“According to your scientists we handle temperature extremes at least as well as humans,” she explained. “Under moderate conditions my ears will radiate heat to help regulate my body temperature, and unlike your world’s rabbits, under severe conditions we H’kaah do perspire. As for pests, I’m told one of the herbs I use on my fur has been proven to repel every Earth-native species.”
“Except me,” he said with a leer, gently nibbling her arm. She squealed and danced away, showing off her lapin heritage with the speed and grace of her movements.
A short while later the electric driveway gate hummed open and a minivan came cruising up the driveway, finally stopping at the house’s front door. In answer to S’leen’s concerned look he said, “I have people come in once a week to do general housekeeping chores. With both my wife and me running our respective businesses we realized many years ago that adding routine housework to our schedules would leave precious little time for anything else. After she left I found I still didn’t want to face the chores.” When S’leen still looked puzzled Ross laughed, adding, “Don’t worry, Dear. You’re not going to spend your days here pushing a rug sucker or waltzing with a broom. You also won’t have to concern yourself with landscaping tasks. A groundskeeping crew keeps the greenery healthy and groomed during the growing season.” After a moment’s thought Ross added, “It wouldn’t be wise for you to try eating anything growing here, though, since most of it’s treated with chemicals.”
S’leen was admiring a cluster of violet hibiscus blooms in one of several flowerbeds scattered along a walkway. Ross carried a small folding knife clipped to his waistband, and with a deft movement he snapped open its wickedly serrated blade and removed a perfect blossom from the backside of a bush. “But while you can’t eat the flowers,” he said, “nothing says you can’t wear them. Let’s see how this looks,” and he inserted the trimmed stem into her hair just above her left ear. “Perfect,” he proclaimed with an admiring smile, mentally noting that with the addition of the flower she even closer resembled a beloved childhood Disney character.
Before they resumed their walk Ross reached into a pocket in his shorts and retrieved a tiny black velvet box. S’leen watched his actions, not knowing what he intended. “For some strange reason,” he said, “your people never discovered the art of gemstone jewelry. We humans treasure certain finely-cut and polished stones, and we often wear them as body decorations much the same way H’kaah wear bits of colored cloth and ribbons.” He made a show of opening the jewelry box, and inside S’leen saw a tiny bit of scintillating fire.
“This is our most precious stone, Dear. We call it a diamond, and it is also one of the hardest substances occurring in nature. This one is mounted as a pendent in a white gold setting, and is suspended on a type of thin chain that shouldn’t snag your fur.” He removed the pendent and chain, then carefully fastened it around S’leen’s neck. The chain was just long enough to allow the one carat-weight stone to hang below the hollow of her throat, where it caught light and sparkled like a tiny beacon.
“I…I’ve never worn anything like this,” she said, holding the pendent in her fingers and craning her neck to peer at the gem.
“It’s not something I give lightly,” he stated, “and if it pleases you, it pleases me.”
S’leen wasted no time in showing Ross just how much it pleased her.
They eventually worked their way back to the house but Ross made her stay outside while he fetched her shorts and halter-top. The cleaning crew had begun their work upstairs, allowing Ross to snag the few pieces of S’leen’s lightweight outfit from where she had abandoned it in the kitchen and living room the night before. “We’re going to have to stash you some clothes outside, just for occasions like this,” he said, grinning. “In our society it’s considered bad manners to greet guests in the buff, and even though the cleaning folks are paid to be here they’re still guests, and I’d prefer that you were dressed.” A few moments later they headed upstairs to greet the two women who comprised the Dirty Deeds Housekeeping Service.
* * *
Over the next several weeks Ross got his alien companion settled into a more-or-less comfortable routine. Monday through Friday he was up by six a.m., at which time he headed out to run a measured two miles through his neighborhood. Rain or shine, winter or summer, Ross was a regular morning sight as he made the circuit. Those who knew him, along with those who didn’t, could just about set their clocks to the time he came pounding by their houses.
