Have Tail, Will Travel

Kalini

Kalini checked her lipstick for the third and final time before entering the restaurant.

It’s just drinks. No big thing. Just drinks.

Sure. Just drinks with Roger, the guy she’d been messaging with non-stop for two weeks. A web-based dating service brought them together, but that wasn’t weird. Most people met online nowadays, and most people used some type of dating app or service. The algorithm suggested she and Roger would be a good match, but she never really put much stock into all that. After all, it was just a program cobbling together personality types. Still, he had an attractive picture, and his profile indicated that they shared mutual goals: family, stability, and a partner ready for the long term.

He looked great on paper. Tonight, she’d find out if he was really as fantastic as the profile made him out to be and if they had any chemistry.

Kal knew what she wanted. Forever, basically. The forever kind of love she saw in the movies. He didn’t have to sweep her off her feet or make her heart race. She had passion before, and passion never lasted. She wanted steadfast. She wanted dependable. She wanted forever.

Not much for a girl to ask, right?

Her work hours made having a social life difficult. Dating? So not happening, which is why Kal leaned on the dating service. She had zero interest in the kind of men found in a bar or club, and her chaotic work schedule barred her from reliable attending social functions. How many dinner parties and get-togethers had she missed because of work obligations? Enough that the dinner party invitations stopped arriving.

She spotted him at a table, just as good-looking as his picture. Better looking, even, with his gray suit and coiffed blond hair. Kal had never really gone for blonds, but she was open to exploration.

Roger must have recognized her immediately. His lips pinched together in a tight smile.

Did her appearance disappoint him? Kal fought the urge to tug down the hemline of her dress, knowing full well it fit perfectly and covered everything. Her photo had been honest and showed her entire figure, thick thighs and big bum included.

She joined him at the table, sitting opposite. A glass of water already waited.

“Hi. Sorry I’m late. I got caught in traffic,” she said. “It’s great to finally meet you in person.”

“Same. You look, wow. Just wow.” His gaze swept over her, lingering for a moment on the neckline of her little black dress but drifted away to a point over her shoulder.

Maybe the little black dress wasn’t as perfect as she thought. A few years old, Kal always considered them timeless and above fickle fashion trends, but if it couldn’t keep her date’s eyes on her, then maybe she should retire the dress.

Kal picked up the glass. Pink lipstick smeared the rim.

Ugh.

“This glass is dirty,” she said, setting it down in disgust. She waved to get a waiter’s attention and asked for a new glass. “Crazy, huh?” She asked as the waiter took the dirty glass away. “Have you been here before?”

“A few times,” he said.

“What’s going on here?” a woman asked, standing behind Kal.

“Honey,” Roger said, a thousand-watt smile on his face. “This is Kalini, the woman I told you about from work. Kal, this is Tammy, my wife. She was passing by and decided to stop in. Unexpectedly.”

The woman from work? His wife!

Kal twisted in her seat, to find Tammy frowning at her. Shame flooded Kal. Roger lied to her and made her into the Other Woman.

She stood up quickly. “So sorry. I thought Roger was alone.” And single. And not a cheater.

“My place setting and glass of water weren’t a clue?” Tammy gave a derisive laugh. “What happened to my glass of water?”

“Kalini knocked it over,” Roger said quickly.

“But the table’s not wet?” Tammy asked.

“She knocked it onto the floor.”

Kal opened her mouth to protest but clamped it shut when Roger mouthed, “Please.”

She shouldn’t be doing him any favors. He was a liar and a philanderer. How many other women had he cheated on his wife with? She didn’t owe him anything except making a big ass scene.

“Did you really?” Tammy turned her gaze to Kal, waiting for an explanation. Her heavily made-up eyes were tired, as if this wasn’t the first time she caught her husband having an affair with another woman, and she didn’t have the energy to go through the drama of yet another scene with the scorned woman shaming Roger and, by extension, Tammy. How many times had she unexpectedly dropped in and found him with another woman?

How awful to be married to a man who would do that to his wife.

“Yeah,” Kal said with a shrug. “I’m the office klutz. Anyway, I better be going. Don’t want to be late for my date tonight.”

“Someone nice?” Tammy asked.

“I thought so.”

As she got up to leave, Roger snagged her wrist. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “We’ll catch up for that drink, later.”

Kal yanked her hand back. “I don’t think so.”

On the way out, Tammy said in a loud stage whisper, “If you had told me she looked like that, I wouldn’t have worried.”

Shame and humiliation burned bright on her cheeks. She would never, ever flirt with a married man. She’d certainly never wear fancy new underwear and a matching bra or use her lucky lipstick.

She walked until her embarrassment eased its grip on her heart and she noticed the pain in her feet. The new heels were definitely of the “fuck me” variety and not made for walking all night.

New underwear and new shoes.

Thank the stars that her parents weren’t alive to see the mess she made of dating. When Kal had been younger, her mother always offered to introduce her to find her a nice man to marry. Fresh out of college, marriage had been the furthest thing from Kal’s mind. Before she knew it, her mother succumbed to pancreatic cancer and her father followed shortly after. Heart attack.

It still didn’t feel like they were gone. All the family she had left now were some old aunties she hadn’t seen since she was in grade school.

Kal limped into a kebab shop, intent on drowning her sorrows with grease and shaved meat.

“Big night?” the man behind the counter eyed her outfit.

Kal pulled up on the neckline, no longer in the mood to display her cleavage. “Not anymore. Men are real assholes,” she said.

“Don’t I know it.”

She couldn’t believe she let herself get tricked by a handsome face and a few witty messages. Good on paper, lousy in person.

This was Roger’s fault. She had no reason to beat herself up. He was the one who cheated on his wife. He was the one who tried to drag her into the muck with him. Thankfully, she avoided him and all his nonsense.

How hard was it to find a decent man? It’s not like she had a crazy list of qualities she wanted in a partner, like supermodel good looks, rich, and no kids. She didn’t care about that. All she wanted was a man who was honest, kind, intelligent, and who wanted a family as much as she did. Simple, right?

Wrong. So, so wrong.

It had been so much easier for her parents. Their introduction had been done the old-fashioned way: arranged through family. She felt so envious that her parents had people who loved them, knew them, and found them someone to marry. While her parents had been strangers, the families knew each other through business.

She should have taken her mother up on the offer to make introductions. The timing hadn’t been right and, honestly, she hadn’t been interested in marriage. Now, though...

Her parents’ deaths made her realize how much she needed family. Ironic that the event that made her ready for marriage was the same event that took away the people who would help her find a match.

How easy would that have been? To have the people who loved her and knew her best find suitable candidates from an extended network of family friends and business contacts? They might be strangers at the first meeting, but they would be able to get to know each other before making the commitment and marrying. Sure, it might not have been instant, but she could have come to love him over time.

Approaching her parents’ friends for advice might be better. Kal wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her mother had a short list of possible matches that she shared with her girlfriend, Mrs. Imai. She hadn’t spoken with Mrs. Imai since the funeral, but she felt sure the older woman would help if Kal asked.

