Chapter Twenty-Nine

I suppose it was my own anxiety that convinced me not to approach the officers at my administrative job just then. I just plugged away at my work sorting files and organizing their database in silence. It was eerie, how little these humans spoke. It reminded me of the polite but dismissive behavior I received at the embassy of my people. Nobody spoke unless they had something that absolutely had to be said.

Silent work and steady progress. ‘If they were more efficient about it, I would think they were dlamisa in disguise.’ In other circumstances it would have been a scathing insult, but human inefficiency seemed to be just a tradeoff for their other ‘finer’ qualities. The things that made them better friends, better families, better people in general to be around, also made them less than stellar at the things that kept an organization running smoothly.

Case in point, I was looking at a form and noticed that a leave request was approved, this form was on paper, a rarity, but I saw why. There was a yellow note attached stating to ‘just process it’. It was for the soldier to go attend a recital for his daughter. Technically the dates were outside of the acceptable range, putting him into debt in terms of time off, but they wanted it approved anyway since his family was out of the area and he would have to travel.

There are levels to this, and I had to learn more, so I brought the leave form up to the giant of a man who ran that office. “Sir, this leave puts him in the hole, he won’t be able to take any more vacation time for at least three months.”

The behemoth grunted, “Yeah, so?”

“So is that wise? According to your rules that I read earlier, they can only go into the red on their vacation time for emergencies.” I pointed out, and his eyebrows raised.

“You read the regs already?” He grunted out the question with surprise obvious in his voice and face.

“Yessir, and this seems to go against it. I checked, and there’s nothing about ballet recitals that constitute an emergency.” My answer obviously didn’t please him, and I reflexively took a step back when I saw his face briefly redden.

He took a deep breath and said, “Listen, Bailey, Specialist Sanchez is a long way from home, his family can’t be with him because his wife needs specialized care, his daughter has only two of these recitals per year, he’s never missed one. His wife can’t make it, if he doesn’t go, she won’t have anyone in the audience to dance for. Being a good father is an emergency. She might not remember every time he’s around, but she’ll sure as hell remember when he’s not. Approve it and plug it in, override the denial with the emergency option.”

“If you say so, sir.” I answered, returned to my desk, I reached for my stapler to secure the post-it note permanently to the page for archiving, and found that it was gone.

“I’ll need that stapler back.” I said and plugged the information into the system, but while I did so, I made note of several key details.

The commanding officer knew the fine details of a subordinate’s life, and acted to ensure that those fine details were provided for, it was an almost unthinkable level of personal care from a senior to a subordinate, something I had not seen often save from my own Professor, until coming to Earth.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

But here it seemed to be quite routine. I thought about the epoxy covered balloon animal the police officer gave me, it still sat proudly on my shelf, a memento of being arrested. I still thought about him sometimes, his friendly and engaging air, how far he went to make sure I wasn’t afraid.

This capacity for kindness out of the people around me, and over me, made one thing abundantly clear.

With this philosophy of humans that put each other before the idle processing of data, we might have a somewhat less efficient galaxy, but I was also sure we would have a far, far better one.

When my stapler was placed back on my desk, I secured the note to the paper document and put it into a small tan file folder, and resumed my work without further issue, until it was time to go home.

I left the office in the early evening and made my way back by hoverbus, the air was crisp and clear, though I admit that with my open mouth I am pretty sure I swallowed a few bugs.

Worth it. I savored the feel of the wind carrying my ears back and the feel of that billowing breeze against my fur.

I didn’t really mind the passengers, they were few in number and their own obvious amusement at my swaying tail and happy expression made them easy to be around.

I was surprised however, to find that Boatswain was waiting for me at my stop. I tilted my head back to look up at the giant of my people and before I could even ask what he was doing here, he spoke.

“I need your help.” He said.

“My help?” I asked. I could barely believe what I was hearing, I stuck my fingers into my ears and wiggled them around as if to clear them.

“Yuh.” He said and pointed away from the stop, “Let’s walk and talk.” He said, and I nodded, I felt a little dumb right then, especially in retrospect when I thought about it, given what I’d told him before.

We were a few feet away from any prying ears when he said, “I thought about what you told me, about leaving. You were right.”

“Oh. You checked your assignment schedule I’m guessing?” I asked, and he gave a very morose nod.

“I’m supposed to rotate out in two years, to help stand up the new embassy on the Zenti homeworld. It’s a big move for my career.” The way he said it told me all I needed to know.

“But you don’t care about that, I’m guessing?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I like it here. I don’t want to go either. Byron is my human. I want you to help me stay here on Earth. Ask the embassy to keep me, tell them you won’t accept other guards.”

I knew immediately from his use of the plural that his comrade felt the same way.

“That might not work, I may have to leave even sooner than you do. But… if I can come up with something that would justify you staying…” I knew how much it meant to me not to leave the Walkers now, and the lesson I learned not but a few hours earlier was not lost on me.

“I’ll do what I can.” It was all I could promise.

“Thank you.” Boatswain answered.

“Don’t thank me yet.” I retorted.

“Thank you.” He reiterated just as the house came into view.

All I could think of when he repeated himself was, ‘I’ll have to do something to earn that.’ It was the first time I’d been thanked that sincerely by one of my own kind, and I didn’t want it to be for nothing.