It didn’t take the residents of the sleepy old neighborhood long to notice that something about Ross’ morning run was different. Their clockwork-regular “morning man”, as they liked to call him, wasn’t running solo any more.
Jack Ross had a companion.
To the familiar slap-slap-slap-slap of Ross’ Reeboks had been added a different sounding plup-plup-plup-plup, S’leen effortlessly pacing his stride with her furry, sandal-shod rabbit feet. He wouldn’t let her run barefoot on the pavement; in fact, he didn’t even like her running in the lightweight sandals, fearing that unseen road debris could punch right through the thin composite soles.
A couple of phone calls to the right people can often produce amazing results. Two days after S’leen began accompanying Ross on his morning runs a Reebok footwear technician arrived at Ross’ estate to take careful measurements of the H’kaah’s non-human feet. He even shot video of her walking, jogging and running, then had her walk, jog and run down a thirty-foot-long sensor strip that was attached to a notebook computer. The strip measured hundreds of impact points for each step, giving the technician critical engineering data to design an ideal shoe for the alien’s fur-covered feet. A week later S’leen had a most-unusual pair of custom-made Reebok running sandals.
Once Ross planted the seed, the whole idea of a sexy, jogging giant rabbit-morph struck the international shoe company as perfect for a major advertising campaign. In exchange for supplying S’leen with several pair of the special running-soled sandals, the company got to base an advertising campaign on her early morning runs with Ross. Their advertising agency had the campaign up and running in less than two weeks, and it was an instant hit. It was so popular, in fact, that two weeks later Reebok paid her a cash bonus of fifty thousand New Millennium dollars, far more than her cut of the contract inception fee Patrons was holding in escrow.
Their morning runs didn’t take long, and they returned to the house to shower and eat breakfast. Ross drove to his dealership around eight-thirty, and unless she took a taxi to the dealership to meet him for lunch S’leen was on her own until sometime between five and six in the evening, at which time Ross would come cruising up the driveway. With extensive Internet-based library resources as well as other on-line services, the alien had a lifetime of exploring available to her without leaving the safety of their home. She didn’t worry about intruders since the electric gate had both a keypad lock and a video camera monitoring it. Ross’ vehicles had transmitters that opened the gate before he reached it, but all other visitors had to either use the post-mounted keypad or call the house through the adjacent intercom.
And she was very careful whom she allowed in.
* * *
Before a month had gone by Ross introduced S’leen to his collection of “lethal toys”, his euphemism for the eclectic hoard of firearms and edged weapons stored in various places around the old house. He had promised her firearms training, and like it or not, firearms training she got.
The edged weapons were a whole different matter.
“We have guns on my world, Jack,” she informed him when he stated it was time for her training. “The males who comprise our military and security forces receive training in such things; females never touch them.”
“We’re not on your world, S’leen,” he dryly stated, “and on Earth males AND females serve in both our military and our domestic police forces. In this country as in many others, civilians are allowed to own firearms for both sport and self-defense. I requi
red my wife and both children to be reasonably proficient with the guns I kept on hand, and that requirement still stands for anybody who lives here: Know how to handle them, know how to shoot them, know when to shoot them.”
She looked at him, genuinely puzzled. “But why?”
“This is not as genteel a world as yours, S’leen,” Ross carefully explained, trying not to frighten her any more than necessary. “Here, people hurt people, sometimes for money, often without apparent reason. I don’t intend to become a victim to violence, and I’d hope that you would feel the same.”
“I…I just don’t think I could shoot someone, Jack.”
“Not even if the dirtbag was trying to hurt you?” He paused for a moment, then added, “Or me?”
He spent long evening hours teaching her the basics of firearm safety; how to handle them, how to load and unload them, where and where not to point them when they were not ready to be fired. Early one Saturday, when he was satisfied she knew enough to keep from accidentally shooting herself or him, Ross packed a cross-section of rifles, shotguns and pistols into his company-furnished Chevy Blazer.
