1
REKTAR
It's always a good day when the pretty little human stops by the office.
Risda's port of authority—called simply “Port” by the locals—is the only civilization on the pastoral planet on the edges of the galaxy. Other than hundreds of mostly self-sustaining farms, Risda boasts one mesakkah lordship, one spaceport, a tiny, backwater town, and lots of human refugees. Most people wouldn't find it charming, but I don't mind it. After years of service in the military and being shipped from war outpost to war outpost, Risda is serene. Quiet. Peaceful.
And it's full of females.
That last part makes things difficult for a male like me. I've always been the type to keep to myself, but it's worse around females. As a poor bastard son to a noble house, I was sent off to a military academy before my horns had even grown to their full length, and all my life I've been around males. The few run-ins I've had with females were awkward and brief.
Prior to Risda, of course. Now, I can't seem to go a day without running into females in Port. They loiter in the cantina, they gather and talk in front of the general store, and they have meetings—a “book club” once a month in the town hall, and they show up to the market on trade days to exchange goods or to simply take a day off from farming.
The male in this position before me—a surly szzt type—recently got himself killed by outlaws. The mesakkah military sent me and my partner, a male named Khex i'Yani, to head in and take over. We've been here a standard month now, and things are mostly quiet. I see a lot of under-the-table dealings, but it'll take a while to root those out.
For now, it's just important for us to work hard and show the people here that we're in charge. Most of the locals haven't been all that friendly, though. While it irks Khex that we're so poorly received, I get it. These people are used to living on the fringes. They know mesakkah law can be cruel and unforgiving. How can I blame them for not appreciating when soldiers step in to take over? Doesn't mean I won't do my job. Just means we won't be making many friends.
So yeah, most of the people here are unfriendly…except one.
"Your female is back," Khex says in a dry voice, his boots kicked up on his desk as he scrolls through the day's news on his data pad. His seat is nearer to the window, so he's got a good view of Port's paved street. I look up just in time to see an air-sled pass by and nearly run over the female heading in our direction.
The colonists here are particularly bad drivers, I've noticed. Maybe it's because there's not a lot of traffic and so they usually have their run of the skies? Whatever it is, they're dreadful, and I make a note in my data pad to see about safety training. I wonder if these drivers are even licensed? Probably not. From my official reports, most of the female population is comprised of freed slaves of human descent, and the male population are thieves and ex-convicts. It's a volatile mix, and one you wouldn't expect from the sunny skies and peaceful green fields of Risda.
The female that was almost run down? It's the one that makes my heart sing in my chest, my face flush with nerves, the one that fills all my late-night yearnings…and the one that's made my waistline thicken by a good notch in my belt since arriving here. As I stare out the window like a fool, she shakes a small fist at the sled that zips past, then continues on her way down the walkway, heading for our office, as she always does.
Surreptitiously, I smooth a hand over my hair, wondering if it's all still in place. Khex just snorts in amusement at my actions. I know I'm a keffing idiot around women, but it doesn't matter. She'd never be interested in me in a thousand years. Lucy is just like every other female here—abused by slavers and wary of aliens. She wants nothing more than to be left alone, so any hopes I would ever have are useless.
Not that I've ever managed to say much of anything to Lucy.
Not that that ever stops her from coming by.
Something tells me she's lonely, and our poor company beats no company at all, so she shows up nearly every day. Sure enough, as soon as she gets close enough to the port authority office to peer inside the tinted windows, she waves a hand eagerly in the flailing gesture that humans make when they're excited to see one another. She steps in front of the automated doors, waiting patiently on the identity pad.