by Lea Linnett
There was a beat of silence, where the humans all looked around at each other uncomfortably.
“Come on,” she said. “Someone has to have some stories. Anna?”
The tanned girl jumped, clutching her drink in two hands. “Me? No! I mean, my boss is fine…”
Cara looked unconvinced, but before she could reply, another voice cut through the noise of the hub.
“I’ll bite.” It was the girl sitting on Scott’s other side. She toyed with her hair, her thin fingers rolling the strands between them. “It sucks. His apartment is huge, no one lives in it—so I don’t see why I should have to change the sheets in four separate rooms every week when no one’s gonna sleep in them! The guy’s so anal about it, too. He graded my performance yesterday. On sheet-changing. If he’s gonna do that every week, I’m out. It’s such a hassle.”
The other humans exchanged looks. “That’s super weird that he keeps checking,” said one guy with a buzzcut.
“Grading the work we do is weird?” Scott said with a frown. “I’m pretty sure that’s the point. They need to be able to prove whether we’ve done a good job or not.”
The girl’s pretty face pinched with confusion, as if she couldn’t believe Scott was arguing with her. “I-I mean… This guy’s complaining about the angle of a freakin’ sheet. Surely you’d agree that’s… dumb?”
“I dunno, were you a professional cleaner before you got here?”
She pouted. “No.”
“So you’ve gotta understand that they’re being cautious,” said Scott. “We know what we’re capable of, but to them, we’re just human.”
Her slim eyebrows dipped into a frown, and Ellie saw her lean away from Scott, looking disgruntled.
“Why are you defending them so much?” Cara asked.
Scott rolled his eyes. “I’m not. I just think it’s stupid to complain. Devis checked over my work. No biggie. I’m an adult that can handle that kind of thing. She gets good work, I get to keep my job.”
“‘Devis’, huh?” Cara muttered, glaring over Ellie’s head at the man, and the atmosphere at the table seemed to drop a few degrees. Ellie glanced at Anna, who returned the look with a grimace, her eyes wide.
“We shouldn’t have to be treated this way just ’cause we’re human!” Cara continued, her fingers gripping her glass tightly.
“You weren’t treated like anything,” Scott ripped back. “These levekk are our employers. How do you not get that?”
Cara looked like she was strangling back something ugly as she opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Her gaze fell to Ellie, who was trying to shrink down into the seat away from the two angry humans, and pinned her with a stare. “What do you think? How’s the big, scary senator?”
Ellie blanched, scooting back in her seat. Every set of eyes, including some from outside their immediate circle, were now raking over her, and she bowed under their scrutiny. She’d just wanted a drink, and now they were pulling her into their spat? Across from her, Anna looked as terrified as she felt, but she smiled encouragingly.
Ellie blew out a breath. “Senator Kaan is just… fine. I’ve barely seen him, to be honest.” Her face threatened to redden again as images of him half-naked in his bedroom or running his hand over her soapy skin sprang to the forefront of her mind, but she held the blush in check. “He hasn’t been checking my work, but he’s the one running the program, right? If he wanted a real cleaner, he’d go hire one. This is more about helping people for him. At least, that’s what I think,” she added as some of the others threw disbelieving looks at each other.
Cara still didn’t look happy, but she relented, sending Scott a narrow glare. “I guess we’re all going to have different experiences, aren’t we? Buzzcut, you’re next,” she barked.
“My name’s Louis.”
“You’re still next.”
The aggressive mood died down as they went around the table, and everyone’s employers turned out to be a bit of a mixed bag. Some were assholes. Some were overly watchful. Some were openly friendly while others still were hardly present. The different accounts seemed to cool Cara’s ire somewhat, but she watched Scott with sharp eyes whenever he spoke.
By the end of the night, Ellie was glad to escape the two thunderclouds she’d been sandwiched between, but as they made their way towards the exit, she heard Cara bite at the other human: “Run home to Devis and see how well her kindness lasts.”
Scott rolled his eyes, but there was an uneasiness in his expression. He broke off from the group that formed on the street, disappearing into the darkness. Ellie thought about calling out to him, but was soon distracted by her wristlet as she tried to figure out how to arrange a pickup to get back to Helik’s while the others chatted at her side.
10
Helik glanced down at his wristlet and sighed, eyeballing it as though the xylidian at the other end of the call would be able to see. “So, it’s not ready yet,” he said flatly.
Roia’s voice was crisp and unapologetic when it filtered out of the wristlet. “Not yet. The extinguishing fluid hadn’t been changed out in years, and it’s particularly clingy.”
“It’s been over a week…” Helik rubbed the heel of his hand into an eye, praying for patience. “I guess I’ll be here, then.” He looked around his home office, feeling as if the walls were pressing in on him. He’d barely left it since the incident with the burnisher, and the cramped room was beginning to chafe.
“Before you go,” said Roia, “I was talking to the campaign team. They think cultural exchange might be a good way of increasing some good will over the program. And maybe drowning out some of the rumors that have been circulating.”
Panic lanced through him like a knife to the stomach. “Rumors?”
“Yes. It’s nothing concrete.”
