Have Tail, Will Travel

by Nancey Cummings

And, just because it’s so silly, what breed of dog would you be?

  Feel free not to answer, but I would like to get to know you and your family.

  Yup, everything about that message was awkward and cringe inducing. Still, she refused to pretend to be someone she’s not. With a sigh, she sent it.

  ***

  Do you want to play a game?

  Kal stared at the screen, trying to read more into the question than possible.

  What kind of game, she eventually replied.

  King’s Table, Merit answered via message promptly. He followed up with a link to an active game and the rules. Reading quickly, Kal learned that the game had similarities to chess.

  I’ll go easy on you, he wrote.

  Kal laughed at his cocky attitude. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll go easy on you.

  ***

  Their messages continued, and they wrote about more than the game and playful taunts. She kept him updated on her progress. Cost and distance prohibited speaking live either over video or voice. A lot of meaning could be lost in text but some communication, however filled with misunderstandings, was better than nothing.

  Merit sent back short replies, but they were accompanied by pictures of his house and the children, Dare and Clarity. He soothed her anxiety without even knowing.

  Her news shocked her friends. They tried to talk her out of it with heavy-handed sympathy about her loneliness and rationalizations about taking the death of her parents hard.

  Right. If she battled mere loneliness, she’d continue in her same old habits, follow the same old routine, and keep meeting the wrong men. She wanted the right man. Her perfect match. She’d travel to the ends of the universe for the perfect match. Traveling to Corra seemed like hardly any distance at all.

  Every new message from Merit convinced her she made the right choice. He asked for her preferences on food, soap, clothes, even down to the size of the bath towels. He wanted the house to be fully stocked when she arrived.

  Then one spring morning, she left Earth on a shuttle. Three months was a long time to spend on a ship. Fortunately, the journey would be broken up with transfers. No ships went straight from Earth to Corra. She had a passing knowledge of Talmar but during the long trip, she planned to read up on Tal history, customs, and food, and she even watched films to get an idea of the culture. She even used a language learning app to teach herself how to read Tal. She had a translator chip installed ages ago for work, but it only worked on spoken input, not visual input.

  Finally, after three months of waiting in space stations for connecting shuttles, reading every book on her reader twice, watching every film available on the ship’s entertainment center, and playing endless rounds of cards with passengers and sometimes the crew, she reached her destination.

  ***

  Kal felt so nervous she worried she might vomit. Not really, but maybe really. She clutched an air sickness bag just in case the combination of turbulence as the shuttle descended into the Corravian atmosphere, actual gravity replacing artificial gravity, and nerves getting the better of her.

  She wore a carefully chosen tan wrap dress made of a wrinkle-resistant fabric. It traveled well and wouldn’t look like a lumpy sack of potatoes on her. Her hair had been slicked back and worked into a plait. Her shoes were flat-soled, strappy white sandals. She wore minimal jewelry and pulled the outfit together with a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. She rather thought her appearance smart if a bit of “tourist on holiday.” First impressions mattered. She couldn’t very well roll out of the shuttle in the same lounge pants and oversized tunics she wore for the last few months.

  Kal checked her lipstick one last time and the shuttle touched alien soil.

  There was no backing out. No changing her mind if things weren’t exactly the ideal situation she’d been daydreaming about for months.

  She could do this. Hard work had never frightened her. If things weren’t ideal, she’d muddle through and find a way to make them better.

  Correction, she and Merit would work to make it better. He wanted this marriage just as much as she did. He needed to be just as invested.

  Kal held her head high and let the strength of her resolve carry her out of the shuttle and onto the dirt of the landing pad.

  Dirt. Wow.

  Well, she knew the planet was a bit behind the times. Rocks and uneven soil stung through the thin soles of her sandals.

  Kal took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. Fuel and exhaust from the shuttle lingered, but she could ignore that. The gentle blue sky above lacked the haze of pollution. She tilted her head back to revel in the feel of the sun on her face.

