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Raffa isn’t paying attention to the headlines. He’s proudly explaining to me everything he knows about Station City, which is a place where his sister would often stop the ship for off-loading their rescues or other business. He knows not to mention anything that will perk the ears of the other people on the transport with us.
I’ve decided to braid my hair up and tuck it into the collar of the loose dress I’m wearing. I cover the rest with a Kar’Kali headscarf, a beautiful piece from Kalla’s mother’s collection dyed teal blue and woven over with a metal thread. It’s one of the only things he gave me that I took to EC-12 and happened to have in the skimmer when we left. Maybe the paranoia is getting to me, but since that bounty hunter snapped a photo of me, I can’t help but take precautions. Station City is where Niko was attacked by someone who was looking for Kalla. If we remain in the populated areas, we should be okay. This place has every imaginable species among its population, including plenty of humans.
“The best food in the universe is made in Lakkavi’s restaurant. It even won awards,” Raffa is saying.
We’re on our way to the Seventh Bright Sun Building in the Garden District of Station City. It’s one of the many high rises that surround the public gardens. The first time I was in this city, I hardly left the main transport center. The second time we stopped here,The Primordial Avengerwas in and out quickly to drop Raina and Niko off before their brush with death. It’s an overwhelming metropolis that doesn’t feel like a station once you land. It’s a big city with the dial turned to one hundred— multi-layered airspace populated with skimmers and speeders, skyscrapers that butt up against each other, and every square foot jammed with aliens of every imaginable size and color.
When we arrive, we’re welcomed by Lakkavi, head chef and owner of Traditions of Kar’Kal. He’s the unofficial leader of the community of Kar’Kali that live in Alliance territory, particularly those who reside on Station City, and he’s a member of the Ka’lakka’s leadership council. He and his wife Banna are quick to embrace us, inquiring what emergency would have us fleeing my colony farm.
Once I’ve explained it all, the next words out of my mouth are about Frankie. But all they do is shake their heads sadly. There’s no news of her recovery, and they’ve had little to no contact with those onThe Rightful Heir.
A few cycles pass, and I live in a state of constant paranoia, trying my best to not let on to Raffa that I’m anxious about our situation. I’m not doing a good job of it though, because he checks in on me constantly, even when he’s meant to be on delivery duties. The only semblance of normalcy I enjoy is my new job as the Kar’Kali community’s free childcare. When Banna realized I love children and that I didn’t mind watching more than one at a time, I was suddenly assigned a whole gaggle of kids aged six to ten. Some of their parents were restaurant workers, but others were from Kar’Kali families that were struggling to make ends meet while paying for childcare. So I spend most of the day either in the private backroom of the restaurant helping them with homework and entertaining them in other ways, or we go down to the atrium garden where much of the Kar’Kali staple vegetables are grown fresh for the restaurant. One by one, as the dinner rush starts, the kids trickle away, picked up by their parents. Then I’m left with one or two that belong to the kitchen staff.
Today, I’m left with just one. Sallina, a name I’m told means ‘lovely flower,’ is my constant companion, owing to the fact that her adoptive mother is a waitress who also works shifts at another restaurant in the same complex for extra money. Her name is apt in my opinion— she’s got the face of an angel and a sugary sweet personality. She’s six passings old. Sallina has gotten used to being away from her mother all day, but she goes through periods of melancholy that break my heart. Her other mother is a warrior in the Ka’lakka’s army, and Sallina hasn’t seen her since the launch of the fleet.
“Kaye-vi, what should we do?” she asks, clutching my hand tight as we ride in the bubble-shaped gondola system that acts as an elevator for the Seventh Bright Sun Building. The first few times I rode it, I was amazed by how it allows you to see a glimpse of every floor as you breeze around the atrium like a theme park ride. How quickly it’s become a routine detail of life.
“We can be helpers… Or we can play a game,” I suggest. We’ll have two intervals to kill until her mother is finished with her shift at Traditions of Kar’Kal. “Or we can do math practice. You can play hairdresser.”
Sallina’s goal in life is to be a hairdresser, so she tests out her many brilliant ideas on me. Naturally, I’ve had to brush a number of nasty knots out of my hair after a long day of babysitting her.
“I want to help,” she decides after thinking seriously about the options.
“So we’ll ask Banna where to direct us,” I say, helping her off her seat once the bubble comes to a stop on the top floor.
The walk to Traditions of Kar’Kali takes us past a few other luxury restaurants, and I always feel both out of place and paranoid when taking the shorter route through the public lobbies. Patrons at these upscale places tend to dress up, and there’s a mix of every alien species imaginable, many of which I can hardly name. Mostly, I worry about that picture of me, and I wonder if any one of them could be a bounty hunter.
“You don’t like being around crowds of people, do you, Kaye-vi?” Sallina asks, squeezing my hand. “It’s okay to be scared.”
“Thanks, Sallina,” I say, my heart warming even though she startled me with her observational skills. “I’m only a little nervous, but I’m okay.”
She’s gotten very intuitive about the emotions of others, which is wonderful, even though I fear she gets her practice mostly from trying to judge her own mother’s moods and trying to cheer her up. Sadly, it seems her mother is struggling with missing her warrior mate. I can relate to that. Sallina can tell when her mother is masking her sadness, and she notices the same with me.
We reach the hostess desk, and only Banna is there.
“We’re offering our services,” I tell her brightly, guiding Sallina to stand in front of me. “Have a job for us?”
Banna laughs. “Oh really? I’m sorry, but it’s a slow night.”
Sallina frowns. “Oh…”
“How about this?” I say quickly. “If it’s slow, then maybe you send Sallina’s mom home and I’ll take her tables? I’m not very good, but—”
“And then Lala can take me home early?” Sallina starts bouncing at the prospect, looking around for her mother with excitement.
“Hmm.” Banna tilts her head. “How can I say no?”
Banna sends me to their employee locker room with a dress for me. It’s common at these luxury restaurants for staff to dress in themed uniforms. At Traditions of Kar’Kal, the color of choice iskaliteal. I refresh myself, and by the time I’m ready, Sallina and her mother are gone.
“You’re sweeter than honey,” Banna says. “But it’s looking like an easy night for you, so you’ll be alright. There’s one table right now. The Deadheads that come here were just seated. No one really likes to serve them. Are you comfortable with it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re right… I suppose it’s a Kar’Kali prejudice. Humans don’t understand. But only passings ago, the sight of a Deadhead would send us all scattering. Now they sit and eat in my restaurant? Strange. Very strange.”
“I understand,” I say, taking the tablet through which the waitresses send orders to the kitchens. “Change is difficult.”
I head to the private booth where these ‘Deadheads’ are seated. These are the Kar’Kali that once had chips in their heads to suppress the mating call. At least I have no reason to fear I’m talking to a bounty hunter. No Kar’Kali would be hunting for me. Deadheads and Deviants still harbor hatred toward one another, but none would work for an Azza contract— of that much, I am certain.
