by Lea Linnett
“Has the human arrived yet?” he asked, voice clipped.
His xylidian assistant inclined her head, in that haughty way that he’d long since learned wasn’t intended to be rude. “She’s just in with the redressers,” she said smoothly. “They’re nearly done with her.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I want to meet her before the conference. Don’t want her getting stage-fright. Is she aware of what we want from her?”
“She is. She’s nervous though.”
Helik nodded. “All the more reason to see her. Have her taken to the first annex when she’s ready.”
Roia nodded and clicked away. Helik let out a sigh.
He was… nervous. And not about the conference.
He frowned to himself. He had no reason to be. He’d reacted just fine to all the other humans when he’d addressed them earlier. There had been no untoward thoughts or impulses. Everything had been fine. Just fine.
But something about meeting this girl made him uneasy. Maybe it was that she’d soon be in his home. Maybe it was that his entire campaign was resting on her tiny human shoulders.
He shook his head, rising to snatch a glass of water from the refreshments bar on the wall. He would be fine. It had been years since this had been a problem, and he wouldn’t let it start again now.
He tried to focus on the upcoming conference, scrolling through his notes on his wristlet while he waited. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. If this campaign fell apart, his career could fall right along with it. His family had been working on sub-species rights for generations, and he wanted to be among the winners, not the ones who killed their careers by biting off more than they could chew.
He counted down the seconds until Roia came clicking back to his hiding place, and as she led him back through to the main hallway, he found himself tugging at his collar, the tight material constricting around his neck like gripping fingers.
Roia pointed him towards the small annex by the main hall, and he squared up to the door, holding a deep breath in his chest.
This was networking. This was work. He was just making sure this human girl was on the same page as he was before he handed her the reins of his reputation.
He drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and pushed the door open with an audible squeak.
2
Helik didn’t have to search long to find the human despite her smaller stature; dressed as she was in dark, levekk-style garb, she stood out against the pale room and its furnishings. Sleek blond hair shined under the fluorescent lights, blue eyes gleamed, and her skin, pale but warm, glimmered with something starry that the redressers had smeared across her cheeks. She seemed to glow from within, sucking the light from her surroundings and drawing Helik’s gaze like a moth to flame.
She was the most beautiful creature Helik had ever seen.
And that was a thought he wasn’t allowed to have.
He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze as he stepped away from the door. He was careful to leave it open so they could be seen from the hallway.
“You must be Ellie,” he began, speaking in Trade. It was the most common language in use within the Levekk Constellation, and he’d been assured by Roia that the girl spoke it fluently. “Helik Kaan.”
He offered a hand, palm up, and she returned the greeting by placing the back of her hand in his, as was customary. He nodded. So she wasn’t a complete hick.
But she was warm. There was a light blush fighting through the makeup on her cheeks, and she worried one rosy lip between her teeth. Helik felt positively chilled by comparison, and his hand tingled where she had touched him.
Her hands gripped her skirt fiercely as he considered her, and he forced himself to look away, but even then, he couldn’t escape her presence. The atmosphere of the room felt different with a warm-blooded human within it, her scent dusting him with every movement. The redressers had tried to mask it with perfume, but beneath that was an aroma that was uniquely human, musky and sweet.
Helik shook himself free of his senses. The girl hadn’t yet said a word, and the silence was quickly turning awkward with him staring at her. Helik’s heart hammered in his chest, and he breathed deep in an attempt to calm the anxious gnawing in his stomach. But all that did was draw more of her into his lungs. Holding his breath, he plastered on his most professional smile. “I apologize for not arranging a meeting earlier. Unfortunately, in the midst of a campaign, Roia has to take up a lot of the slack for me.”
The girl’s eyes widened when he paused, realizing that he intended for her to speak. “I-it’s no problem at all!”
Helik nodded. “I trust Roia filled you in on what we’re expecting here? You’re comfortable with everything?”
“Uh.” The girl looked anything but comfortable, and Helik’s own nerves frayed in kind. But then a grimace wormed its way onto her face and she rolled her eyes a little. “I mean, I thought I’d be here holding a broom on my first day, not…” She gestured down at her sleek, dark clothes. “Not this.”
Helik’s stomach flipped. Despite her attempt at humor, her discomfort was plain, and Helik was blindsided by twin urges to simultaneously run from the room and ease this human’s fears. His molars grit together in panic, his mind a blur behind the thin veneer of civility. He had to get through this. Without staring at her too hard. “I’ll talk to Roia about updating the job description,” he said jokingly, but his voice was distant to his own ears.
The girl laughed—politely—and Helik shivered.
“It’s really nothing too alarming,” he soothed, shifting on one foot. “But you’ll be working for me over the next three months, and that does come with some extra responsibilities. You’ll be seated in the front row, representing your peers. The reporters will ask questions, but they’ve been pre-screened. It’ll be simple stuff: what’s Manufacturing like; are you excited to start work; what do you think of city-life so far? That sort of thing.”