  Past the zenith of the day, the sun warmed her skin. Despite living in a rainy, cloudy city on Earth, her complexion remained a light brown. Three months with only artificial lighting made her pale.

  Other passengers disembarked, shouldering past her. A crowd gathered at the edge of the field. Crew members piled the passengers’ baggage into a cart and headed toward the crowd. Kal followed, searching for Merit. She knew she’d recognize him when she saw him, just knew it in her bones.

  “Kalini Patel?” a Tal woman spoke, hands folded placidly in front of her.

  “Yes?”

  “I am Amity Isteimlas, Merit’s sister. He sent me.” Before Kal could fiddle with the strap on her purse or respond, Amity had her in a tight embrace.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Kal squeaked, face pressed against the woman’s bosom.

  “Let me look at you.” Amity pushed her away to arm’s length but kept a firm grip on her shoulders. “You humans are always so tiny. You’re adorable. No guard hairs on your arms. Flat ears.” Another hug, this one less enthusiastic and followed with a pat on the back. “I admire how you humans manage being at such a disadvantage. You’re practically blind and deaf.” The pats took on a pitying feel.

  You humans.

  Kal pulled away. “We manage.”

  “Such a pretty dress,” Amity said, plucking at the sleeve of Kal’s dress. “Let’s hope the dust doesn’t ruin it. Or those lovely shoes.”

  Kal fought the urge to look down at her feet. Instead, she held Amity’s cold honey gaze. The Tal woman had the same complexion with honey and amber striation on her skin as Merit. Triangular ears perched at the top of her head twitched and rotated with the noise of the milling crowd and equipment being unloaded from the shuttle’s cargo. Dark amber hair fell in loose curls about her shoulders. A tail with a tuft of the same dark amber hair on the tip curled around her leg neatly.

  This was her sister-in-law and Kal’s gut didn’t trust her one little bit.

  “Why couldn’t Merit be here himself?” Kal asked.

  Amity gave a sweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He tries, he really does, but he just can’t seem to manage his time. Always rushing from one place to the next, always in a hurry and always late. I didn’t want you standing out here by yourself thinking we forgot about you. Imagine! What would you have thought?”

  Amity wore a plain brown tunic and matching leggings, made from rough fabric designed to hide imperfections and dirt. It gave Amity a severe air. She wore a wrap of the same rough fabric, wrapped around her waist and draped over a shoulder, reminding Kal very much of the sari her mother would wear for formal occasions. Just like that sari, it had a stiff, unused air about it. Kal wondered if the wrap was meant to be formal, but the homespun look of the fabric confused her. Formal clothing implied wearing the best quality clothing available. The wrap Amity wore had the look of a costume, like she wanted to appear humble and plain.

  Stop it, Kal scolded herself. She had no friends and allies on this planet and could not afford to be catty about her sister-in-law.

  She snorted. Catty, indeed. That kind of snark had to stop.

  “What is amusing?”

  “Your wrap reminds me of home,” Kal said smoothly.

  Amity plucked at the fabric. “It is simple but serves well. Storms are so frequent, it is good

to have something to cover yourself with. If it is not rain, then it is wind and dust.”

  Ah. Maybe the homespun look was by design, then, and not false humility. Properly self-chastised, Kal nodded.

  “Do you have something to protect your face? You will need it,” Amity said.

  “A scarf? It is in one of my bags.” Kal gestured to the three large cases, plus a smaller backpack and her purse.

  Amity tail uncoiled and lashed in the air. “Find it, please. You will be thankful for it.”

  Her tone implied that Kal had too much baggage, even though those three cases represented all her possessions. “I know it’s a lot,” Kal said, opening the case that held her cold weather clothing. “But I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get correctly-sized clothing this far out, and I had no idea what the climate is like. Better to be over prepared than caught flat-footed, my mother always said.” Kal held up an indigo wool scarf in triumph.