“What are they saying?”
Roia was silent for a moment, every second punctuated by the drumming of Helik’s pulse in his throat.
“Well, there’s been a bit of discussion in the tabloids over your mother’s program. Some conjecture over who was a part of it, that sort of thing. But your mother was always good at her job—nothing with any weight behind it has come up.”
Helik gulped. “That’s because there is nothing.” Not anymore, at least, he thought to himself, but that did nothing to counter the beating of his heart. “What else?”
“Just a lot of speculation,” said Roia. “Everybody and their mother has an opinion on what you may or may not have done. It’s all fluff, but after what happened to your office, I’d rather get ahead of it with some good press.”
“It’s that bad?”
“It’s not good or bad, Helik, so stop catastrophizing. It’s my job to head it off before it gets anywhere near bad.”
He sighed. “Right. You’re right. So, cultural exchange?”
“Yes. Nothing too involved—we don’t want to be building museums or anything—but we thought we could make a show out of a human traditional holiday or present some human art or something. It’ll make human culture a little more palatable.”
“Okay. Sounds fine, I suppose.”
He could practically hear Roia’s eye-roll. “Well, they’re going to survey the humans for ideas at the next Monitor meeting, but we were also thinking you could chat to Ellie about it.”
Helik frowned. “Why?”
“She mentioned she worked at a clothier’s, right? Ask her about traditional human dress. Something formal. We might be able to get something together for you for the event. Or for a press conference, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry, are you saying I should wear human clothes?”
A beat of silence, and then, “It’s a good opportunity to increase goodwill among the humans participating and to create a point of contact between humans and leve—”
“Okay, okay, Roia. I don’t need the spiel.” He rubbed at his plated brow, pacing his office in short circles. “I’ll ask her. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” she replied, her voi
ce sounding as flat and metallic as ever. “Call me if you need anything, sir.”
“Uh-huh.”
Helik ended the call, pausing by his desk.
And fought down the impulse to throw up on it. His gut spasmed, throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat as two opposing urges warred inside him.
He’d hardly seen Ellie since that moment in the heat room. It was a good thing, or so he tried to tell himself, but every day the voice grew weaker. The memory of her soft skin followed him through the apartment, distracting him from his work and slowly convincing him that it would be fine to just go down there and talk to her. There was no harm in that.
He wanted to see her. He was inexplicably drawn to the human, and he was sick of trying to deny it. He was supposed to be blithely indifferent to her presence, but everything about her fascinated him. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know her more.
And now Roia was giving him an excuse.
He rolled his neck, heaving a sigh. Ellie was in her room. He knew she was in her room because his ears had attuned themselves to every motion she made, every little thing she did. He couldn’t keep her out of his thoughts, and he didn’t trust himself to stay detached if he walked into that human den. He’d already lost his grip on his self-control once when he’d found her in the heat room. He shuddered to think what might come over him when he was surrounded by her scent, drowning in it.
But he didn’t have a choice, did he?
His feet carried him to the door before he was ready, and he tried to ignore the bubble of eager excitement that threatened to rise up in him. He had to stay in control. He had to be professional.
If he wasn’t, he wasn’t sure he knew how to go back.
---
Ellie froze when a gentle knock sounded at her bedroom door. She knew Helik was there; she’d listened intently to the sound of his footsteps as he left his office and descended the stairs, all while trying to kid herself that she was concentrating on the dress pattern in front of her. She’d held her breath when the footsteps curled around to the kitchen, and she now let it out in a short, sharp rush, jumping up from her seat at her desk.
She threw the door open, standing at attention.
“Yes, sir?”
Helik leaned back slightly, that constipated expression overtaking his face, and glanced behind her, his eyes inspecting her room in a cautious manner before returning to her.
“Hi there,” he said, nodding his head stiffly. “Roia and I have been talking, and she wanted me to ask you something.”
There was a moment of silence, and Ellie blinked back to reality. His broad frame filled the doorway as he towered over her, making him as intimidating as ever, but there was something different about him. He was still obviously holding his breath, but there was a softness to his eyes as he gazed at her, the pupils not so needle-like. It was new. And distracting.
“Y-yes?” she finally managed, stepping back from the door in silent invitation.
Helik’s lips thinned almost imperceptibly, but not in annoyance. Was he… nervous? He glanced over her head at her room. “Would you… like to talk about it in the kitchen?” he asked, his voice tight.
She glanced behind her, wondering if she’d left something particularly gross on display, but found nothing. “Sure. I mean, of course, sir.”
Helik waved a hand, dismissing her attempt at politeness, and retreated. She followed cautiously, closing the door behind her, and thought she saw the levekk’s shoulders relax.
“What did you want to ask?”
Helik circled the kitchen counter so that it sat between them, leaning his forearms on it in practiced leisure. “We’ve had an idea for the campaign, and Roia wanted your expertise on it,” he said, tilting his head. Behind him, afternoon sunlight filtered through from the balcony, silhouetting his face just enough that Ellie had to concentrate to make out his features.
