A round bed filled about a fourth of the room. Another door led to a small bathroom. Antaska lifted Potat out of her travel cage and gently placed her on the bed. Then she flopped down beside Potat and stared at up the domed ceiling. Her mind turned back to what she had been taught in space school to expect from this job.
“You might experience culture shock when you first go to live with the Verdantes. That’s normal, and it will pass when you get used to your new surroundings,” her teacher had said.
“What I’m feeling is normal,” Antaska said to the sleeping Potat.
The idea of living in shared quarters with her employer had seemed strange when Antaska first learned about it. But that was the usual arrangement for Verdantes and the human assistants who worked for them. Antaska was used to living alone in her dorm room with Potat for many years. But as an assistant, she would need to be close by when needed.
“It’s like being a live-in house servant, except your position will be more administrative,” her teacher had said. “And you’ll have your own room and bathroom.”
It had seemed normal when put that way. But now that Antaska was here, she felt a bit uneasy at the thought of sharing a common household with an alien being.
“This is strange, but I still don’t want to go back,” she told herself and Potat, who continued to sleep.
A runt among her species, Potat was larger than a kitten but only about half the size of most adult cats. She lay curled up tightly in a small ball—her snowy white belly fur surrounded by darkening shades of gray. A wide, dark stripe flowed down from her ears and ended just before the white tip of her tail.
Antaska felt a sudden stab of guilt that Potat had no choice about being moved from the home she was used to into this new and different environment.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She hoped Potat could understand her even though, of course, that was impossible.
Experiments had shown that domestic cats had evolved and were far more intelligent than their early Earth ancestors of a million years ago, but they had no language and were not sentient beings, Earth biologists insisted.
Antaska got up from the bed and explored her new quarters. A miniature alcove contained cat food and water in small bowls. In the bathroom, Antaska found a cat litter box as well as the standard human plumbing fixtures. She experimentally pushed the small brown button above the litter box. It sunk down and disappeared under the floor, which closed over it. Antaska heard a dumping noise and the sound of more litter filling the box, and then it reappeared.
“Fantastic!” Antaska said out loud.
An hour later, she had stowed most of her belongings and the floating cart. Potat woke up, but she was still groggy. Antaska sat next to her and told her that this would be their new home. The small gray cat didn’t seem frightened. She rubbed against Antaska and purred. Then she sat and stared up at her.
In times like these, Antaska could almost believe that her pet wanted to tell her something. She hoped it would be something like, “Don’t worry about me, my home is where you are.”
Potat looked up at her with what looked disturbingly like an amused cat smile.
Potat gazed with affectionate frustration at her pet Antaska. She lifted a tiny white paw to scratch at high speed behind one ear. Potat knew Antaska could hear her mental speech, but she refused to listen. At times, this could be a problem. Like today, when Antaska insisted on giving her a tranquilizer for this trip.
“Don’t drug me. I don’t need that. You need it more than I do,” Potat had tried to tell her telepathically.
But Antaska had stuffed the pill in Potat’s mouth, held it shut, and rubbed her throat to make it go down. The memory brought up some resentment.
I guess she needs punishment for that, Potat thought.
She reached out a paw and swiped it hard against Antaska’s leg, pulling her claws in at the last second.
I really don’t like hurting her, I guess, Potat realized.
“What are you slapping me for, you crazy kitty?” Antaska asked her.
“You know what for,” Potat answered her mentally.
Antaska shook her head but acted like she didn’t hear anything. Pink hair floated and wiggled in the air.
So annoying, but so shiny! thought Potat.
The little cat felt thirsty from the affects of the drug and the unnatural induced sleep. She sniffed the air for water. Luckily, some water was nearby, so Potat didn’t have to cry and whine until Antaska figured out what she wanted.
Potat hopped down from the bed unto the cushioned flooring. She headed straight to the alcove that had her water and food in it.
“Oh, right. There’s water and food over there,” said Antaska a bit too late.
As Potat slurped down the water as loud as she could to show how terribly thirsty she was, she heard a small plop sound from behind. She straightened up and twisted her head all the way around to the back. Antaska had flopped down on the bed. She was staring at the holographic image of stars displayed on the ceiling.
“Right. Just abuse me, and then ignore me,” Potat said to her telepathically.
She didn’t expect an answer, and she didn’t get one. But Potat felt irritable, and she felt the need to get rid of that feeling. Taking off at high speed, she rushed in circles around the small room. Again and again.
“You crazy cat,” Antaska judged her while still lying on the bed.
This room is too small for a good workout, thought Potat.
She added some intensity to her run by jumping up on the bed and running across Antaska.
“Ouch! Stop it!” Antaska said each time Potat ran over her.
So this was a little better. About five more times, and then Potat stopped on the bed next to Antaska. Time for a bath. She lifted a paw and began washing herself.
Antaska turned her head to look at Potat.
“Are you mad about something?” she asked.
Potat ignored her but couldn’t stop the satisfied purr that escaped from her throat.
Chapter 4
At exactly 1800 hours, M. Hoyvil sounded the chime on Antaska’s door, and she palmed the pad to open it.
