Alex awoke to the sounds of cooking. Soft, careful taps of utensils, the hallmark of someone trying to stay quiet in the kitchen, and the scent of that fruity breakfast mash that Carbon had eaten all the time on the Kshlav’o, but stronger. A peek over the top of Carbon’s head found Neya, lit by a single small light over the stove, idly stirring a pot while reading a book.
Yes, he did find it a little weird. Not weird enough to concern himself with while he was this comfortable, though.
Alex nestled back down into the inviting depth of the mattress, a little annoyed about having been woken up at all. He wasn’t sure where the clock was and he was not inclined to turn his augs on while still half asleep. No matter what the time, it was still too damn early as far as he was concerned. He slipped an arm over Carbon’s midriff and focused on going back to sleep.
It worked pretty well until Carbon got up. She turned the lights on - she hadn’t turned them up very high, but they were still on - and the two of them started chatting. Alex had more trouble ignoring that. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, and he was not familiar with the cadence of Tsla among native speakers yet, but it sounded amicable. Friendly, even.
Resigned to the fact he was not going back to sleep right now, Alex rolled over to the edge of the bed and slid his arm out from under the blanket, trawling the floor for clothes.
The conversation stopped while he did this, pulling one garment after the next into the warmth of the bed. He was pretty sure none of it was his. It didn’t feel like something he’d wear, the material was too fine - perfect for someone with a layer of insulation built in, though.
Carbon pulled the blanket back a little and he squinted up at her in the dim light, wrapped in a long purple robe. She set a neatly folded stack of clothes next to him with a wry smile. “These are yours.”
“Thanks.” Alex was pretty sure that’s what he said. The light went away with a pleasant laugh and the chatting resumed. It only took a moment for him to pull on a pair of pants and he rolled out of bed with a grunt and a wave at his audience.
Carbon waved back with a pleasant smile and they watched him for a few moments before he got up and trudged into the bathroom, securing the door behind him. It was pleasantly familiar, a toilet looked like a toilet no matter where you went, apparently. The shower was a little tricky, but Carbon had shown him how to use that last night.
Hot water washed away the last of the cobwebs in his head, giving him time to reflect on just how insane the past week had been. Admiral Argueta had wanted him to ingratiate himself to Carbon and experience Tsla’o culture. He was doing a pretty damn good job of the former and not very well at the latter, by his estimation.
Despite that, Alex suspected he had enough information already for several reports. He would start off with a nice loose overhead view for them to chew on while he looked into the legal side of marrying into alien royalty for him. Did they even know that Carbon was related to the Tsla’o Empress? That seemed like a reveal for a much later report.
He shut the water off and tapped the dry button, vents overhead opening up and blasting him with warm, dry air. That was the trouble with working with intelligence though, wasn’t it? You couldn’t tell what or how much was the truth with them. Ed, he could depend on. Even when he had said something objectively vile, Ed was more interested in seeing him turn that around, to be a better person.
The Admiral? She’d probably have him flushed out an airlock once he wasn’t useful enough.
Alex hit the button again and scrubbed a hand over his head to make sure he was dry before he stepped out of the stall. He checked the rubbery coating over his mark, still firmly in place, though peeling a little at the corner. A burst of dental spray and getting dressed left him feeling pretty much human again, ready to take on another day. A more uneventful one, with any luck.
He had planned to announce his return when he opened the door, instead treading quietly over to the table when he noticed Carbon and Neya in a link. There was a setting for him next to Carbon, tea and that orange colored mash. It was already cold but still tasted fine, a surprisingly palatable mix of something that reminded him of peach and lime, with a hint of oat.
Beside that was a few sheets of paper, and one of those little black phones they all seemed to have. He set the phone aside, the papers about half-and-half English and Tsla. The list of phrases the Senator had been asking about, printed out, with a nice pen waiting for his input, a note at the top thanking him for his time in advance. He turned his Amp on and set it to translate text.
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Alex went over the list while he ate. A lot of it was common greetings. Hello, good morning, good evening, a pleasure to meet you. Perfectly reasonable, and left alone. He struck out ‘you go girl’ immediately. Each item had a sentence or two explaining how to use it, and this one simply claimed it was a female-to-female saying of solidarity. That was pretty accurate as far as he was concerned, but he noted below that it was not something you’d use in a professional setting, but more appropriately said between friends.
