I have spent the last day wandering various levels of this wretched space station, trying to get a glimpse of the little human female - as if fate would ever be so kind. It was not kind to me when the slave trader had told me that she had already been purchased - that she was gone. He’d been decidedly tight-lipped on who had her, too. Zann had to resort in dragging me out of there with my blaster in hand, pointed at the Sectarixi male’s head in the hopes that I could threaten the information out of him.
I have never acted in such a way - especially not in public. And, ultimately, there was nothing I could do. He had sold her legally, and their sales are binding and confidential.
Now, as I wait in the lounge of our ship, there is a yawning pit in my stomach as our crew prepares to disembark from Moon’s Rest Space Station, leaving behind that intoxicating female - wherever she may be.
I lean back on the sunken, padded seating, arranged in a long, flowing shape set into the ground. My arms are outstretched along the backrest and my face tipped up to the ceiling, exposing my throat as I swallow painfully, thinking of her. I hope wherever she is, whoever it was who bought her, that she is being treated well.
The scent of smoke drifts my way, and I lift my head to look over at my youngest brother, irritated. “What are you smoking?”
Zann blows little puffs of smoke into the air - each one turning a different pastel shade, and forming into various shapes. One of those puffs of smoke looks vaguely like a dancing female human, with its shapely form and lack of horns. “Moonweed,” he says, grinning back at me. “Want some?”
“I’ll take a hit,” Az, my middle brother perks up, leaning over to take the offered rolled stick of class 7 herbs.
I watch as he puts the primitive stick between his lips but reach forward, snatching it out before he has a chance to inhale.
“Hey!”
“You’re a professional athlete,” I reason with him. “You don’t know how pure this stuff is, or where Zann got it. It’s not worth it.”
“It’s off season! C’mon, K!” Az whines, reminding me of when we were younger and he was in constant need of reining in from whatever new, daring plan for mischief Zann had talked him into. His total lack of fear and inability to foresee dangers baffles me most of the time.
I look down and examine the smoking stick between my fingers, and by the time I’m looking back up to my brothers again, Zann has already gotten bored of the conversation around how pure his moonweed is, and is projecting his ‘species fuck list’ from his wrist comm again. Irritated, I stub the smoking stick out on the low table in front of us and watch as he crosses off two new species.
“A Tressian?!” Az exclaims, almost choking on the word. “How did you manage that? Aren’t they… mostly hair?”
“It’s do-able,” Zann winks. “Lovely girl. Wants to start her own salon. I told her she can buff my horns any time,” he says, grinning.
I reach for the decanter of distilled pukpuk liquor and pour myself a glass. I’m in no mood to hear the details of my brother’s bedding conquests.
The doors to the lounge area whoosh open, and in floats my Aunt Zalora with her cane, my cousin, Vel following along behind her, constantly checking lists of her own - ones infinitely more important than Zann’s fuck list. “There you three are,” my Aunt says, smiling at us… which is… unnerving.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my Aunt dearly. She raised us, after all. But she is one for duties, order, and making sure our lives and household runs smoothly. There’s a motherly side there for sure, but you normally have to chisel away at several layers of stern stoicism before you reach the fuzzy, smiling center.
So, her smiling? Freely? Let’s just say it’s enough to make me lower my crystal-cut tumbler of liquor and observe her a little more closely. Vel clutches her touchpad to her chest and presses her lips together like she’s trying desperately not to let any words burst out.
I narrow my eyes at her, too. She knows something.
Aunt Zalora opens her mouth and takes a breath as if about to speak, but she gets caught off guard when she looks over to Zann - Zann, who still has that fucking projection of his list displayed. That suspicious smile slides right off her face. “Will you please get rid of that, Zannador!” she huffs, tapping her cane on the floor. “I have gifts for you.”
“Gifts?” Az perks up, rubbing his hands together. He’s only two years younger than myself, but has never lost that youthful spirit. “Ilovegifts.”
“Yes, well-” Aunt Zalora points her cane at both of my brothers, “you two will have to put some work in before you will be able play properly with these gifts. And even then, there’s no guarantee.”
Inexplicably, Vel giggles before covering her mouth and smothering the sound.
Zann raises a brow at the whole thing before reaching for the decanter of liquor and pouring himself a glass. “That’s not normally how gifts work, Auntie, dearest,” he says, leaning back and taking a sip of the red liquid. “Besides, who wants a gift you have to work for?”
Zalora smirks, and, without turning to face her aide, she simply instructs in a quiet tone, “bring in the gifts.”
After a tap or two of Vel’s deft fingers on her touchpad, she has apparently instructed some staff members to bring in these mystery gifts because the doors whoosh open again and this time, in steps-
Some humans.
Zann sprays his mouthful of liquor all over himself and Az jumps up to his feet, standing at full attention beside me.
When the last human walks in behind the two others, my breath catches in my lungs.
That’s my human.
