Love and Whiskers

by Olivia Myers

  Rhett was standing in front of an open bot box with the android's chest wide open. Zain might have mistaken him for doing an inspection if it wasn't for the fact that Stella had told him on multiple occasions that Rhett was an idiot and knew nothing about the bots she sold.

  A soft clink sounded as Rhett dropped something into the inner workings, and Zain didn't need another catalyst to confront him.

  “Rhett. What was that?”

  The other man jumped nearly a foot in the air at the intrusion, but didn't miss a beat with his response. “What was what, Zain?”

  “You dropped something in the robot. I saw you.”

  “Just something Stella asked me to do.”

  “I remember hearing that you're mechanically worthless.” The quip came back before he could check himself. But it was too late.

  Rhett put on a big smile as he approached Zain and clasped a hand on his shoulder in that annoyingly familiar way he thought he was entitled to.

  “Listen here, you little upstart shit,” he started conversationally. “You are to talk to no one of what you saw. If I even get a hint you did, I can ensure you spend the rest of your days in a space debris prison on any amount of charges. I know you’ve been getting really cozy with Stella, but I got news for you. She is mine.”

  Zain could feel his blood go hot with every syllable. “Look man, I don't know what you’re up to, but Stella sure as hell doesn't want anything to do with you.”

  Rhett laughed. “Is that what she tells you, you little lap dog? What do you think we do in her office for hours on end? Surely you don't think it is ‘business,’ do you?”

  Zain frowned. He knew they’d been a thing in the past but that was over. She'd told him on plenty of occasions that he was nothing but a pompous, annoying prick and she'd be glad to be rid of him. But she never did disclose what they were up to alone.

  “That has nothing to do with anything.” Even he could tell he didn't sound convincing.

  “Look, you little stow away, you forget I own you until that debt is paid off. So let’s just keep this little incident in between us or I might have to make Stella throw you out.”

  “No – wait a minute! What did you drop?”

  Rhett had turned to leave, but Zain latched onto his arm with his mechanical grip to hold him in place as he took a step toward the open bot. Rhett yanked, but to no avail, and Zain found it all too easy to ignore his yell of indignation. And he was all too engrossed in what he'd found. It seemed like a tiny sphere no bigger than a marble, but when his hand brushed it, his arm shot up with excruciating pain and consciousness left him before he could register what happened.

  *

  The yell of agony could be heard throughout the shop and up the stairs in the apartment. Stella sprinted down to the storage cell, only to find Rhett on the floor with Zain in his arms.

  “What happened here?” The question came out more demanding than she intended as fear made her stomach turn. What Rhett was doing in her storage room was beyond her, but that could wait until she found out what happened to Zain.

  “I don't know, he was just by this box. He screamed and dropped out cold. Was twitching for a few seconds.” Rhett looked up at her, and back down to the cyborg he was holding. “Is he sick or something?”

  Stella crouched, checked for breathing, and let out a sigh of relief. Zain was still alive, but what Rhett was describing were the same neural feedback problems Zain had exhibited before. A problem she had fixed herself.

  “This box?” She got up to move to the open crate and frowned at the android looking ready for operation. “Did you see what he was doing? Was it a bot malfunction?”

  Rhett shrugged. “I thought I saw him drop something inside. Figured he was doing maintenance or something for you, until he seized up and knocked himself out.”

  She nodded absently as she rifled through the bot's insides, only partially listening to him since he didn't seem to have anything particularly intelligent to say. Luckily, this model was pretty clean cut, which should make finding the malfunctioning part easy. And it did. Stella's fingers closed around the glossy marble and she lifted the piece to her eyes for inspection. She didn't speak immediately, but was aware of Rhett's eyes on her as she studied the nearly microscopic mechanics inside. In that moment, she knew two things: Rhett had been sabotaging her business. And Rhett was lying, because he could not have possibly seen Zain drop this into a robot and been the first to his rescue. That explained his presence in the shop, and his habit of dragging her into her office with the excuse that he wanted to talk business. “This? He was holding this?”