Then again, sitting in the Imais’ parlor, sipping bitter tea, nibbling on stale biscuits, listening to the ticking of their antique clocks like a countdown to the heat death of the universe...

Maybe not. Mr. Imai would natter for hours about his clock restoration, and Mrs. Imai just liked to chinwag about the neighbor’s unruly dog. They were nice people, but Mrs. Imai and her mother forged a friendship based on a mutual love of gossip.

She could always ask her ancient aunties.

Ugh. She might as well hire a professional matchmaker.

Actually, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Matchmakers were respected members of the community. They would get to know Kal, her hopes and dreams, and introduce her to someone—an unmarried someone—who wanted the same things.

A strange dissonance of being a stranger in her own hometown rolled over her. Kal missed her parents, desperately. She never understood how much Sunday afternoons grounded her in her adult life with her father watching cricket in the lounge and her mother cooking a roast for tea. Kal would nibble on a plate of biscuits or Coronation Chicken sandwiches.

She hated Coronation Chicken growing up. Bits of mango chutney would stick between her teeth. The mixture managed to be too sweet, fatty, and boring all at once.

She’d give anything for the comfort of another cold sandwich with a cup of hot, over-sugared tea. Kal grinned at the memory. Her mother had a sweet tooth and cooked accordingly.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Sorry about tonight. Can we try again?

Ugh. That jerk.

Kal typed out a scathing reply, deleted it, and wrote, “No. Don’t contact me again.”

Disgusted, she threw the phone down on the counter.

“That the one who ruined your night?” the man behind the counter asked.

She didn’t bother asking how he could tell. Clearly, she dressed for a date and sitting here at his counter, stuffing her face with a kebab, meant the date didn’t go as she hoped. “Turns out he was married,” she said.

“Better luck next time, sweetheart.”

Kal mumbled a thanks, searching for matchmakers on her phone. There was one, a well-known agency, she just couldn’t think of the name, but she saw a commercial for it once.

Celestial Mates.

That’s the one. The agency specialized in human-alien marriages.

Guaranteed success, the app promised.

Kal dated a blue guy from Fremm for a few weeks back in college, but everyone experimented with an alien at university. Experimentation was, like, the point of uni and nothing was more experimental than Comparative Biology. She certainly wasn’t against the idea of a man from another planet. She wanted a kind, loving husband, and, one day, children. Humans were genetically compatible with several species in the Interstellar Union. Honestly, she watched an action film with a handsome Gyer actor that left her craving a four-armed alien all of her own. Why limit herself to just Earth? Nothing in her list of desirable traits for a husband demanded he be human. She just wanted him to be honest, hardworking, value family, and not be a cheater.

Was there anything to keep her on Earth? No one person or thing sprang to mind.

How bizarre to be in the center of one of Earth’s largest cities, surrounded by people, and be utterly alone. Kal went elbow-to-elbow every day with strangers on the street, crammed into the tube during rush hour, pushed her way about a busy trading floor, lived in a small flat in an overbuilt block, but she never actually spoke to anyone. Talked to anyone. The one person she did connect with turned out disastrous.

But did she really want to leave Earth? To give up everything and move for somebody she hadn’t met in person…

Was she serious about finding a husband or did she want to wait and take her chances doing the same old, same old?

She turned thirty last month. Maybe her existential angst about aging influenced the mail-order bride scheme, convincing her it was a good idea.

No. She knew her own mind and could hardly think of a reason to stay on Earth besides her ancient aunties. Maybe her houseplants. Her university friends all drifted away into their own lives as they married and had children. Invitations for dinner and drinks dried up as their schedules filled with football practice and ballet lessons. She didn’t have any work friends to speak of as she’d rather put in long hours than go for a pint at the local pub.

Why not, indeed?

Kal downloaded the application, ticked off the box that said she read the terms and conditions, and filled in her details.

Merit “Uncle Merit!”

Clarity rounded the corner; her brother Dare hot on her tail. Literally.

Merit snatched the kettle of boiling water from his nephew’s paws. Dare broke so many rules it made his head spin. No running in the house. No chasing your sister, with or without boiling water.

How was he even going to keep these two alive when they actively tried to injure themselves?

After inspecting Clarity and Dare for any potential scalding hot water burns, he said, “Are you trying to burn your sister?”

“She has fleas. I’m helping her,” Dare said innocently, large amber eyes peering up and blinking slowly.

For a moment, Merit felt his resolve soften, but he shook himself out of that. Dare was too good at manipulation. He’d wonder where Dare learned all his tricks, but Merit knew damn well that Dare learned it all from his father.

“I do not!” Clarity shouted, scratching behind her ear. She paused, grimaced, and hid her offending hand behind her back.

“Clarity—” he said.

Her ears twitched, obviously itching. “Fine! I’m itchy, but it’s not fleas.”

“Come here.” He pulled his niece into his lap and combed his claws through her dark amber hair. He found the critters he expected. “What you have is common, everyday head lice.”

“See, fleas,” Dare crowed in triumph, tail lashing behind him.

“Which means you have them too, Dare.” And as did he, given the way Clarity crawled into his bed whenever she had a bad dream, which meant damn near nightly. He bought her a nightlight, but that didn’t seem to help.

He couldn’t send them to school until they were treated, and he couldn’t leave for work until he treated the entire house. He also couldn’t go to the pharmacy to pick up treatment and leave the kits home unsupervised. He’d have to ask his sister, Amity, to make the trip. She’d be more than happy to help, complete with the shit-eating grin and a little lecture about how a single male just couldn’t manage two kits on his own and really should think of transferring guardianship to her, for the sake of the kits.

“Think of the kits,” she’d say.

Bad enough he had to deal with her passive-aggressive comments about being in over his head, he didn’t need the lecture.

Their brother, Prospect, died in an accident three months ago. Shortly after, Reason’s heart failed, leaving the kits orphans.

Clarity and Dare lost both their parents in the span of a moon. The fact that they could function at all and find the strength for a bit of laughter astounded him.

Merit lost not only his elder brother but his best friend. He half-expected Prospect to walk in the door one morning, ready to work as if he had been away on extended holiday and not caught in a collapsed mine shaft. Of all the ways to go on this planet, Merit would have bet good credit on a mornclaw attack or a dust storm, not a mine shaft collapse, especially considering that Prospect had no reason to be in the mines that day.

The fact that Prospect’s body was still buried in the mine compounded Merit’s anguish. Too unstable, his body had to remain there under the rubble.

Half the time, he wanted to dig his brother up and shake him, demanding to know what he had been doing there when the mine collapsed. The other half, he found himself glancing at his communicator to check for messages from Prospect or he’d read something that would be sure to amuse his brother. Then the reality of his brother’s absence crashed down, and his grief felt raw all over again. Every time Merit forgot that his brother was gone, it hurt twice as hard when he realized that he forgot. Not because Prospect was gone but because he forgot about his brother, even for a moment.

