The brothers file out first, moving in formation, not quite military, but close. They check gear as they walk, exchange brief words, a wall of muscle and purpose. Their wives gather at the end of the line, walking together. Jana, Naomi, Roxy, three humans following their massive alien husbands to work.
Oddly, I feel a twinge of jealousy as they wave goodbye and shut the door behind them. Am I wishing this was my life too?
I shake my head, move to the window and watch them walk through the front yard. It’s well-maintained with lush vegetation, clear paths and colorful Timbur flowers blooming in clusters. A far cry from what Lila described to me last night. She’d said it was a jungle mess when she first arrived.
The miners and their wives, all Minecorp employees, walk onto the street and head toward public transport. There are too many of them to fit in any single vehicle, so public transport is the practical choice. I’ve already learned that most beings in this small mining community use the public transport.
Even from here, they’re an imposing sight. A wall of Margol miners with their human wives following behind. Other beings on the street give them a wide berth.
Texon stands beside me, his arms crossed.
“You drew the short straw today,” I observe.
“Someone has to stay.”
Lila appears, Argyl now on her hip alongside Lia tugging at her skirt. “He offered, actually.”
Texon shoots her a look that clearly saysstop talking.
Lila smiles sweetly and ignores him completely.
Now it’s just the three adults, Lila, Trunk and me, with the four children. Zora toddles over to grab Trunk’s leg. Baby Rux fusses in his carrier. This is Lila’s domain, she manages the home and cares for the children while the rest are gone. This woman is the foundation that lets everyone else do their work.
An important job, I note. Maybe the most important one.
Lila settlesacross from me in the dining area, ready to talk. We’re both sipping at coffee and each eating a small pastry. It never ceases to amaze me how good they eat here, the food at dinner was as fabulous as a restaurant and even a small breakfast is as good as a fancy coffee shop back on Singapore.
Trunk is on the floor nearby, next to a box of toys. Four children swarm him immediately. Argyl, Lia and Zora climb onto his back while baby Rux settles in his massive arms.
He’s within earshot of everything. Of course he is.
I take a moment to really look at the woman I’m interviewing. She has long black hair and dark eyes, her pale skin a stark contrast to the bronze and brown tones of everyone else I’ve met on Timbur. There’s nothing imposing about her physically. She has narrow shoulders, delicate features and a distinctive nose that gives her face character. But this is a woman who runs a household of massive Xylan warriors and wrangles four small children without breaking a sweat.
I pull out my tablet to take notes. “Tell me how you ended up here.”
She talks about fleeing assassins on New Earth, hiding in what she thought was an abandoned building, waking up to findseven massive Xylan miners staring at her. I hang on her every word because it’s a fascinating story. A sleek cat, one of the two I noticed earlier, Jasper or Abby, jumps onto the arm of her chair. Lila absently strokes its fur as she talks. “I was terrified at first,” she admits. “I thought they were going to find me and kill me.”
“What changed?”
“Zayzon.” Her smile goes soft, private. “He looked at me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. Even when I was terrified and covered in mud and hadn’t slept in days. He kept me safe. The brothers took me in and kept me safe.”
I take notes and ask follow-up questions, but I keep glancing over at Texon.
Lia demands he build a tower with blocks. He complies, serious and focused, his massive clawed hands surprisingly delicate with the small pieces.
Argyl crashes the tower. Texon rebuilds it without complaint.
Zora climbs onto his back. He shifts to accommodate her weight like it’s nothing.
Baby Rux falls asleep against his chest, one tiny fist gripping his shirt.
His face, when focused on the children, is soft, patient, almost tender.
My ovaries are exploding, despite the fact that I know I am physically unable to become pregnant and give birth to biological children of my own. This has caused me to give up entirely on the idea of having children, ever. I assumed I wasn’t even meant to adopt in the future. And yet I can’t keep my eyes off this massive, hostile warrior, covered in toddlers, building block towers and letting small half humans climb all over him. I suddenly find myself wishing I had children too.
What is wrong with me?
I’m an independent woman on a mission to write stories that illuminate the human condition, as well as save other humansfrom fraud and abuse. I don’t date much, always too busy with my career. Since when do I linger on thoughts of motherhood and find a man playing with children attractive?
