Chapter 3
Andrek
Imade a terrible mistake.
As I watched Danielle Slater stand frozen in my foyer, her face drained of color and her body rigid with stress, I couldn’t help thinking I had made a terrible mistake. Pip’s cries echoed through the house, and my newest hire looked like she might pass out.
“That’s Pip?” she asked, her voice thin.
“Yes.” I moved past her toward the nursery, keeping my movements slow and deliberate.
I’d learned over the past month with my rotating door of nannies to be conscious of every gesture, every shift of wing or tail.
Most species found Torzi intimidating at the best of times.
In close quarters with a terrified human, I needed to be careful.
“This is the nose she makes after five minutes of crying. At ten minutes, she will begin screaming. At fifteen, she will make herself sick.”
“That’s specific.”
“I learned her patterns.” I glanced back. Danielle hadn’t moved. “Are you coming?”
She swallowed hard, adjusted her grip on her bag, and followed. I heard her rapid, fluttering heartbeat. My secondary instincts registered it and dismissed it. I was a male who was at his wits end and needed help.
I spent almost a month getting the nursery at the end of the east wing right, calibrating temperature controls to Yxian preferences, the humidity levels as they would be on Yxia.
I researched and wove a sleeping nest from materials that wouldn’t irritate her sensitive skin.
During the day, when the first nanny still worked for me, I painted her room in soft blues and greens, both colors research said promoted a calm environment.
Despite my best attempts, Pip had not calmed.
In theory, it was a perfect nursery for a Yxian infant. Despite its perfection, it had not stopped three experienced nannies from quitting.
I opened the door, and Pip’s cries intensified. The flustered teenager I hired to watch Pip while I picked up Danielle sat in a corner of the room, her hands over her ears.
“You may go. I will send the credits for watching the child to your account.”
“Thank you.” The adolescent stood, covered her ears and raced out the door.
“Oh,” Danielle said.
Pip was in her nest, a small creature covered in soft blue fur that shifted between azure and cobalt depending on the light.
Six limbs flailed in distress, four primary arms and two smaller secondary ones.
Her enormous violet eyes, easily a third of her face, swam with tears.
When she saw me, she reached up immediately, all six arms extending, her keening shifting to urgent chirps.
“Shhh, kessra,” I murmured, scooping her up. She was so small against my chest, weighing barely more than a bag of fruit. “I am here. You are safe.”
Pip burrowed against me, all six of her tiny hands gripping my shirt with desperate strength.
Her crying softened to hiccuping whimpers.
I supported her with one arm and began humming in a low resonance from my chest that Yxian young found soothing.
My researcher contacts had assured me it was similar to the purring of their birth parents.
I missed having birth parents. Or a nest-clan. Or anyone to help with this task I’d undertaken. I couldn’t leave Pip.
Behind me, I heard Danielle’s sharp intake of breath. I turned carefully, keeping Pip secure.
“This is Pipsqueak,” I said. “Pip, this is Danielle. She is going to help care for you.”
Pip turned her massive eyes toward Danielle and began crying again.
“I didn’t do anything and she hates me,” Danielle said, taking a step back.
“I know. She reacts this way to all strangers.” I resumed humming and swaying. Pip’s distress ebbed but didn’t disappear. “Yxian young are sensitive to emotional states. She can sense your fear.”
“I’m not,” Danielle stopped, honesty winning over pride. “Okay, I’m terrified. But not of her. She’s…” Danielle moved closer, her steps slow. “She’s beautiful.”
Hope flared in my chest. The last nanny called Pip ‘disturbing’ and ‘unnatural.’ The one before that had refused to touch her at all.
“She is,” I agreed. “Yxians are considered one of the most aesthetically pleasing species in the outer sectors. Unfortunately, there are very few of them left.”
“What happened?”
“Raiders.” I spat out the word. Pip whimpered, sensing my emotional shift, and I forced myself to calm down. “The Yxian homeworld faced decimation three years ago. Most of the population died or scattered. Pip is from one of the last surviving nest-clans.”
“Oh, my.” Danielle moved closer, her fear overridden by compassion. “How did you…I mean, how did she end up here?”
“That’s the complicated part.” How much should I tell her? Taking Pip had gotten me investigated by multiple agencies and almost cost me my military commission. I decided to give Danielle the abbreviated version.
