Page 5 of Sky Song
Cricket got quiet. Her mama Ruby was back on Earth, her only family. Here, she was completely and utterly alone. Such a simple question, it left her uncomfortable and, if she was honest with herself, feeling a tiny bit inadequate.
She raised her chin. “I have family on Earth,” she stated with confidence. “I hope to create one here, too.”
The Rix on the opposite end of the table continued to look at her out of his black eyes set in an impassive face. He no longer appeared warrior-like or dangerous. That strange moment where she got snared by his eyes was gone, but it stayed in Cricket’s memory, now a part of her.
“Do you have a mate?” asked the Levisur in a hoarse hacking voice.
Someone snorted.
“What? Did I say it wrong?” The Levisur rolled his eyes around in confusion. The aliens at the table expressed amusement in their different ways, and even the prim Tana-Tana fought to hide a smile.
“Are you applying?” the Perali poked him.
“I asked from a purely scientific perspective.”
The Kessas howled like hyenas.
Realizing he’d made another blunder but unable to figure out what exactly he said wrong, the Levisur looked helplessly at Cricket.
She pulled the chair closer to the mahogany table and sat down. “Let me tell you about our traditions.”
Chapter 2
It was two hours later when Cricket returned to the lab. She’d talked to the aliens about everything, from Earth’s municipal governance to pickling radishes, and would have talked more if Dr. Nura hadn’t deployed her trademark strategic diplomacy to break up the overextended session so that the delegates could continue with their planned activities.
Upon seeing her, Terrance practically vibrated with unrestrained curiosity. “You went to see the aliens!”
Now that she was out of that conference room, Cricket felt drained. “How do you know where I went?”
“Yanet came back and told us.”
“Ah, Yanet.” She should’ve known. Yanet, bless her heart, was a hopeless gossip, as if when they tweaked her genetic code at conception to create pure esthetic perfection, they messed up a gene responsible for verbal restraint.
“The doctors should have never called upon you in this fashion, but that’s exactly whattheywanted,” Kim started ominously.
Here we go.Cricket sighed. “What do you thinktheywanted?”
“Information. They target innocent people to find out where our weaknesses lie. Played you like a fiddle. They wouldn’t pick someone like me to ask their nosy questions ‘cause they know better.”
Cricket didn’t reply because doing so would lead to an argument with Kim she knew she couldn't win. Nobody could.
Kim’s eyes bored into Cricket’s. “We need to talk, you and I.”
Being grilled by Kim on her interactions with the aliens was the absolute last thing Cricket wanted to do.
“Maybe later,” she said in a light tone, earning a ferocious scowl from Kim. “I got a pass for the rest of the day from Dr. Ragberg, so I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
Salty raised her head. “Why do you always get a pass? Oh, I get it. Because you’re friends with Dr. Ragberg. Must be nice…” Her lips curved into a sour smile.
Once more, Cricket checked herself against issuing a retort. She’d never gotten a pass before, and Dr. Ragberg was hardly a friend, but Salty was another one with convictions impossible to overturn with logic.
“See ya!” She wished the door didn’t have a soft closing mechanism so she could slam it in her wake.
A leisurely walk home helped clear Cricket’s head and ease tension in her neck. The dusk was only beginning to gather when she reached her doll-sized house. It was squished in the middle of a neat row of similar tiny townhouses with varying facades, framed by greenery and bathed in the lingering sunlight, and the whole street was simply adorable. Cricket’s steps slowed as she took in the postcard-perfect display.
Renting a house like that, diminutive as it was, had been a distant dream when she’d first arrived from Earth. With every aspect of life being strictly regulated on Meeus, where every opportunity was allocated to citizens early in life, Cricket’s undocumented, Earth-born ass had no place in the carefully planned and meticulously curated societal roster. But when her paperwork had gone through, helped along by Dr. Ragberg’sinfluence, and the lab job had materialized through the same means, she’d suddenly turned into a member of society who qualified for independent rent under the professional singles category.
She didn’t know if she had taken someone else’s place in the rental line, and if so, what happened to the person who had been slated for this house. Maybe they died, like the unfortunate Igor whose job she now had. Some things were better left unknown.
