I huff in annoyance when I realize that it’s just Mango. My jaw tightens as I contemplate shoving the creature off my lap, but a glance towards the kitchen gives me pause. With her soft hair piled atop her head, Leelee is leaning over a sizzling pan. She seems content, happy even, not noticing that I’d almost eviscerated her animal companion.
I watch warily as Mango circles my lap a few times before finally curling into a small, warm ball. Its throaty vibrations tickle against my skin, pulsing in a strange rhythm that I believe indicates contentment. Mango has the same sense of preservation as its owner to be at such ease that it commandeers my lap. The sheer audacity of assuming my thighs are available for bedding defies explanation. I stare at the soft, fluffy creature nestled in my lap, not sure what to do now.
Slowly, I run a hand down Mango’s orange-furred back, imitating the way I’ve previously observed Leelee doing. I’m not sure what I expect. But the moment my fingers meet the silky fur, a feeling of warmth spreads into the palm of my hand. Thesensation is unsettling, but the softness of the animal’s coat is pleasant. Mango’s vocal vibrations grow in volume and speed in response to my caressing. He issues a low, comforting rumble that vibrates under my fingertips.
I had planned to initiate the conquering of this planet, of making its people tremble before me and my people. To beg for mercy and receive none. Yet, here I am, a few days later, being conquered in return. But not by armies, not by force, but by the kindness of one human female and the rumbling purr of her orange-furred companion. The thought makes me recoil inwardly, but outwardly, I continue my exploration of Mango’s soft fur, finding within the warmth and softness of the creature a sense of peace I’d never expected to discover on this strange, fascinating planet.
As I caress down along its spine, the creature starts to knead my legs with its small yet sharp claws, nipping through the pants Leelee provided me. Even that sensation is somehow pleasant.
After a few enjoyable minutes of stroking Mango, Leelee approaches me, holding two plates of food. She sets one on the table and offers the other one to me, along with an eating utensil. Leelee spots Mango on my lap and her face lights up.
“Mango ez maykin beezcutz,” Leelee says with a grin.
When I reach for the plate, Mango makes a noise of complaint and jumps off my lap. He gives me an arch look that I return, annoyed that it left the security of my lap. However, I’m unwilling to grovel to get the animal to return. I am not its keeper and am unmoved by its ire. It can go to its mistress if it wants to be coddled. I look away, not willing to let Mango know that I’m bothered to see him go. Thankfully, my growling stomach distracts me from my ridiculous, unacceptable reaction.
My nostrils flare as savory aromas rise from the plate. I take the offered plate from Leelee’s hand, careful not to brush myfingers against hers again. “Thank you, Leelee,” I say slowly. Leelee dips her head at my words and gives me a happy grin, making me think she intuits my meaning.
She picks up the second plate and takes a seat next to me. She points to each item on her plate and names them. Egz, froot, baycun, and tohst.
The food’s aroma tickles my senses, strange yet oddly appealing. At the first bite, I made an involuntary noise of appreciation, and her eyes lit up in delight.
“Ez gud, ya?” Leelee asks.
The froot and tohst are familiar yet different from what I’ve had in the past, and the baycun is some kind of fatty fried meat. The pale yellow egz are strange, a fluffy and soft curd of some sort. It’s almost creamy but not sweet like I’d expected.
Mango hops up on the cushion beside Leelee, making plaintive, hungry sounds. Leelee strokes Mango’s fur before setting him back down on the wooden floor, saying something that sounds like a soft reprimand – ignoring what appears to be the animal’s indignation. Mango responds with a plaintive whine, twining around Leelee’s slender ankles in an attempt to wheedle a treat.
Watching them, I am now confident that this creature is not livestock. The thought seems laughable now, considering the fuss Leelee gives it.
With a final sniff, Mango saunters away, its tail up and waving sinuously, its head held high and regal. I’d almost believe that the creature is Leelee’s owner, not the other way around, because of how the animal behaves. Perhaps she is enslaved after all.
Once only crumbs are left on both our plates, we sit in silence, the only sounds being the lively calls of the avian animals outside. The silence is not uncomfortable.
“Steell ungry?” she asks me, breaking the quiet. I shake my head in negation and watch as she wordlessly gathers the dishes.
As she walks to the cooking area, I turn in my seat and watch as she quickly cleans up the area. I am used to being alone, so it is strange to share space with another. It’s not unpleasant, just strange. I wish my translator worked so that we could truly communicate.
Once Leelee finishes her cleanup, she returns to where I wait. Looking around as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself, she walks over to the fire and pokes at it for a moment with a preoccupied air. As she leans closer to the fire, the light flickers over her thick chestnut curls, the flames reflecting in her hazel eyes.
“Wat da ell du we du now?” Leelee mumbles to herself.
“Leelee?” I say, interrupting her talk.
When she turns, giving me her attention, I point towards the washroom. I mimic pushing the lever that removes waste in her sanitation system. I carefully keep from gesturing to my genitals since that seems to cause her distress. Leelee is intelligent enough that I believe she will understand my meaning without needing to cause her embarrassment.
Understanding lights up Leelee’s eyes and she nods and comes over to help me. Once I am on my feet, I find that I can make it to the washroom unassisted. I try to wave Leelee off, but she still hovers at my elbows as if she plans to catch me if I fall. I would crush her under my weight, so I make sure to be careful on my walk down the hall. I close the washroom door on Leelee’s concerned face, the thump echoing my sudden decision to refuse her well-meaning presence as I relieve myself. I smile as I listen to Leelee grumble on the other side of the door, but she respects my wish and doesn’t reopen the door.
When I finish using the waste disposal system, I take a moment to clean myself up. I’m pleased that Leelee did a goodenough job washing me yesterday that the stink from the human military facility no longer clings to my skin.
I swing the washroom door open, instantly catching sight of Leelee waiting for me. A soft smile pulls at her lips but worry lingers in her eyes. She holds up a small, long-handled brush and offers it to me. I try to decipher her intentions as she extends the object to me.
“Heere,” she offers. Doing my best to keep any trace of suspicion from my features, I accept the object.
Leelee picks up another matching brush from the washroom counter. As soon as she picks up a small tube and squeezes a dollop of white paste onto the brush, a strong scent reaches my nose. It’s not unpleasant but it still tickles my nose.
As soon as Leelee brings the brush to her mouth, I realize that it is a teeth cleaning apparatus.
Once she finishes scrubbing her teeth, she spits a frothy residue into the wash basin and rinses it away. It is certainly a primitive way to maintain oral hygiene, but I am thankful for anything at this point.
