Also by Molly J. Bragg

Hearts of Heroes

Scatter

Mail Order Bride

By Molly J. Bragg

©2022 Molly J. Bragg

ISBN (book) 9781954213302

ISBN (epub)  9781954213319

This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Desert Palm Press

1961 Main St, Suite 220

Watsonville, CA 95076

Editor:  Kaycee Hawn

Cover Design:  Jeanette Eileen Widjaja

About Mail Order Bride

Ten years ago, aliens from a Galaxy spanning government called the Hegemony arrived in the Solar system and ever since Earth has been on a long, slow journey to becoming a banana republic.  Samantha ‘Sam’ Murray has spent her entire high school career doing everything her mom could think of to earn a chance at an off-world education that would keep her from living a life of poverty.  But with just a few weeks left before graduation there’s no scholarship in sight and Sam has her heart set on getting an apartment with her best friend and crush, Jenny, and maybe finding out if they can be more than just friends.  All of her plans come crashing down when she finds out her mom has signed her up for an arranged marriage on another planet as a way to get her the off-world education she's sure Sam needs.

Sam arrives on Talamh, a planet ravaged by disaster, expecting to find herself promised to some rich alien prince.  Instead, she finds herself among a species that has no concept of gender, promised to a beautiful alien that makes Sam’s little gay heart skip a beat every time she looks at them.  There’s just one problem.  Orla, the person Sam is promised to, is already in love with their best friend Sorcha.  As Orla and Sam’s betrothal moves forward, they find themselves falling in love, but Sam can’t help but worry that Sorcha will come between them.  At least, until she and Sorcha start to develop feelings for each other.

Will desire and jealousy destroy all their futures, or will Sam, Orla and Sorcha find a way to be happy together?

Table of Contents

About Mail Order Bride

Acknowledgement:

Dedication:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Notes on Sionnach Time Keeping

About Molly J. Bragg

Acknowledgement:

I would like to acknowledge Beck Use, L. I. Pettigrew, Kelly Fitzsimons, Isca Irangwe, Nisha Ward, Steven Quinlan and the friend known only as Jane. Without them, this book might never have gotten finished. I'd also like to thank Vikki Ciaffone for her hard work helping me get the novel ready for submission, my wonderful editor Kaycee Hawn for not only editing with a light hand but having a turnaround time that boggles the mind, and Lee Fitzsimmons for giving me a chance to share my work with the world.

Dedication:

This book is dedicated to everyone who had to find their own way to be happy.

Chapter One

BETH WATCHED THE BUILDINGS pass as the air cab carried her over Los Angeles, taking in the changes the last ten years had wrought on the city. Most of the low-income areas had been bulldozed, and those areas were now filled with alien arcologies. Massive buildings that stretched kilometers into the sky, each one a city unto itself, and in their shadows, the skyscrapers that had once been incredible achievements of human architecture and engineering. The buildings, which had been hubs of human industry and centers of financial empires, were now reduced to little more than playhouses for the backwards primitives who had the misfortune to be born natives of the Galactic Hegemony’s latest colony world.

If they’d had another century or two, things might have been different. Humanity had been advancing quickly. They wouldn’t have been on par with the technology of the Hegemony by any stretch, but they might have been able to dictate better terms. The Gatekeepers hadn’t cared. The gate had drifted into a stable orbit in the outer system, and the Gatekeepers had announced that, like it or not, the Sol system was being added to their vast network of space-fold gates. The first ships from the Hegemony had arrived just a month later, and ever since, Earth had been on the road to becoming the galactic equivalent of a banana republic.

So far, her job and her savings had let her avoid the worst of what was happening, but unemployment was at a record high as alien automation systems replaced human labor in almost every sector. The company she worked for had shifted gears from research and development to reverse-engineering alien tech and had seen a short windfall in profits, but that was starting to vanish as the inevitable inflation drove prices up and the people that they had been selling reverse-engineered tech to could no longer afford it.

Beth wasn’t really that worried for herself. She’d been poor before, and however much she might hate the idea, she could survive being poor again. What brought her to LA today was Sam. Sam was getting close to graduation, and she had acceptance letters from every college that could afford postage. A 4.0 unweighted GPA, high SAT scores, and a couple of impressive summer internships meant that schools were falling all over themselves to offer her full rides. Ten years ago, that would have all but ensured her a bright future. These days, a PhD from Harvard, Yale, or MIT wasn’t worth the cost of paper the degree was printed on.

People still made noise about human exceptionalism and about taking humanity’s place in the larger galactic community, but Beth had spent a lot of time over the last decade studying the history of colonization on Earth, and it never once ended well for the people being colonized. Regardless of what happened to the colonized peoples as a whole, there were always individual exceptions–people who avoided the fate of their brethren. It was her determination to ensure her daughter’s future that brought her to LA today. While billionaires had started buying their kids spots in alien schools the moment they were allowed out of the Sol System, Beth didn’t have that option. She was well off enough that she and Sam weren’t feeling the effects of the colonization yet, but nowhere near rich enough to buy a ticket off-world for Sam, much less pay for an off-world education. Instead, she’d spent years looking into other options. So far, none of her work had paid off, but she hadn’t given up hope. She was headed to a meeting with a broker who helped place kids into programs that offered grants, scholarships, and all expenses paid exchange programs. She was going to find a way to offer her daughter a better future than most of Earth’s children could look forward to. No matter what it took.

***

“Ms. Murray, it’s so nice to meet you,” the man said as he held out his hand. Beth took it and gave it a quick shake while trying her best not to let on that he reminded her of a used car salesman. She needed his help, and it wouldn’t do to offend him.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Cooper.”

“Please, call me Owen,” he said. “Right this way.”

He led her out of the small, brightly decorated waiting room and into a small, neat office. He gestured to a chair in front of his desk as he walked around behind it and took his seat.

“So, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here, Ms. Murray. You are looking for an opportunity for your daughter to continue her education off-world, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Beth said.

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure that we’re both looking for the same outcome. Now, I’ve gone through Samantha’s records. Academically, she’s in great shape, and the extracurriculars are good, too. I’ve been able to find at least twenty different programs that will accept her.”

“That’s great,” Beth said, though she didn’t believe it. She’d heard the exact same thing from more than a dozen other brokers, and she suspected she wasn’t going to hear anything new. “What are the terms?”

“It varies from program to program. All of them require a period of indenture, but some are as low as eight years.”

Beth tried to hide her disappointment. She wanted to give her daughter a better future, not sell her into virtual slavery for almost a decade.

“Owen, I’m looking for a program without any period of indenture. I know they exist, but you’re the fifteenth broker I’ve talked to and none of them have offered even an application to an indenture-free program.”

“They do exist, but Ms. Murray, you must understand. There are a lot of people who want their children to receive an off-world education, and slots which don’t require a period of indentured service are in especially high demand.”

“I understand that, but I haven’t gotten high demand, I’ve gotten completely unavailable. I’d like to know why no one will even consider letting her apply.”

Owen looked at her for almost a minute, not saying anything, before he finally leaned back in his chair and let out a weary sigh.

“Honestly, Ms. Murray?”

“Please.”

“Those slots go to the kids of billionaires, presidents, CEOs, ambassadors, kings and other high level government types. Each year, a handful will go to some poor kids from the ghetto so that they can parade them around as part of a puff piece about how generous the aliens are, but that’s just window dressing. The truth is, your daughter is neither rich enough, nor poor enough to ever get one of those slots.”

Beth had to bite her tongue to keep from swearing. She wasn’t surprised at all, but she was angry and frustrated. She’d half suspected something like that was going on, but hearing it spelled out so clearly was still enough to make her blood boil.

“Isn’t there anything, any way that I can get her off-world without selling her into slavery?”

“Ms. Murray, indentured service is hardly slavery.”

“It’s close enough.”

Owen stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” she said. “Please.”

He sighed. “It’s not something I would normally offer to someone of your background.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that some aliens have cultural practices that people of Western European descent find unpalatable, while those from other cultures would find those practices perfectly normal.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Ms. Murray, you are aware that, much to the surprise of every biologist on the planet, there are a number of species with whom humanity shares a degree of reproductive compatibility?”

“I am,” she said.

“Well, there is a species called the Sionnach. They’re native to a planet called Talamh in the Grian system, and they bear a rather striking resemblance to humans. There are differences, of course, but the basic morphology is the same. The reason I bring this up is that about eighty years ago, Talamh suffered an environmental catastrophe that wiped out nearly ninety-five percent of their population in the span of a few weeks. Because of their reproductive practices prior to the incident, the Sionnach found themselves facing a sort of genetic bottleneck, and they decided that the best way to alleviate this was to seek an outside infusion of genetic material.”

“They’re looking for breeding stock,” Beth said.

“Yes.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“And this is why I don’t offer this option to white people,” Owen said. “Ms. Murray, I’m not suggesting you sell your daughter off as some kind of broodmare. The Sionnach take selection of their mates very, very seriously. They gather applications from a number of candidates, and the Sionnach in question reviews them, and selects the ones they like. Then, their family reviews their choices, and select a candidate. The candidate is then brought to the House of their prospective spouse, and they spend a period of time together. Roughly five hours. During that time, they talk, get to know each other, and decide if they want to proceed. If both parties agree, they enter a five-year engagement. During those five years, the candidate is treated as a member of the House. They are given a stipend, they’re educated, they’re housed, fed, provided with medical care, and they undergo medical procedures which allow them to survive on Talamh without special equipment.”

“What sort of medical procedures?”

“Talamh is a high-gravity world with a higher-than-normal concentration of heavy metals in the environment. Your daughter would need procedures to be able to stand up to the local gravity, and to be able to filter out metals she would not normally be able to purge from her system. She would also undergo a type of gene therapy which would make her more resistant to radiation and give her the ability to see parts of the infrared spectrum and hear sounds normally outside of the range of human hearing.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“The Sionnach are one of the founding species of the Hegemony. Their technology is thousands of years more advanced than ours, and they’ve been doing these procedures since before humans built their first cities.”

Beth shook her head. “An arranged marriage…I don’t know.”

“If I’m honest, it’s a long shot. You would have to take your daughter for a screening. She’d have to pass the screening for any sort of genetic issues that would eliminate her, then she would have to be selected by one of the Sionnach. If that happens, you and your family would have to travel to Talamh at the expense of the Sionnach House that selected her, and your daughter would have to get through the initial interview. But if she does, she would get the education you want for her.”

“And what happens at the end of the five years if she decides she doesn’t want to marry the person who selected her?”

“Then she’s free to walk away. She’d be given a small amount of money and passage to anywhere within the Hegemony, but she’d be free to do whatever she wants.”

“No indenture? No repayment of expenses?” Beth asked.

“No,” Owen said. “But again, it’s a long shot, and I take my normal fee just to put you through the application process, whether she gets selected or not.”

“How many humans get selected?” Beth asked.

“She’d be the first,” Owen said.

“What’s your fee?” Beth asked.

“Five hundred Hegemony credits.”

Beth winced. Given current exchange rates, that was almost ten thousand dollars.

“How quickly would we know?” Beth asked.

Owen turned and woke up his computer. She watched as he pulled up a page and scrolled through before clicking on a link.

“There’s only one family looking right now. Applications are due by the end of next week. You’d know in a month, tops.”

Beth thought about it for a moment. It was a long shot, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea, but it was better than an indenture, so she reached for her credit card.

***

Sam looked up from her homework at the sound of a light knock on her bedroom door. The door was wide open, and her mother was standing there looking at her. Sam couldn’t quite place the expression on her face, but given the appointment she’d had earlier, Sam didn’t have any doubt about what it meant.

“No luck, huh?” she asked, trying not to let the relief she felt creep into her voice. She knew an off-world education would open a lot of doors for her and give her opportunities that she wouldn’t have otherwise, and she really did want to go off-world, travel in space, and see other planets someday, but the idea of living on another planet for four or more years was both frightening and overwhelming.

“Not much,” Beth said. “He did have one program you could apply for that doesn’t include an indenture period. I emailed you the link to the application. I need you to fill it out today, because I made an appointment for tomorrow for you to go for the physical and psych scan that’s required.”

“Tomorrow? Mom, tomorrow’s Jenny’s birthday party.”

“I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to the party, but you might have to miss it. I’ve already got us portal tokens, and tomorrow is the only day we can go before the deadline without you missing school. I made the appointment for as early as I could, so you should get home in time to go.”

Sam wanted to argue, but she already knew it was useless. She hadn’t missed a day of school since halfway through the eighth grade, and she knew Beth wasn’t going to let her start less than a month before graduation. She also knew Beth wasn’t going to let her pass up a chance at an off-world scholarship just to go to a birthday party. Even if the birthday girl was her best friend who she’d been crushing on since kindergarten. Of course, Beth didn’t exactly know that last part, because she hadn’t told her she liked girls. She’d considered telling her a few times, but she’d always changed her mind at the last minute, because if Beth knew she liked girls, she might decide that Jenny was a distraction that Sam didn’t need in her life, and that wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight.

“Fine,” she said, reaching for her laptop. “I’ll do the application now.”

“Thank you. And Sam, I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom,” she said.

Beth left and Sam opened up the email link, which took her to a form that asked her for an invite code. She checked the email, and sure enough, there was a code for her. She copied it and pasted it into the form, and when she did, it took her to the next page, and a lot of the information was prepopulated, including her latest ID card photo, name, and age, along with her school transcripts and medical records. The stuff that was left for her to fill out read more like a dating profile than a college application.

The first section was hobbies, interests, and activities. She thought about it for a minute and decided to just be honest instead of going through all the BS she usually did for the college apps. She put down soccer, swimming, surfing, electronics, robotics, reading, martial arts, camping, and motocross. She attached pictures of herself in her soccer uniform, along with a couple of video clips from some of the team’s games, then she added a few videos of her swim meets, and a couple of pictures and some videos of her surfing. She pulled up her YouTube folder and attached a few build videos for some of her robotics projects, along with the parts lists, schematics, models for the 3D printed parts, and the source code for the micro-controllers she’d written. She added a picture of her holding two trophies from a local Karate tournament where she’d placed second in sparring, and third in bo staff, and added a few videos of her matches. She also added a few pictures from her camping trips and a picture of her sitting on a dirt bike, along with a video Jenny had taken of her running one of the beginner courses, then pulled up her eBook library and dumped the list of all her books, listed her favorite movies, and attached all her playlists from her music library.

The next section was a little weird. It asked about what sort of foods she liked, so she gave a list. Then it asked whether she enjoyed various activities. Most of them were fairly common things. Theater, music, art. A couple she had to check the cultural database link. She was surprised and excited when she found out that whoever was sponsoring this program apparently considered dragon racing important enough to put on the questionnaire.

All in all, she spent about two hours filling out the application, and once she was done, she hit submit. Then pulled out her cell phone and opened up her text messages with Jenny.

Sam: ‘Bad news. I might miss your party.’

Jenny: ‘What?!!!’

Sam: ‘Mom’s dragging me to New York in the morning for a physical and a psych scan for a scholarship.’

Jenny: ‘She’s still on that off-world college kick?’

Sam: ‘Yeah.’

Jenny: ‘Girl, you don’t want to go to college with ETs’

Sam: ‘I’ve got to get accepted before I have to worry about it.’

Jenny: ‘Come by my place when you’re done. Even if you miss the party, I want to see you.’

Sam: ‘Will do. See you tomorrow.’

Jenny: ‘Night.’

Sam set down her phone and looked at her homework. She’d wanted to finish before dinner, but there was no way that was happening now. She grabbed it anyway and went back to work, trying to get as much done as possible before Beth called her downstairs.

Chapter Two

ORLA THREW THEMSELF ON their bed with an unnecessary degree of drama. They knew it was wholly unworthy of them, but these days, they couldn’t seem to help themself. Their feelings and emotions seemed to be heightened to an unusual degree of late. Today more so than most.

All they really wanted to do was lie in bed and daydream about Sorcha. Their hands had brushed as they walked to lunch. It was an accident, of course. Orla would never do something so untoward in public, and they were sure Sorcha wouldn’t either, but accident or no, it felt like it had lit a fire inside of them.

Orla knew they were past the age when they should want such things, but they had always craved physical contact. Their entle Neesa had indulged them long after it was appropriate for such things, but Neesa still gave them the sort of touches that you would give a child who had not yet reached first ascension. They would sit in Orla’s chambers and Neesa would put an arm around their shoulder, or pet their hair, or even let Orla lean against them as they watched a video. It had always soothed them, made them calm and happy and relaxed.

Sorcha’s touch had the exact opposite effect. It had inflamed and excited them, and they’d spent most of the laethanta trying not to think of what it would be like to touch Sorcha deliberately. They imagined threading their fingers together and holding Sorcha’s hand, sitting on the couch with their head pillowed on Sorcha’s shoulder as they talked. They even imagined Sorcha reaching up and stroking their ears.

They knew they were being inappropriate. They had no right to think of Sorcha that way. Orla had received a genetic diversity token at birth, which meant that they were required to find an off-world mate, which meant that no matter how much they wished they could be, they would not be paired with Sorcha.

Which was the problem. They were letting their emotions cloud their judgement. They had been friends with Sorcha almost since the moment of conception. They had been gestated in the same birthing den, had played together as infants and toddlers, had been educated together. Orla had always had a weakness for Sorcha’s company, and by the time they had reached first ascension, Orla had been hopelessly in love. When Sorcha smiled at them, Orla had felt as if their heart missed its rhythm. They desperately wanted to be paired with Sorcha, to be free to hold them and touch them and indulge the longing they felt.

Instead, they had to sort through the list of candidates and find a mate that they could at least tolerate. They knew it was their duty to their House, their people, and their species, but that did not make it any easier. A bond mate was supposed to be your friend and partner in all things. They were supposed to be the one you were closest to, the one you shared your joys and sorrows with. They knew many bondings did not live up to that ideal, but that was what they wanted for themself, and they knew they had the foundations of that already with Sorcha. If they hadn’t received a token when they’d been born, they would have asked Sorcha to submit an application to Orla’s parents for their bonding. It would be a horrible breach of etiquette, but hardly the first the two of them had committed together, and being bonded to Sorcha would be worth it.

Unfortunately, they had received the token, which meant they had no choice in the matter. Well, technically they did. They could find someone who was willing to take the token in their stead. Their parent Nuala had even offered to make such arrangements, and at first, Orla had been tempted, but they had investigated how such things worked and been horrified. The tokens were almost always taken by those less fortunate as a way to lift their financial prospects. In the end, Orla’s own sense of duty and fairness wouldn’t let them do it. The token was their burden to bear, and they couldn’t bring themselves to push it off on someone who would only accept it out of desperation. It felt like a shameful thing to do, like something that would dishonor both them and their House.

But choosing to accept their duty did not mean they were eager for it, and Orla had put off reviewing the applications until Nuala had given them a stern word and sent them to their chambers until the task was finished.

They lifted their arm and touched their left wrist. The gesture activated their Augmented Reality Implant.

“Waiting for your command,” their Aug said.

“Pull up the Bonding candidate files, and prepare for review,” they said. The artificial intelligence embedded in the base of their skull linked to the House’s computer network and pulled up the candidate files, displaying the files for them by feeding them directly into the part of their brain responsible for vision.

They looked over the summary page and frowned. “Flag all applications that list the species as Gaolta and mark them rejected.”

The list of candidates was immediately cut in half. They knew if Nuala found out what they’d just done, they’d be furious, but Orla didn’t care. The Gaolta were an offshoot of the Sionnach, a colony world founded almost thirty thousand blianas earlier, and a popular choice for those with the token, because despite thirty thousand blianas of genetic drift, they were still reproductively compatible without any genetic manipulation, and aside from coloration, they looked like Sionnach. Orla also found them unbearably arrogant and smug, convinced of their own superiority. They also had a deep disregard for etiquette that bordered on deliberately insulting. They couldn’t imagine spending their life with someone like that.

They looked over the remaining candidates. Nothing immediately jumped out at them, but they knew they had to actually go through them instead of just rejecting them out of hand.

“Organize the remaining applications by match probability and then display the first one,” they said.

An application opened up, and they scanned it quickly and felt the disappointment well up. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly wrong with the application. It was fine. They could see all the points of compatibility, and it seemed like they would be an ideal match, but as they stared at the images attached, all they could think was that the candidate in them looked absolutely lifeless. Every picture was carefully posed, every expression carefully schooled, and the application itself was equally as bad. They wondered how someone could write about themselves with such disinterest.

They marked the application rejected and moved on to the next one without much hope. If that was the best of the lot, they doubted they’d find anything suitable. A sentiment that the next uair would prove painfully accurate. They reviewed more than eighty applications, and they were all the same. Dull, dry, and lifeless. After a while, given how formulaic they were, they began to suspect that the candidates weren’t writing their own applications at all, and just letting the matchmakers do it instead.

They marked another one rejected and looked at the queue. There were still twenty-one applications, but all of them were marked as low probability. They were tempted to just mark them all rejected, but if they didn’t find something, Nuala would be angry, and they were getting desperate enough to reconsider the Gaolta applications, so they opened the first of the low probability listings.

The picture immediately caught their eye. They didn’t recognize the species immediately and had to check the listing. Human. They expanded the listing and saw that Humans were new to the Hegemony. Just ten years since first contact. Not even officially incorporated yet. They hadn’t even sent a member of their species beyond their planet’s major satellite prior to first contact.

They closed the listing and went back to the picture. They weren’t sure at first why it caught their eye. Humans were a bit odd looking. They lacked proper ears, and their faces were a bit soft. The effect wasn’t unpleasant to look at, though. The human, Samantha Elizabeth Murray, was actually quite pretty, for all the oddity. Then they realized what it was about the picture that caught their eye. Samantha was smiling. Not a big smile, but a smile. It was the first application they’d seen where the candidate had anything other than a carefully schooled neutral expression.

They scrolled down just a bit and saw that the human was academically well accomplished by their world’s standards. The genetic profile did indicate a likelihood that they would need corrective work done on their eyes at some point, which was apparently fairly common among their species. The condition was noted as being easily corrected with minor gene therapy. Their intelligence was rated considerably higher than average for humans. All the vital statistics seemed to be in order, so Orla moved on to the section that listed hobbies and interests.

The first item listed was soccer. Orla tapped on the word, and queried the cultural database, which told them it was some sort of sport that involved driving a ball down a field using only your feet. It sounded odd to them, but they closed out of the cultural database, opened the attached media on the application, and gasped in shock.

The first item was a still image of Samantha in some sort of uniform, but Orla was shocked at how immodest the outfit was. Samantha’s arms were bare from about halfway between their shoulder and elbow all the way down. They held a black and white sphere under one arm and had a smile on their face that put the one in the profile picture to shame. Orla studied the image for a moment, feeling vaguely like they were doing something they shouldn’t, yet Samantha had included the picture in their application. Orla had to remind themself that different cultures had different standards for what was appropriate and what was not.

Orla tapped on the next piece of media attached, hoping it was a bit less scandalous. A hope that was dashed immediately, as they saw a field filled with other similarly clad humans. Orla spotted Samantha easily. They knew nothing of soccer, but they gathered quickly that Samantha must be quite skilled. Samantha drove the ball the length of the field, dodging anyone who approached them, and kicked the ball past a final member of the opposing team and into a net. Something which was apparently cause for celebration, as there were cheers from a number of people. A moment later, Orla was shocked yet again as a number of the humans in the same uniform as Samantha ran up to them and hugged them. In the middle of a crowd of dozens of people, the others hugged them. One even kissed them on the cheek, right before the video ended.

Orla moved on to the next item. Swimming. This, at least, was familiar ground. They somewhat hesitantly tapped on the piece of attached media and was surprised by an image of Samantha wearing even less. They were in a shiny garment that left their legs and arms entirely bare. It covered most of their torso, though the neck was cut low enough to show the top swell of their breasts. Some sort of tight-fitting cap covered Samantha’s hair, and they had goggles hanging around their throat. They were holding up some sort of statue. A quick tap, and the cultural database told Orla it was a trophy. An item usually awarded for placing highly in a competition.

Orla advanced to the next piece of media and watched as Samantha participated in some sort of swimming competition. There were three more similar videos. Samantha won three of the competitions and came in third in the fourth. Orla was more than a little shocked that Samantha had included a video where they didn’t win.

The media attached to the surfing section was both more and less modest. There were pictures and videos of Samantha in something called a bikini, in ‘boy shorts’ and a ‘rash guard’ and in a ‘wetsuit.’ Orla found themself less interested in Samantha’s attire than they might otherwise have been, because the videos were terrifying. Watching Samantha glide across the face of massive waves which were more than powerful enough to crush them had Orla biting their lower lip as they watched the videos and waited for the inevitable disaster which somehow never came. By the time they moved on, Orla was half convinced Samantha’s entire species was mad for inventing such an activity.

The next few items were less shocking. Electronics and robotics were things Orla understood quite well, and they might not be able to read human circuit diagrams or source code, but watching the videos of Samantha building a robot was fascinating.

The martial arts competition was interesting. Prowess as a warrior was always a good quality in a mate. Camping seemed a bit of an odd way to spend time. Going out into the wilderness and staying for days at a time was frankly a bit bizarre, but it was the final item under hobbies that truly made Orla wonder if all of Samantha’s species had a death wish.

It took almost no time at all to find out what motocross and dirt bikes were, but watching as Samantha rode around on bare soil on a two wheeled machine that ran on exploding hydrocarbons, while regularly using speed and acceleration to make the machine fly short distances, was terrifying. That this was an activity that was considered normal was surely a sign that their entire species was insane.

Orla went through the rest of Samantha’s application in a bit of a daze, but when they came to the end, they stared at it for a moment, torn. On the one hand, Samantha and maybe their whole species were clearly mad, but on the other hand, it was the only application in the pile that was even remotely interesting to Orla. The only one that showed that the applicant was actually a person with their own thoughts and interests and desires.

Orla flagged it as their top choice before moving on. Thirty noimeads later, they marked the last application as a rejection and lay back, considering how to approach this with their parents. Samantha’s application was the only one Orla had selected, and the more they thought about it, the more convinced they were that Samantha was the best possible candidate.

It came back, oddly enough, to that soccer video, and to the casual way Samantha and their teammates touched each other. The easy, casual physical contact. Orla’s own people avoided physical contact at almost all times, but Orla craved it like a drug. A bond mate who would indulge their need would be more than they had ever hoped for.

They thought about it for a long time, and decided the best approach was simple. They would tell their parents that Samantha was the only acceptable choice among the applicants, and if they didn’t agree, then they would need to solicit a new round of applications, because Orla would not accept any of the other candidates. It would be bordering on insolence, and Nuala and Tadgh would no doubt be angry, but they suspected entle Neesa and their spouse Fiadh would back them up on this.

They just hoped that Samantha would find them agreeable.

***

Sorcha sat in the lounge of their apartment, staring at a file floating in their field of vision. The rest of their Aug desktop was empty. The folder currently active only had the one file, but it might as well have been the whole of the Hegemony for all the weight it carried. Sorcha wanted to reach out and touch it, to open it and see what was inside, but at the same time, they wanted to delete it, to pretend it didn’t exist, to go back fifteen noimeads to before they had received the call from Orla that had destroyed their last hope.

Sorcha had known this day was coming. How could they not? They’d known for blianas that Orla had the token. It was just that a part of them had been holding out hope that Orla would do the selfish thing and find someone who would accept the token in their stead. They had known it would never happen. Not once Orla had decided it would be selfish and dishonorable to fob the token off on someone else, but they wanted to believe that Orla cared enough for them to do it. That they were important enough for Orla to, for once in their life, make the selfish choice.

Instead, they’d gotten a call today from an excited Orla, talking about how they’d chosen a candidate for their betrothal. Sorcha had done their best to keep the hurt out of their voice. They had asked all the right questions in all the right places, even as their heart broke. With Orla so excited, it had been an easy enough thing to talk them into forwarding over a copy of the application. It was a stupid thing to do. Looking at it wouldn’t change anything, but Sorcha wanted to see the face of the person who was going to take Orla away from them. Except now that they had the file, and the time to review it, they weren’t sure they could. A sick feeling filled their gut, and they regretted every meal they’d ever eaten.

Sorcha had loved Orla before they understood what love was. They’d dreamed of a life with them. Raising children, traveling the Hegemony, seeing different worlds, growing old together. Even after they found out Orla had the token, they’d dreamed of finding a way around it, or of running off to a colony world where the token wouldn’t matter. Maybe even leaving Sionnach space entirely and simply never coming back.

Now, all those dreams were over. Orla had selected a mate. At least, a potential one. The ache Sorcha felt at the thought of someone else filling the place in Orla’s life they’d wanted for themselves was twisting their stomach into knots.

Morbid curiosity finally broke through the haze, and Sorcha lifted their hand, tapping the file, and watching as it opened and the application filled their Aug’s display field. Samantha Elizabeth Murray. Odd name. Human. Not a species Sorcha was familiar with. Sorcha frowned as they started going through the application, wondering what made Samantha Elizabeth Murray so special, why they caught Orla’s attention.

It didn’t take long to figure it out. Leaving aside the fact that humans appeared to enjoy running around mostly naked, Sorcha could see all the things that would catch Orla’s attention. The half mad sports. Surfing and motocross. The martial arts. The fact that humans were only barely a space-faring species. Sorcha could practically see all the romantic notions floating through Orla’s head. They would picture some barbarian warrior, come to rescue them from all the things that made them miserable.

It was the casual touch that would be the real draw though. Sorcha knew how much Orla craved touch. It was something they’d talked about in hushed tones when no one else could hear them. They even understood it, because every time they looked at Orla, all they wanted to do was take them in their arms and never let go.

Sorcha closed the file, then closed the folder it was in, and instead pulled up their accounts, checking their own financial balances. Their parent Noya was pressuring them to select a mate of their own, but Sorcha was having none of it. Noya was worried about Sorcha meeting their reproductive obligations, but Sorcha had decided a long time ago that if they couldn’t have Orla, they didn’t want a mate.

After the last bounty they’d earned from their job, they had enough money to buy out their reproductive obligations. They would just need to make a donation of genetic material to the gene keepers, then pay the non-custodial fees to the public creches, and as far as the government would be concerned, they would have met the four-child requirement of the reproductive laws. It would wipe out their savings, but they had time. They would stay until Orla married their barbarian. By that time, they would have finished working off their familial obligations, and they could find a job that would keep them off-world enough that the pain of watching Orla with someone else wouldn’t kill them.

It was a plan. Not a good one, maybe, but it was the best they had.

***

Beth looked up and frowned at the sight of her assistant Emma standing in the door of the lab. Emma usually didn’t set foot inside unless there was an emergency, and Beth’s first thought was that something had happened to Sam, but Emma seemed a little too calm for that.

“What is it?” she asked.

“There’s an Owen Cooper on the line for you. I would have taken a message, but he said it was about your daughter, and that it was urgent.”

Beth took a moment to clean off the tip of her soldering iron and dropped it in the stand before turning off the soldering station. Then she pulled off her safety glasses and stood up, following Emma out of the lab and down the hall to her office. She stepped inside and sat down at her desk, then hit the button to take the call on speaker.

“Hey, Owen,” she said.

“Hey, Ms. Murray,” Owen said. “I have good news for you.”

“Really?”

“Your daughter has been selected for the program we discussed.”

Beth leaned back in her chair and stared at the phone for a minute as she processed what she’d just heard. Sam had been selected. Sam would be going off-world, possibly for years. It was something she had been working towards since the day Sam started high school, but faced with the sudden reality of it, she felt her stomach heave, and she wanted to throw up.

“Ms. Murray, are you still there?”

“Yes! Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I’m just a little surprised.”

“Honestly, so am I,” Owen said. “Like I said in our meeting, I’ve never heard of a Sionnach selecting a human candidate.”

“What do you know about the one who selected Sam?”

“Not much. They’re about seventeen Earth years old. They’re from House Leargas, which is one of the older Houses. Lots of money and influence. Your daughter will be well taken care of if they get through the initial meeting.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I know this is short notice, but there is a transport leaving for Talamh on Monday, and the family would like Sam to be on it.”

“We’ll be there,” Beth said.

“I’ll email you the details. There will be a boarding shuttle waiting for you at San Francisco Spaceport, so it should be fairly convenient.”

“Yeah. Just a quick cab ride. Owen…thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Murray. I hope this works out for you.”

“Me too. Have a good day.”

“You, too.”

She heard the call disconnect and let out a sigh. Sam was going to hate her. Graduation was Friday, and she and Jenny had been planning a post-graduation trip down to Baja for months. Sam was going to miss her trip, and get an arranged marriage sprung on her at the same time, and Beth was pretty sure the yelling was going to be epic. Probably worse than the grounding her sophomore year, and Beth’s ears were still ringing from that shouting match.

Whatever Sam’s reaction, she’d deal with it when the time came. Right now, she needed to call her boss, and get the time off.

***

Sam sat on a beach towel, nursing a coke and watching the waves roll in as she listened to the sound system someone had set up blaring out Bishop Briggs. She’d stopped on her way to grab a burger, and by the time she’d made it to the beach, the party had already been in full swing. Guys and girls she’d known for years were dancing around like idiots, swilling beer, making out on the hoods of cars or in the back of pickup trucks. Almost the entire senior class was there, and half of them were already drunk off their asses.

Any other time, Sam would probably be out there with them, beer in hand and a good buzz going, but today, she just felt like relaxing and enjoying the moment. Four years of work, of advanced placement classes and online classes and summer internships, of busting her ass to maintain straight As, of science fairs, sports, extra credit assignments, sleepless nights, and exhausting weekends was finally over. She didn’t have to crack a textbook or do an assignment for at least two months. The best part, though, was that in five days, she’d be on a beach down in Baja with Jenny. Just the two of them with no one else around.

Which was another reason she wasn’t drinking. The night of Jenny’s birthday party, Jenny had told her that she had gotten into MIT. Sam had been surprised, because Jenny hadn’t even mentioned that she was applying, but since she got accepted, she’d suggested the two of them get an apartment together off campus, and Sam had agreed eagerly. Which left her with something of a problem. She wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through a week of sharing a hotel room with Jenny without telling her how she felt. The thought of sharing an apartment for four years and keeping it to herself was torture.

Part of her thought she should just put on her big girl britches and tell Jenny how she felt, but a bigger part of her was terrified that Jenny wouldn’t want anything to do with her. They’d been friends for a long time, and she didn’t want to lose her, but on the other hand, she felt like she might be missing out on something amazing, and she just didn’t know what to do.

“So serious.”

Sam turned around and smiled as she saw Jenny walking up behind her.

“Hey,” she said. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Jenny said. She held out her drink, and Sam took it, holding it while Jenny sat down beside her.

“Always,” Sam said. She handed Jenny’s drink back and tapped their cups together. “Just thinking about the trip next week.”

Jenny smiled. “Looking forward to seeing me in a bikini?”

Sam felt her cheeks heat up a bit, because yes, she was definitely looking forward to that. Before she could answer, Jenny swayed towards her, bumping their shoulders together.

“I’ve got something for you,” she said. She set her drink down, unzipped her purse, and pulled out a Bic lighter and a white and purple tube.

“Is that what I think it is?” Sam asked.

“That depends, do you think it’s your favorite type of pot?”

Sam laughed and gave Jenny a small shove. “Where’d you get it?”

“One of the advantages to having an older sister. She can hit the dispensary and get me the good shit.”

“You’re trying to make me regret going to MIT instead of Berkley, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little bit,” she said. “We could have had all the weed we could smoke, but instead, you’re moving us to a state where we don’t have anyone to hit the dispensary for us.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s following me.”

“Sorry if I’m not ready to give you up yet,” Jenny said as she broke the seal on the tube. Sam watched as she popped the top off, then dropped the joint into her hand. She lifted it up and put it between her lips, then lit it and took a long pull off it before passing it over to Sam.

“Thanks,” Sam said before taking a hit. She closed her eyes, savoring the flavor, a mix of watermelon and grape, before passing the joint back to Jenny.

“Any idea what you’re doing tomorrow?” Jenny asked.

“I honestly hadn’t given it a lot of thought. It’s the first time in years I don’t have something to do. I thought I might just stay in bed all day, just because I can.”

Jenny took a hit and passed the joint back. “That’s a terrible idea. You should do something.”

“Got any ideas?”

Jenny gave her a look that she didn’t understand. “Ask me again once the pot kicks in.”

“Okay,” Sam said before taking another hit.

Jenny smiled at her and threw an arm around her shoulder as Sam passed the joint back. The two of them sat there like that for a while, just passing the joint back and forth, taking hits and enjoying each other’s company without really talking until the joint was gone. It took about fifteen or twenty minutes for the pot to really take hold, but as it did, she leaned into Jenny a bit more, resting her head on Jenny’s shoulder, her worries about how Jenny would react to her feelings suddenly distant and almost silly.

“Hey, Sam,” Jenny said.

Sam lifted her head up off Jenny’s shoulder and turned to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Pot’s kicked in.”

It took a minute for her to figure out what Jenny was talking about, but then she remembered. “So, what should I do tomorrow?”

“Me,” Jenny said.

“What?” Sam asked, wondering if the pot was hitting her harder than it usually did.

“Fuck it,” Jenny said as she leaned in, and Sam wasn’t sure if she found a sudden burst of courage, or if it was the pot keeping her from panicking, but she leaned in and met Jenny’s lips with her own. The kiss was clumsy and sloppy, and Jenny tasted like pot smoke and beer and that god-awful grape lip balm she loved so much, but Sam loved it. She turned and wrapped her arms around Jenny as Jenny climbed into her lap, running her fingers through Sam’s hair.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for ages,” Jenny mumbled before kissing Sam again. Sam would have told her she should have said something sooner, but one of Jenny’s hands slid down and cupped her breast, and she lost her train of thought, because Jenny was kissing her and kneading her breast and straddling her and how had they never done this before?

She wasn’t sure how long the kissing went on. Between the pot and the ache building low in her gut, keeping track of time was impossible, but at some point, she ended up on her back, and found herself wondering if they were going to have sex right there on the beach in front of the entire senior class. She’d wanted this for so long, she wasn’t sure she cared, and when Jenny finally did pull away, she found herself chasing Jenny’s lips.

“Easy, tiger,” Jenny said. She placed a hand between her breasts and pushed her back down. “I need a minute.”

Sam stared up at Jenny, turning things over in her head. She had so many questions, but all of them could wait, because she just wanted to kiss her again.

Jenny leaned down, resting her forehead against Sam’s and closing her eyes. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Sam asked.

“For not freaking out. For not hating me. For kissing me back.”

“I could never hate you,” Sam said. “I just wish you’d said something sooner.”

“I was too afraid,” Jenny said. “I kept thinking maybe you liked me, but I read all these things about how gay girls get crushes on their straight friends, and they misinterpret things and end up ruining friendships, and I was just so scared of losing you, and your mom kept talking about sending you off-world and I just…”

“I get it. I used to sit at home and dream about telling you, but…” The sound of her phone ringing cut off what she was about to say, and Sam groaned.

“Don’t answer it,” Jenny said.

“It’s my mom,” Sam said.

“Don’t care.”

Sam smiled and kissed Jenny again, ignoring the ringing until it stopped.

“See?” Jenny said. “I’m full of good ideas.”

“Yeah. I…fuck!” Sam yelled as her phone started ringing again. Jenny sighed as Sam reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She hit the accept button and put the phone to her ear.

“Hey Mom.”

“Where are you?” Beth asked.

“I’m at the beach party,” Sam said. “The one I told you about weeks ago and reminded you about this morning.”

“I need you to come home.”

“What? Why?”

“I got a call from the broker I talked to last month. You’ve been selected for the program you applied for.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes, but there are some things we need to talk about.”

“Can it wait?”

“No, sweetie. I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to the party, but we really have to talk about this now.”

“Fuck,” Sam said. “Mom, I’m going to need you to come get me.”

“Why?”

“I’m not safe to drive.”

“Did you drive to the beach?”

“Yeah, but I expected to be here for a while, so…”

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll call a cab. Where are you at?”

“South of the lighthouse. Just look for the thousand or so drunk teenagers.”

“Okay. I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

Sam hit the end call button and shoved the phone back in her pocket. “Can you let me up?” she asked. Jenny rolled off of her, and Sam sat up, trying her best not to cry. Why the fuck did this have to happen now? Jenny liked her. Jenny had kissed her. They were going to go to Baja for a week, and then in the fall, they were going to get an apartment in Cambridge, and it wasn’t fucking fair. She didn’t want to go off-world, damn it.

“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked.

“Mom got a call,” Sam said. “I’ve been accepted for one of the off-world scholarships.”

“You’re going off-world?” Jenny asked. Sam could hear the pain in her voice, and she hated it.

“Maybe,” Sam said. “I don’t want to go, but…”

“Then say no.”

“Jenny…”

“Just tell your mom you want to stay here,” Jenny said.

“It’s not that easy,” Sam said.

“Yes, it is! Just tell her you don’t want to go. You don’t need anything from the ETs, Sam.”

Sam closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to clear it, but she was still riding the buzz from the pot, and it was hard to put the words together, and she needed to go. She needed to be with the car when her mom arrived.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she stood up. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

***

Sam sat in the car, not really seeing the scenery passing as Beth drove them home. She was still high, and it was making it hard to think, because her mind kept bouncing from topic to topic. There was a little consistency, in that most of the topics were Jenny related. Jenny had kissed her, Jenny had grabbed her boobs, Jenny’s thigh felt great between her legs, she wanted to kiss Jenny again, she was losing Jenny because she was going off-world, she didn’t want to go off-world because she wanted to stay with Jenny.

“Sam,” Beth said, and Sam turned to look at her. She was a little surprised that they weren’t moving anymore. She hadn’t really noticed them stopping. She glanced out of the windshield, and saw they were outside of a drug store.

“Sam, look at me.”

Sam turned back to her mom. “Yeah?”

“Are you drunk, or did you take drugs?”

“Smoked a joint,” Sam said.

“That’s all? No alcohol? Nothing else?”

“Just pot,” Sam said.

“Okay. Stay here.”

Beth got out of the car. Sam leaned back and closed her eyes, and her mind wandered back to Jenny again. Jenny on a beach in Baja, Jenny in a bikini, Jenny out of a bikini, kissing Jenny while she was out of the bikini. She didn’t want to lose Jenny. She wanted to get an apartment with her in Cambridge and make out every night after class.

She heard the car door open and looked over to see Beth climbing in. Beth closed the door, opened the bag she was carrying, and took out a small box. Sam watched as she tore the box open and took out what looked like a bottle of nasal spray.

“Have you ever used this before?” Beth asked.

“What is it?”

“Soberquick. It’s an alien drug designed to clean intoxicants out of your system.”

Sam shook her head. “No.”

“Put the end up your nose and give it two pumps.”

Sam took the bottle and pulled the cap off, then slid the end up her nose and squeezed twice. For a moment, she didn’t feel any different, but the next moment, she thought she was going to die. Her brain suddenly felt too big for her head, her head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, and everything hurt. Then, just as quick as it came, the pain was gone and it took the high with it.

“Oh, God, that sucked,” Sam said.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“How much trouble am I in?”

“You’re not in any trouble. We had an agreement. If you couldn’t drive, you wouldn’t get in trouble as long as you called me to come get you.”

Sam smiled at her. “I didn’t really believe the ‘wouldn’t get in trouble’ part.”

“I only want what’s best for you,” Beth said. “Part of that is wanting you to be safe.” She reached up and started the car. “Is this a one-time thing?”

Sam sighed. “No. I don’t do it often, but sometimes I can’t relax. I get so wound up over a test or a project, and when it’s over, I just need something to help me unwind.”

“I wish you’d told me the stress was that bad. If I’d known, I would have gotten you a medical card and a prescription.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Sam said.

“You could never disappoint me, sweetheart, and I’m sorry if I made you feel like you could. I know I push you hard, but I only do it because I want you to have a good life. I don’t want you to have to worry about money or finding a job or being able to afford a place to live. I just want what’s best for you.”

“What if what’s best for me isn’t going off-world?” Sam asked.

Beth glanced over at her for a moment, then looked back out the windshield. “Let’s save that discussion for when we get home.”

Sam wanted to have that discussion now, but she knew from Beth’s tone that arguing with her on that point would be worse than useless. It would only make her dig in her heels so that when they actually did talk, it would be impossible to change her mind.

They rode the rest of the way home in silence. Now that her mind was clear, she spent the whole time trying to get her thoughts together so she could convince Beth to let her stay on Earth. The problem was, most of her arguments boiled down to ‘I don’t want to go because of Jenny,’ and that would mean telling Beth that she was gay, which wasn’t very high on her list of conversations she wanted to have tonight.

Once they got home, Sam got out of the car and grabbed her backpack. She didn’t wait for Beth, just headed into the house and went upstairs to drop her backpack in her room. She took a minute to change clothes, figuring Beth wouldn’t want sand or the faint smell of high-end pot on the furniture, then headed back downstairs.

Beth was waiting for her in the living room with a couple of bottles of water, and a thing of brownies from the store. Sam felt her stomach sink at the sight. She loved brownies, and Beth knew it; she always used them when she was trying to soften the blow from bad news. She sat down and opened the water bottle, taking a sip before she grabbed one of the brownies, eating it slowly while her mother waited. Once she finished it, she washed it down with a little more water, then looked at her mom.

“Okay, what’s the bad news?” she asked. Beth took a deep breath, and Sam braced herself, because the news must be really, really bad.

“Sweetheart, you know I love you, and you know I only want what’s best for you. I know you don’t want to go off-world, that you’ve been planning on getting an apartment with Jenny and going to MIT. I understand wanting to be with your friend, I do, but I really believe that getting an off-world education is the best thing for you.”

“I know, Mom,” Sam said. This was going to be worse than she thought.

“I got the call from the broker today, and the people who are offering you the off-world education want an in-person meeting.”

“Okay. What’s the catch?”

“They want you to come to their planet. They’ve already booked passage for you and me on the next transport. It’s a four-week round trip.”

Sam winced. That would eat up almost half of her summer. If she wasn’t going to school with Jenny in the fall, that meant they wouldn’t get a lot of time together.

“When do we leave, and when do we come back?” she asked.

“If you make it through the face-to-face meeting, you won't come back. You’d stay there.”

Sam thought about it for a moment. That made sense. No use paying for two trips. That would mean even less time with Jenny, though, and she hated the idea.

“When do we leave?” she asked again, sure she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Monday morning.”

Sam stared at Beth for a minute, not quite able to believe what she’d just heard.

“No. No. You can’t be serious! The Baja trip starts Monday.”

“I know.”

“We’ve been planning this for ages! We paid in advance! We bought portal tokens!”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

Sam stood up. “You’re sorry, but not sorry enough to tell them we need to take a later flight.”

“They want you there as soon as possible. Sweetheart, I know this trip is important to you, but this is your future we’re talking about.”

“My future? I’ve done nothing but worry about my future for the last four years! I’ve done everything you asked. Took every extra class. Gave up every summer for summer school or an internship. Took night classes. Took online classes. Took dual enrollment classes. Signed up for the soccer team and the swim team and the academic decathlon. Went to every science fair, every open house. I have letters of recommendation from a dozen teachers. I’m seventeen years old, but between AP classes and dual enrollment, I’m halfway through a college degree, and I’ve never even been on a goddamned date, all because you are so worried about my future! I’ve been looking forward to this trip for a year and a half, and you promised me that I could go! You promised!”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t! You don’t have any fucking clue what you’re asking me to give up!”

“Sam—”

“Don’t! Just…Fuck it. No. I’m not going!”

“Sam, you need to think about your future.”

“I am sick to fucking death of thinking about the fucking future! That’s all you’ve let me do for four fucking years and I hate it. I don’t want to go off-world. I want to go to Baja on Monday. I want to spend the week surfing and getting drunk on cheap Mexican beer and being with Jenny. I want to spend the summer being the teenager you never let me be. I want to go to MIT and get an apartment with Jenny and spend the next four years doing all the stupid shit that college kids do. I want to go to a frat party, I want to go to class wearing sunglasses because I’m hung over, I want to go on dates and go to an all-night diner at four in the morning because the club I was at closed down and I want a milkshake and fries.”

Beth just stared at her after she finished ranting. Sam knew she was giving her a minute to calm down, and it just pissed her off that much more, because she didn’t want to be calm. She wanted to yell and throw things, but Beth just sat there, not giving her an excuse. Finally, it got to be too much. Sam couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t just stand there stewing in her anger, so she turned and stormed out of the room.

***

Three hours, a crying jag, and two long showers later, Sam was lying in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She wanted nothing more than to crawl out of the window and find Jenny, then just run away together and never come back. They could go to the bank first thing in the morning and empty her college account, then use the portal tokens to go to Baja and just stay there forever. Be beach bums for the rest of their lives. Surf and make love and forget the rest of the world exists.

It was a stupid fantasy, something she knew she’d never do, but at the same time, she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. For four years, all she’d done was work and slave and obsess over being the perfect student Beth wanted her to be, and she’d been able to do it because there was an end in sight. Graduation. The day she could finally rest. The Baja trip wasn’t just a vacation. It was a chance to be free, to live for something other than the next quiz or test or paper or group project.

And now, Beth wanted to take that away from her, too.

She heard the knock on the door and ignored it. She didn’t want to hear what Beth had to say. She’d heard enough, and she was done. She wasn’t going. She refused. She had given up too much. She wasn’t giving Jenny up as well.

She heard Beth drag the chair over from the desk to a spot next to the bed, but she didn’t look at her.

“Sam, I need you to listen to me.”

Sam rolled over, turning her back on Beth.

“Maybe you’re right,” Beth said. “Maybe I don’t understand everything I’m asking you to give up. I love you, but I know we’re not as close as I wish we were, and I know there are parts of your life you don’t share with me. I wish that were different. I really do. And I know you want to stay here, I know you want to be with your friend, and to be honest, I don’t want to send you off-world. I hate the idea of you leaving, of not being able to pick up the phone and call you, or pop through a portal and visit. I hate the idea of not being a regular part of your life, of you not coming home for the holidays. I don’t want you to go.

“I love you, and the idea of sending you two thousand light years away is horrifying to me. But part of being a parent is making decisions that are best for your child, even if they hurt you. And sending you off-world is the best thing I can do for you.”

“Why?” Sam asked. She rolled over so she could look at Beth. “Why is it so important?”

“Do you remember all those books I made you read? The ones about colonialism and the impact on the native populations?”

“Yes,” Sam said. She remembered them a little too vividly. Especially the ones on King Leopold’s Congo and the Sepoy Mutiny. She’d had nightmares after reading the one on the Congo.

“Do you understand that Earth is being colonized?”

Sam sat up. “Of course,” she said. “But it’s not like those books.”

“Sweetheart, I wish that were true, but colonization doesn’t always start with murder and slavery, and it doesn’t always end with things like the Haitian Independence Debt, or South African Apartheid. That doesn’t make the outcome any less ugly for the people who have to live through it. The Gatekeepers didn’t ask if we wanted to be connected to their gate network. They just showed up. The Hegemony didn’t ask if we wanted them here, they just showed up. We didn’t have the power or the technology to say no to either of them, and I don’t like to think about what would have happened if we tried. Things haven’t gotten violent yet, but unemployment is skyrocketing because alien tech is putting people out of work, inflation is killing the economy, and people are starting to get desperate. There are already anti-alien groups popping up. It’s only a matter of time before there’s violence, and when the violence comes, I don’t know what will happen.

“But I do know that I don’t want you to be one of the desperate people. I’m sending you off-world to get an education because when you come back, if you come back, you’ll have skills the aliens value. You’ll be able to find work in one of those alien towers. You’ll be able to support yourself instead of ending up in the same welfare line that I’m going to end up in.”

“But you have a good job.”

