Page 13 of The Planetary Systems Preservation Committee Decided We Needed a Nanny

My beautiful cousin is my paternal uncle’s child. He and his college girlfriend got themselves a little bit pregnant when they were in their last year of undergrad, and Bee is the child from that short-lived romance. Her mom is a fiercely protective powerhouse who gave Bee her excellent skin, beautiful Afro, and the drive to do whatever she sets her mind to. My uncle gave Bee sarcasm and fantasy-assassin training lessons that she has zero inhibition about using on me when she’s in the mood for a fight.

Yes, that’s right, Bee trained like she was going to grow up to be an assassin in a fantasy novel. She can and has won archery tournaments, worn a navy-colored cloak for five years straight, and ridden horses on weeks-long treks through the Appalachians. Also, she can jump over my head while I’m standing, and I’m not even joking about that. It’s terrifying watching this six foot tall Amazonian woman sprint at you, knowing that if you flinch she’s going to kick your ass and then make fun of you for a month.

Ask me how I know.

I seem to have gotten off track bragging about my favorite cousin…

Bee and I soak in the hot tub, enjoying the heat and jets as we graze the cheese board I made and drink the wine she brought. Neither of us makes enough money to splurge on expensive wine, so I know it’s a ten dollar bottle, and it’s a shame to waste authentic French cheese on cheap wine, but to be honest, I can’t tell the difference between a ten dollar bottle and a hundred dollar bottle and neither can a bunch of blind taste testing sommeliers, so I don’t feel bad about it.

I didn’t say they were good sommeliers. Every industry has its middling-at-best people, but they really did fail to taste the difference between cheap and expensive.

“I wonder if I can just get the apartment next door. Do you think they take requests for housing assignments? You said they’d let you move, right?” Bee ponders, and since I have inside info in a text thread, I ask the disappearing Lora what he thinks.

Me: Do you think Bee could request the apartment next door to mine?

“I asked.” I shake my phone at Bee so she knows what I did.

Instead of a new text message, thunder cracks in my house and suddenly Lora is looming over the hot tub rattling apologetically. He holds up a dripping wet phone. “This device was drowned by a small household predator.”

A small what?

Bee starts laughing, completely unafraid of the giant ass alien vampire suddenly in our space. “Did a cat push your phone off a ledge?”

Lora rattles affirmatively. “Her name is Mister Murder Mittens, and she chose violence against the phone to punish me for removing her from the comfort of her habitat.”

“You got the pronouns wrong. Mister is a male title,” Bee corrects him, but I hold up a finger shaking my head.

“No. Lora knows the difference between the pronouns and he would know mister is a male title. He didn’t make a mistake,” I reply and look up at Lora curiously. “Why is she called Mister Murder Mittens?”

“Her pet human is seven and does not adhere to social norms when choosing names for the animals he belongs to. Mister Murder Mittens likes her name and does not care about human language rules either,” Lora explains with a soft smile. “He named the turtle king that rules him Queen Soupie McTastyface, and he named his best friend Barks Doggo. I like the names he has chosen.”

I take a sip of my wine before asking. “Do you also talk to animals?”

Lora rattles and chuckles, squatting to put us at eye level and folding his arms over the side of the hot tub. “Most species have at least rudimentary communication capabilities. If an organism communicates through visual, chemical, or auditory methods, my neuro-processor can assist in learning and understanding the meaning of the communication.”

“That’s incredible,” Bee comments, holding out a wet hand. “I’m Beatrice Teakwood, locally known as Bee.”

Lora gently squeezes her hand with two fingers. “I am LoveOrderRageArtifice, locally known as Lora. It is nice to meet you.” He says that last sentence like he’s not sure he’s getting all the words correct with a hint of what-a-strange-local-custom.

Bee’s smile shines like the spring sun after a harsh winter. “Same. So how about it? Can I have the apartment next door?”

Lora rattles positively. “We like to keep family groups together. You, your adult siblings and cousins, and your unmarried parent will all live in this apartment block.”

I laugh as Bee groans, and since we both know what a pain in the ass living next to her mom is going to be, I also point at her and do my best impression of Nelson Muntz, “Ha-ha.”

Bee splashes me, hitting Lora as well. “Shut up. She’s going to be as much in your business as she will be in mine.”

“That’s true, but your mom loves me more than you, so I’ll get all the gumbo and you’ll get all the side-eye about living better.” To Lora I explain, “Bee’s mom doesn’t want Bee to make the same mistakes she did, so she pushes for different choices concerning dating and her career. I’m gay, so there’s no chance of me having a kid before I’m settled and ready for it. Family planning is a requirement for same sex couples in a way it’s not for het couples.”

“Never mind the fact that I’m an exclusive lesbian. I’ve never even looked sideways at a man, and none of the trans girls I’ve been with were tops.” Bee grouches, drinking the last three gulps of her wine and going for a refill.

I’d call out her overshare about her sex life, but that would be hypocritical of me when I told her in detail what happened the last time I got laid.

“It would be non-standard to not group families in the same apartment blocks,” Lora comments. “Is dissension between generations common for your species?”

“Yes,” Bee and I both say in unison.

Lora makes a call on his vambrace device and speaks to at least two other individuals for a few minutes before another joins the call. Bee and I watch Lora during the conversation, exchanging glances every few minutes and finishing off the bottle of wine. After about fifteen minutes, Lora stops talking to his device and all the people on the conference call quiet down.