“We’re going to the police firing range,” he informed her. “You’ve already met a few of the local cops, but today some of the ones you haven’t met will be out there. I belong to an organization that supports law officers, and as part of my membership I have full use of the facilities.”
She didn’t look very pleased, asking, “Won’t it be terribly noisy?”
He grinned and reached inside a utility bag, removing a small nylon pouch. From it he produced a pair of large, strangely shaped silicon rubber blobs connected by a short coiled cord. “That’s why I had these special ear plugs brought here from your homeworld,” he said, holding them out for her inspection. “I know those big, beautiful ears of yours are extra-sensitive to loud noises, and these are what your own people use for protection.”
They were like nothing ever used in a human ear, yet they perfectly fit the long H’kaah ear canal, sealing tightly like a flexible tub stopper. “Most of the sound you’ll hear while wearing these will reach you through bone conduction. The guns will still be noisy, but they won’t damage your hearing.” He pulled out a much smaller pair, obviously designed for human ears. “My hearing isn’t as good as it was thirty years ago, so I have to be careful, too.” Ross also handed her an unusual-shaped pair of clear acrylic safety glasses, specially designed to perch on her abbreviated muzzle and hug her head. “These will protect those incredible amber eyes,” and he winked at her.
An hour later found the couple parked at the firing range, located well outside of town. Much to the amazement of the small group of officers already on one of the four firing line bays, S’leen dutifully helped Ross unload the equipment from the Blazer, competently handling the weapons like she’d been doing it all her life. A short time later the cops were astonished when Ross began live-fire training with his alien companion, who proved to be an adept, attentive pupil.
He started her out with .22 caliber pistols and rifles, since they were non-intimidating and relatively easy to shoot. Within an hour he had graduated her to medium-caliber pistols and rifles, finishing the session with a few rounds through a short-barrel 12-gauge shotgun. He wouldn’t subject her to his high-powered rifles or large-caliber pistols; he wanted to train her, not punish her.
And the training went well. Once she got the feel of each particular firearm she impressed everyone with her incredible accuracy. Ross had suspected she would do well at this; S’leen had superb balance, keen vision and a delicate touch.
She also enjoyed being the center of attention. In time all of the officers drifted down to the firing bay where the H’kaah was shooting, and they gladly contributed various tips on proper form and shooting techniques.
Everyone eventually took a short break for sodas and snacks, then Ross and his cop friends began an intense session of tactical combat shooting drills against human-silhouette targets. Even though he was older than any of the officers there, Ross was still in good physical shape; his special-ops military training, daily exercise and regular firearms practice kept him on par with men half his age. After a half-hour of watching the men jump, roll, feint and dodge in the simulated confrontations with their cardboard adversaries, S’leen shocked the cops with a request.
“I would like to try that,” she asked with a smile that melted any lingering resistance that might have been hiding behind some of the cops’ tough-guy demeanors. Ross had to clamp down hard on himself to keep from laughing at the men. Until that morning most of them had only seen members of the exotic alien species in news videos and photographs. They had no real idea just how charming the H’kaah could be, and within moments they were competing for her attention like schoolboys hovering around a prom queen.
Ross let them stumble and mumble for about five minutes, then said, “OK, guys, I think you’ve proved to the young lady that you’re all prime macho studs—” They immediately began protesting and denying his accusation. “—But for now she needs to concentrate on the fundamentals. We’ll leave the exotic stuff to you, the guys who’re paid to ‘dance with the wolves’.”
S’leen didn’t understand the comment so Ross said, “Cops
have to be able to outwit and outfight the bad guys, the
‘wolves’; that’s their job. You, on the other hand, just need to
know how to keep yourself from being ‘eaten’ until help arrives.” He got quick, grudging agreement from several of the officers, so he stepped back and let them begin instructing her in the basics of double-tap, multiple-target drills.
