《Adopted By Humans》


 Chapter One

    "What is the meaning of ''acceptance''?"


    I still remember the words of the Tlaxishi professor asking that in class, his narrow tongue darting out of his green mouth to lick his eyeballs clean, he did it more than most of his species, and as a budding xenobiologist I knew that meant he was uncomfortable among so many students. Unsurprising since his species was known to be primarily made up of loners... that alone made him unique in this job. But more than that, what made him most exceptional was the way he understood species other than his own. Hence his question, and it was the very question that launched whole careers, because it began... with a race called ''homo sapiens sapiens'' or as they typically called themselves, ''humans''.


    No answer followed his question, though many of us, with claws and tentacles and nails and more, were rapidly scrolling through the digital text to search for the word. The echo of his question faded away against the walls... and this too was what made him unique. Unlike most professors in the University, he conducted classes in person, demanding we socialize up close. For reasons none of us quite understood, it somehow made us better students, and little by little his policy was spreading to other instructors.


    "What is the meaning of ''Family''?" He asked the follow up question, and our hasty searching picked up speed, my neighbor, a Chitilxian with a rubber touch assist over his slimy digit, was typing the new word into the search bar.


    A hand went up before mine, "A biological classification including several subclassification-" The answer came from one of the miniature dwarf species, an avian race coated in spiny feathers, it came up no higher than my knee. His name was Chirupus... and he was top of the class... after me. My frustration burned as he outdid me, only for relief to flood air sacs when the professor shook his head.


    "No, that is ''a'' definition, but not the one I mean." Our Tlaxishi professor, Sxlith by name, licked each of his five eyes in rapid succession, I knew that he hated correcting people. But I also knew that the definition he sought was not in this book, so I raised my fur covered arm and opened my elongated jaw, my tongue wagged as I spoke, and I tried to keep my tail still when I said, "Professor, no other meaning is present in the book, please... can you tell us what you mean?"


    In all my life I had never heard the noise he made next, it was clear he was imitating some species we had not seen up close, and here is where it all began... he pushed a button somewhere out of view, and a curious creature appeared on the screen while his mouth made this ''haw haw haw'' kind of noise that couldn''t have been natural to him. On screen was a bipedal species with fur on their round heads, small thin lips and only two arms.


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    "This is the species you will learn the answers to those questions from. If you can understand ''this'' species, you can understand ''any'' species. In my one hundred and fifty cycles of instruction and research, I have never found another like this one. They bond with inanimate objects, fictional characters, unknown infants, outsiders... as strongly as Vastian ovaraptor with its own eggs.


    We gasped, chirped, gulped, belched, and rattled, whatever our own expressions of shock as different species, we made it.


    "I know, it sounds impossible. But this is the only species that is capable of ''finding'' family and forming communities out of any species, or at least ''any'' that they have ever been observed with. They domesticate predators and bond even with species that might otherwise eat them. If one is rejected by its parents, it may find new ones, or ones to fill that role. There are stronger species, there are smarter species, there are faster species, there are longer lived species... but there are no species more passionate. They are in their mating season all year long, and constantly form new groups that grow and change... if you can get one to bond with you, they will die for you without regret. There is no species so full of contradiction as the Homo Sapiens Sapiens. They love more deeply, hate more deeply, laugh... that was that noise I was making earlier... and are both greed and generosity given flesh. They appear weak... but because of all these contradictions, they are not only the apex predator of their planet, but no invading armada dares cross into a system where a human colony has formed bonds with others... the great victory of forty-seven five-hundred and ninety two was brought about by ''this'' species acting on a distress call from my own species when I was a child. A human starship responded instinctively to our call for aid... and destroyed themselves in a suicide run which crippled the invaders... self termination for another species?"


    The professor paused at the rhetorical question, it did seem at odds with all reason, no species I knew would do that... and though I''d heard of that victory, the strange vessel was barely a footnote, humans were not even named, a low rumble of uttered doubt passed among us all.


    "I promise you, it is true. I was there. That was the cause of the peace which followed, self termination for another species was unheard of, and the Zenti didn''t know what to make of it, I was present on the station while the impromptu negotiations took place... and the study of humans by both sides began... I knew I had to learn more, and spent my life among them as soon as I was able. I spent one hundred of their years in a single human community. Within ten years I gained acceptance, not long after that I was ''neighbor'' then ''brother'' and ''uncle'' I watched their generation grow and age and die... and to my shock, I felt that grief myself. To know humanity''s depths is to find them in ourselves... that is how I got here, that is why," he leveled his shaking fingerclaw out toward us in our seats, and we all sat a little more alertly when he did so, "you are sitting among one another. All of you comprise long lived species, three hundred years on the high end, and all of you will spend the next fifty years in an extended study of the humans. You will join their communities, learn about them, and about yourselves. When you are through, you will know what ''family'' means in a way that you never dreamed before... and carry that spark out to all your home worlds, from there... who can say what will happen? But I... I think we will have a better galaxy for it."


    I don''t know why I felt so certain that he was right. Maybe because his reputation was so widespread? Maybe because he''d chosen us, hand picked each of his students, and his faith in us made us more confident in him? But whatever the reason, I was suddenly even more eager to study than before. ''And even if I don''t like it... what''s fifty years?'' I thought.


    What I didn''t know yet, but would know beyond a doubt when I was in the last days of my fiftieth year, that the answer to my question was, ''The best years of my life.''

 Chapter Two

    But I''m getting ahead of myself. Of course I should tell you my species. I''m Dlamisa. We''re a furry species with four upright ears on either side of our head that are slightly triangular, with tails that grow about as long as a human arm, legs that can curve at the knee and though we have two arms, we''re capable of locking the elbow joints so that we can run on all fours as well as on two legs. Our mouths are elongated and have a row of sharp teeth, and though our fur color varies... mine is a mix of russet red and black, if that paints a good enough picture for you, fine, if not, well I must hope they cast my actor well when this is made into video program for entertainment.


    To be blunt, as I would be very embarrassed to learn, I look somewhat similar to their dogs. What a day that was. At least it turned out to be helpful.


    Now back to... that day. A few of our number chose not to make the trip, a thing I think they would regret for the rest of their lives as the human sector was very far away, taking months of travel by even the fastest ship... at least until the humans invented the new ''pulpultion'' method of redoubling speed by electron recombination... but that''s for the astrochemophysics department.


    Me, I was only concerned with learning as much as I could, and the professor proved he earned his status by providing us with a wealth of information in the days that led up to our trip. Human entertainment, mythology, music, religion, and social conventions for the place we would be staying, all were provided to us.


    That was the first time I realized just why homo sapiens sapiens can be so... terrifying.


    It wasn''t their love of fear, there were whole genres of entertainment that kept their psychology on edge, but that in and of itself was enough to drive two more students to drop out. Fear is something all other known species avoid, but humans? Humans embraced the void. I found it fascinating... The part that scared me was what it took for humans to picture a threat.


    Gods? Demons? Natural disasters that wipe out planets? Aliens whose technology defied reality? Humans needed the impossible to feel threatened, anything else was just an ordinary day in the galactic minicycle. And in all their terrifying films and ''televised'' series... The story was a journey to human triumph. Some thought it was self aggrandizing, but our teacher put it this way...


    "Humans made that leap into the void in a tenth of the time it took my species to find the courage to do so. Humans define themselves by their will to overcome anything, to drive themselves to the limit and push beyond to make new limits for the next generation to overcome. Dying for a friend? Dying for an ideal? A human will throw away their life for an infant where most would consider their offspring expendable and just make another. And they will die happy if they believe their death made a better tomorrow. Their films tell us that they see themselves as having boundless potential... and when I was a small one... listening to the telecom where the humans came in with canons blazing just because they said they would help us... I came to believe in it too. It took me ages to find a translation for ''Yippy ki yay motherfucker''. But the telecom was still broadcasting after that, up to the moment their ship collided with our attackers... and I heard something I''d never heard before when intelligent races died. Music. They died to the sound of music and singing death songs... they are something to fear... but also something to hope for... as you will see."


    I immersed myself in more of their media on the long journey, pirate movies where pirates, the lowest of the low, still found it in themselves to die with courage, war films... so many of those, with people giving up their lives for causes even when they knew they couldn¡¯t bring to reality. Romances where that curious passionate bonding was on full display... I admit I found it strange how they bonded to predator pets, but it was impossible to deny that this was what I was seeing when their dog creatures were cradled and cared for like infants.


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    Nobody really thinks about how powerful ''bonding'' truly is, and yet... now my snout was rubbed right in it.


    It was two months later when we encountered the first human patrols, their vessels were much bigger than they used to be, and that was when I learned something more interesting. Humans brought their miniature communities into space. Their ''families''. Bonded mates, children, even in some cases, their old who we would normally leave behind. It seemed strange, but when I first saw a human face, that was even stranger.


    They were flat, with very small noses in the middle of their face. The human who spoke to my professor on screen had a thick black fur around his mouth and deep set eyes that seemed small compared to mine, but after a few pleasantries and an I.D. exchange, we were allowed to dock.


    Our professor then selected three of us to join him on board the human vessel, a chance to explore a little of the miniature society that humans formed before we reached the whole hive of them on their homeworld where our host families waited for us.


    The vessel we docked at was military, with giant canons the size of whole buildings back home, a hallmark of the human design philosophy of ''big explosions are the best kind'' but because these vessels were so large, when we crossed the boarding tubes we found a small hover vehicle waiting for us.


    The hover vehicle was interesting, most races instinctively put the driver at the front, but humans regularly rethought their designs, challenging the ideas that were normal at whatever time they lived. This hover vehicle was one such example of being ¡®rethought¡¯. It did have the aerodynamic design and was clearly made to traverse these halls. That much was clear, most notably because the hall in which we stood had a glowing green line along the floor on which the hovercar was centered.


    However the driver was not at the front, rather they were at the center, and while we were seated upright with adjustable chairs, the driver sat in a forward crouch with legs bent and arms forward holding onto a bar, her body secured by a double bar cage that framed her body after wrapping around from one side. A series of monitors surrounded her face providing long range feedback and data about any obstacles in the view and providing me with a reflection of her face. I didn¡¯t recognize it at the time, but now I realize she was ¡®eager¡¯ to begin.


    This highlighted my second experience with human design philosophy. ''There is no such thing as too fast, only how fast you can make it go.'' It was no wonder they invented the method of transport that finally broke the subspace speed limit that baffled scientists for ages.


    "Strap in and hold tight." A small human female, or so I assumed it to be because of what we''d been told about chests voice pitch, told us. The strap was a four point harness and there was a crossbar in front that we were meant to hold on to if things got ''too intense''.


    And then my tongue was yanked out of my mouth and the ship became a blur... never in my life had I been both so thrilled and so damn scared, the air battered my face and carried my fur back behind me, my tail wiggled with joy underneath my seat and I could see what I recognized as a smile on the woman''s face.


    She used her whole body to control the vehicle, leaning left and right, and it was after this that I learned about another unique human innovation that catered to human obsessions. They love the feel of wind in their hair, and our hovercar had no roof. The force of the air should have been far more unpleasant, but it had a curious sort of shielding, invisible to the naked eye, it permitted ingress and egress of air particles, but in substantially reduced quantities, in short¡­ it was hypoxic, giving humans a feeling of high altitude ¡®intoxication¡¯ and letting them experience great speeds while they got it.


    Our companions made noises of alarm, chitin scales shed and my Oolian roommate''s stink sack activated... briefly causing the hovercraft to swerve while following the green line which went from floor to wall to ceiling. My instincts told me what was coming, and I held on for deer life while the human made a noise I later learned was laughter when she kept swerving until we followed the green paint track and we were upside down.


    You would not believe how hard it was to find a proper translation for the word ''Wheeeeeeeee'' that she kept screaming as we looped around the empty corridor.


    We finally lurched to a stop that rattled my bones, and my professor finally said something, something I knew was ''key'' to introducing oneself to new humans. "Shall we grab a beer?" I knew from the videos that the human woman''s grin made the rest of our trip promising, but as my companions were voiding their orifices onto the floor while trying to unhitch themselves, they unfortunately missed it.


    As to what happened next... well you''d hardly believe it if you haven¡¯t lived it, but I swear every word is true.

 Chapter Three

    I''d never been unsteady on my legs before that moment.  My slimy colleague didn''t have legs of his own, for that matter he didn''t have a permanently solid form at all, he could solidify part of himself for short periods, and on this occasion when it departed the hovercraft, as soon as the hardened exterior was rendered gelatinous again, it was jiggling like it had just sat through a quake.


    I wobbled a little, and to my surprise, the small human female immediately was by my side and put her hand on my arm, her soft skin squeezed as delicately as a faedian''s featherfall and she gave me that ''smile'' expression again, though a little smaller, and asked me, "Are you all right? I''m sorry, I didn''t think to ask how any of you could handle speed."


    An ''apology'' is a very strange custom humans engage in, it is an expression of regret for some offense or inflicted feeling. Curiously, as I would later learn, they have a ''nonapology'' that is disguised as an apology. I know this may sound strange, but if a human tells me, "I''m sorry if you feel..." or "I''m sorry, but..." or "I''m sorry you..." Perhaps you see a pattern here? All of these three forms either include a negation ''but'' or they make the apology a reference to the other person''s perceptions. It turns out that ''true'' apologies are focused only on the one who actually did the thing being apologized for. "I''m sorry I hurt you. I''m sorry I was late. I''m sorry for not thinking of you." All ''true'' apologies among humans include the speaker taking responsibility for themselves and their actions.


    All false apologies reference some facet of the other person¡¯s status without accountability for their part in it.


    This subtlety would quickly become important as I moved through human society after I met my host family.


    But in that moment I just found her touch... pleasant. I didn''t realize how warm human bodies could be, "I''m... fine, thank you, please don''t worry about it." I knew what to say from those videos, and she responded immediately with a broader smile. My professor''s tongue darted out and licked his eyeball only once, and I knew I had handled myself well.


    "Please, let me introduce you to some of my friends and get you all a drink, it¡¯s on me.  It¡¯s the least I can do." She said and pulled out a little plastic card, "Or rather, on the fleet''s good relations account." She winked, a gesture I knew to indicate either playfulness or deception, and unsure of which I was being subjected to, I elected to nod silently.


    "Come on!" She said and approached the double doors, they slid into the wall and I was immediately struck by the noise of voices similar to hers, higher pitch and deeper pitch, I generally thought humans were cleanly divided between obvious male and obvious female, but this proved that textbooks do not cover everything. It gave us the far ends, but not the spectrum. Some humans seemed to be almost as genderless as my fluidic companion. I couldn''t tell one from another, and some of them played this up.


    The room itself was enormous, our own species all used small spaces with few figures if any, but this was vast, easily a few hundred of my paces in either direction, filled with tables and something I recognized from films as ''bars''. My colleagues, fellow students I suppose, were mute, but I said immediately, "Lead on."


    She took well to that and her feet made a small skipping stride, strangely, she didn''t keep her back to us, but showed her back to the others of her species, and began to chat with us as if she''d known us for a lifetime. "So we have a lot of things here, but based on the data your ship transmitted, ''bourbon'' and ''beer'' are both viable for all of you, and you can place your cargo order on the screen so you can drink and work at the same time."


    "Is drinking... important?" My fluidic semipermeable fellow student asked in his bubbling voice that approximated human vocal sounds.


    "Yes. Very. In one of our ancient empires, Persia I think," she paused and looked away as she searched her memory, "yes, that was it. Whenever they had a disagreement they would first argue sober, then get drunk and argue the same thing again, they wouldn''t accept an argument unless it made sense in both states. Alcohol plays an important role in social behavior for our race, it lowers our inhibitions, makes us more truthful, and for ''most'' of us, it makes us more open to friendship." She frowned a little, "I admit, some people it turns into real jerks... but as long as you avoid those, it''s fine."


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    By the time she said that, her back smacked into a golden tube that ran along the edge of the bar behind which a towering wall of human meat stood, unlike most of his race, he had a bald head up top and he was slightly over the normal weight that I saw from the others, but he did have sharp looking eyes, like a hunter. "Hey Mark, a round of bourbons for my new friends and I."


    ''Friends?'' I wondered about that, I knew humans could bond quickly, and I understood the meaning of this ''friend'' term, but I didn''t expect it this fast.


    The human she called ''Mark'' spun around, tipped a few clear bottles holding a dark amber liquid into a few transparent glasses and then slid them up to each of us as we stood on either side of the human.


    "A toast." She said and raised up her glass before we could drink.


    "This is liquid... is not ''toast'' bread that you have cooked twice?" The burbling voice of my colleague asked, and both Mark and our new human laughed.


    "He''s funny. I''m Lisa, by the way. And no, well yes, but also not because it''s something we do before we drink. It''s where we make a wish for something good. You''re travelers, like us, so we have this tradition on our ship, when we encounter travelers we raise a glass and ''toast'' that is, we ''wish'' for safe travels for those we meet. So... a toast to safe travels." Lisa gave us that same broad smile again, and then slammed back her drink and smacked her lips before sliding her card across the bar. "Keep em coming, Mark, we have to show them how humans do it."


    Fortunately we¡¯d cleared ourselves to consume almost every human beverage beforehand, but that didn¡¯t really prepare me for actually doing so.  I held the little glass in between two fingers after making our ¡®toast¡¯ and looked at the amber colored liquid, studying it with my naked eyes.  It seemed innocuous, I brought it to my nose and took a sniff while surreptitiously eyeing my colleagues.


    My professor was already downing his and reaching for another, but the rest of us had our doubts.  The smell was something else.  A sharp bite to the nose would have been more subtle.  Maybe if I weren¡¯t such a coward I might have gone first, or maybe I wouldn¡¯t have gone at all, but I felt the expectant eyes of Lisa and Mark on me, waiting for me to try it.


    My fellow students were no different, and it was our gelatinous colleague who went first, an appendage emerging and sticking into the little glass, he soaked it up like a sponge.


    One by one we went, with me being the last.  I tilted my head back and threw the liquid down my throat in one clean motion.  I gasped, panted, bent forward and coughed while slapping my hand on the surface of the bar.


    The shot hit me¡­ like I¡¯d been shot.  There was a deep burning sensation in my gut and I felt Lisa¡¯s hand on my back, ¡°You okay there, buddy?¡±  She asked, but Mark only slid another row of glasses out toward us with a little smile on his face.  He saw something Lisa had not.


    When the burning was still going, there was a sense of ¡®warmth¡¯ coursing through me, perhaps it¡¯s because I have multiple hearts to the humans ¡®one¡¯ but my blood pumped faster than theirs and as a result the liquid toxin raced through me at a much higher speed.  I felt that ¡®relaxed¡¯ sensation coming over me.


    Mark, a dark haired human in a fairly tight fitting silver shirt with a black vest, wore a mirthful face.  ¡°He¡¯s fine.  He likes it.¡±  His voice was buttery smooth the way he said it, or it seemed so to me.


    Lisa, realizing that Mark was right when I reached for the next glass, didn¡¯t stop patting my back, but it slowed down and became more congratulatory.  ¡°I guess you¡¯re right, Mark.¡±  She said and then leaned her back against the bar to look out over the sea of faces.


    ¡°So what made you want to study humans?¡±  She asked me, and I imitated her gesture while my fellow students drifted off into their own experiences and I joined Lisa in people watching.  ¡°That¡¯s what your ship is here for, isn¡¯t it?  To take you to study us?¡±


    I must have looked surprised to her, because she laughed at my silent expression and said, ¡°We don¡¯t take a lot of aliens to Earth, word gets around.¡±  She explained.


    ¡°I figured it would help me get rich, famous, and it would let me work alone.  Not many of us are studying humans, and I am kind of curious, you¡¯re a strange species.¡±  I said and threw back another shot.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess we kind of are.¡±  Lisa replied, ¡°But that¡¯s it?  Curiosity, money, and fame?  You sure you¡¯re not a human in a dog suit?¡±


    I threw back another shot while she laughed at her own joke and matched my shot with one of her own.


    That was how I learned about two more things. First, human competitiveness... shot... by shot. Until my semipermeable friend was a puddle, my professor''s tongue was dangling over the bar, and I found myself embarrassingly passing out curled around her feet. And also... the absurd human tolerance for alcohol. I didn''t learn until well after my first hangover passed that the human liver actually had a special part of itself which only existed to process alcohol. I had great fun... I think. From what I remember... but that takes us to the next step in a long journey.

 Chapter Four

    Before I continue, I should add that this was not my last experience with homo sapiens and alcohol, it was my first, and my most painful... at least with the aftermath. But those other times lie ahead, assuming you read on in this humble manuscript. For now it is enough to know that I woke up with a splitting headache, my professor slurring his words with a limp tongue, the chiten half shed from half again too many drinks.  I didn¡¯t think it was possible, but yes... he got so drunk he molted halfway and passed out, while our slimey colleague took another half day to rise beyond a puddle of his former self and he was utterly unable to speak until that evening.


    But we did wake up in a single room, each of us with a small wicker basket and a bottle of that wonderful stuff along with a friendly note from a friend I would never see again. Lisa wrote a little scrawl that took hours to translate, to this day I think she was drunk when she wrote it, but it read, ''To toast to safe travels with the next people you meet who have a long way to go before they get to where they''re going. All the best, Lisa''.


    My mouth didn''t really let me smile... but the warmth of her well wishes reached me somehow, as did the memory of that first human touch. That kind of openness and welcome isn''t found anywhere else that I have ever seen, not before and not since, at least not away from humans.


    Of course today I know that she was somewhat exceptional, even for her kind, not everybody is like that, but it was genuine and it was far from rare. To understand the importance, the significance of this, I need to point something else out. Human diplomacy is second to none, they are, most of them, uniquely attuned to searching out the needs of others, their fears, their hopes... and presenting themselves as the ones who can meet or dash them.


    Human diplomacy has become the bridge across which species have moved to make peace, understanding others is the thing they are arguably the best at.  Being a uniquely social species has set them up as the arbiters of choice for multiple races, and in that ordinary human, I understood why.


    Because the good ones... they really ''care''. Even a stranger can matter to them if they''re needed, even if they''ll never see that one again once they''ve given help... it''s a very strange thing, but it helped me believe my teacher when he talked about the self termination run that the humans launched just to rescue one outpost full of civilians.


    I never did see Lisa after that, the cargo was loaded onto our ship and we were being escorted by the vessel we''d so recently traveled upon, the endless stars in the void still terrified so many that, quite frankly speaking, most races had very few who were willing to traverse the stars, and remote ships were the norm. But humans seemed to embrace it like they were born there.


    Some said they were, that their race evolved on earth from material that first formed in space, or on their planet ''Mars'' that was shot to earth by an impact from orbit. Nobody knows for sure, but the result, whatever the truth? People who play music in the unbounded dark, go singing to their deaths are now among the most common travelers in the great void.


    And when the alarm rang announcing pirates a few days after we departed, all of us learned first hand the reason why nobody in their right mind... what was the word? ''Humps'' with humans... no... no they have another term, ''Why nobody fucks with humankind.''


    ¡°Zenti!  Zenti!¡±  The loudspeaker called out, and the sea sentient living beings became a tidal wave of mindless terror.  I was no different.  I¡¯m an academic, even coming from a rare ¡®intelligent predator¡¯ race, I¡¯ve never been particularly brave.  So when the announcement hit and the alarm began its blaring noise stung my ears, I went down on all fours, locked my limbs, and ran.


    Fear is a strange thing, most races that develop intelligence develop a fear sense.  They avoid danger like it is a disease, and the most common response to a threat is not to fight it, but to flee from it.  By the same token, almost all intelligent races develop a way to alert others around them to the danger.


    In all my life I¡¯d never been sprayed with so many different foul chemicals, odors, or liquids, nor were my ears ever assaulted by so many different keening noises as we all rushed for the promise of safety in our own quarters.  Those who could walk on walls or ceilings rushed there to avoid the press, only to trample each other and knock them down to fall on our heads down below.  Tangled in a sea of limbs, tentacles, mushy flesh and howling fear, we were no longer intelligent or civilized.


    We were the basest of animals, all of us, thinking only of ourselves and our lives as we scrambled to push our way free of the press.  The ship rattled when our hull was struck, our shields were light, meant to fend off small space debris, not Zenti torpedoes.


    The rumble was like the thunder of clouds and the torpedoes flashed past the portholes like lightning through the dark of night, trapped in our endless void, the ululations of passengers and crew were a nightmarish few minutes that seemed to stretch out for an entire lifetime.


    Even today I look back on those minutes as the worst in my life.  Fortunately as a predator race, even as a coward, I am stronger than most of those around me, and I forced myself through, using the curved nails to dig into some unfortunate flesh ahead of me and rip myself free with a violent pull and take me out of the fallen heap.


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    I rushed to my room with no thought to any life but my own, slammed the emergency button down and thrust my face against the porthole to watch the Zenti ship undertake its slow, wide banking maneuver.  My breath fogged up the window, obscuring them from my view until I wiped the pane clear again and waited for the end.


    The quarters of passengers and crew are referred to as ¡®Scatterboxes¡¯ in common languages.  Each room contained a small communication device, some rations, and a miniature propulsion device suitable to help us dock, but barely anything more.  They were often referred to as ¡®space caskets¡¯ since unless someone was found quickly, they would die inside those in a matter of days and just float through the void until their body was recovered or their pod burned up when it was brought down into the atmosphere by another planet¡¯s gravity.


    A few ¡®space caskets¡¯ have been found in orbit around small moons over the years, the bodies perfectly preserved for a rescue that came too late.  But even with the low likelihood of rescue, we all still used them, any hope, however faint, was better than none.  And Zenti pirates only wanted rich hostages.


    Their banking maneuver would put them in line with our engines, the wide winged engines of their ships were almost birdlike, they might even have been called ¡®graceful¡¯ in another context.


    But to me they were only ominous.  Outside my locked door I could hear the shouting and screaming of the other passengers as they rushed in, I hadn¡¯t ejected my scatterbox yet.  I knew enough about the Zenti to know that the bored crews of other ships would take potshots at us, and I didn¡¯t want to be target practice.


    Others though, their fear was even worse than mine, and they must have hit their eject buttons immediately after their doors sealed.  A hundred tiny ships blew clear of the mother vessel and drifted away, I could see as they tumbled free, a few terrified aliens looking out¡­ right before the Zenti light-guns sprayed their little explosive rounds out into space, and destroyed the life saving capsules with the passengers inside.


    Nobody really thought the Zenti would be here, and that just made all of this worse.


    The Zenti had shut down a lot of their military in the postwar era, but a handful of them simply took their ships and ran, becoming raiders, minor warlords, and pirates wherever patrols were few... but most? Most didn''t last. Or if they did, it was because they went into hiding. I guess our vessel looked too tempting... not surprising, education vessels were filled with elites that could be captured and traded for ample goods and resources, perhaps that was why they attacked even knowing they were in human territory.


    I heard a com beep at my door, it rang several times and I shouted the unlock order, I don¡¯t know why, but at that moment all I knew was whatever was coming in was at least not likely to be a threat, and anything nonthreatening was welcome.


    To my shock, it was my professor and some of the other students.  Not all.  Their absence told me plenty, and if I had doubts about that meaning, the way my professor looked past me toward my porthole told me to set those doubts aside.


    ''We are in human space. Just wait.'' He said and pointed to the window to the void where a fleet of a dozen ships came into view.


    They were green with wide wings on which a row of canons sat, their pulsing rays battered our shields and the ship shook like mad, and it was only my teacher''s preternatural calm that allowed me to keep from voiding my bowels and hiding in fear.


    "They gave us drink. They gave us food and supplies. They promised us safety. We will be fine." He said to reassure those who had their doubts. Me, I wondered if Lisa was going to be on the ship he anticipated coming to our aid. And that in and of itself was surprising... why did I think of her? I''ve never thought of anyone else of any species so quickly before.


    These people... they are... infectious, and over the telecom device came something my professor promised would come in human space.


    Music. I didn''t know what it was called at the time, but now I know its name. ''Ride of the Valkyries''. And human voices came through every channel, I rushed to the window as fast as my wobbly legs... and substantial hangover, would permit, and pressed my eyes to the window again to see for myself.


    Nobody rushed into a fight like this... not even my homeworld. The human ship emerged from the purple gas cloud where it lay in wait, and though it was one alone, it began to fire from its many canons, and explosions rocked the space around the Zenti pirates.


    A broadcom communication hit the common airwaves used for everyday communications.


    "Not to worry, just carry on on your voyage! We''ll handle these, and safe travels!" I recognized the voice of the dark furred human, forceful and... as I would later understand, ''proud''. Humans had something curious about them, a work ethic not often found outside of artisans, they take pride in the things they deem their purpose, their profession, whether they are a janitor or an admiral, they proclaim excellence in their chosen craft as one of the highest virtues... and for their admiralty, that apparently included courage.


    The human ship was a lean thing, long and arrow shaped, and as it came closer I could see from its sleek surface, many small guns and launchers emerging.  Strangely enough, the human design for combat ships seems to have mirrored those of my people, which is to say, ¡®one too many¡¯.  This single human vessel used large numbers of smaller guns that targeted the Zenti torpedoes and detonated them well before impact, while others targeted the individual Zenti ships.


    Whether by intent or accident I do not know, but the humans never disabled their broadcom transmissions, and I realized something as I listened to the humans in the void barking out their orders and announcing their triumphs along the way.  To them, this was a game.


    I watched the fight between the human ship and the pirates as they broke off to engage the authorities, and watched as one by one the raiders were set to listing, their ships burning in space, each one disabled, broken, or shattered into a million tiny pieces so small that it was like they never existed at all. Before long they were out of view, and I couldn''t see it anymore.  When they left to chase the remainder of the pirates and our passenger vessel began to scoop up the surviving scatterboxes, my professor spoke.


    "Humans are a rare type of predator. An active hunter species, those almost never develop civilizations, the others are all sedentary, almost to the last inhabited world...but theirs? The humans evolved to run their prey to death, or walk them to death, they are the only known species in the galaxy that can run all day and night. The known record for a human was one who ran for more than three days and nights without stopping before he collapsed." My professor said it like he was telling me the time... and I got a sense of just how dangerous this race could be if they were provoked.


    It seemed so odd to think of Lisa and Mike then, they seemed so friendly, and so nonthreatening without even claws or sharp teeth to speak of... but the heedless courage of that single ship that could take on a dozen without fear and win? I felt a tingle in my spine that it seems was common among humans too, when I found something to fear.

 Chapter Five

    Fellow academics, interested amateurs... I know you expected to read a purely academic piece on my time among humans, but I must ask for you to believe me when I say that this is utterly impossible. It is impossible because they are no mere chemical in a test tube to be cataloged down to the fine points and filed away. No mere equation to be written and noted for later study. In traveling with them, living with them, I found parts of myself that I never knew existed.  I perhaps alarmed you when I called them ''infectious'' before, but if you could imagine for a moment... a communicable cure that traveled faster than disease, that is what I experienced.


    I wondered sometimes if their shortened lifespans were part of why they seemed so full of energy.  They have a saying that a candle which burns twice as bright burns half as long, and if this was true, then it was why their race lived so short compared to so many of us.


    If I could experience as much as they did... I would trade lifespans with them in a heartbeat. Of course, as you are reading this, you must surely know we survived the brief encounter with the pirates, but before you proceed on with this accounting, I want to make sure you note something. Our ship was not completely unarmed, we could have fought beside the human vessel, but our captain chose to abandon our rescuers. It was an eminently practical thing to do, and I had it checked into when it was possible, he was not reprimanded for it in any way, nor did I ever find criticism of him for it. Even me, at that moment as we fled deeper into human space, didn''t think about what he was doing, and nor did it occur to me to criticize him for it.


    I''m sure you are... in agreement, but then... compare the human ship captain''s actions to our own. The human willingness to fight and die was far in excess of their own survival instinct, they sought the fight and rushed to it, while we ran away. Which course creates an empire? Who do you want protecting your ship when you travel... you may think the humans are mad, but their madness, if that is what it is, is not without purpose or value of its own.


    Now, on with the accounting. As the days slipped past, our professor began to relay more stories to us of his time on Earth, of human customs, birthdays, drinking songs, sports, child rearing... it seems he became like a grandfather to a pair of human children, watching them grow up and have children of their own just before he had to leave the planet when his allotted time was up. In all his stories, my teacher never once sent his tongue near his eyeballs. It was more like he wasn''t talking to us at all, really. More to himself, he knew the name of every member of the family, and those of their neighbors, and the days that they died. Reader, I''m sure I don''t need to tell you how rare this is for anyone at all. And yet he did it for the members of another species?


    The more I learned, the more interested I became, and day slipped into day with more history, more culture lessons, and more on human mental processes. I learned about bashfulness... see, some humans, strangely enough, find nudity to be troubling, even shameful. They come from a deathworld, the act of breathing corrodes their lungs over a lifetime, the place is riddled with natural disasters and their own sun is lethal to them, as such, they create clothing to cover and protect their bodies. They get so used to it that being without it is strange, so the end result is a species that is shy about their bare flesh... but can endure almost anything.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    But it was because of that ¡®shyness¡¯ that my professor held out to us each a set of clothing.  My own was a pair of brown pants and a simple button down shirt.  No shoes were needed at least, and the material was very thin, almost pointless really, but when I just stared at it, he licked his eyeballs and stared right at me.  ¡°When on Earth, do as the Earthians do.  You are there to immerse yourself in their ways to better understand them.  That means wearing their clothing.  Going around naked might be fine on Dlamisa, but not on Earth.¡±


    I reached out and somewhat reluctantly closed my fingers around the offered set, as did my equally reluctant classmates two by two, and tried it on.  At least it breathed, but when I saw myself in the mirror I could only think, ¡®You look ridiculous.¡¯


    The human body is strange, they have enough muscle to pull seventeen tonnes, but only if all muscles pull in the same direction... however they can''t do that. Their limbs seem fragile and easily injured thanks to a lack of natural armor, but they produce a chemical in their brains that puts them into a frenzy of bloodlust that will ignore pain until they are bled dry. Essentially they can fight until they run out of murder fuel in their veins if they are triggered in just the wrong way.


    There are stories of past humans called ''berserkers'' who on losing an arm, would pick it up and swing their severed arm like a club, beating others to death with it.  A feat we now know is perfectly within the realm of possibility, thanks to their brief ¡®war¡¯ with the Zenti.


    They may sound in this sort of depiction like monsters, which... admittedly explains their media of ''horror'' entertainment. Recall what I said about anything less than impossible being seen as ordinary and nothing special.


    But it wasn''t this that my professor was so drawn to, not based on his stories.


    So I focused on that, and all that he had to say, until we saw tiny mote of dust caught in a sunbeam, and that mote of dust became a little blue marble, a nothing special world in a universe full of trillions of galaxies of billions of solar systems and endless planets within the whole... but this was going to be our home. I note at this moment that, when I was drawing close to the planet ''Earth'', I didn''t miss my own home even a little. But out of the corner of my eyes I watched my normally reserved professor press his hand to the glass as if he were trying to just get one bit closer to that world, one fraction of a second faster.


    It didn''t look like much, not to my eyes. But still, it was something, I could see the doubt in my comrades still, they barely looked at all. But I felt the excitement of the new experience ahead at least.


    The world ahead grew larger and larger, and the voice came over the telecom, "Brace yourselves for entry. Docking in one span."


    We raced to our security harnesses, strapped ourselves in, and waited for the rattling to stop. As our ship came down and the bright yellow sun became a dot instead of a looming monster, I noticed how very green so much seemed to be, it was a strange shift from the black and blue plants I was used to, but it was the least of the surprises I would face, and those would begin from the moment we exited our ship.

 Chapter Six

    You will forgive me I hope, for the omissions that follow in this narrative, I was not with my fellow students for long after this, and I remember nothing about their reactions because I was so caught up in my own.  It was a strange, strange thing.  But also it was somehow... wonderful too.  Before I explain what it was, you should first know about the Law of Slow Moving Disasters.  This law, first given a name by humans themselves even though most races in the galaxy follow it, states that if an intelligent race has the tools, the time, and sees a disaster coming, that they will generally act to avert the crisis.  This is not ''always'' true, but it is ''generally'' true, and in the distant past, humans lived through multiple proofs of it.


    They nearly destroyed their ability to inhabit their own world, but... able to see the problem far ahead, they acted to fix it.  They began planting trees amidst the concrete, and redesigning buildings as green homes... not in the energy sense that has become popular in the harvesting of energy from the stars, but in the literal sense.  Homes were designed for the growth of plant life that would act as a carbon sink, water that was once wasted and lost from the rain was harvested from almost every building either to provide for the plants... which by evolutionary quirk had similar requirements to those I knew from my own world, or it was filtered, recovered, and used to provide for the population.  They began to build taller buildings and opened up more space for parks and began to slash hostile emissions little by little... and by this and other methods better discussed in planetary modification texts, they preserved their ability to live on their world.


    Perhaps this sounds like sentiment... but I don''t tell it to you for that reason, I tell it to you so that you understand the story behind what I saw soon after leaving my ship.


    "Grandfather!"  It was the first word I heard when we stepped off, and my professor, who I never saw move faster than a shuffle, pushed us aside and rushed to a group of waiting humans as if he were dying of hunger and found a feast laid out in front of him.  This group of humans was mostly stooped, hunched forward, and either bald headed or with wisps of that funny fur on top that most of them seemed to have, they had arms open wide, and my professor, a man who never raised his voice for anything, shouted a word I didn''t know.


    "Jonathan!"  His tongue lolled out as he rushed from behind us and he embraced the one to speak.  "Nadia!  And these would be...?"  It was then that I learned that human greetings with loved ones are frequently by name... a very informal sort of way, and it seems ''Jonathan'' was the old human''s name, and Nadia was his wife.


    This shook me to the core to see, Squamatomorph species are not prone to physical contact, so to see it so blatant and eagerly sought out was shocking to say the last.  The babble of words my professor uttered was almost all lost on me, the humans were flanked by younger people, tall and strapping or oddly shaped with multiple curves, they made me think right away of Lisa, and I looked down at the wrist that was touched by the first human I ever met.  They in turn had smaller humans with them, ranging down to ones that would not even come up to the bend in my knee.


    I was lost in thought for a moment and didn''t really know even what I was thinking, but my attention was taken away from this nascent introspection when I realized I was being pointed at.


    "Doggie! I want doggie!  Let pet doggie!"  I lifted my eyes to find the voice and saw a tiny human pointing his hand at me and wiggling on the hip of the woman who held it.  This was the moment I realized how much my species looked like a two legged version of their favorite pet.  I''d seen it in movies and pictures, but never made the connection to myself nor imagined I could be mistaken for something like that.  I admit, I wasn''t quite sure what to think.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    My professor''s excited chattering was something to behold, and the many other humans who passed the long open corridor of the transit site were watching with cocked heads and craned necks before they disappeared out of view, going about whatever business they had, but when the little human''s high pitched whine threatened to overtake the conversation, finally paused.


    "He wants to pet you."  My professor explained, "It''s a thing human children do with furry animals."


    "Ah... is it..."  I admit I was a little reluctant, but when my professor gave me the nod I approached and the human woman said...


    "My apologies, he always does this."  She was a little red in the face, a sign of embarrassment over their offspring, see figures two dash five and two dash six in the back of this book for reference.  I still might have held back, but my curiosity got the better of me and I bent my head forward so that the woman could hold the child up.  He had a mouth full of pearl white teeth that looked utterly non predatory, and a giant smile that took up a good portion of his pudgy, soft pink face.  And still wiggling in his mother''s arms, his little hand came down between my ears and rubbed.


    It would be years before I learned why my right foot began to thump on the floor where I stood, but at least when my tail wished wildly back and forth I could identify the cause.  It felt fantastic.  His little hand was so warm, and the fearless way he looked into my eyes, with such utter openness and completely unguarded was something I don''t think I will ever find away from human populations.


    "He likes you."  The woman said as she lowered the young male away, despite the pout that his face took on.


    "I see.  Is it customary to offer to pat their head in return?"  I asked, and with that broad smile on her face that looked very much like her sons, she replied to me...


    "Be my guest."


    I put my hand out and draped it over the little human''s head and rubbed the same way he rubbed mine, and he let out a noise of laughter, it was the first time I heard a human child laugh in person, and if I could pick any word for it, I would call it ''relaxing''.


    "This was my host family, if that wasn''t obvious."  My professor said and set himself in the middle of the miniature human community, "But Jonathan and Nadia were much smaller and younger then.  I''ve kept in touch with them over these many years, and watched their family grow, the others I knew when I was younger... they''ve passed away, but I know all of these," he gestured to the left and right of them, "by name and have watched them come together and grow like Laxinian weeds since I returned to University.  I thank you, my students, for providing me the opportunity to come back here again, even if that wasn''t your intent."


    I barely heard a word, I was still focused on patting the tiny human''s head, and the way his little fingers closed themselves over top of my hand to keep it going even if I wanted to withdraw.  "Headpats are happiness."  The woman said with a laugh, I got the feeling she was telling a ''joke'' but I didn''t quite get it, and then she gave me her name, "I''m Rebecca, by the way.  Rebecca Walker."


    "My name isn''t pronounceable to you," I explained to her, "So pick something that will be easy to say."


    "Bailey."  Two humans said at once, and ''Bailey'' I was.


    I have no idea how they came up with that, and when I asked, they moved their shoulders up and down and said with such perfect synchronicity that I wondered if humans had a hivemind we hadn''t discovered yet, "You just look like a Bailey."


    It did have a nice sound to it, so I nodded my head and said, "That will be fine."


    My further reflection was cut short when my Professor said, "As you know, human miniature communities are centered around family units, and this family is made up of multiple branches, each of which lives in a city called ''Louisville'', named after one of their ancient monarchs from another continent.  If you''ll check your data pads, you will see which branch is yours, and you will from here on out, go your separate ways with them, making regular reports to me of what you learn, and otherwise... explore the strangest land you will ever see."  I got the feeling my old professor had a deeper meaning to what he said, but he gave us no time to discuss it or ask questions, he was already walking away after a quick embrace with the others, including Rebecca, and leaving with the aged Jonathan and Nadia.


    I yanked my datapad out of the pouch I wore at my side and saw the name "Rebecca and William Walker."  The humans were doing the same, and her husband held out his hand, "It looks like you''re with us," he said and with his other hand, showed me the picture of myself along with relevant information about me such as dietary needs and the like, "welcome to the Walker family...Bailey."


    I stuck out my arm, and let him shake it, a strange sort of gesture, but one I knew to be a greeting, and just like that...


    I was ''adopted''.

 Chapter Seven

    There wasn''t really time for farewells after that, I had only a moment to... well if you want to know the human word for it, they call it ''barking''. My race has no word for hello or goodbye, we make a loud noise for either condition, and its decibel level tells you in context how we feel. Quick and sharp for annoyance, long and high for sadness, that sort of thing.


    But you aren''t reading this to learn about me.


    My professor didn''t really notice my farewell, he was busy catching up with his ''adoptive'' human family, and I didn''t even see where my fellow students went as a crowd of people passed between the others and I as I shuffled along with my hosts.


    Humans have a lot of crowds, that''s unusual for even the most social species over the greater part of the galaxy. At least among intelligent races, my own for example, we create large labor centers for big projects, but otherwise we stick to small pack groupings of no more than fifty to one hundred at a time. Among the more insectoid species, high number socialization begins early, but they rapidly isolate themselves early on until they connect via distant communication such as thread taps or long noise calls.


    But humans are not bound by the normal rules of logic that apply to other species. This family of three seemed utterly at ease moving through crowds of hundreds, though it is worth noting that their small human was carried at all times, this is very common among species wherein the young are ambulatory but not rational, and so are prone to self harm. Or where there are ample predatory dangers to be had. I knew enough to anticipate this and so said nothing, but what I wasn''t prepared for was the child''s abject curiosity.


    They studied ''everything'' and in his soft blue eyes, I swear I could see them processing all the details around him, it was like watching a computer build itself. Humans are high sensory beings, perhaps due to evolving as active predators, when their children are very young, their brains are not fully developed. At least not in the usual sense. Rather they have the ''hardware'' of a brain, but the many neural connections form in their early years based on sensory information. The mother and father, I noted, made a bird like ''cooing'' noise over their little one whenever it pointed something out and named it. Praising every single thing, no matter how ordinary.


    This gentle care was very different than most predatory races, the Xenobians for example, will beat their young to stimulate aggressive threat responses early on, subjecting them to violence and hardening their bodies against some of the fierce predators of their home world.


    Human infants however, were very soft. If I could pick one word for them, it would be ''squishy''.  They are very warm, and very squishy. This particular tiny human person seemed to find ''me'' to be of particular interest, and stared at me a great deal. The only trouble was, at his particular age, he was not especially verbal. Tiny humans learn languages with shocking ease, but in their early stages of development, they use singular words, or at most ''pair'' words, which I will explain further when we reach the part dealing with ''nap time''.


    However despite their lack of verbal skills, they seem to understand far more than they can say, and make up for their lower verbalism with gestures.


    Adult humans however, are very verbal. William, the male of my host family, was fairly tall, and I had to tilt my head to look up into his eyes when he spoke to me, notably, he stood within reach, close enough for a handshake or a fight, but not quite close enough to embrace the way my professor did with the aged members of his host family. When our eyes met, after a lot of random confused staring by myself, he addressed me saying, "So... Bailey, are you really going to be with us for fifty years? I admit, I didn''t really believe it when my grandfather said it would be that long."


    "It''s a generational study for a triple tier... what you call a PHD program. So, yes." I answered and I looked away, my tail lowered a little, a question like that felt doubtful, as if he wasn''t sure about his decision any longer, "Is that a problem?"


    "No, no." Jonathan quickly shook his head back and forth, "It came highly recommended by my grandfather, and we''re really looking forward to it." William smiled at me when he said that, and here is where it gets complicated.


    You see, a human smile can be faked. A human can smile at you and not mean it, unlike other species that cannot deceive socially with things like alarm, happiness, anxiety, distaste... humans can deceive with every social cue. And they frequently combine social cues together to deepen the deception. A smile may reveal a lie or conceal it, or it may be completely real. Or they can hug you, and whisper words of sympathy while they secretly revel in your pain. It makes them very hard to read, as species go. In the end, I decided that at least on this occasion, William was speaking the truth. His head shake, smile, and above all, the haste in his voice, were all things I''d seen in video entertainment that occurred when someone was trying to reassure someone. Quicker responses are harder to fake, and his response was instant.


    So my tail perked up, and I saw him relax. This highlights one of the things that makes humans so dangerous on the intragalactic community stage. They are masters of social cues in even alien races. If they can perceive it, they can understand it, and William concluded in mere minutes that my tail meant a rising sense of dejection, and immediately responded, relaxing when my drooping tail went back up.


    "Since you''re going to be with us for so long, Bailey, why don''t you let us know how we can help you the most? Or what would you like to see? What would you like to do? And please don''t worry about the cost, as long as we submit receipts, it''s all paid for by the government. The world is your oyster as far as we''re concerned." William cracked another smile at me, it seemed he was very eager to make me feel comfortable, but the way he said it brought up another lesson I should mention here.


    "Your world is an oyster? Are you telling me that your species evolved on- no... that can''t be right?" I asked, my head cocked and I scratched my left four ears, and Rebecca began to laugh, while William tried very hard to restrain himself, but his chest was spasming and he bit his lip to hold his laughter in.


    "Doggie!" Their little one shouted and stretched out his arms toward me again.


    "It''s an idiom. A kind of metaphor, an expression, it means you can do almost anything here, because it''s your home, like the way a pearl lives in an oyster." Rebecca explained through fits of chortling laughter that still fought free of her attempts at restraining it.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Ohhhhh..." I said and nodded, "But ah, why was that so funny?" I asked, and both William and Rebecca reddened a little in the face.


    "It wasn''t, I''m sorry, but the way you looked at us... it was like dogs do when they''re curious about something they''ve never seen before... and it was just... we couldn''t help ourselves. I hope we didn''t offend you." Rebecca said it as gently as she could, and my ears went down, I wasn''t quite sure what to make of that.


    "It''ll make more sense when you see dogs up close." William promised me, and then reaching out, he put his hand on my shoulder and applied a little pressure.


    Humans, it seems, love metaphors, so much of their communication is indirect, not only in the nonverbal sense, but they convey their meaning through analogies, metaphors, and symbols. You may recall stories about how when that human colony on Golga IV was surrounded by Zenti pirates with no hope of relief for weeks, rather than surrender, the humans renamed their colony ''Massada''. The Zenti did not understand that this place in human history was a fortification where a last stand took place, where the defenders resolved to fight to the death or commit suicide rather than be captured. The Zenti''s failure to understand human resolve and willingness to rally around a symbolic meaning alone, such as a flag, a name, a battle cry, was almost unlimited. As a result, the Zenti siege went on until the human fleet arrived in force and destroyed the pirates. Over sixty percent of the human colony''s population was killed, but it was still theirs in the end.


    When studying humans, ''never'' underestimate the value of their symbolic words, deeds, references, or materials. One single symbol or hard hitting slogan can revitalize the dying as if they were fresh to the fight.


    That may be a lot to say after a single explanation of metaphor use, but it applies so broadly that as you study this species further, you will return to this lesson again and again.


    I contemplated their question about what to do, and to be blunt, I was at a loss. I was expecting my hosts to give me instruction, not the other way around. While it wasn¡¯t unheard of to indulge a traveler or guest, humans are unnaturally, no... ''unusually'' giving hosts. When they have taken you in, magnanimity is the word of the day, sadly my film studies hadn''t let me catch this offhand. In retrospect I now understand my initially poor grades in tests on ''visitor rituals''.


    I lowered my tail and my ears and answered truthfully, "I don''t know. I have a long list of things, but what to do first, where to begin... it''s all so much."


    William clapped me on the back and put a spring into his step.  His mate, his wife, moved a little closer to him and he answered in a booming voice, "Not to worry! If you have no idea what you''re doing, you can''t do it wrong!" He chuckled and added, "We''ll take you home, get you settled first, and then work out what to do first.  I got a few weeks of paid vacation coming, and I figured this might happen, so I submitted it last week and it got approved starting today."


    "Paid vacation?" I asked him about this and scratched my head again, prompting the tiny human to reach for me once more, again shouting my incorrect species identifier.


    "Yes, see we realized long ago that the point of life isn''t work, the point of life is to live it to its fullest. So while we do work a lot, at least relative to some of you all in the rest of the galaxy, to avoid creating a dystopian nightmare existence we mandate six weeks of paid vacation time per year, not counting weekends and holidays." This was what William told me, but it was so strange that... I still worry that I haven''t recorded his words exactly, more my understanding of them. Still, he checked this portion of my manuscript himself early on, and said it was ''close enough''.


    I accepted his explanation mutely, and then we stepped out of the busy transit hub and into the light of day.


    Green was everywhere. Trees on every corner, and there were many, many corners. You see, the humans planted flowering fruit trees everywhere in public so that anyone who wants something fresh and healthy to eat, can do so even if they have no money. It is never considered ''theft'' unless someone takes the fruit and intends to sell it. Humans require a high calorie diet, and as such they eat more frequently than most other species we know of, were they a fast life organism with rapid reproduction of vast numbers of offspring, this would be a problem.


    However humans are actually able to control their reproductive process through chemical and medical means. Thus preventing overpopulation within families. The roads were laid out in a crisscross pattern, but at each intersection I could see, there was a circle about ten paces circumference, which they referred to as ''roundabouts'' or ''traffic circles''. This allowed the motion of vehicles to continue unabated without dangerously swerving into oncoming lanes. An ingenious innovation that also kept the flow of people in constant motion without starts and stops.


    I was at once impressed by the scale of human architecture around it as well. The area in which we emerged gave a marvelous view of what they call ''skyscrapers'' giant buildings of tempered glass set in steel frames, each one could hold thousands of independent workers, almost like their ''ant colonies''. See figure six-four for a few photos of ants and their habitats.


    The air was mainly composed of nitrogen, but what humans breathe is oxygen, a gas that is toxic, corrosive, and flammable. And yes, they breathe that stuff. In fact it will eventually kill them by corroding the very lungs meant to take it in. Incidentally, they also exhale carbon dioxide, a gas that is deadly to them, and to most other life except for their plants. Their plant life inhales... sort of, carbon dioxide, and produces oxygen. Thus not only have humans been widely referred to as ''death breathers'' but ''also'' become renowned by ecologists of many species. They became masters of their environment in order to ensure that their production and use of both toxic gasses did not throw their planet out of balance.


    My reverie about this was interrupted when William spoke up and said, "Wait here, I''ll get the car."


    I watched him walk away and when he was at a bit of a distance I asked Rebecca, "Is there a reason we do not simply follow him to it? Some ritual or law that doesn''t allow more than one to go inside at a time?"


    She hefted the young boy in her arms, bouncing him off of her hips and said, "No, nothing like that. I''m just handling Michael here, so it¡¯s easier for me to wait and for him to walk to the car. He was being polite and helpful. He''s that kind of man." Rebecca explained this to me with, I suppose you could call it a note of pride. Humans take great pride in certain things, traits of their personality, much like their artisans over their work, as if to shape themselves is itself a work of art as surely as any sculptor shapes a statue.


    That pride in turn is shared with one another as a kind of communal feast, Rebecca was proud of William, as the tie to him was also a reflection on her own merit as a person. It created a very interesting social dynamic that I have never found in another race other than mankind. I didn''t understand this right away, I jumped only to the cold calculation of an academic. "So, it is a caloric preservative, you work less thus have more energy to care for your offspring?"


    She frowned a little, and if she could have lowered her ears or stiffened a nonexistent tail, I think she would have. "I do work. Lots. I''m not lazy."


    My ears drooped, I had insulted her without meaning to. "I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to imply anything negative. I''m only trying to understand these things. It''s strange to me."


    Thankfully she too had learned to read my body language, and I knew what to say to express remorse, and she quickly settled down.


    "Of course, you meant in this specific moment, not in general." She clarified, and I quickly wagged my tail, her face brightened a little and she further added, "I guess it is kind of like that. We probably wouldn''t ever say it that way, but yes. I get less tired if I don''t have to haul our son around, we help each other out. If he were holding our son, I would get the car."


    "Oh, so the human division of labor is based in part on who is doing what at any given time?" I asked, I was instantly intrigued and little pieces of information from the video replays started to click into place.


    "Yes. If I''m bathing Michael, William will be making dinner, if I sweep, he will mop. We''re a team and we work in pairs to lighten both each other''s burdens and make each other''s lives easier. When Michael gets older, he''ll start getting chores too." Rebecca explained it as patiently as if I were her student, and in a way, I was. I clearly had much to learn about human social dynamics, and by the time the car, a rectangular black thing with four black rubber wheels on it, rolled out in front of us, I was already thinking of just how much I still had ahead of me to understand.


    But I had to ask. "So, does that mean I''ll get chores?"


    "Well..." She looked me up and down, "I mean no offense but... I suspect you shed, and I''d appreciate it if you at least took care of that."


    It was a year before I knew why I heard William laughing inside the car.

 Chapter Eight

    ¡°Would you like me to roll down the window, Bailey?  William¡¯s question struck me as odd, because I was thinking exactly that as I watched the cars pass by, humans didn¡¯t use hover cars for city driving, they were considered far too dangerous.  Instead they were confined to combat equipment, wilderness riding, and ships where instashield security was available.


    But riding in this car with William, Rebecca, and Michael, I was reminded of my time in the hovercar on the ship we were on oh so briefly, and the wild ride I had that was supremely enjoyable.  The question he asked was so unexpected that for a moment I thought I had missed some indication that humans were mind readers.


    I dismissed that of course, and immediately replied, ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°Told you.¡±  He said to Rebecca in the front passenger seat, though what it was he told her, I never knew.


    I mostly forgot anyway as he hit the button and the window disappeared, I stuck my head out, opened my mouth, and felt my ears blow back, and it was wonderful.  The blast of cool wind hit me full in the face and I was thrilled beyond measure.  So much so that I let out a cry of utter happiness.  It felt so good that as soon as I was able to do so, I sent a dispatch home telling the engineers that they should disable the inertial nullification device that made all vehicles appear to be stationary despite being in motion, and increase the speed limit by double its then current standard in order to improve the quality of life for our entire species.  They named it ¡®Bailey¡¯s law¡¯ after me, when after substantial testing, they found that it was absolutely marvelous.


    I held my head out the window the entire way, and completely forgot all of the conversational interviews I had planned before I arrived.  My hearts pounded in sync in my chest, and it was all I could do to keep from fainting from happiness.  The sun warmed my fur, not pounding the earth like the hammer of a desert sun on Danick Prime or avoiding the world like the tiny dot of a sun seemed to on the dwarf planet of the human¡¯s Plutonian colony.  This truly was the ¡®sweet spot¡¯ of their solar system.


    But all good things must come to an end, it is an unending truth of life, even for the long lived, and my first ride in a human car with my hosts came to a close thirty of their minutes later when we pulled in front of a small two story home.  I should note that the houses were split only by a few paces, and where some houses had one occupant, others had two, three, or even six or more.  Made of a mix of rough cut stone and wood, I had a good idea of human middle class neighborhoods before, but the experience was something else.


    Almost every home had a garden visible from the front door, and each front door had a front porch.  It seemed useless at first, see figure six five for examples.  It wasn¡¯t refrigerated, so you couldn¡¯t store food there, it had no defenses, and wasn¡¯t large enough to live on, not based on what I knew of humans at least.  But it did have something else.


    A swing.  A wide bench suspended by a pair of chains and painted a bright shade of red, it swayed back and forth in the breeze.  Two smaller seats made of woven wood and with thick green cushions sat beside one another looking out, and a small table sat where each of the occupants of those seats could reach it.  Something about it all¡­ I don¡¯t know what it was, but it was just so damn¡­ inviting.  It screamed ¡®Come and sit.¡¯ and I felt instantly drawn to it.  Like a Slytharian raptor¡¯s prey summoning call.


    ¡°Do you like the porch swing?¡±  William asked when he saw me staring at it.  ¡°I made that, you know.¡±  He confided and wore a smug grin on his face, and I could only nod.


    ¡°It looks¡­ great.¡± I wasn¡¯t quite sure how to praise it because I didn¡¯t understand why I liked it so, it was just wooden planks pieced together, but maybe it was the whole scene?  I would have to experience more to know for sure.


    ¡°Rebecca, would you be a love and put on some coffee.¡±  William asked as she got their child out of the back seat.  ¡°My back is still sore from finishing up the room this morning and I could do with a few minutes off my feet.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±  She said, ¡°I¡¯ll just put Michael down and see if Fauve is feeling better.  It¡¯ll be just a few minutes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, thanks much.¡± William said and putting his hand in the middle of my back, he gestured to the porch, ¡°Come on, have a seat.¡±  He offered.


    I must admit, you may have expected me to tell you immediately what the porch was for, and I held it back to let this all play out in sequence, but now we come to the moment, and it was shockingly simple.  We climbed the handful of stone steps up to the stone porch, he waved me to the gently swaying swing and I sat down, the force of my seating myself immediately made it rock a little bit harder, and with the light breeze in the air, it proved to be easily one of the simplest delights I¡¯ve ever experienced.  Who knew?  Nobody in my homeworld, it seemed.  Or if anyone did, they kept that secret to themselves.


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    William sat down with a groan and spread his arms out over the back of his woven long seat, a thing they call ¡®sofas¡¯ or ¡®couches¡¯, and crossed one leg over the other.  Just then a man of coal dark skin and a curious kind of fur on the top of his head, far more ¡®solid like¡¯ I suppose, than Williams wavy straight hair, exited a car that pulled in across the street.


    ¡°Hey Tuna!¡±  William waved, and the fishman¡­ or so I immediately thought of him, given what he¡¯d just been called, stopped and waved back.  The shouted greeting was answered less than immediately, as the Tuna man approached the house, it wasn¡¯t until he reached the middle of the stairs that he answered back and said¡­


    ¡°Willy¡­ you got a dog¡­ no¡­?¡±  He blinked his dark amber eyes when he looked me up and down, and I shook my head.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a dog.  I¡¯m a Dlamisa.  Are you a¡­ land fish?¡±  I asked and cocked my head, ¡°Where is your tail?  Do fish here have legs?¡±


    The tuna person snapped his fingers and gave his head a rapid shake as if waking himself up out of a dream.  ¡°Oh, right, the alien you told me about!¡±  He addressed William, and when William gestured to another seat, ¡®Tuna¡¯ sat down.


    ¡°No, he is not a fish or a tuna, that is his nickname.¡±  William corrected me.  ¡°His last name is Latunde, he¡¯s from Nigeria, not the Pacific ocean, and we served together in Germany when I was in the service.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ you are not a fish, and your profession is nickname?  What does that do?  Do you give names to human offspring?¡±  I asked, and the dark skinned man who¡­ was evidently not a fish after all, looked at me and scratched his head.


    ¡°Man, is he serious?  No, course he is, he¡¯s an alien¡­ duh.¡±  The one called Latunde answered his own question, and I scratched my ears and cocked my head at him.  It seemed to make William and the other two happy when I did that, and it appeared to work just as well on the newcomer as he broke into a toothy grin.


    ¡°No, ¡®a ¡®nickname¡¯ is what friends call each other, my ¡®first¡¯ name is Mark.  I got the nickname ¡®Tuna¡¯ back in the service, because we all went by last names, and my friends just ¡®shortened it¡¯.  Better than the guy named Douche¡­ hey, Willy, remember Douche?¡±  Mark Latunde laughed  and his arm darted out and the back of his hand struck William¡¯s bicep, the grin on William¡¯s face grew wider¡­


    I have to pause to explain something here about what I learned from this short interaction.  Porches are for socializing, that is their purpose.  They are an invitation to come and sit, and all are designed to look welcoming.  They are a physical expression of the human need to form bonds, to add to one of their greatest strengths.


    The other thing I must add, is that humans who live to their middle years, love to reminisce, their memories, especially those shared with friends, become treasures.  If you offered a man money for his fondest memories, he would live under a bridge in poverty and want before he would give them up.  They are storytellers, and spend their lives creating the tales they will tell.  This ties back into their love of metaphor and symbolism, every story becomes an example, either to live up to, or to take heed of as a warning.  I listened while they told each other things they each already knew about things that had come and gone many years before¡­ apparently copious amounts of alcohol were involved¡­


    Along with dancing¡­ and a man not quite ready for manhood, along with a woman¡­ to be frank, it involved much of the late adolescent male activities and these would be an entire thesis by themselves.  Apparently males of a particular age are prone to competitiveness that does not always leave one¡¯s dignity intact.


    The two finally stopped their rapid chattering when Rebecca reemerged holding a tray with four cups made of glass sitting on it, from out of the cups rose a thick steam that had all eight of my ears pricking up at attention and I leaned forward to inhale it as deeply as I could.


    ¡°What is that wonderful smell?¡±  I asked, and Rebecca set the tray down on the table, while she passed out the cups, she answered me.


    ¡°It¡¯s called ¡®coffee¡¯ and it is marvelous.  We use it to stay alive.¡±  Rebecca answered as Mark and William gratefully offered thanks and accepted their cups with deep inhales of the aroma that were as enthusiastic as my own.


    ¡°You¡¯ll die without this?  Should I really have some?¡±  I asked and stared down at the substance that smelled like liquified paradise.


    ¡°No, not really, but you will feel more alive.¡±  Rebecca answered and took her seat beside William, leaning her side against his.


    ¡°Oh and by the way, I run the big pet store down the road, so¡­ if you need to bulk buy any food, I¡¯m your guy.¡±  Mark said with a smirk while he looked at me.


    ¡°Well I¡¯ve had most of the planet¡¯s main food supply analyzed, I can¡¯t eat your grapes or chocolate, but there are a lot of things I can eat, so I¡¯ll try anything once.  I didn¡¯t come here just to sit around.¡±  I replied and when they all took deep sips of their coffee, I imitated them all.


    I will never forget how it tasted, nor how it felt to sit with them all.  Mark, apparently an old friend of the family as I¡¯ve now explained, would prove just ¡®why¡¯ he was one when hard times came, and I learned a lot about humanity from him.


    Not all the days ahead would be perfect, the human experience is a mixed one, but you can learn a lot about a people, about a person, by how they handle their darkest days, and a lot about yourself, by how you handle those who endure those times.  I know I did, at least.  I conclude my talk of their little porch in that little neighborhood on that little bit of dust in the sun that was their world, by saying that it was delightful.  From the coffee to the confusions, to a casual first introduction to yet another person I would soon call a very good friend, I had fun, and if you listen to most humans, that¡¯s the point of it all.


    Whether you agree with me or not right now, I cannot even begin to guess.  But save your judgment till the end, as there is a human lifetime still to tell, and it would take ten lifetimes of even my vast years, to tell it all.

 Chapter Nine

    ¡°I wish I could stay, but,¡± Mark paused his words and turned his head in the direction of his house, he took a long deep sniff, ¡°I do believe I¡¯ve got a steak waiting.¡±  He tipped his cup back and drank it down all the way before setting it on the table and rising to his feet.  He was about as tall as William, and had a slender build.  His clothing, I learned a little about from the viewings, and I recognized what he wore as a business suit, slacks with a crease and a jacket over a shirt, with a long strip of fabric called a tie.  My immediate thought was that the tie was there so that poorly performing wearers could use the noose to hang themselves to atone for their errors¡­ but it turns out it¡¯s just a traditional garb that nobody remembers why they wear it any more.


    My ongoing theory was vanity, but strangely, everybody hates them.  ¡°Nothing combines so little function with so much potential for bad taste, and you have to buy it.¡±  That was what William would say about it, and with the human propensity for jokes, I have often wondered if he was joking or not, but he would never say.


    Mark left, of course, but if I may add something more before I speak of the interior of the house, it is the strange reluctance of William to reveal whether or not he was joking about ties.


    And that reluctance is born out of perversity.  Humans are the most perverse race of people you will ever come across.  I do not mean this in the promiscuous sense, but they absolutely love to flummox, confuse, and confound at every turn.  They have this thing called ¡®sarcasm¡¯.  Which is basically lying, but with style and for fun and to make a point.  And an example of this will be provided shortly.  I hope you will forgive me for not stating it now, and holding it back until the proper time in the story, but I felt I had to prepare you now for this absurdity that lies ahead and give you time to process the sheer perversity of human social dynamics.


    We made our farewells and I watched as Mark Latunde went down the stairs, across the street, and into his home, and only when he was gone did I finish that divine nectar called coffee and rise up with my hosts to go inside their home.


    ¡°You mentioned a ¡®Fauve¡¯, is this a houseguest, another of your offspring?¡±  I asked, and Rebecca answered¡­


    ¡°Oh no, Fauve is just a wild beast we keep around the house for amusement, she¡¯s a very dangerous creature so I would not advise getting closer to her than you have to.  Especially while she¡¯s feeling sick.¡±


    I stopped in my tracks and stared at Rebecca for what felt like a long, long time while her lips quivered.


    ¡°That was sarcasm.¡±  William finally acknowledged while he held the big red door to their home open for me.  ¡°Fauve is our daughter, her name means ¡®wild beast¡¯ and the only danger to you that she poses is the possibility of talking your ears off.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an idiom, right?  You can¡¯t actually do that to my ears?  I like my ears, I need all eight of them.¡±  I said and reflexively covered them all with my hands.


    ¡°Yes.  I was being metaphorical.  Your ears will be fine.  I promise.¡±  William said and closed the door behind me.  ¡°And unfortunately she¡¯s a bit under the weather right now¡­ ah, sick, she¡¯s sick.  Nothing too serious, but some bed rest is called for at least.¡±


    His elaboration was a bit of a relief, but here again I must point out that humans are a K-Selection organism.  K-Selection organisms, for our amateur readers, are slow life organisms that reproduce slowly and put a great deal of time and care into their offspring.  Most organisms will dispose of sickly young, but a human might actually adopt it, feeling pity and empathy for the weak and try to protect it from harm and raise it even at great cost to themselves.  The human propensity for sheer compassion, while not universal, is quite possibly one of their greatest survival traits.


    But then, I was still a true novice of humans so I asked a foolish question, ¡°How do you dispose of your sickly ones?¡±


    ¡°Oh we throw them in the composter and spread them in the garden, why tonight¡¯s vegetables for the stew grew out of fertilizer made from Michael¡¯s big brother.¡±  William replied, but the way he said it, drawing the words out with a big smile on his face that I¡¯d begun to think was very silly, and it was almost even ¡®sing-song¡¯ like if I may describe it as such, told me to be wary of taking his answer at face value.


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    ¡°That is a joke, yes?¡±  I cocked my head in the way that so far got me truthful answers, and he nodded to me after latching the door shut.


    ¡°Yes, we don¡¯t just ¡®dispose¡¯ of the sickly.  Especially over a trivial thing like a minor flu.¡±  He answered and then walking past me he said, ¡°This way.  I¡¯ll show you to your room.¡±


    I was honestly thrown off by his answer, I¡¯d seen humans care for the sick, but it just wasn¡¯t real to me.  Some intelligent races care for the injured, but those who learn about disease and how it spreads, typically kill the sick out of hand to keep it from spreading.  As a result they are, on the whole, less resistant than humans by far, but also generally healthier, as they wipe out almost all disease forms.  Humans actively engage in the reckless process of caring for the sick so that they get better.


    It is something about my own admitted bias at this time, that I thought the human compassion was still over dramatic and a weakness.  If you get rid of a minor handful, you eliminate disease vectors in a generation or two, why strive to preserve those who are going to actively harm the whole just by existing?


    Still, I concluded enough to know not to actively suggest terminating their Fauve person, and followed William in thoughtful silence through the house.  A few things to note about the Walker home, the floor was of polished and smoothed wooden boards nailed together, and there was a large open space that had couches enough for multiple guests.  It was easily recognized by me at this point as a ¡®social¡¯ zone.


    Curiously they also had a place where they put fire inside, a place for fire they uncreatively called a ¡®fireplace¡¯.  I guess plainness makes sense there, after all you wouldn¡¯t want anyone to be confused.


    From there he took me through another room that had a vague circular shape and was lined with shelves full of old books.  Humans are a collector species, their tendency to settle seemed to ensure that, and my new humans clearly liked to collect these old things, or must have, as a digital datapad could have held a thousand libraries that size and not used a tenth of its space.


    I did let it pass without comment for the moment, I was after all, reasonably sure I had a handle on the human knack for clinging to stuff, and as an educated student, I knew there were worse things to collect than books, even if their format was outdated.  The only thing I will add here is the sheer number of fictions they had.  And how long some of them were.  I saw one whole shelf taken up by a single series over ten books long, called ¡®Who Endures¡¯.  Another shelf was lined with something called ¡®Lord of the Rings¡¯.  I assumed it was about a wrestler in the intergalactic olympics¡­ humans are such a viscerally physical species after all.  But many books would be revisited before the end of my time there, and some are still in my collection today.


    Through the library he took me down a flight of stairs to an underground area, and there was a simple room established for me, a door for privacy, though it wasn¡¯t the thick wood that was the entry to the house, it was a bigger space than I needed, that was obvious even before he opened the door.


    The room had a bed designed for humans but¡­ serviceable for me.  A chest of drawers that looked very heavy, with six compartments, three on either side, and a large wardrobe sitting against a far wall.  A small square table of black wood, and a lamp.  There was, for good measure, a chair, a small round table, a miniature cube that turned out to be a ¡®miniature refrigerator¡¯ so I could have my own food, even a little heating unit they call a microwave¡­ they clearly went all out.


    Nobody had ever tried to make me feel so welcome anywhere before.  I turned around after taking it all in and looked up at William and asked him, ¡°Did you really, like you were talking about before, move all this around and set this all up for me?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but we just used our telekinetic powers and it was no trouble at all.¡±  William said, and winked.


    I then realized my breath caught. I''d thought he was telling the truth, but the wink told me he wasn¡¯t, so I exhaled hard.  Humans often downplay their own virtues, they can be very self effacing.  Donate a pint of blood, or a bloody kidney, and the good humans will downplay their gift to minimize any doubts you have about accepting their generosity.


    It turns out that a good way to determine a bad human, is to see how they treat their own good deeds if they do any.  Do they make themselves a martyr or a hero for something they did or do for another person?  Or do they just take it as a given that they should help where they can and not everything needs to be fawned over as the greatest good deed since the invention of good and evil?


    Knowing that, you will be able to detect most bad humans early on, unless they are true masters at disguising their evilness.  William had injured himself, however slightly, preparing my room for me, and I was thankful, but he¡¯d made it seem like nothing.


    I wouldn¡¯t.  I responded with ¡®Thank you¡¯ and it slipped into the noise they would consider a bark, my ears twitched and tail wagged, but he just waved my gratitude aside.


    ¡°Nah, don¡¯t thank me, this is just what we do.  Now why don¡¯t you rest up from your trip, there¡¯ll be dinner soon, and if you oversleep, don¡¯t worry about it, we¡¯ll put your share in the fridge.¡±  William promised, and all I could do was nod.


    ¡°Goodnight, Bailey.¡±  He said to me and began to walk away.


    I answered him with a goodbye ¡®bark¡¯ as he would call it, and then lay down on my bed, stretching myself out over the shockingly soft mattress and pillow, and going into a deep, deep sleep at last.  I had just enough time to realize that I was far more tired than even I knew only an hour before.  And when I did finally start to give in to that urge to sleep, my final thought was¡­


    ¡°I have such a busy day ahead tomorrow.  I can hardly wait.¡±


    I could only hope my hosts were as eager as I to get started.


    And they were, as I would find out.

 Chapter Ten

    Interstellar travel is exhausting.  Thoroughly exhausting.  And with so many new smells and sights and people, I was carrying the burden of my long journey and the weight of everything I experienced in just a few short hours.  But because the hour was still relatively early when I went to sleep, I woke up extremely early the following day.  There was a small clock with green glowing numbers secured to the wall on my left, and they read 0416.


    Human days are twenty-four hours in length, and that being military time, which counts the hours directly rather than cycling them, it meant it was four hours and sixteen minutes after the midnight hour.  I knew enough to be aware that nobody would be up, and so I lay in bed and watched the minutes tick past one by one.


    It was barely five minutes past the moment after I awoke that it hit me.  I was alone here.  I¡¯d seen other aliens at the transport hub, but that was all.  For those too young to recall, if this text has the privilege of being republished in editions many years past my lifetime, in those days, travel to Earth for aliens was a very rare thing, their reputation was so bizarre that except for people traveling there for government business, few yet dared to go that way.  The ¡®murder fuel for their blood¡¯ stories spread by Zenti survivors probably did nothing to add to Earth¡¯s tourism numbers.  So when away from the transit point I saw no other familiar species.  Least of all my own.


    I had a small pack back home, and had familiarity enough with other students, and an easy return trip if I felt the need, but it was now that it hit me?  Fifty years really was a long time.  A long time to be on an alien world with literally no way off of it.  If this didn¡¯t work out?  What if they decided they didn¡¯t want me?  Could I find another host family?  Everyone seemed friendly enough, but I knew from my previous sources that this wasn¡¯t always true.


    Maybe it was the nights on Earth itself that made me anxious, I had always considered myself a rational, pragmatic student, and such anxieties and fears were absurd.  I shifted in my bed to rub my fur against the airy mattress, and stopped staring at the clock to stare at the ceiling instead.  I tried to think of nothing, to blank my mind and force myself to sleep again.


    But as luck would have it, my sharp ears detected a noise.  ¡°Footfalls, at this hour?¡±  I¡¯d seen crime dramas and knew that robbery was always a possibility.


    The rational thing to do was to hunker down, but at such an absurdly early hour, everybody else was surely still asleep.  I also knew that they had no chance of hearing such soft steps as I did, they were helpless.  Of course you might wonder, ¡®who cares¡¯ and for a few seconds, or maybe minutes, time passes slower when all three hearts are pounding at once, I lay still.


    I thought of that friendly touch from Lisa on the ship, the feeling of warmth from Michael¡¯s hand on my head, and his little head felt when I put mine in the same place on him.  And I got out of bed.  Now if you don¡¯t know, my race, aside from not requiring clothing, is not known for our noisy nature.  The pads on my feet were thick and soft, perfect for sneaking up on prey.


    ¡®I should check it out, that¡¯s the rational thing to do, if I stay down there, I¡¯ll be trapped if it comes looking for me.¡¯  I thought, and step by step I went toward, then up the stairs, around the corner, and saw that a light was on.


    It was dim, not really much, but my night vision was fairly good and so I needed even less than was already present.  I put my hands on the frame of the entrance and eased my head around it, leaning as far over as I could without taking another step.


    And the source of the noise started humming, it wasn¡¯t loud, and it wasn¡¯t like a machine.  It was a person, a young female, but not one I knew.  Humans are the only species known in the galaxy to do this.  There are a lot of species who dance, mostly for mating purposes, and that includes humans.  There are even many species who have a mating call that could be described as ¡®singing¡¯.


    But humans are the only ones who ¡®hum¡¯ simply for the pleasure of doing it.  The human was hidden by a few kitchen shelves that made something of a barrier, but I could see long brown hair bound close to the head and dangling free, along with a kind of bouncing motion back and forth like they were dancing.


    Then I smelled meat.  ¡®A sandwich.¡¯  I realized.  They were making a sandwich.  I exhaled from all three lungs at once, even a human thief would probably not break into a house just to make a sandwich.  And this human was on the short side.


    ¡°Are you, ¡®Fauve¡¯?¡±  I asked, and she spun on the balls of her feet like she was startled, her mouth opened like she was going to scream and her slightly larger than usual brown eyes bulged when she saw me.


    She stopped at once, ¡°Wait¡­ Bailey?¡±  She asked me, and I nodded to her as I came into view.


    ¡°Yes, and you¡¯re Fauve, I guess.¡±  I said and she stepped into view, I moved slowly, taking short steps that carried me all the way to where she could see me without being obscured by the shelves.


    She tilted her head back to look up at me, and oddly enough, she cocked her head the same way I did, at the exact same moment.


    If that were not odd enough¡­


    ¡°You¡¯re bigger than I thought you¡¯d be.¡±  We said at the same time and looked each other up and down.  I was only a little shorter than her father, and that was in part because I am never ¡®perfectly straight¡¯ the way fully erect humans are.  But even though I was still much taller than this one, I was expecting someone much younger.


    I rubbed the back of my head just behind my ears, the silence passed between us, and then as another oddity atop the ones we already experienced, we asked at the same moment¡­


    ¡°How old are you?¡±


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    She laughed a little and put her back to me, returning to her sandwich and ending our awkward verbal dance.


    ¡°I¡¯m fourteen.¡±  She said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t go with my parents today, but I¡¯m quarantining because I¡¯m still a little sick.¡±  She brought up her hand and pointed to her throat, ¡°I don¡¯t want to get anyone else sick just because I want to go somewhere.¡±


    There it was again, that human compassion, it was interesting to me that even at such a young age, the human can have the capacity for profound emotional rationalism and care for even strangers.  So different from species who resorted to killing the sick precisely because that empathetic understanding was sorely deficient in their evolution.


    They had to learn it or invent it as a kind of pragmatism and self interest in order to rise to civilization¡¯s heights.  But here that was in a young human child?  Remarkable.  It speaks to the sheer complexity of their brains and the high degree of socialization that marked their evolution.


    I filed that away to record it in my notes later, and focused instead on answering her question.  ¡°In your years I would be about twenty-four, but your years are shorter than ours.  Though I¡¯m not sure by how much.¡±


    I reflexively sniffed the meat she was working with, without getting too close, there was an absurdly foul odor coming from a yellow bottle in her left hand, it burned my nose, to be frank.  Human taste buds are¡­ extreme.  The plantlife on their world evolved to be spicy to discourage other life from eating it.  But humans made it one of their favorite foods.  It¡¯s even been rumored that they can eat fire.  But that turned out to be an interesting misunderstanding.  See figure eight-one for what it actually looks like.


    I leaned to the left and looked down at her handiwork while doing my best to avoid the smell from the yellow bottle.


    ¡°Hmpf, well that¡¯s not surprising, you¡¯re in college, right?¡±  Fauve asked and turned around to look me over again, when I nodded she asked, ¡°Uh, can I touch you, I just want to see something?¡±


    ¡°Um, I guess?¡±  I answered and held out my hands with the knuckles facing up.


    ¡°So those look kind of like ours.¡±  She said, and she wasn¡¯t entirely wrong, her hand came down over mine, hers were much, much smaller, and while she munched on the sandwich she¡¯d finished making, she began to get closer.  I stood still, and she leaned to one side so that she could see behind me.  ¡°Huh, a tail.  Like a retriever.¡±  I said nothing, she wasn¡¯t really talking to me, I knew that tone of voice, it was the same one I used when studying something new.


    Here again I break from the narrative of events to explain something else about humans.


    They are dangerously curious.  They¡¯re a naturally scientific race despite all their superstitions in the past, and are quick to want to study new things, this process begins in childhood, and if nurtured, remains life long.  It is fair to say that my host family was exceptional even among humans, you have to be, to decide to host an alien from another predatory race that you¡¯ve never met before.


    But still, it was strange to see scientific curiosity in a child.  ¡°It feels like I thought it would.¡±  She said and took another bite of her sandwich, ¡°Can I touch your head?¡±  She asked through her mouthful of food, and I thought that since I¡¯d come that far, I might as well go a little farther.  So I bent forward, she reached up, and began to scratch my head, my tail reflexively started wagging back and forth.


    It felt amazing, the way her nails barely went over the skin beneath my fur, and the way the soft pink pads of her fingers smoothly ran over my ears¡­ I wanted more of it, and so did she.


    Or she must have, since she kept it up until she licked the yellow sauce from off her other hand¡¯s finger tips.


    ¡°Wow, you really do have fur like a dog or a wolf¡­ wait, that wasn¡¯t mean of me to say, was it?¡±  She asked and pursed her lips into a pout.  Humans respond strangely when they¡¯re embarrassed, and children even more so.


    The filters of adults are less developed in children, and they will often speak without thinking.


    ¡°No, not if it¡¯s true, I guess.  Is dog fur a good thing?¡±  I asked.  I had gathered that humans liked dogs at least.


    ¡°A very good thing, Bailey.¡±  Fauve nodded emphatically.  ¡°So what are you doing, getting up at this hour?¡±


    ¡°I went to sleep early, so I woke up early.¡±  I explained, and she seemed to understand.  ¡°What about you?  Are you nocturnal?¡±


    ¡°Kinda.¡±  She said and laughed a little, laughter is a very diverse expression, probably stemming from its roots in the fear response, when a perceived danger turned out not to be, laughter let everyone know that everything is fine.  Of course it has come a long way since then, but it still serves as social filler and a welcome expression.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like to sleep, dad and I agree that the best superpower to have, would be to never need to rest.¡±  She said as she recounted the conversation, I gleaned from this that she was close to her father, given that he was her immediate go to for a conversation topic, and I was intrigued.


    As you know, communication between most species is practical.  ¡®I need food.  We need that catalytic converter fixed.¡¯  It¡¯s purely purpose driven.  But humans converse for pleasure, you¡¯ve seen this already with Mark, and the way the older humans caught up with my professor.  They delight in communication, and I was intrigued.  My species is at least somewhat social, and out of curiosity, I pushed the question.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t super strength be a better super power?¡±  I asked¡­ ¡°Or super speed?¡±


    ¡°Not really.  Super strength, everybody is going to want your help moving, it¡¯s like being the only guy with a truck.  Super speed, kind of better, but you probably die if you run into something.  Most superpowers are kind of useless unless you have a bunch of others to get rid of the weaknesses.¡±  She explained, she¡¯d clearly thought it through.


    But I wasn¡¯t done.  ¡°Invisibility?¡±  I proposed.


    ¡°My dad said only perverts want that one.  And from what I¡¯ve seen of anime, he¡¯s right.¡±  She said with a snort.  ¡°Besides, you¡¯d forget you¡¯re using it and step into traffic or something.  No thanks.¡±


    ¡°OK, uh¡­¡±  I scratched the back of my head, ¡°What about flight?¡±


    ¡°No.  Some asshole will shoot you.  Plus even if they didn¡¯t, flying stuff involves a lot of regulations, I don¡¯t want to crash into a plane or get arrested for not filing a flight plan.  There once was a guy who got arrested for flying a lawn chair he¡¯d tied some big balloons to, they didn¡¯t even know what to charge him with at first¡­ flight would be fun at first, but it¡¯d get you into a mess of trouble real fast.¡±  Fauve said and shook her head.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be true.¡±  I said, ¡°I¡¯ve seen lawn chairs in your television shows¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it happened.  ¡®Lawn Chair Larry.¡¯  A few hundred years ago or something.¡±  She said and brought up her datapad from her pocket, she quickly expanded the screen and repeated the search term for the lawn chair man¡­


    I pause here to tell you, yes, it is true.  There really was such a man, and it seems that humans have a miraculously bad sense of self preservation.  Their males in particular are a reckless lot, often in pursuit of a female to mate with, they will engage in dangerous activities simply for attention, either fighting each other, or in contests of courage.  I observed many of these over the course of my media consumption, and here is something very interesting about mating patterns for humans.


    I have noticed that in most species, a mating pattern is designed with success in mind, even if it fails from one male for whatever reason, in other members of the same species, that exact thing will be successful.  However, among humans, their wild individuality is such that there is no one thing that will succeed with every woman, or with every man.  So their mating patterns are all over the place, and most are abject failures.


    Males often strive to impress each other even more than their females, and the same is true of their female population.  Sadly in the case of the former, many of these displays are self destructive, and offer no improved chance of finding a mate.  Even now, I find their mating patterns too confusing to properly catalog, and will require another fifty years at least before I think I begin to have a grasp on it.


    I threw out several more superpower possibilities to Fauve, and each one she pointed out a severe problem with, sometimes several.


    I barely noticed that while we conversed she was making another sandwich, this one without the yellow stuff, and that she was busy working the coffee pot¡­ at least until I heard it and smelled the brew beginning.  ¡°So, I should head back to bed for another day.  But there¡¯s a sandwich for you so you don¡¯t have to figure out breakfast, and the coffee is on.  Mom told me you like the stuff.¡±  Fauve said and looking up at me again, she gave me that same sort of smile I was starting to get used to.


    ¡°I hope you like it here, it was nice talking to you, Bailey.  Welcome to Earth.¡±  She said, and walking past me, she ascended the steps, vanishing out of sight and leaving me so lost in thought that I barely noticed I had absentmindedly eaten the sandwich and poured coffee for myself.


    It was clearly going to take a lot for me to get used to this place.


    But I was already very sure, I was going to like this place.

 Chapter Eleven

    One of the most remarkable things about sandwiches is how widespread they are.  The ¡®sandwich¡¯ has been invented in some form by dozens of intelligent species.  The Arcanians use the natural silk that they produce, line it into strips, pound it with their foreleg, and then lay their food over top, after which they lay another silk layer over the food.  Of course this keeps the live meal from escaping, whereas human sandwiches do not consist of living things.  But the principal is the same.


    Where the human sandwich stands out is in the sheer variety of foods that this omnivorous species is able to consume.  It¡¯s a telling thing about the homo sapien species that ¡®food¡¯ is their single greatest drive.  They will die if they go without water for a relatively short period of time, hence why their civilizations began around sources of water.  But it is ¡®food¡¯ that drives their mobility more than anything else.


    The typical intelligent species has roughly twelve to twenty forms of food that they can ingest for nutrients, and it has long been theorized in Gelkmaiz¡¯s Theory of Evolution by Nutritional Minimalism, that it is this minimalist drive for consumption enabled intelligent life to advance to a civilized level.  Less time spent consuming or searching for food meant more time to work on creative projects.


    But humanity overturns this theory completely, as they will eat almost anything.  Hence the theory I present, ¡®Bailey¡¯s Theory of Dietary Intelligence¡¯ is that this highly omnivorous predatory species developed its creativity not just by way of its high socialization, but in order to ensure its dietary needs could be met.  They can kill anything, and anything they can kill, they can consume, which presents new opportunities for survival.


    And to that theory, I credit the sandwich given to me by Fauve.  It contained five different types of meat from four different animals.  Bacon, roast beef, ham, chicken, turkey, and two different types of cheese with a very thick bun.


    It was this dietary experience that was also behind my transmission suggesting that more work should be done on expanding dietary ranges for my own species, as the more complex diet of human foods worked wonders on my health.  Strange, perhaps, but it was long theorized even by humans that life evolved elsewhere and was seeded on Earth in a bacterial state by way of an asteroid.  It is conceivable that our compatibility is related to our common origins.  To that end I suggest extensive genetic testing to determine if there is any truth behind this, if it is so, and I am right¡­ then humans, Dlamisans, Arcanians¡­ our evolutionary tree makes us all one family of endless cousins.


    After eating my sandwich I was still hungry, and eyed the refrigerator where the chilled meat was stored, humans dislike rotted meat, they have strangely delicate digestive systems.  They can handle almost no parasites or rot, though they are known to eat certain cheeses with maggots, the truth is that despite their broad diet, they are very susceptible to ¡®bad food¡¯ and spoilage in human terms is much earlier than say, ¡®spoilage¡¯ in arcanian terms.


    I was never able to properly grasp just why their ability to consume so many kinds of food was so wide, but the window in which it was viable to do so was so small.  At most all I can say is that their ability to consume many things compensates for the shorter window in which to do so.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    At that moment though, all I wanted was another sandwich, my jaw opened and I¡¯m not ashamed to say that I was panting.  I turned on the kitchen sink and dipped my head in to begin lapping up the water.  Humans are clever about their plumbing solutions, and as such they maintain a steady flow of water at all times that they can activate at will.


    As such I had clean filtered water with no parasites or filth, in an instant, they even allowed for the setting of temperature, thus letting me have it exactly as I wished.


    The crisp cool water was a great relief to me after what I¡¯d just eaten, though I kept my eye on their meat storage box, the colloquially termed ¡®fridge¡¯.


    Keep in mind that of course, I am ¡®always working¡¯ while on this task so I made special note of all my surroundings.  The kitchen and dining area was united in one broad room, and there were a number of conveniences laid out to make it more pleasant.  A viewing screen with a gaming console, a clock combined with a radio, they had a machine for cleaning dishes, the cold box where they kept meat, a motorized can release device, a ¡®can opener¡¯.


    Humans are the ¡®masters¡¯ of recombination, they will turn any two items into something to kill with, play with, or work with.  And I mean anything.  But I will explain how this pertains to their mating games later, and the thirty-fourth rule that all humanity follows.


    For now it is enough to understand that I was hungry, I hadn¡¯t asked Fauve for permission to make another, and I wasn¡¯t quite sure what to do.  Guests who wake their hosts are considered to be very rude.


    Humans prize their skills as hosts very highly, and a good host will go out of their way to provide for all the comforts of their guest, some human cultures will give to the guest anything the guest merely ¡®admires¡¯ even if it is the only luxury the host possesses.  Others will share a tent even with a hated enemy if the storm is bad¡­ they will risk their lives for their guests, merely because the guest is in fact a guest.  It is sacred to them to treat those far from home, as they would wish to be treated when they travel in turn.  And not much is more loathed than someone who abuses that guest trust.


    However¡­ a guest too has obligations to treat their host with respect, to honor their possessions.  Disrespecting the boundaries of the host are liable to see you ejected.  Sexual congress with a spouse, theft, overconsumption, or demands for money, goods, or services, are beyond the pale of rudeness.  A guest may ¡®hint¡¯ at their wish, or if it is something ¡®necessary¡¯ such as food, water, orifice waste disposal, they may ask directly.


    But beyond that, humans expect to be allowed to ¡®offer¡¯ things to their guest, and feel put upon if the guest demands it, even if the host were willing to give it anyway.


    This put me in an uncomfortable position.  I was hungry, but waking my host to ask for food seemed rude, even if they had implied I could simply take what I wanted.  So, utterly at a loss and unable to sleep, I poured a cup of coffee and sat at their table to wait.


    The house in which they lived had multiple windows, and around the time when the sun began to rise enough for its light to touch me at the table, I finally heard a door open.


    I swung my head around and wagged my tail back and forth, and saw Rebecca enter the room.  ¡°May I please have a sandwich?¡±  I asked, I really hated asking, and it was hard for me to look up at her face, though I did notice she was rubbing her eyes.


    She looked at me, mute at first, still rubbing her eyes, and asked, ¡°For breakfast?  I guess, if you want.  But I was about to make some bacon and eggs.  Would you like both?  And how long have you just been sitting here in the dark?  If you¡¯re hungry, just eat.  Our home is your home for the next fifty years, so please, don¡¯t just sit there¡­rumbling, for hours.¡±  She laughed a little when my jaw opened wider¡­


    Both of my stomachs were growling in sync, and I had stressed out so much that I hadn¡¯t heard them.


    Leave it to a human to make a joke out of worries and anxiety, and then combine it with a little generosity to make everything better.

 Chapter Twelve

    The human ability to deal with stress is so very unique in the galaxy that I would be negligent not to cover it.  I couldn¡¯t help but think about it when watching Rebecca work, her feet seemed to dance over the floor with light, airy steps, she was what you might call a ¡®morning person¡¯.  While it is true most humans are not nocturnal, the variability of homo sapiens is such that their rhythms are unpredictable from person to person until you know them, and even that might change with time as they get older.


    But no matter their rhythms, their ability to normalize the abnormal has made them the hardiest of species that I know of.  A dlamisa like myself will start losing fur in a relatively short period of time, we shake and tremble, we pant, and flee if stress goes on too long.


    But a human¡¯s response to stress, while similar to ours at first, simply normalizes it.  See figure eight-seven to see the human female in her dress and cosmetics walking casually past a gun wielding soldier in an ancient clash in a place called ¡®Northern Ireland¡¯.  She neither winces, hides, or displays any fear characteristics.  The fighting between the two groups was routine, and she was set on getting to where she was going.  Can you name any race that would walk through a battlefield in a war¡­ to shop?  I lived among one such race, humanity.  This propensity to normalize horror is also one of the reasons why they are sometimes perceived to have an absurdly high tolerance for risk and are seen to engage in so many reckless behaviors.


    But with that, they also had a way of easing stress.  Rebecca¡¯s light and airy motions, the way she moved from task to task, humming a little tune while she opened the cooling box and to bring out meat and put together another meal for me was as effortless and graceful as a dancer.  If giving me something to eat was any bother at all, she gave no sign of it.


    And while she worked, she talked.  Humans like to do that, I¡¯m sure you noticed.  ¡°What¡¯s your home like?¡±  She asked.  ¡°Do you miss it?¡±  She asked.  ¡°Do you have family there?  Will they send video relays?  What kind of things did you do there?¡±


    She peppered me with so many questions, but I want to call your attention to this.  All her questions were about me.  About my life and my home.  Humans have an expression that they sometimes use ironically, and sometimes not, and that is, ¡®You are always the most interesting subject to yourself.¡¯  They also refer to it as ¡®Main Character Syndrome¡¯ wherein a person believes themselves to be everybody¡¯s focus.  Therefore it is fairly common for the more selfish and self interested humans to only talk about themselves, their work, their projects, their lives.


    But when a human cares about you, or wants to make you comfortable, they want to know you, and they don¡¯t make it about themselves¡­ Rebecca  asked about me because she was showing care and concern for me.  My hunger distress affected her, and she, this woman from another race who I had never met at all before one day ago, cared enough about me to try to comfort me by asking things she thought would make me happy, while also giving me food from her own home, and calling it mine.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Imagine if all the galaxy¡¯s races treated each other as I was treated in that one kitchen with a near total stranger?!  What could we be?  What could we do?!  What improvement in our way of life would we find if every stranger was treated like that!


