his desk and began to pace.

“Oh no,” Ra’Jirra thought. “That’s his Pontification Walk.”

True to form, the head of the HMSS started to do just that.

“Ra’Jirra, you know that Hammerfell excels in new technology. Even the Imperials would have to admit that. For their part, the Imperials have the best trained military of all the nations of Tamriel. We and the Nords have plenty of fierce warriors, but we don’t hold a candle to their strategies and planning. But we have one thing that sets ups apart and levels the playing field for us. Do you know what that is?”

“Me.”

“Yes, in a broad sense at least. We have you, and others like you. We have the best spies in the world, which is quite an accomplishment given our dissimilarity to the humans and mer. Only the argonians are more… different. But they keep to their Marsh for the most part.”

Ra’Jirra looked to Queue, but he just nodded.

“So no, Ra’Jirra. The survivor didn’t come to us. But you could say we came to her. She had no compunction against telling our agent what had happened. In fact, she told everyone in the tavern that she managed to drag herself into afterwards. Her allegiance is with Cyrodiil, but among her own kind she keeps no secrets. She spoke in Jel but our agent understands the language perfectly. Which reminds me, Ra’Jirra, how’s your Jel?”

“Decent,” she said in a very good imitation of the argonian language.

“Good,” Em replied in the same language. “You’ll need it.”

Then he switched back to Ta’agra and walked over to a map of Tamriel. “Come here, Ra’Jirra. I’d like to show you something.”

Ra’Jirra rose and walked to the map, standing beside Em. He stood impressively taller than her, and much more massive. The Cathay-raht somewhat dwarfed her own race.

“Here,” he said, marking a spot along the coast of Black Marsh, “is approximately where the Imperial ship exploded.

“Exploded? A bomb?”

“According to the survivor, that’s what it sounds like. And here, “ he continued, “is the planned path of the Hammerfell ship according to our best sources.”

“They intersect.” she saw.

“Yes, they do. Now, the Imperials think Hammerfell sunk their ship, and Hammerfell thinks the Imperials have taken theirs. We, however, don’t think either are right.”

“Who do you suspect?”

“Who do you think?”

“Black Marsh, of course. It’s obvious. That’s where they both were.”

“Yes. That is our suspicion.”

Ra’Jirra turned to look at Queue. “But why? The argonians don’t dabble in other countries’ affairs?”

“I’ve no idea, Ra’Jirra,” Queue said. “I told the Mane as much. It’s not our style. So long as our Hist trees are left alone, we don’t bother with others as a rule.”

“But nevertheless, all the signs point to the Black Marsh,” Em said. “And somewhere around this area. Ra’Jirra, we’d like you to go there, meet this survivor, and try and determined why these ships are being destroyed. And it needs to be done quickly. Hammerfell is launching another ship within the week, and they’ve already stated flatly that if this ship is lost, they will consider it an act of war by Cyrodiil. Already they are mobilizing their military along the border.”

“I understand,” Ra’Jirra said, looking back at the map.

“Oh, one more thing Ra’Jirra. You’ll have a partner this time.”

“A partner?”

“Queue?” Em said, indicating the door.

Queue walked to the office door and opened it. A cat walked in. The four legged-kind. More specifically, an Alfiq. He stood only slightly larger than a normal housecat, but the intelligence in his eyes was instantly recognizable – to another khajiit at least.

“Ra’Jirra,” Em said. “Meet your partner.”

“An Alfiq? Look, Em, I know they’re great for spying, but… how will we even communicate?”

“Hello, Ra’Jirra,” the cat said in fairly understandable Ta’agra.

“This is Dar’Amon. And as you have noticed, he’s exceptionable among the Alfiq.”

“He can TALK?!”

“Reasonably so,” said the cat. “Just don’t ask me to sing. I really can’t hold a tune.”

You Only Live 18 Times – #2

“HALT!” The Inspector shouted.

She stopped and turned around, now trapped on the rooftop of a building with nowhere to go but down. Behind her, Inspector Trudal approached cautiously with two of his best archers beside him.

“Don’t try it, Ra’Jirra. The arrows are poison tipped. Just come in and we won’t treat you harshly.”

“I’m sorry, Inspector,” she said, putting her hands to her sides in an expression of hopelessness. “I know too much.”

“Wait! Ra’Jirra, DON’T!”

But then she dropped over the edge. The Inspector and his men rushed to the edge, but on the stones below lay the body of the famous Elsweyr spy, a dark pool of blood staining her once beautiful hair.

They ran back through the building to street level, and the Inspector ordered his men to bring help while he waited over the body.

As soon as they were gone, two other men scurried away with the mattress as soon as the archers were out of sight, while the Inspector squatted over Ra’Jirra and lit a pipe.

