Alien Zookeeper's Abduction: A Sci-Fi Alien Abduction Romance

by Zara Zenia

  "I believe we have finished testing for the day," Kay said, looking at a tablet he'd summoned from the computer. "Tomorrow, we will begin preparing for the arrival of the Peritas. You should get some rest."

  Jewel could see the reluctance with which he was preparing to leave and reached out to catch his hand.

  "Why don't you stay for dinner?" she said, lacing their fingers. "There's no point in either of us spending the night alone."

  "It is against protocol," he said reluctantly.

  "As if everything we just did wasn't?" she said with a laugh. "We're aliens in a giant zoo in space having wild inter-species sex. There is no protocol for this."

  He gave in and followed her indoors, sitting awkwardly at the kitchen table while she ordered ingredients from the computer. It still hadn't figured out how to give her whole meals or even complex ingredients like pasta or wine. It stubbornly refused to give her any kind of meat at all and was as baffled by the idea of tofu as it was by peanut butter and alfredo sauce.

  But she'd managed to talk it through the creation of some staples like flour and oil to make cooking possible. And it had no trouble giving her plenty of fresh produce. It was lucky her mother had been the kind of traditionalist who'd insisted on teaching her how to cook. Jewel really hadn't cared when she'd been a kid, sitting impatiently through her mother's lessons, eager to return to running through the woods behind the house, climbing trees and looking for weird insects.

  After her mother had died, Jewel had dug out all of her mother's old recipe cards and spread them out on the floor, realizing how many they'd never done, how many she had no idea how to do. She'd thrown herself into learning like she owed it to her mother to be as good a cook as she had been. She didn't think she'd ever manage it, but it was at least coming in handy now.

  "You picked a good night to come for dinner," she said, taking a bowl from the 'refrigerator', which was actually just another cabinet that the computer had started chilling by unknown methods when Jewel had tried to explain what a fridge was. She had to assume the Ra'hom had some kind of refrigeration technology, but the computer always seemed to start from scratch with her.

  "I made the dough for gnocchi last night," Jewel explained as she dumped out the dough and started rolling it out. "It's kind of a pain in the ass, especially with the computer. You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get a potato ricer. But I was feeling nostalgic."

  She cut enough pasta for the two of them and was frying it a moment later, talking or humming as she worked. Kay stayed quiet, watching her until she set a bowl in front of him.

  "The basil and cherry tomatoes were easy, obviously," Jewel was saying as she sat down. "But the computer only finally figured out cheese yesterday. It's been more cooperative about bread too. I'm guessing it must have started processing early human civilization. Did you know cheese is one of the first foods we ever came up with? Back when we were still nomadic, someone put milk in a bag made from something's stomach and then took it for a walk in the sun. And the microbes from the stomach plus the milk and the heat made the first cheese. Gross, right?"

  "Incredibly gross," Kay agreed, frowning. He was staring down at the bowl of pasta with a confused, concerned expression.

  "What I don't understand," Jewel went on, eating gnocchi with her fingers, "is the vegetables. I mean, if it's processing in like, chronological order, shouldn't it be giving me the kind of vegetables and stuff that existed before humans figured out agriculture? Or did it figure out what plants humans eat before it started doing the cataloging history thing? I guess figuring out how to keep me alive was probably the first priority. But if it bothered to learn what a modern tomato looks like, why'd it take it so long to figure out bread? Whatever."

  "You eat this?" Kay asked, his expression of concern growing. "What is this?"

  "Pasta?" Jewel replied, not sure what was confusing him. "I mean, gnocchi is made of potato. I'm not sure what you're asking."

  "And this," he said, picking at the cheese and making it stretch. "Am I to understand that this is made from intentionally fermenting the secretions of another species?"

  "Yep," Jewel said, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, it sounds pretty gross when you say it like that, but it tastes really good."

  "Why would you eat the secretions of another animal?" Kay asked, clearly baffled. "And why did you perform all those rituals with the potato? Why not just eat the potato?"