“For now, but sooner or later, either inflation will put the company I work for out of business, or the trade restrictions will be lifted, and people won’t have to settle for the scraps we can reverse engineer. Either way, once the trade restrictions are lifted, no one is going to buy human-made technology anymore. Not when they can get better, cheaper gear from aliens. I’m not sure how much longer we have, but between inflation and alien goods coming onto the market, I’ll be out of work within ten years. We can live on my savings for a while. I converted my savings, investments, and retirement accounts to Hegemony credits years ago, but without a steady income, I don’t know how long we’ll be able to last before we end up on welfare. That’s why I’ve been so desperate to send you off-world, because I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Sam sat there, completely stunned by what she’d just heard. She knew the unemployment situation was bad—it was all over the news and social media—but she had no idea it was as bad as Beth was saying. She thought about the books Beth had made her read, about how bad things got for the locals, and it made her shudder. If that was what Beth was afraid of, if that was what Beth was trying to protect her from, then maybe she should go. She knew Jenny would be angry with her, but if she could go, and get through school, she could come back for her. She could find a good job, one that could protect them, or maybe she could even take Jenny and Beth off-world before things got bad.

“Sweetheart, there’s something else.”

“What?” Sam asked, not sure she wanted to hear it.

“The application I had you submit…I lied about it. It wasn’t for a scholarship.”

“What was it for?”

“An arranged marriage.”

“What?” she asked, sure she’d heard her wrong, because Beth couldn’t be saying what Sam thought she was saying.

“An arranged marriage. The family is paying to have you travel to their planet so the two of you can meet.”

“Are you…you…no.” Sam shook her head. “No…”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“I…”

Sam sat there, trying to say something, trying to respond, but she couldn’t find any words, couldn’t form a response, because she couldn’t believe what Beth had said. She couldn’t believe that, after telling her over and over again that she wanted what was best for her, that Beth would force her to marry an alien she never met. It didn’t make sense.

“I know it sounds terrible, but these people, the Sionnach, believe in long engagements. Five years. You’ll go there, you’ll meet him, and the two of you will spend a few hours getting to know each other. Then if both of you consent to the arrangement, you’ll get engaged. Once you’re engaged, the two of you will live together in his family’s House for the next five years. You’ll be treated as a full member of the family, given a formal education, an allowance, clothes, food. Everything you need. Then, at the end of the five years, each of you will be given a chance to opt out of the engagement. If you opt out, you’ll be given a small sum of money, and the family will pay for your passage to anywhere in the Hegemony.”

Sam didn’t say anything. She just sat there, staring at Beth in disbelief. She could see Beth’s thinking and could follow the logic. Beth thought she could go, get engaged, get the education and other benefits, and when the time came, walk away from the engagement.

The really shitty part of it was, it made sense. It was a chance to get an off-world education. A chance to make sure she had a secure future. A chance to make sure she could take care of Beth if what she thought would happen actually happened. Maybe even a chance to make things better for everyone on Earth. Sam hated the idea, because she would be making a promise that she had no intention of keeping. Just the thought left her feeling dirty, but did she really have the right to say no when saying yes could help so many people? Even if she only ended up supporting herself and Beth, wasn’t that worth a few years of her life?

She would be giving up so much, though, and that didn’t even get into the fact that she’d be engaged to a man. And not just a man, to an alien that she’d never met before. She’d have to give up Jenny, have to give up the identity she was just starting to get comfortable with, have to give up her freedom for five years, and have to give up on the part of her that said that you don’t make promises that you don’t plan on keeping. Something Beth had drummed into her from a young age.

“Sam, please,” Beth said. “Just go and meet him. If you get there, and you hate him, and you decide to come home, I won’t say another word, but just go and meet him.”

Sam closed her eyes, trying to hold back tears, because she already knew that she would stay if she went at all. She didn’t want to go, but hearing Beth beg, hearing the situation laid out in such stark terms, hearing the fear in Beth’s voice, all made her think that she should go. Not just for her sake, but for Beth’s. And maybe for Jenny, too. Maybe she could come back and find her again, and they could still have a life together. A better life than they would have if she didn’t leave.

She didn’t really believe it. She knew Jenny too well. If she went, Jenny would never forgive her, but she had to cling to the hope that maybe she was wrong, maybe Jenny would understand. Five years wasn’t that long. Not really.

She took a deep breath. “I’ll go,” she said. “But you have to pay Jenny back for her half of the Baja trip.”

“I can do that,” Beth said.

Sam lay back down on her bed and closed her eyes.

“I’d like to be alone,” she said.

“Okay,” Beth said. She got up and put the chair back where it belonged, then left without another word.

Chapter Three

ORLA COULD’T KEEP THE smile off their face. Samantha was arriving today, and they hadn’t been this excited in years. Neesa would be meeting Samantha and her mother at the spaceport once their shuttle landed, and Orla had spent most of the day checking the arrangements, making sure everything was perfect for their First Meeting. They had paid a hefty sum to have an assortment of human foods shipped in on a rush delivery and had tried to make sure the house was well stocked with everything Samantha had listed on their application, as well as a few things the cultural database had listed as staple foods from her region of the planet. They’d also loaded all of the books, video dramas, and music Samantha had listed into the House library so they would be available for her at a moment’s notice.

Orla wanted today to go well. It was commonly said that the First Meeting set the tone for the entire courtship and marriage, and they very much wanted to show Samantha that they could be a good mate. They were especially worried because the cultural database said that Samantha’s culture did not normally participate in arranged marriages, instead letting individuals find their own mates. On the one hand, it seemed dreadfully inefficient to Orla, laying all of that responsibility on the shoulders of someone so young. On the other hand, the idea was enticing because of the freedom it offered. But right now, their opinion of it didn’t matter. It was the norm for Samantha’s culture, which meant Orla would have to go out of their way to make a good first impression not just with Samantha’s parent, but with Samantha herself.

They knew that they were, perhaps, being a little ridiculous, but they couldn’t help it. In the time between telling their parents that Samantha was their first and only choice and now, they had spent most of their free time studying humans. They were a strange species, no doubt, but the more Orla learned about them, the more they were convinced that they’d made the right choice in selecting Samantha. Humans were a young and vigorous species from a world that would give most of the Hegemony nightmares. An axial tilt that gave rise to harsh seasons, a frightening number of active volcanoes, massive seasonal storms capable of leveling entire cities, frequent tectonic shifts, and an almost incomprehensible variety of lethal flora and fauna. Earth was, by most species’ standards, a hell world, and yet humans talked about it as if it were a paradise. Not surprising, really, given that humans seemed to all be a bit mad. Their food alone was proof of that. Orla had been worried that they wouldn’t be able to get any of the food they had ordered through customs, because almost all of it included at last one sort of toxin. It seemed humans used poisons to flavor their food with the same carelessness that they did everything else.

But it was that very recklessness that made Orla think they had chosen well. Talamh was not a world for the faint of heart. By most world’s standards, the gravity was crushingly high, and the metal content in the environment was also extremely high. Samantha would need a few gene tweaks, some cybernetic assistance, and some growth accelerants to adapt, but that hardly mattered. What did matter was that Samantha was already used to living on a world that would kill you without the slightest hesitation and had a frighteningly high number of ways to do it. In fact, humans seemed to enjoy seeking out ways their world could deliver a painful and messy end, and then delighted in tempting their world to do just that.

It was, perhaps, a romantic notion, but humans reminded Orla a bit of the heroes from the old sagas. Fearless people who faced death and danger at every turn and seemed to hardly notice as they struggled towards some goal. They could almost picture Samantha with a spear and shield, standing before some horrible monster, ready to slay it. Orla told themself again and again to rein in their expectations, but they couldn’t help it. They were excited to meet Samantha, to see the person who had submitted such a bold application, the person who smiled and laughed and surfed and played soccer and built robots, and would be one of the first of their people to set foot on Talamh.

***

Sam took a seat at the very front of the landing shuttle so she could see out of the large view port. It wasn’t every day you got a front row seat for landing on an alien planet, and she didn’t want to miss it. Especially considering what she’d given up to be there.

The fight with Jenny had been vicious. She honestly hadn’t expected anything less, but it was still horrible. Jenny had been her best friend since their first day of kindergarten, and Sam had been in love with her almost that long. Hearing Jenny say she never wanted to see her again was probably the worst moment of her life.

Sam barely remembered the next few days. Graduation was a blur, and she’d refused to let her mom take her out to celebrate afterwards. She’d gone home and spent the whole night crying. The next two days were taken up with packing. Not that it actually took that much time to pack. The instruction sheet that came with the invitation specified that she should only pack enough clothes for the trip, and that if the engagement proceeded, she would be provided with a new wardrobe. She would be provided with a new computer as well, so she only needed to bring what she would require during transit. Otherwise, her personal effects would be collected and transported after the engagement was finalized.

Her first clear memory after the fight with Jenny had been seeing the shuttle for the first time. Seeing it had driven home that this was really happening, that she was really traveling to another planet to get engaged to some rich alien guy. The thought still made her sick to her stomach, but she’d marched onto the shuttle with her mom, and she’d picked a seat at the front then, too. She’d watched as the shuttle lifted and flew into space to dock with the transport that would take them to Talamh.

She hadn’t spoken to Beth since they arrived on the transport. She was surprised at how angry she was, once the stupor had passed. Angry with Beth for doing this to her. Angry with herself for not fighting harder, for listening to Beth’s concern and logic, and doing what she always did and doing exactly what Beth wanted. Somehow, when it came to her mom, it never seemed to matter how angry she was, or how much she didn’t want to do what Beth wanted. In the end, Beth always got her way, because in the end, Sam always agreed to whatever she asked. This time, more than any other time, Sam hated herself for it.

Not speaking to Beth was made a lot easier by the fact that she had her own stateroom. Her fiancé-to-be was apparently loaded. The ‘transport’ was some sort of luxury liner that would have put any cruise ship on Earth to shame. Beth was in a first-class suite, and Sam was in a diplomatic stateroom. She had a robot at her beck and call that would get her anything she asked for, and the ship was apparently well stocked with human food. The robot took her measurements the first day and provided her with formal wear. She and Beth had been invited to the Captain’s table every night. She had mostly just listened as Beth had carried on a conversation with the Captain, soaking up as much information as possible.

The trip from Earth to Talamh required ten gate transits and took a total of about fourteen days. It wasn’t the most direct route, but the transport had six stops to make along the way. By the time the transport had finally arrived, Sam had seen seven planets from orbit, including Earth. Talamh made eight. She was glad of the time, though. She spent every day going through the cultural database, reading up on everything she could about Talamh and the Sionnach.

Talamh was considered a particularly brutal world by Hegemony standards. The gravity was high, almost twenty percent higher than Earth’s. The planet was locked in a 3/2 orbital resonance with its star, meaning that it had three local days every two local years. The exact length of the day varied based on where in the three-two cycle the planet was, but three local days came out to about a hundred and eighty Earth days. The planet had no axial tilt and maintained an average temperature of roughly fifteen degrees Celsius. The environment was contaminated with heavy metals such as lead and uranium, atmospheric oxygen levels were incredibly high, and the whole planet was teeming with megafauna, insects of up to three meters in size, dinosaurs, actual fire-breathing dragons, and other sort of nightmare creatures, including a large variety of carnivorous plants.

She’d been a bit shocked when she got to the section on what the Sionnach referred to as The Impact. One of their orbital habitats had been hit by an object moving at nearly one percent of light speed. No one was sure what it was. There were theories that ran from a bit of hull plating that had broken off a starship to a stray mass accelerator round, but in the end, it didn’t really matter. The habitat had been almost three hundred miles in length, and over half of it had fallen into the atmosphere. Entire cities had been wiped out, both by the initial impacts, and by the subsequent environmental upheaval. Nearly eighty percent of the Sionnach had been dead within a week, and by the time relief efforts could be organized, another ten percent of their pre-impact population was dead.

The Sionnach government, fearing a genetic bottleneck that would result in a severe weakening of the species, had mandated that one out of every four children would receive what they called a Genetic Diversity Token, which meant they were required to choose a mate from off-world. Either from one of the handful of Sionnach colonies, or from a species that was genetically compatible. It wasn’t much, but it did make her a little less angry at her soon-to-be fiancé, knowing he was just as trapped by circumstances as she was.

She glanced over as she heard someone approaching and saw her mom, who somehow managed to look both worried and apologetic at the same time.

“Do you mind if I sit with you, sweetheart?” Beth asked.

She considered saying she did mind, that she wanted to be alone, but it seemed small and petty, especially considering that if things went the way she expected, she wouldn’t see her again for at least five years.

“Go ahead,” she said. Beth took the seat next to her, and once she sat down, her mom reached out and took Sam’s hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“I am sorry,” Beth said.

“I know,” Sam said. “I’m just…I’m not ready to forgive you yet.”

“That’s okay,” Beth said. “Take all the time you need.”

It was a nice thought, but the truth was, they didn’t have a lot of time. In a couple of hours, she’d know, one way or the other, whether she was staying on Talamh or going back to Earth. Not that there was a lot of doubt as to which way it would go.

There was a small alarm and an announcement in an alien language. A moment later, the earpiece she was wearing translated it as a warning that the shuttle was about to launch. She reached down and pressed the button to activate her gravity harness, and it felt like the room shifted and she was on her back, the gravity generator in the seat holding her firmly to it.

“Here we go,” Beth said.

Sam didn’t reply, just kept her eyes on the view out of the shuttle’s front window. A moment later, the hangar wall in front of them was suddenly moving up as they were dropped out of the transport. The shuttle nosed down once they were clear, and Sam felt her breath catch at the sight in front of her. Talamh was a beautiful world, but very different from Earth. There were no ice caps, and instead of green, the land was covered with a deep red. The oceans themselves were green, rather than blue, and white, fluffy clouds floated over land and sea alike.

The shuttle’s engines kicked in, and Sam gripped the arms of her chair as they headed for the planet, fear warring with amazement as they plummeted towards the world that was going to be her new home.

***

The first thing Sam noticed when she stepped off the shuttle was the gravity. She’d braced herself as best as she could to feel the heavier gravity of Talamh, which turned out to be a mistake because she nearly launched herself down the ramp when she took her first step. The gravity was much lower even than the transport, which had already been about ten percent less than Earth. It only took her a moment to realize they must be keeping the gravity lower to accommodate aliens. She was impressed by both the technology and the foresight that went into that, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it because the second thing she noticed was the Sionnach themselves.

She had seen a number of pictures of the Sionnach over the last two weeks. One of the first things she had done when she started researching them was look up pictures and anatomical diagrams. The lack of gendered pronouns in any of the information about them had made her wonder if they were hermaphroditic, but they had males and females that were built along the same lines as humans. The pictures, however, didn’t really prepare her for seeing a Sionnach face-to-face.

Overall, the Sionnach were one of the closer species to humans in terms of appearance, which made the differences stand out that much more. The first Sionnach she saw as she exited the shuttle was a tall, wiry woman with a thick mane of lustrous snow-white hair. Person. A tall, wiry person, Sam reminded herself, since the Sionnach didn’t use gendered language. The person had two tall, pointed ears that poked out of the hair high on their head. The back of each ear was covered with short black fur, and the inside was a light shade of pink, and Sam could see thin wisps of hair inside. The nose didn’t flare out like a human’s did, instead simply narrowing down to a tip covered in black, leathery skin like a dog or a cat. Their hands also stood out. They had five fingers, but the fingers were a bit longer than they would be on a human, and there were thick pads on the tip of each finger and the palm, like the pads on a cat’s paw. Then there were the eyes. The irises looked like burnished gold, and had closed in slits like cat’s eyes. The person was absolutely beautiful, and Sam was reminded of an arctic fox she’d seen once at the zoo.

Most of the other passengers from the shuttle were filing past Sam and her mom, headed for the customs station, but the instructions they’d been given said to wait once they exited the shuttle and they would be met, and it seemed like the white-haired Sionnach was the one meeting them, because they started towards them as soon as they saw them. They stopped a few steps away and looked right at Sam.

“Samantha Elizabeth Murray?” the white-haired Sionnach asked.

“Yes,” Sam said. “But please, call me Sam.”

“Very well. Welcome to Talamh. I am Neesa Cineal. I come on behalf of my nibling to escort you and your family to meet them,” Neesa said in lightly-accented English. They looked past Sam. “This is your parent?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “My mother, Beth Murray.”

“I am pleased to meet you. I do hope you will forgive my nibling for sending me to greet you rather than their parents. They thought I would be able to make you more comfortable, since I have more experience in dealing with members of other species than my sibling and their spouse.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said, feeling a little bit impressed that her future fiancé would defy what was apparently a tradition in an effort to make her more comfortable. “That’s actually very thoughtful of hi—of them.” She winced slightly at the last-minute correction, hoping she didn’t offend her future…in-law. Getting used to genderless language was going to be a bit of a struggle. Fortunately, Neesa didn’t seem to notice.

“They are very excited to meet you,” Neesa said. “They’ve done nothing for laethantas but double check arrangements and worry that you will be disappointed with them.”

Sam forced herself to smile, even as she felt a knot of guilt settle in her stomach. The person she was getting engaged to was taking this seriously, wanted this, and Sam was walking into the situation with the intention of not following through. She felt another surge of anger at Beth for putting her into this situation, but she forced herself to respond with what she hoped was the right answer.

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

Neesa smiled at her, and Sam was relieved that she’d apparently said the right thing.

“Come. We have to move quickly if we are to arrive on time.”

Neesa turned and led them in a different direction than the customs station. They approached a guarded door, but the guard simply waved them through. They followed Neesa down a long hallway to a room where six other Sionnach were waiting. One of them greeted Neesa in what Sam assumed was the local language, and Neesa replied before turning back to face Sam and her mom.

“This area of the facility is environmentally sealed to prevent metal contamination. Before we can proceed outside, you’ll need to be inoculated against the environmental contaminants your biology can not process. The inoculation is short term. It will last roughly six of your months. If Sam decides to enter the betrothal, they will receive a more permanent procedure. You’ll also be taught our language, and each be given a gravity nullifier harness which will reduce the felt gravity to that of Terra so that you can move around easily and without fear of gravity related injury.”

“Taught your language?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Neesa said. “We have devices which allow for the rapid infusion of knowledge and certain skills.”

“Are you sure that’s safe for humans?” Beth asked.

“Of course,” Neesa said. “I checked, and it’s been tested on your species and is in regular use for humans who travel off your homeworld. All the procedures the two of you will undergo, and everything that will be done to Sam to allow them to adapt to the environment if they choose to enter the betrothal, has been tested and certified for your species. My nibling would have my ears if I allowed any harm to come to either of you. Especially to Sam.”

Sam felt the guilt gnaw at her again. She pushed it down as she took one of the indicated seats, which looked a bit like a salon hair dryer chair. As soon as she sat down, two of the Sionnach approached her. One of them lowered a large dome over her head while the other pressed a device to her neck. She felt a brief sting, and then the one who pressed the device to her neck flicked their ears at the one who’d lowered the hood. The one who lowered the hood looked down at her.

“This has been known to give members of your species a slight headache. If it does, we have analgesics for you.”

“Okay,” Sam said. The Sionnach must have activated the machine at that point, because the whole world went dark for what could have been just a moment, or several hours. In the dark, she had no way to keep track of time. She was lost and overwhelmed by words and sounds, meanings and subtleties, slang and vernacular, context and inference, tone and stress, rhythm and meter.

When she opened her eyes again, there was a gentle throbbing behind them, and the Sionnach who’d put the hood over her head was standing there.

“Do you need the analgesic?”

Sam nodded, and the Sionnach pressed a device to her neck. She felt a small sting, and a moment later, the pounding in her head subsided.

“Thank you,” she said, except the words didn’t come out in English. They came out in the same Sionnach language she had heard Neesa and the others speaking before. It took a moment before she realized that the question about whether she wanted the painkiller had been asked in the same language, and only a moment later Sam realized she wasn’t even thinking in English.

She looked up at the Sionnach who’d put the hood on them, and they smiled down at her. “You will be able to speak your language again in a few noimeads. When the machine is used, the new neural pathways that are formed overwhelm the mind for a brief time, but the effect should wear off by the time you reach the parking garage.”

Sam nodded and looked over at Beth.

“Are you okay?” Beth asked in the Sionnach language. Oriad, Sam’s brain supplied. The language was called Oriad. Beth reached up, touching her fingers to their lips. “That’s going to take some getting used to.” She turned back to Neesa. “We could use those on Earth,” Beth said. “Can you imagine how much time we’d save, being able to train people for new jobs at the touch of a button?”

“You would be disappointed,” Neesa said. “The teaching machines are very good at imparting knowledge, but one must still take the time to learn to apply that knowledge. Languages are something of a special case, because the words and concepts can be directly mapped to a skill set you already have. Entirely new skills take less time than they otherwise would, but they are not instant.”

Beth still looked thoughtful, but Neesa didn’t give her time for any more inquiries.

“Come, let’s get you fitted for your gravity nullifiers.”

***

Sorcha sighed as they closed the last spreadsheet and submitted their audit for first labor. They’d flagged two transports for customs inspection based on irregular fuel consumption. Both of them were almost certainly carrying contraband, and they tried their best to focus on the bounties they would pick up for catching them, but all they could think about was the fact that if everything was going according to schedule, Orla and Samantha Elizabeth Murray would be having their First Meeting soon.

They should be happy for Orla, they knew they should, but instead, all they felt was pain. Sorcha tried to tell themself that they were being ridiculous. Even if Orla hadn’t gotten the token, or if they had found someone else to take it, there was no guarantee that Orla’s parents would allow a match. An alliance between House Leargas and House Grasta would be profitable, but Sorcha was a fifth child. A match wouldn’t carry the weight that a first child match would. It didn’t stop Sorcha from dreaming, though.

Sorcha deactivated their Aug as a bot floated into the room, carrying their lunch. They laughed when they saw what the bot had brought. Gabhar skewers with glasfuar sauce, pratamilis strips, and gromtor juice. Orla’s favorite. It was like the universe was mocking them.

They stood up and took the plate from the bot, then headed for their garden. Maybe a little puttering around with their plants would take their mind off Orla and their human. And if that didn’t work, they could always drown themselves in one of the nutrient tanks.

***

Sam did her best not to gawk as Neesa led them through the halls that connected the air-car parking garage with her soon-to-be fiancé’s residence. They lived on the top floor of the tallest building in the city, and each time they passed one of the massive picture windows, Sam felt her breath catch at the view. Chathair was a beautiful city, but what really caught her attention were the forests in the distance. She knew the local flora and fauna were dangerous, but she found herself daydreaming of camping out there under the red canopy, exploring a whole new world.

“How far are we from the nearest ocean?” she asked as they passed another window.

“About a hundred of your kilometers. It’s just a few noimeads by air-car,” Neesa answered.

“Are the waters there safe for swimming?”

“As safe as can be. We do have a few aquatic mega-predators in the oceans, but they mostly keep to the deeps.”

Sam caught her mom rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Ocean nearby, no sharks or shark equivalents. She’d need to check for rip currents and wave heights, but maybe she could get a surfboard made up. She’d have to check to see if she needed to get the board made bigger because of the higher gravity, but if the allowance was as generous as her mom made it sound, she could work out the differences, and might actually get some surfing in.

Neesa stopped in front of the doorway and placed their hand on a palm scanner. A moment later, the door slid open, and Neesa led them inside and down a hallway to another room. Three Sionnach were waiting inside. One was another woman with the same white hair and black ears as Neesa, though a bit shorter. Next to her sat a man with orange hair and black ears. The white-haired woman and the orange haired man sat on one of several couches in the room, all of which were arranged in a ring. On another couch sat a woman with silver hair and orange ears, who turned and smiled at Neesa.

Sam gave herself a mental kick as she realized she’d been using gendered language again. Her English had come back to her on the flight to the tower, and she was beginning to wish it had waited a few hours. This was going to be harder than she thought, given how used to thinking in terms of gender she was.

“Fiadh!” Neesa said. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Things on Jami went more quickly than I expected,” the silver haired Sionnach, Fiadh, said. “I landed shortly after you left for the space port.”

“It is good to see you,” Neesa said.

“Likewise, you,” Fiadh said.

Neesa turned back to Sam and her mom. “Forgive me for my breach of manners. It’s been several of your weeks since I’ve seen my spouse, and I expected it to be several more.”

Sam looked over at Fiadh, trying to hide her shock that Neesa was married to a woman. Then immediately kicked herself for the gendered language. She’d assumed that since the Sionnach practiced arranged marriages, the marriages would be opposite sex only, but if their language didn’t have a concept of gender, it kind of made sense that a person’s sex wouldn’t be a factor in choosing a mate. She glanced over at Beth, trying to gauge her reaction. Beth was clearly surprised, but didn’t seem angry at all, which she guessed was a good sign.

“It’s okay,” Sam said, before things could get awkward. “I’m sorry that this will keep you away from them when you should be celebrating their return home.”

“You’re too kind,” Neesa said. They gestured to the other white-haired Sionnach. “This is my sibling Nuala and their spouse Tadgh.”

“Greetings,” Nuala said as they and Tadgh rose from the couch. “Welcome to House Leargas. You are Samantha Elizabeth Murray?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “Though I prefer to be called Sam.”

“Very well.”

“This is my parent, Beth Murray.”

Nuala turned toward Beth. “We thank you for coming, and for offering your child for betrothal. We hope your journey was comfortable.”

“Very,” Beth said. “And I thank you for the chance to be here.”

Nuala smiled and bowed slightly. “I am glad your journey was comfortable, but I cannot accept your thanks. It should be directed to our child. They were most enthusiastic in their selection of Sam as their preferred candidate.”

A smile spread across Beth’s face, and she gave Sam a hopeful look. Sam forced herself to smile back.

“If you will excuse me,” Neesa said, cutting into the conversation, “I will go let my nibling know you are here.”

“Please,” Nuala said. “Before they make the bots burn out a processor with their fretting.”

Neesa chuckled and gave Sam a small bow before they turned and headed back the way they came.

“Please, Beth, have a seat,” Nuala said, gesturing to one of the couches. Beth accepted the invitation and sat down. Nuala gestured to another empty couch. “And you, Sam, please sit as well.”

Sam took a seat and watched as Nuala sat back down. Nuala was every bit as beautiful as Neesa, though Nuala’s build was less lean and wiry. Sam could see the resemblance in features easily enough, though. Fiadh wasn’t hard to look at either, and Sam wondered if everyone on the planet was beautiful, or if it was just because the family had money and could spend it to keep up their appearance.

“So,” Nuala said. “I am afraid that I don’t know much of your world. I know that it was only connected to the gate network twenty blianas ago, and that you’re not yet incorporated into the Hegemony.”

“That’s right,” Beth said. “Ten of our local years. Things have been a bit strained since contact, if I’m honest. Technology has been pouring into the planet faster than our social structures can adapt. It’s one of the reasons I encouraged Sam to submit an application.”

“That’s always a bit of a problem when the Hegemony encounters less technologically advanced species,” Fiadh said.

Beth nodded and shifted her attention from Nuala to Fiadh. “Neesa said that they were sent to meet us because they have more experience dealing with other species. Do you spend a lot of time off world, too?”

“Yes,” Fiadh said. “Neesa and I run House Cineal’s interstellar trade operations.”

“Not House Leargas?” Sam asked.

“House Leargas doesn’t have any interstellar trade operations,” Nuala said. “That’s the reason Tadgh and I married. House Leargas is primarily focused on research and manufacturing. They needed ships to move their goods off world. House Cineal owns the largest Sionnach merchant fleet. It was a good match. We had hoped to pair our child with a House that deals in mineral extraction, but they received a diversity token at birth, so they were required to seek a bond mate from off-world.”

“Nuala!” Fiadh said. “You’re being rude.”

“What?” Nuala asked.

“Forgive them,” Fiadh said to Sam. “Our people are rather direct, and some of us forget that outsiders are sometimes not used to that.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “I know it can be hard when you have to change your plans because of circumstances. I’m sure Nuala simply wanted what’s best for their child and family.”

Fiadh smiled at her. “You are a thoughtful one, aren’t you?” They turned towards Nuala. “I told you Orla would pick well when the time came.”

“You did,” Nuala said.

“You can hardly blame us for worrying,” Tadgh said. “They are impulsive and undisciplined.”

“And Neesa and I have told you that if you’re unhappy with Orla, we’d be happy to have them.”

Fiadh turned back to Sam. “Don’t let them worry you. Orla is a delight, honestly. Nuala and Tadgh are just grumpy because Neesa and I taught Orla what fun is.”

“Fiadh!” Nuala snapped. “You will give them the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea would that be?” Neesa asked as they walked through the door. A girl followed them through the door a moment later, and Sam felt her breath catch. The girl—the person, Sam corrected, had orange hair, but it was more of a rust color than Tadgh’s hair. Their ears were covered in sleek black fur, with white tufts inside, and their eyes were a deep reddish brown. They had the same black nose as all the other Sionnach Sam had seen, but there was a large pink spot on the left-hand side. They were clearly related to Neesa and Nuala. The resemblance was strong, but where Neesa’s features made them look tough and wiry, and Nuala’s made them look soft and round, this person’s features were fine and delicate, almost ethereal. And the lips. God, the lips. They were so soft and pink and just a little puffy, and Sam dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand to stop herself from whimpering.

This was bad. This was so bad. This person was probably her soon to be fiancé’s sibling. She could not spend the next five years drooling over her fiancé’s sibling. Someone would notice, or she would do something stupid like get drunk and kiss those lips and dear God, she was in so, so much trouble.

She was so stunned by the sight of them that she barely heard the words that sealed her fate.

“Greetings, Sam,” the person said. “I am Orla.”

“Oh,” Sam said. Not her fiancé’s sibling, then.

Orla frowned, and tilted their head slightly, and Sam wanted to kick herself for being an idiot. She stood up as fast as she could and walked over to them.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

Orla’s eyes turned towards her as the corners of their mouth lifted just slightly. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” they asked.

“It’s a very good thing,” Sam said.

The grin on Orla’s face was replaced by a huge smile, and Sam thought for a moment that her heart was going to stop. Orla bowed to them, then turned to their parents.

“With your permission, we’ll begin now.”

“Of course,” Nuala said. “We’ll see you in two uairs.”

Orla turned back to her. “This way.”

Sam nodded and followed Orla out of the room without another word.

Chapter Four

SAM FOLLOWED ORLA DOWN the hall in a bit of a daze until they reached another room similar to the one that they had just come from. This one was smaller, with only two couches, and had doors that could be closed. Sam waited as Orla gestured to one of the couches, and Sam sat as Orla closed the door, then sat down on the couch opposite her.

“Would you prefer to speak in English or in Oriad?” Orla asked.

“Would you mind if we spoke in English?”

“Of course not,” Orla said in a lightly-accented English. “Are you hungry? I’ve read that human courting usually starts with a meal, and I’ve had some of the foods you mentioned on your application imported so you’d be more comfortable here if you decide to proceed with the engagement.”

“Wow,” Sam said. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“It’s considered both a duty and an honor among my people to take care of our spouse. I know that this isn’t how your people normally choose their mates. If we proceed, you would be moving to a new world, adapting to a new culture, giving up your home and way of life for my benefit, but I don’t want this to be a one-sided arrangement. I want you to be comfortable here. I want our bonding to benefit you as much as it does me, and while most of my people would consider that enough, I don’t. I want you to be happy here. I have no wish for our bonding to be simply a chore or a duty. I wish for a match like my entle Neesa and their spouse Fiadh. They find joy in each other’s company. They are friends, as well as spouses, but they will both tell you that a relationship like that is something which takes effort from them. It requires compassion, empathy, and consideration. I know that studying your culture and biology and tending your basic needs are not all I will need to do, but it gave me a place to start until I learn what other things you need from me.”

Sam stared at Orla for a moment, stunned by what she had just heard. The guilt she had felt since she’d agreed to this settled in her stomach like a stone, killing her appetite and leaving her vaguely nauseous. Orla was not at all what she had expected. She had been waiting to meet a spoiled, pampered, snobbish rich boy. The kind of boys she’d run into from the prep schools near where she lived. Orla was nothing like that. They seemed kind, considerate, and more concerned for Sam’s happiness than Sam’s own mother.

It was strange, because Sam knew Beth wanted what was best for her. She cared about her wellbeing deeply, but that wasn’t the same thing as caring about her happiness. Beth had put her in this situation because she wanted Sam to have financial security and social status, because she believed that was the way to ensure she had the best life possible, but she had trampled over Sam’s wants and desires more times than Sam could count in an effort to secure those things. Here was a perfect stranger going out of their way to see to it that Sam’s happiness was seen to, and not just her wellbeing.

“Maybe we could wait on the meal for a bit,” Sam said. “I’m too nervous to eat right now.”

“When you’re ready, then,” Orla said. “So, we have two uairs to get to know each other and see if we wish to proceed with the engagement. How would you like to begin?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “Um…actually, could I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Orla said. “What would you like to know?”

“Why did you pick me? Your parent, Nuala, said that you received a genetic diversity token at birth, which means you had to pick a mate from off-world, but why me? You must have received other applications. What made you choose mine?”

Orla smiled. “You’re right. There were others. The matchmakers submitted a total of a hundred and sixty-eight applications. The matchmakers scored each one based on what they thought was likely to produce a match, and you were ranked one hundred and forty-eight.”

“One hundred and forty-eight?”

“Yes.”

“I feel like I should be insulted, but honestly, I’m surprised I ranked that high.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Orla said. “But I will let you in on a secret. It’s not the sort of thing I’m supposed to tell you until negotiations between our family are complete, but I want you to understand how much I want this to work.”

Sam nodded, not trusting herself to speak, but it was enough for Orla to go on.

“I put off going through the applications for as long as I could. I knew it would be a tedious task, and honestly, I was sullen and resentful of the whole thing. I have a friend who I care for deeply, and I have often thought that it is a shame that I received the token because I believed they and I would make a good match. I put the matter off until Nuala scolded me, and told me I was not to leave my room until I had compiled a list of candidates that I considered acceptable.

“Truthfully, the task was every bit as tedious as I imagined. I threw out sixty-seven applications without even reviewing them, because they were Gaolta. The Gaolta are an offshoot of the Sionnach. A colony established almost thirty thousand blianas ago. I don’t wish to pre-judge an entire world, but every Gaolta I have ever met has been insufferable. I’m sure there are Gaolta who are not so arrogant and self-important, but I suspect that they would not be found among the families who would submit an application for an off-world marriage. After I filtered out the Gaolta, I went through eighty applications, and honestly, if not for the images being different, I would have thought I’d gone through the same application eighty times. They were all dull and formulaic. Every image was painfully proper and perfectly staged. There was no life to any of them, and I suspect that the matchmakers were simply having their AIs plug the candidates’ details into a template. When I got to the end of those eighty applications, I came to the first one which was marked ‘low probability’ and I considered just rejecting them all without opening them, but it was either go through them, or go back and go through the Gaolta applications. I decided to at least skim the low probability pile.

“Yours was the first one, and it caught my eye instantly. You smiled in the photo taken at the testing facility. You filled out the application yourself. You included photos that weren’t staged. You included videos of you doing things you loved. You included videos of you in competitions you didn’t win. You included videos of you surfing, which made me suspect you were insane, and you included videos of motocross, which made me suspect your entire species is insane. But you were so alive in every one of those videos. Your application was the first one I marked as acceptable. The only one I marked as acceptable.

“Out of one-hundred and sixty-eight candidates, you were my only choice. Nuala argued with me for half an uair. Demanded I go back and select additional candidates. I refused because you were the only one on that list that told me anything about who you are and what you care about, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone who will treat me like a business transaction.”

Sam sat back and stared at Orla. The guilt gnawed away at her, because she had let Beth talk her into treating Orla like a steppingstone to something better. She’d gone into this planning on using another person to get ahead. She couldn’t do it. Orla wasn’t just some random way of getting ahead. They were a person with hopes and dreams and feelings. They were beautiful and wonderful and amazing and they deserved someone who could see that. Someone who would show them the same kindness and caring that they were showing Sam.

She couldn’t do this unless she was serious about it. She couldn’t get engaged to Orla unless she thought that there was a real chance that they would get married at the end of it. It wouldn’t be fair to Orla. In fact, it would be cruel and mean to take away five years that they could spend with someone who genuinely wanted to be with them.

Two uairs was about five hours and forty-five minutes, and it suddenly felt like too little time. How was she supposed to decide if she wanted to spend her life with someone in less than six hours? Oh, she knew that was the whole purpose of the prolonged engagement. Five years to test and see if they really fit, but she only had a few hours to decide if it was possible to fall in love with Orla.

“Sam?” Orla asked.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “It’s just…that’s a lot. I didn’t…I didn’t expect you to be so…committed to this.”

“Oh, no,” Orla said. “I’m making you feel pressured, aren’t I? I didn’t mean to, and if you don’t want this, you can walk away. I promise it’s all right. I just—”

“Orla,” Sam said, cutting them off.

“Yes?”

“Relax, please. I know I keep saying this, but you’re not what I expected at all, and I promise that is a good thing. It’s just a little overwhelming, knowing I was your only choice.”

“I’m sorry,” Orla said.

“Don’t be,” Sam said. “If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

“What for?” Orla asked.

“For my attitude toward all of this,” Sam said. “You’re right that my people don’t normally participate in arranged marriages, and this wasn’t my idea. My mother pushed me to apply for this, and when I say you aren’t what I was expecting, I mean that I came here thinking that I would find someone a lot like how you described the Gaolta. Arrogant, self-important, and insufferable, but that’s not you at all. You’re kind and generous and considerate, and if I’m honest, I feel a little unworthy.”

“You feel unworthy?” Orla asked. “How is that even possible? You're amazing.”

“Me?” Sam asked. “God. I think I might have oversold myself in that application if you think I’m amazing.”

Orla stared at her for a moment. “I don’t think you did,” they said. “I…” Orla stopped and looked away, color rising in their cheeks.

“What?” Sam asked.

“It’s…” Orla shook their head. “I’m sorry. It’s inappropriate.”

Sam smiled. “Okay, now I really want to know.”

Orla turned to look at her. Sam could see them struggling with what they wanted to say, so she got up and moved over to the couch where Orla was sitting.

“If we do this, if we commit to each other, one of the things we are going to need is trust. That means we should be able to tell each other anything.” She reached out and took Orla’s hand in both of hers. “I promise you, whatever you say to me will never leave this room.”

Orla looked down at their hands, and Sam followed their gaze. She stared for a moment, before it hit her that the Sionnach had a strong taboo against touch.

“Oh, God. I am so sorry,” Sam said as she started to pull her hands away. Orla reached over and covered their linked hands with their free one.

“Please, don’t let go,” they said.

“You’re sure?” Sam asked.

Orla blushed. “That's what I was going to say. One of the reasons I picked you.”

“What do you mean?”

“One of the videos you sent. A soccer match. You kicked the ball into the net, and the rest of your team ran up and embraced you. One of them even kissed you.”

Sam felt her cheeks heating up slightly. She’d forgotten about that stupid kiss. Abby Michaels, the team captain, butch extraordinaire and very out lesbian. She’d kissed Sam on the cheek after Sam scored the game winning point, and Sam thought she’d died and gone to gay heaven. She was pretty sure if Abby had laid that same kiss on her lips, she actually would have died.

“My people are so averse to touch. We’re taught from a very young age that it’s inappropriate to touch someone in public, to let anyone see you have physical contact with someone, but I crave it. The feel of an arm around my shoulder, the warmth of clasped hands. I love touch, and your people give it so freely. When I saw that video, I was shocked, but I was also jealous. Being able to give and receive touch so openly is like a dream.”

Sam smiled at Orla for a moment and wiggled her hands free. Orla gave her a hurt look, but Sam just shifted closer and wrapped her right arm around Orla’s shoulders.

A look of amazement immediately replaced the hurt look, and after a moment’s hesitation, Orla leaned in, resting their head on Sam’s shoulder and closing their eyes. Sam reached down with her left hand and laced her and Orla’s fingers together.

“Tell me about yourself,” Sam said.

“What do you want to know?” Orla asked.

“Everything.”

“That might take a while.”

“We have time.”

***

“Of course, Nuala was furious when we got home. They yelled at Neesa and Fiadh for uairs. At one point, Tadgh stepped in to try to break up the shouting match, but Nuala stomped on their foot so hard, Tadgh walked with a limp for laethantas.”

Orla’s story probably deserved more than the smile Sam gave them, but it was all she could muster. She was stretched out on her back on the couch with her eyes closed, her shoes long since removed, and her head resting in Orla’s lap. Orla’s left hand rested between Sam’s breasts, and Sam had her left hand resting on Orla’s while she lazily drew circles on the back of Orla’s hand with her index and middle fingers, and Orla gently petted Sam’s hair with their right hand. Between Sam’s position, and the gentle rhythm of their touch, Orla had lulled Sam half to sleep.

Sam didn’t have anything to compare it to, but she thought that, as first dates went, this was an amazing one. They’d spent the last four hours talking. They had taken a break for lunch, during which they’d taken turns feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries, which had been both fun and arousing, but most of the time, they’d just sat on the couch, cuddled, and talked.

“Are you even listening to me?” Orla asked.

“Yes,” Sam said. “I’m just enjoying the moment.”

“Truly?” Orla asked.

“Yes,” Sam said. She opened her eyes and looked up at Orla. “It’s a bit unusual for someone my age back on Earth, but I’ve never been on a date before. By the time I was old enough to be interested in dating, I had reasons to avoid them.”

“Why would you avoid looking for a mate?” Orla asked.

Sam frowned. “That’s a complicated question. It has to do with my sexual orientation.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Orla said.

“Are you familiar with the concept of gender?” Sam asked. “I know your language doesn’t have gender distinctions.”

“I’m familiar with it,” Orla said. “We study it in our xenoanthropology and xenosociology lessons. The idea that reproductive phenotype is somehow a determiner of one’s role in society. I reviewed the concept after I began studying humans, and your people seem to have complicated the matter even further than simple sexual dimorphism. I admit, I found it all terribly confusing, and a little…embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

“The gender specific pronouns,” Orla said. “I’ve had trouble getting used to them and using them in my head without blushing.”

“Why would they make you blush?” Sam asked.

“It feels a bit like discussing someone’s reproductive organs in public.”

“Oh,” Sam said. She thought about it for a moment and couldn’t stop herself from chuckling. “Yeah, I could definitely see how that would be awkward. Especially when your people have such a strict taboo against touch.”

“It’s definitely been an adjustment,” Orla said. “My entles and my friend Sorcha have an easier time of it. They’ve all spent time off world dealing with other gendered species.”

“I don’t mind if you use the neutral pronouns for me,” Sam said.

“I do,” Orla said. “Your people take gender reference very seriously, and I want to address you correctly. I won’t let my own discomfort get in the way of that.”

Sam stared up at Orla for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips, wondering how she’d gotten so lucky to find someone so amazing.

“You’re right about humans making it more complicated than it really needs to be. Some days, I wish we could throw the whole concept out the window, because it would make life easier for a lot of people. Unfortunately, gender is kind of central to how humans are taught to behave, and one of the expectations is that you will choose a mate from the opposite gender.”

“That seems very limiting,” Orla said.

“Agreed. The thing is, there are people who prefer to choose a mate from the same gender.”

“And your culture disapproves of this?”

“Yes and no,” Sam said. “For a long time, it was regarded as wrong. A kind of mental illness. There were some studies done a few decades back that showed that it was a lot more common than people believed, and that started a shift in attitudes. Additional research showed that who we are attracted to is, at least in part, wired into our biology. Most people in the part of Earth I’m from have come to accept it as normal, but there’s still a large minority of people who believe it’s wrong.”

“That’s bizarre,” Orla said.

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for deciding you want to marry a barbarian,” Sam said.

Orla laughed, and Sam felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Orla’s laugh was musical and wonderful, and Sam was just so, so fucking gay.

“I realized I was one of the people who preferred my own gender right around the age where most humans start thinking about dating. My mom was pushing me to take extra classes and do anything I could to ensure I got into a good college, so I used that as an excuse not to date.”

“You were afraid your people would not approve of your choice in mates?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “It probably felt more complicated than it actually was, but I was also afraid my mom might not approve. I was pretty sure she’d be okay with it, but not a hundred percent certain.”

“I’m sorry,” Orla said. “It’s hard when your parents don’t approve of you.”

Sam heard something in Orla’s voice that made Sam realize that Orla was speaking from experience, and it made her angry. “How could your parents not approve of you? You’re wonderful.”

Orla’s cheeks turned pink as they blushed. They turned their head, looking away from Sam. “They think I’m frivolous, and that I let my emotions cloud my judgement. That I make rash and often foolish decisions. Nuala is convinced that I’m too much like Neesa, and it will lead me to be less than I could be.”

“From what I’ve seen, Neesa is doing pretty well. Good job, loving spouse who makes them happy.”

“Neesa turned down three matches before settling on Fiadh. Nuala thinks Neesa made a mistake that cost the family a chance at advancement. If I’m honest, I’m sure they think I’m making the same mistake. Nuala has less room to push me because of the token, but I’m sure they would have preferred I pick a candidate from Gaolta.”

“So, you’re saying I’m going to have a mother-in-law who hates me and is going to spend the next five years trying to get rid of me? Or, well, parent-in-law, I guess.”

“No!” Orla said, sounding a little scandalized. “No. Once the engagement is completed, Nuala would never think of attempting to sabotage the match.”

Sam hoped Orla was right, because she really didn’t want to spend the next few years looking over her shoulder.

“May I ask you a question?” Orla asked.

“Of course.”

“If you prefer a mate of your own gender, does that mean you don’t want me as your mate?” Orla asked, and Sam could clearly hear the worry in their voice.

“No,” Sam said. “I’m not sure how to say this, so if I mess it up, please forgive me. Gender and…what did you call it? Um…reproductive phenotype…they’re tied fairly close together in my culture. They aren’t a one for one match, but you have the physical characteristics that I would find attractive in someone of my own gender.”

“So, you find me attractive?” Orla asked.

“Very,” Sam said. Orla smiled, and Sam could see a slight blush in their cheeks that she thought was adorable.

“How did you realize that you would prefer a mate of your own gender?” Orla asked.

Sam sighed as she took a moment to collect her thoughts. She lifted Orla’s hand off her chest and sat up, prompting a small frown on Orla’s face. Once she’d settled herself so she could face Orla, she reached out and took their hand, threading their fingers together again.

“I suppose now is as good a time as any to have this conversation.”

“You sound reluctant,” Orla said. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No,” Sam said. “It’s just…you remember telling me that you had a friend that you wanted to be matched with?”

“Yes. Sorcha.”

“I had someone like that in my life too,” Sam said. “Her name is Jenny. We’ve been friends for a very long time, and when I looked back later, I realized that I had feelings for her almost since the day we met. I was about thirteen years old when I realized that I liked her in a romantic sense. It made me understand a lot of things about myself and the way I’d been feeling for a long time.”

“Did Jenny not want to be with you because of your gender?” Orla asked.

“No. She did want to be with me. I just found out too late. She told me she wanted to be with me the same day I got word that you’d selected me.”

“Why did you choose me over them?”

“My mother,” Sam said. “She convinced me that the opportunities that came with this were too important to pass up. Not just for me, but also for my family. I know that in the long run, joining the Hegemony will be good for humanity, but in the short term, it’s difficult, and the Hegemony’s technology is rendering her skills obsolete. I may need to provide for her financially, and this gives me a better chance of being able to do that than if I had stayed on Earth with Jenny.”

“It must have been a hard decision for you.”

“Very,” Sam said. “I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got here. I thought I might have given up a chance to be with Jenny, only to come here and find someone I couldn’t stand to be around.”

“Do you want to go back to them?” Orla asked. “If you do, I can arrange for you to receive a full education back on Earth. Teaching machines, a robot with a mentor AI. I could even arrange a small allowance for you.”

“You would do that?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Orla said. “There’s no reason Jenny couldn’t receive the same education. Your mother could be retrained with new skills as well.”

Sam stared at Orla, not knowing what to say. The offer was incredible. She could go home, patch things up with Jenny, have the life she wanted, and still get the education Beth wanted her to have. It sounded too good to be true, but looking into Orla’s eyes, she didn’t doubt for a moment that Orla meant every word.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to be happy, and because I don’t want to be an obligation. I don’t want my bonding to be a business transaction. If you stay, I want you to stay because of me. Not because of what my family can give you. I want you to stay because you want to be with me, and because I make you happy.”

Sam looked down at the hand she was holding in both of hers. She thought about what Orla had said before about how they craved touch, and the way they spoke about Neesa and Fiadh, and how they had talked about wanting to bond with their friend Sorcha, and about what Orla was offering her. It took longer than she wanted to admit, but something clicked in her head, and she realized something that she should have picked up on sooner. Maybe she would have if she hadn’t been distracted by the fact that she was on an alien planet, and she was there to get engaged to a beautiful alien. Maybe she would have if Neesa and Fiadh didn’t so obviously adore Orla. Maybe she would have if she had been a bit more careful to look beyond the money and the power and the luxury that surrounded Orla. It didn’t matter though, because she knew now, and when she looked up and met Orla’s gaze, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was right.

Orla was lonely. Deeply and profoundly lonely.

Sam didn’t understand why. She didn’t know enough to put it together. Maybe it was their parents’ disapproval, or Neesa and Fiadh’s frequent and lengthy trips off-world, or the cultural restrictions on their relationships with their friends and family. Whatever it was, Orla was missing something in their life. They had been smart enough to work out for themself what they needed. Someone in their life that was there for them because they cared about them first.

Sam thought for a moment about her last encounter with Jenny, and the way Jenny had yelled at her, had refused to listen to her reasons for going off-world, had demanded Sam stay, and when she didn’t get her way, told Sam she never wanted to see her again. Then she thought about Orla, who was so lonely that they had pinned all their hopes on a stranger, but was willing to let that stranger walk away, was willing to fund the stranger’s happiness with someone else, because more than anything, they wanted a genuine connection.

“How are you even real?” she asked, the words escaping her lips before she could stop them.

“What do you mean?” Orla asked.

“You’re so kind, generous, and just…wonderful.” She lifted Orla’s hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Does that mean you’re staying?”

Sam thought about it. Not about what Orla wanted. Not about what Beth wanted. Not about what was best for everyone around her. She thought about what she wanted. What was best for her? What would make her happy?

Going back to Earth was tempting. She could get the education Beth wanted her to have, the education that would help ensure her future. She could try and smooth things over with Jenny. She could use the allowance to get an apartment, a car, or maybe a motorcycle. She could help her mom, and maybe make a difference in what was happening to humanity.

Staying was tempting too. She wasn’t in love with Orla, had barely known them for a few hours, but she was attracted to them, infatuated with them. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought that she could fall in love with them. She thought it would be easy to fall in love with someone who was so kind and generous and attentive. Someone who craved Sam’s attention as much as Sam craved theirs. And if she stayed, it would give her a degree of freedom. She wouldn’t have Beth standing over her shoulder, telling her to do more, to work harder. She could relax, she could make the choices she wanted to make, instead of the choices Beth wanted her to make.

But what would make her happy? Going home, or staying?

“I’m staying,” Sam said. The words surprised them both. Orla seemed shocked that Sam had chosen them, and Sam felt shocked that she’d spoken at all, when she hadn’t thought she was even close to deciding, but the more she thought about it, the more sure she was that she had made the right decision. If she went home, she would end up doing what Beth wanted her to do, what Beth pushed her to do, but if she stayed, she could make her own decisions, live her life the way she wanted.

Once the initial shock passed, Orla pulled their hand away. Sam started to protest, but before she could get a single word out, she found herself being hugged with inhuman strength.

“Thank you,” Orla said, the words choked with emotion spilling out not in English, but in Oriad. “Thank you.”

