by Aguirre, Ann
“Hi,” she tried.
Beside her, Snaps stirred at the sound of her voice, scrabbling at the smooth and shiny floor with his paws, but he couldn’t shake off whatever the alien had zapped them with. The curly-haired pup whined a little, so she patted him like she had everything under control. The thought kept looping—I have totally been abducted by aliens. This is happening. I wonder if there are any cattle on board.
The alien articulated in response—snaps, clicks and churrs—but none of it sounded like words. That didn’t deter Beryl, because she worked full-time at the Sunshine Angels Daycare Center in the two-year-old room. She was used to talking to people who didn’t make sense.
“Am I a prisoner of war? Wait, did you guys invade earth? Or is this an isolated abduction? Don’t experiment on me. I’m so bad at science. Like, I couldn’t even get my mouse to run the maze in eighth grade. Shit, I’m babbling.”
The alien scrutinized her with those glimmering side-set eyes; they were like obsidian with no hint of iris, sclera, or pupil. Maybe those are protective lenses? Do aliens wear contacts? It ran a flashing-light tool over her body, head to toe, but she didn’t feel anything. No repeat of the prior zapping anyway.
That’s good. This is good.
“Also, I’d really like it if you didn’t put stuff in my butt. I mean, those are the stories anyway. Maybe real aliens aren’t into butt stuff. I can’t even tell if you have a butt, per se. So maybe that’s why—” And here I go again.
I’m going to hyperventilate.
At her alarmed noise, Snaps staggered to his feet, growled, then tipped over. The dog caught the alien’s attention, and Beryl came up on her knees, still dizzy but ready to fight to the death to protect her pup. The alien scanned Snaps too. Otherwise, their captor didn’t make a move, still studying them with those uncanny eyes. Keeping her movements slow and careful, she picked Snaps up and cuddled him against her chest. Bright-eyed, the dog licked her face and wagged his curly tail, slapping it cheerfully against her thigh.
“I have no idea why you took me,” she mumbled. “I’m not a scientist. I don’t have access to any launch codes.”
Just when she thought she’d scream because of that unnerving, unblinking regard, the alien finally moved. Fast, so incredibly fast, he was right on top of her in a blink, and before she could do more than yelp, she felt a sharp, painful pinch at the base of her skull. Her vision went fuzzy as the alien repeated the move on Snaps, who yipped in protest. Feebly, Beryl waved her arms, but her coordination still wasn’t what it should be. The ringing in her ears intensified to the point of pain, and she dropped into a self-protective squat, somehow managing to keep the whimpering dog in her arms.
“What the hell?” she muttered.
The alien made more noises, on and on, until—
Those sounds looped in her head, reverb, echo, and then she had the eerie sense she could understand the sounds. It didn’t come across like English exactly, more like a ghost whispering translations inside her confused brain. “Is this working? Can you understand me yet?” That was what the alien seemed to be saying, over and over.
“Yep,” said Snaps.
Beryl nearly dropped the dog. “Wait, what? You can talk?!”
“You can talk?” Snaps repeated, like he was asking her the question.
Oh my God.
She stared up at their abductor. “What did you do to us?”
“Implanted some old technology. It’s occasionally still used to communicate with semi-intelligent beasts of burden.”
It occurred to Beryl to be offended by that description, but her current predicament probably didn’t allow for it. “How did you know it wouldn’t hurt us?” she asked.
“I took precautionary scans. I wasn’t sure it would work, but the results didn’t show that the effort would harm your primitive brains in any fashion.” The alien churred, a placeholder sound like um among humans. “I’m glad we got over the first hurdle. With your permission, I’ll give you a tour of the ship and explain the situation.”
“Go,” Snaps said. “Go, go, go.” He was bouncing at the door already.
That was pretty much how Beryl had imagined her dog would sound, if he could talk, but the reality was… She shook her head to clear it as the metal doors whooshed open, revealing a curved corridor that reminded her of a honeycomb. More yellow lighting, soft and intimate. This was too weird to be a dream.
“Before we proceed, I should introduce myself. I am Zylar from Kith B’alak, Colony Barath.”
“Uhm. I’m Beryl Bowman. Human. Of Earth. United States. State of Missouri, city of St. Louis.”
“I am a dog,” Snaps said. “Dog, dog, dog.” He repeated the last word as he started chasing his tail, gleefully whirling. He slid on the smooth flooring and fell over, panting.
She followed the alien around the ship, feeling like this was an out-of-body experience. Really, she should be freaking out more, right? But she didn’t have the energy for panic. Too much strangeness, too fast, and now she was just…waiting. To find out why he’d taken her, if she’d be collected or eaten or—
“Don’t be frightened,” Zylar said gently. “I can smell it on your skin. I mean you no harm. Actually, it’s kind of a funny story…” And then he told her.
Beryl’s legs gave out, right in the central navigation room, and she flopped on the floor. Snaps danced over and crawled onto her lap to lick her cheeks. “This is fun,” he declared.