  A porter loaded the cases into a boxy vehicle with tall wheels and a missing windscreen. Amity climbed in and arranged Kal’s scarf to her liking, covering the entire lower portion of her face. “Sorry. This was the only vehicle available,” Amity explained.

  “The fresh air will do me good. Three months is a long time breathing filtered, recycled air.”

  “You say that now. Wait until you get a bug in your teeth.”

  “Do we have a long journey?”

  “The roads are dry, so about an hour,” Amity said. The vehicle rumbled to life. Gravel crunched under the tires, and before long, they left the airfield and traveled an uneven, unpaved road.

  Already Kal could see the problem with the lack of a windscreen. Dust and debris hit her in the face, and she tried to shield herself with her hand and turning toward Amity.

  “What happened to the windscreen?” she shouted over the noise in the cabin.

  “Merit broke it when he was on the hunt,” Amity replied, voice raised to be heard.

  “When will it be fixed?”

  “Not soon. The part must be special ordered. The mechanic shop doesn’t stock for this model.”

  The mechanic didn’t carry the parts? They were out in the middle of nowhere. Oh well. It’s not as if Kal expected it to be fixed that moment, she just needed to know if they planned to remedy the problem.

  The wind prevented any further conversation. Dust from the road flew at her, and she adjusted the scarf to cover her hair as well as her nose and mouth. She kept the fabric in place with one hand, all the while admiring the scenery.

  Trees, green and verdant, crowded the narrow dirt road. They obscured the landscape and eventually blurred into a green barricade. The air held a clean, fresh scent of recent rain. The road twisted and turned. Eventually, Kal realized the road wound its way through steep hills and valleys. Occasionally the trees cleared, revealing a lush green vista of rolling hills and mountains in the distance. Then, just as quickly as it came, the veil of trees hid it again.

  The road widened and opened into a valley. Buildings clustered at the base of a steep hill at the far end.

  “Drac’s not what you’re used to, I’m sure, but it’s got everything we need,” Amity shouted over the wind and the noise of the engine.

  “Big cities aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” Kal said. The file on Merit told her the bare facts about the small town. That wasn’t a surprise. Living in the crowded London her entire life with brief holidays at the seaside, Kal looked forward to life in a close-knit community.

  The vehicle slowed as it entered the town. Amity removed her wrap. Kal followed. They drove past boxy, simple structures. Kal recognized the modular design of pre-fabricated constructions, usually found on colonies. The modules allowed the colony to grow quickly without wasting time on construction. A new module could be set down anywhere as a new building or added to an existing structure.

  “Drac isn’t much to look at. Most everyone here works for or supports the mine. You wouldn’t know from its appearance, but the town has grown quickly,” Amity said.

  “The company I used to work for built these. Well, modular habitation units.”

  “Did you really? How fascinating,” Amity said in a flat tone.

  “It was one of the subsidiaries,” Kal explained.

  The vehicle pulled off the commercial strip and onto a residential street. Boxy, plain gray and white houses sat in tidy rows behind a small patch of green lawns. Finally, they stopped at the last house on the street. Kal sat higher in her seat, recognizing the gray house from the pictures Merit sent. The house looked more worn with age than the others, but that did not hold her attention for long.

  Merit strode out with confidence. He didn’t look like his picture. He looked better. The sunlight gave a golden sheen to his amber-and-honey-striated complexion. The sleeveless tunic he wore displayed the tightly corded muscles of his arms. Long and lean, he had an athletic build. His hair was as unruly as the pictures promised but that wasn’t what snagged her attention.

  He smiled, warm and gentle, and it went all the way to his dark amber eyes.

  This was her perfect match. She didn’t care about being on the fringes of civilization, the remote location, the broken windscreen in the vehicle, or the old house. The way Merit looked at her with pure joy was the only thing that mattered.

  They could do this. Really do this.

  A door slammed, and two children raced toward her, ready to pounce.