***

When their time was up, there was a small chime, and Orla sighed as they lifted their head off Sam’s shoulder and stood up. Sam could see the reluctance on Orla’s face and knew she was probably wearing the same look. She’d loved the feel of having her arm around Orla, and the way Orla had been curled up against her. She wasn’t ready to give up the way it made her feel, like she was someone special. She wasn’t ready to leave the room. Leaving meant having to deal with parents, family, details, and logistics. Leaving meant having to walk away from Orla, and she didn’t want to do that.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice.

She stood up. “Are you ready?”

“No,” Orla said. “I want to stay here with you.”

“Me too, but after tomorrow, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

That brought one of those heart-stopping smiles to Orla’s face, and Sam reached out to take Orla’s hand, but stopped herself.

“We can’t, can we?”

Orla shook their head. “No. Not in front of anyone else.”

Sam nodded, feeling doubt creep in just a bit. Not about Orla, but about Talamh. She’d never thought of herself as particularly touchy feely, or the kind of person who liked big public displays of affection, but she and Jenny had never been shy about touching each other. They held hands, or sometimes walked around with linked arms. They hugged and laughed and sometimes they cuddled up on the couch with each other while they watched a movie. Sometimes Jenny would hop on her back and demand a piggyback ride. She’d expected to do the same sorts of things with her girlfriend someday, but on Talamh, those sorts of things would be considered indecent. Any affection she did show Orla would have to be behind closed doors, and that was going to be hard.

She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Orla was worth it. Orla was amazing and wonderful and kind and beautiful and caring and God, Sam was so freaking gay it was embarrassing. She was already falling, and falling hard, and she didn’t even want to stop it.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Orla nodded and led the way out of the room and down the hall to the room where Sam had first met Orla’s parents. Sam’s mom and Orla’s parents were both there, along with Neesa and Fiadh. Sam could feel the tension in the room. She looked at each of the people who were waiting. Neesa and Fiadh seemed the most relaxed. They weren’t touching, but they were sitting close to each other, leaning slightly towards each other, and they both had smiles on their faces as they looked at her and Orla. Tadgh looked nervous. Nuala somehow had a smile on their face while still looking like they had sucked on a lemon. Beth was sitting on one of the couches with a carefully neutral expression on her face. The one that meant ‘we’ll talk as soon as we’re alone.’

“Greetings, my child,” Nuala said in a formal tone. “I see that you and Samantha Elizabeth Murray have had your First Meeting. Is all well?”

“All is well.”

Nuala’s smile became a little stiffer, but they gave a small nod. “We are pleased to hear this. Have you decided if you wish to proceed with the betrothal?”

“I do.”

“Very well,” Nuala said. They turned to Sam. “And you, Samantha Elizabeth Murray, do you find that all is well?”

“Yes.”

“We are pleased to hear this. Have you decided if you wish to proceed with the betrothal?”

“I do,” Sam said. She could see Nuala struggling to keep the smile on their face.

“Very well,” Nuala said. “The matter is settled. The betrothal will proceed. The formal commitment will take place tomorrow at fourth uair.”

Neesa stood up. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Sam turned to Orla. “See you tomorrow.”

Orla smiled. “I look forward to it.”

She turned to Neesa.

“Follow me,” Neesa said. They turned and led Sam and Beth down a couple of hallways to a pair of double doors.

“Careful. There’s a gravity shift at the threshold.” Neesa threw open the doors and stepped through slowly. Sam and her mom followed suit, and once they were across, Neesa led them a little further until they came to a large room.

“These rooms are set to median Earth gravity, so you won’t need your gravity inhibitors here. This is your common room. Beth, your bedchamber is down the left hallway. Sam, your bedchamber is down the right hallway. There is a dining area through that door there; the bots will prepare anything you like and there is a small stock of Earth food available. There is a sitting room through the door opposite the dining room. If you need anything, just touch one of the red buttons on the wall to summon one of the bots. Your luggage has already been taken to your rooms.”

“Thank you,” her mom said.

“You’re most welcome,” Neesa said, before turning to Sam. “Might I have a word?” The ‘in private’ was left unsaid, but was clear enough. Sam nodded.

“Of course.”

Neesa gestured to the doorway to the sitting room, and Sam followed them through it. Neesa closed the door and turned back to Sam.

“Are you okay?” Neesa asked.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“I’m not as familiar with your culture as I would like, but it is my understanding that arranged marriages are not normal for your people.”

“They’re not,” Sam said. “We normally choose our own mates.”

“But you are here.”

“I am,” Sam said.

“And you truly wish to marry my nibling?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “But I do want this betrothal. Look, I can’t say what will happen over the next ten blianas, but I promise you, I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think there was a good possibility that at the end of it, I will marry Orla.”

Neesa visibly relaxed. “That is good to hear,” they said. “I trust Orla’s judgement more than my sibling does, but they are dear to my heart, and I do not wish to see them hurt. If you had told me that you were sure you wanted to marry them, I would doubt either your intelligence or your intent, but your honesty makes me think Orla chose more wisely than I expected.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sam said.

“You should, but I would ask a favor of you.”

“What is it?”

“Please, be kind to Orla. They are not like most of our people.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I got that from some of the things Orla has told me, but I promise you, I will never intentionally hurt them.”

“Good,” Neesa said. “May I offer some advice?”

“Please.”

“When Orla selected you, I looked up your species. You’re much freer with physical contact than we are, and Orla needs that. My spouse and I have tried to indulge that need as much as we can, but Nuala feels that we coddle them. Once you’re betrothed, please take care of them. They mean more to Fiadh and me than you can imagine.”

“I will,” Sam promised.

“And if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask me or Fiadh. We would do anything for Orla.”

“How much do I need to worry about Nuala?” Sam asked. “Orla says that once the betrothal happens they wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the engagement, but I don’t think Nuala is happy Orla chose me.”

“Nuala means well,” Neesa said. “For all their faults, Nuala does love their child. Any disapproval of the match comes from their belief that Orla would be happier with a different spouse. I believe if they see that you and Orla make each other happy, they will accept the match, and any disapproval will vanish.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. What about Tadgh?”

“They will not be your enemy, but they will not be your ally either. Tadgh’s focus lies with the House’s business. They believe Orla is emotional and undisciplined, and fear Orla will embarrass the House in some way. They think Fiadh and I are bad influences and have made Orla soft when Orla needs to be strong. I have always been afraid that they would crush Orla’s spirit in an effort to make them more like the child they want, but you give me hope. What I’ve read about humans says you are fiercely protective of the things you care for. I hope you will extend that care to Orla and protect them when I cannot. I know it is a lot to ask, especially of one so young, but please do not let their parents take away everything that makes Orla special.”

“I won’t,” Sam said.

“Thank you,” Neesa said. “I must leave you now. If you need me, simply ask the computer to connect you to me. Fiadh and I have an apartment on floor 914, and we will be staying there tonight. We can be here in noimeads.”

“Neesa,” Sam said.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For being on our side.”

Neesa smiled at her and nodded before they turned towards the door.

***

Sam took a few minutes in the sitting room to try to get her emotions under control. They’d been all over the place so far that day, from her anger at Beth, to the dread she felt at the idea of not seeing her again for five years, to the shock and thrill she’d felt when she first saw Orla, to the giddy feeling of the hours she’d spent getting to know Orla, to the pain she felt when she thought about Jenny, and the fear she felt at Neesa’s warning about Nuala and Tadgh.

Now she had to deal with Beth, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. Not really. She wanted to believe it would be okay, but the expression she’d seen on Beth’s face had never been the herald of a pleasant conversion, and she wasn’t sure she could deal with it if Beth disapproved of something she’d done. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice.

She was getting engaged in the morning. Her entire life and what she wanted out of it had changed drastically since she’d woken up that morning, and when she walked out that door, it might change again. She might have to get used to the idea of a life where Beth wasn’t involved, because she was about to have the ‘Mom, I’m gay’ conversation, and she wouldn’t be the first kid whose mom freaked out because they found out their kid was gay.

She just wished one thing in her life could be easy.

She took a deep breath and stepped out into the common room. She wasn’t surprised to find Beth there, sitting on one of the couches, waiting for her.

“I guess you want to talk, huh?”

“Yes,” Beth said.

She walked over and dropped down onto one of the couches. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

“Sweetheart,” her mom said. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were gay?”

Sam stared at Beth in confusion. That was not how she had expected the conversation to start.

“How did you know?”

“The way your whole attitude changed when you realized that Orla was a girl,” Beth said. “You and Jenny?”

Sam shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “We both wanted it, but she only kissed me for the first time that afternoon on the beach, right before you called to tell me I’d been accepted.”

“That’s why you were so upset about going off-world.”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought if you knew I was gay, you wouldn’t let me spend time with Jenny anymore. I know you didn’t want me dating because you thought it would distract me from school, so I figured if you found out I was gay, and you realized I had feelings for Jenny, then she’d be off limits.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“For what?” Sam asked.

“For all of this,” she said. “For taking you away from Jenny, for forcing you into this, for ruining your plans. I didn’t know.”

“If you did, would it have changed anything?” Sam asked.

Beth sat there, just looking at her for a minute before her eyes dropped and she turned away.

“No,” Beth said. It was an oddly comforting answer. It didn’t make everything okay between them. It didn’t make Sam magically forgive her for everything that had happened, but it did put a pin in her anger. Sam felt it all just flow out of her, and she was left with the realization that however much Beth might have hurt her, everything she did was done out of love. That didn’t make it okay, but it was a place to start, at least.

Sam got up and moved over to sit on the couch next to Beth. She reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, and Beth looked up at her. Sam pulled her into a hug. It took a couple of seconds, but Beth hugged her back so tightly Sam thought she might crack a rib.

“I love you,” Sam said.

“I love you too,” Beth replied.

***

It was about thirty noimeads past the end of second labor, and Sorcha was back out in their garden, the sights and smells of their plants surrounding them, the faint sound of nutrient solution trickling through the hydroponics system soothing them. They had noticed during lunch that the dearg berries were ripe, so they had brought a few baskets with them, and between them and the bots, they were making good progress on harvesting them.

They always added a bit of citric acid to the nutrient feed for the dearg berry plants to up the tartness of the berries, because Orla loved the really tart ones. They also had a bit of extra citric acid added when the bots made preserves to up the tartness level. Given the size of the crop, they were thinking they could send two baskets of fresh berries and a couple of cases of preserves as a betrothal gift for Orla. It was a simple thing, but they could picture the smile on Orla’s face when they got them, and that alone would make it worth the effort.

They had just added a couple of berries to one of the baskets when Orla’s picture and an incoming call icon appeared in her Aug’s HUD, and Sorcha smiled.

“Answer call,” they said. The call icon changed to show an active connection. “Hey, Orla.”

“Hey,” Orla said.

Sorcha could hear the excitement in their voice. “How did it go?”

“It was wonderful!” Orla said. “She decided to go through with the betrothal. The ceremony is tomorrow at fourth uair.”

Sorcha closed their eyes, taking a moment to swallow the pain that burned its way through their heart. “I’m happy for you,” they said, and to their surprise, they even meant it. Orla deserved to be happy. Sorcha just wished they could be the one to bring them that happiness.

“You will come to the ceremony, won’t you?” Orla asked.

“Of course!” Sorcha said.

“Oh, I can’t wait for the two of you to meet,” Orla said. “Sam is amazing, Sorcha. I knew she was, just from the application, but she’s so much more. The two of you will be great friends. I know it.”

“Of course we will.” Sorcha said. “As long as she takes good care of you, I’m sure the two of us will get along great.”

“She will,” Orla said softly, and Sorcha felt their stomach heave. Orla was clearly smitten with Sam, and Sorcha worried that might be clouding Orla’s judgement. They promised themself they would keep an eye on Sam, and make sure she treated Orla the way Orla deserved to be treated, but to do that, Sorcha was going to do the last thing they really wanted to do. They stepped away from the dearg berry bushes, leaving the harvest to the bots, and sat down on the floor, leaning back against the trata planter.

“Tell me everything,” Sorcha said. Orla started talking, and Sorcha sat, taking in every detail, not sure whether they were hoping to find that Sam was as perfect as Orla said, or to find some reason to stop the betrothal.

Chapter Five

“SAM?”

“Orla?” Sam asked as she sat up in bed and looked around the room. She didn’t see Orla, but she was sure she’d heard her voice.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, but…where are you?”

“I’m in my bedroom. The house AI said you weren’t sleeping, so I had it patch me through your bedroom’s comm system.”

“Oh,” Sam said.

“Am I bothering you?”

“No. Your comm system just has really good audio. I thought you were in my room for a moment.”

She heard Orla’s laugh, and couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the sound.

“I wish,” Orla said. “I know I shouldn’t be calling, but…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m having trouble sleeping.”

Sam laid back down and looked out the huge picture window that made up one entire wall of her bedroom. The local star hung out there, sitting still above the horizon, in the exact same spot it had been when they had arrived in the city. It would be another week before it started moving.

“Nervous about tomorrow?” Sam asked.

“Not nervous,” Orla said. “Excited. I never thought I would be until I saw your application, but now, I can’t wait for the ceremony.”

“It does feel a little bit like Christmas Eve,” Sam said.

“What’s that?”

“Christmas is a holiday back on Earth. It used to be a religious festival, and some parts of that still exist, but a lot of people who aren’t religious still celebrate. People give each other gifts to mark the day. The night before the holiday is called Christmas Eve. A lot of kids have trouble sleeping that night, because they’re thinking about all the gifts they’ll get. Toys, mostly for the kids.”

“That sounds like a fun holiday,” Orla said.

“It can be, but it can also be hard. It’s supposed to be celebrated with friends and family. If you don’t have friends or family to celebrate with, or if you do have family, but you don’t have a good relationship with them, it can be a bad time. It’s also hard on people who don’t have a lot of money. Not being able to get your kids something they want for Christmas can be rough.”

“That sounds terrible. Is there a lot of poverty on your world?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “My mom grew up without much. She managed to work her way up, but most people who start out poor stay that way.”

“That’s awful.”

“You know, maybe we could talk about something else,” Sam said.

“Anything you want.”

“Have you ever been to the beach?”

“Yes,” Orla said. “Neesa took me a few times when I was younger. Nuala said it was a waste of time since we have a swimming pool here in the residence.”

“Nuala sounds like they don’t know what fun is.”

“Fiadh has said the same thing a few times.”

“Do we have access to an air-car?”

“Of course.”

“I want to take you to the beach,” Sam said.

“I’d like that.”

“We’ll swim, and build sandcastles…”

“What’s a sandcastle?”

“You don’t know what a sandcastle is?”

“No.”

“It’s a sort of sculpture. You take wet sand and you use it to make a model of a castle.”

“Why wet sand?”

“Wet sand holds together. If you used dry sand, the sculpture wouldn’t keep its shape.”

“That sounds like an odd way to spend time.”

“It’s fun. I promise.”

“Well, if you promise, I’ll have to try it.”

Sam lay there for a moment, wondering what Sionnach swimwear looked like. The clothes she’d seen so far were all fairly modest. Jumpsuits, long-sleeved shirts and pants, or long-sleeved, ankle-length robes. Their swimwear was probably fairly modest as well, which was a shame. She’d give a lot to see Orla in a bikini.

“Are you still there?” Orla asked.

“Yeah. Sorry. I got lost in thought for a moment.”

“I want to say something, but I’m afraid you’ll think I’m being ridiculous.”

“You can tell me anything, Orla. I’ll always listen.”

She heard a heavy sigh. “You’re making this harder.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not awake because I’m excited about tomorrow. I’m awake because I miss you.”

“It’s only been a few uairs.”

“I missed you the dara you left my sight,” Orla said. “It’s ridiculous, I know—”

“It’s not,” Sam said. “I miss you too.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“It’s the truth,” Sam said. “I didn’t want to leave that room, and as soon as we did, I wanted to go back. I wanted to hold you again, to feel your head on my shoulder, to listen to your voice.”

“You really mean that?”

“I do,” Sam said.

She heard another sigh. “I wish you were here with me.”

Sam lay there for a minute, not saying anything as she turned a thought over in her head. She knew it would probably cause trouble, but she wasn’t sure how much, so she decided to ask. “How much trouble would we get in if I were?”

“What?”

“Is there any rule against us spending time together before the ceremony?”

“No.”

“Will your parents be angry if they find us together?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to come to your room?”

There was a long silence before Orla asked, “Why don’t I come to your room? That way, you won’t need the gravity inhibitor.”

Sam didn’t even have to think about it. “Hurry,” she said.

“I’m on my way.”

Sam sat up and touched the button that turned the lights on in the room, then she waited. It took maybe five minutes before a small chime sounded. She got out of bed, walked over to the door, and pressed the button to open it. The door slid away to reveal Orla, who took one look at her and turned bright red.

“I…um…That is…You…um…naked.”

Sam glanced down at herself. She was wearing a tank top and boy shorts. The tank top was thin, but not see through, and the boy shorts were more modest than some of the bikinis she’d worn in the pictures she’d sent with her application. She looked back up at Orla, who was staring up at the ceiling, and took in the way they were dressed. A long, flowing nightgown that covered them from neck to wrist to ankle.

The level of modesty on this planet was definitely going to take some getting used to.

She reached out and took Orla’s hand, and pulled them gently into the room. The door slid shut behind them, and Sam could hear them swallow.

“Um…”

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “You can look if you want to.”

Orla looked down at her, shock clearly written on her face. “What?”

Sam smiled softly and rubbed her thumb over the back of Orla’s hand.

“I said you could look at me if you want to. I don’t mind.”

“You, um…I…um…”

The blush deepened, but Orla slowly lowered their eyes. They stopped for a moment, just staring at Sam’s face, but Sam could see them struggling, and after a moment, they looked down, and Sam had to fight not to laugh when Orla licked their lips.

“Wow.”

“Like what you see?”

Orla looked back up at Sam for a moment, eyes wide, but as Sam watched, the tension faded out, replaced by a shy smile.

“Very much,” Orla said.

“I’m glad. Come on.” Sam pulled Orla along by the hand, leading them to the bed. She let go of Orla’s hand and climbed into the bed, then patted the spot next to her. Orla hesitated for just a moment before they climbed into bed with her. Sam pulled the covers over both of them, then slipped her arm under Orla’s shoulders and pulled Orla against her side. Orla tensed slightly, but then Sam could feel them relax as they rested their head on Sam’s shoulder. They slipped their right hand up and rested it between Sam’s breasts, and Sam covered it with her left hand.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Orla said.

“So am I,” Sam said. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Orla didn’t answer, but before Sam could look to see if anything was wrong, she heard a soft, tiny little snore, and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a noise at how cute it was.

“Computer,” she whispered, and thankfully the computer seemed to take the hint, because it answered in a soft, quiet voice.

“Yes?”

“What time do Orla’s parents normally wake up?”

“They are normally awake by half past second uair.”

Sam did a little math in her head. An uair was two point eight seven hours, made up of one hundred noimeads which were about one point seven three minutes. Ten noimeads would be about seventeen minutes. It had taken Orla about five minutes to get from her room to Sam’s.

“Set an alarm for thirty-eight noimead past second hour.”

“Alarm set,” the computer said.

Sam smiled. Orla might be sure there wouldn’t be a problem if their parents found them together, but Sam figured there was no reason to tempt fate. The alarm would give Orla a good twenty minutes to wake up and get back to their bedroom before their parents woke up.

“Computer, lights off.”

The lights went out in the room and Sam closed her eyes, intending on resting for a few minutes. She was asleep almost instantly.

***

Sam took one last look at herself in the mirror. A robot had arrived with Sionnach clothes for the ceremony not long after Orla had slipped out of her room. She’d been a bit dubious at first, because the clothes looked like they were going to be heavy and hot, but she was pleasantly surprised when she started putting them on. The undergarments were an off-white two-piece affair that reminded her of thermal underwear. The dress was a black fabric which was lighter and softer than silk, despite being heavily embroidered with red fractal patterns. The underwear and the dress were cool to the touch when she put them on, and they stayed that way. The shoes were incredibly comfortable, too, fitting more like socks with thick rubber soles than the shoes she was used to, but they also provided better arch support and cushioning than the running shoes she wore to work out in the off season back home. The dress was a simple cut, a bit like a Henley that stretched all the way down to her ankles, with a line of buttons running from the collar to the waist, and a black-embroidered red sash that tied around the waist, just below the lowest button.

The color choices seemed a little odd to her, but she reminded herself that Sionnach culture wasn’t human culture, and the colors would probably have different associations for them than they did for humans, so she didn’t worry about it. Instead, she focused on the things she could control. She had her hair fastened back in a French braid like she wore when she was playing soccer. She’d been considering getting it cut, but given how long all the Sionnach she’d seen wore their hair, she was glad she hadn’t. She already stood out enough without the large ears and the black nose. She’d decided to skip make-up because she hadn’t worn any yesterday, and Orla had seemed to like what she saw.

She glanced at the time display in the upper left corner of the mirror and let out a sigh. It was almost time. Even if she wasn’t happy with how she looked, it was too late to change anything now, but focusing on her appearance kept her from thinking about all the other things her brain wanted to focus on.

She was getting engaged. She was getting engaged to an alien. An alien she had met less than a day ago. An alien who had spent most of the night cuddled up in bed with her.

She liked Orla a lot, but after Orla had left that morning, she’d started panicking a little. She was committing to five years as Orla’s intended. Five years living in an alien culture. Five years without going home, without seeing her mom. Yesterday she’d been so sure, but now, she was scared out of her mind. She wondered if she should have taken Orla’s offer and gone back home to see if she could patch things up with Jenny.

Everything just felt big and scary and overwhelming, and she really liked Orla a lot, but she was fighting back tears because she was giving up so much. The life she knew, the culture she knew, the world she knew, the girl she’d had a crush on for years, the future she’d been planning since she built her first robot from a hobby kit Beth had gotten her for her sixth birthday.

God, what had she been thinking? She was crazy to do this.

She was going to throw up.

The chime at the door startled her out of the incipient panic attack, and she looked at the clock again. Not quite time.

“Computer, open door,” she said. The door slid open, and Beth stepped into the room.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you holding up?”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Sam said.

Beth laughed. “I figured,” she said, holding up a small plastic bag.

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“Crystalized ginger. It will help settle your stomach.” She opened the bag and held it out. Sam took a piece of the candy and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly.

“I know it’s not quite the same, but I remember what I was like every time I went on a date at your age. I’d be really excited right up until the day of, then all I wanted to do was run and hide.”

“So this is normal?” Sam asked.

“Well, I don’t know about normal. I don’t think either of us really fits into that category. More like this is normal for us.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m not really good at this.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said.

“I just…I want you to know how proud I am of you. I know I’ve been hard on you. I know I’ve pushed and pushed and pushed. I know I’ve taken a lot of things from you that I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I won’t be here to watch you become the amazing woman I know you’re going to be. I know I’m not good at showing it, but I just wanted to make sure you know how much I love you, and how proud I am of everything you are.”

Sam squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight back tears. “You’re going to make me cry,” she said. A moment later, her mother pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. Sam hugged her mother back.

“You go ahead and cry if you need to.”

“I’m scared,” Sam said.

“I know, sweetheart, but you can do this. You can do anything.”

Before Sam could answer, the alarm she’d set went off. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then let go of her mother and opened her eyes.

“It’s time,” she said.

“You look so beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Come on. Your girl is waiting.”

***

Orla sat on their bed, watching the time display through their Aug as it slowly counted down the noimeads and the daras until they had to get up and head to the ceremony. The last laethanta had been amazing. Sam was everything they had hoped. Fierce and brave, but also kind, gentle, and thoughtful. Best of all, Sam not only didn’t mind indulging Orla’s need for touch, she actually seemed to enjoy doing so. They didn’t seem annoyed or frustrated with Orla’s emotional nature, and even seemed to enjoy a bit of frivolity themselves.

Sam seemed perfect, and Orla had been so excited by Sam’s arrival and their First Meeting that they had hardly thought about what came after. It wasn’t until they left Sam’s bedroom that morning to get ready for the ceremony that reality had begun to settle in. Ten blianas. The betrothal would last for ten blianas. Sam would have all that time to decide that she didn’t want to be with Orla. To grow tired of their faults and weaknesses, and to realize she could find a better match.

Orla had finished dressing a quarter uair before they needed to leave for the ceremony, and then they had sat down on their bed, and found themselves wondering how long it would take them to disappoint Sam. How long it would take before she realized that Orla’s need for touch was only one of their weaknesses, one of the ways they didn’t measure up to what was expected of them. That for all of their acumen in both House Leargas and House Cineal’s business ventures, their parents regarded them as something less than they should be, and that among Orla’s peers, Sorcha was the only one who didn’t seem put off by Orla’s odd nature.

Orla loved Neesa and Fiadh dearly, but sometimes they wondered if Nuala was right, and that Neesa and Fiadh’s influence had broken them in some way. If the games and the trips and the adventures they had taken Orla on had given them a taste for frivolity and excitement when they should have been developing proper discipline and reserve. They wondered if the way Neesa and Fiadh had indulged their need for touch had kept them from growing out of such things.

Sam had called them ‘amazing’ and ‘wonderful,’ but they didn’t feel like they were either of those things. They felt broken and needy and like they would never truly fit in. Orla had, from time to time, thought that perhaps receiving the token had been a blessing because it meant that none of their people would be saddled with their inadequacies, but now they realized how horrible that thought was. Sam didn’t deserve a mate who didn’t measure up simply because they weren’t Sionnach.

Orla’s heart ached at even the thought that Sam would find them lacking, and they worried that that very feeling was another way they were inadequate. The purpose of the betrothal was to determine if the two of them would function well as mates. A good Sionnach would accept the possibility that the match might not work as a reality, and not let it concern them beyond making every effort to show that they would be a good mate.

The door chime sounded.

“Open,” Orla said without much thought. The door slid aside to reveal Neesa.

“Hello, Little Neas,” Neesa said.

Orla felt themself smile at the familiar nickname. “Hardly little anymore, Entle. I’m almost as tall as you.”

“You could be taller, but you will always be my Little Neas,” Neesa said as they crossed the room to stand in front of Orla. “Stand up.”

Orla rose from the bed, and no sooner were they on their feet than Neesa pulled them into a tight hug. Orla wrapped their arms around Neesa and hugged them back, just as tightly.

“Nervous?” Neesa asked as they let go.

“Yes,” Orla said. Had anyone else asked, they would have lied, refused to admit they felt anything, but Orla could never lie to Neesa or Fiadh.

“Tell me why,” Neesa said.

“What if I disappoint them?” Orla asked.

“Why would they ever be disappointed in you?”

“I disappoint everyone. Why would Sam be any different?”

“That is not true. You have never disappointed me or Fiadh. I am proud of you, Little Neas,” Neesa said. “I am so very proud of you, and Fiadh is too. The only way you could ever disappoint us is if you try to be someone other than who you are.”

“My parents—”

“Are idiots,” Neesa said, cutting Orla off. “They wish for a child who is like everyone else. Stoic, lifeless, mindlessly obedient to the rules of our society, no matter how miserable they make you. You are special, Orla. Different. That is a hard thing to be on a world that values conformity. I know our world is a hard place, and I know it’s harder for you because you have not yet found your place in it, but you will, Little Neas, and I believe you will have your Sam by your side. When you told me who you selected, I studied humans, and I cannot imagine a better choice for you. They give love freely and easily, but once given, they cherish it, cling to it, and defend it with all that they are. Let yourself love Sam, but more importantly, let yourself trust her. I do not believe you will regret it.”

“You really think that?” Orla asked.

“I do,” Neesa said. “I spoke to her yesterday, and she wishes only to make you happy. She will fight for you and protect you, but you must do the same for her in return. She does not know our world. Guide her, protect her, but do not try to change her. It is just as important for her to be the person she is as it is for you to be the person you are, but most of all, remember that love is like a hot house flower. It will sprout in fertile soil, but you must tend to it and nurture it in order for it to survive and flourish.”

“How do I do that?”

“Learn what Sam wants and what she needs. Learn how to spot when she needs it and give it to her. Be there for her. Take care of her, and take care of the things she loves, and most of all, give her yourself. Your time, your attention, your true self.”

“Will you help me?”

“Always.” Neesa leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Orla’s forehead. “Come, it is time, and your Sam will be waiting.”

***

Sam wasn’t sure why she expected it to be a small ceremony, but she had. Maybe because it was just an engagement and not the actual wedding. Whatever the reason, she’d thought it would just be her, her mom, Orla and Orla’s parents, and probably Neesa and Fiadh. That notion vanished the moment the robot led her and her mom into the hall where the ceremony was to take place. There were easily a hundred or so people there. Most of them were Sionnach, but there were a few aliens in the mix. Not as many as there should have been, if one in four of the Sionnach were supposed to marry aliens, but then, maybe some of the ones she was taking for Sionnach were actually Gaolta. After all, if Gaolta had started out as a Sionnach colony world, it would probably be hard to tell the two apart. The other possibilities were a bit more disturbing. It was possible that there were ways around the token, or that some of those who were married to off-worlders weren’t willing to be seen in public with their spouses.

It was a worrying thought, but she pushed it aside, determined not to let her fear ruin the day. She was getting engaged. Maybe it wasn’t the way she’d pictured it, no getting down on one knee with a ring in hand, no speech telling her girlfriend all the reasons she wanted to marry her, but if things worked out between her and Orla, she wanted to have this be a happy memory. The day she officially promised to marry her future wife.

She wished her friends could be here. Given the way she’d left things with Jenny, it might be better that they weren’t, but at least she wouldn’t feel so outnumbered as she walked up towards the raised stage in the center of the room. She walked up the ramp that led to the stage, and just as she had been instructed, she stopped about an arm’s length from Orla. Beth stood behind her, and Orla’s parents stood behind Orla, but Sam barely registered their presence. She barely registered anything once her eyes settled on Orla.

She had thought Orla was beautiful the day before, but seeing them in the betrothal outfit took her breath away. The delicate features, the adorable pink spot on her otherwise black nose, the rust-colored eyes. There was a tiny frown on Orla’s face, but even that couldn’t stop Sam from smiling at the sight of her, and when she smiled, an answering smile in return replaced the frown on Orla’s face.

It was hard for her to believe it had only been a few hours since they were curled up in bed together, and Sam honestly wished they were back there. Just the two of them in a happy little cocoon with none of the problems she knew they would have to face. Nuala’s disapproval, Tadgh’s indifference, Sam’s own lack of familiarity with Sionnach culture. She wanted to forget all of that, wrap her arms around Orla, and finally kiss those soft, puffy pink lips.

God, it had been less than a day, and she was crushing so, so hard. Normally, she’d be bracing for the suffering that always seemed to come with one of her crushes. Unrequited longing, a desperate desire to touch, and an overpowering fear of speaking up. This time was different, though. This time, Orla was going to be her intended. This time, she was allowed to look, to touch, to fall in love.

She wanted to reach out and take Orla’s hands and hated that she couldn’t. She hoped the ceremony wouldn’t last long, that they could find their way back to someplace private. Someplace where she could reassure both of them that this was the right choice.

A Sionnach Sam had never seen before walked up onto the stage and took a spot between her and Orla, but off to the side so that they could still see each other, and the whole room fell silent.

“We are here today to witness the betrothal of Orla of House Leargas and Samantha Elizabeth Murray of Earth,” the Sionnach said. They turned to Orla. “Orla of House Leargas, do you consent to the arrangement put before you, to tie yourself to Samantha Elizabeth Murray of Earth so that you may determine if they will make a suitable bond mate?”

“I consent,” Orla said.

They turned to Sam. “Samantha Elizabeth Murray of Earth, do you consent to the arrangement put before you, to tie yourself to Orla of House Leargas so that you may determine if they will make a suitable bond mate?”

“I consent,” Sam said.

“Then it is done. For ten blianas you shall live as if bonded. At the end of that time, you will choose to cement the bond, or separate yourselves. May your time together be a benefit to your families and your people, and may you choose wisely when the time is over.”

The Sionnach turned and left the stage, and just like that, the ceremony was over. Orla seemed to hesitate for a moment before they stepped forward, stopping barely a single step away from Sam.

“Come, we should greet our guests,” Orla said.

Sam looked around, hoping that Orla didn’t mean they had to greet all the guests, but she suspected that was exactly what Orla meant. She turned back to Orla.

“Lead the way,” she said. The smile Orla gave her was almost worth what followed. Almost.

***

Greeting the guests was every bit as bad as Sam had been worried it would be. It was like a reception line at a wedding. She and Orla stood by a door, and people would approach them in ones and twos. Orla would introduce them, they would exchange a few words, and then the guests would move on. Sam lost track of who they were talking to by the second group to come up, and by about the thirtieth, she looked over at Orla, a little desperate.

“How do you keep track of all of these people?” she asked as the most recent couple walked away.

“My Aug,” Orla said.

“Aug?”

“Augmented Reality Implant,” Orla said. “You’ll get one in the morning when you go to the medical center for your gravity adaptation treatments. When I look at them, it pulls their identity from my internal database, and provides me with any relevant details.”

“You’re cheating,” Sam said, not able to keep the laughter out of her voice. Before Orla could reply, an older couple approached them. Sam didn’t need Orla to tell her who they were. The resemblance to Nuala and Neesa was clear. The couple had to be Orla’s grandparents.

“Hello, Grandparents,” Orla said, and Sam tensed up. She could hear the dread in Orla’s voice. “This is my intended, Sam. Sam, these are Nuala and Neesa’s parents, Niamh Cineal and Clodagh Boran.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Sam said.

Niamh had the same white hair as their children, though they looked a bit more like Nuala then Neesa. The same roundness to their features instead of Neesa’s lean, athletic look. They looked Sam up and down, like they were trying to find something wrong with her.

“Neesa tells me your species is fairly hardy,” Niamh said. “I suppose if Orla had to receive the token, choosing someone sturdy and strong is a good start.”

“Um…Thank you,” Sam said.

“Not terribly intelligent though, from what I hear. Haven't even made it beyond your planet’s moon under your own technology.”

“Niamh!” Orla said.

“What?” Niamh asked. “Am I wrong?”

Sam looked over at Orla and could see how upset they were by their grandparent’s words, and wished she could take Orla’s hand and give it a squeeze to show them that she didn’t blame them for what was just said. Instead, she turned back to Niamh.

“Yes, you are,” Sam said. “We’ve landed humans on the moon, but we’ve been exploring most of our solar system with robot probes. We even have a couple that reached interstellar space. We were sending a new expedition to the fourth planet in our system every four blianas. I think we were doing pretty good, considering that a hundred and sixty blianas ago, we were still using mechanical computers and didn’t have rockets.”

Niamh flinched at the correction, but Clodagh smiled.

“You have some fight in you,” Clodagh said.

“I don’t think judging someone by their level of technological skill is fair.”

“Really?” Niamh asked.

“Tell me, Niamh. Could you sit down with a computer and a parts catalog and design and build a robot from scratch?”

“No,” Niamh said.

“Then by your measure, I must be more intelligent than you, because I do that regularly as a hobby. Or maybe I simply have skills you lack.”

Niamh turned to Orla. “I see that you’ve selected a mate just as emotional and impulsive as you are.”

Sam took a step forward, placing herself between Niamh and Orla. “Orla selected someone who they thought would be a good match for them, instead of selecting someone they thought would please other people. Since Orla is the one who will have to live with me for somewhere between ten blianas and the rest of their life, I think choosing someone whose company and companionship they think they will enjoy seems like a far more rational choice than selecting based on fear of what other people might think.”

“You’re an insolent thing, aren’t you?” Niamh asked.

“I’ve been called worse,” Sam said. “But it took me five noimeads to see how special and wonderful and amazing Orla is. If you’ve known them their entire life and don’t see how lucky you are to have a grandchild like them, then you have no business questioning anyone’s intelligence.”

Niamh’s eyes narrowed and their ears flattened, and for a moment, Sam expected them to actually hiss. Instead, they turned and marched away. Sam turned her attention to Clodagh.

“That was probably not the wisest way to handle that,” Clodagh said.

“Well, what do you expect from a primitive species that can barely manage space flight?”

“You definitely have some fight in you.”

“Are you going to insult my intended?” Sam asked.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Clodagh said, before they turned to Orla. “You chose very well, child. Do not let this one go.” They smiled at them both before turning and following Niamh.

Sam turned to check on Orla and saw unshed tears glistening in their eyes, and for a moment, she thought she’d made a horrible mistake, but then their ears turned forward towards her, and they squinted at her and smiled. Sam reached out to take Orla’s hand, but stopped herself, pulling her hand back. Orla’s eyes flicked down to her hand, and then back up to her face, and she could see the longing in Orla’s expression.

“Can we get out of here?” Sam asked.

Orla thought about it for a moment, then shook their head. “Not yet. There’s someone I want you to meet before we go.”

Orla reached up and touched her left wrist, then made a couple of quick gestures in front of her. She was still for a moment, then made another gesture before tapping her wrist again.

“They’re coming,” Orla said.

Sam moved back to Orla’s side and turned around to face the crowd. It only took a second for her to spot the person heading towards them, and when she did, her heart just about stopped. The person walking towards them was gorgeous. Long, shiny, flowing black hair, cheekbones and a jawline so sharp you could cut glass with either, eyes the color of cinnabar, black furred ears with white tips, curves that stood out even in their robes, skin that had a slightly red hue, and lips so full that they belonged in a lipstick commercial.

They walked up and stopped in front of Sam and Orla.

“Hello, Sorcha,” Orla said. “This is my intended, Sam. Sam, this is my friend, Sorcha of House Grasta.”

Sam felt like a lead weight had settled into her stomach. This was Sorcha. This was who Orla wanted to be with. This was who Orla would most likely be betrothed to if they hadn’t received the genetic diversity token at birth. Sorcha looked like a supermodel, and Sam was suddenly aware of every flaw in her own appearance. The slight bump in her nose from a break that didn’t heal cleanly. The way her eyebrows were different shapes, the way her nose was a little too wide for her face, and the way she was built more like a boy than a girl, with narrow hips and broad shoulders and small breasts. Her plain brown eyes, the way one earlobe hung lower than the other, and the thin scar on her lip where she’d taken a fin to the face while she was surfing.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam,” Sorcha said, and oh, God, even their voice was amazing.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Orla told me a little bit about you,” she said as she fought the urge to run and hide. She felt so small and inadequate, and couldn’t help but wonder how she was possibly supposed to compete with that. Not only was Sorcha just painfully beautiful, but they had known Orla for their entire life. They were Orla’s closest friend, and Orla already admitted having feelings for them.

“I’m surprised they found the time. Orla has done nothing but talk about you since the night they found your application.”

Sam glanced over at Orla, and any thought of jealousy was pushed aside by concern. Orla’s eyes were lowered and they were blushing. They held their arms more tightly against their side, and their ears were turned back a little more than usual.

“Sorcha, stop,” Orla said.

“But it’s true,” Sorcha said. “Orla talked about how brave you must be to…what was it called? Oh, yes. ‘Surf.’ And how you were very intelligent and strong for a member of your species. That you’d collected a list of academic honors as well as victories in athletics and martial arts.”

Sam shrugged. “All true,” she said, hoping it would shut Sorcha up, because they were clearly making Orla uncomfortable.

“I’m sure,” Sorcha said. “Orla does tend to ramble, but they always have their facts straight. I’ve always found it endearing.”

Sam felt a small rush of anger towards Sorcha. Orla had called them a friend, but Sam had gone from worrying about how hot they were to wanting to slap the condescending tone out of their mouth in about two minutes.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Sam said. “Hopefully it means Orla will have patience with me when I start rambling on about some project or other.”

“You’re in luck. Orla’s always been a good listener.”

“That’s hardly the only reason I feel lucky,” Sam said. “I’m amazed someone as wonderful as Orla chose me.”

“I can imagine,” Sorcha said. “They’re a very advantageous match. Their House has wealth, power, and prestige.”

Sam felt insulted on Orla’s behalf. Hearing Orla reduced to what their family offered was infuriating.

“Those things are nice, but honestly, they weren’t on my mind at all when I made my decision. I decided to go through with the betrothal because of Orla,” Sam said. She wanted to say a lot more, but if Orla considered Sorcha a friend, then she needed to be careful. If she pushed back too hard, it might hurt Orla’s feelings, and she didn’t want that, but she really didn’t like the way Sorcha was deliberately embarrassing Orla and putting them on the spot. “They were so kind and so considerate, and the care they took to make sure I was comfortable and happy made it an easy decision. I think Orla will make an amazing bond mate, and I feel very lucky that I’m the one they’ve chosen.”

Sorcha was good about hiding her reaction, but Sam noticed her ears twitch back just a bit. She wasn’t an expert on Sionnach body language. She hadn’t noticed that the ear movements were tied to their mood until she’d seen Niamh’s reaction, but she was sure that Sorcha didn’t like her answer very much.

“You are,” Sorcha said, and Sam found herself surprised by the softness in Sorcha’s voice. They turned to look at Orla, and the look on their face was just as soft as their voice. “If not for the token, Orla could have their pick of any Sionnach they wanted.”

Sam wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened, but the lead weight was back in her stomach, because she was pretty sure Sorcha had feelings for Orla too. She forced herself to smile, for Orla’s sake, more than for her own or for Sorcha’s.

“Well, if you are a friend of Orla’s, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Sam said. “But I’m afraid we have to cut this short for now.”

Sorcha didn’t look like they wanted to leave, but they nodded their head slightly, and gave them both a small bow. “I look forward to seeing you again,” they said, before they turned and walked away.

Sam turned to Orla. “Can we get away from here? I don’t really like crowds.”

Orla nodded. “Yes. We’ve greeted everyone we need to. Come with me.”

Sam didn’t ask where they were going. Anywhere was bound to be better than where they were.

***

Sorcha watched as Orla and Sam made their exit, and took that as a cue to skip out on the rest of the celebration. They slipped out easily, and doubted anyone, save perhaps Neesa and Fiadh, noticed their departure. It felt a bit odd, sneaking out alone. Normally, they would have needed to spend some time convincing Orla to go with them, and then the two of them would slip away together, looking for something to do that wasn’t so dreadfully dull.

Sorcha supposed they would have to get used to it, though. This would be their new normal. Watching Orla live their life with Sam, while they were the outsider now.

Maybe they deserved it. What they’d done had been low and unworthy. Trying to test Sam at the betrothal ceremony to see if they were worthy of Orla, or just using Orla to get ahead. Sam had proved herself more worthy than Sorcha, the way she had jumped so quickly to Orla’s defense, even while Sorcha was making Orla uncomfortable.

Sorcha hated themself for doing it, but watching the ceremony, watching Orla pledge themself to someone else had made the jealousy and the pain they were feeling twist in their gut until all they wanted to do was lash out.

Sorcha headed for the air-car garage instead of back to their apartment. The thought of going home and spending the night alone, staring at the walls and imagining what was going on with Orla and Sam was too horrible to bear. They needed to lose themself, to find something that would distract them.

***

As Orla led Sam away from the hall where the ceremony had taken place, Sam realized that she’d severely underestimated the size of Orla’s home. She’d known it was big, given that it had a room large enough to hold a stage and a hundred plus guests without feeling even remotely cramped, especially given the Sionnach’s aversion to casual touch, but there was big, and there was ‘I’m being led down a hallway that’s longer than a football field’ big. When they eventually got to the end of the hallway, Orla led them down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, there was another set of heavy doors like the ones that separated the main residence from the guest apartment. Orla raised her hand and made a small gesture, and the doors swung open. As they stepped through the doors, Orla turned and smiled at her.

“Welcome home,” Orla said.

“Home?” Sam asked.

“This is our apartment,” Orla said. “We’ll be living here until the end of the betrothal period.”

“Wow,” Sam said. “I had kind of assumed we’d be living with your parents.”

“Oh,” Orla said. “Do betrothed couples do that on your world?”

“No,” Sam said. “But on my world, we’d be considered too young to get engaged by most people. And please, don’t get me wrong, I definitely prefer this.”

Orla smiled. “Good. Come on, I want to show you everything.” They turned and started to head deeper into the apartment, but Sam reached out and caught their hand. Orla gave a little start, then turned around as Sam threaded their fingers together.

“Is this okay?” Sam asked.

Orla nodded. “Yes. You just surprised me.”

Sam squeezed Orla’s hand. “I’ve wanted to do this since the ceremony started,” she said. “But if I ever touch you and you don’t want me to, please, tell me.”

“Okay,” Orla said. “Though I can’t imagine that happening.”

“I hope you’re right, but I want to make sure you understand that if you ever don’t want to be touched, I’ll respect that, and I won’t be angry with you.”

Orla nodded, and gave a small tug on Sam’s hand. “Come with me.”

Sam followed as Orla led them out of the small foyer and out into the apartment proper. The first room they came to was a large living room with four couches arranged around a table in the middle. The room was done in earth tones, walls the color of terracotta, and furniture the color of wet sand. The table looked like it was cut from sandstone, and there was a small cabinet off to one side made from some sort of red wood.

Sam barely had time to take it in before Orla was dragging her through another door and down a hallway.

“It’s not done yet,” Orla said as they stopped at another door. “I thought it would be wasteful to order the equipment before I was sure you were going to stay, so I only placed the order after our First Meeting, but everything should be here within a laethanta or two.” They touched a button beside the door and it slid open.

Sam looked over at Orla, who gave her an encouraging nod. She turned and stepped inside the room, pulling Orla with her by their linked hands, and was immediately taken aback by what she saw. The walls were decorated with murals of a beach scene, with emerald waves breaking in the distance and birds in the sky. The murals were beautiful, but they were almost an afterthought. The room was filled with worktables and workbenches, power tools and computers and machine tools. It was easily larger than her house back home, and if there was more equipment coming, Sam wasn’t sure what it could be, because she was already looking at the most well-equipped machine and electronics shop that she’d ever seen.

“What is this?”

“Your robotics lab.”

“You did all of this?” Sam asked.

“Is it okay?” Orla asked, suddenly sounding a little nervous. “Did I mess it up? Did you want to do it yourself? Because if you did—”

Sam pulled Orla into a hug, squeezing as tight as she could. “It’s great,” she said. “Thank you.” She felt Orla relax, but she held on for just a moment longer before letting them out of the hug.

“You really like it?” Orla asked.

Sam looked around again. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “I mean, I don’t know what half of these tools do, but…Orla, this…I don’t know what to say. I never expected something like this.”

“I told you. I want you to be happy.”

Sam turned back to Orla. “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Orla said. “You stayed. For me. Not for my money, not for what I could give you, not for my family’s power and influence. You could have gone home and still had all of that, but you stayed for me. I don’t ever want you to regret that. I want you to be happy here. I want this to feel like your home. If a room and a few tools can help with that, then they’re worth any price.”

Sam was hit with a tide of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she was overwhelmed by how kind, generous, thoughtful, and selfless Orla was. They gave so much and asked for so little in return. On the other hand, Sam felt anger boiling inside her at the idea that Orla seemed to expect to be an afterthought, or to be used for their family’s connections, or to be looked down on and dismissed. She thought about what Neesa had told her the day before, about the way Neesa had practically begged her to take care of Orla, and she understood it a little bit better now.

She lifted Orla’s hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it the same way she had the day before, when Orla had offered to send her home so she could be with Jenny.

“I love this,” she said. “But I just want to make sure you know that this isn’t why I stayed. I stayed for you.”

“I know,” Orla said.

“Good, because I want to make sure you know that you don’t have to buy my friendship or my affection. I know that we just met, and I know that it’s quick, but I want you to know that I want you to be happy too. Just because you’re you and you deserve to be happy.”

Orla closed their eyes, and for a second, Sam was worried she’d said something wrong, but then she glanced up, and saw Orla’s ears were turned towards her, and when she looked down, Orla was smiling at her. They stayed like that for a minute or two before Orla opened their eyes.

“Come,” Orla said. “There’s more to see.”

Chapter Six

THE FIRST THING SAM was aware of when she woke up was how much everything hurt. Everything. It wasn’t an exaggeration. She could feel the blood pumping through her eyelids like someone was pounding on them with a hammer. She could feel the holes in her earlobes like they’d just been pierced. She could feel her scars like they were fresh wounds. She was pretty sure her hair hurt, but she couldn’t remember what happened, couldn’t remember why she was in pain.

“They’re awake,” someone said. She understood the words perfectly, even though they weren’t in English or Spanish. She knew the language, but she couldn’t remember learning it, which was strange because she could remember every hour that she spent in her high school Spanish classes in painful detail.

“It hurts,” she managed to choke out.

“What are they saying?” someone asked in that same language.

“She’s in pain.” A different voice. Familiar, even though she couldn’t place it. Comforting. She knew that voice.

“Please,” she said. “It hurts.”

“Help her!” the familiar voice demanded.

“I’m getting an analgesic,” the other voice said. “They shouldn’t be awake.”

“It’s okay, Sam,” the familiar voice said. “I’m here. Just hold on a little longer.”

She felt new pain. A sting in her neck. She tried to pull away from it, but it was gone before she could move, and the pain started to fade a moment later. As the pain faded, it was replaced with clarity. She opened her eyes and looked for Orla.

“What happened?” she asked in Oriad.

“You’re in the medical center,” Orla said. “Do you remember?”

Sam shook her head. “No.”

“A little memory loss is normal,” the unfamiliar voice said. She turned towards it and saw an older Sionnach there, black hair shot through with grey, and age lines on their face. “It’s also temporary.”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“We came for your adaptation procedures,” Orla said. “The implantation of your Augmented Reality Implant, the gene therapy to keep you from needing vision correction when you get older, the procedure to increase your muscle and bone density and to help you filter metals out of your respiratory and digestive system, augmentation of your vision and hearing, your anti-viral, anti-bacterial, and anti-fungal implants, and your medical monitoring implant.”

Sam remembered being told that she’d have to undergo some medical procedures, but she didn’t realize they’d be quite that extensive.

“That’s a lot,” she said.

“Yes,” the Sionnach, presumably her doctor, said. “And you were supposed to sleep through it, but apparently your body processes drugs far faster than most species. The dosage I gave you would have kept a Sionnach asleep for another uair.”

“Lucky me,” Sam said. “You know I’m a human, right?”

“I do,” the doctor said. “I looked it up to make sure the anesthetic was safe for humans, and to check the effective dose and duration.”

“How much longer before you’re finished?” Sam asked.

“All the implants are in place,” the doctor said. “We’re just waiting for the Aug to finish connecting to your central nervous system, and for the bone and muscle enhancements to finish spreading through your body. It should only take another uair for the process to complete. We can put you back to sleep if you like, but the analgesic I gave you should block most of the pain.”

“I’m good,” Sam said.

“Are you sure?” Orla asked.

“Yeah.”

“If the pain returns, let me know,” the doctor said.

“Sure. Do you think you can give us some privacy?” Sam asked.

“Of course. If you feel any more pain, press the call button.”

The doctor left the room, and as soon as the door was shut, Sam held out her hand. Orla hesitated a moment before taking it.

“How long have I been here?”

“About two uairs,” Orla said. So, almost six hours. She squeezed Orla’s hand.

“Have you been here the whole time?”

“Of course.”

Sam smiled. “Where’s my mom?”

“She went to the cafeteria to get some food a few noimeads before you woke up. She should be back soon.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No. I didn’t want to leave you.”

Sam frowned and gave Orla the best stern glare she could muster. “You need to take care of yourself. I know that’s normally my job, but I’m a little busy and I need someone to cover for me right now.”

Orla gave her an indulgent smile. “I’m too old for a caretaker.”

“I’m not trying to be your caretaker,” Sam said. “I’m trying to be your intended, and someday, I hope you’ll be my spouse. That’s what spouses are supposed to do, at least where I come from. Take care of each other, support each other, love each other.”

“Love?” Orla asked.

Sam lifted Orla’s hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Not yet,” she said. “But I think someday. That is, if that’s what you want.”

“Very much,” Orla said.