    It was happening faster than I knew, that is¡­ understanding what my professor meant in a profoundly personal way.  My tail wagged and spirits picked up, and when she set the sandwich and its plate in front of me, she didn¡¯t sit right away.  Instead she went to the pot and said, ¡°Oh, I guess Fauve already made some.  Would you like a cup, Bailey?¡±  She asked me while reaching up into the cabinet to grab one for herself.


    ¡°Yes, please.¡±  I said, using my very best manners.


    ¡°Coming right up.¡±  She said while pouring one of her own, ¡°Such a good girl, very considerate.¡±  There was a note of pride in her voice and a little smile I could see just barely peeking out from the side of her face, and that was when I realized something else.


    Fauve had deliberately made something she knew she wouldn¡¯t likely get to enjoy for herself, they were all coffee drinkers, except for little Michael.  I cannot emphasize enough how significant this is.


    It was the spirit of generosity defined.  Doing something that will benefit someone else, even if it will not also benefit you.  Without even thinking about it, as near as I could see, Fauve had made something for her family just because she¡¯d been awake and there to do it, even though she would be back asleep and the pot would be drained.  Perhaps she relied on someone else making another pot, but this reciprocity between family members and unthinking, casual generosity defined the human family with whom I stayed.


    A moment later Rebecca placed a cup for me beside the plate on which I now had only crumbs, I had wolfed down my sandwich in a few bites, and was licking the plate clean to savor every nutrient, and the questions began again.


    ¡°Are you comfortable in your room?  What would you like to start with today?  Do you have any questions for me before the others get up?¡±  Again, my host made me her focus. I had seen servant classes in other species, but I had never seen those who were not servants take it as a principle that they should act as such.  I must levy caution to anyone who travels to Earth, never mistake your host¡¯s acts of service toward you to be subordination, they are not your servants, they act well toward you to smooth bonding and become comrades, friends, and display their dignity and self respect.  To give as they would wish to be given to.


    If you abuse their kindness, you will find yourself without their company.


    For the moment though, I was simply deeply moved by her concern for my wellbeing and my previously obvious stress, and without thinking, I lowered my head toward her.  In dlamisa culture this is a sign of submission or gratitude, but the human took it very differently.


    Her hand went up and rested on my head between my ears, and she began to rub and scratch, and each of my hearts skipped their beats with the warmth of her touch.  I didn¡¯t ask her to remove her hand, if anything I leaned into it all the more and while my stress turned contentedness now began to turn into happiness, I explained what I wanted to see on my first full day on Earth.


    I wanted to see something called an ¡®amusement park¡¯.


    And that is a story that would lead to events I never even dreamed possible even in my wildest nightmares or in a deep, dark well filled with all my deepest fears.

 Chapter Thirteen

    The human self care routine was over within the hour and the human family had its food finished in short order, and when they were dressed in their clothing, short fabric pants called ¡®shorts¡¯ and loose fitting shirts that came in multiple colors and designs, William approached me about what I wanted to do today.


    ¡°Is it OK?  Can we do that?  I thought I should spend some time experiencing human entertainment?¡±  I tried hard not to wag my tail when I said that, I¡¯d seen their amusement parks in their videos, and it looked interesting.  After experiencing the wind in my face from an open car window for the first time, I was really interested in what their open air rides had to offer.


    Sadly my tail had a mind of its own and waved back and forth while I stood there and tried to keep myself under control.


    William answered me with his head in the refrigerator and grunted while he handled something large and out of my view.  ¡°Yeah, of course.  We went through your list of requested activities before you arrived, and we figured you¡¯d want to get the summer and spring things taken care of first.  That¡¯s why we got this.¡±  He said and straightened up with one more grunt and after pushing the door closed he stood still for a moment so I could see.


    They were clear water bottles.  Two large containers each of which held twenty-four smaller containers big enough for a human hand to wrap around and still leave space above and below.


    I previously mentioned the human need for copious amounts of water, and part of this need is because their body¡¯s cooling system is shockingly efficient, they expel their own water through tiny pores that cover their bodies, and this in turn drops their temperature down several degrees.  It allows them to survive in very hot climates for long periods of time and keep going after most races would have fallen over dead.  The human habitable biomes are very diverse, and their ability to constantly move over long periods of time is an enormous survival edge.  In battles with the Zenti on land, the humans frequently simply ran them to death, the Earth forces would only chase their prey over areas vehicles couldn¡¯t handle, and the Zenti eventually collapsed, they would then either surrender to humans or surrender to the environment.  Human warrior classes are as of this writing, now the majority of elite teams in multiple military forces for their highly repairable bodies, great pain tolerance, and ability to ¡®go¡¯ for as long as they are supplied with food, water, and a few hours rest every now and then.


    William¡¯s forethought in acquiring the water is but one small example out of many in the ability of humans to make plans.  It seems like little to some species, such as dlamisans like myself.  But in reality we see most of nature does not plan much beyond the next meal, some of their primate species show the ability to think ahead, crafting tools in one location, then carrying those to another location and putting them to use.  But those are short term, humans are capable of planning for not just days, but generations when they decide it is important to do so.


    This means that the only true threat to humanity is a danger they don¡¯t know about.  Perhaps that seems like a lot to take away from a human having some cold bottles of water¡­ but I transmitted my data to them long before I arrived, and they were prepared for my very first day when I got there.  And to me, that is worthy of mentioning.


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    ¡°Thank you.¡±  I said when I saw the pack of water, and recalling how they appreciated offers of help even when they intended to reject it I asked, ¡°Can I help with those?¡±  He grinned when he took a shuffled step toward me.


    ¡°Yes, please and thank you.¡±  He answered me and got out of the way.  I grabbed the plastic wrapped box and hefted it in both my hands just as Rebecca returned with a thick red box with a white top.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±  I asked and cocked my head down at the funny looking thing.  They smiled when I did that, and I had to wonder if they¡¯d ever tire of it.


    ¡°A cooler.  We throw some ice in there and it¡¯ll hold the cold in, this way the water will stay cold and we can get more whenever we need it.¡±  Rebecca explained, ¡°We¡¯ll just pick up some ice on the way.¡±  She raised the top and William approached with his box of water, he shifted it to his thigh and ripped open the plastic wrapping at the top, then began tossing bottles into the ¡®cooler¡¯.


    They thudded into place until his container was empty, then he reached for mine, I handed it over without thinking and he did the same.  ¡°Will we really need all that?¡±  I asked.  I knew humans needed a lot of water, but this still seemed like a bit much.


    ¡°Probably not, but it doesn¡¯t hurt to have extra just in case, and if we see someone who needs some, well we can give up a bottle and lose nothing.¡±  William shrugged off his comment and went to crumple his plastic and cardboard containers down for recycling, seemingly taking his own words for granted.


    But the dismay I felt over the human propensity for generosity was still unabated.  He hadn¡¯t even run into someone thirsty, but still he acted as if he were ready to share with them.  I had to ask myself if they really were a predatory race after all.


    While he was clearing the trash, Rebecca had gotten Michael on her hip and was calling upstairs, ¡°Fauve, are you coming with us, or are you going to sleep some more?!¡±


    Fauve¡¯s voice called out, ¡°I¡¯m going to sleep for one more day, you planned on two days, I¡¯ll be fine with missing one of them.¡±


    ¡°Two days?¡±  I asked, my head still cocked, I scratched my ears, ¡°Isn¡¯t that a lot.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± William answered, ¡°The government program we signed up for for this provides me with the same benefits as parental leave, we get twelve months of paid vacation time to help you acclimate to your new world and let you get used to us and us get used to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, wow.  That¡¯s remarkable.¡±  I answered, but asked, ¡°What about Fauve, she did say she wanted more time, but-?¡±


    William shrugged, ¡°She¡¯s comfortable being by herself, she¡¯s like me.  Not to worry, a lot of people need frequent human interaction, but she likes her gadgets and books.  To her, a noiseless house is a nice break from routine.  She¡¯ll go with us tomorrow, she can order in if she wants, and just relax and heal up the rest of the way.¡±


    Human socialization is remarkable that way, some seemed to need constant human contact, while others, like Fauve, were just comfortable in their own skin, with their own thoughts¡­ I couldn¡¯t help but think at the time, and while we were on our way in the family car, that people like Fauve going out into the wider Universe with more isolated races who weren¡¯t as social, would have a very easy time integrating into those societies.  This wide variation in the human temperament and their ability to be unpredictable in what I should expect, would never really stop, not completely.  Live among them for a lifetime, and even on their deathbed they can catch you off guard.

 Chapter Fourteen

    The amusement park we were going to was in fact something called a ¡®water park¡¯, it was a massive place spread out over miles, and when it came into view I wasn¡¯t quite sure what I was seeing at first.  Thanks to the lay of the road and my excellent hearing, I heard the screams first and my tail threatened to curl in place.


    ¡°Relax, it¡¯s fine. Those are ¡®fun¡¯ screams.¡±  Rebecca explained to me, and based on the reaction of her infant, who was already starting to bounce with excitement in his seat, I found it hard to doubt.


    Human screams can be quite shrill and it could have been more comfortable for me, but¡­ for science I pressed on and forced myself to relax.


    William parked the car in a wide open concrete lot filled with other vehicles, it¡¯s worth noting that humans have very particular habits, they often enjoy journeys, but the destination is what they ultimately want out of it.  They are a very busy, busy species, and seldom satisfied with waiting.  An arcanian would have arrived where they intended and sat for thirty or forty of their minutes.  A dlamisa like myself would have checked the area thoroughly for any scents of note before going in to my destination.  But no sooner had we parked than William emerged from the car, got the cooler from the boot of his car and pulled out an armful of ice cold water bottles.  The ice they¡¯d bought at the store on the way rattled as he rustled around for one bottle after another and handed them to his mate.


    Rebecca stored them in a large fabric bag that she wore over one shoulder, and then took two more and put them into her purse.  William himself wore a backpack made out of cruder canvas material and mottled the color of sand and dirt.  He put several more bottles in that, along with a few baggies of sandwiches which he likewise tossed to his wife who stored them in her bag as well.


    Meanwhile I carried nothing.  Now this is another difference between humans and other races.  Men tend to have a lot more convenient storage than their counterparts.  Rebecca carried the canvas bag and a purse, but her shorts had no pockets, while William¡¯s shorts had two pockets near the top band and two large pockets called ¡®cargo¡¯ pockets down below on either side.  Moreover, where he carried a backpack that sat easily on his back, Rebecca carried the large canvas bag over one shoulder.  Anyone could see that carrying two bags on one shoulder plus the infant was awkward and that the backpack was more practical.  It seemed to me that putting the infant in the backpack would have made things far more efficient, leaving me curious.


    So I asked about it all.


    ¡°Why not carry Michael in a backpack, and why don¡¯t you,¡± I pointed to Rebecca, ¡°just put all that in a backpack too.?¡±


    Rebecca and William stood dumbstruck for a moment.  ¡°Ummm¡­¡±  They both said and scratched their heads.


    ¡°I never thought about just using a backpack¡­ I just always carried things this way¡­¡±  Rebecca answered.


    ¡°And why don¡¯t you have pockets like he does, is it illegal?¡±  I asked.


    And again Rebecca just stared at her husband and then back at me.


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    ¡°I-I don¡¯t actually know why they don¡¯t put pockets on women¡¯s clothes¡­ Maybe because bulging things ruin the lines and men can¡¯t solve that problem so it doesn¡¯t matter?¡±  Rebecca let out a chortling laugh that her husband matched¡­


    Human ¡®humor¡¯ is very strange, but a lot of their jokes pertain to anatomy, apparently they find their own and each other¡¯s bodies to be hilarious and absurd.  I didn¡¯t truly get the joke, but I did note that humans often answer questions with jokes if they aren¡¯t sure what the answer is.  It may pertain to an innate insecurity in the species that changes their social dynamic.


    Answers are power, and humor is often a shield, so I theorize that humor in the face of social power is meant to diminish the distance between the asker and the one asked.


    ¡°And you can¡¯t store children in backpacks.¡±  William answered, ¡°Not just because he will smush the sandwiches and might pee on them and the water bottles, but because they need to be able to move somewhat freely.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±  I acknowledged his answer, though both of them felt off in what they said, I add here that I distinctly heard Rebecca tell  her husband¡­


    ¡°I want us to buy a backpack for me online later.¡±


    I suppose even humans can miss the obvious sometimes when it is just part of their world that things work a certain way.  Perhaps we all do, and finding out what we¡¯re missing by having a new perspective is part of why these programs of travel and exchange are so important.


    As we got closer to the gate and I could see the towering rides, hear the metal machines, the splashing and roaring waves, I was confronted by something else I¡¯d never seen before.


    People streamed past the gate, handing over printed tickets one by one or two by two, to this giant of a human.  He loomed over me in size, but he loomed ¡®around¡¯ me in girth.  He wore a shiny green golf hat, which to explain, is like a failed baseball cap since while it has a visor, contains only a band around the head to rest on the human¡¯s ears, but has no top over it to keep the sun off the head.  His was a transparent green that made his face look rather sickly thanks to the change in light color the visor created.


    His skin was greasy and mottled with red spots, and he gave off the smell of rotted Zentian bug milk.  The shirt he wore had a wolf on it which bayed at the moon, and if he weren¡¯t taking tickets at the entrance, I wouldn¡¯t have known he worked there since other employees wore blue shirts with the water wave logo of the park.


    ¡°Tickets phlease¡± his voice was rough like he had a mouthful of rocks, and his dark hair hung unkempt against his cheeks so that it looked like it was connected to the beard that grew down and became bushy at his neck.


    This was the first true ¡®Body Odor¡¯ that I experienced among humans, and I tell you, it is one of the foulest things I have ever experienced.  When he looked at me, he frowned and growled, baring his corn yellow teeth, I was taken aback, and briefly hesitated.


    He got a smug smile on his face and then I felt William¡¯s hand on my back.  ¡°Relax, it¡¯s fine, you didn¡¯t do anything.¡±  He said, and ushered me forward.


    The man with the beard at his neck growled at me again, but thanks to William¡¯s reassurance I approached and my human handed over the tickets.  Perhaps because I didn¡¯t stop a second time, the greasy human seemed chastened and said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I was rude, my kind doesn¡¯t handle dogs well.¡±  He pointed to the picture of the wolf on his shirt.


    I suppose I did look kind of like dogs,  but dogs looked like wolves so¡­ what did it matter?


    I didn¡¯t get a chance to ask the human as I brushed past him to join William, Rebecca and Michael on the other side of the gate, so I asked my humans instead.  ¡°What¡¯s with him?  Why did he growl at me?  Did I do something offensive?¡±


    William and Rebecca came a little closer to me and each one shook their heads, ¡°No, Bailey.  That is what we call a ¡®neckbeard¡¯.¡±


    I stepped a little farther away, ¡°Are they a separate species?¡±  I asked, with a smell like he emitted I had to ask.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get me started.¡±  They answered and then their faces lit up.  ¡°Let¡¯s go have some fun.¡±  Rebecca chirped and with that, I put the weird smelly growling human behind me.


    At least for the moment.

 Chapter Fifteen

    I would relay to you all the events of the first day of this water park, the way in which humans screamed and shrieked and the running of small children, their slapping feet striking hard ground, the noise of splashes as they jumped into the various pools¡­


    It was quite chaotic and I found myself feeling a little anxious, my tail stiffened, and I felt the need to step closer to my host family, the noise of rushing and crashing water, the shouting of vendors and smell of cooked and cooking meat, and the wild array of colors¡­ It is fair to say I was overstimulated.  Dlamisas seek familiarity when overstimulated or distressed, and the only familiar thing I had was my host family.


    I told myself again and again, ¡®Settle down, this is for science¡­ This is supposed to be how humans have fun.  You went through transit, you drank in a human bar, this should be nothing.¡¯


    But the noise, the noise noise noise noise noise.  It was getting to me.  And the crowd.  At least at the bar on the ship I had the familiarity of my fellow students, my professor, and maybe the alcohol helped a lot.


    And I wondered if anyone else was going to growl at me.  I didn¡¯t like being growled at.  As dlamisa go, I won¡¯t pretend I¡¯m the strongest sort.  I am and always have been only interested in what I could learn.  The more adventurous ones might have been fine where I was, but amidst the confusion, and wild back and forth, all I wanted was to leave, my hearts began to pound and it all began to get to me.


    To leave and be somewhere more calming.


    ¡°Bailey, are you OK?¡±  Rebecca asked me, she noticed first, though I recognized the concern on William''s face, he didn¡¯t ask, or at least he didn¡¯t get the chance to.  Here again we come to a unique facet of human culture, at least ¡®this¡¯ human culture.  The male often is more concerned with his appearance and reputation than his well being, and because of this priority, he puts forth the same thing for his friends.  Strange as it may seem, a male in my observation, will seldom ask in a public setting if his male companion is coping well with something going on.  If he asks, it will be in private where there is no risk of public shaming.


    The care expression from the human male is more often ¡®distract first¡¯ and then deal with it where others cannot see.


    By contrast, Rebecca immediately asked if I was alright, while the sexes are equally gifted in recognizing signs of distress in others, each approached it in a different fashion with different priorities in mind.  Her concern was for my immediate mental wellbeing, and so she asked about it.  A stark contrast to William¡¯s more quiet thoughts about my public appearance.


    ¡°I-I think I need to be elsewhere.¡±  I told them and tried to keep from looking left and right, from watching all the wild noise making people, but the longer I stood there, the worse I felt, I just had to leave.


    ¡°I think I forgot something back at the house.  Rebecca, why don¡¯t you stay and let Michael play in the kiddie area, and then I¡¯ll pick you up later.¡±  William suggested and then turning his attention to me¡­ he had notably tried not to look at me directly when my stress was elevated, he added, ¡°Bailey, why don¡¯t you come with me and give me a hand.  We can come back tomorrow, it¡¯s a Sunday and it¡¯ll be a lot less busy in the early part of the day before it warms up.¡±


    Rebecca quickly agreed and suggested, ¡°Why not stop by the store, pick up some snacks or something that we could have and we¡¯ll watch something together.  The next Night Stays Fateful series premieres today.  Sure it¡¯s the thirtieth spin off or reboot¡­ but I still want to see it.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure, come on, Bailey, let¡¯s head to the car.¡±  William tapped me on the shoulder with his hand and we all parted ways.


    It is worth mentioning here that William didn¡¯t ¡®run¡¯ to the car.  Nor did he jog.  The human is not the fastest creature in nature, one of the most enduring, but far from the fastest.  William¡¯s stride was swift, long, and steady.  He was engaged in what they call ¡®speed walking¡¯.


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    He was moving with haste at my side to get me out of there, but without drawing attention to us.  I kept up with him easily and I wasn¡¯t about to complain about leaving early.  Even if earlier did mean leaving only five minutes after arrival.


    William didn¡¯t demand an apology for the wasted trip, or the time spent getting ready.  I admit I expected at least some anger directed at me since they took the trouble to take me where I expressly asked to go.  But no.  He stopped the car at the grocery store, did as his wife suggested, and before I knew it we were home.  Never once did he address my panic.  He quietly accepted my distress and brought me back home.


    A zorpaniki, on detecting weakness in one of its own, would be expected to exploit that weakness, to degrade that vulnerability and draw the broken one into its web of subordinates that will serve it for life.  A fangi would extort silence for secrecy.  Even my own species, we are less likely to respond favorably to one of our own who displays weakness of any kind, though admittedly our response ¡®tends¡¯ toward a positive intent of toughening up the weak spot.


    Somehow the mere fact that my distress was accepted, responded to, and treated as if it were not the weakness that I felt it to be, made me feel less weak than I felt only minutes before.


    When we returned to the house, we entered the door, William went in ahead, his stride had slowed considerably from when he walked me out of the waterpark, and my tail had ceased to curl. I won¡¯t deny being relieved I was gone from there, but I still felt uneasy.  All the video footage of human entertainment, human reality television, human interviews and histories, none of it prepared me for the real reality of a quiet human after an act of urgently needed generosity of spirit.


    When we went into the house, he walked through the library, into the dining area and looked up the stairs, from there he shouted, ¡°Fauve, Bailey and I are back early, do you want anything?!¡±


    ¡°Hey dad!¡±  Her voice came down from well out of view, ¡°No, I¡¯m OK, I ate already!  How come you guys are back early?!¡±  She shouted to us without descending the stairs.  I braced myself for the truth.


    ¡°Nothing big, your mother and Michael stayed, I¡¯ll grab them later, I had some things to pick up is all!¡±  William shouted his lie up to his daughter, and I answered with a quiet¡­


    ¡°Thank you.¡±  I then went down to my room to write about these events in my notes.  It¡¯s telling that William chose to lie about why we left, lies are very rare among intelligent species.  It is telling that we see it so rarely, and that when we do, it is always among the more social species.  The more social a species is, the more frequently they are dishonest.


    Some species have used this to denigrate human kind, and I will admit I at one point shared this shameful belief that ¡®you can never trust a human¡¯.  However in studying other species, and finding this trend of antisocial honesty and prosocial dishonesty, I came to several key conclusions, conclusions that crystalized to certainty among my host family.


    The less social species communicate rarely, there is little to be gained by deception and truth tends to have a greater survival value for both, so the need to deceive never evolved.  These species found it a struggle to deal with races in the wider galaxy, and even explaining ¡®fiction¡¯ to them was a chore that took several decades.


    But as species grew more social, lies were not just a way to gain an edge, they were a conflict lubricant. William¡¯s lie for me buried my shame and made me more comfortable, not only with him, but with my own anxiety in general.  A lie, if benign, can serve a social good, and actually help to heal an individual¡¯s pain and keep their sense of place within the group, enhancing their overall happiness and making them far more effective group participants.  I realize my detractors will say that ¡®Humans deceive each other for malice and cruelty, for power and lust, to steal and destroy¡­¡¯  and I will acknowledge that this is true.


    Even humans will acknowledge the truth of this statement, but such lies are comparatively uncommon, far more common are those of the sort William told, leaving me to have control over when I acknowledge openly that today''s attempt had been too much.


    Over my time with the Walkers, I observed countless little lies that spared feelings from hurt and each other from shame or embarrassment, as the most social intelligent species in the galaxy, humans have far more occasions where conflict might arise, where they could speak a hurtful truth that offers nothing but pain and will make things worse¡­ or where they could offer comfort and security through a small and harmless deception.  A child¡¯s drawing is awful?  Don¡¯t say it is awful, focus on the positive so that they are encouraged to refine it further.  A hard day is spent on a difficult meal and the execution is off, they might focus on favorable words of encouragement or disguise that they haven¡¯t eaten as much, or if it is inedible, beg off of it by pretending illness.


    The human drive to lie is inexorably bound to its desire to protect those they care for. In a strange way, William¡¯s willingness to make up an excuse for me rather than risk shaming me to his daughter, made me feel more at home than any of the things they¡¯d done so far.  I still had a lot to learn, but with only two days into a fifty year stay, I felt I was making excellent progress.

 Chapter Sixteen

    They left me to work alone in my private room for the rest of the day, I was grateful for that.  I took copious notes, the link to which is found at the back of this text for those curious about details I have left out here for brevity.


    It was a relief to work privately after having struggled with the crowd, there is a tranquility to private academic work, as I¡¯m sure my fellows here at University would agree, and it did wonders for settling my anxious mind.  It was a few hours into my work when I had a knock at my door.  I sat up from my workspace and said, ¡°Come in, Fauve.¡±


    ¡°How did you know it was me?¡±  She asked when the door opened.  Her long brown hair was bound into knots and hung over the front of her shoulder, human hair is a remarkable thing, surprisingly strong, humans have even used this as a natural and silent murder weapon in the past.  They would take cut lengths of hair, loop it over the throat, and choke their victim to death.  But beyond this, the human vanity over hair has led to all kinds of interesting treatments, including deliberately tying it into knots to keep it more orderly¡­ somehow.


    ¡°I could smell you.¡±  I said matter of factly and the human girl stopped dead, lifted her left arm, took a sniff beneath it, then lifted her right arm, and sniffed beneath it in turn.


    ¡°I took a shower.¡±  She said and crossed her arms, her expression was thin lipped and her brown eyes narrowed at me.  I''d messed up, I knew she was miffed.


    I reacted as fast as I could and tapped the end of my snout, ¡°I have a better nose than humans.  And a dlamisa never forgets a smell.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±  She snapped her fingers and brightened up, ¡°I thought you meant I stink.  I was about to get offended.¡±


    ¡°Technically everything ¡®stinks¡¯ doesn¡¯t it?  A stink is just a strong smell, and everything, to me at least, has a strong smell.¡±  I replied and pushed aside the datapad I was entering my observations into.


    She looked away and began tapping her foot, her hands rested on her hips and she said, ¡°Technically¡­ maybe, but you know, it¡¯s bad form to tell a girl she ¡®stinks¡¯.  If it isn¡¯t a bad smell, you could at least say it is fragrant.¡±


    ¡°I can see how you take after your father.¡±  I answered, and she gave a little nod, she didn¡¯t say it, but I could see that pleased her, and I added, ¡°Fine, I knew it was you because I recognized your pleasant fragrance.¡±


    ¡°Better.¡±  She said with a satisfied nod and relaxed her arms before looking at me again and asking, ¡°How would you like to get out for a little while?  Dad went to pick up mom, and he¡¯ll probably stop to pick up something from a restaurant to go, mom likes to do that and he¡¯ll usually give her what she wants if it isn¡¯t too much, so we probably have an hour or two before they get back.¡±


    My tail drooped, ¡°I¡¯m a little bit peopled out right now.  Plus I really should finish putting in my observations-¡±  I stopped when she pouted a little, a human pout is compelling, their lips turn down just a little and their eyes get wide¡­ it is especially effective when it comes to young girls.  According to my observations of their media, fathers can seldom resist it when their daughters pout.  The desire to make each other happy drives a great deal of human behavior.


    There are worse motivations.


    But notably, I was affected.


    ¡°There shouldn¡¯t be many people, if any.  I wanted to go to the park, it¡¯s a short walk from the house, and it might help you relax.¡±  She replied to me and held eye contact the entire time.


    The promise of a lack of people was appealing¡­ and the day was a nice one.


    ¡°You know what¡­ maybe it is a good idea to take a break.¡±  I said and rose to my feet.  Her face lit up and I followed her toward the basement exit.  The room I was given was part of a larger area, a lot of it was storage¡­ humans are hoarders compared to most races, and to be frank a lot of dust was down there, old boxes and other things were plentiful.  But it did have a separate bathroom and shower, a place I could call ¡®my own¡¯ even if it wasn¡¯t perfect, and it had its own entry and exit to ensure I was able to come and go as I pleased.


    We left and began to walk down the street, when after only a few minutes Fauve said to me¡­


    ¡°I usually either go alone or with my dad to the park, I don¡¯t have a lot of friends, and don¡¯t really want them either.  I¡¯m not really a people person.¡±


    ¡°So why invite me?¡±  I asked, genuinely curious and surprised by the blunt nature of this girl.  I''m sure I have said it before, but I must add again, the diversity of human personality is wild, and some, like her, could have passed for another race entirely if we went only by their personalities.  She could have passed for a dlamisa with ease if that was her attitude.


    She shrugged, ¡°A whim.  You¡¯re going to be living with us, I figured I should at least try to get to know you.  And how often does someone get the chance to talk to a real live alien outside of data com chats between systems?¡±


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    ¡°So this is for science?¡±  I asked, and she seemed to take that to be a joke, as she gave me a casual punch on the shoulder.


    ¡°You can call it that.  I do want to satisfy my curiosity though.¡±  She answered, and while I thought her answer was strange, I didn¡¯t get a chance to get clarification as she began peppering me with more questions about myself and my life and my homeworld.


    The capacity for curiosity in this species was proving to be one of my favorite things, and she let me talk all the way to the park.


    The park she mentioned took about fifteen of their minutes to walk to, including a long walk down a winding slope.  When we reached the bottom, I found that the park was cut into pieces by a winding and slow moving stream.  It wasn¡¯t deep enough for me to comfortably call it a river, nor was it especially wide.  But it was impressive in its own way, the babbling water cut its way through grass and stone.  I saw a fish leap from the water and splash  into a spot deeper than the one it left.  Insects buzzed around the edge in tiny swarms, and a small playground meant for human children, including a wobbly bridge and some swinging seats sat waiting for use.  The play area was rubberized to protect children from injury, and this was my chance to ask something that bothered me.  Something I¡¯d seen in older human films but changed in later ones.


    I pointed to the play area and said, ¡°In the old films, there were just a bunch of rocks where your young would land if they fell.  But here, and in later movies, it transitioned to these soft rubber surfaces, how come?¡±


    I didn¡¯t really expect Fauve to know the answer, but then¡­ maybe I should have, given her innate and seemingly boundless curiosity and pushiness when it came to wanting answers.


    ¡°Easy, rocks hurt.  So they replaced it with rubber.¡±  She replied.


    ¡°But the older ones had rocks, so why¡­?¡±  I scratched my head and Fauve cocked her head at me just as mine cocked at her.


    ¡°Because if you want things to suck for your kids because it sucked for you, you¡¯re a shit parent and shouldn¡¯t have kids.  That¡¯s how my dad put it.  He says stuff like that a lot.  Don¡¯t get him started talking about old people.  He doesn¡¯t like people who don¡¯t like change, let alone people who don¡¯t like improvement.¡±  Fauve chortled a little at that and I gathered it was an old rant I was hearing about.


    Before I could ask more, again the girl got ahead of me and pulled out a ball from the pouch she wore behind her back.  She held it up so I could clearly see it, turned so that she was to my side, and threw it as hard as she could over the grass.


    I have¡­ no idea why I chased it.  What kind of buried instincts within my brain compelled me to go after that little green round ball must have been buried deep in my subconscious.  But I ran.  I locked my forearms and fell to all fours, going as fast as I could as it bounced farther and farther away¡­ and then drew closer and closer as it lost momentum and I picked up speed.


    Then I had it.  I caught it in my jaws, clamped down on it, and when the ball let out a scream like squeak, I was thrilled, all three of my hearts were beating at once and going faster than I¡¯d ever felt.  I relaxed and squeezed my jaw again and again, again and again, again and again, listening to that screaming noise it made until I came to my senses and realized what I¡¯d done.


    I relaxed my arms and stood up on two legs, then dropped the ball into my hand and walked back over to Fauve.  She held out her hand for the ball and I returned it, albeit with some reluctance.


    Why was I reluctant?  Why did I not want to give it back?  Why did I give it back if not for her to throw it again?  A thousand questions ran through my head, not the least of which was why in the galaxy¡¯s nebula did she throw it¡­ and did she expect I would chase it down?


    I was halfway toward it for the second time before I realized I¡¯d moved, and even when I realized I was running on all fours, I couldn¡¯t stop.  I couldn¡¯t stop because I didn¡¯t want to.  And I didn¡¯t want to because I was having fun.


    So I went with it.  Questions could wait, I caught it, returned it to her, and she threw it again.  I caught it.  Returned it to her.  And she threw it again.


    Once, she threw the ball so that it went into the water, I never hesitated, I splashed in, feeling the cool crystalline droplets spatter over my red and black fur, feeling the wind swishing over my body, I didn¡¯t even care that the ball was wet when I grabbed and squeezed it in my jaw.


    I couldn¡¯t tell you how many times I chased it, and Fauve did not keep count.


    All I knew was that it was many.  A very great many.


    It went on until I was huffing and puffing so much and so hard that if I¡¯d been close to the house, I might have blown it down.


    It was only when I gave the ball back to her and she put it away in the little pack she wore on her back that I asked her the meaning of her actions.


    ¡°I just wondered how much you had in common with dogs, this seemed like a good way to find out.¡±  Fauve replied, and when she looked up at me she said, ¡°And I thought we might have some fun.¡±


    I don¡¯t know why, but I crouched down like I had for Michael at the transport station, and I let her scratch behind my ears and pat my head.  I remembered what my professor said, ¡®Humans are the only species with "found families" and are aggressively protective of them. This includes their found parents, siblings, children, and much, much more. If you find a human spending more time with you and initiating physical contact, you should assume that you have been adopted.¡¯


    If he was right, then it looked like I¡¯d found myself another human, and it seemed like my tail certainly agreed, since it would not stop wagging any more than I could stop panting.  ¡°So, you want to head back?¡± She asked, ¡°Mom and dad will probably be home soon if they¡¯re not already.¡±  She pulled out her phone from her pocket¡­ perhaps I should add here that Fauve did not dress in the same fashion as her mother.  At least not that I¡¯d seen yet.  She wore cutoff jeans with pockets and carried no purse.  She was if anything, dressed closer to her father.


    She checked her phone and found nothing before storing it away, and I replied that yes, we should go ahead and head back.  I did pause and look around the park though, there was a winding dirt trail just on the other side of the creek, and I wanted to see where it led.  The strange thing about humans is that they will radically modify their environments, and then seek out unmodified or far less modified environments in pursuit of pleasure, leaving behind the things they made that are presumably also made for their comfort and enjoyment.


    If it does not make sense to you, believe me, you are not alone.

 Chapter Seventeen

    The rest of the day when we returned was of little note with but one exception, or perhaps it is more accurate to say that everything but that exception was a blur.  I was still abuzz in my head over the unexpected level of fun and Fauve¡¯s engaging interest in my home.  Human curiosity is¡­ is something else.  It takes getting used to.  Charming most of the time, once you are used to it, but it can be vexing since the boundaries of what is acceptable to ask are not always immediately clear.


    It was pleasant though, to have her show such interest in me, in where I¡¯m from and how I lived.  I was settled in my room and making the notes that would become this narrative when I heard Fauve calling for me.


    ¡°Bailey, dinner!  Are you hungry?  You want something to eat?!¡±  Fauve¡¯s voice was drawn out, it¡¯s a strange thing that humans do, their shouts are always longer than words spoken at a normal pace, and none that I spoke with ever really knew why they did it.  They just ¡®did¡¯.  My personal suspicion was that it was a kind of echolocation, wherein the continued noise made it easier to find the source, but the humans themselves never seemed to give it a second thought, even when drawing out their words was utterly unnecessary.


    Unlike most predatory species, they tended to be a noisy lot, a reflection of their social nature and perhaps a reflection of how high they were in the food chain.  They didn¡¯t worry about attracting attention since there was nothing they could not kill.  Before I detail the dinner, I want to relay something I heard once, which explains just how little humans have to worry about, and why they can make as much noise as they please.


    I did confirm that the story was in fact true, having heard it directly from my professor who was traveling with the humans at the time on his way home.


    It seems that a human cargo ship carrying a handful of colonists was forced to lay over on the planet Maxik Nine, a planet where the only intelligent species evolved from a socialized prey animal, and which was still prey to the wild gaxa, a vicious slithering creature that, while not intelligent, was capable of burrowing through almost anything if given enough time.


    The maxiki are a timid, fearful species, and having learned that a group of apex predators were laying over on their station, were more than a little nervous, and my professor sought to alleviate their fears with a demonstration.  He invited a handful of women with childcare experience to join him on the planet''s surface and took them to an area where large numbers of gaxa attacks took place.  Many maxiki infants were taken and devoured.


    I will relay the rest in his words insomuch as possible:


    ¡°You want your children to be safe, don¡¯t you?¡±  Professor Sxlith asked while looking down at the little blue four armed maxiki.  The nursery watcher looked up at the group of towering two armed apex predators, thickly muscled as most ¡®pioneer¡¯ types were said to be, it was only their seeming lack of obvious hunger and the presence of Sxlith that kept the maxiki calm.


    ¡°Yes¡­ but is this wise?¡±  The watcher asked.  ¡°They won¡¯t eat our young themselves?¡±


    Sxlith¡¯s tongue teased at his own eyeballs a few times and he turned to the handful of human women.  ¡°Keep an eye on these children for a short time, will you?  Just be careful of predators that may get into the walls, gaxa serpents will horribly mutilate a maxiki infant.  The little things are so helpless with no one to care for them, they¡¯ll die horrible, horrible deaths with nobody between them and danger.  Their parents can¡¯t be here, so you are all they¡¯ll have between them and being dissolved alive.¡±  He then picked up a nearby infant and held it out to the nearest human woman.


    Maxiki infants are roughly the size of a human baby, they are soft, fleshy, their heads a little large and their eyes are all the size as those of a human infant¡¯s.  The women who followed Sxlith nodded their heads and after being given a short care routine, the Sxlith led the maxiki watchman away.


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    They returned four hours later to the smell of blood thick in the air.  The maxiki watcher rushed to the door, threw it open, and found one of the human women standing there covered in blue blood and holding a very large knife.  ¡°Oh no¡­¡±  The maxiki whispered, ready to let out the keening wail of his kind when their children were slaughtered by deadly monstrous creatures, only for the chirp of a maxiki infant to draw his attention past her.


    ¡°Hi there.¡±  The human woman said without noticing the maxiki distress, she stepped aside and revealed the other pioneer humans similarly coated with bloody viscera, but the infants were all fine.  ¡°Sorry we didn¡¯t get a chance to clean up yet, there was a little incident with those snakey things.  You were right, they went right for the little ones, that certainly couldn¡¯t be allowed, so me and the girls we sliced em up real good.  Moxi went chasing after one that got away, she just radioed in saying she cleared out the whole nest of those filthy things, and she¡¯ll be back shortly.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t lying, a half a dozen gaxa serpents with deep cuts and gouges  ripped into their heads lay piled in one corner, one of the pioneer humans was holding up a gaxa corpse and skinning it on a table, ¡°The meat seems edible, so we were just going to harvest it, waste not, want not, you know?¡±


    ¡°See, I told you.¡±  Sxlith said, ¡°If they feel a maternal or paternal call to something, predators can make the finest care givers.¡±


    And as my professor relayed the story to me, that is how Maxiki ended up hiring a group of human colonists to stay long term.  And that is why it doesn¡¯t matter how loud a human yells or how much noise they make as a group.  It doesn¡¯t give them away, it warns away their other living things that danger is near and to avoid them or they may add to their meal extensive diet, which so far seems to include anything they want.


    Trying to adapt to their way of doing things, I opened the door and called out ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll be right there!¡±


    I want to add here that parents will frequently give their children the task of rousting and gathering the rest of the household for meals, and children rarely refuse such chores, but they also do not do them as intended.  I am very sure that William asked Fauve to see if I wanted dinner, but that he intended for her to come all the way down the stairs and ask me.


    Instead however, she stood at the stairs and shouted the question.  Human children are as loud as they are charming in some of their actions.  I put away my datapad and ascended the stairs for my first evening meal with my host family.


    I won¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t nervous, I¡¯d seen enough deaths at dinner tables in human entertainment media, but even knowing those were mere dramas, fictions and the like, I was anxious about doing something wrong and making a bad impression.  What if there was some hidden taboo that would get me kicked out of the house if I broke it?  And the truth is¡­ such a taboo does exist.


    Never discuss religion or politics at the dinner table.  The reason being that both of those are divisive topics, and meals are meant to build bonds of affection, to unite and tie a group together, and those topics serve only to tear people apart.


    I sat down at the table just as Rebecca was placing down plates, Michael sat in a specially built chair of unusual size that made him sit at equal height to an adult, while William tore up small bits of infant sized cheese slices and held up bits of soft vegetables that the tiny human ingested.  Fauve was at the refrigerator and drew out a pitcher of dark cold liquid that I learned was called ¡®tea¡¯ and set it at the center of the table before returning for more cups.  I felt a little uncomfortable being the only one doing nothing, but they were done before I could offer to help.


    The division of labor in this particular human household was not universal to the species, I have to add, while children helping is fairly normal, the tasks performed by caregivers, or ¡®parents¡¯ has no single standard.  If one partner works for pay and the other does not, the one who does not is considered responsible for the administration of the household, typically paying the bills, cleaning, cooking, ordering chores.  Though the other laboring partner may contribute to some degree within the house to allow the home worker to take a break as well.


    If both work on paid labor jobs, then it is common to divide the household duties, and in this way they each ensure that the other is given a fair amount of time to relax relative to the other.  Some of these chores, even tedious ones, may be bonding activities of their own.  William I would later learn, was not an excellent cook, but he would often assist the far more talented Rebecca, or perform ¡®companion¡¯ tasks such as running to the store to pick up a forgotten ingredient needed for preparing a meal.


    It may appear to you that their affection is bound up in just doing things for each other, but I must caution you to note that this is quite the opposite.


    The human species does not ¡®love others because they do things for them.  They do things for one another, because they love.¡¯

 Chapter Eighteen

    Dinner consisted of a strange amount of humor.  Chiefly from William, it seems that there is a particular form of humor called ¡®Dadjokes¡¯ these are a kind of humor that is apparently only allowed to the elder men of a family.  The privilege of the patriarch, it seems.


    Such humor consists largely of puns, and often these jokes are repeated.  When Fauve said ¡®I¡¯m hungry¡¯ William replied¡­


    ¡°Hi hungry, I¡¯m dad.  Are you a guest of my daughter, Fauve?  Is she joining us for dinner, you do look very much like her¡­¡±


    There was a collective rolling of the eyes, a gesture of exasperation by both his wife and daughter, followed by Fauve exclaiming simply, ¡°Dadu!¡± As if his title alone were a remonstration.


    ¡°In my study of human humor, I found considerable divergence in application.  The leading theory among humans, that humor evolved as a release of tension after a misperception of danger, explained its structure.  But it did not explain its social application.


    William¡¯s use of ¡®dadjokes¡¯ to tease his family could not represent danger or risk, however while I watched them talk, and watched the way Michael laughed when they laughed, I realized something.  Humans use humor in wildly varying ways compared to other species who have some form of outlet for relief from misperceptions.


    Some humans use humor as a kind of mask¡­ not in the literal sense, but in the figurative.  Recall what I said about human dishonesty.  They use lies as social lubricant.  Humor, it seems, is another of the same.  A human in pain will use laughter to detract from that pain, either physical or mental.  And when I say mental pain, if there is a species more prone to its own self torment than homo sapiens, I have yet to encounter it.  Not by intent¡­ usually.


    But rather they suffer from such a myriad of maladies unheard of in the galaxy that it would take an eternity to track them all, or so it seemed.  Humor is often used to ¡®hide¡¯ these maladies.  A depressed human whose brain is failing to provide chemical releases required for happiness, or whose brain is actively making them depressed¡­ requires care.  Care in the minds of some humans equals weakness, and to avoid appearing weak, they will pretend to be happy, lying to themselves and the whole world, suffering in silence rather than admit what is sometimes perceived as a flaw of character.  Human pride¡­ it drives them to the stars, but it can be as delicate as cracked glass too.


    Their propensity to use humor to mask this internal sadness rather than seek viable treatment is such that it is only in the last century or two, after a handful of prominent human warriors and comedians came forth to talk openly about their struggles that it is becoming more acceptable to not play with a mask of happiness.


    It made me watch my host family far more closely when I learned of these things later.


    Other masks of humor include disguising lust.  The human propensity to procreate is such that almost anything but fedoras and bearded necks are used¡­ or at least are used with some success in finding mates.  Humor¡¯s lubricating utility was such that it created relaxation in those who it was used successfully on, and thus it made the potential mate more comfortable and desire more time with the source of laughter.


    I¡¯d seen humor used by characters in fictions for everything from health betterment to smoothing over anger, and yet in seeing the patriarch of the household use his ¡®dadjokes¡¯ on his family matriarch and daughter, none of those other uses applied.


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    Which left one clear reason.  Affection.  Laughter in humans releases ¡®feel good¡¯ chemicals in their brains, and William clearly held a considerable amount of affection for his household.  And his ¡®dadjokes¡¯ humor was one of the ways he socialized within his family unit.  Strangely, his mate was similarly affectionate.  Her physical touch to his hand or shoulder, and the little considerations such as preparing evening coffee and fetching dessert for the table were strong evidence of mutuality in bonding.


    I say ¡®strangely¡¯ because pair bonding species, particularly social ones, are relatively rare.


    When a creature is social, they are usually sexually so, with frequent matings in what humans would call orgies, and no singular tie to offspring, which are instead typically raised either by the mother alone, or by the whole community.  In one species in sector C-137, beings bond serially.  Mating for weeks until conception and then parting again.


    Humans however, other than a profession referred to as ¡®porn stars¡¯ are not socially sexual, but rather bond as pairs or at most, with a small group with one singular reproducing male with a small band of females.  The latter of which comprised a considerable amount of fictional media¡¯s attention and was highly idealized, and almost always comedic.


    But in the pair bonded household of the Walkers, familial ties of affection are not only expected to endure for life, but they are mutually reciprocated.  And in all the course of that meal, none of them brought up my shameful flight from the waterpark.  They went so far out of their way to avoid the subject that Rebecca didn¡¯t mention what she did with Michael while there.


    I however, felt my confidence growing while I looked down at the peach cobbler on my plate.  It was the only peach one, the others were thick slices of chocolate with a fluffy white cream on top.  Sensing my curiosity, Fauve spoke up, brushing back her long braided hair, she said, ¡°You can¡¯t eat chocolate, so you get this one.  What, you thought you¡¯d just sit there while we ate pie?  She stabbed her fork into the chocolate pie slice and the metal clinked against the glass plate beneath the treat.  No way.  That¡¯d be a dick move.¡±  Fauve was a fairly direct girl, a trait I appreciated, and didn¡¯t mince words.


    Her father was quick to agree, ¡°That would not be¡­¡± I saw that broad grin on his face that preceded every joke and braced myself, ¡°peachy¡±.


    Even across the divide of life and species, I groaned at that pun along with the others.


    ¡°So are we going to go to the water park again tomorrow?¡±  I asked, to be honest, I knew the answer, I just thought it would head off any more puns.


    ¡°Water you talking about, of course we are, assuming you want to.  I would never choose to be a wet blanket.¡±  William answered, and it was only the roll of both Fauve¡¯s and Rebecca¡¯s eyes that let me catch that he had slipped in another pair of puns.


    I had been defeated.


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass.  That ticket taker, the one in the wolf shirt, kept hovering around between the kidzone and the women¡¯s changing area, he made me uncomfortable.  I¡¯m waterparked out.  I¡¯ll stay here with Michael, he got a little red anyway.¡±  Rebecca said matter of factly.


    William shrugged, ¡°Eww.  Yeah I don¡¯t blame you.  Maybe wait to go back until they fire that guy.  I¡¯ll put in a complaint for you when I get there, the turnover there has been high for years, he won¡¯t last.¡±  He reassured his wife and patted the back of her hand with the palm of his own in an absentminded gesture of reassurance.


    Fauve chimed in a moment later, ¡°I¡¯d like to go, I might have to work for a few hours in the morning¡­ if my lazy coworker doesn¡¯t show up again.¡±  She groused a little at that, a slightly sour look came over her face and she puckered up her lips as if a lemon had been suddenly forced into her mouth.  Then added, ¡°But I can take a lift from the mall to the waterpark and meet you later, in the worst case scenario at least.¡±


    ¡°Great.¡±  William remarked and said directly to me, ¡°Sundays are the quietest days there, so we might even get to do everything we missed yesterday.  Sorry to pull you out like that, Bailey.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s OK¡­ it''s¡¯ ah, fine, just fine.¡±  I answered, kind of stammered a little, my ears flicked and my tail didn¡¯t know whether to tuck itself or wag like it¡¯d been electrocuted.  William was protecting my reputation with his daughter, who didn¡¯t know about how I¡¯d had to basically run from what to them was just a good time.


    Nobody had ever done anything like that for me, not ever in my whole life.  And yet it had been done several times for me today alone.  The reason for Professor Sxlith¡¯s affection for his humans¡­ was making a whole lot of sense to me now.

 Chapter Nineteen

    The others, Rebecca included, forgot about the ¡®neckbeard¡¯ creature who wandered around oddly after William and I left the park.  But when I went to bed that night, the odor and sight of that seemingly separate species lingered behind in my memory.  I mentally cataloged his scent, distasteful though it was, and felt a vague pull on my memory.  The pull was toward maxiki and the gaxa species.  Where prey congregated, the gaxa and other species would follow.  And these predator species tended to mark off their territory by slithering in the area, expelling a foul pheromone, a kind of ¡®musk¡¯ from the males of the species indicating that they found a hunting ground that would draw in potential mates with which to build a nest.


    From there they would feast on whatever prey was in their territory, and engage in battles with other predators who encroached on their territory.  Timid species like the maxiki only managed to build civilizations at all through rapid reproduction and developing herding methods that let them create diversions for predators.  And even so, some gaxa and other predatory species would still hunt and kill their infants or even adults.


    ¡®Are these ¡®neckbeards¡¯ like gaxa?¡¯  I had to wonder, I knew that with the common human taboo on casual nudity that existed in this area, attempting to get near the changing room of the opposite sex was not a good thing.  Human taboos are often heavily geared toward reproductive activities, and what is deemed ¡®socially inappropriate¡¯ frequently deals with orifices used for pleasure, reproduction, or child care.  A human female exposing herself to another by choice is a show of confidence and trust in equal measure.  Attempting to take that kind of intimacy is considered one of the worst of crimes.


    It was for that reason that I chose to inventory that smell.  In studying the Walkers, in the short time I knew them, even though they are immediate family and the older pair are intimate, they close themselves off for privacy in dressing and cleaning themselves.  Too, the changing areas for the public are divided by sex, all of this points to a species for which closeness and exposure speaks of considerable levels of intimacy, and which makes such ¡®hovering¡¯ as Rebecca¡¯s description made me think of it, to be dubious at best.


    When I was sure I had everything ordered in my mind and there was nothing else to transcribe to my datapad, I slept.


    I woke up on my own in the morning and found the house to be almost completely silent.  With my hearing being what it was, before I was halfway up the stairs I heard Michael¡¯s cooing noise, and Rebecca snoring.  But the only sign of wakefulness was William himself who was standing at the microwave and watching the timer while the countdown hummed on and the contents spun within.


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    ¡°G¡¯mornin.¡±  He said and gave me a wave of his meaty hand, ¡°Pancakes.¡±


    I decided to try a ¡®dadjoke¡¯.  ¡°I¡¯m Bailey, not pancakes.¡±


    I watched his face and saw him chuckle, his face formed a toothy smile, ¡°You¡¯re doing fine.¡±  He reassured me, then asked, ¡°But are you hungry?¡±


    ¡°No, I told you, I¡¯m Bailey, we¡¯ve met, I don¡¯t know who this hungry person is.¡±  I answered as deadpan as I could and crossed one hand over the other while I sat at the table to watch his expression.  In some social species, taking on the role or status of another member is deemed an act of challenge.  But William only gave me yet another laugh and did a verbal riposte.


    ¡°Well then, Bailey.  Would you like to have some pancakes?  Fauve is already gone to work at the mall, so it¡¯ll just be you and me for a few hours.¡±  William asked and slid open the large black bottom drawer of the cold box¡¯s frozen section.


    Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds later I had a stack of three very thick, fluffy pancakes on a white glass plate which was smothered in bright yellow butter and dark maple syrup.


    And when my fork stabbed the top cake, it begged a question that stopped me before I could take a bite.  ¡°William, aren¡¯t cakes a dessert?  Why are we eating cake for breakfast?¡±


    He stopped with his fork in midair, the syrup drizzling down from the soaked pancake piece in a single long string that kept it connected to the plate.  ¡°Oh, well that¡¯s cake, cake.  And this is¡­ well¡­¡±  He stopped and lowered his fork to his plate, the metal ¡®tinked¡¯ against the glass and he looked down at his breakfast.  His hands held the edge of the table as he thought it over intensely.


    William, for the record, is recognized as a fairly brilliant man in his field, but this question seemed to stump him.  ¡°...It is cake made in a pan.¡±  He finally answered.  ¡°Plus it has butter and syrup on it, which you don¡¯t put on a thicker cake.¡±


    It was a wholly unscientific answer if ever there was one, and I could not be satisfied with it.  My ears went down and I asked, ¡°But how does the use of a thinner pan make a cake into a breakfast instead of a dessert?¡±


    William stared down at the pancake as it vexed him, and I persisted.


    ¡°Syrup looks like a dessert thing, what with all the sugar, so aren¡¯t we just putting a dessert topping on a dessert food and eating it early in the morning?¡±  I asked him, and to that, he snorted.


    ¡°I suppose so.  I guess anything can be breakfast if you eat it at breakfast time and have nothing else.  So, enjoy your dessert before it gets cold.¡±  He answered, and resumed eating with obvious satisfaction from the little ¡®mmm¡¯ noises that came from his closed mouth.


    ¡°So, it is the time, not the dish, that makes the meal.  I will remember this.¡±  I said, picked up my fork with all three pancakes on it, and tossed them into the air, they sailed up and I tilted my head back with my mouth open wide and snapped my jaws down on the three at once.  Thanks to my mouth being so similar to their dogs and wolves, this was easy, and I was done with breakfast.


    It was a solid hour before I realized William made a joke when he said, "You really wolfed that down, didn''t you?"

 Chapter Twenty

    When we reached the ticket area and without missing a beat, William drew out the tickets he¡¯d printed out and handed them over to¡­ yes, him.  He still smelled absolutely foul, like milk and cheese left too long in the sun.  Golf cap still on his head and a black shirt with a gray wolf howling at a bright white moon.


    I have been informed by my editor at this stage that I should add one unrelated segment before I relay the events ahead, and that pertains to my use of idioms common among humans.  After fifty years, they are so integrated into my vocabulary and speech that I find I can¡¯t do without them.  ¡®Missing a beat¡¯ is a musical idiom.  The idiom can refer to either the music maker making a mistake in the notes they play, or to a dancer whose movements have lost their pattern to the music.  Humans are unique in their propensity to create things that seem unnecessary to much of the galaxy.


    ¡®Music¡¯ in my opinion, is one of those ¡®unnecessary things¡¯ which is so marvelous that it ¡®becomes¡¯ necessary after only a brief exposure.  This patterned noise is meant to guide motion and occasionally induce mating behavior in the species, a behavior I will cover at a later time.  For now it is enough to know that idioms like this can be cross referenced in the appendix if there is ever contextual confusion in the text that follows.


    Now to resume the narrative, the golf cap wearing neckbeard ¡®growled¡¯ at me again, he tried to stare at me, and I looked away.  I was fairly sure after reflection that neckbeards were not in fact a different species, and that what had been said before was merely tongue in cheek critique, a kind of humor relating to their bizarre behavior.  Instead I concluded that they are a kind of ¡®failed human¡¯ though whether they do have some kind of hybrid traits with other animals I wasn¡¯t sure at the time.


    All I was sure of was that I was a guest on Earth, there were no others of my kind on the whole planet, or even the solar system as far as I knew.  All I had was my host family, and who knew what could get me thrown off the world and sent home a failure with nothing to show for years of work?


    So I looked away so as not to offend the neckbeard, though I caught sight of his smug face out of the corner of his eye, the way he tilted his head back  so that he was looking down at me was a form of dominance display I¡¯d seen before.  But when I looked away, I saw something I hadn¡¯t seen until then, William was glaring at the neckbeard.  William wasn¡¯t a big man, truth be told the neckbeard was taller by a head, but with his glare unflinching and steady, I looked back at the neckbeard and saw that ¡®he¡¯ looked away.


    ¡°They¡¯re all like that.¡±  He muttered so that only I could hear him and shuffled us away.


    ¡°Like what?¡±  I asked, I barely noticed the noise, because there wasn¡¯t much, other than the sound of flowing water.


    ¡°Shallow.  Cowards.  Aspiring bullies.  He knew you were an alien and probably worried about how you look to humans, so you were an easy target.  Plus because of your doglike features, he got to pretend you were really intimidated by an ¡®alpha  werewolf¡¯ or whatever he imagines his true self to be.¡±  His derisive snort was conclusion enough, and by the time he finished speaking we were well away from the rude ticket taker and we put it out of our minds.


    Free of the chaos from the other day, I could marvel at the sheer scale of this place, there were arching metal bands with tracks between them that went high into the air by hundreds of feet and curved down toward a pool of water that stretched even farther.  This track undulated over a large section of the park, and from where I stood I could just see a series of open double seats each one linked to another behind it, and a group of humans screaming as it began its rapid descent.


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    Not far from that I saw a wading pool where people just sat and enjoyed the feel of the flowing water.  William kept me walking, I suppose giving me the tour, sort of, before we actually went on anything.  And I saw something called ¡®the lazy river¡¯ which had just tubes of rubber in which humans lay back and drifted.  Dlamisa have something of an affinity for water, it borders on the same affection for it that humans have, and the prospect of just laying in there and drifting was a welcome one.


    He showed me the ¡®bumper boats¡¯ which were little boats with rubber rims that small humans piloted over a big pool and rammed each other over and over again.


    I lingered beside William to watch these small humans wage naval warfare against each other in their little boats, and while I watched, I thought about the Zenti and their brief conflict with the human race.  Homo sapiens really are predators of the highest order.  These small ones were sweet and cute by human standards, but even now at such an early age, they had violent impulses.  The Zenti didn¡¯t stand a chance.  I thought about what my professor relayed about the way pioneer women eliminated the gaxa and then chased down the last of them to a nest to eliminate them at the source.


    I had to wonder, ¡®How many prey species evolved intelligence, how many even have the capacity for violence on the human scale?  Most predator species don¡¯t have the socialization capacity that humans do, even among those who develop intelligence and civilization.  How many can even fathom the depths of the human propensity for violence?¡¯  When I thought about that, I had to really wonder long and hard, ¡®How much of a chance does the rest of the galaxy stand when this race ¡®really¡¯ starts expanding?¡¯  As of now, there are no true ¡®empires¡¯ to speak of, governing multiple worlds is difficult as the social skills required simply don¡¯t exist for most species.  Ruling even a handful of planets is unheard of outside of a few outlying species who have a single figure that serves as the center of culture and government.


    Besides that, settling new worlds and growing their populations takes considerable time, it will be centuries before any worlds are fully inhabited.  But the homo sapien species has sent out colonists or ¡®pioneers¡¯ as they dub themselves, to a dozen worlds.  Thankfully the galaxy is a very big place and there are endless worlds to settle.  But if it came to violence?  I watched the glee on these human children¡¯s faces as they rammed full speed into each other¡¯s little boats, and I already knew the outcome.


    William was watching my face out of the corner of his eye and seemed to read my thoughts.  ¡°It¡¯s surprising that we haven¡¯t destroyed ourselves before now, isn¡¯t it?¡±  He asked me, and I couldn¡¯t disagree, but I didn¡¯t want to be rude either, so I said nothing.


    ¡°We managed to make peace with ourselves before it could happen.  We¡¯ll find a way to live with the rest of the universe.  We¡¯re not just destructive, we¡¯re creative, innovative, and we will find a way.¡±  William said it quietly, had I not eight ears on my head, even I might have missed it.  I never could tell him that this nebulous determination to find some ¡®way¡¯ in the Universe was exactly what had me worried at that moment.  Fifty years later, yes, I love my humans, but I never forgot that moment standing by the giant pool and watching small human children pretend to kill each other, and even now, writing and speaking on my thesis to earn my degree, I tell you this with certainty.  No matter how cuddly and loving you find humans to be, never forget that they evolved as apex predators on one of the most dangerous and lethal worlds in the known galaxy.


    Do not poke them.


    This may seem ironic in retrospect, given what you are about to read of my next actions, but if you are wise, you will understand that this only emphasizes what I have just said.

 Chapter Twenty-One

    The first ride we went on after we finished watching the human young at play was a small whirling circular roller coaster.  This one was a simple one, meant for children.  It was angled at roughly forty-five degrees into the air and secured to hydraulic pumps that would raise and lower it from one side to the other, each of which went into a pool of water so that you were always going to get wet.


    But you just never knew which side was going to soak you.  I was quickly drenched in cool water that soaked all through my fur to the skin beneath.  It wasn¡¯t until the third dunk that I wondered, ¡®Did William remember to set aside his cell phone?¡¯


    It was too late to ask as we went around and round on the rails, their clickity clackity noise alternately slowing down and then speeding up with every rotation for minute after minute, my wet fur was picked up by the swift racing air and I opened my mouth and let it blow my cheeks out to an odd little puff.


    My recent experience with speed and putting my head outside the car window made this all the more enjoyable, and I didn¡¯t mind my drenched fur in the least.  William was dressed in the strange ¡®swim trunks¡¯ his people typically wore at these places, it hung down from his waist to his knees and was bound up in a tight knot against his body.  He wore no shirt, and quite frankly I would say he is fairly pale.


    The human body is in some ways quite remarkable, not only in its strengths, but in its weaknesses.  Most species evolved their intelligence after their bodies were well adapted to their environment.


    But it seems that human intelligence was the result of punctuated equilibrium.  This previously unobserved evolutionary process states that when a small population is nearing extinction it may evolve much faster since trait diffusion is quicker.  Humans ¡®hyper-evolved¡¯ in a relatively short time some two hundred odd thousand years ago in the extreme climate of their African continent at a time when climate change was driving their forerunners near to extinction.


    Their ancestors were already wanderers, and walked the long costs consuming marine life that was excellent for brain development, and this highly social species adapted, only the most clever of their species were able to survive the harsh environment and reproduce.  As such a race of predators unlike anything the world had ever seen, evolved in a burning hellscape that casually obliterated over ninety-nine percent of all other life.


    But, because they were adapted to survive and learned tool use early, their bodies did not gain the near total protection from the environment that other species did.  Humans get cancer from their own sun, but are daylight creatures with color vision gradients that are the envy of many other species.  Their ability to survive is rooted in their wildly varying creativity and inventiveness as much as anything else.  So¡­ you end up with some imperfections that would seem daft to other intelligent species.  Such as humans who burn in the very sun they need to see and to stimulate vitamin production.  Because they invented ways to protect themselves before they could evolve natural protection.


    When we finally left the ride, we were a soaking wet mess, my fur was drenched more than I¡¯d ever known it to be.  Water is common enough on my world that everybody has it, but Earth is positively drowning in water.  So much so that many of their mythologies revolve around great floods.


    As dangerous as water is, it is not only necessary, but so beloved by most humans to the point where fear of it is considered irrational, and given the unique experience I just had, I agreed.  How could anyone not like this?


    From there we went to the water slide.  A water slide is a very strange invention, it consists of a long angled tube on which you lay your human, and in this pipe is a substantial amount of water, not quite enough to float, but enough to make it slippery.  Your human, like the water, is then dragged down by gravity through the tube, usually screaming in the shadows until they are flung out into daylight and into a large open pool.


    I did not scream.  But I did howl.  A few of my furs got caught in the segments of tubing and yanked out, but after the first wince it was just¡­ thrilling.  I howled like I was a pup again and when I hit the water, I bounced along the surface until my momentum let me sink.  I didn¡¯t wait for William, I locked my arms and began to swim in what I would later learn is called a ¡®dog paddle¡¯ splashing my way to the side, I saw William out of the corner of my eye coming down the slide after me, but with all three of my hearts racing and pumping blood through my veins I just couldn¡¯t bear to wait.  I ran on all fours back to the thankfully short line and didn¡¯t even realize I¡¯d done that until the guide did a double take at me.


    When I stood up, he simply said, ¡°Oh, the alien, go ahead!¡± Then pointed up the ladder for me to go again.


    And again.


    And again.


    To this day I don¡¯t know how many times I went up and down that slide.


    I did that until I saw William wave me over from off to one side of the pool.  The crowd was still thin and for a long and lingering moment I greedily eyed the other attractions, but I trotted over to where he stood and gave myself a thorough shake, scattering water every which way while he waited until I was done.


    ¡°Fauve texted me a few minutes ago, she was taking a ride share over here from work after changing clothes.  I¡¯m going to talk to management and get that complaint for my wife out of the way.  Just meet her at the entrance and bring her back here when she arrives then we¡¯ll meet up and have a bite to eat before hitting some more rides.  Sound good?¡±


    ¡°Sounds good.¡±  I said, I was panting when I said it, as hard as I panted when Fauve finished throwing that ball.  In just two days¡­ two days, and I felt at home.


    Perhaps that is why I reacted the way I did.


    William and I parted ways and I headed back to the entrance, we quickly lost sight of each other, but I wasn¡¯t worried.  He was right, the Sunday crowd was light and neither noise nor smells were overbearing.


    In fact it was so light that I picked up Fauve¡¯s smell before I rounded the corner to the entrance.


    But something was wrong.  Her smell was wrong.


    And another smell was worse.


    I didn¡¯t know quite way, but I picked up my pace, not running, but I definitely went up to a speed walk, and heard a familiar voice.  I will relay it as follows with the inflection as best the written word allows.


    ¡°Wiff a true alpha male like me, a girl can always count on being treated like a prinfess.  You shee, I¡¯m,¡± the voice went a little lower, ¡°a werewolf, that¡¯s why I don¡¯t shower, it washes off my natural mushk.  You¡¯re pretty, and you need a true nishe guy like me, a gentleman to treat you right.  You¡¯re not like those other girlsh, they only go for jocks and bad boysh.  You¡¯re lucky you met me now, before you become shom kind of evil shlut.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fourteen.  And I¡¯m not interested.  Now get out of the way I have to find my dad and Bailey!¡±  Fauve¡¯s response was very clear, and I began to move faster.


    But when I heard her say, ¡°Let go of me!¡±  I locked my front arms, dropped to all fours, and raced forward.


    ¡°Jusht one hug from a real lycan and you¡¯ll she-¡±  I heard his words but didn¡¯t register them.  It all felt wrong.  I didn¡¯t really know as much as I thought about humans or how they related to one another, they were frankly confusing¡­ but I knew their inflections well enough that I knew her voice sounded off and his voice wasn¡¯t as nice as he presented it to be.


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    I rounded the corner to find Fauve with her back to the wall and the neckbeard looming over her with his hand holding her arm and trying to tug her away from where they were.  She was dressed in a single red form fitting one piece suit that reflected common human standards of modesty, leaving arms and legs bare and providing freedom of movement for someone wanting to swim, and she appeared even smaller than before thanks to her lack of shoes.


    My eyes locked on his grip and then went to her face.  I didn¡¯t think her eyes registered contentment, or happiness, I saw that at the dinner table or when throwing that ball.  I also knew that Fauve was a very direct girl, and I had no doubt she meant what she said.


    Neither one of them saw me yet, but I saw that she shook her arm in a clear attempt to dislodge the stranger.  ¡°Let go!  That hurts!  I don¡¯t want to go anywhere with you!¡±  She snapped and tugged her arm, trying to dislodge his grip.  I could see the depression in her arm where his fingers tightened.  ¡°I said let go!¡±  She raised her voice, and passersby finally turned their eyes toward their dispute.


    Evidently disliking her refusal, he stepped closer to her so that his shadow was looming over her, hiding her from view behind his copious girth.  ¡°Just come with me, I promise I¡¯m a gentleman.  I¡¯ll treat you like a princess, don¡¯t be a tease.¡±


    ¡°No!¡±  She said, and though I couldn¡¯t see her face, I knew from her voice she wanted out of there.


    He tried to ¡®convince¡¯ her further, and he got as far as, ¡°Come on, I¡¯m a nyshe guy, ish the leasht you can do is give me one hug if you¡¯re gonna-¡±


    Before I was in the air with my jaws open.  The pair had enough time to see me, but not enough time to react before my jaw closed over his arm and his high pitched shriek filled the air.  His entire body went stiff for a moment after he let go of Fauve¡¯s arm.


    Dlamisa are predators too, and our ancestors rose to the top of the food chain due to our bite strength and powerful necks.  Our method of slaughter when catching our prey was to grab our target and then wrench our necks back and forth, tearing through the flesh of our food and making injuries far, far worse.  Even today when we fight, it is our jaws that do most of the work, not our hands.  I wrenched my neck, rotated my hips, and flung him free.


    He tasted foul.  Absolutely foul, like meat that was rotted to the inside.  He bounced and rolled away from my human, wailing as he came to a halt, not because he ran out of momentum, but because I was already on him, his golf hat bounced and rolled away, coming to a stop with a wobble like a spinning coin losing energy, his hands came up to try to grab me as he squealed like a stuck pig.  I half expected him to shift form, but all that happened was that my fingers wrapped into his soft and flabby porcine wrists and slammed them down into the concrete.


    I didn¡¯t hear the screaming of the people nearby, though I should have, why was I so angry?  Why did I respond the way I did?  I¡¯m not a violent dlamisa.  I¡¯m not aggressive.  I was never in our military.  But the moment I saw that his hand was on Fauve¡¯s arm and he was acting in a way I thought was aggressive, I reacted.


    My human was in danger, and that could not stand.


    So my jaws closed down, going for the neck, perhaps it is for the best that his oversized belly got in the way and his sweat slick shirt didn¡¯t provide much purchase, so when my jaw came down, I grabbed onto his shoulder instead.  I tasted blood again.


    Human blood tastes like copper, and his was mixed with both sweat and the bacteria responsible for human body odor.  It was the most unpleasant ¡®meal¡¯ I have ever had in my life.  But all I wanted was one more bite.  His blood dripped from my curved sharp teeth and spattered down on to his pasty face, the bits of spatter rolled into the wisps of dark beard where they were stopped by a combination of his acne and the patchy scraps of beard.  I scratched and clawed and do not know how many times my jaws closed over the self styled ¡®lycan¡¯.  I just could not stop, not with my human in danger.


    All three of my hearts were pounding in my chest and I lost the power of speech, my ears were back and tail bristled and stiff as a board, I was ready to try for his neck again when I heard Fauve¡¯s voice in my ear, but she wasn¡¯t yelling at me.


    ¡°Stop!¡±  She was shouting, I¡¯m sure she shouted it more than once, but never in my direction, she was ahead of us, her arms and legs out, blocking the way.  I raised my head and saw blue clad security guards with gold badges on their chests, they had weapons drawn and were trying to point at me.


    ¡°Bailey, relax!  Let him up.  Let him up slow.¡±  She said, looking back over her shoulder at me while she said it but remaining in between me and the security guards, she gave me a little nod when I didn¡¯t move.  ¡°I¡¯m fine, it¡¯s over.¡±


    I could see the hesitation of the security team, they were clearly young themselves, a fresh faced young man and woman in button down shirts and tan shorts.  Their hair was cut short, the woman¡¯s a trifle shorter, it stuck out a little beneath her headcovering, a small baseball cap that shielded her eyes from the sun.


    Their eyes were wide, but their hands were surprisingly steady, perhaps frozen by surprise.  I never got to ask.


    The only noise was that of the bits of spatter dripping from my maw as I moved at a glacial pace, inching my hands away from his now bruised and bleeding wrists.  My jaw didn¡¯t shut, so as I rose to stand erect, the bloody evidence of the wounds I inflicted, continued to drip down over his wolf shirt like tiny bloody footprints until they landed on his pants.


    I was breathing hard, all three air sacks were hard at work and I admit I must have appeared feral in the eyes of the human onlookers.  Perhaps it wasn¡¯t my finest moment, I glared down at the lump of meat, but he didn¡¯t meet my eyes.  He curled up screaming like an infant and clutching his arm.


    ¡°Someone call a doctor!¡±  I didn¡¯t know who shouted, but I couldn¡¯t miss the fact that there were a lot of phones out.  Humans filmed things a lot, and the scream brought more attention than I expected.  Strangely enough, humans seem to be drawn toward danger.  Most of the time when there are screams, species flee, humans are one of only a handful who will openly run toward potential danger.  Sure it is true that some will run away at once or run when they see what the danger is, but it is a curious testament to human uniqueness that they seldom can resist the urge to go to where the danger lies.


    In this case, that danger seemed to be ¡®me¡¯.  My red and black fur did a fair job of hiding the fact that I had a lot more blood on me than I would have liked to admit, but my dripping jaw was proof enough, as was my huffing and puffing that continued while I stepped back.


    ¡°Put those away!¡±  Fauve shouted, ¡°Arrest him!¡±  She pointed to the obese human, ¡°He grabbed me and tried to make me go with him!  He wouldn¡¯t let me go!  Bailey was just helping me!¡±


    I expected an argument.


    I expected denial.


    I expected the humans to at once support one of their own, especially since humans can be so tribal and the male on the ground was someone who worked at the park, just like the security team.


    But recall what I said about human socialization?


    Humans who display antisocial characteristics such as an excess of arrogance without talents to justify their ego, humans who are rude, pushy, malicious, brutally honest out of malice¡­ humans might not always speak up about what they dislike.  But they definitely remember.


    ¡°Put it away.¡±  The woman security guard said and slid her taser back into its holster.  Her male colleague hesitated, but a swift glare from his counterpart prompted his reaction.


    ¡°Just step back Mr. Alien.  I¡¯m just going to treat him.¡±  The woman said, taking ponderous but long steps forward with her hands up and open, with the palms facing me.


    ¡°He¡¯s not ¡®Mr. Alien.  His name is Bailey.¡±  Fauve insisted, she was stepping aside, out of the way of the security officer, but if she was heard or not, I don¡¯t know.


    The nameless lump of human that lay at my feet redoubled his shrieking and had thrown in words, ¡°Shoot the dog!  Shoot the dog!  Shoot the dog!¡±  He had other things to say as well, mostly rude words and cursing thrown in, his tear filled eyes were cast around looking left and right while he tried, shaking and trembling, to move away from me.


    I suppose I should have been grateful I wasn¡¯t shot, I was still soaking wet from the rides and I can¡¯t imagine what I must have looked like.  The lump of human still hadn¡¯t transformed, all he did was wiggle.  ¡®So he¡¯s not a werewolf after all.¡¯  I felt oddly dispassionate despite my pounding hearts and air sacks, but when I felt Fauve¡¯s hand come up to my equivalent of a bicep and my upper back, I started to calm the rest of me.


    ¡°Thanks, Bailey.¡±  She said, I only had a moment to look her way before I heard William¡¯s voice, it wasn¡¯t that close, but it was close enough.


    ¡°I was making a report and the intercom said that a dogman was attacking an employee!  What the hell happened?!¡±  His arms were pumping and he leaned into a dead sprint that was much faster than I thought he could have moved, his eyes were wide and almost wild, and behind him a middle aged, overweight male waddled and puffed, not quite keeping up, but no less desperate to get there.


    ¡®This won¡¯t be easy to explain¡­¡¯  I thought to myself while the sound of sirens pierced the air in the distance, and the crowd grew ever larger.


    All I wanted to do was flee, but with my human¡¯s hand at my back, I felt I had no choice but to stand and wait for whatever happened next, while on the ground the lump of human kept howling, ¡°Will someone shoot that dog!¡± and the female guard continued to try to treat the screeching meat.

 Chapter Twenty-Two

    As I previously wrote, human personality is variable in the extreme, we all know that evolution loves variation, but it is in human personality and neurodivergence that this is most obvious.  Humans are sometimes hard for aliens to distinguish for me, as an alien, I don¡¯t look for the same features.  Tall ones are adults, smaller ones are children, some are darker skinned and some are lighter.  If it weren¡¯t for their strong difference in smells it would be much harder for me until I get to know someone well.


    But that diversity of thought patterns, that ¡®personality¡¯ is a dead giveaway.  They vary so broadly that each individual human is very much like a different species from every other human, or so it sometimes seems.  All of a sudden, it seemed I had ¡®my¡¯ humans.  And then there were ¡®other¡¯ humans.


    The species can be somewhat tribal, and it wasn¡¯t lost on me that this tribalism was something I had, with disturbing swiftness, found myself embracing.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to need to stay here and explain this.¡±  The male security guard explained, he was breathing hard, his mouth agape at his injured ¡®colleague¡¯.  I use that term with hesitation because it seemed clear to me that neither he nor the one treating the injured failed human was much concerned with the pain he was in.


    While the female worked, I listened and waited for William and what I presume was some form of administrator came closer.  ¡°You finally went and did it, you went too far, dumbass.  I didn¡¯t think it would be a freaking alien that bit back.  Stupid SOB.  Quit whining and hold still, god knows what kind of bacteria an alien mouth might have, might be fine, might die, might be you get some stupid superpower and really get to be a werewolf.¡±


    I doubted very much that he really understood most of what she said to him.  He wailed and cried, snot running out of his nose and his body flailed around, flopping like a fish out of water, desperate to get back to its natural home that was just out of reach.


    I was fairly sure the guard was joking about that last part, and trying to induce fear in her ¡®patient¡¯ with the second part.  But what interested me was that she spoke of him as if he¡¯d done this kind of thing before.


    The cries of ¡®shoot the dog¡¯ were gone finally, I suppose he realized it wasn¡¯t going to happen and he fell into dejected sobbing.  I, for my part, said nothing.  Fauve began explaining things to her father, and William leveled an accusing finger at the injured employee.  ¡°That¡¯s the guy my wife said was hanging out around the women¡¯s rooms.  He¡¯s the one I came to complain about!¡±


    William¡¯s voice went up several levels while he pointed, and the ticket taker went pale as if he knew he¡¯d been caught.  Human physiology is interesting, they can mostly keep their mouths shut when they really want to, but their basic biology makes some of their more serious lies harder to keep quiet if you know what to look for.  In human novels, someone confronted with something horrific in some personal way is almost always described as having ¡®the blood drain from their face¡¯.  I always took this to be alliteration.


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    It turns out it was literal.


    The onlookers and their camera phones weren¡¯t especially quiet either, one among them, hearing William¡¯s statement, echoed it.  ¡°I complained about him a month ago when I brought my daughter here!  The creeper kept following her around the park and drooling at her.¡±


    It would have been really convenient if there were more echoed sentiments from the crowd, I knew something of human law thanks to my preparations for my visit.  I was no expert, but as I stood there panting and looked down to see the bits of blood at my feet, I was glad to know I had yet another witness of some sort.


    ¡°Are you OK, Fauve?¡±  William asked and went to hug his daughter, his arms engulfed her and he kissed the top of her head, ¡°He didn¡¯t hurt you, did he?¡±


    When it came to neurodivergence, Fauve was exceptional, even with only a short time among humans, I knew that for sure.  She didn¡¯t miss a beat.  ¡°I¡¯m fine, dadu, just fine.  Bailey got him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re all goin to jail!  My dad owns this park!¡±  The ticket taker said through his sobs.


    I will admit I was concerned when I heard this, humans with money are humans with power, it isn¡¯t unheard of for the very rich to buy their way free of the consequences of their actions.  Or to take advantage of their wealth to support people who they frankly shouldn¡¯t, this is especially true when it comes to the ties of family.  Tribalism often extends even among humanity¡¯s worst elements.


    This was clearly an example, and from the sour faces the two security guards made, puckered lips and steady glares, they knew it too, and knew that this particular ¡®colleague¡¯ of theirs had played the ¡®rich father¡¯ card quite a few times.


    When the lawful authorities showed up, I regret to say in this narrative that I recall very little.  It was such a blur of activity.  I remember the click of the handcuffs on my wrists and the feel of the cold steel through my soaked fur, and the little trembling in the hands of the one who put them on.  But I recall neither their name, nor face, nor expression.  Though I must have at least gotten a look at them.  The blaring noise of an ambulance stopped and I saw¡­ I still did not know his name, I never wanted to learn it, so from now on I will simply refer to him by the moniker of ¡®Wolfbeard¡¯ given¡­ everything, but I saw him put onto a stretcher and strapped down.


    He was still clutching his arm and his moans became even more dramatic and movements more exaggerated, the paramedics at the stretcher grunted, groaned, and struggled to lift him up to carry him out.  The process was slow, he weighed enough that they could properly wheel him away on their stretcher until they both pushed from at his feet.


    I remember frenzied words and William¡¯s wild, gesticulated shouting while the officers questioned him, Fauve, and other witnesses, and I remember the feel of the seat of the police car when I slid into the back seat.


    As the car rolled away I could see William still shouting behind us, but in my mental state at the time, I couldn¡¯t hear him, or perhaps I heard and just can¡¯t remember.  What I do remember thinking was, ¡®I hope human jails aren¡¯t like they¡¯re shown to be in their fictions.¡¯

 Chapter Twenty-Three

    Strangely enough, human police officers tend to be very quiet. In my admittedly then shallow research into the history of police forces in the region I was visiting, those designated in enforcing the law had some serious problems. They were not required to protect the citizens, nor know the laws they were sent to enforce. Training was as deep as a desert rain puddle, lasting only a handful of weeks before issuing lethal weapons and endowing these humans with both lethal authority and security against prosecution or consequences for bad decisions. It was routine for intelligent police officers to go unhired or even be fired, as less intelligence was actually preferred, and violence by law enforcement was routine.


    It was much to my relief that reforms in subsequent years after widespread failures by law enforcement, that a number of reforms were enacted. Training for law enforcement was raised from weeks to two years with mandatory education in law. Police unions were dismantled, bodycams were standardized and officers not in exigent circumstances would be fired if they worked while their camera was off. Legal reforms defined the job of law enforcement as the protection of citizens and a national ¡®do not hire¡¯ database was created that prohibited with prejudice the hiring of violent law enforcement agents. They were not permitted work in any sector that required security or protection of property or public wellbeing.


    Deescalation mandates were put into place where officer escalation was grounds for termination, and summary termination for involvement in harassing complainants became routine. As a result, the present day law enforcement officers were quiet professionals¡­ and I did not get shot.


    The ride in their car was, if anything, a relief. At the time I didn¡¯t realize why I¡¯d begun to feel so relaxed. But with time to reflect on it all, I realized something. Fauve was fine. William was taking action to help me, and the failed human I now call ¡®Wolfbeard¡¯ was probably having a very bad time. Human medical technology is remarkable, but no less so than human vindictiveness, and I doubted that anyone would be showing him special care.


    To explain what I mean, consider the human thoughts on their fellows to be measurable, like a beaker with an upper limit, and any emotion you put into it, leaves room for that much less of anything else. For better or worse, humans seem to have strong protective instincts to the point of bias in favor of children, particularly young girls who are seen as more vulnerable. If someone is accused of harming a young girl, that ¡®beaker of emotions¡¯ for the accused is filled with an intense amount of hatred. By contrast, if someone is accused of ¡®harming¡¯ someone who has harmed young girls, that emotion holding beaker is filled with an intense amount of affection.


    By the same token, humans have intrinsic biases on appearance¡­ and this is frequently a cause for misfortune and sadness as a human¡¯s outer appearance says nothing about who they are inside. This means emotion beakers get defaults of affection or dislike just at a single glance, something that is difficult for people to overcome. But on this occasion, it worked in my favor.


    When we arrived at the police station, I found it to be a two floor building with double doors of glass and metal. The officers opened the door and allowed me to slide out without handling me roughly. Here again is a distinction between humans and many other species. The variability of individuals being as broad as it is, their culture shifts from generation to generation, and so their institutions change to adapt. A study of Zenti legal systems would not change much from one century to the next except for their adaptations to new technology.


    As caste systems are so common and division of labor so sharp, the cultures of other worlds, once so fascinating to me, now seem drab. Even something as simple as how an officer of the law interacts with a citizen on Earth seemed far more vibrant and alive. It is true that this variation in humans creates a wide variety of ¡®failed humans¡¯ such as this variety known as ¡®neckbeard¡¯. But with this variation comes their artists, their thinkers, their reformers, their creators of all kinds.


    The infinite potential of every single human willing to embrace their differences has not ceased to fascinate me, not in the fifty years I spent on their world and sharing their lives.


    As one example, when we emerged from the police car, I asked the officer nearest to me, ¡°Did you always want to be a police officer?¡±


    He seemed surprised by the question and he looked me up and down like he was looking for some sign of mockery. I cocked my head, humans seemed to like that, and it got him to relax. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°He wanted to be a clown.¡± His female partner said with a laugh, I could see the way her hand twitched, not toward her weapon, but whenever I cocked my head, it seemed humans had to fight the urge to reach for the spot between my ears. Her chest rose and fell while her partner¡¯s face turned red.


    I¡¯d only heard of clowns as an insult, and seeing my confusion, the male chose to answer, perhaps because I was an alien and not expected to know much. ¡°Heh, she¡¯s not kidding. I went to college and took a clown class elective. I can still make balloon animals, best class I ever took. I still use those skills to help settle kids down sometimes.¡±


    I was at the top of the stairs right before the door when he said that, and before we went in, I stopped dead in my tracks. ¡°Can I see?¡±


    The woman¡¯s hand was on my arm, holding me steady, humans and their physical contact¡­ they¡¯re a very touchy species, and I was rapidly finding that I didn¡¯t mind that at all.


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    Her partner though, he let go, reached into his pocket, pulled out a long balloon and after a long puff of air was put into it from his lips, began to twist, shape, and wrangle a shape into being.


    ¡°Ta-da.¡± He said at last and held out the red rubber to me, ¡°A dog. It seemed fitting.¡± He said, and I was allowed to raise my hands up to hold it.


    ¡°Wow¡­ can I keep this?¡± I asked and looked down at it, and I had to wonder something. ¡®What mad genius found a way to make sculptures out of air?¡¯


    The officer seemed quite pleased with my praise, but held out his hand, ¡°Not through booking, but I¡¯ll put it in my locker and give it back to you when you get out of here.¡±


    ¡°Wait, leave? Am I not under arrest?¡± I asked and looked down at my handcuffs, humans use jewelry for many things, including things they themselves describe as ¡®pervy¡¯. But I was almost completely sure that I hadn¡¯t gotten caught up in a human reproductive game without noticing.


    Almost.


    The officer was quick to reassure me, leaning forward and rising up on his tiptoes he said, ¡°We¡¯ve gotten complaints about that guy before. The way your friend was yelling and with all those witnesses, he skates by because of his rich daddy, but nobody is looking to hold someone who got in the way of his creepy actions. His daddy¡¯s money may buy him a lot of passes, but you¡¯re an important guest. If you want my guess, you won¡¯t be here for more than a few hours.¡±


    Here I have to pause a happy narrative to relay something unfortunate. For many years, wealthy humans bought justice for themselves, or rather, bought their way out of justice. In the past, humans with billions of dollars could do anything they wished and because of their vast wealth, leverage a kind of immunity for themselves. Many treated these figures as boons to their societies, however it was found over time that the absolute power wielded by unelected people created a deep disconnect between themselves and both their world and the consequences of their actions. So after many years, a social compromise was reached.


    They capped personal wealth at twenty-five million dollars, what would today be thirty million galactic credits, and put a statue of anyone who reached that cap in a public place, declaring that they ¡®won capitalism¡¯. All subsequent wealth was taxed and provided for vast social programs. Some of their billionaires resisted this at first, attempting to use art scams and false charities to funnel wealth back to themselves, but as the knot tightened it became harder and harder to accomplish.


    So today a wealthy house might be able to buy ¡®some¡¯ localized security from the law, but he could never buy as much immunity from the law as he wanted.


    Thus the human officer was certain I would be kept only for a very short period of time.


    The booking process was an odd one, I pressed my fingers to a machine with a little red light, and it refused to read me. In the end they just entered the word ¡®alien¡¯ on a computer screen and let me move on in the process.


    I stood in front of a white wall with black bars evenly spaced with numbers beside them and held a placard with my name on it and was photographed front and side.


    And then I was led into a small confined area of stone behind a door made of bars with just enough space to reach my hand and arm through if I wanted. There were thin cots suspended along the wall, and a passed out bald human lay snoring on one side of the room.


    Human snoring sounds much like machines sawing through thick wood, I admit, it is not my favorite noise. It is somehow worse when humans are thoroughly intoxicated.


    I sat on one of the cots, the mattress was soft under my hind quarters, my tail didn¡¯t wag and I rested my arms on my knees, there was nothing decorative on the wall and there were no books or games to pass the time. So I just watched the drunk human sleep. I could still smell the alcohol on him, and I had to wonder how much he¡¯d had.


    A note on human intoxication. Humans are not the only species to get intoxicated, certain other primates are known to pursue fermented fruits or even steal bottles of alcohol from passing humans. But humans are unique in that they produce it, and they do so knowing what they produce.


    They produce poison. Humans poison themselves for pleasure. I just happened to be lucky that as it turned out, some of it is really good. How did this get started, you may wonder. Recall that humans were once hunter gatherers, they walked the land of Africa along the coast, eating grains, shellfish, and whatever else they could walk to death. In the course of these travels they often carried food supplies, sometimes leaving it in place for long periods before returning to it. At some point in that time, humans stored grains somewhere in the open, and rain descended, filling the container.


    These coming and going rains resulted in the grains within undergoing fermentation before the humans could return, and when they did, some bold human drank it. This was the first beer.


    While little is known of this era, what is known is that shortly after this, humans began settling down into communities and growing more of these grains. Early storage containers dating back to the dawn of civilization show that there is beer stored that long predates the invention of bread. Mathematics was developed in order to keep track of supplies, astronomy developed to keep track of planting and harvesting times. Tools were invented to create more stable buildings to live in long term and to ensure the easy harvesting of these supplies. Irrigation was invented to allow broader planting of these crops, and roads were developed to ensure smooth transportation of supplies from place to place.


    Even early records indicate that human currency was often based on beer. Thus, human civilization developed so that humans could more efficiently experience pleasurable poisons.


    I suppose what I¡¯m saying is¡­ humans love to get drunk.


    Ironically ¡®drunks¡¯ are generally looked down upon, as they impede the performance of social obligations, instead alcohol is used as a social lubricant, making the sexes both bolder and more receptive to suggestions from the lewd to the loony. Just a little poison is considered good, too much, is considered bad, and part of their maturation process is learning to find that happy medium.


    Whether this makes humans scarier than before or not, as they are almost the only known intelligent species to enjoy poisoning themselves? I have never truly come to a conclusion. But staring at the big smile on the drunkard¡¯s face, wondering if he¡¯d done something or if he was locked away for his own safety after a few too many? I think ¡®scary¡¯ is an important word to keep in mind with humans.


    Having said that? I thought of Lisa and Mark and that marvelous first shot of bourbon. I think that was probably the first moment I realized that humans and dlamisa might make for marvelous partner races.

 Chapter Twenty-Four

    The police officer turned out to be correct, I barely noticed the passage of time, dlamisa like myself tend to idle well, far more so than humans.  But when my attention was drawn away from my contemplations of the self poisoned human, it was toward the sound of a beep from a badge against an electronic lock outside the room in which I sat.


    The same male officer from before was standing at the entrance and holding the little red balloon dog.  ¡°See, told you, you¡¯re free to go.  Don¡¯t leave town, there¡¯ll be more following up on all this, but they¡¯re letting you go for now, your bail has been paid, when you get a letter about a court date, just make sure you appear.¡±


    Bail is a strange human practice, and isn¡¯t even found all over their world.  But where it is used, it lets a person leave money as a prisoner instead of themselves.  It means the human can go free, and report back to the justice system later, as long as they comply, the money is returned to whoever paid it, but if the person who it is paid for, runs away?  Then the money is forfeit.  A strange practice to my eyes, but it works surprisingly well even when the money is put up by someone other than the accused.


    The officer handed me the balloon and led me back to the entrance.  I found William waiting with Fauve at the front desk, neither saw me at first, they were busy typing out something onto a pair of fixed position data consoles, the little clicks and clacks like an ancient typewriter went on uninterrupted, and notably while they typed, Fauve complained.  Her fist pounded on the surface of the window desk while the officer went on ignoring her when they saw me and made ready to head to the exit.


    We were about to leave when a man in a black formal shirt with bright silver buttons and a large gold shield pinned over his heart approached us.  ¡°You¡¯re the alien?  We need your statement before you can leave.¡±


    All my ears went down when I heard his voice, I¡¯m sure I looked absurd, I was still wet from the water and I was still clad in the blue swim trunks I¡¯d borrowed from William before the trip, trunks that were still bloody in places.


    ¡°We just paid his bail.¡±  William protested, but the officer, a giant of a man with an ugly scowl on his broad face and eyes that seemed to look through us both replied.


    ¡°Yeah, well we need it.  He should have had that done first, you can take him home in a few.¡±  The officer said with a smile that revealed that humans needed to brush far more often than dlamisa did.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, I¡¯m supposed to cooperate with Earth¡¯s laws while I¡¯m here.¡±  I told William and the officer grunted once before turning around and leading me to a room off to one side and gesturing to a table with only two chairs beneath a flickering light.


    As soon as he asked, I recited the events as I recalled them, acknowledging that I didn¡¯t know everything, but acted on what was very clearly a threat to the human girl.


    I then repeated it again when he asked it of me.


    And then again.


    And then again.


    He frowned, ¡°Did you memorize your statement or something?¡±


    I cocked my head, ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°It sounds rehearsed.¡±  He answered, while I¡¯d been answering, he¡¯d been typing it on a datapad, and so I was unsurprised about the match.


    ¡°I¡¯m a dlamisa, not a human.  I know enough about your race that memories are fragmentary at best, but the same isn¡¯t true for us.  Not to say we remember every minute, but if something feels significant and we have time to process it, we lose nothing.  Ask me a hundred times, you¡¯ll get a hundred matching recitations.¡±  When I explained that, he gave a crude snort, sucking air in through his somewhat sizable nostrils.


    What I¡¯d said clearly threw him off as he sat there tapping idly on the datapad looking from it to me while water pooled around my feet and wet the chair on which I sat.


    ¡°Do you have any hostility toward humans, toward human males?  Anything like that?¡±  He asked, and I quickly shook my head hard enough to scatter droplets of water over the floor.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t know many yet.  I¡¯m a dlamisa of science, I¡¯m supposed to withhold judgment until I know more.¡±  I answered, and he kept his face blank while he typed my answer.


    ¡°Were you trying to kill the one you attacked?¡±  He asked, and there I was hesitant.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking clearly.  I was acting on instinct toward a threat to my human.¡±  I answered, it wasn¡¯t quite a lie, though it wasn¡¯t completely true either, in retrospect, I was acting on instinct, but dlamisa predatory instincts are to act with lethal force.


    I had to repeat that two or three more times as well, but in the end, he was satisfied, or satisfied ¡®enough¡¯ that when a knock at the door came and another human poked his head in and said, ¡°We need the room.¡± he didn¡¯t protest about keeping me.


    He stood and I took that as the signal for me to do the same.  ¡°You¡¯re free to go for now, but,¡± he looked at my shorts, ¡°you¡¯ll need to leave those.¡±


    I shrugged, undid the little white fabric knot and dropped them to the floor, ¡°Fine, but they¡¯re William¡¯s, so he may want them back.¡±


    He did a double take when I reacted that way and strolled out with my tail wagging behind me, as far as I know, William never did have the swimsuit retrieved.


    I exited to find Fauve scrawling her signature on a document and shouting at the officer.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair!  Bailey was just helping me, the creeper is the one who should be in here!¡±  She snapped at the person on the other side of the chest high desk, a slightly overweight middle aged woman with dark hair and visible makeup on her face.  Makeup is yet another curious human practice in which a person paints chemicals onto their face to alter their appearance, but strangely enough, other than the chemicals applied to lips, it is generally meant to not be noticed.  Instead it is supposed to accentuate or disguise the natural features of the face, depending on the person.