“Finish your breakfast. I’ll let the school know you’re not coming in today,” he said.

Dare and Clarity erupted with jubilation.

“Don’t wake up your aunt! This isn’t a holiday. You’re getting a medical treatment, and then we have to wash all the bedsheets.” In addition to washing all their clothes, jackets, and hats in hot water. And spray every piece of furniture with louse-killing chemicals. His ears lay flat thinking about all the tasks involved. He’d have to contact the Watchtower and tell them not to expect him that day. “We have serious work to do.”

The kits sighed dramatically before shoveling their food in their maws.

Truthfully, he was in over his head. He knew enough to keep the kits fed and clothed—he wasn’t completely helpless—but the two created more chaos than he could manage. Just when he wrestled a bit of control over the situation, something else popped up. He needed help. Another adult. Amity had come from the home planet, Talmar, to help him get settled, leaving behind her café. He got the kits ready in the morning. She took care of them in the afternoon when they came home from school.

Frustratingly, he felt like he and the kits would never get settled. Leaning on Amity served as a temporary stop-gap, not a long-term solution. She was a city girl, besides. Life on a sparsely populated planet, let alone in a rough mining town, did not suit her.

Merit sent off messages to the mine and to the school while Clarity and Dare planned out their day between bites.

“I want to take my kite out,” Clarity said.

“I’m going to ride down to the river and look for fossils,” Dare announced, not to be outdone.

“Can we look for interesting rocks?” Clarity asked, ears perked with interest.

“You’re not going anywhere today. You have to sit still while I comb through your mane,” Merit said. Both groaned even though he would be the one doing all the actual work.

He needed a partner to help share the work, someone like a mate.

Perhaps he could hire someone for housekeeping and watching the kits while he was in the field? No. There was no one in town that he could think of suitable. He’d have to hire out from one of the distant cities. Plus, his erratic schedule meant that the person would have to live there and he could not afford that expense.

The kits finished their meal and dashed off. Merit grabbed Dare by the collar. “We need to talk,” he grumbled.

“Am I in trouble?” the young male asked.

“Why did you say your sister has fleas?” Hearing the slur drop from the lips of his ten-year-old nephew disturbed him.

“She has bugs.” Dare shrugged.

“But fleas? That word? Do you know what it means?”

Dare stared downward, his toes worrying the floor. His ear anxiously flicked forward. “I dunno.”

“Has anyone said that word to you?” Merit kept his ears as neutral as possible. The idea that someone used a slur in front of Dare infuriated him but not as much as the idea that someone called the kit a fleabag. Terrans had many names for the Tal, all of them feline-centric. His people were nothing like Terran felines and to suggest they were carriers of parasites…

His tail lashed against the legs of the chair.

Dare’s eyes went wide. “N-no. I heard some males in town say it.”

“Who?” Most likely, the male in question was a co-worker of Merit’s. The idea that someone could casually fling such a vile, filthy phrase at his nephew...

“He didn’t say it to me! I just overheard him call someone a fleabag in the general store.”

“Do not use that word. It is crude and ugly.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Dare’s lower lip trembled.

Merit sighed. He could have handled that better. Anyone could have done better. “Come here.” He enfolded Dare in an embrace and rubbed the scent glands in his jawline on top of the kit’s head. Dare purred on instinct. “I’m not upset with you. Please do not use that word again. It is mean and hurtful.”

“But Clarity does have bugs.”

“And you probably do too. They are easily spread. Now, get your shoes on. We have to go to the pharmacy to get medicine for the bugs.”

The day flowed from one task to another. The kits helped but aged ten and eight, their limited ability to focus required frequent direction. Amity came downstairs after breakfast and helped but muttered under her breath the entire time. He knew she did not believe he could cope with the kits, but he was named guardian, not her. He would not fail Prospect and Reason in this.

The brothers came to Corra a decade ago, fresh from military service and looking for a place where two young males could make a future for themselves. Far from a rough and underdeveloped colony planet—as had been the original plan—Corra desperately needed population growth. Having suffered an environmental disaster two generations back, the planet was left with an invasive and aggressive species, the mornclaw, that bred rapidly and killed without discrimination. The initial infestation devastated the planet. The mindless creatures slaughtered a huge portion of the population.

In the following decades, the mornclaws were controlled but not eradicated completely. One would occasionally wander into a secured area, especially after a big storm.

The large population centers had since recovered, but smaller towns and homesteads vanished. Huge swaths of Corra remained uninhabited. The arable land had been abandoned simply because the mornclaws made life too dangerous.

Not a member of the Interstellar Union, the planet sat on the far fringes of known space. Corra had resources to spare and land to give away for free, but no workers. Attracting desperately needed workers and immigrants to an empty, isolated planet remained a concern.

That’s what brought Merit and Prosper to Corra. Merit bounced from post to post, but Prosper settled immediately in Drac, a small mining community. Merit visited frequently but finally settled in Drac a year ago. Outside the secured area, the mine and the town that supported it required around-the-clock security. Being a glorified exterminator and sometimes bodyguard proved a good opportunity for two ex-military Talmar males.

Opportunities to court females had not proven as plentiful.

Drac was a mining town. Everyone either worked for the mine directly, supported it with shops and cafés, or had family connected to the mine. Small but prosperous, the town offered a school, a modest medical clinic, a general store, one saloon, and two cafés, but it did not have a lot of unmated females.

He gave a half-hearted thought of courting Serene again, for the kits. Pretty enough, she had a sharp personality and a cold demeanor. Perhaps she would be warm in bed...

Merit rejected that idea at once. She smiled as cold as her attitude. He had tried his hand at courting her once and their personalities clashed from the start. He could not bring himself to marry her, not even for the kits’ sake. He wanted there to be some chance of affection between him and whoever he married.

The more he turned the idea of taking a mate over in his head, he liked it more and more. A female would know what to do with the kits. She could help cook, clean, and coordinate the chaos in the house. Of course, he’d want his mate to be a mate in every sense and have her warm his bed. Winter was cold and lonely on Corra. If she were easy on the eyes would be a bonus, but he wouldn’t be too particular. He’d be happy with any female that could stomach life on a colony and could stomach him.

How to find his mate…

Prospect had married his sweetheart from back on Talmar and sent for her. Merit supposed he could ask his sister to introduce him to any single female friends she had, supposing any of them would be interested in a life with him in the unsecured zone on Corra. He could only assume that Amity’s friends enjoyed the luxuries and conveniences of city life back on the homeworld. He could already hear Amity scold him in that haughty tone of hers that none of her friends were interested in a primitive lifestyle with his rough self.

Primitive. Ha.

His house had all the basics: power, plumbing, and heat. It might not be fancy with an installed AI and bots to do all the cooking and cleaning, but it was hardly a shack.

Besides, any female who got that worked up about not having a bot to sweep and clean the floors wasn’t the female he needed.