“You better not get any damn ashes on me,” she said from under the matted hair.

“Ashes to ashes,” Trudal smiled, not looking at her while onlookers began to peer out of windows. “Besides, the dead can’t talk so shut the hell up.”

******************************************

A few hours later Ra’Jirra climbed out of her casket and onto the deck of the merchant ship after it was underway and sufficiently far from the shore to avoid any prying eyes. However, few onboard were khajiits and she had yet to meet another khajiit with that jet-black fur, so it wasn’t hard to guess who it was that stood at the stern, watching the shoreline disappear.

The dark face and orange eyes turned at her approach, and the sad face instantly changed to a smile when she saw her friend.

“Ra’JIrra!” she said, and embraced the spy tightly. For her part, Ra’Jirra returned the hug enthusiastically. Though technically enemies, the two couldn’t be more friendly after what they’d gone through a few months previously.

“Ko! I was so happy to hear they’d chosen you for this mission. It’s not your normal line of work as a cryptologist.”

“Nonsense. It’s practically the same thing. It’s all about encoded meanings. Communications, really. It’s just this time both sides are supposed to be being as open as possible.”

Ra’Jirra turned back to watch as the city of Rihad faded from view, it’s stinking atmosphere replaced by the unique and clean smell of salt water spray. This time she didn’t curse the city, and wondered if reverse psychology would work on Karma.

“Miss it already?”

“What, Hammerfell? Yeah, a little. But a secret diplomatic mission to Elsweyr – how exciting! So what are you doing onboard?”

“Getting buried actually. Things were getting a little hot for me lately. Somebody in the Dominion really has it out for me. So, with the help of your Inspector, we staged my death.”

“Oh! So, you’re dead right now?”

“That’s right. Sorry, but you’re talking to a corpse.”

“An awfully pretty corpse, I must say,” Ko’Manir said, wrapping her tail around Ra’Jirra’s thigh.

Ra’Jirras eyes shot to Ko’Manir’s with feigned anger. “I swear, if you say ONE WORD about necrophilia, this isn’t going to happen!”

Ko’Manir laughed and they retired to Ra’Jirra’s cabin to celebrate their reunion privately.

“So, you’ve been to sea before I assume?” Ra’Jirra asked later.

“No, this is my first time. Why?”

“It’s just unusual. You’re not afraid of the water, and you’re not seasick yet. That’s uncommon for us khajiits.”

“Oh, you give me too much credit, Raj. Hammerfell has created a potion that I took before boarding to help with the seasickness. As for water,” she shrugged. “Never bothered me.”

“Dammit, does Hammerfell always have to be two steps ahead of us?”

Ko’Manir smiled and teased Ra’Jirra intimately. “Sorry, Raj – but if we weren’t, your government probably wouldn’t have made this overture to us, secret though it is.”

Ra’Jirra giggled and pushed Ko’Manir’s hand away. “That’s so, I admit. If the Imperials knew we were in talks with you directly…”

“Let’s see that they don’t find out.”

*****************************

The funeral was quite touching actually, though honestly Ra’Jirra couldn’t understand why they bothered. But, she supposed, one never knew for sure who was working for whom in her line of work. She thought the flag draped coffin was a bit much, and had to wonder just what was in the body bag that slid out from it into the dark water below.

“So, are you going to adopt a new name or something?”

“Oh, you know, whatever the HMSS comes up with. But what about you?”

“Well, one more khajiit on a voyage to Elsweyr isn’t really likely to raise much suspicion.”

“Will I see you once we’re there?”

The dark khajiit shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Will you be in Torval long?”

“Not likely. This subterfuge isn’t going to hold water long. I think they’ve got something planned for me, though what it is I haven’t a clue. “Need-to-Know” and all that. What about you? What’s got Hammerfell so bothered that they sent an emissary to Elsweyr now?”

“Ra’Jirra, you’ve got to know that such information is of the highest secrecy.”

“No problem. I understand…” Ra’Jirra began, but Ko’Manir motioned to the hammock and they climbed in together.”

“You suspect ears in the walls?” Ra’Jirra whispered.

The hammock was made for a single body, but the two found it was actually quite comfortable for two if they didn’t mind being piled right on top of each other. Oddly the swaying of the ship through the ocean was comforting in the netting, rather than a constant strain to keep balanced.

“Not really, I just wanted to get close to you,” Ko’Manir whispered back. “But you can’t be too sure. Did you read about a Hammerfell ship that disappeared a week ago?”

“I did. The story did sound awfully vague.”

“This time not due to secrecy. The last time it docked was at Haven in Valenwood. It’s destination was Morrowind, but it was never seen again. We suspect the Imperials intercepted it somewhere around the mouth of Topal bay and sunk her.”