A couple more he marked as being acceptable but in Spanish, one that was insulting and also in Spanish. Further down the page he struck out a few that were clearly slurs, and labeled them as such. The mind boggled as to where they had gotten these. Some sort of rudimentary machine learning setup, scraping whatever Human media they could get a hold of? The second page had more obscure English - Alex hadn’t heard anyone say ‘ahoy’ seriously in his entire life, and he let the Senator know as much - as well as what he thought was Mandarin and maybe Hindi, though both were romanized through the lens of Tsla. He just circled all those entries and noted they were in languages he was not sufficiently familiar with.
Setting those aside, he finished breakfast and worked on the cup of tea. His links with Carbon had never been this long, but he supposed he wasn’t as experienced as either of them. Was it just like what Carbon had walked him through? Were there other sorts of things the Tsla’o did in there?
Having never seen others engaging in a link before, Alex hadn’t realized how silly the act looked. They leaned across the table towards each other, breathing slowly with eyes closed and faces absolutely serious. Long antennae bridged the gap, the fluffy tips resting at the base of the other’s antennae. Eyes and ears twitched on occasion, but did not seem to focus on anything he could perceive.
They stopped just before he finished his tea, his return apparently unnoticed until then. Neya gave a start and stared for a moment, looking away as she flipped her antennae back into place. She looked a bit embarrassed as she stammered out something in Tsla. Alex thought he understood the word for ‘food.’
Alex flipped the mental switch for his IT and it came to life, his senses going fuzzy for a moment before returning. “Sorry, translator wasn’t on. Say again?”
She composed herself and cleared her throat. “Was the meal to your satisfaction, sir?”
“Yes, it was fine, thank you.”
“Now that everything is finished, perhaps you could be convinced to just call him by his name?” Carbon slid a hand across the table and patted Neya’s with a soft smile.
“Yes, the titles did seem to aggravate him.” She seemed to brighten at that, her gaze shifting between them. “You would still prefer I call you by your name?”
“Please.”
“As you wish, Alex.” Neya relaxed a little, relieved.
“She will have to use a title on occasion, for formalities like last night when she returned my marker or public events.”
“Sounds better than being Prince Sorenson all the time.” He was really hoping to avoid that as much as he could. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?
Carbon sipped her tea and considered that for a moment. “I would think it wise to discuss things as they are with your parents, before much more time passes. I do not want them to feel marginalized in the face of such events.”
“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” Alex was not looking forward to this particular conversation. He didn’t expect a reaction like Carbon’s dad, but talking about relationships with his parents wasn’t something that had ever come easily for him. Now he got to tack on a marriage and assassination attempt. Easy, no sweat.
“I thought as much. The flight plan is being filed, we should know when we can arrive soon.” Carbon gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder.
“Good. I guess. Look, I don’t know how this is going to go over with them. Us dating is one thing, but being married... I’m not sure how they’ll take it given the circumstances around it, and I don’t want to leave them too far out of the loop. I think I should be the one to inform them, alone.” If either of his parents got out of hand, something he didn’t expect to happen, he’d prefer Carbon not be there to see it.
"That is wise." Carbon sighed quietly, picking at the protective coating over her bite mark, peeling it out of her fur slowly. “I am still hoping for the best.”
“I’ve known them my entire life. They’ll be surprised, I’m sure, but I know they’re going to want what’s best for me.” Alex was saying that out loud as much for her as for himself. He believed it, but this was a massive change. “And if I feel that being married is what’s best for me, they will at least respect that.”
She continued to delicately pull at the dried salve, the piece covering the front half of her mark nearly free now. Dark pink tissue peeking out through her fur, the pattern matching his teeth. “If they are as upset as my father was, we can do what is best for our families and force a separation. While they are few, there are some places where even the Empress’ power can be overridden.”
“I don’t think they’ll be that mad. Shocked, surprised, upset... Maybe. But not furious.” Alex very clearly remembered Eleya’s warning about keeping Carbon happy being his reason for being there, the tacit threat her words contained. If they did go over her head - he assumed Carbon would know how to do that - that was likely the end of things for them. They’d get over it. Life would go on, even if just thinking about it felt like a staggering loss. “Doesn’t matter if they are. It’s not their life to live.”