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1
KAI
My hair hangs over my face, shielding me from view as I scrub the floor. The deck is shiny as can be, but it doesn’t matter. My job is to scrub the floors so I do it. Silently as usual, letting the world pass by me.
Legs move around, voices pass over, and none of them engage with me. On my hands and knees, ignored or forgotten it makes no difference. I’m fine. I know I am because I tell myself I am. Over and over. What else can I be? What choice do I have?
One day is much the same as any other. Get up. Eat. Work. Sleep. Avoid people, avoid conversation, avoid everything I possibly can as I do my best to make it through another one of the endless, pointless days.
The bucket scrapes over the metallic flooring as I scoot it ahead, moving to the next area to clean. My lower back throbs with aching pain and my knees hurt. I don’t say anything because why? No one would care if I did. That’s the cold, hard truth of my life. Since the crash I have become less.
I dip the brush into the soapy water, slosh some across the floor, and scrub. More people pass by, but not one pauses as I continue to work my way down the hall. I dart a quick glance ahead, judging how much more there is to go. Another thirty minutes and I’ll be done. This is my last hall for the day. Once I finish it, my time is my own. Yay.
“Did you see that!” a female voice exclaims with excitement.
I frown, trying to ignore it, but the tone of her voice tugs at my attention. Then something stirs inside my brain, or in my heart, or somewhere but I try to squash it. Curiosity is for others. Ones who aren’t me. Forcing all my attention onto the brush and the next section of floor, I pointedly ignore the conversation.
“Look, look, look, there she goes!” another voice, this one male.
That stirring desire to know, almost a fear of missing out on something, tries to take root again. I grab onto that feeling and jerk it out, hoping I got the roots too. It doesn’t concern me. No one wants me there to witness whatever it is. I am not welcome.
“Oh! Oh! Look, you got it girl, go!” yet another female voice.
That niggling of curiosity remains undeniable. I dare a quick peek through my hair but all I see is multiple sets of legs standing at the end of the hall. They’re less than ten feet away but it might as well be the other side of the planet.
Something is happening beyond those legs which is where everyone’s attention is. Inexorably drawn forward I crawl a little closer until I can see what is happening. The baby is taking a few steps between the tables of the dining hall.
The baby. I know I’ve heard her name, but I don’t recall it, but it doesn’t really matter. She’s famous as is, famous enough that if someone mentions ‘the baby’ anyone else automatically knows who you’re talking about. There have only been a handful of births since the crash anyway, but those were mundane human births. ‘The baby’ is the only one that is a mix of humans and the alien species who joined us recently, the Zmaj.
The Zmaj. Huge, hulking, alien as anything I’ve ever dreamed of, with their humanoid shape but distinctly dragon-like influence. Tails, wings, and horns would be enough to make them unique but they also have scales, eschew shirts in general and their bodies are, to a one, a display of peak physical conditioning.
I may go unnoticed most of the time, by choice if nothing else, but I listen. I always listen. I know how the women of the ship are falling all over themselves with the idea of being with one of those alien men. I hear the rumors as well, that they have a very unique anatomy in their less visible areas.
And, of course, there is no doubt about the compatibility of our two species. Any concerns on that front are laid to rest by ‘the baby’ that takes a shaky step and then another. Watching her, a smile forms on my face.
The baby is as cute as anything I have ever seen. Every bit as cute as I used to be, before. No, not going to think about that, focus on the now for that is all there really is after all isn’t it? She is an interesting mix of more human features and Zmaj. The scales on her visible skin are so tiny as to be almost imperceptible if not for their shimmering. She has wings and tiny nubs of horns but I don’t see a tail. She might have one under her clothes but there are no obvious signs of it if it’s there.
She frowns, pursing her tiny lips tight as her brow furrows with concentration. She reaches her little arms with those perfect tiny fists forward. Her arms shake, her eyes narrow, then she takes another step. The watching crowd explodes with joy. Clapping, cheering, and shouting encouragement. Even I smile, despite the way it pulls at my scars, reminding me of them yet again, and hurts to boot. The muscles on that side of my face have almost no elasticity left in them.
The baby shakes, legs trembling, then her eyes widen. Her mouth drops open, she waves her arms then drops onto her butt with a plopping aplomb. She has the most pure look of consternation on her face that I think I have ever seen, but as fast as I see it it’s gone, replaced by a giggle and a smile. She throws herself forward and crawls out of my line of view.
People are dispersing, some turning back in my direction. Quickly I drop my head, making sure my hair is over my face, focusing on the bucket and the brush. Outside my protective shield they move, passing on to their destinations and thankfully ignoring me.
“You’re sure that we can harvest enough?” a deep, rumbling voice.
I peek through the hair and see two pairs of Zmaj legs. I’ve been working on learning their language mostly by listening and piecing it together. It’s not like we have learning chips any longer and even if we did they wouldn’t include the Zmaj language. One of the newcomers is a nurse and has been working in the med area. Her name is Leah and she is really nice to me. She made this paste stuff for me to use which has really eased the pain. She’s also been helping me to grasp the Zmaj language.
“It will not be easy,” the other one says. “But we can do it.”
“Good, the new humans need it as much as ours do,” the deep voice says.
“They’ll go tomorrow,” the other says.
“Okay,” the deeper voice says then walks off but the second set of legs belonging to the other voice doesn’t move.
Fear tickles around my thoughts making chills go up and down my spine. I scrub harder, listening to the sound of the bristles scraping over the metal plating and the soft sloshing of the water.
“Okay you?” he asks.
