Page 3 of The Planetary Systems Preservation Committee Decided We Needed a Nanny

The alien lists sideways, catching themself on the trunk of my car with a wet slap. A smear of blood glares up at me from the spot. “Why are you bleeding?” I demand, quickly moving to support the huge ass alien.

With way more trouble than it’s worth, I get them into my back seat. Fortunately for them, they fold in half, otherwise cramming them into my car would’ve been impossible. I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I take the alien back to my house, park in my garage, and help them into my house where no human can see them.

As soon as I get my groceries brought in (What? Like I’m going to waste my money? We’re in a recession-about-to-be-a-depression, there ain’t no way I’m wasting groceries), I steel my nerves and approach the alien on my couch. “How can I help?” I ask.

I’m prepared to perform basic first aid, but anything more complex is beyond me. I don’t even have a proper emergency medical kit, just some band aids and ointment. I might have some aloe vera.

The alien smiles, baring those scary ass teeth at me. “A pint of your blood will initiate my self repair.”

Ah. Of course. ScaryDarkAlienVampire. The label makes sense now.

CHAPTER THREE

It would have been nice if someone could’ve spared me the gory details, but since that didn’t happen, I’m going to do you a solid and not describe in detail what it’s like to donate blood to a ScaryDarkAlienVampire for their health. I’ll just say that alien vampires prefer blood fresh from the lungs that doesn’t contain all the waste products in blood that haven’t yet been filtered by the liver and kidneys.

On a totally unrelated note, I learned that the aliens use nanotech robots to accelerate healing in other species, and that it only takes those tiny robots about three seconds to completely rebuild and heal a puncture wound to the jugular.

Totally unrelated.

I’m really glad I decided to get orange juice for mimosas last week.

“So you’re better?” I ask, eyeing the alien with less trepidation than before.

It’s hard to feel afraid of a person when they’ve had ample opportunity to kill you and they didn’t. Besides, this person is literally four feet taller than me and so much broader that I’m probably child size to them. They could take me out with a single swipe of their claws. I’m hoping that means they think I’m too cute to kill.

The alien rattles in their throat as a response before adding in English, “Yes. I am almost fully healed.”

“Great. Excellent. Perfect. You going to tell me how you got injured?” I’d prefer to know if I’m in immediate danger by whatever hurt them or if this was a one off accident.

The alien makes a different sort of rattle in their throat and this time it sounds distinctly negative. I didn’t even realize the first rattle sounded positive until I heard this one. “It is a disappointing story,” the alien prevaricates.

I press my lips together and squint at the alien as Jefferson quietly comes rolling into the living room. “Listen, my entire life is one disappointment after another. Not because I’m personally badly off, but because I’m a minority in a country full of homophobic morons. I will happily listen to your disappointing story if only to feel better about myself, and I won’t even get that because I’ll end up commiserating with you. Also, my name is Ollie. Do you have a name I can use?” I’m not dismissing the idea that their name might be unpronounceable.

The alien’s black eyes stare a hole into my face for approximately a year before they respond. “My name is LoveOrderRenewalArtifice. It is much shorter in my language.” They make a zippy little sound that mixes rattling with noises that I could never make.

“Love, order, renewal, artifice. L-O-R-A. Is it ok if I call you Lora? It’s a much shorter designation.”

The alien rattles in approval. “That is an acceptable shortening of my name.”

“Ok, then. It’s weird to meet you, Lora. How did you get hurt?” I ask again.

Lora rattles in exasperation. “I calibrated the re-education wand to violence instead of peace and suffered the immediate consequences. I have to return to re-educate the group of fighters now. I’m grateful for your assistance and will make a note in your file that you were a helpful human.”

“There’s a file about me?” That’s a surprise. I’m no one and certainly not worth the bureaucratic effort to create a file about.

“Every lifeform on this planet has a file,” they explain simply. “You were catalogued along with every other creature when we scanned the planet.” They pull out what looks like a black cotton swab, holding it up to me. They open their mouth and I follow the nonverbal instruction, and they swab the inside of my mouth. After capping the swab, they stuff it in a pocket on their frankly overzealous uniform and stand, towering over me.

“Fuck, you’re big.” The words exit my mouth before I really think about it.

Lora shows me their sharp teeth, smiling with amusement. “I am below average for my species. Your species is simply very small. I believe the size of your species was limited by the atmospheric pressure, oxygen levels, and gravity of your planet. Humans are adorable. Like little…” He makes a little noise, then he stops to think for a second. “Strawberries seems to be the best translation.” He performs a very human gesture with a shrug. “They’re cute on my planet. Very small and adorable like you.”

I’m very tall for my species at about two meters, and no one has ever accused me of being small. My size 44 waist and 36 inseam pants can tell you that. Three XL is my go-to for shirts. I’m nothing if not big, but next to this guy? “I think I like being called adorable. Feels special.”

Lora chuckles softly and pets my light auburn hair. “You are special, Ollie. Perhaps we will meet again.”

I shrug, because the likelihood of that happening accidentally is low. “I wouldn’t mind it. Good luck with the re-education plan.”

Lore rattles and this time it sounds annoyed. “Thank you. I will leave now.”