  Merit

  Clarity grabbed him by the tail and would not let go. He gritted his teeth and ignored the uncomfortable tug. Her little hands held surprising strength. Dare circled around their visitor before settling next to him, eyes never leaving Kalini. Dare sniffed the air.

  Merit rapped the kit on the head with a knuckle for his rudeness, but he understood. He could hardly take his eyes off the human female and the urge to breathe in her scent, to hold the air in his mouth while his senses savored her, almost proved irresistible.

  He only caught a hint of her scent, like wildflowers on the breeze.

  His bride.

  He needed more.

  She was far lovelier in person than the photos suggested. The lighting from the Celestial Mates camera must have washed out her color and sent a faded facsimile of a female with a tired smile and hopeful eyes. Now she stood before him in vivid, rich hues. Her mane was a deep umber, best described with some Terran word he did not know. She kept it tamed in a no-nonsense plait. Merit longed to see it undone, to sink his fingers into her hair and inhale its undoubtedly sweet scent.

  Her face was flat, lacking the enlarged sinus cavity and wide nose that gave his people superior scent detection. He had difficulty moving beyond her tiny nose. He had stared at her picture several times to grow used to her appearance. It should not alarm him. He knew several humans. He worked side-by-side with humans. Yet her tiny nose made him question how she could smell anything at all.

  His bride was nose blind. She’d never be able to appreciate the pheromones his scent glands produced or understand his instinctual need to rub his jaw–and those glands–on her.

  It didn’t matter. Other Tal males would recognize his scent on her and respect the bond between mates.

  She stood there, prim and proper, with her back straight, hands folded demurely in front, and wearing a dress far too fussy for the life he offered.

  Kalini met his gaze and took his measure. He could see an analytical mind churning behind those unwavering eyes, and for a brief moment, he worried that she’d tally up the sum of his parts and find him and everything he offered, wanting. She was far too pretty and refined for the type of wife he needed.

  Merit closed the distance between them. “I am Merit Isteimlas. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Welcome to my home.”

  “Kalini Patel,” she said.

  He took her hands, finding them smooth and without calluses. He had intended to pledge a mate’s oath to her when they first met, but the words dried up in his mouth. Holding her soft hands, he knew she had never done a day’s hard labor. What kind of life could he offer her but endless housework and chasing after kits? A female as sophisticated and obviously refined as she needed more than he could provide. Deserved better.

  He should send her back before they grew attached. Before Dare and Clarity grew attached.

  Then a smile broke across her flat human face. It stunned him, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a long Corravian storm: peaceful and harboring unseen dangers all at once. She undid all of his resolve.

  He needed to see that smile again, in his bed with her hair undone, stripped of her sophisticated veneer but mostly stripped of her control.

  A squeeze on his tail brought him back to himself. He looked down to Clarity’s wide-eyed curiosity and flicked an ear.

  “This is Clarity, my niece, and Dare, my nephew,” he said, touching each kit on the head. Early in their messages, he explained how he came to be the guardian for Clarity and Dare.

  Clarity tugged on his hand, demanding his attention.

  “Yes, Short Tail?”

  She motioned for him to lean down and whispered rather loudly, “Can she understand us?”

  “I can,” his bride said. Clarity buried her face against his thigh while Kalini spoke. “I had a translation chip installed because my job back on Earth required that I speak to many people.”

  “She is not normally shy,” Merit said, rubbing the kit’s head for reassurance.

  “I’m not shy,” Dare announced.

  “I see,” Kalini said, her smile unwavering and sincere.

  “They are very excited to meet you,” Merit said. Excitement kept the kits from sleep and they bounced off the walls that morning. They had known about Kalini’s arrival for three months and for three long months he had fielded questions about Earth, humans and, inexplicably, Earth canines.

  “What kind of work did you do?” he asked, steering the conversation away from Clarity’s sudden bout of shyness.

  “I was an accountant for a financial firm.”

  “That sounds—” Impressive. Lucrative.

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