“Roia wants my expertise?” She was surprised. His assistant had provided a brief moment of warmth on her first day, but apart from that, she was almost as terrifying as Helik in a mood and nowhere near as apologetic about it.
Helik nodded. “She remembered that you used to work at a clothier’s. We want to use some human culture in our campaign, and thought traditional formal attire would be an interesting thing to implement.”
He looked away, his eyes half-lidded, as if the idea of humans having anything formal was ridiculous to him, and Ellie frowned.
“Oh, we have formal attire. Who’s going to wear it? Because women generally had more variety to choose from, but for men it was simpler.”
Helik’s expression faltered. “Well…” He hesitated. “At this point, the one wearing it will be me.”
She blinked, taken aback. “Oh. Well.” Her mind raced, and she latched onto her knowledge as if it were an anchor. “Traditionally, human men wore a soot,” she said, watching Helik’s brow plate dip in confusion at the old human word. “It means ‘suit’ in Trade. From what I know, the design stayed pretty consistent over the generations, but there were some variations. Some were loose-fitting, some tight. There was color variance, but black was most popular…”
She snapped her mouth shut, realizing she was rambling, but after a beat the levekk prodded at her. “What did they look like?”
Her brows furrowed, surprised at the interest. Helik was watching her intently, his expression more open than she’d ever seen it.
“It was like a…” she paused, her cheeks reddening. “Kinda like a big jacket-y thing and trousers made of the same material. Men would wear a white shirt underneath with buttons and a particular style of collar. …And shoes made out of treated animal hide were popular.”
“Animal hide?” Helik’s brow plate shot up, almost comically so, and Ellie stifled a shocked laugh. She watched the levekk with wide eyes, captivated by the incremental movements of his plates as they moved around. They were more complex than they initially appeared, the smooth expanse made up of many smaller moving parts, with fine lines widening and narrowing in-between as he emoted. It was nice to see them twisting in something other than anger or disgust for a change.
“Y-yeah. Although, the style would never work on your feet, so I’m sure we could substitute some levekk footwear in. Something form-fitting and dark, to just allude to the human stuff.”
Ellie caught herself leaning around the counter, peering at the levekk’s feet as she would any other client. She pulled back, looking up to find him examining her with an unreadable expression. His lips were parted, and for the first time since the commencement conference, he no longer looked as if he were holding his breath.
“How do you know all this?” he asked.
Ellie dropped her gaze to her hands, conscious of staring at him too closely. “I guess… research? My mother had this book when I was little. It had pictures of different human fashions from before the Inva—” she caught herself, glancing up at Helik nervously. “I mean, the… Settlement…”
“No, call it what you like,” he said.
She stared at him, waiting for him to change his mind, but he only nodded encouragingly. “Um, yeah,” she continued. “So my mom had this book. It was so old—it was falling apart, basically—but it had pictures of these soots in it. And formal dresses for women—you wouldn’t believe how much some of them glittered, it was like someone had ripped the stars from the sky…” She bit her lip. “So I always loved it, and when I got to work at the clothier’s? It kinda felt like fate, y’know? I was always asking people what they knew about different species’ fashions. I mean, it was my job to know anyway, but I couldn’t stop.”
Helik remained silent, just watching her, and she began to squirm.
“Sorry,” she added. “I should’ve just said that last part and called it a day, huh?”
“No.”
Ellie blinked, her breath catching.
His gaze was firm. “You’re passionate about your work,” he murmured. “That’s good. It means you’ll produce good work.”
She ducked her head. “I hope so.”
There was a pregnant pause, and Ellie didn’t know how to break it. She looked away as his eyes bored into her, no longer skittish and unsettled. She felt like a chintah staring down a house cat, her fingers gripping the counter’s edge to stay upright.
“What would you think about…” The levekk hesitated. “About creating one of these soots for me?”
Ellie clutched the counter, her knees feeling weak. She returned her gaze to him, only to find his eyes finally averted, his expression closed.
“M-me?” she asked. “Make you a soot?”
Helik nodded haltingly, still not looking at her. “You’re probably the most qualified person we’ll find. And if I get my tailors to do it, something might get lost in translation.”
She felt her face go red. Even if it wasn’t meant as a compliment, Helik’s words kind of felt like one. Why else would he stoop to having a human make clothes for him?
“S-sure,” she said. “I mean, yes! I’d be honored.”
“There’s nothing honorable about it,” he mumbled, waving a hand. “You’ll be paid extra, to help cover the cost of materials.” Ellie’s eyes bugged. “And you can work on it during work hours, as long as it doesn’t degrade the quality of your cleaning. We can renegotiate if you need more time.”
All Ellie could do was nod, her brain still trying to catch up with this new development. She was going to be paid to make human formal attire for her levekk boss? What planet was she living on again?
She opened her mouth to reply, but words failed her. “Thank you,” she finally managed. “Shall I draw up a design? I-I can do it now, if you like.”
Helik inclined his head, and Ellie slipped into her room, grabbing up a graphite pencil and some sketching paper. She’d purchased them on one of her days off, and they hadn’t been cheap. Everything was so digitized in the Senekkar that the only places that stocked real paper were the design boutiques.