The girl blinked. “I’m not sure I know how to answer that last one,” she said, warily. “The seats of the public transport were comfy, I guess.”
There was a beat of silence, and then the girl’s lips curved into a cautious smile. Helik bit down on a laugh, not trusting himself to do more than smile at the human as he felt something coiled tight inside him unspool a little.
“That?” he said, pointing a clawed finger at her. “Do that. They’ll love you.”
Her smile widened, and her eyes shined a little when she gazed up at him. “I wanted to thank you…” she began, watching him intently. “For this opportunity. It means a lot that you’d give people like us a chance like this.”
Helik froze, his stomach churning. “W-well… It is my job, right?”
She grinned, her expression turning bashful.
The jolt of pleasure he gained from that smile quickly soured. That’s what this was: a job. This was his ticket to a few more years of stability and planet-wide recognition.
The urge to reach out and take this human’s hand again was not a part of that plan.
“Shall we head on through?” he announced, nodding politely. He stepped to the side, allowing her to exit before him, and tried to ignore the distinctly human—and entirely alluring—scent that wafted his way as she passed by.
---
Helik tried not to tap his bare, clawed toes against the stage too much as he rested his hands on the podium and addressed the room. It was full of reporters, filling the main hall almost to capacity, and that was after turning away plenty of interested parties beforehand. This conference was invite-only, and it was filled with only the most trustworthy of journalists.
Those who could be trusted to spin it the right way, of course. Helik was determined to avoid the controversies that earlier programs had suffered.
“Humans have proven resistant to life in the Constellation,” said one of the levekk reporters when he opened up the floor for questions, “and human-dominated districts have shown far higher crime rates compar
ed to other districts, even when compared to similar post-Settlement communities on CL-6 or CL-11. Why should we trust them in our homes?”
Helik smiled. “Settlement can be a trying experience for any species, and it isn’t surprising that we’re still seeing the effects of that two centuries later. I believe it is that attitude right there that makes it difficult for humans to assimilate into the Constellation as they were intended to. Outside CL-32, you see humans mixing into multi-species spaces with greater success, and I think we can emulate that here with a little trust.”
The levekk reporter re-seated himself, and Helik let the following questions wash over him, viewing each one as a logic problem to solve. He’d rehearsed every possible outcome, and it took less than a second to outline the core tenet to each query. This was his job; he was good at this.
But eventually, he had to bring the questioning to a stop. He gripped the podium, his bony claw battling the metal. “I’d like to briefly introduce the most important participants in our program: the humans. Their spokesperson for the day is Ellie, sitting front and center. Ellie will be working directly with me, in my own residence, and I invite you to ask her a few questions before we bring this commencement conference to its end.”
He smiled just enough, gesturing towards the double row of chairs on the stage beside him, where the humans were sitting in various states of nervous excitement and utter horror. There was a small smattering of applause, and then the first pre-approved questioner rose from the crowd. It was a pale pink pindar, his round body wobbling as he stood.
“Yes, Pindarro Express?” Helik prompted.
“Ellie, this must be a tremendous change from your humble beginnings in the Manufacturing District. How is city life treating you so far?”
Ellie froze like cornered prey, and for one interminable second, Helik was scared she might not speak at all. But then she sat up a little straighter, her strange, human eyebrows dipping in a determined expression, and she raised the microphone to her lips. “Uh, well, I only arrived two hours ago,” she said, voice shaking, “but I’ve already had someone do my makeup for me, so pretty well!” Her gaze flitted to his as a low rumble of laughter passed through the crowd, and Helik breathed an internal sigh of relief. She was doing okay at this.
“Xylidian Keseth?”
“Can you illuminate for us what it’s really like to live in outer districts like the Manufacturing District?”
“Um. Sure.” Ellie paused, tilting her head. “Well, it’s not glamorous—not like this.” She gestured around at the room. “I was lucky to work in a clothier’s with my guardian, but for those working in the factories, life can be very monotonous—even dangerous.”
“Did you make what you’re wearing today?”
The girl looked surprised, patting the thick material of her clothes. “Unfortunately, no. This was given to me. It’s nicely cut, though.”
She was a natural.
“One last question: the Levekk Enquirer?”
A cicarian stood from the crowd, this one a deep, sunset purple. His half-lidded eyes swung between Helik and Ellie in a predatory manner, like a sehela with its sights set on some prey, and Helik’s gaze sharpened.
“How do you feel about working alongside Senator Kaan, considering the past controversy surrounding his mother’s educational program and Senator Kaan’s alleged involvement in it?”
There was a chorus of murmurs and whispers, and Helik’s stomach threatened to drop through to the floor.
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate line of questioning for this venue, sir,” he cut in, seeing the confused look on Ellie’s face.
“Senator Kaan,” the reporter pressed on. “Would you care to shed more light on why the program was brought to such a swift end? What’s stopping this current program from suffering the same fate?”
“I suggest you read the tabloids from that era. They covered the incident in sufficient detail. Security?”
