Page 1 of When She Wishes (Risdaverse)

Chapter

One

BODHRRI

T here's a knot in my throat as I pack my bag. I fold up my clothes, toss my data pad in after them, and add in my favorite mug. As a contracted worker, I don't have much to my name. It's easiest to be able to pack up and go at a moment's notice. At least, that's the line of thinking. But after fifteen years of bouncing around from job site to job site, I've found a place that it's keffing killing me to leave.

I'm in love with Risda III, and I can't stay.

My contract is over as of today, the dock expansion I and the rest of my crew were hired to work on finally completed. It's the first time I've ever been planet-side. I grew up on a station. Most of my jobs have been maintenance types on various other deep-space stations.

I never knew what I was missing. Planets have fresh air. And birds. And grasses. And stars at night.

I'm going to miss the stars more than anything.

Well, almost as much as the fresh air and the fact that my lungs feel clear here.

But I can't stay. Even if I had the credits to afford to abandon my job—I don't—Risda III is a closed world. It belongs to some rich mesakkah lord who keeps humans and sets them up on land here. Like all the laborers, I've been told to avoid the humans. I've been mostly successful at it, too. Now I wish I was one, because I'd get to stay here forever.

There's not a lot of luck out in the universe for a praxiian that comes from a poor family house, though. I can't even honorably join the armed forces or try my luck as a gladiator, thanks to my piss-poor lungs. I spent my formative years in the lowest parts of a poorly-working space station, only to destroy my lungs before I reached an age to join the military. There's no chance for me to make my fortune, so I have to take what scraps the universe offers me. Normally I've made my peace with it. Easier to be at ease with your job when every place you go to is shit.

Hits different when you're sent to paradise and told you can't stay.

I drag my feet for as long as possible, but there's only so much time I can spend packing my bag. Then there's nothing to do but leave my small rented apartment and head into Risda III's one settlement to get my contract signed off and so I can get paid. I head out of the apartments for the last time and into the bright morning sunlight. I squint up at the sky, but it's endlessly blue with a few puffy clouds drifting overhead. No stars.

Damn. I really wanted to see the stars one last time. They always make me think of that woman and that one night. The human woman who told me all about stars and wishing. Never saw her again, but I think about her all the time. Wherever she is, I hope she's happy. I hope she loves this planet every bit as much as I do.

I head out, crossing through the small town that's sprung up just outside the space port. There's a small cluster of buildings that line one street, and not much else. That's how the lord that owns this place prefers it, I'm told. I see a few humans walking about, but no one approaches me. Praxiians aren't popular on this planet. Kef, I think most males of any species aren't popular on this planet. I've noticed that most of the residents here are female and human. Anyone not human has to be ready to show paperwork at any and all times, and I notice there's a Port custodian patrolling the street. His gaze lands on me and he watches me closely as I keep my head down and head for the custodian office to get my work contract stamped so I can get paid. I don't want to cause trouble here. It's the last thing I want. One of the things that's so appealing about Risda is how very peaceful it is.

More thoughts that should never come from a praxiian.

As I always do when I go into town, I scan the residents walking the street and peer into the buildings, looking for a familiar head of long blonde hair atop a very short female. I hate that I never caught her name, and I was hoping to talk to her one more time before I left. But today, like every other day, she's simply not here. Sometimes I wonder if I imagined her.

The custodian office is quiet this early in the morning. One custodian has a woman seated across from his desk, and another is busy typing something into his data pad. I wait for them to notice me, and when the second male looks up and spots me, he waves me over.

"How can I help you?" Custodian Sinath (according to his name plate) inquires.

I pull up my contract on my data pad and hold it out to him so they can sync. "Completed work. I need a sign off."

"Of course."

I hold my hand out so he can check my identification chip against my records, and watch as he flicks through my contract. "I don't suppose that you're hiring? Here in the custodian office?"

He looks up at me in surprise. "We're actually stationed here by Homeworld."

"Ah." Figures. Explains why they're all mesakkah, too.

"You're looking for more work? I'm afraid I don't know of any construction companies on any of the stations?—"

"I actually would rather stay here," I interrupt. "I kinda love this planet."

He grins at me with understanding. "Beats station life, doesn't it?"

"By a parsec," I agree. He seems to be on the same page as me at least. "I don't suppose there's any way I could stay? Maybe work odd jobs? I won't cause trouble."

Sinath shakes his head. "I'm sorry. This is a human refugee planet only, by orders of Lord va'Rin. You could stay if someone married you, but unfortunately we don't have any postings for a husband at the moment."

The women here post for a husband? Human courtships are strange. I don't know that I could do that anyhow. Not when my thoughts are still filled with the star-watching blonde. "I see."