Ra’Jirra rolled her eyes. “Now look Ko, I know you guys think the Imperials are demons from the lowest depths of Oblivion, but really, why on earth would they want to sink one of your ships? Why even we have a more powerful navy than the Imperials!”

“For now, that’s true. But that ship held some new technology that, in the right hands, could change the naval balance of power forever.”

Suddenly Ra’Jirra became a lot more interested. She stopped teasing Ko’Manir’s ear.

“I can’t go into details, but we have reason to believe the Imperials have their own ship, with similar technology now. Ra’Jirra, if they sunk our ship, that is a clear declaration of war. No amount of diplomacy will stop it this time.”

“And you need allies.”

“Elsweyr occupies a key position beside the Bay of Topal.”

“Black Marsh…” Ra’Jirra began, but Ko’Manir interrupted her.

“Argonians. You know no one can negotiate with them. They’re… inscrutable. Who knows what their goals are? The only good thing is that the Imperials will do no better with them. They’re fiercely independent and protective of the Marsh. There’s no way they’d let Imperials or Redguards establish any significant military presence there. But Elsweyr…”

“I see. Well, look, I’m just a tool of the Mane of course. I have no influence at all over politics or allegiances. But your help with my little subterfuge will certainly sway some at least.”

Ko’Manir stroked Ra’Jirra’s long hair. “I’m afraid, Ra’Jirra, that there was actually some talk about moving that mattress at the last minute.”

Ra’Jirra’s sighed, “I’m not really surprised. But there are times you have to trust your gut and accept the risk, you know?”

“I know,” Ko’Manir said. “Were they getting that close?”

“Close enough I couldn’t do my job.”

“Ra’Jirra, can I ask you a tough question? Don’t answer if you feel you can’t.”

“What?”

“What would you do if you were ordered to kill me?”

Ra’Jirra shook her head. “Wouldn’t happen. I’m not an assassin, Ko.”

“You’ve a license to kill.”

“Doesn’t mean I get paid to. That’s not my job, Ko. But if you really must know, I’d require a damn good reason. If I received such a reason, well, I’d miss you.”

“I’ll try to make sure you never have a reason.”

“Do that, please.”

You Only Live 18 Times – #1

The noise was not deafening, but it was constant, and after a week it was driving her insane. Wears-Only-Ropes had been sailing on ships her entire life, starting as far back as she could remember, fishing with her father around the Marsh. Later she got a job aboard an Imperial vessel along with a crew of other argonians whose primary duty was patching and repairing the craft that seemed to be constantly in a state of disrepair.

It had been many years since those days, and she was now very proud of the fact that she had recently become the highest ranking argonian in the Imperial navy as Boatswain. Technically one of three argonians holding that post in the fleet, but the point was that she had risen to the top. It actually didn’t bother her that she couldn’t expect to rise any higher. And, of course, being the Captain’s part-time lover didn’t hurt matters.

There was a contingent of other argonians aboard ship of course. Their ability to breathe underwater made them invaluable. Every Imperial vessel of decent side had their contingent of ‘lizards’, and though an argonian could not assume a licensed rank in the Imperial navy, their human shipmates were far less racist towards them than any land-dwelling human. After all, when your life may well depend on a lizard coming to your rescue, you quickly develop a quite friendly relationship with them. Close relations were not uncommon, but in the freewheeling life of a maritime crew-member, relationships were fluid.

For their part the argonians rather liked their human officers and shipmates too. Sure, she had sat in on many an all-argonian meeting where they noted how lazy the humans were, but even the most racist of argonians had to admit that the humans took that inherent laziness and turned it into an asset, creating the most ingenious devices she could imagine just to save themselves a few more drops of sweat.

But the constant, never ending noise was getting on her nerves – and not just hers, nor just the argonians – even her human shipmates were getting just as bothered by it. True, it did cut back significantly on the amount of work they had to do, no longer having to hoist sails except as an exercise and for practice, and true it did move the ship noticeably faster through the water on average. But it had made the two crow’s nests a very popular spot for sailors who had been able to take a break. The added distance between them and the ‘engine’ was a blessed relief.

She looked down now from one of those and saw the Captain far below. She smiled inwardly. Their relationship was an open secret among the crew, though she did take some verbal jabs occasionally from both humans and argonians. She suspected he did not. No one jested with the Captain. That was a sure way to get yourself kicked off a ship, and this crew was undoubtedly the best. No one wanted to leave this group. Even Wears-Only-Ropes knew better than to disrespect her Captain, no matter the situation. Only in the complete privacy of his quarters could she let her guard down, and the same for him. Away from the ship he had other lovers, as did she for that matter, but that didn’t bother her in the least. Here, he was her Captain, and that was enough.

