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[b]Warm Up - 18.1 | Moonwalk[/b]

To be a human away from Earth was a blessing in disguise. There was no nuance of being homesick, nor the desire to even go back to the Solar System, or even the arm of the Milky Way it hid itself in. Fletcher was a delta human, one of the most basic species in the Universe, the 'U' now capitalized, which meant he had escaped slavery. He shuddered at the thought of those long corridors of metal as he slogged hot stone with his back. Slums kilometers deep into the Earth where the once dominant species figured the Sun was a myth then. Leashed like pets, play things to giants. Even then those who took him in were just as worse, and he made sure to forget about them and their deeds.

All but one of his memories were unpleasant. He recalled a shark that he only referred to as such because it was his liberator's present form. And the one he took was that of a strongman, symbolizing the strength and virtue that had rescued him, With green hair, to symbolize the grass he saw on the surface of the world. All the greens of the trees, and some of the flowers, and the bushes they were on that signified his liberation. Although that last part was of his own concept. The shark, Max, just so happened to fancy the color. But when he told him about it, he loved it and encouraged to put that in his book.

Fletcher was a prolific writer who journaled his experience after that. Max suggested it as a means of coping with the trauma suffered. However, he, who kissed his cheek after that suggestion, insisted otherwise. He stated that it was much better to recall the good times because it highlighted his freedom better. The kind that, if he had a tail, would be wagging non-stop and cleaning the ground they walked over. That was one of the aspects he asked about the shark, what it felt like to have one. Always saw it on the strangers and acquaintances made across many worlds, amongst dozens of stars. Max simply said it was like having an additional arm– a muscle best on the move to not stiffen and helped regulate blood flow. Were there times when it had been inconvenient? That went without saying, but it allowed the shark to express more emotions, and one could always strap a bag around the base for storage.

“I wanna write about this moment," Fletcher said as stepped back behind the shark to fetch his journal and pen. Max raised his tail and made it easy for the human to fetch his elements. The dark green book was inside the leftmost bag, closed shut by its own stretchy ribbon that came from the back of the book. There was a smaller slot in the bag that held a bean with the engraving 'Fletcher' on it. The first gift the shark bought him on Earth's spaceport. There was a machine that allowed you to label a pen with any name, and for fifty credits, the human had a pen made of pseudo-marble, with pseudo-gold trims, and his name in the color purple written on its cap.

“You got it?" Max saw him fetching his pen, making sure, answered when Fletcher closed the bag. He always saw the sparkle in his eyes each time he held the book in his pasty white hands with the same fervor as a priest would hold holy scripture.

First thing Fletcher did was to read the initial lines he wrote when the book still had its freshness that reminded him of libraries. His imaginative tail wagged as he read out, “On March Sixteenth, Twenty Seven Seventy Three, Max got me a book and a pen. Free of charge." And he turned to the generous shark who smiled at him appreciatively each time he read it out.

Max's tail wagged, reaching over with one arm to embrace the shorter human before connecting it with the other, patting his head with the silky hair. He found humans to be weird with their 'fur'. Mostly skin with concentrated patches in certain areas, and their arms and legs, particularly from the masculine side, had barely any fur to associate themselves with ani-man. Yet with Fletcher it always seemed a magical touch that gave him a longer and warmer embrace. “I love it when you say that each time." He told him each time. Genuine, and assurance of a life he no longer had.

Fletcher felt it, the love. The care. The honesty. And the first time he had been hugged, days out of Earth and passing along Saturn towards the system's gates. He cried in the ship, nearly causing a scene too. Today, these sentiments were still expressed in but a single tear. And Max felt its stream as he caressed the human's soft cheeks.

Max wiped it away, and he had settled himself down on the nearby bench, sitting with his tail slid through the gap between the seat and the backrest. Fletcher kept standing as he would write about the beauty of his liberty; they were on Reath, one of two moons that orbited the temperate world of Aerth. The region they explored composed of great moonstone craters, decorated with parks, stalls, and monuments of key individuals.

Fletcher made mention of these things, and it was similar to how other worlds would have their parks. Except those would've had plantlife and biological creatures roaming about. Here it had mostly spacecraft or robotic birds flying around and collecting trash. He noted on his journal that they were given such forms to make them seem friendly, and it worked. One would swoop in on a discarded paper cup rolling down on one of the many craters, picking it up with one leg and taking off with its wing-shaped jets. It bombed with pristine trajectory, accounting reduced gravity and atmospheric friction, and always landed its shots into a bin. Even raised a green flag that waved side to side.

The human would go on to watch this ten more times, not even writing about it. Such a spectacular repetition that was nowhere near to what they had back on Earth, not even its moon had parks or anything that resembled recreation. It was a military facility that had a fuelling station. This here, Reath, felt humane, felt human. Though he may be the only one on it right now, his instinct certainly knew it was right.

Fletcher then sat down, victorious as he kept writing. This time it was about the ships flying overhead, and how their shapes and composition varied. But first he leaned himself against Max, resting on his shoulder while the shark put an arm around him. “Thank you."

Max stopped counting this gratitude after three hundred, which he recalled having happened as they left the Solar System. If his gut feeling still did, that would be around the seven hundreds. It still had him feeling fuzzy, and he passed it back with another hug for the human. His mind quickly went over to the mostly-nonexistent stigma of cross-species relationships. To Fletcher, he never thought that a human like he could experience it, especially after the human doctrines he had been subjected to. The kind that Max had seen on documentaries that covered the abuse of Delta humans as he went to the planet. But enough of that. They were past it. And when he eased off his human, he would lean beside and read the newer entries that were being written.