    The human at the desk had one cheek resting on the palm of her hand so that she was propping herself upright where she sat.  She gave a very loud yawn and then took a sip from a clear cup of brown liquid.  ¡°Look, your friend sent a rich boy to the hospital, I get it.  Creepers gotta creep, but we¡¯ve just got to do our jobs, your pet alien will be along in a little while.  After the creeper gets his arm stitched up, maybe, we can see about arresting him too.  From what I hear, you got lotsa video, right?  If somebody got footage of you getting grabbed and led away, we¡¯ve got something.  If we don¡¯t, then it''s your word against the rich kid, and we already got his statement at the hospital your friend put him in.¡±


    The woman sighed and shook her head, ¡°He says you wanted to talk privately and he was just trying to help, that he thought you were just a lost kid or something and that your pet just jumped him out of nowhere for no reason at all.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s outrageous!¡±  William protested and stopped typing, ¡°You have to know that¡¯s not true!  They have security cameras there, look at them!  Even if nobody recorded it, that had to catch him!  And by-¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll request the security footage as soon as we can, once you fill those out at least.  It¡¯ll just be a day, maybe less.  I promise you we take this kind of thing very seriously, but he¡¯s in the hospital and he¡¯s not going anywhere.  Your pet alien is going to be released, Mike has gone to fetch him.  In the meantime,¡± she reached down to her own mobile data pad and held the screen out, ¡°now that you¡¯ve signed those sworn statements and gotten all this started, you should know that this came in for you from the rich boy¡¯s father.¡±


    I remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt, and stopped walking so that I wouldn¡¯t be noticed.  Fauve¡¯s father began shaking.  Angry humans shake when it gets bad enough, or when they¡¯re scared, or when they¡¯re cold or nervous¡­ shaking means a lot of things.


    But on this occasion, I deduced it was anger.  Just because they shake for many reasons, that doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t figure out what the reason is.  And William¡¯s grimace was so deep and fierce that I caught a flash of teeth when he spoke through their gritted position, ¡°It¡¯s a settlement offer¡­ with a nondisclosure agreement.  Is he serious?!  He thinks his son can just do that and I¡¯ll just take a payout and call it OK?  Is this the bronze age?!¡±


    William¡¯s answer struck me as so strange that I had to research it later, and I found that what he referred to was a time in history in which daughters were considered property, and their abuse was considered a form of property damage not against them, but against their father.  If a man¡¯s daughter was harmed, it was customary to pay the father for the damage done, and the damaged daughter would become the permanent mate of the one to damage her.


    This practice has fallen out of favor over the course of centuries, but the concept of paying currency as compensation for harm done has not.  As I thought about it, I often wondered about the contradictions between the past and present, and I reached a conclusion¡­  that it was the change in the perception of families in the eyes of humanity that led to their current state.


    In the past, the family was a business, a machine meant to create laborers and shape members of a tribe into something valuable.  Any affection was mere good luck, but the family was merely a tool which was wielded by the patriarch and in some cases, the matriarchs of the households for the benefit of the larger society.  Children were mere possessions to be trained for their purpose and replacing them if they broke or ¡®died¡¯ was a relatively trivial matter much of the time.


    Their cultural shift over ages, produced something far¡­ far more dangerous.


    Watching William shaking with rage, gritting his teeth and glaring down at the datapad conveying a settlement offer, I must relate, was stunning.  I hadn¡¯t known him long, but ¡®even tempered¡¯ and ¡®calm¡¯ were my impressions.


    This was something else.  The passionate devotion and love of a modern human for their family members culminated in a single act of defiance.  William¡¯s fingers turned ghost white from the pressure on the pad, and he flung it past the woman at the desk, and into the far wall where it shattered into countless tiny pieces.


    ¡°He can go to hell!  He can take his offer and shove it!  You don¡¯t get to do that and walk away!  I want justice!  I want punishment!  And by the way Bailey isn¡¯t a pet!¡±  He leveled his now empty and down at the woman and raised his pointer finger alone out from a closed fist so that it was leveled at her.  ¡°He bit a man who put his hands on my child!  That¡¯s not a pet!  That¡¯s family!¡±


    And only then did I step into view, and I couldn¡¯t have felt better when I did so.

 Chapter Twenty-Five

    So I had a family of pink squishy humans.  Perhaps I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised by them, even though it had been only a few days.  Some humans can take years to bond closely, but others can bond with shocking speed.  Mere days, really.


    However the dismaying thing was my own sense of rapid bonding.  Dlamisa are not exactly solitary creatures, we¡¯re actually more social than a great many species, but still¡­ How did it come this far, this fast?  I wasn¡¯t sure.


    I tried to focus on what I could, I was quiet on the ride home, trying to remember everything.  The white hot fury when I saw Wolfbeard¡¯s hand on Fauve¡¯s arm, watching her try to fling it off¡­ his insistent hold¡­


    A true dlamisa of science would have watched, would have only observed, would not have interfered.  It¡¯s basic professionalism for observers to do nothing to interfere with the subject of their study.


    But I thought of how she listened to me talk about my home, and throwing that blasted ball, how much fun I¡¯d had, her kindness and consideration in preparing me something to eat¡­ my predatory, primal instincts, things I, like all dlamisa, considered long buried and suppressed by modern conventions¡­ brought out in one single moment by one single gesture toward one single human.


    My human.


    Mine.


    By some impossible measure, in some unthinkable way, in an impossibly short span of time, they¡¯d become mine.


    I should have felt bad about biting Wolfbeard.  I should have felt bad about the way my claws extended out of my fingers and ripped into his flesh.  I should have felt awful about his wailing.  He is after all, a sentient being, and harming sentient beings is not something that should be lightly done.


    But I didn¡¯t.


    I couldn¡¯t.


    I did regret that he tasted so utterly foul.  I did regret that I had inconvenienced William and cost him money, and I worried about what he might have to say about that when the car slowed to a stop in front of his house.


    ¡°Fauve, go inside.¡±  He said to his daughter.  She was in the front seat beside him while I rode in the back, and from where I sat behind Fauve I could see between the seats that his knuckles were still white from the tension of holding hands clenched on the steering wheel.


    ¡°But dad-¡±  Fauve snapped her head to the left toward her father, protest still brewing past her quivering lip.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Now, Fauve.  I just need to talk to Bailey for a few minutes.¡±  He said and gave her a weak smile that was barely there at all.  She looked back over her shoulder toward me, then back to her father, then exited the car without another word.


    The door slammed shut and I felt myself jump a little, I lowered my head and would have curled my tail if I could have.  ¡°Sorry, Mr. Walker.  I didn¡¯t mean to cause all that trouble¡­ I hope it wasn¡¯t too expensive, I¡¯ll go through whatever process you need me to in order to make sure you get your money back and-¡±


    I stopped speaking.


    I stopped speaking because I saw his eyes reflected in the rear view mirror, and they were thick pools of tears.


    ¡°Thank god you were there, Bailey¡­¡±  He said it in a rough voice that was a mix of haunted and relieved, ¡°Don¡¯t apologize!  Don¡¯t you dare apologize!  I love my daughter, but she¡¯s a little reckless.  Her mother and I taught her never to be shy and to speak her mind, not to be afraid of anything¡­ but it also has made her a little heedless sometimes.  I guess a parent can¡¯t do everything right, but I tried.  We both did, we tried really hard and then we weren¡¯t there when she was in danger¡­ what if he¡¯d taken her somewhere¡­ who knows what would have happened?  Thank god you were there.  Don¡¯t think about the cost of bail, I don¡¯t give a damn.  I¡¯ll get the best lawyer I can for you if it comes down to that.  I¡¯ll complain to the consulate, you might have some kind of immunity.  I¡¯ll write to our senator¡­ don¡¯t worry about a damn thing.  There¡¯s no way the Terran Imperium government is going to make a fight over one creepy, perverted neckbeard with a wolf fetish!¡±


    He was quiet for a moment and then stopped looking at me in the mirror, instead he stared down at the middle of the steering wheel, his hands never left the grips, ¡°I¡¯ll nail that bastard to the nearest wall¡­ Rebecca and I aren¡¯t rich, but please believe me, you don¡¯t have to worry about anything.¡±


    I raised my head, I won¡¯t pretend I wasn¡¯t relieved, but I did have my doubts.  ¡°Will they really go so far over that?  He grabbed her arm, yes, and he tried to get her to leave with him.  But do you really think it will be taken seriously?¡±  I really couldn¡¯t believe that humans would take my side over one of their own, though with the benefit of hindsight I should have seen that this was a distinct possibility.


    Starting from the moment they welcomed me into their home and started the bonding process, but then there was the way the others at the park responded to everything.  Human tribalism can be convoluted, even divisive.  But if a human steps outside the bonds of tribalistic and familial ties, it was almost like they rejected a part of their common humanity, and so they were rejected in kind, and people will turn against their fellow humans.


    I was the beneficiary of exactly this.  By seemingly targeting a young girl and outing himself to the public, a thing backed up by at least one other witness who complained about him, Wolfbeard put himself outside the norms of human society and thus outside its protections.  Perhaps his father would watch out for him.  Perhaps he could pay for others to watch out for him.


    But an outraged father and outraged community of humans that could not be simply bought off?


    It was enough to make me feel better about the whole thing.


    So I answered William honestly.  ¡°She¡¯s my person.  What else could I have done?  And I¡¯d do it again, too.¡±


    William¡¯s smile was bigger, more genuine then, I think he was just waiting for his daughter to leave just so he could let out how he felt without upsetting her.


    Maybe talking to me privately was just his excuse to let all that out.


    If that was the case, I didn¡¯t mind.


    What else is family for, after all?

 Chapter Twenty-Six

    I will not cover everything that happened the evening of my release from jail, too much was said that is far too personal to ever reveal, even for the sake of my degree.  Trust is not lightly given among humans, however as hard as it is to gain, it is far, far easier to lose.  As such, the nature of the things Rebecca and William said to me when we went into the house, I will carry to my grave.


    Instead I will speak now on the things that took place after that, when I settled in and felt the after effects of my actions.  For the next few days, William was fending off lawyers from the father of ¡®Wolfbeard¡¯ all of whom promised large sums of money at first, on the sole condition that charges were dropped and the entire household remained silent forever on the events that took place that fateful hour.


    William would have none of it.  I watched just out of his sight once, the slender man who looked as harmless as a maxiki infant, turned purple in the face and shouted with violent anger from the porch of his home.  Not one lawyer set one foot on the first step leading up to his door.  His gestures were ¡®wild¡¯ at first, but slowly as the visits increased in frequency, William¡¯s tone changed.


    He ceased his shouting until it became like ice on the fourth Maxikian moon of Maxiki nine.  Which is to say, ¡®cold as death¡¯.  Human anger is unique among the species of the galaxy, even on their own world.  Many species feel anger, fury, a sense of wrath for one thing or another.  But those species express it purely with reactionary violence.


    No other species in the galaxy that I have ever found, has turned its anger into ice, cold, calculated, and spread with glacial slowness over many years.  When a human has decided they hate you, loathe you and will do anything in their power to destroy you, rarely is that anger obvious and hot as the sun.


    Instead it is cold, it is calm, it is steady.  And when that wrath descends upon the human heart?  They are not to be trifled with.  I share with you a quote:  ¡°Never forgive.  But pretend to forgive.  So that it comes as a complete shock when you turn on the subject of your hatred, and lunge for their throat.¡±  Or another gem, ¡°Revenge is a dish best served cold.¡±


    Strangely, humans themselves seldom realize they have provoked this kind of anger in one another, and clearly the father of Wolfbeard was one such blind fool.  This blindness I must blame on the removal from the situation that his wealth afforded him.  He couldn¡¯t hear the tone in William¡¯s voice, nor see the hatred in William¡¯s eyes.  I believe, though I could never confirm, that to the remote father of the failed human, this was ¡®just another deal¡¯.  Just one more thing to sweep under the rug, that he believed William would cave eventually.


    However, after my statement was collected and Wolfbeard was removed from the hospital¡­ and taken to a jail cell, the tone of the lawyers changed.  Thankfully I could hear what they said, and will relay them here¡­


    ¡°The offer he has made to you is more than fair.  If you refuse, we can assure you that my client will do everything in his power to protect his son.  Naturally this means your daughter will be forced to testify.  You don¡¯t really want her to go through that, do you?¡±


    ¡°If you comply with his reasonable request, he¡¯ll put in a good word with you with the PRS¡­¡±  The lawyer who said that, trailed off, and I must point out for you here that the PRS refers to their Planetary Revenue Service, a branch dealing with taxation.


    William was quick to retort through gritted teeth, ¡°I have no issues with the PRS, and even if I did, he can shove his words.  The only word I want is a plea of guilty from that lump of garbage he calls a son.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need a good word ¡®yet¡¯ Mr. Walker.  Yet.¡±  The lawyer made his retreat down the front steps without waiting for William¡¯s reply.


    These were but two such incidents, but there were many, many more as Wolfbeard¡¯s lawyer filed motion after motion to delay the trial, and William¡¯s face didn¡¯t wear the same smile it always did before.


    Even though he¡¯d praised my actions, I could see the change in the Walker family as day stretched into day, I could hear them upstairs at night, their steps were heavy and I could hear the refrigerator crack open as their sleeplessness became more frequent.


    I admit that I deleted this segment many times before deciding to include it, and when I did finally decide to keep it here, it wasn¡¯t without reservations still.


    William and Rebecca were a very loving couple, and like most loving couples, they were physically affectionate. I believe that even without my ears being as good as they were, I could have heard the proof of their physical intimacy.  Their master bedroom, the place where heads of households sleep, was directly above the space where I slept.  So in the first few days after the ¡®event¡¯, I didn¡¯t leave the house, and at night I couldn¡¯t not hear the amorous couple.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Instead I heard furtive calls, at least one side of them, ¡°What do you mean ¡®audited¡¯ I paid extra for audit protection when I paid my taxes!¡±


    ¡°No, I won¡¯t settle!¡±


    I know that William fielded a lot of calls like that, a call asking about a settlement was always hot on the heels of a call from some acronym organization or another.


    But Rebecca had her share of calls as well.  ¡°No, he¡¯s never done anything ¡®inappropriate¡¯ and no you cannot visit!  Contact our lawyer¡¯s office if you want to arrange an interview, otherwise do not contact us again!¡±  Rebecca¡¯s voice was far more shrill, piercing than William¡¯s, but despite the stark differences, their emotional drives were like wheels on a car, perfectly in sync with one another.


    I kept quiet at first, unwilling to let them know I heard, until one night I was up late, listening to crickets chirp outside the window after having shared a coffee with Fauve, and I heard the bedroom door open behind me.


    It was Rebecca, her hair disheveled, she wore a weary face to go with a bright blue silk robe that was tied at the waist with a thick fabric belt, and secured with an interlocking loop and a button at the chest.  She walked past me, poured a cup of coffee for herself, and sat down at the table opposite myself.


    ¡°Up late again?¡±  She asked and cracked a fragile smile, ¡°Is it because of this, do you just enjoy Fauve¡¯s company, or do you just naturally like the late hours?¡±  She took a long sip of the steaming amber cup, and I just answered¡­


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She blinked a moment until she understood, and tiny trace of a smile spread across her lips.  ¡°You and Fauve seem to get along well.  It¡¯s nice to see her make a friend.¡±


    ¡°We have a lot in common, surprisingly enough.  But why do you say that?  Does she not have many?¡±  I asked, and Rebecca sat back in her chair.


    ¡°Fauve is a special one.  She got the best of her father and I, I think.  She doesn¡¯t need people, not really.  She does have friends, but they¡¯re mostly online, we sent her to school, she thought most of the kids were dumb because they didn¡¯t like science.  They didn¡¯t want to learn another language.  They just¡­ they didn¡¯t share her interests.  That¡¯s why we started homeschooling her.  But we¡¯ve always worried that maybe we kept her away from people too much.  We¡¯re not the perfect parents, but we did do the best we knew.¡±  Rebecca said and took another sip.


    ¡°I guess I just always thought she¡¯d be a happier kid if she had a few close friends she could sit down like this with.¡±  Rebecca finished talking and I wasn¡¯t sure what to say to that.


    But I did feel the need to own up to what I¡¯d been hearing.  Rebecca listened as I relayed the fragments, and when she looked at me disbelievingly, I flicked one finger against my left topmost ear, and she finally nodded in understanding.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just¡­ all this is because you won¡¯t settle, right?¡±  I asked.


    Rebecca shook her head, ¡°That day at the police station, Fauve chose to press charges.  When they say ¡®settle¡¯ they don¡¯t just mean money, they want her to drop the charges and swear nothing happened, that it was a big misunderstanding that ¡®you¡¯ blew out of proportion.  She won¡¯t do that, and we won¡¯t make her.¡±


    ¡°It might be easier.¡±  I pointed out, ¡°This is all stressing you all out a lot, even I can see that, and I spend most of the day baffled by how you can walk around wearing fabric all the time.¡±


    She chortled a little bit, blowing some of the coffee over the rim of her cup with the force of the sudden laugh she let out.


    ¡°Maybe so.  But this is her choice.  And we¡¯re going to back her up all the way, whatever happens, audits, accusations, it doesn¡¯t matter, we¡¯ll get through it.¡±  Rebecca said and when I leaned forward to think that over, she reflexively scratched my head.  My tail wagged, and it was bliss.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, things will get better, and you¡¯ll understand her, and us, before you know it.  Then it will all fall into place.  I¡¯m sure it will make a fine addition to your dissertation.¡±  Rebecca said and drained her little cup before getting up to leave.


    I doubted her, of course.  As any dlasmisa would.


    And as the days passed by and the visits from lawyers became first frequent and demanding, to almost pleading, then on to frequent and vaguely threatening, the amorous activity of the couple slowed down to a grinding halt.  Much like an engine that had run out of lubrication, it just stopped.


    And I couldn¡¯t help but feel as if I were responsible.  I tried hard to remain neutral, despite my earlier ¡®research mistake¡¯ if you want to call it that, I wanted to just observe now.  I didn¡¯t want to taint my study.  But at night when I would sometimes wander upstairs when no one was present, I could hear all the way up to Fauve¡¯s room.  She enjoyed an active online life and had many distant friends to whom she spoke.


    Again, I must emphasize that I was not trying to violate their privacy, but I couldn¡¯t avoid the snippets from her speaking into her voice chat on her server.  ¡°...They won¡¯t say anything, but they¡¯re really worried.  Dad hired a lawyer, and both my parents make good money, but that creep got out of jail, I never should have gone there.  And now I keep getting these messages from anonymous people telling me I deserved it.  That if I didn¡¯t want that attention I wouldn¡¯t have dressed that way.¡±  I couldn¡¯t hear what was said to her, but her response was plain enough.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t have a clue, I mean it could be the creeper¡¯s flying monkeys, but the paper picked up the story here and my name got leaked.  I can¡¯t tell my mom and dad about these, they¡¯ve got enough problems¡­¡±


    I couldn¡¯t restrain my growl.  My human was being harassed.  My family was being harassed.  Remaining neutral and just trying to observe, trying to ¡®make up¡¯ for my break of professionalism, had to end.


    I knew what I had to do.  I no longer cared about the loss of stress response data.  I had an idea, and I was going to use it.

 Chapter Twenty-Seven

    When I returned to my room in the basement, I was questioning myself. The funny thing about resolve, certainty that you¡¯re right, is that even while it may be ¡®black and white¡¯ at the extremes, it is colored in between by so many shades of gray.


    As much as my ¡®emotional beaker¡¯ was being filled with affection for what I dubbed ¡®my humans¡¯, I was and am and will remain, a dlamisa of science. I wanted to know, to understand humanity. Their drives, motives, creativity¡­


    Their violence. Their jealousy. Their envy.


    Their love. Their devotion. Their compassion.


    I wanted to know it all, I¡¯d been fascinated back at my University, and my fascination only grew over time, from the stories my professor told to the things I¡¯d seen and even the things I¡¯d done.


    And while I could justify my interference with my human as another avenue of study, how humans responded to intervention and how they responded to unlooked for compassion or rescue from danger¡­


    This was different.


    I sat at my desk, I was resolved to do what I needed to do in order to alleviate some of the pressure on my humans. But even resolved as I was, this was crossing a line. I would be directly intervening to stop human activity in its tracks. My observation, my study, was going to be altered.


    I was going to lose knowledge. How would a mated pair respond when stress increased exponentially from a wealthy and socially significant figure? How would the harassment escalate from what was dubbed by Fauve as ¡®flying monkeys¡¯?


    Would I be charged? Would Wolfbeard be charged? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the officers must have expected that I would use my own position¡¯s uniqueness to interfere.


    And I hadn¡¯t.


    At least not immediately.


    Human society is filled with games of power, as one of their great thinkers in the ancient past remarked, ¡°Man is a political animal.¡± A key contributor to their evolutionary path was their high degree of socialization which involved negotiations of many varied factors, everything from who would lead to who would carry out tasks and what direction the group would walk.


    Observing just how this played out with individuals in their society, its legal system, and for their lives was important knowledge, and if I acted, I knew I would lose the chance to study that. The chance to study this might not come again for another hundred years with someone else. My thesis would suffer, I might even lose my degree.


    So I stared down at the datapad, I was shaking like a human, my tail curled under my seat.


    But still I was resolved. With the benefit of hindsight I can look back and say that my own reactions were worth study just by themselves. The impact of sharing human lives and being taken into one of their families? My professor is from a profoundly anti-social species, and yet he embraced the other branch from the Walker family as readily as if he were born human. Dlamisa are more social, but even so, I didn¡¯t think we were capable of what I was now going through. At least not to this degree.


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    My finger hovered over the data pad, but before I could touch the screen, a message dinged in. It was on the server system used by Fauve. In my preparation for living with the family, I set up my datapad to mirror their activities, though I hadn¡¯t actually used all of it yet.


    This particular software was chiefly used by humans for communications, streaming gameplay, and talking with friends, as well as file exchanges. Fauve was a heavy user of this software.


    Until this moment, I hadn¡¯t touched my copy. But now a message was coming in. I moved my finger down to the message and tapped on it, and up popped a string of convoluted written attacks.


    I say convoluted because they made no sense to me, it was clearly in the local language, but it was also not.


    Human culture is not monolithic, this much is widely known, but it is generally assumed to be limited to preunification ¡®national boundaries¡¯. Nothing could be further from the truth.


    Humans develop subcultures of all kinds that exist within the larger dominant one. They develop subcultures around hobbies, around political parties, and before the advent of energy tokens and the adoption of the galactic standard units, there was even a subculture devoted to the mental mirages of deregulated cryptographic currency. That by itself merits a whole field of study, but it is enough to say that not every subculture was good for its members, that one, at least people only lost money.


    Others were downright dangerous, or just as badly, there were some who were self destructive.


    As I went on to their WURD, ¡®Websters URban Dictionary¡¯ to look up the words used in the communication to me, I realized I had just stumbled upon one such subculture.


    Picture if you will, a culture of intelligent beings who hate themselves. But not just themselves. They hate the objects of their desire. They hate anyone who can ¡®have¡¯ the objects of their desire. Now imagine that this subculture focuses so heavily on self hatred and blame that they spend every waking hour either wishing they were dead or that someone else was. Suppose this group of people were constantly reinforcing their own sense of futility and failure to the point where failure became their identity and anger at being denied what they feel is rightfully theirs, became their only motivating fuel,


    The terms used in this message, ¡®Stacey¡¯, ¡®Foid¡¯, ¡®cuck¡¯, ¡®day of retribution¡¯, ¡®chad¡¯, could not be understood without examining this subculture¡¯s linguistic conventions. However for the sake of academic dignity, these are the only terms that will be listed here. The vileness and hatred poured out onto my young human for rejecting Wolfbeard was contrasted by another sea of messages containing their twisted ¡®philosophy¡¯, and accusations against me personally as being a ¡®chad¡¯.


    It made no sense to me until I realized¡­ ¡®If they ran any story at all, it would have been left off that I¡¯m an alien, or if the word alien was used, they would think it referred to a human from another part of the world.¡¯ It was almost laughable how badly their confusion must have been.


    I say almost because it included copious threats of violence. Just how they got my Chaos software ID, I don¡¯t know. But they did, and they were reaching out. My estimation of Fauve¡¯s mental toughness shot up several more levels as this must have been happening for days and she simply brushed it off.


    Mental resilience in humans was truly something to behold.


    I screencapped some of the messages with more violent threats and ignored their messages otherwise, instead swiping the software out of the way and scrolling through my contacts. There were few, my professor, my classmates that I traveled with, and then found what I wanted.


    My people¡¯s embassy.

 Chapter Twenty-Eight

    My call was quick, thankfully embassy staff are always available and as such, explaining myself was easy.  Making it even easier, the incident made the local news and the embassy was not far from the transit point where my professor and I arrived.


    Middle of the night or not, a car was promised to me that would pick me up from the residence within the hour, but I was to bring my datapad with me.


    I had no trouble slipping out, the basement in which I lived had its own door, so I left and shut the door as quietly as I could.  Human hearing is far from the best, truth be told their hearing is rather weak compared to most species.  It is easily damaged and isn¡¯t that great in the first place.  But humans have unparalleled instincts.


    In preparation for my visit, I studied what I could so I wouldn¡¯t offend their senses, and I learned of something called the ¡®evil eye¡¯.  Somehow, humans know when they are being watched.  They may not see, hear, or even smell the one watching.  The one watching might be even a kilometer or more away and using special watching tools that let them see without being seen.  But still they will know they¡¯re being observed.


    A father will almost intuitively know to check the thermostat of his house, a mother will know when her child is hiding something even when the child isn¡¯t in the same room.  They don¡¯t always know what they know, or know why or how they know it.  But human senses are far deeper than the mere surface level data input.


    To this day I think the only reason I snuck out successfully is because, other than Fauve, they were asleep and exhausted.


    True to their word a car was out front within minutes and I found myself at my embassy while I was still scrolling through these vile messages and threats to myself and my humans.


    Even while I did what I was doing, I knew I was violating the terms of my study.  Involving my world¡¯s government in their world¡¯s legal matters could have gotten me deported for my own safety whether I wanted to stay or not.


    I still wonder what data I gave up over this, but as I watched various cartoon avatars scroll past on the Chaos software messaging program and neckbeard after neckbeard say things that no one should ever say, I was sure I was doing the proper thing.


    I didn¡¯t really think of it in ethical terms, which is something humans had a hard time grasping when I explained all this later.  They were my humans, so I acted.  The humans have an expression, ¡®Man is a moral animal¡¯.  They don¡¯t say this to claim themselves to be good, the expression predates the discovery that other forms of animal life also abide by social moral codes within their own protocultures, and it far predates the meeting of intelligent alien life.


    But where most species in the galaxy, including those on the human world, have only very broad, generalized ethics for large scale social interactions, humans are unique in that just as they do with socialization and politics, they can make anything into a moral question.  They have a far reaching series of various philosophies that detail down to the treatment of each other at the individual level.  This has done nothing to make all of them ¡®good¡¯.  I could tell that by the vile things I was reading.


    But it has set their framework in such a way that any action somebody took was almost always framed as an ethical question first.  Thus, ¡®protecting my human¡¯ was something that was approved of from start to finish¡­ except by these.  This particular subculture of humans was a blending of both neckbeard and incel.


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    To discern the difference, while the car drove me to my embassy, I continued to search terms, interestingly while they share some overlap, such as bitter failure over their inability to mate successfully, they do have some differences.  An incel who is outside of the neckbeard subculture will have nothing else of interest but their own failure.  But a neckbeard inside or outside of the incel subculture may have a broad diversity of interests that create their own subgroups.  Ironically both groups react poorly to the opposite sex taking an interest in either them or their interests, thus causing further isolation.


    Truly, they are the authors of their own misfortune, turning their venom inward, until they could turn it outward, as was happening now.


    My own reaction to this was an ever growing anger, similar to when I brought my teeth down on Wolfbeard¡¯s arm and tore into his flesh despite the poor taste.  It speaks to the power of human¡¯s ability to connect with others in that not only had they connected with me, but that the bond now ran both ways.


    The car reached the embassy, a gated building with two large black furred dlamisa guards.  The gate slid open and my car rolled in, the building had no stairs, rather it had a low ramp that extended far out from the building and out to the circle my transport rounded.  I went up the ramp and the doors slid open, while there was a guard, he never gave one of his own species a second glance.


    Our hall was smooth, polished wood that, while shiny and reflective, gave a warped reflection instead of a true one.  My species doesn¡¯t enjoy its own reflection, and looking back I can¡¯t help but conclude that the building was likely provided to us rather than built for us, and we simply modified it to make it acceptable.


    I reached the back room swiftly enough and my people¡¯s ambassador displayed a distinct difference between us and humanity by getting right to the point before I even reached the chair on the far side of his desk.  ¡°What do you need?¡±  He asked, and at once I felt a pang of longing for the human socialized method that included ¡®small talk¡¯.  A chance to get to know each other suddenly meant more than I realized.


    But I plowed ahead as a good dlamisa should, detailing the events that led up to the present.  The ambassador cocked his head before the story was halfway through and said, ¡°You are getting yourself far more involved than I would expect.¡±  It had the tone of a rebuke, but I cocked my head at him and retorted¡­


    ¡°How else am I to learn everything I need to?¡±


    He accepted my defensive response in silence, then let me finish the story up to the hour of my contact.  He extended his dark hand for my data pad and I slid it across the table.


    The ambassador began reading over the messages that were still coming in, his teeth were bared several times, but as I could see the pad¡¯s screen reflected in the window behind him, I could tell it was only happening when he read threats against me specifically.


    Finally he set the datapad down and said only, ¡°I will make a phone call to the human embassy.¡±


    It was a dismissal, polite by our standards, but I pointed at my data pad which he placed out of my obvious reach.  ¡°I have a lot of research data on there, when can I get it back?¡±


    His head stayed cocked, ¡°Morning, of course.¡±


    I was fairly sure that our ambassador to humans, spent little time with humans, given that his expression said to me, ¡®You¡¯re spending too much time with them, forgetting how we do things.¡¯


    So I stood up, nodded, and then added one final thing that had his tongue lolling out, ¡°Ambassador, thank you for your help.  Let me offer a suggestion to you, go spend more time with humans.  Leave the grounds, or take on a few human employees here.  You might be surprised by what you find.¡±


    There was no answer for me in turn when I made my departure, and predictably the car was still waiting for me outside when I left the building.  The whole thing had taken less than an hour, including drive time.  Quick, efficient, to the point, with no fuss no muss in between.  Very dlamisa of them, admittedly it wasn¡¯t completely displeasing.  They would do their work, that was all I wanted.


    But it made me miss my humans and their slower, busier, and slightly crazier ways too.


    I snuck back into the house as easily as I left it and flopped onto the bed as soon as it was within flopping range.  I then passed out from the sheer stress, utterly unaware of the nest of angry hornets I¡¯d just kicked over.

 Chapter Twenty-Nine

    I said in an earlier section that man is a political animal, but what we don¡¯t really understand is how truly chaotic that is.  Office politics, local public offices, layers upon layers of bureaucracy and people all striving after their own ends in some form or fashion.  To many species who observe the way humans do things, it is a wonder they survived to develop space flight, or that they get anything done at all.


    I admit even fifty years later I sometimes still think the same way.  But out of this chaotic social situation there usually comes some guiding goal, some common interest that drives humans who may want different things, to work together.


    When I got up that morning I didn¡¯t know what that meant.  But when nightfall came again, I did.


    When I woke up at last and ventured upstairs it was the dawn hour of the Earth morning, while William and Rebecca were, according to the bio I received ¡®early risers¡¯ and at first that seemed true.  But in the weeks since all this havoc began, they¡¯d been rising late.


    Fauve however, hadn¡¯t altered her routine much at all.  I remembered what I heard her say the night before, but in a very un-dlamisa like act, I chose not to tell her I¡¯d caught it.  The only clue to what she was going through was that while she sat at the dinner table alone with her cup of coffee and a small sandwich that she hadn¡¯t eaten, was that her eyes were red and she barely looked up when I walked into the room.


    ¡°Your sandwich is in the fridge.¡±  She murmured.  It was fairly common for me to get up around the same time as herself, so this wasn¡¯t a surprise.  But like every day I said a sincere, ¡°Thank you.¡±  before I opened the door and removed a plate.


    I went over to pour my own cup of coffee, I knew well enough how to make it so that it was at its best for my palate, so this was no problem.  But when I reached up to the cabinet, Fauve cleared her throat.


    I stopped in midreach and looked in her direction.  She put a hand on a small box.  ¡°Here.¡±  She said and drummed her fingers on it a few times, ¡°I got this for you.  It¡¯s from one of those special order places at the mall.¡±


    I cocked my head toward her and approached, briefly putting aside my want of that wondrous sacred brew.  When I leaned forward, her hand went up and began to rub the top of my head, my tail began to wave back and forth and all my ears went down in maximum happiness.  The human touch can feel so¡­ damn¡­ good.  It¡¯s addictive.


    She gave me the little ghost of a smile when my hand closed over the small palm sized box.  It was very thin, but it had a bit of weight to it.  It was also wrapped up in a strange multicolored paper with a label on it.  I looked at the label, it just said ¡®Thanks¡¯.


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    Fauve wasn¡¯t much of a talker, I guess.  She didn¡¯t say much, but she meant what she said, she¡¯d have made a good dlamisa.


    ¡°What do I do with it?¡±  I asked, and her smile went a little broader, her fingers began scratching my head, running them through the thick black and red fur, it took care of an itch I didn¡¯t know was there.  My left foot started tapping involuntarily before she even answered¡­


    ¡°You open it, doofus.  Just tear off the paper.¡± She snickered a little and I did as she said, my tongue started lolling out the side of my mouth before the paper was all the way clear, and¡­ there was a box.  Just a plain cardboard box.


    I glanced at her while leaning over the table, she nodded again, and with her encouragement, I opened the top and found¡­


    A cup.


    I reached in and took it out to give it a look, and Fauve explained.  ¡°I ordered it the day after.  But custom jobs, they take time, and I had to send the first one back after they screwed up your real name.¡±


    It was a coffee cup.  The coloration was patterned after my black and red fur, and in big bold letters was the name they gave me.  ¡®Bailey¡¯.  But when I turned the cup to the other side, I found a string of musical notes.


    ¡°How¡­?¡±  I looked at her, my hands shook like a human¡¯s, my tail wagging so fast that it could have propelled a small boat if it were in the water.  The musical notes were a close approximation to the way my name would sound if humans could have said it.  It wasn¡¯t quite perfect, but it was so close that if I heard it called out I would have looked for who was trying to get my attention.


    ¡°Do you like it?¡±  She asked when I straightened up, the handle was flanged out slightly in the almost leaf-like shape of my ear. I didn¡¯t know what it cost to make this customized to me, but at a guess, it wasn¡¯t cheap.  Especially for a young girl on a part time job.


    The practice of gift giving among humans is an ancient one.  One of their ancient stories is of a man who walked a thousand of what they called ¡®miles¡¯ to bestow on his friend a gift, and his friend answered in return, ¡°My friend, you came so far to give this to me?¡±  To which the giver answered, ¡°My friend, the journey was part of the gift.¡±


    Humans give gifts for many reasons, some benign, some nefarious, but there isn¡¯t a human alive who does not want to be given a gift with the truest sincerity.  Even for those who aren¡¯t especially greedy, a gift is a symbol of gratitude, of affection, even if it is only a passing thought.  But there is more.


    Human children have a prolonged period of socialization and development, it is not innate, it is learned.  What this implies is that when a child acts to give a gift, it lacks a strong manipulative component.  What they say, what they do, what they mean, is guileless relative to their adult peers.  They are, in a word, sincere.


    I went to the coffee pot with my cup in hand and poured the hot black liquid inside.  I added my little bit of sugar and a thick helping of cream which turned the black stuff the color of tan skin and took a long, slow slurp while Fauve waited for an answer.


    I loved it.


    ¡°It¡¯s perfect.¡±  I said and went to crouch down beside her to get more head scratches.

 Chapter Thirty

    It¡¯s a testament to the infectiousness of humans that I actually even considered withholding knowledge of my actions. Keeping it from the Walkers would have been a very dlamisa thing to do, though in some circumstances ¡®revealing it¡¯ would have been more like us. As it was however, revealing my actions would have likely eased some of their tensions, but they would have reacted unpredictably. Dlamisa love our routines, and that works generally well enough for us.


    But when I finally broke myself free of the headpats and scratches just behind my ears and sat with my coffee opposite Fauve, my resolve to do what I did was matched by a resolve to do what I could to alleviate their concerns.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been worried, all of you.¡± I said after a long slurp.


    Fauve just gave a tiny nod and looked down into her own coffee cup as if she thought the right thing to say would be found somewhere just beneath the surface of her drink.


    It was a strangely awkward moment. I say ¡®strangely¡¯ because humans tend to be very uncomfortable with extended silences, like extended eye contact, it disturbs them. Especially if the cause of the silence is in some way emotional or driven by a sense of shame. Given what I knew was sent to Fauve by the ¡®flying monkeys¡¯ of Wolfbeard, by which I mean his little community of what passed for friends, I can¡¯t say I was surprised by her silence.


    Human maturation is slow, at fourteen she was in no way experienced enough to know how to handle the things that were thrown her way by a range of ages, many of which were well beyond her own. I resolved later to give time to studying the phenomenon of the Neckbeard & Incel communities, but I knew from the very moment of that resolution that I could not undertake that study while I was invested in the wellbeing of the human they were now targeting for their abuse. My human.


    Fauve¡¯s eyes welled up a little, and she shook while she tried to bring herself under control, her gaze averted from me and went toward the master bedroom where her mother and father slept. My gaze reflexively followed hers, she was checking to make sure she wasn¡¯t going to be interrupted.


    ¡°I keep getting these¡­ mean, evil DMs over my Chaos server. I block the senders but they just keep making new accounts. They say horrible¡­ vile things and I try not to read them. I''ve started blocking every new sender as soon as I get them, but they just make new accounts.¡± Fauve¡¯s cheeks turned red and she chewed on her lower lip.


    She was clearly unhappy, and I was fairly sure that I could detect the smell of fear on her while she spoke in a quiet voice like she was afraid of giving life to her fears by speaking them aloud. ¡°Some of them¡­they¡¯re scary. Before I started blocking automatically, I read all the messages I got. I don¡¯t want to tell my mom or dad¡­ they¡¯ll just get mad, not at me, I mean, but dad almost hit that last lawyer to come by the house, and I think that was the goal. I was watching through my bedroom window, I couldn¡¯t hear, but if he¡¯d hit the man, he¡¯d go to jail¡­ it just won¡¯t stop¡­ What is wrong with these people? I say I¡¯m not interested and now I¡¯m supposed to be what, punished?¡±


    She was angry as well as scared, Fauve didn¡¯t go out much in the first place, but in the weeks since this had all begun, she now barely left the house except for work. She hadn¡¯t gone back to the water park, and her father or mother took to driving her to work instead of letting her use ride sharing apps.


    The instinctive desire to protect their young is especially powerful in humans, and by the same token, despite their sometime protests, the young want the security of knowing their parental units are ready to mind and protect them. Fauve was an independent human girl, but she was still a child, despite nearing her maturation in only a handful of years, and wanted to feel safe.


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    Wolfbeard and his friends took away her sense of safety and control, and as much as her parents were trying to restore that by ferrying her to work and letting her remain in the home, there was little they could do about her digital life. Especially if Fauve kept that knowledge from them. It was only a matter of time before the parents became targets of online harassment too. They got my datapad information, sooner or later William and Rebecca would find their own being sought. I was frankly surprised it hadn¡¯t happened yet, though as I thought about it, since they didn¡¯t realize I was an alien, they probably assumed I was William, not knowing another intelligent being was living in the same house.


    Fauve¡¯s sniffle brought my wayward mind back to the moment and I said, ¡°You won¡¯t have to worry for long. I promise you.¡± I said, I wished I could smile like humans did, but baring teeth was an act of aggression for dlamisa, and we couldn¡¯t shape our lips the way a human could. Trying to think of something that might offer some comfort, I cocked my head in the way humans seemed to love and said again, ¡°Trust me, everything will be fine. Just give it a day or two.¡±


    Fauve didn¡¯t frown, and that she didn¡¯t do so was reassuring to me that she at least somewhat believed what I said. ¡°Bailey, not that I¡¯m not grateful or anything, but shouldn¡¯t you be more worried about yourself right now? If this gets to be too much for me,¡± there was her stubborn pride again, it was hard not to admire that in humans, they were not a species of quitters, ¡°I can just disconnect for as long as I need to. But they still might find some way to charge you even after all the statements made to support what I said.¡±


    Like she wanted to reassure me, or maybe just because humans loved it when I cocked my head at an angle, she reached over and scratched behind my ears. This seemed to be so natural to her that it was routine, humans I suppose, can be creatures of habit too, and those habits shape them a great deal, good and bad alike. I filed that away for later and added it to my inventory of things about the neckbeard and incel communities to examine. I could already see the paper title, ¡®An Anthropological Study of the Habits that Form Failed Humans¡¯ or ¡®How the Habits Unmake the Man¡¯.


    Despite losing a bit of knowledge on the stress management methods of a human family, I was still a dlamisa of science and the prospect of opening up such knowledge with my outsider¡¯s perspective and maybe even being well known among humans themselves was more than a little appealing.


    But when Fauve said that, the truth was I was more moved than anything, despite what she was going through, she was still thinking about me, about worrying about her family and what her problems might mean for them. Perhaps the strongest takeaway here is that humans cope with their problems by relying on their powerful connections. Each one supporting and backing up the other, like emotional weight redistribution. In short, when one human who is beloved of other humans suffers, the others share in that emotional state to aid in treating the mental wound until the injured one is recovered.


    This sharing of inner strength lends humans enormous reserves of fortitude which are unmatched in the less socially complex intelligent species. To hurt one human is to rile the lot of them, in a strange way, much as I hate to admit it, those who had targeted my human were doing the same thing. Supporting a member of their community in a time of emotional distress.


    I filed that away too, much as I felt a distinct distaste for them at the outset, it the power which communities lend to their individual members was considerable. They were trying to ¡®help¡¯ Wolfbeard. Isolated humans with no community were clearly more vulnerable, weaker, and lacked the strength of that reinforcement.


    I wondered, if a community formed around a self destructive and self reinforcing set of beliefs, could the individual, by their own strength, find the courage to leave it? Would they even be able to realize how they were harming themselves? Even if they realized the problem, would they remain just so that they would not lose that support network?


    There was an unpleasant thought. It clearly required more study, but until then, I had my humans to look out for, and one of mine was worried about me. She had no idea how little reason there was to worry, and the truth was, neither did I.


    I just leaned into her scratches of my scalp and said, ¡°Trust me, Fauve, everything will work out just fine.¡±

 Chapter Thirty-One

    ¡°That¡¯s quite a promise to make.¡±  William said, his voice cracked like he hadn¡¯t slept well, he rubbed one sleepy eye while Fauve turned her face away from her father.


    It¡¯s very strange to see a species where the younger members of the family unit harbor a strong desire to look out for the elder caregiver, and yet this seems to be the norm in a contented family unit.  Fauve did not want her father to see that she¡¯d been crying.


    A note about humans crying.  It is one of the single most unpleasant, ugly noises I have ever heard in all my life on any of the worlds I have traveled to.  They gulp with their mouths and snot comes out their noses and they have the most piercing wail when they¡¯re very small, and more than that they can¡¯t even talk properly, even when they¡¯re of age that speech is normal.


    Their eyes turn red and crack like glass that is on the verge of bleeding¡­ even happy crying is hard on the ears.  From an evolutionary perspective it makes sense, their distress is unpleasant and you want to alleviate it.  But knowing why it was so unpleasant doesn¡¯t make it more pleasant, and Fauve, I guessed at least, was doing a lot of crying lately over the harassment she was receiving in her online world.


    To some degree at least, I irrationally blamed myself, ¡®You should have figured it wasn¡¯t just the incident itself.¡¯  But the rational part of my mind reminded me, ¡®No, you¡¯re an alien damnit, you came here to learn these things, if you already knew them you wouldn¡¯t have needed to visit in the first place!¡¯


    I have to say, if I were to pick a moment where I realized I was as much test subject as observer in all this, then that was it.  My reactions were so undlamisa like, consistent worry over them, my irrational protectiveness of the child who gave me head scratches¡­ chasing that blasted tennis ball¡­which I wanted to do again as soon as possible¡­(though it would be a while yet as Fauve was uncomfortable leaving the house still), everything about this, from the beginning, had changed as much as taught me.


    Perhaps that was why keeping Fauve¡¯s secret was so important, and I said nothing despite her distress.


    Instead I answered William, from within his bedroom, I could hear Michael crying, I had to wonder if Fauve still sounded like that when she was getting one vile message after another and wondering what she¡¯d done to make so many older men hate her that much that they wanted to pile their vile messages on her that badly.


    ¡°It may sound like a difficult promise to keep, but it isn¡¯t, at least not this time.¡±  I said, and stood up like I was going to offer more reassurance, instead blocking his view of Fauve so she could make a hasty retreat.


    I wasn¡¯t completely successful as his eyes followed her retreating back until she rounded the landing and went the rest of the way up the stairs and back to her room.  ¡°I wish I could offer that kind of reassurance, but I just, I don¡¯t want to lie to her.¡±  He muttered, ¡°Lawyers are expensive though, every time we file something, his lawyers file some kind of a motion or objection¡­ It''s expensive and my wife and I aren¡¯t rich.  Even with things how they are, you can still buy injustice sometimes.¡±


    William said it quietly, but I saw the way his fingers twitched, and for that matter, so did his right eye.  Now the human practice of law requires some explanation.  Most worlds there is only one expert in law, but in fact humans have every case represented by three.  One for the accuser, one for the accused, and a judge who is not technically a lawyer but is supposed to be knowledgeable on the subject.


    In theory this provides balance, but where the system can be corrupted, say by the copious wealth of one party in the lawsuit relative to the other party, then the purpose of the lawyer is not to provide a vigorous defense, but rather to obscure the truth and bury the other side by draining their ability to pay for their representation or wear them out by way of a protracted battle of endurance.


    This was what the Walkers now feared.  As Wolfbeard¡¯s father had a fortune, his expensive lawyers could threaten, cajole, and file whatever they needed to, it didn¡¯t matter if it was frivolous, it served to drain the Walker¡¯s funds by forcing them to pay their own lawyer far more than they could afford.


    And they were paying a lawyer to defend me, to keep me from going to court and keep me from being arrested or my bail vacated.


    Somehow they became my humans.  And my humans were going to be rendered poor because of what I did.


    I think it was more human than dlamisan that I blamed myself for that.


    I hung my head and opened my mouth to say, ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯  Or to render some kind of an apology as soon as I found the words.


    But it was at that moment that the doorbell rang.  Like he knew what was on the other side, Michael¡¯s crying became louder, and Rebecca came into view, her eyes wide and hair hung limp and unkempt, William and I traded a glance.


    I was confident about my people¡¯s interference, but there was no telling how much would be done other than making it all go away.  The harassment might stop, the charges against me would probably be dropped.  But from the pale look on William¡¯s weary face, I could read that he was also concerned that Wolfbeard might manage to get his own charges dropped too.


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    If he could be let go¡­ how could my human ever feel safe?  How could she believe she would ever be given justice?  And would she ever be able to go anywhere without wondering if she¡¯d see Wolfbeard around the next corner?  Rebecca¡¯s words about why they wouldn¡¯t settle, began to make more sense to me.


    As I imagined Wolfbeard¡¯s hand reaching out again, I knew two things.


    The regret that I had not bitten all the way through and removed it.


    And that I wished that my world would never encounter him or his like, ever again.


    My tail and my ears stiffened as the knock at the door came again.


    ¡°They¡¯re early this time.  They must have figured out my routine.¡±  William laughed, but it was a dead man¡¯s laugh and his eyes had never looked more hollow.  I doubted he was really joking.


    He walked toward the door with a zombie-like shamble and opened it to find a skinny human in an expensive pinstripe suit and a fedora¡­ for some reason all the lawyers sent to the Walker home wore fedoras.  This was not a popular hat for daily wear, and it made me think that it was almost like a uniform.  Or that perhaps it was something more like a message about who it came from?  I don¡¯t know.


    I didn¡¯t approach the door, though all my hearts and airsacks were throbbing in my chest, and I could see over William¡¯s shoulder despite his effort to shield the view of the interior of the house from the visitor.  More importantly, I could hear every word.


    ¡°I know you filed a restraining order, Mr. Walker, but we are allowed to come to your home to serve you papers. I''m here in my capacity as an officer of the court, delivering notice that you are going to be sued for emotional and physical injury-¡± The lawyer¡¯s snide voice had a high pitched whine to it that was more shrill than a baby¡¯s cry, I hated it immediately.  At least I didn¡¯t have to hear it for long as William cut him off.


    ¡°You could have had anyone do that.  This is an obvious attempt to get around my restraining order¡­ Now get off my property.¡±  William snarled, his hand tightened on the doorknob like he was about to slam the door in the lawyer¡¯s face.


    ¡°Now, now, let¡¯s not be nasty, it¡¯s nothing personal, Mr. Walker, if you really believe some law has been broken then you can always call your lawyer up and have him file a motion to limit court document delivery to those with no connection to the criminal defense side of things.  It¡¯s only what, five hundred dollars an hour with the one you have now?  I¡¯m sure you can afford the six hours worth of document filings and hearings, and of course I¡¯ll be there to object, or one of my colleagues will be.¡±


    I could see William¡¯s entire body shaking, if he hadn¡¯t been standing in the way, I was ready to rush the lawyer like I rushed Wolfbeard before, but then quite unexpectedly, I could see the shaking stop.


    And I heard something I could not have timed better.


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary.  After all, this is no longer a matter for the local court.¡±


    The human lawyer inhaled loud as a jetstream through his nose and William let go of the door so it could swing open and I could see the very welcome sight of a black furred dlamisa of substantial height.


    ¡°This,¡± the dlamisa said, cutting off the question from Wolfbeard¡¯s daddy¡¯s lawyer, ¡°is now a matter between the planetary government of Earth and Dlamias, regarding the treatment of one of our citizens and the laws of mutual aid between our allied species.  Your client is overstepping his bounds in attempting to confine this to the lower court.  And this is for you in your capacity as his representative.¡±  The dlamisa was carrying a messenger bag over one shoulder, and when he finished, he drew out a paper on Dlamisian digital parchment, a specialized material used only for communication between governments.


    ¡°And this is for your client.¡±  He said and removed another.  ¡°And this is for your client¡¯s father.¡±  He repeated, and laid all three in the human¡¯s unthinking hand.  ¡°You¡¯ll all three of you be explaining your interference and harassment of the home of one of our offworld citizens.  And since I¡¯ve found you here where I definitely shouldn¡¯t have found you, this is for you personally.¡±  He then removed one more paper, though of more traditional human standard, and the lawyer¡¯s face went pale.


    ¡°It¡¯s a summons to your, what do you call your legal review boards?  The ones who say whether you have behaved ethically in the practice of law?¡±  My counterpart asked, the lawyer did not answer.  He looked down at the documents as if he were holding a hungry gaxan, but did not dare to either drop them or speak.


    But my counterpart was not finished.  ¡°And to make sure there are no other problems,¡± he turned and barked toward the street, and I could hear two doors slam, ¡°these are guards from our embassy.  They will be stationed at this house until matters between our governments are settled.  Inform your employer that they are authorized to use any reasonable degree of force to protect our citizen, and what constitutes reasonable is at their discretion, thanks to your state¡¯s representative.¡±


    ¡°But-  But- But I- This- It isn¡¯t what it looks like!¡±  The human lawyer¡¯s pale face began to tremble, but in true dlamisa fashion, with his business done on the matter of the lawyer, my representative turned his attention to William Walker.


    ¡°Your household is under the protection of your government and mine for the duration of the crisis.  You will receive reimbursement for all expenses incurred on his behalf retroactive to the date of the Battle of Waterland Park.  And any expenses incurred later going forward will be split between your government and my own.  File through the same channels as paying for food or other costs.  Do you have any questions, Mr. Walker?¡±  My representative was brusque and to the point, his tail never wagged and he never cocked his head.


    I was grateful, but William spontaneously reached out and hugged him.  His arms went round the dlamisan embassy representative like they were long lost friends, and he looked at me past William¡¯s shoulder and asked, ¡°Is the human alright?  What¡¯s happening here?¡±


    I approached and gently disengaged William from my speaker, and reassured the dlamisa representative, ¡°It¡¯s nothing, it¡¯s just a thing my humans do, you get used to it.¡±  I said while the two behemoths of dlamisan security guards ascended the steps.  The representative of Wolfbeard¡¯s legal interests soon found himself beneath the two growling snouts of my people¡¯s military forces, and to my great joy, I got to watch sweat spring to his brow while he inched his way along the rail and back down toward the street.


    ¡°Yes, well¡­ it¡¯s fine then, if it¡¯s just the custom¡­ I will go.  My work is done.¡±  The speaker for my people stated, and departed without another word, leaving only relief and a sense of safety in his wake.  Though if I may add one more minor note?


    I saw that his tail was wagging as he left the premises.

 Chapter Thirty-Two

    I¡¯m sure some of my colleagues will wonder if my affection for humanity represents an anomaly in me rather than any power or quality of theirs to affect other lives.  As I watched the human lawyer representing the Wolfbeard household retreat and whisper angry words into a cell phone and felt an admittedly smug satisfaction at his distress, I also watched the departure of my homeworld¡¯s representative to Earth¡¯s capital city.


    Zenti, dlamisans, liantis, and peoples of all races who either read these words or are present as I speak them aloud in pursuit of my degree, I understand your skepticism.  But when I saw my representative withdraw from the House of Walker, I saw his tail wagging.  I could see his ears twitching with the telltale signs of confusion.  He didn¡¯t know why but I did.  And now having felt the grateful and warm embrace of a human father, I had no doubt he would start down the same road as my professor, myself, and my classmates.


    The students my professor chose were all bound to branches of the Walker family tree.  This is another particular facet of humanity that is found little outside of their species.  Some species center themselves around an ancient matriarch, or a royal family who is said by fact or fiction to be a progenitor of their whole race.  But beyond that, few races keep a close monitoring on their own immediate relatives, and almost none can tell you anything about their genetic relatives beyond one or two generations.


    Humans however have an intense fascination with where they come from and who they come from.  ¡®Genealogy¡¯ is an enormously popular hobby in which the houses of mankind trace back the travels, names, and lives of their forerunners.  They gather letters, birth, death, marital records, stories from older relatives who keep their stories alive.  This leads to very complex webs of marital relations.  I happened to speak to the human publishing agent who had my book bound, and out of sheer curiosity, I asked about his ancestry.  It turned out that he knew a great deal, that his ancestors were some of the first European settlers in North America, that one of the first anti-slavery meetings took place in a family home of his ancestors in Pennsylvania, that his ancestors invented the wig-wag and traded the patent for free rail travel for life.


    A human family is a web of stories and lives that have more variety than the seven musical notes could ever produce in song.


    And it was into this web that all of us were thrust.  My professor went to the eldest family, and all of us were scattered among the children of his human¡¯s children, and their families, and the families their children began that took us all over the world.


    I suppose we were lucky that Earth¡¯s capital city, Louisville, was also a popular transportation hub and had been for centuries, making it easy for everyone to come together for an easy pickup.


    This human concern for family bonds might at first seem to run at odds with my original thesis.  After all, if blood relations matter so much, how can they bond so well to anything not of their blood?  My professor theorized that early human studies of evolution which postulated an exosolar origin of life were in fact correct.  That life began on some other world and was launched into space, carried on debris after the cradle of life was impacted by an asteroid¡­ and all races of the galaxy are bound together as a result.  All of us born of the same ¡®warm little pond¡¯ of their Darwin¡¯s imagination, but far, far from where he imagined it might be.


    If this theory bears fruit, then the whole of the galaxy truly is one family, and every fight and battle is a civil war.  I for one, as an academic, must hold back my judgment, raising it only because it is at least one possibility.


    But my answer lies in their communal nature.  Humans tamed wolves and formed a symbiotic relationship with them that carries down into the present day.  I won¡¯t say it does not gall me just a little bit to look very much like their pets.  But perhaps it has helped with my own integration into their society as well, I look like what they¡¯ve been bonding to for tens of thousands of years.


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    Watching the representative depart and feeling the waves of relief at my back as the weeks of worry came to a close, I thought¡­ I thought we were in for some relative peace and quiet while waiting for the ponderously slow human courts of law to do their work.  You¡¯d think I would be used to being wrong by this point.


    I was right for at least a few hours, the dlamisa guards took to sitting on the front porch of the Walker home and while they were shocked when Rebecca brought them food, their tails gave away their best efforts to remain stoic and silent.


    Human guards were added to their numbers before lunch was served, two men in black suits, they quickly struck up a rapport with my people¡¯s guards.  I observed unobtrusively as the humans opened conversation with their counterparts.


    A dlamisa is usually reluctant to speak to someone unknown unless they need to, we can do it, of course.  But we tend to be reticent about those with unfamiliar smells.  There is an island chain with tribes of ancient lineage in the Earth¡¯s pacific ocean, and when strangers meet there, it is the custom to engage in long conversations about ancestry, trying to find a connection between each other so that they have reason to avoid violence.  Dlamisa will engage in a long consumption of scents, trying to find a common presence that will ease our discomfort with a stranger.  A place we have both been, a person we both know, a food we have both recently eaten.  Without a ¡®scent opening¡¯ it is very difficult for us to speak first.


    Humans solved all that by way of the spoken word, asking questions far outside the realm of scent and drawing us in.  Observing these two sets of guards mingling together, the two giant bald males began to ¡®talk shop¡¯ about the job they were on.


    Presented with an opening and an invitation to speak first, the dlamisa guards relaxed at least a little, and I listened in from the other side of the door as the two opened up.


    It may be hypocritical of me to have been so reluctant to capture the whispers of my humans, but so willing to listen in unobserved with the four guards outside the door, but it was too good a chance to see more of my kind interact with humans.  The shop talk about their professions led my kind to discussion of their favorite techniques of security and their preferred hand weapons¡­


    We are one of the few predator races to evolve intelligence after all, so it is perhaps unsurprising that when two predatory species with similar interests come together, either conflict or common ground become inevitable¡­


    ¡°See the nice thing about krav maga is that when you need a weapon your opponent is always kind enough to just ¡®give it to you¡¯...¡±


    ¡°Maybe so, but a good bite to the throat and you don¡¯t have an opponent for very long¡­¡±  I could hear the dlamisa security guard open and snap his jaw shut.  The human guards whistled appreciatively.


    ¡°Can we see that up close¡­ those are some impressive jaws, bet you could rip a man¡¯s throat out¡­¡±


    The appreciative whistles on the other side of the door suggested that my counterparts had obliged and opened their jaws again to let the humans get a closer look at our favorite weapon.  The utter fearlessness of some humans never ceases to fascinate some races.


    Many a human has made their final words, ¡°Hey y¡¯all, watch this!¡± and then done something insanely dangerous.  As a species, it is a wonder that they, particularly their reckless adolescent males, reach adulthood in great numbers.  For my counterparts outside, having another species willingly come close to their deadly jaws was equal parts confusing and fascinating¡­ and exciting.  The one nearest to the door was wagging his tail so hard that I thought someone was knocking.


    ¡°Of course, we don¡¯t have the best mouths for that, but we make really nice substitutes¡­¡±  I could hear the humans outside opening their belt carriers and removing the tools of their trade.  The buzzing noise of a taser, the tap of a thin metal baton against stone, and then the tap of phone screens.


    ¡°There¡¯s a long history to human weapons, these are some of our favorite ones throughout history¡­¡±  and the low rumble of my own people appreciating a very different cultural exchange from the sort I was engaged in, carried on.


    When I left, the embassy security guard from our homeworld was saying, ¡°A joint forces operation with the terran military might be worthwhile.¡±


    That, incidentally, is where the first joint military operation between races got its start.  The human security guard reached out to a former officer who reached out to his son, a current officer of high rank and after some simulations between himself and the dlamisan military high command¡­ well that is how the story was relayed to me.


    It¡¯s fortunate that I left and wrote that down immediately after it happened, because had I waited it might have been lost in the chaos that began when the reporters showed up.

 Chapter Thirty-Three

    The first indication that something was amiss¡­ aside from what had now become ¡®the usual¡¯ was the drones.  Humans may not have wings, but they have never stopped dreaming of flight.  This is yet another of the strange traits among humans is that they have the insatiable urge to do things that they can¡¯t do, shouldn¡¯t do, and would be insane to do.  Man was not meant to fly, so he made a way to do it anyway.  Dlamisa developed flight by accident.  Zenti developed it out of desperation.  There are many reasons why intelligent races developed flight and space travel.


    But only humanity developed it out of a desire to do what they could not do, and to fulfill the dreams their race has held to since ancient times.  Now it is so common that they turn flight into toys, namely ¡®drones¡¯.


    Most races have them, but none in such vast numbers as humans who use them for almost every task from the delivery of fresh food (mostly ¡®pizza¡¯ which as of this entry I have yet to try), to package delivery and more importantly on this particular day¡­ news reporting.


    Drones painted in the color of various agencies raced over homes and sidewalks and descended on the front of the Walker household like a swarm of locusts.  Among those that were painted with ¡®legitimate¡¯ corporate logos there were others that were either black or painted in various wild colors.


    In the aftermath of this event I took the time to study the use of drones in human history, and in a very strange way, the ¡®Drone Culture¡¯ that developed after the creation of the first camera mounted drones, encapsulates humanity¡¯s enduring ability throughout their lives to experience ¡®childlike wonder¡¯.  Most species who engage in heavy investment in the rearing of children, pass through a stage in their youth where they are endlessly fascinated by everything around them.  A boundless curiosity and a desire to know new things is part of their maturation process.


    But in humans, this trait does not necessarily die.  I say ¡®necessarily¡¯ because it can.  And when it does die inside someone, they are like the walking dead.  But when it remains alive throughout a human¡¯s life, as I would live to see, you have living treasure.  ¡®Drone Culture¡¯ is a microcosm of this wonderment.  Always trying to see what they haven¡¯t seen before and experience vicarious flight through the use of machines.


    But then again, there was that moment¡­ when the drones descended on the house of my humans, the guards from our respective governments remained alert, and a cacophony of voices shouted through the speakers.  I regret to this day that I found it such a struggle to be close enough to hear it all.


    But I did hear some of it amidst the chaos of bobbing, hovering plastic and metal machines that I could see through the window.  ¡°Are the Walker¡¯s here?  We want an interview!  What really happened at the park?  Is it true that an alien attacked a human?!  Was the alien given special treatment because he¡¯s a foreigner?!  Is this part of a wider threat to humanity?!¡±


    ¡°Is it true that the alleged victim knew the human who was attacked?!  Was this set up?  Is it true that William Walker once worked for a defense contractor specializing in living weapons development?  And that Rebecca Walker used to clerk for disgraced Interstate Departmental Relations Chairman John Hsu?¡±


    Humans¡­ they are natural storytellers.  In the absence of knowledge, they will begin filling in their own details and imaginations for just about anything you can imagine.  Sadly there is another side to this, a side I was hearing.  While most humans are xenophilic, fascinated with other living beings, the Universe at large, and eager to learn, there are others who are xenophobic.


    Human supremacists who reject the idea of sharing their world or even the galaxy at large with other intelligent beings.  While they are a minority, they are quick to jump on anything that they think might support them.  Ironically they fail to realize just how ¡®not dangerous¡¯ most other intelligent races are in comparison to themselves, since prey races tend to evolve intelligence rather than predators, and the most common survival trait for those races is to flee.  Lurid stories of the short war with the Zenti are passed around in xenophobe circles, with horrendous atrocities imagined that even the Zenti could not have done, even if they wished.


    For these xenophobes, fear seemed to be their chief focus, fear and hatred, and some of these were well enough connected and well funded, the storytelling nature and political nature of man was an ugly unification.


    ¡°Have you filed a lawsuit against the park, the owner, or the perpetrator?!¡±


    ¡°Why has nobody seen this mystery girl that was ¡®allegedly¡¯ attacked?!  The people deserve answers!¡±


    Of course not all of these were the common corporately affiliated ¡®reporters¡¯, rather there was a wide variety of others here, short form video makers, bloggers, vlogers, and various other individuals seeking out a possible source of content.


    Humans¡­ humans¡­ humans¡­ at this moment perhaps this reads more like a journal of my life than a serious academic report, but a crowd like that, all those machines pointed toward me, and even without the people themselves being present I could still feel a lot of hostility before I got out of earshot and headed toward the basement to hide myself in my room.  My tail shivered and all my worries, so recently alleviated, were back again.


    I did have the presence of mind to realize that whoever was behind the presence of ¡®hostile questioners¡¯ or ¡®reporters¡¯ as they are commonly known, probably hadn¡¯t gotten word of our mutual governments getting involved.  I closed the door to my room and sat on my bed, on the shelf sat the balloon animal the officer gave me before.  I had it sprayed with a clear coat of enamel to preserve it.


    Against my will, I was scared all over again, the specific words were impossible to discern any longer, but the hubbub and noise was still loud enough that I couldn¡¯t hide from it even when I covered all eight ears and pressed them tight against the fur on my skull.


    It was then that I heard the muffled noise of a knock at the door.


    ¡°Bailey?  Can I come in?¡±  Fauve asked.


    I nodded stupidly a few times.


    ¡°Are you there?¡±  She asked.


    Facepalming is not a gesture dlamisa use, but if it were, I would have used it.  ¡®Idiot, she couldn¡¯t hear you nod!¡¯  I thought, and said, ¡°Come in.¡±


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    She opened the door, slipped inside, and shut it behind her.


    Her cracked red eyes had a puffiness around them that was characteristic of recent emotional outbursts, and her cheeks were flushed as if she were ashamed.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry you got in trouble over me¡­¡±  She said and sat down on the bed beside me.  Her hands wrung together and her feet shuffled on the floor.  ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to¡­ I really didn¡¯t.  I just wanted to swim, I wanted us to all go have fun¡­ I didn¡¯t mean for anything like this,¡± she gestured in the direction of the exit to the house that led out to the driveway where our bodyguards voices began to go up in an ever louder shout,  ¡°to happen.¡±


    ¡°Fauve¡­ what are you talking about?¡±  I asked, I was baffled enough that my hands slipped from my ears and she slipped her hand into her pocket, pulled out her datapad, and after unlocking it, she handed it over.


    Whatever was on there, she couldn¡¯t say it.  So I looked.  ¡°...If you¡¯d just gone with him¡­¡±


    ¡°If you weren¡¯t dressed like that¡­¡±


    ¡°...Lead him on of course he¡¯s going to think¡­¡±


    Fauve¡¯s frustration came out in her voice while I read.  ¡°He grabbed my arm, I was scared, he wouldn¡¯t let go, but maybe if I¡¯d just hugged him goodbye then none of this would have happened, maybe he would have let go¡­¡±  She pursed her lips tight and took a deep breath, ¡°then you wouldn¡¯t have gotten handcuffed and none of this would be happening¡­¡±


    There is a particular oddity in humans, something I¡¯ve never found anywhere else in the galaxy, admittedly I¡¯ve only been to fifty or so worlds and I¡¯ve only met a hundred or so intelligent races, but I doubt very much this oddity would be repeated elsewhere.  And that oddity is something commonly known as ¡®Main Character Syndrome¡¯.


    A variant of this is called ¡®Spotlight Syndrome¡¯.  They are very similar conditions endemic to most humans either persistently or sporadically.  These syndromes refer to the belief found in a person that everybody else is focused on them in some way.  ¡°Everybody is watching me¡­ noticing me¡­ thinking about me.¡±  The distinction between the two is in the favorable vs unfavorable standard.  Spotlight pertains to the belief that all their flaws, foibles, missteps, are being noticed and magnified for all the world to see.  It is anxiety inducing.  By contrast, ¡®Main Character¡¯ refers to a more favorable self image in which a person believes that they are the star of the show, they are the protagonist and everybody else is just a side character in the drama of their existence¡­ or an antagonist they must defeat.


    Human children in the course of their maturation, have both of these in their heads in some way.  A very young child will assume everything is about them.  Are mother and father fighting?  The child will believe it is their fault.  They are quick to blame themselves, this is in part because their empathy takes time to develop, and until it does, until their brain has reached full maturity, some level of self centeredness is the only way they can be.


    This helps them survive as they learn and grow, but it also makes them very vulnerable.  Parents who place blame on their children for things their children didn¡¯t do will suffer horrendous developmental side effects precisely because they cannot imagine things being any other way.


    What I was seeing was Fauve in her worried state, accepting blame for something she had no responsibility for, not that I could see.  Outside, the noise of the drones and our agents shouting, both grew louder.


    ¡°This is a very strange world you have here, you know?¡±  I said, setting the datapad on the mattress, I leaned back, my own fears forgotten for the moment, my hands on the soft mattress, I looked up at the smooth ceiling.  She cocked her head at me and asked¡­


    ¡°What do you mean, Bailey?¡±


    ¡°That failed human.  He was an adult, wasn¡¯t he?  I didn¡¯t bite an undeveloped one?¡±  I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I think so.  If he¡¯s working full time he has to be an adult, underage people aren¡¯t allowed to work a full six hour day.¡±  She answered.  ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°Them, those¡­ far off people, they¡¯re giving you, a small human who isn¡¯t even grown, a whole lot of power over a grownup.  It seems strange, I thought grownups were always supposed to be responsible and in charge.  Am I wrong?¡±  I asked her, and she actually chuckled a little.


    ¡°No, no you¡¯re not.  I wasn¡¯t trying to do any of the things they say¡­ I just wanted to go¡­ I just- but if I¡¯d just done what he wanted¡­¡±  She frowned and her body shook with barely suppressed anger.


    ¡°Did you have to?  Is there some rule here that if an adult male grabs a female of your species, she is his until he lets her go?¡±  I asked, I was fairly sure there wasn¡¯t.¡¯¡¯


    ¡°No!¡±  Fauve exclaimed, angry tears ran down her cheeks, ¡°I didn¡¯t want to go with him!  I didn¡¯t want his hands on me!  I was just going to swim!  I was just minding my own business!  All I did was smile at him and wish him a nice day!  Then he came over to me, and I tried to get around him, but he wouldn¡¯t let me! He kept blocking my path!  He kept that creepy smile on his face while he was demanding my name!  Then he told me that the park was his dad¡¯s and said he could get me onto rides for free if I was with him.  The way he said ¡®rides¡¯ made my skin crawl¡­¡±  Fauve hugged her arms around her body¡­


    ¡°He was gross and crude, I just wanted to go, so I told him ¡®some other time¡¯ and tried to be nice instead of making it clear by being nice¡­ maybe if I¡¯d shouted for help then¡­ maybe if I¡¯d told him no some other way, or louder or¡­ maybe if I hadn¡¯t slapped his phone away when he tried to get to close and force me to get into frame with him¡­ maybe he wouldn¡¯t have grabbed me that hard¡­ I made him mad and..¡±


    I lowered my ears, she missed the gesture, but when I said, ¡°I get it.  And I¡¯m not even human.  You¡¯d make a pretty good dlamisa, Fauve, but it sounds to me like he understood but didn¡¯t care.  You can¡¯t blame yourself for his decisions, and how could you predict the decisions of a dlamisan exchange student?¡±  I let my jaw drop open to bare my teeth and let out my imitation of a human laugh.  ¡°You protected your choice, that¡¯s a right here, isn¡¯t it?¡±  I asked, and she sniffled, rubbed some stray snot from her nose and gave a little nod.


    ¡°So then what are you apologizing to me for?¡±  I asked and shrugged, finally turning to face her, ¡°I¡¯m decades older than you, even if my race is longer lived, if we proportion it to humans, I¡¯m older than you by at least a few years.  You didn¡¯t make me do anything, you didn¡¯t make Wolfbeard do anything.  All you did was exist and try to live your life.  As an anthropology student I can tell you, there¡¯s nothing wrong with that.  Nowhere I know that is¡­ except I guess, in the heads of Wolfbeard and people like him.  So don¡¯t be so hard on yourself, OK?¡±


    I winced as the shouting got louder and reflexively covered my ears, shut my eyes, and looked down.


    ¡°Are you¡­ OK?¡±  Fauve asked, inching a little closer to me.


    I regretted the poverty of curse words in my own language, I¡¯d forgotten, Fauve didn¡¯t know why we came back early on the first trip, William hid it from her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.  It¡¯s nothing, we just have to wait until the people outside get rid of them all.  They may just be machines, but crowds are still¡­ they¡¯re not things my kind deals with very well.¡±  I admitted.  ¡°Too much noise, too many smells, too much stimulation¡­ It hurts.  It hurts but it¡¯ll pass.  Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    Another peculiarity of children is the nature of their resolve. Human children have an innate sense of justice, sometimes it is wrong, one child will take a toy from another, or rob one another of their treats¡­ but they have a natural sense of when they are being wronged.  It may take time to develop empathy for others, but they know very early on what ¡®wrong¡¯ feels like.  And when a human child is wronged, the whole world knows it.


    In theory this stops when they¡¯re very young, but in reality it just changes, and Fauve was a particularly stern young girl.  I could see her already starting to rise to her feet, the wheels turning in her head while she prepared to give the reporters outside a piece of her mind that they would not soon forget.


    Once again I thought to myself, ¡®She would make a good dlamisa¡­¡¯


    Then after a lingering look at me, when the noise outside grew again, she sat back down, and put her hands on my head so that her fingers were over mine, giving further protection to my ears.


    And as the sound outside became a little bit duller thanks to her gesture I thought, ¡®...but she makes a better human.¡¯

 Chapter Thirty-Four

    I was soon proven right when I heard an echoing voice that could only be a human using an amplifier to magnify his words.  ¡°Per an order signed this morning, and due to the sensitive nature of the topic, all interviews must be scheduled through the legal representation of the household occupants.  Anyone loitering on or near this property or releasing footage of the residents of this address will be arrested for compromising an investigation directly impacting the security of the Terran government.  The sentence for which is one hour¡¯s confinement!  Leave.  Now!¡±


    The drones'' spoken voices were silent, and a moment later the steady hum of their hovering flight began to fade away.  Perhaps the ¡®one hour confinement¡¯ seems to be very little in the way of punishment¡­ but herein lies one of the most dangerous facets of human creativity.


    They have a long, long familiarity with how to hurt each other.  They are masters of torment and suffering.  They are not the masters of their world and the top dlamisa of their food chain because they are the strongest or even the fastest.  They reached the top because they are the single most homicidal, vengeful, blood hungry species that their deathworld has ever spawned.  And they turned that venomous violence on each other more than any other species I know.


    For centuries they punished crimes with mostly either death or mutilation, or they would sentence people to become tools that work, known as ¡®slaves¡¯, or they would confine people into place, leaving them to suffer and die.  But with the long arc of the arrow of justice, they began to enact more just penalties that fit their crimes and did not encourage more criminal activity.  Centuries in the past, robbery was punished by death.  But so was murder.  So a robber would frequently murder his victim because¡­ why not?  He lost nothing and decreased the odds of capture.


    Pragmatic and sensible reforms were often subordinated in favor of exploitative ones, and one nation which formally banned the sale and ownership of humans, included in their constitution an exception that allowed humans to be used as slaves as a penalty for crimes.  It wasn¡¯t until years before the advent of their modern unified government that this finally changed.


    But what does this have to do with their petty punishment of ¡®confinement¡¯ you may ask?  After all, are they not too ¡®soft¡¯ now?  No.


    With ¡®confinement¡¯ a human is placed into a room, strapped into a seat, and then when the machine is activated, they experience something¡­ very different than the normal world.


    While a minute can pass in the real world, as little as one or as many as ten years can pass in the realm of their mind.  A terran hour is sixty minutes.  Their ¡®one hour confinement¡¯ is an offer to let a person experience a sixty year sentence, growing older, weaker, sicker¡­ all while believing it is real.  They experience a cast of characters, and even alternative dystopian worlds.  They may live out a lifetime as a slave in a mining camp from the novel series ¡®Who Endures¡¯.  Or they may find themselves living as a barely surviving primitive hunter from ¡®Scales of Trust¡¯.


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    Or they may just experience being locked in a room with no human interaction¡­ experiencing the nightmare of minute upon minute of a life slipping away.  This technology has its benign uses, but in terms of their punishment of crimes?


    True the sentenced party will wake up eventually and find that they are their youthful selves again and only a little time has passed, but the memory of their time trapped in the imaginary world was never going to go away.  A more benign use of this technology is to use it to help criminals engage in reform, gaining help from artificial intelligence powered therapists who help heal the broken pieces of the human and rejoin society.


    But this is not an option for every crime.


    That is the horror of ¡®confinement¡¯.  It is rarely used save for intervention purposes or the more severe threats to the public, interfering with a government investigation would be one such circumstance.


    It was warning enough to get the drones to leave before they started getting traced.  Though knowing how persistent humans tended to be once there was a mystery or curiosity or something else of special interest to them, even if it were just bragging rights?  Let me just say I suspected from the start that it was a temporary relief.


    Fauve listened to the same growing silence before asking me, ¡°We¡¯re going to have to speak publicly soon, aren¡¯t we?  All of us?  And I¡¯ll have to face¡­ that disgusting orc again?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a child, I¡¯m no expert, but I think they make exceptions for you.¡±  I said that without thinking, and the truth is, it was a lie.  Not that I wasn¡¯t an expert, I definitely wasn¡¯t, but I had no idea one way or the other.  But the haunted, heavy eyes of hers were so full of dread, I just wanted her to feel optimistic.


    The relief on her face when she leaned back the same as me, stretching out her legs and holding herself up against the mattress with her arms behind her, made it worth it.  Her breathing relaxed and normal color returned to her face, a little bit at a time.


    It¡¯s strange how humans change things.  How they change their world, themselves, each other, and as it turns out, even wandering alien University students from beyond the stars.


    Not that long ago, I wouldn¡¯t have considered lying just to make someone feel better.  I wouldn¡¯t have attacked anyone, let alone attacked on someone else¡¯s behalf, especially if it put my planned career at risk.  But now here I was, not only had I done both things, but I¡¯d done them without any regrets.  Or rather, any regret but one.


    And now, while it was quiet, while it was quiet and I was full of gratitude and welcoming her company and she was at least briefly relieved of fear, I thought I should tell her.


    She put one hand on my tail and began to rub her palm back and forth over it, pressing it into the mattress on which we sat.  Like my professor said.  ¡®If a human initiates physical contact, you should assume you have been adopted.¡¯


    I think he was right, and all three of my hearts ached.  ¡®I have to tell her¡­¡¯ I realized.  I didn¡¯t want to, but if things go that way, dlamisan bureaucrats do not play around with rules and orders.  ¡®I¡¯ve been lucky so far at least.¡¯  I told myself, steeled my nerves, and while she stroked and stared down at my swishing tail that moved like it had a mind of its own.


    ¡®I need to prepare her now.¡¯  I told myself again, cleared my throat, and looking out of the side of my eye at her face I said, ¡°Fauve¡­ you know they may make me leave Earth, no matter how this comes out, right?¡±  I asked.

 Chapter Thirty-Five

    I thought her head was going to fly off the way she yanked it to face me directly.  ¡°Say what now?!¡±  Fauve demanded.  ¡°You¡¯re supposed to stay with us for the next fifty years.  It hasn¡¯t even been fifty weeks!¡±  She snapped, and I was quiet for a few seconds while I thought of how to say this.


    ¡°I¡¯m also not supposed to eat humans, not even the foul tasting ones that even the gods of your most popular surviving cults know I couldn¡¯t swallow if I wanted to.  I attacked one of your people.  My government is involved, your government is involved.  They may both decide the easiest way to resolve it is to deport me in your people¡¯s case, or recall me in my people¡¯s case.¡±  I sat up straight and opened my hands out in front of my body like I was weighing two roughly equally weighty objects, and turned my head to face her.


    My hands bobbed up and down as if weighing the two situations, ¡°No more Bailey, no more problems.  Or, no more Bailey, no more problems.  Both your planet and mine may come to the same conclusion.¡±


    ¡°Do you¡­ do you want to go?¡±  Fauve asked, her lower lip quivered until she bit down on it, before she could get teary eyed, I violently shook my head in denial.


    ¡°No, of course not.  I¡¯ve spent years studying your species as my specialization.  If I go back, all that is wasted, and getting another exoplanetary visa to go to some other world and study them instead?  No, that¡¯ll take years.  Do you have any idea how it will look when they pull my file and see, ¡®Kicked off study planet for taking a bite out of a local?¡¯  I snorted, ¡°I probably don¡¯t have to tell you, pretty bad.  Pre-tty, bad.¡±  I swallowed and dropped my hands to hold on to the edge of my mattress.


    Fauve was still quiet.


    ¡°Also¡­ I¡¯ve gotten to like humans.  You¡¯re a very exciting species, always something new, most any other species¡­ not to some speciest or anything but¡­ I can¡¯t help but think I¡¯ll find them comparatively boring.¡±  She was looking up with me with that steady gaze like she was demanding I finish saying something.


    I tried to force myself to look away, but I just couldn¡¯t.  The human stare is a dangerous, dangerous thing.  Whether for intimidation or laughter, when a human¡¯s eyes hold on to you it¡¯s like you¡¯re hooked and can¡¯t escape.  Strangely this power of theirs is purely born from their target.  They have such expressive eyes, despite being relatively small compared to some species.  They say so much with just a glance that they almost don¡¯t need a language at all.


    I could not hold out, so I didn¡¯t.


    ¡°...And I¡¯d miss you all too.  A lot.  I don¡¯t want to go, maybe I can justify it by saying it would look worse if a dlamisa fled Earth under a cloud of suspicion.  Say I should stay to clear my name and let the truth come out.  But governments are governments, and even the best one is inherently lazy.  They want the easiest and quickest way to resolution.  Dlamisa and terran traders alike are venturing more and more to each other¡¯s worlds.  More negotiations, more treaty addendums¡­ bad blood between us would be inconvenient toward both and this might be a mess.¡±


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    ¡°But you didn¡¯t do anything!¡±  Fauve finally ventured, I could see she was angry.  Her little fists were balled up at her side and her slender jaw was clenched, though she never admitted it, I am sure I saw tears in her eyes that refused to fall.


    Human ethics are quite a curious thing, most races have purely pragmatic ethics, nothing more.  But only a handful of races feel a natural obligation to act in a particular way.  And that inborn sense of wrongness was clearly alive and well inside of Fauve.


    ¡°I know.¡±  I said, and meant it.  ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to do anything wrong, I was trying to help, and I¡¯d do it again in the span of one of my heart¡¯s beats.  But this isn¡¯t about fairness or human justice.  If I¡¯m politically inconvenient, removing me removes the inconvenience.  Of course they could go after Wolfbeard, maybe get him to plead guilty to whatever your people consider to be his crimes.  If that¡¯s the case, if I remember, your justice system requires that he be allowed to face his accuser, but that is only at trial.  If they want this swept under the rug as soon as possible, getting him to plead guilty will make this go away fast too.  But even so?¡±


    I lowered my eyes to the floor, ¡°What¡¯s easier?  Putting me on a transport back to University?  Or that?¡±


    Fauve stood up.  ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡±  She declared and crossed her arms defensively as if I¡¯d accused her of something.


    ¡°I know.¡±  I answered with a glum, heavy voice.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there anything I can do?  What if we don¡¯t want you to leave?  What if we want you to stay?!¡±  She demanded, she glanced toward my door, the faint sound of Michael crying, reached us from the floor above.


    I will never not be surprised by the power of human lungs.  But as to her question, I had no answer.  My fingers tensed on the mattress edge, ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ you can certainly express your own wishes, but maybe it isn¡¯t for the best for me to stay.  There are some xenophobic humans out there, maybe not many, but they could still make trouble for you if I¡¯m around.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re good, why would-¡±  She cut herself off.  Despite being years away from full maturity in name, she was a highly intelligent child and reached the inevitable conclusion all on her own even faster than I did.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if I¡¯m good.  It doesn¡¯t matter if your cults all declare me a saint.  To some of them, even if they let me join hands with them openly, speak for them, work for them¡­ I will never be moved into the ¡®one of them¡¯ category.  I can win over people who are open minded, I can win over those who are fair.  I can¡¯t do anything with people who are convinced I¡¯m an abomination or a danger.  And to them, you¡¯ll look like a collaborator or a traitor to humanity.  That can¡¯t be good.¡±  I answered her, and finally regretted at least one trait of human nature.


    ¡°This sucks.¡±  Fauve summed up, the knuckles of her fingers turned white with tension.


    ¡°Tell me about it.¡±  I answered, and the baby upstairs ended his crying just as William¡¯s voice carried downstairs.


    ¡°Fauve, Bailey, food¡¯s ready!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go eat.¡±  Fauve suggested, and her stomach rumbled audibly.


    ¡°Let¡¯s.¡±  I agreed, and when she left the room, I followed, leaving her datapad behind and oblivious to the string of messages that were rapidly populating the screen behind us.

 Chapter Thirty-Six

    Fifty years.  It was supposed to last fifty years.  And I might not be able to stay fifty weeks.  When humans adopt someone, it changes you in ways you don¡¯t expect.  My professor, marvelous academic that he was, brought a dozen different species with him to Earth to live with various branches of the Walker family tree, no doubt to learn whether or not humans could adopt and bond with those as easily as his own.  And more precisely, to learn how such a process impacted those species'' mental states.


    My own mental state¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure how to process it.  At this stage it was a struggle, the academic dlamisa who had never experienced an outburst in his entire life was now passionate and emotional enough to do¡­ What I did.  I regret that I still cannot properly find the words to explain it.  Perhaps there are no words in any language.


    Perhaps that is for the best.


    What I did know was that I¡¯d somehow made peace with the possibility of losing all my preparation time for an important and highly paid specialization, what was my everything was now nothing to me anymore.


    I followed Fauve up the stairs and found Rebecca seated at the table with Michael in his high chair while she fed him, he began to clap when he saw me.  Funny little thing, giant smile on his face and messy hands coated with red ravioli sauce.  Rebecca ignored the flying droplets and turned her head in my direction.


    ¡°At least that¡¯s over with, for now.¡±  She said, her eyes went from me, to past me to glare at the door leading outside.  William was there in the doorway speaking to security, I doubted she caught every word, but now that I was upstairs, I did.


    ¡°...So we can be sure that won¡¯t be a problem again.  We apologize for the trouble, it seems there was a leak yesterday, it made its way out to various¡­ sorts.  By the time the judge signed the order, the story was already out.  Just keep indoors for now, order what you need delivered until a press conference can be arranged.  Given the circumstances, I¡¯ve called in a favor.  There¡¯s a guy, he was about to call all this quits, but he owes me for something a long time ago.  He¡¯s a media expert, doesn¡¯t normally do this anymore, but he¡¯ll step up just this once.  He will want to brief you.  But please don¡¯t worry, it may seem like it¡¯s getting worse, but that¡¯s just because people are filling in the gaps with their own stories, and stories fed to them by men like that.¡±  It was a human guard who spoke , and through the windows facing the porch I caught sight of his three comrades spread out on a long line with their arms relaxed and heads turning left and right, scanning the area.  Drones zipped around overhead to mind the perimeter.


    William was quiet, only the hum of drones overhead, I could feel the gears in his head turning as he thought all that over.  ¡°I don¡¯t really like the idea of some slimeball spin doctor getting their claws in my family¡­ can¡¯t we just do it straight?¡±


    The guard snorted, ¡°Sir, I¡¯ve guarded celebrities, politicians, industrialists, VIPs all over the place, I¡¯ve stood by for enough press gatherings to work as a media consultant myself if I ever take another bullet on this job and decide I need another.  Lemme tell you, how you tell the truth, matters a helluva lot more than that you tell the truth.  Just trust me¡­ the guy is a little¡­ weird.  But he¡¯s exactly what you need.  He¡¯s going to arrange a press conference for you tomorrow.¡±


    William¡¯s shoulders stiffened as his back straightened up, I didn¡¯t see it, I didn''t look at him, but I could feel the motion through his words.  As if he were steeling himself for an ugly and arduous task he said,  ¡°I understand.  Have them here tomorrow if you can, this needs to get settled.  I won¡¯t let them get away with this.  I won¡¯t.¡±  William hissed through gritted teeth.  His hand was tight on the brass doorknob of his home, his entire body stiff as stone, even though he had to look up to meet the eyes of the security guard, he somehow looked bigger to me than he had before.


    ¡°Yessir.¡±  The guard responded, and did not protest when the door was quietly closed in front of him.


    With their business done I watched William¡¯s back when he took a deep breath, clapped his hands together against his cheeks and tapped them a few times, composed himself, and turned around.


    Suddenly the tension was gone and he was all smiles again before he left the living room and walked toward the kitchen.  How humans present their emotional state is often intended as some form of control or influence over the situation.


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    Rebecca was far more open, she embraced her daughter behind my back while Michael ate in blissful ignorance, and she would not let go.  Fauve remained quiet, her attempt at stoicism less effective than her more experienced father.  But William¡¯s happy smile masked the abiding concern that I was sure lay just beneath the surface.


    I can be sure of this because William was far more open with me than with the rest of his family.  Perhaps because I was a male.  Or an alien.  Or an alien male.  Or perhaps because he didn¡¯t even realize I learned to pick up on their emotional states so he felt no need to hide them from me.


    Part of why I was able to learn their emotions so readily was my sense of smell.  Primates exude certain pheromones when they are in certain states.  Arousal is particularly obvious as there are various secretions, so obvious even they can tell when it is present.  I was heartily glad that the mated pair I lived with tended to be very clean, and always showered after they followed pheromones through to their logical end.


    If they could detect the rest of those smells, they would probably never leave the shower, but their other emotional states are impossible for unenhanced humans to detect through their nostrils.  Their sense of smell is simply far too weak.  If they can detect the smell of fear or anger or hate or¡­ anything, it is on a level so subtle and primal that their higher mind fails to recognize it.


    But the benefit to that for me is that I was able to rapidly learn the emotional states of what I now considered on an unknowable level to myself, my humans.  I knew I would have to have the same conversation over again, explaining to William and Rebecca what I said to Fauve.  But doing that once was hard.


    Doing it twice in the same day?  That was too much.  I turned my eye toward Fauve, she gave me a nod that, with eyes closed, her mother missed, showing me she understood.


    William¡¯s broad smile took up most of the lower half of his face, even without my sense of smell that let me learn his moods so quickly and tie them to expressions, his jaw was obviously tense and there was the barest beginnings of sweat on his brow.  Despite his attempt at outward calm that he presented to his family, I knew he was a bundle of knots and nerves inside, the descent of the press on his home was a lot to take in even for him.


    ¡°So that was¡­ something.  I haven¡¯t seen that many drones since they rebooted that War Stars franchise for the fiftieth time.  I swear they¡¯ve started that damn thing over more than that Groundrym game of yours, Fauve.¡±  William laughed at his own lame joke and went to the blue countertop and picked up a small curved green plate on which a few hot sandwiches sat.


    ¡°Dadu¡­ it¡¯s not a reboot,¡± Fauve corrected him, ¡°It¡¯s the triple gold anniversary very special legendary VR edition, and it comes with a creation kit!  That¡¯s a rerelease, not a reboot.¡±  She sounded, to me, a little indignant, her eyes rolled as if she¡¯d explained it a thousand times.


    ¡°So they sell you the same thing over again for the full price without really changing anything.  I guess that isn¡¯t quite a reboot, it can¡¯t be, there¡¯s nothing new but the charge on your bank account.¡±  William shrugged.


    ¡°No.  At least this stays on fire, the War Stars series sucks now.  Sure I paid full price for some minor tweaks, but I paid for fire, you paid for the hot wet burning garbage.¡±  Fauve took a victorious bite of her sandwich just as her father sat down to eat.  Though it was at least a little awkward doing so as her mother¡¯s hug had still not released itself while the silent and somehow good natured war over games and movies seemingly waged between father and daughter.  The look down his nose at her was frankly, proud.


    ¡°You¡¯re both absurd, rereleases are rip offs and War Stars and all related content are soulless cash grabs.¡±  Rebecca added in her own view, then shrugged, finally letting go of her daughter and allowed both of them to reach for the side dishes she¡¯d set in the middle of the table, and I went to grab a plate of my own.  It says ¡®something¡¯ at least that I was now comfortable simply taking food without asking for it directly.  The Walkers'' exceptional open and welcoming nature went a long way toward setting me at ease.


    Michael reached for me and made fussy, short cries when I went to sit on the opposite side of the table.  I stopped, his luminous eyes took me in and his hands began to clap.


    Rebecca had a bite of sandwich in her mouth and looked at me in silent hopefulness.  There were dark circles under her eyes and they were no less red and cracked than those of her daughter.


    I didn¡¯t sit all the way down.  Instead I picked my sandwich up, went around the wooden table, and sat beside Michael.  His hands went straight to my fur, I inched my seat a little closer and put an arm on the tray of his seat so he could play and touch and do¡­ what tiny humans do, while I used my free hand to tear chunks away from my sandwich and gulp them down while William informed them of everything I¡¯d already overheard.


    ¡°Naturally your mother and I will do the talking, you won¡¯t have to do anything, Fauve, I promise.¡±  William asserted


    Fauve, ever the clever thinker, waited until everybody¡¯s mouths were full at once before she spoke for herself.  ¡°I want to be the one to talk to the press tomorrow.¡±

 Chapter Thirty-Seven

    We all stared openly at her, William and Rebecca¡¯s chewing went a lot faster all of a sudden as they raced each other to be the first to protest.


    ¡°I¡¯m the one he grabbed!¡±  Fauve said loud enough that it was ¡®almost¡¯ shouting, leaning forward in her chair and slapping her free hand on the table, the dishes rattled against the wood while she went on, ¡°It¡¯s my story!  I know what he did, nobody else does!  Nobody gets to speak for me but me!¡±


    ¡°Fauve, you¡¯re fourteen!  They¡¯re going to grill you up there.  Some of them because they¡¯re reporters and that¡¯s their job.  But some of them have probably been paid off by now to find some way to make you look bad.  And others will probably be working for one of those xenophobic extremists!  You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re going to walk into!  Let me and your mother do it.¡±  William protested to his daughter, ¡°Or maybe I can get our lawyer to speak for you...¡±


    Fauve¡¯s fierce demeanor relaxed itself a little.  ¡°I love you both, mom, dad.  I couldn¡¯t be a luckier kid than to be yours.  I mean that.  I don¡¯t say it much, but I mean it.  I¡¯m really glad you want to protect me.  But I have to do this!¡±  She exclaimed, her relaxed demeanor began to fade and the hand that was flat on the table, curled into an angry fist.


    ¡°Why?!¡±  Rebecca exclaimed, ¡°That pervert should be the one getting grilled, not you!  Why put yourself through that, we can just release a statement through a media expert or something,¡± she looked to her husband, who nodded, ¡°and let the grownups all deal with this.  You¡¯re still a child, you shouldn¡¯t have to solve these problems!¡±


    ¡°I have to be the one to do it.¡±  Fauve said again, ¡°I may be a kid, but not to some people, and if I don¡¯t speak for myself now, I¡¯ll never feel safe again.  I know it.  I¡¯ve been reading online ever since¡­¡±  She swallowed hard and picked up a cup of milk, she drank deeply, leaving a milk mustache behind, she smacked her lips and explained, ¡°ever since then.  You remember when I was a little kid, dad, how I got bitten by that racoon and had to get those shots?  What I was doing while we were at the doctor¡¯s office?¡±


    ¡°You were reading the website about racoons and rabies the entire visit as I recall.  You wanted to understand them both.¡±  William said, affection clear in his voice and parental pride etched on his face, and Fauve nodded.


