My Ride is a Bitch (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 13) by Michael Anderle

time, or fights occur. At least, outside of mating. As they get older, their ability to move long distances shortens and they fatten up. Still incredibly quick for a shorter distance, say a…” here, the scientist faltered for a moment, seeking to come up with a calculation, “couple of your kilometers and of course able to stand their ground quite well. They have some protective carapace around their shoulders and heads, but most of the body is still very unprotected. They do have horns, usually around this long,” he held his two front arms out in front of him, separated by about two feet.
     
    He continued, “In our society, it is considered too low an activity for a second tier member to make an effort to kill one.”
     
    Here, Kael-van interrupted Royleen, “That is because someone in the past decided that it was stupid to do so, and made a tier-level decision it was beneath anyone in our tier to go on these hunts. Personally, I think they had an offspring who was going to try and therefore it was decreed to be beneath us. Most likely because it would show that we get ourselves killed by foolish means as often as the third tier, if we did this publicly.”
     
    Bethany Anne raised an eyebrow and considered Kael-van’s declaration. He had mentioned on more than one occasion his criticisms with the tiered society of the Yollins and their desire to ‘do it this way because this is how we always did it’ belief in moving society forward.
     
    “Ok, sounds like the Wechselbalg will have something to do to help fill up the larders with meat,” Dan announced. Everyone turned back to the conversation at hand, and Bethany Anne nodded her agreement.
     
    “Thank you, Kael-van and Royleen,” she added, “Ok, food seems to still be on track. However, we need a base ... no a fortress, to protect our people if our ships are in battle.”
     
    “Well, about that,” Bobcat started before Marcus interrupted.
     
    “What they want to build,” Marcus said pointing to his two friends, “is a death star.” His glance told Bethany Anne that this time, he thought the two guys were asking for something over the top.
     
    “Complete with destructive planet laser?” she asked.
     
    “Well,” William smiled, “I wouldn’t turn that away but who the hell destroys a planet? Anyone realize how wasteful that is?”
     
    Bobcat took up the conversation. “Yeah, I mean, the poor little Bistek-boorokies would be killed too.”
     
    “And there goes our bacon,” William added.
     
    “Can’t have that,” Bobcat replied.
     
    “Word,” William agreed. Bethany Anne noticed Marcus’s eyes rolling up to the ceiling. She was going to have to get this conversation back on track.
     
    “Guys?” she interrupted the two, “Can we focus on what you want to create rather than the latest imagined Bistek-barook recipe?”
     
    “Sorry boss,” Bobcat admitted, “but I loves me some pork and the thought of laughing my ass off at a bunch of Wechselbalg who have to go kill the pork is funny. Ok, we want to grab a large nickel-iron asteroid and get inside that thing and drill it out. We will use the outside to store the massive amount of shipping containers for a while, until we have drilled enough inside to move people and content internally and then we will use the gravitic drives, in concert, to move the asteroid.”
     
    “Excuse me for being dense, pun intended,” Bethany Anne asked, “but isn’t nickel-iron rather hard?”
     
    “I can answer that,” Royleen spoke. He was getting used to the ability to interrupt outside of the caste system. These humans seemed to have one based on roles, but when it came to conversations it was appropriate to add and interject as necessary without being rude. Rude, Royleen found out, was a type of hierarchy filter in conversations. “Nickel-Iron is hard. However the Yollins have been working in outer space for many of your centuries and have created methods to drill into the asteroid and