He taps at his data pad and brightens. "There is a posting for a farm worker, though. I don't suppose you know anything about farming?"

I'm tempted to lie. "I do not..."

"Ah." Sinath's expression falls, as if he truly does want to help me.

"...but I'm good with bots and repairs. I've seen the farms here and most of them are ran by bots, right? Because the humans are not as sturdy as other aliens?"

He studies me thoughtfully and then picks up his data pad again. "This request is for someone— male or female, no preference—to assist with running a farm. The owner has a stable of young meat-stock and planted fields and needs help with daily chores and maintenance. She offers room and board and a small portion of the profits in exchange for work. Does that sound like you?"

I try not to get too excited. "It does. I can do all of that. I don't care where I sleep as long as I can see the stars."

"The profits might not come in for months yet and you might be sleeping in a barn," he warns. When I shrug, Sinath holds his data pad out again. "All right, I'm going to go over your records for vetting, as the farmer requested. Once we've established that you're not a criminal, I'll give you the coordinates and you can head over and meet your new boss. If she's not happy with you as an employee, though, your work pass will be revoked and you'll have to leave the planet, though. Those are the rules."

I hold my hand out again so he can scan it. "I'm a hard worker and can handle anything they throw at me. Whoever it is, I'll make them happy."

An hour later, I'm following my data pad's chirping directions as I walk the fields on the outskirts of Port. The farm is surprisingly close to town, no more than a brisk half-hour walk away. Which is good for me, as I don't own an air-sled. I'd happily walk a road four times as long if I got to stay, though.

As I approach, it's obvious to me which of the farms is the one in need of assistance. I've been studying each farm as I pass by, and there's a cozy sameness to them. The plot of land is fenced off, with crops in one very large field and meat-stock wandering a second field near a uniform-sized barn. Each house is the same—a triad of domes clustered together to make a small dwelling with a path leading to the barn and an air-sled parked nearby. Most of the farms are tidy and neat, with bots patrolling the rows of crops.

Then I get to one farm that has knee-high weeds in the yard. The crops look ragged and spindly. I can see no bots. As I approach, I do see the meat-stock are in the pasture, but the pasture itself is churned and muddy, the water in the trough sludgy. There's a whirring sound I follow and find a bot stuck against a fence, one of its propellers broken. It bangs against the fencing over and over until I pull it free, and then look around a bit more. It's clear this farm is suffering from neglect, and it makes me wonder why. Is the owner sick? Wounded? Or do they simply not want to farm?

Does it even matter? They're offering me an opportunity to stay.

In a way, the chaos here on the farm is a good thing. It shows that this person needs my help. I might not know a lot about meat-stock or crops, but neither do most of the humans transplanted here. I have a data pad I can look information up on. Better yet, I'm excellent at repairing machines, and I can get these bots working smoothly. I bring that to the table, at least.

I power down the broken bot and head to the front of the house. No one's come out to greet me, a stranger wandering their property. As I approach the door, my nostrils flare and my whiskers twitch as I try to pick up other scents. I smell a female. Just a female. Human. There's no scent mark on the door that would claim her as someone's mate. Mesakkah don't mark a home (which I find bizarre and insulting to their females), but it's more likely that she's alone.

I knock on the door.

"Coming," calls a female in a human dialect. My translator automatically interprets it for me, but after almost a year of working on this planet, I've grown used to the slight pause as my brain registers the translation.

So I wait at the door.

And wait.

It seems to take the female a very long time to come to the door, to the point that I wonder if she's not coming at all. But then the door opens and as it does, the wafting, delicate, tempting scent of my dreams comes over me.

I stare at the tiny blonde female I've dreamed about for months now. She holds a pile of laundry in her arms, so big it practically dwarfs her, but it's the same woman from that night in the cantina. A little more tired and drawn, a little disheveled, but it's her. I'd know that keffing scent anywhere.

She stares back at me, her eyes wide. "Oh my god, it's you."

I gape, both thrilled and surprised. It seems like the stars are paying attention to my wishes after all. "I'm...here about the job."

"What? Oh—oh no. It can't be you!" The human woman sounds panicked at the thought.

My pride is wounded at her response. I've dreamed of seeing her again, of reuniting, and this wasn't how I pictured it would go. "I don't see why not? I'm strong. My paperwork was vetted by the custodians and I'm willing to work. I want the chance to stay on Risda. You won't find a harder worker than me."

"I just...it can't be you." Her expression turns desperate. "You're the reason I'm in this situation in the first place."

"Situation?" I repeat, not following. "What situation?"

She throws aside the laundry she's got piled into her arms, revealing a huge, pregnant belly. "That night in town? You...me...what we did..."

I just stare.

"I'm having a litter."

And she bursts into tears.