    ¡°Right, this is the same thing.  An animal hurt me, so I wanted to understand what happened and why.  So I¡¯ve been reading a lot since then, learning about the subculture that supports that kind of thing, and how I can start feeling okay again.  The only thing everybody agrees on really, is that he has power over me as long as I stay quiet.  He¡¯ll always get the comfort of knowing I was too afraid to speak for myself, even if he goes to jail, even if he gets confinement, he¡¯ll come out smug and confident that I was afraid to say anything.  Fauve Walker isn¡¯t going to live like that!¡±  She pounded her fist on the table, her cup toppled and the milk spread out over the table in all directions away from where she sat.  ¡°Even if nobody believes me and he goes free, he¡¯ll never get to pretend he frightened me into staying quiet and hiding in my house forever.¡±  She added and righted her cup, ¡°Sorry.¡±  She mumbled, though whether it was about the way she spoke to her parents or spilling the milk, I never learned.


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    William and Rebecca reached for the napkins at the center of the table and began to mop up the spill, they were silent while they cleaned up the damp liquid and turned Fauve¡¯s words over in their heads.


    I spoke up, ¡°I think she should do it.¡±  I admit I was afraid when I said that, my knowledge of humans was still rudimentary, at least compared to other humans.  But what she said, it felt right.


    That said, I felt the will of her parents to protest, so before they could, while William was opening the garbage drawer and before he could toss away the wet, milk soaked dregs of used napkins, I offered a compromise.  ¡°I should go with her.  They¡¯ll want to question me.  And as long as I¡¯m hiding out, they can make up anything they like.  I¡¯ll bet nobody even knew I was a dlamisa until well after the fact.  In fact I¡¯ll bet a battery full of energy credits¡­ and dlamisa never gamble, that the first widespread knowledge of this was when the press showed up and found the security guards from both our worlds out front.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you hate crowds, can you do that? Are you going to be okay?¡±  Rebecca asked, ever the concerned motherly sort, she darted her eyes between her daughter and I.


    ¡°If I¡¯m allowed to stand back from them¡­ I-I think I can manage.  I wish I were a lot braver than I am¡­ I really do¡­ I¡¯m kind of a coward¡­ but I should try.¡±  I answered.


    William sighed heavily and closed the drawer that held the kitchen waste.  ¡°You¡¯re determined to do this, aren¡¯t you Fauve?  Even if we say no, you¡¯ll just sneak online and do an interview yourself, won¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much, dadu.¡±  She said, and a smile danced across her face despite the subject.


    ¡°Fine then, but one condition.  We all go.  You can speak for yourself, but we¡¯re going to be there to support you.  Every step of the way.  And don¡¯t you even dare to protest.¡±  William said and approached her, he put a hand on her shoulder.


    Fauve looked down at the comparatively large hand of her father, ¡°Yes, dadu.¡±  She said with a twinkle in her eye.


    ¡°Now about you, Bailey.¡±  Rebecca remarked and set her son on her lap, she began to bounce the little wiggler and said, ¡°You¡¯re no coward.  Look I was never a soldier like my husband, but you rushed in without any regard for yourself to protect our daughter.  If that¡¯s not courage, damn me if I don¡¯t know what is!¡±  She said as she reprimanded me.  ¡°No more talk of being a coward, while you¡¯re living under this roof.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more.¡±  William added, ¡°When all this comes out, nobody in this world will think you¡¯re a coward, so you definitely shouldn¡¯t think of yourself that way either.  Cowards either run away, or do nothing, you did the exact opposite of cowardice, and you¡¯re the bravest dlamisa I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve met four of us.¡±  I pointed out, and he and his wife huffed and flicked their hands at the same moment, waving away my objection.


    ¡°Details.¡±  He said.  ¡°You¡¯re no coward, and we¡¯re damn sure not going to let you think you are.¡±


    If it had been said any other way I¡¯d have thought they were angry at me.  But if anything, the way they looked at me, I was fairly sure it was a mix of worry and pride.


    Such is the nature of a human family.


    Such is the nature of my human family.  I told myself, and began to mentally prepare to do everything in my power to protect it when tomorrow came.

 Chapter Thirty-Eight

    The rest of the day went on with relative smoothness, we ate, we talked, I peppered Rebecca in particular with questions about child rearing customs and how she balanced her career with her obligations as a parent.  Having consumed human entertainment media in vast quantities I knew it was not normal to bring children into work places, I also knew that human infants required abundant investments in time and attention to thrive and grow.


    She was happy to discuss that much.  ¡°I only go to the office every few weeks.  Everything else, I do remotely.  Working from home allows me to tend to my child and get my work done.  If you want my opinion, office work is profoundly inefficient.  It sounds odd, but when you¡¯re around a lot of other coworkers, they tend to get in the way of work, far more than any infant.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±  I had to scratch my head at that, and when I did, Michael pulled on my fur until I lowered my head and let him do the scratching for me.  His tiny fingers were surprisingly effective.


    ¡°People always want you to do stuff for them.  Like, imagine if you were trying to walk down a busy street, all you want to do is get around the block.  But every ten steps you take, somebody stops you and asks for something.  It¡¯s rude to say no, you can¡¯t put them off, and if you do either, they either complain or put off helping you when you need it.  How long do you think it would take to get around the block?¡±  Rebecca gave me the hypothetical and for a moment my tail drooped as I thought it over.


    ¡°A long time, I guess?¡±  I answered finally, and she pulled Michael from his seat to bounce him on her knee.


    ¡°Yes.  Just this side of eternity.  That¡¯s what working in an office is like, you¡¯re conveniently located and they can draw on you right away, so they do.  So anyone trying to get work done is impeding everybody else whether they mean to or not.  But here?¡±  Rebecca pointed with her free hand toward the bedroom door.  ¡°I keep a little office space set up in there, people can text me or message me if they need something.  But I don¡¯t have to drop what I¡¯m doing, I can finish a task, set aside a block of time to help them, and do that.  And in between tasks I can throw a load into the wash, feed Michael, make a cup of coffee, whatever I need to do, I can do.¡±


    ¡°I see.  That¡­ makes sense.¡±  I said and sat up now that the head scratches were unfortunately over.


    ¡°Yes indeed, and what¡¯s more, I get more time with my family in general, there¡¯s no more office politics to speak of, and I don¡¯t have to smile and nod through annoying gossip or other people I just¡­ would never choose to spend time with if I could avoid it.¡±  Rebecca gave an emphatic, albeit needless nod to go with it.


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    Thinking about it now, Fauve¡¯s rational and curious mind began to make a lot more sense.  I thought initially that she took more after her father, but now that I thought about it, Rebecca seemed to contribute to that same exact mindset.


    Thankfully she shared Fauve¡¯s patience with my endless questions about her upbringing and experience, it made me ever more curious about the human education system, something I would revisit later.


    But in the meantime I just took notes as the hours slipped past, Fauve came and went from her room to her kitchen and back again with little to say but quick pleasantries.  Her mother¡¯s worried gaze always interrupted her words with me, but it never lasted.  Having made the decision to entrust their daughter with her own wishes, there was no further discussion.  It made me wonder if perhaps the whole family might have made good dlamisans.


    When I finally returned to my room in the basement my brain was full to bursting with new questions and new insights alike.


    The hour was late by then, or at least, on the cusp of late.  Late enough to sleep after I recorded my data and observations for the day, sorting out my thoughts and emotions from the objective factual observations.


    It was not until I lay myself down on the mattress that I felt the physical reminder in the form of plastic against my foot, that Fauve had forgotten her datapad.


    I reached for it, intending to set it aside, when I saw the stream of messages rolling across the screen.  It was locked, so I couldn¡¯t read anything but the preview displays, but there were many little green rectangles full of words, and they were coming in like a flood.


    I read them without thinking, at least what I could.


    ¡°Call off your¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, just don¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Please¡­ don¡¯t ruin¡­¡±


    ¡°I was just trolling¡­¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡­¡±


    Most of them were clearly the start of pathetic pleas.


    Others took a different tact.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you p¡­¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t get away¡­¡±


    ¡°Xeno loving traito¡­¡±


    ¡°Earth is for man alo¡­¡±


    It wasn¡¯t hard for me to guess what this was.


    My government and the Earth government set their cybersecurity teams to work and began reaching out to contact everyone who messaged Fauve privately.  Cybersecurity is a serious matter, and whether I liked it or not, my presence had now become a matter of security for the Earth government.  Dlamisa are very good with computers, on par with humans, if our teams were working together to track those who messaged the Walker family?  It wouldn¡¯t take long to identify them all.  Not unless they were using top tier evasion techniques, which most people didn¡¯t.


    Why would they have?


    They thought they were cyberstalking and harassing a young girl and punishing her for rejecting one of their own in favor of a violent ¡®chad¡¯ foreigner.  Maybe a visiting colonist, or maybe someone from outside their region, as some tribalism still restricted itself to local geography.


    Now they were finding out differently, they were desperate, afraid, unhinged.


    And while I¡¯m somewhat cowardly, even if my humans don¡¯t think so¡­ fearful or not, at my bones I am still from a predatory species, and feeling them metaphorically running away in fear of their own¡­ felt pretty good.


    It made my sleep that night all the more cozy and enjoyable.

 Chapter Thirty-Nine

    The strange resilience of a human child is something to behold, tragedy may change them, trauma may hurt them, terror may grasp them right down to their bones.  But somehow despite not being the strongest race in the galaxy, or the smartest, or the fastest, they are born with reserves of inner will that keeps them carrying on.  And as long as they live and breathe, it is at least possible for them to stand up again where any other species strongest figures has lain down and died.


    In the brief conflict with the Zenti who would not abide by the treaty, a story was passed down which most have heard by now.  Of a Zenti cutter who severed a human arm, only for the human to pick up the fallen arm with his good one and beat the weapon wielder to death with the severed limb.  A human warrior has been known to fight until they run out of blood¡­ something the Zenti now refer to as ¡®Terran Murder Fuel¡¯ and speak with hushed whispers that the humans are not a naturally evolved species.  They say rather that homo sapiens were made by a forerunner race that wanted to engineer the perfect predatory biological warmachine.


    All reasonable academics discount this as simply the whispers of Zenti clusters.


    But the stories do not exist without reason.  Many of their military accomplishments were recorded on video.  It was for this reason that my entire exchange class recommended a change to existing laws on interstellar warfare.


    ¡°Never.  Ever.  Ever.  Target human¡¯s defenseless mates or children.¡±  The recommendation was accompanied not only by all of my class¡¯s signatures as subject matter experts, but our professor and all other university exchange students residing on Earth.  The recommendation was accompanied by piles of historical records on the degree to which humans will go to undertake revenge for harm done to their young.  Until this recommendation was made, laws on warfare pertained chiefly to when war could be made or what had to be abandoned when a planet was evacuated.  Few races consider their young to be significant assets and will simply abandon them to make more.


    But no race is so invested in their young as humans, not even dlamisa, who usually lose one or two per litter and are little inconvenienced by it, but fiercely protect any three or fewer survivors.  Humans however, will go to any lengths to avenge even one deceased child if it is well loved.


    Between that knowledge and their reputation for battle prowess, not to mention the piles of evidence presented, the laws of war were amended before human fleets full of families became common.


    And all of that, I found encapsulated in a single little house in the Human homeworld¡¯s capital city.  Fauve steeled her nerves for the coming of the media expert or, ¡®Public Relations Specialist¡¯ and sat silently at the table, staring all the way to the front door of the house to await his arrival.


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    Her mother stayed close at hand while her father remained seated outside with the next rotation of security guards, he was engaged in idle chatter of which I only heard a little.


    Humans sometimes, in my experience, get chatty when they are nervous.  Like the noise they make will keep danger at bay, or like they are trying to reassure themselves that everything is normal, even when it is anything but.  I almost went out to speak with William and the others myself, but I thought better of it and went instead into the kitchen where Fauve lingered over a half eaten bowl of oatmeal flavored with brown sugar, butter, and milk.


    She looked at me when I came close, not saying anything, I don¡¯t think she trusted that her voice was ready yet.  I held out her datapad.


    ¡°You left this downstairs the other day.¡±  I said and her hands closed over it.  ¡°I didn¡¯t try to open it, but I saw the preview messages, go ahead and take a look.¡±  I really wished, when I said that, that I could smile like a human could.


    I did at least wag my tail hard enough that I blew a few stray papers off of a nearby chair without noticing it until I heard the scrape of paper over wood.


    Rebecca went to pick them up while Fauve gasped and opened the datapad to read the messages.  She didn¡¯t complain about my having seen the previews, I doubted she cared.  Her fingers were shaking while she opened up the pad and she had to try three times to put in the code before it worked and the screen lit up.


    ¡°Please call off your dogs.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean any harm.¡±


    ¡°I was just trolling, I didn¡¯t realize there was a real problem.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a bad guy, I was just angry because he¡¯s my friend¡­¡±


    She read the messages out loud from the various sources to come her way.  Notably she skipped over the threats of violence toward her person, or myself, or her family that were almost certainly buried within.  I could read her thoughts in her eyes.


    ¡®Evidence.¡¯  That was what she thought.  When Fauve first ¡®tested¡¯ me by throwing that ball that¡­ on thinking about it I really want to chase again, she showed me something of her character.  She likes to test things.  Including people.  She watches.  She studies.  And where a few days ago those threats of violence might have upset her, the fear she once almost certainly felt had been changed into anger, hatred, and a desire for retribution.


    More importantly, when she saw the pleas for mercy from some and the threats from others, I could see her come to the correct conclusion.


    ¡°They¡¯re scared.¡±  Fauve said when her mother set the papers aside and looked her way.  ¡°Good.  They should be scared.  It¡¯s right for them to be scared.  It¡¯s their turn to be scared.  But¡­ I wonder what happened exactly?¡±


    Rebecca was the one to answer her, ¡°If the government took a special interest?  Perhaps some home visits, perhaps taking over their systems and giving them a text based warning about what was going to happen if they continued?  Maybe a few arrests.  Things will get ugly for some of them.  Uglier than their faces in the mirror, if I¡¯m guessing.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±  Fauve said, just as the front door cracked open and William announced in a bold voice¡­


    ¡°He¡¯s here, it¡¯s time.¡±

 Chapter Forty

    The media expert was a very small man of great age, his hair was very white, what there was of it at least.  He had only a few wisps remaining on his head, his face was filled with wrinkles, and he walked with a stoop that was only made possible by a cane.  His clothing was a crisply pressed white suit and tie, with shining white leather shoes so well polished I could see my face in them.


    He was any other successful old man at a glance, but his eyes were sharp and keen, he ignored me at first, which was strange as most humans gave me at least a second glance, and instead his eyes had a laser focus on the waiting fourteen year old girl.


    ¡°Oh yes, yes you¡¯ll do marvelously.¡±  He said as he hobbled toward the table.


    Rebecca looked at him with a single skeptical eyebrow raised, ¡°You are the media expert?¡±  She asked, and the old man cackled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t look like much, do I?  But,¡± he raised his cane in one hand and straightened up at once.  He then reached up to his forehead and peeled away what I first thought was skin, and then dropped it onto the table, ¡°that is the first lesson.¡±  He pronounced.


    It was a wig.  Beneath the wig was still gray hair, but it was lustrous thick white and his last few steps were a clear, confident stride.  He yanked a chair back and sat down while Fauve and Rebecca looked at him with mutual disbelief.


    ¡°Appearance, my girl,¡± he said and shook his polished wooden cane, ¡°is more powerful than anything you can imagine.  People think lies are the most effective thing, but people forget words, even true ones.  And even when someone remembers lies, the details fade over time.  But people remember what they see first.¡±


    ¡°This is moving awfully fast.¡±  Fauve said, leaning back in her chair, while their expert leaned forward just as William took a seat beside him.


    ¡°I suppose so, but that¡¯s how things go, fast, child.  Fast!  But I guess we should have an introduction.  Percival Terrance Barnum, at your service!¡±  He said and extended his hand across the table first to Fauve, then to her mother, and finally to me.  ¡°I¡¯ve been handling press conferences since before your father¡¯s father was born.  Unfortunately,¡± he looked Fauve up and down, ¡°there¡¯s not much time for a makeover.  Ideally we¡¯d make you look even younger, the younger they are, the more the crowd loves a victim.  Youth and innocence¡­ Everybody remembers having it.  If they¡¯re lucky at least.  Everybody decent wants to protect it.  Everybody who remembers it, remembers it fondly.  And when somebody tries to ruin both, people hate the ones who do it.  So if we had time, I¡¯d take you in, get some pigtails done and some younger clothes, with a little makeup we could make you look five years younger¡­ but we don¡¯t have time for that.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±  Fauve said at once.  ¡°Even if we did, no.¡±  She shook her head vigorously, her loose wavy hair bounced behind her back, her parents developed deep frowns and traded silent stares between each other.


    Myself, I didn¡¯t know what to think.


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    ¡°It''s immaterial anyway, so there¡¯s no reason to convince you, and that¡¯s lesson two!¡±  He brought the tip of his cane down twice against the floor creating a loud double crack.  ¡°Focus on the immediate, anyone who isn¡¯t your ally out there is going to try to distract you.  If you get side tracked, they control the narrative.  They control the story, they control you.  You have to remain focused on the subject.  Don¡¯t get distracted.  These press conferences don¡¯t last forever, time is limited and some people out there will want to waste it.  If a question doesn¡¯t pertain to the event, or you don¡¯t know the answer, you move it along, understand, doll?¡±


    Fauve pursed her lips and I watched her lean forward with renewed interest in the old man.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a doll!¡±  Fauve snapped, and the cane tapped the floor three times more, echoing around the room and off the walls.


    ¡°That¡¯s lesson three.  Do not get angry.  Lose control of yourself up there, and they win.  Make an angry face, scowl, shout, and the next thing you know, you¡¯re the next incel community meme.  Do you want that?¡±  Percival asked and tapped his cane four times while Fauve thought.


    ¡°Lesson four!  Be quick!  You plan out what you¡¯re going to say before you say it, we¡¯re going to rehearse your answers before we leave.  People hate waiting, and they¡¯ll assume you¡¯re formulating lies.¡±


    Mr. Barnum¡¯s lessons lasted for two straight hours, grilling Fauve on how she¡¯d answer questions that, from what I knew of humans, nobody should be asking children.  But he remained steadfast, persistent, and unwavering until his voice gave out.


    He was barely able to whisper by the time he was done, ¡°I think I damaged the end of my cane on that last lesson.¡±  He said and with one quick flick of his wrist he brought the long smooth stick up and cocked his head to examine the tip.  ¡°May I have some water, Mrs. Walker?¡±  He asked, and Rebecca finally rose to her feet, she put a glass beneath the faucet and turned it on.


    While the water was rushing into the vessel, Percival said with a whisper, ¡°One small crack.  I thought so.  Time to get another one I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Over one crack?¡±  I asked, it seemed wasteful to me, but the old man nodded.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m still pretty spry for a man my age, but time takes a toll on these old bones, and I do need one of these now and again.¡±  He said and put the tip of his cane back to the floor.  ¡°One little crack, and the whole cane is just waiting to fall apart.  A little weight the wrong way on it, then the crack will become a snap, and old Percival will come crashing down like the tree that was chopped down to make this thing.¡±  He tapped a finger against the wooden knob shaped handle.  ¡°That¡¯s all it takes, just¡­ one¡­ crack, and the entire thing is just waiting to be broken.  That¡¯s your last lesson.  And your best weapon.  Be.  That.  Crack.¡±  He said and when Rebecca handed him the water, he drank greedily, gulping it down until the glass was empty and he slammed the base down on the table.


    ¡°Thank you, that was wonderful.¡±  He said, and started to rise, William and Rebecca opened their mouths to object, but I beat them to it.


    ¡°Wait, what about me?  Aren¡¯t there things I need to know?!¡±  I exclaimed, my tail was stiff and then curled as the prospect of the inevitable hit home.


    ¡°You were listening this whole time, weren¡¯t you, my alien friend?  What else do you need?¡±  Percival asked and shook his head, ¡°No, you need nothing, in fact if I thought you¡¯d have obeyed my wishes, I wouldn¡¯t have had you here for any of this, or barely any at most.  You¡¯re an alien, nobody expects you to act just like a human.  Just be yourself up there, if you look coached, you¡¯ll either confuse people or make them suspicious.¡±


    It made too much sense for me to argue with him, and he pushed himself up from the table, ¡°Now, come on, the car is waiting outside still and I¡¯m sure my driver is getting bored, we need to head to the conference, and we need to be gone ten minutes ago.¡±


    With that, we stood up together and followed the old man toward the door, going to¡­ whatever end it might lead to.

 Chapter Forty-One

    She must have been scared.  She must have been.  Human children are very small, adults, most of them, are very large.  To be a human child is to be powerless in society, dependent on adults to look after you, they¡¯re one of the most helpless intelligent life forms in the known galaxy for almost one fourth of their average lifespan.


    So how could Fauve have not been terrified?  She was.  She had to be.


    But the same reserves of inner strength that let a human warrior beat his enemies to death with his own severed arm exist within even human children.  Or they must, I think, because on the long ride to the center Percival booked for us to speak, she spoke only once.


    Her back was straight and her eyes were forward, Percival sat in the front seat and looked in the rear view mirror talking to her, explaining how it would be.


    Her parents sat protectively on either side of her while I sat in the passenger seat up at the front.  I didn¡¯t put my head out the window this time, it seemed improper to enjoy the trip in any way, but I won¡¯t pretend I didn¡¯t want to.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why we have to do this in front of people¡­ I don¡¯t like it.¡±  Rebecca protested.


    Percival finished what he was saying, briefly ignoring the interruption, and then addressed Fauve¡¯s mother saying, ¡°Nobody likes it.  But the human element is vital.  If we let them use drones, they¡¯re distant, it¡¯s easy to mistreat somebody from far away, it¡¯s a lot harder to be cruel to a kid in person.  Why should it only be hard for her?¡±  Percival tapped the head of his cane like it was a nervous tic, and I realized something.


    The old man was actually invested in this too.  This is one of the highlights of humanity that my professor reiterated to us, out of all the intelligent species in the Universe that we¡¯ve found so far, humans are the only ones to so quickly take to and care for another.  Human children tend to prompt this in others most of all, and despite all his professionalism, his question suggested there was more than met the eye in his demeanor.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, mom.  It¡¯ll be fine.  I¡¯ll be fine.¡±  Fauve reassured her mother, and fell quiet again, though when their hands came out for hers and squeezed them, she squeezed back.


    The building we pulled into was a strange, round place, shaped like a ball and painted all white.  ¡°This is strange.¡±  I said while Percival parked the car.


    ¡°So am I.¡±  He said with a smirk, ¡°This is my building.¡±


    This was my first lesson in the confusion of the human economic system.  ¡°Well, not ¡®mine¡¯ but it belongs to my Cooporation.¡±  Percival explained.


    ¡°Your what?¡±  I asked and cocked my head, I could feel a tickle at the back of my brain that told me something new was about to be learned.


    ¡°Cooperation.  It¡¯s a way ¡®sort of¡¯ around our wealth restrictions.  It¡¯s true a company can have large assets beyond the individual, but those are very tightly controlled.  They can¡¯t contribute to political elections, they can¡¯t advertise anything but their products, and salaries are proportioned according to profits.  The senior leadership doesn¡¯t get a raise unless everybody else does, and pay can¡¯t be cut for the lower levels unless the highest ones are cut first.  The ¡®Cooperation¡¯ is a descendant of ¡®Co-ops¡¯ from the late 20th century.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡±  I asked, feeling the tickle in my brain becoming an itch I had to scratch.


    ¡°You incorporate directly as a co-op, not as a standard corporation.  A cooperation not only distributes profits among its members and is directly governed by them, but it allows for the administration of a nonprofit entity that holds excess wealth and acts as a lending agency.  It¡¯s run like a bank, but with much lower interests allowing individuals to live beyond the twenty-five million credit cap.  However it has some drawbacks.¡±  He acknowledged and tapped his cane as he killed the engine.


    ¡°Drawbacks?¡±  I was furiously making mental notes while the old man¡¯s door began to open upward like a bird¡¯s wing.


    ¡°Yes, for example the tax burden on individual ¡®borrowing¡¯ is high, and you can only cut it by a matching contribution to the public good.  In addition, you require approval by eighty percent of the cooperation¡¯s members and a justification for the expense.  In theory I could borrow enough to buy a yacht the size of a state to fly through space.  In practice most would say no.  In addition, you¡¯re accountable for how you spend whatever you borrow.  On top of that, other than the founder, all other upper level governance must be rotated out every five years and it is audited annually by government income tax monitors.  If a person abuses it¡­ they can go in for thirty minutes confinement, and must live through a life of abject poverty in another era.  In addition, they lose everything and are personally liable for the repayment of the financial chicanery.¡±


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    ¡°So the building?¡±  I asked, noticing the divots in the place at last.


    ¡°A headquarters is necessary, so I got the board to let me design it.  I like golf, you see.¡±  He answered and laughed a little as the rest of the Walkers got out of the car.


    I didn¡¯t see.  I wasn¡¯t too sure what golf involved, but given the smirk on the old man¡¯s face, I gathered a joke had just been made.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be in the back, I don¡¯t do this much anymore, I have people to do this for me, but this is an exception.  I¡¯m going to manage the sound so that nobody can overtalk you, Fauve.  Say what you need to say when answering their questions, nobody will shout you down.¡±  Percival said and tapped his cane three times on the ground, and she nodded once before we went into the building.


    It was hard not to like Percival, I won¡¯t pretend I didn¡¯t want him to scratch my head, but he was focused on the matter at hand and it didn¡¯t feel right to ask that of him.


    The parking lot was empty and we crossed it without incident. I got the distinct feeling that we were going in through a back way rather than the front, and that we were arriving well before we were supposed to.


    The double doors opened up to reveal a broad empty space save for a single long table where a young blonde receptionist sat typing on a datapad.  She stood up when she saw Percival enter.  ¡°Mr. Barnum!  Good morning!¡±


    Her sudden standing was clearly deferential, but the warmth on her face was obvious, her cheeks fairly glowed when she saw him, she moved from around her desk and came straight up to him.  Her arms grasped his and she rose to her tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek.


    ¡°You can just call me pop-pop, you know.¡±  Percival said reprovingly.


    ¡°As if!  I¡¯m on the job now, Mr. Barnum.  I¡¯m a professional too!¡±  She insisted, I got the feeling this was a very old dispute between the two.


    ¡°My granddaughter, Teresa, my stubborn granddaughter, that is.¡±  Percival said by way of introduction, moving aside to give the Walkers and I a clear view of her.


    She was a slender willowy woman, in her twenties if I were to guess, and shared his thin faced features and spry demeanor.  One could say she looked like a young female version of the old man.


    ¡°So this is a family business, I guess?¡±  William asked, and the pair nodded.


    ¡°The family cooperation.¡±  Percival said, ¡°Barnum co. not Barnum inc.  Chances are you¡¯ve seen our work and never known it.  You¡¯re in good hands.  So relax.¡±


    Any doubts that we were using a back way were erased when Teresa went to the datapad at the desk, pushed a button, and the sliding automatic doors buzzed as they locked.


    Teresa took her grandfather¡¯s arm in hers and helped him walk the rest of the way.  We followed and found ourselves in a large open space with round, curved walls and hundreds of small metal chairs lined up.  There was also a small stage, elevated five feet from the floor, and a podium with a microphone put into place.


    ¡°A little old fashioned,¡± Percival said, ¡°but that¡¯s part of the design.  I wouldn¡¯t normally say this but I doubt you folks will need me again when all this is over.  But that ¡®old tech¡¯ is in fact the latest.  Making it look old fashioned is one way we disguise how high tech it is.  It throws people off.¡±  He said with a smirk, ¡°It gives us a lot more control than anyone down there thinks.  All the noise dampeners are embedded in that and I can control it from backstage.  No wireless stuff, all sealed and secured, unhackable with anything less than the highest level govtech.¡±


    William and Rebecca both let out a low whistle, whatever the old man was talking about, it impressed them.


    ¡°Go on, young lady.¡±  Teresa said and pointed to the polished dark wooden podium.


    Fauve walked to the stairs on steady feet and faced the nonexistent audience, the sea of empty chairs, her eyes twitched a moment, but then she was statue still again.


    ¡°Just relax, practice a few words.  I¡¯ll go get the microphone ready, Teresa, come with me, you¡¯ll assist if I keel over dead or something.¡±  Percival said, his cane rapping on the carpeted floor with a dull thud just once.


    We took our places behind her, and waited.


    Her voice rang out over the empty place as she said random nonsense and spouted movie lines, a few of which I recognized, mostly from the Night of Staying Fate series, a few from Ramnan ?, and lines from popular 21st century novels that had become cultural staples like, ¡®The Strongest in the World¡¯, ¡®Evolution of a Nobody¡¯, and ¡®Countdown¡¯.


    After a while, it seemed like she was having fun, relaxing into her role, ¡°Queen Fauve the Great and Powerful demands that chocolate donuts be eaten at every meal!  Fauve the Mighty commands that handshakes be replaced by headpats, for headpats are justice!¡±


    The flexibility and adaptability of these people never ceased to amaze me.


    I didn¡¯t know if she was trying to make her family laugh, herself, or both, but she succeeded.


    When the sound projection finally cut off, she knew it was time.  The distant panels on the doors of the main entrance flashed from red to green, and even from behind her, I could tell that the smile ran away from her face.


    Nobody else could hear her, I knew that.  Nobody else present had hearing like mine.


    But as the door began to slide open and the first adult males and females entered the room and began filing toward the chairs, Fauve whispered quietly¡­


    ¡°You can do this.¡±


    I never had the courage to ask whether she was talking to herself, or to me.

 Chapter Forty-Two

    Before the crowd of reporters entered, Rebecca and William made a point of standing a little in front of me the moment my discomfort with the growing mob of human reporters became apparent to them.  Even well back from the podium, this is something that dlamisa struggle with a great deal.  So much so that it isn¡¯t uncommon for students of my race at University who are ready to present their PHD thesis, to give it either from another room with a video transmission to the audience, or to give it repeatedly to small groups.


    This?  To me?  Was the promise of what humans refer to as hell.  So many different smells and all blended together, and so many of them seemed¡­ for lack of a better word, vicious.  A warrior dlamisa would have been fine, they undergo extensive training and conditioning to cope, some even take drugs to dull the senses that would make tolerating this impossible.


    But a little academic like me?  As the humans say, ¡®That is a big bite out of a nope sandwich that I just can¡¯t chew.¡¯  So they put themselves in front of me, and I?  I was grateful.  They couldn¡¯t dampen the smells, but they could diminish the sight and let me try to adapt.


    I did, however, sneak glances between them to watch Fauve at the podium.  She stood stiff as a board, straight with shoulders back.  Her forward gaze never wavered, not that I could see.


    I would have been absolutely terrified.


    Anything but a swarm species that knows no other way but massive crowds, would have been terrified.


    Or should have been, at least.


    The murmuring of the reporters was a dull roar to my ears, like thunder from the sky, and their many feet, despite being relatively small, was like a herd of animals over the plains.  Just this constant pounding that didn¡¯t seem like it would ever end.


    But it did, it had to, one by one and two by two, the humans found their seats, I could see the predatory looks on the eyes of some of those in the audience.  I¡¯m not the most worldly dlamisa, I spent most of my life with my snout buried in datapads reading books.  But even I was not so naive as to not realize that at least a few of those reporters out there were probably bought and paid for by Wolfbeard¡¯s family.


    I had to wonder what the lawyers hired by the Walkers were up to¡­ but given their own propensity for academia, I assumed they hired some very research driven legal teams¡­ for now though, we had, no¡­ Fauve, at least for a little while, had to stand alone.


    When the last reporter took his seat, she brushed back her long hair and said, ¡°You¡¯ve got questions.  Go ahead and ask them.¡±  It was hardly proper formality, even by human standards.  But it was one hundred percent her, and my tail wagged a little.


    ¡°Did you know the victim?¡±  A reporter stood up and asked.


    ¡°I know myself very well, thank you.  I see myself every morning and every night, I¡¯m quite well acquainted with me.¡±  Fauve said and pointed to another raised hand, ¡°Next question.¡±


    ¡°Did you know the man named [Wolfbeard]?¡±  A reporter asked.


    ¡°The man who grabbed me and tried to drag me away?  I knew his face, but that¡¯s all, I didn¡¯t know his name and had never said more than a polite hello, goodbye, or wished him a nice day.¡±  Fauve said, and the furor that erupted at her statement was compounded by the rise of many reporters to their feet.


    The sudden dulling of acoustics muted the mob of reporters, and when they could no longer hear even their own voices over the soundwave draining systems, they had no choice but to settle down.  Fauve remained still and silent, pointing to another reporter.


    ¡°So you spoke to a strange man, smiled at him, and wore revealing clothing to a rich man¡¯s workplace, and you ask us to believe you weren¡¯t interested and didn¡¯t go off with him of your own volition?¡±


    Fauve cocked her head at him and batted her eyes, ¡°That¡¯s a funny way of asking if I went to a waterpark in a swimsuit and was polite to an adult, isn¡¯t it?  But yes, I went to a waterpark in a swimsuit.  I smiled at a stranger and was polite.  I had no interest in him, I just wanted to spend time with my dad and Bailey, that¡¯s all.¡±


    As the reporter sat down, Fauve ignored him and pointed to someone else.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you call for help if you were in distress?  There were lots of other people.  Why not shout for help?¡±


    Fauve took a deep breath, lowered her head, and closed her eyes.  ¡°He was bigger than me, I-I got scared.  I hate to admit it, but yes, he caught me by surprise and I was scared.  When people get scared, they don¡¯t think straight.  I knew I didn¡¯t want him to touch me, I didn¡¯t like his hands on my arm, I didn¡¯t want him to take me anywhere, but I didn¡¯t think¡­¡±  Fauve paused, I could see the wheels turning in her brain as she recalled everything she¡¯d been learning.


    Her drive to understand everything, included herself.


    ¡°I used to think, before all this, that Fight or Flight were the only two options.  But anyone who has ever seen deer in headlights knows there¡¯s another option.  Freeze.  It is Fight, Flight, or Freeze.  I froze.  I didn¡¯t know what to do¡­ I tried to shake him off and when I found my voice again I said no, I tried to make him let me go.  He tried to make me stay with him¡­¡±  She stopped speaking, her body trembled a little.


    Her parents started to move, the protective instinct of adults over their children is a sight to behold, but I knew Fauve¡¯s resolve, if they tried to help, she¡¯d remember that she couldn¡¯t do it by herself.  So I reached out and pinched my fingers against the back of their shirts. They felt the tug and stopped, they looked over their shoulders back at me.


    They hadn¡¯t a prayer of reading my lips, so I lowered my head and raised my eyes, they read my expression well enough and stopped.  If I were to be frank, though I didn¡¯t realize it at the time, the degree of trust they must have had in my judgment in that moment must have been tremendous.


    After all, I was telling them not to rush to their daughter¡¯s side.  Maybe my impulsive act to stop them was reckless, perhaps a little knowledge was lost.  Something for future researchers to discover I suppose.  But I was sure I was making the right call.  Her mother and father stopped in mid step and waited.


    Fauve pointed to the next reporter, the room was quiet, the catch in her voice was audible when she expressed a child¡¯s fear of someone taking her away.


    ¡°How much were you paid to set up [Wolfbeard]?¡±  A reporter asked as soon as Fauve pointed at him.


    The value of Percival¡¯s instruction suddenly hit home.  The way the question was framed implied that she had set him up, the only question was whether she was paid or not.


    Fauve stared at him over the sea of anticipating faces, ¡°I have never set anyone up for anything in my life, except occasionally beating my dad in games of Spirals.¡±


    I could feel the shift in the room, the tension was like walking on a knife¡¯s edge above a pit of starving gaka serpents.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you fight back, if he was trying to make you do anything?¡±  Another reporter pressed yet another ugly question, and Fauve cleared her throat to answer.


    ¡°I tried to yank free of him, I told him no.  What more do you want me to do?!¡±  Fauve demanded, she was mad, but kept her calm when she leaned forward over the top of a podium that was fairly high on her already.


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    ¡°Did you tell your¡­ the alien to attack?  Or did he do that on his own?¡±  The next reporter asked.


    ¡°No.  I didn¡¯t even know he was there until the last second.  So he did that on his own, but I¡¯m thankful that he did.  Bailey is a hero.¡±  Fauve said it with such emphaticness that it was fairly daring the audience to deny she meant it.


    ¡°So you¡¯re on the side of an alien intervention into human affairs?¡±  The next reporter asked.


    I could practically feel Fauve¡¯s expression change, another child might have gotten angry, an unbriefed child might have reacted with anger.  But Percival¡¯s short but relentless drilling in what to expect out of the reporters left her prepared for the question, and true to her nature, she had a prepared answer.


    ¡°I¡¯m in favor of decent people helping other people when they need it.  But I¡¯m a kid, I just think it¡¯s awesome to meet aliens.  When I was littler, my dad used to show me old science fiction stories where humans dreamed that aliens would exist and we could go out and meet them.  Now we know that not only do they, but it¡¯s possible for us to be friends.  Bailey has told me stories about how awesome humans are doing offworld, how our pioneers are so brave that there¡¯s an entire species that won¡¯t let anyone but humans protect their young.  How our fleets are so strong that a species that thrived on being pirates is now talking peace.  We get to make a big difference out there.  So how come Bailey shouldn¡¯t be allowed to make a big difference to me?  If we can help aliens, why can¡¯t aliens help us?¡±


    It might have been a long winded answer, and the opposite of a soundbite, but it played to human pride, vanity, desire for heroism, and in those who had it, their basic decency.


    I barely remember the rest of it, Fauve was interrupted several times, and each time the sound wave swallowing devices ruined attempts at talking over her, only from where we stood was it obvious that her knees were shaking, or that her knuckles had become pale from her death grip on the podium.


    But I didn¡¯t have to be up front to know that despite the fear she must have felt, the backhanded questions that implied she deserved it, the subtle implications that she ¡®asked for it¡¯... she drank from a glass of water her father brought her, taking deep gulps when her voice began to crack.


    My sensitive nose detected her anxiety as they pressed from one subject to the next until a reporter finally asked for ¡®The truth of what happened that day¡¯ saying, ¡°You were offered a large settlement, if all he did was grab you and walk you a few feet away, why not just take it unless there¡¯s an agenda, who is really behind this?¡±


    You could hear a pin drop through the thunderous silence.  I didn¡¯t have to be in front of her to see that she was tearing up.


    I expected her to recount the fine points.


    But she didn¡¯t.


    ¡°It¡¯s true that ¡®all he did was grab me, make me walk with him when I didn¡¯t want to, that he just kept me there for a few minutes and¡­ he was just demanding ¡®a hug¡¯ before I could go¡­ I¡¯m young, but not so young I don¡¯t know that there¡¯s a lot worse that can happen.¡±  Fauve answered, the podium rattled a little as her posture faltered just a hair and made it wobble with her unsteady grip.


    ¡°But I don¡¯t care about money.  Mom and dad¡­¡±  She cast her eyes over her shoulder to where her parents stood, ¡°pay for everything I need.  And I¡¯ll work when I get older, I can make my own money.  But I can¡¯t buy back my safety.  I learned in civics class that when the penalty for a crime is a fine, then the crime only exists for the poor.  For anyone else, it¡¯s the price of admission for their good time.  If I let go of this¡­ just let him throw money at me and my family and walk away, I¡¯m saying he can do it again, and again, and again, as often as he wants.  That money buys immunity.  That violating me and my wants and my safety and me, is just a credit transfer and that¡¯s it.  I live with it forever, he forgets me and tries again a week later with someone else.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my¡­ agenda.¡±  Fauve said, her voice scratchy and weaker than it was when she began, water or no water, ¡°That¡¯s all, I don¡¯t think I can talk anymore.¡±  She said and stepped back, the podium wobbled a little one more time and the glass toppled free and came crashing down to shatter into pieces on the wooden stage.


    It was a surprisingly quiet affair, and I will spare you my own ¡®interrogation¡¯ in contrast to my expectations, I was asked nothing.  William and Rebecca each answered a string of questions about their past employment, military service, and connections¡­ which revealed very little as it turned out.  The only buzz was finding out that the extended Walker family was playing host to various alien anthropology students.


    But on the whole, it was anticlimactic.


    Teresa appeared as the reporters filed out, standing behind a curtain and curling her finger toward us.  We followed while she led us into the back, her heels clicked like the ticking of a clock, a steady, constant rhythm that was a testament to her confidence in her grandfather¡¯s employment.


    The sound control area was more or less what I expected.  Species around the galaxy were faced with the same natural laws, so naturally they came up with many similar or identical solutions.  Pyramids make up some of the oldest structures on a multitude of worlds, after all if you want to keep something standing, wide base, narrow top, there you go.  Sound studios require isolation, headsets, clear panel rooms or video screens¡­ some things just don¡¯t change that much.


    But it¡¯s not often you see an old man in a bone white suit in oversized noise canceling headphones beaming up at you from an overstuffed executive chair.


    ¡°Fantastic job, all of you.¡±  Percival said and rapped his cane hard enough against the wooden floor that the tip broke free.  He thrust out his hand and with an open mouthed smile he took ours and shook them one by one before he reached Fauve.  ¡°Wonderful job, my girl, wonderful job.¡±  He said and put his hands on her shoulders, ¡°Quick witted and prepared, you could have a future in this industry one day, if you want, I¡¯ll put an internship for you as a clause in my will in order for my grandchildren to inherit.¡±  The way he barked with laughter when Teresa rolled her eyes, I wasn¡¯t sure if he was serious or not.


    ¡°Um¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ maybe?¡±  Fauve said, briefly taken aback, she rubbed the back of her head, but I couldn¡¯t resist asking¡­


    ¡°Is that normal?¡±


    ¡°My grandfather is anything but normal, Bailey.¡±  Teresa said with a much exaggerated long suffering sigh.  ¡°So no, it isn¡¯t.  Still, we will need new interns and she¡¯s old enough to work that schedule in a few years?  He has an eye for talent after all, I¡¯m not going to argue with him.¡±


    Who knew what that discussion could have turned into, but William interrupted it, ¡°They didn¡¯t ask Bailey anything¡­ you knew they wouldn¡¯t, didn¡¯t you, Mr. Barnum?¡±


    Percival¡¯s smile ran away from his face, he was still for a moment, and turned slowly so that his full body faced up to William Walker.  ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±  He clenched his cane in his hand, ¡°I did know.¡±


    I¡¯d heard stories of psychic humans, people who could see the future, but never met one until, I thought for a second, now.  So I had to ask, ¡°How?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s simple, you don¡¯t make for a good photo of what they want.  You look like a cross between a golden retriever and an irish setter, but on two legs.  You¡¯re too god damn cute, my alien friend.  Not the fearsome face of alien invasion.  Nobody was going to get anything out of interrogating you.  It¡¯d be like raising an alarm over a teddy bear invasion, the hostile ones would be a joke.¡±  Percival said, and to my surprise, Rebecca was fuming.


    ¡°Then why even have him there?  Why put him through that?¡±  She asked, and Percival smacked his wrinkled lips together a few times before he shook his cane emphatically in front of himself and answered her¡­


    ¡°Because people do their best when they¡¯re doing it for someone else.  I¡¯ve handled media spin for every coked up, roided out, teary eyed, didn¡¯t mean any harm, just a bad day, wide stanced, it was an accident, spouting liar in the public eye for the last sixty-five years.  I¡¯ve also done it for every headline desperate family, every kind of major wrongly accused figure, every honest man and woman ever to be smeared¡­ and both always come out the same way.  Can you guess what that is young lady?¡±


    ¡°Not a clue.¡±  Rebecca asked, the darkness in her cheeks was gone, but the old man hadn¡¯t intended her to answer anyway, he was already speaking.


    ¡°Idiots believe the dishonest and powerful, and the smart and experienced see through them.  There¡¯s not much I can do for them anyway, but the ones who don¡¯t belong up there, the ones who are wronged, lied about, mistreated and thrown out into the cold by the public, they come out smelling like a rose in only one way.  If they¡¯re clearly acting for somebody else.  Parent, child, best friend¡­ family dog?  It doesn¡¯t matter, the only thing that comes through, the only thing that wins hearts and minds is seeing people acting for people because of their own hearts and minds.¡±


    He tapped the cane light as a feather against the floor when he concluded, ¡°I needed you all nervous for each other to be at your best, because one look at you lot, and I knew when you¡¯d be at your strongest.¡±


    The old man cracked a little smile across his haggard face, tossed his cane into a knee calf high metal wastebasket in a far corner and shuffled off to another corner to draw out a replacement from among a sea of matching ones.


    The cane he threw away rattled in place and he gave the new one a few fresh taps on the floor like he was testing it out and then said, ¡°And that¡¯s that.  I can¡¯t do much more for you, but if you do need to do more interviews, come by again, if I¡¯m gone, Teresa will handle it.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ then thank you, I-I guess, I think?¡±  William said as he processed the old eccentric.


    ¡°Nah, favor for an old friend of mine, nothing to thank me for, you all head back, I expect you¡¯ll be seeing a lot of interesting stories on the news tonight.¡±  The sparkle in the old man¡¯s eyes was enough to make even me take notice when he said that, and we did as he said, departing the sound stage behind Teresa, who barely restrained a giggle behind her stern professional stride and showed us all the way to the exit.


    ¡°Good luck, not that you¡¯ll need it.¡±  She said and gave us a wave with one hand when we walked out, ready to go home, and relieved that for now at least, it seemed the worst was over.

 Chapter Forty-Three

    I never learned what Percival did after we walked out that door.  I never knew whether or not it was ethical by human standards or not, largely because¡­ I didn¡¯t know exactly what he¡¯d done.  I also had no idea why he¡¯d really done whatever it was.  But he was wrong about one thing.  We didn¡¯t have to wait until dinner at home.


    The car that took us back had a security driver already waiting,


    But the result was obvious before we got back to the Walker home.


    I can only assume that the driver being there was ordered by Percival when we were out of sight, and rather than take us straight home, Fauve¡¯s father requested that the driver take us around the city.  There was no real destination, just an endless ride to nowhere with all of us in the car.


    It wasn¡¯t surprising.  Humans have a process called ¡®Fear Shedding¡¯.  After periods of high stress, emotional overload, and adrenal release, when the danger or other cause is gone, they will cry.  They will shake, tremble, and even cry, some of them may vomit, others may sob like human babies.  This practice is recorded on texts even about some of their most famous and valiant warrior societies.


    Contrary to some perceptions, this ¡®appearance¡¯ of fear in the aftermath is not the fear itself, but the body¡¯s recovery from courage.  I was still not an expert on human children, though over the subsequent years of studying them, I can only say that their capacity for bravery and resilience is something many a species should envy greatly.


    Fauve¡¯s passage through that emotional release was lengthy, and I cannot tell you how tightly she was embraced by those who treasured her.  The power of a human community in the face of adversity is tremendous, even at its lowest, smallest levels.


    This went on until William¡¯s phone dinged in his pocket.  ¡°Michael?¡±  Rebecca asked, clearly wondering about their infant.


    William unlocked his phone, checked his messages, the buttons making their usual tapping sound as he traded messages back and forth, until he let one finger tap on what must have been a link.


    The lot of us leaned toward the device which he set in his lap and let it play, I never forgot what it said, largely because I never forgot their expressions when they heard what the newsclip proclaimed.


    ¡°...Fourteen men were arrested today on charges relating to national security, transmitting threats across state lines, violent threats toward a minor under the age of sixteen, and other related charges not released to our office at this time.  According to our exclusive sources, a tip was provided that this ring of men intended to destroy evidence of felonious wrongdoing and so an emergency warrant was granted by a judge to raid and seize the materials.  They appear to be tied to various extremist groups, and an unnamed multimillionaire living in the North American state of Kentucky¡­ now on to a replay of the interview with the child at the center of the recent case involving xenointerference¡­¡±


    William killed the feed and swapped to the phone function, ¡°Tuna!  How¡¯s Michael?¡±  He asked, I could see the stress running from his face like sweat, relief making his body melt into the seat.


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    ¡°Good, man.  Good.  You liked seeing that, I take it?¡±  I could hear Latunde¡¯s cheerful voice on the other side and the faint giggling of the infant behind him.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah I did-¡±  William replied, but he stopped as ¡®Tuna¡¯ rushed out¡­


    ¡°Then wait till you see the interview.  It¡¯s on every station.  Gotta say, man¡­ she nailed it.  Probably it won¡¯t stop those conspiracy types, but the way you two talked about your work was so dull I doubt anybody but the most paranoid will be able to focus on it long enough to draw any crazy conclusions.¡±  Tuna¡¯s bark of laughter would have been audible through the phone even without my ears being what they were.


    ¡°Boring.  Gee, thanks.  Next time I want to talk about geomechanical integration in stellar construction of generational vessels, I¡¯ll spare you the trouble.¡±  William said it in an exaggerated voice and let out a decisive ¡®huff¡¯ at the end.


    ¡°So that makes two good things happening today.  See you back at the house, man.  Michael is fine, I put on Chibinauts, and he¡¯s happy as can be, so take your time!¡±  Latunde hung up before either William or Rebecca could offer anything in the way of a retort.


    His cheery voice made the car ride more relaxed, so relaxed that I did what I longed for in spite of myself, opened the window, and stuck my head out so that I was facing the oncoming wind.  I had no idea why I had the urge to bite it, but you go with what you know, sometimes, and I felt the mood behind me lighten up considerably.


    ¡°That was fast¡­ way too fast¡­¡±  Rebecca noted, drumming her fingers on her knee.


    I popped my head back in the car long enough to say, ¡°I went to my embassy¡­ that¡¯s probably part of it.  My people are very efficient about things.  They probably had a hand in getting Percival involved, but that can¡¯t be all of it.¡±


    Fauve piped up, wiping her nose and face clean, she swallowed a lump in her throat and suggested, ¡°Mr. Barnum sounded funny with what he said last.  It sounds like he knew something.  Maybe he did something?  He probably knew a bunch of people in government, law enforcement¡­ prosecutors and stuff like that, you know?  Maybe he called in favors or something?¡±


    I put my head out the window and faced the wall of wind again.  Aside from being enjoyable, it helped me think.  Looking back, I was fairly sure she hit the nail on the head.  It made sense.  Human political tendencies went all the way down to the individual person, they are always building up and cashing in debts, not of the monetary sort, but of the ¡®help me when I need it¡¯ sort.  Trades in good will are worth more than any amount of energy credits, and it fit very well with what I¡¯d seen in their media already.


    But¡­ why had the old human done this?  Why reach out to who could even guess how many human contacts to rush everything from airing an interview to timing the arrest of a dozen or so online bullies?  I wanted an answer.


    I always meant to ask Mr. Barnum his reasons.  I¡¯m sure many who read this short account of this eccentric old human would want to know for themselves, but the reason I never knew the answer was because while I meant to ask Percival when the furor died down and the trial was over, it turned out I wasted my chance.  He passed away just a few days after we left his studio, dying quietly in his sleep.  He died in his home at a very, very old age by human standards.  Ours really was his last task.  And if you¡¯re curious about Teresa, she did fine.  She and her siblings expanded his organization considerably, and by now you¡¯ve probably seen at least some of the old films they have repopularized for interstellar media distribution where, it turns out, copyright laws didn¡¯t apply.  Sneaky, a trifle unethical, but the popularization of that media brought more favorable interest in humanity than a thousand diplomatic envoys.  I can¡¯t help but think that that was the goal all along.


    So much as I regretted losing the chance to speak with the old eccentric again, the full weight of that lost opportunity wouldn¡¯t be felt for quite some time.  How could it be?  We had enough to worry about when the rest of the news broke.

 Chapter Forty-Four

    We were around the dinner table, Fauve was looking down at her datapad, a smile on her face of the sort that I didn¡¯t know she could make.  Not that she couldn¡¯t smile.  Far from it.  Rather because I was now accustomed to the faces of humans, I recognized it as something other than the usual happiness.


    It was, for lack of a better word, ¡®evil¡¯.  The messages streaming through on her datapad, which she now watched openly, were full of pleas and apologies.  She answered none of them.  She munched on an apple, holding it with one hand, the crisp sharp noise of her teeth tearing away at the flesh of the fruit, and held the datapad in the other watching the messages flow over the screen.


    She was enjoying their distress.  She was enjoying their suffering.  I have made much of the goodness of humans, that they are kind, loving, affectionate, accepting, and so much more.


    But they are predators.  I was one of theirs now, so I was fine.  But these faceless figures who sent threats, harassment, and cruelty her way?  In the minds of the Walkers, these were the enemy.


    While Fauve watched the screen and munched contentedly, William and Rebecca were on the phone, each one speaking to a different lawyer.  The full text of their conversations are not relevant, but I will provide some snippets that highlight the character of parental units that are crossed.


    ¡°...So now that you¡¯ve got the evidence and the first arrests have been made, how long before you go after [Wolfbeard¡¯s] father directly?  He facilitated his son¡¯s actions.  There¡¯s no way his son has anything of his own, the pervert just works the ticket booth.  It¡¯s all his father keeping his, ¡®failed human¡¯, that¡¯s what Bailey calls him, out of jail¡­¡±


    William¡¯s eyes were on fire, the drab, weary look on them was gone, and the man was restored.  For better or worse, there is, to humans, something restorative about vindication.  Perhaps seeing how his daughter could stand on her own two feet, reinvigorated him.  Perhaps the fact that she had to at all, drove him over the edge.  But while I listened to Fauve crunch down on the apple while Michael slapped at the bits of ravioli on his plate, smearing red sauce all over the place in his happy ignorance, I also turned half my ears toward Rebecca.


    ¡°...I¡¯m sure it was hard to get a discovery motion granted¡­ Yes, our Bailey pulled some strings but that¡¯s all.  Well, that¡¯s the problem with nondisclosure agreements, their contents don¡¯t get disclosed very often.  But now that you¡¯ve got the records¡­ yes, our friend again, either his people¡¯s or, who knows, maybe Mr. Barnum, I don¡¯t know, but what did you find?¡±  Rebecca was speaking a mile a minute into the phone, it¡¯s worth noting that her voice was chipper, like she¡¯d gotten a wonderful present she hadn¡¯t expected just dropped into her lap.


    I sipped my coffee and chowed down on my steak, tearing at the flesh¡­ and let me tell you, human cuisine is a delight.  Their best chefs are rumored to be somewhat insane, mad geniuses, artists whose art doesn¡¯t endure but is never forgotten by those who experience it.  Having tasted the cooking of perfectly ordinary humans, I was prepared to believe it.


    Fauve¡¯s own steak lay waiting for her on her plate, untouched, she was savoring her own cold revenge far too much to even care much about the meat in front of her.


    ¡°...That many?  You can¡¯t be serious?  Thirty-seven nondisclosure agreements?  At any other job he¡¯d have been fired right away.  Good lord?!  So between the bathroom creeping and the underage¡­ how much actual criminal behavior have you found, things that could get him sentenced to prison or confinement?¡±  Rebecca¡¯s foot was tapping rhythmically on the floor, her good humor gone and her patience with it, she clenched and unclenched her left hand like she wanted to use it to hit somebody.


    In most species, the male or female are the only dangerous ones.  With the other existing solely for the sake of reproducing with the dangerous one.  But on the deathworld that is Earth, while this pattern of dimorphism can exist, it is not universal.  In my own species, a male and female dlamisa are almost indistinguishable from one another, with the female being only a little bit smaller and a little bit more social.  Otherwise, we are not much different.


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    Humans however, have very clear dimorphism between their sexes, but rather than this creating one dangerous sex and one merely compliant one to reproduce, this social apex predator has both deathworlder sexes, both capable of and prone too retribution and violence when it is crossed the wrong way.


    Fauve¡¯s serene, contented smile as she watched messages scroll past that, from a quick glance, were people begging her to drop charges against them as they were only ¡®harmless pranks¡¯.


    William¡¯s burning anger was his relief from the stress under which the family had been placed of late, and as he talked on and on about asset discovery and legal suits that would no doubt ruin a multitude of lives and drag many a name through the mud, his wife occasionally mouthed information to him while she dealt with another aspect of their counterattack.


    Directly targeting the two they now deemed responsible.


    ¡°...So how many have you been able to reach?  Well, it is late in the day so it¡¯s no wonder, a lot of them probably moved, it¡¯ll be hard to find them, but since we have¡­¡±  She flashed a smile in my direction, ¡°an ally in two governments now, just arrange for a very public arrest, we¡¯re paying through the nose here, and trust me, it won¡¯t be hard.  They¡¯ve kept him out of the public eye so far, the xenophobes have made him an anonymous martyr, let¡¯s drag this gross pig out into the light of day and see how much they love their hero when they can practically smell the dirty socks and old cheese odor through the screen.  And I¡¯ll bet you won¡¯t have to work hard to track down the people they paid off then.  They¡¯ll probably give up anything to get that stink put away.¡±  Rebecca actually laughed when she finished saying that,


    I must add, humans place a great deal of importance on hygiene.  They may not have much of a sense of smell, but their sense of smell is closely tied to their sense of taste.  And if that sense of smell is offended, you¡¯re offending two senses for the price of one.  In my research of what they refer to as the ¡®adult¡¯ industry, wherein males (usually) would hire a female (again, usually), the workers cared very little about how their client looked.  But they cared deeply about how their client smelled.


    Ritual cleanliness is vital to human wellbeing, and those who reject that, are going to fail as humans.  I understood Rebecca¡¯s remark to be utterly scathing commentary.  In my own view, she wasn¡¯t wrong.


    ¡°I can still taste him in the back of my throat.¡±  I chimed in and drew three very sympathetic looks in my direction.  I melodramatically stuck out my tongue and wiped it with a napkin, drawing amused little smiles while the trio savored their moment individually.


    Rebecca and Michael hung up at almost the same moment and sat down at the table, ¡°So, that was interesting.¡±  Rebecca said, I held out my coffee cup, and she refilled it while she spoke, ¡°It seems there were quite a few settlements paid out under nondisclosure agreements.  All to young women or girls, or their families.  They didn¡¯t get the records unsealed until today, it was hard getting a judge to sign off on it.  But now the facts are out.¡±


    My cup was warming up like my hearts, and to my surprise, my own predatory instincts were ignited.  Dlamisa predators are not typically vicious, when we hunt, as some still do, there is no enjoyment in the actual process of the kill.  This however, was something else.  It was like circling the prey.  When I was a young dlamisa I tasted this sensation, a colleague of mine took me hunting, and the prey we sought was one of the few prey animals capable of putting up a serious struggle.


    This particular creature, a Mlasi, is a tripedal creature that pulls itself on its tentacles to create great leaps, it is highly territorial and lives as a loner until mating.  When it secures its mate and reproduces, it launches itself toward threats, balling itself up into an armored ball and rolling toward potential threats to its nest.  To hunt it, I acted as bait, approached its territory, and got it to chase me.  We dug a pit into the ground, and put it just over a drop off, as it chased me, I jumped down and scooted under the drop off.  The mlashi rolled well over it, could not stop on the downward momentum, and then landed in the hole we dug, whereupon my colleague secured the top so that it couldn¡¯t escape.


    I stood over the pit, opposite my colleague, and felt the unbridled satisfaction of standing over my target¡­


    The Walker household felt just like that.


    And what¡¯s more?


    I liked it.

 Chapter Forty-Five

    Some of my colleagues have made note of the fact that the female humans tended to brew the coffee more than William Walker himself did, and they tended to pour it.  This, I assure you, wasn¡¯t lost on me.  I wouldn¡¯t be much of an anthropologist if it was.  It made me wonder if there was a division in sex roles over the coffee, and whether this expressed some form of dominance or subservience between the two sexes.


    As it turns out¡­ William is not particular about it, but his wife is.  So, she tends to be the one to make it, and because of the way their labor is divided up, she is more likely to provide it.  As William said to me, ¡°When I was in the military, bad coffee was more or less a tradition, and when you get used to bad coffee, anything will do.  My wife is more particular, she likes it a certain way, so I let her make it.  As long as I don¡¯t touch the pot, her little domain, she¡¯s happy to handle the pouring too.¡±  He snorted when he said it, a little amused by the anecdote, Rebecca however, quickly chimed in.


    ¡°I still think you weaponized incompetence because you like to watch me walk.  Pervert.¡±  I must add¡­ human social interactions vary wildly, he and his wife for example, engaged in playful, teasing banter¡­ they both had a deep love of language, and enjoyed playing with words and taunting each other.  You have seen the use of ¡®dadjokes¡¯ and ¡®dadpuns¡¯ extensively already.  It is telling of the recent stress that those jokes and puns were gone for weeks.


    But now that it looked as if everything would be fine?


    ¡°What can I say, oh wonderful wife of mine, watching your winsome wiley walk will keep my eyes from wandering elsewhere, you can¡¯t blame me for enjoying it.¡±  He winked up at her when she went to put the coffee pot away and answered¡­


    ¡°I can and I¡¯m more than happy to.¡±  She said it with a wink, which I took to mean they were being playful with one another again.  The mood of the Walker household was restored.


    Most of the time, before things went bad, there was more banter about the house, but today, after everything, their eyes were mostly focused on their respective data devices.  To be honest, so was mine.  Orderly as they were, each of the trio was on a different streaming media platform eyeing the news for fresh information.


    ¡°...Derrick Horn, the amusement park mogul was arrested today by the EIB on federal corruption charges after multiple witnesses stepped forward claiming payoffs to victims.  The alleged victims ranged from thirteen to thirty, all were allegedly accosted by his son, twenty-six year old Derrick Horn Jr.  Additional charges include obstruction of justice, witness intimidation, destruction of evidence, harassment, assault, attempted kidnapping, and the forcible detention of a minor.¡±


    That was what the broadcast said on my screen, and no sooner than the words were halfway through than William, Rebecca, and Fauve dropped their devices on the table with a loud enough and hard enough clatter that an only lightly touched glass of milk beside Fauve¡¯s plate toppled over and spilled.


    Nobody said anything, I doubt they even noticed, they rushed from their positions to stand behind me and look down over my shoulders.


    ¡°That¡¯s him.¡±  We all said at once, all my hearts pounded with excitement.  The male I dubbed ¡®Wolfbeard¡¯ was waddling down the marble steps of a widespread mansion while drones hovered nearby, catching it all on camera forever.


    Wolfbeard¡¯s hands were cuffed and he was sobbing like a baby, ¡°It¡¯s not fair!  It¡¯s not faaaaiiir!  They wanted me to do it!  My dad even paid them to make it okay!  You can¡¯t doooo this!¡±


    ¡°Shut up, you imbecile!¡±  The older man, presumably his father, answered.  Derrick looked a lot like his son in some ways.  He was clean cut, face shaved, well dressed in a business suit and tie, but he had a bit of garishness to him.  The buttons of his suit were platinum, and his shoes polished to a mirror shine.  His son was just a pathetic reflection of his father.  Like a young version of the old man if he let himself go in his youth.  The old man¡¯s hair was fading into obscurity, and a steely eyed look in his eyes promising retribution was marred by one thing.


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    Those ¡®steely eyes¡¯ kept darting around him.  It reminded me of the way Fauve looked when she had to leave the house, afraid she was surrounded by threats.


    The officers of the EIB were not dressed in anything resembling tactical gear, except for thin bullet proof vests.  Other than that, their navy blue suits would have passed for any ordinary clothing from any ordinary person.


    ¡°The EIB¡­ wow, this escalated quickly.¡±  William whistled, and¡­ unfortunately I had to ask.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°The Earth Investigation Bureau, they handle crimes that span the globe.  If a conspiracy spreads out over more than one continent, they get involved.  I¡¯m surprised they¡¯d get involved in something like this unless¡­¡±  Rebecca trailed off and turned her eyes toward William.


    ¡°That¡¯s bad.  That¡¯s very¡­ very bad.¡±  William went a little green in the face, but I was at a loss to explain why.


    ¡°I hate to ask more questions but, what?¡±  I asked, keeping an eye on the screen as the pair was walked out of their property toward a waiting squad car.


    Rebecca put her hand on my head and began to idly scratch, I leaned into it while she talked, touching my fur seemed to relax her some while she explained.  ¡°Bailey, Derrick¡¯s son could have just meant people here, patrons to the park that he¡¯d make uncomfortable or- or worse.  But rich people travel, and some people travel to places where they can get away with a lot more, where people still don¡¯t have all the options they should.  It¡¯s a horrific kind of tourism.  Things are better than they used to be, but the planet only unified about two hundred years ago.  Our little blue dot is a very big place to those of us who live here, and it takes a long time to fix everything.¡±


    ¡°In another hundred years, all that will be resolved, it just won¡¯t be possible anymore.  But until then?¡±  William shook his head sadly, ¡°Catching these kinds of people can be hard.¡±


    ¡°But wasn¡¯t the point of all your wealth restrictions and systems, to keep people accountable and make sure they couldn¡¯t just buy their way above the law?¡±  I asked, and William nodded back to me.


    ¡°People cheat.  And sometimes the cheaters prosper.  We learn from them, refine our laws, methods of investigation¡­ but making this world a better place is a constant struggle.  Till we make a better human, we just have to make do with the good ones we¡¯ve got, and look after our own family as best as we can.¡±


    When he said that, he put a hand on my shoulder, and gave it a firm squeeze.


    My tail immediately began to wag back and forth just as the pair reached the squad cars.


    ¡°You can¡¯t!  I¡¯m a werewolf!  I won¡¯t survive in a cage!¡±  Wolfbeard shouted as they pushed his waddling form down and made him get into the car.


    ¡°Idiot¡­¡±  Was the last thing I heard his aged father say as the door slammed on them both.


    Fauve raised her head to her parents, ¡°Mom, dad, can I eat dinner later, I¡¯d like to go play with Bailey.¡±


    ¡°Tennis ball?¡±  I asked, my tail went into overdrive with its wagging.


    ¡°Tennis ball.¡±  She answered in the affirmative, then saw the milk she¡¯d spilled that was now dripping off the table after spreading over a fair amount of the wood surface.  ¡°I¡¯ll clean that up first-¡±


    ¡°Nah, don¡¯t worry about it.  I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±  Her father said and reached for a napkin from the center of the table.


    ¡°Go ahead, go play with him, the food will be in the fridge when you get back.  Just use the well lit areas.¡±  Rebecca said with a cheery smile and went to the other side of the table, picked up the plate, and brought it to the counter where she wrapped it up for storage while her father mopped up the mess of spilled milk.


    ¡°Thanks mom, thanks dad.¡±  She said, paused, and while her smile never wavered, she added in a far more serious voice, ¡°I mean it.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±  William said, ¡°Go, play, have fun, we¡¯ll be here when you get back, everything is fine.¡±


    He tossed the wet handful of napkins into the waste bin, and Fauve and I headed for the door.


    I didn¡¯t yet know all that the future held for us, but I was sure of one thing in that moment.


    William was right.


    But there was something else, we still had two guards at the door, a human and a dlamisa who chatted amicably while scanning their respective areas.  We wondered just what happened to the other two, only to find that they were already at the park, and the big dlamisa was rushing back to the human with a ball in his mouth that with every closing of his jaws, squealed like a captured beast.

 Chapter Forty-Six -Epilogue-

    Now we come to the end of the first volume of my time with the Walker family, my introduction to them was swift, my acceptance, faster than I had any right to expect, and the trial we endured was quite literally ¡®otherworldly¡¯, at least to me. I conclude this volume, and the first day of my recitation for my doctorate, with the aftermath.


    I¡¯ll never know just what my government said to the Earth government, that kind of thing is GC classified, which is to say ¡®Generationally Classified¡¯ it won¡¯t be put out into the public sphere until after everyone involved has died. But whatever it was had far reaching consequences.


    The legal teams responsible for harassing the Walker family underwent some fairly stringent reviews by the human¡¯s board of ethics. Those who had ¡®strongly implied¡¯ various kinds of threats that did not directly involve the courts, faced serious censure. Two lost their licenses to practice law. Most however, walked away after being able to show that they were acting in the interests of their clients. Perhaps that was true, but I had come to like the human conscience, when it worked, and was somewhat disappointed that not all of them paid a price for their actions. Though it is somewhat of a consolation that they were at least unable to work for any government or government connected employee. My homeworld refused to do business with anyone who hired them. Was it petty? Yes. Satisfying? Also yes.


    The ones Fauve termed ¡®flying monkeys¡¯ who on their own, without any payment that was ever found, engaged in all that horrific behavior toward a minor? They had various outcomes depending on just what they said. Some took confinement, some took prison, based on their threats of violence and the likelihood of carrying it out.


    A few ended up in mental institutions, and a handful were fined significantly. She never bothered to look them up, their relevance to her life was gone. Oddly enough, a few of those responsible, actually reformed on their own. They reached out over the years, offering sincere apologies for their behavior and expressing regret for who they were.


    Fauve rejected their apologies, and I suppose it was proof of their reform that those whose apologetic hands were slapped away, accepted her refusal and left her in peace.


    I would be remiss if I neglected to point out that after she wrote about the experience years later, some humans criticized her unwillingness to forgive them, calling on her to be the bigger person. And Fauve¡¯s response to that was, ¡®classic Fauve¡¯.


    ¡°No. It doesn¡¯t make what they did any better. It doesn¡¯t erase it from history. And it wouldn¡¯t change how they made me feel when I was just a kid. All accepting their apology would do, is make them feel better about themselves and what they did. You don¡¯t get to do that and then ever be ¡®Okay with it¡¯. You don¡¯t get a pardon just because you feel bad. They did what they did and now they have to live with it for the rest of their lives. Whoever said you should always forgive anyone who feels bad, was an idiot.¡±


    Like I said, Fauve would have made a fine dlamisa.


    The one I called ¡®Wolfbeard¡¯ folded faster than a wet napkin when the pressure was really applied, and gave a full confession on the condition that he avoid ¡®confinement¡¯. Given the mounting evidence and number of victims, I can only imagine what kind of mental sentence he would have had to live through. He was sentenced to three twenty year terms and was still imprisoned as of this writing. I can¡¯t help but think he probably believed his father¡¯s money would end up getting him out of it. Whether he still plays his game of being a werewolf or not, I have no idea.


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    But there was no more of that. Derrick Horn senior had the entirety of his fortune confiscated, his corporation was liquidated, sold, and the victims paid off from the proceeds. The waterpark was bought by a cooperation entity named ¡®Twain Travels¡¯, so in the end, that park wasn¡¯t even lost. It was still around when I eventually left Earth.


    As to the old man himself, he was sentenced to ¡®confinement¡¯ and walked out of the unpleasant room several hours later. He was witnessed by drones, and when I saw the clip of his departure, he was a shell of himself, his confidence and arrogance were wiped cleaner than his estate. His eyes were more barren than his reputation and legacy. What he lived through, I don¡¯t know, but he would not be causing anyone anymore trouble after that.


    He didn¡¯t even have the will left to fight the sale of his property. Thanks to the verdict and the nature of his crimes, he was forbidden from ever owning or operating any for profit or nonprofit entity for the rest of his life, nor was he permitted to work in any position of authority over another human being again. I stopped checking up on him after a few years, once Fauve became an adult, but the last I learned of him until I read his obituary was that he was working in a hotel as a concierge.


    I don¡¯t know if he ever bothered to visit his son or not, but¡­ maybe? I never met him, but as we would learn, he bailed his son out of trouble time and time again. Wolfbeard was sent to a multitude of therapists over the years, some of whom would testify to the sentencing committee, and he got all the best schools¡­ which he was either kicked out of, dropped out of, or failed out of. His father even gave him the job at the park that let him encounter Fauve, and brushed aside all the complaints, paid off families and victims¡­ all over the place.


    Some of my colleagues from my class have said that it was to protect himself and his good name, not his son. But it so closely mirrors the Walkers, like some shadow, on the ground that is the outline of a good family, that I just don¡¯t think it is that simple.


    Perhaps he loved his son and raged against misfortune every night that Wolfbeard became the man he did. Perhaps he was a neglectful father, or a good one, or perhaps he spoiled the boy and turned him into a spoiled man. I never learned what happened to his mother, I never saw her on a video, perhaps she was gone long ago, died or left, or driven off? I was asked not to look into it, by the people who gave justice to Fauve, so I honored their request, albeit with some regrets.


    I do sometimes think that trying to protect Wolfbeard from the consequences of his actions is what destroyed his son in the end.


    I can¡¯t say with certainty what the truth is about them. But they were a dark mirror reflection of the family I found myself becoming a part of.


    William, Rebecca, and Fauve, came together to look after one another, and brought me into their fold with open arms. Through this experience I got to see parts of myself I didn¡¯t even know existed. From trivial things like having my head out a car window going at high speeds, to comforting things like head scratches and pats, to bizarre things like chasing that blasted tennis ball, to the biggest things of all¡­ the power of a bonded human unit.


    In the back of my mind I still had the worry of being thrown offworld, but for the moment at least I didn¡¯t have to worry about deportation. There was simply too much to do, and the man I call ¡®Wolfbeard¡¯ was still filing motions of appeal that would require me to testify. I don¡¯t think he realized that he was doing me a favor and keeping me here and delaying that question just a little longer. I sure wasn¡¯t going to tell him, that much was for sure.


    As I wrote these final words to this first volume, I went back and began to read through my work, editing it as any author both academic or fanciful would, and it was only then that I realized something.


    Long before this final word, without even noticing I¡¯d done it¡­ I started referring to the Walkers, Fauve in particular, as ¡®mine¡¯.


    And they were. Somehow, without my own awareness despite all my note taking and observations at every step, my human hosts became my human family.


    I¡¯d come to love them.


    And I couldn¡¯t have been happier about it.

 Chapter One

    Chapter One


    It was strange to me still, to feel this kind of warmth around me. But I felt like I could get used to it.


    But the thing about that sensation is, once you have it, you greatly fear losing it. My professor kept in touch with his human hosts for decades to the point where he was well known even to the ones he hadn¡¯t met, and he spent years arranging for us to get to Earth just so he could go again.


    So now here I was, happy as could be, and yet I had to worry about being deported. Wolfbeard¡¯s constant legal motions were delaying the question for now, but that couldn¡¯t and wouldn¡¯t last.


    But eventually?


    We have a saying on Dlamias, ¡®Eventually every question has to be answered.¡¯


    After I wrote that line I heard Fauve shout down the stairs, ¡°Bailey! Breakfast!¡±


    Fauve¡¯s voice had a lot more vigor and pep than before, the stress and strain melted off of her like ice on a summer sidewalk and like the once water, it evaporated and disappeared like it was never there.


    With her verbal assailants arrested, fined into poverty, imprisoned, or outright barred from the internet for life where patterns of harassment were uncovered, she was back to her old self. Now, a mere two weeks after it was over? Why you¡¯d never know she¡¯d been put through hell.


    ¡°The coffee is fresh but if you don¡¯t hurry you¡¯ll need to make the next pot!¡± She added. Such was the penalty for finishing the last drop.


    Humans have a lot of funny rules and traditions, one of the most ubiquitous is ¡®Who will finish, must replenish¡¯ when it comes to coffee drinkers, and other than Michael who was still too young, everybody in the Walker household was a coffee lover.


    I think it says something about how well I was adapting to life here that I stopped writing when she said that and rushed upstairs to get my cup and my share of the bacon.


    I resumed writing only when I was seated at the table with eggs, bacon, and coffee on my plate.


    But I was not the only dlamisa at the table. Beside me was one of the security guards who was in turn flanked by his human counterpart.


    The human¡¯s name was Byron, I knew this because on his first evening shift he was quick to introduce himself. He was a giant of a human and the wooden chair in which he sat creaked a little when his weight came down. His arms were like tree trunks, and he was clean shaven save for a mustache with wisps of gray amidst the brown.


    He wasn¡¯t much for smiling, and he didn¡¯t say very much. Truth be told I¡¯d barely heard him say a dozen words since he first got to the house and started guarding it. The only thing I caught clearly was his informing William that he would reach out to the ¡®old friend¡¯. That old friend turned out to be Percival Terrance Barnum, one of the human world¡¯s leading media experts who gave the household an impromptu class on media savvy and advice that helped end the storm around the Walker household.


    The male dlamisa at his side was almost a reflection of the human, towering, broad, and with thick short fur. He and Byron seemed to get on well in a kind of amiable silence when not engaged in shop talk, and even had Byron choose a name for him since dlamisa names are all but impossible for humans to manage, and for reasons unknown to me, the name Byron chose was ¡®Boatswain¡¯.


    They were at our table on this particular morning because a few days before, Percival Terrance Barnum did not wake up, and we were going to attend his funeral. We were invited by his granddaughter who was handling his final affairs,


    Here I want to write a little about the oddity of human death rituals. Despite the world of humanity being unified, there were still many cultural distinctions and one of the most prominent among them is how a community of family, friends, and neighbors deals with death. In writing this, I issue a call to dlamisans or other species who have chosen to study Anthropology, come to Earth, there are more cultures on this one world than there are intelligent races in the known galaxy. I couldn¡¯t study them all if I had nothing else to do but that and lived ten thousand times ten thousand lifetimes! There are stories to be told that will enrich the whole of the Galactic experience if only there is someone to tell them.


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    Now having said that, ¡®My¡¯ humans as I will refer to them forever, were part of the North American continent, an area that was once dominated by a religion that treated their death as a kind of transition. This religion at its peak was believed by some ninety-nine percent of the population before it underwent a long decline that accelerated in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. Today on that continent it is clung to by only tiny rural and mountain communities far from the larger civilization. But because of the long dominance it held, many modern behaviors still have their ties to that nearly vanished belief system.


    What we were doing, a ¡®funeral service¡¯ was a way for the living survivors who cared deeply for the deceased to come together and mourn in common while the dead are interred in their resting place. In the past this meant a burial amidst the grass and an open field full of headstones or being put into a small stone building.


    But now things were different.


    Fauve was wearing a white dress, unusual for her, as I had never seen her wear white anything, but then, so were the rest of us. I was wearing a white shirt and pants, as was Byron, who wore it over his tactical vest, and as was Boatswain. William and Rebecca went a step further, each wore fake bald wigs just like Percival wore the day we met him.


    I cocked my head and looked at each of my humans in turn, waiting patiently for the explanation. It was ¡®Fauve¡¯ who provided it.


    ¡°Cosplay.¡± She said. I did not uncock my head.


    ¡°Dress up. A game, sort of,¡± she said and picked at her dress, ¡°where you pretend to be a fictional character from a fictional universe. Last year for my last day of public school I went to every class dressed as ¡®Liln¡¯ from the classic novel series, ¡®How Misunderstandings Made a Demon Lord¡¯ and I pulled it off pretty well.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ Mr. Barnum made this request? That we ¡®cosplay¡¯ him at his funeral?¡± I asked, and William answered with a shrug.


    ¡°That¡¯s what his granddaughter said, apparently he figured ¡®the planting¡¯ would be more interesting that way.¡±


    I looked Fauve up and down, ¡°Did Mr. Barnum wear a dress?¡±


    She shrugged and took a bite of her plate of eggs and after washing it down with a sip of fragrant coffee that had my hand searching for my cup while I waited for her answer. She chewed, swallowed, and flipping her fork upside down she pointed it at me and said, ¡°I genderbent him. If he objects, he can wake up and tell me so.¡±


    Fauve¡¯s parents said nothing to that, and here I must point out how unusual the Walkers were, in particular Fauve, whose words might have been taken as callous or even disrespectful to the man. But I didn¡¯t think that was what she meant. I recalled how he first mentioned having her ¡®dress younger and more innocent¡¯ for the cameras, and her unflinching refusal. Not only did he take her refusal in stride, he didn¡¯t ask her to change anything about herself, only showed her how to present herself best.


    I think if anything he would have approved of her cosplay choice. Fauve was an odd one born from odd ones, so odd that every now and then I wondered if they were the best choice to teach me about humans, but the oddballs are the splashes of color on a canvas that you never expect, but never forget either. And I couldn¡¯t help but think she had some affection for the old man who stepped in out of nowhere to help her in her time of need.


    Wanting him to wake up and give his disapproval after all, was like saying she wanted him to come back, even if we all knew he would not.


    Rebecca dabbed Michael¡¯s cheek to wipe away a milk stain and addressed Boatswain and Byron directly on a practical matter. ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s fine to leave your friends here by themselves?¡±


    Byron grunted and set down his cup of coffee while Boatswain continued to chug his oversized mug down. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am. They¡¯ll have rear monitoring drones to let them know if anything happens, and with [Wolfbeard] locked up, the threat level is down. We must still be cautious, but the worst has passed.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Latunde will be watching Michael in here while we¡¯re gone, are you sure he shouldn¡¯t just be over at his house¡­¡± Rebecca asked, and it was Boatswain whose low rumbling voice gave her an answer.


    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to live normal. Anything not normal, you might make a new risk by doing it. So if that¡¯s not normal, don¡¯t do that.¡±


    Rebecca seemed doubtful, I say this because she neither agreed nor disagreed, and given her vocal nature I could only conclude that she was unsure of whether to argue or not. Instead she looked to her husband. Interestingly, most species mate pairs tend to be very hierarchical, but humans seemed to take a more egalitarian approach, with mates consulting with one another on their areas of expertise, William, having once been a soldier, was her go to ¡®expert¡¯ to settle her mind.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, we won¡¯t be gone long, the planting will last for just a few hours.¡± William said and put his hand on his wife¡¯s shoulder, I was accustomed to the little nuances of their gestures now and noticed the way his fingers contracted a little when they squeezed her shoulder, Rebecca¡¯s anxious pheromones began to settle down after that, and just in time, as a moment later there was a knock at the door and we could all hear the voice of ¡®Tuna¡¯ on the other side chatting with the two guards who would remain behind.


    William took one deep breath and clapped his hands together, ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go.¡± He said, and those of us with less than empty plates scraped up our food into forks and spoons to savor every last bite before we went to bury the dead.

 Chapter Two

    Chapter Two


    Words with Tuna were brief, he took Michael into his arms and the boy seemingly couldn¡¯t have been happier about it, judging by his clapping excited hands when we left.


    I had very little time to learn much about the human funerary practices of my local region of assignment, but I knew that traditions and social shifts blended together into something different.  Something commonly referred to as ¡®The Planting¡¯.


    Thankfully some common resource options existed for a quick overview which I will provide here.  In the mid-twentieth century when the first satellite pictures of Earth became commonplace, additional technological development in imagery and environmental science began to reveal a world that was in a word ¡®struggling¡¯.


    Trees were being cut at an ever increasing rate and environmental decimation became commonplace and most shrugged it off as simply the price of progress.


    However the view of the Earth from above showing the damage industrialization was doing, along with widely publicized disasters including setting a river on fire, spawned the modern environmental movement.  After a number of humans died by breathing toxic air in a major city, the movement picked up steam, culminating in the first large-scale legislation in industrial nations to start fixing problems.


    You may be wondering what this has to do with human funerary rites?


    As I wrote that very question, the answer loomed before my eyes.


    A great forest of stone and trees lay in front of me, far from being a normal ¡®forest¡¯ of natural origin, this was laid out more like a garden with crisscross spacing allowing people to walk between each tree over a path made of stepping stones over which I could see some people walking, each path of stone was in turn framed by flowering plants in wild, vibrant patterns of blue, yellow, red, purple, and more.


    The trees themselves were of considerable age in human years, at least some of them.  They stretched up toward the sky where their branches created a canopy of shade beneath which the living walked.


    I followed behind the Walkers after they parked at the entrance and made their way on foot into the interior of the forest.  I caught sight of a few other humans along the way who knelt at or touched various trees with reverence.


    The human race is strange in that they hold an abiding love for their dead that does not really ever pass away.  For most races, the dead are dead, the living live, and when the living become the dead they simply matter very little.


    But human bonds transcend this state, which was why others were there at these trees, touching the bark, the roots, or more notably, their belts of stone.


    Yes, around each tree was a kind of ¡®belt¡¯ or ¡®band¡¯ of stone.


    Guided by small upright markers indicating numbers and letters, we reached plot E-42, where a number of other humans were already gathered around an open hole in the ground deep enough to bury a human body.  There I saw Percival Terrance Barnum¡¯s body was already waiting to be lowered into place, he was contained in a black ¡®box¡¯ that wasn¡¯t really a box, more like a biodegradable container enriched with fertilizing nutrients, only his face exposed.


    If I didn¡¯t know better, I would say he was only sleeping, his body had been preserved, frozen since his time of death to ensure he was intact, his eyes were closed I would say he was almost like a doll.


    The people around the open hole were a diverse lot, united in that all were dressed in some form of ¡®Barnum cosplay¡¯ some dressed as young versions of himself, others as old ones, some carried photos of him clasped close to their chests as if they were hugging him.


    Teresa approached us and shook our hands one by one, ¡°Thank you for coming.¡±  She said, a fragile smile on her face that quavered when she spoke, ¡°My grandfather hoped you¡¯d make it.  Especially you, Byron.¡±


    Unlike the rest of us, she gave him a hug that seemed ¡®familial¡¯ pressing herself close to the towering bodyguard.  Humans love skin to skin contact more than most sentient species, and affection like that is typically reserved for those who have formed a close bond.


    The tighter the bond, the closer the contact.  I didn¡¯t know at the time what the story was behind Byron and Teresa, and even as an alien I knew now was not the time to ask.  She then turned her attention to Fauve, seeing the white dress, shoes, and everything she¡¯d done with her hair, and after a moment¡¯s pause taking her in, Teresa laughed a deep, belly laugh.


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    ¡°He guessed you would do something odd, Fauve, but making him a girl wasn¡¯t on my list of guesses.¡±  Teresa said and waved my humans and I over to where the gathering of Barnum imitators stood.  Only when I came close to the hole did I see the sapling at the head of the grave, and every head bowed as his granddaughter returned to her position.


    ¡°Thank you all for coming.¡±  She said and raised her head to look at the crowd of thirty odd people.  ¡°And thank you all for not leaking out the real location of his funeral, I¡¯m sure the media are having a merry old time chasing their tails from one place to the next.¡±


    A rumble of laughter came up from the many costumed attendees, and faded after a few moments, allowing Teresa to speak on, ¡°My grandfather was a lot of things in his life.  A media expert, a satirist, a performer, a public advocate for victims rights, for peace, and a guiding hand that made him renowned to both his detractors and his advocates as ¡®The Last Big Fixer¡¯ and ¡®The King Maker¡¯, but to those of us who knew him best, he was a friend, a confidant, a mentor, and an eccentric, absurd prankster who loved a laugh especially at the expense of people who in his words, ¡®Needed a little crow in their diet.¡¯  The world hasn¡¯t had anyone like him in a very long time, nor will it again, and he will be dearly missed.  Goodbye, Grandpa.¡±


    She had a sheen of tears in her eyes that was utterly at odds with the crisp professionalism I saw on her face the last time we met, and then his granddaughter and three other adults I did not know, lowered his body into the hole in the ground.


    He wasn¡¯t ¡®even¡¯ with the hold or tightly packed, and I soon saw why.  A handful of shovels were close by along with a small mound of dirt, after he was in place, they retrieved the tools and began to fill in the hole around him while four more approached a ring of stone.


    This ¡®ring¡¯ rose to knee length from the ground or one and a half dalax units high in our reckoning, and was only point two dalax units thick.  It was calcium white, and etched on one side I read the following:


    Percival Terrance Barnum


    Born November 30th 2420


    Died April 21st 2518


    ¡°I lived a life worth writing about, don¡¯t linger here, go live your own!¡±


    Whatever the stone, it must have been heavy as the four humans grunted while they lifted it, their knees and backs bent, their muscles were tense, and they inched it over the grave step by step as the last bit of dirt was shoveled over his corpse.


    There was one small depression in the space over Percival¡¯s chest and when the stone sank a few inches into the dark soil, Teresa went to the sapling tree, picking it up in both hands, she brought it over to where her grandfather lay and pressed the base into the depression.


    One by one the attendees approached, picked up a handful of soil in their hands, and dropped it over the base, continuing until the last paid their respects and filed away.


    Byron and Teresa were the last, and when they finished, a new oak tree was planted.  I and Boatswain cocked our heads at the same moment while we watched the strange ritual, and Teresa chose to explain.  ¡°We do this so that our bodies will nourish the tree after death, so that we can give back to mother Earth.¡±  She touched the tree with reverence and looked down at the place where dark soil covered the roots, ¡°Over the years this tree will grow, the trunk will run up against the stone and carry his stone up with it, reaching toward the sky while his tree gives us fresh air to breath, in this way our dead can still offer something to the living.¡±


    It was humbling then, to look around, I and Boatswain tilted our heads back and looked at the trees with a kind of new reverence, some of the stone rings that served as tombstones were dozens of feet up in the air, carried upward on thick trunks, while others were only just beginning to brush up against the wood and more were barely more than saplings, the stone not even touched by what would one day be an old growth tree.


    ¡°Is it so strange to you?¡±  Teresa asked, cocking her head in a dlamisa-like fashion.


    ¡°It is a good tradition.¡±  Boatswain answered for the both of us.  I didn¡¯t say anything, only shook my head in denial, military dlamisans are an unusual breed, more accustomed to teamwork than many, they form closer bonds with their units and as such they feel losses more keenly than others of our kind.


    I could see his hard eyes soften a little, and almost read his thoughts as he made note of the tradition.  It should come as no surprise to anyone that this tradition made it to my homeworld and spread amidst the military ranks with great rapidity.


    If you happen to be curious, Percival¡¯s tree was still growing strong when last I saw it, and I expect it will continue to do so for a long, long time.


    With that ritual at its end Teresa asked us, ¡°If you¡¯d like to join us, we have an after funeral service, a dinner at his ridiculous building where we¡¯ll read his will and drink to his life and memory.  You don¡¯t have to go but-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going.¡±  Byron interjected and then clapped his jaw shut.


    ¡°As if.  You think I¡¯d miss the second half of the old man¡¯s service?¡±  Fauve asked, and her parents nodded along.


    ¡°Of course we¡¯ll go, we owe him a good farewell.¡±  William replied, his hand went up to Fauve¡¯s shoulder, and his wife placed her hand over his, a silent agreement with their intent.


    Teresa¡¯s weak smile strengthened a little, ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be glad to have you.  Just follow my car if you would.¡±  She said, and led us back out the way we came.


    So, there is the connection, the rise of their environmental concerns reshaped their culture into one of caretakers who mixed their death rituals with a concern for the living, thus protecting their world for future generations, and in true human fashion, making even a moment of great sorrow, into a thing of great reverence and beauty that we could do worse than to imitate.

 Chapter Three

    Chapter Three


    It was a quiet ride to the media center once owned and operated by the late Percival Barnum, the humans I was with were all pensive and thoughtful.  Fauve rested her arm on the base of the window and propped her head up in her hand while she watched the traffic go past outside.


    William and Rebecca were silent in the front seat, while Byron looked out the opposite window and Boatswain and I sat in the rear seat in silence of our own.  But where he was indifferent to the silence, I was observing it.


    Humans are one of the only species on their planet to truly understand ¡®death¡¯.  For all other forms of life, death is either only understood in the immediate sense, or not at all.  A few, such as elephants, understand it in retrospect, but the ability to understand death for themselves as a natural and inevitable thing is unique to their species.


    There are even intelligent species that do not fully grasp their own ends, even though they can grasp the deaths of others, it is simply a mental block they are unable to apply to themselves.


    Humans however, live with this knowledge from childhood onward, and seeing the loss of someone they know, even briefly, can affect them deeply.  The funeral rite we went through was relatively brief, fitting given the relative brevity of their lives, they can only spend so much time on anything, especially death.


    But in the end, the funeral it seems, was not for the dead, rather it was for the living.  They joined in common grief, brought him to his final resting place, and as I write this we are en route to celebrate his existence and settle his final affairs.


    For all their unity in mourning however, each one was lost in their own thoughts, the Walker family knew Percival for only a brief time, they met him only once after all, but in that brief moment his impact was so powerful and so overwhelming that they felt his loss as if he were their own grandfather.


    As if he were family.


    The human capacity for grief, I believe, played directly into their capacity to love, they are from what I can see, creatures of great extremes.  The human who picked up his severed arm and beat a Zenti cutter to death with it, had extreme rage.  The human who set us all on our current course, was an extreme failure, with an extreme sense of selfishness.  The human Percival was extreme in his eccentricity.  Even the very moderate William was extreme in his love for his family, and Rebecca was no different.


    I wanted to say something while I watched Fauve¡¯s reflection in the clear window. I could see her eyes twitch, her face was flushed red, but she wasn¡¯t crying.  She was wearing a stoic, steady expression that seemed odd in her ¡®Barnum costume¡¯.


    I think she wanted to cry, but she didn¡¯t want to do it around anyone.  It seemed very much like her.  She never, as far as I know, revealed the extent of the harassment she received, and even I only knew a fragment of it.  When she wept and was in distress, she hid it.  This may seem strange, given her openness toward me and the excellent relationship she had with her family.


    But herein lies another oddity of humans, you will recall I¡¯m sure how William acted to save face for me, coming up with an excuse for me to leave the waterpark and not telling Fauve why we¡¯d come back.  Appearances and dignity are of great concern to even the most open humans, their capacity for shame is as great in its extremes as anything else.


    Strangely, looking back, I wonder if that might have been part of Wolfbeard¡¯s failing, he had no sense of shame, and so he never bothered to learn how to behave?


    I couldn¡¯t be sure, but it is worthy of further study, shame, or the fear of it, acts as a deterrent to negative behavior, however in this instance, it acted as a deterrent to positive behavior.


    By ¡®positive behavior¡¯ I mean that while watching Fauve bite her lower lip to stop it from quivering and occasionally she touched the corner of her eye to hide a stray tear, I can¡¯t help but think that she must have been suffering.


    The brief time with Percival changed everything, in some human stories, a knight rides in out of nowhere and saves the day, charging in to save people in a time of desperation.  To Fauve, the arrival of the old man and the way he prepared her to turn it all around, must have been like that.  Now he was gone, his brief appearance altered everything in the darkest hour of her young life, and just like that time snatched him away.


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    And yet she was afraid to show how much that mattered to her.


    To her left, Byron appeared to feel somewhat less, at least he didn¡¯t seem to struggle to control it.  As a veteran soldier who lived through somewhat chaotic times and places while Earth modernized and danger was still to be found, I couldn¡¯t help but think he¡¯d lost people before.


    Perhaps that was it, humans call it ¡®case hardening¡¯ where a person is exposed to something enough, it loses its impact.  Much like most races are able to gain immunity to poison by frequent exposure, they are able by the same token, to build up resistance to strong emotions that are brought up by loss.


    I didn¡¯t envy anyone that immunity.


    When we arrived at the center, it was at the back entrance we used previously, though we parked much closer and found a slew of young men and women in matching ¡®Barnum costumes¡¯ standing by waiting to accept our keys.  These were ¡®valets¡¯, their purpose being to take the car once it is parked for a moment, then move it somewhere else, then return it to you when you are ready to go.


    It is a peculiar custom, but when I saw other cars begin to fill the parking lot, I began to see why the job was invented.


    ¡°The reading of the will.¡±  Byron grumbled.  ¡°Percival was loaded.¡±  He snorted a little, ¡°The old man¡­ he was a good one, but he wasn¡¯t above cheating a little if he thought he was justified in doing it.¡±


    ¡°Cheating ¡®how¡¯?¡±  I had to ask as we exited the vehicle.