“It’s time to go to dinner. Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” Antaska answered. “Goodbye,” she said to Potat.
In much less time than it had taken to board the ship and reach their quarters, they reached a large, dome-shaped entrance. Antaska followed M. Hoyvil into an enormous room holding over fifty dining tables. Over one hundred beings—Earth human and Verdante—sat at the tables, walked around, or stood in the line at the food counter at the far end of the room. The domed ceiling soared more than twenty feet at its highest point.
Except for the space ship’s ever-present faint humming sound and the tapping of dining utensils, the vast room was silent. Suddenly, Antaska felt the silence like a cold, heavy weight pressing inside her head. She began to feel dizzy and nauseous.
I hope I won’t humiliate myself and my new employer by passing out or, even worse, vomiting in front of so many people, Antaska thought.
Trying to regain her equilibrium, Antaska looked down at the floor in front of her. She focused on M. Hoyvil’s large feet moving forward and followed him across the big room. Antaska felt steadier when they reached the entrance to the food counter. One at a time, they walked through an archway formed by a looped silvery tube attached to the floor. When they passed, an orange light glowed in the archway’s inner plane.
There were no workers at the counter. It consisted only of three long metallic shelves attached to the wall. One was at Antaska’ chest height, one was at M. Hoyvil’s chest height, and a even higher shelf was near the top of M. Hoyvil’s head. They stepped up to the lower two shelves, and two panels flush with the wall slid up and open. Two trays that held food and beverages slid out from the openings on the two shelves at their respective chest heights. Then the panels slid closed.
The foods on Antaska’s tray were different than those on
M. Hoyvil’s tray, and she wasn’t able to identify any of the foods on either tray. His tray held four large tubes of light green-colored liquid compared to just one on her tray. Antaska was surprised to see that he had less food despite his much larger body size.
They lifted their trays from the shelves, and Antaska followed M. Hoyvil to the center of the large hall. As she entered the midst of the silent diners, the feeling of cold pressure in Antaska’s head increased. She was relieved when M. Hoyvil stopped at an empty table. He set his tray down and sat in a large Verdante-sized chair on one side of the table. Antaska put her tray down on the other side of the table. To sit, she had to climb up a staircase attached to a raised chair that resembled a large high chair used by babies and toddlers on Earth.
Antaska felt like a child sitting in the raised chair and was embarrassed. The other humans wore tan ship suits like hers that matched the colors of the walls, floor, and furniture. So Antaska had to look twice to see them sitting in similar high chairs. The others also sat across from Verdantes dressed in the more visible shade of blue.
Remembering from her training for this assignment that the Verdantes didn’t speak during meals and considered that extremely rude, Antaska remained silent. M. Hoyvil also remained silent.
The combination of the uncomfortable, strange setting and the cold, heavy feeling in Antaska’s head took away most of her appetite. But she put a small amount of bright green, mushy food on her fork. She chewed it without paying much attention to the taste.
Then Antaska looked around. Close by Antaska and M. Hoyvil, Verdante males and females of his size sat with their Earth human assistants at tables for two. The tables were spaced about six feet apart. Some of the Verdantes stared at M. Hoyvil, and he stared back but said nothing. The humans ate with stiff movements. Antaska felt stiff too.
She knew the Verdantes didn’t speak during meals, but Antaska felt a strong sense of discomfort and awkwardness. As if she was the object of the silent attention of many people. The feeling of cold pressure grew more and more oppressive.
Then M. Hoyvil looked up, and Antaska looked up in the same direction. Something large and bright red was in front of her. She tipped her head far back and saw the face of the largest being she had ever seen looming over their table.
Now Antaska felt the cold pressure like a painful headache. The gigantic alien standing there was over ten feet tall. He wasn’t thin like M. Hoyvil but solid and muscular. Similar to M. Hoyvil, his skin was the same color as the green grass of Earth.
This man wasn’t dressed in blue. He wore a form-fitting ship suit in bright red. His enormous upward-slanted green eyes looked down at Antaska. Then he looked into the eyes of M. Hoyvil, who stared back without blinking. Antaska felt rude for staring. She lowered her head from its uncomfortable bent-back position. She down looked at the plate of food in front of her but didn’t eat.
M. Hoyvil didn’t notice Antaska’s discomfort. He stared up at Master Meeepp wondering why his primary male gene contributor had come over here to the adolescent area of the dining hall. The others were watching and listening. M. Hoyvil’s green skin blushed darker, but M. Hoyvil spoke to Master Meeepp with the traditional respect.
“Greetings, Master Meeepp,” said M. Hoyvil in silent mind speech.
“Greetings to you, young one,” answered the huge alien. “Today is an exciting day for you and the others who have reached the age of pet ownership. You have your new pets aboard the space ship. I became curious when I heard so much talking from all the way across the room, so I came over to see your new Earth pet.”
“Yes, this is my new pet, Antaska,” said M. Hoyvil, with somewhat embarrassed pride.
He waved a few long green fingers in her direction.
“I picked her because I liked her unusual coloring and her gentle personality. And she scored high on our genetic diversity scale,” M. Hoyvil added as an additional selling point.
