canât say no to your charming, tusky self.â
âOr to you,â I countered, happily abandoning the pot to chemistry in order to follow Paul into our main living area.
This was my favorite part of our home, cheerfully crowded by chairs of varying size and shapeâsupposedly as a courtesy to any nonhumanoid guests, but in reality to provide comfort to any nonhumanoid me. Paul had arranged them to offer a choice of view. Either window overlooked the front of our home, which as often as not meant staring at the massive shutters saving those windows from Minas XIIâs hyperactive weather. The other focal point was the fireplace, with its stone mantel host to my collection of images of Paulâs offspring sitting on my broad Lishcyn knees at several pivotal moments of their growth, nestled around a set of large, never-used gift candles whose fragrance made both of us sneeze, and, newest addition, a three-dimensional close-up of a truly stunning tusk inlay I desperately wanted but Paul considered a bit extreme for the office.
I was wearing him down.
There were shelves loaded with readers, vids, and puzzles. A tall stand in one corner sprouted chilled bottles of wine and beer instead of vegetation. And somewhere, on the floor, I distinctly remembered weâd put down some expensive and colorful Whirtle carpets a while agoânow lost beneath what was a cozy, albeit crowded, place meant for living.
There were no secrets here, no dictionaries for languages unknown to the Human Commonwealth, no collections of information that would be impossible for Cameron or Ki to explain. Such wealth was safely stored within my mass; any Iâd shared with Paul locked either in his memory or in our hidden machines. Yet, given enough wine or a melancholy moodâor bothâmy Human would talk to me for hours about the library we could build, if we dared. At such times, I believed he truly understood how incomplete my life sometimes felt, without the sharing and assimilation of mass.
Not that it felt that way now, I thought contentedly, heading for the waiting chessboard. But Paul didnât take his seat, as Iâd expected. Instead, he went straight to the closet beside the fireplace and pulled out our carrysacks, tossing one in my direction. âPacking,â I objected firmly, âgives me indigestion.â
âBeing awake gives you indigestion.â
Possibly true, but hardly polite. âFine.â Perhaps if I gave in to his efficiency, weâd have time for a game. âPass out my other sack.â
âOne is all youâll need.â
âOne!â I sputtered indignantly. âOne?? Iâll need at least two. Maybe,â I scowled, âthree.â
Paul shook his head, grinning at my outrage. âWeâll be in one of Largasâ freighters or climbing rocks for the entire trip. Not to mention weâll be carrying our own baggage, Fem Ki, which means youâll be carrying yours. I presume youâll want one hand free in case itâs night when we disembark?â
My shudder wasnât completely theatrical. My Lishcyn-self, having no night sight worth mentioningâunless one wished to say something derogatory to an otherwise peace-loving being covered in tough hairy scales and possessed of a body that could splinter most furniture just by accidentâhad a healthy aversion to dim light, let alone full darkness. Paul was right, as usual. I must be able to carry my lamp. âOne sack,â I sighed. Then brightened. âBut Iâll have to go shopping. For the return trip.â
His lips twitched. âOn Piccoâs Moon?â
Iâd already thought of that. âThe freighter makes another stop on the way home. Urgia Prime!â Low standards, great shopping. Despite my anxiety about what was happening on Ershâs mountain, I showed Paul both tusks. âMight as well enjoy ourselves.â The first thing Iâd buy, I promised
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley