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"Don't go," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded but unable to make it stronger. "Please, Daddy. The lab doesn't really need you today, does it?"

His large hand cupped my cheek, thumb stroking across my cheekbone. "This is important work."

"More important than me?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, petulant and unfair and exactly the kind of thing that would earn me a disappointed look.

But O'li's expression remained patient, understanding even. "Different important," he said simply. "My work helps our entire district. But you help me. You make my life complete. One doesn't diminish the other."

It was the kind of logical response I'd come to expect from him, but somehow it helped. My grip loosened slightly, though I couldn't bring myself to let go entirely.

"I'll return before the second sun sets," he promised, his other hand joining the first to frame my face. "Be good for your teachers. Show them what a well-behaved pet you can be when you choose."

When I choose. He always framed it that way, like my behavior was a decision rather than something forced on me. It made me feel powerful and responsible at the same time, which was probably his intention.

"The market?" I asked.

"If you earn it," he confirmed, and his tone carried that warning again. "But if I receive a poor report..."

He didn't need to finish. We both knew what would happen. The discipline corner would seem like a pleasant memory compared to the consequences of embarrassing him at daycare.

And that was at least a little bit exciting.

I took a deep breath, tasting the vanilla-sweet air that would be my atmosphere for the next several hours. Around us, the daycare continued its morning routine, caretakers organizing activities, pets settling into their groups, the gentle chaos of multiple humans trying to exist in shared space. The worst part was that they didn't let me contact him directly. If I wanted to talk to him, I'd have to ask a caretaker, and they'd probably say he was busy and would be back soon. Hours in Aconche were long, and time dragged.

"I'll be good," I said, and meant it. Not just good enough to avoid punishment or earn rewards, but actually good. For him. Because he needed me to be, because it mattered to him that I represented our household well.

"That's my brave pup," he said, and the pride in his voice made everything worth it. His hands released my face, and I made myself step back, breaking our connection voluntarily.

Herosm appeared beside us. "Come, Lucca. Shn is setting up the painting station, and I know you enjoy selecting colors."

And then he was walking away. I watched until he disappeared through the entrance, the doors closing. My hand went to my collar, fingers tracing the edges where the leash had been attached. He was my safety on this planet where I didn't belong, where my species was secondary, where they could do anything they wanted with us.

"Lucca?" Herosm's voice was gentler now, understanding. "The others are waiting."

I nodded, squaring my shoulders and turning toward the main activity room. Carlos was still watching with that superior expression. His dark skin glowed, and his dark eyes were full of challenge. I didn't care. I had a market trip to earn and O'li's pride to maintain. The day would pass, the second sun would set, and I would be back where I belonged. Or, at least, that's what I told myself.

Chapter 9. Lucca

I followed Herosm deeper into the daycare, my bare feet dragging. The main activity room opened before us, a space so cheerful it made my teeth hurt, walls painted in swirls of yellow and pale blue, furniture scaled for human bodies but with that alien curve to everything, no sharp edges anywhere. The vanilla-sweet mist was stronger here, thick enough that I could taste it with each breath, coating the back of my throat with artificial calm that my body wanted to reject.

"Stand still for processing," Herosm said, guiding me to a small platform near the entrance. He pulled a scanner from his pocket, and it gave a soft chirp. The scanner passed over my collar, and I heard the familiar beep of recognition. My information cascaded across Herosm's handheld display in symbols I couldn't read, though I'd learned to recognize O'li's name among them. It was the only Aconchian script that meant anything to me. It was as if our Earth brains weren't made to understand anything Aconchian, no matter how hard we tried. Our brains were simply limited in this sense.

"So, you've been experiencing separation anxiety," Herosm murmured, more to himself than to me, his eyes scanning whatever instructions my owner had left. "Requires gentle transitions, responsive to positive reinforcement, occasional defiance when stressed." He looked up at me then, and I saw something that might have been understanding in those alien features. "You'll have a good day here, Lucca."

I wanted to tell him that his definition of a good day and mine were probably very different, but I just nodded. Speaking out of turn to a caretaker was the kind of thing that ended up in reports, and I had that market trip to think about. Also, I just wanted to be good for Daddy.

The central area was already busy with activity, maybe fifteen other human pets scattered across the space. Some sat in small circles on cushions, talking in low voices. Others sprawled on the soft floor with simple fidget toys, blocks, puzzles, and other things designed to keep human hands busy. Some of them earned the right to use screens and watch videos, but screen time was limited. "Bad for our anxious brains," that's what they told us.

"Lucca!" a voice called out, friendly and warm. Otto was already approaching, his perpetual smile stretched across his face. His owner was on the Council, a fact he managed to work into every third sentence, but he wasn't mean about it. Just proud, like it made him special by association. He had short brown hair, a square chin, and brown eyes.

Beside him was a girl I'd noticed sitting alone near the reading nook earlier. She had striking red hair that hung in two braids and green eyes that watched me. Her collar was simpler than most, plain silver without ornamentation.

"This is Anya," Otto said. "She's been here three times now. I'm showing her around."

"Hi," she said.

"Hey," I managed. The vanilla mist was making me dizzy, or maybe that was just the absence of O'li's presence. "Three times isn't such a rookie anymore. You get used to it."

I dropped onto one of the nearby cushions, and Otto and Anya settled with me.