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“I’m Owen Devin.” I said as we walked along. “What’s your name?”
“Ensign Laray Codisin. I’m a Pip.”
They had dark brown fur and one long ear that stood up while the other folded over halfway down. It made them look like they were forever curious. My fingers itched to find out if they were softer than Py, but petting them seemed really rude, like something way too intimate for a brand-new acquaintance. I resisted.
But since I had someone who was kind of impartial, I made myself speak up. “Can I ask… Um…” I cleared my throat. “Are Norlons okay with someone having a relationship with a human?”
“As okay with it as we would be if he was involved with someone who wasn’t a Lago like himself.” They shrugged one shoulder and gestured for us to get into the lift. “It presents the same challenges for having offspring and there are cultural differences to contend with, but no one will be upset by the match.”
“Challenges? Like what?”
“Oh, none of us are genetically compatible with the others. If I were to mate with a Yook, for example, we’d have to consider other ways to bring children into our lives. The same goes for humans.”
“Huh, I hadn’t considered that.” And was oddly disappointed that wolf-bunny hybrids couldn’t be a thing. “Still, though, it’s reassuring that mixed relationships aren’t a problem in Norlon culture. Thanks.”
Ensign Codisin bumped my shoulder and grinned when I looked up. “That’s not to say a few people won’t be jealous and disappointed that he’s taken, though. The captain’s been notoriously difficult to bed.”
I blushed and couldn’t help chuckling since Py had been crazy easy to seduce last night. As delightful as it was to have caught the uncatchable, it was also sobering to think that our instant connection was that powerful. Like was it a pheromone that had us into each other so fast? Or was it more magical, like fate?
My thoughts were interrupted when I stepped into the commissary and realized all the other visiting humans were there as well. It must’ve been late for breakfast by ship standards, too, because we were literally the only people present. There was no crowd for me to get lost in so that I could avoid everyone.
Ensign Codisin led me over to the cafeteria-style buffet where a tiger-type Khess smiled at me. “Welcome! We have a selection of American breakfast foods available for you, but if you’d like to try Norlon dishes, I can help you understand them.”
“Oh, um, this is perfect. Thank you.” I went down the line with them, selecting scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, a waffle with maple syrup, and several slices of thick-cut bacon. At the end, I got a glass of water and another of orange juice before I was forced to turn around and find a table.
I was suddenly flung back in time to every new year at boarding school and that first meal where everyone was eyeing up everyone else. Only this time, it was entirely possibly every single person hated me. Gulping as I saw that several people watched me, I tried not to run as I went for an empty table.
Ensign Codisin didn’t join me, instead going over to stand with other uniformed Norlons who might’ve escorted the rest of the visitors here. They sipped steaming mugs and chatted like absolutely nothing was wrong. I wondered if my ensign would intervene if someone rushed me.
I’d managed two bites of egg when three people got up and came over. What if they were angry about what my father had done? Would they blame me? Test my loyalty to him? I sat there frozen and staring as all three of them sat down at the table.
“You’re Owen Devin, right?” a dark-haired man asked. I didn’t know exactly who he was, but he’d been talking into the camera on the trip up here, so I assumed he was an anchor for PBS News.
I nodded at him.
“Last time I saw you,” he went on, “it looked like you were unconscious or dead. It’s good to see that you’re okay.”
It was? I glanced at the other two, an Asian woman and another dark-haired man. I was no expert on facial expressions, but it kind of looked like all of them were concerned. Which didn’t make sense. Why weren’t they mad?
“The two men who passed,” the woman said, “I assume you knew them?”
“Bob and Eric?” I said, surprised.
“Right. You have our sympathies for their losses, too.”
Holy shit. They were offering their condolences to me. No malice or anger at all.
“Um, thank you. I, uh, I’m sorry about my father.” That felt like such a lame thing to say, but what else could I do? “I’m sorry I didn’t know he was that dangerous.”
The first man sighed heavily. “It’s tough, feeling responsible for someone like that, but we knew your relationship with him had been strained for a lot of years.”
Right, I’d almost forgotten that these were reporters. They might’ve known more about my father than I had.
“Oh,” the man said and stuck out his hand. “I’m Doug Fowkes, anchor for PBS News up here.”
“Owen,” I said automatically as I shook his hand.
The woman was Ashley Wong, a producer, and the other man was Todd Barnes, a cameraman.
