“Yes, but they’re no good for conversation–they’re just programmed to do the grunt work.” Iyanna frowned. “You’re basically all alone with no one to talk to. Well, unless that creep, Higgs comes over.” She made a face and Kiera made one as well.
Higgs was the canthor rancher from the next valley over. He was humanoid and the only other person around, which was the main reason she’d agreed to go out with him.
That has been a mistake–he’d taken her to see his slaughter pens for their first, (and last) date–a horrifying experience. Kiera couldn’t stand to see animals being harmed for profit and watching the cow—like canthors being rammed down an automated slot and shot in both their heads, (because they had two,) as they screamed in fear and agony was more than she could bear.
She’d excused herself from the date as soon as she could and she’d regretted going out with Higgs ever since. Especially since he came over to the sanctuary from time to time and tried to get her to come out with him again.
So far, though, he’d been respectful when she declined. Kiera tried to keep an eye out for him so she could be conveniently elsewhere when he came over. Mostly she kept to her home-dome and so far, he hadn’t bothered her there. It had actually been a few weeks since his last visit and she was beginning to hope that he’d gotten the message that she wasn’t interested in him at all.
“I’ll be fine,” she said to Iyanna firmly. “Higgs hardly ever comes around anymore. And anyway, now I’ve got my good boy to keep me safe.” She stroked the wolf’s head–he was so big that it was level with her ribcage.
The wolf chuffed as though he understood her and leaned closer, rubbing against her almost like a cat–a move that nearly knocked her over.
Kiera laughed and patted his head.
“Easy boy! Take it easy.”
Iyanna smiled.
“Well, I guess you’re right. Nobody in their right mind would mess with you with that guy around.” She nodded at the wolf, who had shown no interest in her at all, except to sniff her hand when she offered it briefly and with obvious reluctance.
Clearly he was a one—person wolf and he’d chosen Kiera as his person. A fact that made a warm rush of happiness bloom in her chest. She had always loved being chosen by an animal and though it had happened often in her life, it felt more significant somehow this time.
She hugged Iyanna one more time and then waved as the shuttle took off. Then she sighed.
“Well, alone again, boy,” she remarked to the wolf. “But not really–now I have you. So how do you like your new home?”
She gestured at the sanctuary with pride and satisfaction. Plo’nix, the second moon of Had’lor Prime, was an Earth—like planet in that it was in the temperate zone of its solar system, and it had a breathable, oxygen rich atmosphere. However, there were some big differences.
For instance, the sky wasn’t the familiar blue of Earth at all—it was a soft, luminous shade of turquoise that deepened to indigo at the horizon, like spilled ink. Two pale rings—faint as chalk marks—circled Had’lor Prime overhead, and every so often the enormous gas giant itself loomed in the heavens like a watchful eye, its swirling bands of jade and gold so vivid they didn’t seem real.
The air smelled different too. Not bad—never bad—but other. There was a clean, mineral tang to it, like rain hitting warm stone…mixed with a faint sweetness, almost like crushed mint and wild honey drifting on the breeze from the low, velvet—soft ground cover that replaced ordinary grass.
Under her boots the earth had a springy give—the “meadow” was actually made up of millions of tiny, cushiony plants the deep green color of moss, shot through with threads of silver that winked when the light hit them just right.
The sanctuary itself spread out across a wide, open plain surrounded by gentle hills—hills that looked familiar in shape but not in color. The rock here had a reddish, rusty cast, like Arizona sandstone, and in the shallow valleys grew stands of tall, reed—like trees with trunks the color of cinnamon and leaves that shimmered in sheets of pale violet.
When the wind moved through them, they didn’t rustle like Earth leaves—they chimed, softly, like a distant wind—harp. And everywhere, all around the enclosures, were the scent barriers and safety fields the Monstrum engineers had installed—mostly invisible, except when the light caught them at an angle and they flickered like heat shimmer.
Kiera loved that part. It meant she could give even the most dangerous predators room to roam without worrying they’d ever get out and hurt anyone.
To her left was the petting—zoo section—her pride and joy—ringed by cheerful signs written in Standard Galactic and in English, for the human visitors the Monstrum planned to bring once everything was fully finished.
The theebles from Hama’ba’ba Nine were already out, scampering over their padded climbing structures like neon kittens with bird beaks—lime green, hot pink, and electric blue fur glowing against the muted landscape. One of them saw Kiera and immediately cheeped,
“Kiera! Kiera! Kiera!” in a ridiculously high voice, while another bobbed its little beaked head and echoed,
“Good boy! Good boy!”—clearly repeating what she’d said earlier to the wolf.
She groaned and laughed at the same time.
“You guys never shut up!”
But that was exactly what she loved about them, after all. Since she was the only living person on the sanctuary–most of the grunt work being performed by the work—bots the Monstrum had bought for her on Frag’ma Six–it was nice to hear another voice now and then.
Beyond the petting zoo were the larger habitats—wide stretches of land enclosed by tall, blue, transparent barriers that kept each species separated without making them feel caged. The new schoonies’ pen was near the edge of a gently sloping hill, where they’d have room to graze and trot and run.
Up close, the creatures really did look like long—necked llamas at first glance—until you noticed the scales instead of fur, the ridged plates along their spines that shifted and flexed when they moved, and the way their eyes glinted like polished amber. They made a low, musical humming sound as they explored their new space, noses dipping to sniff the strange silver—threaded plants. One of them gave a cautious little snort, then nibbled a tuft…and immediately sneezed, rattling its whole long neck.