To everyone but his surprise, S’leen proved to have lightning-quick reflexes, and she could feint and dodge better than an NFL quarterback chasing a new contract. It didn’t take long before she was running, jumping, rolling and bouncing through increasingly complex simulated combat drills faster than even the seasoned cops, all the while deftly punching bullet holes in the centers of her targets.
After a time Ross called a halt to the activities. “People, it’s after one o’clock, and while I can’t speak for any of you I know that I’m hungry!” They were all sweaty and dirty, too, so with only token grumbling the group began to pack up their equipment. In less than thirty minutes the range was deserted, and cops and civilians headed their various ways, either to enjoy the rest of the perfect late-spring day or to prepare for work. Ross knew another hurdle in human/alien relations had been passed, and word of S’leen’s firing range exploits would soon be circulating far and wide throughout the law enforcement community. In a few short hours the H’kaah female had acquired the respect of members of one of the most cynical and clannish groups of people on the planet.
“Not a bad morning’s work,” he told his unusually quiet passenger a few minutes into their drive home. “These guys will spread the word about you, and should you or any other H’kaah in the area ever need a cop’s help you’ll find they’re the best kind of friends to have.”
But she looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, then said, “Jack, you are the best friend I have. I have entrusted you with my life.”
* * *
Learning how to shop in a human-style grocery store was, at times, both amusing and stressful, depending on whose point-of-view one followed. It was both amusing for Ross and very stressful for S’leen when she discovered that animal flesh was sold in such places, and was even proudly displayed in all its raw, bleeding obscenity for shoppers to peruse. He accompanied her on her first two nervous trips to the supermarket he liked to frequent, then let her tackle it alone while he chewed his nails, waiting in his office at the dealership for either a panicked phone call or for a cryptic message to appear on his voicemail pager.
Time passed and he received neither phone call nor page, and that caused him even more anxiety. What if she freaked out and bolted from the store? he silently mused. What if some damn fool made a scene? What if she made a scene and got arrested? What if…if she
—? S’leen was under strict orders to call him the minute she got home from the store, and several hours after she was supposed to leave home for the supermarket via taxi the receptionist buzzed him over the intercom.
”Mr. Ross. S’leen, line three.”
He snatched the handset from the cradle and stabbed the blinking button in one continuous move, but paused a trio of heartbeats to get control of his voice. When he spoke it was as if he had not a care in the world. “Jack Ross. Oh, hi, Dear! How was your first solo shopping trip? Ah, that’s great! Really? You’re kidding! They were? No! She did? Ha! That’s funny! No, I wasn’t worried a bit; you’re a quick study and you had a good teacher—me—to get you over the rough spots. Ha! Well, I’m glad everything turned out well, and you can tell me all about it this evening when I get home. No, I won’t tell you what to fix for supper; surprise me! You know what I like, Sweetheart, and as long as you don’t try to poison me with beets or Brussels sprouts I won’t complain. I still might have to beat you, but that’s another matter. Ha-ha! Yeah, right; you know it’s so. Love you, too. Bye, now.”
When he hung the phone up he just sat in his chair, his face lit by one of the widest, happiest smiles the newer members of his staff had ever seen on their oftentimes-dour boss. Those employees who had known Ross in earlier, happier times—before his ex-wife had been murdered, even before their marriage had gone down the proverbial drain—were pleased to see the recent improvement in his attitude. Those with even the slightest bit of comprehension knew the reason behind the improvement, and even those few who were still nervous around his alien companion were pleased at the effect she was having on him.
Several of his self-styled macho salesmen were even jealous, wondering what their middle-aged boss had going for him that they were lacking—besides money and social status, that is. Still, there was surprisingly little social animosity directed toward either Ross or his H’kaah companion. Even though they were situated deep in the traditional heart of bigot country, the people normally prone to frown or raise eyebrows at mixed race couples seemed to have no problem at all with this particular mixed species couple.
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