He could try to court a female from one of the larger cities in the secured areas, but he couldn’t waste time traveling back and forth, not with Clarity and Dare waiting for him at home. He needed a service that would introduce him to a like-minded female.

His co-worker and friend, Sigald, recently mated, he recalled, to a strapping tall Fremmian female named Belith. Tall, leggy, and with broad shoulders, the blue female took to life in Drac with enthusiasm. Sigald used a service called Celestial Mates.

That’s what Merit wanted, a sturdy female with long legs for chasing the kits. He didn’t care if she were Fremmian, Tal like himself, or even Corravian, so long as she could handle the primitive settlement. Given time, she might even grow to appreciate the quiet of the landscape and the close-knit community the way he did.

He kept the kits busy with carrying baskets of laundry up and down the steps. Amity complained about the chemical smell of the treatment he applied to the furniture and bedding, but short of taking a shuttle into the cities in the secured area–an all-day trip–to shop for another treatment, there was nothing he could do about it. He half-expected her to turn up her nose and refuse to help. Much to his surprise, she pitched in and kept her criticism to herself. Mostly.

After a long day, he fed the exhausted kits and put them to bed.

“Is it safe for the kits to sleep on their beds tonight?” Amity asked.

“The package claims it is safe once it dries,” he said. They treated her bed as well and she would, no doubt, worry about toxic chemicals and carcinogens.

“Anyone can claim anything on a package. They don’t regulate things like that here,” she said with a sniff.

“I’ll take my chances,” he said, shoving the stack of fresh bed linen into her arms. Regulated or not, he’d rather live with potential harm from the chemical down the road than live with itching, biting lice now.

Exhausted, he collapsed face first onto the bed. He didn’t have the energy to change into his bedclothes and fell into a fitful sleep.

The shifting bed woke him. Only one person ever crawled into bed with him.

“Bad dreams again?” He rolled over to make room for Clarity and automatically turned on the light at the side of his bed. A soft glow illuminated the room. He draped an arm over her as she curled up into his side.

She nodded, and her tail wrapped around his wrist, as if to hold him in place. The sensory guard hairs on his forearms stood on end while she snuggled in, only lying flat when she settled.

“You’re getting so big,” he said. One day, she wouldn’t be his little Short Tail anymore. “Want to tell me about it?”

She shook her head.

“Did Dare tease you again?”

“No. Not tonight.”

Merit pulled the blanket over them, the scent of soap tickling his nose. Perhaps he had been a bit heavy-handed with the detergent. “Talking about it can make it less scary,” he said.

“I was in the ground, and I couldn’t breathe,” she said, voice small.

Her timid tone broke his heart. The kits needed stability. Not just someone to cook a balanced meal and clean, but someone to hug and hold them, to love them the way he did. He felt shame at the selfish impulse that wanted to fob off childcare to any willing female.

“It was just a bad dream. It’s not real,” he said.

She nodded, tail squeezing his wrist tighter. His own tail wiggled up between them and brushed her on the nose. She smiled weakly. He’d take it.

“Is Aunt Amity going to live with us forever?”

“Not forever,” he said. He loved his sister but living with her put family love to the test. “She’s going back to Talmar next month.” Amity talked about extending her trip and rebooking her ticket. Corra lay so far out on the rim that ships into Interstellar Union territory only launched once a week.

“Are we going to go live with her?”

“No, Short Tail. Your parents wanted you to stay with me, and that’s the way I intend to keep it.” Why Prospect and Reason thought he would be a better guardian than Amity, he had some idea. He had seen the kits nearly every day of their lives. They knew him. Amity had only visited once, after the birth of Dare, and had only spoken to the kits on holidays and their birthing days. Merit could give Dare and Clarity a sense of security, even if his homemaking skills left something to be desired. Their lives had been through enough upheaval. They didn’t need to go to a strange planet and leave the only home they’ve known.

He moved to turn off the light. “Can we keep the light on?” she asked.

“Of course,” he answered, arm falling back to the bed.

Once Clarity’s breaths fell into the even rhythm of sleep, he pulled out his tablet. The Celestial Mates’ site promised a perfect match. He’d gladly pay the extra fees to rush his application.

He hoped they could deliver. He and the kits needed someone.

Kalini

Celestial Mates took six weeks to find her a match. Part of her wondered that it happened so quickly and another, more dramatic and impatient, part of her despaired every day for six long weeks. Then, finally, one afternoon the good news arrived with a file.

Kal stared at the message icon on her tablet. She had to be certain she wanted this. She knew her heart. If she opened it up, she’d find a reason to fall for the man inside. She always did. Falling into a haze of warm, affectionate feelings had always been easy. Falling for the right person proved more difficult.

A perfect match.

That was the promise. He could be anyone, from anywhere. He could be human, on Earth, perhaps even in the same metropolis as her. Or he could be an alien from a race she’d never heard of on a planet far, far away.

Kal did know her heart. She wanted to share her life and love with someone.

She opened the message and accompanying file.

An impossibly handsome amber-and-honey-striped man looked back at her from her tablet screen. Not human, she recognized him as being from Talmar. As a member of the Interstellar Union, she saw plenty of Tal, Fremm, and even Gyer people every day. She studied his image, as if she could deduce what type of person he was by pixels alone. He had a shock of dark amber hair that looked like it could never be tamed, triangular ears, and his mouth had been set into a grim line.

Not a smiler, then.

His dark honey eyes were soft, though. Kind. Patient. The lines at the corners claimed he laughed, perhaps even smiled once, and the discoloration under the eyes pointed toward exhaustion.

Kal had poured over the file, completely abandoning her work and tuning out the world. His name was Merit Isteimlas, a single father with two young children. That would explain the exhaustion. Did he think marrying her would get him a nanny on the cheap?

No, she had to trust that Celestial Mates would weed that out. She had no intention of being a servant, not even a good-looking man’s servant.

The file didn’t say if he was widowed or divorced, but she supposed it didn’t matter. He was single now and soon to be not single. They would be technically married once she signed the contract.

Born on Talmar, he now lived on Corra, a planet outside the Interstellar Union and that she knew little about. She’d done her research on Corra, what scant information there was. The distance shocked her. Corra lay at the end of a three-month voyage. Not a trip for the faint of heart. A moment of uncertainty passed through her, as the journey was a very long way to go for a person she had never even spoken to, let alone met.

She kept returning to his picture and his soft, kind eyes. He looked like the kind of man she could love and have a family with. She wondered about his two children and how they would react to a new woman in the house. Would she be viewed as the second-rate replacement for their mother? Or were they too young to even have memories of their mother?

The file said he served in the Talmar military, decorated even, he owned his house, had employment, no criminal record, and was a prominent member of the community. The psychological profile indicated several points of compatibility. Her math-loving brain latched onto that. He looked great on paper, but people could lie about their history and situation. Numbers, though, they didn’t lie. The numbers said they were the perfect match and she wanted to believe that.

