Page 6 of My Wild Pet

“That’sexactlywhat you’re paying me for. Don’t I bring you the best return on human pets in the galaxy? Ember and Fifi won the Grand Championships three times which is why they were able to compete in the Bond Breaker for even more UCs. And we all received the payout from their wins, including Ember’s solo win. So it wasn’t a complete loss,” I say, and leave off, ‘except for my reputation.’

Ira narrows his eyes but doesn’t argue. “Currentlyyou are still the best pet trainer in the galaxy,” he concedes. “But perhapsFifi’s death is the start of your decline? You better be careful, in my experience, one misstep is usually followed by others.”

“This was one mistake, and I never make the same mistake twice,” I assure him, though the memory lingers of Ember’s hesitation, his pained expression—those weren’t the signs of a pet without loyalty. They were the signs of someone who understood he had no choice.

“Did Fifi leave any offspring?”

“We have some of her eggs,” I admit carefully. “I was going to sell them.”

“That goes against the goddesses. I don’t want to hear about it,” he snaps, his voice betraying his falseness.

“I’ll find a replacement,” I say. “One that surpasses even Fifi. I just need time.”

“Now, listen here. I’m transferring you two thousand UCs to buy a new pet. I want to win the next Grand Championship at The Celestial Spire. I don’t want to sit a year out. That’s lost UCs on Ember.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think I can train a fresh female pet to win in eight months.” I keep my tone steady, even as my mind races. Training a new human pet for a competition of this caliber in that time frame is nearly impossible.

“You’d better, Aefre, or I’ll invest in another trainer. It was wasteful of you to let Fifi die. Don’t let me down. You have the UCs and eight months.”

“I understand,” I reply, not letting my voice betray my uneasiness with this commitment.

I pride myself on shaping pets to show the best humanity can be, if properly trained. I cannot fail again, but these are impossible odds. Yet my mind is already mulling over what happened between Fifi and Ember for the millionth time. Perhaps it wasn’twhathappened, but rather whatdidn’thappen.

Before I can dwell on it further, Ira interrupts my thoughts. “Good. Now I have to get back to defending the Empire. Not all of us get to play with adorable human pets every day. And Aefre, I want regular holos of my pets training. Stop being so cautious about the IGC. No one is really going to enforce the law about pet shows.” Then he adds as an afterthought, “But send them to me encrypted. Walk with the goddesses.”

His image flashes out as the transmission ends, leaving me alone in the silent glow of my office. I drop my head into my hands. How am I supposed to train a new pet in just eight months? It’s hopeless.

But not entirely unachievable. I trained Fifi’s sister in six months and she managed to win two shows—though neither was as prestigious as the Grand Championship.

I cloak my galactic connection and begin searching for upcoming human auctions. An Octopod group is hosting one at the Abyssal Nexus. These auctions are notoriously unpredictable—Octopods don’t understand human aesthetics. Their interest in humanity is purely biological: incubators for their young and playthings for their tentacles. So, I usually avoid buying from them, but today, I’m desperate.

I activate the comms to my ship’s captain. “Set a course for the Abyssal Nexus.”

The hesitation on the other end lasts only a moment. “Understood,” the captain replies, his voice neutral.

I close the channel, my thoughts already shifting to the task ahead. I need a plan. But just in case I’m overlooking one of the females I already have, I decide to visit all my pets onboard.

When I enter the pet play area, six pairs of human eyes immediately focus on me. Even after all these years, their attentiveness still pleases me. Good humans, every one of them.

I open the door and call for my two favorites. They run to me, dropping to their knees as they’ve been trained. I rest a hand on the first, Mags—forty years under my care and still sharp. Then Ember, my prized male, here for ten years and the most impressive human male I’ve ever owned.

“A new human will be joining us soon,” I tell them, my voice firm but calm. “You must help her adjust. Understand?”

“Understand,” they reply in Imperial, their accents varied but their obedience clear.

“Good humans.” I let a small smile cross my lips. “If you’re very good, there will be a treat later.”

Mags beams at the promise, while Ember nods, his expression steady. I stroke Mags’ fur between her legs and then Ember’s. I stop before either of them becomes too aroused and then I dismiss them, and they run back to play. I linger for a moment, watching them toss a ball back and forth, their laughter echoing faintly.

I look at the other two females. They are the right age and have been trained to the extent of their abilities, but they’re not enough. Not mentally or physically capable for the challenges at the Grand Championships. Those games are designed to push both pets and their trainers to their limits.

I observe my two other females for another minute, to assure myself that I’m not missing something in their potential. But, I’m not. They just aren’t strong enough and Ember would definitely leave either of them to die in the Bond Breaker. I must resign myself to the idea of a new pet.

I open internal communications. “Kaelin, meet me in the conference room. I just spoke to Ira; we have a lot to discuss.”

I see Kaelin in the corridor and we walk together.

“Eight months? That’s insane.”

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