    Byron waited until the car was away and we were unobserved, ¡°I don¡¯t know the details, but a few times the old man had me act as a bodyguard for folks who had only one job.  Hold on to money.  Pretty clever, really, he¡¯d hire somebody, put millions into a bank account in their name, they sign a contract promising never to spend it, and they get paid out of the accrued interest.  I¡¯m not supposed to know but¡­¡±  Byron chuckled a little, ¡°One of them talked in his sleep.¡±


    ¡°So he cheated on his taxes?¡±  William asked as we headed toward the door a few dozen paces behind Teresa and her immediate family.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess.  It was probably paid out of the bank accounts his hirees held, but it also meant that he had access to a lot more money than people are supposed to as private citizens.¡±  Byron answered with a passive shrug.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t worried about being cheated?  I mean if the money is technically theirs, a contract like that isn¡¯t really¡­ I don¡¯t know, wouldn¡¯t that get him into trouble?¡±  Fauve asked, her boundless curiosity buried her silent grief for a moment, and again Byron only shrugged.


    ¡°The ones I met weren¡¯t about to screw up a good thing, they were students, employees, people he hand picked, and Mr. Barnum, he knew how to pick people.  He had a real sense about them, like he could sniff out corruption, he always said something, ¡®It isn¡¯t the power corrupts, it¡¯s that it reveals corruption.¡¯  After doing this for years¡­ yeah, I think the old man was right.¡±  Byron said and then stopped talking as we approached the reception desk and caught up with Teresa.


    There was a book at the front where each person in turn stopped, bent over, and then moved on.  When we got to the front I realized what it was.  It was a ¡®guest book¡¯.  These books are simple blank sheets of lined paper where people inscribe their names to mark their presence, and in this case each person also added a sentence beside their name.


    When it came time for me to sign, I took up the little black pen and touched it to the paper, pretending to think over what to write, I was actually scanning what others wrote for themselves.  Fauve predictably wrote simply, ¡®Thank you, Mr. Barnum.¡¯  Nothing flowery, but I had no doubt of her sincerity.


    Don¡¯t say much, but mean what you say, it¡¯s the dlamisa way, and even after being here for a while now, it was still strange to see how our species sometimes overlapped.


    At this particular juncture in time, my world and Earth were in negotiations over resource trades and the first joint force operations were being drawn up, and from what I saw on the broadcom channels, it was a shock to most of the other galactic nations that we were getting along so well.


    Dlamisa has always had an aggressive foreign policy, but when our leaders met with humans, they seemed to simply ¡®click¡¯ and negotiations were moving at a rapid pace.


    Fauve¡¯s little four word sentence seemed to me to be a microcosm of our common ground, a tiny example of a much larger shared compatibility.


    I couldn¡¯t delay forever though, so I quickly wrote, ¡°Bailey was here, and is glad he was.¡±


    That was true enough, while it was hard not to like Percival, I just hadn¡¯t felt the same way as Fauve or the others, though perhaps with time, I could have.


    ¡°This way.¡±  Teresa said, and gestured toward a very familiar path, ¡°It¡¯s been set up as a dining hall for the occasion, and no expense has been spared for my grandfather¡¯s last dinner party.¡±


    I had to ask, ¡°Isn¡¯t it a little early for dinner?¡±


    Teresa wiped her eyes and cracked a smile when she said, ¡°He said to tell the one who asked that, ¡®You¡¯re asking an awful lot, to ask the dead to care about the time of day.¡¯ now if you will?¡±


    There was a round of laughter, from the lot of us at Percival¡¯s final joke, and from there, we followed Teresa into the dining hall for the old man¡¯s last ¡®dinner party¡¯.

 Chapter Four

    Chapter Four


    Greed. It isn¡¯t unique to humans. Even the baser animals incapable of higher thought can be greedy, in fact it is far more common across species than almost any other trait. Greed has value in survival, hoarding things means that the one to starve last is the one who has held the most. With the rise of currency across most intelligent species, that greed became connected to the common medium of exchange.


    But greed is unique in humans in that, like most things, it can be carried to great extremes, much like their capacity for empathy, acceptance, and great acts of generosity, their extremes of greed are just as boundless. Which is exactly why they began wealth restrictions in the first place. I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised then that Percival found a way around those restrictions, ¡®giving¡¯ people great wealth expressly so he could access it, sounds like something almost¡­ perverse in its counter intuitive cleverness.


    Knowing what I now did, I sat down at the table wishing all the more that I had gotten to talk further with him. The room was crowded with far more people than there were at his funeral, and my hair began to stand on end. I probably would have fled the room entirely, except for four things.


    The first was that the sound dampeners were on and so the noise was almost nonexistent, the second was that my humans were with me. And the third was that each of the tables was carefully placed in the room and each one had a small nameplate on the seating. This might be nothing by itself, but what mattered was that the placement for ¡®our¡¯ table set it well apart from the crowd, giving me space I badly needed. And lastly, the table was near the exit.


    Much like at the transport site, knowing there was an easy way out made it easier to bear the crowd. My sharp nose told me that there was also alcohol in the area, and my tongue lolled out briefly, I started panting and licked my mouth, there was bourbon in the area¡­ and beer. Good bourbon. And good beer.


    Boatswain looked over at me, his head cocked to the right, ¡°You haven¡¯t tried alcohol yet, have you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He answered.


    ¡°Try it.¡± I said, ¡°Trust me.¡±


    He let out a loud huff and tilted his nose up to sniff the air. Military dlamisa in crowded areas usually took drugs of some sort to suppress their more powerful senses, it kept them from being overwhelmed, nothing too straining, just enough to dull the worst effects. However, this dulling meant that the big bodyguard of my race couldn¡¯t know what I could.


    I would be remiss if I didn¡¯t admit that I was finding this amusing, in particular when Byron leaned over and began to whisper the explanation to Boatswain¡­ and without thinking, he absently reached over and scratched the back of Boatswain¡¯s head just behind the ears.


    I was distracted from observing the pair when I smelled cooked meat, humans are masterful chefs, able to turn common bland materials into banquets, and it was obvious that Percival chose to demonstrate that mastery again in how he funded his funerary meal. Cart after cart was wheeled in, on each cart was a silver tray, on each tray was a covered set of smaller silver dishes, some cups, some bowls, some plates, each in turn was delivered to a table while Teresa waited patiently behind the podium on the elevated stage.


    It is worth noting that everybody else, even those who hadn¡¯t attended the funeral, were dressed in Percival costume, some of whom did very well, even having canes made like his, and here I want to say something about this trend.


    Humans never really seem to lose their desire to ¡®play¡¯. It begins in childhood for most forms of animal life on most worlds, but in humans, it never truly fades. The desire to simply ¡®have fun¡¯ is always there. Almost all of the reforms I read about seemed centered on improving the human ¡®quality of life¡¯ not ¡®quantity of wealth¡¯ for as many people as possible, and this always seems to center around giving humans more time to do what they count as play. One of the great authors of their 21st century said this, ¡®No happy person has forgotten how to play, and nobody has ever died wishing they¡¯d laughed less often.¡¯


    ¡°This ¡®cosplay¡¯ or ¡®costume play¡¯ practice is an outgrowth of that, humans being tellers of tall tales, story collectors, and the like, it should come as no surprise that they desire to immerse themselves in their myths and fictions to such an extent that they will dress up as their favorite characters. The desire to truly bring their imaginations to life has driven art, artists, actors, and animators for generations.


    This simple act of dressing up as Percival and having fun with it, even with him dead and unable to get a laugh out of it, was emblematic of so much of their character.


    No sooner had I finished putting those thoughts into my datapad than our tray reached our table, the waiter removed the trays and revealed a steak and lobster dinner.


    I want to point something else out here, and that is that neither the steak nor the lobster were ever alive. They were ¡®cloned¡¯ meat. Late in the 21st century by Earth reckoning, it was discovered that the large scale animal husbandry was doing serious harm to the environment at large, with cattle gaseous emissions contributing to a greenhouse effect and the requirements of feeding them all taking up vast amounts of land that could have otherwise been used to grow edible plants and fruits.


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    So in the early 21st century as cloning technology improved, the idea of cloning the desired animal meat took hold, imitation meat made from plants was tried, but could never quite compete. According to my research, real meat was so thoroughly a part of the dominant cultures of large countries that the substitutes just weren¡¯t as in demand.


    Reality clashed with culture, and compromise began with the increasingly effective cloning methods, eventually making it cheaper than raising cattle and pigs, and cheaper than trying to harvest from the sea itself.


    Within a century, the only reason not to eat cloned meat was the express desire to kill. So? Cloned meat it was. Curiously, this mirrors much of the history of my world, as dlamisa hunters still exist and kill their own food, but most for purely practical purposes, clone their food.


    However, unlike with humans, there was no perverse pushback against it. Our lives are very long, relative to humans, and as such we can live to see consequences that humans often did not. Moreover, there are always perverse humans who will do the opposite of the sensible thing, purely because other people want them to do the sensible thing.


    Humans are the only known race to suffer from oppositional defiance disorder, wherein an otherwise sentient and intelligent being will engage in deliberate defiance of even the most obviously sensible things, even if it puts them at risk or kills them. As an example of this, in the late 20th century of North America¡¯s largest nation, ¡®seatbelts¡¯ became mandatory. These restraints are there to compensate for the human love of unsafe velocities and minimize the risk of death in an accident.


    And many humans resisted the law requiring their use, even to the point of cutting the seatbelts out of their cars in order to defy the law. Decades later they were a mockery, but their outlook is endemic to their species, and there are always a few who defy reason simply for the pleasure of feeling they have stymied someone else, up to and including refusing to eat meat that didn¡¯t suffer before dying.


    Once every table was served, we heard the ringing of a bell from up on the stage and our eyes all turned to Teresa. She cleared her throat, coughed once into her hand, and then said, ¡°Thank you all for coming to this dinner in honor of my grandfather. If my parents were still alive, I¡¯m sure they would be pleased to know that their father was so widely loved and respected that we not only filled this hall, but left a lot of opportunists confused and dismayed.¡±


    A rumble of laughter swept the room, and Teresa gracefully waited until it passed before going on. ¡°My grandfather was a lot of things, a sometime philanderer, a sometime philanthropist, an entrepreneur, an innovator, an inventor, and so much more. But in that long list of things that he was, he was a businessman, and he always said you should get business of work out of the way so you can get straight to the business of living as fast as possible.¡± She paused and held up a datapad in her hands.


    ¡°With that in mind, in accordance with his wishes and as the executor of his estate, I will read the dispensation of his estate, and then let you all enjoy your dinners after one final toast to his memory. As you know, he never believed the dead had a claim on the time of the living, no matter how much they were loved before they passed.¡±


    With my sharp eyes, I could see that Teresa¡¯s businesslike demeanor was wavering a little, to the point where she was clearly blinking to get rid of her tears before she read.


    ¡°To my granddaughter Teresa, I leave my shares of the Cooperative, conditional upon her election. If unelected, I leave her the full control of all my worldly possessions, after taxes, which if I did this right will be a big fat middle finger to the directorate that tried to screw me on my filing fees when this cooperative got started. Suck an egg, you rat bastards.¡±


    The confusion around the room was evident, and Teresa looked up at us all, ¡°Yes, it really says that. I¡¯m just reading it.¡±


    The entire room shrugged, and she resumed reading, stopping to tap the screen, and then I heard the noise of shrill dings and buzzing as devices went off all over the room. ¡°All those who have received a ding or a buzz have just been notified that access to a trust established in your names has just been granted. Contact the number listed in the message to arrange for the depositing of between one and five million interstellar credits into your accounts.¡±


    Teresa then looked over to our table, none of our devices had gone off, but it was obvious that the young woman intended to say something more. ¡°To my last media project, there was insufficient time to make the arrangements for contact, but to Fauve I leave the sum of five million credits in trust until she reaches the age of her majority, and a standing offer of an internship and a position in the cooperative if she so desires.¡±


    Fauve said nothing, her eyes were, however, all but bugging out of her head, her mouth dropped open like she wanted to say something. But words were clearly failing her, her parents were no less dismayed than she, nor was Byron or Boatswain, however Byron might have been bug eyed because of what was on his own screen. It was clear he¡¯d inherited something.


    Teresa however, was not done. ¡°All other properties listed in the¡­ blah blah blah¡­ will be sold and the money invested into the media expansion of the cooperative, assuming my granddaughter is elected to the position of CEO by the board.¡±


    Teresa set the datapad down and rang the bell again. ¡°That¡¯s business, now as my grandfather would have said, ¡®on to the serious business of living, his final instructions are this, ¡®drink his winery dry so my granddaughter has to start all over.¡¯ Personally, I can¡¯t think of any orders I¡¯d enjoy following more.¡±


    Before the last tinkling noise of the bell finished, trays were wheeled in again, each stacked high with bottles of bourbon, wine, and other liquors I didn¡¯t recognize at the time¡­ and would not remember the next morning.


    But what I do remember of the rest of the evening, was Byron and Boatswain rocking side to side with their arms over each other¡¯s shoulders and enjoying a drinking song, while Fauve discretely departed with Teresa, I presumed about the nature of her future career, or at least leaving the business of serious drinking to the adults.


    I wish I knew more, but as you know, it is possible for a dlamisa to get black out drunk.

 Chapter Five

    Chapter Five


    I wish I could tell you ¡®exactly¡¯ what happened after that. But let me tell you this¡­ the human propensity to turn things into alcohol is as limitless as it is charming. The last thing I remember was Boatswain and Byron making a bet of some sort, something about a ball, and then I was handed something called ¡®tequila¡¯. I didn¡¯t know what it was made of, but there was a worm at the bottom that supposedly granted magic powers if you drank it. So¡­ down the hatch it went.


    After that, there is nothing.


    When I woke up there was a sunbeam in my eyes and I could feel the grass beneath my body. My ¡®costume¡¯ was a patchwork of stains and I really regretted not going with my first option when I was considering how to dress. If you¡¯re wondering, my initial plan was to just dye my fur white, (clothing was still weird to me at this point), but I changed my mind to better blend in with the others.


    There was a ray of sunlight hitting my eyes, and my head was pounding, I groaned, and realized I was curled up on someone¡¯s feet. I could hear voices. Two of them.


    My eyes fluttered open, and I saw the pale blue uniform embroidered with the golden fleur de lis, the symbol of the human capital city. It¡¯s a strange device, like a triple headed spear that curls outward from the center, or like a strange looking flower.


    My head was pounding, and off in the distance, somewhere out of sight, I could hear an abundance of splashing. I wished everything would shut up and let me just die again for a few hours.


    But it was not to be. I was alive and staying that way, and doomed to listen to the conversation taking place above where I lay.


    ¡°Sir, dressing up your dog does not make you immune to leash laws, and you know I could also give you a ticket for animal cruelty, getting your dog drunk and dressing him up in¡­ that¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you he¡¯s not a dog, do you know any dogs with that many ears? And look, he¡¯s got, okay, his hands have paws, but those are clearly fingers.¡±


    ¡°Smells like a wet dog to me. And the rest can simply be mutations or selective breeding¡­like the others.¡±


    ¡®Great.¡¯ I thought. It was a dog catcher or animal control, and I recognized the voice, it was Byron.


    I was going to speak up, say something, but my tongue was lolling out of my mouth, I tasted grass, it was not good. But also, my tongue wouldn¡¯t respond, I can only assume that the worm granting magic powers is some form of human myth. It was a question for later, as I was regaining consciousness, I had a vague sense that no, I didn¡¯t quite want to die, but I also didn¡¯t want to wake up, or move, or talk.


    ¡°I will never drink again.¡± Is what I tried to say. What I actually said was ¡°Ghaka naba dank agan.¡± Which means nothing¡­ except perhaps that I drank too much.


    Thankfully, neither of them seemed to notice, and the reason they didn¡¯t notice was the same reason that the splashing stopped and why the animal control officer¡¯s damnable tapping on his datapad stopped.


    ¡°There, found it. Ha!¡± Boatswain said just as the ball dropped from his mouth and onto the ground. ¡°And I guess you found Bailey. What do you say to a few more throws before we head back?¡±


    That damnable tapping started up again. ¡°Never mind the ticket sir, I see I was mistaken.¡± A chubby face loomed over mine as the human bent forward, ¡°I guess he really is an alien, huh, never seen one of these up close before. Well give him some hair of the dog and some bed rest¡­¡± he looked up at Boatswain and tilted his head back to look up the military dlamisa and whistled, ¡°damn, y¡¯all make em big.¡± He then pinched his nose, ¡°and all three of you smell like a brewery.¡±


    Byron chuckled, ¡°We were at a funeral. There was alcohol. A lot of it.¡± He said and crouched down to pick up the ball.


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    He launched it with a powerful pitch. I caught sight of it as it sailed over a cluster of bushes and beyond the shallow crossing spot of the river. Boatswain was turned around and gone so fast that my lazy, weak, bleary eyes could barely follow him.


    ¡°Right. Say no more. Uh, if that¡¯s the case¡­ your friend going to be all right?¡± The worker asked.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine, Miguel, he just ate the worm.¡± Byron said while the splashing went up again when Boatswain hit the water.


    The worker whistled again, ¡°Damn, son. The boys¡¯ll never believe me when I tell them about this call.¡± He took off his blue baseball cap and scratched his dark hair, ¡°First it was that blobby guy that turned into a puddle, now this. Maybe I should open a bar just for aliens, y¡¯all drink so much that I might make back my money on the grand opening.¡±


    The man Byron identified as Miguel was clearly joking, but it didn¡¯t seem like such a bad idea to me¡­ if not for my promise to never drink again.


    I groaned and rolled over, just as I was about to push myself up, I saw Byron¡¯s hand outstretched, I took it, his fingers and palms were thickly calloused, and he hauled me to my feet as if I weighed no more than Michael. I wavered a little, and put one hand on my head, ¡°Ugh, I¡¯ll never drink again.¡± I promised myself, but then what Miguel said, hit home.


    ¡°Blobby guy? Was he green?¡± I asked, and Miguel nodded.


    ¡°Yah, he was with some lizard guy who kept licking his eyeballs, weird but, they seemed nice enough. Somebody thought the lizard guy was an escaped monitor lizard from the zoo, he had a good sense of humor about it at least.¡± Miguel rubbed the back of his head and when I noticed the dog wrangling stick in his hand, he had the good grace to discreetly move it behind his back.


    ¡°That sounds like my professor, and one of my colleagues.¡± I said and huffed. I slumped forward a little, ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be surprised, after all the recent chaos, honestly I am surprised he didn¡¯t come sooner.¡± I raised my head and asked Byron, ¡°I know you¡¯re having fun with Boatswain, but could we cut it short for the moment? I know how much fun Cherokee Park can be¡­ but I should get cleaned up before my teacher arrives.¡±


    Byron looked past me, Boatswain was charging back with the ball in his mouth, it was obvious that neither would really want to leave. I could hear the squeaking of the ball with every squeeze of Boatswain¡¯s powerful jaws, its siren¡¯s call demanded that I stay and ask for a few throws.


    But between the alcohol pounding in my brain and my own sense of smell returning to me, demanding I wash off the fragrant aroma of alcohol, and my own natural terror of getting a lower evaluation¡­ I begged off my instincts with a promise to return to the park at a later time with Fauve.


    By the time Boatswain reached us, Byron had already agreed. ¡°Afraid we¡¯ve got to go, this one,¡± Byron jerked his thumb toward me, ¡°has to meet with his teacher.¡±


    Boatswain dropped the ball, letting it roll out of his mouth to drop into Byron¡¯s hand, he stared at it like the ball would leap out of his companion¡¯s grip and fly off all by itself, and grumbled, ¡°I suppose we have to. We¡¯ve been gone too long already.¡±


    ¡°I guess that settles that esse, y¡¯all have a good day, and maybe next time leave the worm alone, eh? I gotta go, I gotta explain all this and¡­ drop some folks off.¡± Miguel said and waved to us as he headed back to a large truck with a high covered top clearly meant to contain numerous animals.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never drink again!¡± I said to him and waved farewell.


    Then to Byron I simply whispered, ¡°Thanks.¡± before I asked, ¡°So¡­ what exactly happened last night?¡±


    The human exchanged a look with Boatswain, and said, ¡°Do you at least remember the part where you called your embassy?¡±


    If I could have paled like a human face, I would have.


    ¡°No¡­ what¡­ exactly did I do?¡± Byron jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the dog catcher¡¯s truck. ¡°I¡¯d say you can ask your ambassador.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s passed out, along with most of the embassy staff.¡± Boatswain finished. ¡°Thankfully the dog catcher is now convinced, and he¡¯ll take them back to the embassy to sleep it off instead of letting them wake up in the pound.¡±


    ¡°Wh- I don¡¯t- I didn¡¯t mean to-¡± Suddenly my professor¡¯s visit was looking a lot more awkward to me, and deportation looking a lot more likely, I wasn¡¯t quite sure what to say, and so finally said nothing.


    Byron tossed the ball up and down in one hand, Boatswain¡¯s eyes watching and bulging every time it made a squeak, ¡°Yeah¡­ I wouldn¡¯t worry about it, we invented a new sport. I called it ¡®Baileyball¡¯ but after they got too drunk to say it anymore, it just became ¡®Ballyball¡¯ and I guess that is what it¡¯ll stay. Come on, get in the car, I¡¯ll explain on the way back to your house.¡±


    When I began to half walk, half stagger toward the waiting black car of the security staff, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder whether or not I really wanted to know what happened or not. But I concluded that, ¡®Whether or not I want to know, I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m going to find out¡­ hopefully before all of my ears are full with my professor¡¯s reprimands.¡¯

 Chapter Six

    Chapter Six


    It turns out that ¡®Ballyball¡¯ is a very interesting sport that is only really playable as something interspecies.  According to what Byron informed me, it started like this, I left the room, and they made a bet on who could find me first.  Byron with his tracking ability and understanding of how to use terrain, and Boatswain relying purely on his sense of smell, and all three of us were three sheets to the wind.


    I went to the place known as ¡®Cherokee Park¡¯ which was large enough to take an hour or three to walk in its entirety, I don¡¯t know ¡®exactly¡¯ how I got there.  But dlamisa are fairly swift, so I can only presume that I ran part of the way.  I can guess ¡®why¡¯ I went there, after all Fauve had a habit of throwing the ball there, I likely wanted a good time, and I didn¡¯t realize that my human wouldn¡¯t just ¡®be there¡¯.


    Byron¡¯s vehicle was capable of self driving, so according to him¡­ well I will relay what they said in their words as best I can, having heard the story from both of them, admittedly that this is cobbled together, and their memories are not dramatically better than mine, but it will have to do¡­


    ¡°How does a dlamisa just vanish on this goddamn planet?!¡±  Byron groused while Boatswain¡¯s head hung out the passenger side window.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but you¡¯d think I¡¯d smell him by now, it¡¯s been twenty minutes, why did I suggest that much of a head start?!¡±  Boatswain groused in turn, ¡°He smells like he bathed in bourbon, I should be able to find him with ease!¡±


    ¡°Do you know what city you¡¯re in?  Louisville is famous for its bourbon, even more so than for its baseball bats.  It¡¯s the best stuff in the world!¡±  Byron smacked his lips together, the taste of the stuff still on his tongue despite having none in hand while the car drove on.


    ¡°Still!¡±  Boatswain protested and let his tongue loll out the side of his head while he bit and sniffed at the air in search of the smell of drunken dlamisa college student.


    ¡°Still nothing, you probably smell liquor on yourself too.  That can¡¯t help.¡±  Byron remarked as the car went down the quiet streets at half the normal speed limit.


    ¡°Maybe, but if you hadn¡¯t insisted on bringing all that¡­¡±  Boatswain didn¡¯t need to say what he was talking about, on the back seat there were bags full of liquor bottles from absinth to tequila, ¡°we might have caught up with him by now.¡±


    ¡°Would you rather I left it behind?¡±  Byron asked, and Boatswain immediately shook his head.


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Alright then.¡±  Byron said with what could only be described as a smug little smirk, to which I will add, he objected to Boatswain¡¯s characterization of it as ¡®smug, knowitall, and cocky¡¯.


    ¡°Okay, so you¡¯re a drunk dlamisa that has wandered off, your favorite human isn¡¯t around, where are you going to go?¡±  Byron asked.


    ¡°If he¡¯s really drunk, the house and to bed.  If he¡¯s not quite that far gone¡­ where he thinks he¡¯ll have fun.  He seems like a fun lover to me.  Very undlamisa-like.¡±  Boatswain remarked.


    ¡°Squeak.  Squeak.¡±  Byron remarked.


    ¡°Okay, fair enough.¡±  Boatswain acknowledged.


    ¡°The park then, the one close to the house.¡±  Byron suggested, and when Boatswain didn¡¯t object, he pulled up the map, plugged in the location, and the car began to drive toward the new destination.


    The route on foot was a lot easier than the route by car, so they had time on their hands while they tracked me to my destination, and when silence passed between them for a while, Boatswain finally asked, ¡°So, he left you something?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±  Byron answered, he stared ahead, briefly forgetting to look for me when he thought of ¡®the old man¡¯ and instead focusing on his memories.


    ¡°What was it?¡±  Boatswain asked, his ears flattening at the side of his head, one eye flicking toward his human comrade.


    ¡°Credits, energy enough to jumpstart my own power plant if I want.  Enough to retire off of.  And¡­ a few mementos.¡±  Byron answered, and for a little while longer there was quiet, just the hum of the car.  It might have been tense if there were two humans involved, but because one was a human soldier and another a dlamisa of the same field, things were easier.  The tension that sometimes exists between two human males does not seem to be present between the two across species, perhaps humans and dlamisa are uniquely compatible races, or perhaps there is a natural ambassadorial trait in the primate species.  Whatever the case, when Boatswain chose to ask¡­


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Byron chose to answer.


    ¡°His kids.¡±  Byron answered.


    ¡°You¡¯re his son?¡±  Boatswain asked.


    ¡°No.  I took a bullet for his granddaughter.¡±  Byron answered, even though he wasn¡¯t driving, his fingers closed around the steering wheel and went knuckle white.


    ¡°Zenti?¡±  Boatswain asked, and Byron spat out the window.


    ¡°No.  Those are wimps.  Crunchy wimps.  I have no idea why anyone was ever so scared of those.  Years ago¡­ look¡­ maybe on your world everybody gets along and everything is hunky-dory, but we¡¯re kind of contentious, and every now and then there¡¯s a little flare up.  Percival¡¯s son, his wife, and their daughter got into the family business.  There was a politician that was rattling off some paranoid nonsense about an alien invasion, a politician was accused of facilitating an ¡®invasion¡¯ because he wanted to streamline the process of securing visas as part of a trade agreement.  Once the wild stories spread, he hired a media consultant.¡±


    ¡°Percival Barnum.¡±  Boatswain guessed.


    ¡°Yeah.  He assigned his son and daughter-in-law to the consultation, his son was very hands on, a lot like his father.  Brash, loud, bold, a real charmer, he really took after his old man.  His wife was a good match, less eccentric, level headed, collected, organized, but also incisive and very take-no-prisoners.  They decided to do a public session.  Nobody expected it to go down the way it did.  There was a bombing¡­ the politician was killed, hell, half the damn building blew up.  I got lucky, I was in the shitter.  Phineas, his son¡­ he was killed instantly, his wife managed to live long enough to protect their daughter.  And then the gunfire got going.  I took a half a dozen rounds in the back, but I ran Teresa out of there and provided suppressing fire.  Terror attacks are two stage affairs and I had an exit planned¡­ we still might have died, but I had some of the best protective gear on the market.¡±


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    Boatswain processed that quietly, ¡°Then what?¡±  He asked.


    ¡°Percival is what.  After his son and daughter-in-law were buried, he spent millions of credits on revenge.  He might have appeared to be a sweet old man, but if you ever see an old man in a profession where people die young or quit early, beware.  He unleashed a media blitzkrieg on every politician even remotely associated with anyone in any affiliated group ever.  I never could prove it, and didn¡¯t want to try, but I suspected he got the EIB and a lot of other alphabet soup organizations involved.  Blasted names, faces, home addresses, he even organized protests that went to politicians¡¯ homes.  They couldn¡¯t eat in peace at a restaurant.  They couldn¡¯t sleep in bed, and when they tried to involve the law, suddenly there were investigations of corruption¡­ he might not have killed anyone.  But they were no less destroyed.¡±


    ¡°The legislation passed, of course, that¡¯s how ¡®our quarry¡¯ got permission to come here after all.  And those little xenophobic shits are on the Barnum ¡®hit list¡¯.  Rumor has it anytime somebody associates with the xenophobes, their funding dries up or their opponents get some surprisingly large donations from friendly cooperatives.¡±


    Byron had a little smile on his face when he talked about that, like the revenge was a fond memory, and Byron went on, ¡°I got a medal, which I tossed in the river, turned down a promotion, turned down a chance to work for Percival directly, but he visited me in the hospital, and we stayed in touch ever since.  He always promised he¡¯d pay me back one day when I couldn¡¯t say no.  I guess leaving me something after he died was his way of keeping his promise.¡±


    ¡°So are you going to quit now?¡±  Boatswain asked, ¡°You¡¯re rich, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­ I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll quit just yet.  I¡¯ll probably make this my last job, at least like this, maybe start my own security cooperation.  With more alien contacts, maybe I could start hiring other species, Louisville is a pretty cosmopolitan city, and it¡¯s only a matter of time before-¡±


    Byron¡¯s further conversation was cut off when they reached the park and they saw me shouting something into the phone.


    It sounded something like,  ¡°Baaaaallllll¡± but exactly what I was saying was unclear, they parked the car, and rushed over to me.


    In between their exchange of words with me, they argued over who was responsible for finding me, in short, who ¡®won¡¯ their little wager, and it was just then that the ball squeaked in Byron¡¯s pocket.


    I said before that this ¡®new sport¡¯ can only be played ¡®interspecies¡¯ and the reason is that humans have a broader range of motion than dlamisa, they can throw farther and from more angles than we can, but at the same time, we¡¯re also much faster over short distances than almost any human, since we can go from bipedal to quadrupedal in no time.


    The game began when Boatswain and I immediately stared at his pocket where the ball seemed to call to us.  I have no idea why it has this effect on our species, but with all three of us at least somewhat drunk, it was even harder to resist.


    Without thinking, Byron took it out and chucked it as hard as he could, far across the park, Boatswain and I went for it at the same time¡­ and I landed on my face.


    Which isn¡¯t to say that I stopped.  Every time it was returned, I tried again, until the dlamisa ambassador¡­ and half the damn embassy security showed up.  Not even the gods of men could tell us exactly what I said, but the dlamisa ambassador was so out of sorts that he chose to track my location himself and showed up with a security team.


    Finding me on the ground with a human standing over me, I can only imagine what the ambassador must have thought, but before another international incident could kick off, Boatswain was seen running toward them with the squeaking ball in his mouth, and every single eye of my people honed in on that noisy little object.


    He dropped it into Byron¡¯s hand, and explained the situation.


    ¡°I can hardly believe some mere ¡®liquid¡¯ could do something like that¡­¡±  He said, looking down at my goofy face with my lolling tongue and slowly struggling self while I tried to rise with very little success.


    ¡°It¡¯s true, sir, if you¡¯ll just try some¡­ It is the logical thing, we know it¡¯s been vetted, and besides, there¡¯s a human here who is happy to share, it would be undiplomatic to refuse, logic dictates that we participate to make amends for our near disastrous misunderstanding.  Especially given recent events.¡±  Boatswain protested, and the ambassador, finding no counter argument coming to mind, agreed.


    ¡°Fine, retrieve some, then explain that,¡± he pointed to the squeaky ball, ¡°to me.¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir.  Right away.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get the liquor, you explain the rest, and¡­ take your time.¡±  Byron offered, and went back to the car while Boatswain did his best to provide some kind of explanation for the activity to the dlamisan security detail.


    While he was gone however, Byron also made a phone call of his own.  It didn¡¯t take long for the results, as he popped open bottle after bottle of bourbon, whiskey, rum, spiced rum, absinthe, tequila, vodka, and the gods of men know what else, and began to pour them into some opaque plastic cups, a large black van pulled up and some plain clothes gorillas hopped out.  Human security officers familiar to Byron, but dressed for their off hours.


    Like they¡¯d coordinated it beforehand, each one reached into their front pockets, and ¡®squeezed¡¯.  The squeaks that went up raised every dlamisa ear, and given that we have multiple ears¡­ that was a lot of ears.


    The reactions to alcohol were quick, with cocked heads, sniffing snouts, and suddenly wagging tails, even the ambassador, a stern sort even by our standards, seemed interested in something called ¡®Irish Cream¡¯.  ¡°Take it, a gift from me to you, to apologize for any inconvenience.¡±  Byron said, and the ambassador snatched it away like he was afraid the offer would be withdrawn.


    ¡°Ahem, I accept this on my people¡¯s behalf and we will¡­ forget this little inconvenience.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure¡­ but we could make it interesting¡­ maybe you could leave with some more, if we play a little game.¡±  Byron suggested, and then before anyone could ask what he had in mind, every human held up the ball, made it squeak, and then chucked it as hard as possible.


    The dlamisan security officers¡­ and the ambassador, charged over the grass after it before they knew what they were doing, splashing over the shallow water, each one striving to get to the squeaky green balls before the other.


    The confusion on their faces when they got back, according to Boatswain, would stay with everybody for the rest of their lives, they dropped the balls from their mouths, most of which bounced off of some part of me as they tried to work out exactly what they¡¯d just done, and for a moment everybody was quiet.


    ¡°A game.  Humans line up side by side, and try to throw the ball as far as possible.  One point per every three meters.  Each of us partner up with a dlamisa who retrieves the ball, and then the humans try to stop every dlamisa but their partner from crossing the line again.  First team to twenty-one points wins¡­ and every round, whoever crosses first, that team takes a shot.  Top three teams take a bottle of their choice home.  Plus one for the ambassador, if you¡¯ll referee¡­ sir.¡±


    The ambassador¡¯s tail could have cooled the desert summer.


    ¡°I suppose I must agree.¡±  He said with very obviously false disinterest.


    I was dragged out of the way, and the game began.  Human throwers had rocket arms it seemed, and at first it was hard to score, the fastest dlamisa got back first, but were tackled by multiple humans, whose considerable muscle and their unique range of motion made them difficult to out maneuver.


    Slowly, strategies evolved, as human throwers mixed their distance goals with an attempt to time the return of others, so they didn¡¯t throw as far, but forced the other humans to pick and choose who to try to stop.  Thus nobody fell ¡®too far¡¯ behind, particularly as everybody got drunker as the night went on.


    The ambassador chose to take a shot with ¡®every¡¯ win, and refereeing was soon forgotten.


    Before the night was done, half the humans and all the dlamisa save Boatswain were passed out, and Byron was forced to go and check just to make sure nobody was left behind.  His human counterparts were strewn about the park or stumbled back to the van to sleep it off, and by the time he came back, the dog catcher was ready to add me to the truck where the rest of my people were sleeping.


    Thus ¡®Baileyball¡¯ or as it came to be known, ¡®Ballyball¡¯ was born.  As more of my people came to Earth it became a popular sport that was transmitted back home, professional leagues emerged, and the players became famous across multiple worlds.


    Somehow I think Mr. Barnum would have been pleased that he ended up doing a lot more than just putting the ¡®fun¡¯ into funeral, and would have appreciated the use of his alcohol.


    But as for me, that morning, all I really wanted to do was remove my brain so that it would stop pounding for a few minutes.

 Chapter Seven

    Chapter Seven


    I got home to a quiet house, my guess was that, other than Fauve, the whole family was plastered. I did have the sense to wonder if my people made it back to the embassy quarters safely. But I was reasonably sure that they did, though they would have to send people to go fetch the cars. My steps were staggered and I was busy vowing never to drink again, while Byron and Boatswain helped me get down the steps, over to my room, and let me flop down into bed.


    I don¡¯t know what time it was when we got back, so I have no idea how long I slept. However, before I fell asleep I made a few mental notes that I put together later.


    Human death rituals are not about the dead, but the living, and the disposition of goods after death is dual purpose. First it properly dispenses goods that enriches those the deceased cared for, but also it provides memorial touchstones.


    Where most intelligent races have a fairly dismissive view of the dead, the human sense of empathy is so highly developed that it is fair to say it is ¡®over developed¡¯. They recall the dead with the same sense of affection and love as if the person were still with them. A parent who loses a child might cling to the child¡¯s toys for years, and if they do finally give them up, it will be to another child who will appreciate them in the same way. When a comrade passes, a treasured object gains almost religious reverence, a thing bonding the living and the dead across even an impossible divide.


    As I see it, part of Percival¡¯s motivation in assisting Fauve was not just the repayment of a debt, he bonded with her in mere hours, his steady guidance was frankly ¡®grandfatherly¡¯ (more about the role of elderly in human society later), and based on the limited descriptions Byron would later give regarding Percival¡¯s son and daughter-in-law, I think Fauve reminded him of them.


    By the same token, Percival¡¯s post death generosity with Byron seemed to be a kind of transference. As humans have the unique ability among intelligent species to ¡®find¡¯ families, a transferal of affection is far from impossible. This is especially true if the recipient of that transference did something remarkable on the giver¡¯s behalf, or on behalf of someone important to the giver.


    The complex weaving of bonds between humans is fascinating to no end, and I could not help but notice that it was strongly rooted in their psychological need to ¡®connect¡¯. Even those who lack the ¡®ability¡¯ to connect, still have a ¡®need¡¯ to do so, overcoming this difficulty in empathetic connection has been the work of generations of human scientists who have tried everything from drug therapy to animal therapy to draw the inner human out of their shell.


    Assisting others with their desire to connect, either connecting with them in person or simply providing mentorship, guidance, and patience, is considered a noble service to society. In studying my host family, ¡®my humans¡¯ I must point out that the two children are given abundant attention.


    William and Rebecca regularly sit down to have coffee with Fauve and simply talk with her, eye contact and light physical contact are common, a hug, holding her hand, a fist bump, a kiss to her forehead, affection is myriad in its expression and I have not listed them all here.


    But all seem centered around ensuring she is confident in her familial support, safe, and learns how to behave with others. The result of all this was a girl who seemed nearly fearless when speaking to a room full of adults, many of whom wanted to just use her for their own agendas.


    Michael, being so very young, received very different attention, he was held often, cuddled, most affection was physical, and there were various simple games. Smiles were common. Nonverbal communication in humans is important, this is not unique to humans, as dlamisa have a number of physical tells regarding our moods, ear motions, tail motions and positions, and the baring of teeth.


    But in humans the lack of these nonverbal communications is detrimental. Smiling is instinctive, and meant to spark a reciprocal expression in the adult, withholding it in the long term will actually damage the development of the child. Michael it seemed, was in no danger of that, their games centered around smiles, snuggles, and simple rhyming songs that¡­ with a little reworking, would have served as suitable rhythms for drinking songs.


    If I¡¯m to make a full confession, I was typing this in bed, hangovers are¡­ unpleasant. If by unpleasant you mean that it feels as if an asteroid impact has struck your head, only you can¡¯t die so it just throbs and throbs without end.


    I spent most of the day just lying there typing this out and trying to recall more details from the most recent events. I stopped only to get the story that I could from Byron and Boatswain, independently of course. Thankfully they were kind enough to bring me a small breakfast which included a note from Fauve wishing me well. I thought it was because she was going to work at her usual job at the mall candy shop that she hadn¡¯t come by to see me that morning¡­ but William informed me otherwise when he came down a short while later with the traditional post hangover coffee.


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    ¡°She¡¯s at their headquarters. That was where she went last night, Teresa took her back to fill out some legal forms.¡± He said while mixing cream and sugar until I nodded when it was enough. He stirred the blend with more vigor than he really needed to, so much so that when he stopped stirring, the spoon kept sliding around the inner rim of my cup for a full rotation before it finally stopped.


    He set the cup down beside my bed, and I sat up, my ears were all pricked up. William wasn¡¯t exactly a genius at deception, but even if he had been, my sense of smell knew anxiety pheromones at this point. ¡°Isn¡¯t that good?¡± I asked, I genuinely didn¡¯t know one way or the other if it was, but if it wasn¡¯t I wanted to understand why. ¡°I remember things ¡®before¡¯ the drinking, and she got a lot of credits, her future is set, right? A job, a fortune, what¡¯s to worry about?¡±


    William rolled his eyes and sat down in the nearby chair, he drummed his fingers on the table and said, ¡°I dunno. I guess it¡¯s weird thinking of her actually growing up. She¡¯s going to be fifteen in a few months, a few years from that, she¡¯ll be a legal adult. I guess that just threw me off a little.¡± He gave me an almost playful little half smile and ran his hand through his hair, ¡°Silly stuff. Don¡¯t think about it. Thinking probably hurts still anyway, I didn¡¯t know you could drink that much.¡±


    It was a change of subject, I knew it, though I don¡¯t know if he knew I knew it. But I allowed it, I touched my left hand to the side of my head and after taking another sip of coffee and setting the cup down, I dramatically flopped out on the bed. ¡°If you could kill me now, that would be great.¡± I flopped one arm over my eyes and made the most melodramatic sigh I could, imitating a human drama show¡­ and it had the desired effect.


    William laughed. I enjoyed cheering up my humans, and I could feel his anxiety levels decline a little. But it wasn¡¯t over.


    ¡°I got a datanote from your embassy.¡± William said, and I removed my arm from over my eyes. In my mind, that could not be a good thing.


    ¡®Deportation.¡¯ I thought right away, it wasn¡¯t always at the forefront of my mind, but it was still a going concern. Thankfully [Wolfbeard] at least had his father¡¯s stubbornness and kept making motions before the court, and thanks to the human right to face their accuser, I had to remain on Earth for any potential trial. If I left, there was always the chance he¡¯d be freed, or that Fauve would be forced to face him again, nobody wanted that.


    Percival¡¯s thoroughness in his media blitz was such that nobody wanted to be the politician behind [Wolfbeard¡¯s] release. Coupled with Byron¡¯s explanation of Percival¡¯s personality and special hatred for xenophobes, it is just further testament to one singular truth. Do not poke humans. Especially their families. Their overdeveloped capacity to empathy has a converse overdeveloped capacity for unbridled revenge.


    As it happened however, William¡¯s news wasn¡¯t nearly that bad. ¡°Apparently you had quite an evening last night, and your embassy was very pleased with your,¡± he paused, cleared his throat, and made the most ¡®exaggeratedly formal¡¯ tone he could, saying to me, ¡°hard work in developing interspecies relations between dlamisans and humans, as such you are to be rewarded.¡±


    ¡°Rewarded?¡± I asked, and William nodded, ¡°I was CC¡¯d on the message, but it was you it was sent to. Apparently something involving a sport called ¡®Ballyball¡¯ but it lacks details on that. You can read it yourself, but the long and the short of it is that a dlamisan freighter has been redirected and it is on its way to Earth to buy a lot of alcohol, and as a citizen of their world you¡¯re supposed to help them select the best options. If you do, they¡¯re sponsoring you for a work and education visa in addition to your exchange visa.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re what?¡± I asked, but I was already racing through my datapad for information, I found the message and read through it. ¡°So¡­ I can attend a human University, study student life? And I can get an actual job?¡±


    ¡°Yes. As long as you help them with the alcohol shipment.¡± William explained, ¡°They¡¯ve asked that as a ¡®friendly human¡¯ I facilitate your employment and admittance¡­ basically get you a job and get you enrolled.¡±


    It was dlamisan through and through, hardly subtle, very direct, you do this and this will be what you get for it. Very straightforward and then it was done.


    But it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. ¡°Yes, of course! And ah¡­ did you by chance hear from-¡±


    ¡°Yes. They¡¯ll be at dinner tonight, you might want to get cleaned up and for god¡¯s sake, take a shower, you smell like,¡± I knew the smile he made, he was going to use one, I braced myself, ¡°a ¡®boozehound¡¯.¡±


    I groaned at yet another dadjoke, and he rose to his feet.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get right on it.¡± I promised him when he reached for the doorknob.


    He turned the brass knob and the catch opened with a click, but before he exited he looked back at me and said, ¡°I know, I¡¯ve already arranged for a job interview and reached out to the admissions department for the University of Louisville. See you upstairs.¡± He said and left me behind.


    As I tried to rise I reached for the half empty cup and took another long drink to polish off the remnants of the rich cream colored coffee and thought, ¡®Maybe he¡¯s getting better at reading me than I believed.¡¯

 Chapter Eight

    Chapter Eight


    There is a strangeness to the human work ethos, on the left hand of the scale they can be so lazy that it¡¯s a wonder they don¡¯t grow moss.  Multiple vacations, creature comforts¡­ far be it for me to complain about these since I would have to ruin my academic integrity by pretending I didn¡¯t very much enjoy them.


    But on the right hand of the scale, they are capable of tremendous energy and ambition, a desire to leave their mark on the world, and achieve something they deem worthy of themselves.


    Even for so nonhomogenous a species, these extremes in them were jarring.  I adapted better, I think, than most of my fellow students in part because dlamisans have at least some of these traits encouraged by our culture.


    Strangely enough, with humans at least, it is the lazy that make the largest difference.  This may shock some of the more industrious races who read what I am about to write, but I will explain.  Picture an industrious idiot tasked to bring one hundred clay vases across a very wide room.  Because he is industrious, he is willing to work hard, but because he is an idiot, his solution is to carry a great many of them, and as a result, he drops them and they shatter.


    Now picture an intelligent and industrious person, they work out what they can carry, and tirelessly make many trips ensuring each one in safety, breaking very few and he finishes after a very long time.


    Now picture a lazy idiot, he does nothing.


    And lastly, a clever but lazy one, this one makes a cart with wheels and takes them all across with minimal effort.  All of human civilization has advanced because somebody set out to make things easier to do.  Whether inventing irrigation because buckets took too long or pulleys because heavy things are troublesome, humans are the only species I have ever encountered that can turn laziness into a superpower.


    Which is why I was thinking hard about my next job while I got up and went to the shower downstairs that I would use to clean myself off.  Humans, even more than dlamisa, love their water.  Perhaps because so much of the planet is covered with it, they think it normal.  My homeworld has substantially less, but it is because of that that we¡¯re drawn to it.  Unlike Earth, my home is a megacontinent, our own ¡®Pangea¡¯, the first of our kind to travel around it did so on foot.


    But the human divisions brought about by having not one or two, but seven continents, made exploration far more dangerous, and their superabundance of water gave them far more options than they had any business having.  With the abundance of massive seas providing nearly unlimited food for generations, their civilizations were able to grow up independently of one another¡­


    ¡­But I digress¡­ I find myself doing that more lately, the longer I am here.  My shower, yes, as I said, I had my own which provided ample hot water, though I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I, as Fauve put it, ¡°...smell like wet dog.¡±


    Rebecca helped to compensate for this by setting up three standing fans connected to a single power strip, along with a few extra towels so that when I left the shower I could simply turn on the fans while trying to dry myself.  It took some time, and I had to go from standing to kneeling to turning around for several minutes at a time.


    But it is a bad guest who stinks up the home of his host.


    I am reticent to add this part before detailing the events of dinner, however after the publication of the 2nd edition of this volume, certain homophobic species let their fear of Homo sapiens get the better of them, and it was whispered that I was ¡®forced¡¯ by the Walker family into an elaborate cleaning ritual as a way of humiliating me or because they considered aliens to be ¡®filthy¡¯.


    Therefore I add into this edition my refutation of that claim.  Dlamisan fur may range from thick to short, but ¡®mine¡¯ was on the thicker side and relatively long, as such when taking showers, I would get thoroughly drenched and drip water for hours if not properly dried.  Aside from puddles around the house that could be slipped on, I admit the odor was not the best.


    Therefore I was more than happy to meet them halfway, and if it took a little longer to start my day, what of it?  Unlike humans, I didn¡¯t have to engage in the same daily cleansing ritual, only weekly, more if I dirtied myself at the park.


    So with that interval accounted for and that rumor refuted in my own hand, I return to the narrative.  After throwing on a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt I headed for the stairs.  Before I got there I could already hear two familiar voices, one, my avian comrade, Ka¡¯wik.  He was an odd one as I recall.  Not many Kitzians became linguists, and he was another of the few predatory races to evolve, making him a double oddity.


    He was living with Virginia Walker and her son Samuel, who were paired with him because of all the Walker clan, they were the most mobile, and Kitzians do not idle well in one place for more than a few weeks at a time.  Their world is unique in that their civilization did not begin on land, but in the sky.  Their ancestors settled on large floating fungi that drifted over their world.  From what I know, they went down to land to create short term harvesting sites, and began rotational work that let their people make more discoveries and¡­ so it went.  Despite being settled and civilized, they are still known as wanderers.  Ka¡¯wik was very much one of his people, with a sharp hooked beak and a somewhat bulging red feathered throat, he had no claws on his hands, but rather nine webbed digits with small spines that would punch through whatever he grabbed.


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    His more predatory ancestors slew their prey by grabbing it out of the air, then crushing it by slamming it into the ground below.  As predatory species went, they were the dlamisa of the air.


    The other voice I heard was that of Professor Sxlith, I stopped, resting my hand on the rail and remaining out of view on the stairs.  ¡°My student seems to have embroiled you in a thorough mess, and I would like to apologize for any fault of his.¡±


    I should add that Tlaxishi do not really have a concept of ¡®apology¡¯ in their culture.  Among their people, anyone who does something offensive, removes themselves immediately for a period of thirty days, time enough for aggression hormones to dissipate.  Much of their Communication Age came about expressly because they needed to do more work at a distance and couldn¡¯t afford to not communicate for an Earth month or nothing would ever get done.


    Since his sojourn to Earth, the concept of an expression of verbal regret has entered their lexicon, and between that and some medicinal hormone blockers that make them less defensive, they are a more peaceful species than before.  There is a reason Sxlith became famous in academic circles for his work with humans.  But at the same time, it seems he was not immune from being impacted by his own studies, his apology flowed so naturally from him that had I not known his voice, and heard the faint flick of his tongue darting up to his eyeball, I might have thought it was a human speaking.


    ¡°Come now, professor, you know how these things go.  At least it certainly does with Virginia and her mate¡­¡±  I could practically see Ka¡¯wik¡¯s feathers puff out.  I knew little about his time with Virginia, but what little I knew was that she and her mate were prone to various hijinks and exotic travel, throwing themselves headlong into every new experience.  It wasn¡¯t hard to conclude that he¡¯d come to think of humans as headstrong and relentlessly adventurous¡­ not to mention prone to getting into trouble.


    ¡°Think nothing of it, maybe there was a better way, but you don¡¯t always have time for the better option, and I¡¯ll be damned if it wasn¡¯t fitting.  Besides, grandfather told me you learned that we do just fine with disruption.¡±  William¡¯s laugh after the last word was as thick and rich as syrup on pancakes, and it was at that moment that I realized that while I¡¯d come to learn a fair bit about his immediate household, I didn¡¯t know a lot about his family history.  ¡®I should have read the unabridged version, not Professor Sxlith¡¯s purely academic work¡­¡¯


    That, if the reader is interested, is when I decided to release my volumes of thesis work as a journal instead of a traditional observatory report, breaking with centuries of tradition and presenting a narrative instead.  The academic tome contained premises, conclusions, and evidentiary observations abound, but the meat or the humanity of the work was absent.  It presented an incomplete picture that left me less prepared than I might have otherwise been for my time on Earth.


    As I reached the main floor I saw an unexpected sight. Blorip, my semipermeable colleague, who I recalled moved like an oversized slug and was at least once or twice turned into a puddle from alcohol, had taken a human shape.  It wasn¡¯t quite perfect, but he had clearly learned to morph his body into something two legged, though the proportions were a little off.


    But it was good enough that he wore a ¡®kind¡¯ of clothing.  More specifically, he was wearing galoshes and a bright yellow raincoat that had been clearly cut and resewn into shorts and a button down shirt¡­ or something like it.


    ¡°You never know what to expect, so you can¡¯t plan for everything.¡±  He said, and to me, that was a shock.  Blorip came from a very conservative race called Baxili.  Baxilians are even longer lived than dlamisa, reproduce asexually, and their offspring retain a large percentage of their ¡®parental¡¯ memories.  While they are a predatory race, they are also capable of living off of almost anything, even more than humans, as they can survive off of a diet of raw minerals.  That is to say¡­ They can eat rocks.


    I would have been less surprised to hear William offer rocks for dinner than I was to hear a Baxili say that you can¡¯t plan for everything.  Of course with humans, that was simply the truth.


    ¡°Professor, Blorip, Ka¡¯wik, good to see you.¡±  I extended my hand in a human greeting, and my professor¡¯s lips twitched a little when I made the very human gesture and it was met by my classmates.  We shook hands one by one, Ka¡¯wik being careful not to do any accidental stabbings.


    I kept a brave face on it, but I knew what it had to be about.  ¡°Come, sit.¡±  Rebecca said and went to the coffee maker.  As Michael wasn¡¯t in his chair, I had to assume he was down for a nap, but though she put a brave face on it, I noticed the way her hands trembled a little and how she focused more intently on the task of coffee making than she usually did.


    Any doubts I had about the subject were erased.


    William emphasized his wife¡¯s words and gestured toward several chairs, his hand falling to the wooden back of one of them when his eyes met mine.


    I went for it while the others went for empty chairs of their own.


    Professor Sxlith waited until the steam was rising from each of our cups and the cream was flowing out of its container, we all took one long, deep breath, inhaling the fragrant aroma of the rich liquid that so shaped much of human culture.  Only then, when each of us had a hand on our cups and Rebecca claimed a seat of her own, did my professor speak.


    ¡°We need to talk about Bailey¡¯s stay, and how much longer it will be.  Or rather, not be.¡±

 Chapter Nine

    Chapter Nine


    I sat sideways on the chair to face my professor, my hands out in front of me, my fingers twitched and my fur bristled, ¡°But¡­ the trial?  The failed human is still filing motions, I have to be here in case I need to testify.  Besides, I haven¡¯t even been here for a year yet.  Plus the Ambassador said he has a job for me!  He¡¯s promising me a work visa, a student visa, there¡¯s so much left to learn!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go back!¡±  I exclaimed, I didn¡¯t realize how fast I¡¯d been speaking until I found myself breathing hard, my fellow students and my professor were eyeing me while saying nothing.


    My professor was an unusual male of his race in that he tended to be louder than others, it was part of why he preferred his position as a teacher at a large university, it gave him a chance to be loud.  But despite that, Professor Sxlith was quiet, looking from me to the Walkers.


    ¡°I knew this would happen.¡±  He said, and sounded somewhat regretful as he said it, his long slender tongue darted out to taste the air, his green scaled palm rested flat on the table, his tail at his back was stiff and unmoving.


    ¡°Knew what would happen?¡±  William asked, I couldn¡¯t see it, but when his and Rebecca¡¯s arms moved a little I knew they entwined their hands together beneath the table.  It was a gesture of unity among humans, a quiet, private gesture meant only for one another.  For all of human openness, most of that was simply practical.  As a highly social species they had few occasions for total privacy, so by sheer necessity ¡®most¡¯ gestures of affection were public.


    But that didn¡¯t mean they had no need for privacy at all, or that they would deliberately display a bond for all to see, some gestures were meant only for one another.  The fact that I could detect some of these private gestures was a point of professional pride. I was learning more and more. In my more ambitious moments I couldn¡¯t help but dream of the day I would present my work and reach the top of my profession, the foremost expert on humans¡­ what a title that would be!


    But Professor Sxlith¡¯s words threatened all that.


    ¡°I chose my students for more than their grades.¡±  My professor said, addressing William¡¯s question.  ¡°Each of them come from a predatory species, this makes them rare, you may not know it, Will, but intelligent predators are not even one in fifty, no not even one in one hundred, of the civilizations of the galaxy.  Just by existing, the five species at this table are uncommon as can be.  More than that, each of my students is an aberration for being extroverted enough to want to study another species.  Most don¡¯t want to do that, and even more rare, those selected for this special assignment are the only ones to show any interest in their fellow students, even as rivals.¡±


    It was Rebecca who made the connection first, ¡°You chose them for their individual ability to bond.¡±  She guessed, and Sxlith¡¯s tongue wiggled around as he nodded.


    ¡°Exactly, a maximalist aberation, if you will.  And I seem to have chosen well, too well perhaps.¡±  He said and finally rotated his eyeball in my direction.  ¡°The government of your homeworld may give you a visa, but you came here through the Anthropology department, and there are grave concerns among my colleagues that you have gotten far too involved in your study, that you are going to give a black mark to the University if you¡¯re allowed to continue.  I don¡¯t need to tell you what that means.¡±


    I hung my head.


    He was right.


    I didn¡¯t need to be told.


    William though, did.  ¡°Would you mind cluing me in, grandfather?¡±  He asked, a drop of sweat appeared on his brow, but he did an admirable job of keeping his voice steady.


    Ka¡¯wik chimed in, ¡°Same reason we¡¯re here, really.  Our worlds put a lot of money into the University, if they think it¡¯s corrupting us or making us into disruptive elements, they¡¯ll cut the funding or pull out.¡±


    ¡°And that would be disastrous.  True unity isn¡¯t present in the galaxy¡­ just a tenuous peace built on fear of war and the knowledge that governing multiple worlds is impossible.  Nobody can really win.  The University is a symbol of our commitment to peace.  My student, ¡®Bailey¡¯ broke that peace and attacked a human.  His reasons are justified, but it has raised concerns for a lot of things.  Not the least of which is among the evolved prey races about hosting the predators.  My colleagues want to remove him, and while the University is not a government, other governments may start applying pressure to Dlamisa to remove the offender, or¡­¡±


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    He licked his eyeballs several times like he didn¡¯t want to say what he was about to, ¡°or they may recall you to speak directly to a special council.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound so bad.¡±  Rebecca said and I could feel them relax, but Blorip¡¯s body bubbled out before he got control of himself.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t, if you don¡¯t mind him not coming back for another fifty years.  The dlamisa visa is good for a very long time, if this is a problem, they will simply send you back to explain yourself, and delay your return to Earth for decades.¡±


    ¡°That does sound like something my people would do if they want to avoid a problem¡­ and when word spreads about last night?¡±  I shook my head and then snapped my jaw shut.


    ¡°What about last night?¡±  Professor Sxlith demanded, and I felt very much like a young pup again getting caught by my mother doing something foolish.  I slumped in my chair and explained myself, everything I remembered, and everything Byron and Boatswain explained to me afterward, down to how the embassy chose me to handle a small matter of trade.


    Far from being angry or appalled, all three looked impressed.  Ka¡¯wik immediately said, ¡°I want to watch a game like that!¡±  Blorip¡¯s burbling redoubled its speed so that he could barely maintain his humanoid shape when he added¡­


    ¡°Me too!¡±


    And as to my professor, Sxlith said matter of factly, ¡°It sounds like a bizarre mashup of Earth sports¡­ and like they would need to clone livers to keep the athletes alive.  But it might be fun to watch.¡±


    William was less enthusiastic about sports than the others, and remained focused, ¡°Is there anything that can be done?¡±


    Professor Sxlith licked his eyeballs one and then the other back and forth several times while he thought and then answered, ¡°Yes.  The University¡¯s contention is that you are a danger to their reputation rather than an asset, a reputation grounded on the advancement of knowledge and peaceful cooperation.  If you can present something of research value, then they will have grounds to more or less ignore these ¡®incidents¡¯.  It will not be easy, our research projects span years, but you do not have years.  The dlamisa freighter and the favor of the ambassador will buy you time, but not very much.¡±


    ¡°How much is ¡®not very much¡¯?¡±  Rebecca asked, she shifted uncomfortably on her seat, as a woman of science, I knew why she was anxious, time constraints on a study tended to make them sloppy at best.


    Sxlith¡¯s answer was delivered with his own unique form of ¡®deadpan energy¡¯ the sort used when he gave assignments we had very little chance of completing either on time or to his satisfaction.  ¡°Months at most.  I can justify a short extension for the freighter and the embassy work, but you will have to write, create, and conduct a complete study that demonstrates real value to not only the University staff, but to the financially contributing government''s overarching mission of maintaining peace and cooperation.¡±


    Professor Sxlith was not the most expressive in the visual sense.  A few cues were obvious to me, the pace he used to lick his eyebrows, the stiff tail, even the fact that he brought colleagues to observe our reactions to this, it wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t care, but rather that he was always thinking of improving his understanding of humans and the effects they had on other species.  Even devastating news and a near impossible task were aspects of his studies.


    Even with a family he cared about.


    But despite that, I was grateful he¡¯d come in person, and I steadied my mind, took a deep breath that filled all three air sacks in my chest.  ¡°Fine.  I¡¯ll do my best, Professor.¡±


    I could see William and Rebecca were making ready to protest, make an offer, something, but I quickly headed them off, shutting down anything they might say by suggesting, ¡°For now, what say we have a nice meal, it looks like Fauve will be late getting back after all.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take a genius of interspecies relations for them to see what I meant.  I¡¯d want to talk to Fauve myself, and I wanted a different subject for now while I processed all this.


    ¡°Of course.  I was just about to make stew, dear, why don¡¯t you go grab a bottle from the basement?¡±  Rebecca suggested, ¡°We can play some cards while we wait, we have enough people to play Spite and Malice.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing.¡±  William rose and tugged lightly on his jeans, ¡°Who wants bourbon?¡±  He asked.


    All of us, myself included, immediately answered, ¡°I¡¯ll have some!¡±  And for the moment at least, we would have a relaxing evening before my ordeal began.

 Chapter Ten

    Chapter Ten


    ¡°I wish I could do more for you, but I¡¯m only a department head and professor, the best I can do is approve any study you submit to me for approval. I can extend credits to you for any supplies you need, but beyond that the only one who can help you out of this,¡± Sxlith paused his diatribe to lap his tongue into the bourbon glass several times, ¡°is you.¡±


    I threw back my shot, tilting my head up and envying human mouths the convenience of their glasses. The liquid burned down my throat where it settled in my stomach and I held out my glass to William who quickly poured another. Ka¡¯wik darted his tongue out and drained the liquid through a little funnel connected to it¡¯s tip, in nature this was used to either drink liquid or to drain the blood of their prey. His species digestion was exceptionally efficient, even moreso than humans, with a natural consequence that he lay slumped back in the chair after his third shot.


    Blorip by contrast, simply made part of his body into an appendage and stuck it into the shot glass. His green was starting to look greener, and his humanoid shape was starting to become more blob-like. His body rippled as the dark liquid ran through the interior of the membrane and finally blended in with his body¡¯s darker hue.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s all I can ask¡­ more than I expected.¡± It was hard not to look down into my shot glass and feel flustered and frustrated both at once, but I did my best. A human might have thanked him, but I did not. Thank him for what? Nothing changed.


    Sxlith didn¡¯t press me, instead he turned to updating William and Rebecca on the goings on of the rest of the branches of the Walker family.


    They were a large and diverse lot, with people spread from the continent of Europe, Central America, and Australia, and everywhere in between. My Teacher¡¯s words came back to me in a flash. ¡®You are Anthropologists. For you, everything is a study, an experiment, or both. Every observation is a chance to learn something new, including things about yourself.¡¯


    My professor was studying me, but that meant I too could study him, I could study the Walkers and how they responded to news about family that was out of sight and out of mind, or if they even were out of mind.


    So I listened more than I spoke, which is the best way to learn. ¡°...So she¡¯s going to have another kid, that¡¯s great news.¡± William replied to Sxlith¡¯s information, ¡°It¡¯s always a good idea to space them out a little, you know, free child labor and whatnot.¡± He chortled a little, then let out a harumpf, ¡°A perfectly good child labor joke and Fauve isn¡¯t here to catch it.¡±


    Rebecca didn¡¯t laugh, ¡°Joke-shmoke, I don¡¯t know how she handles all those kids, I can only handle two.¡±


    It¡¯s the little things about this conversation that I gleaned the most from, William was referring to a cousin who had six children already in rapid succession, an uncommon thing for most humans in the modern era. A lot more can be gleaned however, he showed neither anger nor pleasure in the way he spoke, if anything he was very casual about it. Great, loud, expressive enthusiasm would follow with someone closer to him, or so I judged from my media observations.


    He wasn¡¯t worried, which is to be expected, over the years the healthcare of humans had evolved considerably from their most primitive beliefs in magic, rituals, and miracles, to modern science. In the last few hundred years their shifting politics made proper medical care a basic ¡®right¡¯ of all people, and as such it was fully funded out of their planetary budget. Their reasoning for this was starkly simple, ¡®If you hold a rope out to a man dangling off a cliff, and demand payment to let him grab it, are you not a monster. If you let him fall because he cannot pay, are you less monstrous? Why should it be different for those who will die without medical treatment? As such preventative care including prenatal stages were kept widely available to ensure maximally good health at birth and then until the point of death.


    William¡¯s casual air therefore was a blend of his emotional distance to his cousin and an easy confidence that things would work out as they typically did in these things, but I paid special note to Rebecca. She side eyed her husband and said¡­


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    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you said nine months before we had Michael.¡± William pointed out, and Rebecca poured another shot for herself, looked him squarely in the eye and replied¡­


    ¡°A truly loving husband would not point that out.¡±


    She handed him the bottle and no sooner did he pour himself another round than he retorted, ¡°My dear, a truly loving husband is the only one who can.¡±


    It was oddly comforting to watch their taunting play, the way Rebecca flipped her hair back with a single gesture, and the way William leaned back in his as casually as he could¡­ there is something else I have to note here.


    William and Rebecca¡¯s bonding was nearly twenty years in length, astonishingly long compared to most species who remained together for only a handful of years if they did at all. Even in his own species, such unions were typically not much longer than seven to ten years. Seeing the way they played with one another with words, engaged in their regular flirtations, I resolved one thing, ¡®If I got to stay, I would study the significance of human pair bonding far, far more closely.¡¯


    The light drinking did its part for us, burying the underlying tension and helping me to relax when I needed it most. It wasn¡¯t lost on either William or Rebecca that I couldn¡¯t put off telling Fauve for long, for the moment though, there were other questions too.


    ¡°William, you mentioned a job?¡± I asked. His eyes switched from his wife to myself and he answered me with a snap of his fingers.


    ¡°Yes, right! It¡¯s at the University. You¡¯ll have to go up there, but since you¡¯re also going to be a student, it should be an easy job to get. The University of Louisville has a small military presence, you¡¯d be doing some work for them, I don¡¯t know all the details, but apparently they want somebody to help with field exercises.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ human soldiers?¡± I asked, and he gave a little nod my way.


    Any questions I might have had were put off by the noise of Fauve¡¯s voice at the door, and my¡­ well they would object if I openly said I was a coward, but I know of no other word for it, so ¡®my cowardice¡¯ reasserted itself. I stood up and stretched my legs, ¡°I¡¯m going to get some rest. Goodnight.¡±


    ¡°But we haven¡¯t even had dinner yet¡­¡± Rebecca objected, thankfully nobody in the room had my hearing, so they couldn¡¯t hear what I did, Fauve excitedly talking with Byron and Boatswain outside the front door about her upcoming internship and her orientation. I had to avert my eyes from the door, my tail drooped.


    ¡®I don¡¯t want to go.¡¯ I would have said it to anybody who could have changed things, but there was nobody like that here, not even Professor Sxlith could do more than help me with a study approval that I haven¡¯t even written yet.


    ¡°Put a plate in the refrigerator for me, I¡¯ll eat later. Goodnight!¡± I said a little quieter and faster than I normally did, ¡°Professor, Ka¡¯wik, Blorip, live long and learn much.¡± I gave a half bow to the trio as I hastily shot out the traditional courtesy greeting of university academics.


    I¡¯m sure they said it back, but even with my keen hearing, I didn¡¯t notice, I was focused on my flight from the inevitable questions I didn¡¯t want to answer.


    Dlamisa have no superstitions, no gods or spirits as humans once did, our evolutionary path simply didn¡¯t lend itself to anything like it. However in that moment as I descended the stairs, afraid of saying things I knew needed to be said, but that I neither knew how nor wanted to say, I envied the superstitious. To believe something was giving you an edge, a little extra protection in the face of unpleasantness, fear, or anxiety must have been comforting.


    I didn¡¯t have that, but I did have swift feet, and I rushed down, glad that the pads on my feet kept my steps quiet all the way and then raced to my room, closing the door with such care that my hand never left the knob and my ears were pressed against the wood until I was sure I could let the knob turn and secure the door in place.


    I then flicked off the light, buried myself deep beneath the covers so that even my head was concealed from view so no part of my could be seen, and after that I don¡¯t know what else to say except that I curled up and went to sleep.


    I do remember another thought though, my last one before I drifted off.


    ¡®I don¡¯t want to go.¡¯

 Chapter Eleven

    Chapter Eleven


    It would be fair to say, with a long time looking back on that night, that I covered myself completely with the covers not because I didn¡¯t want to chance Fauve coming down and realizing I was awake, thus forcing me to talk.  That was very unlikely, since the failed human¡¯s incarceration and the string of legal actions against his flying monkeys she¡¯d returned to much of her online world.


    She was herself again, and I was glad about that, but of course as a consequence her night owl habit returned and she would likely only inform her parents on her way to her room.


    Which meant the true reason I was hidden beneath the covers was that I didn¡¯t want to face what was outside of them, even if that consequence was lightyears away on world so far distant that the light of it¡¯s star would not kiss the ground of Earth until even the youngest of the Walker family had died of old age or nearly.  ¡®Here they used to call it ¡®the loneliest planet¡¯ and I never really knew what they meant by that until I had to fear leaving this one.¡¯


    That was my thinking when I woke up in the morning, I moved like a ghost out human stories, going through the motions of preparing for my day while I mentally prepared myself for everything I would have to cope with.  The ambassador hadn¡¯t told me when the freighter would arrive, but if dlamisa are anything, we¡¯re efficient, and our ships are somewhat faster than those of humans.  It wouldn¡¯t be long.  Days, maybe weeks depending on how far away they were.  I knew that the pulpultion technology combined with our gate technology would have widespread applications¡­ much as the scientists at University howled about the need for urgent implementation, how could I not know that?


    But it also hadn¡¯t yet been combined.  Which meant with only the gate tech if the freighter was far away then they would be faced with as much as two months travel if they both followed the usual trade lines, which they would, and were a fair distance from us.


    That bought me time to come up with what I needed, a study, some kind of study that would convince the academic boards on the planet humans referred to as ¡®Tomass¡¯, that I was an asset here despite the indiscretions.


    But I was in no shape for that at just that moment.  I was leaning up against the shower wall while hot water pounded through my fur to wash away something of the smell¡­ and because I¡¯d heard that humans sometimes use hot showers to treat hangovers.  I touched my right hand to my head, it felt like I was being smacked there by Zenti cannon fire.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never drink again.¡±  I muttered under my breath and stuck my face into the many little jetstreams of water. I was briefly blinded by the spray, but even if it didn¡¯t help my hangover, it did make me feel a little more awake.


    Drying myself off took the expected amount of time, multiplied by the number of shots that I had.  Suffice it to say it took some time to get ready to join everybody upstairs.  As I expected I would be very busy today, I chose to use one of the clothing sets the Walkers provided to me with my room, a pair of simple jean shorts and a button down shirt embroidered with the University of Louisville name and logo.


    The only thing that really caused me to move any faster than a trudge up the stairs was that I could smell bacon and coffee.  While the diets of each Earth region differed considerably, perhaps because it was my first impression, or perhaps it was attached to the people themselves, I loved their breakfasts best.


    The bacon was crispy, my nose told me that much, and I could hear Rebecca talking while she opened the oven.  I could hear Michael babbling nonsense in his chair as he tried to master human words.


    I noticed that he smiled a lot at me, and as I settled into life with the Walkers, I regularly sat beside him, he seemed to like the black and orangish fur a great deal.  His head was a little oversized relative to the rest of his body, leaving him unbalanced, and on occasion I¡¯d taken to watching over him.  It was for this reason that Rebecca said, ¡°Could you mind Michael for a little, just let him play with you for a few minutes while I get the biscuits done and everything plated?¡±


    Rebecca was clearly where Fauve got her sense of order, everything had to be just so for her, and in this case that meant that breakfast was not a free for all, she would plate out the first serving, providing a practical measure to each person.  After that, she ignored all second helpings.


    Strangely, she¡¯d never asked me to do this during breakfast before.  I wanted to take a look, but as soon as I got up and tried to look at what she was doing, she put her back to the food and motioned away with her hands.


    ¡°Shoo, shoo.  Out of the kitchen, go play for a bit, you¡¯ll see what I¡¯ve made, soon enough.¡±  She insisted.


    ¡°Alright, if you like.¡±  I answered and picked Michael up.  This was a task I had to handle with care as human infants are shockingly delicate creatures.  William once explained to me that for the first few years of their life, your job as a parent can be summed up as, ¡®Just keep them alive.¡¯  I found it difficult to disagree with his assessment.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Carrying Michael in one arm was as easy as it was hard.  It was ¡®easy¡¯ in the sense that he weighed very little, but it was ¡®hard¡¯ in that he was a wiggly little creature who was also prone to tugging at my fur when being carried.


    Wrangling him properly to the point where he would let go¡­ well I can sum that up by saying that he left me with a few little bald spots on my fur on more than one occasion.


    I spread out a small blanket over the hardwood floor, it was only three or four paces across for me in either direction, but it was enough room for him to play on.


    I had to be grateful to my Teacher for his advice, it made me look at the tiny wiggling specimen with a more critical eye instead of just amusing myself, and it made me more conscious about my own responses as well.  Studying ¡®how¡¯ other races respond to this particularly dangerous predatory species at all stages of life was, in my mind, absolutely vital.


    Given the affection I have when I speak of them, it is jarring I¡¯m sure to also hear me speak of their dangerous nature, but this is part of what sets them apart from so many others.


    This difference begins in infancy.  Michael was at an age when he was mobile, but still needed intensive care. He couldn¡¯t say much, but I could see in his eyes the way he absorbed everything around him.  Perhaps it was that which made our little game possible.


    I began circling the outside of the blanket while he toddled around on it, coming after me, only for me to dodge by jumping from one side or the other, or even jumping over him.


    His little hands flailed and little pudgy fingers grasped, but keeping just out of reach was still not at all difficult.  However I must add that this ¡®active play¡¯ in species around the known galaxy is exceptionally rare.  It is found only in apex predators or in prey that specializes in survival via retreat.


    Equally noteworthy, he just didn¡¯t stop.  Young Michael continued to chase me around the blanket, giggling all the while¡­ and going after my tail.  The way he giggled and stared was almost enchanting, he reminded me of that Maxili species who also create large headed young.  Incidentally, as of the time of this writing, the survival rate of their young has gone from ten percent to closer to ninety percent in areas where human pioneers have settled.  It seems the pioneer women have turned gaxa serpent hunting into rite of passage.  No woman may guard or bear children until she has proven her ability to protect them by exterminating a gaxa nest.  It seems the timid race took Professor Sxlith¡¯s words to heart and human females have become the most treasured allies of that once unfortunate world.  Yes, I do keep an eye on my professor¡¯s research¡­ I suppose in human terms I could sometimes be called a ¡®teacher¡¯s pet¡¯.  But I genuinely revered his research and contributions to our collective future.


    As for Michael, his tireless motion led me to study human bodies more, and I learned that from his age through toddlerhood he could be expected to move a minimum of roughly three hours per day.  Astonishingly, it was conceivable for him to move much, much more when spread out into sessions.


    It was no wonder that he eventually caught my tail¡­ and gave it a good yank.  I jumped a meter into the air and whirled around to see him giggling and holding some of my fur in his hands, sitting down with a thud and waving his tiny fist around in triumph.


    ¡°Bailey!  Fauve!  William!  Byron!  Boatswain!  George!  Cullan!  Breakfast!¡±  Rebecca was not a very large woman, if anything she could be described as rather petite by human norms, but she had a powerful set of lungs and was not afraid to use them.  You may have noticed two additional names, ¡®George¡¯ and ¡®Cullan¡¯ on the list of those called out.  George was Byron¡¯s human comrade, one of the two Earth guards set to mind the house, while ¡®Cullan¡¯ was the dlamisa counterpart.  I barely knew either of them, though both were giants of their respective kinds.  Not unlike Byron and Boatswain, and both were quiet sorts and rotated shifts regularly with their colleagues.


    However at breakfast, all four were sure to be present as it was when the shifts would change over.  Of course I had to wonder about my professor and my colleagues, but as the door opened and the stampede of behemoths rushed in, I was not going to miss out on the plating.  So I scooped up Michael and raced to my spot at the table just in time for Fauve to descend and to see her go straight for the coffee pot.


    I felt William¡¯s eyes on me, and then as Rebecca began to set plates down at spot after spot, I felt hers bore into me in turn.  The question didn¡¯t need to be spoken.


    I darted my eyes away from husband and wife and toward their daughter, Fauve was already chattering away while she added creamer to her steaming cup.  ¡°...So the internship pays twenty-percent above market rate, plus when I turn sixteen Teresa says that if I¡¯m still there I¡¯ll get to travel with her as her personal assistant!  If I stay till eighteen I¡¯ll get a full time job and college credit!¡±


    Her enthusiasm was so high that she was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. A tiny bit of hot coffee spilled out and landed on the counter, but either she didn¡¯t see it, or she ignored it.  ¡°I can¡¯t wait to start!¡±


    With her beaming bright smile, flushed red cheeks and bouncy demeanor, I couldn¡¯t bring up something like that.  I didn¡¯t meet the eyes of either the patriarch or matriarch of the Walker household.  It was answer enough for them, I wouldn¡¯t be telling anyone anything today.


    Instead I said, ¡°Great, I got a job too!  I don¡¯t know what I look forward to it!¡±  I covered my own sense of dread with a wagging tail that wasn¡¯t entirely faked, and I was at least sure that even if I hadn¡¯t fooled myself with some of that enthusiasm, I had entirely fooled Fauve.


    The trouble would have to wait.


    For now, I just wanted her to be happy.  Now, just as then, I hope I made the right choice.

 Chapter Twelve

    Chapter Twelve


    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic.  Are you nervous?¡±  Fauve asked when she crunched down on a piece of bacon.


    ¡°A little.¡±  I admitted.


    ¡°How are you getting there?¡±  She asked, and I scratched the back of my head.


    ¡°Oh, right.  Uh, how do I get there?¡±  I looked to William for advice.  He swallowed the coffee in his mouth, smacked his lips and informed me¡­


    ¡°I bought you a hoverbus pass last night after you went to bed, and sent the address to your datapad along with the route map.  Just take the bus routes on the list at the times specified, you¡¯ll be fine.¡±  He said and reached for a steaming golden biscuit and a little clear container of honey.  ¡°Oh and don¡¯t bother with the thanks, it¡¯s all covered under your program, it¡¯s not costing me a thing.  Plus,¡± he grinned a little bit, ¡°we got our reimbursement for all the legal costs involved in the recent fiasco.  Lawyers fees, service fees, court costs, and ¡®his¡¯ lawyers gave us a direct deposit of their own.  A little up front for a hover bus is no big deal.¡±


    I think it is worth noting that while hover technology was widespread among humans, because of their propensity for distraction and intoxication, actual driving with their control over the vehicles was rare, and no privately owned vehicles were equipped with hovertech.


    Instead only their mass transport vehicles had it, and they operated under strict rules with predesignated routes and remotely managed guidance that could be shut down manually or from their headquarters.  The reasoning behind this was simple.  Many humans are unfortunately stupid and lazy, like most species, and if a privately owned vehicle with hovertech installed were to fail in flight because the owner replaced prevention with wishful thinking, accidents would be disastrous.  By the same token, an intoxicated human would do a lot more damage crashing their hovertech vehicles into buildings without any pathing or lane controls.


    Mass transport however, could be easily controlled, and by keeping the skies almost completely clear, hoverbuses could move people great distances very quickly with easy layovers wherever they were needed.  It was so efficient that traffic began to disappear as more people took these much faster, safer options.


    William though, went on.


    ¡°I sent the location to your datapad last night, by the way,¡±  William added, ¡°And I made sure to let them know you¡¯re coming, so there will be someone to greet you at the entrance.¡±  He paused and stabbed his fork into a sausage, took a bite and savored it for a few seconds before he swallowed.  ¡°Just one more thing,¡± he said and raised his fork in my direction, ¡°you might have some dirty work ahead, so you may have to take more showers, the last thing anybody wants is a smelly employee.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if he was joking or not, but I suppose I should elaborate more on this point.


    For most species, self care routines are either intensive where they need to care for very little but focus heavily on it, or extensive where they have to take care of their whole bodies, but need to do very little to any one place.  Humans however are unique in that they are both.  The human male and female will both groom the hair on their head, most males will shave their faces or they will trim to keep a particular appearance they deem attractive to either attract a mate or maintain the attraction of the mate they have.  Meanwhile most females will strive to keep their longer hair on their head clean and shiny with extensive chemical modification.  Similarly, they will often remove hair that grows elsewhere, for example, the legs and where their arms and torsos meet.


    This hair removal is not universal, numbers of human cultures outside of my host family ignore it completely, but in the area I lived, it was very common for a human female to place strips of burning hot wax over her flesh, lay a small strip of paper overtop of it, and when the melted wax dries, rip the paper free to rip all the hairs out by their roots.


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    The human tolerance for pain is a wonder to behold, and that they endure it merely for vanity is no less remarkable.  They also bathe themselves in water, slathering themselves with thick bars of strong smelling substances called soap which kill bacterial growth which takes place all over their bodies.


    Apparently humans are hosts to some of the largest bacterial colonies existing both parasitically and symbiotically with their hosts, anywhere in the known galaxy.  Killing harmful bacterial growth on their bodies is a daily requirement, and the failure to do so leads them to quickly develop a foul and disgusting odor.  The failed human we dealt with previously, was one such human.


    If I could have puckered my lips, I would have, the memory of his foul tasting meat was still thick on my tongue at the mere mention of it.  While there are many species in the galaxy that will consume their enemies, I think it is highly likely that any attempt to do so when it comes to humans will inevitably lead to accusations of biological warfare.


    Even in death, a human is a dangerous thing.


    Regardless, focusing on the moment, I noticed that Fauve was watching me more closely than before.  I watched the way her eyes searched over my face, her brow slightly furrowed as if she was studying a new specimen and wasn¡¯t quite sure what to make of it.


    I hadn¡¯t ever tried to deceive anyone, not really.  It isn¡¯t that dlamisa can¡¯t lie, it¡¯s just that we¡¯re just not as good at it as the more social species, but I did have my alien face going for me so I doubted she caught on that I was hiding something.


    Besides, is it really a lie if you just ¡®don¡¯t¡¯ say anything?  Or so I thought at the time.


    Several seconds passed where that intense look went on without wavering before she finally perked up and said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll do great.¡±  She flashed an encouraging smile at me and then closed her eyes in imitation of the way her favorite ¡®anime waifus¡¯ often closed theirs.


    The artistic styles of humans are far too many and varied for me to elaborate upon in a single book, but in brief I will touch upon one which had considerable success in spreading around the world.  While it is popularly considered to be from the region known as ¡®Japan¡¯, in fact it originates in early twentieth century America.  This style centered around very large eyes and faces, which were easier to animate and create impactful expressions.  Features that enhanced expression were exaggerated, while those that could not were largely minimized or even concealed.  As this was the earliest place where animation was spread to the wider world, it influenced other nations considerably.


    Over time the point of origin shifted stylistically, but the region of Japan kept it, modified it to their liking, and eventually spread the style all over again, giving it renewed popularity in the late twentieth and twenty-first century industrial world.  It endures in its modern form today, with several classics having multiple reboots and expanded universes.  Fauve, as it turns out, was one such fan and occasionally imitated some of her favorite characters.


    I doubt she realized I knew what that ¡®innocent and encouraging blind smile¡¯ expression was used for.  I had studied their favorite media, from the classic animated versions of ¡®Evolution of a Nobody¡¯ to the largest fantasy universe by a single author in the last few centuries, ¡®Who Endures¡¯ along with a number of their comedies.  That ¡®blind smile¡¯ was used in storytelling when a character was encouraging someone¡­ who was lying.


    I cursed my bad acting.  She knew something was off with me, and she was playing the innocent.  As much as I hated to admit it, I would have to tell her sooner rather than later.  Not even one minute before, I was so sure, and now I wasn¡¯t.  I¡¯d have to explain, and I¡¯d have to do it soon.


    But not yet.  My hearts quailed at the very thought.  ¡®Coward.¡¯  I judged myself internally before I distracted my head from the accusation by looking down at my datapad and pulling up both the bus pass and the route.  ¡°I¡¯d better get going, it¡¯s going to be a very busy day for me, so¡­ you all have a good one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d best be going too then.¡±  Boatswain said and rose to his feet.  Before I could ask he said, ¡°Until everyone responsible for threatening you is dead, imprisoned, or broken, you¡¯re getting a security escort to any uninspected area.  Embassy orders.¡±


    I tried not to show my lack of enthusiasm, and instead nodded.  ¡°Just don¡¯t interfere too much.¡±  I asked, and like a true dlamisa, he didn¡¯t even bother to answer me, though he did say a few farewell words while I headed for the door.  The truth is, I barely paid attention to him, my mind was elsewhere.  My mind was on what lay ahead.

 Chapter Thirteen

    Chapter Thirteen


    Hoverbus routes were everywhere, they had to be.  Unlike some of the races of the galaxy, humans were a very ad hoc, which is to say, a very in the moment improvisational species.  They often built cities essentially completely by accident.  On dlamisa and many other worlds, even in primitive times these disconnected peoples all came to the same conclusion.  Whenever a new area was to be settled, multiple villages or towns would gather their landless and unemployed, equip them with supplies, and settle an area all at once with materials and a long term plan.


    Humans however, often settled areas very slowly, the exception being when large kingdoms or their armies expressly wanted an area settled.  Most areas, devoid of long term planning or a specific settlement type in mind, grew wildly and unrestricted for generations, even centuries until some force of government imposed order on the chaos with legal zoning mandates.


    Louisville was a marvelous example of the human propensity for chaos and rapid growth, it was obvious after minutes of driving through it that the city was never expected to be the size that it was.  As such to accommodate hovertech they stationed bus routes nearly everywhere.  Strangely enough, this innovative species managed to make this into an efficient model by carefully scheduling arrivals and departures so that nobody waited in one place for more than a few minutes.


    I found my stop easily enough, it was conveniently placed a few minutes walk from the Walker household, directly by one of their major food stores, this was a deliberate choice on the part of the city government, ensuring that mass purchase, employment, and education centers were also doubling as drop off and pickup points for the bus system.  The bus stop was a wonder of pragmatism, a pair of benches side by side carved out of stone, and for shade there were fruit bearing trees whose slender trunks stretched up a meter over the tallest person¡¯s standing height.


    The branches spread out overhead, and when I arrived, there was a maintenance worker who was trimming the fruit free from the upper branches.  Conveniently enough, to protect people from falling fruit a clear plastic barrier rose up from the back of the bench to protect the heads of people down below.


    The fruit on and around the trimmed branches went into baskets carried by the blue uniformed worker, while the lower branches went untouched.  He whistled a little while he worked, though I didn¡¯t recognize the tune, it had a delightful bounce to it with every clip of his hand shears.


    The fruit in question was a variety of apple, one of the more popular Earth fruits, evidenced by the fact that several people on benches were already munching on ones they¡¯d taken from the tree.  This trend of publicly available fruit trees was found at every common stop and public park, though I can¡¯t help but wonder what they did with the excess.  Given their love of liquor, I ¡®guessed¡¯ that they used the unharvested extra in some of their cheaper and more popular liquor manufacturing.


    I snatched a bright red apple from the tree and brought it to my mouth, I got a few funny looks from people, though nobody shrank in terror.  The reason being, I think, that every time a new species was encountered, the Earth government would broadcast what they looked like all over the planet, providing what knowledge they¡¯d gained so that if one of a race visited their world, they would not be shocked or alarmed.


    It helped a lot for me I think, that I looked so very doglike.  I waved and bit into the apple, my jaws let me take a quarter of it in one bite and I sat down beside an old woman in a skirt and dress, and a young woman in a very short black skirt and what they refer to as a ¡®tube top¡¯.  Boatswain however, remained standing, where I used body language for openness, relaxed and leaning back, he crossed his arms and kept a severe, steady stare straight ahead.  I just pretended I wasn¡¯t there and looked over the human who looked at us both.


    Because of humans shorter lifespans and year round sexuality, I observed that it was very common for those who were younger and of mating age in their prime, to bare more flesh than those who were much older, but interestingly enough, unlike most species, the very display that enticed the same or opposite sex, was also not necessarily indicative of a desire for a mating partner.


    Instead it was sometimes simply an expression of comfort and confidence on the part of the one baring skin.  You may recall my earlier observations regarding the wildly varying mating strategies and their differing levels of success?  There seemed to be one golden rule in this peculiar species, ¡®Assume nothing.¡¯


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re an alien?¡±  The younger woman said to me while we munched on our apples and stretched out, waiting for the bus.  I had to conclude that given Boatswain¡¯s steady outward stare and pointed ignoring of the humans near us, that she was ¡®returning the favor¡¯ and focusing in on me, as I appeared the far more open and less threatening of the two of us.


    I am not sure whether to credit William or Fauve or even Rebecca for my answer, but I said, ¡°No, I¡¯m just a talking dog in clothes on his way to work.¡±


    She looked at me funny for a moment, the way humans cocked their heads at the unexpected, it was positively adorable, especially with those who were young and clearly a little naive about the universe  She scratched her head for a moment, fingers running through her ink black hair, and then she parted her ruby lips and laughed.


    ¡°For a moment I thought you were serious.¡±  She said, ¡°What with all the genetic engineering stuff going on lately, who knows?¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong, humans modify their environment more than any other known species, to include modifying living organisms.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m an alien.  You can call me, Bailey.¡±  I said and it was then that I noticed that her shirt was emblazoned with the name of the University of Louisville.


    ¡°Are you a student?¡±  I asked and pointed out her shirt.


    For a moment after she followed my pointed finger¡¯s direction, I sensed indecision in her, before she said, ¡°Right, alien.¡±  She then nodded, ¡°I am, I¡¯m a xenolinguistics major.¡±


    That had my interest, ¡°I¡¯m an anthropology major, not here¡­ sort of, yet.  Back home.  I¡¯m going to take a few classes here though as part of my studies, and work there too.  Why Xenolinguistics, and which species?¡±


    ¡°The Zenti, and because language rests at the heart of culture.  The better we can understand them, and they us, the easier it will be for us to make peace.¡±  She explained and tossed out a little factoid, ¡°Did you know the Zenti have no word for ¡®share¡¯ or ¡®gift¡¯?  The closest they have to it is ¡®takase¡¯ meaning ¡®to take and take¡¯  in its clearest translation.  Is it any wonder they launched out into the galaxy and became pirates?  They don¡¯t even have a word for equal or fair exchange.¡±


    She was right, I was no expert on the Zenti, but the department specializing in other species was fairly small, and as such we all knew each other and talked shop often.  I¡¯d heard that before from a Maxiki student.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true, I¡¯m certainly finding that with humans.  Knowing how many different words and terms you developed for certain habits, certainly tells me a lot.¡±  I chuckled a little and tossed the apple core up into the air, tilted my head back, and caught the remainder in my mouth, chomping it down whole and swallowing it down to the stem.


    She looked at me again, up and down, like she was reappraising me, ¡°Do you not approve?¡±


    I rotated my hand at the wrist in a casual dismissive gesture, ¡°Oh no, it¡¯s fascinating.  Although, I will never drink again.¡±  I shook my head firmly, and her brief reappraisal ended with a smile spread over her apple of a face.


    ¡°I¡¯m Lisa.¡±  She said and held out her hand to me.


    I took it in mine, she had a good grip for someone as slender as she was, ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you, Bailey.  Do you know your way around campus?¡±


    ¡°Not really, but I have a map.¡±  I tapped my pocket where the datapad sat, but she shook her head.  Maybe it was because she happened to share a name with my first human friend, but I was immediately favorably disposed toward her.  ¡°No, no, that won¡¯t do.  Map or no map, the campus is confusing if you don¡¯t know where you¡¯re going.  Let me see your map.¡±  She said and I drew out my datapad and held it out to her.


    She took out her own and held it close to mine, tapping it once against the corner, my data moved over to her own and for a few seconds she was quiet as she loaded and looked over the data.  ¡°Yep, you¡¯ll get lost.  I¡¯m going close to there, let me show you the way.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?  I wouldn¡¯t want to trouble you?¡±  I asked her and looked down the street, the bus was coming close, it was a long tube with two floors in it to hold the maximum number possible, with the upper level open to the air.  I knew immediately where I was going to sit.


    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble, like I said, it¡¯s close by where I¡¯m going anyway, I¡¯m on my way to practice, and the field is right across the way.¡±  She explained, and I immediately asked¡­


    ¡°What practice?¡±


    ¡°Cheerleading.  I''m the head of the squad.¡±  She explained, and this now had me intrigued because I had only the vaguest notion of what that meant.


    Before I could ask, however, the bus lowered itself to street level and people began to disembark.


    I went straight for the stairs that led to the upper level of the bus, and Lisa followed behind me, for the moment I¡¯d almost forgotten her, after all, I was going to have the wind at my face again at high velocity, and I could hardly wait for it to begin.

 Chapter Fourteen

    Chapter Fourteen


    I knew immediately that Boatswain had never done this before. Who had? Nobody until me, at least among my people, as far as I knew. We sat down in our seats, secured our safety straps, and then the hoverbus rose into the air and accelerated. I wanted to see Boatswain¡¯s severe, stern face when the impact hit, and I was not disappointed.


    As the wind blasted him full in the face, I said, ¡°Try opening your mouth!¡± He did, and his already big eyes grew larger, his stern expression was gone, his ears blew back and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.


    ¡°What is this ride?!¡± He shouted and bit at the air between letting his tongue hang out, ¡°Is this what they call a bemusement park?!¡±


    ¡°Amusement park. And no. This is just what happens when you go somewhere really fast.¡± I explained and tilted my head back to let the wind batter me in the face, our excitement over it all caught the attention of most of the upper deck of the bus, and we found ourselves the subject of dozens of human stares.


    But he didn¡¯t care, and neither did I. The cool wind blasted our faces and drew my fur back, his own was much shorter, so it was less obvious, but his tongue was also longer and so was pulled back more the air billowed around us and made our ears dance beside our heads, we didn¡¯t care when the humans, including my recent acquaintance, began laughing.


    We gripped our seats like we were afraid we¡¯d fall out as the hoverbus shot through the air and our cheeks puffed out, and with that air came a whole world of scents. Humans have very poor noses compared to ourselves, so they could never know the bliss that we could, the feeling of having so many racing smells from so many sources hitting us all at once.


    From the taco stand on the corner to baking bread mere minutes away, it was a constant and wonderful assault on our strongest sense, not to mention the sheer blissful feel of the air hitting us all at once.


    There is no dlamisan exact translation for ¡®wheeeeee¡¯ as humans say when they let out a cry of excitement, but we do have a kind of long high pitched ¡®rooooooooo!¡¯ and somehow I was not surprised to see my dlamisan bodyguard let it out. Military members of our race tend to be radical outliers in a number of areas, not the least of which is their reckless disregard for their own safety, at least compared to others of our species. I myself still didn¡¯t like the crowd, but the pleasure of the wind in my face was enough to let me at least force that down for the time being, plus it helped being up in the open air rather than confined inside the lower floor.


    It wasn¡¯t until we reached our destination that Boatswain put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from getting up after I put away my datapad, and he asked me, ¡°What exactly happened back there? Some drug of the humans?¡±


    I shook my head, the other passengers were passing us by and had, for the most part, enormous grins on their faces that I knew indicated happiness. Boatswain now had enough familiarity to recognize the same thing, and their obvious positive feelings toward us set him much more at ease than the towering dlamisan guard would otherwise have been. ¡°No, it¡¯s just an effect of our velocity, I¡¯ve experienced it a few times, and the faster you go, the better it gets.¡± I explained, and Boatswain began to pant.