“Right. Fun.” She petted the dog absently, then addressed her next words to Zylar. “Solar flares? And your AI was damaged? You thought I was your intended…and that you were rescuing me from certain doom? But as it turns out, I was someone else from the wrong planet, and—”
“I can’t take you back,” Zylar said. “I’m so sorry. Helix was damaged, and we don’t have the coordinates for your home world any longer. At this point, you have three options.”
Okay, this was a lot, all at once. “Isn’t there a way to…fix him? Recover the data he lost so you can take me back?”
“We can try.” The alien didn’t sound hopeful, however.
Sighing, Beryl tried to wrap her head around the situation and came up feeling blank and queasy, much like after a night of heavy drinking. “What are my choices, then?”
“I can drop you off at the nearest station, and you can figure out what to do from there.” That first choice appeared in holographic form, a shimmering space station made of light.
Where she wouldn’t know anyone. It was doubtful she could find work taking care of alien children. “Pass,” she said. “Next?”
“We’re in stable orbit above my home now. You can accompany me to Barath and take part in the next Choosing…” Zylar showed her the planet, a lovely orb swirling with warm colors, but she had no idea what the Choosing entailed, or why she should participate. For all she knew, it might involve gladiatorial combat.
Beryl prompted, “Or? There’s definitely an unspoken or.”
The alien took a step toward her and offered his clawed, three-digit…hand. “Against all expectations, you appear to be a reasonably intelligent being. I still require a nest-guardian, and you may be well-suited for the role. Certainly, I’ve never seen anyone with such a fearsome aspect.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she demanded.
“Did it not sound like one?” He seemed puzzled, if the whispering in her head could be believed.
“Not so much. What does this nest-guardian thing entail?”
“We begin the mating dance. At the end of everything, if we prove compatible, we out-bond. Build a life together. Raise young.”
Beryl blinked. And couldn’t stop. She hiccupped again. Raise young? How would that work? “Are you…proposing to me?”
“Yes, Terrible One. You are the most hideous mate anyone ever brought back to Barath, and so you will drive all predators away from our nest with ease.” He churred again, a soothing sound, actually.
“Thanks? But you need
to work on the endearments.” She glanced at the dog, who cocked his head at her. “What do you think, boy?”
“Go,” said Snaps.
Well, it would be hard to go wrong following a dog’s advice, right? Briefly, she reflected on her life in St. Louis—shitty diapers, low pay, an overdue electric bill, credit card debt, and student loans. Dinky studio apartment and a car that constantly broke down, unsolicited dick pics and an ex named Stuart who ghosted with a text.
To think my mother said I’d never get married… She took Zylar’s hand.
“Fuck it,” Beryl said. “Out-bonding it is. Let’s see where this goes.”
2
Zylar could not possibly have understood the female correctly.
Her words registered as: Copulation! Let’s join and find out how this works. Surely she didn’t mean to mate with him before all the rituals and proprieties were observed? But perhaps that was her people’s way, a method of testing a prospective partner to see whether he could perform adequately. I’m not ready for this.
“It’s too soon,” he said.
The fur on her face raised on its own, and he couldn’t stop staring at it. When he tried to look away, he couldn’t, even while understanding that his horrified fascination might register as rude. She had fur, just like the smaller primate. A lot on her head, a little on her face and body. How completely unusual.
“You asked me first!”
“To start the courtship process, which will end with you as my nest-guardian, should we both agree. That does not mean I intended to…” Words failed him.
In all honesty, he couldn’t imagine how they would come together with all her rare anatomical features. Still, his uncle and cousin seemed content enough with their out-bond mates, so he’d worry about logistics later. More to the point, it was so inappropriate to have this conversation before she’d met his progenitors and participated in the greeting ceremonies. Not to mention the purification and… How were they to deal with her fur? He suspected she would object to being shaved.
“So…we’re in a getting-to-know-each-other stage? Kind of like ______?”
“I don’t understand.” The translation device he’d installed clearly wasn’t conveying the nuances of her language. At least they’d progressed from hearing each other as unintelligible noises, he supposed.
Her grabbers curled up, a sign that she was unhappy, he thought. “Um. We’re learning about each other. We’ll spend time together, and at the end, we both get a say in whether we out-bond.”
“Yes,” he answered, relieved to hear something that made sense. “There are certain formalities to be observed, steps to be taken. We will both participate in the Choosing with intentions toward one another.” Innate honesty compelled him to add, “If someone else earns your favor, however, you are free to choose them instead.”
How he wished that weren’t true, but it would be immoral to make her think she had some obligation to him, when he was the reason she had been forced from her home with no means of returning. Most probably, he should urge her to choose someone else, someone more competent. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do that, for if he remained Unchosen at the end of this final cycle, he would relinquish his right to nest and yield his private living space to younger, more deserving kith. He would become a dormitory drone, forever relegated to menial tasks.
She tipped her head forward. “Then let’s go meet the family or whatever.”
“Go,” said the little primate. It seemed to have quite a limited vocabulary.
“Does your friend have a name?” he asked.
“I call him Snaps. I never asked what he prefers.”
“You couldn’t understand each other before I installed the translation device?” Astonishment swept over him. He couldn’t imagine sharing his domicile with a being with whom he was unable to communicate.
“Sometimes I felt like he understood me. I’m not sure if the opposite is true.”