  Rhett pushed Zain back to the floor to get closer and nodded. “Yeah, I think that was it. I saw him drop a few before he freaked out.”

  Stella blinked at him in disbelief, hesitating only half a second before hauling back with her right arm to land a hard punch to Rhett’s face.

  It was punctuated by a satisfying crack and a yell of pain and surprise from the ganglord in front of her. “What the fuck, Stella! Are you crazy?”

  “Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?” She held up the marble. “He can't touch this! His body is nearly half robotic, this could damn near kill him!”

  Rhett's eyes widened. Obviously, he had not been aware of the brutal flaw in his plan.

  “You didn't fucking know, you idiot!” She shook her head. “You have been doing this! You've been sabotaging my business and almost killed one of my men – for what?”

  He opened his mouth and closed it, apparently unable to summon words. “I—I didn't sabotage! He's bad for you! He's dangerous, he's going to drag you down and you know it's supposed to be you and me, Stell—”

  “Holy hell – you're lucky I don't beat the shit out of you right here! Do you know that?” She grabbed the nearest object, a dismembered leg from a bot she'd been working on the previous day, as if she was still thinking about it. Rhett took a step back and lifted his arms in defense.

  “Stella, you're overreacting. You don't know what's been going on—”

  “No, I think it's pretty clear.” She lifted the leg and let the weight of it fall back into her hand with a firm thud, and then lifted it again with both hands to connect with Rhett's head. His eyes widened at the impact, but he dropped back unconscious a moment later.

  Stella reached for her phone, keeping her eyes on Rhett as she dialed. “... Yes, I need an officer to my shop. Correct, Omega Block, Cell 540. Yes, I can give a statement.”

  ***

  The room was dark when Zain opened his eyes, except for the soft lamplight at the bedside. It took him several moments to recall that he was in his bedroom – Stella's guest room. And his memory was only stirred by the presence of the pixie of a woman at his bedside with a book in her lap. On advanced mechanics, naturally.

  He shifted to sit up and groaned at the throbbing in his head – which immediately reminded him what brought him there. His gasp for new air was what woke her.

  Stella blinked and let the book fall to the floor as she stood. “It's about time, I thought you'd sleep forever.”

  He shook his head, only to bring on another throbbing pang. “Rhett! Rhett's been sabotaging the robots! Stella—”

  She shook her head, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. “Don't worry about it. I know.” She crawled in to sit beside him, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees to get a good look at him. “I'm more worried about you right now. You clocked yourself pretty good.”

  He blinked in surprise, but was feeling far from unwelcoming. “I'm fine. Now I am, anyway. Thank you.”

  “Mm-hm. Doctor says you should take it easy for a while. I did some light maintenance on your arm and leg. We'll get you some painkillers and get to the heavy work later.” She reached out to feather her fingers through his hair and he tilted his head into the uncharacteristically gentle touch. “You scared me. He could have killed you.”

  He could feel his cheeks warm and was suddenly glad the room was dark. That was li
kely the most affectionate thing she'd ever said to him. The warmth of his blush was nothing compared to the delight enveloping his heart at the moment. Still, he managed to say with his typical flippancy, “I didn't know you cared.”

  “You grew on me,” she quipped back.

  He couldn't help a smile at that as he shook his head and sank deeper into the pillows. “You grew on me too.” He paused. “What's happening to him?”

  She shrugged. “I don't know. Don't care. Whatever the police think he deserves, I suppose. I'm sure he'll get away with plenty, but not fucking over my operation. And he's nothing for you to worry about anymore.”

  “For me? He's not going to come loan-sharking?”

  “Not if he has any sense of self-preservation.” She rolled her eyes. “You don't owe him anything.”

  “Oh. Then...thanks.” He fidgeted, unsure if he could trust the relief welling inside of him. “Do I still have a job?”

  Her lips quirked upward. “Yeah. If you want it. And you can stay. If you need to figure out your life.” He looked down at her hand when she reached to squeeze his mechanical knee. “I'd like it, actually.”