  "Because it tastes better this way?" Jewel said, laughing. "Do the Ra'hom not cook?"

  He winced as the telepathic doubling had a field day with the concept of cooking.

  "No," he said after a moment. "No, we do not."

  "Huh," Jewel said thoughtfully, popping a tomato into her mouth. "So you just . . . eat everything raw?"

  "Until we developed nutritional supplements that could replace meals," Kay confirmed. "So that time spent hunting and eating could be put to more productive use. Humans seem to have found a way to make the whole process take even longer. It is so pointless."

  "Well, we started cooking in the beginning to reduce the chance of disease and stuff," Jewel said. "Or to make a little food stretch further or to turn things we couldn't eat into things we could. Plus, things that taste good make us happy. Eventually, it became an art form. There are people who spend their whole lives inventing new ways to prepare and present food."

  Kay shook his head, baffled.

  "I thought humans might have unique crafts or techniques," he said. "I did not expect you to have entirely new art forms."

  "I'm sure some Ra'hom artist will be competing in a reality TV cooking contest in no time," Jewel said with a laugh. Kay looked troubled by the thought.

  She convinced him to try a piece of gnocchi but he flat out refused any contact with the cheese. He admitted, begrudgingly, that the tomatoes were better cooked with the basil than either ingredient raw on its own.

  After dinner, they sat for a while, discussing their disparate cultures. Jewel was just relieved to finally know something about the Ra'hom. He'd seemed to almost actively avoid telling her about them before.

  There were, as on earth, many different cultural groups on Ra'hom, though they were united under a single government. They even seemed to have the same kind of intersectional prejudice Jewel was unhappy to inform him also existed on earth, where certain cultural groups were pressured to join certain castes and some highly valued castes excluded individuals due to cultural background in spite of their achievements.

  "It is despicable behavior," Kay said, "against everything we claim to stand for. Any Ra'hom should be able to prove himself through his actions. But there are those who will persist in believing that upbringing makes it impossible for an individual to achieve as much as others. As a result, those cultural groups are given fewer resources, since it is assumed they would not make as good use of them as others. And thus, they must work twice as hard as their peers to achieve the same things because they are starting from a disadvantage. And then the same groups that put them in this place of disadvantage claim that their inability to excel is proof of their inferiority. It is immensely frustrating."

  "Tell me about it," Jewel said with a scoff.

  "I am telling you about it," Kay said, and he didn't understand when Jewel laughed.

  "Do you know," he said, "a member of my cultural group has never been a part of the Peritas? Not in the history of the caste."

  "That sucks," Jewel said sympathetically.

  "It is wrong," Kay said with a frown. "It is antithetical to all our principles that a person should be denied when their achievements prove their qualification."

  He looked down, suddenly more serious than before, remembering something that made his expression turn bitter and grim.

  "But it is too late to change it," he said. "The system has existed too long, and those in power have too cleverly reinforced it to keep things as they are, despite how it damages the rest of us as a species."

  "The more I hear about the Ra'
hom," Jewel said, "the more they sound like humans."

  Kay looked up sharply, his expression briefly offended. Then he shook it off, standing up.

  "We should rest," he said. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

  Jewel stood to put their dishes in the sink, where the computer, in lieu of giving her soap or a dishwasher, just quietly erased them from existence and created new ones in the cupboard. Kay wavered near the table, looking at the door but hesitating to leave.

  "The bed's big enough for two," Jewel said. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to."

  He smiled gratefully, and Jewel felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She told herself it was just simple loneliness. Humans might be better at living alone than Ra'hom, but that didn't mean they enjoyed it. But it was getting harder to pretend that his smile wasn't important to her. It wasn't just that she wanted anyone in her bed tonight. She wanted him, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself yet.

  They lay down, and Jewel curled up in his arms with a sigh. As much good as skin to skin contact seemed to do for him—he'd been markedly less grumpy since they'd started being together this way—it was just as good for her. But up until now, she'd always spent the nights alone. To finally put an end to that was an immense relief. Sleeping alone was something she hadn't cared for even back on Earth.

  He put his arms around her, big enough that she felt surrounded by him, safer than she'd ever felt. It had been a good day, and a little later, when she realized she wasn't as tired as she'd thought she was and decided to burn off a little more energy, they ended it on the best possible note.

  "Now I see why these things are flat," Kay said as she slid off him and they collapsed into sleep together.

  Chapter 10

  "Today, we begin your training in Ra'hom etiquette," Kay said. "We will start with terms of address."

  Jewel was sitting in the grass outside her cabin while Kay paced in front of her. He'd wanted to move this to a plainer room like the guest room she'd started in, but she'd refused, to his frustration.

  "Ra'hom have three sets of pronouns for identification," Kay went on. "Oriens, Occidens, and Meridianum. Orientes Ra'hom tend to have cooler coloration and the indicative stripes. Occidentes are usually warmer colored and lack stripes. Merdiana are generally green. But if a striped blue Ra'hom tells you that they are Meridianum, do not call them anything else."

  "Okay, simple enough," Jewel said, leaning back on her hands and trying not to look as bored as she felt.

  "When you address a Ra'hom directly, initiate the conversation with their caste followed by their pronoun. I would be addressed as Ingenuus Oriens. After that, direct identifiers are considered rude."

  "What if I don't know their caste?" Jewel asked.

  "Do not talk to them," Kay said firmly. "You will be introduced and told their caste if you need to talk to them."

  "Why can't I just use their names?" Jewel said, feeling turned around already.

  "As I said before, designations are not like human names," Kay explained. "They are a list of achievements. Full designation is only used in the most formal of situations, such as transitions between castes and other ceremonies. If you are to meet someone important, particularly if you intend to do business with them, it is considered polite to learn their full designation so that you are aware of their achievements. Shortened designations consisting of a person's most notable achievements are used for purposes of simple identification and for school age children without unique achievements yet, and among intimate social groups such as family, mates, and close friends."

  "What about babies?" Jewel asked, curious despite herself. "They can't have achieved anything yet, so do they just not get names?"

  "Infant designations are generally something like 'Born During the Storm' or 'Youngest of Seven,'" Kay said offhandedly. "These first designations are only used by family until the child is a few months old and begins earning the standard youth achievements. Left the Pool, First Steps, First Words, and so on. It is considered romantic to tell mates your first designation. Some cultural groups have superstitions surrounding them. Mine believe they shape the child's fate. Others think a first designation with a word associated with air in it will cause the child to be stolen by spirits, or that giving an infant an ugly first designation will ward off bad luck."

  "Can I know yours?" Jewel asked with a grin. "You said it's romantic, right?"

  She'd never seen Kay blush before. It turned his cheeks purple.

  "No," he said flatly, and Jewel laughed. "Carrying on. The exception to the rule is the Peritas. A member of the Peritas is never directly addressed except by other Peritas. You do not start conversations with them. You wait for them to start one with you. Members of the Council are similarly not addressed directly, and even when speaking about them you do not refer to their caste or pronoun. Their Council position and shortened designation are always to be used when referring to an individual Council member. Councilors’ shortened designations are always the singular achievement that earned them their place on the Council. So, if Councilor Architect of the Beremont Cascade approaches you, what do you do?"

  "Uhhh, say hi?"

  "No!" Kay said sharply. "I just told you, you do not address them directly! You wait for them to initiate. You see a red, unstriped Peritas. What do you say?"

  "Um, no stripes means an Occidens, right?" Jewel wrinkled her nose, trying to remember. "So Peritas Occidens?"

  "Wrong," Kay said. "You chose the correct pronoun, but Peritas, like Council members, are not to be addressed directly. I just told you this."