“I think the residents of New Chicago deserve to hear it from you,” the reporter continued, his voice rising and his folded, translucent wings jerking in agitation. “One of the human participants in the program was said to have gone missing. Would you care to comment on that?”
“Security, can we have him removed, please?”
Finally, the heavies marched in, liberating the microphone from the struggling cicarian and pulling him from the room as he yelled back in Helik’s direction. The crowd around him bubbled with noise as the reporters muttered amongst themselves. He was going to have to lean on his lawyers for this one, he realized, with no little amount of panic.
“Thank you for taking the time to hear about the program today,” he said, trying to recapture the attention of the room. But the chatter continued, and he knew it was a lost cause. “We’ll be open to follow-up queries through our various communication channels.”
With that, he marched off the stage, and suddenly the room exploded with motion. Roia was right behind him, and he caught sight of the humans being ushered from the stage by his support staff. He saw Ellie in the midst of them, her brow furrowed in confusion and a concerned look on her face.
He didn’t have time to worry about her right now. He shouldn’t be worried about her right now.
“Call off the rest of my appointments for the day, Roia.”
“Yes, sir.”
He needed a drink.
3
Ellie picked at a seam on her satchel, making herself as small as possible as she sat in the back of the dark transport. Helik Kaan’s personal assistant, Roia, was seated beside her, and the alien’s intimidating silence was making Ellie wish she could melt into the seat to get away.
The xylidian was noticeably angry, her red teeth grating against each other in the silence of the transport. It was so quiet and still inside the vehicle that Ellie almost forgot that they were skimming through an aerial lane, nothing surrounding them but air. It was a far cry from the land-bound vehicles and rattling public transports that were common in the Outer Districts.
Roia tapped a black claw against her chest, and the sound was disturbingly hollow.
“You did well today,” she said sharply, anger still lacing her tone as she turned her bloody gaze on Ellie. “That incident was very off-script.”
“Thank you,” Ellie squeaked. She didn’t dare ask what the reporter had been talking about. She had the distinct feeling she’d lose her job if she did.
“We’re close to Mr. Kaan’s residence. I shouldn’t need to tell you not to circulate his address. He would prefer it if others were unable to bother him at home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The xylidian laughed, sounding like a rusted metal saw. “Please, I’m not your boss. Roia’s fine.”
Ellie blinked. “O-okay.”
They pulled up in an underground parking area, and Ellie was marched over to a set of elevators. “We’ll have your wristlet set up with reception,” Roia said, gesturing down at the shiny band of metal that now encircled Ellie’s wrist. “Then you can come and go as you please.”
“As I please?”
Roia’s tight brow dipped. “You’re not a prisoner. During work hours, you’re expected to prioritize your duties, but if you need to go shopping for cleaning supplies, that’s fine. After hours or on your days off, you can do whatever you like.”
Ellie nodded, clutching her satchel in front of her.
“I do suggest, however, that you be careful at night. People in the Senekkar aren’t particularly used to having humans around, and the crime rate is most definitely not zero.” She glanced at Ellie. “Try to stick with other humans if you’re out at night. We’ll give you access to this residence’s driver service—we don’t really want random taxi services coming here.”
Ellie breathed in deep, cataloging the information as best she could.
They reached the penthouse in no time at all and stepped out of the elevator into a small corridor. Down the other end, Ellie could see an exit to the sta
irs, and to her left stood a huge metallic door that almost reached the ceiling. Roia approached it, resting her wrist against the access panel.
There was a beep and a click, and Roia’s dark claws pressed against the metal slab.
“Welcome to the residence of Senator Helik Kaan,” she announced, throwing the door open.
Inside was bright, the fluorescents in the foyer making Ellie squint. The penthouse was typically levekk in style: cool toned, with floors and walls that were off-white and trimmings the color of charcoal. But here and there were accents that broke the mold, like the curved archway ahead that showed a glimpse of an open living room, the thin rug running down the center of the hallway, and the dark wooden doors with lever-like handles.
“All right. To the left is the gym,” said Roia, pointing to a glass door with blue light streaming through it. “It has a chem-shower attached, but it’s all tile, so it shouldn’t be difficult to clean. Mr. Kaan has said that you are free to use the machines, although if they’re damaged in any way, it’s coming out of your salary. They’re expensive—avoid that.”
She then gestured to the right at an unobtrusive wood-paneled door that Ellie almost hadn’t noticed. “That’s the laundry, and you can access your room through it. Go ahead.”
Ellie opened it gingerly, her other hand gripping her satchel like a vise. Inside, she found a cramped laundry and two doors.
“Left is a… human bathroom. It’s for your personal use. Mr. Kaan believed you might not be comfortable with the chemical cleansing units, so he had a… Do you still call it a shower? It has running water, at least.”
Ellie blinked. She hadn’t used a chem-shower before—they were expensive and were rarely installed in human homes out in Manufacturing. But she’d heard they left human skin sticky and dry, so she was grateful to escape it. “That’s really thoughtful of him.”
“Yes it is,” Roia agreed, still looking perturbed. “The other door goes to your bedroom.”