Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Prior to Risda, of course. Now, I can't seem to go a day without running into females in Port. They loiter in the cantina, they gather and talk in front of the general store, and they have meetings—a “book club” once a month in the town hall, and they show up to the market on trade days to exchange goods or to simply take a day off from farming.
The male in this position before me—a surly szzt type—recently got himself killed by outlaws. The mesakkah military sent me and my partner, a male named Khex i'Yani, to head in and take over. We've been here a standard month now, and things are mostly quiet. I see a lot of under-the-table dealings, but it'll take a while to root those out.
For now, it's just important for us to work hard and show the people here that we're in charge. Most of the locals haven't been all that friendly, though. While it irks Khex that we're so poorly received, I get it. These people are used to living on the fringes. They know mesakkah law can be cruel and unforgiving. How can I blame them for not appreciating when soldiers step in to take over? Doesn't mean I won't do my job. Just means we won't be making many friends.
So yeah, most of the people here are unfriendly…except one.
"Your female is back," Khex says in a dry voice, his boots kicked up on his desk as he scrolls through the day's news on his data pad. His seat is nearer to the window, so he's got a good view of Port's paved street. I look up just in time to see an air-sled pass by and nearly run over the female heading in our direction.
The colonists here are particularly bad drivers, I've noticed. Maybe it's because there's not a lot of traffic and so they usually have their run of the skies? Whatever it is, they're dreadful, and I make a note in my data pad to see about safety training. I wonder if these drivers are even licensed? Probably not. From my official reports, most of the female population is comprised of freed slaves of human descent, and the male population are thieves and ex-convicts. It's a volatile mix, and one you wouldn't expect from the sunny skies and peaceful green fields of Risda.
The female that was almost run down? It's the one that makes my heart sing in my chest, my face flush with nerves, the one that fills all my late-night yearnings…and the one that's made my waistline thicken by a good notch in my belt since arriving here. As I stare out the window like a fool, she shakes a small fist at the sled that zips past, then continues on her way down the walkway, heading for our office, as she always does.
Surreptitiously, I smooth a hand over my hair, wondering if it's all still in place. Khex just snorts in amusement at my actions. I know I'm a keffing idiot around women, but it doesn't matter. She'd never be interested in me in a thousand years. Lucy is just like every other female here—abused by slavers and wary of aliens. She wants nothing more than to be left alone, so any hopes I would ever have are useless.
Not that I've ever managed to say much of anything to Lucy.
Not that that ever stops her from coming by.
Something tells me she's lonely, and our poor company beats no company at all, so she shows up nearly every day. Sure enough, as soon as she gets close enough to the port authority office to peer inside the tinted windows, she waves a hand eagerly in the flailing gesture that humans make when they're excited to see one another. She steps in front of the automated doors, waiting patiently on the identity pad.
"Colonist Loo-see Cole-tonn," the computer intones, slurring over the human sounds. "Status: Protected."
The moment the doors open, Lucy rushes inside, a package in her arms. "Good morning, gentlemen," she calls cheerily. "How are you enjoying this fine weather? Isn't it lovely out?"
I sit straighter at my desk, not getting up in case that might alarm her. Before arriving on Risda, we were forced to watch multiple training videos of how to deal with humans, especially ones that had been captives and traumatized. The instructions ring in my head. Move slow. Do not smile and bare teeth. Do not loom over them in a show of dominance. Enunciate when speaking.
"Greetings," I say, very slowly, and nod my head.
Lucy blinks at me, a flash of puzzlement on her expressive face. A moment later, the confusion is gone, replaced by another dazzling smile.
"Morning, Lucy," Khex says, not looking up from his data pad. "How can we help you today?"
"Oh, I don't need any help," Lucy sings out gaily. She bounds over to the low-backed chair in front of my desk and holds out the plas-film-covered bundle in her arms. As she does, the stink of a floral perfume assaults my nostrils. That's another one of the rules—humans disguise their scents and we are never, ever to comment on it, no matter how bad it smells. Maybe it smells good to Lucy, but it's harsh and acrid on my nostrils. She pulls off a layer of plas-film and then beams at me. "I was in town today. Well, I'm in town every day. You know me. I can't sit still at home." She chuckles. "And I thought that I'd bake you two some of my muffins! I tried out the recipe on the girls at the book club last month and they were a hit. The texture's not quite the same as the bread back on Earth, but that's because the flour here isn't made of wheat. Or maybe it is. I don't know much about your cooking here. Just that you guys like noodles." She giggles, shaking her head. "These aren't noodles. They're muffins, if that wasn't obvious. Or…would you guys rather have noodles? I can make you some if you need a good home-made dish, but I'm not all that familiar with mesakkah flavorings, so you'd have to coach me on it."