Az #3
“Common decency often gets in the way of commerce,” Aunt Zalora interjects.
All three human females look to her at the head of the table.
She casually cuts off the pour of her wine with a wave of her hand to the staff member artfully tilting the decanter.
“It is very unfortunate, but in many quadrants there have always been some species or another that has been enslaved into servitude to others. It is a very large, very lucrative, morally bankrupt industry. An industry that, thankfully, we Xavianns do not tend to partake in.”
Zann leans his elbow lazily on the polished hardwood of the table, his fingers loosely holding onto his already half-empty wine glass. “Except for when you bought these three delightful young ladies, you mean?” he asks, tipping the base of his glass toward each human seated at the table.
Aunt Zalora’s lips press together, and it never ceases to amaze me just how quickly my brother can get under her skin. Or anyone’s, as a matter of fact. It really is a talent he possesses like no other – the talent to be an irritating little geliklik.
“That was different,” she sniffs, gesturing to the staff to bring forward our meals.
“But you are royalty,” Lois continues, not willing to drop the subject like my Aunt clearly wishes to. “Surely you have some influence on these laws, and can-”
“My dear,” Aunt Zalora stops my Lois’ words with a gentle hand placed over hers.
“The King and his cohort of Lords and Senators are the ones who decide the laws of this land. And as for the wider quadrant, the galaxies beyond that, the Intergalactic Peacetime Authorities… I believe we only have one Xaviann on the board there. Only one voice of influence.” She sits back as the silver cloche covering her meal is lifted to reveal a plate of roasted zarezzi meat and steaming vegetables.
“And that is before we even start to contemplate the bureaucracy of it all,” she adds, her expression pleased, as if she has thoroughly put the topic to bed, and can now continue on with a pleasant meal.
But, I don’t think she knows my Lois that well, because it’s only a matter of time before-
“Are you saying that we shouldn’t pursue what is morally right, because there would be too much paperwork, Lady Zalora?”
My Aunt’s fork had been halfway to her mouth. It hovers there, in a rather unladylike fashion. She glances past Lois and looks to me, as if pleading for intervention – anything that would save her from having more of this conversation around the dinner table, of all places.
I simply grin back at her.
It’s a grin that says, ‘Isn’t my female marvelous, dear Aunt? Look how determined she is even when up against a mountain of opposition!’
“So, who’s the guy we need to convince?” Niska asks from across the table. “Who’s the Xaviann with an ‘in’ with the Peacetime lawmaker guys?”
Zann shoves a steamed blue-leaf vegetable into his mouth, chews leisurely, and then pipes up when no one else seems willing to answer. “That would be Senator Glex.”
Niska’s nose scrunches. “You mean the father of the-”
“Of my friend whom I introduced to the art of mating in the flesh, yes,” he says, enthusiastically pointing his fork at our brother’s female as if he’s giving her points in a game she didn’t know she was playing.
“Zannador!” Aunt Zalora hisses, punctuating his name with a tap of her cane on the flooring to really express her distaste.
“And the guy that’s sending me away to work on his conservation planet,” Zann continues, ignoring our Aunt’s indignation.
“Well,” Niska turns to face Kiahn, “can’t we go to the Capital to persuade this Glex guy to do something? Raise it as a concern with the Authority, at least?”
I can see it in K’s expression before he even answers. He does not like to say no to his female. But he is a prince. He can’t just up and leave as he wishes. He has work to do here. “Perhaps in a few moons’ time we can-”
“And how many humans will be getting smuggled off of Earth into a literal hell during those ‘few moons’?” Lois says, sitting up straight.
Niska nods to her friend, crosses her arms over her chest, and raises her brow at her male, silently asking what he’s going to do about it.
“I- we-” Kiahn blusters. “I can send missives to Glex; we can organize vid comms with him. But I am not letting you go to the Capital without me, Niska.”
“If this human safe haven planet is going to work, those laws need to change,” Vel adds unhelpfully as she focuses on cutting into her zarezzi meat.
Niska holds out a hand, her little human palm facing upward in a ‘see!’ kind of gesture, but before Kiahn can relent and give Niska what she wants – as he always does – my Lois pipes up.
“I’ll go to the Capital.”
I almost choke on a large piece of meat, but recover quickly. “And I’ll accompany you.”
Lois turns to me as if she’s about to argue when the large double doors to the dining hall are flung open, a figure dressed horns-to-toe in black striding confidently in, quickly followed by some angry palace guards.
Instinctively, I am on my feet, moving to block anything from coming Lois’ way. And that instinct is a good one – because I recognize that masked figure for what he is now. A fucking Zyxiaan.