Everyone knew he was merely human and as fallible as any other, but on the open ocean one did not question his authority. An argonian may be able to breathe underwater, but the sharks found them just as tasty as the humans. No, once out at sea, the Captain was a demigod, to humans and argonians alike, and only to be treated like a mortal in those quiet moments alone.

So last night she’d been happy to be called to his cabin again. Afterwards, with their lust sated, they lay together feeling the constant swaying of the ship. But the ‘engine’ still thrummed over all.

“Can’t we just shut it off for an hour or two?” she’d asked him quietly. “The mates would really appreciate it.”

The Captain sighed. “You know our mission. We’ve got to run it the entire distance. It’s the Virginian’s maiden voyage and we have to test its limits. If it overheats or breaks down in some other way, we need to know. But for now we keep under steam.”

“Easy for you to say. You can wear those damn earplugs. We can’t plug our ears!”

He turned to her and kissed her tympanum. It tickled.

“I know. I’ll ask the engineers again if they can do anything more about the noise.”

She sighed, but thanked him anyway.

And now she watched him below. The engine was just as loud as ever. But it was chugging them along. There were times when the wind could have moved them faster, but those times came and went. She felt the wind blow across her face and turned forward. The familiar coastline of the Marsh was somewhere off to port by now, though they were much too far out to sea to actually see it. It may have been her imagination, but she felt like she could smell it faintly. The humid, dank and slightly sulfurous air that she had grown up in, just ever-so-slightly touching her snout. She flared her nostrils, trying to draw in that smell of home.

Then something caught her eye. A line. A straight line in the water. That was very, very strange. The ocean was organic and constantly changing. Out here, nothing was straight. Nothing at all. Yet, from slightly ahead and to port, something was making a perfectly straight line in the water. She looked closer and could barely make out something just underwater that seemed to be causing it.

The line was coming fast. And suddenly she realized that at its current rate and at the ship’s current vector, the two would intersect. Soon.

Her eyes grew wide. She didn’t know that this was a danger for certain, but she knew it was far too unusual. In the wild open ocean, you took no chances. She looked down at the captain far below and called an urgent code to him.

She saw him look up and she pointed out to sea towards the line, approaching nearer with every second. The word she used wasn’t accurate, but it would give the proper warning.

“LEVIATHAN!”

Monsters of the deep certainly existed. Anyone who had spent as much time as she had at sea had seen them at some point – huge beasts of wildly different shapes and temperaments. But this was like nothing she’d ever seen. Small, but wickedly fast.

She saw the Captain order the ship hard to starboard and she felt the rudder turn as the crow’s nest bowed the opposite direction as the large ship slowly swung about, but from her vantage point she could see that it wasn’t going to be enough. The lines would intersect only slightly farther apart than they would have otherwise. She had just enough time to wonder if they could have turned faster if they’d been under sail rather than relying on that damned engine.

And then the lines met and she was thrown from the crows’ nest like a toy as the entire ship became one massive ball of flame. She managed to hit the water at a decent angle at least and felt her body go deep, deep underneath with the speed of her fall as the water itself grew cold at an incredible rate. After what seemed like minutes, her descent into the dark sea finally stopped and she righted herself and began to swim back to the surface. No human could have survived that depth, and she knew the other humans that had been with her in the nest had perished – either by burst lungs if they’d managed to pierce the water at a decent angle, or by the simple impact of a high distance fall onto water at a bad angle. Without the proper angle, water might just as well be stone. Some could survive, but the likelihood they could still swim was low.

When she surfaced, she was hundreds of feet away from the wreckage. She swam towards it, but by the time she got close to where it had been, whatever remained had sunk.

She passed body upon body, blackened and dismembered, and knew the sharks would be here soon. She had to get out of the water before the blood attracted them in earnest. She found a fairly large chunk of planking that she wriggled on top of just before the frenzy hit. From that point until nearly dark she didn’t dare to move a muscle. The sea became a froth of sharks and other meat eaters from the deep. Any movement would attract them and the little plank she clung atop would be less than a toothpick for the majority of the beasts.

Neither human nor Argonian could have survived that. The sharks ruled the oceans once blood was spilled. Yet amazingly night began to fall and she was still alive. The water began to calm down as the last of the carnivores and their meal was devoured.

The sun had not quiet yet set when she risked sitting up. The original wreckage was long gone, sunk to the bottom, unfathomably far underneath her. But she could read the stars.

And then, far away but undeniably there, she saw it. The mythical beast. Leviathan. It’s shiny carapace reflected the last light of the sun weirdly. It was only there for a brief moment, and her position low on the rolling seas didn’t help her to fix a definite size to the thing, but it looked monstrous and she ducked back low, fearing it might see her. Finally, when it had gone and she felt confident the sharks had gone as well, she slipped into the water and began to swim north, towards Black Marsh.