She signed the contract.

Just like that, she was married.

Kal booked a ticket to Corra that day for a date five weeks out. She needed time to tie up the loose ends of her life on Earth. She gave a month’s notice to her landlord and began the process of shedding all her Earthly possessions. All her funds were transferred to an account that she could access off-planet. Corra was a long way out, but it had communications technology. When she gave notice at her job, security escorted her out as per standard operating procedure. Just like that, five little words ended her career in finance. “I got married. I’m moving.”

Hello.

Kal stared at the screen before deleting the one word, only to retype that exact same word. She wanted to send a brief introductory message to Merit. The extended distance made a real-time or even a recorded video message far too expensive for her purse. The data rates for text were affordable, and since it was such a long journey, they might as well chat. After all, she knew some facts about him, but she didn’t really know him.

What to say, however, proved challenging. Favorite film? Book? Using the network, she pulled up a list of icebreakers. All of the suggested questions seemed inadequate. What breed of dog would you be? Honestly.

I can’t think of any way for this not to be awkward, so here goes.

I’m super excited to meet you. My name is Kalini but I go by Kal. My favorite color is yellow because it reminds me of sunshine. I live in a rainy country and never get to see much of the sun.

The network suggests that I ask you a list of horrid questions to get to know each other. So, here goes:

What is your favorite holiday?

Coffee or tea?

If you had a time machine, would you go back in time or to the future?

And, just because it’s so silly, what breed of dog would you be?

Feel free not to answer, but I would like to get to know you and your family.

Yup, everything about that message was awkward and cringe inducing. Still, she refused to pretend to be someone she’s not. With a sigh, she sent it.

Do you want to play a game?

Kal stared at the screen, trying to read more into the question than possible.

What kind of game? she eventually replied.

King’s Table, Merit answered via message promptly. He followed up with a link to an active game and the rules. Reading quickly, Kal learned that the game had similarities to chess.

I’ll go easy on you, he wrote.

Kal laughed at his cocky attitude. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll go easy on you.

Their messages continued, and they wrote about more than the game and playful taunts. She kept him updated on her progress. Cost and distance prohibited speaking live either over video or voice. A lot of meaning could be lost in text but some communication, however filled with misunderstandings, was better than nothing.

Merit sent back short replies, but they were accompanied by pictures of his house and the children, Dare and Clarity. He soothed her anxiety without even knowing.

Her news shocked her friends. They tried to talk her out of it with heavy-handed sympathy about her loneliness and rationalizations about taking the death of her parents hard.

Right. If she battled mere loneliness, she’d continue in her same old habits, follow the same old routine, and keep meeting the wrong men. She wanted the right man. Her perfect match. She’d travel to the ends of the universe for the perfect match. Traveling to Corra seemed like hardly any distance at all.

Every new message from Merit convinced her she made the right choice. He asked for her preferences on food, soap, clothes, even down to the size of the bath towels. He wanted the house to be fully stocked when she arrived.

Then one spring morning, she left Earth on a shuttle. Three months was a long time to spend on a ship. Fortunately, the journey would be broken up with transfers. No ships went straight from Earth to Corra. She had a passing knowledge of Talmar but during the long trip, she planned to read up on Tal history, customs, and food, and she even watched films to get an idea of the culture. She even used a language learning app to teach herself how to read Tal. She had a translator chip installed ages ago for work, but it only worked on spoken input, not visual input.

Finally, after three months of waiting in space stations for connecting shuttles, reading every book on her reader twice, watching every film available on the ship’s entertainment center, and playing endless rounds of cards with passengers and sometimes the crew, she reached her destination.

Kal felt so nervous she worried she might vomit. Not really, but maybe really. She clutched an air sickness bag just in case the combination of turbulence as the shuttle descended into the Corravian atmosphere, actual gravity replacing artificial gravity, and nerves getting the better of her.

She wore a carefully chosen tan wrap dress made of a wrinkle-resistant fabric. It traveled well and wouldn’t look like a lumpy sack of potatoes on her. Her hair had been slicked back and worked into a plait. Her shoes were flat-soled, strappy white sandals. She wore minimal jewelry and pulled the outfit together with a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. She rather thought her appearance smart if a bit of “tourist on holiday.” First impressions mattered. She couldn’t very well roll out of the shuttle in the same lounge pants and oversized tunics she wore for the last few months.

Kal checked her lipstick one last time and the shuttle touched alien soil.

There was no backing out. No changing her mind if things weren’t exactly the ideal situation she’d been daydreaming about for months.

She could do this. Hard work had never frightened her. If things weren’t ideal, she’d muddle through and find a way to make them better.

Correction, she and Merit would work to make it better. He wanted this marriage just as much as she did. He needed to be just as invested.

Kal held her head high and let the strength of her resolve carry her out of the shuttle and onto the dirt of the landing pad.

Dirt. Wow.

Well, she knew the planet was a bit behind the times. Rocks and uneven soil stung through the thin soles of her sandals.

Kal took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. Fuel and exhaust from the shuttle lingered, but she could ignore that. The gentle blue sky above lacked the haze of pollution. She tilted her head back to revel in the feel of the sun on her face.

Past the zenith of the day, the sun warmed her skin. Despite living in a rainy, cloudy city on Earth, her complexion remained a light brown. Three months with only artificial lighting made her pale.

Other passengers disembarked, shouldering past her. A crowd gathered at the edge of the field. Crew members piled the passengers’ baggage into a cart and headed toward the crowd. Kal followed, searching for Merit. She knew she’d recognize him when she saw him, just knew it in her bones.

“Kalini Patel?” a Tal woman spoke, hands folded placidly in front of her.

“Yes?”

“I am Amity Isteimlas, Merit’s sister. He sent me.” Before Kal could fiddle with the strap on her purse or respond, Amity had her in a tight embrace.

“Pleased to meet you,” Kal squeaked, face pressed against the woman’s bosom.

“Let me look at you.” Amity pushed her away to arm’s length but kept a firm grip on her shoulders. “You humans are always so tiny. You’re adorable. No guard hairs on your arms. Flat ears.” Another hug, this one less enthusiastic and followed with a pat on the back. “I admire how you humans manage being at such a disadvantage. You’re practically blind and deaf.” The pats took on a pitying feel.

You humans.

Kal pulled away. “We manage.”

“Such a pretty dress,” Amity said, plucking at the sleeve of Kal’s dress. “Let’s hope the dust doesn’t ruin it. Or those lovely shoes.”

Kal fought the urge to look down at her feet. Instead, she held Amity’s cold honey gaze. The Tal woman had the same complexion with honey and amber striation on her skin as Merit. Triangular ears perched at the top of her head twitched and rotated with the noise of the milling crowd and equipment being unloaded from the shuttle’s cargo. Dark amber hair fell in loose curls about her shoulders. A tail with a tuft of the same dark amber hair on the tip curled around her leg neatly.

This was her sister-in-law and Kal’s gut didn’t trust her one little bit.

