Page 38 of Married to the Alien Mountain Man

“Those are new boots.” The little machine’s voice sounded very much like a human woman’s. I began to think of her as female. I remembered that she had a name, much like the ship did. Lala.

“Thank you for that information,” I said, not entirely sure why Lala had told me such a thing. “Should I do something special with them?” Maybe they needed conditioning, like my leather boots did from time to time.

“New boots mean blisters for a human,” Lala explained. “You need to remove her socks and check her feet for broken skin, and then take the appropriate steps to prevent infection.”

I felt rather foolish, being instructed by a bot on what Jaya needed. But Lala had known Jaya much longer than I had. And I was not so proud that I was willing to forgo valuable instruction where my precious human wife was concerned.

I did not know that she had blisters. Apart from the more vulnerable skin on my ears, Zabrian hide was too tough for such a thing. It had not even crossed my mind. I’d noticed Jaya’s fatigue, and some possible soreness, but I’d assumed it was a more general muscle pain bothering her.

The idea that her skin could have become more and more damaged with every step we took skewered me, left me feeling rather sick. I was doubly glad I’d carried her home now.

I put the boots down. “Just tell me what to do.”

Lala activated a small light on her body and aimed it at Jaya’s feet. I groaned when I saw twin blood stains on the backs of her heels, the red human colour of it staining the grey fabric of her socks.

“Once you’ve removed the socks, you can use the knitter,” Lala said. “It’s still in her back pocket from earlier.”

I reached for her right foot, then paused.

“Should I not wake her?”

This was her body. These were her feet. Though I longed to take care of her, to let her sleep and do it all for her, I had a feeling my wife would want to examine her own injuries.

I can take care of myself, she’d said.

I could tell it was important to her.

And I wanted to honour what was important to her.

“Jaya is a heavy sleeper at the best of times,” Lala said. “Before she fell asleep, she’d been awake for more than twenty-six human hours. It is unlikely you will be able to rouse her for this.”

So it was up to me, then.

As carefully as if I handled the finest Zabrian blown glass, I peeled one tiny sock from Jaya’s left foot, then the sock from her right. I set them aside, vowing to soak them before I went to sleep for the night in the hopes that I might get some of the blood out.

I returned my attention to her feet, and something clenched inside me when I saw the torn skin on the backs of her heels.

“She didn’t tell me,” I growled under my breath.

“She never does,” Lala said. Despite the cheery, but otherwise blankly emotionless lilt of her voice, I could not help but think I sensed a weary sort of comradery in her reply. As if she knew what it was like to try to care for Jaya when Jaya did not want to let anyone else near enough to do it.

I decided that I liked this strange little bot.

“Now you can use the knitter,” Lala reminded me.

But she needn’t have bothered. I was already hunting for it, pulling it swiftly from Jaya’s back pocket before I could get too distracted by the fact that my knuckles had just brushed the taut curve of her backside. I also pulled her data tab out from another pocket, setting it on the bedside so that it did not get cracked or damaged.

“It’s a fairly intuitive design,” Lala said. “Merely aim the point of the knitter at the affected area, then activate the trigger with your finger. The resulting beam will both disinfect the tissue, stop any active bleeding, and encourage quicker healing.”

I did as Lala instructed. When I pressed my finger against the trigger, a pale blue beam shone against Jaya’s skin. I let it glow on each of her heels.

Once that was done. I put the knitter beside her data tab on the bedside table. But I still didn’t want to leave her feet open to the air like that. Just because her wounds were clean, did not mean that they would stay that way all night. I moved to my drawers, hunting for my smallest, cleanest pair of socks.

I found one, forgotten at the very back of the bottom drawer. A set from when I’d been a child.

They were the perfect size.

I brought them back to the bed. Just to be extra cautious, I used the knitter’s beam to disinfect the socks. Then, I gingerly put them on Jaya’s feet, taking care not to catch the old wool against the raw, broken skin.

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