    ¡°I want to do it again.¡± He said, and I shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ll have to see what the options are, they make things that go really, really fast on this world.¡±


    I could see the hunger for it in his eyes, but I had things to do and wouldn¡¯t allow myself to be distracted. I turned toward our guide, ¡°Lisa, would you?¡± I asked and gestured toward the steps.


    ¡°Sure thing, just take it easy, everything is safe here, and kind of fun.¡± She answered and then when she reached the steps she offered an encouraging smile without baring her teeth and added, ¡°This way.¡± then hopped down the steps while we followed behind her. I got my first good look at the campus as the hoverbus pulled up and away from us, and it was¡­ unique.


    The roads were no longer paved, but red brick with the logo of the school plastered every fifty paces or so. The buildings were as ¡®eco friendly¡¯ as the rest of the city, yet interestingly, the patterns also formed the logo and flowering plants kept the red cardinal, yellow beak, and white lettering consistent. There were garbage receptacles every so often along the sidewalk and it was notable to me that near each receptacle was a fruit tree, consistent with the city¡¯s theme of readily accessible healthy food for all.


    The roads consisted of multiple roundabouts, a necessity given the confined nature of the campus, the buildings were multiple stories tall, but they weren¡¯t skyscrapers. Interestingly, there were open lawns between each building with paved walkways taking people from place to place, with benches of stone carved in the shapes of books. The seating space as books laid flat, the backs of the benches as open ones, and in a remarkable attention to detail, there were words carved into the pages.


    ¡°This way.¡± Lisa said and walked with a youthful skipping step which reminded me of Michael¡¯s seeming need for constant motion. She stopped a few feet ahead when I paused to read the pages etched onto the stone. I will repeat a portion here as best I can.


    ¡°Even if we find a way, I¡¯m not going home. What¡¯s waiting for me there? I¡¯m a succubus, a second class citizen even when they need my magic. If we go back and they¡¯ve finished the summoning, they won¡¯t even need me for that anymore. I¡¯ve got no future there except ¡®maybe¡¯ working with another generation of potentials, and that¡¯s if I¡¯m not just thrown out as a failure. You¡¯re an angel, all you have to do is exist and people will dote on you. At least here if I stay disguised as a human, I can have a future. I¡¯ll stay with Albaer, and if you want to go back to where we came from, I won¡¯t stop you, but I will miss you, Lialah¡­¡±


    Lisa approached me and looked at the bench, ¡°Oh you like that?¡± She asked, and while I nodded, Boatswain scratched his head and his ears all went down.


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    ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡± He said with his head cocked slightly to the right.


    Lisa pointed to the top of the bench, ¡°It¡¯s from a novel series written in the twenty-first century, by one of their most influential indie authors, it¡¯s called ¡®Evolution of a Nobody¡¯.¡± She pointed to several other benches along the way, ¡°He was a student here for a time. Every bench in the area either has something by a local author, or somebody who contributed to the culture of their era. This one, I think¡­ it deals with two sisters trapped on Earth and wondering if they can go back to their own world, only one of them doesn¡¯t want to, even if they can.¡±


    ¡°So, why does it matter? You just do what you want if you don¡¯t have orders, right?¡± Boatswain asked, and Lisa¡¯s ruby lips formed the bare traces of a little smile.


    I knew why that formed the way it did, and I answered him, ¡°Your time here on Earth is a five year duty. Your time guarding the Walkers is not even one year. Before you know it, Byron will quit working entirely, and you¡¯ll be back at the embassy. Before you know it after that, you¡¯re going back to the homeworld or another assignment. When or if that happens, you will never see Byron again.¡±


    I didn¡¯t need to explain any further, his tail drooped, his ears sagged, and for perhaps the first time in my life, I saw another member of my race experience sorrow, at least on that scale. Boatswain didn¡¯t say anything else, and Lisa¡¯s smile vanished as the amusement was gone from the moment.


    Perhaps in retrospect I was cruel to say that to Boatswain the way I did, and even at the time I wasn¡¯t without sympathy, I suppose my own immediate fears were responsible for my reaction. But in my own defense, better he know now so he can plan for tomorrow, than not even think before it is too late to do anything at all. And if nothing could be done? Then at least he had time to prepare himself.


    ¡°This way, it¡¯s around the corner, just one office to run things, easy to miss.¡± She explained and as we walked away from the bench, her stride changed from an energetic skip to a long and purposeful stride that had her hair fluttering around at her back.


    As it turned out, she was right, the office was technically ¡®part¡¯ of the building. But finding it on our own would have been difficult, we had to descend a set of stairs that were obscured by a row of bushes, and enter through a basement door.


    ¡°So, how do you know this place?¡± I asked, and Lisa looked over her shoulder to answer me, never even breaking her stride as she walked.


    ¡°I was in the program once, it didn¡¯t stick, I dropped out, but I still know people here, and of course, where the place is.¡± She answered, and Boatswain¡¯s mouth dropped open in shock.


    If we didn¡¯t have three hearts, I would have expected him to drop dead of a heart attack at that moment. ¡°You¡­ quit. Quit your military service?¡± He asked.


    She nodded, ¡°It¡¯s not required for you to stay unless you stick with it for a full year, before that you can sign yourself out on a neutral status, no benefits, no penalties. I liked cheerleading more than marching, and I got a full scholarship for it. The military would have gotten in the way, so I had to make a choice, and that was mine.¡±


    She sounded, to me at least, a little wistful while she said it. I couldn¡¯t help but think that she missed something about her time in the Earth military system, but it somehow didn¡¯t feel right to ask her what.


    ¡°David, I got a guy for you, you expecting an alien?¡± She asked as she breezed in through an open door.


    A wall of meat. That¡¯s what stood up to greet me wearing the black and gray fatigues of the terran armada. He was lantern jawed and had piercing, ice blue eyes, clean shaven, even down to his tan skull. ¡°Damn it, Blankenship! I¡¯m on duty.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well I¡¯m not, David.¡± Lisa said with a smug look on her face, he sighed, instantly defeated.


    ¡°Right, you quit, whatever. Yeah,¡± he stopped and let out a low whistle, ¡°a big one. Oh yes, yes he¡¯ll do fine. You¡¯re Bailey?¡± He said and held out his hand toward Boatswain.


    ¡°No.¡± He answered, ¡°I¡¯m Bailey¡¯s bodyguard for the time being. Boatswain, with the embassy staff.¡± Despite the error, Boatswain stuck out his hand and shook the meaty hand of the wall of human flesh. I wondered how he got through the door into his office.


    ¡°Wait, so that means¡­¡± David looked down at my comparatively scrawny self and asked, ¡°Seriously? This is the guy who had all those maniacs shitting themselves about an alien invasion?¡±


    ¡°He did put the neckbeard in the hospital.¡± Lisa replied, ¡°I heard it from William himself.¡±


    David looked no more enthusiastic, his eyes darting from me to Boatswain. ¡°Can we take the big one instead?¡±


    Boatswain straightened a little, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a little insulted, but then, I¡¯ve always known I wasn¡¯t cut out for military service, so it wasn¡¯t too much so.


    ¡°Just what am I supposed to do exactly?¡± I asked, and David sat back down after breaking the handshake with Boatswain.


    ¡°Not what I intended¡­ but I do have something for you. How are you with paperwork?¡± He asked, and my tail wagged back and forth, before I could answer, he chuckled.


    ¡°I think I have my answer. You¡¯ll take her old job.¡± He pointed at Lisa, ¡°We need somebody who can be efficient with that kind of thing, but¡­ can we still hire the big one?¡±


    ¡°If my embassy will allow it, an¡­ exchange, might be welcome. But it is not up to me. Recent events being what they have been, I¡¯m sure they would jump at the chance to build good will between our peoples.¡± Boatswain¡¯s answer was the kind of noncommittal promise expected out of a subordinate dlamisan soldier, but it seemed direct enough to satisfy David.


    ¡°That¡¯s your first job, Bailey. Get permission for him to work here, by the look of him, he¡¯s got meat enough on him to handle what we need done.¡± David said and then pointed to a desk.


    ¡°Lisa, mind doing me a solid, just take him through the job, get him a sign on and everything. Not telling you, just asking a favor.¡± He clarified, and Lisa¡¯s almost moment of tensing up faded away.


    ¡°No problem, David. I¡¯ve got time before practice, it shouldn¡¯t take long.¡± She said and led me to what I presume was her old seat, one of a dozen in the room, though we were the only ones present at the moment.


    I noticed immediately that every desk was orderly, each one laid out in a uniform fashion such that no matter what desk you sat at, you knew exactly where everything was, from a little red stapler with the word ¡®swingline¡¯ embossed in white across the top, to a matching touchpad each of which was exactly in line with the desk several paces away.


    ¡®The order¡­ it¡¯s so¡­ beautiful.¡¯ I thought, and cracked my knuckles, ready to get started while David chatted amiably with the matching wall of meat that was Boatswain.

 Chapter Fifteen

    Chapter Fifteen


    Warriors recognize warriors, I suppose.  I watched out of the corner of my eye, my professor¡¯s words ¡®Everything is an experiment¡¯ still in my mind, while Boatswain and David fell quickly into talking shop, discussing some of their tours of duty and workout routines.


    Thankfully with my multiple ears, processing Lisa¡¯s instructions proved very easy, filling out my request for logins, taking a photo, some things were so hauntingly familiar, like a shadow of our processes back home.


    I quickly caught Lisa off guard, ¡°...So then we process these documents through the RAMPSYS-¡±  She was explaining to me but I immediately interjected, my hearts all raced at once like I was chasing that blasted tennis ball again.


    ¡°Yes, I understand.¡±  I said and my fingers flew over the pad, tapping buttons and eyeing the split screen system while I processed the autofill, I quickly brought up a spreadsheet and said, ¡°But that presents a problem, if you look at cell B42 on the other document, that will put this soldier over his leave total, and he was due to take a fitness test a few days after that, and I didn¡¯t see him on the other roster as having taken the last one¡­¡±


    Lisa frowned and stood beside me, she put her hand on the back of the chair and leaned over my shoulder, she smelled vaguely of lilacs, I noticed, and she let out a derisive snort.  ¡°I¡¯ll be damned.¡±  She straightened up a little, ¡°Hey, David, when was the last time Private Morris took a fitness test?  According to what the new guy just found, it looks like he¡¯s skated out on at least the last two, probably more by gaming the vacation system.¡±


    David pursed his lips when he looked over at me, a glint in his eye as he looked me over again as if it were the first time.  ¡°That right?  One second.¡±  I waited in quiet patience while he pulled up some information and then began cursing up a storm.


    ¡°Lazy sonofa- hey, Lisa, show him where to pull up the rec-¡±  She shook her head, cutting him off.


    ¡°He¡¯s already found it.¡±  She sounded almost awed and I could feel her eyes boring into the top of my head.


    ¡°Have you used this system before?¡±  She asked with utter incredulity in her voice.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just the logical structure, it¡¯s kind of like ours.¡±  I explained and then pointed to the new document I pulled up, the naming convention was what I expected, sorted by date, company, and location.  ¡°Private Morriss, Charles C. has taken six vacations, cross referencing it against outside missions on your assembly notes, this pattern dates back five years since his initial arrival.  I¡¯m guessing that isn¡¯t normal?¡±


    The way David¡¯s face darkened with anger, I was sure I guessed correctly, but he was looking at me with new respect.  ¡°How the hell did you do that?¡±  He asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s dlamisan, we¡¯re efficient.¡±  Boatswain explained on my behalf.


    ¡°You know, if you put all this into a uniform database you could easily cross reference this kind of information and identify the problem before it becomes persistent.¡±  I suggested and swiveled my chair around to face David directly, ¡°I could do it for you if you like, depending on how large your information is, it could take anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks, but it can be done.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a yes from me.¡±  David answered, ¡°Consider the job yours.¡±  He snapped his fingers and pointed his finger at me, ¡°Three days per week if you¡¯re a student here.¡±


    ¡°I am, or, I will be in a few hours.¡±  I explained, and I think his face was almost disappointed when he learned that, but he didn¡¯t object.


    ¡°I should actually take you over to the admissions office now, they¡¯ll be bogged down and take forever if you don¡¯t catch them early.¡±  Lisa cautioned me and looked at David for permission, she fluttered her eyes and he let out an exasperated sigh.


    ¡°Yeah fine, take him over there.¡±  David answered, ¡°It¡¯s more efficient that way.¡±  He said and waved me up from my new desk.  It had barely been two hours, but I was already fairly sure I would like my new job.


    Boatswain made a brief farewell and followed behind me while Lisa led the way over the campus, this part at least I was sure I could have managed without her, the directions were very clear and there was a large ¡®Admissions¡¯ sign in red and white above the stone steps.


    It is here that I stopped, Lisa didn¡¯t realize it at first, she went several paces further before becoming aware that I wasn¡¯t following her.  I had my datapad out and began writing.  The steps of stone had words etched into them, words I considered important not just because of their placement but because of what they were.  Every intelligent race develops a value system, ethics of some sort.


    A study of human ethics was more complex because their ethical history is so complicated.  However, a few values at least, seemed to transcend time and culture.  Considering that these steps were now centuries old, predating even human space travel, it was telling that the values inscribed on the facing side of each step were still there.  I wrote them down to ensure I researched it more later, and took several photos which you will find in the back of this volume as figure 15-1.


    What startled me, if startled could be said to be the word, was how similar these values were to our own, not only in practice, but in display.  Of all the species I¡¯ve studied, only dlamisa and humans tend to etch their words permanently into stone even ¡®after¡¯ the invention of more disposable and easier methods of record keeping such as paper, parchment, vellum, or other equivalents.


    Stone has a sense of permanence, unchangeability, once there, it is there forever, or at least long enough that it doesn¡¯t matter that it¡¯s not truly eternal.  Seeing values like fidelity, patience, diligence, and honesty etched into stone at one of their institutions of higher learning in such a way that anyone ascending those steps would know what the institution stood for?  It was heartening to me, and I heard the wagging of Boatswain¡¯s tail behind me as he read the same words and felt the same sense of approval as myself.


    The more I thought of it when I finally resumed walking behind the patient Lisa, the more credibility I gave to the idea of a kind of coevolutionary principle, a shared origin to all the living species of the galaxy¡­ but I was still years away from the studies needed to even test the idea.


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    But by this time?  Yes, the studies were in my mind and were already starting to take shape.


    I still considered the Zenti stories of humans being an unnatural species to be pseudoscientific bunk, of course.  But a shared origin?  That was at least not impossible.


    The doors were antiquated in that they were simple glass and swung manually, no automated systems controlled entry, and I was confronted by an unusual layout.  More glass walled offices with a round design with office workers sitting in various locations where applicants or existing students could come up and speak directly, and a row of cushioned chairs in the University of Louisville colors lining the wall.


    Thankfully Lisa¡¯s forethought got myself and Boatswain in while those long rows of waiting chairs were still empty.  The fact that the row was twenty in length with more just outside, promised long waits at other times.


    Riding the wave of my good luck, as soon as Lisa opened the door for me I went straight to the long round desk and toward the nearest employee, an older man with a balding head, gray hair, and while he was a bit overweight as age took him, he still had a vigorous gleam in his eye.


    He did give me a once over, his eyes went up and down my full height, though he almost scooted back when he saw Boatswain right outside, waiting patiently.  ¡°My escort.¡±  I said, tilting my head toward where the giant dlamisan security guard stood.


    ¡°Right, I saw you on the news.  You¡¯re shorter in person.¡±  He said and grabbed a document from his desk that was just out of my view, he put it up on the counter and slid it over to me.  ¡°This is the new form for admissions, make sure you put ¡®planet of origin¡¯ in red ink, and then in green ink, mark this spot,¡± he pointed to another section of the paper, ¡°for any dietary restrictions or special requirements you have.¡±


    I was surprised enough to see that the document was actually on paper.  Strangely enough, some humans seem to innately be able to read the thoughts of others, or at least my own species as much as theirs, and he didn¡¯t wait for me to ask my question.  ¡°We haven¡¯t had time to adapt our digital filing system yet, in a few weeks, maybe, but you¡¯re the first alien to attend school here.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I would be.¡±  I acknowledged and he added immediately¡­


    ¡°Normally we would require that you meet with an academic advisor, but from what we hear you¡¯ve been a student for longer than most of us have been alive, and as a special accommodation since you¡¯re not seeking a degree from us, only studying, you are allowed to take any class or subject you like, regardless of prerequisites.¡±


    My tail wagged so hard that it was pummelling Lisa¡¯s leg well before he even slid the datapad over to me with the course listing available.  ¡°Here you go, pick what you want and just write them on your form, I¡¯ll input the data manually and we¡¯ll message your data ID the course schedule.¡±


    I was browsing the course list, flitting my finger over the information and found that some of the classes held a distinct appeal.  Western Civilization from 1850 to 2000.  Anthropology 300.  Chinese Art after 2200.  The list of options went on, and each course description came with a brief bio link to the professor.


    As I was browsing, Lisa put a hand on my shoulder, I looked over at her and she said, ¡°Can I make a suggestion?¡±  She asked, I will admit, even many years later, she had an utterly charming speaking voice.


    ¡°Sure.¡± I said and when she got my permission to suggest something, she slid the datapad over to herself and scrolled through the list of classes.


    The words moved too fast for me to see, but she seemed to know what she was looking for and tapped her finger on the screen to stop it, she inched it down a little and then said, ¡°This one.¡±


    ¡°Creative writing?¡±  I asked, ¡°Why that?¡±


    ¡°The class is small because it isn¡¯t a requirement, plus, writers are fun.  You know they can tell a good story, and you¡¯re here to study people, right?¡±  She rested her arm on the surface of the counter above the employee¡¯s desk and crossed one foot over the other. I nodded to her question, but I doubt she noticed, she was a very fast talker, not one to slow down for much.


    ¡°So you can study dead people and ancient history, and sure that¡¯s fine, but you want to give a good study of humans that will help the rest of the galaxy¡¯s intelligent races understand humans, so why not study modern humans?  The stories we tell today are the things that concern us today, that¡¯s the cutting edge of modern culture.  Modern music, modern art, modern writing and videos and simutech, not dead people.¡±


    She made a powerful argument, and then she added, ¡°Oh, and I¡¯m in that class, so hey, at least one friendly face will already be there.¡±


    That clinched it, a small class, a friendly face, and the promise of a good time?  I tapped the box for Creative Writing 101 and another for Kentucky Authors of the 21st Century and handed the datapad back to the employee.


    ¡°Alright¡­¡±  He muttered while he typed something else up just out of view, the clack of keys indicating his actions continued for another minute before he said, ¡°There¡¯s only one small problem.¡±


    ¡°A problem?¡±  I felt my air sacs tense up in my chest.


    ¡°These classes include some field outings, tours, they¡¯re not covered by your embassy, if you want to go, you either have to pay out of pocket or by the school through the volunteer program.¡±  He explained, and again he saw my expression and seemed to know what I was about to ask.


    ¡°There¡¯s things around the school that need doing, volunteer for those and the school waives the outing costs.  Nothing too stressful,¡± he emphasized, ¡°trim the fruit trees, take care of water at the football game, help support some of the campus clubs by helping them with activity setup, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Pick the waterboy job.¡±  Lisa said at once, ¡°You get in free to the games while you work for the team.¡±


    She winked at me when she said it, and I knew enough about humans thanks to their films to know that a wink meant a lot of different things, but usually favorable to the person being winked at.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do that, then.¡±  I said, and then he pointed me over to another chair.


    ¡°Sit right there and look at the camera.¡±  He said and finished typing something on his screen.  He grunted as he pushed his sizable body upright and half waddled over to the camera, I stared straight ahead while he fiddled with the little black camera device.


    ¡°I¡¯d say smile but¡­¡±  I did the next best thing, I opened my mouth a little, and cocked my head with my ears down.


    I got the reaction I expected, the old man broke into a massive smile that seemed to take up most of his face before he said, ¡°Perfect.¡±  and pushed the button, I was briefly blinded by a flash, then while I was blinking and trying to restore my vision, he finished up his task on his system.


    It took a few seconds to get my vision back, and when I did I saw he was placing a plastic ID on the counter.  ¡°Alright, you¡¯re enrolled, there is your student ID, it¡¯ll get you some discounts in the city, entitle you to three meals per day at the dining facility and get you into any class building on campus.¡±


    I looked at my ID and read it out, ¡°Bailey Walker.¡±  I wasn¡¯t quite sure what to say to that, given that my species didn¡¯t have ¡®family names¡¯ in the usual sense, but I wasn¡¯t displeased with it.  I put it into my pocket, and waited while Lisa said a brief farewell.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, I¡¯ll show you where the stadium entrance is, I¡¯m going to practice now anyway.¡±  Lisa said and added, ¡°Welcome to the team.¡±


    I barely heard her though, for some reason one thought immediately came back to my mind.


    ¡®I don¡¯t want to leave.¡¯

 Chapter Sixteen

    Chapter Sixteen


    To get to the stadium we didn¡¯t walk, instead Lisa took me over to a small stand where a number of small scooters sat in a rack.  These lacked hovertech, which wasn¡¯t overly surprising, nobody miniaturized it enough to go on anything smaller than the military grade transport or combat bikes like the first human I met drove.  These small scooters were three wheeled, with one at the front and two at the back, the wheels went a little higher up than a handspan, and were made of thick, treaded rubber.  They had handles for holding onto and a single very small red cushioned seat.  In the center of the handles sat a small computer screen, and Lisa held her university ID over the front for several seconds before the screen started to glow.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±  I asked, I could guess, but as Boatswain was with us, it seemed better to ask than to force him to speak out on his own.  In my own observation, he was adapting fairly well to life on Earth, but he was still a dlamisan soldier, and as such he wasn¡¯t used to asking questions before being asked if he had any.  So to keep him up with the rest of us, I asked for him.


    ¡°Complimentary.¡±  She said, ¡°The school provides these for student use to get around campus faster, it keeps automobile usage to a minimum and we can keep more trees and plants around with only paths to worry about.  If you ever drive here, you won¡¯t need to use your car again until you¡¯re ready to leave.  Go on, hover your card over another one of these.¡±  She said and slid the scooter away when she heard the click of a latch releasing.


    I did as she said and when I heard the click of the security latch again, I rolled mine out as well.  ¡°Now do it again, every student gets three guest passes before they have to pay.¡±  She explained, and I did it again for another scooter, which Boatswain grabbed with a reluctant look between myself and the little red and white vehicle.


    ¡°So now you just pick your location on the screen, it¡¯ll take you anywhere on campus, whether you want to go to Gottschalk Hall for history class, or in our case,¡± she scrolled her finger on the screen and then tapped the spot for Cardinal Stadium, ¡°to the stadium.  Just stick it in the charger when you get there to keep it ready to go.¡±  I imitated her gesture on the screen and soon found the stadium.  No sooner had I tapped the green and white lettering than a picture replaced the words asking for confirmation, I tapped ¡®yes¡¯ again and then a path came up which traced out my route, not over roads, but over paths.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to drive these, they¡¯re autopilot, so just sit, hold on, and enjoy the ride.¡±  Lisa said and nestled herself comfortably on the cushion, ¡°Just grip the handle to start, relax your grip to slow down, the lighter your hold, the less power it gets, and release to stop.  Questions?¡±  She asked as Boatswain and I mimicked her and got on.


    The thing ¡®sank¡¯ into its springs somewhat when Boatswain took position, and he hunched over a little to hold the handlebars, his ears went down as he stared suspiciously at the computer screen.  ¡°Are you sure this is safe?¡±  He asked.


    ¡°Pretty sure.¡±  Lisa said, and had I not spent as much time around Fauve as I had, I¡¯m sure I would have missed her sarcasm, she then clenched her hands down on the handlebars and with an electric hum, her scooter took off.


    I could feel Boatswain¡¯s eyes on me, it was almost accusing, as if I should have seen this coming, all I could do was mumble, ¡°Sorry.¡±  What else was there, from a dlamisan perspective this had to seem insane, the little conveyance had no safety harness, and we didn¡¯t even have helmets or protective gear.  I was fairly sure that was something we probably should have had, but we didn¡¯t.


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    Before Lisa could get too far ahead, I clenched the rubber handlebar grips and took off after her, seconds later I could hear Boatswain at my back.  I knew I¡¯d have to apologize to him again later, springing unsafe activities on dlamisa is very bad form, but even I hadn¡¯t seen this coming.  I really had to wonder, was my time among humans making me far more comfortable with ¡®casual risk¡¯?


    My reverie was interrupted when I heard a gleeful, ¡®rooooooooo¡¯ at my back.


    ¡®Alright, so maybe no apology will be necessary after all.¡¯  I thought and looked over my shoulder.  Boatswain¡¯s maw was wide open and he was biting at the air as his scooter zipped along, chasing me down, he was hunched forward to make himself more aerodynamic.  Thanks to his weight I still didn¡¯t think the black furry behemoth was going to actually catch up, but he was making an impressive effort.


    I admit, I enjoyed the ride thoroughly myself, the path we took was smooth, and painted over in a bright red shade, while the other half was a bright chalk white, and though I saw there were a number of pedestrians, they only walked on the white path, leaving the red for scooter users.


    Thanks to the fact that I weighed around what Lisa did, when I leaned forward in the same manner as Boatswain I started to catch up.  The path was wide enough for two at once on a single color, and we weren¡¯t going ¡®too¡¯ fast.  Perhaps a little quicker than a fairly quick run, so this made it easy to converse.


    I wondered if there was a cultural significance to riding on red and walking on the white, and asked about it.  When it comes to humans, symbolism and tradition can be found all over the place, so much so that even they don¡¯t realize it sometimes.


    I had little hope that she knew, but given that she mentioned the history department as her goto example, perhaps I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised at her answer.


    ¡°Yes and no.¡±  She told me, ¡°It goes back to when these were first rolled out,¡± she tapped the scooter with her left hand and then resumed her grip, ¡°the paths weren¡¯t painted then, the school just asked people to be Earth conscious and not drive as much, fuel was really expensive back then, but there were people who were all like, ¡®Nope, I can¡¯t walk that far and I¡¯m not using one of those ridiculous things.¡¯  They kept up the driving and kept pushing the University to get them fuel discounts so they could do it.  The story goes that a group of men, as a prank, started using parking garages as hookups with other men.  After a few weeks, anyone seen walking out of parking garages was assumed to have been there for that.  So to avoid ¡®the label¡¯ they started taking scooters or walking, and the University started driving on ¡®the wrong side of the path¡¯ slapped down a quick paint job, called it school pride, and now here we are.¡±


    I thought that one over.  ¡°Is that actually true?¡±  I had to ask because it just seemed so absurd.


    Lisa didn¡¯t answer right away, but she also didn¡¯t laugh at my question, finally she said, ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure.  A few hundred years ago there was a part of the population that was super concerned about how into women they looked, and there were times when men who liked men would just ¡®mess with them¡¯ making them think some antisocial behavior was a signal that he was into other men.  It became kind of a game, and it just kind of died out as attitudes changed.  Of course,¡± she chuckled a little, ¡°it was centuries ago, I¡¯m sure a few stories got made up, but we do know of at least a few instances where bigotry was weaponized to normalize prosocial behavior.¡±


    ¡°You are a very sneaky species.¡±  I said, and it was almost admirable in the way I said it.


    Lisa only gave me a sly little smile while our scooters zipped along and rounded a long slow bend, ¡°You know it.¡±  She said as the stadium started to loom into view, and Boatswain¡¯s ¡®rooooooo¡¯ picked up again as the slight downslope let him go just a little bit faster.

 Chapter Seventeen

    Chapter Seventeen


    The stadium itself was unlike almost anything I had ever seen before.  Some species like mine and Ka¡¯wik¡¯s, had developed athletic sports, as our societies grew and developed, sports was a way of preparing young people for war.  This is something of our history that we share with humans.  However, most societies had abandoned sports long ago, and in my species it was generally expected that a young dlamisa would stop playing when they became old enough to work.


    Humans however, did not.  This particular stadium was host to a sport on the North American continent called ¡®football¡¯.  Which is strange because it shares the name with a different sport that actually involves the use of feet, while this one almost never does and in fact involves lots of violence.


    I had only seen clips of it in person in human media up to that point, and I was sure that Boatswain had seen nothing, but when we parked our scooters and made our way inside under the shady tunnel that led onto the field, I was also sure that he liked what he saw.


    I knew he did.  Because I did.


    The first thing we saw and heard were the human cheerleaders, mostly made up of females of the species, dressed in the same way as Lisa, the voice of an older woman was giving some instructions and they were shouting in response and conducting acrobatic aerial maneuvers that would have made Ka¡¯wik wonder if humans could fly too.  Spirals, twists, spins as they were flung up that threatened to defy the law of gravity itself.


    But that wasn¡¯t what I liked the most, impressive though it was.  Nor was it what Boatswain liked, though I was sure he was impressed.


    From just out of view we heard the booming voice of a human male, the crashing of bodies¡­


    And we saw the spiral of the ball sail past in the light.


    We were in motion before we realized it, both of us.


    My datapad dropped out of hand and clattered to the concrete and I took off.  I¡¯m nowhere near the size of Boatswain, but for my size at least, I am nimble.


    And we are much¡­ much faster than humans.  We tore past Lisa who stood dumbfounded for a moment, she shouted, ¡°Wait!  Where are you going?!¡±  And her shout caught the attention of the others, the cheerleaders stopped, thankfully before throwing anyone up into the air, and the two of us raced out into the open air, charging past the dumbfounded human players.


    Some of them saw us.


    But the ones who ran far ahead, rushing for the ball?  They had their eyes in the air to catch its trajectory, they didn¡¯t see either of us until we ran past them both.


    Many cries of ¡®What the-¡¯ and various expletives not fit for a journal intended for academia, came up behind us¡­ and the rational part of my mind was forced to acknowledge that dlamisan military training made some truly impressive specimens.


    Boatswain gave me a shove, and I vaguely recalled something similar during the game of Ballyball.  I tumbled and rolled away as he shot on, and he jumped in between the ball and the human player intending to catch the blasted thing.


    Even if I knew nothing about human expressions, his brief look of shock would have been recognizable to me when Boatswain caught the ball in his mouth and landed back first against the human¡¯s chest.


    The human reflexively grabbed my colleague as he would have any intercepting player, and they both went down in a tangle of limbs.


    It was only when he saw me standing and brushing myself off, and caught the confused shouts of the players all racing over that he realized what he¡¯d done.


    He rolled off the grunting human, stood, and extended his hand, but the human didn¡¯t take it right away.


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    He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the giant multi-eared toothy maw of our dark furry security officer, and just ¡®stared¡¯.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±  Boatswain muttered after an awkward moment and tossed the ball underhand toward the human, who again failed to catch it.  It bounced off his chest and rolled away wobbling over the grass.


    ¡°Wait!  It¡¯s okay!  They¡¯re aliens!  That one is from the news!¡±  I could hear Lisa¡¯s shout drawing closer, along with the footfalls of the crowds.  I could feel my anxiety rising at the prospect of being surrounded, and stepped well out of the way.


    Lisa¡¯s words had an immediate effect on the player on the ground, and he removed his helmet to reveal a large brown skinned human with a thick beard.  I do not know why, but his face seemed friendly to me after he exposed it.  He held his hand up and allowed Boatswain to haul him to his feet, and this seemed to relax the others, as well as myself.


    ¡°You look really different on TV.¡±  The player said, and Boatswain pointed to me.


    ¡°That was him she¡¯s talking about.  I¡¯m his escort since some humans threatened to kill him after he helped out that girl.¡±  Boatswain explained, and I must say I think he must have picked up something about human culture, because otherwise it wouldn¡¯t have occurred to him to mention helping Fauve.


    But he knew enough to trigger human protective instincts, and give me a favorable impression at the start.  This was of interest to me, even more so than noticing my clothing had gotten just a little bit torn and more than a little bit dirty.  I, after all, am an aspiring anthropologist, studying new cultures and peoples is supposed to be my field of expertise.  Understanding another species is difficult at best, most of the time, unless you have special training.  But Boatswain knew enough after a short association with Byron, to say just the thing that would see me looked at favorably?  Deriving intention of that sort without training or education in my field was beyond exceptional.


    And then it came to me, ¡®Right, the ¡®ballyball¡¯ incident¡­ they all bonded so quickly¡­ could it be that our two species are just uniquely compatible?  Did we evolve in a kind of parallel line that makes us natural colleagues, friends, and allies?¡¯  I really wished I hadn¡¯t dropped my datapad when I took off after that damn ball, and looked back in its direction with a sigh of regret just as Lisa came close.


    ¡°You okay, Bailey?¡±  She asked and then, to my delight, handed me my datapad.  ¡°You dropped this, and it¡¯s probably a good thing too.  That was one hell of a hit.¡±  She said and let out a low whistle, I followed her gaze and saw the indentations where I bounced and rolled over the ground.  She was not wrong.


    ¡°Yes.  Yes I¡¯m fine.¡±  I said and winced, it wasn¡¯t much of a lie, but now that the moment passed I sure felt that hit.


    ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re his guard, but you¡­ wow.  Ah, y¡¯all got some weird guarding methods.¡±  The player who was ¡®supposed¡¯ to catch the ball said, and Boatswain looked over in my direction, his own jaw dropped to expose his teeth, and then he lowered his head.


    ¡°Sorry, sir.  It won¡¯t happen again.  I will report myself for disciplinary action as soon as we return.¡±  Boatswain began to protest, but I waved it off with one hand while rubbing my injured tailbone with the other.


    ¡°No, no, there was a ball involved.  Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±  I said and made sure to keep the path clear for the rest of the humans to approach, the flurry of questions from cheerleaders and players came on like a storm.


    Again and again Boatswain had to point out that ¡®I¡¯ was the one from the Battle of Waterland Park, but I did nothing to convince anyone either way.  Frankly I didn¡¯t want the attention.  Attention meant crowds, and I wasn¡¯t a fan of that.


    But then came the other questions.


    ¡°Why did you go after that ball?  Are all of you that fast?  Do you play football?  Are you students here?  Are you male or female?  Do you even have females?  What planet are you from?¡±  We lost track of the questions and I deferred to Boatswain to handle most of them, which he clearly didn¡¯t like.


    I suppose it was a little petty to leave it to him, but he was the one they were interested in, and I took in more from observing, anyway.  Getting out that I was the waterboy for the team brought some amusement at least, and judging by the way they looked my now filthy self up and down¡­ I think they decided that was the best job for me.


    And for the same reasons as themselves, I agreed.


    Boatswain proved a big hit and their practice was briefly given an impromptu pause while Lisa took my arm and began to lead me away, ¡°Over here, let¡¯s get you cleaned up and I¡¯ll show you where the supplies are.¡±  She flashed me a playful, broad and toothy smile then said, ¡°Try not to get distracted this time.¡±


    ¡°If I don¡¯t give you a promise, then I can¡¯t break it.¡±  I answered with an old saying of my people, which she seemed to neither accept nor reject while we shuffled off back the way we¡¯d come, leaving Boatswain to deal with the football team on his own.  He seemed not to mind at least, but even if he had, petty as it was¡­ he caught the ball, so the least he could do is handle that much.

 Chapter Eighteen

    Chapter Eighteen


    At this point I realized something. I have barely spoken of what Lisa looked like, at least in my first edition. As this writing takes place in the second edition, with memories somewhat faded with time and with the virtual stack of requests for more information that I received since the first publication, I can only promise to do my best. Lisa¡¯s hair was a blend of autumn leaves¡­ that is the best way to describe it.


    If this is confusing, and I am sure it is, I must explain something about human vanity, they¡¯re very visual creatures, humans. How they expose their skin and how they conceal it, says a lot about individual self expression. They¡¯re natural artists in my view, with their lives and even their bodies as a canvas. Sometimes literally. Lisa for example, dyed her hair, but it wasn¡¯t a single color, rather she dyed it in such a way that the splotchy pattern made her hair look quite literally like¡­ leaves, at least when she stood still. With hues of orange, red, and gold, when the breeze picked it up, the light glinted and reflected off the sheen and it was like watching leaves sway in branches.


    Her face, at least in its shape, reminded me of an apple, with smooth contours, and her lips were neither thin nor thick, though they almost ¡®popped¡¯ from her use of red lipstick. I remember her eyes very clearly, being that they were hazel, and studious. If I were to compare them to anyone else, they reminded me of Michael, not in color, but with the same studious intensity, studying things around her.


    When she walked, it was with a kind of confident and sure footed strut, and I was hard pressed to imagine her without that smile on her face even when she appeared to be deep in thought.


    ¡°C¡¯mere.¡± She said when we reached the opening into the field. There was a door close by that led into a side room. The door had a simple handle with no evident lock, and it swung open soundlessly, she led me within where I found a surprisingly large room with lockers, sinks, and toilets. Jerseys with the ¡®Cardinals¡¯ logo were stacked in a tall mesh hamper along with the form fitting ¡®half pants¡¯ that the team wore. Lisa led me over to a countertop that if I am being honest, could have used a cleaning.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be practicing?¡± I asked, and she shrugged it off.


    ¡°Yeah, but this is fine, we don¡¯t get many alien visitors around here and it seems everybody is distracted by you and your companion. We may get an extended practice, but that¡¯s all right, the buses run twenty-four hours per day and I can ride-share it if I don¡¯t feel like waiting. Now hold still.¡± She said and reached up to a red plastic box on the wall which was painted with a plus sign in the center.


    She opened it and revealed it to be a first aid kit, and when I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I understood why.


    ¡°Are all your soldiers that big?¡± She asked, I knew this strategy. She was trying to distract me.


    But I went with it. ¡°No.¡± I said and waited while she put some rubbing alcohol on a pad.


    ¡°Brace yourself. If your nervous system is kind of like ours, this will probably sting.¡± Lisa instructed me and she began to rub around my eye. I had a few cuts, bruises, and a very small gash on my side, presumably when Boatswain slammed into me, one of his claws caught me too.


    I winced as the pain of the alcohol hit, but what else could I do but go with the moment? I answered her. ¡°No, definitely not. Military dlamisans go through extensive training, most of them get some body augmentation too, and Boatswain is embassy staff. That means he¡¯s a combat veteran, between drugs, training, and experience?¡± I didn¡¯t even try to keep the note of pride out of my voice when I said, ¡°Our soldiers are some of the best in the known galaxy.¡±


    ¡°Unless somebody throws a ball.¡± Lisa pointed out and dabbed a spot of blood from my side.


    I winced and snapped my jaw shut, exhaling hard through my nose, then replied, ¡°Yes, well¡­ who could resist the lure of a thrown ball?¡±


    ¡°Uh huh.¡± She answered me and began to wipe the disinfectant around my little injuries. ¡°Does it hurt anywhere, do you feel like anything is broken?¡±


    ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯ll probably be sore for a day or two, but it¡¯ll be fine.¡± I patted my side and suppressed another wince. But I had to ask, now that I watched the way she acted with confidence, patching up my injuries, the care she¡¯d shown in making sure none of the alcohol got into my eyes, and even the precise placement of the fabric ¡®tape¡¯ she finally slapped over the gash¡­ which she ripped away after counting to ten, leaving the little sealant to stop the blood flow, it was all so seamless in its execution¡­


    ¡°Where¡¯d you learn how to do that?¡± I asked while she put away the unused materials back into the box. She took a black felt marker and put a diagonal line from one corner to the next, then put it back on the wall.


    ¡°I was in the military for a short time, but most of this comes from there.¡± She jerked her thumb toward the door. ¡°Cheerleaders are athletes, we¡¯re basically gymnasts without the equipment, our bodies are our equipment, and sometimes equipment breaks.¡± She chortled a little bit at that and said, ¡°Plus we spend a lot of time co-practicing with the players. The big babies.¡±


    The fond way she said it suggested there was a game at play, and if it was one thing I noticed about humans, is that their games can be¡­ very strange. I cocked my head, it made her smile go bigger, and when I let some of my ears flop down, she elaborated. Mentally, I chose to name this expression of mine, ¡®dlamisa interrogation technique number one¡¯.


    It made humans happy, and happy humans were talkative, answering questions I didn¡¯t even ask yet, that they might not have answered if asked directly.


    ¡°Football was created so men could stay fit for war. It kept them ¡®manly¡¯. But it also leads to a lot of injuries. So everybody on our teams learns first aid, and we get to practice it a lot. And since we¡¯re together a lot, a bunch of couples form. It¡¯s kind of become a tradition for the person who gets hurt to get looked after by whoever they¡¯re ah¡­ sorry, I don¡¯t know much about dlamisans, but¡­ coupled with? Hooked up with? Do those terms make sense to you?¡± She asked when the box snapped back into place on the wall.


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    ¡°They do. I¡¯ve been on Earth a few months now, surely William told you I live with him?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No. He didn¡¯t, actually.¡± She snorted and put her hands on her hips. ¡°Sounds like him.¡± She rolled her eyes, ¡°A laser focus on the point, but none of the details around it.¡± She let out a weary sigh that reminded me vaguely of the way Rebecca sounded when she was at her wits end with the man.


    ¡°Were you two, ¡®coupled with¡¯ or-?¡± I asked, keeping my head tilt in place to keep her relaxed.


    Her mouth dropped open, ¡°Oh, god no.¡± She said and started to laugh, drawing one hand up to cover her mouth, ¡°No, no, no, ten thousand times no. First of all his daughter is only about eight years younger than me, give or take, second of all his wife¡¯d be scary.¡±


    ¡°Then how do you know him?¡± I asked, now I was curious, even intrigued.


    ¡°One of his old army buddies is my dad. Plus he used to tutor me. William is actually a pretty good teacher, I passed a few math classes thanks to him, and I guess you could say I know him pretty well, he¡¯s like an uncle to me, but since I¡¯m ¡®all grown up¡¯ now, I guess I¡¯d just call him a friend.¡± The way her face lit up when she said it, I couldn¡¯t really doubt her.


    This is one of the greatest strengths of humanity, something I saw even in the very worst of them, their ability to create families without any blood ties. To grow communities out of almost nothing, whether it was games, or just knowing someone who knew someone, these little connections and big ones alike, made them unique in the galaxy.


    I had to envy them, growing up that way.


    But I covered that envy up, and she stepped aside to let me pass. ¡°Thank you.¡± I said and tapped my injured side, she tossed the fabric aid strip into the trash and replied immediately.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    She walked me back outside and when we got there, I saw Boatswain straining to rise under a pile of humans, he was giving it a valiant effort, but it was not to be. While I knew we were faster than humans, it seemed our strength was not that different, and human range of motion was better. I should have been alarmed, but when I caught sight of his tail, it was wagging, and he shouted at an old bald headed human, ¡°One more throw!¡±


    ¡°See, like I said. Babies. They love it when a pretty girl plays Nurse Nightingale and treats their injuries, and they love to horse around. I don¡¯t think men ever really stop being boys, they just become responsible ones, or awful ones.¡± Lisa said while she stood and watched, I couldn¡¯t say for sure if she was right or not. Maybe there was something to it?


    But then she pointed out a table with a large round container, ¡°Short version, keep water cups on the table for the team, and keep the bucket full, make sure there¡¯s enough for all the athletes on the field.¡± She said, and I bobbed my head up and down to show I understood.


    The table was placed so that I could see both practices, and the work was fairly straightforward. I had thirty-eight cups out, plus two for the coaches and one for myself and one for Boatswain for a total of forty-two.


    I calculated that the cooler, with ice, would hold roughly six refills each based on its size, dimensions, and however much ice was added. A separate cooler, roughly the length of the table itself, sat nearby which I used as a seat to watch the human shenanigans. That cooler, it turned out, was full of ice and other drinks of multiple colors with various nonsensical names. ¡®Electric wave¡¯ and ¡®Seabreeze¡¯ and ¡®Sun Light¡¯. Humans loved their nonsense phrases for some reason. I hadn¡¯t yet worked that out quite yet.


    The football players eventually tired and were given a short break, approaching the table in a small cluster. Not far away, I watched the cheerleaders and their shouting going on, Lisa wasn¡¯t wrong, they really were using their bodies as equipment.


    Pairs would act as throwers, catchers, and they made various standing pyramids that she would jump from, spin in a circle in the air, and then rely on the people at the base of the pyramid to work together to catch her.


    It was the singularly strangest artistic work I¡¯d ever seen up to that point, but strange or not¡­ It was impressive to my eyes. ¡®We could never do that.¡¯ I thought privately, and tried to think of the female of my species who tried to get the last spot in Professor Sxlith¡¯s class. Fierce competitor or not, as easy as it was to picture Boatswain playing this football sport in some way, I could not imagine her in the same outfit as Lisa, doing those wild spins through the air.


    The cheerleaders paused at last and approached the table, the football players moved aside to give them some room, and their stern-faced coach approached. She had the beginnings of gray hair, but they were spaced out among a still vibrant, fiery red. Her face had the start of wrinkles, and her lips were thin and even, neither frowning nor smiling. She was slender still, but age was slowly taking away her fitness, giving her the bare beginnings of a belly.


    In her hand she held a clipboard where I caught a glimpse of numbers in small boxes. I had to guess she was rating performances in people¡¯s roles, but I had no idea her criteria or how she scored so many. As soon as she approached the table I knew one thing for sure, she was counting the cups.


    ¡°Good.¡± She said and gave a prim, sharp nod down at me where I sat. ¡°The last idiot thought athletes only meant them.¡± She jerked her thumb toward the football players.


    ¡°Then he was inefficient and very bad at his job.¡± I said in my most professional academic tone, it was also one of the worst insults I could think of. Our language could definitely use more meaty human swear words. It¡¯s just a little too clean, I think. But in the moment, it seemed to delight the older woman in front of me.


    ¡°Mavis.¡± She said and went around the table to shake my hand, leaving room for her team to get at the cups after she took one of her own.


    I wished the football players had stayed closer, I would have liked to know their reaction to her words about the previous waterboy, but it was not to be, they were off on their own and hadn¡¯t been listening. It was a minor loss, I suppose. I stood and took her hand. I noted the callouses there and she must have realized it, because she squeezed a little tighter and I could have sworn I saw her lips turn up a little at the corners.


    ¡°Fencing.¡± She explained. ¡°I can¡¯t do what they do anymore, but I¡¯m not completely broken down yet.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± I said, I couldn¡¯t help but think it must be hard for the athletes to get older, to see their bodies unable to do the things they loved. It was why I loved being an academic, as long as my mind worked, that was all I really needed. I didn¡¯t say that to Mavis, somehow that felt like it would have been cruel. The cheerleaders were mostly of the female species of humans, but I did notice what I thought was a male or two among them, though it was hard to say with certainty as some human body types are almost androgynous. But I could say that they were all young, no more than in their twenties.


    Mavis seemed to read my mind, ¡°This is a hard sport, and it doesn¡¯t take many injuries before you¡¯re done for good. But?¡± She looked past me, up toward the sky, I recalled the way I¡¯d seen Lisa seem like she herself might defy gravity for a few moments, like she would touch the endless blue above us all.


    ¡°It¡¯s worth it.¡± Mavis answered, then focused on me again, ¡°Welcome to the team.¡±


    The rest of the afternoon was like that, with Boatswain thankfully willing to help me out since he was there anyway, I kept the water filled and the teams from being too thirsty. Honestly, I barely noticed the time passing until it was actually time to leave.

 Chapter Nineteen

    Chapter Nineteen


    When I did, the football coach showed me how to pack up, where the old cups were thrown into a wooden crate, he pounded down the top all of the cups were dumped into place, his fist was fairly large despite his age and I could tell that he still had some of his old strength left.  The wooden top scraped against the sides as it was knocked into place, and he explained it all to me, ¡°Smack this down like so, that way all the garbage can be tossed together and recycled,¡± he pointed to the entrance where the locker room door was, ¡°there¡¯s a storage area in there, take the hovercart and load the crate on it.  Dump the water and ice in the grass, load the coolers on the cart, put it all back there along with any unused cups.  Questions?¡±  He asked, and I thought it over, scratching under my chin as I ran through all the ways things could go wrong.


    ¡°Sir, what if we run out of water during the games?¡±  I asked the obvious question, and the old man replied¡­


    ¡°First off, I work for a living, don¡¯t call me Sir.  It¡¯s just Paul, or Coach Wills if you feel really fancy.  Second, if you run out¡­ you go get more.  There¡¯s a hose inside the storage area.  Fill¡¯er up and get back as fast as you can get here.  Just keep the cups full.¡±


    I will admit, humans are a ¡®mostly¡¯ fastidious lot, they have elaborate self care and cleanliness rituals and to stink is a profound social gaffe.  It is from my observation, the clearest sign of having ¡®given up¡¯ on functioning in society.


    So to hear ¡®Coach Wills¡¯ say to fill up the containers with a hose?  I tilted my head at him and asked him, ¡°Are you joking, Coach Wills?¡±


    He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down at me for a long quiet moment and said, ¡°Listen¡¯ere, these boys get sweaty, muddy, an thirsty enough to lick sweat out of your fur after the first hour or two, a little hose water won¡¯t hurt¡¯em.¡±  He spat into the mud, ¡°Didn¡¯t expect squeamishness from an alien that took a bite out of a perv.¡±


    I scratched under my jaw and said quite truthfully, ¡°Coach Wills, I can still taste a piece of him in the back of my throat, and it is awful.¡±


    It was the right thing to say, the salty old man threw back his head and laughed hard enough that he drew Boatswain¡¯s attention from speaking with one of the other players.


    After Paul explained what I¡¯d said, another round of laughter was picked up, one of the players removed their helmet, and groaned, ¡°I can hear the ¡®eat me¡¯ jokes already.¡±


    The player in question had a light hearted tone and I didn¡¯t take it seriously, nor did it seem that the others had either as they laughed it off, and in an attempt at joining in their laughter I said in as deadpan a voice as I could manage¡­


    ¡°Humans.  Taste.  Awful.¡±


    I will not burden the academy with the litany of jokes that followed, as most of them involved some form of reproductive reference that will not make sense to most species¡­ Some forms of human humor don''t translate very well, though it serves others well to learn its structure enough to imitate it.  But I will point out that helmetless human who smelled a lot like sweat and was still flushed in the face, bore a striking resemblance to Coach Wills.  It was their positioning, really, the way they stood with one hand on the hip and the helmet under one arm, much the way he now held his datapad.  They were laughing somewhat less than the others, perhaps because while the others were joking and laughing, socializing like very young dlamisa before separation, the helmetless human took an interest in the old man¡¯s work.


    The football shirt uniforms I should point out, had numbers on the front, and names on the back, and I was pleased to see the last name ¡®Wills¡¯, largely because I was now fairly sure I was right.  ¡®Son, grandson, or nephew I suppose.¡¯  The disinterest in the team and the interest in the old man¡¯s work reminded me of the way Percival guided Teresa.  There is a word for this which is almost totally unique to humans.


    ¡®Nepotism¡¯.  Essentially it is the promotion of family members into positions of authority in private or public enterprises, without regard for whether or not the person being put into that position, actually has talent.  I had to caution myself to make my notes somewhat tentative as I couldn¡¯t be certain I was right, not without asking, and I didn¡¯t want to risk an insult on my first day.


    But I will say that in my study of human history, nepotism is the singular most common form of government and commerce.  Children were raised in their family businesses, the ruler was chosen from among the children of the existing ruler.  Wealth, land, goods, all would pass through generations of the same hands.  I will pause to point out that this often worked surprisingly well, a child grows up learning specialized skills and then steps into the ¡®family business¡¯ having spent their life preparing for it.


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    Unfortunately there were those inevitable lapses of talent¡­ accident¡­ war¡­ or worse, and inevitably most of the time it would fail.  It was and still is frowned upon, but as evidenced by Percival, Teresa, and now at a glance, the ¡®Wills¡¯ family, it lives on.


    I turned two of my ears toward their conversation and set myself to my own job, walking slowly to catch as much as possible about what was being said behind me.  ¡°...It¡¯s fine, but if you don¡¯t change up the line you¡¯ll be stuck when one of them gets hurt, and mind that the damn meatheads don¡¯t forget that they¡¯re student athletes¡­¡±


    Then I lost track of the conversation as I went inside to get the hovercart.


    Cleanup proved easy, I set out the various plastic bottles of their multicolored, flavored drinks which the cheerleaders and players all paused to take.  I got the feeling this was a regular thing for them, that it was how they ended every game.  Humans need a lot of water to survive, and some specialized drinks provide not just water, but vital salts and electrolytes to replenish them faster.  As I loaded the cart unassisted, a rare occasion when I would be given no help from those around me, I took note that the Wills pair and the cheerleading coach were standing aside and watching both groups.  Making sure that everybody finished the entire bottle.


    Nobody wandered away, and they all drank so fast and so deeply that I could hear their various gulps.  I realized I was seeing another rule at play.  It reminded me very much of the way William and Rebecca minded Fauve and ordered their household.  Human leadership appears to be essentially parental.  Setting examples that subordinates are to follow.  Only after the others drank, did the young Wills approach and snatch up the last bottle for himself.


    I finished throwing everything together and hauled it away, the steel gray cart hummed contentedly ahead of me, the little blue lights pulsing underneath, the work proved surprisingly easy.  My only trouble was really with banging the crate top down for the cups.


    Physical work¡­ it was not, is not, and never will be what I am best at.


    But I managed, I was just storing things away when I smelled Boatswain and Lisa behind me.


    ¡°You got everything, you good to go?¡±  She asked as I straightened up, I put my hands on my hips and arched my back.


    ¡°Yes.¡±  I answered, I was still a little sore from my earlier ¡®run in¡¯ with Boatswain, and he lowered his tail and bowed his head as a second apology.


    ¡°I had no intent to break discipline that way.¡±  He repeated, and again I waved it away.


    ¡°There was a ball involved.  It was inevitable.¡±  I answered, ¡°We might have to make exceptions to the usual rules for that kind of thing.¡±  I added, and this incidentally, became the foundation of ¡®Ballylaw¡¯ after the sport spread, that injuries sustained or caused by the pursuit of a ball either by natural means or by incidental collisions shall not be subject to punishment or discipline unless the ball was put into play with the intent of creating those injuries.


    ¡°So, Lisa, what¡¯s next?¡±  I asked, content to give Boatswain some space while he processed my dismissal.


    ¡°Next, I shower, change, and head back.  Make sure you check your schedule, download any books you need, and then I guess that¡¯s that?  Are you going to do the classes in person or remote?¡±  She asked, and my answer was quick.


    ¡°In person.¡±  I said, ¡°I need to¡­ to get used to human crowds, a small one is best, maybe I can get something to suppress my sense of smell to make it easier.  But whether I can or not, I have to do it this way.  My career depends on it.¡±


    ¡°You take that mighty seriously.¡±  She said when we left the storage room.


    ¡°Of course.  A dlamisa has his work and not much else.  We go to work, we go to sleep.  We eat.  We speak a little.  But we work.  And work.  And work.  To be the very best in my profession, nobody has ever studied humans to this extent except my professor.  If I¡¯m successful, I¡¯ll be immortalized in my field for generations.  To get there, I have to do everything in my power, even if it means taking a few lumps along the way.¡±  I tapped my finger to the spot above my eye she¡¯d taken care of earlier.


    Boatswain was looking at me with a new respect, his tail wagging and his head nodding with approval.  Military dlamisa are a rare breed, and they tend to be somewhat contemptuous of the cowardice of others, or what they see as cowardice.  I suppose because of my natural timidity and my obvious fears, he hadn¡¯t thought much of me before that moment.  But even if I am not the bravest of my race, I am and always have been ambitious to make my mark on my people¡¯s history, to rise to the top where I could say I mattered.  It mattered that I was there in the time that I lived.


    And it was really the only way one of us was ever really known at all.


    In the years since, I was sometimes asked if I regretted the things I did that put so much at risk, that nearly cost me everything and reset my life to zero.


    I look back on the memory of Fauve standing between me and the security people, the memory of that first thrown ball, the memory of Michael chasing after me, of William and Rebecca¡¯s tight embrace¡­


    And I wished I could laugh like a human, because if I could I would always add in that laughter when I say, ¡®Even if it cost me everything, I would have done it all again, without any regrets.  It was worth it.  Because they and all they and so many more I have yet to even mention, were worth it.¡¯

 Chapter Twenty

    Chapter Twenty


    The ride back after we were done with everything was perfectly ordinary, really. I didn¡¯t notice how much time had been lost, so I got my call to the embassy out of the way as quickly as possible, letting them know about the local military office wanting to do an exchange and have Boatswain work with them. Nobody answered, but I left the information and forgot about it, my meetings with the ambassador were few and short, but he was one of us through and through.


    And a dlamisa never passes an opportunity up when it has a low cost and a high yield.


    Boatswain let out his loud ¡®roooooo¡¯ the whole ride back to the hoverbus, and when we got there, Lisa was quick to add, ¡°Make sure you¡¯re not late for in person classes, if you are, they¡¯ll lock not just the doors, but digital access. They hate lateness. Good to meet you.¡± She put out her hand and I clasped it with gentle firmness, making sure that my finger claws didn¡¯t rake over or poke her skin much. ¡°And tell the family I said hello.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± I said and grabbed the rail to pull myself up the steps to the top of the bus.


    Boatswain followed, but he didn¡¯t speak, his nose was in his datapad, typing away as fast as he could, he wasn¡¯t nearly as fast as I, but he was adequate at least.


    He sat beside me, letting out happy rooos most of the ride back, he drew substantial attention from those around him, most who watched with a mix of bemusement and amusement, our doglike faces and some of our mannerisms were clearly endearing to the passengers. I did catch a few people¡¯s whispered words when I was recognized as the one who attacked [Wolfbeard].


    This ¡®favorable¡¯ attention, even if it was a little crowded on the top of the bus, made the feeling of being surrounded a little more tolerable. It didn¡¯t hurt that Boatswain¡¯s entire role was security, and he loomed over every human on the bus.


    It was strange, really. He loomed so large over most of them, but rather than intimidated, they found him¡­ well some of the words I overheard included:


    ¡°Cute!¡±


    ¡°I want to pet them!¡±


    ¡°Awwww!¡±


    I¡¯m sure it would have felt insulting except for the sheer and obvious fact that we really did look like some of their breeds of wolves and dogs. If I looked like a mix of irish setter and golden retriever, Boatswain was like a mix of giant great dane and giant doberman pinscher. One that had been given a lot of strength enhancing drugs.


    Though his tongue lolling out of his mouth while he rooooed and typed utterly destroyed any sense of ferocity about him. While we rode, I couldn¡¯t help but think, ¡®I overstepped, talking to him about leaving here in a few years.¡¯ Military dlamisans don¡¯t tend to think in the long term the way most of our race does, they tend to focus on the more immediate, which isn¡¯t to say that they could not, only that their tasks lent themselves to more immediate, short term thinking.


    As such I knew it hadn¡¯t completely hit yet, but it would soon.


    I was not looking forward to that day.


    When we did finally return to the Walker house as the sun started to set, I found the smell of coffee caressing my senses as soon as I entered the house and I heard the sound of Michael clapping in time to a cartoon on his little child¡¯s datapad. Fauve was chatting with her father at the table while they played a game of cards with Byron and Rebecca.


    ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± William asked, his slender face was not as good at disguising his sense of worry as he thought. It was sweet, really, in a way, to think of him concerned about me.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll be a waterboy for the football team and an admin assistant in the office, and I¡¯m enrolled in a few classes that will be starting soon. Also they want him.¡± I inclined my head toward Boatswain who immediately went to sit beside Byron and the two fell into talking among themselves.


    Fauve approached and gave me a hug, her slender arm squeezing my a bit, her free arm going up to show the cup of coffee she¡¯d made. ¡°Come, sit, you know how to play Spite and Malice, right?¡± She asked, and I shook my head.


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    I looked down at the table, there were seemingly random cards scattered around with four stacks in the center, with some cards up and some cards down and several more in long rows.


    ¡°No, no idea.¡± I was telling the truth, and Fauve looked over to her mother and father.


    ¡°Can we start again so that Bailey and Boatswain can play?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Sure, why not?¡± William answered.


    ¡°Go ahead and explain the rules, I¡¯ll get dinner started.¡± Rebecca said and stood up to go into the kitchen area.


    ¡°So it¡¯s like this.¡± Fauve said while she began sorting out the cards into red and blue stacks. ¡°Each person gets a stack of red cards, the top card always facing up so everybody can see it. The one to get rid of all their red cards first is the winner. We draw blue cards and try to ¡®build up¡¯ the center from ¡®ace¡¯ to ¡®king¡¯ and put our red cards down when we can. So if there¡¯s a six up in the middle, and you have a red seven, you want to put your red one there. But everybody knows what you need to play, so they try to block you by placing their own card down first. This is both spiteful¡± she paused and shuffled the cards so fast they made a rapid ¡®swish¡¯ sound as she bent her hands into an arch and they slid together in a varied order, ¡°and malicious.¡± She finished with a wicked little smile on her face.


    ¡°You draw five cards, then end your turn by discarding them into one of four sequential columns that you make, and if you can¡¯t discard because you are out of columns or have nothing in sequence, you¡¯re probably going to get stuck, since you don¡¯t normally hold more than five cards in your hand.¡±


    She began to deal out the cards, her enthusiasm was infectious, and I flipped up the top card from my red stack. It was an ace. ¡°Oooh, easy first play.¡± Fauve said, and looked at the rest of us. William had a four, Rebecca a King, Boatswain and Byron both had sevens, and Fauve herself had a deuce.


    On the surface, it looked like an easy play¡­ but I was also last in the play order, being on Fauve¡¯s left while the order went from her right side.


    Then Fauve drew¡­ and slapped down four aces in a row.


    My auspicious start was gone, and the game did not get better from there.


    But I didn¡¯t care, because while we played, slowly whittling down the number of cards in our stacks, they talked.


    ¡°...So I learned about the equipment and how to use the sound dampeners, and Teresa gave me a manual her grandfather wrote, it¡¯s on paper and it doesn¡¯t leave the building. But it¡¯s supposed to teach me everything I¡¯ll need to know to work in their cooperation.¡± Fauve said, fairly dancing in her seat while she chattered on about what she was doing and learning, her hair bouncing around behind her, one would hardly believe what she¡¯d been through so recently, and yet she seemed fine.


    ¡®I¡¯ll tell her later.¡¯ I told myself, I didn¡¯t want to ruin the day.


    I felt William¡¯s eyes on me. I felt his question, and couldn¡¯t answer, so I focused on my cards and let the others talk.


    Along the way, in between turns, I typed up my observations. ¡®Cards¡¯ is a fairly primitive form of game dating back centuries, with endless games played with the same tools, simple numbered cards with small designs on them. This ¡®Spite and Malice¡¯ was one such game.


    Its chief function is to facilitate casual socialization. Humans are so thoroughly social that they create games that have low stakes or no stakes just to have occasion to talk to one another more. This is especially true of families such as the Walkers, who seemed to value their closeness greatly.


    William and Rebecca listened closely, ¡®listening¡¯ being another carefully cultivated skill, asking little questions along the way, making eye contact with their daughter and letting her finish before they conversed with their own incidents of the day and their intentions for tomorrow.


    I lost the first game and barely noticed before it became Byron¡¯s turn to shuffle and he began rattling off a story about one of his tours of duty before dealing out the cards again.


    So the night evening went, the game only stopped when the smell of roasted stew filled the house and the other guards were called in to come and eat at the table like ¡®civilized people¡¯.


    There we were, all of us, a pair of dlamisan soldiers, a dlamisan researcher, a human engineer, a scientist, a teenage girl with ambitions of media dominance and a human infant, chattering with a half a dozen different conversations before we even knew it. The taste of stew thick on my tongue and the promise of just ¡®one more game¡¯ after dinner before bed.


    Fauve kept glancing at me, not saying anything in particular, but it felt off¡­ I was fairly sure she couldn¡¯t have any idea about what my professor said, but it still felt off.


    If she had questions though, she didn¡¯t ask them, instead excusing herself when William seemed to make a bottle of whiskey appear out of thin air. She knew well enough that liquor meant grownup time was beginning, and gave enthusiastic ¡®goodnights¡¯ to everyone before venturing up the stairs on her own.


    For my part, I watched her go and bade her goodnight as well. I wanted to follow her upstairs and tell her the truth, part of me knew I should. However, all I could do was tell myself it would be ¡®later¡¯. And when we finally ended the evening I was slurring my words even in my own head saying, ¡®I¡¯ll tell her tomorrow.¡¯


    But before I even made it to my room, I was pretty sure I was lying.

 Chapter Twenty-One

    Chapter Twenty-One


    I don¡¯t know exactly what it was.  But I felt like I had a vague idea of what to do, I just didn¡¯t yet have the words to do it.  I stretched out on my bed and held the datapad over my face and began dictating to it.  Reciting observations, critiques, and sensations.  Color symbolism, the engraving of institutional values into stone, everything I saw right down to how close Coach Will¡¯s heir stood when listening to her father¡¯s words.


    I had the light off, and even though I could see ¡®kind of well¡¯ in the dark, at least somewhat better than homo sapiens.  Well enough at least that I could keep the screen brightness to ¡®barely¡¯ above its off setting.  ¡®No light.  Nope.  Absolutely not.¡¯  I told myself and made a mental note after I sobered up in the morning to make sure the machine recorded my words properly.


    When I woke up in the morning, blinking my eyes in the dark, I reached up and touched my head, I couldn¡¯t help but groan at the throbbing.  ¡°I will never drink again.¡±  I muttered and reached for the datapad while I sat up.


    The bed squeaked a little under me and I shoved my back up against the wall.  I didn¡¯t turn on the light, I really didn¡¯t want to do that.  It was fair to say that even though I knew the rest of the house was stirring, I was hiding out, at least a little.


    I pulled up the University of Louisville website¡­ which was a nightmare to navigate I will admit, and once I found everything I needed, started the download of books, materials, and other assorted software used in learning, and then began to read.


    I spent the next two days like that, holed up in my room.  Comfort in isolation is natural to a dlamisa, and I had some time before I had to return to work, though I did keep my word about requesting that the embassy allow Boatswain to take some time off from minding us to do an exchange with the local army office.


    I could hear them all upstairs, but I felt listless, withdrawn¡­ that ghost of an idea for a research project had still not come together in my mind in such a way that I could actually say what it even was.  The humans call this state, ¡®on the tip of the tongue¡¯ where they can almost say it, the knowledge is there but they just cannot bring it all together in such a way that they can understand it or make it understood.


    I begged off of invitations to join them for dinner, and it would be a fair thing to say that for those few days, my research suffered.  All I could really write about were my feelings.  ¡®Why am I isolating myself?¡¯  I wrote that a dozen times, though I say it only once in this final release, in my original writing I asked myself that again and again on multiple lines.


    I didn¡¯t really understand it.  And in fact I said:


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    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.  Why am I doing this?¡±


    I ran the shower a lot too, even though I didn¡¯t get in, humans never disturbed each other in showers, baths, or toilets.  Cleansing rituals were private things except between bonded pairs, or so I concluded from the fact that William and Rebecca would sometimes run the shower at the same time.


    I did ask to observe once, to which Rebecca replied by crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring between her husband and I, she said only ¡°Don¡¯t.  Say.  A thing.¡±


    William however, didn¡¯t listen.  ¡°There¡¯s videos of that sort of thing if you want, Bailey, but I¡¯m afraid our privacy is off limits.¡±


    I expected Rebecca to be angry, but instead she seemed quite pleased with him.  That was when I started paying more of a mind to the things that humans did or seemed to do in isolation, whether that isolation was one person, or a pair bond.  I read over my professor¡¯s notes again, and concluded that, ¡®Isolation for prolonged periods is harmful, but isolation in small blocks of time is beneficial to human wellbeing.¡¯


    I laid out examples of things they did without thinking, unconsciously embracing their cultural mores without even being aware of it themselves.


    And now here I was making use of those unconscious boundaries to make more space for myself.


    I wasn¡¯t really sure whom I was avoiding more.  William for his inquisitive looks my way, his wife, for the inevitable spoken questions, or¡­ Fauve, for the conversation I would have to have.


    She had no idea that this really still loomed over me, and she was so upset by the possibility of my leaving before, and truthfully, so was I.  The fact that everything was just getting back to normal, that we were all secure in the fact that the failed human would not be leaving prison and would not stop trying to, just solidified that belief that I would be staying.


    I tried to think of her response.  As humans went, she was the most dlamisa-like, reasoned, calm, studious¡­ but she was not a dlamisa.  ¡®She¡¯s an adolescent human, a child in their terms.¡¯  I knew very well that human children could be excitable, their emotional states far larger than their bodies.  Fauve being as reserved as she was, I had to wonder what a real outburst from her would be like.


    Humans are strange with their emotions, sometimes embracing them, sometimes rejecting them, sometimes at war with them.  They were perhaps the humans greatest strength and greatest weakness, as they drove the humans to action to build, to protect, to attack, to destroy, to take risks¡­  They seemed to be like some mysterious element that was unpredictable by any known measure, and the less some humans seemed to have for themselves, the deeper they actually ran.


    Of course all the showers and late dinners in the world couldn¡¯t keep the inevitable at bay, and though I might have continued the process far beyond a mere two days¡­ two days was all I got¡­


    Because who should knock on my door in the middle of the night, but Fauve herself.  ¡°I know you¡¯re up, Bailey.  I want to talk.¡±


    ¡®Damn.¡¯  I thought, and got up to unlock the door.


    In all my life up to that point, I¡¯d never moved so slowly.

 Chapter Twenty-Two

    Chapter Twenty-Two


    Fauve, I guess you could say, was a less than fastidious girl. Oh, she kept clean right enough, but she differed from her mother, spending no time on the face paint humans referred to as ¡®makeup¡¯, never wore red waxy stuff on her lips, and while she could be a little vain about how her hair was styled, she seldom did much more than brush it or braid it down the middle of her back. On this occasion, I opened the door to find her slender, serious face looking up at me. I wish I could say something clearer than ¡®serious¡¯, but I couldn¡¯t.


    I couldn¡¯t because she might as well have had her face carved out of ivory, as she wasn¡¯t the most outdoorsy of humans, her naturally light skin ran toward the pale, with light brown eyes that matched her hair, she still somehow managed to look ¡®imperious¡¯.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t come up for coffee tonight.¡± She said, and it was not a question, it was a statement, almost an accusation. ¡°You haven¡¯t come up for the last two nights.¡± She said and stepped inside my room when I moved out of the way.


    As we both shared a fondness for the stuff, and she tended to be a night owl, remaining up late into the night almost every day, it was a now established routine that I would join her at the table for a cup. I know she did the same with her father, usually with snacks of some sort.


    But since the incident, we almost always had a cup when I was up late at night taking my notes from the events of the day. Human children are a very curious lot, I said before and say again, they¡¯re a naturally scientific species, or at least they ¡®can¡¯ be.


    Fauve, being the pragmatic and bluntly put, proud girl that she was, epitomized both a scientific mind and directness that would make a dlamisa say ¡®could you be a little gentler with your words?¡¯ These were some of her finest qualities in my opinion.


    Most of the time.


    Now that this bluntness was directed at me¡­ I wished she was more like most other humans. I sat on the bed with my shoulders slumped, setting aside my datapad, I folded my hands together in my lap and waited.


    I felt her look me over, and knew she was looking at my tail, there was no wag to be had. I couldn¡¯t even fake it.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been avoiding me.¡± She said matter of factly, ¡°For more than the last two days, ever since your professor showed up, really, but even more now.¡± She said, and looking down the way I was, I saw the slight bulge in her sneakers, her toes scrunched against the inner surface.


    Avoiding Fauve was one thing. Lying to her was another. But I still couldn¡¯t speak.


    So I just nodded.


    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± She asked, ¡°I mean, you stopped drinking coffee, and even you don¡¯t take that many showers or for that long.¡±


    I shook my head a little.


    ¡°Did I offend you? Did I violate some dlamisan taboo and now you can¡¯t even look at me?¡± Her voice rose an octave higher, I hadn¡¯t heard her voice do that since the Wolfbeard incident when she told him to let go of her.


    I really, really wanted to speak, but it felt like hands grabbed all three of my hearts and squeezed.


    So all I could do was shake my head several times in rapid succession to deny her charges.


    ¡°Bailey¡­ you¡¯re my- my friend still, aren¡¯t you? Is that it? Did I- did I mess up somehow and ruin that? I¡¯m sorry if I did! Forgive me¡­ I don¡¯t have a lot of in person friends¡­ I¡¯m not really a people person so maybe I don¡¯t always act like people expect, if I messed up, tell me how to fix it!¡± She exclaimed, her brown eyes became large as her pent up emotions began to get to her, overriding her reason¡­


    It was so hard to remember that she is just a human child, according to my previous research, human children held themselves responsible for a lot of things they shouldn¡¯t have. Chronic main character syndrome until they become adults, even for the ones who are older than their years.


    I reacted as quickly as I could and violently shook my head, her distress snapped the grip on my hearts and I finally found a voice to speak. I could have done a much better job of it, no ¡®gently breaking the news¡¯ it was closer to what humans call ¡®ripping the bandaid off¡¯. ¡°They¡¯re going to make me leave!¡±


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    Fauve was stunned into silence, her slender hands balled into little fists at her side, but no tears fell, I don¡¯t think she knew quite what to say, so I expanded on what I¡¯d said, cursing my inept presentation of the circumstances.


    ¡°Unless I can come up with some research to justify the risk in keeping me here, the University wants to recall me. That¡¯s why my professor and fellow students came to see me that day. To explain my options, I have a few months at most. He promised to sign off on any project I thought had merit and to support any request to stay, but it¡¯s out of his hands.¡± My face drifted away from the floor so that I was raising my eyes up to her, I could see the reality settling in on her face.


    ¡°But- But all that was settled, our world and your world were okay with it all! It¡¯s that guy that was bad!¡± She snapped as if I didn¡¯t know that myself.


    ¡°I know, but students at that school, well we¡¯re subject to their rules, they can recall me to explain myself, and if I go back, even if they judge my actions favorably they might not let me come back here for another few decades. If they even do at all.¡± I explained, and Fauve turned around to shut the door.


    She took a deep breath, ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± She asked, it was kinder now, the way she spoke, though she paused to wipe her eyes, realizing that she wasn¡¯t at fault clearly made her feel better.


    Humans it seems, have a highly developed capacity to feel ¡®guilt¡¯, and it frequently serves as a motivation to action, tied closely to their general sense of fairness and justice, the idea of ¡®writing wrongs¡¯ is a major feature of many of their arts and stories.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know how to. This is all strange to me, I¡¯m not as good a student as I thought I was?¡± My own voice¡¯s pitch went up a little and I shrugged to go with it, a little self effacing mockery at my own expense seemed fitting at the moment.


    ¡°So, if I understand you right¡­ Mr. not-so-good-a-student¡­ if you come up with a study, or experiment or something that demonstrates a clear value to your school, you can stay?¡± Fauve asked, and I gave a very slow nod to her.


    ¡°Yes, the University¡¯s purpose, its mission, is education that will promote peace among the galaxy¡¯s many races. That¡¯s why they¡¯re the only university to take students from anywhere. Peace in the galaxy is in everyone¡¯s interests. But war is always a possibility. Violence by one of their students, however justified, while on a student visa?¡± I gave a contemptuous sneeze, ¡°No, they¡¯re not going to tolerate that, just because the human and dlamisan worlds are willing to overlook an incident, that doesn¡¯t mean the school will.¡±


    ¡°So then¡­ there¡¯s no problem, is there, Bailey?¡± Fauve asked, her fists opened and she gave a broad shrug that was almost a half flail of her arms as if she were completely clueless.


    ¡°Of¡­course there is.¡± I answered.


    ¡°No, there isn¡¯t.¡± She retorted and approached me. She wiped her sweaty palms against her jeans and crouched down so that I didn¡¯t have to look up at her, instead I was looking down and she grabbed my own wringing palms to stop the nervous motion I didn¡¯t even know I¡¯d been making until she made it stop.


    ¡°All you have to do is that. Come up with something valuable to the peace of the galaxy, study it, publish your findings, and convince them it is worth their while to put up with a few extra risks.¡± She gave me a reassuring smile, and if I could have laughed like a human, I would have.


    ¡°Sure, just change the state of galactic knowledge, that¡¯s not that hard, right?¡± I asked, and her smile got a little bit bigger.


    ¡°Bailey, are you mastering the noble art of sarcasm?¡± She asked, and I didn¡¯t even pretend to deny it.


    ¡°I have ample time to practice around you.¡± I replied, and she pushed herself up to a standing position, her right hand went to my head and scratched the top¡­ it felt soooooo good after all the stress, that I tilted my head and leaned into the blessing of the scratch.


    ¡°Come on, come up for coffee, you¡¯ll come up with something, big dummy. You made me worry.¡± She said and then took my hand to take me upstairs. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll come up with something, I mean they want something valuable to interspecies peace, I¡¯m a species, you¡¯re a species, let¡¯s put our heads together, and if nothing else, well even I can¡¯t finish that whole pot by myself.¡± She gave me a gentle smile over her shoulder, and I stood up to follow her.


    It had been hard to say that much to her, and I thought she still underestimated the probability of failure, but at least it was out, and if I were to be honest, what I imagined was worse than the reality even if that was tempered by unfounded optimism.


    A little optimism goes a long way sometimes, especially with bad news. Bad news and a cup of coffee, that is.

 Chapter Twenty-Three

    Chapter Twenty-Three


    I would be belaboring the point, I think, to say yet again that the resilience of humans never ceased to amaze me.  I still felt ready to fall apart, and yet Fauve seemed her normal self again, now that the question of why I had been avoiding her for the last few days had been answered.


    This leads to another conclusion about humans:


    Certainty of doom is better than uncertain happiness.


    When dealing with humans, knowing what is going wrong is almost always preferable to not knowing what is going wrong.  Humans are a very active species, even those who are not physically active tend to be mentally so, I cannot say how much of this is nature versus culture, but as a species they tend to be very self observant.  ¡®What am I doing?¡¯  ¡®Where am I going?¡¯  ¡®What am I accomplishing?¡¯  ¡®What am I doing wrong or right¡¯  ¡®Who am I¡¯.  They are a race in constant flux to the point where one of their great philosophers once said:


    ¡®An unexamined life is not worth living.¡¯  The very notion of simply ¡®being¡¯ without reflection, causes them to doubt the worth of the way they live.  Looking back now, following Fauve up the stairs while she bounced on her heels and hummed like everything was just fine, I wondered how much it bothered her that I seemed to draw myself back from our connection for seemingly no reason.


    The stairs creaked a little on our way up, though we did move with care, she never let go of my hand the entire way, like she was afraid I¡¯d be one of the ghosts out of their stories, just drifting away as some ephemeral shade.


    Her hand was sweaty too, humans are very sweaty creatures, not that I minded much, the hairy cannot critique the sweaty, after all, especially when Rebecca was so patient with my occasional shedding of orange and black fur around the family house.


    I sat down at the table and Fauve retrieved the cup with the name ¡®Bailey Walker¡¯ on it. I was quiet while she poured the coffee.  It was a nice gesture on her part, it reminded me of the way Rebecca always did the coffee prep when Fauve was asleep.


    I didn¡¯t type this up until later, having neglected to bring my datapad, but I couldn¡¯t help but notice the little things.  Fauve stood at the coffee maker and scooped the grounds out of a fabric pouch.  With my sensitive nose I could experience it as she never could, and I tell you, it was wonderful enough that I could have believed that the old human superstitions had some merit.  How else could something so rich and smooth envelop my nose?


    But I digress, she scooped the same way her mother did, not with a gentle tilt, but with a sharp flick of her wrist designed to hurl the grounds down into the brown paper filter, thus creating an audible and pleasant ¡®swish¡¯ sound that also stirred up the scent a little bit more.


    She had the water ready, and I knew at once she planned this.  It had all been laid out with the idea that I would tell her the truth, that everything would be all right.  That was why she was fairly bouncing on the balls of her feet and humming with a smile on her face while she worked.


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    For all of her father in her, the coffee making was done just like her mother. It was a tranquil, pleasant air about her which I have to admit¡­ I missed seeing.


    I didn¡¯t really know quite how to explain it, but that this kind of generational cycle was the stuff traditions were made of.  While I watched Fauve work, I could easily imagine her own daughter doing it one day, insisting her spouse get out of the way and let her do it.


    It seemed to bring her joy, this simple little thing she was doing for someone else, and it made my earlier cowardice about telling her the truth just¡­ so much worse.


    I bowed my head and my tail curled under the chair in which I sat.  ¡°Sorry¡­ I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t say anything.  I just didn¡¯t want to upset you.¡±  I said, but that was a lie too, at least¡­ at least it was a half truth.


    Fauve tapped on the countertop while she waited, bopping around to some music she hummed that I had no chance of recognizing.  She didn¡¯t answer me at first, she just waited until the coffee was mostly done and filled first my cup, then her own.  A few drops sizzled as they hit the hot plate beneath before she could replace the wide glass pot.


    ¡°Is that all?¡±  Fauve asked without looking my way.


    ¡®How did she know?!¡¯  Human social perception¡¯s heights just seemed to get worse or¡­ or better, really.


    I lowered my head a little bit more.  ¡°No.  Yes.  I-I didn¡¯t want to deal with this either.  I didn¡¯t mean to worry you, really.  I just didn¡¯t know what to do.  This is all so new, and I like you all a lot, I didn¡¯t expect that.  But I do and I didn¡¯t want to disappoint you, or see you get upset¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡±  I used all the air I had in my body to spit those words out, and finally wheezed my way into morose silence, all I managed to mumble out while she brought the cups over was, ¡°I told you all before¡­ I¡¯m kind of a coward.¡±


    What I did not expect was her response to my words, she set the coffee down and flung her arms around my neck and head and squeezed as tight as she could.  Had it been Boatswain or Byron, I do believe I might have died.


    As it was, her hold was fairly tight, thankfully my familiarity with hugs was such that I at least knew this was one of the most important signs of affection a human could offer.  She rubbed the top of my head and my tail instantly started to swish back and forth, she rubbed the top of her head against the top of mine.  ¡°Big idiot.  You said you¡¯re an alien, but that sounded pretty human, and pretty male too.¡±  She snorted a little.


    ¡°You had me worried sick.¡±  She added, ¡°I know I¡¯m just a kid, but I think things will work out.  You just have to find a way, and it¡¯s like my dad says.¡±  Her voice deepened a little when she cleared her throat and she straightened up, holding one hand on her hip, closing both eyes, then holding her other hand up at chest height with her pointer finger extended while the rest balled up into a fist she said, ¡®There is a solution to every problem, it¡¯s just a matter of finding it.¡¯  so just find it.¡±


    ¡°What if I don¡¯t?  I don¡¯t want to leave.¡±  I said honestly, and she looked at me cockeyed, like I was being an idiot again.


    ¡°Then we better get a lot more of these in.¡±  Fauve said and hugged me again.


    There¡¯s something about human affection that makes for a powerful sense of determination.  When she hugged me that second time after reassuring me there was a solution to be had, I just¡­ I somehow knew she was right, I¡¯d find a way, I wouldn¡¯t fail.  I couldn¡¯t fail.


    It was impossible, after all, I had a family on my side.


    The coffee tasted extra rich that night, is all else I will say.

 Chapter Twenty-Four

    Chapter Twenty-Four


    I¡¯m sure if they ever make a movie about our coffee session that evening they¡¯ll compress the story so that we came up with the perfect solution within a few hours.  Movies are like that, they compress real events that take weeks or months or years and make them into hours or even minutes.  But for the proper historical record, we came up with nothing.


    ¡°Could you do something with the military?  Like the thing with the embassy guy?  You know, showing how we can work together that way?¡±  Fauve asked, and I cocked my head so hard my ears briefly flopped.


    ¡°The military?¡±  I asked her in return, placing special emphasis on the word.  ¡°Fauve, that might work well for relations with my world.  But most intelligent races in the galaxy are prey races.  Species like yours, mine, Ka¡¯wik and Sxlith, and my other colleagues, that come from predator origins, are extremely rare.  There¡¯s no more than twenty of those out of the roughly one thousand known intelligent species, and that¡¯s not counting the ones that look like they might develop higher intelligence at some point.  Including those?¡±  I had to shake my head at the idea, ¡°Predators are outnumbered in the galaxy.  Let alone real apex predators.¡±


    She looked down at the table when I said that and reached for her spoon, predictably enough, at least to me, she kept sugar on the table, and after scooping a few spoonfuls in and stirring it her lips pursed thinly together while she took long slow breaths.


    The metal spoon scraped against the glass with the steady slowness of grains of wheat being ground by oxen, and I could see that what I said did nothing to make her any happier.  I didn¡¯t have to wait for too long to find out why.


    ¡°In our history,¡± she said, ¡°those who are outnumbered don¡¯t come to good ends.  Not most of the time.  What would the Zenti have done if they found Earth before we got strong enough to protect ourselves?¡±


    The answer was obvious, ¡°Raid.  Raid.  And raid some more.  If you were weak enough, maybe even occupy your world and make you plunder it for them.  They¡¯ve done it before.¡±  She bit her lower lip, and I hesitated.  I thought I went too far, that I scared her, and my immediate instinct was to reassure her.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t have to worry about that.  The Zenti are at peace now, and the human fleets, and soldiers, have a mighty reputation.¡±  I reassured her, and it had the added benefit of being true.  If the Zenti wouldn¡¯t dare attack humans, nobody would.


    ¡°Still.¡±  She said, ¡°That sounds dangerous.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t really deny it, though I had no idea just how significant her three little words were in the human psyche at the time, and more importantly I could see it wasn¡¯t going to make her happy, and making her happy was far more important to me than I ever imagined it could be when I was still far from Earth.  ¡°How about a game?¡±  I suggested, ¡°You could teach me some card games?¡±  I proposed, and she perked up a little and got up to retrieve a deck while I got up to retrieve snacks.


    For the next few hours the stress was forgotten.  Fauve and I played cards using potato chips as ¡®chips¡¯, eating the winnings occasionally while we drained the coffee pot down to its last drop.  Every now and then she got up, came over, and hugged me, like each one would be the last.  It was as welcome as it was human, as were the head scratches that went with it.


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    I admit I had yet to ¡®initiate¡¯ any physical affection with anyone, only received it, but it seemed my otherness, my alienness, let the humans put that aside as a quirk of my species, correctly, I might add.


    But until that night, when the possibility of leaving forever, or at least for years, was spoken out loud, I never noticed that the only physicality I actually initiated was violence.


    I was instinctively violent toward the failed human, but I was not instinctively affectionate toward even my obviously favorite human.  More than that, I actually mentally withdrew myself from her for several days.


    Drawing conclusions from this was difficult, as my statistics professor said, ¡®If your sample size is small and your standard deviations are large, any conclusion other than no conclusion is bad, and you should feel bad.¡¯  He was a very wise teacher, as teachers went.


    So with only a sample size of one, and a known weakness in myself, it was hard to say much with certainty.  Aggressive protection seems to be far and away easier to turn to though, than aggressive affection.  I remarked this exact thing toward Fauve as our supply of both coffee and potato chips began to dwindle, leaving the white chip bowl nearly empty.


    Fauve didn¡¯t say anything right away, thoughtful answers or none seemed to be her preference, again a fine quality that I greatly appreciated.  But when she did she asked, ¡°Do you really think of ¡®giving hugs¡¯ to be aggressive affection?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±  I answered.


    ¡°Do you not like them?¡±  She asked, and I could tell she was trying hard not to sound hurt, her eyes jerked away from me for a moment though and I almost jumped out of my skin to deny it.


    ¡°No, no they¡¯re¡­¡±  I rubbed the back of my head and wagged my tail while I fumbled for words, ¡°They¡¯re actually great.  They feel warm, soft, and feel fuzzy¡­ but in a good way!  Ah, I like them a lot.  Even more than head scratches!¡±


    That settled her brief flash of anxiety, but I was surprised by what she said next.  ¡°Good.  For a moment I thought you didn¡¯t like it.  I thought maybe I was just doing what that creature was doing.  I don¡¯t want to be that person, I keep forgetting you¡¯re an alien, you might not always think the same way we do, feel the same way we do¡­ I just kind of assumed you did, and I shouldn¡¯t have.  If I upset you, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still figuring people out.¡±  I said, setting my cup down on the table, I noticed the way the remnants of tan liquid swished and swayed back and forth against the inner wall, ¡°I don¡¯t always know what to say myself.  You humans, you¡¯re funny, but¡­ but in a good way,¡± I hastened to add those last two words, ¡°you didn¡¯t upset me.  Not once.  I don¡¯t mean to say this is aggressive in a bad way, just that it is¡­ like it¡¯s very forward, close.  You actually have to go to someone.¡±  I emphasized that considerably and cocked my head a little.  ¡°We don¡¯t do that much.  You¡¯ve seen how I respond to crowds.  I am¡­ what is that phrase you humans use?  Not an air conditioner?¡±


    ¡°Not a fan, Bailey.  Not a fan.¡±  She corrected me, a little smile traced over her lips when she corrected my improper application of an idiom.


    ¡°Right.  That.¡±  I nodded emphatically.


    ¡°It just doesn¡¯t feel that aggressive to me.¡±  She replied and filled up her coffee cup.  ¡°Aggressive sounds ¡®threatening¡¯.¡±  She said while the dark liquid sloshed around into the cup in front of her.  ¡°And if you care about somebody, and they like you too, what¡¯s the threat?¡±  She asked.


    I got up, I don¡¯t quite know what possessed me to do so, but I admit I felt like I¡¯d neglected something important, accepting the affection of the entire Walker household and offering very little but politeness in return.  I approached her side of the table, and though I couldn¡¯t open my arms nearly as wide as a human, she got the point.


    Fauve leaned to the side and I gave out my very first hug.

 Chapter Twenty-Five

    Chapter Twenty-Five


    I don¡¯t think it was ever her intent to give me evidence in the scientific sense that ¡®hugs are not aggressive¡¯ or at least not ¡®always¡¯ aggressive.  But I do think she wanted me to know it was all right to give as much as receive.  Zenti beliefs on ¡®take and take¡¯ were barely an exchange, and never an exchange of equals.  Their trading practices involved giving just enough for the other side of what passed for a ¡®bargain¡¯ to pretend they were doing the plundering rather than being plundered.


    Notably, the Zenti secured advanced spaceflight over two hundred years before humanity, but their technology grew stagnant, and their society thrived only because the typical response of most races to danger was flight rather than fight.  Races like mine that had a subpopulation of aggressors that made up a vigorous military were the only real check on their plundering ways until humans took to space and responded to Zenti aggression with what came to be identified as a hallmark of mankind.


    Overkill.


    But as Fauve accepted my hug and we shared the warmth of an unimaginable affection, I was reminded of a story out of human mythology.


    Two males were suckled by a shewolf, Romulus and Remus, and the two brothers went on to build a city, Romulus would strike down Remus in a fight over whether the city should have a wall or not, and with the death of his brother, Romulus got his way.  My professor warned us early on to study humans, study their stories, even their fictional ones.  Or as he put it, especially their fictional ones.


    Wolves are defensive creatures, and from what I knew of what became the ¡®Roman Empire¡¯ they always insisted that they were ¡®defending¡¯ themselves from some injustice.  Notably this was not always true, but their self perception was that they were defending themselves all the way into being an Empire.


    Fauve¡¯s desire to receive as much as to give was in my view, closely tied to their innate defensiveness as a species, though they rose to become apex predators, many of their ancestor species were essentially scavenging prey animals that were far from the fierce killers that now dominate the human¡¯s little blue dot.


    The ¡®give and take¡¯ approach to affection is, I believed, tied to their sense of everything else, their physical security as much as their mental, and their cooperative nature.  While they do have a long history of plunder, because they are so very predatory, every conqueror who endures for any length of time must get ¡®buy in¡¯ from the conquered population to some degree.


    You must give something even to those you take something from, and it has to matter to them.  Perhaps that is a great deal to conclude from a single hug, but there is more.


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    Rebecca and William always struck me as a team, the same seemed true with Percival and Teresa, and from what Byron said, the same was true of their military.  Notably, even his bonding with Boatswain was rooted in their shared teamwork and experience.


    Not long after that however, the pot was empty and the chips were gone, and I said, ¡°I really do have to get at least some sleep, I have my first day tomorrow.  Plus I¡¯m going to start classes soon.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing.  Big dummy.¡±  Fauve said it with such sweetness and affection that the insult wasn¡¯t an insult, ¡°Don¡¯t worry me like that again, okay?  And don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll come up with something, I¡¯m sure of it.¡±  She said and rose up to her tiptoes to scratch the top of my head again.


    My tail wagged, and I agreed, ¡°Sure, sure.  I¡¯ll do my best, I promise.¡±  I said, that much was a promise I could definitely make at least.


    There was a noise of thunder outside, and we reflexively looked up at the ceiling before turning our eyes toward the window instead, the noise of rain began, and it started to come down, hard.  ¡°I¡¯ll go tell them to come in, they can crash in the living room.¡±  Fauve suggested, ¡°You can go on to bed.¡±


    I nodded, but I didn¡¯t do as she suggested, I did head for the stairs, but ¡®everything is research¡¯ so I waited there just out of view while Fauve opened the door, thanks to my sharp vision and Fauve¡¯s slight build I could see that Boatswain and Byron were rushing up the stairs already to take advantage of the overhang on the porch.  The swinging bench outside was creaking as the wind began to billow and batter it back and forth, and when the lightning cracked across the gap from earth to sky I could see that the two were already thoroughly drenched.


    Earth weather is unpredictable, especially in the Kentucky place, heavy rains could come almost out of nowhere.  ¡°Yeah, let me get you some blankets.  Just use the towels in the bathroom to dry off.¡±  I heard Fauve say as the drenched giants turned sideways to enter at the same time behind her when she came in.


    As this is a belated edition, I will add that since that observation I have written two books just on the subject of human impromptu hospitality and its connection to weather and danger, and their capacity for thoughtful assistance being nearly instantaneous.  I will quote only two passages drawn from human sources, ¡®For the men of Wu and the men of Yueh are enemies; yet if they are crossing a river in the same boat and are caught by a storm, they will come to each other''s assistance just as the left hand helps the right.¡¯ and another, a saying out of a place called Mongolia goes, ¡®Happy is he whom guests frequent, joyful is he at whose door guests¡¯ horses are always tethered.¡¯  Hospitality is central to human social dynamics, so much so that it is said that enemies will share a tent in peace in a storm.


    The human world is dangerous, but this very fact of its danger has created a people who are capable of caring about even strangers as if they were their own closest family.


    Whether it be a giant of a human soldier, or a lone dlamisan student who now¡­ just didn¡¯t want to leave.


    I went to bed rather than intrude further, more determined than ever that I would find an answer, a way, something to justify the years of experience I longed to have, even if I was being a little selfish about it.

 Chapter Twenty-Six

    Chapter Twenty-Six


    Determination is a funny thing, it may drive you to seek results, but it does not actually ensure you get them.  My first day of in person class came sooner than I expected, and I found myself staring at the steps leading up into the building for a lot longer than I needed to.  ¡°You nervous?¡±  Boatswain asked, he¡¯d joined me for today, at least for the outdoor trips, his voice was a very low growl, and he made a point of using our native tongue to ask.


