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I probably wouldn’t be here if I’d got good at hedge funds instead of wool. He waited, watching me with worry, while I processed whether that would be a good thing.

“You don’t have billionaires?” I asked, looking around. “But you do have people, right? And money?”

“We do not have wealth hoarders,” he confirmed. “We work for the Heart, here.” And I remembered that pink glow that made something deep inside me tighten. “And we all benefit from the bounty.”

Maybe I was stoned, but itdidmake sense that billionaires would tell us anything to continue to exploit us—including that aliens would eat us. And I’dknownthe program was predatory. I’d basically signed up to move to a colony alongside a bunch of other non-billionaire folks to fuel the corporations that made Original Earth less liveable by the day.

Maybe working for this Heart wasn’t so bad, when I thought about it.

I boosted myself up, wishing I knew smart questions to ask to figure out if this was a legit alien utopia or just a good trip.

“We have many people who have access to currency used to trade for goods and services.” He pulled himself out of the water beside me, and my mouth went dry to see how graceful he was. That seemed unfair. How come he was so coordinated underwaterandabove it? I couldn’t even manageoneof those two. “The Heartland Refugee Support Services.”

Was that the second time he’d said that? I accepted his help to stand and leant on him as I hobbled over to the examination table where I was pretty sure I’d got my first dose of whatever these drugs were.

“What does that mean for me?” I asked him, worry sparking as a myriad of situations ran through my head, each worse than the last.

“You will be provided with a building to shelter you, and food to nourish you, and aid to repair you.” He laid me down and fiddled with some technical looking, glowy stuff, but I was stuck on this idea of all the free assistance. “They will provide you opportunity to find what Calls you.”

I watched the gadget hover over my body, those images scrolling above it. Most of his attention seemed to be on the information it was projecting.

They were going to feed me, house me, fix me up, and find me a job that made me happy, huh?

“What’s the catch?” I asked, feeling sick.

He was interacting with the information with his tentacles. “I do not know what you will be snagged on,” he said, absently. “Whatever obstacles cause you delay, the Reps will assist you to overcome. It is their Calling, and they are accomplished at their roles.” He was frowning at the information. “It appears a combination of four foods and Trace Mineral Not Yet Identified In Your Language has a unimportantly exciting effect on your form.”

I didn’t think excitement was unimportant, but what the hell. “What’s the side effects, doc?”

His head cocked a little to one side. “The short-term variations seem to be restricted to influence on your meditation. Modification of decision-making capacity, coordination, or physical health in any way is a low chance. Additional opportunity is required to construe long term impacts, but no momentous warnings are attention attaching.” He peered down at me. “Do these results sit beside your interpretation of your comfort?”

He stood, his hand still buried in that small, colourful projection of data as if it was his keyboard. Maybe it was. And, as if any of that had made sense, he reached over and lazily snagged glasses, settling them on his nose with a practiced flick before peering at me again.

Itdidmake him look more trustworthy.

“You’re a vet?” I asked, slowly. “Or…a marine biologist?”

His brow furrowed. “These terms are close to my role. Your people have a similar ecosystem to protect?”

“Probably,” I said with a sigh. “But we fucked it up.”

Colour rose up his throat. “I do not think the universal translator works for this phrase.”

His neck was thickly corded, compared to his other wiry limbs. Why hadn’t I ever noticed that? And it darkened so much when I swore.

“My planet,” I explained. “My people didn’t care for it.” That was a fair summary, and saved me misrepresenting science I didn’t really understand to someone who probably would’ve. He looked at me over his glasses and my legs went soft.Hot alien nerd.Jesus. “Is there a way we can communicate better than the translators allow?” Flirting was going to be hard with the synonyms getting all messed up all the time.

He hesitated, then turned his head and showed me the vague blue outline at his temple and raised a single tentacle. “The device has the ability to be turned off for language learning purposes. I require my attention on other tasks, my regret.” And, to underscore the disappointment in his tone, his eyes lingered for just a moment on my lips.

I sighed, surprised that it was my regret, too.

chapterfour

irosabsuul

She sat at the table,mincing up the food for the fingerlings, while I did my rounds. “What will the Refugee Support Services do to me?” she asked, without looking up.

That the idea of support brought her distress didn’t make sense to me, but then, I hadn’t paid much attention to stories of systems without the Responders, who would help people meet their basic needs and identify their Call. Maybe I should’ve. “As I told you, they’ll look after you. They won’t ask for anything except that you answer the Call, which you’ll want to do, anyway.”