“Why couldn’t Merit be here himself?” Kal asked.

Amity gave a sweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He tries, he really does, but he just can’t seem to manage his time. Always rushing from one place to the next, always in a hurry and always late. I didn’t want you standing out here by yourself thinking we forgot about you. Imagine! What would you have thought?”

Amity wore a plain brown tunic and matching leggings, made from rough fabric designed to hide imperfections and dirt. It gave Amity a severe air. She wore a wrap of the same rough fabric, wrapped around her waist and draped over a shoulder, reminding Kal very much of the sari her mother would wear for formal occasions. Just like that sari, it had a stiff, unused air about it. Kal wondered if the wrap was meant to be formal, but the homespun look of the fabric confused her. Formal clothing implied wearing the best quality clothing available. The wrap Amity wore had the look of a costume, like she wanted to appear humble and plain.

Stop it, Kal scolded herself. She had no friends and allies on this planet and could not afford to be catty about her sister-in-law.

She snorted. Catty, indeed. That kind of snark had to stop.

“What is amusing?”

“Your wrap reminds me of home,” Kal said smoothly.

Amity plucked at the fabric. “It is simple but serves well. Storms are so frequent, it is good to have something to cover yourself with. If it is not rain, then it is wind and dust.”

Ah. Maybe the homespun look was by design, then, and not false humility. Properly self-chastised, Kal nodded.

“Do you have something to protect your face? You will need it,” Amity said.

“A scarf? It is in one of my bags.” Kal gestured to the three large cases, plus a smaller backpack and her purse.

Amity tail uncoiled and lashed in the air. “Find it, please. You will be thankful for it.”

Her tone implied that Kal had too much baggage, even though those three cases represented all her possessions. “I know it’s a lot,” Kal said, opening the case that held her cold weather clothing. “But I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get correctly-sized clothing this far out, and I had no idea what the climate is like. Better to be over prepared than caught flat-footed, my mother always said.” Kal held up an indigo wool scarf in triumph.

A porter loaded the cases into a boxy vehicle with tall wheels and a missing windscreen. Amity climbed in and arranged Kal’s scarf to her liking, covering the entire lower portion of her face. “Sorry. This was the only vehicle available,” Amity explained.

“The fresh air will do me good. Three months is a long time breathing filtered, recycled air.”

“You say that now. Wait until you get a bug in your teeth.”

“Do we have a long journey?”

“The roads are dry, so about an hour,” Amity said. The vehicle rumbled to life. Gravel crunched under the tires, and before long, they left the airfield and traveled an uneven, unpaved road.

Already Kal could see the problem with the lack of a windscreen. Dust and debris hit her in the face, and she tried to shield herself with her hand and turning toward Amity.

“What happened to the windscreen?” she shouted over the noise in the cabin.

“Merit broke it when he was on the hunt,” Amity replied, voice raised to be heard.

“When will it be fixed?”

“Not soon. The part must be special ordered. The mechanic shop doesn’t stock for this model.”

The mechanic didn’t carry the parts? They were out in the middle of nowhere. Oh well. It’s not as if Kal expected it to be fixed that moment, she just needed to know if they planned to remedy the problem.

The wind prevented any further conversation. Dust from the road flew at her, and she adjusted the scarf to cover her hair as well as her nose and mouth. She kept the fabric in place with one hand, all the while admiring the scenery.

Trees, green and verdant, crowded the narrow dirt road. They obscured the landscape and eventually blurred into a green barricade. The air held a clean, fresh scent of recent rain. The road twisted and turned. Eventually, Kal realized the road wound its way through steep hills and valleys. Occasionally the trees cleared, revealing a lush green vista of rolling hills and mountains in the distance. Then, just as quickly as it came, the veil of trees hid it again.

The road widened and opened into a valley. Buildings clustered at the base of a steep hill at the far end.

“Drac’s not what you’re used to, I’m sure, but it’s got everything we need,” Amity shouted over the wind and the noise of the engine.

“Big cities aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” Kal said. The file on Merit told her the bare facts about the small town. That wasn’t a surprise. Living in the crowded London her entire life with brief holidays at the seaside, Kal looked forward to life in a close-knit community.

The vehicle slowed as it entered the town. Amity removed her wrap. Kal followed. They drove past boxy, simple structures. Kal recognized the modular design of pre-fabricated constructions, usually found on colonies. The modules allowed the colony to grow quickly without wasting time on construction. A new module could be set down anywhere as a new building or added to an existing structure.

“Drac isn’t much to look at. Most everyone here works for or supports the mine. You wouldn’t know from its appearance, but the town has grown quickly,” Amity said.

“The company I used to work for built these. Well, modular habitation units.”

“Did you really? How fascinating,” Amity said in a flat tone.

“It was one of the subsidiaries,” Kal explained.

The vehicle pulled off the commercial strip and onto a residential street. Boxy, plain, gray and white houses sat in tidy rows behind a small patch of green lawns. Finally, they stopped at the last house on the street. Kal sat higher in her seat, recognizing the gray house from the pictures Merit sent. The house looked more worn with age than the others, but that did not hold her attention for long.

Merit strode out with confidence. He didn’t look like his picture. He looked better. The sunlight gave a golden sheen to his amber-and-honey-striated complexion. The sleeveless tunic he wore displayed the tightly corded muscles of his arms. Long and lean, he had an athletic build. His hair was as unruly as the pictures promised but that wasn’t what snagged her attention.

He smiled, warm and gentle, and it went all the way to his dark amber eyes.

This was her perfect match. She didn’t care about being on the fringes of civilization, the remote location, the broken windscreen in the vehicle, or the old house. The way Merit looked at her with pure joy was the only thing that mattered.

They could do this. Really do this.

A door slammed, and two children raced toward her, ready to pounce.

Merit Clarity grabbed him by the tail and would not let go. He gritted his teeth and ignored the uncomfortable tug. Her little hands held surprising strength. Dare circled around their visitor before settling next to him, eyes never leaving Kalini. Dare sniffed the air.

Merit rapped the kit on the head with a knuckle for his rudeness, but he understood. He could hardly take his eyes off the human female and the urge to breathe in her scent, to hold the air in his mouth while his senses savored her, almost proved irresistible.

He only caught a hint of her scent, like wildflowers on the breeze.

His bride.

He needed more.

She was far lovelier in person than the photos suggested. The lighting from the Celestial Mates camera must have washed out her color and sent a faded facsimile of a female with a tired smile and hopeful eyes. Now she stood before him in vivid, rich hues. Her mane was a deep umber, best described with some Terran word he did not know. She kept it tamed in a no-nonsense plait. Merit longed to see it undone, to sink his fingers into her hair and inhale its undoubtedly sweet scent.

Her face was flat, lacking the enlarged sinus cavity and wide nose that gave his people superior scent detection. He had difficulty moving beyond her tiny nose. He had stared at her picture several times to grow used to her appearance. It should not alarm him. He knew several humans. He worked side-by-side with humans. Yet her tiny nose made him question how she could smell anything at all.

