Chapter 1
Lena
Ihurry down the last stretch of hallway toward the hatchery, holding my necklace with one hand so it doesn’t bounce against my chest and disturb Elvis. He’s the little bug guy who lives in my shell pendant. I found him on the alien spaceship that abducted me from Earth, and he’s been my buddy for the long weeks since then.
Most people probably wouldn’t keep a bug as a pet, but most people haven’t had the life I’ve had. Elvis and I understand each other. The first time I met him, he was being stomped under a boot worn by a four-hundred-pound Frathik. But as soon as that boot lifted, he popped up and ran straight to me, feelers waving as his dozens of silvery legs rippled over the floor. It’s like he knew I’d keep him safe.
He’s been living in my necklace ever since. I’m worried about him, though. He’s been slowing down lately. And he won’t eat the foamy, sweet protein bar that I’ve always fed him. I can’t tell if he’s sick or just sick of it.
Just before I reach the sliding glass doors of the hatchery, Harl pops his head out of his lab, all eight of his beady eyes bright. He motions me inside. “I think I might’ve found your friend!”
“Oh yeah?” I lean on the doorframe as he brings up an image of an insect on the comm screen. Sure enough, it looks a whole lot like Elvis. I bounce up on my toes. “Holy shit, you totally did!”
“He’s an Alcoran yomni’il.” Harl beams, the creases in his leathery, gray face deepening. “I scoured all the databases we had, and I finally found him! We must have picked him up when we stopped there to resupply.”
I can tell he’s just as happy to know as I am. Harl is the Frathik biologist who was put in charge of caring for us humans when we were abducted, and we bonded over our mutual interest in living things. He’s become a dear friend. He’s the one who gave me the shell for Elvis to live in. He’s also the reason I’m here on R’Hiza, and I’m so, so thankful for that.
“I want to know everything. What he eats, his lifecycle, his ideal habitat, everything.”
“Yomni’ils are nectar drinkers. That’s why he prefers the sweet foods we’ve offered him! I’m sure he’s dehydrated, though, which could explain his lethargy. I can mix several concentrations of nectar using the nutrient profile in the database to see what he prefers. You can introduce him to substrates that mimic the Alcoran prairies in the meantime, if you want.”
I can’t help a glance back out to the hallway, my responsibilities tugging at me. “Maybe when I come by later? Rose really needs me today.”
“Of course. Leave Elvis with me while you work,” Harl suggests. “That way he doesn’t have to wait to sample the nectar to see which one he likes best.”
I unloop the leather cord from around my neck and pass it to him, knowing my little buddy is in good hands. Harl is on the case. By the time I get back, Elvis is going to be so happy, I know it. We’re going to give him the best little alien bug life we can.
Shit, Rose is waiting on me.
“Bye Harl! Thanks! Love you!” I call on my way out, his amused rumble following me down the hall.
The glass doors to the hatchery slide open with a hiss, and then jet closed behind me as a sanitizer mists down. Rose bustles over as soon as she sees me enter. A short, curvy human woman in her seventies, she looks great for her age, her cheeks pink and her silver, curly hair threaded with the glimpses of its original brown.
“You’re late,” she says crisply, disapproval tugging her mouth down. Usually she’s really chill, so I extra-hate disappointing her. “I have all the rows checked for you, though. I was just about to head over to the other clutch.”
I nod. “Thanks. I got distracted on the way because Harl finally identified Elvis. We might be able to fix whatever is wrong with him.”
“Oh, honey!” Rose’s frown instantly lifts at the news, and her eyes get shiny. She side-squeezes me into her body. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”
I hug her back, my chest tightening as I soak in her maternal approval, and we stand there for a minute, like time has stopped for our hug. I let her and my breath go at the same time. “Okay, I’m done. Let’s grow some babies.”
She nods, patting me on the arm before heading off to the other hatchery. I’m left alone. Well, not alone. In front of me, a basketball-court-sized room is home to over four-hundred Frathik eggs, each one carefully spaced in individual, custom-molded nests to allow for proper temperature and air circulation.
Normally, I wander the rows, shining a light through the translucent shells of each Golden-Retriever-sized egg to check the murky movements inside that indicate the embryos are developing as they should, but Ruth has already done that part for me, her neat little signature next to the date in the log.
Today, I head straight to the dais at one end of the room, where a sound system and a comfortable stool are located. I don’t even need to check the playlist, it’s so familiar to me. Next week, we’ll start a new song sequence for the hatching, and I’ll have to pay closer attention to the lyrics that flit across the screen. But this is the playlist I’ve been singing for a month now, so I take a seat, close my eyes, and let the music come out, the sound of my voice amplified so it washes evenly over every egg in the room.
The words are in Frathik, and my tongue struggles to twist around their rough shapes, but I hear the lyrics through my translator in English.
Grow safe and strong; your parents are waiting patiently
We made you, but now you must make yourself
Ideally, a Frathik mother would sing to her own egg in the privacy of her own home, a special hatching chamber providing the perfect bath of sound to aid in their proper development. But a lot of things have happened to the Frathiks that have made that ideal situation impossible.
My heart breaks when I think about how their planet was destroyed by the Irrans over something so stupid. Who would blow up all those ecosystems packed with plants and animals, oceans and forests teeming with life, cities of people and technology, a wholeculture, for a vendetta? For greed? My voice catches, and I have to shake the negative thoughts out of my head so the song does its job.
I focus on the squirmy embryos in their eggs, willing my voice to nurture them. They need to grow up healthy and whole. The universe needs more people like Harl, people who care about a single bug. People with intellectual curiosity, people with compassion. I have a chance to help a whole generation of them come into being.