  "How about I just don't talk to anyone?" Jewel grumbled, flopping back into the grass.

  "That may be the wisest course of action," Kay admitted.

  "Hey, I'll figure it out," Jewel said with a sigh. "We've got a month, right?"

  "I'm starting to feel like that may not be enough."

  "And Artifex may address Aedificans, but not Ingenuus, and Figulus are considered below all three. But then again, you don't even have a caste, so perhaps you should not address anyone directly."

  Jewel groaned loudly, interrupting Kay's lecture.

  "You've been talking about nothing but castes and pronouns for hours," she said, lying on her back in the grass. "Can we please move on to something else?"

  Kay sighed.

  "Very well," he agreed. "I suppose it is probably for the best if you do not talk to anyone anyway. We should focus on preparing demonstrations of your abilities."

  "Demonstrations?" Jewel asked, sitting up. "Like what?"

  "This is meant to be a display of your skills and the value of your species," Kay explained. "Many of the Peritas who will be present have great sway with the Council or will be Council members one day. How we choose to approach your species may be dependent on the impression you make tomorrow. It will certainly affect how the Council reacts to you during your official presentation. If you want them to determine that you are an intelligent, sapient species, then impressing them is critical. And the first step toward that is to get the Peritas gossiping about your skills. So. A display of advanced mathematics might be wise. I will attempt to teach you a few Ra'hom words, though I am not sure you will be able to say much without the ability to vibrate your vocal cords as we do. Your human singing might turn a few heads. We will run through a few of the advanced intelligence tests. You are very good at the tower one especially. Perhaps something to show agility and the ability to follow complex orders, like a dance or an obstacle course."

  "This is starting to sound an awful lot like a dog show," Jewel said, frowning. "You want me to do tricks."

  "I want to present you to the Peritas in whatever way most convinces them of your intelligence," Kay argued.

  "Well then, here's a novel thought," Jewel said sarcastically. "Maybe don't trot me out and have me dance around like a trained animal."

  "And what would you suggest instead?" Kay asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "To prove, definitively and scientifically,
that you are intelligent?"

  "Let me talk to them," Jewel said at once. "Let me answer their questions. Show them the Diviner's files on the civilizations my species has built. Our achievements."

  "What humans and Ra'hom consider to be civilization is very different," Kay said dryly.

  Jewel felt her irritation growing, but as she started to get to her feet, Kay held up his hands to calm her.

  "I need you to trust me," he said. "I know my people. I know what will convince them. Please, for once, cooperate."

  Jewel gritted her teeth against the urge to fight him. He was right. This was an alien species, after all. She didn't know what would convince them any more than Kay knew what would convince a human. She didn't have any choice except to trust that he knew what he was doing.

  "Fine," she said, letting her anger go with some difficulty. "I'm a dancing monkey then. Teach me the steps."

  "I suppose we could begin with the dance," he said, missing her sarcasm. "Something formal and traditional perhaps."

  "I can't wait to hear what your music sounds like," Jewel said, only half joking as she dusted grass off her pants.

  "I doubt you'll enjoy it," Kay replied, standing in front of her and adjusting her posture. "From what I recall of your medical records, the human hearing range is optimized for a higher pitch than Ra'homi hearing. What sounds good to us would sound pitched down and unpleasant to you."

  "Well, that’s disappointing," Jewel said with a frown, letting him move her into position. "So we're going to dance to silence?"

  "I will play something during the performance," he said, raising her arms and opening her hands, palms toward him. "But learning the steps first is more important."

  He matched the position he'd put her in, hands an inch away from hers.

  "So, what do I do?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "This is an Ingenuus dance," he said. "Developed during a time when Ingenuus were not allowed to breed without permission of the higher castes. Unlike many other forms of Ra'homi dance, the intrigue is the complete lack of contact between the dancers. It mimes actions of affection without ever breaching the distance between us. It also takes much from my cultural group's martial forms, which is where the distinctive, precise motions originate."