His bride was nose blind. She’d never be able to appreciate the pheromones his scent glands produced or understand his instinctual need to rub his jaw–and those glands–on her.

It didn’t matter. Other Tal males would recognize his scent on her and respect the bond between mates.

She stood there, prim and proper, with her back straight, hands folded demurely in front, and wearing a dress far too fussy for the life he offered.

Kalini met his gaze and took his measure. He could see an analytical mind churning behind those unwavering eyes, and for a brief moment, he worried that she’d tally up the sum of his parts and find him and everything he offered, wanting. She was far too pretty and refined for the type of wife he needed.

Merit closed the distance between them. “I am Merit Isteimlas. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Welcome to my home.”

“Kalini Patel,” she said.

He took her hands, finding them smooth and without calluses. He had intended to pledge a mate’s oath to her when they first met, but the words dried up in his mouth. Holding her soft hands, he knew she had never done a day’s hard labor. What kind of life could he offer her but endless housework and chasing after kits? A female as sophisticated and obviously refined as she needed more than he could provide. Deserved better.

He should send her back before they grew attached. Before Dare and Clarity grew attached.

Then a smile broke across her flat human face. It stunned him, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a long Corravian storm: peaceful and harboring unseen dangers all at once. She undid all of his resolve.

He needed to see that smile again, in his bed with her hair undone, stripped of her sophisticated veneer but mostly stripped of her control.

A squeeze on his tail brought him back to himself. He looked down to Clarity’s wide-eyed curiosity and flicked an ear.

“This is Clarity, my niece, and Dare, my nephew,” he said, touching each kit on the head. Early in their messages, he explained how he came to be the guardian for Clarity and Dare.

Clarity tugged on his hand, demanding his attention.

“Yes, Short Tail?”

She motioned for him to lean down and whispered rather loudly, “Can she understand us?”

“I can,” his bride said. Clarity buried her face against his thigh while Kalini spoke. “I had a translation chip installed because my job back on Earth required that I speak to many people.”

“She is not normally shy,” Merit said, rubbing the kit’s head for reassurance.

“I’m not shy,” Dare announced.

“I see,” Kalini said, her smile unwavering and sincere.

“They are very excited to meet you,” Merit said. Excitement kept the kits from sleep and they bounced off the walls that morning. They had known about Kalini’s arrival for three months, and for three long months, he had fielded questions about Earth, humans, and inexplicably, Earth canines.

“What kind of work did you do?” he asked, steering the conversation away from Clarity’s sudden bout of shyness.

“I was an accountant for a financial firm.”

“That sounds—” Impressive. Lucrative.

Out of his league.

“I moved numbers from one column to another, and hopefully the sums agreed.” She shrugged, as if spinning fortunes from numbers were nothing.

“We don’t have anything like that here,” Amity said in a clipped voice.

Merit coolly ignored his sister, despite her being unfortunately correct.

“Do you have candy?” Dare asked. Her messages promised a delivery of Earth sweets, no doubt the root cause of the kits’ excitement.

“I do.” She opened the bag she carried on her shoulder and removed a small box. “This is chocolate fudge. It is soft and chewy.”

She held out the box for Dare, who took it with glee. “I’ve never had Earth chocolate,” he announced.

Neither had Merit. He knew it was a confection made from sugar and a ground bean. Humans craved it as if it were a necessary nutrient. Far too expensive to sample out of idle curiosity, he had never tasted chocolate. How long would her supply last? What would she do when she discovered how price prohibitive it would be to procure more?

“Is it okay if they have a piece?” Kal asked.

“One piece,” he said. Dare flattened his ears in displeasure. “You may have another after our evening meal. Would you like to try a piece?” he asked Clarity. She nodded.

Dare opened the box, and the decadent aroma of Earth sugar and chocolate hit Merit’s senses with force. Talmar had its fair share of sweet treats. As a kit, Merit’s mother made a pudding covered in a thick, viscous syrup that threatened to glue his lips shut. This, however, because of the distance, because of the expense, because it had been warmed with her body temperature, seemed exotic and nearly depraved.

Clarity popped it in her mouth, eyes wide at the flavor. Dare hummed with pleasure as he chewed.

“Thank Kalini,” Merit prompted the kits. They mumbled thanks with full mouths.

“Call me Kal, please. Would either of you like to try a piece?”

“It does not seem nutritionally sound. I will let the kits have my portion,” Amity said with a sniff.

Merit wanted to shout down his sister for her rudeness but held his tongue. Perhaps he would not have to send Kal away after all and Amity would drive his bride away with her frosty attitude.

She had already won over the kits, but they loved anyone with sweets.

“Are you hungry? Tired? We were just about to have the evening meal,” he said.

“I could eat,” Kal said.

“Dare, Clarity, set the table for dinner,” he ordered. He scooped up the case resting at Kal’s feet, surprised by the weight. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather rest? You had a long journey.”

“I’m not tired yet. I set my schedule to Corravian time a few weeks ago.”

Clever.

Between Amity, Kal, and himself they hauled all her luggage into the house. He deposited everything just inside the master bedroom. “I’m afraid Amity is currently occupying the guest bedroom. I’ll sleep on the floor,” he explained.

Kal surveyed the room with a guarded expression. He wasn’t sure what emotion he wanted her to display. Approval? But he had already decided that she wasn’t tough enough for the life he could give her. Disappointment? But he so wanted to please his bride. His worn, simple home lacked many luxuries, but it was a comfortable place. He wanted her to see the joy in the simple furnishings.

He looked at the bedroom with fresh eyes. He managed to change the linens that morning, so the bed was made in a sharp, military fashion. Normally he kicked off the sheets and blankets during the night, and that’s where they stayed until the following evening. The white paneling of the walls had yellowed with age. The worn carpeting on the floor spoke to endless nights of pacing. The far floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall offered a stunning view of the valley and caught the morning light. With the growing dark of evening outside, the glass reflected his image, and he could see every streak and speck of dust on the windows.

“Wow,” Kal breathed.

Merit’s ears lowered with shame. He made the bed. That the best he could do for his new bride after she had come so far? “My apologies. It is unfair to expect you to share a room. You require your own space while you find your feet.”

“I don’t mind. This is bigger than my flat. My old apartment, I mean,” she said. Ignoring the shabby decor, she went straight to the windows. “Do the windows open?”

“Do windows not open on Earth?” Merit flinched at his inane question. Of course, windows opened. He didn’t expect her to make him flustered and nervous. “Step back, and I’ll show you.”

He undid the latch at the top and bottom and pushed the panels open. They folded into tidy pleats, revealing a screen door. He pushed that open and stepped onto the small balcony. Insects sang in the evening. The sun set on the far side of the house, casting the balcony in shadow. On a clear day, he had a stunning view of the valley.

“Oh wow. This is lovely,” Kal said, joining him.