“He is the clever one?”
“Yup,” Snaps said.
Beryl made a strange sound that didn’t translate, and her talking place curved up, showing tiny increments of bone. They were like the chewing aids he’d seen in other primates, but not nearly sharp enough to serve as natural weapons. That was probably why her kind had the sonic-screeching defense. He twitched in visceral horror in recollection of the way the sound had annihilated his capacity for rational thought.
“Sure, you could say that, I guess. Snaps doesn’t get arrested when he pees outside, he doesn’t carry debt, and I make sure he always has food. So it does seem like he’s got it all figured out, huh?”
Her recitation made it clear that Snaps was the real power in their partnership—that she acted as his servant. Zylar flared his spines so the gravitas of the occasion wasn’t lost on them. “Then I will include Snaps in any important decisions. Does that please you?”
“Yup,” said Snaps.
She made the sound again, until liquid leaked out of her visual apparatus. “Absolutely. I asked him for advice earlier, and he suggested pairing up with you. That proves he’s a genius, huh?”
Zylar paused. He had the sense she was mocking him, but he couldn’t be sure. “I question the sincerity of this statement since you do not know me well. But I will believe in your good intentions.”
“Thanks.”
“Helix is malfunctioning, so I must land the ship manually. I am a competent pilot, but perhaps you wish to strap in?” He indicated the seats that were designed for Barathi bodies, unsure if she could make their harnesses work.
“I’ll try,” she said, picking up the wise, small creature known as Snaps.
“Put me down,” Snaps said.
“It’s for your own good.”
“Nope.”
But she didn’t listen to the smaller being’s protest and busied herself fastening into the seat as best she could. Satisfied with those precautions, Zylar settled into the pilot chair and contacted port officials. “This is Zylar of Kith B’alak, requesting uplink for a guided landing.”
“Your AI is offline?”
“Yes. Helix suffered cascade failure due to exposure to solar flares. I am uncertain whether he can be saved.” That was one of the saddest things he’d ever said, as Helix was his oldest friend, and some might even say his only one, as the others had drifted away after Zylar failed in the first Choosing.
More abandoned him after the second, and by the time he went Unchosen for the fourth time, there was nobody left beside him. Even his closest kith couldn’t look at him directly anymore. At this rate, becoming a dormitory drone would be a relief, because then at least he’d have companions—equals in status who understood his emotions.
Asvi had been his last hope, and now, he didn’t know what to think of this Beryl Bowman. He wasn’t even certain the Assembly would accept her as a qualified candidate for the Choosing, due to the fact that she came from an unknown, primitive planet. Still, he couldn’t reveal his doubts in front of her. Now that she was here, he’d hope for the best, though optimism had long since deserted him.
“Sit still, Snaps!”
The little furry one whined, a surprisingly pathetic sound. He ignored their brief struggle as the uplink with docking officials commenced. On his end, he only had to accept inputs and allow the override. He’d overstated his skills as a pilot, hoping to impress her—pure vanity. In a quick span, the ship broke through the burn and glided toward the city. It occurred to him that she might be curious, so he widened the viewport visible from her chair, giving her a glimpse of what could become her home.
“Holy shit,” she said.
He had no idea what those words meant, but possibly, it was a compliment. If he turned, it would give away the fact that he wasn’t truly flying the ship—normally, Helix supervised this—so he spoke while monitoring the numbers that showed everything was on track for a smooth landing. “This is Srila, capital of Barath Colony.” There was no telling what trivial knowledge she would find interesting,
so he added at random, “Visitors call this the City of a Thousand Spires.”
It was hard to guess what she thought of his home, but the lights and graceful lines always called to him, as did the slow fade of the buildings as they turned. That motion ensured that no one hoarded beauty, but that everyone shared a portion of the loveliness. His favorite escape was to board one of the sky boxes and simply sit, traveling until the operators closed the cables for the night.
Zylar risked a glance over one shoulder and found her sitting forward, staring in silence. “It’s so beautiful.”
His ruff frilled in reflexive pride, responding to the compliment. “Kith B’alak has been here since the beginning. We were builders from the very first.”
“Builders, like construction? You put things together? Or like…architects? Did your family design the city?”
“Both,” he replied. “Is this separate work where you come from?”
“Yeah. Usually it is, I think. I mean, I’m not an expert or anything. I took care of toddlers for a living.”
Zylar perked, swiveling his head almost completely in excitement. “If I understand correctly, toddlers are young ones? You were entrusted with the task of guarding others’ nestlings on your world?”
“Uh, yes. But it’s not a big deal there. I don’t even have a degree, unless you count my associate’s in early childhood education, and most people don’t.”
He churred. “You have left your world, Beryl Bowman. I know nothing of ‘degrees,’ but here, it will matter a great deal that you have already served as a nest-guardian. I will be the envy of the Choosing, should you select me when the time comes.”
This alien seemed sincere about the respect she’d receive on Barath, which freaked Beryl out.
Nobody thought working with two-year-olds was a huge honor on Earth, but he’d sworn she could write her own ticket in Srila. It really was fucking gorgeous. She hadn’t been spreading bullshit in hope of growing petunias.