  Zain felt a burst of happiness at the softening of her expression. “I'd like it too,” he said. “I guess I won't be going anywhere for a while.”

  THE END

  The Big Bang Alien Love Affair

  Larissa stared intently down at the Wytrium's vast open space, at the waitservers going up and down through the air, darting madly with their serving boxes to and from the glittering dance balconies, gambling kiosks and cafes lining the round, sloping walls of her nightclub. The airskayts they wore allowed them to float and dance through the air at all different levels of the towering club. All around, people mingled. Danced. Drank. Laughed. Kissed.

  As she watched them, she said to herself, “I’m so tired.”

  "What you are, Lady Larissa," a gruff voice said, "is bored."

  Larissa looked up, startled, from her prone position on the floor, where her nose had been pressed to the transparent filmglass. She resisted the urge to scramble up like a naughty kid caught swiping candy. Control yourself, Larissa. Nobody can read your mind. They don't have a clue you're scoping out the club for decent men. Even you haven't quite admitted to yourself what you're doing.

  "Damn. I didn't see you. Floyd, is that you? What are you doing here?" she demanded. "Employees aren't allowed in the topcourt ballroom. It's undergoing renovation, as you can see."

  Negligently, she unstuck her breasts from the floor where they'd been smooshed, plucked her elegant necklace so it lay smoothly on her chest once again, and rose to her feet.

  The stocky human, dressed in his silver uniform, snorted, his weathered face wrinkling as his gaze fixed to her cleavage, which rose above the low neckline of her bodysuit. "Airskayt's broke. Twisted my knee when I landed. Went to tell management. Said they'd seen you and your tracker was on. Why you up here?"

  She ignored that. "Well, that was nice of them to share my whereabouts with anyone who asked. Guess I'll be having a word with security."

  "I ain't anyone—I'm your oldest employee. And your friend, too, right? Who else you got around here to talk to?"

  "Just the entire galaxy." She waved her arms. "Look around sometimes, Floyd. You work in the most popular nightclub on Jax-9. I can talk to anyone I like, anytime." If I want to fend off a hundred bizarre sexual proposals from a bunch of strangers, that is. Which I don't. Instead, I want...I want...what?

  "Those aliens? They're no company. I'm sick of seein' 'em all the time. They're all rude, slimy—"

  "That's enough, Floyd." She tried to ignore the way his gaze still seemed fixed on her chest, particularly the way her neckline rose a mere micron above the aureolas of her nipples. Dirty old man. She felt a bit sorry for him. "How are you? Everything been going smoothly here? Not too many fights breaking out in the gambling rooms? Your health okay?"

  "Guess so." He refused to let the subject stay changed. "Don't you tell me you don't care, Lady Larissa. You come from the same kinda background I do. We're both of pure blood, old families, first colonists. Your people's beautiful and rich, mine ain't, but that don't matter. Blood's what matters. Don't it ever get to you? Hardly any humans 'round here no more since the gates fell."

  "No, it doesn't matter. I like that my club is the one place on Jax-9 that anyone in the galaxy can come and feel like they won't be harassed. The persecution these people experienced before the reform was bad, Floyd. Real bad."

  He persisted. "I never see you with anyone. You're bored and lonely. How long's it been since you went out with a good-lookin' fancy fellow? Look at you, all hard-tittied." He waved at her breasts, and Larissa gasped and actually blushed at his audacity. At thirty-six, she hadn't even known she could blush anymore.

  Floyd went on, scowling. "I'd court you myself if you weren't half my age. And who you gonna go with——one of them? You're right to steer clear of this place most times. You go home. Stay away from this club. I know your vippy-vaulty family paid for this place 'cause you wanted it for some reason, I don’t know what. But it's no place for a nice young girl. There's dirty goings on here. You need to find yourself a decent man. Go where it's safe. Use a dating service. That's how I found Julloo, may her spirit ne'er expire."

  She crossed her arms over her chest, looked at him sternly, considered firing him on the spot—then burst into laughter. "You're an annoying old man sometimes, Floyd. I don't know why I keep you on. Wait, yes, I do—you serve a mean Freezing Split. Come on, enough about my absentee love life. Let's get a patcher to look at your knee."