“I like to sit out here at night when the weather is fair.” He waved to a bench. Kal sat down, twisted around to view the interior again, and then back to the view.

“I can see why. I imagine you’d need a few moments of peace with the kids.”

“They can be overwhelming at times. Does that bother you?” Merit believed she reacted positively to the kits, but he needed to know for certain. His application stressed the importance of his match wanting and accepting his children. If she could not, then there was no point in going further.

“Honestly, I worried about it, but it doesn’t bother me. They seem like good kids.”

“They reacted positively to you, as well.”

“I’m glad,” she said.

They fell into a comfortable silence.

“Is this really larger than your abode on Earth? How did everything fit?”

She laughed, bright and joyful. He wanted more. Everything about her inspired greed. One touch would not be enough. One kiss never enough. He wanted her hair undone, on her back in his bed with him over her, and he wanted to find out if her skin felt as soft as it looked.

Merit’s ears faced forward and he drew on years of military discipline to keep still. They had a lifetime to discover each other.

“I didn’t have a lot of stuff, mostly, and everything did double duty. I also had to move panels to partition the room and hide what wasn’t in use, like the toilet and shower. The kitchen center was built into the wall and some furniture, like a table, could be folded away and stored in the walls,” Kal said.

Merit showed her the wardrobe, hidden behind a wall panel. He cleaned it recently and she had more than half of the space for her clothing. He gave a brief tour of the cleansing room. “I’ll let you freshen up, if you like. When you’re ready, join us in the kitchen. Just down the stairs, follow the commotion.”

“Sounds good. I’ll just wash the dust off my face and I’ll be down shortly.”

“After the kits are in bed, we can continue our conversation,” he said.

“I’d like that.”

He found the kits sitting patiently at the kitchen table. Amity set the last dish down. “Well? Is she hungry?”

“She is washing off the dust.”

Amity snorted, her tail lashing behind her in cold amusement. “She won’t last long here if a little bit of dust bothers her.”

“The dust bothers you,” Merit replied. Amity had complained mightily when she arrived about dust, bugs, and seemingly every living and breathing creature outside the house. He loved his sister, but they were both adults, set in their ways, and half a year was a very long time to live under one roof.

“I adapted,” she said. A false smile plastered across her face without warning. “There she is. You changed your clothes.”

Kal no longer wore the tan dress but a white tunic and dark leggings. She ran a hand down the front of her tunic. “I think I need to get a wrap like yours because there were dust and grit everywhere.”

“Consider it done,” Merit said, making a mental note to stop at the general store for the item. He pulled out a chair for Kal and she tossed him a pleased look as she sat.

“Thank you. Smells wonderful,” she said.

“Amity normally prepares the meals. She’s the professional chef in the family. Tonight, you must suffer my cooking,” he said.

“Do you like Tal food? I could try to make an Earth dish, but the ingredients would be difficult to find,” Amity said. She scooped out a serving of rice and placed it in Clarity’s dish before passing the bowl to Dare.

“I’ve eaten at a few Talmar restaurants, but I never got too adventurous,” Kal replied. She accepted the dishes that Dare passed to her and served a generous portion of everything without questioning what ingredients were used.

While Amity retrieved Kal from the airfield, he fetched the kits from school and had prepared a meal of poultry and sautéed vegetables served in a fragrant sauce over rice, with flatbread, still warm from the pan. His meals were normally not so elaborate and consisted of what was fast and convenient. He gave a quick explanation of the ingredients, adding that everything was safe for humans to consume.

Clarity ate around the vegetables, as per usual. She had a picky palate and didn’t like several items. He worried about her nutritional needs, but the medic assured Merit such behavior was normal in a young kit. After a trauma, her shying away from the unknown, even food, was understandable.

“Where is your babe? Did you leave it on Earth?” Dare asked, out of nowhere.

“My what?” Kal sputtered.

Merit nearly coughed up the water he had been drinking. Amity pressed her lips together to hide her amusement.

“Your kit,” Dare said, tone implying that his question was perfectly reasonable.

“Forgive his rudeness,” Merit interjected before Dare could say something more outrageous.

“It’s all right. We’re getting to know each other, and they have questions,” Kal said calmly, as if she had to deal with curious kits all day. “I don’t have a baby. Why do you think I do?”

“You have big teats.”

So, this was how he died, from mortification in his own home, murdered by his nephew. He had a few close calls in the war when he served in the Talmar military, but right now, at that moment, he could see his own mortality. “That’s enough,” he said, a firm warning in his voice. “We’ll discuss your rudeness before bed, little male.”

Dare paled. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Really, it’s okay.” Kal’s cheeks flushed a rosy tint. “My breasts are always this size. That’s typical for a human woman.”

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable,” Merit said.

“Children are curious.” She shrugged, as if the questions were normal and expected, and the tension at the table disappeared. “I’m curious about your tail,” she told Dare.

“Mine is very long for my age.” Proudly Dare stood and demonstrated how his tail could stretch over his shoulders.

Not wanting to be ignored, Clarity announced, “Mine is short but it’ll grow when I get big.”

“You’ll always be my Short Tail,” Merit said. He pulled Clarity into his lap and she preened with the attention. “Curious as a wuap you are.”

Emboldened, she asked, “Are you going to have a kit soon?”

There it was, the killing blow from the one he never saw coming. The ground could swallow him up now. What must Kal think of his family?

“One day. Hopefully.” Kal glanced in his direction and the pink flush returned to her cheeks.

“Can we get a wuap?” Dare asked.

“You have a wuap,” Merit said. The skittish pet in question often hid from strangers in the house.

“She likes Clarity best. I want one that likes me best.”

“No,” he said, closing the discussion. One pet was more than enough.

“What’s a wuap?” Kal asked.

“A loud, infernal creature,” Amity replied instantly.

“Are you going to kiss Uncle Merit?” Clarity asked.

“You seem to be over your shyness,” Merit said quickly.

“I liked her candy,” Clarity told him. “Can I have another piece?”

“Eat two mouthfuls of the vegetables,” he said. Clarity made a face but complied. The promise of candy also incentivized Dare to finish off his plate.

After the meal, the kits helped with cleanup before receiving their candy reward. Afterward, they proudly showed Kal their favorite toys and books. Before long, Merit prepared them for sleep. They protested, arguing that they should be able to stay up late, but he knew the bedtime routine and a solid night’s sleep was the cornerstone to their good behavior. He loved them with all his heart, but they were cranky beasts if they didn’t get enough sleep.

He tucked them in as he did every night and kissed their heads, enjoying the warm, spicy scent of clean kits.

“Uncle Merit,” Clarity whispered.

“Yes, Short Tail?” He turned on the nightlight that sat at her bedside. A soft glow spilled over her.

“I like Kalini. Is she going to live with us forever?”

He hoped so. But if Kal declared that this was not what she signed up for and hopped on the first shuttle back to Earth, he wouldn’t blame her.