“I was part of a recovery team sent to Yxia eight months ago as search and rescue, looking for survivors among the ruins.” I looked down at Pip, whose eyes were drooping against my chest. “On one of my last runs, I found her in the remains of a nest-structure. She was the only one alive in a space that held at least twenty individuals.”
Danielle gasped. “Was she alone?”
I nodded. “Based on medical scans, about three days.” The memory still made my chest tight. “She should not have survived. Yxian infants cannot regulate their own temperature. They require constant physical contact, frequent feeding, and environmental controls. By all logic, she should have died.”
“Sounds like a human child’s needs. But she survived.”
“She is remarkably stubborn.” I adjusted my hold as Pip’s breathing evened out.
She wasn’t asleep, but she calmed. “Military protocol required that I report her to the refugee processing center. Those centers lack sufficient staff and space, and Yxian infants require specialized care that…” I stopped myself. “I chose to adopt her instead.”
Danielle’s eyes became glassy. “Wow. What a complicated situation. And brave.”
“I don’t know about brave, but complicated is an understatement.
” I moved to the oversized rocking chair in the corner, modified to fit my frame and wings, and settled.
“Cross-species adoption is technically legal but highly unusual. The amount of documentation, medical clearances, and home inspections was extensive. I am still undergoing quarterly monitoring.”
“Is that why you’re out here? In the middle of nowhere?”
Perceptive little human. Perhaps my gamble on Danielle Slater might not be catastrophic.
She hasn’t run yet, and she thinks Pip is cute.
“Partially. Frontier Colony 8-Beta has more lenient residency requirements than core worlds. And I wanted Pip to have space. I wanted her to grow up with safety in a home, not a facility.”
Pip’s eyes closed and her breath came deep and even. All six hands remained clamped to my shirt - an adorable yet problematic situation. She needed to learn to trust others, to accept care from someone other than me. But every time I tried to transfer her to a new caregiver, she became hysterical.
“Can I ask you something?” Danielle whispered.
“Yes.”
“Why does she need a nanny? I mean, you’re clearly competent, and it’s obvious you care about her. Why not… do it yourself?” She stopped, her cheeks flushing crimson. “Forgive me if I overstepped.”
“No, it is a fair question. To answer, I cannot do it alone much longer.” So as not to disturb Pip, I kept my voice low.
“I was in the military, Special Operations. I resigned my commission to adopt her, but I still do contract work. My work requires my physical presence and sometimes takes days at a time.”
“And you can’t bring her.” Danielle nodded.
“If I worked less dangerous assignments,” Andrek shrugged.
“Perhaps. But an infant Yxian into combat zones? No.” I looked down at Pip’s sleeping face.
“I have been turning down contracts for months. My savings are adequate for now, but they will not last indefinitely. I need to work. Which means I need someone I can trust to care for her in my absence.”
“Someone who doesn’t run away screaming.”
“In an ideal world, yes.” I met Danielle’s eyes. “You have not run away yet, which means you are ahead of the last three candidates.”
She laughed. “The bar is low.”
“It is,” I agreed, standing, keeping Pip stable against my chest. “Would you like to try holding her?”
I watched the color drain from Danielle’s face. “Now? While she’s sleeping?”
“In truth, it is the easiest time to practice. When she is awake and distressed, there is less room for error.”
“What if I drop her? What if she wakes up? What if…?”
“Danielle.” I kept my voice gentle but firm. “If you cannot hold her while she sleeps, you cannot be her caregiver. This is the first test. There will be many others.”
She looked at Pip, then at me, then her gaze flicked back to Pip. I could see the war happening behind her eyes.
Finally, she stepped forward. “Tell me how.”
Relief flooded through me. “Sit in the chair. Support will make this easier for your first time, and you will not fall.”
Danielle sat, her movements stiff and awkward.
She arranged her arms the way I indicated, one supporting Pip’s lower body and the other cupping her head, both positioned to maintain contact with her fur.
Yxian young needed near-constant tactile stimulation.
Isolation distressed them on a neurological level.
“Ready?” I asked.
“No. Do it anyway before I change my mind.”
I transferred Pip, keeping one hand on her back until she settled in Danielle’s arms. Pip shifted, made a small noise, and I prepared to take her back. But then Danielle did something unexpected. She hummed a soft melody that was nothing like the resonance I produced. To my surprise, Pip settled.
I stepped back, giving them space, and watched as Danielle looked down at the infant in her arms. Her expression had transformed from fear to wonder.
“She’s so warm,” Danielle whispered. “And soft. Her fur is like touching a cloud.”