  As they walked to the perimeter, she glanced down regretfully through the floor at the undeniably wild crowd.

  Some of them were human, of course. A few of the waitservers and patrons were as human as she was. Most of them, though, she had to admit, would never have been allowed in her world's airspace a mere decade ago. They'd been universally thought of as freaks on this world—hundreds of different alien races, some humanoid, but most not, and all of them, in their own way, blatantly other.

  Larissa sometimes thought she was the only one in the world who was glad the activists had rallied, the gates had fallen, and the aliens had flooded the planet in droves. She'd never shared with anyone that that was the reason she'd opened the nightclub. She'd thought owning a galactic-quality nightclub would guarantee a stimulating circle around her and keep her from the malaise of boredom.

  It hadn't, of course. For the first few years, she'd entered into some unwise liaisons with a few of the more civilized humans who patronized the establishment, only to regret it. The fucking was fairly nice, but nothing else was.

  Just as had happened her whole life, an impenetrable barrier remained between herself and the nightclub crowds. She was still Lady Larissa Kuttivadapa, one of the elite Kuttivadapas. Nobody—human or alien—quite knew what to make of her spending her time at the seedy, glittering club instead of where most of society expected her to be—in the judicial and political circles that were her family's heritage.

  These days, she stayed away from both circles. That damnable boredom again. Was there no place that was hers?

  She left Floyd shaking his head and walked out of the club without doing what she'd intended—finding a man. It was a warm night, so she kicked in her airskayt and flew straight home.

  She lived in the penthouse of The Wick, the tallest building in the hemisphere with a peaceful view of the mountains. Her family resided many doyeens away, in the super-conservative, posh area of the city, and her friends, few as they were, were scattered about. But she didn't want to talk to them tonight.

  She wanted company. Male company.

  It was why she'd gone to the Wytrium. What a useless waste of time that had been. An hour watching the security cameras, an hour spying on her patrons, scoping them out for somebody. Somebody who...she didn't even know what kind of person she wanted. Someone she could connect with in a way that transcended...what?


  She sat on her bed and stared at the wall, not seeing the luxury around her. She rarely noticed that sort of thing. Her standard of living was envied by all; she paid no attention to it. It meant security to her, nothing else.

  She was thinking of the nightclub and her own idiocy. What was wrong with her, that in this city of millions—including aliens far more exotic than anything she'd imagined existed—she could not find a single man who did not bore her? The patrons of her nightclub made her feel as lukewarm as...as Floyd did.

  She smiled, thinking about the old server. He couldn't help being a stubborn bigot; many of the older generations still were, despite the reforms. The really scary people, though, were the Anti-Mixers. They'd organized into a covert brigade that would go to insane and violent lengths to ignore the laws and keep the alien races separate from the humans.

  She didn't really understand such people. Larissa had always liked being around people who were different from her.

  Even the Gyuostiphs, an aggressive, male-only race with puckered leathery orange hides. Now, they weren't half-bad looking, if you liked knee horns. Which she didn't particularly.

  And though they were undeniably repellent, the squat, five-legged Yongers with the parasitic-looking symbionts that lived on their abdomens tipped very generously, according to her waitservers.

  Some weird is just too weird.

  Come to think of it, Floyd's idea wasn't half bad, she thought. A dating service was old-fashioned, but what did she have to lose? It had been years since she'd looked at what The Gallery had to offer.

  The Gallery was an institution. Everyone had an entry there—even if they didn't want it. She knew, because she'd tried to opt out years ago. Even with her family's influence, all she could do was silence her call notifications. At least her own entry was minimal. All it said was her name and her basic data. Nothing personal.

  She chewed her lower lip, then undressed, peeling off the bodysuit and even the jewelry with relief, not wanting anything against her skin. Naked, she lay down in bed, clasped her hands together on her stomach, and called up The Gallery on the ceiling with a vocal. If she got bored going through bioplays, she thought, she'd simply go to sleep.