“Good,” Sam said as she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.

“Sam?” Orla asked, concern in her voice.

“Sorry. Just, the light suddenly got too bright.”

“Are you in pain?”

“A little,” Sam admitted.

“I’ll get the doctor.”

“No,” Sam said. “Just stay with me for a bit.”

“Okay.”

Sam lay there, a dull throbbing in her head. She ran her thumb slowly over the back of Orla’s hand, trying to focus on the feel of Orla’s skin to distract herself from the pain.

“Talk to me,” Sam said.

“What about?”

“Tell me about one of your adventures with Neesa and Fiadh.”

There was silence for just a moment before Orla started talking. “There’s a forest far to the north that we call the Bonding Woods. The whole forest is filled with cnonna trees, which have bright red leaves and charcoal black bark. It’s all deep, old growth forest that stretches the width of the continent. Huge tracts of it have never been touched by Sionnach hands, and there are legends that there are great predators in there that have never been seen or cataloged. It’s forbidden by law to cut the trees, because the Bonding Woods produce almost twenty percent of the planet’s oxygen, but it is legal to go into the woods, and I always wanted to go and see them. When I was twenty-four bliana old, Neesa and Fiadh showed up to take me out for the laethanta. We were supposed to go to the theater to see a play, but Neesa and Fiadh decided I’d have more fun if…”

Sam lay there as still as she could, just listening to the soft sound of Orla’s voice as they described their trip into the Bonding Woods. She wasn’t sure at what point she actually fell asleep, but some time after the encounter with the giant centipede, even with the throbbing in her head, the sound of Orla’s voice lulled her to sleep.

***

The next time Sam woke up, there was no pain, but she could see through her eyelids. Not clearly, but she could definitely see two people sitting next to her bed with her eyes still closed. She slowly opened her eyes, which was definitely a mistake, because she was pretty sure she was seeing colors that didn’t exist. Most of them seemed to be shades of…not red, but something redder than red, though there were definitely some…not purples that were more purple than purple. The not-red seemed to come from everything, like the whole room was glowing. The not-purple only really seemed to come from the various displays around the room.

“You’re awake!” Orla said.

Sam turned towards them. She probably shouldn’t have been, but she was surprised to see that both Orla and her mom glowed not-red. In fact, they glowed more brightly than anything else in the room.

“There’s something wrong with my eyes,” Sam said.

“What do you mean?” her mom asked.

“Everything is glowing,” Sam said. “I’m seeing colors that don’t exist.”

“That’s the visual augmentation,” Orla said. “Your eyes have been modified to allow you to see down into the infrared and up into the ultraviolet.”

“I can see through my eyelids,” Sam said.

“Yes,” Orla said. “You’ll learn how to control it, to shift the spectrum you use, but until then, you’ll need to wear an infrared blocking mask to sleep in.”

“Great,” Sam said. “Any other surprises?”

“Do you still not remember this morning?” Orla asked.

“Not really,” Sam said. “I think my memory is coming back a little. I remember…” She stopped for a moment, because suddenly, she did remember waking up that morning. She remembered waking up to Orla half on top of her, and a dull ache that demanded attention she couldn’t give it. Not something she wanted to think about with her mom in the room. “I remember waking up. Taking a shower. Maybe eating breakfast. Did we have fruit and cheese this morning?”

“Yes,” Orla said. “I liked the pineapple and the cantaloupe—”

“But not the honeydew,” Sam said. “There was a blue fruit.”

“Gromtor,” Orla said. “You ate the whole bowl.”

“Sorry,” Sam said. She couldn’t help herself. They tasted like sour cherries.

“It’s okay,” Orla said. “But if you still don’t remember talking to the doctor, I should tell you that your hearing range has been expanded as well.”

“When can we leave?” Sam asked.

“Soon,” Orla said. “Would you like me to go check in with the doctor?”

“Please,” Sam said.

Orla stood up and headed for the door. Sam watched them the whole way, until the door closed behind them.

“She seems nice,” her mom said in English.

“They,” Sam corrected. She turned to face Beth. “They’re great.”

“Sorry,” her mom said. “Still getting used to that. They care a lot about you. I was surprised how much, since you’ve only known each other for three days.”

“It’s been a busy few days.”

“You like them.”

“I do. I like them a lot.”

“I’m glad.”

“Have they eaten anything?” Sam asked. “When I woke up earlier, they hadn’t had anything since breakfast.”

“I brought them a tray from the cafeteria. They ate most of it. There was some sort of bread they didn’t like.”

“Thanks for doing that.”

“Have to take care of your intended. Otherwise, you two might never come visit.”

“It means a lot to me,” she said.

“You mean a lot to me.”

Before Sam could say anything else, the door opened, and Orla and the doctor came back into the room.

“Sorry it took so long,” Orla said.

Sam laughed. “You were barely gone a noimead,” Sam said, switching back to Oriad. She looked at the doctor. “When can I get out of here?”

The doctor looked at one of the monitors for a moment, then turned to Sam. “You can leave now. The muscle and bone reinforcements are in place. You’ll need to eat lots of protein for the next few seachtains while you build additional muscle tissue. I’ve given your intended a list of nutritional requirements. They can transfer the list once you’ve activated and set up your Augmented Reality Implant. Do not skip the tutorial program for it.”

“Okay,” Sam said. She turned to Orla. “Let’s go home.”

***

Sam stood at the window, watching as the boarding arm for the shuttle retracted. It was a faster process than it would have been on Earth. The arm just swung away, collapsing like an accordion as it did, and she had to fight to keep tears from spilling down her cheeks. She’d spent far too much time the last few days fighting back tears, but she couldn’t help it. Saying goodbye to her mom had been harder than she expected. She had hugged her, told her she loved her, and put on a brave face until Beth had disappeared down the boarding tube. The only thing that kept her from sitting down and crying in the departure lounge was the fact that she was surrounded by total strangers. Aliens who she doubted would understand.

The shuttle lifted out of its docking cradle, antigrav fields holding it aloft as it slowly backed out of the docking bay. She watched as it turned and began to climb, not taking her eyes off it until it disappeared from view. Once it was gone, she turned and headed back into the space port, tapping her left arm as she walked. Her Aug sprung to life, the heads up display she’d so carefully configured appearing in front of her, giving her a read out of the time, the temperature, her current location, her medical status, and a handful of other items.

“Pixel, point me to the taxi stand,” she said, addressing the AI that now lived in the back of her head. A trail of small dots appeared on the ground in front of her, and she followed them, not paying much attention to the spaceport as she considered what to do next. It was the first time she’d really been alone since she landed on Talamh. Orla had wanted to come with her, but Sam had said she wanted a little time alone with her mom before she left. Orla had seemed to understand that, even though they were worried about Sam getting lost without someone there to guide her. Sam had pointed out that she had Pixel now, and she’d run through the tutorial program no less than five times since she brought the Aug online. Orla thought it was weird of her to name the AI, but Sam had shrugged and said if she was going to have someone else sharing her head, she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life calling it ‘hey you.’

She considered what she wanted to do next as she made her way to the taxi stand. She didn’t really have anything scheduled for the rest of the day…the rest of the laethanta rather. She still wasn’t quite used to Sionnach time keeping, or the fact that the day/night cycle on Talamh lasted almost two Earth months. She knew Orla would expect her to come back to their apartment, but she wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Her emotions were running high, and she needed some time to herself.

“Pixel,” she said.

“Yes?” the AI answered.

“Can you find me something like a coffee bar?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Pixel said.

“Someplace that serves food.”

“Swanky or skanky?” he asked.

“Something like the Nasty Kitty back home.”

“Got it. We’re going slumming.”

Sam felt a grin tugging at her lips. She had spent a good hour testing personality modules for Pixel before she’d settled on one that had come from Earth, and she liked it so far. She’d deliberately chosen one that was a little on the irreverent side, sure that if she had to deal with the same constant formality from the voice inside her head as she did from the Sionnach, it would drive her crazy.

“Found a spot,” Pixel said. “It’s within walking distance. Want me to reroute?”

“Yes,” she said. She was a little surprised that he had found something that close, but it was a bit of good luck. The walk would help clear her head.

The dots on the ground rearranged themselves, guiding her in a slightly different direction, and a distance indicator popped up, telling her the place Pixel had selected was about a kilometer away. She followed the dots out of the space port and into the city proper.

“Pixel, send a message to Orla. Tell them that I decided to get lunch in town, and I’ll be home a little later than expected.”

There was a moment of silence as she walked before Pixel replied. “They’re asking if you’d like some company, or if you would prefer to be alone.”

Sam smiled, because it was such an Orla response.

“Put me through,” Sam said. There was another brief moment of silence, then she heard Orla’s voice.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, Orla,” Sam said. “I appreciate the offer, but I need a bit of time to myself.”

“Okay. Did things not go well at the spaceport?”

“Everything went well enough,” Sam said. “It’s just hard. I’ve never been away from my mom for more than a couple of days before. It will take some time to adjust.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be here if you’d like to talk about it when you get home, and if you don’t, I’ll still be here.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Any suggestions on what I should try for lunch?”

“I like gabhar skewers with glasfuar sauce, pratamilis strips, and gromtor juice. It’s a common enough meal. You should be able to find it wherever you eat.”

“Thanks. See you soon.”

“I look forward to it. Be well.”

***

Orla leaned back as the servant bot cleared away their dishes. Lunch had been simple. A spion salad with cold lacha breast. They’d wanted something light, since they were feeling unsettled. They were trying to be understanding and make allowances for different cultures, but there was a part of them that was hurt by Sam declining their company for lunch. Sam had said the day before that as a betrothed couple, and as spouses, it would be their duty to take care of each other, support each other, and love each other, but when a moment came when Sam was obviously upset, she had denied Orla the chance to offer support and comfort. Sam had denied Orla the chance to take care of her.

It felt like a rejection. Orla didn’t want to believe it was, but it felt that way. They knew they would need to discuss it with Sam as soon as she returned home, but they felt hesitant to do so in case Sam thought they were intruding on private matters. A person’s relationship with their parent was important. If Sam was having difficulty with the separation, she might not welcome an intrusion into the matter, but Orla knew from personal experience that things with one’s parents could be painful. They did not want Sam to suffer alone.

They considered comming Neesa or Fiadh to ask for advice, but they felt embarrassed at the thought. They were past the age of second ascension now. They should be able to manage their personal affairs. Comming their entles for advice when they had only been betrothed two laethantas felt like admitting that they were a failure at managing their own relationships. They wanted Neesa and Fiadh to be proud of them, more so than they craved their parents’ approval.

Maybe it would be better to ask for advice and be embarrassed than to make a mistake because of their own pride or fear, but they weren’t ready to admit to their entles that they needed help this quickly. Not when they had another option.

Orla tapped their left arm to activate their Aug. “Message Sorcha and ask if they are available for conversation.”

“Message sent. Awaiting reply. Sorcha confirms they are available.”

“Connect us.”

“Hello, Orla,” Sorcha said. “Your intended not keeping you entertained?”

“They’re not here at the moment,” Orla said.

“Why not?”

“I’m unsure, and I need advice.”

“Is something wrong?” Sorcha asked, and Orla could hear the concern in their voice.

“I don’t know,” Orla said. “It could simply be a human behavior, or it could be because we’ve only recently met, but something happened, and I’m concerned.”

“Did they hurt you in some way?” Sorcha asked. “Or do something you didn’t want?”

“No,” Orla said. “Please, Sorcha, I don’t believe Sam meant to do anything to upset me, I am simply confused by their behavior.”

“What happened?”

“Yesterday, the doctor miscalculated the dosage of anesthetic for Sam’s augmentation procedures. She woke up during the procedure and refused to be put back to sleep. She expressed concern that I had not eaten since breakfast and told me that humans considered it the duty of bond mates or both parties in a betrothal to take care of each other and support each other.” They left out the part about loving each other, worried that it would make Sorcha think humans a frivolous species.

“They sound a bit foolish for refusing to be put back to sleep, but I can’t fault their attitude on how to treat their mate.”

“Nor I, but that is what has me confused. Sam asked if I would mind staying behind while she saw her mother off. I didn’t think anything of it. I thought she simply wanted a bit of time alone with her mother before she left. However, Sam called me after her mother had boarded the shuttle, and when I asked if things had gone well, she told me she had never been separated from her mother for more than a couple of laethantas and needed time to adjust to the separation. She mentioned that she had decided to get lunch in the city before returning to our apartment. I asked if she would like me to join them, but she declined my company. It left me confused, because if it is my duty as her mate to take care of her and support her, how am I to carry out that duty when she chooses solitude over my company?”

“Did you ask her why she didn’t want your company?”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t panic just yet. Different species process difficult emotions in different ways. Even within a species, it varies. Look at the Sionnach. Most of us choose to process our emotions in solitude, but some of us prefer to talk things through. Maybe your human prefers to process her emotions alone.”

“But how can I care for her and support her if she doesn’t share her problems with me?”

“By giving her what she needs,” Sorcha said. “Care and support mean different things to different people, and different things to the same person at different times. Sam asked for privacy today. I don’t think that’s a rejection of you. I’ve only met her briefly, but I was impressed by how ready she was to defend you. My advice would be to talk to her. Explain how you felt when she declined your company and ask her to explain why she didn’t want to have lunch with you. Work out what you both need.”

“That sounds like good advice.”

“And I gather you already knew what you needed to do, but were afraid to do it.”

“I didn’t want to intrude on her or make her uncomfortable.”

“I’ve told you before, you need to learn to be a bit more selfish,” Sorcha said. “Your concern for others is one of the reasons I love you, but I wish you had more concern for yourself and what you need.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You could never be a burden, Orla. You are a gift to anyone who knows you. I’m sorry that some people in your life don’t understand that, but from what I’ve seen, and from what Neesa and Fiadh tell me, I don’t believe your Sam is one of them.”

“You talked to Neesa and Fiadh about Sam?”

“I was concerned. When you first told me about her, I looked up her species. They are volatile creatures, capable of great kindness and great cruelty. I wasn’t sure which to expect.”

“Kindness,” Orla said. “Sam has shown me so much kindness.”

“Then maybe Sam was worried about burdening you with her difficulties. Maybe she wanted to be alone to protect you from her unpleasant emotions.”

“You think so?”

“It’s possible, but I also don’t think you’ll know one way or the other until you talk to her.”

Orla sighed. “It always comes down to that, doesn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Sorcha said. “But if Sam is as great as I’ve heard, I don’t think you should worry. I think she’d want to know how you feel.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Would you like me to come up and keep you company until your Sam returns?”

“No, thank you. I think I’m going to take the time and study a bit more about humans. Perhaps if I understand Sam’s species a bit better, I’ll be able to anticipate their behavior better.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up. One thing I’ve noted from almost all the public contact reports is that humans are notoriously hard to predict.”

“You’re making me worry even more than I already was.”

“I don’t think you have any reason to worry, but if Sam ever treats you poorly, call me. I will explain to her the error of her ways.”

Orla laughed. “Thank you.”

“Any time. Be well.”

“Be well.”

The comm call ended, and Orla was surprised to find that they were much more relaxed than they had been before the call. Sorcha hadn’t really told them anything they hadn’t already known, but hearing it from someone else made it more real somehow. Made them more sure of their path. And that surety brought calm.

Now they just needed to wait for Sam to come home.

***

Sam rode up the elevator feeling a lot more relaxed and content than she had been when she left the space port. Lunch had been delicious. Gabhar skewers with glasfuar sauce tasted a lot like the lamb in mint sauce she always got when they went to her mom’s favorite restaurant. Gromtor juice tasted like sour cherry juice, and pratamilis strips were pretty close to sweet potato fries. The tastes and the sounds had been close enough to home to ease a bit of the ache she felt at Beth’s departure. It still hurt, but the sharp edge was gone, at least for now.

She hadn’t come back to the tower right after lunch, instead walking around the part of the city surrounding the spaceport before taking the subway into the part of town where the tower stood. She roamed around the streets near the tower for a bit, just seeing what was in the area, taking note of the various shops and restaurants and entertainment venues. There was a park about five blocks from the tower that she wanted to go back to. It was fairly large, and she wanted to take her time and explore it. Maybe see if there was a jogging trail or something.

Sam had grown up in the suburbs, lived there all her life, but she had always loved the city. She and Jenny had spent endless hours wandering around downtown, finding new cafes and coffee bars with live bands, or little single-screen movie theaters running classic movies or foreign films. They’d even found a few little black box theaters and spent more than one weekend watching live performances of various plays. Jenny had a weakness for Tennessee Williams, and Sam had put up with it, even though she found him a bit morbid and depressing. She liked comedies herself, and even the occasional musical, but honestly, it hadn’t mattered what they were watching. It was just a way to slip a bit of life and freedom in between the cracks of a schedule filled with her mother’s incessant demands to do more and achieve more.

It was odd to suddenly find herself free of those demands. To find herself entirely in control of her future. It was a few days before she was scheduled to go to the learning center, but when she did, she would have complete control over the curriculum. She’d already put in a few requests for her first week. There was an Earth Language pack for the teaching machine that included the top twenty languages spoken on Earth, and during her walk back, she’d had Pixel add the Hegemony language pack, which added the top one hundred languages in the Hegemony. On top of that, she’d added math, science, mechanical and electrical engineering, computer science, programming, and artificial intelligence courses. Most of the courses she would be taking the first few weeks would be focused on re-teaching her what she already knew, just using Hegemony theoretical models, notations, and technology standards, but once she was back up to speed, she could go in whatever direction she wanted.

It was exciting, overwhelming, and terrifying all at once. Exciting because there were so many possibilities. Overwhelming because there were so many possibilities. Terrifying, because for the first time, she’d be making the decisions on her own. No advice from her mother, no careful and considered path laid out for her. Just her own judgement and desires. All the successes would be hers, but so would all the mistakes.

The elevator door opened, and Pixel laid out the guide dots on the floor to lead Sam back to her and Orla’s apartment. It wasn’t really that hard to find—they had half the floor—but she was still glad for the guidance. She stepped out of the elevator and followed the dots until she reached the door, which slid open to let her inside.

“Where’s Orla?” she asked as the door slid shut behind her.

“Main lounge,” Pixel replied.

Sam headed down the hall to the main lounge. As she approached, she heard Orla’s voice.

“Run predictive analysis algorithm forty-seven again,” Orla said. Sam frowned slightly at their tone of voice. They didn’t sound happy at all, something that was confirmed a moment later.

“Damn it. That can’t be right. Are you including all revenue streams?”

Sam rounded the corner and saw Orla sitting in the lounge, their hands raised and moving in the kind of practiced gestures that told Sam they were working on something with their Aug.

“Yes, I can see that, but why don’t the results match the reports issued by Tadgh?” They waited for a moment, then frowned. “Show me the projection.”

“Problem?” Sam asked.

Orla jumped slightly, and looked over at Sam, the frown on their face shifting to an expression of relief. “Save state, and clear view,” they said before tapping their arm. “Just trying to get a little work done.”

Sam walked over and took a seat next to Orla. “Sounded like it wasn’t going well.”

Orla sighed. “It wasn’t.”

“Want to talk about it?” Sam asked.

“When I reached the age of second ascension, I started training to take over management of the House. I don’t actually have any authority, but I have access to all of the financials and business plans. Everything Tadgh has access to. I spend most of my work hours reviewing his decisions, analyzing data, and learning everything I can about the ins and outs of our House businesses. Except lately, my analysis doesn’t match Tadgh’s. I’m projecting a downturn in revenue within the next three to four bliana, but Tadgh is projecting an increase during that same period. I’m trying to locate the discrepancy.”

“Do you want me to leave you to it?” Sam asked.

“No,” Orla said. “I’m not really supposed to be working at all this seachtain. I just needed a distraction to keep me from worrying about you.”

Sam frowned. “You were worried about me?”

“Of course,” Orla said. “You said you were having a hard time dealing with your mother’s departure and then you didn’t come home. I thought you might be upset, and I was worried about you being out in the city by yourself.”

Sam reached down and took Orla’s hand. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know,” Orla said. “But…can we talk about something?”

“Of course.”

“I’m confused.”

“About what?”

“Yesterday, you said that it was our duty as each other’s intended, and when we bond as each other’s spouses, to care for each other, support each other, and to love each other, but today you didn’t allow me to go with you to the spaceport, and then, when you were hurting, rather than come home, you chose to isolate yourself. How am I supposed to fulfill my duty to care for you when you choose not to be around me?”

Sam stared at Orla for a moment, at a complete loss for words. She turned over what had happened from asking Orla not to go with her to the spaceport right up to her decision to not come home after Beth left. She’d decided to ask Orla to stay home because she’d wanted some time alone with Beth, and then she’d decided not to come home because whenever she got upset, that was just what she did. She hid in her room, or went for a walk, or went downtown and wandered around. Anything to put distance between her and whatever had upset her, to give herself time to process and think. She’d just reacted like she always did without taking into account Orla’s feelings. With anyone else, that might not be an issue, but she knew Orla was already insecure about how things stood between them. She knew Orla was insecure about their value to everyone who claimed to care for them, and when she took a moment and considered it from Orla’s perspective, she was horrified to realize that what she’d done had probably reinforced those insecurities. She’d hurt Orla, and that was not acceptable.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I…I asked you not to go to the spaceport because I wanted some time alone with my mother, but you’re right. I should have come home afterwards. I didn’t take your feelings into account, and I should have made that my priority. I didn’t come home because I was upset, and when I’m upset, I find a place to be alone. It’s a habit, but I need to break it. I’m just not used to having someone I can share everything with.”

“What about Jenny? I thought you shared everything with them.”

“No,” Sam said. “I never felt safe sharing my feelings with Jenny. If I had, things might have happened very differently, but I didn’t, and they aren’t a part of my life anymore because of that. I don’t want to make that mistake with you. I don’t know yet if things will work between us, but I do know that when I decided to stay, I promised myself I would do whatever I could to try to make this work. So I promise, I will try to do better.”

Orla didn’t say anything, but they did lift their joined hands up, and as Sam watched, Orla shyly pressed their lips to the back of Sam’s hand. Sam felt herself practically melt at the simple gesture, and suddenly, she knew how she wanted to spend the rest of her day.

“Do we have anything we need to do before dinner?” she asked.

“No,” Orla said.

“Would you come lie down with me?”

“Are you tired?” Orla asked, their voice filled with concern.

“No,” Sam said. “I just want to spend some time with you.”

“Oh!” Orla said, their cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. “I’d like that.”

Sam stood up and pulled Orla to their feet by their joined hands, then led them down the hall to their bedroom. Once there, she let go of Orla’s hand and took off her shoes and the robe she’d worn to the space port, leaving herself in a pair of boy shorts and a tank top. Orla’s undergarments were a lot more modest than Sam’s, but she still felt her heart slamming against the inside of her chest as she watched Orla climb into bed. She slipped into bed from the opposite side, and Orla curled up against her as soon as she was settled, resting their head on her shoulder, and a hand between her breasts. Sam slipped one arm around Orla’s shoulders, and covered the wrist of the hand between her breasts with her other hand.

“Sam.”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad I picked you.”

“I’m glad you did, too,” Sam said, before pressing a kiss to Orla’s forehead. It was the last thing either of them said before Pixel woke them up for dinner.

Chapter Seven

SAM LAY ON THE couch in the main lounge with a cold, wet towel covering her forehead and her eyes, trying her best to fight back the pounding headache that she’d developed over the last uair. It had been over two seachtains since she’d seen her mom off at the spaceport. Almost a month by Earth reckoning. She’d done her best to get used to the way things worked on Talamh during that time, but she felt perpetually jetlagged. A laethanta, the closest unit of time the Sionnach had to a day, was just shy of twenty-nine hours, which was playing hell with her circadian rhythms. The implants were helping her adjust, but it was a slow process. Done too quickly, it would throw her whole body out of whack.

The good thing was, the Sionnach weren’t as work-obsessed as she had expected. A seachtain, the Sionnach equivalent of a week, was ten laethantas. The first laethanta of a seachtain was considered a rest day, the next three laethanta were workdays, then two more rest days, followed by three more workdays, and the last laethanta of the seachtain was a rest day. Basically, a three-day on, two-day off work schedule. And the Sionnach were expected to work for two uairs a laethanta with a one uair break in the middle. It worked out to about a five hour and forty-five-minute work day.

It sounded leisurely, and maybe for the Sionnach it was, but Sam was used to pushing herself and pushing herself hard. In the past month, she’d learned hundreds of different languages. She spoke the top twenty languages on Earth, the top one hundred languages spoken in the Hegemony, all five of the languages spoken on Talamh, and the most common languages spoken on all of the various worlds that Orla’s family had business dealings with. On top of that, she’d been doing her best to relearn everything she knew back on Earth. She’d made a pretty good dent in it. She had her math back up to speed. She even liked the Hegemony versions of calculus and linear algebra a bit better than the human versions, which shouldn’t have been a surprise given that they’d had thousands of years to perfect it, and most importantly, had never heard of Newtonian notation.

The thing was, for all the progress she had made, it felt like she’d lost a part of herself. She couldn’t read a circuit diagram, she didn’t know how to use most of the tools in the lab Orla had put together for her, she didn’t even know what parts she needed to stock for the most basic of builds. She knew those things would come in time. She knew the knowledge was already in her head, downloaded through the teaching machine, but it didn’t stop the frustration at not being able to access it. Which was why she was lying on the couch with a pounding headache. The instructor bots had told her time and again that if she pushed too fast, she would give herself a headache, and they were right. She’d been pushing all day, and her head felt like someone was pounding on it with a hammer.

It wasn’t the first time, either, but she couldn’t help it. She felt useless, and she couldn’t stop feeling like, at any moment, Orla was going to tell her that they had made a huge mistake because clearly, Sam wasn’t as smart as she claimed. It was a ridiculous notion, but Sam was so used to knowing how to do things and being confident in her skills that not knowing how to do what she wanted to do was driving her stress levels through the roof, and the stress was driving her crazy.

If she’d been back on Earth, she would have hit up one of a few guys she knew who were happy to sell her items they’d picked up at the dispensary. The problem was, she was about two thousand lightyears from the nearest pot plant. The Sionnach did have alcohol, but getting drunk never really got her to relax. She got silly and giggly while she was drunk, but as soon as she sobered up, the stress always came back in full force.

“Again?” Orla asked in a soft voice, the word spoken in their lightly-accented English.

Sam reached up and lifted the towel so she could see Orla standing over her, a worried look on their face. “Yeah,” Sam said. “How’d you know?”

“Your Aug sent me a message.”

“Pixel ratted me out?”

“Not sorry, boss,” Pixel said.

“You were the one who insisted on installing a personality module in your internal AI,” Orla said. “They were concerned. Now sit up.”

“So bossy,” Sam said. She did as she was told, though, shifting into an upright position. Orla sat down next to her, and a servant bot floated closer, holding out a tray. Orla picked up a cup and held it out.

“Drink this.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“A gromtor-flavored oral rehydration solution. Your medical implant says that you’re dehydrated.”

Sam took an experimental sip of the drink. It wasn’t bad. It tasted a bit like a sports drink. Once she was sure she didn’t hate it, she tilted the cup up, and drank the whole thing. Orla took the cup from her and set it back on the tray. As the bot refilled the cup, Orla picked up an injector. Used to it by now, Sam tilted her head, and Orla reached forward, pressing the tip of the injector to Sam’s carotid artery. She felt the brief sting of the injector, followed by the almost instant relief of the analgesic.

“Oh, God, thank you,” she said, already starting to feel the endorphin high that came with the sudden absence of pain.

“Drink,” Orla said, swapping the injector for the cup.

Sam took the cup and drained it a second time. She handed it back, and Orla set it on the tray, then picked up a second injector.

“Turn up your sleeve,” she said.

“Okay,” Sam said. She pushed up her sleeve and Orla took her wrist, holding her arm still as they pressed the injector to the muscle in Sam’s forearm. Sam felt another sting as the injector went off. “What was that?”

“The chemicals your people call Vitamin D. Your medical implant is reporting borderline deficiency. You didn’t tell me that your species requires regular ultraviolet exposure to produce chemicals it needs.”

“I’ve been getting sunlight though,” Sam said.

“Yes, but Grian is an M9 Red Dwarf star. It does not produce nearly as much ultraviolet light as a G2 Yellow Dwarf like Sol. I’ve ordered a UV bed. You’ll spend twenty noimead in it every day to ensure sufficient Vitamin D production.”

Sam stared at Orla as they put the injector back on the tray, and couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Orla, who was normally kind, gentle, and a little shy, was positively aggressive when it came to Sam’s wellbeing. They made sure Sam ate her meals on time, made sure she slept, made sure she took her midday break, made sure she only worked her prescribed hours. With anyone else, Sam was sure she would have found the mother-henning intolerable, but somehow, with Orla, it was both adorable and endearing. They were just so earnest about it, and Sam knew it was how they showed they cared, and the reminder that Orla did care made her feel warm inside.

Orla picked up the towel Sam had been using to soothe her head and dropped it on the tray as well, then they stood back up. “Come with me,” they said.

Sam took Orla’s hand and let them lead the way to their bedchamber. For a moment, Sam thought Orla was going to use Sam’s headache as an excuse for some afternoon cuddles, but Orla led her to the bathroom. Sam heard the sound of running water before they reached the door, and when Orla led her inside, another servant bot was just finishing filling the large bathtub. She was a little surprised by that, but more surprised by what was on the shelf behind the tub. There was an assortment of soaking salts, bath oils, soaps, and bath bombs, all labeled in English. She recognized them instantly because they were her mom’s favorite brands.

“Where did you get those?” Sam asked.

“Earth,” Orla said. “I have been studying human relaxation techniques and my research indicated that humans often use bathing as a way to relax. What I read indicated that these types of products were used to enhance the experience. The House has an agent stationed on Earth, so I had them consult with your mother on what you might like.”

“You did that for me?” Sam asked.

“I was worried,” Orla said. “You’ve been stressed, and I wanted to help.”

“Thank you,” Sam said as she fought down the urge to lean in and kiss Orla. Something which was getting tougher and tougher to do with every kind thing and every sweet little gesture they made. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to kiss Orla, but she was hesitant to escalate things between them because she wasn’t sure Orla would say no if it was something they weren’t comfortable with. Orla was so desperate for physical affection that Sam worried they would do anything rather than risk their primary source.

The bath, however, gave her an idea. A way to push things forward a bit, while still leaving Orla in control. She reached up and started unbuttoning her robe, smiling a little as she saw Orla’s eyes dilate. Orla kept watching her as she slipped off the robe and handed it to the servant bot, but when Sam reached for the hem of her tank top, Orla’s cheeks flushed red and they started to turn away.

“You could join me, if you like,” Sam said as she peeled the tank top off and handed it over to the servant bot.

“What?” Orla asked, turning back around. They froze like a deer in headlights at the sight of Sam standing there in nothing but a pair of boy shorts.

“In the bath,” Sam said.

Orla stood there, not saying anything, just staring at Sam with their mouth open just the smallest amount. They were so cute and flustered and adorable, and Sam really, really wanted to lean in and kiss those soft, pink lips, but instead, she reached down and took Orla’s hand and pressed it against her sternum, the spot where it always ended up when they were cuddled up together in bed. It felt different without the thin cotton of one of her tank tops between them.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “If you don’t want to or if you’re not ready to, it’s okay, but I’d really like it if you joined me.”

Orla looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes, and Sam could see the warring emotions on Orla’s face. There was desire, but also a little fear. Sam watched and waited, giving Orla all the time that they needed to make up their mind, afraid rushing them would spook them and send them running. In the end, patience paid off.

“Okay,” Orla said with a jerky nod of their head. Sam smiled and lifted Orla’s hand up, pressing a kiss to the back of it before she let go. She looked away from Orla as she slid her underwear down. She really wanted to see Orla’s reaction, but she was afraid that watching them would make them skittish, so instead, she just handed her underwear to the servant bot, and then climbed into the tub and sank down into the deliciously hot water. Orla stared down at her, and Sam gave them a minute to look before she spoke.

“Come on,” she said. Her words seemed to break Orla out of their trance. Orla gave a small nod and reached up, unbuttoning their robe. Sam watched every movement, not even trying to hide it. Watching Orla take off their robe was nothing new after all the time they’d spent together, but it was still something she’d come to enjoy. Her heart started pounding inside her chest once Orla’s robe was off. Orla hesitated for a moment, looking down at Sam as they blushed. Orla took a couple of deep breaths, then reached down and grabbed the hem of the long-sleeved top of her underwear.

Sam felt an almost embarrassing wave of desire rush through her and settle between her legs as she watched Orla peel their top off, exposing a pair of small breasts capped with rust-colored nipples. It was hardly the first time she’d seen a pair of bare breasts besides her own—she’d played two team sports in high school—but there was a world of difference between seeing another girl change in front of her and watching the person she was engaged to undress so they could take a bath together.

She bit her lip as Orla took off the ankle length pants, leaving themselves completely bare. She crossed her ankles to get a bit more leverage as she squeezed her legs together, trying to ease the need that had settled between them. Orla was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. They had curves in all the right places, but Sam could see the hints of muscle too. She let her eyes take in everything, from the way Orla’s ears turned towards her, to the patch of black fur between their legs that matched the fur on their ears in color and texture.

Just a bath. She repeated those words over and over in her head to remind her of what was happening, and kicked herself because she had gotten in way over her head. When Orla looked down at her, a shy smile on their face, Sam knew she was in trouble because holy hell, that look should be illegal. She took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves. It didn’t really work, but she forced herself to uncross her ankles and spread her legs open, then she gestured to the space in front of her.

“Here,” she said, trying not to wince when it came out almost as a croak.

The smile on Orla’s face went from shy to playful. Sam’s obvious lack of chill seemed to have an effect on Orla’s confidence, because they stood up a little straighter and as they climbed into the tub, and they turned so Sam got a really good look at everything.

God, Orla was beautiful.

Orla lowered themself into the water and settled between Sam’s legs, their back pressed against Sam’s front, and their head tilted back to rest on Sam’s left shoulder. Sam wrapped her arms around Orla’s waist and closed her eyes, just enjoying the feel of Orla’s naked body pressed against her. It felt amazing. It felt wonderful. It felt right, like this was what she was made for, and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing a kiss to Orla’s temple.

“Would you like one of the oils or salts?” Orla asked, their voice a little shaky.

Sam opened her eyes reluctantly and looked over at the various bath products. One of the bath bombs caught her eye. She recognized it because unlike most of them, this one was wrapped in a small muslin bag. It was one of her mom’s favorites. Lavender and chamomile. Her mom had tried to talk her into trying one a few times, but she’d never really been one for long soaks in the bath. She always preferred the hot tub attached to their pool. Something she suspected was going to change.

“Pixel, is there anything in one of those bath bombs that could hurt Orla?”

“No, boss,” Pixel said. “Perfectly safe.”

“That one there. The one in the cloth sack.”

Orla reached up and picked it up. “How does it work?”

“Just take it out of the plastic and drop it in the water.”

Orla unwrapped it and handed the plastic to the servant bot to dispose of, then dropped the muslin bag in the water. It immediately started fizzing and bubbling and Orla pushed back against Sam.

“Is that normal?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “It’s just sodium bicarbonate, citric acid, some essential oils, and some flowers.” She felt Orla relax and settle back against her again as the room began to fill with the smell of lavender and chamomile, and the water slowly turned a vivid purple.

“Did you do this often, back on Earth?” Orla asked.

“Not often,” Sam said. “Sometimes, I’d sit in a hot tub after a hard soccer match. It helped keep my muscles from getting sore. But other than that, I always had somewhere to be or something more important to do.”

“It sounds like you worked hard back home.”

“I did,” Sam said. “My mom pushed me to. I played two sports, I did academic competitions, built robots, surfed, rode dirt bikes, and hung out with Jenny. When a holiday would come around, I’d work myself into an anxiety attack because I didn’t have anything to do. Sometimes, I think I’ve been going so hard for so long that I’ve forgotten how to sit still.”

“That’s not healthy,” Orla said.

“I know, but I don’t really know how to stop.”

“You seem to be doing okay right now,” Orla said.

“It’s easy with you. My brain doesn’t fight me.”

“Why?”

“Because you give me an excuse. I can tell myself spending time with you means I’m working on our relationship. Anything to make my brain treat our time together like another task that I can prioritize.”

She felt Orla stiffen and start to pull away. “I don’t want to be a task you have to complete,” Orla said.

“No, wait,” Sam said, pulling Orla back to her. “That’s not what I meant. You’re not a task or a burden. You’re the only thing that doesn’t make me feel lost or afraid right now. With everything else, I feel like I’ve lost everything I’ve worked for. Like all my knowledge and skills are just suddenly gone. I have a lab full of tools I don’t know how to use, catalogs full of parts I don’t know what to do with, libraries of schematics I don’t understand. When I left Earth, I could walk into my workspace at home, fire up my computer, and design and build you a robot from scratch. Here, I’d be lucky to be able to put together a kit designed for someone half my age. Being with you is the only time I don’t feel useless. I just…I’ve spent so long training myself to work all the time that I have to lie to myself so my brain will let me enjoy our time together without panicking.”

Orla turned around, and Sam suddenly found herself being straddled by her gorgeous, wet, naked intended. She knew Orla was saying something and that she should be listening, but for a few moments, Sam’s mental capacity began and ended with the word ‘boobs.’

“Sam?”

Sam shook herself and raised her eyes to meet Orla’s. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I said, ‘You are not useless.’”

Sam nodded her head. “I know. It’s just hard not to feel that way. I’ve spent so long measuring myself by what I can do, and right now, I can’t do anything, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“What can I do to help?”

“You’re doing it,” Sam said. “Don’t let me wallow. Don’t let me work myself to death. Remind me that sometimes, I need to go out and have fun.”

“Okay,” Orla said. “Then you should take me on an appointment.”

“A what?”

“An appointment. A human courtship ritual.”

“Oh! A date!” Sam said. “You want me to take you on a date?”

“Yes,” Orla said.

“When?”

“This Arnaou. After second labor.”

Arnaou. The ninth ‘day’ of the seachtain. Basically, the local version of Friday night. It seemed appropriate.

“Arnaou it is,” Sam said.

Now she just had to figure out what there was to do on a Friday night in Chathair.

***

“Sam is taking you to an appointment?” Sorcha asked as they took a cup of tea from one of the café’s serving bots. “I don’t understand. What kind of appointment?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Orla said, accepting their own cup. “It’s some sort of human courtship custom. It’s just called that because it’s scheduled in advance. At least, I think, but the whole point is, we schedule a specific time to spend together.”

“You already spend all your time together, except for labor uairs.”

“I know,” Orla said. “But this is supposed to be special. Can’t you be happy for me?”

Sorcha sighed and set their tea down on the table. “I am, Orla. I promise. I just don’t really understand why Sam would need to schedule a special time to pay attention to courting you.”

“Human customs are different,” Orla said. “Humans, at least the ones from the part of the planet Sam is from, choose their own mates. These appointments are kind of like a First Meeting. They’re a chance to spend time together and get to know each other, but instead of just doing it once and then making a decision as to a betrothal, they do it over and over again, until they decide whether they want to try a more formal arrangement. Humans view betrothals differently than we do. We view a betrothal as a sort of trial period where the couple decide if they want to commit to a marriage. Humans view a betrothal as more of a commitment to marriage, so they are much more careful about who they enter a betrothal with.”

Sorcha frowned. “Does Sam understand that the two of you entered a betrothal under Sionnach standards?”

“Yes,” Orla said. “But from what I’ve read, the appointments are also necessary because couples don’t live together in the early stages of the relationship, so they schedule specific times to be together, and even once they do live together, and once they are married, the appointments allow them to set aside specific time to maintain the intimacy of the relationship.”

“They really need to schedule that?” Sorcha asked.

“Humans devote a great deal more time to labor than we do. We only devote twelve percent of our time to labor. Humans devote anywhere from twenty-four to fifty percent of their time to labor.”

“That’s insane,” Sorcha said. “Are you sure those numbers are correct?”

“I triple-checked,” Orla said. “Honestly, one of Sam’s biggest difficulties adjusting has been spending less time working. She drives herself so hard that I have to keep her from damaging herself with overwork. I remind her to take lunch, I make sure she stops working at the end of second labor, but I can see Sam struggling with it. She actually feels guilty about taking time away from work.”

“And I thought the motocross sport was a sign of species-wide madness,” Sorcha said.

“I don’t think it’s that,” Orla said. “Remember, we’ve had thousands of years with bots to do our manual labor, and we have AIs to do a great deal of our mental labor too. Humans are insanely productive as a species, but in order to reach the levels of productivity they have without our level of technology, they have to spend a lot more time at labor than we do. I think once they have access to our technology, we’ll see them adopt a more reasonable approach.”

“I hope so, for their sake,” Sorcha said.

There was a brief pause in the conversation as the serving bots delivered their lunch, but once the food was on the table, Sorcha looked back up at Orla.

“It is good to hear that your human has a solid work ethic.”

Orla smiled and their eyes glazed over slightly. “That’s not all they have that’s solid,” they said.

Sorcha turned their ears towards Orla. “What does that mean?” they asked.

Orla blushed. “Sam, um…She invited me to join her in the bath last night.”

Sorcha forced themself to smile, because they could feel the happiness coming off Orla, and they didn’t want to ruin it, even if jealousy was gnawing at their gut. They swallowed the urge to find a dark place to curl up and cry, and instead leaned forward.

“Tell me everything,” they said.

Orla lit up, a bright, beautiful smile replacing the blush, and they started talking about how they’d run a bath to help Sam relax and destress, and how Sam had invited Orla to join her. Sorcha listened to every little detail, nodding and making excited noises in all the right places, even as they died a little inside with every new detail.

It was worth it, though, to see Orla smile like that.

***

“You really won’t tell me where we’re going?” Orla asked, and Sam had to fight not to laugh at the slight pout in their voice. The trip was short, barely fifteen noimead, or just under half an hour, but they weren’t even off the ground yet and Orla could barely contain their excitement or their curiosity. They were like a kid on Christmas Eve being told they had to wait until the next morning to open their presents.

Sam slipped her arm around Orla’s shoulder and pulled them close. Orla responded by resting their head on Sam’s shoulder, laying a hand on Sam’s thigh, and closing their eyes.

“You really don’t understand this whole ‘surprise’ concept, do you?” Sam asked in a teasing tone.

“I understand it, I just don’t like it,” Orla grumped.

Sam pressed a kiss to Orla’s forehead. “Pixel, get us in the air,” she said.

“Sure thing, boss,” Pixel said as the car lifted out of its parking space.

“Is this part of the ‘appointment’ experience?” Orla asked.

“Sometimes,” Sam said. “Not usually the first time unless the couple already knows each other fairly well like we do.”

“How do humans find potential mates?”

“Lots of ways. Sometimes friends decide they’d like to see if they would be compatible as mates. Sometimes people put up a profile on a dating site.”

“Dating site?”

“It’s kind of the reverse of what we did. Instead of the person requesting applications, they go to a location on our planet’s information network where they can post a profile of themselves. Information about themselves and what they’re looking for. A short-term relationship, a long-term relationship, a hookup, new friends.”

“A hookup?”

“Yeah. Um…You know humans don’t have a taboo against touch the way your people do.”

“Something I’m grateful for,” Orla said.

“Well, some humans, not all, but some will seek out a partner just for sex. No relationship, no commitment. Just sex. Either on a one-time basis, or on an ongoing basis. It’s called hooking up. I don’t know where the term came from, though.”

“Did you ever…hook up with someone?” Orla asked, and Sam could tell from their tone that Orla wasn’t sure they wanted the answer.

“No,” Sam said. “I never really got any further than second base. Which, now that I think about it, is another metaphor I’m going to have to explain.”

Orla didn’t say anything, but Sam felt the hand on her thigh tighten into a fist, gripping her robe.

“We have a sport called baseball. In the game, someone throws you a ball and you try to hit it with a bat, which is a big stick. If you hit the ball, you run towards the first of three bases and try to get there before the other team gets the ball to their player who’s guarding the base. The goal is to get to all three bases in order, then get to home plate, which is where you stood while you were trying to hit the ball. For some reason, that got turned into a metaphor for sex. First base is kissing on the lips. Second base is touching your partner’s breasts.”

“Why breasts?”

“On humans they’re sensitive. Some people enjoy having them touched.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” Sam said.

Silence filled the car, and Sam was torn between wishing she’d kept her mouth shut and wondering if she should say something. She didn’t want to lie to Orla, and to another human, letting a girl you’d had a crush on for over a decade feel you up while she kissed you wouldn’t have been a big deal, but given how weird the Sionnach was about touch, Orla seemed to be having a hard time with it.

“Hey,” Sam said. “Look at me.”

Orla lifted their head off Sam’s shoulder and looked at them.

“I’m here with you.”

“I know,” Orla said. “I just…I don’t know if your people consider it normal, but I don’t want you kissing anyone else, or letting them touch you like that.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Sam said. “We’re engaged, and I would never do anything that I thought would hurt you.”

Orla leaned back into Sam and put their head back down on Sam’s shoulder. “I don’t mean to be so selfish. I just…”

“I understand,” Sam said.

“You do?”

“I don’t like the idea of anyone else touching you that way either,” Sam said.

“Do you want to touch me like that?” Orla asked.

“Yes,” Sam said. “Very much.”

“I think I’d like that.”

“You’re making it hard to do this right.”

“What do you mean?”

“The kiss is supposed to come at the end of the date, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Please,” Orla said.

Sam shook her head. “No. The end of the date.”

Orla gave her a pleading look with the biggest, saddest eyes she’d ever seen, and Sam’s first thought was, ‘Oh, fuck! I am in so much trouble,’ because all she wanted to do was give Orla anything they asked for when Orla looked at her like that. She had to fight the urge to lean in and kiss them, because she wanted to make their first kiss special and memorable. Not something that happened in the back seat of an air-car halfway to their first date.

“Stop with the puppy dog eyes. I’m not falling for it,” Sam said, trying her best to sound stern.

Orla gave her a slightly confused look. “What’s a puppy dog?”

Sam stared at Orla for a second, completely taken off guard by the question, but then a slow smile spread across her face. “Pixel, sync with Orla’s Aug, then connect to Earth through Stellarnet and do an image search for ‘puppy dog eyes.’”

She watched as Orla lifted her hand and approved the sync. A moment later, the air in front of them filled with pictures of puppies giving the camera sad eyes.

“Oh, my God!” Orla said. “They’re so cute!”

Sam pressed a kiss to Orla’s temple. “Pixel, find some puppy videos.”

“On it, boss.”

***

By the time they got out of the car, a good half hour after they landed, Sam had to concede that the puppy videos might have been a mistake. Orla was still cooing over pictures of them as Sam unloaded the trunk of the car, and honestly, it was adorable, but she kind of wanted Orla’s attention focused on her.

“They’re so cute,” Orla said for the twentieth time, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh.

“They are,” she said as she slung the picnic blanket over her shoulder. “But it’s time to turn the Aug off.”

Orla gave a small pout, but reached out and touched their left arm, shutting down their Aug. “Would you like me to help carry some of that?” they asked.

“No, it’s okay,” Sam said. There wasn’t really a lot to carry. Just a couple of stasis crates. She’d packed a bit more food than she would have back on Earth, because the higher gravity (and the fact that she was still building muscle to compensate for the higher gravity) meant a higher calorie requirement for both her and Orla. Fortunately, even if she hadn’t finished putting on the extra muscle she needed, her implants made her strong enough that she didn’t have any problems carrying both of the stasis crates. It also had the advantage of keeping her from reaching for Orla’s hand out of sheer habit. Something she couldn’t do because they were technically in a public area, even if the stretch of beach was currently deserted.

“Come on,” Sam said as she led the way down onto the sand. Orla followed close behind, and Pixel helpfully threw up a dotted line on the sand indicating the high-water line. Not that it was really a huge worry. Without a moon, tides on Talamh were slow— not all that drastic—and worked on a cycle that was roughly sixty Earth days long.

“This is beautiful,” Orla said.

“It is,” Sam said as she came to a stop. She set down the stasis crates, and then pulled the blanket off of her shoulder. “I love the beach. It’s one of my favorite places. Someday, I really want to take you back to Earth and show you the beaches I grew up on.”

“Are they different from this one?”

“Sort of,” Sam said as she spread the blanket out on the ground. “The color is different. Our skies and our oceans are blue instead of green, and there are birds. There’s something about the cry of the gulls that just feels like home.”

“What are you doing?” Orla asked.

Sam stepped onto the edge of the blanket and sat down. “Introducing you to another Earth tradition called a picnic.” She patted the blanket next to her. “Sit down.”

Orla gave her a dubious look but lowered herself down onto the blanket. Sam opened the first of the stasis crates and started setting out various dishes. Once she was done, she took out plates and utensils, then opened the second crate and took out glasses and a chilled bottle of gromtor juice. She looked up and found Orla giving her slightly confused smile.

“The food is a mix of Earth items and local stuff,” Sam said as she began to fill Orla’s plate. “I was a bit limited on the Earth side, because a lot of the stuff I usually take on a picnic has fruit in it, and most of the fresh fruit you had brought in is gone, but this is potato salad and these are dolmades. I added the lacha podar and plur because they’re similar to the kinds of things people take on a picnic.”

She offered Orla the plate, and Orla took it.

“Your people do this often? Just go outside and sit on the ground and eat?” Orla asked.

“Not often,” Sam said as she began to fill her own plate. “It’s more for special occasions, like a date, but the idea is to get away from work and other responsibilities, to have a chance to enjoy nature and good company. Churches use them to encourage socialization within the congregation, companies use them as a chance for employees to socialize with each other, families use them as a way to bond with each other. They’ve even been used as a form of peaceful political protest. And of course, for dates, because they’re a way to create an intimate atmosphere within a public space. If I had taken you out to a restaurant, we would have spent our date being interrupted by a waiter or a serving bot, but this way, it’s just us, and we can focus on each other.”

“You put a lot of thought into this,” Orla said.

“I wanted it to be perfect,” Sam said. “I kind of looked up the history of picnics when I decided that this would be our date, since I thought you might ask about them, but I’ll be honest, I’m not really sure of what I’m doing. Like I said, I’ve avoided dating up until now, but you’ve done so much for me and been so nice to me, and I want to show you how much that means to me.”

Orla smiled at her. “You’ve already done that. You make me feel special, and cared for, and I feel so lucky to have you. I just wonder sometimes if I’m good enough for you.”

Sam had to fight down a surge of anger. She wanted to find every person who made Orla feel worthless and beat the crap out of them. She also wanted to pull Orla into her arms and kiss them and tell them they were more than enough. She hated that she couldn’t reach out to them, and not for the first time, she resented the rules about touching in public. Especially since she could see how much they hurt Orla. The anger, though, didn’t do anything to make the situation better, so she comforted Orla in the only way she could while promising herself that as soon as they got home, she’d wrap her arms around Orla and wouldn’t let go until the next morning.

“You’re everything I could have ever hoped for, and more than I ever thought I would get,” she said. “I know you don’t feel that way, but please believe me when I say that every time I look at you, I’m amazed at how lucky I am to just be here with you.”

Orla’s cheeks flushed red, and they looked away, the way they tended to do when they got overwhelmed. They reached down and picked up their spoon, scooping up some of the lacha podar off their plate.

“Thank you,” they said softly, before taking a bite.

“You’re welcome,” Sam said as she reached for her own spoon. They ate in silence, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. They spent so much time together that the silence between them was comfortable, and even a little homey. Sam enjoyed it, just being near Orla, spending time together in each other’s space.

Sam was cutting Orla a slice of the gromtor cobbler she’d brought for desert when Orla spoke again.

“What’s Earth like?” Orla asked.

“That’s not an easy question to answer,” Sam said. “I mean, it’s a whole planet, and I’ve only seen a small part of it, but if I had to describe it, I’d say it’s wonderful and terrible and a big, chaotic mess. You can find things so beautiful they will make you cry side by side with things that will break your heart. There are places you can go where you can feel the weight of history pressing down on you so much it’s suffocating, and places you can go that feel timeless, like nothing has or ever will touch them.”

“It sounds amazing,” Orla said as she accepted the plate full of cobbler.

“It is. When I was younger, my mom and I used to travel a lot, and she would always tell me the history of the places we went. Everything from glacial run-off at the end of the last ice age cutting massive canyons into the landscape, to the Colosseum in Rome that they would flood so they could have naval battles for the audience, or the Pyramids, which were built as massive tombs for ancient rulers. I loved it. All the different places we went, like it was all some grand adventure. When I got older, I was always too busy to travel. I got so focused on school, and I didn’t really have time to appreciate how amazing Earth was. Then, I was on that transport looking down at it from orbit, and it kind of hit me how much I was giving up.”

“Do you miss it?” Orla asked.

“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, I like it here and I don’t regret staying, but I miss the blue skies. I miss sunrises and sunsets. I miss dogs and cats and surfing and the way the air smells coming in off the ocean. I miss…home.”

“I’m sorry I took you away from it,” Orla said.

“Don’t be,” Sam said. “Just because I miss home doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here. I picked this, and I’m happy here.”

Orla swallowed and looked away from Sam, staring out at the ocean. “I’m not,” they said.

“What?”

“I’m not happy here,” Orla said. “I’ve tried to be. Sometimes, I even manage it for a little while, but then something will happen that reminds me of how different I am from everyone around me. I’ve never felt comfortable around other people except for Sorcha, Neesa, and Fiadh. At least, until you came. Having you here has made it better. When I’m with you, I don’t feel so out of place, and it helps because we spend so much time together, but when I’m working and you’re at the learning center, or when you go off for one of your walks, it comes back to me, and I just…

“I used to dream of getting Sorcha to sneak aboard Neesa’s ships with me so we could find some other world where I would fit in. Some place where I didn’t feel like a disappointment to everyone around me.”

Sam stared at Orla, wishing their confession could surprise her, but it didn’t. Ever since she’d arrived on Talamh, she’d been seeing signs that Orla wasn’t happy. The low self-esteem, the way their parents talked about them, the way Neesa and Fiadh were so protective of them. But hearing it put into words like that stirred something inside Sam.

She reached out and took Orla’s plate out of their hands and set it aside, then she moved closer to Orla, and rules be damned, she reached up with both hands and cupped Orla’s face, tilting it up slightly so she could lean in and kiss them.

The kiss was soft and slow and gentle, nothing like the desperate kisses she’d shared with Jenny on the beach back on Earth. She held Orla’s face in her hands like it was as fragile as spun glass, and kissed them with as much care as she could until she felt Orla grabbing the front of her robes and pulling her closer as Orla tried to deepen the kiss.

Sam would never claim to be an expert. Before Orla, she’d kissed exactly three girls in her life. One of the cheerleaders at her school during a party junior year, a girl on the swim team when they shared a hotel room the night before the State Championship meet, and Jenny that day on the beach. Still, it was clear she had more experience than Orla, so she took the lead, sucking on Orla’s lower lip, and was rewarded with a small whimper, then nipping at it gently with her teeth which earned her a cute little growl. She ran her tongue over Orla’s lips, which parted easily so she could slip her tongue inside. The moan Orla let out was so loud that Sam wanted to high five herself for being just that good, but instead, she focused on the kiss, on teasing Orla, on making it last until they finally broke apart, both of them gasping for air.

Sam rested her forehead against Orla’s. “You are not a disappointment,” she said, as firmly as she could manage in that moment. “You are amazing. You are kind and thoughtful and compassionate and hardworking and smart and beautiful, and anyone who thinks you are less than completely wonderful doesn’t deserve you.”

Orla leaned forward and kissed her again. Sam knew it wasn’t a good idea to let this continue. They should at least move it back to the car, but she couldn’t seem to care, because kissing Orla was even better than she had thought it would be.

Orla broke off the kiss, and Sam let out a little noise of disappointment, but it didn’t last long. Not when Orla looked up at her and said, “Take me home.”

Chapter Eight

THE ALARM WENT OFF inside Sam’s head, and she did her best not to groan as she lifted her hand and made a swiping motion to dismiss it. She wrapped her arm back around Orla, which resulted in a small moan and Orla snuggling closer to her. It made Sam even more reluctant to get out of bed than she already was. After all, given the choice between getting up and spending the day working, or staying in bed and cuddling with her mostly-naked intended, only an idiot would choose the former.

It had been a mionna since their first date, and the physical part of their relationship had progressed quite a bit. They spent a lot of their time making out pretty much everywhere inside their apartment. Orla had discovered that they quite liked Sam’s reaction when they got to second base, and was a pretty big fan of Sam getting there as well. Especially when it was a headfirst slide. Sam loved it. She loved the feel of Orla’s skin under her hands, she loved the way Orla’s mouth and skin tasted, she loved the noises Orla made, and more than anything, she wanted to go further.

She desperately wanted to let her fingers and her mouth wander through the black patch of fur between Orla’s legs and find what lay underneath. To touch and taste and hear the sounds Orla would make as she did, to feel the way Orla would writhe under her touch and to feel Orla finish for her. Being with Orla was like a drug, one that left her panting and desperate for release when she called things to a halt when all she wanted to do was keep going.

She wasn’t even sure what it was that was holding her back. Orla had made clear that they wanted the same thing, and at this point, Sam felt a little guilty for holding back, but she just didn’t feel ready. Not yet. Which meant that while the tank tops had vanished from their bedtime wardrobe, they still climbed into bed in boy shorts every night.

She pressed a kiss to Orla’s forehead, and was rewarded with a tiny smile, but she was glad Orla was a heavy sleeper. Once she was out, pretty much the only thing that would wake her up was her Aug alarm or Sam getting out of bed. Something Sam fully intended to take advantage of this morning, even if she expected it to be less than pleasant.

“Pixel,” she whispered. “Message Sorcha and ask if they’re available to talk.”

“On it, boss.”

Sam waited while Pixel reached out to Sorcha’s Aug, not entirely sure what to expect. She hadn’t cared for Sorcha’s attitude the one time they’d met, so she was a little hesitant about reaching out to them, but Neesa and Fiadh were off-world, and Sam knew Orla adored Sorcha and missed spending time with them. Given what she needed, Sorcha was pretty much the only person she could reach out to, so she’d swallowed her own feelings, both her dislike of Sorcha from the previous encounter, and the jealousy she felt knowing that Orla had feelings for them.

“Their Aug says they’re still asleep and is asking if it’s important enough to wake them up.”

Sam felt a little surprised, because most of the time when you messaged someone sleeping, the Aug just replied with a busy notification. You had to specifically program it to even ask that question, and do so on a person-by-person basis. The fact that Sorcha had flagged her as someone who might have something important enough to say to be allowed to wake them up was surprising, because she’d gotten the impression that Sorcha didn’t like her at all, and thought she was only there because of Orla’s money.

“Tell their Aug to wake them up.”

“Got it, boss.” There was a long silence, then she heard Sorcha’s voice.

“What’s going on? Is Orla okay?”

“They’re fine,” Sam said. “And I’m really sorry to wake you up, but I need a favor.”

“You’re asking me for a favor?” Sorcha asked.

“I am, but it’s not for me, if that makes a difference.”

“Who’s it for?”

“Orla.”

“What do you need?”

“Can you come up and spend the day with them?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Sorcha said. “Of course, but what’s going on?”

“I need to spend a few uairs in my lab today, and I don’t want Orla to be alone.”

“It’s Ardeichiu. Why are you working??”

“Because it’s important,” Sam said. “Look, I know you don’t have any reason to like me, but I need to do this, and like I said, I don’t want Orla to be alone while I’m in my lab. Orla thinks the world of you, but you two haven’t had a lot of time together since I arrived, and Orla misses you. I thought if you could come up and spend some time with them, they wouldn’t have to be alone while I’m working; they’d get in their Sorcha time, and you wouldn’t have to put up with me.”

“What time would you like me to arrive?” Sorcha asked.

“Orla’s alarm goes off in about twenty noimeads, so, give us about half a uair?”

“Okay,” Sorcha said. “And Sam…”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for this.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“You’re taking care of Orla. That means a lot to me, so thank you.”

The connection cut before Sam could say anything else, but she was a little taken aback. She knew Orla seemed to have a gift for inspiring that protective streak in anyone who cared for her, but the way Sorcha had talked about Orla at the betrothal ceremony hadn’t given Sam the impression that Sorcha was in the same club with Neesa and Fiadh when it came to Orla’s wellbeing. She shook her head, deciding to take the win and put the why out of her mind as she closed her eyes, hoping to drift back off to sleep for a little bit before Orla’s alarm went off.

***

“End alarm,” Orla muttered, silencing the cacophony in her head. They heard Sam let out a small moan and felt the arm wrapped around them tighten, just a bit. Orla made a small, appreciative sound of their own as they snuggled in closer to Sam’s side. It was Ardeichiu, which meant there was no work to do, and they were glad of it. They had spent nearly seven seachtains tearing apart every detail of the family’s financials, and they still couldn’t make their projections match Tadgh’s. If they couldn’t find the issue before the end of the bliana, they were going to have to go to Tadgh, and ask for help with reconciling the discrepancy. Another way they would disappoint one of their parents. That, however, was a problem for another laethanta. Today, they just wanted to lay in bed with Sam all day and do nothing except kiss and touch and talk.

They shifted so they could press their lips to Sam’s collarbone, placing a few soft kisses before they nipped at it with their teeth, earning a small gasp as a reward.

“We can’t,” Sam said.

“Why not? It’s Ardeichiu. We don’t have anything to do today.”

“It is Ardeichiu,” Sam said. “But unfortunately, we do have something to do today.”

They lifted their head up and looked down at Sam. “Aug, pull up my calendar,” they said. Their calendar appeared in front of them, and the day showed exactly what they expected. It was completely blank.

“It’s not in your calendar,” Sam said.

Orla narrowed their eyes. “Is this another one of your surprises?”

“Yes,” Sam said.

“But I want to stay in bed with you.”

“I know, and I promise, we can spend the whole day tomorrow in bed if you want, but we need to get up, get showered, get dressed, and eat breakfast, because we’re going to have a visitor in about thirty noimeads.”

“Who?”

“It’s a surprise,” Sam said. She leaned up and kissed Orla on the lips, just a peck, then slid out of the other side of the bed. “Come on.”

Orla glared, but they got out of bed.

***

Something was up, and Orla didn’t like it. They were sitting in the main lounge waiting for their guest to arrive, but Sam was getting more antsy the closer they got to the appointed time. Sam was nervous, and it made Orla nervous, because the only time Sam got nervous was when Orla’s parents came around, and Orla really hoped Sam hadn’t invited their parents over, because if they had to give up spending time with Sam to entertain their parents, they were going to be very grumpy. The problem was, Sam was stubborn, and it was impossible to get information out of her before she was ready. Fortunately, it turned out Orla didn’t have to wait long.

“So, I have something to tell you, and you’re probably not going to be happy about it,” Sam said.

Orla felt herself tense up, and for a terrible moment, they were afraid Sam was going to call an end to their betrothal. It was unusual to end it before the full period, but it was allowed, and it was something Orla had been terrified of since the day they had become betrothed.

“It’s nothing bad,” Sam said. “It’s just, I need to spend some time in the lab today.”

Orla felt relief flood through them. Sam spending the day in her lab certainly wasn’t what they wanted, but it wasn’t Sam leaving, and Orla had always known there would be times when Sam would want to spend time on her hobbies. But then, if Sam intended to spend time in the lab, why had she invited a guest over? Perhaps it was someone to help with what she was going to be working on.

“Okay,” Orla said. “But who’s the guest? Someone from the learning center?”

“No,” Sam said, the worried look on her face replaced with a grin. “I didn’t want you to be alone while I was busy, so I invited someone over to keep you company.”

“Who did you invite?”

Before Sam could answer, the chime sounded, letting them know someone was at the door.

“Pixel, is that our guest?” Sam asked. Orla couldn’t hear the answer, but Sam seemed satisfied. “Send a servant bot to let them in.” Before Orla could ask, again, who their guest was, Sam leaned over and pressed a light kiss to their lips. It was a dirty, underhanded distraction technique, because Sam knew it would work, and it left Orla wanting to send their guest away so they could climb into Sam’s lap and spend all day kissing them back. Unfortunately, Orla didn’t even get in a single return kiss before they heard the sound of footsteps approaching and had to satisfy themselves with throwing a small glare at Sam for being a tease. Sam just smiled back at them, then turned towards the door. Orla turned towards the door as well. A moment later, their guest appeared, and Orla had a hard time keeping the shock out of their voice.

“Sorcha?”

Sorcha smiled at them. “Did you expect someone else?”

“No,” Orla said. “I didn’t know who to expect. Sam told me we had a visitor coming, but she didn’t tell me who it was.”

Sorcha turned to look at Sam, who shrugged.

“I wanted to surprise them,” Sam said.

“I hate surprises,” Orla grumbled.

“No, you don’t,” Sorcha said. “You hate waiting for a surprise.”

“I hate surprises,” Orla said, only for Sam, who started laughing at them, to betray them. They turned and glared at Sam, but instead of looking sorry, Sam just smiled and leaned towards them, and for a moment, Orla thought Sam was going to kiss them right in front of Sorcha, but she stopped herself before they actually made contact.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “I forgot…sorry.”

Orla wanted to reach out and take their hand and reassure them that it was okay, but Sorcha was still standing there, so words would have to do.

“It’s okay,” Orla said before glancing up at Sorcha, hoping Sorcha would take the hint.

“I saw nothing to apologize for,” Sorcha said.

Sam gave Sorcha a small nod, then turned back to Orla. “I’ve got a project I’ve been working on in the lab for a while, and I’m going to be doing the actual assembly today, so if you need me for anything, have your Aug check with Pixel. He’ll let me know as soon as I’m not at a point where any distraction will mess something up.”

“Okay,” Orla said. “Have fun.”

“Thanks. I’ll be as quick as I can. Enjoy yourselves.”

Sam stood up and gave them a deep bow before giving Sorcha a much smaller one. Orla watched as Sam disappeared out of the room, happy for the time they had with Sorcha, but already missing Sam’s company. Sorcha came over and took Sam’s place on the couch.

“The two of you seem happy with the match,” Sorcha said.

“Very,” Orla said.

“Sam treats you well, then?” Sorcha asked.

“You know they do,” Orla said. “Why do you ask that every time we talk?”

“Because you’re my best friend. Because I worry about you. Because I can’t be here to protect you.”

Orla sighed and flicked their ears back. “Sometimes I wish people would be less worried about protecting me and more worried about what I want.”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw what almost happened before Sam left.”

Sorcha grinned. “Yes, I did. Pretty daring, your human.”

“In her culture, touch isn’t so restricted,” Orla said. “They touch all the time. Friends, family, bond mates. It’s considered normal. If we were on Earth, Sam would have kissed me, and it would have been considered perfectly acceptable. She forgets, sometimes.”

“You like that, don’t you?” Sorcha asked.

Orla thought about it for a minute, turning over the way they felt every time Sam started to slip and reach for their hand, or started to lean in for a kiss, or even when they could just see the desire in Sam’s eyes. Each time it happened, it made their heart race. It made them feel like they mattered to someone, and it was an amazing feeling.

“Yes,” Orla said. “I like that she feels enough to forget.”

Sorcha nodded. “Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m frustrated,” Orla said. “Sam kissed me the first time when she took me to the beach.”

“Ah. The human courtship thing. The appointment.”

“Yes,” Orla said. “She said it was traditional to wait until the end of the date, but we were talking, and she kissed me.”

“How was it?”

“It was everything I hoped it would be,” Orla said. “Sam was soft and gentle and tender. It was like the world stopped just for us, and it’s only gotten better. I used to wonder if kissing would get boring, but it doesn’t. It just makes you want more.”

“It sounds like a good thing,” Sorcha said.

“It would be, if Sam would get to the more part,” Orla said.

“What do you mean?”

“We kiss and we touch, but Sam keeps stopping us before we get to where I want to go.”

“Have you asked why?”

“She says she isn’t ready yet, but back when she first got here, Neesa gave her this speech about how she needed to take care of me. I know Neesa meant well, but I can’t help but feel that when they tried to help, they ended up making things harder.”

“You think Sam is holding back because she’s afraid of Neesa?”

“No. It’s not that. I think it’s cultural. I’ve been doing a lot of reading on human culture and sexuality, and there are some really messed up things that happen in their culture.”

“I had noticed that as well.”

“You did?”

“I told you I read up on humans. It’s part of why I keep asking how Sam is treating you.”

Orla had to fight down the urge to scream. “You do remember that I’m past second ascension, right?”

“Yes. I am very aware of that.”

“Then you should know that I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt it, but that doesn’t stop me from caring for you, or wanting to take care of you.”

“I appreciate it. I know how much you, Neesa, and Fiadh worry about me, and I love that all of you care, but I think Neesa’s speech might have made Sam afraid that they are pushing me into things I’m not ready for. Sam is so caring, and so careful about consent, which makes sense once you learn about some of the things that happen in human culture, but right now I’m consenting all the time, and they’re not taking me up on it.”

“Oh,” Sorcha said, and Orla could hear the amusement in their voice.

“It’s not funny!” Orla snapped. “She hasn’t even touched my ears yet!”

“Um, this might be a silly question, but have you told her you want your ears touched?”

“No, but—” Orla stopped, because suddenly they felt like an idiot.

“I mean, she doesn’t even have proper ears. Just those weird flaps on the side of her head. She might not realize…”

Orla sighed. “You might be right,” they said.

Sorcha actually laughed at them, and Orla glared in return.

“It’ll be okay,” Sorcha said. “I can talk to them when they get done in their lab if you like. Maybe feel them out and see why they’re hesitant to move forward.”

“You’d do that?”

“For you, I would,” Sorcha said.

***

Sam sat down at her work bench, looked at the pile of parts that the autofabber had turned out over the last few laethantas, and wondered if she was getting in over her head. The teaching machines and the lessons at the learning center had managed to bring her up to where she was before she left Earth. She knew how to use all the tools in the lab, and she knew how to use the CAD software and other design systems, but the project she had laid out in front of her was hideously complex compared to anything she’d ever done before.

She’d been able to pull programming libraries down off the Stellarnet in order to handle a lot of the functions. The fact that there were canned routines for most of it, not to mention dedicated microcontroller designs that she could run off in the autofabber, made her think her chances of everything working out were higher than they would have been if she’d had to code everything from scratch. Not to mention it cut her build time down to a few hours, instead of the months of trial and error that would have been involved otherwise.

The whole design had worked perfectly when she had fed the CAD files and code libraries into the build simulator, so the hardware and the microcontroller functions were hopefully solid, which left her with one stress point. She’d never built a robot with an AI before. AI modules were expensive back on Earth, like almost all alien tech, but here, AI modules were cheap, as was the software that went with them. She was actually using the same AI base code that was running her Aug, with a few plug-in modules to allow it to handle controlling the robot she was installing it into. The only custom programming involved was the personality module, and even that was largely built from pre-existing libraries. She’d just…tweaked them with a little help from Pixel.

She took a deep breath, deciding there was no point in delaying any longer. She reached for the first set of parts, a set of alloy bones and connecting pins, and started putting together the first robot she’d ever built using alien technology.

***

Sorcha sat on the balcony outside Orla and Sam’s apartment, sipping tortha juice and enjoying Orla’s company. The two of them had known each other long enough to grow comfortable with the silence between them. It was one of the many, many things that made Sorcha love Orla so dearly. So many people felt the need to fill the air with inane chatter, but the two of them could just sit together and exist comfortably in each other’s space.

They were grateful for the silence. They loved talking to Orla and listening to them ramble on about whatever had them excited, but since Sorcha arrived, the conversation hadn’t strayed very far from Sam, and they had had more than their fill.

They were trying to be happy for Orla, they truly were, but it was so hard when the jealousy burned so hot. Listening to all the things Orla and Sam had done and seeing the smile on Orla’s face as they described them felt like a knife twisting on Sorcha’s gut. They wanted to reach out and take Orla in their arms, to hold them, to kiss them, to touch them everywhere Sam had, and everywhere Sam hadn’t until they wiped away even the memory of Sam and could keep Orla for themselves.

For blianas, people had asked Sorcha over and over again why they were friends with Orla. Orla who was bad at keeping their emotions in check. Orla who made decisions in moments instead of taking time to carefully think out and debate their options. Orla who everyone seemed to view as childish, undisciplined, impulsive, reckless, and given to emotional outbursts. It was all Sorcha could do to hold their tongue when people asked them such foolish questions.

Sorcha was friends with Orla because they were more than a little in awe of them. Sorcha and Orla were more alike than anyone realized. Both felt deeply, both made decisions quickly, and both of them ached for love and affection. The real difference between them wasn’t that Sorcha was more mature than Orla, it was that Orla was both braver and less jaded than Sorcha. Sorcha wished they had the courage to show their emotions the way Orla did.

That willingness to be so open was something that had been stamped out of Sorcha at a young age. Their parents were strict about such things and had been no more tolerant of expressions of emotion at home than they had in public. It had taken Sorcha a long time to learn to hide themselves from their parents, and while Orla might resent that people went out of their way to protect them, Sorcha very firmly agreed with Neesa and Fiadh that Orla needed that protection.

The fact that they were so sure Orla needed that protection was the only thing that kept them from hating Sam. Oh, they wanted to. They wanted to hate Sam with every fiber of their being. The problem was that, despite what was apparently an epic case of itchy ears, Orla was happier than they had seen them in years, and Sorcha had trouble hating anything that made Orla happy.

“So,” Orla said. Sorcha looked over at them and saw a grin on their face and knew what was coming next.

“Yes?”

“Have you had any luck finding a potential bond mate?” Orla asked.

“No,” Sorcha said. “Noya gave me another list of candidates, but I rejected them all.”

“Why?” Orla asked.

“It’s like you said when you reviewed your list. All the applications were just dreadfully dull.” It was a good excuse, even if it bore little resemblance to the truth, which was that Sorcha couldn’t stand the thought of getting betrothed.

“How did your parents react?”

“Oh, Aithne just shook their head, but Noya was furious. They said that they weren’t going to give me another list of candidates until I could prove I was ready to take the matter seriously.”

“How do they expect you to do that?”

Sorcha shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t care enough to ask.”

“Sorcha,” Orla said, voice thick with exasperation. “You’ve turned down five lists of candidates. At this rate, you’ll never find a bond mate.”

“Maybe not,” Sorcha said. “But honestly, it doesn’t matter anymore. I went to the gene keepers, donated, and paid the non-custodial fees, so I’ve fulfilled my legal obligations. I’m a fifth child, so it’s not like I’ll be useful in forming alliances. As long as I don’t embarrass the family, my parents will go back to forgetting I exist soon enough. Who knows, I might accept a diversity token when I reach my final ascension and get a human of my own.”

Orla laughed. “Noya would be furious. That would make four children with the token.”

“Yeah,” Sorcha said. “What about your parents?”

“They’re going to the birthing den soon. Nuala is insisting on a double seeding. Tadgh doesn’t like the idea, but you know Nuala will get their way in the end.”

“Think you’ll enjoy being a big sibling?” Sorcha asked.

“I don’t know, honestly. I love the idea of having siblings, but I’m afraid it will lead to fights with my parents if they treat them the way they treat me.”

“You know you’d have Neesa and Fiadh on your side.”

“Maybe,” Orla said. “Neesa and Fiadh are going to be seeding soon too. That’s why they’ve been spending so much time off-world lately. They’ve been training new liaisons to take over face-to-face negotiations with their off-world partners so that they can spend more time at home once their children are born.”

“I’d wondered about that. I thought maybe they were just working on something new.”

“No. The gene keepers have been nagging them about fulfilling their breeding obligations for blianas. They are already older than most couples are when they have their first seeding.”

“I think they were hoping to steal you away from your parents.”

“Sometimes I wish they would. I don’t think Tadgh trusts me with the family affairs. Though lately I wonder if they’re right not to.”

Sorcha stared at Orla for a moment in shock. It was no surprise at all that Tadgh didn’t trust Orla, but for Orla to think it was justified was ridiculous. Orla was brilliant, and had a much better head for business than Tadgh could ever hope for.

“Why would you think that?” Sorcha asked.

“Because I’m messing something up. I’ve spent the last seven seachtains going through the financials, and I can’t make my projections match Tadgh’s. Every number I run shows a downturn in revenue, but Tadgh’s projections show steady growth. When I do a comparative breakdown, it looks like I’m missing data, but I’m supposed to have access to everything.”

“Have you asked about it?”

“Not yet. Asking for Tadgh’s help is almost worse than not being able to make the projections match, because it’s just another way I’ll have disappointed them.”

“Hey, no. Look, Orla, if there’s an issue with the projections, I’d bet my ears that Tadgh is the one who’s got it wrong.”

Orla smiled. “You have more faith in me than I have in myself.”

“That’s because you listen to too many people who doubt you based on things that have nothing to do with your skill,” Sorcha said. “Would you like me to look at the financials with you?”

“No,” Orla said. “I appreciate the offer, I do, but I need to work this out myself, or own up to it and go to Tadgh.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I’d be happy to look at a spreadsheet that wasn’t a fuel consumption report or a departure and arrival log for a change.”

“I’ll bet,” Orla said. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you changed the subject.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you want to find a bond mate?” Orla asked.

Sorcha shrugged. “Not really,” they said. “The only person I was ever interested in is already taken.”

Orla frowned and their eyes dropped. “Sorcha…”

“It’s fine,” Sorcha said.

“I wish things could be different,” Orla said.

“I know, but it is what it is.”

Orla looked up at them. “You don’t resent me, do you? For not letting Nuala find someone to take my token?”

Sorcha shook their head. “No,” they said. “I know your reasons, and you wouldn’t be you if you did it.”

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Orla said. “The more time I spend with Sam, the more I realize how much it hurts, not having someone I could touch or hold, or who could hold me when I need it. I want that for you too.”

Sorcha stepped on a surge of jealousy. They knew that Orla sharing those things with their intended was the right thing, the way things were supposed to work. It was just that they had wanted to be the one Orla shared those things with. If it wasn’t for the stupid token, they would be that person instead of having to watch someone else step into the place they wanted so much for themselves.

“I’m glad you have Sam,” Sorcha said, swallowing her own bile at the words. “And maybe someday, I’ll find someone for myself, but right now, I’m just not ready for that.”

“Are you sure? I know…” Orla trailed off, and Sorcha saw the telltale turn of the ears that meant that Orla was listening to her Aug. “Sam’s finished in the lab!” Orla said excitedly. “She wants us to meet her in the main lounge.”

***

“Are you sure this is a good idea, boss?” Pixel asked.

“You’re asking me this now?” Sam said as she finished sealing up the artificial skin.

“I know it’s a little late. It’s just…I didn’t expect it to be so…big.”

“You were there when I was designing it,” Sam said.

“I know, but boss, it has teeth.”

“You were there when I added them to the schematics.”

“I know, but…I guess I was picturing something smaller.”

“You’re a computer. How could you not understand how big it was going to be when you had the schematics?”

“Yeah, you’re the one who decided to give me emotions,” Pixel said. “And right now, my emotions are telling me that that thing is forty kilograms of concentrated death.”

“No,” Sam said, running her hand through the thick, fluffy fur on the top of the robot’s head. “They’re just a big, soft, fluffy baby.”

“A big, soft, fluffy baby who can bite clean through a person.”

“Yes, but that’s why there are safety protocols in place,” Sam said.

“I know there are safety protocols, boss. I helped write them.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s a predator.”

“It’s a robot with an artificial intelligence in its head. The same AI I have in my head, just with a different personality overlay.”

“It’s still a death machine,” Pixel grumbled.

“They’re harmless,” Sam said. “Now, let’s fire them up.”

“Okay, but if they kill us, I reserve the right to say I told you so.”

Sam rolled her eyes as she reached down and pressed the hidden switch that turned the robot on, then watched as it opened its eyes and lifted its head. It stared at her for a moment, then opened its mouth, letting its tongue hang out as its tail started to wag. Sam smiled as she reached out and scratched it behind the ear.

“Aw…Who’s a good doggie?”

The robot dog that she’d spent so long designing and building jumped up, putting its paws in her lap and licking her face. Sam laughed and put a hand against the dog’s sternum and gave a slight push.

“Down, kiddo,” Sam said, and the dog dropped down out of her lap, sitting on its haunches. It looked up at her and tilted its head, letting out a small whine as its tail continued to wag. “You ready to meet your parent?”

The dog let out a single bark and hopped up on its feet, dancing excitedly and wagging its tail so hard the entire rear end shook.

“Pixel.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Where are Orla and Sorcha?”

“On the balcony.”

“Let them know I’m done, and I’d like to meet them in the main lounge.”

“Should I mention the death machine?”

“No. I want it to be a surprise.”

***

“Sit,” Sam whispered. The dog sat down just outside of the doorway to the main lounge. Sam reached out and rubbed her head. “Good dog. Now, stay.”

The dog hung their head, and gave Sam the puppy dog eyes, but Sam wasn’t buying it. She just shook her head and headed into the lounge. Orla and Sorcha were already there. Sam felt a small spike of jealousy when she saw how close Sorcha was sitting to Orla, but she pushed it down. She trusted Orla, and she didn’t want anything to ruin this moment.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Orla replied. “Did your project go well?”

“You’ll get to see for yourself in just a moment, but I thought I should warn Sorcha first.”

“Warn me about what?” Sorcha asked.

“What you’re about to see is perfectly safe so, just…don’t panic, okay?”

“Okay…” Sorcha said, and Sam had to struggle to keep from laughing at the looks on Orla and Sorcha’s faces. She turned towards the door and gave a sharp whistle, and a moment later, the dog came running into the room, tail wagging and mouth open.

“Oh my God!” Orla squealed as they hopped to their feet and rushed forward.

“What the fuck is that?” Sorcha asked as they pressed their body back into the couch. When they realized that Orla was moving forward, they reached out to grab Orla’s arm, but Orla was too fast, and was already out of reach.

The dog went up on its hind legs, put its paws on Orla’s shoulders, and started licking their face. Orla started laughing, but Sorcha let out a shout of dismay and they scrambled to their feet. Seeing a disaster in the making, Sam stepped between Sorcha and Orla, holding up her hands to block Sorcha’s path.

“It’s okay,” Sam said.

“Get that thing away from them!” Sorcha said.

“It’s okay. It’s perfectly safe. I swear.”

“It’s fine, Sorcha,” Orla said.

Sam turned around to see the dog back down on all fours with Orla petting it carefully. Orla glanced up at them for just a moment before looking back at the dog.

“You said you were building a robot.”

“I was,” Sam said. She knelt down next to Orla and started petting the dog. “I checked into it, and there’s no way to import a real one. Most Earth wildlife hasn’t been cleared for interstellar transportation, and they haven’t tested the adaptation protocols on dogs yet, but I’ve built a few robot dogs back on Earth. Nothing nearly this sophisticated, our tech isn’t up to it, but with the lab you set up for me, this was a pretty good starter project. I just dropped a few anatomical models into a prosthetics design program and let it do the synthetic muscle layout. Most of the motion control is off the shelf microcontrollers and prosthetics drivers, and the brain is a pretty standard AI module. Most of the work went into designing the cooling system and the behavioral overlay for the AI.”

“You built us a robot dog?” Orla asked.

“No,” Sam said. “I built you a robot dog. I figured this way, when I’m at the learning center, or working, or in my lab, or any time we can’t be together, you’d have someone there with you to keep you company and to remind you that I love you.”

Orla froze, and it took Sam a moment to figure out why, but then it hit her what she’d just said. That she loved Orla. It wasn’t what she’d meant to say. She hadn’t planned on making that declaration, but now that she had, she turned the words over in her mind, and she realized they were true. The way that as soon as she left Orla in the morning to go to the learning center, all she could think of was getting back to them when first labor was over. The way second labor was even harder, after spending the break with Orla. The way the end of second labor felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders because she could go find Orla. The way it didn’t matter if they were making out naked in the bathtub, or cuddling on the couch, or sitting at the table eating a meal together, Sam loved and cherished every second they spent together. She couldn’t get enough. She loved listening to Orla ramble about something that excited them, or vent about their frustration with work. She loved answering Orla’s questions about Earth and telling Orla about things she’d learned that day at the learning center, and about new ideas she’d had for different projects.

She just loved Orla.

Orla turned to look at her. “You love me?”

“I do,” Sam said. She didn’t even try to keep the smile off her face. “I know it’s not the most romantic way to tell you, but it just kind of slipped out and I—”

Sam didn’t get to finish what she was saying, because she suddenly had two arms full of Orla and was being very soundly and enthusiastically kissed. She kissed Orla back with just as much enthusiasm, loving the feel of Orla in her arms after so much time spent alone in her lab, but she quickly decided that she might have gotten the behavioral algorithm for the dog a little too perfect, because the dog decided to get in on the kissing. One moment, she and Orla were the only people in the universe. The next moment, a long, wet tongue was being dragged up the side of her face. She and Orla broke apart, laughing as the dog tried to lick both of their faces.

“Sit,” Sam said. The dog sat down but let out a pitiful whine. Sam shook her head and turned back to Orla, but before either of them could say anything, Sam heard a deep, stuttering chitter. It sounded a lot like a cat’s hunter chirp, only deeper. Orla’s eyes got wide, and their cheeks started turning a deep shade of red, and Sam suddenly remembered the other person in the room. She turned towards Sorcha, who was standing there, looking at them with an unreadable expression on their face.

“Oh, God!” Orla said. Sam could hear the panic in their voice and turned towards them. “Oh, God! Oh, God! I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” Sam said.

Orla shook their head and turned away from Sam and Sorcha both. “No! I shouldn’t have! I’m sorry! I…I…” Their breathing was starting to come faster and faster, and Sam could see tears welling up in their eyes. She wanted to reach out and take Orla in her arms, but with Sorcha there, that would probably only make it worse.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sam said. She turned to Sorcha. “Tell them! Tell them they didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Orla, Sam’s right,” Sorcha said. “You didn’t do anything wrong, or anything to be ashamed of.”

Orla shook their head as a sob tore through them, and rules be damned, Sam reached out and pulled Orla into her arms.

“Shhh…It’s okay,” Sam said. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Orla said, repeating the words over and over again between sobs. The dog let out a whine and stepped in, licking Orla’s face, but they just kept crying, and Sam couldn’t figure out what to do. She turned to Sorcha, who looked miserable, and she realized the one thing that might help. She hoped. It would either help, or make the situation a thousand times worse, but something in her gut told her that it was the right thing to do.

She waved Sorcha over. Sorcha just stood there frowning and looking confused, so Sam waved them over again. This time Sorcha came over. She stopped right by Orla, still looking confused. Sam nodded towards Orla, and Sorcha’s eyes got big and they shook their head. Sam rolled her eyes and nodded towards Orla again. Sorcha looked at them, and Sam knew they were asking if Sam was sure, so Sam nodded again, and watched as Sorcha carefully reached out, wrapping their arms around Orla. Sam felt Orla stiffen, and watched as they turned towards Sorcha.

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “We’re here. We’ve got you.”

“But—”

“We’ve got you,” Sam said, rubbing Orla’s back gently.

“Sam’s right, Orla,” Sorcha said. “We’re here for you.”

Sam felt Orla start to relax in her arms, and she looked over at Sorcha, trying to convey her gratitude with just a look. She was pretty sure Sorcha understood.

***

They named the dog Morna. Sorcha suggested the name, and when Sam had asked why, Sorcha said the name meant ‘affection’. It was fitting, because Morna was all over Orla, cuddling them and licking their face from time to time, but mostly just basking in the affection coming from Orla, who absolutely adored them.

Once Orla had calmed down enough, the three of them had moved to the couch. Sam had slipped her arm around Orla, Orla had rested their head on Sam’s shoulder, Sorcha sat next to Orla, and Morna had sprawled across all three of their laps, wagging their tail and basking in the attention. They’d sat there for a while, and Sorcha had spent the whole time holding Orla’s hand like it was the most precious thing in the world and they couldn’t believe they were allowed to touch it.

The look on Sorcha’s face was enough to let Sam know that Orla’s feelings hadn’t been one sided at all, and Sam could feel jealousy tying itself into a knot in her stomach, feeding on her own insecurities. Sorcha and Orla had known each other their entire lives, they were the same species, they came from the same culture, and Sorcha was so beautiful it was almost painful to look at them. How could Sam compete with that? She was only there because Orla had gotten the bad end of the stupid genetic diversity lottery. If not for that accident of fate, Orla and Sorcha would most likely be betrothed right now, and it made Sam afraid. She knew Orla cared for her, but a small part of her wondered if Orla would ever be able to love her when Sorcha was right there. Now that she’d realized that she’d fallen in love with Orla, that thought was terrifying. Honestly, she couldn’t think of a moment since she met Orla when that thought wouldn’t have been terrifying. She’d never believed in love at first sight, but she’d barely laid eyes on Orla before she outed herself to her mom, and had known her for less than six hours before she’d given up the future that she’d planned for herself just because Orla wanted her to stay.

She wanted to hate Sorcha. She did. She wanted to grab them by their ears and drag them out of the apartment and tell them to stay away from Orla. She wanted to, but she couldn’t. First, because it would make Orla miserable if they couldn’t see or talk to their best friend anymore. Second, because Sorcha was just as much of a victim of this whole mess as Sam and Orla were.

The whole situation was unfair to all of them.

If the circumstances were different, Sam might have been able to find it in herself to offer to step back. She’d like to think so, at least. She liked to think she would do the right thing, but her stepping back wouldn’t fix this, because of the token. Orla and Sorcha couldn’t be together even if Sam did walk away, because Orla would have to choose someone else from off-world.

“It’s getting late,” Sorcha said. The words came as a surprise, because the room had been so silent up until that moment.

“Pixel, time,” Sam said, and the time flashed in her HUD. It was half past eighth uair, which surprised Sam a bit. Mostly because she hadn’t eaten since lunch, and she would normally be starving by now.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Sam asked.

“I would like to, but I have to go,” Sorcha said.

“Are you sure?” Orla asked.

Sorcha smiled at Orla. “I would stay if I could, but I should have left some time ago.” They took their hand out of Orla’s, and Sam didn’t miss the small whimper that Orla let out at the loss.

“Morna, down,” Sam said, and Morna whined, but they got down off their laps so Sorcha could stand up.

“Could I have a word with you before I go, Sam?” Sorcha asked.

“Of course,” Sam said. She leaned over and pressed a small kiss to Orla’s temple before she stood up. “Have the bots make us something quick for dinner?”

Orla nodded. “Toasted sandwiches and plur?”

“Sounds good,” Sam said. She turned to Sorcha and tipped her head towards the door, then headed towards the small sitting room across the hall. She still hadn’t gotten used to having a place with so many rooms, and she hadn’t figured out if it was just an affectation of the rich, or if it was standard for all Sionnach homes, but in this case, it was convenient. They stepped inside, and Sam closed the door, then turned to face Sorcha.

“I wanted to thank you,” Sorcha said.

“For what?” Sam asked.

“For what you did today. For giving them Morna. For telling them you love them. For letting me…for…” Sorcha stopped and closed their eyes.

“God, you can’t even say it, can you?”

Sorcha shook their head. “It’s hard,” they said. “You want something long enough, and then you get to have it, just for a moment, and then it’s gone again.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Sam said.

“What?” Sorcha asked.

“Look, let’s be honest. For Orla’s sake.”

“Okay?”

“You have feelings for Orla. Maybe even love them.”

“I love them,” Sorcha said, and there was no hesitation in their voice.

“Yeah. I figured. And you heard me tell them I feel the same way.”

Sorcha nodded.

“And Orla cares for you, a lot. I don’t know how deep those feelings run any more than I know how deep their feelings for me run. I hope they feel the same way I do, or that they get there eventually if they don’t already, because I don’t want to lose them. I’ve already walked away from someone I loved once, and it sucks. Orla is my intended. I really hope that they’ll be my spouse someday. I want them to be happy.

“I don’t know why your people are so averse to touching each other, and that’s probably my own fault. I should have looked it up by now so I could understand it, but whatever the reason is, it hurts Orla, and I’m guessing it hurts you too. Humans can’t survive without touch. Going too long without physical contact with another person leads to anxiety, stress, depression, difficulty sleeping. Eventually, our mental health collapses. I don’t know if the same is true for Sionnach, but based on what I’ve seen from Orla, I’m guessing it is, at least for some of you.

“You make Orla happy, and it’s clear that being around them makes you happy. So, if Orla is okay with it, then I don’t have a problem with you touching them. Hold their hand, hug them, snuggle up on the couch. Hell, kiss them on the cheek. Just…just nothing sexual.”

Sorcha stood there staring at her, and Sam could see the disbelief in their eyes. “You really mean that?” Sorcha asked.

“Yes,” Sam said. “Especially the part about nothing sexual.”

Sorcha snorted, and then a moment later, they broke down laughing. “I see you’re the jealous type.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, yes.”

Sorcha took a moment to get their laughter under control, then gave Sam a serious look. “Orla and I talked about you a lot today, and they asked me to speak with you about something.”

“Okay.”

“Orla mentioned that your relationship has become rather physical, but they are a bit frustrated at your reluctance to move beyond a certain point. They are concerned that you might be holding back because of something Neesa said to you about them needing protection.”

Sam fought back a frown. She wasn’t really happy to be having this conversation with Sorcha instead of Orla, but this was actually part of why she was going out of her way to be accommodating to Orla’s relationship with Sorcha. She didn’t want to be the only person Orla felt like they could talk to and be open with. She tried to tell herself this was a good thing. That it meant that Sorcha wasn’t going to try to sabotage her and Orla’s relationship.

“It wasn’t that,” Sam said. “I’ve never been with anyone before, and in my culture, despite how casually we treat physical contact, a person’s first sexual encounter is a fairly large step to take. I wanted to be sure we were both ready, and I don’t think I was. Not before today.”

“Something has changed?” Sorcha asked.

“I realized I was in love with them,” Sam said. “I don’t think I could take that step if I wasn’t. Not with Orla.”

“I think I understand, but if you are ready now, then I should leave you to your intended. Just one word of advice.”

“Yes?”

“Touch their ears.”

“What?”

“Touch their ears.”

“Oh,” Sam said. “I’d been avoiding them.”

“Why?”

“On Earth, we have an animal called a cat. They have ears that move like yours, and most cats hate having their ears touched. I thought they wouldn’t like it.”

“You’re mistaken,” Sorcha said. “Our ears are…sensitive, and we very much like it when our mate touches them.”

“Noted,” Sam said.

“Then I’ll go. And again, thank you.”

“Sorcha?”

“Yes?”

“Give Orla a hug on your way out.”

***

Sam pressed a kiss to Orla’s forehead and was rewarded with a soft hum of approval. They were sitting in the bath, Sam leaning back against the end of the tub and Orla curled up in her arms, head resting on her shoulder. They hadn’t really talked much since Sorcha left. They’d eaten dinner in a comfortable silence before making their way to the tub for the bath that had become their evening ritual, but even that was chaste by their usual standards. A few kisses here and there, a few light touches as they helped each other wash, but none of the usual heated and frantic making out and touching that came most nights.

Sam wasn’t really sure why things were different that night, but it was like some tension between them had broken. Maybe it had. Maybe now that she’d said the words, it felt less like what she and Orla had might just disappear. It wasn’t that all her insecurities had vanished. She still worried that she’d made a mistake with the way she handled things with Sorcha, or that Orla would decide that they wanted Sorcha more than they wanted Sam, but even with her insecurities, she felt different, and whatever it was, Orla seemed to feel it too.

“We should get out before your fingers get all wrinkly,” Orla said.

“It’s a little late for that,” Sam said. “But we can get out if you want to.”

Orla sat up and placed a quick peck on Sam’s lips before they stood up. Sam couldn’t stop herself from watching. The way Orla’s breasts glistened with little beads of water, the way their nipples hardened in response to going from the hot water to the cool air, the way their muscles rippled under their skin as they stepped out of the tub. It all made heat pool between her legs, and she bit her lip as she watched Orla reach for a towel and start to dry off.

“Come on,” Orla said. “I don’t want to go to bed alone.”

There was something in Orla’s tone that made Sam scramble to her feet, all the urgency that had been missing earlier in the night suddenly present as Orla handed her a towel with a look that made Sam wonder what Orla had planned. She dried herself quickly and tossed the towel in the bin for the bots to take care off. When she was done, Orla took her hand, and led her out into the bedroom.

“Morna, alone time,” Orla said. Morna whined, but they got up off the doggie bed in the corner and headed out of the bedroom, and Sam suddenly felt very glad she’d gone through all of the pre-programmed commands with Orla earlier.

They reached the side of the bed, and that was normally the point at which they would separate to pull on a pair of panties before they climbed into bed, but when Orla let go, they turned down the covers, and climbed into bed, sliding across to their side before they patted the bed next to them. Sam climbed in, and started to reach for the covers, but Orla stopped her.

“I want to see you,” Orla said. “Is that okay?”

Sam nodded, and Orla smiled as they reached out, running their hand over Sam’s stomach. “I know you’ve been hesitant, and I’ve tried to be patient, but I want this, I want you, and I want it to be tonight. I want it to be the night you told me you loved me.”

Sam reached out and pulled Orla close so she could kiss them. She moaned softly as she slipped her tongue into Orla’s mouth, savoring the slightly sweet, slightly tart way Orla always tasted. She slipped a hand up into Orla’s thick, soft hair and tugged just a bit, earning a moan from Orla, who retaliated by sucking gently on Sam’s tongue, which never failed to make her toes curl. She felt Orla’s hand on the swell of her hip, and she broke the kiss, pulling a disappointed sound from Orla.

Instead of leaning in to kiss her again, she reached up with the hand she’d had in Orla’s hair, and gently ran the pad of her index finger down the back of Orla’s ear, starting at the tip, and going all the way to the base. The response was immediate, and far more dramatic than anything Sam had expected. Orla tilted their head back, leaning into the contact. Orla’s whole body shook. They arched their back. Sam felt nails digging into the swell of her hip where Orla’s hand was resting, and Orla’s mouth fell open as they let out a loud, keening sound. Sam ran her finger back up to the tip of the ear, and Orla’s eyes slammed closed as they pulled their body closer to Sam. As she slid her finger down Orla’s ear a second time, Orla threw one of their legs over one of Sam’s, gripping her thigh, and Sam felt something hot and wet grind against her as Orla buried their face in Sam’s neck.

“You like that, don’t you?” Sam asked, and all Orla could do was nod. She pressed a kiss to the side of Orla’s head as she continued to stroke their ear. She reached down with her other hand, gripping Orla’s ass as she pushed up with her thigh, and Orla let out a whimper as Sam started to guide them, pushing up and down until Orla was grinding themself into Sam’s thigh. She moved her hand away from Orla’s ear long enough to tangle it in their hair and pull their head back so she could kiss them, but the moment their mouths met, she slid her hand up and started stroking Orla’s ear again.

It wasn’t how she’d imagined making love to Orla for the first time would go, but it was still the hottest thing she’d ever experienced. Orla moaned and whimpered into her mouth and clung to her and clawed at her as they rocked against her, smearing Sam’s thigh with their need until Orla broke the kiss and threw their head back, their whole body going rigid for a moment, before they started shaking and let out a sound Sam could only describe as a howl.

When the shaking and the howling and the clawing and the grinding were over, Orla collapsed on top of her, panting and limp. Sam wrapped her arms around Orla, hugging them tightly as she pressed a kiss to their temple, and their cheek, and the side of their neck, and their collar bone, punctuating each one with a whispered ‘I love you’.

“I love you, too.”

The words were spoken so softly, Sam was sure she would have missed them if not for the enhancements to her hearing, but they were also spoken with such conviction, she couldn’t doubt them. Especially not when Orla, still shaky and panting, lifted themself up so they could look Sam in the face and said it again.

“I love you.” They leaned down and kissed Sam. “I love you.” Another kiss. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” They said the words over and over again, peppering Sam’s face with kisses until Sam caught them and pulled them down into a long, slow, proper kiss.

“Catch your breath, love,” Sam whispered. “We have all night.”

Chapter Nine

SAM CLOSED HER EYES as she felt Orla’s hands settle on her side. She didn’t resist a moment later when Orla pulled her back gently so that her back was pressed against Orla’s front, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she felt Orla’s chin settle on her shoulder.

“Keep this up, and you’re going to miss your meeting,” Sam said.

Orla pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I wish I could. I really want to take you back to bed.”

“I’d love that, and if you didn’t have a meeting, I’d say let’s skip first and second labor and spend all day in bed.”

Sam’s breath hitched as Orla started running their thumbs up and down the bare skin of Sam’s sides. “You’d get no argument from me,” Orla said.

Sam stepped forward, just enough so that she could turn around without smacking into Orla, then reached out and pulled them into a kiss. It was soft and gentle, not exactly chaste, but it wasn’t the kind of kiss that was meant to lead to other things. She wanted to make it that. In the six seachtains since they first made love, they’d barely been able to keep their hands off of each other. They spent their time making love, with short breaks to eat, nap, and play with Morna. The only real interruptions were labor uairs and visits from Sorcha. Sam knew that eventually the frantic need they were both feeling would ease up, that they were burning off all the tension and desire that had built up over the two months since they’d met, but what she knew and what she felt were two very different things, and what she felt was that she never wanted to let go of Orla, never wanted to leave their apartment, and wanted to spend the rest of her life wrapped up in the beautiful, amazing person she’d fallen in love with.

She wanted to deepen the kiss. She wanted to reach down and hook her hands under Orla’s thighs, to lift Orla up and feel strong, muscular legs wrap around her waist. She wanted to carry Orla over to the bed and lose herself in pulling all those wonderful sounds out of Orla. Instead, she broke off the kiss and smiled at them.

“You’re making it really hard to be good,” Sam said.

“I can’t help it,” Orla said. “Every time I remember I’m allowed to touch you, that’s all I want to do. To be wrapped up in your arms, to feel you pressed against me. To hear you say you love me.”

“I love you,” Sam said. Orla closed their eyes, and turned their ears towards Sam. It was a gesture she’d come to recognize, one that meant trust and love, and which always warmed Sam’s heart when she saw it. She waited a minute, just basking in the simple show of affection, until Orla opened their eyes again.

“You’re coming home right after first labor?” Orla asked.

“I am,” Sam said. “I might even skip out a bit early. Today is a loading day.”

Orla frowned a bit. “I thought you’d loaded all your courses.”

“I decided to add a few more. Things that would have helped when I was designing Morna. I used a lot of components designed for prosthetics to mimic canine anatomy, so I’m adding the prosthetics course family, along with a biomechanics course.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” Orla said in a concerned voice. “You know you get headaches when you load too much.”

Sam smiled a little wider at the warm feeling Orla’s worry created in her chest. “I promise,” she said. “I’ll be careful. No headaches today.”

Orla leaned forward and gave her a small peck on the lips. “Good,” they said. “Because we are definitely skipping second labor.”

Sam laughed and kissed Orla again. “Good to know. Now go on, before I drag you to bed and we miss first labor, too.”

Sam could see the reluctance on Orla’s face as she pulled away. Something that was mirrored in her own heart. She told herself that the meeting Orla had to go to was important over and over again, but even so, it still took all of her willpower to let Orla go.

***

Orla sat outside Tadgh’s office, trying their best to keep calm. All they really wanted was to get through the meeting so they could get home to Sam and Morna. They knew that shouldn’t be their priority, that they should be focused on work, and on the issue with their projections, but truthfully, their mind kept wandering back to the feel of Sam’s body against them, to Morna’s soft fur, to games of fetch and happy barks, and to Sam’s hands and lips on their body, and most of all, to the sound of Sam whispering ‘I love you’ over and over again in English and Oriad and dozens of other languages. Those words were intoxicating and addictive because Orla knew they were true. Sam had shown her love over and over again before she ever said the words, and Orla wanted to wallow in the feeling.

Instead, they were here, sitting outside their parent’s office, waiting for a meeting that they were dreading but couldn’t avoid. Their bliana end report was due at the end of the seachtain, and they had yet to find the discrepancy between their numbers and Tadgh’s. They wondered if the problem was distraction. Tadgh’s projections had been released two days after Orla and Sam’s betrothal, and Orla would be lying if they said their focus over the last bliana had been on work. They didn’t quite believe it, though. They had run their projections hundreds of times and gone through the numbers every single time, and they couldn’t make them match Tadgh’s report. In the end, they had no choice but to admit defeat and schedule a meeting with Tadgh to go over the discrepancies. Another way they’d disappoint their parent.

“Orla.”

Orla looked up at the sound of their name and saw Tadgh’s assistant. A kind faced old person named Cunam whose hair and ear fur were shot through with gray.

“Tadgh will see you now,” Cunam said.

“Thank you.” Orla got to their feet and headed for the door to Tadgh’s office. They took one last deep breath to calm themself before stepping close enough to activate the door. It slid aside, and Orla stepped into Tadgh’s office. They gave Orla a thin smile and gestured to one of the chairs in front of their desk. Orla took the seat and tapped their left wrist, waking their Aug up. A quick gesture put it into record mode, and another gesture connected it to the office network.

“Good morning, Orla,” Tadgh said. “I hope you’re well.”

“Very well,” Orla said. “And you?”

“I’m well. I was a bit surprised to see your name on my appointment schedule for today. Our normal schedule wouldn’t have us meeting for another seachtain.”

“I know,” Orla said. “However, I’ve run into a small issue with preparing my bliana end reports, and I needed assistance.”

Tadgh frowned, and Orla felt their stomach sink. They knew very well that they shouldn’t have any issues with their reports at this point, and they expected Tadgh to point out their failure. They were a bit surprised when Tadgh didn’t.

“What sort of trouble?” Tadgh asked.

“I’m unable to reconcile the numbers in my reports with the numbers you’ve submitted,” Orla said. “I’ve been through the financials a dozen times, but every time I run my projection for the next four blianas, I show a slow decline in revenue. Your projections show a slight increase over the same period. I’ve been unable to reconcile the outcomes.”

Tadgh’s frown deepened, and Orla felt a strange tension fill the room as Tadgh stared at them.

“Show me your data,” Tadgh said.

Orla lifted their hands and used a couple of quick gestures to create a shared desktop in their Aug, then slugged an invite over to Tadgh. Once Tadgh accepted and accessed the shared desktop, Orla laid out their reports, along with the source data, and the algorithms they had used for their projections. Once everything was laid out, Orla sat in silence as they watched Tadgh go through their data and reports.

“You’re not using my projection algorithms,” Tadgh said.

“No,” Orla said.

“Why did you write new projection algorithms?” Tadgh asked.

“I looked back over the last twenty-five blianas worth of data and noticed that the algorithms used have a higher than optimal margin of error. I took the algorithms apart and noticed that there are places where they make certain assumptions that aren’t necessarily matching up with historical data. I reworked the algorithm so that they take data from previous performance and plug it in instead of making those assumptions. When I went back and reran the last thirty blianas through the algorithm, the margin of error for the projections was significantly reduced.”

“Have you tried rerunning the reports with my algorithms?”

Orla hesitated for just a moment, feeling almost insulted by the question. They reached down, pulled up a file, and added it to the shared desktop. “Of course,” they said. “That was the first thing I tried, but all that does is widen the margin of error. The trend line remains the same. A decline in revenue.”

“Hmmm…” Tadgh said. “Well, let me go through your data.”

Orla sat patiently and watched as Tadgh sorted through the data Orla had used to generate their reports. They tried not to watch the clock displayed in their HUD, but the longer things dragged on, the more they worried that they wouldn’t finish by the end of first labor, and they’d have to pick things up after break. Something they really didn’t want, however selfish that might be.

“I think I see the problem,” Tadgh said. “Your projections don’t include any new revenue streams.”

“A moment,” Orla said with a frown. They switched out of the shared desktop to their work desktop and did a quick sweep through the data they had access to, which was supposed to be everything Tadgh had access to. Everything they had included in the report was flagged with color coded tags, which made it fairly easy to confirm what they already knew before they switched back over to the shared desktop. “My data doesn’t show any new revenue streams on the horizon. I’m showing projected revenue bumps from several scheduled product refreshes, but those have been accounted for under existing revenue streams. We’ve got no new products or partnerships in the works.”

“Well, that’s because we don’t have anything solid in the pipeline at the moment.”

“If you don’t have anything solid in the pipeline, how can you include numbers in your projections?”

Tadgh waved their hand in a gesture that cleared the shared desktop so they and Orla could look at each other without files and numbers in the way. “I included numbers from a partnership that was in the works but ultimately fell through.”

“But if the partnership fell through, you need to remove it from your projections.”

“Technically, yes, and if I were the Head of House Leargas, I would do exactly that, but you’ve seen how your Grandparent Saoirse is. They’re nervous and panicky when it comes to the operation of the House businesses. If I turn in a projection that shows a decline in revenue, Saoirse might very well remove me, and give over management of the commodities division to your entle Cliodhna. If that happens, it could reduce my standing with House Cineal. Neesa could move Cliodhna into the trade liaison role, and at that point, we’d be left with nothing but my family allowance.”

“But your numbers aren’t accurate,” Orla said. “You can’t turn in a report with inaccurate numbers.”

“Orla, we’ll find a new partnership, and the numbers will be within the acceptable margin of error. You’re making a much bigger deal out of this than it needs to be.”

“But what happens when Saoirse sees my report and asks me why the projections differ? How am I supposed to explain that?”

“You won’t need to. I’ll give you access to the partnership projections, and you can add the new revenue stream to your data. The reports will match up, and everything will be fine.”

“No.” The word came out without any thought or hesitation. What Tadgh was asking them to do was against every rule they’d been taught. “I can’t include projections from a partnership that’s fallen through in my report.”

“Orla,” Tadgh said, and Orla felt a sense of dread. Tadgh’s tone had changed from their usual cool indifference to something hard and angry. “I will send you the numbers, and you will plug them into your report. This is not open for debate.”

“You’re telling me to violate policy,” Orla said, but what Tadgh was asking them to do might be worse than that. It might be a violation of law. Orla kept that thought to themself, though.

Tadgh’s face turned hard, and the anger that had been in their voice showed clearly on their face. “Those numbers would be accurate, if you weren’t such a foolish, selfish child.”

“What?”

“There were six applications from a Gaolta House that had extensive mining interests. I made sure every one of them was flagged highest probability. All you had to do was pick one of them, and we would have had a new alliance, but no, you had to go and pick your worthless human. You had to bind yourself to a barbarian from an unincorporated world that brought nothing to the family. And now, I have to fix the damage you’ve done before my parent sees what a mess you’ve made and strips me of my station because I can’t even control my own child.”

“Tadgh—”

“Be quiet,” Tadgh snapped. “I’m sending you the numbers. You’ll load them into your report and send it to Saoirse by the end of the laethanta. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’re done,” Tadgh said. “I don’t want to see you back here until next mionna’s scheduled meeting.”

Orla disconnected their Aug from the office as they stood up. They looked at Tadgh for a moment, before they turned and headed for the door, trying their best to keep the tears they felt filling their eyes from spilling.

***

Sam couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she rode up the elevator. She’d managed to load all five new courses without getting a headache, which meant she could skip the learning center for the rest of the seachtain. If Orla had managed to get the issue with their reports straightened out, then they didn’t have anything else to do for the rest of the seachtain either. She wasn’t sure if Orla would agree, but she was daydreaming of taking the seachtain off and taking a trip. Maybe seeing if they could find a beachside resort that would let them bring Morna.

True to her word, she’d skipped out of first labor early, but she’d also stopped on the way home and gotten some caistair taoschnos, which were kind of a cross between a jelly donut and a cheese danish. They were delicious, and they were also one of Orla’s favorites, and she figured a little bribery might help convince Orla to play hooky. And if the pastries didn’t work, well, she could think of a few other things she could try to convince Orla that they really needed to spend some more time together.

The elevator stopped, and Sam stepped out, heading for the door to her and Orla’s apartment. The whole trip, her mind focused on the idea of getting Orla into a bikini. It was probably a little ridiculous given that she’d already seen Orla out of a bikini, but the idea still held a lot of appeal. Honestly, given all the things she was thinking, she was pretty sure the inside of her head resembled the mind of a teenage boy who’d just discovered boobs, but given how enthusiastic Orla was about being on the receiving end of Sam’s attention, she couldn’t really bring herself to feel even the tiniest bit guilty. After all, she and Orla were engaged. She was pretty sure that meant she was allowed.

“Get the door for me, would you, Pixel?” she asked.

“Sure thing, boss,” Pixel said. The door to the apartment slid aside as she approached it, and once she was through, it closed and locked behind her.

She was two steps into the apartment when she realized something was wrong. She heard a sniffle. It was so soft she never would have heard it without the enhancement to her ears. A faint whine followed, louder than the sniffle, and accompanied by the sound of licking. It was enough to tell her what to expect, even if she didn’t know the cause. When she rounded the corner into the main lounge, she found exactly what she was expecting. Orla sitting on the couch in tears, with their arms around Morna as Morna licked their face.

Sam left the box of pastries on the coffee table and sat down next to Orla. She slipped an arm around Orla’s shoulder and Orla curled into her immediately, resting their head on Sam’s shoulder and pressing their right hand against Sam’s sternum. Sam reached up, wrapping her left hand around Orla’s right wrist as she pressed a kiss to Orla’s forehead.

“What’s the matter, love?” Sam asked.

Orla pulled their hand away from Sam’s chest, and Sam let go of their wrist, watching as Orla tapped their left arm to activate their Aug. As she watched Orla work, she made a mental note to nag Orla again about installing a personality module with a full verbal interface so they could work hands free.

“They’re asking to open a shared desktop,” Pixel said.

“Open it,” Sam said. A moment later, her and Orla’s Augs connected, and she saw the icon that indicated a shared workspace. The workspace was empty, but Orla made a small gesture, and a video file appeared on the desktop.

“You want me to watch it?” Sam asked. Orla nodded.

“Play it, Pixel,” Sam said.

“Full sensory, or AV only?”

“AV only.”

The video expanded to fill Sam’s field of vision, and she found herself sitting in Tadgh’s office. Her stomach immediately sank. If that asshole had said something to hurt Orla…

She swallowed her anger and sat there, listening carefully as Orla explained their problem to Tadgh. She didn’t understand the numbers in front of her, but as she listened to Orla and Tadgh talk, she got enough of a picture of what was happening, and when Tadgh turned hostile, when they laid into Orla, Sam felt her blood start to boil.

When the recording was finished, Sam reached out and copied the file to her internal memory, wanting to make sure she had a copy just in case she needed it later. Once that was done, she turned and placed another kiss on Orla’s forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I don’t know what to do,” Orla said.

“We’ll figure it out,” Sam said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She honestly felt a little lost. She’d taken a couple of college-level business courses in high school because her mother had insisted, but there was a world of difference between ‘what is a merchant bank’ and ‘here’s how you respond when you find out your parent who runs the commodity goods division of your family’s interstellar financial empire is cooking the books.’ Her first instinct was to tell Orla to submit their un-doctored reports and send a copy of the recording to this Saoirse person, but there were factors at play she didn’t fully understand. Family loyalty was incredibly important to the Sionnach, but Sam wasn’t sure whether that meant that Orla would be expected to be loyal to the House first, or to their parents first. If Sionnach culture deemed loyalty to the parent as paramount, then Orla could destroy their own standing by ratting out Tadgh, and that could have horrible repercussions for their future. On the other hand, if House loyalty was paramount, they needed to rat Tadgh out to protect themself. Sam honestly didn’t give a shit about what happened to Tadgh, but she had to make sure Orla was protected, and for that, she needed help.

“Pixel, are Neesa and Fiadh still off-world?” Sam asked.

“According to their itinerary, they should be on their way back home, but they aren’t scheduled to make planetfall until sixth uair tomorrow. I might be able to get them on an ansible link though.”

“Hold that thought.” Sam turned to Orla. “Can I call Sorcha?”

Orla nodded. “Please.”

“Pixel, put me through to Sorcha.”

“On it.”

There was a moment of silence, before Sorcha answered. “Hey, Sam. What can I do for you?”

“Are you in the tower?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. First labor doesn’t end for another five noimeads, and I was just going to take lunch at home.”

“Can you come up to our apartment?”

“Of course,” Sorcha said. “Is something wrong?”

“Very,” Sam said. “Expect to miss second labor.”

“I’m on my way,” Sorcha said.

“Pixel, have the servant bots whip up something for lunch. Lacha sandwiches, plur, and pratamilis strips.”

“On it.”

She reached down and took Orla’s hand, guiding it back to the spot on her chest where Orla liked to rest it. Orla smiled at her before they rested their head back on Sam’s shoulder. Morna wiggled their way up onto both of their laps, and let out a small whine that got Orla to start petting Morna with their free hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” Sam said.

“I know,” Orla said. They leaned in and kissed Sam on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sam said.

They sat like that for a few minutes until they heard the door chime. Orla pulled away from Sam and sat up straight.

“Who is it?” Sam asked.

“It’s Sorcha,” Pixel said.

“Let them in,” Sam said.

Sam heard the front door slide open.

“Sam?” Sorcha called out as they stepped inside.

“We’re in the lounge,” Sam called out. She heard quick steps coming closer, and a moment later, Sorcha appeared at the door to the lounge.

“Come in, please,” Sam said. “Have a seat.” She gestured to the empty spot next to Orla where Morna had been before she climbed into their laps.

Sorcha walked over and sat down next to Orla.

“What’s going on?” Sorcha asked.

“Do you want to show them the recording before we call Neesa and Fiadh?”

Orla shook her head. “I don’t want to sit through it two more times.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “Pixel, put a comm request through to Neesa and Fiadh, from me, marked urgent.”

“Working,” Pixel said.

While they were waiting, Orla lifted their hands and made a couple of quick gestures, and Sam saw an icon indicating that Sorcha had joined their shared desktop.

“Call coming through,” Pixel said.

“What’s wrong?” Neesa asked.

“It’s a long story,” Sam said. “I’ve got Orla and Sorcha here with me. Is Fiadh with you?”

“Right here,” Fiadh said over the comm link.

“Does your ansible connection have enough bandwidth for a five way shared Aug desktop?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Neesa said.

“Hold on, I’ll slug you both a request.” Pixel sent the invite without having to be told, and Sam saw the icons for Neesa and Fiadh pop up.

“Orla,” Sam said.

“I have a video of a meeting I had with Tadgh. I’d like to play it for you, because I’m not sure what to do,” Orla said.

There was a brief moment of silence, then Neesa said, “Go ahead.”

Orla touched the video file and selected AV playback only, then started the recording. Sam sat back and watched the video for the second time, paying more attention to Tadgh this time, since she didn’t have to listen to decipher all of the business jargon. She made a note to have every business course the learning center had loaded next time she was there, but that was an afterthought. She watched Tadgh through every second of the recording, paying attention not just to what they said, but to their facial expressions and body language. Sam had to admit, they were good at keeping their face from giving anything away, but they weren’t quite so good about keeping their ears still. They kept trying to turn back in the way Sam had learned indicated fear. Tadgh was terrified from the moment Orla started asking about their projections.

When the video finished, there was nothing but silence. No one said a word, but even with Neesa and Fiadh lightyears away, she could feel their anger, and Sorcha’s ears were lying back flat as they literally trembled with rage.

“I don’t know how to handle this,” Sam said. “My first instinct is to tell Orla to submit the reports as is, and forward a copy of the recording to Saoirse, but I don’t know enough about your cultural expectations to know if that’s the right move. I’ve also never met Saoirse, so I have no idea how they will react to the news that their child is submitting falsified reports to cover their own failures.”

“That’s not a bad suggestion,” Fiadh said. “Saoirse respects honesty and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. They would definitely respect Orla for submitting the accurate reports, and reporting what Tadgh is doing.”

“I sense a but coming,” Sam said.

“Saoirse hates it when people bring them a problem without having a solution lined up,” Neesa said.

“Wouldn’t removing Tadgh solve the problem?” Sorcha asked.

“It would solve one of the problems,” Fiadh said. “The thing is, Orla’s going to Saoirse with two problems. Tadgh’s malfeasance is a big problem, obviously, but there’s also the issue of the decline in revenue.”

“How is Orla supposed to solve that?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Neesa said. “But if Tadgh’s pitching it that Orla’s selection of Sam caused the issue by sabotaging an alliance, that might be enough to splash blame on them.”

“How was Orla supposed to know that Tadgh was pinning the House’s financial future on them marrying into money?”

“Orla, when you looked at the applications, were there any notes from Tadgh indicating that certain candidates would be beneficial to the House?” Fiadh asked.

“I…um…I’m not sure,” Orla said.

“Explain,” Fiadh said.

“I didn’t review all of the applications,” Orla said. “I filtered out all the applications from Gaolta and rejected them without looking at them.”

“Okay, that might be a problem,” Neesa said. “Do you still have the applications?”

“Yes,” Orla said.

“Pull them up and see if there are any notes from Tadgh on the ones you didn’t review.”

Orla dropped a folder onto the shared desktop.

“Aug, review all applications and highlight any with notes added after the original submission, excluding any notes marking the applications with a rejected status,” Orla said. A moment later, a list of seven names appeared. Six of them were Gaolta that had one note on them, written by Tadgh. The seventh was Sam’s name, and it had a hundred and forty-seven notes on it, all written by Orla.

Sam turned and looked at Orla, and couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the blush on Orla’s face.

“Research on your species,” Orla said. “I wanted to be sure I could make you comfortable.”

Without really thinking about it, Sam leaned in and pressed a kiss to Orla’s cheek. “I love you, too,” she said. A moment later, she heard a deep, stuttering chitter. She looked over to see Sorcha staring at her with an amused expression on their face.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Sorcha asked.

Sam shrugged.

“I feel like we’re missing something,” Fiadh said.

“Nothing to worry about,” Orla said as they opened the notes attached to the applications. All six were the same. They simply read, ‘Mining interests would be helpful to the family.’

“That’s not particularly direct,” Sam said.

“It might be enough for Saoirse to blame Orla as well as Tadgh for the current situation.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sam said. “Orla had the right to choose who they wanted.”

“In theory, yes, but you saw how Neesa’s parent Niamh reacted to you at the betrothal ceremony,” Fiadh said.

“You heard that?” Sam asked.

“I have a recording,” Fiadh said. “I replay it every time Niamh says something rude to me, but the point is, a lot of people only value a bonding for what it can bring to the family. If Orla admits that they didn’t review the Gaolta applications, then they come across as irresponsible. Something that Orla already has a reputation for among the families connected to House Leargas. If Orla lies and says they did review the Gaolta applications, it’s worse, because then they come across as disregarding the family’s needs.”

“What could Saoirse do to Orla?”

“That’s a tricky question,” Neesa said. “Orla hasn’t reached their final ascension. There’s a certain allowance for mistakes—”

“Choosing Sam was not a mistake,” Orla said.

“I agree,” Neesa said. “But Saoirse might not. Worse case, Saoirse might put Orla under conservatorship.”

Sam heard Orla let out a small whimper.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“Saoirse would appoint someone to oversee all of Orla’s decisions. Orla wouldn’t be able to do anything without the conservator’s approval. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

“Why not?” Sam asked.

“The conservator would have the power to nullify the betrothal. They’d also have the right to select a new betrothed for Orla. Someone in conservatorship would be considered a less than ideal mate, but if the Gaolta are just looking to secure a business partnership through marriage, then the other family might not care.”

“I thought Orla and I were the only ones who could break the betrothal,” Sam said.

“Under normal circumstances, yes, but if Orla’s under conservatorship, they wouldn’t be considered competent to make their own decisions.”

“What happens if Orla just submits their reports, and doesn’t notify Saoirse of what Tadgh is doing?”

“Saoirse would ask Orla to justify why they submitted reports that differed in result from Tadgh’s,” Neesa said.

“At which point, Orla would have to explain the meeting with Tadgh anyway,” Sam said.

“And would probably get punished more harshly for not coming forward in the first place,” Neesa said.

“Okay, I want to make sure I’ve got this right,” Sam said. “If Orla goes to Saoirse with the issue, they might be stripped of their right to make any decisions for themself, and might be forced into a betrothal with someone they hate, all because they found out that their parent is cooking the books and turned them in.”

“That’s a worst-case scenario,” Neesa said. “I’ll be honest. I’ve only met Saoirse once, and that was at Tadgh’s and Nuala’s bonding ceremony. Mostly, I know them by reputation. It’s entirely possible that they would thank Orla for letting them know what Tadgh was doing. Even reward them for discovering the situation.”

“But you’re not sure,” Sam said.

“No,” Neesa said.

“I can’t really offer any input on what Saoirse will do either,” Fiadh said. “The only time I met them was the same day Neesa did.”

“Why wasn’t Saoirse at the betrothal ceremony?” Sam asked.

“Saoirse never attends betrothals,” Orla said. “Not since their bond mate died.”

“So, the only way we can guarantee that things don’t go badly for Orla is if we have a potential new revenue stream for the family by the time we meet with Saoirse to discuss the issue,” Sam said.

“Yes,” Neesa said.

“And we need to decide what to do now,” Orla said. “Tadgh expects me to submit my reports by end of laethanta.”

“Neesa, Fiadh, if Orla brings a product to Saoirse and it doesn’t sell well, what’s the likely outcome?”

“Not a lot,” Neesa said. “If Orla brings Saoirse a product, it’s going to go through research and development, market studies, and a whole lot of other evaluations before it goes into production. This is also a place where the fact that Orla’s in training would work for us. Orla’s expected to make mistakes, and if a product they bring to Saoirse while still in training fails, it would be regarded as a learning experience for Orla.”

“And if Orla goes to the meeting with Saoirse with a new product in hand, would that be enough to keep Saoirse from being angry about Orla bringing them a problem without a solution?”

“It should be,” Neesa said.

“What’s the fastest you can get back to Talamh?” Sam asked.

“If we go to max burn, we can probably be back home by second uair tomorrow, but I’d rather not run the engines that hot. The ship is in good shape, but the number three engine is acting a bit twitchy, and I don’t want to take it above fifty percent until I’ve had the entire engine overhauled.”

“It’s probably not worth it just to save four uairs anyway,” Sam said. “If Orla submits the reports and sends the message to Saoirse at the end of second labor today, is there any way to stall a meeting with Saoirse until the end of the seachtain?”

“No,” Orla said. “Saoirse is the head of House. If they ask me to meet with them, I would be expected to drop everything and do so. Especially given that all my responsibilities are essentially training for the work I’ll be doing after my final ascension.”

“Okay, so, if you submit the reports say, one noimead before the end of second labor, and send the recording to Saoirse at the same time, then we’d have until first labor tomorrow before they see the recording,” Sam said.

“That’s not a lot of time to find a new revenue stream,” Sorcha said.

“It’s not, but I think it might be enough,” Sam said.

“What are you thinking?” Neesa asked.

“I’m thinking that Tadgh is a complete idiot for dismissing a very smart engineer with a deep working knowledge of a completely alien culture and tech base as worthless.”

“Um, no offense, Sam, but Earth’s tech base can’t really compete with ours,” Fiadh said. “I don’t want to dismiss your skills, and I know from what Orla’s told me that you’re working really hard to get caught up with our tech, but if you’re talking about a new product, we need something people are going to want to buy.”

“I understand that, but honestly, you guys have gotten so used to the way your tech works, you probably haven’t thought about its limitations in thousands of years. If you give me an uair or two, I can solve a problem you’ve forgotten exists.”

“What does that mean?” Fiadh asked.

Sam turned to Orla. “Trust me?”

“Of course,” Orla said.

“Okay,” Sam said. “Neesa, Fiadh, get back as fast as you can. Orla, Sorcha, and I will handle Saoirse, but I’m going to need help with the inevitable explosion when Tadgh finds out what’s happened.”

“Are you sure you’ve got this covered?” Neesa asked.

“I promised you I’d take care of Orla, and I will. Trust me. I’ve got everything I need sitting in my lap.”

“Okay,” Neesa said. “We’ll see you tomorrow around sixth uair.”

“See you then,” Sam said.

Neesa and Fiadh disconnected, and Sam looked down at Morna, giving them a small scratch on the back.

“What do you say, Morna? You ready to have a little sibling?”

***

When Sam had built Morna, she’d selected an Alaskan Malamute for a number of reasons. They were cute, they were fluffy, loyal, playful, and being relatively unchanged from their wolf ancestors, more than capable of dismembering anyone who posed a threat to Orla. All were important factors, but the one that really made the determination was the Malamute’s sheer size. Malamutes were huge. They were basically unscaled huskies. The large size helped make the assembly easier. When she’d led Orla and Sorcha into her lab earlier in the evening, she’d been faced with a much different set of priorities. First, she didn’t have time for the autofabber to run off the parts for a malamute size dog. Second, she needed something that would be easy to transport and non-threatening, while being insanely cute. Which was why, at ten noimeads past first uair, she was lying on the couch in the main lounge with Orla passed out on her chest, while Sorcha sat on the floor playing with an overexcited, brown and gold, long-haired Chihuahua. Morna watched with a disgruntled look on their face, as if to say, ‘what the fuck is with the interloper?’

There were two more of the robot Chihuahuas packed up in pet carriers, ready to go whenever Orla got called to meet with Saoirse. She wasn’t sure whether or not Saoirse would go for the idea of selling robot pets, but when she’d looked into importing a dog for Orla, she’d noticed that the Sionnach seemed to be rather paranoid about the idea of a disease being carried by animals. That paranoia drove the cost of owning any sort of pet on Talamh up high enough that it was out of reach for most people. There was a permit requirement, regular exams, a cybernetic antiviral and anti-bacterial implant, and a bunch of other hoops to jump through that just wouldn’t exist for a robot animal. Sam also thought there would be a market among spacers. Pets were pretty much a no go on spaceships, but robot animal companions would get around all the reasons pets were a bad idea for spacers. She was honestly surprised no one had thought of it before, but then, she had a lot of ideas like that. Little things that were missing from Hegemony culture that she was sure she could turn a profit on.

She’d been planning on saving the ideas for herself and using them to make money independent of Orla’s family, but if she had to give that up to protect Orla, it wasn’t that big a sacrifice. There would always be other ideas. She just had to make sure that nothing happened to Orla.

Orla shifted, snuggling in closer to Sam while letting out a small grumble.

“You should take Orla to bed,” Sorcha said.

Sam looked over at Sorcha, who was staring at Orla with a longing look on her face. To her surprise, Sam didn’t feel annoyed or defensive about it. She just felt sorry for Sorcha. As grateful as Sam was for the circumstances that brought Orla into her life, she knew those same circumstances sucked for Sorcha, and she wished there was something she could do for them.

“You’re probably right,” Sam said. “They need to be rested if Saoirse calls in the morning.”

“I’ll head out, then,” Sorcha said.

“No,” Sam said. “Stay. Take the guest room.”

“You sure?” Sorcha asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Look, I know this can’t be easy for you. It’s not easy for me, either, but I meant what I said before. You’re part of Orla’s life. You’re family. You’ll always have a place in our home.”

Sorcha smiled as they climbed to their feet. “You’re a better person than I am, Sam. If our places were reversed, I wouldn’t want you anywhere near Orla.”

Sam shrugged and turned to Orla, giving them a small shake.

“Time to wake up, love,” Sam whispered. Orla frowned and grumbled for a moment, then opened their eyes.

“What happened?”

“You fell asleep,” Sam said. “It’s time we go to bed.”

Orla grumbled as they sat up, only to blush a bit when they realized Sorcha was watching them.

“Hey,” Orla said.

“Hey, yourself,” Sorcha said.

“Sorcha’s going to sleep in the guest room,” Sam said as she stood up. “We’ve all had a long laethanta, and we’re probably going to have another one tomorrow, so we should get some sleep.”

“Good idea,” Orla said.

Sorcha looked down at the dog they had been playing with, and Sam could practically hear their heart breaking. She knew exactly what she’d see if she looked over at Orla too, and she couldn’t take the puppy dog eyes. Fortunately, she’d planned for this.

“Take them,” Sam said.

Sorcha looked up at her. “What?”

“Take them,” Sam said. “They’re yours.”

“But…”

“We have the two we haven’t activated yet,” Sam said. “They should be enough to convince Saoirse.”

Sorcha didn’t need any more convincing. They reached out and scooped up the dog and hugged it tightly.

“You’ll need a name, won’t you?” Sorcha asked. “How about Choth?”

Choth signaled their approval by standing up on their hind legs and licking Sorcha’s face enthusiastically.

“I think they like it,” Orla said. Sam felt Orla thread their fingers together and give a small tug. “Come on. I’m exhausted.”

Sam nodded. “Pixel, have the servant bots make sure Sorcha has something to sleep in.”

“On it, boss,” Pixel said.

“Good night,” Sam said.

“Good night,” Sorcha said, still smiling down at Choth. They glanced up for a moment. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Good night,” Orla said.

“Night,” Sorcha said.

Sam let Orla pull her down the hall to their bedroom, Morna a couple of steps behind. Once the door was closed, they stripped down quickly, leaving their clothes for the servant bot, and climbed into bed. Before they could settle into their usual sleeping positions, Orla leaned in and kissed Sam. It was soft and gentle and familiar. Not the kind of kiss meant to start something, but just a moment of comfort and intimacy.

“Thank you,” Orla said.

“For what?” Sam asked.

“For everything. For being here, for making the dogs, for giving one to Sorcha, for inviting them to stay.”

“Sorcha’s your friend,” Sam said.

“Yes, but I know how I feel about them makes you uncomfortable. It means more to me than you can imagine that you go out of your way to include them in things.”

Sam leaned in and kissed Orla. “I love you,” she said. “I want you to be happy.”

“I love you, too,” Orla said as they rested their head on Sam’s shoulder. “You make me happy.”

“You make me happy, too,” Sam said. “Now, get some sleep.”

Orla closed their eyes, and a moment later, Sam heard their soft little snore. She pressed a kiss to Orla’s forehead and closed her eyes. Sleep came quickly.

Chapter Ten

THE SUMMONS WAS WAITING when Orla woke up that morning. A message in their inbox marked top priority, with an invite to a meeting with Saoirse Leargas at the beginning of second labor. Orla really wished it had been at the start of first labor instead. They hated waiting, and they hated uncertainty, so waiting for a meeting with such an uncertain outcome was pure torture.

Orla had to hand it to Sam and Sorcha. They did an amazing job of taking Orla’s mind off of what was coming. The three of them had eaten breakfast together and then taken Morna and Choth down to the park, where Sam had launched some sort of small anti-gravity drone, then taught them a game called Frisbee. Morna loved it, but Choth was too small to catch the plastic disk. Sam had anticipated that and brought along some rubber balls. The three of them had taken turns throwing the Frisbee and the balls for Morna and Choth to chase and bring back. When first labor had ended, Sam ran across the street to a small café and bought them all sandwiches, plur, and juice, and the three of them had an impromptu version of one of Sam’s picnics. They just sat on the ground in the park and ate their lunch while Morna sat next to Orla, and Choth curled up in Sorcha’s lap.

Once they were done eating, they headed back to the tower. Sorcha went to their own apartment to get cleaned up while Sam and Orla had gone back to their place to shower and change clothes. Then Sorcha and Choth came up to the apartment before they all headed to the garage. Orla, Sam, Sorcha, Morna, Choth, and the two dogs which hadn’t been turned on yet.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sorcha asked as the car lifted out of its parking space.

“No,” Sam said. “But it was either the dogs, or we blow my monthly stipend on tickets to Earth and run for it.”

“I meant taking Morna and Choth along with us,” Sorcha said.

“Oh,” Sam said. “Well, I figured if worst comes to worst, Choth could provide a distraction while Morna covers our escape.”

Orla looked over at Sam, who had a mischievous smirk on her face. Orla smacked her arm.

“Don’t tease,” Orla said.

“I can’t help it,” Sam said. “It’s how I cope with nerves.”

“You’re nervous?” Orla asked.

“Considering both our futures are riding on making the right impression on your grandparent, yes,” Sam said. “I think the dogs will make a huge profit if we’re first to market with the idea, but I don’t know if Saoirse is going to see it that way. If it were just my reputation I had to worry about, I’d be fine, but I’m really afraid of letting you down.”

Orla reached out and took Sam’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Whatever comes, we will face it together.”

Sam smiled at them, but it wasn’t the usual bright, confident smile that Orla had become so used to over the last bliana.

“What if Neesa’s right, and Saoirse places you under conservatorship?” Sam asked.

“That won’t happen,” Orla said.

“How can you be sure?” Sam asked.

Orla gave Sam’s hand another squeeze. “I won’t let it happen,” Orla said. “Yesterday, you asked me to trust you. Today, I’m asking you to trust me. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Sam said.

Orla smiled and sat back in their seat, carefully avoiding meeting Sorcha’s gaze. Sam didn’t know it was possible to refuse a conservatorship, and Orla wanted to keep it that way because it meant that she didn’t have to explain the consequences of doing so. If they refused a conservatorship after Saoirse ordered it, it meant formally rejecting Saoirse’s authority. They would be disinherited, no longer a part of House Leargas. If that happened, Nuala would have to choose between their marriage to Tadgh, or their relationship with their child. Orla was under no illusion that Nuala would choose them. Orla would be an orphan, though they suspected that wouldn’t last long. Neesa and Fiadh had offered to take Orla on as their child often enough that Orla had little doubt that they would adopt them the moment they were disinherited.

Orla hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but given a choice between Sam and House Leargas, Orla knew which they preferred. Sam had never once treated them as a burden or as something to be ashamed of the way Orla’s parents and most of their House had, and after watching how hard Sam had worked last night to help protect them, and realizing exactly what Sam was giving up to do so, Orla wouldn’t let Sam be tossed aside like the mistake everyone seemed to think she was.

The rest of the ride passed in silence. Orla watched the city pass them by as they headed out into the countryside to the manor house where Saoirse spent their time. Once the manor house was in view, the car descended slowly, coming to a rest on the landing pad. Orla reluctantly let go of Sam’s hand and steadied themself for the formal setting they were about to enter. Once they were ready, they gave Sam a small nod, and Sam opened the door.

“Hello,” the person who greeted them said. “Welcome to Scith manor.”

“Thank you. I’m Orla Leargas. This is my intended, Sam Murray, and our friend Sorcha Grasta.”

Orla was honestly a little taken aback by the fact that a person was greeting them and not a servant bot, but then, Saoirse was the Head of House. Perhaps this was a display of power and authority.

“A pleasure,” the person said with a gentle bow. “I am Runia, Saoirse’s aid. They are waiting for you in their office. I’ll show you there, and then I’ll take your intended, your friend, and your…creatures to a place they can wait comfortably.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Orla said, doing their best to channel the authority Neesa often spoke with. “Sam and Sorcha are here to assist me, and the creatures are robots. I’ll be taking them into the meeting as well.”

Runia frowned. “Orla, Saoirse summoned you. Not your entourage. They have little patience for people who waste their time with lavish displays of self-importance.”

“Their presence here has nothing to do with self-importance. I’m assuming that Saoirse summoned me in relation to the reports I submitted yesterday, and the recording I sent them. Sam, Sorcha, and the robots are relevant to both. They will accompany me, and I will take full responsibility for their presence.”

Runia nodded, the frown still firmly fixed on their face. “Very well. Follow me.” They turned and headed towards the manor house, and Orla, Sam, and Sorcha followed, with Sorcha carrying Choth, Sam carrying the inactive dogs, and Morna walking beside Orla.

As Runia led them through the manor, Orla took in their surroundings. The décor wasn’t at all what they expected. The house was large, but the furnishings all looked simple and comfortable. Nothing lavish or ornate. There were a few paintings hung here and there, mostly landscapes, though there were a few paintings of Chathair. It reminded Orla more of Neesa and Fiadh’s apartment than the residence they had grown up in, and Orla felt themself relaxing just a bit, thinking maybe Saoirse wouldn’t be so bad.

The group finally arrived at a plain, unassuming door, and Runia tapped their left arm and made a small gesture.

“Orla Leargas and company to see you,” Runia said. There was a moment of silence. “I did inform them of that. However, they insisted on bringing their companions. Their intended, one of their friends, and a pair of robots. Of course.”

The door opened, and Runia led them into a large, comfortable looking office. The walls were lined with shelves which displayed all sorts of items. Everything from a flower suspended in a clear sphere, to a ragged looking doll, to bits of pottery, small sculptures, and items that looked like they had come from off world. There was even an odd, twisted piece of metal displayed on one shelf. At the far end of the office, there was a large desk, and behind it sat an old person, hair and fur gone completely to gray, a ragged chunk missing from one ear, a scar across a face covered in age lines. Two fingers were missing from their left hand, replaced by silver prosthetics. Orla assumed this was Saoirse.

Runia gestured towards one of a pair of facing couches in the middle of the room, and Orla took the middle, while Sam took the seat to the right, and Sorcha took the seat to the left. Morna sat down next to Orla’s feet, while Choth curled up in Sorcha’s lap, and Sam set the two carriers with the inactive dogs down in front of them.

“Thank you, Runia. That will be all,” Saoirse said as they stood up.

Runia bowed to Saoirse and left the room, but Orla kept their attention focused on Saoirse, watching as they walked slowly across the office and lowered themself on the couch opposite Orla.

“Forgive an old person their pace,” Saoirse said. “I’m afraid I’m not as spry as I used to be, but then, I doubt you’ll be moving so quickly when you hit three hundred and twelve blianas.”

Orla struggled to keep a look of surprise off their face. They’d known that Saoirse was old, but they hadn’t realized they were quite that old.

“By all means, take your time,” Orla said.

“It’s not like I have much choice now, is it?” Saoirse asked. “So, you’re my grandchild.”

“Yes,” Orla said.

“I should probably apologize for not having been involved in your life, but I have so many grandchildren and great grandchildren, and even a few great, great grandchildren that I can’t keep track of them without my Aug. I will say images don’t do you justice. I always figured Tadgh and Nuala would make beautiful children, but you exceed expectations.”

“Thank you,” Orla said.

“Eh,” Saoirse said. “Don’t thank me for stating the obvious. But I’m more interested in your brains than whether or not you make people’s ears itch.”

Orla wasn’t quite sure what to make of that remark, but they felt both Sam and Sorcha bristling beside her.

“Maybe we should get to the matter at hand,” Orla said.

“Not yet,” Saoirse said. “You brought these two with you. I expect at least an introduction.”

“Of course,” Orla said. “This is Samantha Elizabeth Murray, a human from the planet Terra, and my intended. She prefers to be called Sam. This is Sorcha Grasta, my closest and oldest friend.”

Saoirse stared at Sam for a moment. “Human, huh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human before.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sam said. “We only made contact with the Hegemony twenty blianas ago.”

“Tadgh doesn’t seem to like you much,” Saoirse said.

“Honestly, I don’t think very highly of Tadgh, so I’m not that fussed,” Sam said.

Saoirse smiled and turned to Sorcha. “Grasta, huh?”

“Yes,” Sorcha said.

“I used to have a friend who was a Grasta. Good person. The reason this didn’t kill me.” Saoirse gestured to the scar on their face and the torn ear.

“What happened?” Sorcha asked.

“The impact happened,” Saoirse said. “Your housemate and I were on the edge of an impact zone. I caught some flying shrapnel. Your housemate picked me up and carried me to a hospital outside of the zone. Good person. I miss them.”

Saoirse turned back to Orla. “Now, you’ve brought me quite a problem, grandchild.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Orla said.

“No. I didn’t think it was, but it is what happened. So, let’s start at the beginning. Tadgh said in the recording that they flagged six applications that would have been a prosperous match for the House, but you ignored them, and instead selected Sam, who has nothing to bring to the House. So, explain yourself.”

Orla took a breath, readying themself to give the answer they’d spent hours working up in their head about how they saw potential in Sam, and how they’d chosen Sam over the other candidates because Sam represented a chance to forge bonds with a new species that would soon be a part of the Hegemony. There was a long part of the answer about how they saw the potential that Sam’s engineering background combined with Sam’s outsider perspective could bring to the House. It was a good answer, full of justifications for why Sam was the right choice.

It was also a huge pack of lies, and Orla couldn’t bring themself to utter one word of it. They couldn’t bring themself to reduce Sam to a commodity, to reduce the relationship they’d spent the last bliana building to a business arrangement, or pretend Sam was an obligation or a burden.

Instead of the answer they had been planning on giving, Orla very deliberately reached out for Sam, and Sam took their hand without hesitation, lacing their fingers together. Saoirse’s reaction wasn’t quite what Orla expected. Instead of shock or anger, Saoirse looked down at their linked hands, then back up at Orla, and their ears turned towards Orla in an expression of curiosity.

“I didn’t consider them because I never saw Tadgh’s notes,” Orla said.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t review those applications. When I sat down to select a potential bond mate, I had my Aug flag and reject all Gaolta applications.”

“And why did you do that?”

“Because every Gaolta I’ve ever met has been rude, arrogant, self-important, convinced of their own superiority, and in every way completely insufferable. I have no doubt that there are Gaolta who aren’t like that, but I had no desire to tie myself to someone I couldn’t stand. Honestly, even if I had seen Tadgh’s notations, I doubt I would have selected any of the Gaolta.”

“So, the needs of your family mean nothing to you?”

“Of course not,” Orla said. “I have spent my entire life trying to be an asset and a benefit to House Leargas, but if the selection of a bond mate is something which only benefits the House, then why was I given any choice at all? If my bonding was merely a business arrangement, the way Tadgh seemed to view it, why doesn’t the family simply make the arrangements most beneficial to them, and present it as a completed arrangement to both of the people who are to bond?”

Orla reached down and took Sorcha’s hand. “I received the genetic diversity token at birth, which meant I was obligated to marry an off-worlder. That obligation barred me from selecting the person who would have been my first choice, and however much I wished I could do otherwise, I accepted that. I looked at the options I was given, and I selected the one I thought would be best.”

“Why them?” Saoirse asked.

“How much do you know about me?” Orla asked.

“Not as much as I thought I did when you arrived,” Saoirse said.

“But you have heard what is said about me. That I am reckless, impulsive, childish, and emotional.”

“I have a subroutine in my Aug that monitors the family gossip and records it for me. When I received the message from you, I pulled every bit of information I had on you and reviewed it. So, yes, I have heard all of those things and worse about you.”

“The people who say those things aren’t entirely wrong.”

“That’s not true,” Sam said.

Orla squeezed Sam’s hand and turned to them. “I know you don’t believe it, love, but by Sionnach standards, I am all of those things.” Orla turned back to Saoirse. “I make decisions quickly and often without the tedious deliberation that most people go through. When something requires it, I am capable of taking time to think through my decision, but I see no point in debating the matter when I can make the decision and move on. Quick decision-making allows me to accomplish more than those around me. It is a habit which makes my parents believe I am reckless and impulsive, but I have seen no proof that I make more mistakes than those around me who spend uairs waffling over even the most basic things.

“As for the claim that I’m too emotional, I don’t believe I’m any more emotional than anyone else. I’m simply less willing to suppress my emotions. I see no reason why I should spend my life acting as if I have no more feeling than a servant bot, when it’s obvious to me that the very people who accuse me of being too emotional allow their own feelings to cloud their reason. I’m sitting here because Tadgh, one of the people who complains the most about how emotional I am, has let their fear of losing their status drive them to behavior which is harmful to the House, if not outright criminal.

“I’ve spent my entire life trying to live up to the standards of what most people believe I should be, and all I’ve gotten in return is being treated like an embarrassment and a burden by my parents and my House. When I started looking through those applications, the thought that was foremost on my mind was that a bond mate is supposed to be your friend and partner in all things. They are supposed to be the one you are closest to, the one you share your joys and sorrows with. I looked for someone who I thought could be that.

“Of all the applications I reviewed, and I reviewed over a hundred, Sam’s application was the only one that stood out. It was the only one that didn’t read like it was filled out by some algorithm that the matchmakers set up. It was the only application that showed any life at all. That alone would have been enough, but Sam included a video of one of their sports matches. A game called soccer. At the end of the match, Sam scored the point which won the game, and their teammates reacted by rushing to them and hugging them. One of them even kissed Sam on the cheek. That was what convinced me that Sam was the best choice. They come from a culture where emotion isn’t hidden, where it isn’t viewed as shameful, where offering comfort and affection isn’t seen as weak or indecent unless it’s done behind closed doors.

“I had planned on walking in here today and telling you that I picked Sam because of what I thought they could bring to the family. I planned on talking about their engineering skills, and how the lens of their culture gives them a different perspective on what can be accomplished with our tech, and opens up new possibilities for products which will make us huge profits. All of that is true, but it’s not something I thought about when I was choosing Sam. All I thought about was that I might have found someone I was allowed to bond with who wouldn’t see me as defective, as a burden, an obligation, or a business arrangement. I chose Sam because I thought that Sam might be able to look at me and think of me as someone who was worth caring about, and I was right. Choosing Sam was selfish, but it was not a mistake. It was the best decision I’ve ever made. In the time since Sam and I had our First Meeting, Sam has made me feel like I am someone of value, that I am someone worthy of being cared for and loved, and I will not give that up just so the family can save a few percent on raw materials. Sam is my intended, and Sam will be my bond mate. If I have to choose between Sam and House Leargas, I will pick the one that’s given me a reason to choose them.”

When Orla finished, Saoirse just sat there and stared at them as silence filled the room. Orla felt both Sorcha and Sam squeezing their hands tightly, as if to remind them that they were still there. Orla tried their best to get some idea of what Saoirse was thinking, but Saoirse was a complete blank, and if their eyes hadn’t been open and so intently focused, Orla would have thought perhaps that they had fallen asleep.

“Hmmm…” Saoirse said finally, giving a small nod. “That’s a better answer than the lie you were planning.”

Orla felt themself relax just a little bit, but it was short lived.

“The House is still facing a decline in revenue,” Saoirse said. “How do you propose we address that?”

Orla glanced over at Sam, who gave a small nod before letting go of her hand.

“I’m not sure how much you know about me, but I’m an engineer,” Sam said. “I specialize in robot design. Back home, I was limited in what I could do because our AI tech is still in the early stages, but when I got here, I had access to a mature AI tech base, and that opened up a lot of possibilities. A couple of mionna ago I mentioned a type of animal on my homeworld called a dog to Orla, and they were taken with them. I looked into the possibility of importing one as a gift, but it wasn’t feasible for a number of reasons, so I built Morna here.” Sam reached down and petted Morna on the head. “They’re a subspecies of dog called a Malamute. One of the larger ones. The AI I installed has a behavioral module that mimics normal dog behavior.

“Orla’s been so happy with the result that it occurred to me that there might be a market for synthetic dogs as companions here on Talamh, since there are so many legal and financial hurdles to acquiring a living pet. That also got me thinking about other markets, such as spacers, who can’t keep pets because of the risk of biological contamination on different worlds. It did occur to me that a Malamute might be a bit big for most people, so I worked out a prototype based on a different subspecies called a Chihuahua.” Sam pointed at Choth.

Saoirse looked over at Choth, and Orla could practically see the wheels turning in their head. “Interesting,” they said. “Tell me more.”

“Would you accept a shared desktop in your Aug?”

Saoirse nodded.

“Pixel, slug the request.”

Orla got a shared desktop request and tapped to accept it. They were connected to a shared desktop with Sam, Sorcha, and Saoirse.

“This is footage I recorded this morning in a park near our apartment,” Sam said. A moment later, a video filled Orla’s field of vision. It was like being back in the park, watching as they, Sam, and Sorcha spent the morning playing with Morna and Choth. Orla couldn’t help but smile as they watched them. The way Morna caught the Frisbee and ran back to Orla so they could throw it again. The way Choth ran after the ball as fast as their little legs would carry them. Sorcha scooping Choth up and petting their head and letting Choth lick their face. Sam rolling around on the ground wrestling with Morna. Orla, Sorcha, and Sam laughing and enjoying themselves. Orla hadn’t realized how peaceful they all looked that morning.

The footage came to an end after about five noimeads, and Orla looked over at Sam, who was focused on Saoirse.

“You designed these yourself?” Saoirse asked.

“Yes,” Sam said. “I used a prosthetics design package. I fed in anatomical diagrams and let it design the skeletal and muscular components. Most of the rest of the components are off-the-shelf parts. Microcontrollers, an AI module, a power core. The fake fur is made of the same fibers used in most of your clothing, so it has anti-microbial and dirt repellent properties. Honestly, the hardest part was figuring out a system to keep the mouth moist, but even that was built off a design I downloaded and fed into the autofabber. They need to drink a bit of water every day and have to be fed a chemical solution that contains the other trace elements that go into the artificial saliva, but it’s a mix an autofabber can turn out relatively easily.”

“How many of these do you have?” Saoirse asked.

“I made Morna here for Orla, and Choth for Sorcha. I have two more prototypes here that are the same model as Choth, and I can give you the schematics and build procedures. I thought you could keep one for yourself. Test it and see what you think. The other one is for the R&D department to look at. They might be able to suggest improvements to the design. Ways to cut production costs and reduce the number of components required.”

“You think they can improve on your design?”

“Probably,” Sam said. “I’ve only been working with Sionnach and Hegemony tech for a few seachtains. I’m still learning, and I’m nowhere close to being confident in my skills at design optimization with your tech. Also, keep in mind that I was using off-the-shelf components to build these. You could get your people to design custom hardware, which I’m sure would reduce production costs by reducing the number of components needed, as well as simplifying assembly.”

“How did you get that footage? It wasn’t recorded with an Aug.”

“No,” Sam said. They reached into their pocket and pulled out the drone they’d deployed that morning. “This is another project of mine. I love the Aug, but something that annoys me is the lack of video conferencing ability. I understand why it has that limitation, but this is just a simple camera and microphone attached to a wireless modem, an antigrav unit, and a microcontroller. The user’s Aug handles guidance, but you can just hang this in the air with the camera focused on you, and you’d be able to send the person you’re talking to a video feed of you so you could have a face-to-face conversation. Again, this is a crude prototype made with off-the-shelf parts, but if you design custom hardware, you could get the size way down, and I think they’d sell like crazy on any world where Augs are in widespread use.”

Saoirse held out their hand. Sam let go of the drone and it floated across the distance to rest in Saoirse’s hand.

“The password is ‘selfie stick,’” Sam said.

Saoirse took control of the drone, and Orla watched as they flew it around the room, stopping in various places, before finally calling it back to them.

“Let me see the prototype of this ‘dog,’” Saoirse said.

Sam leaned down and picked up one of the crates. They opened it, took out one of the inactive dogs, and pressed the hidden activation button. The dog woke up and looked up at Sam, wagging its tail cheerfully. Sam walked over to Saoirse.

“This is Saoirse,” Sam said to the dog. “You belong to them now.”

The dog let out a happy bark, and leapt out of Sam’s hands onto the couch, then climbed into Saoirse’s lap and sat down, looking up at Saoirse with their tail wagging. It raised its paw and made a slight digging motion in midair.

“What does it want?” Saoirse asked.

“It wants to be petted,” Sam said. She leaned down, careful not to accidentally touch Saoirse, and ran a hand over the dog’s head one time before stepping back. Saoirse raised a hand and started to stroke the dog’s head. The dog wagged its tail faster, and stood up, doing a sort of dance in Saoirse’s lap. Saoirse smiled.