    English was the dominant local tongue, and we usually just used that, every dlamisa who visited Earth for work purposes was required to be fluent in the local language.  We did have our translating implants, but the reality was that since all language is to some degree a matter of cultural perspective, they were absolute garbage when it came to daily use.  Their primary function was as an assistant to us to help us learn quicker than we otherwise would.  That way we could pick up on human idioms and cultural references.  Boatswain¡¯s was better than mine, dlamisan¡¯ military budgets were something to behold.  His included an augmented reality option that let him pull reference materials up in front of his eyeballs.


    The University student budget?  Not that great.  But this just made his use of Dlamisar that much stranger.  He hadn¡¯t spoken our language even once in my presence.  Not till now.


    ¡°If you are, don¡¯t be.¡±  He said and looked around, his arms hung loose at his sides and he looked around at the various human students zipping by on their scooters or walking into buildings, there were a lot of them.


    ¡°Easy for you to say.  You have suppressant drugs and conditioning.¡±  I retorted, and he let out a heavy grunt.


    ¡°Even so.  You got up after being sideswiped by a dlamisan space marine, and from what I hear, you threw a human who was nearly as tall as me.  You¡¯re at least a little tougher than you think.¡±  Boatswain said, ¡°Besides, I won¡¯t be far.  Any trouble, call me.¡±


    This was yet another indication that humans and dlamisa could take a great deal from each other, his words were reassuring, but¡­ everything is an experiment, and I made a mental note of it later.  Military dlamisa are notoriously thick skinned, literally and figuratively, they say little and are used to speaking to no one for long periods of time.  Some ships even put them into cryosleep, only waking them up to fight when the time comes.  Part of that is because our soldiers are so exceptionally dangerous¡­ and many other species have a hard time being around them.  We were the humans of the known galaxy before the humans, you might say.


    So to hear him express compassion toward me, offer praise, encouragement?  There was only one obvious source for that, and that was his association with Byron.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±  I said, and just before I could head for the stairs, I heard a familiar voice.


    ¡°Hey!  Waiting here for me?¡±  I turned to the voice to see Lisa¡¯s smiling face, she wore a pair of jeans and a cropped shirt that exposed her midriff, along with some perfectly ordinary sneakers that were a vibrant blue shade.


    ¡°I guess I am even if I wasn¡¯t.¡±  I perked up when I found myself with a companion to go in with.


    ¡°Hey Boatswain, have a good one, don¡¯t worry about this guy, I¡¯ll watch his tail!¡±  She said and we both looked at her in surprise.  It was the first time we¡¯d heard an expression of our home world pass a human¡¯s lips.


    ¡°What?  I pulled down a dlamisan phrasebook.  I might as well make you feel at home, right?¡±  She said and kept that big, welcoming smile on her face.


    The natural ambassadorial skills of humans never ceased to amaze me.  As I followed beside her up the stairs after she traded a few courtesies with Boatswain that I barely noticed, I couldn¡¯t help but think¡­


    ¡®The human capacity to make friends might make them more dangerous than their capacity for violence.¡¯  It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine weaponized diplomacy, backed by the rapidly growing human military might.  Fauve¡¯s concern about species like hers and ours being ¡®outnumbered¡¯ being recognized around the world by human leaders was an¡­ intimidating thought.


    I was so lost in those thoughts that while Lisa led me to the classroom, I didn¡¯t even notice the directions, I just aimlessly followed after her.


    ¡®You need to stop getting distracted.¡¯  I told myself as we walked through the thick wooden door.  It was heavy, shockingly so.  So much so that I stopped at the door and swung it several times.


    ¡°It¡¯s old.¡±  Lisa said when she saw me fiddling with it.


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    ¡°You say that like it¡¯s an explanation.¡± I retorted and swung the door once more for good measure, I managed to ignore the gaggle of other students who watched with expressions that ranged from bemusement to amusement at what to them must have been a curious alien antic.


    ¡°Oh, right, you wouldn¡¯t know.¡±  Lisa snapped her fingers and said, ¡°That just looks like all wood, in fact it¡¯s got a heavy iron core.  A few hundred years ago they used to have a problem with ¡®school shootings¡¯.  A bunch of schools from the ones for very small children to college students like us, they got shot up and a bunch of kids died.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t go pale in the face, but I could drop my jaw, and did.


    ¡°Crazy people were allowed to have guns?!¡±  I knew humans could be reckless, everybody knew that, but that took reckless to another level.


    ¡°They weren¡¯t supposed to, but it kept happening until they made it so almost nobody had guns, then there weren¡¯t guns for crazy people to get.  That was a few hundred years ago, but one of the solutions early on was to make bullet proof doors to keep crazy gun wielding maniacs out.¡±  Lisa explained, and I closed the door behind me with the utmost gentleness.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have the problem anymore, but nobody ever took out the doors.  So?  Big, heavy doors in a lot of the old buildings that were around in the early 21st century.¡±  Lisa said it reassuringly and I admit, my sigh of relief was visible.


    ¡°There is an unpleasant thought, education is stressful enough without getting shot at while getting it.¡±  I said and the other students nodded along with the sage understanding that can only come from students of higher learning.


    The class was laid out with a number of simple square topped desks and chairs made of wood that could have stood to be a bit more comfortable if I¡¯m being honest.  Interestingly, the alignment of desks was a curve that created a wide open central space, or would have, but that central space was taken up with a long flat desk on which nothing sat.


    I wanted to ask questions, but before I could, a middle aged woman with short brown hair walked into the room and strode up to the far end of the room.  She was somewhat obese as humans went, though not to the extent that [Wolfbeard] was.  Unlike him however, she wore a bright and sunny smile, and she seemed to crackle with energy in very gesture.


    ¡°Welcome to Creative Writing.  I¡¯m Professor Edwards.¡±  She said and then for seemingly no reason at all, she slapped the wall behind her with an open hand creating a massive ¡®crack¡¯ sound that stiffened my tail and everybody else¡¯s backs all at once.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t see that coming, did you?¡±  She asked.  ¡°And that¡¯s part of what makes creativity what it is,¡± she hadn¡¯t waited for anyone to answer, ¡°the unexpected, the unlooked for, taking two ordinary things¡­ an older woman¡¯s hand and a boring old wall, and combining them to make something unexpected.  Take a chainsaw and a person, you get ¡®Chainsaw man¡¯.  Take a corpse and a living person, you get a vampire or a zombie.  Take a human and a dog, maybe you get a dlamisa.¡±  She winked in my direction, and I can only say I was glad to know I was acknowledged in such a friendly manner.


    ¡°You can make anything in fiction, and during this class, that is exactly what you¡¯re going to do.  Now turn to page thirty-five and let¡¯s get started.¡±  No sooner than we heard her command, than we all began flipping through our datapads to follow along.


    We read through quite a bit in a very short period of time.  I learned about how unreliable narrators created realism and confusion.  I learned about the three arc structure.  I learned a lot in a very little time.


    And when the class began to wind down, I got my first creativity exercise.  I suppose I should point out that creativity is not widely encouraged among dlamisa, we¡¯re ¡®able¡¯ to do it.  We have our arts, our music, but our society is so focused upon its efficiency and advancement that we do nothing to fund or promote the arts, as a result?  It should come as no surprise that few of my race are ever really exposed to them.


    My first real exposure to ¡®concentrated quantities of creativity¡¯ was in studying human media forms, their old movies, books, and the materials I would need or thought I would need in order to understand them.


    But I had never created anything myself before, unless you count ¡®Ballyball¡¯.


    The exercise we were given was simple, ¡°Spend the last ten minutes of class writing a story about being somebody else in this class, anyone.  Take a good look at them, and try to imagine their life, don¡¯t say who, just write a short fictional story about what it¡¯s like being them.¡±


    I was coping well enough with it being only a small number, about twenty-five people, but I felt every eyeball in the room turned toward me.  I didn¡¯t need to be a genius to know that ¡®everybody picked the alien¡¯.


    ¡°Oh boy.¡±  I said out loud and cocked my head, I let my ears flop down and looked at them all in that curious expression that seemed to make the primates happy.  ¡°Trust me, I¡¯m not that exciting.¡±  I cautioned them, but with enormous and absurd grins on their faces, they immediately began writing.


    For my part, what could I say?  The more I learned the more I realized I didn¡¯t know, and trying to imagine all these different lives just based on appearance alone?


    Then it hit me.  ¡®I don¡¯t have to go just by faces and bodies!¡¯  I shut my eyes and focused all my attention on my sense of smell, and I inhaled deeply.  One stood out in particular, our instructor.  There was so much there.  The smell of fresh baked bread, a soft lavender shampoo, and thanks to my exposure to Michael, I knew the smells that toddlers accumulated.  I knew the scent of stress, and there was plenty of that.


    I had enough, I hastened my fingers to the surface of the datapad, and began to write.

 Chapter Twenty-Seven

    Chapter Twenty-Seven


    A volume could be written about the impressions I got from the would-be writers in that class, and I daresay that any student of culture could draw a great deal of information on the local population just based on how I was featured in the stories I would hear when they were eventually read at the start of the next class.


    However, while I did request and receive copies from those who wrote to feature me in their one shot short stories, which I eventually released in a short compendium to my larger volumes of studies on humans, this is not the place you will find them.


    Some of my colleagues, one of whom would prove quite vexing in time when we finally met, would be particularly critical of withholding those stories from this particular volume.


    However, instead the choice was mine and I made it.  Class came and went, and I parted ways with Lisa as quickly as we began.  I worked that day and filled out idle paperwork in between the arduous task of ordering the local unit¡¯s database of documents and information into something sensible.


    Truth be told, nothing of note, even by my standards, happened that day, which is why I gloss over it to cover the next day of class, and where I, and the others, read their brief stories out loud.


    Those same critics would level their clucking tongues and accusing fingers at me for including a fraction of my own work where I excluded the others, but I assure you, this is justified.


    Our plump but energetic teacher leveled her pudgy finger at me and said my name, ¡°Bailey, you may read, now.¡±


    To my eternal gratitude, I was the last to go, and so I had time to brace myself mentally.  I told myself over and over, ¡®Just treat it like your doctoral presentation¡­ it¡¯s just like that, just practice.¡¯  I tried not to be nervous, though my tail drooped a little, and a mortifying ¡®awww¡¯ came from somewhere in the tiny sea of faces when that became obvious.


    But I did my best, she stepped aside, nodded encouragingly, and left the podium to me.  At that moment, I recalled the way Fauve stood in front of hundreds of adults, and I wondered with awe that any human, any creature, could be that brave.


    All I could be, was just me, which at that moment, didn¡¯t feel like very much at all. I lowered my head and looked down at my datapad, cleared my throat, and read.  ¡°My story is titled, ¡®If Only¡¯.  By, Bailey Walker.¡±


    ¡°I do my best, and I am so tired¡­ she won¡¯t sleep, she won¡¯t cooperate¡­ if only I had time for me¡­ if only¡­ if only¡­ if only¡­¡±


    ¡°If only they knew how much I loved them, if only they knew how much I cared, wouldn¡¯t they return the same to me, if only they knew, would they dare¡­¡±


    ¡°The warmth of the sweets that I give them, and the warmth of the sweets I consume¡­¡±  I will spare you the rest of my awful first attempt at a fictional work.  I had written the short story in poetry form, which was meant to show the frustration of a single mother who ate sweets to feel something good while feeling unappreciated in her home.


    I felt the long, quiet stare of my teacher a little too much for my liking, and when I stopped reading my short page, it was several lengthy seconds which felt like minutes, before at last our teacher said¡­


    ¡°A¡­ very good first effort.  Not very action oriented, but very emotive.  Still, try to flex your creative muscles a little, fiction can be anything, you could have her flee from it all by jumping into space on a pogo stick or an alien shows up and sweeps her off her feet or she develops super powers and suddenly everything is easy, only it leaves her unfulfilled now that there¡¯s no challenges left¡­ do anything, and the less real it is, the more it can touch the audience.  The best familiar in fiction, is far removed from reality, but still also touches home in just the right ways.¡±


    She gave me a very fragile smile, I¡¯d seen it before, on Fauve, William, and Rebecca, when they were sure they should smile but weren¡¯t sure they could keep it up.


    She knew.


    Humans are a disturbingly perceptive species in some ways.  In a way, I failed.  If I had made it more outlandish, she wouldn¡¯t have seen who it was about, but I was so focused on the details¡­ talk about an error.


    After class, Lisa seemed to notice my distress and she gave the fur on my arm a little tug, ¡°Coffee?¡±  She asked.


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    ¡°Work starts in an hour.¡±  I told her, and she tugged my fur again.


    ¡°Coffee is five minutes away and work is seven on a scooter.  So?  Coffee?¡±  She asked and tilted her head up at me with a playful smile that was really more of a taunt, she leaned forward a little and tilted her head up so that the autumn leaf design of her hair swayed a little.


    I do not know why, but I have a hard time saying ¡®no¡¯ when these humans ask me to do things.  I rubbed the back of my head, my ears flopped down and my tail wagged a little, ¡°Yeah, yeah sure.¡±  I said and began to walk beside her.


    The buildings may have been largely square or rectangular, but the University of Louisville seemed to love to make the interiors ¡®round¡¯ for some reason, with open corridors and each level able to look down on the one below it.


    I drew some funny looks and some surprised ones too, but¡­ those I could blow off.  But from a very small number of human males, I drew looks of outright hostility.


    Their glowers were matched by the brief baring of teeth, but none approached me and Lisa seemed not to notice them.  Another of my kind might have been confused, but I was not.  I knew that despite the help of Percival, there were still those out there who were convinced all aliens were a threat, and from my own casual browsing in weak moments, I knew that some awful things were said of how I related to my human family.


    That didn¡¯t linger on my mind for long however, as we made our way downstairs in short order and stood in line at a small counter while Lisa fiddled on her datapad.  ¡°There, order placed.¡±  She said and stowed it in her backpack.


    ¡°You what, now?¡±  I asked.


    ¡°I ordered for us both, don¡¯t worry, this one is on me.¡±  She said, ¡°You grab us a table, I¡¯ve got nowhere to be until practice, and you¡¯ve got nowhere to be till work, but that doesn¡¯t mean we shouldn¡¯t get our table early.¡±  She pointed out, it was an efficient argument that no dlamisa could resist.


    ¡°Uh, yeah, yeah sure.¡±  I agreed and looked to the side area where out of dozens of tables, only two or three remained open, the hubbub of chatter wasn¡¯t that bad, despite the little crowd.  It reminded me of the bar on the ship that brought me to Earth in the first place.  Now here I was again with yet another ¡®Lisa¡¯ who was seemingly just as charming.  ¡®I still have that liquor she gave me¡­¡¯  I thought it over and licked my lips.  ¡®No, no, save it for a special occasion.¡¯  I told myself, but before I thought too much about that, my new Lisa sat down across from me.


    The table was round, small, and just perfect for two, and she asked me abruptly, ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±  I protested.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to say.¡±  She said and slid the thick paper cup over to me, the hot steaming liquid drifted up to taunt my nose with the scent of that wonderful, rich, dark bean.


    ¡°But,¡± she took a sip of her cup, ¡°William did tell me you¡¯re a terrible liar.¡±


    ¡°A lot of things.¡±  I admitted, deception it seems, was not my greatest skill.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to say.¡±  She repeated herself, ¡°But nobody here is listening.  Well, except for me.¡±  She pointed to herself with one finger, ¡°And besides, you want to be focused for your job here in a little while, right?¡±


    The threat to my efficiency loomed large in my mind, and I went over how the weight of my deadline for an experiment loomed larger every day, how I was upset that I made Fauve worry she¡¯d done something wrong, and how I screwed up that assignment by making it obvious to the teacher that she was the subject.


    Lisa remained quiet through it all, and herein I must add, one of the human¡¯s finest strengths is their capacity for empathy.


    From a scientific standpoint it simply refers to the capacity to learn by observation, to understand the motives of others, it is part of why humans undergo a prolonged period of maturation and learning before they grow to adulthood.  But this hyperempathetic trait was so powerful that this human I barely knew, not only managed to identify that I was disturbed, but able to get me to talk about it.


    Empathy, in this regard, is not only the capacity to understand, but also to care.  Their ability to connect thought and feeling, action and decision, is far superior to any other predatory species I have ever encountered.  It made me wonder how it is that humans, with this hyperempathetic trait, were ever able to take the lives of their fellow men.


    I resolved to make a study of human war culture and history later, but in that moment it was just a wave of relief washing over me to vent to someone who would listen and reassure me that it wasn¡¯t as bad as I thought.


    That however, was interrupted by the buzzing of my datapad.


    ¡°Just one moment.¡±  I said and Lisa sipped quietly on her coffee while I pulled out the pad and unlocked it.


    ¡°Oh¡­ this is unexpected.¡±  I said as I read through the message.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±  Lisa asked, she leaned forward over the table as if to look at the tablet for herself.


    ¡°The merchant vessel, the one I¡¯m supposed to handle, they got slingshotted by a rogue star passing through space, that greatly increased their speed and¡­ well¡­ they¡¯re going to be here in a few days.¡±


    ¡°Is that bad?¡±  Lisa asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, based on what this says, they heard about bourbon, whiskey, and¡­ various other things, and with them being ahead of schedule, plus with the probable damage to the ship from the slingshot maneuver¡­  Do you think Louisville has enough liquor to keep a cargo ship full of really¡­ really drunk Dlamisan merchant sailors happy, once they find out what the stuff is like?¡±  I had my doubts about that, but Lisa seemed not to as she only reached out, tapped the black tip of my nose and said¡­


    ¡°Challenge accepted.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Eight

    Chapter Twenty-Eight


    I should have known better than to ask a human if something like that could be handled.  I really¡­ really should have.  But to my credit, I knew a mischievous look when I saw it at least.


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking of something, aren¡¯t you?¡±  I asked, and Lisa nodded, she was wiggling in her chair with the kind of excitement I didn¡¯t often see even out of humans, but that I¡¯ve at least seen in fiction and recognized that it meant she was anticipating something.  Lisa didn¡¯t speak right away, she had her datapad out and was typing something, a moment later there was a ¡®ding¡¯ noise back, then more typing.


    Then more dings.


    I pulled ¡®the face¡¯.  The cocked, curious look that made humans seem to melt and made them talkative.


    ¡°A bunch of your guys¡¯s sailors are heading here, right?  Space marines?  Space doggos?  Merchant space doggo marines¡­ whatever, yeah?¡±  She asked, clearly trying not to keep her smile from getting larger.


    ¡°Yessss¡­¡±  I drew out my answer, I kind of had a feeling I knew where this was going.


    ¡°So, like, you¡¯re on the football team now, and you work for the little Army office here, what say we get everybody together for a good time?  A little ¡®good will¡¯ exchange.  They¡¯re going to get some shore leave, right?  Not just hang out at the space dock?¡±  She asked, but she already knew the answer.  Louisville had always been a transportation hub, and it wasn¡¯t uncommon for shuttles or ships to land on the outskirts of the city.


    ¡°Maybe we could introduce them to some human sports, arts, and how we kind of cut loose, and they could show us what they do when they need to unwind.  It¡¯d be fun, and after that nasty business recently, you know, a little good will couldn¡¯t hurt?¡±  It was a more tentative tone out of her than I expected, but I could see she was hooked on the idea.


    It was at this point that the seed of an idea that had taken root before, began to break through the soil of my mind and blossom.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to the ambassador, we¡¯ve been here for a bit and I have to go to work but, thanks for listening, have a good day!¡±  I know I spoke more rapidly than I normally did, that it probably looked like I was blowing her off, but the truth was far different.


    Academic vigor was taking hold in me like fire through dry grass.  Looking back even hours later, I might have hurt her feelings a little, but I am dlamisan, my work, my task¡­ I was honed in on it.  I began typing out a proposal with pros and cons, intending to send a concept draft to Professor Sxlith before I even reached my place of business.


    In the first edition of this publicly released journal I did not include the concept document, however due to popular request for the sake of the historical record, as I have the only remaining copy, I will enclose it below.


    Professor Sxlith,


    Proposal: A study in interspecies team dynamics between dlamisan space marines, Earth Military units, and Earth sports teams.


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    Hypothesis:  Different species may bond effectively through cooperative competition.


    Plan of action:  Introduce a sport with which the teams have no prior experience but which athletic figures are capable of engaging in, for our purposes I will introduce each of the three groups to ¡®Ballyball¡¯ and then pit them against each other.


    Variables will include team shifts, rewards, and the introduction of alcoholic beverages, as we change dynamics and levels of social inhibition, I predict the teams will gell into one unified whole across each variable.


    Justification:  It is paramount to the peace of the galaxy that species learn to work cooperatively  not only in spite of their differences, but because of them, understanding our respective strengths and weaknesses will allow us all to come together in a common peace.


    Species justification:  Humans and dlamisans are available in sufficient numbers for observation, are both evolved from apex predatory races, but also clash in the wide gulf of cultures from which we come.  If humans and dlamisa can come together, then any species can.


    It was crude, but it was also a matter of urgency, I knew I could clean it up later, as I zipped along the path on my scooter, racing toward my workplace, I drafted a spoken message to be delivered over the global net.


    ¡°Professor, at your earliest hasty convenience, I urge you to check the proposal I¡¯ve just dispatched.  I apologize for the crudity involved, but variables have changed and approval will be needed soon, before the arrival of the freighter.  I will get approval from the local military, I¡¯ll go through Byron if I have to.  Please get back to me as soon as you¡¯ve granted approval and I¡¯ll let you know my budget by tonight.¡±


    I hung up the call, he hadn¡¯t answered. That wasn¡¯t shocking to me, the Professor had a lot of students to mind here on Earth, and at least one of us caused all manner of havoc.


    My arrival at my workplace came minutes later and I walked in fifteen minutes before my day was to begin.


    I have to admit, the human military had quite an appeal to me, they were quiet and businesslike.


    I sat at my desk and began sorting through files and linking data and went uninterrupted for two straight hours. It was only when I heard the telltale ding on my datapad that I stopped my work and pulled it out of my pocket to check.  Clothing may not have been necessary on my world, but it was hard to deny the practicality of wearing things with built in carriers.


    My finger trembled when I went to my datapad screen and unlocked it with my telltale squiggle pattern.  All three of my hearts were pounding in my chest like I was in the crosshairs of a Zenti pirate vessel all over again.  ¡®If he doesn¡¯t approve this¡­?¡¯


    I felt my airsacs seize up, I pictured myself trudging, walking down the long corridor of the entry station, the Walkers going with me, Fauve would hug me, I was sure, I think they all would have.  Michael, given time, would forget me, painlessly, easily, until I was just this faint vague memory of a figure he used to play with.


    Fauve?  She would grow up, grow older, I¡¯d be able to correspond with her, and in time she would be alright, human children are adaptable, and we could write to one another at least.  And we probably would, for a few years at least, until her adulthood and her own life took her away from keeping in touch, then we too would drift apart.  William and Rebecca¡­ they would age and pass away before I could even hope to return, and that is if I didn¡¯t have to take a human colony posting.


    I had very little chance of ever seeing my humans again if this did not go well.  Even if he approved it, even if he was on my side, this was what humans call ¡®a long shot¡¯.


    But it was the only shot I had.

 Chapter Twenty-Nine

    Chapter Twenty-Nine


    I suppose it was my own anxiety that convinced me not to approach the officers at my administrative job just then.  I just plugged away at my work sorting files and organizing their database in silence.  It was eerie, how little these humans spoke.  It reminded me of the polite but dismissive behavior I received at the embassy of my people.  Nobody spoke unless they had something that absolutely had to be said.


    Silent work and steady progress.  ¡®If they were more efficient about it, I would think they were dlamisa in disguise.¡¯  In other circumstances it would have been a scathing insult, but human inefficiency seemed to be just a tradeoff for their other ¡®finer¡¯ qualities.  The things that made them better friends, better families, better people in general to be around, also made them less than stellar at the things that kept an organization running smoothly.


    Case in point, I was looking at a form and noticed that a leave request was approved, this form was on paper, a rarity, but I saw why.  There was a yellow note attached stating to ¡®just process it¡¯.  It was for the soldier to go attend a recital for his daughter.  Technically the dates were outside of the acceptable range, putting him into debt in terms of time off, but they wanted it approved anyway since his family was out of the area and he would have to travel.


    There are levels to this, and I had to learn more, so I brought the leave form up to the giant of a man who ran that office.  ¡°Sir, this leave puts him in the hole, he won¡¯t be able to take any more vacation time for at least three months.¡±


    The behemoth grunted, ¡°Yeah, so?¡±


    ¡°So is that wise?  According to your rules that I read earlier, they can only go into the red on their vacation time for emergencies.¡±  I pointed out, and his eyebrows raised.


    ¡°You read the regs already?¡±  He grunted out the question with surprise obvious in his voice and face.


    ¡°Yessir, and this seems to go against it.  I checked, and there¡¯s nothing about ballet recitals that constitute an emergency.¡±  My answer obviously didn¡¯t please him, and I reflexively took a step back when I saw his face briefly redden.


    He took a deep breath and said, ¡°Listen, Bailey, Specialist Sanchez is a long way from home, his family can¡¯t be with him because his wife needs specialized care, his daughter has only two of these recitals per year, he¡¯s never missed one.  His wife can¡¯t make it, if he doesn¡¯t go, she won¡¯t have anyone in the audience to dance for.  Being a good father is an emergency.  She might not remember every time he¡¯s around, but she¡¯ll sure as hell remember when he¡¯s not.  Approve it and plug it in, override the denial with the emergency option.¡±


    ¡°If you say so, sir.¡±  I answered, returned to my desk, I reached for my stapler to secure the post-it note permanently to the page for archiving, and found that it was gone.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need that stapler back.¡±  I said and plugged the information into the system, but while I did so, I made note of several key details.


    The commanding officer knew the fine details of a subordinate¡¯s life, and acted to ensure that those fine details were provided for, it was an almost unthinkable level of personal care from a senior to a subordinate, something I had not seen often save from my own Professor, until coming to Earth.


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    But here it seemed to be quite routine.  I thought about the epoxy covered balloon animal the police officer gave me, it still sat proudly on my shelf, a memento of being arrested.  I still thought about him sometimes, his friendly and engaging air, how far he went to make sure I wasn¡¯t afraid.


    This capacity for kindness out of the people around me, and over me, made one thing abundantly clear.


    With this philosophy of humans that put each other before the idle processing of data, we might have a somewhat less efficient galaxy, but I was also sure we would have a far, far better one.


    When my stapler was placed back on my desk, I secured the note to the paper document and put it into a small tan file folder, and resumed my work without further issue, until it was time to go home.


    I left the office in the early evening and made my way back by hoverbus, the air was crisp and clear, though I admit that with my open mouth I am pretty sure I swallowed a few bugs.


    Worth it.  I savored the feel of the wind carrying my ears back and the feel of that billowing breeze against my fur.


    I didn¡¯t really mind the passengers, they were few in number and their own obvious amusement at my swaying tail and happy expression made them easy to be around.


    I was surprised however, to find that Boatswain was waiting for me at my stop.  I tilted my head back to look up at the giant of my people and before I could even ask what he was doing here, he spoke.


    ¡°I need your help.¡±  He said.


    ¡°My help?¡±  I asked.  I could barely believe what I was hearing, I stuck my fingers into my ears and wiggled them around as if to clear them.


    ¡°Yuh.¡±  He said and pointed away from the stop, ¡°Let¡¯s walk and talk.¡±  He said, and I nodded, I felt a little dumb right then, especially in retrospect when I thought about it, given what I¡¯d told him before.


    We were a few feet away from any prying ears when he said, ¡°I thought about what you told me, about leaving.  You were right.¡±


    ¡°Oh.  You checked your assignment schedule I¡¯m guessing?¡±  I asked, and he gave a very morose nod.


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to rotate out in two years, to help stand up the new embassy on the Zenti homeworld.  It¡¯s a big move for my career.¡±  The way he said it told me all I needed to know.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t care about that, I¡¯m guessing?¡±  I asked.


    He shook his head.  ¡°I like it here.  I don¡¯t want to go either.  Byron is my human.  I want you to help me stay here on Earth.  Ask the embassy to keep me, tell them you won¡¯t accept other guards.¡±


    I knew immediately from his use of the plural that his comrade felt the same way.


    ¡°That might not work, I may have to leave even sooner than you do.  But¡­ if I can come up with something that would justify you staying¡­¡±  I knew how much it meant to me not to leave the Walkers now, and the lesson I learned not but a few hours earlier was not lost on me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±  It was all I could promise.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±  Boatswain answered.


    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet.¡±  I retorted.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±  He reiterated just as the house came into view.


    All I could think of when he repeated himself was, ¡®I¡¯ll have to do something to earn that.¡¯  It was the first time I¡¯d been thanked that sincerely by one of my own kind, and I didn¡¯t want it to be for nothing.

 Chapter Thirty

    Chapter Thirty


    Dinner that evening was a very pleasant experience, it usually was, Fauve spoke about her enthusiasm for her new internship, the work she was doing involved, much to her delight, a lot of coffee. As she put it, ¡°Coffee is fuel for creative engines. They¡¯re always on the go, there. Teresa mostly has me just following her around and minding her schedule, but the weird thing is, she has me taking a lot of notes.¡±


    This had my interest, ¡°Notes? What kind of notes?¡± I could see that I just barely beat William and Rebecca in asking the question, as both leaned forward with interest. The high investment of humans with their young necessitates a lot of communication, and I had to think of these two as experts at it, oddly enough, human communication involves a lot of listening.


    ¡°Her routine, how she orders her day, and at the end of the day she asks me why I think she was doing what she was doing when she was doing it.¡± Fauve scratched her head and briefly ran her fingers through the long strands of thin brown hair, ¡°She was homeschooled a lot, and this was how her grandfather and her tutors taught her.¡± Fauve cleared her throat and did what was in my view, a passable Teresa impression, ¡®Not just the what and how, but the why. When you know the why, you can figure out the rest.¡¯ Sometimes she corrects me, but she says I¡¯ve got good instincts.¡± Fauve was beaming with obvious pride.


    Humans can be such a proud species, and their pride is the thing they¡¯re the very worst at hiding. In my view, all of them could use a little dose of dlamisan humility, but strangely enough their sense of pride is a double edged sword. It compels them to do their best, or it convinces the worst of them that they¡¯re better than they are and inhibits their improvement.


    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic, Fauve, but remember, you do still have your other schoolwork to do.¡± William reminded her, and Fauve looked briefly both crestfallen and annoyed.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, dad, I know.¡± She replied and looked over to her mother for aid.


    Divide and conquer seems a common strategy among children, and though Fauve didn¡¯t expressly ask for her mother to intervene, it seemed their silent communication was flawless. Human eyes provide an interesting form of communication that I have not seen elsewhere in the galaxy. Dlamisa like me do use some silent communication, our body language, our tails, even our eyes can show some expression.


    But a single look can convey volumes of understanding between humans who have a long association with one another. I have theorized that this is linked to their empathetic method of learning and socialization. Combined with long association with one another, they learn each other¡¯s thought patterns and gain an understanding of intent without having to actually speak.


    Fauve¡¯s mother was evidently fluent in this silent language of expression, as she paused from feeding the wiggling Michael and said, ¡°Don¡¯t even think it, young lady. You¡¯re fourteen. You¡¯ve got a lot on your plate, but if you need to quit something, it won¡¯t be school, you can quit your job at the mall.¡±


    Fauve pouted a little, ¡°But it¡¯s so easy that it¡¯s dull.¡±


    ¡°Then do it faster and get it over with, if you finish by the time you¡¯re sixteen then you won¡¯t have to worry about it anymore.¡± William remarked offhandedly, and Byron chuckled from his seat beside me, trading a look with Boatswain.


    ¡°Smart girl. Wish I could have done that. Or¡­ nah, I had too much fun playing football, wouldn¡¯t trade it for anything. But a little more smarts would have been good for reducing worry about tests.¡± He shrugged his own commentary off and cut into the center of his steak.


    Boatswain¡¯s tail wagged beside him as the behemoth of a human security officer started regaling the table with stories of his football days.


    I added nothing to the conversation for a while, instead, I was writing, the Walkers let me work on my datapad in between bites of food, understanding thankfully, the need for me to continue my observations. I cannot emphasize enough how lucky I was that I ended up with such a scientifically minded household.


    An engineer and a biologist, both readily understood the need for a careful study of data and that my work in this respect was a constant for me. I wasn¡¯t sure how Fauve felt about being a bit of an experiment in her own right, but if she did mind, she never said it. If I asked, I think she would say, ¡®Of course you want to study me, I¡¯m fascinating.¡¯ She could be very proud, after all. Though it might have been at least somewhat tongue in cheek, and I could already imagine the playful smile on her face in saying it.


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    Normally my notes would have been different, but this evening I was busy laying out plans for supplies, writing down things to send off as communications later, and drafting a request to the University of Louisville to let me use their football stadium for my study.


    I was in the middle of doing this when a message popped up from Professor Sxlith. ¡®Funding has been approved for all necessary supplies, approval dispatched already. Proceed as planned and create a formal writeup when time permits.¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t resist.


    ¡°I figured out my experiment.¡± I said, my tail giving away my obvious enthusiasm, ¡°And I just got approval.¡± I added and the table fell silent, I rarely ¡®jumped in¡¯ to conversations, so this in and of itself was unusual.


    I could see from their brief quiet expressions that they were processing what I¡¯d said, and from the relief on their faces and heavy sighs as if they¡¯d been holding their breath for some time, they were happy about it.


    I didn¡¯t write down all their questions, but suffice it to say they wanted to know what I¡¯d come up with.


    After I explained, Byron rubbed his jaw, ¡°You might not get much help from the local military office, gotta be honest with you there, not that they wouldn¡¯t want to, but offices like that aren¡¯t exactly known for their competitive athleticism. Besides, if you want some real play that¡¯ll keep the government interested, my guys¡¯d be happy to jump on board. Since we¡¯re still tied to the federal government and we¡¯re technically a branch of service, it meets your needs. We would have to hold off on the alcohol component though.¡± He pointed out, and I admit I was less than pleased about that.


    ¡°Give me the thing, the whatever, contact for the ship coming in.¡± Boatswain said, ¡°Every dlamisan embassy security officer has fleet time, I¡¯ll write up a testimonial about the value of the exercise to duty performance. Anything that increases efficiency is a win in their eyes, plus they need something to fill the time in port during repairs I¡¯ll bet. I can¡¯t believe they did a slingshot maneuver¡­¡± His fur bristled a little at the very idea, but I had little real understanding of why this mattered.


    Fauve spared us all the question. ¡°Is that bad?¡± She asked.


    ¡°If by ¡®bad¡¯ you mean a choice between a silent scream in the eternal void, your corpse floating along for millions of years until you are swallowed by a star or a planet¡­¡± he tapped one finger on the table, ¡°or your ship burns up so that you are incinerated alive in one blinding moment of agony after a miscalculation¡­¡± he tapped his next finger on the table, ¡°or if you consider the possibility of flying into the path of a blackhole with no chance of avoiding it,¡± he tapped his third finger on the table, ¡°or if you find it unpleasant to crash into an asteroid you couldn¡¯t see coming¡­¡± He gave a hard derisive sneeze.


    ¡°Well then yes, it is bad.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that dangerous?¡± Fauve asked, mouth open and eyes wide.


    ¡°It has some advantages,¡± Boatswain explained, ¡°shorter travel means less exposure to danger, plus it would carry them through Zenti routes faster than any Zenti could travel, they may be quiet now but you never know when you¡¯ll encounter a rogue somewhere. But yes, it¡¯s extremely dangerous.¡±


    ¡°I thought your species was supposed to be very cautious.¡± Fauve said and looked at me with mock accusing eyes. ¡°Then again¡­¡± She broke into a teasing little grin and when I leaned forward, she scratched right behind my ears.


    Boatswain huffed, ¡°Most of us are. But military dlamisans and ship captains are some of our outliers, you don¡¯t leap into the void if you aren¡¯t a little reckless.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t wrong, I knew of a dozen races that though they developed advanced civilizations capable of space flight, absolutely refused unless they were in cryosleep while they were still on their world and transported like cargo to some other place. And they only did that because there was always the possibility that their world might undergo a disaster and they¡¯d need a new home ready for themselves.


    ¡°Whoever the captain is, they must be an outlier among outliers to do something that wild.¡± Given the way his tail wagged, it was obvious that Boatswain was thoroughly enthusiastic about a chance at meeting a wild dlamisan ship captain.


    I was less enthusiastic. But I couldn¡¯t turn down his help.


    ¡°I¡¯ll send you everything you need.¡± I promised, ¡°And if you¡¯ll participate too, I think I can help.¡±


    He figured out what I meant when my tail smacked against his, and though he didn¡¯t say anything in terms of thanks, I believe he was thinking it.

 Chapter Thirty-One

    Chapter Thirty-One


    From there we spent the rest of the evening coming up with ¡®rules¡¯ for Ballyball, an ¡®official list¡¯ of things that could and could not be done.  ¡°If we have pads, we could include biting.¡±  Boatswain suggested.


    ¡°Biting humans is how we got to this point.  Plus that seems contradictory to the whole notion of ¡®peace¡¯.  Besides that, we need to test out how well this works on the whole before we start including things that could cause injury.  Humans would need all new armor on their necks just to be safe.  My bite strength is the equivalent of one of their lions.  A modified space marine with training?¡±  I snorted and shook my head, ¡°I did a comparison while I was bored during the trip here.  Your bite strength is greater than six thousand psi.¡±


    Every eye turned toward the dlamisan security officer, I can¡¯t prove it now of course, but I swear he sat a little taller in his chair.  A strong bite is a point of pride for a dlamisa, and when he saw Byron nod, Boatswain opened his mouth to show off his teeth.  Unlike mine, his teeth were capped with a titanium tip, and his were significantly larger than mine.


    He ¡®flexed¡¯ his upper body, and his neck visibly bulged, while he showed off, I explained.  ¡°Our ancestors would chase prey, stab with our forefingers to hook into the flesh, and then our teeth would latch on.  After that, we would ¡®shake¡¯ the prey using our neck muscles to shred the flesh further.  Aside from humans, we¡¯re the only known species that can track prey all day.  Though we do need to stop to drink unless we have something to help with that.¡±


    Boatswain snapped his jaws shut several times in rapid succession, drawing some impressed whispers and Rebecca¡¯s intense curiosity.


    ¡°So how do you get a bite strength like that?¡±  She asked.  She set down the spoon she was using to feed her son and approached Boatswain.  She leaned at the hip so that she was facing his jaw.  Military dlamisa are so large that even seated, she was eye level while standing up, and had to lean to the side to look under his jaw, her hair tumbled long and loose, swaying in the breeze that passed through the open window.


    She smelled faintly of coconut, and seemed utterly fearless.  Perhaps some will not find this strange, but I would remind anyone who does that the galaxy is populated predominantly with evolved prey species.  And out of those that did evolve from predators, apex or otherwise, dlamisa were the most widely feared.  Our predatory bodies, mine being something of an exception, always appear aggressive to more timid species.  Getting up close to one of us is not something lightly done.  Every instinct in the body of a prey species warns them not to come too close.


    Even many predators naturally stand away.


    But here?


    Humans are magnificent in their utter fearlessness.  True, one may make light of her coming close by way of saying she was using her reason and trusting to her personal knowledge of myself and our resident guard.  But I point out that reason does not eliminate instinct, and there was no evident struggle over whether she should approach, no hint of instinctive fear of my enormous mountain of muscle and dark fur.


    ¡°May I?¡±  She asked, her hands coming up, and after a glance down at me, and a whack of my tail against his, Boatswain lowered his head a little and let her work.


    Rebecca brought her hands up and touched the underside of his jawline with the pads of her fingers.  She let out an appreciative whistle as her fingers inspected long jaw.


    ¡°What?¡±  Byron asked, a note of rare intellectual curiosity in his voice.  ¡°My boy here that impressive?¡±


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    ¡°Yes.¡±  Rebecca answered, ¡°Good god, I¡¯ve never seen a structure like this, in most species, the jaws are connected only at the base, near the back.  But in our friend here?¡±  She straightened up and began following the muscle lines all over his snout.


    ¡°No, muscles run from front to back as well as at the base.  Almost like a drawbridge, the way it coils from point to point is totally alien to this world and any species I¡¯ve ever seen.  A bite like this will go through bone like butter.¡±  She gave another appreciative whistle and began reflexively scratching the top of Boatswain¡¯s head.


    His tail wagged at the praise and he began tapping one foot on the ground, his tongue lolling out in happiness.  Praise for our bite is one of the highest praises you can offer one of our kind.


    ¡°I daresay he has the strongest single bite on our planet, at least twenty percent greater than a Nile Crocodile.¡±  She added, and if Boatswain¡¯s wagging tail hit mine any harder after that, I think mine would have flown off.


    ¡°Heh, I knew those chompers were strong, but not that strong.¡±  Byron looked up and Boatswain reflexively opened his mouth to show them off again, ¡°But that¡¯s my boy for you, strong like bull, bite like gator.¡±  He nudged Boatswain in the ribs, and though I didn¡¯t get it, I gathered there was a backstory there to some conversation I hadn¡¯t been party to.


    ¡°So, biting is definitely off the table for the rules of the game.¡±  I reiterated, and Boatswain reluctantly nodded.


    ¡°Damn.  I like biting.¡±  He reflected.


    ¡°Me too, buddy.  Me too.¡±  William answered, and his wife gave him a dirty look which I can only describe as ¡®long suffering¡¯.  Though I was not quite sure why.


    ¡°So how does a species get a bite like that?  If what Bailey says is right, even he¡¯s got a bite like a lion.  Is that¡­ natural?¡±  Fauve asked, I winced a little inside at the way she said it.  Jaw strength after all, is key to our culture, and the strength of the bite in male or female is a strong predictor of whether or not one will mate with the other.


    Fauve might not have meant to say I would never find a mate, but it was quite the implication.


    Still, it was an innocent question so I answered accordingly.  ¡°Most of it.¡±  I said, ¡°He¡¯s had some enhancement, genetic modifications primarily, however that only enhances his already considerable strength.  To be with embassy security he had to have a minimum bite strength of four thousand psi.¡±


    Boatswain clearly didn¡¯t mind the praise, and added in, ¡°I can bite clean through a Zenti shell and spit it out, noooo problem.¡±


    ¡°So, again, just to be clear¡­ no biting.  Not until someone has come up with suitable safety gear at least.¡±  I reiterated, and the table was filled with sage nods.


    Other rules were easy, with the field¡¯s white line boxing everyone in.  One human thrower per dlamisa, one dlamisa per thrower.  The dlamisa could only carry two balls at a time, his own plus one stolen from one opponent.  The farther the throw, the more points the throw is worth, with one point for every three meters.  If he stole a ball then the points were based on the farther throw, effectively doubling the value of the long distance throw even if they got a ball that was thrown only a short way.


    Tackles were permitted, punches and kicks were not.  Disrupting throws were permitted¡­ and so the rules continued. Little by little the game evolved, up to and including how the throwers could intervene with returning dlamisan retrievers, as well as how many balls could be thrown in a match and how they would be held after retrieval.


    Then, just like that¡­ I think William said it best.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing left to add, and there¡¯s nothing to take away.  That means ¡®Ballyball¡¯ is perfect.¡±


    ¡°You know¡­ I realize this is for science, but it honestly does sound like it might be fun to watch.  Could we maybe invite a few people?¡±  Rebecca suggested.


    I felt multiple eyes on me from all directions but the wall.  It seemed to run counter to the spirit of the observational study, but then¡­ ¡®Maybe?¡¯  I could include one more variable as well.


    ¡°Yes, sure¡­ what¡¯s just a few people?¡±  I asked, ¡°I¡¯ll probably have to have the captain there anyway, and I¡¯ll have to have the crew there as well to see who is willing to volunteer.  So what¡¯s a few humans watching for fun?¡±


    And just like that, I asked the dumbest question of my entire life.

 Chapter Thirty-Two

    Chapter Thirty-Two


    A few days later, I was at the park, mid-air, grabbing the tennis ball before I realized that I was going to land in the water. I recalled a human saying, ¡®Look before you leap¡¯, I had enough time to realize the wisdom of this expression¡­ just not enough time to save myself.


    I did catch the thing in my mouth. It¡¯s a funny thing my species still does. A holdover from our predatory days, even though we have hands that allow the manipulation of tools and can grab with almost the same strength as a full grown human (they do have a greater grip strength) we still instinctively grab things with our mouths if we¡¯re not thinking about it.


    And the lure of the ball was far, far too great. So I, in my unthinking state, grabbed it with my jaws¡­ and came crashing down into the water below. My fur at least had an oily undercoat, my particular variety of dlamisa was very good with water, and as such even if I didn¡¯t have the fans to help, I would drip dry if given time.


    I heard my human laughing while I swam to shore, Fauve was dressed in jean shorts that have been popular on Earth for centuries, it was hardy, durable clothing and as such barely changed over time. Much like shoe design, there comes a point where maximum efficiency, durability, and performance are achieved, after which improvements are mere ¡®tweaks¡¯ to the existing form.


    She also wore a loose fitting short sleeve shirt emblazoned with the artistic stylization of a demon princess from her favorite anime adaptation of the novel series ¡®How Misunderstandings Made a Demon Lord¡¯. She had particular, even peculiar tastes, my human. The character in question was as far from Fauve¡¯s personality as could be. Fauve was an introvert, and seldom had any real interest in leaving her home by nonelectronic means. Though not fearful of travel, it had no interest to her, she lived more in her own mind than any other human I knew, including her parents.


    But the character in question was the demoness ¡®Lamashi¡¯ whose story had her actually running away from her home in the castle of the Demon Lord and becoming a pirate. Strangely enough, the story came full circle with her returning to her father and to her responsibilities¡­ but her adventurous and outgoing nature carried her far away for a good long time.


    As I swam to shore, I saw her laughter stop and she turned her attention to my datapad which sat on a park bench near the water. ¡°Bailey! You¡¯ve got an incoming message! It reads ¡®Urgent!¡¯ you might want to look at this!¡± She called out and I pushed myself to my feet and began to race up toward where she stood, water flying about as I shook off what I could, splashing her in the process.


    ¡°Yeah, I had that coming.¡± She said as she wiped her face free of ¡®most¡¯ of the water that struck it.


    She snorted and I picked up the datapad, she was right, I opened up the device and saw a priority message pop up. My jaw dropped but no words emerged.


    ¡°Well?¡± Fauve asked as the ball rolled out of my mouth, bounced off the screen, against my body, and then down to the ground where it came to a stop at her feet. She crouched down and picked it up, ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re here. Are they insane?!¡± I almost shouted my disbelief.


    ¡°What? Who¡¯s here? Are we in danger?¡± Fauve asked, her face looked like it was going to drain itself of blood for a moment, going as pale as a vampire¡¯s.


    ¡°No¡­ not unless you¡¯re prone to heart attacks.¡± I said when I found my voice again, the merchant vessel. I knew their captain was a reckless sort to have done a slingshot maneuver from a rogue star, but this takes it to a whole nother level. This is from the ambassador, the ship did an atmospheric skip maneuver and used an integrated human pulpultion device to¡­¡± Fauve¡¯s face went from pale, to blank.


    ¡°Say what now?¡± She asked, and I picked up a stone from the ground. ¡°They did this.¡± I said, and launched the smooth round stone toward the water, it skipped along the surface until it bounced against an ancient boulder that I could see must have broken off from the stone above.


    ¡°According to the ambassador, the Captain finished the slingshot maneuver by heading toward a planet. Normally you have to slow down in space and avoid centers of gravity, that should have slowed their arrival time somewhat. This one though?¡± I shook my head, even thinking about it was dreadful.


    ¡°They aimed for the atmosphere of some of your larger planets and ¡®skipped¡¯ across the surface to slow down, it means they never had to make a slow maneuver until they were closing in on Earth. It¡¯s¡­¡± I could see Fauve still hadn¡¯t grasped the sense of danger involved in that kind of thing.


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    Her head was cocked a little, ¡°I kind of get it.¡± She said, ¡°But your sense of what is ¡®dangerous¡¯ is kind of conservative, Bailey. So how dangerous is it really?¡±


    ¡°That depends on the ship, you¡¯d have to talk to your father, he¡¯d know better than I. But just at a guess? From what little I remember of learning about those kinds of things? A nearly three percent chance that everybody dies.¡± My tail bristled at the very idea of taking that kind of risk.


    ¡°Why would they do that?¡± I couldn¡¯t imagine any reason why they might take such a wild chance.


    ¡°Three percent? That doesn¡¯t sound so bad.¡± Fauve replied.


    ¡°It is.¡± I said, ¡°From my perspective, it¡¯s insane. Optimal risk management reduces the chance of fatal incidents to one percent or less. Most captains won¡¯t do anything with even a one point five chance of serious damage, and they¡¯re considered the crazy ones if they¡¯ll do that much¡­ let alone death in the void.¡±


    ¡°So could they be in trouble? Is that maybe why they took the risk, if it¡¯s so bad?¡± Fauve asked and started walking over the long dirt path that would take us out of the park. We walked through the stream of Cherokee Park, it was a wide thing, fairly flat at the crossing, but you¡¯d still get your feet wet to go through it. The water was cool, crisp, and clean, a fish jumped from the deeper section and flopped its way over the stone to reach the other side.


    It wasn¡¯t a very large creature, it wiggled, flopped, and angled its way toward us. Fauve crouched down, grabbed its tail, and flung it in one smooth bending motion of her hips, all the way toward the deep section where it landed with a little splash and vanished out of sight.


    It was a casual gesture on her part, a trivial kindness really, but the unthinking act had me marveling at the duality of human nature. Reflexively responding to a creature¡¯s needs, and then moving on as if it never happened. ¡®Would I have done that, if she hadn¡¯t?¡¯ I asked myself that question more than once before we even reached the dry stone and moist ground on the other side.


    I doubted it. Acting for my human was one thing, I know her. Acting this way toward a stranger, or a random creature with no higher intelligence that is basically food? It was bizarre. Most of the time, Fauve seemed very dlamisa-like, to me. Pragmatic, logical, and relatively cautious. But in little moments I was reminded that she was still very much a human girl, a wide gulf existed between us that no amount of affection could ever truly cross.


    But I could still be impressed by that difference.


    Her question, though, rattled around in my head, and no matter how I thought about it, I just couldn¡¯t come up with anything. If the ship were damaged, remaining in place and calling for help from a human patrol would have made more sense. They were heavy in some areas, humans had more manned vessels in space already than some species that had been traversing the void for centuries.


    It lent some credence in some quarters to the Zenti myth that humans were not a naturally occurring species, that humans seemed to love the idea of sailing through the deadly void of space.


    As much as I wanted to say I had an answer, I didn¡¯t.


    By the time we finished the walk home, I had typed out and sent an answer to the ambassador promising I would be there in hours.


    ¡°No, none.¡± I answered as we walked the last stretch toward the house in silence. ¡°Just, none. I guess I¡¯ll have to ask.¡±


    ¡°Can I come?¡± Fauve inquired, she batted her eyes up at me the way she did when she asked her parents for something.


    I was reminded of something I wrote in my first volume, ¡®Cute can be weaponized¡¯ or something like that. And Fauve was a master at using it effectively. ¡°Please? I won¡¯t get in the way, plus it¡¯d be neat to see one of those ships up close, and to meet the crew of a people who spend their lives in space? Who wouldn¡¯t want to do that? That¡¯s so cooooool!¡± She interlocked her fingers together and held her clasped hands against her chest, ¡°Please? I¡¯ll be quiet while you do¡­ whatever, and I can take the hoverbus back by myself.¡±


    I had learned one other valuable trick on Earth. When dealing with a human child, putting the question off on the parents was always an effective strategy.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind.¡± I genuinely didn¡¯t, but I couldn¡¯t be sure about how the others would respond, so I gently cautioned her, ¡°If your parents don¡¯t mind, I don¡¯t, but I have no idea how the others will react to you, the ambassador and his staff are getting used to humans. But this crew has probably never seen one of your kind before today. If they want you to go home, you have to leave without complaint, OK?¡±


    Fauve gave an enthusiastic nod. ¡°You¡¯re the best Bailey, I promise I won¡¯t be any trouble.¡± She gave me a sudden and impulsive hug that probably drenched her shirt, then ran inside ahead of me.


    Before I even caught the door I heard her shouting, ¡°Mom, dad, Bailey says I can go see the ship come in if it¡¯s okay with you, the aliens are here early, can I go?!¡± Her enthusiasm was infectious beyond reason, and I went to get myself ready for what was no doubt going to be yet another unique experience.

 Chapter Thirty-Three

    Chapter Thirty-Three


    Getting ready was a very noisy affair.  Fauve, normally a quiet, almost ¡®demure¡¯ child, was loud and bouncing off the walls¡­ metaphorically speaking, upstairs as she shouted at her tablet on the Chaos server about how she was going to see a ship land.  To most species this would be nothing special, especially these days, but at the time?  No alien vessel had landed directly on Earth before.


    Not even the vessel that brought my professor, actually landed.  Like all vessels, they orbited, docked, and then boarded Earth transports to descend into the docking area.


    This was an exception, the very first of its kind, a direct landing on Earth, and that too was strange.  I could chalk up the reason that both Earth and Dlamisa were approving it, given recent events.  ¡°Anything that shows we¡¯re completely at peace with one another, must look good to both sides.¡±  I muttered while I toweled off downstairs and listened to Fauve¡¯s excited noises.


    She had to have been in the kitchen just waiting for me to be ready to go, and was busy talking to her friends on the server while either she or one of her parents brushed her hair.  Sex divisions in labor were once very stark in humans, but the lines blurred as their general sense of equality increased, and as a result in the modern era, William spent abundant time in caring for his children.  Notably, he seemed to enjoy it, particularly in brushing her hair, considering it ¡®father and daughter time¡¯.


    The human urge to connect is a powerful one, crossing lines of sex and culture and¡­ evidently¡­ species.  Or oddly enough, even reality itself, as humans grew bonded to both inanimate objects and fictional characters¡­ more on that in the future.


    For the present at that moment, I was rushing a fair bit myself, I went through four towels even with both fans going at the same time, then threw on fresh clothes.  I suppose I didn¡¯t actually need them, what with the fur and all.  But I thought it was best if I met with the landing ship dressed in the local custom so they¡¯d recognize I was between both worlds at that moment.


    For clothing, I chose short cargo pants that were good and loose, coming down to just above the joint in my legs, and a button down shirt with a chest pocket to hold a pen and paper pad.  While most people on Earth didn¡¯t even need them anymore, I liked the aesthetic, and I appreciated the pragmatic approach of having a backup item to write with in case something went wrong with the electronic device I always had on me.


    After changing, I picked up my drenched clothing and tossed it into a basket holding other laundry to be done.  Mrs. Walker did most of the washing, she was very particular about it after William said once, ¡®As long as it gets dry, who cares how?¡¯


    As I heard the story, she muttered something about ¡®weaponized incompetence¡¯ and forbade him from doing laundry after that, preferring to let him do something else instead.


    I had yet to be assigned any chores in the household, save for occasionally minding the tiniest human in the family, a task I enjoyed a great deal even if it did occasionally get my tail pulled.  I took my time going up the stairs despite the fact that I myself wanted to hurry, I was listening to Fauve¡¯s incessant chatter.


    ¡°...I know, people who actually live in space¡­ it¡¯s amazing¡­ yeah, yeah I¡¯m getting the occasional nasty message still, but they¡¯ve dropped off a lot.  No, I¡¯m not really worried, I¡¯ve got Bailey and the others, plus mom and dad, I guess maybe those xenophobic nasties may throw a fit over an alien ship landing on Earth.  But who cares?  Teresa is still sore about what happened to her parents and won¡¯t let them get a lot of media attention except when they get arrested for stuff.  I really wish Mr. Barnum were here to see this.  He was a cool old man¡­¡±


    Some humans would perhaps criticize me for eavesdropping on my human that way.  It is considered rude by most human cultures, but, not being human, meant I didn¡¯t think that way.  I¡¯m a dlamisan scientist first, a researcher in anthropology, and some things you can only learn by covert observation.  The Walkers knew that when they took me in.


    I suppose, yes, I¡¯m making excuses.  But only for the greater good.  Had Fauve¡¯s words been intimate or harmful to her, I would never release them.  This however, only offered insight into her excitable nature and the socialized way excitement was shared between individuals.  I noticed how she still turned a thought to the late Percival Terrance Barnum.  He was an intriguing old man, there was no denying that.  This is just one more example of the human capacity for bonds, even brief ones, to transcend death itself even for the young.


    I reached the main floor of the house and made my arrival known by not hiding the sound of my footsteps. William wasn¡¯t present, however Boatswain, Byron, and Rebecca were.


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    Fauve¡¯s mother was finishing up putting her daughter¡¯s hair into a ponytail, and when she saw me emerge she said, ¡°I don¡¯t mind if she goes, but just to be clear, that¡¯s only if it isn¡¯t dangerous.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t.  It¡¯s safe even by dlamisan standards.¡±  I promised, and with that, Rebecca made her decision.


    ¡°Good.  You¡¯re so risk averse I¡¯m surprised you sleep on an elevated bed.  If you say it¡¯s safe, it must be.¡±  Rebecca chuckled at her own joke, but neither Boatswain or I did.


    ¡°Why is that funny?¡±  I asked, and Rebecca answered me with a casual quip.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just that every year a few hundred people around the world die by falling out of their bed while they sleep.¡±  She replied, and both Botswain and I gasped.


    ¡°I¡¯m picking up a rod to put in the frame so that doesn¡¯t happen to me.¡±  I said at once, and all three of the humans laughed, while Boatswain nodded along with me.


    ¡°How are you all not extinct as a species?  You¡¯re all so reckless.¡±  I was utterly baffled, but they shrugged all at once.


    ¡°Weaponized judicial recklessness has its uses, I guess.¡±  Byron replied to me and got up as soon as Fauve¡¯s hair was done.


    The girl turned and traded an embrace with her mother.  ¡°Okay, we¡¯re going, mom.  I¡¯ll do my schoolness tonight after I get home!¡±


    Fauve¡¯s homeschool program, being self paced, let her work whatever hours she wished.  I¡¯ve said little about the human education system, but as we left the house, I asked what she knew about it in general.


    I will relay what she said as best I can.


    ¡°My dad says that a long time ago, schools were based off some kind of dumb ideas about learning, that education was one size fits all, that the goal was to make just good factory workers and that¡¯s about it.  Lots of memorization and repetition and tests¡­ and it was only OK even at its best.  That sounds kinda bad to me.  But when things got modern, or started to, they got to kinda customizing education.  Me, I got ¡®basic skills¡¯ early, the stuff everybody needs.  Simple math, language, writing, stuff like that.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s like most education systems I¡¯ve seen, including home.¡±  I pointed out, and Fauve shrugged and said¡­


    ¡°I dunno about that, but when I started to get older, they started ¡®talent checks¡¯ where I tried a bunch of different things, that was around ten after I had most of the basic skills a person needs just to live.  Talent checks are where they started letting me look at more advanced subjects and trying simple versions of them.  Different types of science and other stuff from art and music to cooking and programming.  The whole idea is to figure out what I¡¯m good at.  I¡¯m still doing those now, and they¡¯ll keep going until I graduate.¡±


    ¡°What happens then?¡±  I asked, ¡°Do you get assigned a job?¡±  I didn¡¯t think this was the case just based on my observations and Teresa¡¯s offer, but then, I couldn¡¯t be sure that my presence wasn¡¯t altering the options of my humans.


    ¡°No, I start applying to different things, they give me my aptitude ratings for everything, and I start secondary education if I want.  Like if I want to be a doctor or a nurse and I have a high aptitude for it I go for free to study it, but if I have a low aptitude for it, I have to spend two years volunteering for a hospital or something and ¡®earn¡¯ a placement spot before I can go.  Same goes for anything else, if I have a high aptitude for cooking, culinary school is covered, low aptitude, I have to go through an apprenticeship to earn a spot.  If I really want to do something I have a low aptitude for, I can ¡®buy¡¯ access to the school if I¡¯ve got the money¡­ which I guess I do now.  But I can only buy an empty seat, which means I may have to wait months or even years for one to open up.¡±


    ¡°Hmpf, what if you don¡¯t want to do secondary education?¡±  I asked.


    Fauve shrugged, ¡°Since Mr. Barnum left me lots of credits, I guess I don¡¯t have to work if I didn¡¯t want to, but I guess I could just keep working, secondary isn¡¯t for everybody.  But most people who don¡¯t go secondary, instead go for a paid intern spot or go work at one of the other jobs that don¡¯t ¡®require¡¯ more education to do.  Or ones that will train you specifically for it.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what you want to do?¡±  I asked, I¡¯d never asked Fauve this question, I knew she was intelligent even by human standards.  I tried to think of a job she couldn¡¯t do, and none came to mind.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  I like what Teresa does, what Mr. Barnum did, I¡¯d kind of like to keep that up.  Teresa says I need some secondary school, but with her recommendation I¡¯m guaranteed a spot anywhere in the world and can do a work/study split.  But I¡¯m also kinda interested in all the new xenostudies stuff.  Maybe¡­¡±  Fauve had stopped talking to me, she trailed off, lost in her own world, I may have asked the question, but as we got on board the hoverbus that would take us to a then completely unused landing platform outside of town, I could tell she was asking herself questions.


    ¡°I wonder if maybe I could combine xenostudies and media management?  Xenomedia Specialist, maybe?¡±  She wasn¡¯t really answering me anymore, I could feel the shift in her focus, young girl or not, there was ambition in this one, an ambition I could completely understand as being not that different from my own.


    There was a reason I liked this human so much, a reason I considered her mine.


    Reader, you may recall my mention of the spreading of media from Earth out into the wider galaxy, the popularization of human music, movies, television, and more?  Perhaps it jumps ahead to tell you why, but the why was sitting right next to me at that moment as we raced on, wind in my face, savoring the scents and feel of the breeze, and happy as could be despite not knowing all that lay ahead.

 Chapter Thirty-Four

    Chapter Thirty-Four


    Knowing what I now know, with the benefit of hindsight, I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised by anything that happened, but that¡¯s how life is when you can¡¯t see the future.  I envied the few races of the galaxy that had known precognitive abilities, at least a little.  However, the thing about the precog races is, they didn¡¯t see literal futures, only probabilities, and with various degrees of reliability.  While they enjoyed a marvelous reputation as advisors, the reality was that in checking the models made by normal human methods versus precog races, beyond a matter of days, human modeling outperformed the precogs.


    Largely because precogs could only come to a single conclusion individually or collectively, they were so predictive that they were myopic and to put it bluntly, unimaginative.  Humans, because of their lack of predictive power beyond simple pattern seeking, created elaborate models that imagined many outcomes.


    Most precog races were so limited that they had just enough warning of danger to know it was too late to avoid it.


    And I doubted even a precog could have seen coming, the things that I experienced next.  The hoverbus route carried us well out of the city limits, this was a functional necessity as any ship coming in would need substantial space and it would be extremely loud.  This is one reason why Kentucky was one of the states where landings of this sort were possible, there were twelve points around earth that had been built expressly for large ships to land, but none of them had ever been used.


    While I rode, I began browsing through the media outlets coverage of the event.


    ¡°...For the first time in history, an alien ship will be landing on Earth.  The world¡¯s media outlets are watching, and we now go live to the scene where crowds have gathered to watch the historic event.¡±


    The camera panned to show numerous onlookers, drones, and individuals who were gathered in the observation areas.  There were a handful of protest signs, mostly misspelled.  ¡°No Alyen Invasion¡± ¡°No Alyuns¡±  ¡°Erth First¡± ¡°Go Home Extra Tirestrials¡±.


    But for every vile and hateful sign, there was something better a dozen times over.  ¡°Welcome, neighbors!¡±  ¡°We¡¯re All Aliens to Someone¡± and ¡°Friendship¡±, ¡°Discovery!¡±, for every bad human who lived in fear and hatred¡­ There are one hundred more who would sooner lend a hand, a hug, and help the people around them.  I couldn¡¯t help but pity the hateful ones.


    ¡°Their world is so small, they can¡¯t see how big it all is¡­ and what we could all do if we worked together¡­¡±  I was thinking out loud as I scrolled over the screen.


    What I said got Fauve¡¯s attention, and she looked up from her own datapad and over toward mine, ¡°Remember what I said before?¡±  She asked, and as she¡¯d said a lot before, I shook my head.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to narrow that down.¡±  I told her and she chuckled.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s fair.  I mean before everything, at the table before we met with Percival, how I wanted to speak for myself.  How I didn¡¯t want to live in fear, how ¡®Fauve Walker does not live in fear.¡¯ remember now?¡±  She asked.


    I did, and gave a quiet nod.


    ¡°Yes, what about it?¡±  I asked, and she put her finger on my datapad, scrolling it up to a man whose face was frothing with anger, mouth open, holding a sign with a caricature of an alien on a sign and a giant X through it.  She tapped the screen and began to play the short video.


    ¡°They wanna replace humans, dangerous creatures, they¡¯s bad, it¡¯s all a lie, they ain¡¯t like us!¡±  He was shouting, bouncing around with nervous, manic energy, his pudgy face sweating bullets as he went on and on about a vast conspiracy that was utter nonsense.


    ¡°That¡¯s why.¡±  She said with more solemnity in her voice than a young girl should ever have had.  ¡°I don¡¯t want to be like them.  Full of hate, full of fear, full of¡­ whatever makes people think like that.  You see them all the time, even these days.  Little worlds, little minds, they¡¯re cruel and think they¡¯re kind, they¡¯re evil and think they¡¯re good, they¡¯re full of fear and think they¡¯re brave because they lash out.  I won¡¯t ever be like that.  That¡¯s why I had to go talk for myself.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t loud, but it got attention shifted to her from a few faces.  Of course Boatswain and I drew some attention, but less than we would have had the Earth government not broadcast what our species looked like all over the world.


    However, at first glance, Fauve looked like any other human girl, so she drew no notice on the hoverbus until she said what she did.  From there the whispers spread and she was recognized as the one who, depending on you asked, ¡®started¡¯ or ¡®was the start¡¯ of what was popularly referred to as ¡®The Battle of Waterland Park¡¯.


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    She sat up straighter in her chair, ignoring the eyes and whispers, I wondered if we might have drawn more attention than I liked, but Byron crossed his arms in front of his chest, and between he and Boatswain trading stares at anyone who looked her way too long, whatever passed for a peaceful ride was restored.


    In retrospect, I think people were just curious to get a look at her, a kind of morbid curiosity.  I doubt anyone intended anything threatening.


    But Boatswain and Byron are security officers first and they took their work seriously.  I couldn¡¯t help but wonder what it would look like to watch the two of them fight together¡­ but I dismissed that as my natural predatory instincts rearing their head, and pushed it down.


    Thankfully, the hoverbus took us over a more skyward route allowing us to bypass large swaths of terrain, there was no need to abide by the roads, and as such what would have been a two to four hour drive, was a mere thirty minutes away, and the giant platform came into view.


    It was a marvel of human engineering, simple and pragmatic.  The concrete surface was framed by enormous nets that would catch anyone who was blown away.  A single high tower stretched toward the sky, and an array of smaller buildings including everything from a medical quarantine center up to and including a military security point, all remained just outside the netting.  The net itself was composed of nylon wrapped metal that was highly magnetic.  This ¡®magnetism¡¯ was magnified tremendously by an underground facility, the purpose of which was to help draw the ship toward the center where yet another magnetic field would draw the incoming ship in and then lock it into place.  The amount of power required for this would be sufficient to keep a city going for three straight days, and it was all used in an hour.


    It goes without saying that starships were not expected to land often.  But if they did?  They would land exactly where they were supposed to.


    As the hoverbus landed in the parking area and everybody disembarked, we saw the crowds were already there mobbing the waiting areas and platforms, but at least there was a rope corridor and a security detail from my embassy, along with our ambassador, and a matching group from the Earth government.


    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±  I said when we came within speaking distance of the pair of ambassadors.  I had to marvel at the fact that I was here.  Unsurprisingly, Sxlith was also present, as was the rest of my class, but for me this held special significance.


    Because unlike my colleagues, I had a personal stake in this, while they were bonding well with the other branches of the Walker family, they were also not on the short list of people who might have to leave.  As such, Sxlith ensured I would get to go with the official welcoming party, a chance to meet this crazed Captain and make my request in person.


    The noise and furor was such that none of us could hear the other, humans are a very noisy species.  The crowd made my hair stand on end and I briefly froze up, even my ambition was not enough to make my legs start moving.  The scale of the crowd was obvious, the numbers of humans was growing from hundreds, rapidly toward thousands.  The noise of even quiet drones was growing like the wings of thousands upon thousands of mosquitos, I saw so many faces turned our way as Fauve took my arm and practically yanked me forward.


    So much was on the line for me, between this and the crowd¡­ the sea of smells and emotional states seeping out of human bodies from excitement to fear to hatred¡­ it was getting to me.  I wasn¡¯t the only one, either.  I looked down at Fauve who held my arm tight in her slender fingers, she looked up and caught my eye, ¡®Come on.  I¡¯m here too.¡¯  She mouthed, though maybe she actually said it out loud, if she did, it was drowned out.


    On a large electrovid monitor¡­ which to those not used to human tech is basically a video screen on fabric that you could stretch between two poles or pin to a wall, was set up where it could be seen by all.


    This particular model was fifty paces tall and a hundred wide at least, and was set between two long metal flag poles which had been pressed into service for the occasion.


    On the screen I got my first look at the vessel that was closing in. A small square showed the human newscaster, one of the darker variations of humans with a rich, smooth voice who said, ¡°We¡¯ve just been sent a first transmission from the Captain of the vessel, along with a brief transmission, a freighter class ship designation E-626, Earth designation ID ¡®Red Spark¡¯ here it is, on screen from its file photo.¡±


    The echoing voice of the newscaster was quite neutral and might have been drowned out save for the impromptu speakers, and at the sight of the ship, the human onlookers, even the protestors fell quiet.


    It was definitely a dlamisan cargo vessel.  But from where we were standing by the time that announcement was made, and thanks to the new quiet from the pensive crowd, I could hear our ambassador speak quite clearly.


    ¡°That is not the right vessel.  They must be wrong.¡±  He said it so definitively that I found it hard to doubt him, but even so I had to ask¡­


    ¡°If that¡¯s wrong, sir, then how is it here?¡±  I raised my arm and pointed toward the sky, clouds were moving aside, blown away by the ship''s decelerators, parting the sea of white over our heads as it came into view.

 Chapter Thirty-Five

    Chapter Thirty-Five


    The ambassador was quiet, probably because he was looking at the same thing I was.  The ship from the viewscreen was roaring down from the sky, the birds gathered on the platform gave a wide berth to the ship and a low hum began from the underground facility.


    ¡°Stand clear, any personnel near the landing zone, stand clear.  Do not attempt to retrieve any lost metal objects.¡±  The announcement came over the speaker as the ship descended, the oscillating magnetic devices shifted power dynamically according to the position of the ship, slowly drawing it toward the center.


    ¡°Descent in Five.¡±  The voice echoed over the ground and for a moment it seemed like the whole world was silent save for the ship and the machines drawing it close.


    ¡®The first ship to land on Earth is dlamisan¡­ our people will be remembered for this, all over this world, and maybe more¡­ we can settle the misidentification later.  For now?  The whole world, no, two worlds, two worlds are watching¡­¡¯  I was in reverential awe, the broadcasts from where we stood were live streamed to every corner of the globe, major cities from Berlin and Moscow to Timbuktu and New Kyoto¡­ all eyes were on my people.


    It was humbling.  Humbling and proud, watching them come close, ready to kiss the Earth, their oxydraulic landing gear coming out as they were aligned into the center and drew ever closer.


    I wondered, ¡®What will their first words be?¡¯  Humans are as fond of famous first words as we.  It was one of the things their kind and mine had in common, in the search for immortal fame, what was said by those who went first was scrutinized long, long after the passing of the speaker.


    ¡°Landing in one.¡±  The announcement came out, and even those full of hate, were for perhaps the first time in their lives, full of wonder.


    ¡°Thirty seconds.¡±  The announcement came out as the ship was only a hundred meters off the ground.


    ¡°Ten seconds.¡±  The announcement rang out, the hum from the magnetic devices began to die down as the power consumption diminished.


    The thud of the touchdown was enough to shake the world, or so it seemed from where we stood.


    And then the doors began to open, and a ramp slowly descended, no one spoke, no one made a sound, there was only the hum of the ship as its engines slowly died and the ramp came down to touch solid ground for the first time in who knew how long.  I tried to see inside as the lights came on, but there was no one there.  A human might have made themselves known immediately, but dlamisa tended to take our time about these things, giving others a chance to respond to a new presence, at least for a few seconds.


    ¡°That is not one of our official merchants.¡±  The ambassador said the instant the female of my species came into view.


    She stood in full view as the cameras zoomed in to take her figure in, definitely female, with a long tail and a shapely form, I hadn¡¯t seen a female of my species in what felt like years.  But my surprise at seeing her, was not nearly as great as it was seeing what she wore.


    That she wore anything was a surprise, but more than that?


    That was no uniform I recognized, at least¡­ not from this century.


    She stood in a kind of modified set of boots that rose up to the bend in her legs, like it was based on a human model and then altered to fit us. I will never forget what she wore.  A dark bodice and a loose scarlett coat with long sleeves and a black skirt that was slit up to her right hip.  Even that was less surprising than the eyepatch over one eye, the tricorner hat, and the sword on her hip.  My people do not use, and have never used swords.


    She sauntered down the ramp with her tail wagging wildly behind her, I looked at the viewscreen like I was in a trance, her fur was a bright and shaggy red, and her snout was middle length, much like mine.  Her mouth was open and tongue lolled out happily.  Gold rings in her ears wobbled back and forth with every step.


    She stopped at the base of the ramp, staring down at the final step that would carry her from her ship, into the annals of our people¡¯s history.


    Then she stepped forward, and before the eyes and ears of an entire planet she said, ¡°For all them what went out an didn¡¯t make it back again.¡±


    ¡°Did she¡­ what?¡±  The Ambassador¡¯s tail was stiff, ¡°What is she wearing?!  What did she say?!  Is she not using a translator?!¡±  I wasn¡¯t sure if it was rage or dismay or that he was just at a total loss.


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    I was no less confused, and from the look of them, the Earth ambassador, the security teams, including Boatswain and Byron, were as much at a loss as anyone.  Perhaps then it is no surprise that it was Fauve who spoke up first.


    ¡°She looks so cool!  She¡¯s like a pirate!¡±


    That was when it clicked, the captain¡¯s clothes, her sauntering manner, even the sword and the way she spoke.  All seemed like they were ripped from the pirate movies I looked at a long time before coming to Earth.


    With nothing else for it but to go forward, the lot of us collectively approached, though I won¡¯t pretend we didn¡¯t hesitate for a step, there was simply no other option.  And so we found our rhythm and as a gaggle of confused individuals, we approached the ship of my people.


    To their credit, the security teams of both Earth and Dlamias spread out to surround each half of our dignitaries, save for Boatswain and Byron, who stood in front of Fauve and I near the back.


    When we approached, it was the Earth ambassador who spoke first, he was a slender man of medium build and tan skin, a thin mustache beneath his lip, and horseshoe pattern baldness on his head.  ¡°In the name of the Earth government, we welcome you as our guest, please make yourselves at home for the duration of your stay.¡±


    The Captain made a polite half bow to the lot of us, it was quite formal, and appeared to imitate the mannerisms of humans from centuries before the present, then she spoke in the most bizarre fashion.


    ¡°Thank ye, ''uman person. I be grateful fer the safe port in the storm, especially since I ''ave a small confession to make.¡±


    She then straightened up and added, ¡°First, thanks much fer invitin'' us to Earth. Me apologies fer the tricky stunt, me colleague ''ere be right, I be not the correct ship. I beat them to it, played a sly ''and an'' took their place. They be fine, just weeks behind us still, playin'' it safe, sound, an'' e''er so dull.¡±


    Her tail wagged back and forth as she laid out her confession, ¡°We was sailin'' the void when we caught wind o'' the transmission callin'' a merchant vessel to earth. A new cargo, somethin'' worth a lot to a lot o'' folk.  A cargo I once got a chance to try an wouldn''t miss a chance to try again. With money on the table waitin'' to be taken, I wouldn''t miss me chance. So I turned me ship around an'' ''eaded this here way to get what I could before the rum been gone into the bellies o'' a crew a lot more dull than mine.¡±


    ¡°Thank ye, ambassador, fer grantin'' permission to land, even if ye did nay quite mean it fer us. I''ve been a jolly admirer o'' ''umans fer some years, an'' I be ''onored an'' grateful fer the chance to visit fer fun an'' profit.¡±


    She brought her hand down and clapped the slender human on the shoulder, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, she cocked her head to the side, clearly far from done speaking, she introduced herself, ¡°An'' before ye ask, the last ''umans I met couldn''t pronounce me name in me language, so they gave me a name in yours that there I liked a lot, ye can call me ''Bonny Red'' if it please ye. An if it don''t, try''n pronounce it in me language."


    She let out the little rooooo noise our species made when we were at our happiest, and from her wagging tail, I could see she was over the moon with glee, seeing the crowds well beyond our little gathering, she hopped up and down, ears flopping wildly about, she raised her open hand and waved it as much as her arms allowed like she was waving hello to dear friends.  ¡°Ahoy there, ''umans, it be jolly to meet ye!  I ''ope we can be mates!¡±


    With her giant gleeful¡­ and to my eyes, frankly beautiful face, Captain Bonny Red seemed to grab hold of hearts and imaginations in the watching humans at the same time and just¡­ squeeze the good will out of the lot of them, even the ones who had precious little good will to give.  Maybe you couldn¡¯t get blood from a stone, but it seemed you could get goodwill from one if you were a dlamisan in a pirate costume.


    Professor Sxlith asked the question our ambassador, and everyone else, seemed to be too confused to ask.  ¡°Are you not using a translator, Captain?  What is with your¡­ way of speaking?¡±  He licked his eyeballs with the nervous rapidity I was familiar with, clearly as disturbed as the rest of us.


    She seemed to straighten up and preen, almost panting with pride when she explained, ¡°Oh, after I met that there last crew o'' ''umans, they told me I reminded them o'' a gentleman o'' fortune, showed me clips o'' some movies, after I did a run o'' supplies fer the University, I gave them a discount in exchange fer copies o'' all the gentleman o'' fortune movies made from the twentieth through the twenty-third centuries. That be ''ow I learned English.¡±


    My entire student body, and our professor, let out the various noises of exasperation our species typically did.  It was exactly the sort of thing the University would do to save credits.  Copies of something cost nothing but a few minutes to make, and credits saved were credits that could be used elsewhere.


    And now here we were, thanks to them.  Face to face with a pirate crazy dlamisan ship Captain with a thirst for rum.


    I won¡¯t pretend I wasn¡¯t nervous about this prospect, but with Earth having given them an official welcome, and the situation being what it was, it is a credit to my people¡¯s ambassador¡­ and perhaps to the influence of humans, that rather than kick up a stink on the spot, he rolled with the unexpected punches and answered.  ¡°You should get a translator¡­ come by the embassy later to sign for one, I beg you.¡±  His pained look and stiff tail said he did not care for the way Bonny spoke.


    ¡°O'' course, sir, o'' course. But where''s that there one who sent me the rules o'' that there game, the one what wants to see ''ow we work together?  ''e ''ere?¡±  She asked, and to my dismay, every eye turned toward me¡­ and everybody stepped aside.


    I had no idea at the time, whether having her attention on me was good, or not.  But if I had known that what she asked was transmitted over the entirety of Earth all at once, I¡­ at the time, would have thought it was a harbinger of disaster.

 Chapter Thirty-Six

    Chapter Thirty-Six


    ¡°You an me, we got words to trade later, bucko.¡±  She promised, and gave me a very human ¡®wink¡¯ before she let the tide carry her through the rest of the moment.


    It was a wild, heady time, and I didn¡¯t get a chance to make notes about what happened, I had to piece it together.  I suppose bringing Fauve this far was needless, but I was so used to her being close by that it never occurred for me to leave her watching with the others.


    ¡°I had planned for you to address the crowd, to say something to mark the occasion.  But¡­?¡±  My people¡¯s ambassador looked the bizarre and frankly outlandish dlamisan female up and down.  She couldn¡¯t properly rest her hands on her hips, at least not as humans could.  Our mobility in our arms was a little less than them.  However, the way she seemed to preen with pride, tilting her head up, fairly daring him to level too great a criticism at her, he let the statement come to a close, left hanging where it was.


    Her eyes went to the podium standing nearby and the array of drones hovering and bobbing beside one another.  The hum of her ship was gone and up on the ramp there were the many furry members of her dlamisan crew, at a glance I could tell they had picked up bits and pieces of their Captain¡¯s habit, a few had gold earrings in their ears, others wore eyepatches, it was a motley band if ever there was one.  But none of them came down, they only watched.


    I suppose it¡¯s fair of me to say that they were more dlamisan than Bonny Red, since they chose to refrain from the lot of strangers where Bonny seemed eager to mix.


    ¡°I''d be ''appy, right pleased even. Bein'' the first one to land a ship on their world an'' sayin'' nothin'' just doesn''t seem too neighborly.¡±  Having said that, she brushed past the body of still confounded dignitaries and over to the podium.


    The cameras opted for a wider shot for her, such was her oddity I think, that her face alone would simply not do, so they caught everything about her, not zooming in until she was mostly obscured by the brown polished podium.


    ¡°Ahoy ''umans, I be guessin'' I be not quite what ye expected.  Course, I be not what me folk expected either. But that be all part o'' the fun o¡¯ livin, gettin'' what ye don''t expect. I be a simple Cap''n in a jolly big void, so maybe I be not the fine formal female that there ''istory loves to tell stories about. But since I be the first, I want to say a bit''.¡±


    She kept her voice slow and steady, odd as it was the way she was speaking, her mannerisms and echoing voice captured the crowd¡¯s attention and kept silent even the elements that might have been disruptive.  I recalled the words of Percival about appearance.


    ¡®She might not know what he did, but she sure nailed it anyway.¡¯  I thought as she took a deep breath before continuing.


    ¡°Me first meetin'' with ''umans been yer soldiers, me crew an'' I owe yer people our lives. They intervened durin'' a Zenti attack that there should ''ave killed us all.¡±  She drew her sword, no easy thing for us to do, unsurprisingly given her appearance, it was a cutlass¡­ and then drew it to the center of her body in a kind of military salute.


    ¡°I salute ye!  It be because o'' yer fighters I learned yer language... from yer gentleman o'' fortune movies, I think you call em ¡®pirate movies¡¯.  An because o'' them I became a jolly admirer o'' man. Other people who love the void like me an'' mine?  ''ow could I not want to come say ¡®ello!¡±


    I wondered if, in any city in the world, her appearance had not caused silence to fall as her words were translated into the many popular languages of the world.


    She certainly had me spellbound as she wrapped up, ¡°So let me just say to ye what one o'' yer folk said to me over rum after blowin up them what tried to blow me up first, ¡°The universe be full o'' danger, but it ain''t full o'' strangers, just mates ye ''aven''t met. You can call me Bonny Red, like he did, an I hope I can call you ¡®friends¡¯!¡±


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    I¡¯m sure that there were still the hateful ones there, ones who loathed us and were small hearted and narrow minded.  But among the great big body of man, when Bonny finished saying that and her big bushy tail wagged back and forth with the same energy of a human child on Christmas day, and her sword went back into place only for her hand to go up and start waving like she was seeing an old friend for the first time in a long time¡­


    She captured their imaginations in a way I never could have, and when I compared Bonny Red to the alternative, a stuffy by the books dlamisan Captain with the dour professionalism of our ambassador¡­ I can¡¯t help but think that we couldn¡¯t have had better luck than we did with her arrival.


    I leaned over toward my people¡¯s representative and whispered, ¡°We have to run with it, she¡¯s perfect.  Look.¡±  I inclined my head toward the mob of humans who were ready to embrace their new celebrity.


    The mob was waving back at her like she was a family member that just landed from a long flight after a trip took them far from home.  Any hostility was drowned out completely, my ambassador opened up his datapad as if to confirm my words and began flipping through various reports from around Earth.  In New Kyoto, Berlin, New Mecca, and a dozen other cities, there were humans waving at giant screens as if Bonny Red could see them too.


    I don¡¯t know if she learned to cock her head and flop her russet colored ears from the last humans she met, or if she did it intuitively, or completely by accident.  But the reaction to her was instant.  I could only hear where I was.  But the ¡®awwws¡¯ were audible even from where I stood.  I tapped my ambassador on the arm and indicated as subtly as I could, my human who remained just behind me.


    ¡°She¡¯s so¡­ cute¡­ and so cooooool!¡± Fauve wasn¡¯t shouting it, what she said was, if anything, barely a whisper.  But she was antsy, almost dancing the way she shifted around on her feet like she was starstruck.


    ¡°I can work with this.  Trust me, ambassador.  Remember the ball incident?¡±  I asked, and he reached up and touched his head as if recalling his own hangover.


    Our night of drunken revelry returning to his mind, I think, lent me for the first time in my life, more credibility even than the professor had.


    He gave a subtle nod, ¡°I¡¯ll handle things with the next ship myself.  After I arrange housing, you will be responsible for assisting our fellow citizens with how to function here while on shore leave.¡±


    ¡°Me?  Not Professor Sxlith?  Not someone from the embassy?¡±  I asked, my hearts all seized up in my chest.


    ¡°You said you could work with this, I¡¯m taking you at your word.  You wanted my help to stay, did you not?  Prove your worth, or you have none.  Whatever budget you need, I will grant, but keep them out of trouble.¡±  He said, and I could do nothing but accept his words.


    Many humans after my first edition, were of divided opinions about our ambassador¡¯s approach to the matter, some humans praised him as a hard nosed professional.  Others called him callous or cruel for laying so much on my shoulders.  But I have to defend him.  Bonny Red was clearly an outlier among outliers, and anyone who would work for her had to be at least somewhat the same.


    The consequences of their bad behavior, the stakes for us¡­ were high.  In retrospect after the release of my work, people learned much more.  But in these early days, there was rumor, speculation, injured humans and an arrested dlamisa.  Humans were still an enigma to the galaxy at large, and from the history we did have, humans were even more prone to war than my species.  The possibility of war breaking out, however remote, was there in the minds of planners from precogs to my people¡¯s high command.  The experience with humans just wasn¡¯t broad enough yet.  Even their assistance with the Mixiki looked to some races like we were seeing a new apex threat on the galactic stage.


    So putting it on me with an unlimited budget, and by extension, my fellow students, since there was no way a savvy instructor like Professor Sxlith would leave me to handle all this by myself¡­ well, there is a Dlamisan expression:  ¡®The one you put in charge, is the one who has the most to lose if they fail, followed by the one who has the most to gain if it succeeds.¡¯


    I was both.  Failure here would mean I would almost certainly be pulled off world, but success meant I would dramatically increase my odds of staying.  And if I¡¯m being fair¡­ I think he believed I was more of an outlier than I was.  Between getting drunk in the park, inventing a game on the fly, and that incident with [Wolfbeard] he probably felt I too was a rogue element.


    In retrospect, maybe he was right?

 Chapter Thirty-Seven

    Chapter Thirty-Seven


    It was a flurry of activity, both my people¡¯s and the Earth ambassador were more than a little anxious about this unknown ¡®rogue¡¯ element that had somehow been welcomed to Earth.  But if Bonny Red held any particular feelings about their perspective, she definitely did not show it.  Instead she went along with us every step of the way as if she was supposed to be there.


    I think she was prepared to answer press questions all day, but she only got to answer a few.


    ¡°Did you have a favorite pirate movie?¡±


    ¡°Aye, C¡¯pn Jack ¡®Arrow!¡±


    ¡°Are you a pirate?¡±


    ¡°I be a fortune seeker sail¡¯n the void.  I never attack ships, but if¡¯n a ship comes an strikes me first, a little compensatory coin may find its way inna me pockets!  That¡¯s just fair compensation fer me trouble though.¡±  Bonny patted the leather coinpurse at her side, it jingled, she had actual bits of metal in there, though almost certainly not currency in the form pirates thought of it, she probably had the little credit transfer drives for energy reallocation.


    ¡°Where¡¯d you get your clothes?¡±  That question came from a hovering drone emblazoned with a lot of different wild colors over it, I couldn¡¯t begin to imagine what agency it belonged to.


    She stepped beside the podium and struck a pose with her arms up to show off every line.  ¡°I had it made fer me custom by a pioneer human living offworld.  Ye be makin quite a name fer yeselves out there beyond the void.¡±


    But even though I think she was willing to spend all day chattering, the ambassadors of two worlds were not prepared to let this rogue element go on longer than they had to in order to keep up appearances.


    They approached together to present a unified front.  ¡°Thank you for your interest in our people, truly her courage and openness is an inspiration to us all.  But the journey was long and dangerous, and¡­ Captain Bonny Red¡­ not to mention her crew, must be exhausted.¡±  My ambassador said first, only to immediately move aside to allow his human counterpart to take center stage.  I could see from his sweating face that he was throwing away a well prepared speech and adapting to the moment to get the unexpected out of there before anything crazy happened.


    ¡°And there are formal matters to attend to.  I must take her from you but¡­ thank you all for this truly historic occasion.¡±  He then approached Captain Bonny Red and held out his hand.


    She smacked her hand hard into his and shook it with vigor, the two of them looking toward the cameras to provide a fine and immortal display that would be in museums after everybody around us, human and dlamisa alike, were turned to dust and ash.  Long after Percival¡¯s little tree was stretched up to the sky, this moment would linger on.


    ¡®I wish he were around to provide good advice¡­ I¡¯m sure he¡¯d know how to make this work.¡¯  I was fretting, I knew it.  Bonny at least seemed very enthusiastic about humans, and that worked in my favor, but on the downside of this, enthusiasm without knowledge was a ship without a captain.


    Bonny for her part, had the sense to go along with the two officials saying, ¡°Send yer customs folk in to inspect me ship, nothin thar to hide, an me mates all know what¡¯s com¡¯n.¡±


    That was all it took for word to get passed on and customs officials who had frankly never really had to do anything like this before, soon streamed out of a nearby building, there were dozens of them in bright blue skintight uniforms, no pockets, and hair cut close or shaved entirely clean.  They were almost as perfectly uniform as some swarm species, but I knew why.


    Not every human is a good one, and thieves, while not the worst of the worst, exist.  As such, they kept the human uniforms done in such a way that nobody could steal anything from a newcomer to Earth.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.They carried a series of small metal suitcases, I knew well enough even without asking, what those were for.  The first ship to land on Earth had been who knew where, as such, they had to check for any possible disease, disinfect, and inspect for contraband, up to and including trafficking of any kind.  Manifests had to match, as did cargo and other material, anything could wreak havoc if it was an unknown.  No pets, no ¡®ship mascots¡¯ not even any plants or other creatures.


    Privately I considered cross contamination to be nearly inevitable.  ¡®Ants get into every damn thing.¡¯  I thought about the one I found crawling in my fur despite having taken a shower.  But every world engaging in the transport of goods and people alike had measures like this.


    But for the moment at least, all was well.


    I will spare the reader the details of assigning quarters, as it turned out, Bonny Red¡¯s crew was not very large, only three hundred strong compared to the nine hundred we were expecting.


    However, there was one problem.


    ¡°Me ship be badly damaged an'' will take several months to repair. Every male an'' female on me crew been in the void a long time, an'' they want shore leave ¡®fore we set sail again. I can cover their wages no problem. An'' they can sleep on the ship if they need to, but I be no fool. This here be a new world, an'' they need to know ''ow to act. Any one o'' em turns crook, I''ve already told them, I won''t ''elp. Ye ''ang em from the mast if ye want, make them walk the plank or whatever ye do. None o'' me crew be allowed to mess with ''umans.¡±  Bonny promised us when we sat down around the table.


    Fauve stood back, still oggling the piratish looking dlamisan ship captain like she¡¯d met a new idol.  I was, I admit, jealous.


    ¡°Where is the other ship supposed to land when it gets here?¡±  Our ambassador asked his human counterpart, ¡°If this one is here for months¡­¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a minor problem, the preparations for alien landings hadn¡¯t been done world wide, even though the landing places were all built, all the equipment for guiding a ship weren¡¯t operational, and inspection crews specially trained in xenoship inspection and decontamination were rarer than feathers on fish.


    ¡°We can train new crews, and the landing port off the coast outside of New Kyoto is the nearest to completion.  If we need to, we can keep your cargo ship docked in space and just make runs with smaller cargo vessels and the elevator system to fill your holds.  It¡¯s not what we planned¡­I know.¡±  The human ambassador said as gently as he could, clearly he and my people¡¯s ambassador had spent ample time together, at least enough for the former to know how uncomfortable things going off script made us.


    ¡°And what about how to feed a crew of nine hundred?  Can your station do that for months?¡±  Our ambassador asked.


    ¡°With some ground support, yes.  It may be a lot of dry rations instead of fresh food, but we¡¯ll manage.  And if they want to land for a week of rest and relaxation after, then the ship can land here, or if New Kyoto¡¯s facilities are staffed and ready, there will be fine too.  Maybe we can even see our way to handing a few cases of champagne to your embassy as a show of thanks for your patience while we get this sorted out.¡±  The promise of backup plans and hospitality, not to mention supplies and the possibility of gifts was enough to set my own at ease.


    It was the first mistake I¡¯d ever seen humans make, at least of that sort.  The wrong ship landed, and their government had given it welcome.  Of course I later realized that this solidified the favorable view of humans held by many other species.  ¡®If you are in danger, go for a human colony.¡¯  Their hosting tendencies that I had written of so favorably before, were on full display here.


    ¡°That all sounds¡­fine.¡±  He finally muttered, but I could see from the wagging of his tail, as could the rest of us, that he was more eager for that champagne than he wanted to admit.


    It was then that Bonny Red spoke up, ¡°Oh, an'' ambassador, we''ve got one extra body on board who doesn''t plan on leavin'' with us. A passenger if ye can believe it. From the ''omeworld, no less. She''ll need papers from ye so she can stay, an if¡¯n she can¡¯t, then she¡¯ll need a way offworld, ye plan on deportin'' ''er.  I don¡¯t mind, but I goin'' to ''ave to charge ye ten thousand times what it cost to brin'' ''er.¡±


    It was the price, more than the passenger, that caused us all dismay.


    ¡°T-T-T-Ten thousand times?!¡±  It wasn¡¯t us who spoke up, but Fauve who could hardly believe it.  She might have been criticized for it, or asked to leave, but she was echoing our sentiment.


    ¡°Aye lass, the liquor I come here for¡­ well, it¡¯s worth more credits¡¯n you can count.  I plan on fillin my ship to the brink with every bottle an brew we can carry.  I got no room for a passenger what goin¡¯ta cost me money.¡±  Bonny Red gave a vigorous shake of her head.


    ¡°Then why did you take her on and bring her here?!¡±  My ambassador seethed and Bonny cocked her head at him as if he were a dunce.


    ¡°On account¡¯a she paid me.¡±  Bonny replied like he was the thickest of our kind.


    ¡°Welcome to Earth.¡±  Fauve said matter of factly, and nobody was going to tell her she was wrong in what she meant.

 Chapter Thirty-Eight

    Chapter Thirty-Eight


    I and the other students, Fauve, the security guards, we were ejected from the meeting for a time after that, only professor Sxlith remained, and he had only one question for me when he came out.  Voices were being raised after his briefing to the Captain about how to behave on Earth.


