Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
This one heads to the Port Custodial office and asks for help from the military custodian on duty.
Brawny but awkward Ainar isn't sure why this human is insisting on needing his help for sleeping, but he's happy to assist someone as delicate and pretty as the human colonist. And when he figures out what she really wants...well.
Surely this is a dream come true.
This novella is stand-alone, high-heat and low-angst, which means it's pretty much awesome. You do not have to read other Risdaverse novellas in order to read this one (though characters from other stories will drop in).
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter
One
NAOMI
They’re going to think I’m an idiot.
I take a deep breath as I stand outside the Port Custodial Office, biting my lip and worrying. I could turn around and go home. Retreat back to my farm and pretend none of this ever happened. Count the credits as a loss and the rest of it as a lesson learned.
But…then I’ll be out my credits and I still won’t have a baby. I’ll be alone as ever—maybe even moreso because if I lose all these credits, it’ll be a long, long time (if ever) I can make them again.
That decides me. With a steeling breath, I grit my teeth and then step inside the office.
Or I try to. I’ve forgotten that the doors do a quick check-over to identify you, and I run into the glass door, leaving a mark on the pristine surface. The smack I make as I run into it is loud, and I glance around to see if anyone else has seen my humiliating moment. Thank goodness, the street is fairly empty this early in the morning.
The doors fall open, parting like one of the old grocery stores back home, and I step inside. “Welcome to the Port Custodial Office, Colonist Flannigan,” the computer chirps helpfully. “Someone will be by to assist you shortly.”
“Thank you,” I say politely. Part of me wants to run with embarrassment, but a bigger part of me wants the baby I’ve been promised, so I stay.
The custodian office is rather bland and boring-looking. There’s a waiting area at the front with some benches that look a bit too tall for short human legs, and a couple of tables. In the back, I see the “office” itself behind a decorative half-partition that’s covered with plas-film flyers of local events—library club, knitting club, first-time farmers meet and greet, missing meat-stock notices, and postings for small jobs. It’s an identical board to the one in the courthouse across town, and the sight of it makes me flinch with how innocent I was a few weeks ago when I posted my own notice.
Now I’m just another human female that’s been conned out of her credits.
I lower my hood and sit at one of the tables at the front, waiting for someone to come assist me. A lot of things in Port have changed in the last few years, especially since the Port Custodians have arrived. There are fewer mercenaries looking to steal someone or their farm. The guy running the general store no longer charges humans three times as much as everyone else. The people running town are no longer as crooked as they used to be, and it feels safe to be here (even if I do still wear a hood and cloak just to be on the safe side) and I don’t have to worry that a praxiian or a szzt is going to accost me if they see my very human head of hair.
Some people aren’t fans of the Port Custodians. They’re all mesakkah and military, which means they don’t answer to Lord va’Rin directly. They tend to interfere with the black market here, and I know some of the women complain that traders no longer bring Earth contraband to sell to us at a mark-up. That means fewer books, fewer shoes made for humans, fewer… everything. I’ll take it, though. I just want to be safe.
Safe…and not lonely.
“Colonist Flannigan is waiting for assistance,” the computer calls out helpfully overhead after a few minutes pass.
A male with shiny horns and deep blue skin peers around the corner. He looks younger than the other custodians I’ve met here, and his gaze flicks around the room before landing on me. “Flannigan?”
“I’m Naomi,” I clarify. It feels strange to hear my last name again. I get to my feet. “Is this a bad time?”
“Oh, uh, of course not.” He steps forward, a data pad in his hand, and his tail flicks back and forth in what seems like agitation. “I must be the only one on duty. If you want to come back tomorrow, I’m sure Khex or Rektar would be happy to assist—”
“You can’t help me?” I ask. “I need help today. Tonight, actually.”
“Tonight,” he echoes, and then taps his data pad, activating it. “Very well. I’m the only one on duty at the moment, so I will do what I can. Is there a problem with your farm? How would you categorize your distress?”
My…distress? I tilt my head, studying him. I’ve seen him around Port, but I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to him. There are two military guys that are in charge of everything. Khex is the friendliest and knows everyone. And of course I know Rektar because he’s my friend Lucy’s quiet, thoughtful husband. From gatherings and local gossip, I know the other Port Custodians are younger and came to this particular outpost because they’re considered lower caste in some way. Like they have the wrong family names and therefore they won’t get anywhere with their military careers. In a way, this universe has kind of screwed them over, too. I get that.