“Scratch under the chin,” Sam said.

Saoirse did as instructed, and the dog stretched its neck out to give them better access. After a few moments, the dog stood up on its hind legs, placing its front paws on Saoirse’s chest, and started licking their face. The laugh that filled the room was musical, and for a moment, Orla was sure Saoirse looked fifty blianas younger.

***

The car had barely lifted off the pad before Orla fell asleep with Sorcha’s hand in theirs and their head on Sam’s shoulder. Sam smiled, and when she glanced up at Sorcha, she saw Sorcha had a smile of their own.

“They did good today,” Sorcha said.

“They did,” Sam agreed, because it was true. She’d been stunned by the way Orla had responded to Saoirse’s question about why Orla chose Sam, but she’d also been incredibly proud of them. Since Sam had arrived on Talamh, she’d seen Orla let people belittle them and mistreat them over and over again, and she’d hated it. She’d tried to step into the role of protector, to keep people from mistreating Orla, but seeing Orla stand up for themself had been amazing. She’d wanted to pull Orla into her arms and kiss them and tell them how proud she was, not to mention how hot it was, but she’d had to hold it in.

“I think the meeting with Saoirse went well,” Sorcha said.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I got that impression too.”

“Then why do I feel like we’re still headed for a disaster?”

Sam glanced down to make sure Orla was still asleep, before looking back at Sorcha. “Because they just turned their parent in for something that could land them in jail. I can’t imagine that will go over well at family dinner.”

“Yeah,” Sorcha said. “It’s not fair, though. I’ve known them my whole life, and they’ve never been anything but kind, giving, and willing to help, and everybody treats them like crap.”

“Not everybody,” Sam said. “Neesa doesn’t. Fiadh doesn’t. You don’t.”

Sorcha frowned and looked away.

“What is it?”

“I wonder sometimes how pure my motives are,” Sorcha said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve dreamed of bonding with Orla ever since I knew what bonding meant. When I found out they had the token, that we couldn’t bond, I spent seachtains crying myself to sleep at night. Some nights, I dreamed of taking them to one of the colonies so we could bond, or even a non-Sionnach world. Even when they picked you, all I could think of was ways I could take them and run off so we could be together. I hate that you’re so good to them, that you make them happy, that they love you, because it feels like I’ve been replaced.” Sorcha turned and looked at Sam. “The worst part of it is, I can’t even hate you, because you’re just so…nice and understanding. I can’t imagine anyone else letting me hold their hand, or telling me to hug them, or letting us cuddle up on the couch while they’re working in a closed, soundproof lab. Do you have any idea how hard it is watching the person you love fall in love with someone else, and then realize that the person they are falling in love with is better than you in just about every way?”

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of saint,” Sam said. “If I were half the person you make it sound like I am, I’d have figured out some way to step aside so the two of you could be together.”

“You didn’t even know about me,” Sorcha said.

“Yes, I did,” Sam said. “You were one of the first things Orla told me about during our First Meeting. That they had a friend they wanted to bond with but couldn’t because of the token. And I’ve carefully avoided finding out if there’s any way around the token, because then I don’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“God, you’re both so full of shit,” Orla muttered.

“How long have you been awake?” Sam asked.

“Long enough to know you’re both being idiots,” Orla said. They sat up and looked at Sam. “As much as I love that you want to, it’s not your job to rescue me from life.” She turned to Sorcha. “And you. I don’t even know where to start other than I love you. I always have, and if I hadn’t received the token, then I would be betrothed to you right now, but I did, and I was lucky enough to find someone I can love, and who loves me back. I found a way to be happy, but I don’t want my happiness to come at the expense of your pain. So, tell us, how can we help?”

“I don’t know,” Sorcha said.

“Do you need time away?” Orla asked.

“No!” Sorcha said. “Please, no.”

“Okay,” Orla said.

“It’s been a long day,” Sam said. “Let’s just get home and get dinner, and we can go from there.”

Orla looked like they wanted to argue, but Sorcha didn’t give them the chance.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Sorcha said.

Orla leaned in and rested their head on Sam’s shoulder again, still clutching Sorcha’s hand in their own as they drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Eleven

IT WAS A LITTLE strange to Sam that it was in their most intimate moments that she was most aware of Orla’s alienness. The inhumanly long fingers with the thick, silky pads at their tips, the catlike eyes with their vertical slit pupils, the soft, downy fur between Orla’s legs, their long, expressive ears, the too-thin tongue, the sounds they made that never came from a human throat, and the different places they liked to be touched. Especially the different places they liked to be touched.

Sam dug her nails into a spot on Orla’s lower spine, just above their ass, and dragged them upwards as Orla pressed their thigh firmly between Sam’s legs. The response wasn’t quite as dramatic as it would have been if Sam had touched Orla’s ears, but she was still rewarded with Orla arching their back and letting out a mewling sound that was outside of the range of unenhanced human hearing.

Orla looked down at Sam. “You’re supposed to be letting me take care of you,” they said.

“I can’t help it,” Sam said. “I love touching you.”

Orla smiled and leaned down, kissing her roughly, and it was Sam’s turn to make noise. A low moan that started when she felt Orla palm her breast and was repeated a moment later when she felt Orla’s thigh press more firmly against her. Orla broke the kiss, licking and nipping their way down Sam’s jaw and neck as their hand slipped lower. She whimpered when Orla pulled their thigh away, but a moment later, she grabbed the sheets, twisting them in her hands as she felt the tips of Orla’s fingers spreading her open.

“Oh, God,” Sam moaned, which made Orla chuckle.

“Tell me you want me,” Orla said.

“Always,” Sam said. “Please, Orla.”

Orla kissed her again, and Sam felt a pair of fingers at her entrance. She rocked her hips towards them, and Orla gave her what she wanted, slipping those long fingers in, and before Sam could even ask, or more likely beg, Orla curled their fingers up, the thick pads pressing into the spot inside that had Sam arching her back and thanking God that the Sionnach soundproofed everything, because she was pretty sure if they didn’t, people back on Earth would have heard the noise she made.

Orla, Sam had discovered, was a bit of a tease. They liked to take things slow, to make Sam cry and whimper and beg, but there was none of that today, because they didn’t have time. They were supposed to be getting ready for dinner with Sorcha, Neesa, and Fiadh, and they would have been if Sam had been able to keep her hands to herself. Instead, when Orla had taken off their clothes to get in the shower, Sam had pushed them up against the wall, and then gotten down on her knees and taken Orla with her mouth and fingers.

She hadn’t really meant for Orla to return the favor, but when she was done, Orla had reminded her that they had grown up on a high gravity world by picking Sam up and carrying her over to the bed. Not that she was complaining, not with Orla’s fingers inside her, slowly beginning to pump in and out, not with Orla’s thumb rubbing circles on her clit, and not with Orla’s mouth working its way down to her breasts.

“I love you,” Sam said.

“I love you, too,” Orla replied.

Sam closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the way Orla was making her feel. She knew it wouldn’t be long, she’d already been on the edge by the time Orla had picked her up and carried her to bed. She didn’t try to hold back, either. She just rocked her hips to meet each thrust and arched her back to press her breast more firmly against Orla’s mouth. This wasn’t about stretching it out, about teasing and playing and making it last. This was about pure, unadulterated need. Sam had needed Orla, to see them, touch them, taste them, hear them, smell them, to prove to herself that Orla was real and hers and no one was going to take them away, and maybe it was the same for Orla, because Orla seemed every bit as desperate as Sam felt.

She cried out as she felt Orla’s fingers slip all the way out, but before she could even form a protest, Orla pushed back in, adding a third finger. It hurt, just a bit. They’d tried it before and Sam had loved it, had loved the burning ache that came with being stretched, and today, it was all she needed to push her over the edge.

When it was over, Orla lay down beside her, their legs still tangled together and Orla’s head on her shoulder.

“I love doing that,” Orla said.

“I love you doing that, too,” Sam said.

Orla pressed themself more firmly against Sam’s side. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sam said.

Orla got up and shifted so they were straddling Sam and looking down at her. “I love you,” they said, and Sam could hear something desperate in their tone, like Orla was trying to convince her of what they were saying.

“I know,” Sam said. “I—”

“I don’t think you believe it,” Orla said. “I think you’re still afraid that I’d rather be with Sorcha.”

“You’ve been in love with them a long time,” Sam said.

“I have,” Orla said. “And to be honest, I still am. I love Sorcha and I love you. Just, please believe me when I tell you that I want to be with you.”

Sam knew she should take that and leave it alone, but the conversation she was having with Sorcha in the car was still there, still bothering her, so she asked, “Do you want to be with Sorcha, too?”

Orla looked away.

“Hey,” Sam said softly. “Look at me.”

Orla looked down at Sam, and Sam could see the guilt in their eyes.

“I’m not going to be upset if you say yes,” Sam promised. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I can’t help it,” Orla said. “I love you and I want to be with you. I am terrified of losing you, but you’re right. I’ve been in love with Sorcha for a long time. I thought if I fell in love with you, what I felt for Sorcha would go away, but it didn’t. I know it’s selfish. I know I’m being horrible, but—”

“Hey!” Sam said. “No. Orla, you were in a shitty situation, and you tried to do the right thing. I’m not going anywhere, Orla. I’m not. I’m too selfish to give you up.”

Orla laid her head on Sam’s chest. “I wish we could just stay here.”

“I could call Neesa, Fiadh, and Sorcha and tell them to come by in the morning.”

“No,” Orla said. “Let’s get this over with.”

Sam pressed a kiss to the top of Orla’s head. “Go get a shower. I’ll pick out something for us to wear.”

“Come with me,” Orla said.

“If I do that, we’re going to be late,” Sam said.

“Then we’ll be late.”

Orla didn’t have to ask twice.

***

“Well, it’s about time,” Neesa said as Sam and Orla walked into the main lounge.

“Sorry we’re late,” Sam said. “I fell asleep, and Orla didn’t want to wake me up.”

“Well, that would definitely explain the tooth marks on your ear,” Sorcha said.

“What?” Sam asked as she reached up, covering her ear with her hand. She looked over at Orla, who was turning bright red and shaking their head.

“Gotcha,” Sorcha said. Sam turned and glared at them. Sorcha just laughed. “You should see the look on your faces.”

“Very funny,” Sam said. “Remind me to program Choth to eat your face.”

Sorcha looked down at the little ball of fur in their lap. “Nooo. Choth would never do that. They love me.” As if to prove Sorcha’s point, Choth stood up on their back legs and started licking Sorcha’s face.

“What is that thing?” Neesa asked.

“It’s a dog,” Sam said. “Well, technically, it’s a robot, but it’s modeled on a dog, which is a type of domesticated animal on Earth. Lots of people keep them as pets. Dogs. Not robots. You know what, hold on.” Sam whistled, and a moment later, Morna came trotting into the room. “Say hello to Morna.”

Neesa and Fiadh both looked at Morna with more than a little bit of fear. “Sam?” Fiadh asked.

“This is also a robot dog. It’s based on a different subspecies, but the same basic animal. Choth is a Chihuahua, which were bred as companion animals, and Morna is based on a Malamute, which were bred as sled dogs.”

Orla turned to Sam. “A sled dog?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “A Malamute can pull a load of up to one and a half metric tons. People who live in arctic environments use teams to pull wooden sleds across the snow. I’ll show you some videos later.”

Orla gave her a small nod, and Sam turned back to Neesa and Fiadh. “There’s kind of a long story behind the dogs.”

“It’s connected to what’s going on with Tadgh and Saoirse,” Orla said. “We can talk about it over dinner if you like.”

“That sounds good,” Fiadh said. “We haven’t eaten since fourth uair.”

Sam looked over at Orla. “Why don’t you take Neesa and Fiadh to the dining room? Sorcha and I will be there in a noimead.”

Orla looked at her for a moment, and Sam could see the curiosity in their eyes, but Orla just smiled. “Don’t take too long. I haven’t eaten since fourth uair either, and we will start without you.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “We’ll be quick.”

Orla turned to Neesa and Fiadh, who got up and followed her out of the lounge. Once they were gone, Sam turned to Sorcha, who was giving her a worried look.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

The worry on Sorcha’s face changed to confusion. “For what?”

“I didn’t mean to rub it in your face,” Sam said. “It was just a hard couple of days, and when Orla and I were alone…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sorcha said. “You’re Orla’s intended, and they are yours. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“You’re Orla’s friend, and mine, I hope. I don’t want to hurt you, and if we did, I’m sorry.”

Sorcha set Choth down on the couch, stood up, and walked over to Sam. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sam. I appreciate you worrying about me, but this is something I’ve got to learn to deal with. And if my teasing made you feel uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “We’re good?”

“We’re good,” Sorcha said. “And Sam…”

“Yes?”

“You are my friend,” Sorcha said. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

Sam smiled. “I’ll take it to my grave. Come on. I’m starving.”

***

“So, Saoirse wants to make up the lost revenue by selling these robot dogs that Sam invented?” Neesa asked.

“Yes, and the little camera drone they invented,” Orla said, turning to Sam and giving her a big smile. “Though I’m still not sure why you insisted that they needed to add a speaker system and a holoprojector to it.”

“Think about the day we went to the beach,” Sam said. “If I’d had one of the drones with a speaker, I could have had Pixel play some music through it for us. Or how I could have just played back the video from the park without having to set up a shared desktop. Augs are great, but sometimes there are easier, more convenient ways to do things. One of the drones will allow you to share things without having to actually link Augs, or filter through a house system, so there’s an added layer of security there, too. If I had had the time, I would have worked up a custom controller board and added the audio system and the projector myself, but we were assembling the dogs and the autofabber was busy running off components for that, so I had to build the drone out of what I had on hand.”

“You don’t really think these drones will replace Augs, do you?” Neesa asked.

“No, and that was never the intent. The drones are supplemental hardware. They’re designed to expand the function of the Aug in places where the Aug is limited by its own nature.”

“How did you get the idea?” Fiadh asked.

“Back on Earth, we didn’t have Augs, but we had devices called smart phones that served a similar purpose. They had built in cameras, screens, and speakers. One of the cameras was on the same side of the device as the screen, so you could actually see the person you were talking to. The other camera was on the back of the device, which let you use the screen as a viewfinder when you wanted to take a picture. Most of them accepted voice commands, and you could load software to handle all of your communication functions, play music, watch videos, read books. A lot of the things an Aug lets you do, but the fact that it was an external device lets it do things an Aug can’t. Camera drones that were controlled by smartphones were another common item back home. They used rotors instead of anti-gravity lift, and they had limited flight time. I just combined the remote-controlled drone idea with the idea of giving the Aug the additional functions a smartphone has.”

“That’s actually really clever,” Fiadh said.

Orla felt a swell of pride at hearing Fiadh compliment Sam, and was a little troubled to see Sam wave her hand dismissively.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Sam said. “But you should have seen Orla. The way they talked to Saoirse was amazing. I was terrified of what could happen when we walked into that room, but Orla was completely fearless. When Saoirse started in on them about why they didn’t select one of the applications Tadgh had highlighted, Orla just got up in Saoirse’s face about how the House expected them to give up what they wanted for the sake of the House’s interests, and how the House hadn’t given them any reason to do so. It was amazing.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Orla said, feeling their cheeks heat up.

“No, they’re not,” Sorcha said. “If you’d looked at me, you would have seen me lifting my ears off my shoulders. I’ve known you my whole life, and I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you stand up for yourself.”

“I stand up for myself!” Orla said.

“No, you don’t,” everyone else in the room replied.

“Orla, sweetheart,” Neesa said. “One of the reasons everyone here is so protective of you is that we’ve all seen you let someone walk all over you. Usually your parents, but I’ve seen Niamh do it, and a lot of the other members of both families. Hearing that you stood up to the Head of House Leargas…it’s hard to believe, but it’s wonderful.”

Orla looked away from Neesa and did their best to avoid eye contact with anyone else at the table. “It wasn’t about me. I couldn’t just sit there and let them treat Sam like they were something that’s only valuable for what it can do for the family’s bottom line. And I’m tired of sacrificing things I want for people who treat me like I’m broken or a burden.”

Orla felt something touch their hand and looked down to see Sam threading their fingers together. They turned to Sam, who was smiling at them.

“Why ever you did it, I’m proud of you,” Sam said before lifting Orla’s hand up and pressing a kiss to the back of it, right in front of everyone. Orla knew they should be embarrassed by that, but the warmth they felt rising through their body had nothing to do with feeling embarrassed, and everything to do with the fact that Sam just had a way of making them feel like they were the most precious thing in the world. They looked up at Sam and gave her a huge smile before glancing over at Neesa and Fiadh. They expected to see disapproval there, but instead, both of them were smiling. Neesa and Fiadh both looked happy for them. They glanced over at Sorcha and found another smile. Not quite as bright as the ones on Neesa and Fiadh’s face, but a smile nonetheless. Orla turned back to Sam, giving them another smile.

“Who wants dessert?” they asked, hoping to divert the attention that was getting to be just a little too much.

***

Sam was staring up at the ceiling, wishing she could get to sleep. So far, she hadn’t had a lot of luck with that, which was unusual since she arrived on Talamh. Back on Earth, getting to sleep was never that easy, but something about sleeping with Orla beside her made dozing off easy. She wasn’t sure if it was the weight of Orla pressing against her side, or the warmth of Orla’s body, or the tiny little snores they let out, but whatever it was, Orla’s presence soothed her to sleep within minutes most nights. Tonight though, it didn’t seem to be doing the trick, despite how exhausted she was.

Morna and Orla were both in their usual spots. Morna sleeping on the foot of the bed, and Orla lying half on top of Sam, right hand resting between Sam’s breasts, head on Sam’s shoulder, right leg tucked between both of Sam’s. Orla’s tiny little snores and Morna’s breathing were the only sounds in an otherwise silent room.

It should have been perfect, and any other night, it would have been. It was the kind of life she’d wanted, the kind she’d dreamed of. She might have been missing the flannel and the undercut and the tattoos and the hippy grocery stores and the pride parades, but those were more affectations than anything else…ways to scream her identity to the people who would understand them. She had the parts that really mattered. A beautiful person she loved and could call her own beside her, work that was both fun and meaningful, the dog, the promise of kids in the future, and cats if she could ever get the behavioral algorithms down.

Everything should be perfect, but when she’d dreamed of her future, there had never been sand in the gears. In her daydreams, she’d never even imagined the woman she loved hurting because they were in love with someone else.

It was like the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke. Sam got what she wanted, but Orla got hurt, and Sorcha got hurt. She believed Orla when Orla said they wanted to be with her. She believed Orla when Orla said they loved her. And she believed Orla when Orla said they didn’t want to lose her. Which created a huge problem, because if Orla had just been in love with Sorcha and not her, it would have been easy enough to find some way to step aside and let them be together. Sorcha had mentioned running away to one of the colonies. Sam was pretty sure that Neesa and Fiadh would help with that if it came down to it, but if Sorcha and Orla ran off to the colonies, it wouldn’t solve the problem, it would just flip it around. Orla loved her, she loved Orla. Maybe it would hurt Orla less to lose her than it would to lose Sorcha, but how do you measure things like that?

“You’re thinking too loud,” Orla grumbled.

“Sorry,” Sam said.

Orla lifted their head up so she could look at Sam. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sam said.

“If it were nothing, you’d be asleep by now,” Orla said.

Sam looked at Orla for a moment, then dropped her head back and stared up at the ceiling again. “I was thinking about you and Sorcha,” Sam said.

“Love, you don’t have to worry. I promise, nothing will happen.”

“I know,” Sam said. “I trust you, and I know you wouldn’t do that to me. I just…I feel guilty.”

“Why?” Orla asked.

“I feel like I got between the two of you.”

“You didn’t,” Orla said. “The token—”

“There are ways around the token,” Sam said. “Aren’t there?”

Orla sighed and rested her head back on Sam’s shoulder. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you take one?”

“Because it’s not right,” Orla said. “You pay someone to take your place, but…”

“But?”

“You remember the night of our First Meeting, you told me about the poor people on your planet?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t have poverty here. Not like that. Everyone on the planet receives a basic income, either from their House, or from the central government. Everyone is guaranteed housing, food, medical care. We meet the basic needs of our people, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who are marginalized or disadvantaged. The assignment of the token is supposed to be completely random, and technically, it is. It just doesn’t stay that way. Any time you have a society with inequality in it, there are people who are desperate for any way to escape their situation. When powerful people end up with a child with the token, they will pay someone to accept it in their child’s place. In exchange, they usually receive a lump sum, and financial support until the actual bonding.”

“Why didn’t your parents do that for you?”

“They offered, and honestly, I wanted to do it, to pass my token to someone else so I could be rid of it, but it felt wrong to buy my freedom at the expense of someone else’s.”

“Did Sorcha ever ask you to do it?”

“No,” Orla said. “Three of their siblings have the token. Sorcha’s even talked about accepting one themself. Using the money to get free of their family.”

“Sorcha’s got problems with their family?”

“They don’t get along with one of their parents,” Orla said. “Sorcha’s a fifth child. The government pays a hefty bounty for every child after the legally required four. Sorcha and their younger siblings were little more to their parents than an infusion of funds. They were raised by the bots and by their older siblings more than by their parents. The only thing Sorcha really likes about their family is their job.”

“What do they do?”

“They hunt smugglers.”

“Really?”

“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Sorcha spends all their time going through spreadsheets, comparing fuel consumption, travel time, and reported mass for their family’s ore freighters to see if the freighters are carrying unauthorized cargo, making stops they shouldn’t be making, or arriving at their destination lighter than they were when they left.”

“They like doing that?”

“Sorcha loves math,” Orla said. “It’s the one thing about them I’ve never understood. I spend most of my time in spreadsheets, and I’m competent enough, but I find it tedious and boring. I had to program Sorcha’s Aug to remind them not to work through break, or past the end of second labor. They’d starve themselves to death if someone didn’t make them stop.”

“What else do they like?” Sam asked.

“Gardening,” Orla said.

“Gardening?”

“We should go down to Sorcha’s apartment sometime so you can see their garden.”

“Why don’t we do that this Arcuigui?” Sam asked. “I mean, if Sorcha doesn’t have plans.”

“I’d like that,” Orla said. “I bet Sorcha would like that, too.”

“Pixel, remind me to message Sorcha in the morning about a visit to their apartment on Arcuigui.”

“Noted, boss,” Pixel said.

Sam leaned down and kissed Orla on the forehead. “Go back to sleep, love.”

“You need to sleep, too,” Orla said.

“I will,” Sam said.

Orla shifted slightly, snuggling closer. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sam said.

It only took a couple of minutes before Sam heard Orla’s snores again, but this time, they seemed to work their magic, and Sam followed Orla into sleep a few minutes later.

Chapter Twelve

IT WAS JUST A little past third uair, and Orla was sitting on one of the couches in the lounge with Sam’s head resting in their lap as they slowly petted Sam’s hair with the backs of their fingers. Sam had drifted off to sleep within just a noimead or two of lying down, and she looked so peaceful and content that Orla didn’t have the heart to wake her. Not that there was much need. Orla’s own work was done for the seachtain, and Sam had cancelled her sessions at the learning center for the rest of the seachtain as well. It was a bit irresponsible, but after everything that had happened over the last couple of days, for once Orla did not feel even remotely guilty about taking time for themselves.

Part of them thought it would be lovely to just spend the whole time wrapped up in each other, making love, cuddling, talking, bathing, and just indulging themselves in each other. Left to their own devices, Orla probably would have done just that, but Sam had insisted that they make some time to spend with Sorcha. It made Orla’s heart ache with love at how willing Sam was to include Sorcha in their lives, even though they knew Sorcha made Sam feel less than sure of her place in Orla’s heart. It made Orla sure that they’d made the best choice possible in selecting Sam as their intended.

Another part of them thought maybe they should take the time to share a bit of Sionnach culture with Sam. Aside from a few holos they’d watched, Sam really hadn’t seen much. Maybe a trip to the dragon races. Sam had seemed interested during their First Meeting, and it had been a while since Orla had gone. Maybe they could make a day of it. Dragon races at mid-laethanta, a meal out at a nice restaurant, then an evening at the theater.

Orla’s thoughts were interrupted by a door chime, and they felt just a hint of fear, because it wasn’t the chime for the main door, but rather, the side door that connected to their parents’ residence, which meant it was one of four people. Neesa and Fiadh might both come in through that way after visiting Orla’s parents, or Nuala or Tadgh would come in that way if they wished to visit. Orla would be happy to see Neesa or Fiadh or both. They felt a bit of trepidation at the idea of seeing Nuala, but the fear came from the thought that it might be Tadgh. That Saoirse might have spoken with Tadgh, and they might be coming to vent their anger that Orla had told Saoirse the truth.

Orla tapped their left arm, activating their Aug. “Who’s at the side door?” they asked in a whisper. A small video window opened, and Orla saw Nuala waiting patiently at the door. “Open the door and have a bot lead them through to the main lounge.”

“Confirmed,” their Aug responded.

Orla looked down at Sam. They knew they should wake Sam up, but when Sam frowned slightly and let out a little grumble, instead of waking them, Orla started petting her hair again. The frown vanished, and the look of contentment returned, and Orla decided to let her sleep. They were in their home, they were betrothed, and Orla was tired of hiding something as innocent as a casual touch from even their own parents.

Orla looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and forced themself to smile when Nuala appeared at the door. They ignored the small gasp of shock and gestured with their free hand to the couch across from them.

“Please, sit,” they said in a low voice.

Nuala hesitated for a moment, then took a seat on the couch opposite Orla and Sam.

“She had a hard time getting to sleep last night, so I thought I’d let her rest,” Orla said by way of explanation. “It’s been a busy seachtain for both of us, and Sam still has trouble with the length of the laethanta compared to an Earth day sometimes.”

“How is she adjusting, otherwise?” Nuala asked.

“Well enough,” Orla said. “She’s taken to our food. She likes plur. She says it’s similar to something called pasta salad. She’s also fond of pratamilis strips, Lacha, anything with gromtor in it. Gabhar skewers with glasfuar sauce is her favorite, though. She’s managed to learn to control what spectrum her eyes see, and you can see the muscle she’s put on.”

“Are things going well for her at the learning center?” Nuala asked.

“So far,” Orla said. “I worry that she’s pushing herself too hard. On loading days, she sometimes comes home with a headache because she spent too much time in the learning machine.”

“I’ve done that,” Nuala said. “It’s never pleasant.”

“No,” Orla said. “I keep a careful watch on her, make sure she gets enough UV every laethanta, make sure she eats, and doesn’t work herself too hard.”

“The two of you have gotten close,” Nuala said. Orla was surprised by Nuala’s tone. It was soft, and they sounded pleased.

“We have,” Orla said.

“I’m glad,” Nuala said.

“You are?” Orla asked.

“Of course,” Nuala said.

“But you fought me so hard when I picked them.”

“I was worried,” Nuala said. “You get romantic notions in your head. I know how much you love the sagas. I thought perhaps that was it. You were taken with some notion that she would be some mythic hero, come to rescue you from everything that made you unhappy. When I looked at her application, I was struck by how wild her people are. Riding machines that run on exploding hydrocarbons, riding ocean waves on bits of foam. Did you know they make a sport of jumping out of aircraft with nothing but a piece of fabric to slow their fall?”

“They what?”

“It’s called skydiving,” Nuala said, shaking their head. “I was afraid that someone from her race would overwhelm you. That you’d get lost in her shadow. And I was afraid, too, that your feelings for Sorcha would ruin any chance you had at a healthy bonding.”

“You know about that?” Orla asked.

“Why do you think I offered so many times to find someone to take your token?” Nuala said.

“I thought you were embarrassed by the idea of your child marrying an off-worlder,” Orla said.

“No,” Nuala said. “That never bothered me, but neither you nor Sorcha are subtle. I saw the way you looked at them, and the way they looked at you. It reminded me of the way Neesa and Fiadh look at each other. I thought, if I could get someone to take your token, then I could make at least one thing in your life easy.”

“I didn’t realize.”

“I know,” Nuala said. “In a way, I was proud of you for it. For honoring the duty, even when I gave you an escape.”

“You were proud of me?” Orla said.

“Yes.”

Orla looked down at Sam, who was still sleeping peacefully in their lap, and tried to swallow the lump in their throat.

“You’re my child, Orla. I care for you. I might wish you were a bit more proper, that you took more care when making decisions and didn’t let your emotions govern you so easily, but I wish those things because I want what is best for you.”

Orla looked up at Nuala, feeling a sudden flash of anger. “What was best for me would be for you to not make me feel like a failure and a disappointment every day of my life.”

Nuala flinched back from Orla’s words. “I…that was never my intention.”

Orla shrugged and looked back down at Sam.

“I was afraid for you, Orla. You were so much like Neesa, and they had such a hard time of it. Even after they were bonded with Fiadh. I saw you going down the same path as them, and I wanted to spare you the pain.”

Orla shook her head. “I’m not like you. I can’t bottle up everything I feel.”

“I know,” Nuala said. “I…I am afraid for you, though.”

“Why?” Orla asked.

“Saoirse Leargas called me today. They asked a number of questions about you and Sam and Sorcha. I answered as best I could, and when I was finished, they asked if they would be welcome at dinner at our residence this evening.”

“Oh,” Orla said, trying to keep any emotion off of their face.

“They have asked for you to be in attendance, along with Sam.”

“That hardly seems reason to be afraid,” Orla said without looking up.

“You do know who Saoirse is, don’t you?”

“The Head of House Leargas, and my grandparent on Tadgh’s side,” Orla said. “We’ve met.”

“You have?”

“Just once, as part of my job,” Orla said.

“I hadn’t realized,” Nuala said. “Then maybe this is a good sign.”

“Maybe,” Orla said, trying to keep her tone noncommittal.

“They asked if Sorcha could attend.”

“I’ll check with them and let you know,” Orla said.

“There were two other names I did not recognize. Morna and Choth. Saoirse said you would know who they are.”

“I do,” Orla said. “I can promise Morna will be there. Choth will come if Sorcha does, but don’t worry about setting places for them at the table.”

“Why not?”

“Morna,” Orla called. There was the sound of paws on tile, and a moment later, Morna came running into the room with a fuzzy green ball in their mouth. They stopped in front of Orla, wagging their tail happily, and Orla couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped as Morna let out a whine.

Sam groaned and scrunched their eyes up. “Are they trying to make fetch happen?” Sam asked in sleep slurred English. They reached out blindly, and Morna dropped the ball into their hand.

“No,” Sam muttered, still speaking in English. “It’s not fetch time.”

Morna let out an absolutely pitiful whine.

“Stop trying to make fetch happen,” Sam grumbled.

“Sam, love,” Orla said in English. “We have company.”

“What?” Sam asked. She slowly peeled her eyes open. “Company?”

Orla pointed at Nuala, and Sam followed their finger.

“Oh shit!” Sam said as she scrambled up out of Orla’s lap.

“Easy, love,” Orla said, switching back to Oriad.

“Um, right,” Sam said, switching to Oriad as well. “Nuala. Sorry. I, um…” Sam turned and looked at Orla helplessly.

“It’s okay, love. I told them you were resting because you had a hard time getting to sleep last night. They understood.”

Sam visibly relaxed and turned back to Nuala. “I know it’s a little late, but welcome to our home.”

“Thank you,” Nuala said, and Orla was surprised by the hint of amusement in their voice.

Morna let out a whine, and Sam looked down. “No fetch,” Sam said in a firm voice. Morna huffed before curling up in a ball at Orla’s feet.

“What is that?” Nuala asked.

“It’s a robot dog,” Sam said. “Dogs are domesticated animals on Earth. We keep them as pets, and as work animals. Orla was taken with them when I showed them pictures, but importing a real dog wasn’t practical, so I built them one.”

“You built this?” Nuala asked in wonder.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I think I may have gotten the behavioral algorithms a little too accurate. Morna’s really good at the puppy guilt trip when I won’t play fetch with them.”

“They just want some attention,” Orla said.

Sam smiled. “We could go to the beach later. Take them with us. Have a picnic for dinner.”

“Not tonight,” Orla said. “Saoirse has asked to come to dinner at my parent’s residence, and asked for us, Sorcha, Morna, and Choth to attend.”

“Oh,” Sam said. “Is that good or bad?”

“We aren’t sure,” Nuala said. “I have only met Saoirse three times. On the day Tadgh and I bonded, a brief visit shortly after Orla was born, and when Tadgh was promoted to Head of the Commodities Division.”

“Well, who else will be there?” Sam asked.

“Saoirse’s assistant, Neesa, Fiadh, and my parents, Niamh and Clodagh.”

“Why Niamh and Clodagh?” Orla asked.

“I don’t know,” Nuala said. “I was simply asked if tonight would be convenient and given a list of people Saoirse would like to attend.”

“Formal dress?” Orla asked.

“Saoirse said they would prefer casual dress. Their exact words were, ‘casual dress. No sense getting fancy for a family dinner.’”

Orla smiled, thinking that did sound like Saoirse. “Very well. What time?”

“Half past sixth uair,” Nuala said.

“We’ll see you then,” Orla said. “I’ll ask Sorcha if they are available.”

“Do you think they will be?” Nuala asked.

“I do,” Orla said.

“Good,” Nuala said. “That’s good. I’ll let you two get back to your day.”

“Nuala,” Orla said.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for coming in person.”

Nuala smiled. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

Orla watched as Nuala left, then turned to Sam.

“Good, or bad?”

“I’m not sure,” Sam said. “Maybe good for us and bad for Tadgh.”

“That’s what I thought as well,” Orla said.

Sam reached out and took Orla’s hand. “Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.”

Orla smiled. “Now that, I am always sure of,” they said before leaning forward to kiss Sam.

***

“It’s time, boss,” Pixel said.

Sam sighed as she lifted her arm off Orla’s shoulders and stood up.

“You ready?” she asked Orla and Sorcha.

“No,” Orla said. “Definitely not.”

Sam smiled and held out her hand. Orla took it and Sam helped them to their feet while Sorcha stood up.

“I’m still not sure why I’m here,” Sorcha said.

“Probably because we took you with us yesterday,” Sam said. “Guilt by association.”

Sorcha looked at Orla. “I always knew you were trouble.”

Orla laughed. “I’m not the one who got banned from the central market for a bliana.”

“Only because you were better at hiding from the security guards than I was,” Sorcha said.

“Okay, I want to hear this story when we get back after dinner,” Sam said.

Orla and Sorcha looked at each other for a moment, then both of them turned to Sam.

“No,” they both said.

Sam had to fight to tamp down her curiosity, and decided she was definitely going to get that story out of Orla later, but for now, they needed to head to Orla’s parents for dinner.

“Morna, heel,” Sam said. Morna got up off their bed in the corner and stood beside Sam. Sorcha reached down and scooped up Choth, and the three of them headed for the door that connected Sam and Orla’s apartment with their parent’s residence. Sam let Orla lead the way. She didn’t really remember much about the main residence, and while she was sure Pixel could have pointed her in the right direction, she felt like it was important for Orla to be out in front. Whatever Saoirse wanted with them, it would center around Orla, and Sam wanted to make sure that they gave every appearance of having complete confidence in Orla.

It helped that she did have complete confidence in Orla, especially with her, Sorcha, Neesa, and Fiadh there to back them up. That didn’t stop Sam from worrying though. She was sure that tonight would involve calling Tadgh on the carpet for cooking the books, and she wasn’t at all sure which side Nuala would come down on. She hoped that Nuala would side with Orla, but she wasn’t sure. She knew Orla wouldn’t take it well if Nuala sided with Tadgh. Orla hadn’t talked about it much, but Sam could tell that what Tadgh had done weighed on them.

What Sam couldn’t understand was why Saoirse wanted to do this in front of the entire family. Surely it would have been better to simply call Tadgh to their office and deal with them in private. It made her worry that the robot dogs and the camera drone hadn’t been well received enough by Saoirse’s product team. She didn’t think Saoirse would come after her and Orla if that were the case, but she wasn’t sure.

Mostly, she just wanted this to be over for Orla’s sake. Orla was putting on a brave front, but Sam could feel the tension radiating off her, and it was making Sam and Sorcha both tense as well. Sam had spent most of the afternoon coming up with a plan for if things went south. Mostly it involved using the money in her accounts to buy tickets back to Earth. She had enough for three tickets and to have her lab equipment shipped. If it came to it, she’d ask Sorcha to come with them, but with or without Sorcha, her plan amounted to taking Orla and running if things looked bad.

Sam heard voices as they approached what she assumed was the dining room where they were to have dinner, and sure enough, a few moments later, Orla led them into a large, semi-formal dining room. Sam felt a bit of relief when she saw Neesa and Fiadh, but it was short lived when she spotted Neesa and Nuala’s parents. Niamh glared at her, and Sam had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes.

Nuala came into the room a moment later, followed by Saoirse and their assistant Runia, and Sam couldn’t help but smile. Saoirse was carrying their robot dog. They were holding it with one arm and petting it with their opposite hand. They looked down at the dog for a moment and a huge smile spread over their face as the dog wagged its tail happily.

Saoirse looked up from their dog, and spotted Sam, Orla, and Sorcha.

“There they are,” Saoirse said in a light, cheerful tone. “Come here, grandchildren.”

Their tone seemed to shock everyone in the room, but Orla covered it very well. Orla walked over to Saoirse and gave a small bow. Sam and Sorcha followed a step behind, and each gave Saoirse a bow of their own.

“Hello, grandparent,” Orla said. “It’s good to see you again.”

Saoirse let out a bark of laughter. “You need to learn how to lie, child,” they said. “I bet you spent the whole laethanta wondering what horrible fate I have planned for you.”

“No,” Orla said. “I didn’t receive the summons until the beginning of third uair, and Sam did their best to keep me from worrying. I didn’t spend more than half the laethanta wondering if I should make a break for the next transport off world.”

Saoirse smiled. “Well, thank goodness Sam makes your ears itch.”

“Grandparent!” Orla said, a little too loudly. They blushed so hard even the skin inside their ears turned red, and they gave Sorcha, Neesa, and Fiadh all betrayed looks as the three of them broke down laughing. It took all of Sam’s self-control not to join them, but she apparently couldn’t keep a completely straight face, either.

“Oh, don’t you look so smug,” Saoirse said. “I’ve seen dragons in heat that were less obvious when they looked at their mate.”

Sorcha doubled over laughing, and even Orla started giggling.

“Saoirse,” Nuala said, “Please. You’re being inappropriate.”

Saoirse flicked their ears in Nuala’s direction and leaned in, speaking to Orla, Sam, and Sorcha in a dramatic stage whisper. “One of the advantages of living to be as old as I am. I can be as in inappropriate as I like, and no one knows if I’m just rude, or if I’ve finally gone senile.”

Sam smiled and shook her head. “You’re in a good mood tonight,” she said.

Saoirse reached up and scratched their robot dog’s head. “Someone gave me a wonderful gift yesterday,” they said. “I named them Corraithe.”

At the sound of their name, Corraithe let out a happy yip and started wagging their tail. Sam reached up and scratched them under the chin, making them wiggle with excitement.

“I’m glad you like them,” Sam said.

“They’re delightful,” Saoirse said. “I’ve been reading up on dogs ever since you left yesterday. You didn’t tell me they were such useful creatures.”

“Sorry,” Sam said. “That’s my own bias showing. I don’t have much experience with working dogs, so I tend to think of them as pets.”

“Well, at least you can admit the bias,” Saoirse said. “That’s a rare quality, and one that you should work to keep.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sam said.

“I didn’t realize you and Sam had met,” Nuala said.

Saoirse turned towards Nuala. “I met all three of them yesterday. That’s what all this fuss is about. I must say, your child has impressed me.”

“They have?” Nuala asked.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Saoirse asked.

“Orla mentioned they’d met you in the course of their work, but they didn’t give any details. I hadn’t realized the meeting was anything more than a casual encounter.”

Saoirse made a non-committal noise that made it clear to Sam, at least, that they weren’t buying a word of what Nuala was selling. They turned towards Nuala and Neesa’s parents, Niamh and Clodagh.

“Clodagh, a pleasure as always. Still dragging Niamh around, I see.”

Clodagh gave Niamh an affectionate look. “They can be a bit of a grump, but after all this time, I’m not sure what I would do without them.”

Sam glanced over at Fiadh, who had a look on their face that said they were thinking the same thing Sam was. ‘Maybe marry someone who wasn’t such a judgmental bitch.’

“So,” Saoirse said. “Where is that child of mine?”

“Tadgh should be here in just a noimead,” Nuala said. “They wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted during dinner.”

“Well, why don’t we have a seat while we wait,” Saoirse said. They didn’t wait for an answer. They just sat down at the head of the table, and Runia took the seat to their left. They pointed to the seat to their right. “Sam, here next to me. Then Orla, then Sorcha.”

Sam could tell that everyone was a little surprised by the seating arrangements, but she didn’t argue. She took a moment to pull out Orla’s seat, and waited until they had sat down, then snapped her fingers and pointed under the chair. Morna obediently took a spot under Orla’s chair, and once Sorcha, Orla, and Morna were all settled, Sam took her own seat between Orla and Saoirse.

Saoirse leaned forward a bit and looked right at Orla. “Don’t take it as a slight that I didn’t seat you next to me. I noticed that you seemed to prefer this seating arrangement when you visited yesterday.”

“Thank you,” Orla said, a slight tremble in their voice. Sam wanted to reach out and take their hand, but she couldn’t. She might have done it if it were just Saoirse, Sorcha, Nuala, Neesa, and Fiadh, but with Runia, Niamh, and Clodagh there, and Tadgh on the way, she didn’t want to risk it. Instead, she shifted her foot to the left until it bumped into Orla’s. Orla turned and looked at her, but the surprise on their face was quickly replaced by a smile.

“There they are!” Saoirse said. Sam looked away from Orla and saw Tadgh coming into the room. “Hello, Tadgh.”

Tadgh gave a deep bow. “Saoirse. It is good to see you.”

“Please, sit,” Saoirse said, gesturing to the empty seat at the foot of the table. Sam wasn’t as well versed on Sionnach etiquette as she probably should be, all things considered, but she was pretty sure inviting someone to sit in their own home was definitely a power move. Judging by the look on Tadgh’s face as they sat down, they knew it, too.

Tadgh took the seat at the foot of the table, then looked at Saoirse. “What is that you have there?” they asked.

“Oh, this is Corraithe,” Saoirse said. “They’re a gift from Orla and Sam. A robot version of a creature called a dog from Sam’s homeworld. This particular one is modelled on a…” Saoirse turned to Sam. “What did you say the breed was?”

“A long-haired Chihuahua. This particular breed was developed specifically as a companion animal, and is named after a section of a country called Mexico back on Earth,” Sam said, reading the details out of an encyclopedia entry Pixel pulled up in her HUD. “I mentioned dogs to Orla a while back, and they asked what they were, so I showed them a few videos, and they were taken with them. Unfortunately, importing a real dog would be impossible, so I decided to build them one.”

“I’d say it was fortunate you couldn’t import one, because your invention is going to make us a lot of money,” Saoirse said.

“What?” Tadgh asked.

“Oh, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself,” Saoirse said. “I don’t really want to talk business until after dinner, but let’s just say that Orla’s choice of bond mates is going to be an absolute boon for our bottom line.”

“How so?” Tadgh asked.

“After dinner, child,” Saoirse said. “Always so impatient.” Saoirse turned and leaned over towards Sam. “My Roisin always tried so hard to teach that one patience, but it never really took with them.”

“Roisin was your bond mate?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Saoirse said. They looked down at Corraithe and started petting them. “Roisin was…they were better than I am. Kind and patient and gentle. A much better parent than I’ve proven to be.” They looked up at Sam. “They would have adored the three of you, I think.”

Sam fought down the desire to ask what had happened to them. She could ask Pixel later. It was clear from Saoirse’s sudden change in mood that whatever had happened, they were still grieving.

“You were a fine parent,” Tadgh said.

“No, child, I think we both know I wasn’t,” Saoirse said. “I was too caught up in my own grief, and I left you to the caregivers, but again, that’s a conversation to be had later. Let’s eat first, then we’ll discuss family business, and family matters.”

“I’ll summon the bots,” Nuala said, effectively putting an end to the conversation until dinner was over.

***

Dinner was delicious. The main course was something called shredded torc, which tasted a lot like pulled pork. It was served in a sauce that tasted a bit like horseradish cream. It was probably the spiciest dish that Sam had found since she arrived on Talamh, though spicy was a relative term. She’d had cinnamon hard candies with more bite. Still, she’d had to reassure Nuala at least five times that it wasn’t too hot for her. It left her tempted to put in an order for the ingredients to make nachos next time she and Orla had a shipment sent from Earth. She’d have to check with Pixel and see if Sionnach could eat jalapenos.

Once the dessert plates were cleared away, Sam could feel the tension in the room start to grow. Tadgh looked a bit like a trapped animal, and she could almost feel sorry for them, if it hadn’t been for what they had tried to do to Orla. As much as she wished she could, though, she couldn’t quite bring herself to look forward to seeing them get their comeuppance. What they had done had hurt Orla, and she had a feeling that no matter how this played out, Orla was going to end up getting hurt even more than they already had.

“Thank you for dinner,” Saoirse said, drawing everyone’s attention.

“We’re glad to have you,” Nuala said.

“Well, let’s hope that holds,” Saoirse said. “Now, I said we would get to family matters and business once dinner is done, so I suppose it’s time.” They turned and looked at Sorcha. “I spoke with Odhran Grasta during first labor today.”

Sorcha’s ears turned towards Saoirse, and their eyes got big in an expression Sam had come to recognize as surprise. “You did?”

“Yes,” Saoirse said. “We’re old friends, Odhran and I. Well, mostly friends. There was that business with the dancer, but Odhran eventually married them, so there are no hard feelings.”

“I didn’t realize that Donnacha had been a dancer,” Sorcha said.

“I’m not surprised. Donnacha was brilliant, but it wasn’t the kind of dancing that gets talked about in polite company.”

“Saoirse,” Nuala said in a scolding tone.

“Oh, calm yourself, child. Everyone should know at least a bit of their family gossip.” Saoirse turned their attention back to Sorcha. “Anyway, Odhran said that you’ve been an exemplary worker for their House. They said the only real complaint they had about you is how they had to constantly listen to Noya complain about your refusal to select an intended.”

Sorcha sat up a little straighter, and their ears turned out to the side. “I went to the gene keepers and donated, and I paid the non-custodial fee out of my own finances,” Sorcha said, their voice low and cold.

“Yes,” Saoirse said, seemingly unaware of Sorcha’s change in mood. “Odhran mentioned that. Which does make this easier. I’ve paid out your familial obligations, so you’re free to seek employment outside of the House. If you would like, House Leargas will provide employment, and foster you until you reach your final ascension.”

Sorcha’s ears turned forward again. “I’m sorry?”

Saoirse sighed. “I’ve bought out your contract with House Grasta, because I want you to come work for me. Do keep up.”

“Oh,” Sorcha said. “What would I be doing?”

“I’ll get to that but go ahead and say yes. It will save trouble later, and I promise you, you’ll want the job. Especially after you see how much more money you’ll be making.”

“Um, yes,” Sorcha said.

“Smart child,” Saoirse said, then they turned to Sam. “I understand that you don’t have any sort of financial obligation to your family, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Sam said.

“Wonderful. That will save a lot of trouble and haggling. I hate conducting negotiations over ansible. I’m offering you a job in House Leargas’ research and development division. In addition to a generous salary, you’ll receive two percent of gross for any product you develop that the House brings to market, including the robot dogs and any derivatives, as well as your camera drone. The House will have the right of first refusal for anything you develop. If we do refuse a product, you will be free to sell the designs elsewhere, but not to market and sell the rejected product yourself.”

“Um…”

“Child, I don’t mean to condescend, but trust me, just nod and say yes, and in a few years, you’ll be incredibly rich.”

Sam stared at Saoirse, turning the offer over in her head. She had to admit, it was a good offer. House Leargas was an established commodity manufacturer with marketing reach across most of the Hegemony. They could throw tons of weight behind any product they brought to market, and a two percent share of gross on a product being sold on hundreds of worlds would make her insanely rich by human standards. The only thing making her hesitate was that the offer was coming at her completely cold. She hadn’t asked for a job, or even considered a job with House Leargas. She’d only given up the drone and dog designs to help Orla. On the other hand, this was pretty much the end goal her mother had in mind when she pushed for an off-world education. A job that would ensure Sam’s financial future.

“I’d like to read the contract before I sign,” Sam said

Saoirse smiled at her. “Smart child. We’ll get one of Nuala’s lawyers to review the contracts. House Cineal never lets me get away with a damn thing,” they said, before turning to Orla.

“I went ahead and bought out your family obligations as well. It wouldn’t do to have you tied down in an apprenticeship role given what I have planned for you.”

“Thank you,” Orla said. “I’m honored that you think that highly of my skills.”

“You’ve proven you’re ready for more than double-checking someone else’s work. I see no reason to leave you in a job you’ve outgrown when you can be of more benefit to the family elsewhere.”

“What will I be doing?”

“We’ll get to that in a moment. Tell me, have you met your cousin Padraig?”

“Cliodhna’s eldest child?” Orla asked, and Sam could hear the confusion in their voice.

“That would be the one,” Saoirse said. “Just a bit younger than you.”

“We’ve met a few times. They seem nice enough, but we didn’t really hit it off. Padraig was a bit…fixated on their studies.”

“That’s a very polite way of saying the poor child is obsessed with xenobiology,” Saoirse said. “Normally I wouldn’t think anything of it. We have enough family members interested in our business ventures that we can afford to let anyone who wants to go into a purely academic career without it hurting us, and Cliodhna assures me they are bright enough to do the House proud as a scientist, but Padraig has gone and gotten their ears all tied in a knot over some Manusan they met on a research trip.”

Sam wondered for a moment where Saoirse was going with this. Manusans were a blue-skinned species from a planet called Jami, but she had no idea why it would be relevant to Orla that one of their cousins had fallen for an alien.

“I talked to the Manusan, and they’re agreeable to a betrothal. Normally, I would have just told Cliodhna to consent to the betrothal, but it occurred to me that this provided us with an opportunity that we might not have again. I went ahead and made arrangements to transfer your diversity token over to Padraig. I’ll be covering the transfer fee out of my own finances, as well as paying the standard support stipend that goes with a token transfer, so you won’t need to worry about any of that.”

It took a moment for Sam to process what Saoirse had said, but when she did, she felt like she was going to throw up. She looked over at Orla and Sorcha, and she could see the realization on their faces. Saoirse had removed the barrier that had prevented them from being together. She turned away from them and tried her best to keep her emotions in check, but it was impossible. Sam knew that the only reason Orla had selected her was the token. Orla had wanted to be with Sorcha, and Sam was the best alternative she could find because she couldn’t be with who she wanted to be with.

Orla loved her. Sam knew that. She believed that, but it was a new love. They’d only been together a few months. Orla and Sorcha had known and loved each other their entire lives. How could she compete with that? Worse, what would she do without Orla? She had a job here, but other than Orla and Sorcha, she didn’t have any friends or family on the planet.

“I’ve also made an appointment for you with the gene keepers. You’ll go tomorrow during first labor and donate a gene sample. I’ve paid your non-custodial fee already, so once you make the donations, your reproductive obligations will be satisfied.”

“Why would you do that?” Orla asked, and Sam frowned, because their voice sounded muffled, like they were far away.

“Because it benefits the family,” Saoirse said. They turned back to Sam. “I’m not sure how you would feel about this, but if you’re willing, I would like you to go with Orla to the gene keepers and make a donation, as well. I can promise you that any children that come from your donation will be well cared for and will never see the inside of a public creche.”

“I…I don’t know what that means,” Sam said.