    He asked me, with many a nervous licking of his eyeballs as he emerged, ¡°Are you sure you can succeed with your test if you use this crew?  Captain Bonny has told us some of the sorts of things she¡¯s been up to over the years and¡­by your race¡¯s standards, she might be literally insane.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really have a choice, Professor.  They¡¯re here.  If I refuse, the University will say I¡¯m tainting my experiment, they¡¯ll override you, saying I¡¯m trying to insert bias.  I think it will work better than the others, but even if it doesn¡¯t?¡±  I just looked at him after I answered, letting him put the pieces together for himself.


    He made a tentative bow.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you¡¯re right.  Get the supplies you need as quickly as you can.¡±


    ¡°It will be fine.¡±  Byron reassured us, ¡°If they¡¯re at all like her, my people will get along well with her and hers.  Soldiers are outliers in their societies, like I get on with Boatswain here,¡± Byron jerked a thumb toward his companion, ¡°I don¡¯t know much about science, but if you want to know how well our species can work together-¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t ask for a better group to test it on.¡±  Boatswain remarked, completing Byron¡¯s sentence for him.


    Fauve was watching quietly and typing away on her mobile device, I assume on her Chaos app to tell her friends what it was like, humans have a thorough love of their electronic devices, and she was no exception to this rule.


    I?  I had my mind elsewhere, Professor Sxlith did not use the term ¡®insane¡¯ lightly.  If he thought the crew was insane by my species standards?  Well then they probably were.  I couldn¡¯t help but be anxious despite Boatswain and Byron¡¯s reassurances.  What if what made them outliers was that they would not get on with humans?


    What if they didn¡¯t want to participate?  I might be able to make it up with the other crew but¡­ it wouldn¡¯t look good?  ¡®What do I do?  What do I do?  What do I do?  WHAT DO I DO?!¡¯


    I had no idea, I could only really expect to go forward, but even doing that required decisions and even when there was no choice but one, it might still be the wrong one.  Had I entered into a no win scenario?


    I just didn¡¯t want to leave.


    ¡®Is that so wrong?  Is that so bad?¡¯  I asked myself, my tail was stiff and though I kept the worst of my anxiety at bay, I could help but fear the worst.


    ¡®You¡¯re such a stupid coward¡­¡¯  I admit, I cursed myself for a fool and a coward all over again.  I just didn¡¯t have the courage to admit I might be failing here.


    Stolen story; please report.


    I was so lost in my own thoughts that I barely noticed anything else around me until Bonny Red emerged looking and smelling smug with her tail wagging around behind her, minus her sword, which sat in the hands of the human ambassador.


    ¡°Alright, matey, you, the Bailey one, can you be ready by tomorrow?¡±  Bonny asked and leveled her hand at me.


    ¡°To help with the alcohol?¡±  I asked.


    ¡°Course, I hear tell about that game, sounds mite intrest¡¯n, but maybe la-t-er?¡±  She slowed and then stopped her talking.  Her dubious enthusiasm dulled into a trance like state.  Fauve must have drawn the ball out of her pocket at some point and had started bouncing it against the wall out of sheer boredom, and now its little ¡®thock¡¯ noise and constant motion drew Bonny¡¯s attention.


    Her head moved back and forth back and forth back and forth as the ball blurred past, back and forth into Fauve¡¯s hands.


    Fauve noticed after a few throws and caught the ball in one hand, she held it up.  ¡°Do you want it?¡±


    Bonny said only, ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but I do, I really, really do.¡±


    ¡°Then you have to help Bailey when he says.¡±  Fauve replied.


    Bonny turned her face toward me, but one eye lingered on the ball as Fauve tossed it up and down in one hand, her head bobbing up and down while she asked me, ¡°So about the game tomorrow?  Are ye ready?¡±


    ¡°I can have all the supplies I need today, but-¡± I looked over toward Byron.


    ¡°I can get a dozen men easy, big ones.  It¡¯s a weekend and most of them have nothing to do.  Besides, they had fun last time, they won¡¯t pass the chance up to do it again.¡±  Byron¡¯s answer was a significant relief, but I knew better than to hope for the best.


    We made our excuses after that, I had just enough time to find out that Bonny would have a link from her ship to the embassy comm system, and then we left.


    Fauve however, kept tossing the ball straight up and down in the air, I¡¯m sure that if she¡¯d thrown it straight ahead, Bonny would have chased it down.


    But I had no time to consider that, I needed a backup plan, so before we even boarded the bus¡­ admittedly I might have been rude in not bidding my professor or the other students farewell, but I had my mind elsewhere.  So before I even boarded the bus, I was reaching out to the University of Louisville, specifically to Lisa and Coach Wills.  As tomorrow was a Saturday rather than a Sunday, there was no game going on, but I needed to make sure everything was in place.


    My hearts raced and I felt Fauve¡¯s hand squeezing around mine, she could feel I was nervous, anxious, and frankly terrified of failure, more so than I ever had been in all my life.


    I¡¯d need every ounce of mental strength to hold myself together, my tail alternated between wagging like mad with the promise of success, and stiff to the point of shaking with the fear of failure.


    ¡°So, what if it doesn¡¯t go well?¡±  Fauve asked on the ride home.


    ¡°Then I report it.¡±  I said.  There was no other option for me, so the answer seemed obvious.


    ¡°Even if it costs you your stay?¡±  She asked.


    I was quiet for a long time, at least five minutes, but it felt like a lot longer.


    ¡°Yes.¡±  I finally answered.  ¡°I¡¯m a dlamisa of science, I have to report the facts, not my wishes.  Of course, failure in science can be success.  All studies begin with the idea that you¡¯re wrong, that¡¯s why you attack your ideas, not just defend them.  Even if the study doesn¡¯t show what I hope it will, knowing one way that we as different species don¡¯t effectively bond is bringing us closer to the truth of how we can.¡±


    She inhaled sharply through her nose and squeezed my hand again, she felt so warm to the touch, even through my fur.


    ¡°You¡¯re a lot braver than you think you are, Bailey.¡±  She said quietly, she offered no explanation, and I had no idea what she meant.

 Chapter Thirty-Nine

    Chapter Thirty-Nine


    Thanks to self driving cars, I didn¡¯t need a license or someone to drive me after I got back, but I wasn¡¯t alone.  Boatswain I insisted on having with me.  The hum of the electric car was the only noise for the first few minutes of the drive, and I could feel the eye of the behemoth of my kind staring down at me even if he wasn¡¯t acknowledging it.


    I shifted in my seat and brought my tail into my lap and began fidgeting with it.  I didn¡¯t get the sense that he was angry, but something was clearly on his mind at least.  I focused on watching the steering wheel¡¯s autoturn and the road around us.  I probably would have been happier sticking my head out the window, but the truth was I was so nervous about everything that I just didn¡¯t think I could enjoy it.


    Boatswain let out a huff, ¡°You attract this much trouble back home?¡±  He finally asked, breaking the quiet of our ride.


    I saw no sense in denying it.


    ¡°No.¡±  I answered, ¡°I¡¯ve never been more than a boring old academic.  I promise.¡±


    ¡°I find that hard to believe.  You know you¡¯re going to have to explain her too.¡±  He said.


    ¡°I have nothing to do with that, there¡¯s no way I could have predicted a pirate fetishist would show up here.  I didn¡¯t even know anyone like her existed.¡±  I was telling the absolute truth, but Boatswain, if he didn¡¯t believe me, at least acted like he did.


    ¡°Even if that¡¯s true-¡±  He started to say, but I immediately interrupted.


    ¡°It is!¡±  I insisted.  ¡°You can¡¯t blame me for every have crazed member of our species who shows up to visit these wild scary primates!¡±  I admit, I was a little angry when I said it, and it gave him pause.


    ¡°That may be true, but anything you do from here on out is going to be heavily scrutinized by the University, by the Embassy, by your Professor, and probably by the government of Dlamias.  You got them involved.  Not that I blame you, but I¡¯ve been in fourteen major engagements, and every time they kicked off, there was talk of peace first.  They might have been minor skirmishes for the most part, but I¡¯ve learned a lot about human history from Byron.  We and humans have more in common than not, and that can make for close allies¡­ or bitter enemies.¡±


    I swallowed hard.  I was so foolish.  I was so focused on me, and on what I wanted, and what I was afraid of, that the big picture was an afterthought to me.  I¡¯m so small minded sometimes, selfish¡­ that might be the right word.


    I criticized the angry humans for all their pointless fears and hatreds, but was I any better?  All I cared about was what I wanted, staying with my humans.  ¡°I¡¯m such a damn fool.¡±  I clenched my fists and watched the traffic pass by.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±  Boatswain agreed.  ¡°Some other species, this wouldn¡¯t need to be said, but with humans?  We have to be careful.  I was modded to be like this.¡±  He said and opened his meaty hand.  ¡°But Byron and the others?  They barely required any modification at all.  If you fail?¡±  He let the question hang, but I wasn¡¯t about to let it sit there that way.


    ¡°What?¡±  I demanded to know his mind.


    ¡°Maybe nothing?  Maybe someone else succeeds.  Maybe you fail hard and that wild and beautiful Bonny Red does something stupid, or her crew does, and your ¡®Battle of Waterland Park¡¯ is just a tiny skirmish before a real conflict between our worlds breaks out.  I like humans.  I like Byron.  I don¡¯t want to think about dlamisan energy weapons vaporizing that house any more than I want to think about the terran space marines ripping their way through our citadels.¡±


    ¡°No pressure, though.¡±  I said, it was a pathetic attempt at a joke, and I couldn¡¯t even pretend it was amusing.  It wasn¡¯t.  Fauve, William, Rebecca, Michael, they lived and worked in Earth¡¯s capital, a major transportation hub.  If it did come down to it, this city would be hit¡­


    Boatswain stared at me, waiting for me to say something, anything.


    ¡°I never¡­ I never imagined anything like that when I started.  I¡¯m just a student, I didn¡¯t mean-¡±  I stopped and took a deep breath, I forced my body to relax, I forced my mind to focus.  ¡®Don¡¯t be such a self pitying idiot!  There¡¯s no time for that!  There¡¯s only one option here¡­ and you¡¯re Bailey Walker!  Top of every classroom you¡¯ve ever walked into!¡¯  I thought about Fauve, how scared she must have been staring down at all those hostile reporters and telling her truth, with everybody else back behind her, ready to support her.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    And it hit me.


    I wasn¡¯t standing alone anymore.


    I had them backing me, all of them.  Everybody on both sides wanted something that would help, nobody wanted me to fail, and I had the strength of my humans, my dlamisans¡­ I had everybody behind me ready to lend me their strength and cleverness and courage.


    That was how she did it.  The certainty that she was not completely alone.


    And neither was I.


    I raised my head and looked Boatswain in the eye.  ¡°I won¡¯t fail.  I understand what¡¯s on the line here, and I will succeed.  Bonny Red may seem¡­ no, be the strangest of our kind that I¡¯ve ever seen, but I will make it work with her and her crew.  Nobody will suffer anything but some mild exhaustion.¡±


    To be truthful, a promise like that wasn¡¯t one I should have been making.  I think it shows how much humans have influenced me that I made a reckless promise of that scale, but it says something about Boatswain that he accepted it without complaint.


    Just then we pulled into the parking lot of the sporting goods store.  ¡°I expected something bigger.¡±  He said, ¡°Humans love their sports.¡±  It was clearly something he approved of, from the way he stood and looked it over after we got out of the car.


    ¡°Oh, they used to have giant stores, but a few centuries ago they realized that bigger companies presented a danger to localized economies, driving out smaller businesses with low costs, buying them up, then raising prices again.  To solve that, they took a page out of the Qatari and Philippine government playbooks.  A company¡¯s total owned or leased land area was restricted to its area of incorporation, and selling in any physical location outside of that required that they form ¡®partnerships¡¯ with locally owned companies and residents.¡±


    ¡°But don¡¯t they shop for delivery stuff a lot?¡±  Boatswain asked, ¡°Couldn¡¯t they get around that just by selling over their network?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and according to what I read, they did, so they started limiting the variety of goods any one online seller could market, and taxes increased on companies based on their sales.  They could get around that by the partnerships that kept the local economies going and having local stores serve as fulfillment agents and splitting the profit.  Now?¡±  I inclined my head toward the simple box shaped store with the flashy sports posters on the front windows, ¡°We¡¯re only going in because I have to make absolutely sure we have what we need for tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Hmpf, clever, I guess.¡±  Boatswain remarked offhandedly and followed me in, ¡°So what did you need me for?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the athletic one, we need to pick out the right tools for this.  Footballs, tennis balls, they have lots of options for us to work with.¡±  I pointed out as soon as we entered the door.


    Both of us began to nearly salivate, it was one thing to say it, but there were aisles full of equipment, our eyes homed in directly on the aisle filled with¡­ well, I will just call them ¡®throwables¡¯.


    ¡°Just stay calm.¡±  I cautioned Boatswain as we made our way to the aisle.  He did his best, but his tail threatened to knock over more than one display as he went from item to item and began to handle it.


    ¡°Each of these has advantages¡­¡±  He remarked as he went from tennis ball to foam football to regular sized football.  ¡°The thing is, each of them will be thrown somewhat differently.  This,¡± he picked up a frisbee, ¡°will stay in the air a long way and probably curve some, easy to see, relatively easy to catch.¡±


    He then reluctantly set it down and picked up a baseball, ¡°Straight ahead or lob, I guess, but it won¡¯t go as far.  But I will bet someone like Byron can throw it fast.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you suggest?¡±  I asked.


    ¡°This.¡±  He pointed to the aisle.  ¡°Take a bunch of them, remember the game at the park?¡±  He asked.


    I put my hand on my head and groaned, ¡°No.  And I am never drinking again.¡±  I said.


    Boatswain huffed, ¡°Right, well since you don¡¯t remember much, it didn¡¯t take long for us to start coming up with different strategies.  Adding more variety in throwables creates more strategic options.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­ more thought requires better teamwork¡­¡±  I understood his meaning and I was onboard with it immediately.


    ¡°Let me get a cart, no, two carts, we need enough for everybody.¡±  I said, and he added.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get two more.  And some boxes to carry it all and to use in the game.¡±  Boatswain¡¯s sudden enthusiasm would have been surprising if it weren¡¯t for two things.


    I knew how much fun he had.  And he knew exactly what was at stake.


    And now so did I.

 Chapter Forty

    Chapter Forty


    I¡¯m not quite sure what the clerk thought, watching a small and giant pair of aliens wheel four carts filled with various balls and frisbees out of the store, but I was a good enough judge of humans by now to say he was most definitely confused.


    But our credits were good, so out we went, Boatswain had a series of crumpled boxes under one arm for later assembly while I handled the carts.  It took two trips to get it all, but in the end we had enough material to prepare for a game.


    Maybe it was realizing how much was on the line, maybe it was my own sense of renewed determination, but in spite of how fearful I was of everything going wrong, just seeing everything coming together was encouraging.


    Even¡­ energizing.


    There is something magical about progress, when we get nowhere, when we¡¯re mired in our circumstances, emotions, frustrations, and nothing seems to change¡­ it¡¯s easy to get lost in them, to just stay as things are even if they¡¯re unhappy or scary.  At least they¡¯re familiar, that first step, that first act toward real success is frighteningly hard to take.


    But then the first step is taken.


    Then another.  And another.  And another and another and before you know it you¡¯re picking up speed and things are changing around you and everything is happening and you¡¯re the one doing it and then when you look back you wonder¡­


    ¡®How did I come so far?!¡¯


    So it was for me, and I was happy.


    Happy in spite of my fears and terrors and worries, Boatswain¡¯s warning provided fuel for my determination and I was getting somewhere.  And to think it all began with one ambitious student deciding humans would be a useful and easy way to make my mark on the legacy of my people.


    It was this mood that had me entering and unloading the boxes by the door and calling out Fauve¡¯s name.


    ¡°She¡¯s not here!¡±  William shouted from the kitchen.  ¡°She went with Teresa for some sort of assignment!  She said it was important!¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±  I said and walked into the kitchen, the other three security guards were present at the table having lunch.  I do regret not having the time to get to know them, but their shifts were such that I seldom even saw them.


    Still, they were welcome at the table, their big mouths stuffed with sandwich meat, they only nodded and kept chewing.


    ¡°Do you know when she¡¯ll get back?¡±  I asked.  ¡°I was actually hoping to go to the park and burn off some energy.¡±


    ¡°No, but you left your datapad behind and it¡¯s been buzzing since you left, so you probably wouldn¡¯t be able to go anyway.¡±  He said and pointed to my device on the table.  Another buzz began, rattling the tablet as soon as he informed me.


    I snatched it up, I hadn¡¯t been gone that long, I opened it and found myself face to face with Bonny Red, the red furred ship captain.  ¡°Ahoy there!¡±  She called out, her face loomed so large I couldn¡¯t see all of it until she held it back, ¡°You, matey, you ready to show me this game thing of yours, what¡¯s it called?  Bullyball?¡±


    ¡°Ballyball.¡±  I replied, she was loud and boisterous, and held the device back so I could see that she¡¯d reduced her attire down to a pair of knee length shorts.


    ¡°Aye, that!¡±  She exclaimed, and fingerbanged her forefinger toward the screen.  Her tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth and there was a definite intensity to her amber eyes.  ¡°I don¡¯t know where the rums¡¯ gone to on this little blue dot of a world, but I¡¯m willing to put it off for a wee bit if you¡¯ll bring me that lass with the throwing arm and of course that little object she kept tossing around, the ball.  What say you?  I got my translator installed, and thankfully with a wee bit a tweakin, it lets me talk right, or close to it.¡±


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    ¡°Ah, Captain Bonny Red-¡±  I interjected.


    ¡°Just Bonny, or Red, or just Captain if you¡¯re feeling formal rather than neighborly.  The full thing is a bigger mouthful than even you can swallow, lad.¡±  She interjected back.


    ¡°Ah, right, Bonny¡­ um, the lass is out right now, doing some work of some sort.  And by the way, you weren¡¯t really speaking properly before.¡±  I explained, ¡°Your use of English was about eight hundred years behind¡­ I think.  Maybe less depending on how accurate their movies were about how pirates talked.  I¡¯m not too clear on Earth¡¯s history with pirates.¡±


    ¡°Bah, it¡¯s right if it¡¯s how I meant it, laddy!  But I hear you, I¡¯ll keep it as it is without further modification.  But you,¡± she leveled a finger toward me, ¡°are missing out.  Their pirates, their ¡®free men of fortune¡¯ were amazing!  Bold!  Daring!  Sailing the seas ready for the devil to take their souls into the deep blue at any day, live free or die¡­ almost makes me like the Zenti even¡­ but nah, the Zenti had no panache, just locusts, no style!  Anyway, focus.¡±  She shook her head as if to shake a tangent out of her before going on.


    ¡°So you need to give us some guidance on what we can and can¡¯t do, right?  Modern rules of Earth and all, we want to be good guests after all!  So let¡¯s get started now so that we can go out tomorrow!¡±  Bonny was nodding with wild enthusiasm like she could barely contain her energy.


    ¡°She¡¯s like a modded soldier.¡±  Boatswain muttered while standing over my shoulder.


    ¡°Aye, somebody¡¯s paying attention!¡±  Bonny shouted, her ears pricking up, ¡°I was with the fleet for a while and had some mods done, with the scouts and explorers.  Didn¡¯t take, nossir it did not.  But it¡¯s probably why I¡¯m a bit like this.¡±  She would have laughed if she¡¯d been human, ¡°Regardless, the briefing, lad.  Give it here!¡±  She said and moved aside to show that her crew was gathered and seated on a series of cheap metal chairs obviously borrowed from the human embassy or the local military base.


    ¡°I was supposed to do that tomorrow after-¡±  I wanted to tell her it was a violation of protocol, that we had a specific schedule to keep, but I never got that far.


    ¡°Nope!  We¡¯re here now.  We¡¯re ready now.  I know we can¡¯t leave tonight since we¡¯ve all got to go through med checks and that¡¯ll take all day, but I want us out on the town tomorrow as soon as possible.  My sailors have been trekking the stars for five dlamias years without a port call where we could stay for any length of time.  We¡¯ve got a fortune in credits to run through and I won¡¯t have a minute taken up what don¡¯t need to be.  You start now or we start without you.  You hear me, laddy?¡±


    ¡®And I thought males like Boatswain were outliers.¡¯  I thought, and gave a steady nod.


    ¡°Fine.  Give me five minutes to get ready, you¡¯ve got me projected enough for them all to see everything, we¡¯ll go over the basics of human customs, what not to do and what to do.  But you have to promise no sneaking out tonight to go find¡­ whatever.¡±  I urged, and you have to let me assign you some human escorts after the game.  You don¡¯t want your crew getting lost and in trouble in a strange place after all you¡¯ve gone through, do you?¡±  It was a stab in the dark for me to ask her that question.


    I was banking on the idea that she was an outlier in more ways than one, and the moment I saw her turn her head away from me to face her crew again, I knew my bet had paid off.


    Whatever her oddities, I knew an act of care when I saw one.  Captain Bonny Red really did care about her crew.


    She was more serious when she faced me again, bringing the data device on her end close enough that her brilliant and bright amber eye lingered large in the camera, looming like the moon in the sky.  ¡°Aye, mate.  I swear it on me ship.  Nobody sneaks out, nobody sneaks off, an they¡¯ll go with your escorts.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a deal then.¡±  I said, and sat down to begin explaining everything I¡¯d come to understand about humanity.


    Given everything else, I really should have been nervous about Bonny keeping her word, but I wasn¡¯t.  William kindly set my special mug in front of me and filled it to the brim with coffee, accepting a grateful wink in his direction while I talked on.


    I was hoping for the best the entire time, of course.


    But I was also fairly sure I was going to get it.

 Chapter Forty-One

    Chapter Forty-One


    Fauve did not join me for coffee that night.  I smelled the stuff when it was made, but when I finished my briefing, it was late.  I did most of it from the comfort and privacy of my room.  The crew had all kinds of questions, some of them were good ones, some were silly to my ears.  But Bonny seemed good enough at keeping them focused that I got through it.


    When I was finally done, I went upstairs and found the table empty.  The chair was pulled out where Fauve had sat.  But it was empty, I knew she¡¯d been there recently because while her parents are good about pushing their chairs back underneath the table, Fauve is terrible about it, therefore she was here after everybody went to bed.


    I found a space for me, nonetheless.  A cup of coffee in the mug she gave me, prepared the way I like it, and a little note scrawled on some scratch paper torn away from something.  ¡°Good luck!  And don¡¯t worry!¡±  The note read, she didn¡¯t sign it, but then again by now?


    By now she didn¡¯t need to, I sat at the table alone and drank in the quiet.  Not many humans seem to appreciate the silence and tranquility of time alone.  They¡¯re a furtive, busy people, always go, go, go.  As a species they tend not to idle well.  Exceptions exist, like Fauve, William, and Rebecca.  But for the most part from what I¡¯ve seen they seldom spend even twenty minutes alone with their own thoughts.


    Both the Lisa¡¯s I met, struck me that way.  Eagerly in search of company, people, and stimulation.  I could call them friends, in my way, but could never understand that part of them.


    As I sipped the warm dark liquid I thought of everything that had happened to bring me to this moment, not just in the last few weeks.  No, I sat listening to the burbling coffee pot as it finished brewing more¡­ I must have just missed Fauve by minutes, I suppose¡­ I thought about the generations that brought us here.


    One wrong move by an ancestor, and I would not exist.  What if Fauve¡¯s parents hadn¡¯t made just the right choices to meet, fall in love, and mate?  What if instead of making her, they¡¯d been arguing that night, a different person might be upstairs now, maybe a boy that [Wolfbeard] had no interest in?  The wars and conflicts and travels, the trials and struggles of eons of time in a Universe so vast and large that Fauve and I should never have met, no, not even our species should have encountered one another.


    Yet here we were.


    Dlamisa do not believe in destiny, only in the inevitability of improbability, that in the vast realm of possibilities, however remote, if something must happen, through physics or chemistry or matter in motion¡­ some improbabilities, a vast string of them, become inevitabilities.


    That meant things that could go right, go wrong, and mean the whole damn world to one foolish and sometimes cowardly doctoral student on an alien planet.


    I finished my cup and set it down on the glass saucer and picked up the note.  The light in the empty kitchen was dim, but the room at least was warm.  It felt like minutes of sitting, thinking, fidgeting and trying to mentally prepare myself for the next day.


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    I checked my datapad, and saw messages from both Lisa and Coach Wills¡­ my finger tapped on first one, then the other with such excitement that I actually read neither of them.


    I only typed a response, ¡°Any help you can provide is fine, I would be very grateful.¡±


    For all I knew they¡¯d said no to my request.  I could have reopened their messages, I could have reread¡­ no, I could have read them, I should say.  But that anxiety about what lay ahead was such that I couldn¡¯t make my finger tap it twice.


    On an intellectual, reasoning level I knew that not knowing what they said would not ¡®change¡¯ what they said, but as long as I didn¡¯t know at least I had hope it wasn¡¯t a negative.


    Foolish?  Yes.  Unbecoming of a dlamisa, let alone an academic, to embrace ignorance out of fear rather than knowledge, whatever it was?  Absolutely.


    But at that moment at least, I just couldn¡¯t help myself.


    So I put it off.  I took my cup to the sink and placed it next to Fauve¡¯s, then before going downstairs I stopped.  I went to the note on the table after a hesitant moment, picked it up, and took it with me back to my room.  I set it on my shelf with the balloon animal I¡¯d been given the day of my arrest, and lay down to sleep.


    I stared into the darkness when the lights were off, over to the place where my things sat, and remained still until sleep claimed me at last.


    I awoke with a start several hours later, my alarm was going off and probably had been for at least a little while.


    It was nine in the morning, at least I had a few hours sleep, that would do.


    I rushed around with frantic urgency even though I had plenty of time, it would take a while for the entire crew of the Red Spark to make it to the University of Louisville stadium.  They had things to do, protocols to meet.


    If it was one thing I could count on, it was that the protocols of planet Dlamias would be followed to the letter, and even Captain Bonny wouldn¡¯t try to buck those.


    The house was strangely empty except for Byron and Boatswain.  ¡°We¡¯re ready, everybody else had somewhere to be, something to do with Fauve¡¯s work.¡±  Byron explained, I reflexively looked toward the door, all my impromptu selected equipment was where I left it.


    ¡°I see.¡±  I nodded, it was understandable, ¡°Did they take the car?¡±  I asked.


    ¡°Yeah, but don¡¯t worry,¡± Byron jerked his thumb toward the door, ¡°I requested a rideshare van, your budget can handle that, right?¡±  He asked with a chuckle.


    ¡°Right.¡±  I answered, it was true enough, between the embassy  and the University, in a way I was the luckiest student ever, what student gets an unlimited budget for anything?  Not many, that was for sure.


    If I¡¯d pushed for it, I probably could have gotten the Earth government to chip in too if I wanted.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±  I said, it was still a strange word for me, but I was starting to like the sound of it.  There¡¯s something to be said for acknowledging helpfulness.


    A horn honked outside and through the windowpane I could see a minivan pull up.  ¡°No problem.¡±  Byron remarked, and with that the three of us went to pick up all the supplies and leave the house, with the help of the guards outside, we got it all in one trip, and then we were on our way.


    But what we were on our way toward, I thought I knew, but the truth was I had no idea.

 Chapter Forty-Two

    Chapter Forty-Two


    The stadium had a virtually empty parking lot, but there were a handful of vehicles there at least. I had a vague memory of the black van near the front, and a bunch of hulking humans piling out.  ¡®I will never drink again.¡¯  I promised as I recalled the hangover the following day.  I still wondered if the ambassador himself remembered much about that evening.


    We exited the van and began hauling the boxes into the stadium, even though either Boatswain or Byron were easily large enough and strong enough, the bulk of the boxes was a bit excessive, and so we had to make two trips into and out of the empty stadium to make it work.


    Of course when I say ¡®we¡¯ I mean ¡®they¡¯.  As for myself, when I entered the wide open stadium I found a dozen of Byron¡¯s behemoths sitting on the bleachers with bottles of ale from a place called Stone Brewery, they were sizable bottles, but then again, these were sizable males of their species.


    ¡°Can you help me lay this out?  I¡¯ll explain the rules while they get the rest of it.¡±  I asked, and a couple of the hulking humans got up without hesitation, though most of them moved right away, I needed only two or three to assemble the remaining boxes and place them into position just behind a white line on the field.  Strangely, despite the entire world using a single standard measuring system, this one sport uses an outdated ¡®imperial¡¯ method from centuries before referred to as ¡®yards¡¯.  I made a mental note that if Ballyball ever did amount to anything, the measurements might have to change.  I snorted at the very idea.


    ¡®This is just a simple teamwork study on interspecies relationship building.¡¯  I reminded myself while the humans put together the boxes we would use for the successful scoring, but as the humans continued getting the spaces lined up for use they started to reminisce about how much fun they had with embassy security.  There were nicknames thrown around about their quickly struck up friendships, and it was then that I learned something remarkable and unexpected.


    ¡®They¡¯ve been keeping in touch?¡¯  I could hardly believe it.  ¡®They met only once, and were all thoroughly drunk¡­ I think.  At least by the end.¡¯  I tried to wrap my head around it, and was still trying when the greater part of embassy security walked in behind Boatswain and Byron.


    Several minutes passed in which no work was done.


    The reason none was done was because the two groups approached and began shaking hands and chattering, shoulder slaps, back slaps, and the occasion ¡®bro hug¡¯ as I came to learn the name, were exchanged.


    It was undlamisan, but very human to put off work in favor of socializing, but there it was, a core trait of my people¡¯s identity was tossed aside seemingly without noticing as soon as a handful of their favorite humans showed up.


    I covertly glanced at my datapad, I wanted to know how much time would be spent in socialization before they remembered we had to finish setting up¡­ but then the X factor intervened.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t.¡±  I muttered and, like everyone else, I looked up toward the sky as a roar of a freighter transport rang out over the empty stadium.  Most any freighter would have some small transport ships to make minor supply runs, deliver people or goods, or even serve to help a lucky few escape disaster.


    They were rectangular shuttles with sloped fronts and energy based shielding in the front. I couldn''t see Captain Bonny from where I stood on ground level, but as the ship roared in and cleared the top of the stadium, I had a distinct feeling she¡¯d be present.


    ¡®And she was probably steering it, too.¡¯  It felt wrong to make a leap like that, like I was accusing her, but I nonetheless felt as sure about that as I was sure I felt the soft ground beneath my feet.


    A multitude of eyes turned toward me.  ¡°I didn¡¯t tell them to do that.¡±  I protested while the shuttle landed outside.  It wasn¡¯t exactly quiet, and I was more than a little bit certain this would attract some unlooked for attention.  ¡®But what¡¯s a few more at this point, I¡¯ll explain it to security, as long as they don¡¯t damage anything, I don¡¯t ¡®think¡¯ any laws have been broken.¡¯


    Still, it made my tail stiffen.  ¡°Avast!  Avast and have at ye!  No matter the games ye land lubbers play, Captain Bonny Red will always get¡¯er way!¡±  She shouted when she sauntered into view while followed by two dozen of her crew, they were a motley lot, Bonny herself was dressed in something a little bit closer to modern tactical equipment, with closer fitting leather short pants emblazoned with the skull and crossbones over her thighs and a leather bodice with the same insignia over the middle.  Her eyepatch was gone, revealing two perfectly good eyes, and her gold earrings clinked together as she approached.


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    ¡°At least she didn¡¯t bring her sword.¡±  I said when humans and dlamisan security personnel both stared my way as if to say, ¡®What is this?!¡¯


    Her crew wasn¡¯t that different than her, save being mostly male and shirtless, though a few wore sashes across their chests, and a few wore tricorner hats.


    They were not, for the most part, as large as either security team, but they were clearly lean, strong, and a few were missing fur in places that were scarred over from what could only have been zenti cutters.  As my species went, they were a fearsome looking little lot.


    ¡°I briefed me crew on the rules of yer game there lad,¡± Captain Bonny said as she brushed past the security teams to approach me directly, she was a tad taller than I, and smacked her hand down hard on my shoulder, ¡°now where¡¯s that lass with the ball.  Or at least the ball?¡±


    I was about to tell her that Fauve wasn¡¯t able to make it when we were interrupted by yet another noise.


    ¡°Fight.  Fight.  Fight.  With all our might.  Fight.  Fight.  Fight.  With all our might.¡±  I knew some of those voices.


    ¡°The football team¡­¡±  I stopped and my hand darted for the datapad, a higher pitched set of far more feminine voices picked up the tempo.  ¡°By the dead gods of men¡­ what have I done?!¡±  I exclaimed and sought the email messages.


    I tapped on the one from Coach Wills and read it out loud.  ¡°Anyone who puts themselves in danger to help a little kid is worth helping out, if it would be useful, I can have the whole team show up and you can change things up a bit.¡±


    I backed out of that message and tapped on Lisa¡¯s message.  ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be here today if it weren¡¯t for William¡¯s help with tutoring.  If you like, I¡¯ll ask my team to come out and support you, after all, you¡¯re part of the team.  But is it OK if we bring some friends just to watch?¡±


    ¡°Laddy, ¡®ey laddy!¡±  Bonny said, waving her hand in front of my face, ¡°Dlamias to Bailey, you hear what I ask?¡±


    ¡°No, sorry, what?¡±  I asked, blinking a few times before the red furred dlamisa spoke again.


    ¡°What¡¯s with the crowd?¡±  She asked, ¡°How many people did you invite to this thing?¡±


    ¡°Not¡­ this many.¡±  I admitted, ¡°But-¡±  I stopped when she tapped her nose several times with one finger.


    ¡°Laddy, I was a scout, you might a¡¯well cut yer nose off as compare it to the likes a¡¯ me, savvy? I¡¯m not barkin about these here.  I¡¯m talkin about them what comin this way.¡±


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t¡­ what do you mean?¡±  I asked, but before she could answer, I saw Mavis and Coach Wills walking over to me dressed like they were ready for a game.


    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind, but the team thought the idea of an exhibition game with our alien visitors was so good that they told a few people.¡±  Mavis admitted¡­ same for the cheerleading squad, actually.  ¡°I mean do you blame them?  Nobody¡¯s ever gotten to play a sport with a bunch of aliens before?¡±  Her attempt at imitating Coach Will¡¯s stern and serious demeanor were failing rapidly.  She was practically dancing.


    It was all going so fast, I could hear the sound of honking cars.


    Out of the corner of my eye I could see the cheerleaders setting up, stretching and making themselves ready for their routines, and Coach Wills addressed me, ¡°Listen, you may be a good scientistical alien and all, but you ain¡¯t a coach.  You lemme look at those rules, I¡¯ll get the most out of everybody.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ what do I do?¡±  I asked.


    ¡°You write stuff down, that¡¯s your job, and course, you the waterboy.  Keep the water coming.  Or¡¯d you quit?¡±  He asked, his heavyset body seemed all the larger the way he asked that, and once again my attempt at objection was overruled.


    ¡°Ey, I like this one.¡±  Bonny said and looked the coach up and down, ¡°Got spirit, he has.  Arrr, give¡¯m the rules, mate, just take yer notes an let us all do the rest.¡±


    I felt quite outnumbered in that moment, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made, I could take better notes if I were standing off to one side, and Coach Wills did have team management experience that it would take me years to pick up.


    I handed over my datapad, and Mavis picked up the whistle dangling around her neck and blew, hard.  Dlamisans winced and let out a long ¡®rooooo¡¯ noise, adding to the brief cacophony before seeing him call everybody to him.


    While I went back to get the table laid out with water, I listened in while the coach began going over the rules.  It was not lost on me that a handful of people began to trickle into the stands and take out their phones and other devices to start recording.


    ¡°This¡­ this might have been a little bit much.¡±  I said to myself as I walked through the dim corridor and started filling coolers, the lack of ice was unfortunate, but I could already see Coach Wills mocking any complaints, and I wasn¡¯t going to be the cause of that.


    It took me almost twenty minutes to get it all ready, filling enough extra coolers that I had to grunt and strain, leaning back with all my weight to pull the cart with me back out the door and into the long corridor that would take me outside again.


    I turned around and leaned forward, grunting with the strain as I pulled what felt like several times my bodyweight in water, trying at the same time not to knock over the plastic foldable tables and disposable cups I¡¯d need to keep filled.


    I was straining so hard that I must have distracted myself, because despite having better hearing than humans, I never heard the hum of the drones until I stepped out of the shadow, into the light, and saw them hovering above the stands like a swarm of mosquitos, and nearly as numerous.

 Chapter Forty-Three

    Chapter Forty-Three


    Coach Wills took a moment to approach and return my datapad to me, his hand came out, he held the device between two pudgy fingers that must have once been monstrously strong, now waxing and waning between whether they would thin to bone or go to fat as time took its toll in his slowly declining years.  He spat into the grass when he held it out to me, I extended my hand to accept it, but he didn¡¯t let go.


    I wasn¡¯t quite sure what to do, I looked down at the device he wouldn¡¯t let go of and then up at him, ¡°Don¡¯t matter where you from, alien.  Don¡¯t care what nobody said.  Don¡¯t care what nobody believes.  You helped out where you were needed.  Far as I¡¯m concerned, you got a place on my planet.  Do what you gotta do, an see if you can convince the rest of em.  Good luck.¡±  He grunted and released his hold on the device then walked away from me without another word.  I couldn¡¯t hear what he was saying to his daughter on the sidelines, but it didn¡¯t matter.


    He had a point.  ¡°I¡¯ve got work to do.¡±  I told myself and began identifying everybody I could.  The football players I did by number, but that was when I noticed something.  Everybody wasn¡¯t on the field¡­ various pairs of dlamisan fortune seekers and security officers were paired off with different groups of humans, the same was true of human security forces and football players, each one interspersed into opposite numbers so that they alternated from one to the next.  ¡®This is different¡­¡¯


    The whistle blew, and the humans selected different types of throwables.  The football players chose footballs, but the security forces seemed to choose a greater variety of objects¡­


    The whistle blew again, and the dlamisans took a sprinting position down on all fours, tails stiff, bodies low to the ground.


    Then the whistle blew again, and I darted my eyes to where Captain Bonny was.  She was a waif of a thing next to the others, a little tall for a female of my species¡­ but slender compared to the hulking brutes. ¡®How can she think she has a chance¡­¡¯


    The various balls flung from human hands, the football players in long, steady arcs over distance while the security team members had a far wider array of results.


    My people are fast, fast and strong, and I admit I was proud, watching them race over the ground with speed few humans could even hope to match on their best days.  Charging forward, eyes low, predatory instincts high, it took everything inside me not to run with them, I could see now why there were others on the side.  Human hands held the shoulders of the dlamisans waiting for their turn.  I ignored the cameras and watched the way the humans positioned themselves, waiting for the return.


    At once it was obvious that the coach had modified my rules a little, offering a few yards distance for interception rather than right at the line.  The first dlamisan soldier caught his football¡­ in his mouth, unsurprisingly, chomping down hard, he immediately began his return.


    His muscles were rippling beneath ink dark fur and he ate up ground like floodwaters overran the land¡­


    Until the impact.  Two opposing humans charged forward, their hulking frames smashing into his, arms grappling, they picked him up and charged him back several paces before slamming him to the ground, one stealing his ball away before the other could take it, and flinging it into his own point basket.


    I looked toward Mavis, she had on a pair of augmented reality glasses and it didn¡¯t take a genius to see how she was keeping scores even beyond what her eye could track.


    But none of that shocked me like the noise.


    Cheering and ¡®ooohs¡¯ I yanked my head left and right and saw that seats were starting to fill with visitors.


    My spine tingled as I began frantically dashing down notes and sought out the wily Captain.  She had her ball before I knew she had it, but carried it in her hand.  She had abandoned the faster gait of being on all fours and ran like a human sprinter even though it slowed her down.  ¡°Rooooooooo!¡±  She howled out and drew eyeballs toward her, a dlamisan security officer banked toward her attempting to knock her off her feet the way I¡¯d been bowled over in the past.


    If she could smile like a human, she would have.  She jumped, landed on his back, and hopped off.  ¡°Roooooo!¡±  her wild howl carried through the air as she hopped on the backs of runners as she sprinted toward her goal, the human thrower she worked with clearly had more of an eye for teamwork than the last one, as he stuck out his foot and tripped the human on the left, then ran across the front of the hopping mad ship captain and slammed bodily into both an oncoming dlamisan crew member and a human attempting to interfere in Bonny¡¯s return.


    ¡°Roooo!¡±  She held up her hands in triumph as she scored the first point and took position again.


    Out on the field it became a melee of strength against strength, speed against speed as my people vied to get closer to the goal and into the reach of their respective human throwers.


    The crowd was larger, and in a moment of inspiration I flicked on my datapad and scrolled to the nearest local media outlet.


    ¡°In an impromptu exhibition we¡¯re told was jointly planned by the alien exchange students and the University of Louisville¡¯s football team¡­ along with a handful of other advisors from local security teams for our joint embassies, a new sport is being introduced on Earth.  On site with us we have someone closer to the inventor of this new sport who is able to tell us a little bit about it.¡±


    The camera panned over and I saw, of all people, Fauve.  ¡°Miss Walker, what¡¯s this sport called?¡±


    ¡°Ballyball.  It was invented by Bailey, the student staying with us.¡±  She said and waved at the camera.  ¡°Hi, Bailey, sorry I couldn¡¯t be there to watch!¡±  She gave a big toothy grin and the young reporter quickly moved on to the next question.


    ¡°And why was it invented?¡±  The reporter asked, while behind them we could see the screening of the live play taking place as Byron sacked a dlamisan security officer and knocked the ball free.


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    ¡°So we¡¯d have something to play together.  See you can only play a proper game of Ballyball with aliens and humans playing to our strengths, they¡¯re faster, we¡¯re more flexible, and we¡¯re both,¡± she made to flex a bicep, ¡°really strong.  So he wanted a game we could all play together, because people who play games together can''t bring themselves to hurt each other afterward.  Even if those games get a little rough, that¡¯s just part of the fun.¡±  Fauve said as if she were quoting me.


    My jaw dropped, and I turned half my ears to listening to that, moving the video aside on the screen to go back to taking notes as I watched strategies begin to evolve among teammates and rivals.


    The pirates weren¡¯t as big as the security officers, but they were hardy folk and they evolved impromptu short term alliances, tossing balls back and forth to one another to avoid giving up a point, I looked down at the video monitor, Bonny Red was getting a lot of screen time with her shocking degree of acrobatics, often jumping off of her counterparts to return the ball back to its destination and score another point.


    Again and again, throwers positioned themselves and runners took position, breathing hard, it was the purest form of athleticism I¡¯d ever seen, muscles rising and falling, my airsacs seized up just watching the sport evolve.


    Eight times the Captain of the Red Spark scored without being touched, until an adroit human jumped up himself, wrapped his arms around her waist, and brought her crashing to the ground.


    The crowd gasped, I flipped to the video feed while darting my eyes up, the stadium had more and more people streaming in and filling seats.  It wasn¡¯t hard to figure out from there.


    ¡®Teresa is behind this.¡¯  I knew it, it was a most undlamisan like leap of intuition, the logic obvious only in hindsight, off to my right the cheerleaders were doing their all to get the crowd into the game, their own acrobatics sometimes mimicking Bonny Red.  For a moment though, when she went down, hard, from eight feet in the air, the whole game ground to a halt.


    The one to tackle her got up, and for impossibly long seconds, the giant monitor flicked on to life.  I don¡¯t know which camera caught it, but I could hear the murmuring of the crowd as their sudden favorite lay wounded in the grass.


    Then, on the monitor, the zoom in caught the one to take her down, leaning over her, she was breathing hard, her limbs spasmed for a moment¡­ and in a single instant of utter selfishness I could never forgive myself for, I admit¡­ I was afraid for my chances at success.


    But leaning over her, the human to bring her down extended a hand, and she cocked her head, flopping her ears out, and took his hand in hers to let him help her back up to her feet.


    ¡°Ye knocked me wind out o¡¯me mainsails there, neighbor.  Good hit!¡±  She nodded enthusiastically, and another nearby human picked up the ball she¡¯d lost in the strike¡­ and tossed it back to her.


    She reflexively caught it in her mouth¡­ and then the game was on in a flurry of motion as if it had never paused for a moment.


    I noted the names and faces as best I could, reminding myself to get number and named shirts for everyone to play in like the football team, and resumed taking notes.


    As the game went on and players began to swap out, one set of teams began to be supplanted with another, and the crowds continued to roll in.  I¡¯m sure that popular human historical fictions that humans love to make, the ones that never let the facts get in the way of the truth, will show that the entire stadium was filled to the brim over hours.


    But that wasn¡¯t the case.  I doubt I could have handled it if it had been.  There were a few thousand there, but I noticed that the camera that interviewed Fauve showed the crowd up close, thus giving the illusion of being vast, and centered on particular players, thus creating crowd favorites with particularly good performances.


    Players that cycled out came in and drank their fill, and I did my best to keep the water flowing while noting the little contributions between teammates and rivals.


    Whoever worked the camera for the big screen made sure to catch particularly favorable acts of sportsmanship.  Watching the acts of competitive retrieval continue to evolve new strategies and ever shifting alliances formed by glances in a single instant only to be abandoned and reforged from one throw to the next in both retrieval and interception, the scores began to tighten up.


    And when the student news arrived to start interviewing players, their cameras out and microphones extended the same way toward merchant sailor or dlamisan security officer or football player or human security officer¡­ ¡®backstories¡¯ began to emerge.


    I suppose it was inevitable though.  Bonny Red, as humans say, ¡®stole the show¡¯.  She struck a pose with a simple water cup and told wild stories, her head tilted up with pride, her chest thrust out as if she were a proud human, the ¡®pirate bodice¡¯ and other dress gave her a dashing, romantic air that was both familiar and alien to human and dlamisan alike.


    Her silken voice was sweet and smooth like honey and she played it up for all it was worth.  ¡°Aye a¡¯course I wanted to find a safe port of call, but ye can¡¯t hope to get nothin without risk.  Not many neighbors out there,¡± she pointed up toward the endless blue sky, ¡°understand that like me.  Thas why I like humans.  Yer a right brave folk, strappin explosives to yer behinds to send you rocket¡¯n up toward space.  Lot a folk out there think yer nuts.  But I likes it I do.  If¡¯n ye gotta sail the void, ye need good mates and good ships and good ports, an I figure humans got all three.¡±


    I had to wonder if she wasn¡¯t laying it on a little thick, but it felt real to me, the way she praised them it was like she¡¯d finally found people who might understand her.  So even if it was a little thick, I think it was sincere.


    The crowd continued to thicken until the players began to tire, dlamisans began to weaken, human tackles and throws lost something of their edge¡­


    And the whistle of Coach Wills finally blew.


    ¡°Time for the final scores!¡±  All the frisbees and balls had been used up and stored, and thanks to the augmented reality glasses and a little communication with whoever managed to get the scoreboard going, the tallies began to come out.  Another thing I neglected¡­ largely because I never imagined it would actually be this complicated, I could only conclude that Mavis got involved in identifying fixed teams, and kept my mistake from ruining the outcome, if not the true purpose of the observational study.


    In my first edition of this work, I spoke of the winning team, but with the long reflection of years, I came to realize¡­ it didn¡¯t matter.  The truth is, as recording devices showed dlamisan and human players socializing together and speaking openly with one another as if they¡¯d been friends for a lifetime, a far more important victory had been struck.


    A victory not won by individuals, or even paired off teams, or even me alone.


    It was us.


    All of us.


    Human of Earth and Dlamisan of Dlamias¡­ we both won that day, our whole worlds¡­


    In yet another undlamisan-like moment of intuition, I felt the winds of inevitable change sweep over my body and give me chills as if my fur were gone and I was as naked as a human.


    Nothing would ever be the same.


    Not for any of us.


    Not after that.


    And I was right.

 Chapter Forty-Eight -Epilogue-

    Epilogue


    Classes and my normal ¡®work¡¯ at my part time job went smoothly, I¡¯m sure some wondered why I didn¡¯t quit, after all I found an ¡®important¡¯ job. But I considered it part of my study of human dynamics. They were a unique cultural element and this was the only way to study them.


    Creative Writing continued and I¡¯d see Lisa on a daily basis, in the days ahead I¡¯m sure it¡¯s no surprise to you that we would become good friends. All those little things though, they¡¯re stories for another day.


    Captain Bonny Red¡¯s misadventures would become near legend in their own right, many of them I would be caught up in¡­ wholly against my will, as this volume comes to its end, let me tell you this about the first evening taking her and her crew on the town¡­ it was a night to remember. By then every member of the crew became a celebrity on Earth, after all, they and the embassy security teams were the only ones capable of playing Ballyball, and with the help of the late Percival T. Barnum¡¯s organization, administered by his heir, Teresa, it reached a global audience and promised to spread much, much farther in the very near future. Complete biographies¡­ less the parts that were to be kept secret back then, were composed, and Captain Bonny became the most renowned of them all even without her other misadventures.


    So much more remains to be said, after all, it is a fifty year stay that I¡¯ve written about, and I debated deeply in my hearts about where to close this volume out.


    In the end it was my Creative Writing teacher who gave me the answer I sought. She would tell me this, ¡°You should always end a story with something that makes a person want to read the next one, every end bears the seed of the new beginning, and you want everyone who reads the last word, to long for the next one more than they long for their next breath.¡±


    So with that in mind, I will tell you what happened the very next day after a house full of rooooing Walkers and their guards disturbed the whole bloody neighborhood¡­


    I was seated at the Heine Brothers Coffee House on the corner of Bardstown road, enjoying one of the local mocha specialties when I felt the glare in my direction. Like eyes were burning a hole in the back of my head. I turned around and saw what was totally unexpected.


    A female of my species. This by itself wasn¡¯t impossible. Captain Bonny Red was very female, and so were a number of her crew members. But those were all hard bitten merchant sailors. Or ¡®gentle-folk-of-fortune¡¯ as their Captain would put it.


    But this one? She was closer to being like me. Smaller, softer looking, like an academic or just an everyday member of my species.


    She wasn¡¯t however, one that I knew, and that set her apart. That and the way she glared at me.


    I quickly spun around to avoid looking at her further and focused on my coffee and my datapad. ''At least she''s at another table, but do I know her? Should I approach her? No. She''s just minding her own business. Maybe I remind her of somebody. Somebody she does not like.''


    I made a point of ignoring her, burying my focus into my work and my drink, the comfortable cool air of the shop and the light instrumental music that played in the background.


    Or so I tried to do. But her glare did not stop.


    I don¡¯t know quite when she got up, but it couldn¡¯t have been long, I hadn¡¯t even finished half my cup when I felt her standing over me. I shifted my attention to the digital table surface and tapped the menu option, I scrolled through, waiting for her to leave.


    Instead of leaving, she spoke, "You finally see another of our species, and you don''t even bother to ask what I''m doing here? You don''t introduce yourself? Nothing?" She said, and at that, I had to stop pretending she wasn¡¯t there.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen others of our kind here.¡±


    ¡°Of course you have, outlier.¡± She said, and I felt the bite of her intended use of the word.


    "I''m sorry?" He asked, "What-"


    "You are the one who goes by the name ''Bailey'' here, aren''t you?" She asked as if for an instant she was unsure she had the right one.


    I gave a dumb nod and she sat down opposite me without so much as a ¡®by your leave¡¯ or ¡®may I join you¡¯.


    ¡°Can I help you? Do I know you?¡± I asked, whatever her issue was, it was clearly with me.


    "You have the nerve to ask that?" Her glare intensified enough that her teeth were bared for a second longer than they needed to be when she spoke. "You take my spot at the University, then get a trip to Earth to study humans, and screw it up so badly that travel to Earth is prohibited for civilians and nonmarine personnel, other than the ones you gatekeep, thus sabotaging my entire planned career path... and you have the nerve to not even say hello, let alone know who I am?!"


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    "Yes. I suppose the answer is yes." I admitted, I had no idea what she was on about, and I suppose what she said was true, so I had no choice but to acknowledge it.


    I then tapped my choice on the menu, deciding to order a bacon and egg croissant since, angry dlamisa or not, I was definitely hungry.


    She was tapping her foot on the floor while she glared at me.


    "I picked up the name ''Bau'' when I got here. I think it was some kind of a pun when a human heard me say ''wow'' over one of their architectural wonders. Just call me that."


    "So... Bau, I genuinely have no idea what you''re talking about? And are you going to order something? It''s considered rude to visit a dining establishment and take up a table while not eating." I asked, I tried to place her face, but all that happened was a tickled memory about Captain Bonny saying she brought a single female dlamisan passenger with her on her trip to Earth.


    Still, she seemed to know me. But that was a one way street.


    ''She clearly seems to know me, did we go to the same interview?'' My memory came up empty, but my criticism of her lack of an order seemed to fluster her enough that she quickly started tapping items on the menu before settling in.


    "So you know their customs at least." She said, her glare softening a little, "But still, you have no idea what you cost me. How hard I had to work to get here." Bau seemed to practically shake with anger, her tail bristled and her scent was full of fury.


    "No, I don''t." I admitted, "I have absolutely no idea."


    My admission did not mollify her.


    ¡°I joined a merchant ship, the Red Spark. I paid every credit I¡¯d saved over years to get here, everything I had and that was cheap. I got lucky with even that much, I figured that if I joined a crew with an outlier Captain, sooner or later it would come here. I got even luckier that it was sooner rather than later, and I studied the local language for their capital region, I don¡¯t even have a translator implant like you!¡± She growled and tilted her head to show that there was no mark beside her ear where it would have been inserted.


    ¡°That was hard. English is an insane language. I don¡¯t have a host family to pave my way to an easy success. I¡¯ve had to work for it all.¡± she leveled her arm at me with her unwavering finger far closer to me than I was comfortable with. I inched back in my chair by a finger width or two.


    ¡°But you watch me, Bailey. I will surpass you. I will rise to the top of Terran studies. I, not you, will become the galaxy¡¯s leading expert on this species. You got in my way enough as it is!¡± Bau was seething when she said it, but I was no less mystified than before.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know exactly who you are¡­¡± I said, and she fell silent, staring at me as if I¡¯d grown a second head on my shoulders.


    ¡°You¡­ you infuriating male!¡± She snapped as soon as she could form words again. ¡°You¡¯re even more annoying than I remember!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not helping.¡± I said, I was trying to be sincere, and for a moment at least we had quiet when the human barista approached and set small saucers down in front of each of us.


    The rich smell of bacon, eggs, and fresh baked bread was enough to at least buy us a few moments of silence, and help her to settle down.


    ¡°My mother didn¡¯t have the means to get me into the programs you got. My mother didn¡¯t take the time to get me into the choice packs that would fasttrack me through to a higher education. My mother didn¡¯t do any of the things for me that yours did for you.¡± She growled and drummed her fingers on the table while I ate.


    ¡°Your food is going to get cold. It tastes a lot better, hot.¡± I cautioned her, she huffed and threw the whole thing into her mouth at once. ¡°And how do you know what my parent did for me?¡±


    ¡°Infuriating¡­¡± She growled again and accepted the medium sized paper cup the barista brought to her a moment later.


    I cocked my head toward her and waited.


    ¡°You may have been young when I left, but I can hardly believe you don¡¯t remember your own sister.¡± She said and leveled her steady gaze at me.


    I don¡¯t know what I expected her to say, but it wasn¡¯t that.


    Nor do I know what she expected me to say, and we had that much in common, so I said the only thing I could think of at the time.


    ¡°Would you like to join my family and I for dinner?¡±


    Her jaw dropped, then closed, then opened. ¡°Infuriating¡­¡± She said and drummed her fingers on the table.


    Her stomach growled.


    It was the only noise between us.


    ¡°Yes.¡± She answered, albeit reluctantly.


    Thus began the next stage in a life I never dreamed of living until I had it, and wouldn¡¯t have traded for anything in the world, even if it was a little chaotic.


    And if I am being completely honest, and I should be, given the spirit of this text, I kind of liked it that way. It was enough to make a boring academic wonder if maybe¡­ just maybe¡­


    I was an outlier after all.

 Chapter Forty-Four

    Chapter Forty-Four


    I wish I could take credit for the close of the first game, how the pairs of players shook hands and traded words of good will.  But I can¡¯t, Mavis and Coach Wills, I came to learn, were taking a few moments during the player cycling to tell each of the newcomers among my people a little more about how humans viewed sportsmanship.


    And a little more about how to show you wanted to do that again.


    So the gaggle of players formed two lines and began to file past one another, shaking hands and congratulating each other on their performances.  They were sweaty, grimy, and to be kind about it, filthy messes.  Humans sported bruises, and Captain Bonny had earned herself an eye that now needed a patch at least temporarily, and she was less sore than most.  The bruised up humans definitely stank to the stars.  Humans smell absolutely rancid when they sweat.


    It was enough to make me wonder if this was an evolutionary defense against predation?  Something to look into later.  ¡®I don¡¯t think the no biting rule needs to exist, no dlamisa in their right mind would take a bite out of a sweaty human.¡¯  I shuddered even to think about it.


    Stench aside, it was a resounding success, and the spark of competitive spirit was lit in the very best of ways.


    Lisa, in a moment of what I can only call pure inspiration, approached the bins where the balls and frisbees were sitting, waiting to be loaded back up and taken to the Walker house, and began to hold them up one by one.  ¡°Souvenirs for our friends from beyond the stars!¡±  She shouted, and began tossing them over to the sailors, who immediately locked their limbs and chased after them one by one.


    Lisa, if I did not make this clear, was of the sort of humans that were considered nearly universally to be ¡®beautiful¡¯ and she was in the flower of her youth.  She clearly knew it, and played to it when the cameras were on her, chucking one after another toward a select dlamisan officer or sailor and getting them to run one last time.


    It was pure spectacle, but nobody cared, except perhaps the one to catch whatever was thrown.


    Unsurprisingly, Captain Bonny, when her turn came, did as she did during the game and blended the all fours running with something close to human gymnastics, rising from four legs to two for the final leap and snatching a frisbee out of the air in her jaws with a gracefulness that a human ballerina would have envied.


    She landed with a pirouette and held the disc in the air like a prize before sauntering back to the others, she kept the ¡®head tilt¡¯ look on her face, it struck me as manipulative to do that.  She learned somewhere, probably from movies, that humans liked that expression on our race for some reason.  I suppose I have no right to complain, whether you manipulate someone for a minute or an hour, or do with one person or nine billion, manipulation is manipulation.


    And I was confident she meant no harm, she was just trying to win them over.  The truth was, looking back, I was no different.  I did believe in the work we were doing, the study I was performing.  But my motivation?  I was driven by my own desires, my own wants.


    I just didn¡¯t want to leave my humans, and the only thing that wasn¡¯t secondary to that was my academic integrity, but even that?  I look back at that now as a half formed joke.  It wasn¡¯t motivated by some lofty ideals, but by the realization that I would put my humans in danger if shoddy work studying their species ultimately led to a breakdown in relations that were only just barely beginning at the time.


    After each of the bins were emptied, she had one tennis ball left, and held it up, most of the dlamisans held their prizes in their mouths, but the fact that they got theirs didn¡¯t stop them from eyeing the one in Lisa¡¯s hand.


    ¡°And hey,¡± she shouted, ¡°One for the waterboy that made all this happen!¡±  She then threw the ball in my direction and I didn¡¯t even hesitate.  I jumped ¡®mostly¡¯ straight up, caught it in my mouth and¡­


    I did say ¡®mostly¡¯ straight up.


    That ¡®mostly¡¯ took me over the middle of the table where gravity worked its mischief, and I came crashing down, landing on my back and sending the table toppling to the ground with cups going every which way.  My fur was drenched, but I didn¡¯t care.


    I¡¯d caught the ball, after all.


    When I got back up and brushed myself off, I found myself face to face with a skinny young man who I can only describe as being in ¡®cosplay¡¯.  I say this because despite the fact that we were living in the modern era, he was dressed as if he were from the humans mid-twentieth century, complete with suspenders, a funny hat called a fedora, and pad and pen in his front pocket.


    I had questions.


    Lots of questions.


    But he beat me to the punch, ¡°How soon till the Ballyball leagues get started?  Will you book the stadium for future games or build special ones for different types of team play?  How much of a role did football play in coming up with this?  Do you have sponsorship yet?¡±


    He peppered me with questions in a nasal voice that felt rushed and overeager, and from my point of view he was standing just a little too close.


    ¡°What, sponsorship?  No.  No, we don¡¯t.  I mean, the equipment was paid for by the education department of my University¡­¡±  I was flustered, thrown off by the rushing of his questions and from my hard landing, but he seemed not to notice that, and maybe he didn¡¯t?  Our faces are hard for humans to read.


    ¡°So interschool competition, and you¡¯re still available to sponsor.  Well you certainly captured people¡¯s imaginations today with this one.¡±  He said without pause, but I had to jump in.


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    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±  I asked and rubbed my head where I¡¯d bumped it after landing on the table.


    His voice changed and he pulled the microphone back, suddenly sounding a lot less like an old timey reporter he whispered, ¡°Dude, you¡¯re trending!¡±  He held out his mobile device and thumbed through things, ¡°Play it up,¡± he whispered, ¡°this could be my big break!¡±


    ¡®All those devices¡­¡¯  It hit me all at once.  Nobody had ever seen this game before, and humans talked a lot.  Some told some more who told some more, the ones who showed all had devices that streamed whatever they pointed them at to audiences everywhere.  Louisville was an intercultural amalgam of a city, the University of Louisville was a hub of education for numerous different humans from around the world.  All of them had their social followers and channels where they put out whatever¡­


    And then¡­ ¡®Just what did Fauve suggest that Teresa do?  What were these ¡®work assignments¡¯ recently?¡¯


    So many questions.


    But all I could do was go with the moment and cope with this pseudo-costumed reporter and answer him as best I could.


    He probably would have talked all eight of my ears off, but before he could manage to make even one fall free of my skull, I was saved.  Lisa¡¯s hand on his shoulder got his attention, he looked over and saw her pretty bright eyes and a smile I knew he had to find charming, she tilted her head and said, ¡°I¡¯m afraid we need to borrow him for a bit.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±  He stammered and Lisa¡¯s slender hand drifted down to his lower back.


    ¡°Let me just say, he has people who need him at the moment.¡±  She added and with what I can only suppose was a light pressure, got him to move aside to make way for me.


    I, however, was still somewhat flustered.  In the back of my mind I was mentally tallying the recorded data, occasions of rendered aid and the rapidity of shifting bonds on the field as pairs gelled together.  That was the easy part.  But between the shouts and the noise, and the constant hum of drones, the rest was a bit more than I expected.


    Lisa had not been making things up just to get me some space, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder to where the Walkers were standing just inside the tunnel.  I¡¯d been so drowned out with the smells¡­ and the stench, that I somehow missed theirs.


    Fauve had a grin on her face that no dlamisan idiom could ever describe, to borrow a human one, she looked like the cat who swallowed the canary, which is to say smug or cocky self satisfaction.


    She rushed ahead of her parents, though she did her best not to run, and looking up at me she asked, ¡°So, what¡¯d you think?¡±


    I had to ask, ¡°About what?¡±


    She crossed her arms, snorted and looked away, ¡°Yeah, like all those drones just showed up out of nowhere.  I was explaining everything to Teresa and told her what you were doing, what this was supposed to accomplish, and she said¡­¡±


    Fauve did her best to imitate Teresa¡¯s imperious and peremptory voice, ¡°You can¡¯t come to me with a story like that and expect to do nothing with it.  Half of media relations is being ahead of everybody else.  The other half is controlling what everybody sees when they finally catch up to you.¡±


    She cleared her throat and resumed her normal speaking voice, ¡°So anywho, she made a few calls to some popular D-bloggers, you know, the drone bloggers like the ones who showed up at the house before¡­¡±  my tail stiffened and ceased its wagging motion.


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine, they just chase stories, and the first interplanetary sporting event?  Who wouldn¡¯t want to be the first to stream that?  It got picked up by local news and from there it got picked up by more and¡­¡±  Fauve uncrossed her arms and pulled her datapad out of her pocket, ¡°Remember what Mr. Barnum said about perception?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡±  I said, and while I said it, Fauve was opening up an autogenerated site that included pictures of some of the players along with names and bios, their photos were mostly captured in motion, and unsurprisingly Fauve went straight to the Captain.


    Her photo was in mid leap, pushing off somebody¡¯s back with the grace of a gymnast.


    I glanced at the data, already there were some other photos and a fan site link, her photo from the landing of her ship, and a short biography gathered from a short few minutes conversation in between her rounds on the field.  I read it out loud.  ¡°Advance force recon with six confirmed Zenti ships destroyed, merchant captain with three hundred systems visited over a thirty year period¡­¡±  Fauve made her own impressed whistle for me.


    ¡°So cooooool!¡±  She practically squealed, balling up her hands at chest height and almost dancing with excitement.  I raised my eyes from the datapad and looked at her in lengthy silence.


    Fauve coughed into her hand and tried very hard to become a ¡®professional young lady¡¯ again, then said, ¡°Anyway, they¡¯re being turned into celebrities, a couple of other sports teams showed some interest in crossplay and Teresa contacted some shoe companies and equipment manufacturers about sponsorship.  The New Kyoto plaza even put the game on the big screen, see?¡±  She asked and tapped on the screen to show a video of someone videoing the crowd and the giant screen on the tower.


    ¡°Teresa says that everybody is a pacifist when peace is profitable.¡±  Fauve relayed the words of her mentor and¡­ I couldn¡¯t really argue.  ¡°So anyway I helped out as much as I could¡­¡±  She lowered her eyes a little, ¡°Sorry I didn¡¯t tell you¡­ I thought if I did, you might tell me not to.¡±


    ¡°Better to ask forgiveness than permission?¡±  I asked, and she gave me a little nod, her eyes welled up.


    ¡°I know you think your experiment, your study is enough.  But¡­ but I couldn¡¯t do nothing.¡±  She bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering, ¡°I figured if everybody on my world wanted you to stay as much as I did, we did¡­ maybe it would make it easier to convince your University not to make you go away¡­¡±


    I wondered how long it would take me to get used to the volatile emotional states of human children.  But the truth was, she might have expected me to be upset, or angry, or flustered.


    But I couldn¡¯t be.  A couple of humans, with a handful of volunteers, ignited a firestorm of interest in a sport, just to keep one alien Earthbound?  It was unthinkable.


    ¡°Unthinkable.  Wonderful.  And to be honest¡­ a little bit scary.  But most of all¡­ wonderful.¡±  I hadn¡¯t said it loud enough for her to hear me over the still fading tumult.  So I answered her another way. It wasn¡¯t my first time giving a hug of course, and doing so was a little clunky for me still, but I did my best.


    Sometimes for all my love of writing things down, data, and well reasoned explanations, even I had to admit, one big hug said more than ten thousand hours of lectures.


    I had a lot to do still, I knew that.


    But the day was looking up.

 Chapter Forty-Five

    Chapter Forty-Five


    There¡¯s so much I have to leave out of my journals that whole volumes of speculation have been written since my first edition, about just what I left out.  Some of them are flattering, some of them not so much.  But the truth is that most of what was left out, was left out because it contained nothing of interest.


    In the immediate aftermath of the first game of Ballyball, we cleaned up.  That¡¯s it.  My back wasn¡¯t too badly injured of course, though the table had to be replaced, a fact Lisa apologized for repeatedly, and the respective teams were fairly well bonded.


    I gathered copious notes that would take me days to sort through, and I had to wait patiently while Captain Bonny gave her crew directions.


    I will relay only one relevant part about what she had to say, she was a very active speaker, strutting around in front of the handful she chose from her crewmembers, and saying, ¡°...Now ye know why I say we come here.  There be fame and fortune to be had, and good mates what see things like we do.  All them systems we went to, anyone ever have a time like this one?!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Was resoundingly shouted back.


    ¡°Ye wanna do it again tomorrow?!¡±  She demanded an answer in a long trilling voice.


    ¡°Aye!¡±  They answered with vigor and wagging tails.


    ¡°Then when that¡¯n,¡± she stopped in her tracks and pointed to me, ¡°tells ye to jump, even if it be off a plank, ye jump.  Yer mates get outta hand, grab¡¯m by the tail and ye drag¡¯m back to me or ye be as guilty as they!  Anyone what makes trouble fer anyone on this voyage, I strand on an asteroid with not but yer tail to chase.  Anyone what don¡¯t report trouble, they can be on the next asteroid over.  Any riddles to throw at me, lads?¡±


    ¡°No, Cap¡¯n!¡±  They shouted back, each of them clutching their souvenirs like treasured objects and awaiting their next orders.


    I noticed that the two security teams were watching the ship captain with mutual approval, I could only suppose that ship discipline had to be particularly strong for a ship to survive in the great gulf between systems.  That wasn¡¯t much of a shock, really.


    It takes a rare breed of any species to make the leap into the darkness and sail the void.  It was no place for the faint of heart, so it was no wonder that the ship Captain with her strange blend of panache and charisma would be found in a place like that, or with a crew to match.


    ¡°Then get yer hides back on the shuttle, ther be rum aplenty to be had when all is said and done, but fer now, we go back to the ship!¡±  She ordered, and the raggedy band disassembled and trotted toward the exit, a handful of humans were still in the stands watching the closeout of events from the day, and I couldn¡¯t blame them.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The Captain approached me and clapped me on the shoulder.  ¡°Translator, off.¡±  She said, and I reflexively did the same.


    I hadn¡¯t spoken my native tongue since I got to Earth, there was no point, with only two lungs and their limited mouths, humans couldn¡¯t hope to manage my language.  Dlamisan is unique, our airsacs are asynchronous, meaning we can inhale and exhale at the same time, as such when we expel gasses for noise making, such as language, we do it in a fashion that is, not to be too proud, but musical.  You have to be able to sing a range of notes in an asynchronous fashion that blends all three airsacs at once.


    Our pitch can be very low or high enough that it is inaudible to humans, and similar to the whistling language spoken in some parts of the human world, we can be heard for kilometers away in the right situations.


    ¡°Thank you for your support, researcher¡­ Bailey.¡±  She said, I was rather surprised to hear someone so newly come to Earth expressing gratitude like a human, and had to remind myself that she¡¯d met their species before.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ welcome.¡±  I said, I had to look up at her up close, even with her left eye swelling a little, she seemed to be in good spirits.


    ¡°Right, now that¡¯s out of the way, listen, my sailors are good ones, but they¡¯re rowdy, if you can get some of those big ones to help mind them, I¡¯d feel a lot better.  Even better if you can set up somewhere for them to,¡± she paused and licked her chops, ¡°drink at least until they get their tolerance up, it¡¯d be safer.  They¡¯ve been in the darkness a long time, they need to cut loose, but not too quickly or they¡¯ll be like we were on that field.¡±


    It was strange not to hear her piratish words, but even common enkati does not allow for words to be used quite like that.


    Still, with the musical formalness of enkati, she was precise in what she wanted and I was able to quickly shift my thinking.  ¡°We can arrange an offsite place, and arrange for more physical games here.  Things that will tire them out before they get too enthusiastic and too drunk.¡±


    The strange thing about hearing and using the enkati language when including the english language is that their concepts did not mold exceptionally well.  They created hard stops to the steady flow of our words as if we were unfamiliar with its use even though it was quite literally ours.  Words like ¡®drunk¡¯ were blunt and harsh compared to our lyrical tongue.


    Though I never did tell her I believed this, I think that roughness of tongue is what Captain Bonny liked, the thick meaty swear words of human languages appealed to her outlandish nature.


    However, the more important thing to keep in mind here was why she chose to use enkanti to speak with me. She hadn¡¯t said it, but the long silence and the stiff tail told me plenty.


    ¡®Not everybody on her crew is without mud in their fur.¡¯  I realized.  Crime on dlamias is and has been fairly rare for a long time. I would not say our society is perfect, but we are so well ordered that few are out of work or devoid of purpose.  Still, we do have a kind of criminal class, ones who gave in to their predatory natures, most of that sort are routed early into military service, often given dangerous jobs, and few survive the void of space for more than a few decades.


    Captain Bonny might have taken to her pirate persona for more reasons than mere personality and a desire for panache.  I understood the subtext of her words in the context she spoke them, and I curled my tail to the left where she could see it.  ¡°If no one here is harmed, it will be fine.  But tell me the truth, the other ship lives?¡±

 Chapter Forty-Six

    Chapter Forty-Six


    I admit, my inner coward quailed.  ¡®Are you insane?  Asking a question like that?!¡¯  Even asking it was almost the same as an accusation in enkanti, in our language, you seldom asked a question without a strong doubt about your belief being wrong.  And from our perspective, that is how it is, if you are sure you¡¯re right, why are you asking?


    If I had been human, I would have been sweating.


    We don¡¯t have a means to laugh as humans do, but her tail went into a wild wagging mode that was so vigorous that her behind wiggled with it, her entire body shivered as if she were deeply delighted, and her tongue lolled out when she cocked her head at me.  ¡°I heard you were a coward.  But that was a bold question.  Yes, I told the truth.  The ship is out there lazily making its way here and unless their Captain is spooked by some unmapped mote of space debris and gives it a wide berth, they will be here in a matter of weeks.¡±


    I tried not to be rude by inhaling deeply, but I have always had a good nose, and I doubted she¡¯d be able to hide any guilty pheromones from me, not this close at least.


    I detected none.  ¡®Either she¡¯s a killer colder than the void, or she¡¯s telling the truth.¡¯  I concluded and sighed, ¡°Fine.¡±  I acknowledged, ¡°I will speak to the embassy for you¡­ I take it they¡¯re rather cross right now?¡±  I asked and she nodded.


    ¡°For some reason they are miffed that I arrived here in place of a ship of the home world¡¯s official trade expedition.¡±  She said it as if she hadn¡¯t violated every kind of decency and protocol of our homeland.  But I was sure she was only pretending to be ignorant.  Ignoring her as soon as possible was likely the way the ambassador was expressing his displeasure.  Though I doubted he knew she had some less than silver reputation crewmembers, otherwise he would be more cautious.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it.  Just promise that everybody participates in my studies and that I can get a full report on the outside experiences with their guides.  All the interviews I ask for, and that nobody will do anything to sabotage my efforts¡­ and no starting trouble!¡±  I insisted, and if anything, far from being troubled or intimidated, Captain Bonny seemed almost impressed or even pleased.


    ¡°You drive a hard bargain, researcher.  But I will meet your demands.  Just keep that tidbit about my crew under your tail and sit on it.¡±  She replied, and I had to ask¡­


    ¡°Why say at all, aren¡¯t you worried I might speak up?¡±  I asked, though my tail wagged hard enough that it was obvious I wasn¡¯t angry, my curiosity was piqued, that was after all, quite a bit to give away.


    She shrugged, ¡°It made sense.  You must be at least something of an outlier yourself, the only dlamisa to taste human blood.  I learned a little about you, you¡¯re an outlier.¡±


    Before now I might have bristled, ¡®outlier¡¯ was something of an insult among us, but as things were?  ¡®Can I deny it?  After everything?  Do I even want to deny it?¡¯  The truth was, I didn¡¯t.  I couldn¡¯t.  I wouldn¡¯t.


    When I didn¡¯t, she went on, ¡°I look after that motley lot, but this is new, I would need an ally here, someone I could trust.  And when you live in the void between stars, you learn that sometimes finding people to trust requires you to take a chance.  And star leapers like us are used to the occasional blind chance.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±  It was the best I could do, and Bonny Red only nodded once, whirled around in what I can only describe as a pirouette with panache, and sauntered away like she was standing on a stage with the whole world¡­ no¡­ two worlds as the audience.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if she knew about the thirty-fourth rule of human art, but I was sure she¡¯d learn about it soon enough.


    As to how she¡¯d feel about it?


    I never did have the courage to find out quite how she responded to that.  Truth is, I did not want to know.


    But with Captain Bonny gone, the rest was just wrap-up, clearing away debris, scheduling interviews with the different players, and getting schedules so more could play in the time ahead.


    William and Rebecca arrived without Michael, and were roundly congratulating me on an unexpected kind of success, chattering away and promising, ¡°We had no idea that is what she was up to.¡±


    Meanwhile, Fauve had set herself off to one side with that same ¡®cat who swallowed the canary¡¯ expression on her face that absolutely guaranteed that her parents were telling the truth.


    William, ever the worrier, asked, ¡°Is there any chance that this has made things harder for you¡­ anything we need to do¡­?¡±


    I shook my head and pointed down toward my wagging tail, ¡°No, this may make for some interesting variables, but I can always arrange for smaller private games without all the fanfare as an additional control.  I can¡¯t see how this would pose a serious problem.¡±  While I said that, I had made another mental note to add the soldier class dlamisans from the night at the park, and their human counterparts, to closer study.  Boatswain and Byron¡¯s bond might be far more common than I thought, and I couldn¡¯t help but think, ¡®I have so much more to learn¡­¡¯


    I was right, of course, at least as far as the experiment went.  And most of the problems it did eventually cause, weren¡¯t my problems, or problems for my humans, so I was able to sleep soundly while they went on later.


    Boatswain and Byron I did not need to schedule interviews with, I lived with them, more or less, so it was doable at my leisure, but even so, neither was willing to put off telling me how much fun they had.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t had a game like that since high school.¡±  Byron enthused, his big squared off head was smothered in green grass stains and a dark bruise was forming on his cheek.  I made a mental note to add helmets as part of the game.


    He was breathing hard still, he and Boatswain did what they could to hold each other up, ¡°And I¡¯ve never had a workout like that.  The giant dlamisan security officer enthused, ¡°The last time I had fun¡­ like that?¡±  His tongue lolled out, ¡°Alcohol was involved and it was while we were doing this!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you both had fun.¡±  I said sincerely, ¡°But please keep in mind that this is about more than fun, at least for me.¡±


    They bowed their heads in a show of deference that surprised me.  Up till then, I honestly wasn¡¯t too sure whether they actually liked me or not, foolish as that sounds, after all we hadn¡¯t done anything truly ¡®social¡¯ together outside of the limited familial or work related interactions.


    But I suppose they did, which¡­ felt pretty good I must say.  Humans have a saying, ¡°Tell me who your friends are, and I will tell you who you are.¡±  There is a great deal of truth to that.  Looking back on [Wolfbeard], I recalled the nasty, hateful, violent fantasy loving figures that dominated his life and called him ¡®friend¡¯, and he was not so different.  Looking at William and Rebecca, Latunde was a good man with his own business, and their friends, those few I knew, would put themselves out for him, such as Lisa.


    Looking at Fauve, who despite having ¡®few¡¯ friends, those she did were people who wanted to build, not destroy.


    So realizing that those two had a favorable opinion of me, well, their character said something to me of how they saw my own.


    It was something I knew I¡¯d have to live up to.


    ¡°So, what now?¡±  Boatswain asked.


    I looked at my humans and said, ¡°After we¡¯re done here?  Home.¡±


    That is, after all, where I really wanted to be.

 Chapter Forty-Seven

    Chapter Forty-Seven


    The next few days were good ones to say the least.  I attended class, wrote a few stories, answered a lot of questions, and went to work to tell a lot of stories and answer a lot of questions.


    But when I wasn¡¯t doing that, I was fielding requests from all quarters, I will relay a few.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t mind if you send somebody to the next game to measure the heads of various dlamisans to create custom helmets, but you could just as easily get the specifications for sizes from our military and save yourself several hours and the travel expenses.¡±


    ¡°No, I do not mind if you come out and get foot sizes and anatomy charts to figure out the optimal footwear design for a dlamisan athlete, but we don¡¯t normally wear shoes at all, if you really need it, reach out to Captain Bonny through the embassy, the scouts do wear footwear a lot and she can save you time and money, maybe she¡¯ll even have some examples you can buy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I can do an interview, but everything has to go through the Barnum Cooperation.  They will arrange it¡­¡±


    I spent a lot of time at the kitchen table, and Fauve never seemed to lose that satisfied expression, though she was ¡®ever so sweet¡¯ about my sudden leap into the public eye¡­ again.


    The reason for my sudden renown was the handing over of the lion¡¯s share of the credit for the invention of Ballyball, though I passed some back to Coach Wills for some impromptu innovations, maybe I can honestly say I did deserve most of the credit.  Even if it did come to mind in a drunken stupor.


    In retrospect, alcohol probably explains most forms of human sports, so it was fitting that the newest craze would originate the same way, from a dead man and his bottomless budget for booze at his final gathering.


    I think Percival would have approved.


    The sport however, gained instant international fame, it was the first of its kind, a sport that required cooperation between humans and aliens, and it was something that both of our worlds wanted.


    I spent hour after endless hour balancing my efforts between writing up my findings, conducting interviews, and scheduling new games¡­ and there were so many demands for games¡­ I barely had time for anything else.


    Fauve became my self-appointed secretary in the house after she heard that string of calls, confiscating my datapad and rerouting calls to her own.


    Rebecca of course, set down some firm limitations.  ¡°All schoolwork must be completed daily.  All chores must be completed daily.¡±  Things of that nature.


    We still hadn¡¯t had any further incidents or threats to the house or the family, but with my renewed prominence thanks to being live streamed all over the world for several hours straight, both my government and that of Earth decided security should continue for the time being.


    Getting Captain Bonny Red a space for drinking and carousing was easy, muttering the words ¡®efficiency¡¯ and ¡®safety¡¯ to my people¡¯s ambassador was all it took to get a few shipping containers set up as an impromptu bar that I would help with stocking¡­ and of course introducing the crew to the vast variety of alcohol that Earth had to offer¡­ but that is a story for the next volume.


    I still had to make sure that Boatswain and his companion weren¡¯t shipped off world, but within a month of submitting my conclusions to Professor Sxlith he signed off on them and transmitted my short term study of human/dlamisan cooperative efforts back to the University along with one more thing.


    The raw footage of the games.  I didn¡¯t know he¡¯d done it until I was sitting at the dinner table with Fauve and she was reading off the latest requests routed through Teresa for a meeting with the heads of several different investors.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°...So as I was saying, it seems that someone gave the major cooperations of sports investments and manufacturers the idea that you were the only dlamisan shareholder for the first Ballyball sports league and that you were the only one the embassy would listen to about bringing more of your species to Earth to sign on to play the game.¡±  Fauve said it with sarcasm so thick and rich that I could have smothered it on the hotcakes William made dadjokes over.


    But I was lost.  ¡°How exactly¡­?¡±


    ¡°It probably has something to do with a cooperation being formed in a human¡¯s name and then naming you the chief recruitment officer.  The two million in credits deposited into the account and the public disclosure required by law probably helped.¡±  Fauve answered and then handed me an envelope.  ¡°This came for you today too.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±  I asked, it had an actual digital seal on the face of it.


    ¡°The Ballyball League incorporation paperwork.  You still need to sign it.¡±  She said as if I would have some clue as to what she was talking about.


    I stared at her probably looking every bit as dumb as I felt.


    ¡°No, not me.  Well, I had help.¡±  Fauve admitted, ¡°I asked dad, mom, and Teresa.  I promised her two million credits out of my inheritance from Mr. Barnum if she would put down the seed money and help get it popular with sponsorship and franchises and¡­ all that other stuff I don¡¯t know enough about yet to do myself.  I had the idea, but I couldn¡¯t do it without people who could pull it off.  Dad suggested making it into a cooperative and giving you a position that would make a bunch of rich humans want to keep you here.  Mom had a friend of hers in the accounting department of her workplace help put the banking paperwork together to get it registered.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ what exactly does all this mean?¡±  I asked.


    ¡°It means Ballyball is an official sport now, that means you can name official teams to different cities all over the world, and because it has to have dlamisans or some other similar alien species to play it the way it¡¯s made, that means there¡¯ll be a bunch of people who want to open up immigration and get work visas for more of your people to settle here.  And it means you can get a long term work visa from your government that¡¯s even better than your student visa.¡±


    Before I could respond, I got the ding of a message from the University staff.


    I swallowed the lump in my throat as soon as I saw it.


    Fauve knew what it was before I told her.


    ¡°What is it¡­?¡±  She asked, and I swear that if she¡¯d been made of glass, she would have cracked, ¡°What does it say¡­ please¡­ Please don¡¯t make me wait to find out¡­¡±  Fauve never begged for anything, and this was about as close as she would ever come.


    Her eyes welled up and she did her best to blink them back as I silently read the message.  I admit, I felt a flash of guilt run through me for making her worry so much before.


    So I read quickly, faster than I¡¯d ever read before.  Then I read it again, out loud.


    ¡°...Extraordinary footage¡­¡±


    ¡°The most remarkable example of interspecies cooperation we have seen since the gaxa serpent incident¡­¡±


    ¡°Proof positive that firm bonds, not firm borders, make good neighbors¡­¡±


    I slowly lifted my face but I kept my eyes on the words.


    ¡°We find that while ample study remains to be done due to the very limited and short term sample size, the only way to effectively conduct further research into interspecies relations is to have familiar eyes on the ground that have already established the systems and methods of said studies.  Therefore we withdraw from consideration the motion to have the locally identified student ¡®Bailey Walker¡¯ removed from the planet Earth prior to the completion of his fifty year study¡­ contingent of course upon the peace between apex predatory species continues without concern for his safety.¡±


    ¡°Wait, so¡­ does that mean¡­?¡±  Fauve let the question hang, I could see her chest rising and falling as she threatened to hyperventilate where she stood.


    ¡°I¡¯m staying.¡±  I said.  I shot to my feet.  ¡°I¡¯m staying!  I don¡¯t have to leave!¡±  If I were capable of tears of joy, I would have shed them.


    All my hearts raced into my throat and I let out a wild and joyful ¡°Roooooooooo¡± and Fauve jumped against me with all her weight and squeezed me tighter than I thought she was capable of.


    ¡°Yaaaaaaaay!  I gotta go tell mom and dad!¡±  She shouted and rushed for her datapad to call them wherever they¡¯d gone off to, I¡¯d honestly lost track of their errands in the rush of everything, but I knew they¡¯d be ecstatic.


    Byron and Boatswain were on duty outside and heard the commotion, rushing into the house, Fauve yelled, ¡°He gets to stay!  He gets to stay!  Bailey gets to stay!¡±


    I wish I could remember everything.


    I really do.


    But I didn¡¯t record it, and it was such a wild day from there on out that all I remember was an endless series of howling ¡°Roooooooos¡± that carried on not only from dlamisan throats, but from those of human ones as well, and somehow, that just made it all the sweeter.

 ~Epilogue~

    Classes and my normal ¡®work¡¯ at my part time job went smoothly, I¡¯m sure some wondered why I didn¡¯t quit, after all I found an ¡®important¡¯ job.  But I considered it part of my study of human dynamics.  They were a unique cultural element, and this was the only way to study them.


    Creative Writing continued and I¡¯d see Lisa on a daily basis, in the days ahead I¡¯m sure it¡¯s no surprise to you that we would become good friends.  All those little things though, they¡¯re stories for another day.


    Captain Bonny Red¡¯s misadventures would become near legend in their own right, many of them I would be caught up in¡­ wholly against my will, as this volume comes to its end, let me tell you this about the first evening taking her and her crew on the town¡­ it was a night to remember.  By then every member of the crew became a celebrity on Earth, after all, they and the embassy security teams were the only ones capable of playing Ballyball, and with the help of the late Percival T. Barnum¡¯s organization, administered by his heir, Teresa, it reached a global audience and promised to spread much, much farther in the very near future.  Complete biographies¡­ less the parts that were to be kept secret back then, were composed, and Captain Bonny became the most renowned of them all even without her other misadventures.


    So much more remains to be said, after all, it is a fifty year stay that I¡¯ve written about, and I debated deeply in my hearts about where to close this volume out.


    In the end it was my Creative Writing teacher who gave me the answer I sought.  She would tell me this, ¡°You should always end a story with something that makes a person want to read the next one, every end bears the seed of the new beginning, and you want everyone who reads the last word, to long for the next one more than they long for their next breath.¡±


    So, with that in mind, I will tell you what happened the very next day after a house full of rooooing Walkers and their guards disturbed the whole bloody neighborhood¡­


    I was seated at the Heine Brothers Coffee House on the corner of Bardstown road, enjoying one of the local mocha specialties when I felt the glare in my direction.  Like eyes were burning a hole in the back of my head.  I turned around and saw what was totally unexpected.


    A female of my species.  This by itself wasn¡¯t impossible.  Captain Bonny Red was very female, and so were a number of her crew members.  But those were all hard-bitten merchant sailors.  Or ¡®gentle-folk-of-fortune¡¯ as their Captain would put it.


    But this one?  She was closer to being like me.  Smaller, softer looking, like an academic or just an everyday member of my species.


    She wasn¡¯t however, one that I knew, and that set her apart.  That and the way she glared at me.


    I quickly spun around to avoid looking at her further and focused on my coffee and my datapad.  ''At least she''s at another table, but do I know her? Should I approach her? No. She''s just minding her own business. Maybe I remind her of somebody.  Somebody she does not like.''


    I made a point of ignoring her, burying my focus into my work and my drink, the comfortable cool air of the shop and the light instrumental music that played in the background.


    Or so I tried to do.  But her glare did not stop.


    I don¡¯t know quite when she got up, but it couldn¡¯t have been long, I hadn¡¯t even finished half my cup when I felt her standing over me.  I shifted my attention to the digital table surface and tapped the menu option, I scrolled through, waiting for her to leave.


    Instead of leaving, she spoke, "You finally see another of our species, and you don''t even bother to ask what I''m doing here? You don''t introduce yourself? Nothing?" She said, and at that, I had to stop pretending she wasn¡¯t there.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen others of our kind here.¡±


    ¡°Of course you have, outlier.¡±  She said, and I felt the bite of her intended use of the word.


    "I''m sorry?" He asked, "What-"


    "You are the one who goes by the name ''Bailey'' here, aren''t you?" She asked as if for an instant she was unsure she had the right one.


    I gave a dumb nod, and she sat down opposite me without so much as a ¡®by your leave¡¯ or ¡®may I join you¡¯.


    ¡°Can I help you?  Do I know you?¡±  I asked, whatever her issue was, it was clearly with me.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "You have the nerve to ask that?" Her glare intensified enough that her teeth were bared for a second longer than they needed to be when she spoke.


    "You take my spot at the University, then get a trip to Earth to study humans, and screw it up so badly that travel to Earth is prohibited for civilians and nonmarine personnel, other than the ones you gatekeep, thus sabotaging my entire planned career path... and you have the nerve to not even say hello, let alone know who I am?!"


    "Yes. I suppose the answer is yes."  I admitted, I had no idea what she was on about, and I suppose what she said was true, so I had no choice but to acknowledge it.


    I then tapped my choice on the menu, deciding to order a bacon and egg croissant since, angry dlamisa or not, I was definitely hungry.


    She was tapping her foot on the floor while she glared at me.


    "I picked up the name ''Bau'' when I got here. I think it was some kind of a pun when a human heard me say ''wow'' over one of their architectural wonders. Just call me that."


    "So... Bau, I genuinely have no idea what you''re talking about? And are you going to order something? It''s considered rude to visit a dining establishment and take up a table while not eating."  I asked, I tried to place her face, but all that happened was a tickled memory about Captain Bonny saying she brought a single female dlamisan passenger with her on her trip to Earth.


    Still, she seemed to know me.  But that was a one-way street.


    ''So how is it that I¡¯m familiar to her?  Did we go to the same interview?'' My memory came up empty, though I did vaguely recall that there was a female of my species in competition for my program of study that I beat out for the spot in Professor Sxlith¡¯s class.  But we¡¯d never met so¡­  How?  I remained at a loss no matter how I searched my brain, but my criticism of her lack of an order seemed to fluster her enough that she quickly started tapping items on the menu before settling in.


    "I see you know their customs at least." She said, her glare softening a little, "But still, you have no idea what you cost me. How hard I had to work to get here." Bau seemed to practically shake with anger, her tail bristled, and her scent was full of fury.


    "No, I don''t." I admitted, "I have absolutely no idea."


    My admission did not mollify her.


    ¡°I joined a merchant ship, the Red Spark.  I paid every credit I¡¯d saved over years to get here, everything I had and that was cheap.  I got lucky with even that much, I figured that if I joined a crew with an outlier Captain, sooner or later it would come here.  I got even luckier that it was sooner rather than later, and I studied the local language for their capital region, I don¡¯t even have a translator implant like you!¡±  She growled and tilted her head to show that there was no mark beside the ear where it would have been inserted.


    ¡°That was hard.  English is an insane language.  I don¡¯t have a host family to pave my way to an easy success.  I¡¯ve had to work for it all.¡± she leveled her arm at me with her unwavering finger far closer to me than I was comfortable with.  I inched back in my chair by a finger width or two.


    ¡°But you watch me, Bailey.  I will surpass you.  I will rise to the top of Terran studies.  I, not you, will become the galaxy¡¯s leading expert on this species.  You got in my way enough as it is!¡±  Bau was seething when she said it, but I was no less mystified than before.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know exactly who you are¡­¡±  I said, and she fell silent, staring at me as if I¡¯d grown a second head on my shoulders.


    ¡°You¡­ you infuriating male!¡±  She snapped as soon as she could form words again.  ¡°You¡¯re even more annoying than I remember!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not helping.¡±  I said, I was trying to be sincere, and for a moment at least we had quiet when the human barista approached and set small saucers down in front of each of us.


    The rich smell of bacon, eggs, and fresh baked bread was enough to at least buy us a few moments of silence and help her to settle down.


    ¡°My mother didn¡¯t have the means to get me into the programs you got.  My mother didn¡¯t take the time to get me into the choice packs that would fast track me through to a higher education.  My mother didn¡¯t do any of the things for me that yours did for you.¡±  She growled and drummed her fingers on the table while I ate.


    ¡°Your food is going to get cold.  It tastes a lot better, hot.¡±  I cautioned her, she huffed and threw the whole thing into her mouth at once.  ¡°And how do you know what my parent did for me?¡±


    ¡°Infuriating¡­¡±  She growled again and accepted the medium sized paper cup the barista brought to her a moment later.


    I cocked my head toward her and waited.


    ¡°You may have been young when I left, but I can hardly believe you don¡¯t remember your own sister.¡±  She said and leveled her steady gaze at me.


    I don¡¯t know what I expected her to say, but it wasn¡¯t that.


    Nor do I know what she expected me to say, and we had that much in common, so I said the only thing I could think of at the time.


    ¡°Would you like to join my family and I for dinner?¡±


    Her jaw dropped, then closed, then opened.  ¡°Infuriating¡­¡±  She said and drummed her fingers on the table.


    Her stomach growled, given that she¡¯d just thrown that meat into her mouth, I concluded she hadn¡¯t been eating well and her body was compelling her to take food where she could get it.


    It was the only noise between us, and it was a most angry noise¡­no.  She was ¡®hangry¡¯.  Which is to say ¡®angry because she was hungry¡¯.


    ¡°Yes.¡±  She answered, albeit reluctantly and stared down at her now empty plate.


    Thus began the next stage in a life I never dreamed of living until I had it, and wouldn¡¯t have traded for anything in the world, even if it was a little chaotic.


    And if I am being completely honest, and I should be, given the spirit of this text, I kind of liked it that way.  It was enough to make a boring academic wonder if maybe¡­ just maybe¡­ they were right about me?


    I was an outlier after all.


    I didn¡¯t know for sure one way or another, but as I said at the beginning of this narrative, ¡®Eventually every question has to be answered.¡¯