Master Meeepp directed his gigantic eyes down for a closer look at Antaska. She was staring down at her plate.
“Yes. Her coloring and features indicate an unusual diversity of Earth genes. That’s always a valuable addition to the splicing supplies in our birth labs. You’ve selected well. Still, I can’t help but notice that she looks a little peaked and perhaps unhappy. I don’t mean to criticize, but have you been giving her all the care and attention she needs?” Master Meeepp asked.
M. Hoyvil lifted the corners of his dark green eyes in surprise.
“What makes you say that? She looks fine to me,” he answered.
“The emotions of Earth humans can be read on their faces,” explained Master Meeepp, “but they display different than on the faces of Verdantes. We don’t use our mouths much except to eat and drink and sometimes to communicate out loud with non-telepathic humanoids. The mouths of Earth humans and other non-telepaths are bigger because they use them more often to communicate. And they eat much more food than we do. They also use their mouths to express a wide range of emotions including happiness, sadness, and anger.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that,” said M. Hoyvil.
“Notice how the corners of her mouth are drooping down. When you see that, it indicates unhappiness or some other negative feelings. And see how she is just picking at her food? Loss of appetite is another sign that something is not right,” said Master Meeepp.
The corners of M. Hoyvil’s eyes drooped a bit in dismay.
“I thought I was doing everything I needed to. I passed all my human care classes with high scores. And I watched tons of their ancient videos,” M. Hoyvil protested.
“Taking classes and watching videos is not the same as providing for the needs of Earthlings in real life,” replied Master Meeepp. “Maybe if you tell me what you’ve done so far, I can tell you if she’s lacking something she needs. I can give you advice based on more than a thousand of years of successful pet ownership. But I have to admit that I made some mistakes in the beginning too.”
“Well,” began M. Hoyvil, “First of all, I met her at the door of the space ship with a big smile on my face. She said ‘hello,’ and I said ‘follow.’ Then I led her all the way through the ship to our rooms. When we got there, I showed her the door that led to her room, and I told her I’d get her at dinner time. She went in with the small animal she has for a pet and closed the door. Then later, I told her it was time for dinner, and I led her here.”
“Well, I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong, but I can give you some tips that will help you form the strong bond that makes for a lasting and happy owner-pet relationship,” said Master Meeepp in a gentle telepathic voice.
“OK,” said M. Hoyvil.
“It sounds like you haven’t spoke more than a few words to her yet. But the most important thing for you to do is communicate verbally. That’s the way humans bond. Just spending time with them and providing for all their needs isn’t enough to make them become attached to you. I know how tedious verbal communication is. But in the beginning, it’s the only way to let them feel that they know you. They also have a need to talk to you—it’s part of their bonding ritual. They can’t read our facial expressions or sign language and, of course, they can’t understand mental telepathy,” said Master Meeepp.
M. Hoyvil felt confused. “But they didn’t teach us that in human training classes,” he protested.
“No. They don’t teach that,” said Master Meeepp in a conciliatory tone. “I know they only taught you the basics of pet care—limited to providing food, clothing, medical care, and shelter. I’m giving you this advice based on my own personal experience. As you know, I have a close, affectionate relationship with my own two pets, Vorche and Tabxi.”
M. Hoyvil looked over to the Verdante adult section of the dining hall where Master Meeepp’s two elderly pets were sitting among the other adults and their humans. At this distance, their tan space suits blended into the furnishings. But M. Hoyvil’s super-human vision gave him a sharp view of their gray-haired heads. Both huma
ns waved at him and tiny smiles lit up their dark space-tanned faces.
M. Hoyvil waved back. Then he turned and looked up again at Master Meeepp.
“I believe that when you adopt humans, you’re also responsible for their happiness,” said Master Meeepp. “She’ll be spending almost all of her time with you for the rest of her life. In order for her to be happy, you must develop a close, affectionate relationship. This is what we call ‘bonding.’ Spending time with her, sharing meals, and taking her places are some of the building blocks of the bond. But at the beginning, as I have said, it also requires a lot of verbal communication.”
“OK, I’ll do that,” M. Hoyvil agreed with determination, “but what should I say when I verbalize with her?”
“To start with, ask her how she’s doing, if she needs anything, and if she has any questions. This lets her know that you care about her well being. If she lifts the corners of her mouth, that’s a sign that she’s starting to feel comfortable with you. Take the time to answer any questions she may have. Fortunately, you’ll only need to perform this excessive vocalizing until a strong bond is formed and she learns to read your facial expressions and some of our sign language. At that point, you won’t need to communicate as much in this tiresome manner,” said Master Meeepp.
“And how long will that take?” asked M. Hoyvil.
“It can vary from a few years to almost a hundred years for some pets,” was the answer. “The important thing is to form a strong bond as soon as possible. Then she’ll be comfortable with long periods of silent companionship even if she hasn’t learned to read your facial expressions or understand any of our sign language. You can cut down on your verbal communication when you’re certain that the bond has been formed.”
“Very well, I’ll get right to work on that,” said M. Hoyvil, “but how I will know when the bond is formed?”
Alien Pets (Xeno Relations Book 1) Page 2