“Orla can explain it,” Saoirse said. “But I’m willing to offer a bounty of five hundred thousand Hegemony credits if you do donate.”

Sam didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to answer. She knew she was being asked something, but it didn’t make sense. She needed to ask Orla what it meant, but when she tried to ask, she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be asking because her chest hurt, and she felt like she was going to throw up.

“Boss, are you okay?” Pixel asked.

Sam shook her head. She wasn’t okay. She wanted Orla. She needed Orla.

“Sam?” someone asked.

“Where’s Orla?” Sam asked. She needed Orla, but Orla had Sorcha.

“I’m right here,” someone said.

“Boss, you’re having a panic attack,” Pixel said.

“What?”

“You’re having a panic attack,” Pixel said again, his voice much softer. Sam felt a touch on her hand and looked down. There was another hand on hers, and she followed the arm it was attached to up, surprised to see Orla there.

She felt a weight in her lap and looked down to see Morna’s head in her lap, and a paw on her knee. Morna stood up, and licked her face, and Sam wrapped her arms around Morna, and held on as the sound of blood rushing in her ears drowned out everything else in the room.

***

“How is she?” Nuala asked as Neesa led the rest of the family into the main lounge.

“Sleeping,” Orla said. “The bots gave her a sedative.”

“Do the bots know what’s wrong?” Nuala asked.

Orla squeezed Sam’s hand in theirs, not caring about the way everyone in the room was looking at them. Well, everyone but Sorcha. Sorcha was looking at Sam with the same worried expression that Orla was sure they were wearing.

“It’s called a panic attack,” Orla said. “According to Sam’s Aug, it’s something that can happen to humans when their natural threat response reaction gets overloaded and they’re not able to act in response to the perceived threat.”

“What threat?” Tadgh asked.

Orla looked up and glared at Saoirse. “Ask your parent,” Orla snarled. “They know exactly what they did.”

Saoirse at least had the decency to look like they regretted what had happened.

“I’m sorry,” they said.

“Sorry?” Orla asked in a tone that made several people in the room take a step back. “You’re sorry?”

“Child—”

“I am not your child!” Orla screamed as they came to their feet.

“Orla,” Nuala said as they stepped in between Orla and Saoirse. Orla reached up and pushed them aside and took another step towards Saoirse.

“I came to you with a problem, and because everyone told me I needed to, I brought a solution with me. I sat there and I justified choices that I was forced to make that were none of anyone’s business. I told you things in confidence to explain things I shouldn’t have had to explain, and you used them against me. You hurt me, you hurt my best friend, and you hurt my intended.”

“Everyone except Sorcha and Orla get out,” Saoirse said. Orla watched as their parents, their grandparents on Nuala’s side, their entles, and Saoirse’s assistant left the room.

“Computer, privacy lock this room,” Saoirse said. A privacy field snapped into place in the doorway to the room, and Orla heard the faint hum of a white noise generator coming on.

“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you,” Saoirse said. “Nor was it my intention to use your confidences against you.”

“Then what were you trying to do?” Orla asked.

“I was trying to help,” Saoirse said. “As long as you have the token, you can’t meet your reproductive obligations with just a gene donation and the non-custodial fee. Not unless you have an off-worlder to match your donation. I wasn’t sure Sam would agree to a donation to the gene keepers. Everything I read said that humans are unusually possessive of their offspring. I thought, if I shifted the token to Padraig, it would allow you to clear your reproductive obligations with a donation whether Sam was willing to donate or not. It would also give Padraig and their intended a sound financial grounding without either of them having to take on additional family obligations. They could be together, and work the careers they wanted, and with the buyout of your and Sorcha’s family obligations, and the fact that they have already met their reproductive obligations, I’d be able to send the three of you to Earth without any of you ending up unable to return because you’ve broken the repopulation laws.”

“You wanted to send us to Earth?” Orla asked.

“Yes,” Saoirse said. “I thought if I did it this way, I could do it without embarrassing any of you. If I made it look like I was just interested in exploiting a new business opportunity, no one would ask why I was trying so hard to get the three of you off Talamh.” They let out a deep, bone-weary sigh. “I suppose I should have told you first, but I got too caught up in my own brilliance to think about how the three of you might react.”

Saoirse dropped down into one of the armchairs in the lounge, stroking Corraithe’s head. “There’s a reason I hide in my offices outside the city, Orla. I don’t know how to treat people. I never did. Roisin was always the one good with people, and when they died, I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why did you want to send us to Earth?” Orla asked.

“Because you’re unhappy here,” Saoirse said. “I’ve seen it before. The way this world eats away at people. Sionnach weren’t built to live without physical contact, but our ancestors turned something that was supposed to be a temporary measure to protect us against a plague into some kind of twisted virtue. Roisin was like you. They craved physical contact. The moment we were behind closed doors, they would pull me into their lap and just hold me, like they couldn’t get enough. We spent as much time as we could off world, and when we were on other worlds, we were both happier. We kept planning to move to one of the colonies where the taboo against touch had slipped away, but then the impact happened, and suddenly, I was the Head of House, and any chance of us moving off world was gone. Roisin never blamed me for it, but I blamed myself. If I had to do it again, I would be selfish, I would give the Head of House role over to one of my siblings, go to the colonies, and never set foot on this wretched planet again.”

Saoirse turned towards Sorcha. “And there was you to think about. It’s not hard to see how much you love my grandchild, or how much my grandchild loves you. Or how much Orla and Sam love each other. I had to do something, because if I didn’t, that damn token would eat all three of you alive. However much Orla and Sam love each other, Sam would always have a voice in the back of their head telling them they were Orla’s second choice, and Orla would always wonder if they made a mistake, accepting the token instead of getting rid of it, and being with you, and you would always wonder if there was something you could have done to convince Orla to get rid of the token and pick you. Those kinds of doubts and regrets eat at people.

“I don’t know how things will end up, but I thought if I could get that damn token out of the way and get the three of you away from this damned planet, then at least the three of you would have a chance of working things out and being happy.”

Saoirse turned back to Orla. “I just wanted to help. I had no idea that something like that could happen to your human, but there it is. Tomorrow, you’ll go to the gene keepers, and you’ll make your donation. Then, next Arsoicind, the three of you will board a fast transport for Earth, where Sam will set up a new research and development office whose purpose is to find technologies unique to Earth culture that could be adapted into new products for sale across the Hegemony, and where you will begin investing in local enterprises, while Sorcha handles your books.”

Orla looked at Saoirse, taking in the weariness and the defeat in their tone. They didn’t doubt for a moment that Saoirse’s intentions were exactly what they said they were, but it was a terrifying prospect. For the first time in their life, Orla was looking at freedom. Real, complete freedom to choose their own destiny, without being reined in by debts to be repaid, and duties to be carried out. They looked over at Sorcha, who knew them well enough that Orla didn’t even need to ask the question, because Sorcha gave their answer with a small nod. Orla shifted their gaze to Sam, and maybe it was a bit presumptuous, but they thought they knew what Sam’s answer would be as well.

Orla turned back to Saoirse. “I’ll go to the gene keepers tomorrow, and come Arsoicind, we’ll be on the transport.”

Saoirse smiled. “Good,” they said. “Just…however things work out, try not to lose each other. Trust an old person when they say friendships, family, and love are the only things that really matter.”

Orla nodded. “I promise.”

Saoirse let out another of those bone-weary sighs, then slowly climbed to their feet. “Then it’s time I went and dealt with Tadgh.”

“What will you do with them?” Orla asked.

“Put them into conservatorship,” Saoirse said. “Twenty-five blianas should do it. Then a pension to live on. I don’t know if Nuala will break their bonding over this.”

“If they do, it’s not your fault,” Orla said.

“Yes, it is,” Saoirse said. “All of this is my fault. If I had been a better parent to Tadgh, this wouldn’t have happened. I let my grief get in the way of my responsibility to them. I just hope I live long enough to repair the damage. Computer, end privacy lock.”

Orla watched Saoirse leave, then turned back to Sorcha. “Let’s get Sam home.”

“Okay,” Sorcha said. “Do you mind if I stay at your place tonight?”

“I’d like that,” Orla said before she turned towards the bots and ordered them to get a stretcher.

Chapter Thirteen

“HEY, BOSS.”

Sam blinked and looked around the room. The lights were all out, but she shifted her vision into the infrared almost by reflex, taking in the not-red glow coming from various objects, which told her she was in her own bed, but not how she got there, or why she was alone.

“You okay?” Pixel asked.

“What happened?” Sam asked as she reached up and rubbed her head, trying to ease the pounding that had woken her up.

“You had a panic attack,” Pixel said. “The medical bot sedated you. Orla had them bring you home.”

Sam sat up. “Where’s Orla?”

“Orla and Sorcha are in the lounge. Want me to let Orla know you’re awake?”

“No,” Sam said. “Just have the bots get me something for this damn headache.”

“There’s an analgesic and a bottle of water on the nightstand. Orla put them there for you.”

Sam smiled, and immediately regretted it. The small motion made her head pound harder. She reached over, moving as slowly and carefully as possible, and got the injector, then pressed it to her neck.

“Right spot?”

“Back and up just a touch,” Pixel said. Sam moved the injector and pressed it to a different spot on her neck. “Right there.”

Sam pressed the button, and there was a sting in the side of her neck. A moment later, the pounding in her head vanished, and she felt her whole body relax.

“Lights.”

The lights in the room came up, though not all the way. Pixel kept them dimmed a bit, which brought a smile to Sam’s face. Even the AI in her head was mothering her at this point. She grabbed the water bottle and took a drink, moaning slightly as the ice-cold water flowed into her mouth and down her throat. She downed a good half the bottle in one go. Then sat, staring at the walls as she turned over what had happened at dinner.

Saoirse had gotten Orla’s token transferred to someone else, which left Orla free to marry whoever they wanted, and she’d had a panic attack pretty much the moment she had fully processed the implications. Orla was free to marry Sorcha. Sam took another drink from the water bottle, hoping it would settle the rolling in her stomach.

“Pixel, do you have any protocols that require you to report me if I ask you about something that’s illegal?”

“Um, no, boss. There are actually Hegemony-wide laws that prevent the extraction of evidence from any cybernetic system, but please don’t ask me to help you murder Sorcha. I really like them.”

Sam laughed and shook her head. “I was just going to ask you if there’s anything on Talamh that would hit the same buttons in my brain as pot.”

“Oh,” Pixel said. “Well, now I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be too embarrassed. The night is young.”

“Boss…”

“I’m kidding, Pixel,” Sam said. “Anyway, pot?”

“There are a couple of things that might do the trick, but I would advise against trying them.”

“Why?”

“Well, you remember how I mentioned the bots sedated you?”

“Yeah?”

“The dosage they gave you should have kept you out for at least four uairs.”

“How long was I down?”

“Twenty noimeads,” Pixel said.

“That happened when they were installing my implants,” Sam said.

“It did?”

“Yeah. I woke up halfway through the procedure.”

“Shit, boss. That must have sucked.”

“A bit, yeah,” Sam said.

“I’ll do a search of the medical literature. See if I can figure out why that keeps happening.”

“I’d rather you solve my pot problem,” Sam said.

“All the local stuff is based on the same chemical in the sedative, so it’s not going to last very long. If you’re okay with an edible, I can pull the chemical sheets for marijuana off the Stellarnet and have the fabber in your lab mix them up.”

“Um…you know, I think I’ll pass.”

“I could get you some gromtor wine.”

“No,” Sam said. She wanted to relax, and alcohol had never really helped her with that.

“You sure you don’t want me to let Orla know you’re awake?”

Sam thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I’ll do it myself. Do we have any chocolate left?”

“Inventory says we should have a case of the dark chocolate sea salt and almond bars, and two cases of the eighty-five percent cocoa bars.”

“Have a bot grab three of the sea salt and almond bars, and a bottle of gromtor juice and bring them to the lounge,” Sam said.

“On it,” Pixel said.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for whatever happened when she went out there. It didn’t do much to settle the twisting in her gut, but it didn’t matter. Not really. It was time to put on her big girl britches and find out what tomorrow was going to look like.

***

A few hours earlier, the sight that greeted her when she walked into the lounge would have brought a smile to her face. Orla and Sorcha were sitting on the couch, Sorcha’s arm around Orla’s shoulder, Orla’s head on Sorcha’s shoulder, Morna laying across both their laps, and Choth curled up on Morna’s back. Instead of a smile, her stomach heaved. She swallowed the small bit of vomit that reached her mouth, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back tears.

“Sam?”

She flinched at the sound of Orla’s voice, and tried her best to hold it together.

“Boss?” Pixel asked.

“I um…” She stopped, because she didn’t have any idea what to say. She searched for words, but none came. All she wanted was to get down on her knees and beg Orla not to leave her. Things like dignity and pride didn’t matter to her. Not compared to the terrifying prospect of being alone.

She’d never been alone before. Not really. She’d had her mom, but her mom was two thousand light years away. She’d had Jenny, but she’d walked away from her, and Jenny never wanted to speak to her again. And then, when her mom and Jenny were gone, she’d had Orla. Orla who had been so kind, so generous, and so concerned for her wellbeing. Orla who’d needed a champion, and God, hadn’t she loved stepping into that role and feeling like some kind of hero.

Orla had never needed a hero. They had just needed a reason to stand up, something that would push them to find her strength. Tadgh had given them that, and Sam had given them the support and encouragement, and Orla had stood up and demanded the respect they deserved, and now, they didn’t need Sam anymore. Not when the barrier between Orla and what they really wanted was gone. Orla could have Sorcha, and Sam…

Well, she was sure they’d both be as nice about it as possible.

She felt something touch her and she jerked away in surprise. She opened her eyes, to find Orla standing in front of her, a worried look on their face, and Sam couldn’t hold it in anymore. The first sob was a nasty, painful thing that tore its way out of her chest, ripping a hole in the wall that had been holding back everything she was feeling.

“Oh, Sam,” Orla said, and Sam felt strong arms wrap around her, which only made it worse. She tried to stop crying, to pull away, but she couldn’t do either. Not after Orla scooped her up and carried her over to the couch.

Orla sat down and Sam ended up in Orla’s lap, with Orla’s arms wrapped around her. She wrapped her arms around Orla, holding on as tightly as she could, and rested her head on Orla’s shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” Orla whispered in English, her accent just a bit thicker than normal. “It’s okay, love. I’m here, I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Sam clung tightly to Orla as they repeated those words, over and over again. Somewhere along the way, Orla started petting her hair, and Morna climbed up into Sam’s lap and rested their head on Sam’s shoulder. They occasionally lifted their head up and licked the tears off Sam’s face.

Sam wasn’t sure how long it took her to cry herself out. It felt like years, and when she was done, her whole body ached, and she felt like she’d been hollowed out inside. They sat in silence for a while, even after she’d stopped crying, but eventually, she took a breath and steadied herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“What for?” Orla asked.

“I’m being ridiculous,” Sam said. She lifted her head off Orla’s shoulder, and forced herself to sit up straight. “And I’m being selfish. I’m sorry. It just blindsided me. Once I’ve had time to adjust, I promise I’ll do better.” She turned and looked at Sorcha. “Promise me you’ll take care of them,” she said.

Sorcha turned to Orla. “Can I hit her? Please.”

“No,” Orla said. They reached up and pressed a finger against Sam’s chin, turning Sam’s head so she was looking at Orla. “Though I can understand the temptation.”

“What?”

“Sam, have I ever lied to you about how I felt?”

“No,” Sam said. “You’ve always been honest with me.”

“Then why do you find it so hard to believe that I love you?”

“I don’t,” Sam said. “I know you love me, but—”

“Then trust me,” Orla said. “I love you, and I am betrothed to you. I’ve shared my life, my home, my food, my bed, and my body with you. I don’t know what it’s like among humans, but for Sionnach, those are not things easily forgotten.”

“But you love Sorcha,” Sam said. “You’ve loved them—”

“I’ve loved them my whole life,” Orla said. “You don’t have to remind me of that. I promise you I know what that means better than you do.”

“But Saoirse sat there and practically told you that they want you to marry Sorcha.”

“If that was what they intended, they fucked up every step of the way,” Orla said. “The moment they bought out my family obligations and paid my non-custodial fees, I was no longer beholden to the family for anything.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam said. “What are family obligations and non-custodial fees?”

“Pixel, can you explain?” Orla said. “I’m not sure how to put family obligations in human terms.”

“Right,” Pixel said. Sam assumed he messaged Orla with his response, because a moment later, Orla and Sorcha both accepted invites to a shared desktop that would let them hear what Pixel was saying. “Think of family obligations like student loans. Basically, once a child reaches second ascension, which is roughly equivalent to a mix of high school graduation and Bar Mitzvah, they can seek employment, or they can opt to continue their education at the family’s expense. If they chose to continue their education, they are required to work for the family until they’ve paid back the cost of their education. It’s not usually a big deal, because with the teaching machines and mentor bots involved, education isn’t that expensive, and something like seventy-five percent of Sionnach end up working for their family their entire lives anyway. Basically, it gives the family a pool of cheap labor for entry level jobs, while ensuring a steady stream of highly educated people for the families to draw their labor pool from. But once family obligations are paid, a person can leave family employment any time they want.”

“And non-custodial fees?” Sam asked.

Orla answered that question. “The law requires every Sionnach on Talamh to have four children, but if you don’t want kids, you can satisfy the legal requirement by donating genetic material to the gene keepers and paying a fee. The fee is basically half the estimated cost for the government to raise the resulting offspring in a public creche. It’s harder for people with the token, because they can only opt out if they find an off-worlder to donate alongside them, and they have to pay double the normal fee.”

“So, Saoirse fixed it so not only did you not have to marry someone from off-world, but you also don’t have to have children?” Sam asked.

“And I don’t have to work for the family anymore if I don’t want to,” Orla said. “Sam, Saoirse didn’t do what they did to try to break us up so I could marry Sorcha. They did what they did because now, all three of us are free to decide what we want to do.”

“What do you want to do?” Sam asked.

“I want to leave Talamh,” Orla said.

“You want to leave Talamh?” Sam asked. “Where would we go?”

“Saoirse has us booked on a transport to Earth that leaves on Arsoicind. We can pack up the entire apartment. Take everything, including your lab and the bots. I’ll order teaching machines and mentor bots so you can fill in any gaps in your education and complete all your certifications. By the time we arrive, there will be a full residence waiting for us, and Saoirse wants the three of us to open up a new Business Division. You’d head up a Research and Development department that specializes in adapting Earth tech, I’d be House Leargas’ on-planet Investment Manager, and Sorcha would handle our finances.”

“It sounds like a good deal,” Sam said.

“It is, but Sam, you don’t have to take it. Saoirse offered you half a million Hegemony credits for a gene sample. Between that and your cut of the gross from the camera drones and the robot pets, you could go anywhere in the Hegemony and never have to worry about money again.”

“I think I remember them saying something about that.”

Orla reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind Sam’s ear. “You were a little busy at the time.”

Sam closed her eyes. “Don’t remind me. They said something about kids and a creche?”

“They want to adopt the kids the gene keepers would create from your genetic material,” Orla said.

“I’m not sure how I’d feel about that. I’m not that impressed with the job they did raising their own kids.”

“I don’t think they’d adopt them personally. They’d have them placed with the family. One would probably go to my entle Cliodhna.”

Sam leaned forward, resting her forehead against Orla’s. “You think I should do it?” she asked.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Orla said. “You’ve seen what this world is like. It can be a hard place, but after the talk I had with Saoirse, I think they would do everything to make sure any children from your blood were well cared for.”

“Do you want to go to Earth?” Sam asked.

“I want to go with you,” Orla said. “Whether that’s Earth or not, I just want to be with you.”

Sam lifted her head up and opened her eyes, taking in Orla’s face for a moment before she turned to Sorcha.

“What about you?”

Sorcha shrugged. “I honestly couldn’t care less where we go, as long as you take me with you.”

“You really mean that?” Sam asked.

“I really do,” Sorcha said. They reached out and rested a hand on Sam’s knee. “You two are my friends, and I don’t have very many of those. You already know how I feel about Orla, but whatever happens, I don’t want to lose you either.”

Sam smiled and covered Sorcha’s hand with her own, giving it a small squeeze.

“Then I guess we’re going to Earth,” she said.

“Hey, boss,” Pixel said.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Coffee table.”

Sam looked over and spotted a tray on the coffee table with the three chocolate bars and the bottle of juice she’d had the bots bring, and a small smile spread across her face as she turned back to Orla. “You know what that means, right?”

“No,” Orla said, an adorable look of confusion on her face.

“We need to introduce Sorcha to chocolate,” Sam said. Orla’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“What’s chocolate?” Sorcha asked, and Sam couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

***

Sorcha’s stomach grumbled as they lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and watching the slowly changing pattern of thermal radiation. It was something their caretakers used to yell at them for. Staying awake long after they should be asleep, using the lingering sight to keep themself entertained. Of course, they supposed most people wouldn’t be entertained by it, but then, Sorcha wasn’t most people. They loved all manner of things that others overlooked. They could spend hours in their garden, pruning, repotting, tweaking nutrient mixes, and doing all the other small tasks a hydroponic garden required, and spend the whole time overwhelmed by the simple beauty of the plants. They loved the interplay of color and motion that could only be seen using the lingering sight, tracking changes in temperature by the shifting color of the object they were watching, or the air, or even their own hand.

They wondered sometimes if that tendency to find beauty where others had missed it was one of the things that had drawn them to Orla. So many people had overlooked and neglected Orla, but Sorcha had always seen the beauty there, and had always loved them.

They were just beginning to realize how deeply they had underestimated Orla. Sorcha had always thought of them as someone who needed protection, but over the last few laethantas, they had seen an entirely new side of them. The way Orla had stood up to Saoirse not once, but twice, in order to protect and defend Sam had made Sorcha realize that Orla had always had the strength they needed to defend themself; they just believed that they didn’t deserve to be defended.

It made Sorcha angry at all the people who had done such a thorough job of convincing Orla they were worthless. It also made Sorcha angry at themself for not doing more to convince Orla that they mattered. That they were worth standing up for.

And then there was Sam. Sam who was so in love with Orla that anyone could see it any time Sam looked at Orla. Sorcha wanted to hate Sam so, so much, but they couldn’t. At first, Sorcha had just been impressed with how quick Sam was to rush to Orla’s defense the first time the two of them had met. Sorcha had all but come right out and said that Orla was only worthwhile because of their family’s money, power, and influence, and Sam had been ready to take Sorcha’s head for it after knowing Orla for less than a laethanta. After that, it had been clear that Sam’s company made Orla happy, but more than that, Sam was just so damned kind. Sorcha could see the burn of jealousy in Sam’s eyes, and could feel the hesitation and the reluctance, but Sam had let them touch Orla. Let them hold their hand, let them put their arm around Orla’s shoulders, let them hug Orla.

And they couldn’t stop there. No. Not Sam. Sam couldn’t settle for just begrudgingly accepting Sorcha’s place in Orla’s life. She had to go and actually care about Sorcha’s feelings. She had to worry about how much Sorcha was hurting. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had to go and be ready to step aside when it became possible for Sorcha and Orla to actually be together. Sam had clearly been devastated at the idea of losing Orla, and felt guilty about the fact that her own pain was getting in the way of her accepting that the person she was in love with was going to marry someone else.

It had taken Sorcha a long time to figure out what they felt as they watched Orla pick Sam up and carry them to the couch. It was confusing because it hadn’t been jealousy, and Sorcha had to stop and look at that, and they realized that they hadn’t been jealous of Sam for the last couple of laethantas. Something had changed the night the three of them had spent holed up in Sam’s lab, building robot dogs, but once they realized that it wasn’t jealousy, that any jealousy they’d felt towards Sam was gone, they’d had to face the fact that what they felt was frustration that they couldn’t reach out and take Sam in their arms and comfort them. It was a frightening thought, but one they’d actually indulged, just a bit. They’d reached out and touched Sam’s knee.

Sam had hardly seemed to notice the contact. Or maybe she did, and Sorcha was just not used to such a subtle reaction to being touched. Whatever the case, Sorcha had been reluctant to let go. And when Sorcha had told Sam that they didn’t care where Sam and Orla went as long as they took Sorcha with them, they had meant it. They didn’t just want to go with Orla. They wanted to go with Sam and Orla. Somewhere along the line, Sorcha had gotten attached to Sam. So attached, they thought their heart was going to stop when Sam had covered their hand and given it a squeeze.

It was exhilarating. It was also terrifying. Sorcha still loved Orla, and still wanted to be with them, but knowing just how intensely Sam loved Orla, they couldn’t bear the thought of coming between them or hurting them. They couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Orla, but they couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Sam either.

They didn’t know what to do, and it scared them, because there was so much at stake. The hearts of two people they cared deeply about, and their own heart too, though that felt almost secondary. All they knew was that they didn’t want to imagine their life without both Orla and Sam in it.

Chapter Fourteen

IT FELT STRANGE TO be back in space again. Part of that was probably the lower gravity. Sam had asked Neesa and Fiadh why they didn’t run the grav plates at Talamh standard, and Neesa had explained something so basic Sam had felt like an idiot for asking. The more gravity you generated, the more power you had to push through the gravity plates. The more power you needed, the more fuel you had to use. Almost all ships in the Hegemony used antimatter as fuel because it was incredibly energy dense. It was also incredibly expensive. Less expensive than any alternatives, but still expensive enough that you wanted to minimize consumption, because the less fuel you used on a flight, the less money you spent. Thus, lower gravity meant cheaper flights, which was good, but after getting used to Talamh’s gravity, the half G gravity aboard Neesa and Fiadh’s personal ship left her feeling like she was falling.

And there was the fact that she was in space, which was just freaking cool. It probably shouldn’t have been so exciting, given that she’d spent almost two weeks in space on the flight to Talamh, and had been living on an alien world for almost six months, but it felt different this time. This time, she wasn’t mourning everything she’d lost, and dreading what she would find at the end of her trip. This time, she was excited about going home, and about the life that was ahead of her.

The morning after the dinner fiasco, Sam had gone with Orla to the gene keepers, and given a sample that was to be held until she released it. Then, she’d spent nearly an uair talking with Saoirse about what would happen to any children born from the sample. She’d come to an agreement with Saoirse. Saoirse would limit it to eight children, which was honestly more than she’d expected and a little frightening, but then, Talamh was a world desperately trying to rebuild their gene pool after the devastation caused by the impact, so it made sense to want as many children with good genes as possible. And Saoirse had apparently decided that Sam had very good genes. Saoirse already had their people interviewing prospective guardians, and the children of those prospective guardians, and promised that the children would be well cared for.

In the end, Sam had released the sample to Saoirse with the promise that she would get regular reports on the children and their care. As a result, Sam had half a million Hegemony credits on top of her monthly stipend from House Leargas, and a rather generous moving allowance to get set up once they got to Earth. Given that the exchange rate between dollars and Hegemony credits was sitting right at twenty-five to one, that meant Sam had over twelve million dollars in the bank. Not enough to buy her own ship, but more than enough to buy her, Orla, and Sorcha passage anywhere in the Hegemony. Enough to take her mom with her if it came to it.

The next few days had been less than organized chaos. Sorcha and Orla had spent a day in the hospital getting the implants they needed to process certain human foods and to avoid muscle atrophy that would prevent them from being able to return to Talamh. Then the three of them had to move into a hotel while the contents of both their apartments were packed up and loaded onto Neesa and Fiadh’s ship.

Sam had spent the better part of a laethanta on the ansible with a real estate agent on Earth who had experience with Sionnach housing, explaining exactly what they needed. She’d talked to Orla and Sorcha about it ahead of time and gotten a list of what they wanted in the new residence, but she had insisted on being the one to talk to the real estate agent because she knew Earth and they didn’t, and she wanted to make sure they got the residence right the first time, because having to relocate later would be an expensive pain in the ass.

She and Orla had spent half a laethanta comforting Sorcha after the nursery Sorcha had sold their plants and gardening equipment to dismantled their garden and hauled everything away. Sam had understood. The garden was beautiful, and she’d made sure to get a ton of videos, stills, and holograms using one of her camera drones so that Sorcha would be able to revisit every detail if they wanted to.

Then there had been shopping. So much shopping. She’d spent uairs and uairs going through lists of components that her autofabber couldn’t make, trying to decide what would be useful and what she could order later. She’d ended up with three shipping containers of AI modules, another container of a few exotic components, duplicates of any tooling she couldn’t purchase on Earth, and seven additional autofabbers so she could run four at once and have backups for each of them. Then she’d ordered a ton of household bots, teaching machines, and food-grade stasis lockers.

Sam thought they’d never finish everything that needed to be done in time, but on Arsoicind, seven laethantas after the disastrous dinner, they’d boarded the docking shuttle that carried them up to Neesa and Fiadh’s ship. The charter Saoirse had originally arranged had been cancelled because Neesa and Fiadh insisted on taking them to Earth personally. It had meant ripping out and replacing the number three engine instead of the overhaul Fiadh had originally planned, and in the end, Fiadh had gone ahead and replaced all six of the ship’s engines since they had the hull opened up anyway. It was tight, but they got it done, and by fourth uair on Arsoicind, they were boosting towards the gate at the edge of the Grian system.

None of it was what Sam had expected. She’d expected to be gone for five years. Instead, she was going home after just a few months. She’d expected to return home alone, but instead, she was taking her intended and her and her intended’s friend home with her.

There was so much she wanted to show them. She wanted to take them to the beach and teach them to surf. She wanted to take them to San Francisco and show them her favorite coffee bars and black box theaters. She wanted to take them to Fisherman’s Wharf and do all the stupid touristy stuff, and to print out some dumb list of the best chocolate shops in San Francisco and visit them all until they got stomach aches. She wanted to take them to Baja for a week, and take them camping and hiking, and show them the Redwood Forests, and go to Mardi Gras with them and take them to the pyramids and the Colosseum and the Great Wall of China. She just wanted to show them everything.

“There you are.”

Sam turned around and saw Orla standing in the door to the observation lounge, and couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She held out her hand. Orla looked at it for a moment, and Sam could see a slight flush in their cheeks, but they walked over and took Sam’s hands. Sam threaded their fingers together and turned back to look out into the depths of space, waiting to see the gate come into view.

“Is something wrong, love?” Orla asked.

“No,” Sam said. “I think I’m just a little overwhelmed.”

“I thought you were happy to be going home.”

“I am,” Sam said. “I’m just thinking of all the things I want to show you and Sorcha.” She gave Orla’s hand a tug, pulling them closer, then wrapped her arms around Orla’s waist, pressing their bodies together.

“Someday, I want to go back to Talamh, and see all the things I missed because I thought we had so much time, but until then, I want to show you everything about Earth. All the places I love, all the places I wanted to go but never got a chance to. You guys are going to love it. I promise.”

“As long as you and Sorcha are there, I’m sure I will,” Orla said.

Sam leaned in and kissed Orla.

“Were you just looking for company, or did you need something specific?” Sam asked.

Orla smiled. “Well, you know, we’ve been really busy the last few laethantas, but now we’ve got almost a seachtain with nothing to do except wait to get to Earth.”

Sam grinned. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Orla said coyly. “And we’ve got that big cabin all to ourselves.”

“Orla Leargas, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Do you want me to seduce you?”

“Definitely.”

Orla leaned in and kissed Sam soundly. “Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page.” They stepped back, giving Sam’s hand a gentle tug as they walked backwards towards the door. “Come on.”

They didn’t have to ask twice.

***

Beth frowned at the sound of her phone beeping. It wasn’t a ring, just the tone letting her know she was wanted on the intercom. She reached over and hit the speaker button.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” her assistant, Emma, said. “I have a video call for you on the other line. Normally I would have taken a message, but the call is coming in on an ansible line.”

“It’s from off-world?” Beth asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Emma said. “Someone named Orla.”

“Put it through!” Beth said. She clicked the save button on the project file she was working on, and then closed down all her apps except the video conference program. A moment later, a window popped up, asking her to accept a video call. She clicked okay, and Orla’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hello, Elizabeth Murray,” Orla said.

“Hello, Orla,” Beth said. “Please, call me Beth.”

“Thank you, Beth. I hope I’m not disturbing you during a labor period.”

“You are, but that’s okay,” Beth said. “I can always make time for you.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Orla said. “I will try to take as little of your time as possible.”

“Take as much time as you need,” Beth said. “Is everything okay? There’s no problem with Sam, is there?”

“No,” Orla said. “Sam is well. Just a little…um…I’m sorry, what’s the term they used? Um…jet-lagged, I think.”

“Oh. Have the two of you been traveling?”

“We’re travelling right now. I’m calling you from my entles’ ship. I’m not sure if you remember, but they were in charge of shipping operations for House Cineal when you visited our world.”

“Were in charge?” Beth asked, not able to keep a note of concern out of her voice.

“There have been some changes in the responsibilities within both House Cineal and House Leargas recently. My entles are taking a sabbatical after this voyage to begin seeing to their reproductive obligations. It’s nothing to be concerned about, I assure you. This call is actually in regards to Sam and myself, and our friend Sorcha Grasta. You might have met them at the betrothal ceremony.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall meeting them,” Beth said.

“That’s all right. We’ll be able to correct that oversight shortly,” Orla said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m calling because…” Orla paused and their ears flicked down and to the side for a moment before they took a deep breath. “Forgive me, Beth, but I’m calling to address a somewhat delicate matter. I do not wish to offend, but the wellbeing of my intended takes precedence over good manners.”

Beth felt a small knot of dread settle into her stomach. “Orla, if there’s something wrong with Sam, you can say whatever you need to. I promise I won’t take offense.”

“Thank you for that. There is nothing wrong with Sam, yet, but we will be arriving on Earth in roughly five of your days. I believe it was Sam’s intention to contact you once we had arrived and were settled; however, I’ve just gotten off of an ansible call with one of our on-world agents, and I have been informed that there has been a delay with the preparation of our new residence. Something about inspections of the property before construction can begin. I’m not familiar with your building laws, so I can’t really go into detail. All I know is that when we arrive on Earth, construction on our home will have only just begun instead of being finished. The actual construction process should be fairly short. Just a few of your days. However, we will need lodging during that time. Among my people, it is normal to approach family in times such as these and request a few days' hospitality, and I am under the impression that your people have similar customs.”

“Yes,” Beth said. “It’s not universal. We don’t maintain homes as large as yours, so sometimes there’s a lack of space, but even then, we will usually try to accommodate.”

“Good,” Orla said. “That speaks highly of your people. I have not yet informed Sam of the delay in preparations for our arrival. I called because I believe that Sam might enjoy spending some time with you, but I was unsure if you would be willing or able to accommodate all three of us. I did not wish to get her hopes up in the event that you weren’t.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, but I promise you, Sam and your friend are welcome to stay with me as long as you like.”

“Thank you,” Orla said. “I appreciate it, and I am sure I can extend Sam and Sorcha’s gratitude as well.”

“When should I expect you?” Beth asked.

“I believe we’re scheduled to land Wednesday morning, around 10:00 AM local time at the San Francisco spaceport.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Beth said.

“That’s not necessary,” Orla said.

“Of course it is,” Beth said. “I want to be there to see my daughter as soon as she’s home.”

Orla smiled for the first time since the conversation began. “I’ll make sure you have a copy of our itinerary.”

“Thank you,” Beth said. She was about to end the conversation when something occurred to her, and she felt herself blushing slightly. “Um…forgive me, but now I need to ask a personal question.”

Orla’s ears turned forward and her eyes got a little wide. “Of course,” she said.

“It’s about sleeping arrangements,” Beth said. “I know you and Sam are engaged, but do you prefer to share a bed, or should I arrange separate beds for you?”

“Oh,” Orla said, and Beth couldn’t help but smile as Orla blushed so hard even the insides of her ears turned a deep red. “Sam and I prefer to share a bed. If you don’t have one large enough, I can arrange for the purchase and delivery of one.”

“That’s not necessary,” Beth said. “I’ll have a new bed put in Sam’s room. The one in the guest room should be fine to accommodate your friend.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to provide funds? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s all right,” Beth said. “Beds aren’t expensive, and it’s a small price to pay to get to spend some time with my daughter and her intended. I look forward to the chance to get to know you better.”

“I’m looking forward to that as well,” Orla said. “We will see you soon, and thank you for your hospitality.”

Orla cut the connection, and Beth leaned back in her chair, wondering what could have possibly happened to bring Sam home so soon.

***

Sorcha lay stretched out on one of the couches in the observation lounge with Choth curled up on their chest, snoring gently as Sorcha ran a hand over their head. The lights in the lounge were turned off, casting the room in darkness so they could see the stars outside. It was a beautiful view. One they’d rarely gotten to enjoy. Even during the long nights, the lights of Chathair drowned out the stars. Sorcha had always thought that was sad. Their people had evolved with the lingering sight, a way to see when the light of Grian disappeared for seachtains at a time, but they’d lost the habit of seeing in the dark, instead choosing to drown themselves in light. It seemed like a habit with the Sionnach, like they enjoyed cutting off parts of themselves. The lingering sight, the need to touch and be touched, the desire to express their emotions.

It was one of the things that made them look forward to Earth. It was a younger culture, and from what Sorcha had seen of Sam, the people hadn’t yet cut off the best parts of themselves in the name of property and filial piety.

Choth let out a little huff, and Sorcha looked down at them. They wiggled a little bit, like they were trying to get more comfortable, and let out a small whimper, and Sorcha felt their heart melt just a little. They hugged Choth close and lay back, staring out at the stars again.

They were two laethantas away from arriving at Earth, and that brought a whole host of feelings up, because however much they were looking forward to Earth, they were also terrified of it. It was a place where the rules were completely different, and it was a place where the restraints they were used to no longer applied. They were afraid, not of Earth, but of themself. Afraid of what they might do to ease the ache of loneliness they felt every time Sam or Orla pulled the other off to their cabin.

Jealousy burned within them, because they knew that they loved and were loved in return, but unlike Orla and Sam, they weren’t free to express it. The things they longed for were still out of reach, and Sorcha thought it might be easier to live with that back on Talamh, where the social customs reinforced the fact that Sorcha couldn’t have what they so desperately wanted.

Earth was different. Sorcha wasn’t so naïve as to believe that arriving on Earth would change the situation between them, Orla, and Sam, but Earth opened up possibilities that didn’t exist back on Talamh. If Sorcha understood what they had read of Earth, touch, affection, and even intimacy were far more available there, and they found themself wondering how tempted they would be to find what they longed for in the arms of some willing human.

They also wondered why that would be such a bad thing. What they truly wanted was beyond their reach, but that didn’t mean they were barred from happiness forever. Orla and Sam had both told Sorcha they wanted them to be happy. At the time, they hadn’t believed that was possible, but Earth changed the equation. They would no longer have to hide so much of themself simply to survive. Maybe that would make it possible for them to find someone who could love them, and who they could love in return.

It was an idea that brought hope and pain in equal measure. Hope that someday the unending ache in their heart might fade away, and pain at the idea that what they felt now might be lost.

Sorcha shook their head. They were such a mess.

The sound of the door to the lounge opening caught their attention, and they braced themself, expecting the lights to turn on, but they didn’t. The door closed a moment later, and Sorcha followed the sound of footsteps over towards the view port. Once Sorcha got a good look at the intruder, they relaxed. It was just Sam.

It took a moment longer for Sorcha to realize something was wrong. Their ears flicked towards Sam as they heard the soft sniffles, and took a closer look at Sam’s body language, and realized that Sam had her arms wrapped around herself and her shoulders were shaking.

She was crying.

“Sam?”

Sam jumped and turned around, her hands coming up in a defensive position.

“Easy,” Sorcha said. “It’s just me and Choth.”

Sam relaxed, and took a deep breath. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“It’s okay,” Sorcha said.

Sam shook her head. “I’m sorry I bothered you,” she said as she turned towards the door. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t,” Sorcha said.

Sam stopped and looked at them. Sorcha picked Choth up off their chest and sat up, making room for Sam on the couch next to them.

“Come sit with me,” Sorcha said. Sam stared at them, clearly surprised by the invitation, and just as clearly not sure what to do. “Please,” Sorcha added. Whatever was going on, it seemed to do the trick, because Sam walked over and dropped down heavily on the couch next to them.

“What’s wrong?” Sorcha asked.

“Stress reaction,” Sam said. “I had to get out of the room because I knew I was going to start crying, and I didn’t want to wake up Orla.”

“They would have wanted you to wake them up,” Sorcha said.

Sam shook her head. “They would want to help, and I don’t know how they could.”

Sorcha watched, feeling helpless as Sam closed her eyes. They could hear the ragged breathing and see the tears rolling down Sam’s face and they did the only thing they could think of. They scooted closer and wrapped their arms around Sam, hugging her tightly.

“It’s okay,” they said. “I’ve got you.”

Sam leaned into them and Sorcha tried to tamp down their fear. All they wanted to do was comfort Sam, to sooth away their pain, but they weren’t sure if they were doing it right. They remembered the day that Orla had broken down after they had gotten excited and kissed Sam in front of them, the way Sam had run her hand up and down Orla’s spine. They did that now, running their hand up and down Sam’s spine and rocking her gently in their arms. They kept thinking they should know how to do this. It felt like comforting someone you cared about was a skill that living on Talamh had kept them from learning. They wanted to call Orla, because Orla knew how to do this, how to help, but Sam had said not to, so they just focused on doing the best they could.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said as she clung to Sorcha.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Sorcha said. “Do you know what’s causing this?”

“Sort of,” Sam said. “I just get this way sometimes.”

Sorcha stopped rubbing Sam’s back just long enough to tap their left wrist to bring their Aug online. “Pixel, sync with my Aug.” They waited a second and got a sync request. “Aug, accept sync.”

“Hey, Sorcha,” Pixel said.

Sorcha went back to rubbing Sam’s back and rocking her gently. “Is this another panic attack?”

“No,” Pixel said. “Physical symptoms indicate a stress response, but not a panic attack.”

“Sam?” Sorcha asked.

“Yeah?”

“You said you get like this sometimes. When does it happen?”

“Holidays, usually,” Sam said. “Any time I was out of school and didn’t have anything to do.”

“Tell me what you’re feeling?”

“I…I…feel like there’s something I need to do. Like I’ve forgotten something, and no matter what I do, I can’t remember what it is.”

The pieces started to fall into place for Sorcha.

“Orla told me humans spend a lot of time working,” Sorcha said. “They said it was hard for you to take time away from work. You haven’t had anything to do the last few laethantas. Maybe that’s why you’re feeling this way. You’re so used to working all the time, your body doesn’t know how to respond when you don’t have work to do.”

“I want it to stop,” Sam said.

“How did you deal with it before?” Sorcha asked.

“Pot,” Sam said.

“It’s a drug,” Pixel chimed in. “It’s used for medicinal and recreational purposes on Earth.”

“Do you have any with you?” Sorcha asked.

“No,” Sam said. “It’s not legal to export it.”

“Well then, maybe we just need to distract you,” Sorcha said. “Why don’t you tell me something.”

“What?”

“How did you get started riding those motorbikes?”

“Well,” Sam said. “There was this person…”

Sorcha held on to Sam as she talked, spinning a story about a crush they’d had on one of their friends’ older siblings and the various things Sam had done to try to get their attention. The longer Sam talked, the more relaxed she got, until somewhere around second uair she dozed off in Sorcha’s arms.

Once Sam was asleep, Sorcha carried her back to her room and tucked her into bed next to Orla, who had grumbled and curled up next to them without actually waking up. Sorcha couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the two of them curled up together, but they didn’t linger. They slipped out, went back to their own bed, and did their best to forget how good it had felt to hold Sam in their arms.

Chapter Fifteen

BETH SAT IN THE arrival lounge for the shuttle docking port, trying her best to wait patiently, but the shuttle had been on the ground for almost an hour and Sam was still nowhere to be seen. She was starting to worry. It shouldn’t have taken more than thirty minutes to clear customs. She was tempted to call and ask what the delay was, but she was a little hesitant. She didn’t want to make Sam feel like she didn’t have faith in her.

Her worry was just about to override her reluctance when the doors leading out to the shuttle finally opened and Sam stepped through, along with Orla, a huge dog, and another Sionnach who looked to be about their age, carrying a much smaller dog in their arms. Beth assumed this was Sorcha. She wasn’t sure if she’d seen them before, but Sorcha was definitely striking. They had long, shiny, flowing black hair, a sharp jawline and cheekbones, eyes the color of red brick, black furred ears with white tips, and skin that had a slightly red hue, and even in the loose-fitting Sionnach clothing, Beth could tell they were curvy.

Sorcha said something and Orla looked over at them, their face lighting up. Beth felt a knot form in her stomach, because the look on Orla’s face was the look of someone who was in love. Could that be what this was all about? Was Orla bringing Sam home to dump her? It hadn’t sounded like that on the call she’d received from Orla, but then, details had been fairly thin. Just that they needed a place to stay while their house was finished. Surely Orla wouldn’t have asked for shared sleeping arrangements if things weren’t good between them and Sam.

Beth looked at Sam, who was smiling at Orla like Orla had hung the moon. Sam said something, and Orla laughed and turned towards her while Sorcha glared at Sam. Beth was too far away to make out what it was Sam had said but seeing the way Sorcha looked at Sam made the knot in her stomach worse.

Sam turned toward her, and Beth forced herself to smile as she stood up and started walking towards them.

“Hey, Mom,” Sam said once they got close. Beth smiled and held out her arms, and Sam walked right into them and hugged her tightly. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“You did?” Beth asked. “I figured you’d be too busy between school and your intended.”

Sam broke the hug and stepped back, smiling at her. “Well, you know, a laethanta is almost twenty-nine hours long, so I had a little extra time to fit you in.” She turned slightly towards Orla. “You remember Orla.”

“Of course,” Beth said, and bowed slightly to Orla, the same way she had back on Talamh. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Orla said. “And thank you for opening your home to us.”

“It’s Sam’s home, too,” Beth said. “Which means you’ll always be welcome there.”

Orla beamed at her.

“And this is Sorcha. They’re the reason we’re late.”

“Sam!” Orla said, looking more than a little scandalized.

“What? Grumpy britches here spent a good thirty minutes arguing about putting on sunscreen.”

“It smells funny,” Sorcha growled.

“It smells like coconut,” Sam said.

“I don’t know what coconut is,” Sorcha said.

“Because you wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain,” Sam said, before she turned back to Beth. “We’ll need to stop by the store on the way home and pick up some unscented sunscreen.”

“I could have some delivered if you want to go straight home,” Beth said.

“Normally, I’d say yes, but given that even with my implants, my sense of smell isn’t on par with a Sionnach, I’ll need these two with me to make sure they can actually tolerate the scent of whatever I pick out.”

“I can pick something out for myself,” Sorcha protested.

“And have to listen to Orla complain if you get something they don’t like?” Sam asked. “I don’t think so.”

“Sam has a point,” Orla said. “Even if she is rude.”

“Fine,” Sam said. “Be that way, but I’m going to laugh when we take Sorcha to the beach, and they spend the whole time pouting because everyone smells like coconut.”

“Maybe I just won’t go to the beach,” Sorcha said.

“Oh, you’ll go,” Sam said.

“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” Sorcha said.

“I’ll bet you a month’s pay that you’ll go with us,” Sam said.

“I’ll take that bet,” Sorcha said.

“No, you won’t,” Orla said.

Sorcha turned towards Orla, looking like she wanted to argue, but Orla had already turned to Sam. “No betting.”

“Fine,” Sam said, before turning back to Beth. “Let’s grab an air taxi. We’ve got about two hours before all three of us crash from the jetlag.”

“Okay,” Beth said. “Come on.” She turned around and headed towards the front of the space port, wondering just what the hell was going on between Sam, Orla, and their friend.

***

Sam smiled happily to herself as she hung Orla’s clothes in the half of the closet that she’d set aside for them. Orla was down the hall, taking a shower to get rid of the coconut-scented sunscreen Sam had insisted they wear for their trip from the spaceport. Sam knew that the implants Orla and Sorcha had were supposed to make them immune to the levels of UV radiation present on Earth, but Sam wasn’t willing to take any chances where their health was concerned, and the UV levels on Talamh were so low that the Sionnach never developed any significant resistance to it. Sam had just forgotten how sensitive Sionnach noses were.

Once she’d finished hanging up Orla’s clothes, she glanced around the room. It was still pretty much exactly as she left it since she never got around to sending for her things. Her mom had replaced her old full-sized bed with a nice California king. Not as big as the bed she and Orla had slept in back on Talamh, but it was temporary, so Sam didn’t worry too much about it. She just took a moment to change into her pajamas and turn the bed down. She was about to climb into bed when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Sam said. The door opened and Beth stepped into the room.

“Hey, sweetheart,” her mom said.

“Hey,” Sam said as she sat down on the bed. “Everything okay?”

“I was going to ask you that,” her mom said. She grabbed the chair from Sam’s desk and pulled it over next to the bed, then sat down. “I didn’t expect to see you for years, but then I get a call telling me you’re on the way to Earth. What happened?”

Sam sighed. “That is a long story,” she said. “Short version is, Orla’s parent, Tadgh, got caught doing something they shouldn’t have been doing. Orla’s grandparent got involved, because they’re the Head of House, and I think they realized that Orla wasn’t really happy on Talamh because of some of the social constraints. They sent us here because they thought Orla would be happier here, and I think maybe they were also trying to keep us from getting caught up in the fallout. There’s a lot more to it than that, but I’m too tired to go through it all right now.”

Her mom smiled and nodded. “Okay,” she said. “As long as you’re okay.”

“I am,” Sam said.

“Do you think Orla will be happier here?” her mom asked.

“I think so,” Sam said. “I hope so. Orla and Sorcha both had it rough back on Talamh, and I really hope coming here will make them both happy.”

“You really care about Orla, don’t you?”

“I care about them both,” Sam said. “I love Orla. I know it might sound crazy, but every time I look at them, all I can think is, this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. And Sorcha…we’re still sort of getting to know each other, but they’ve been a great friend. We have a lot in common, and they’re important to Orla. Sorcha and Orla have known each other their whole lives, and Sorcha is just a good person.”

Sam wasn’t quite sure what to make of the look her mom gave her, but before she could ask any questions, her mom reached out and took her hand, squeezing it.

“I’m happy for you,” her mom said. “Orla seems wonderful, and I can tell that they care about you.”

“They do,” Sam said. “How have you been?”

“It’s been hard,” her mom said. “I’ve missed you every day.”

“I missed you too,” Sam said. “And I’m really glad to be home.”

Before her mom could say anything, Morna came trotting into the room, and hopped up on the bed. Sam looked over at them.

“Where’s Orla?” she asked.

Morna let out a small bark and turned towards the door. A moment later, Orla appeared there, wrapped in a fluffy terrycloth robe, with a distracted look on their face.

“Hey, love,” Sam said as she let go of her mom’s hand. “Something wrong?”

Orla looked at her, and Sam could see the disappointment in their eyes. “The bathtub is tiny,” they said.

“Oh,” Sam said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that.” She held out her hand. Orla crossed the room, and after only a moment’s hesitation and a small glance at Beth, they took it, and sat down next to Sam.

“The new house will be ready soon.” Sam said.

“I know,” Orla said. “I just miss our baths.”

“I do too,” Sam said. She glanced over at her mom. “We like to have a soak before bed. It helps get rid of the stress from the day.” There was more to it than that, but she didn’t think her mom needed all the details.

Her mom nodded. “Well, I know it wouldn’t be the same, but we do have a hot tub attached to the pool.”

Orla frowned slightly. “What’s a hot tub?”

“It’s a soaking tub,” Sam said. “It’s not intended for actually getting clean. It’s used to help reduce stress and ease sore muscles. If you want, I’m sure I’ve got a swimsuit that will fit you. We could give it a try tonight.”

Orla nodded. “Thank you, for everything. For inviting us into your home and giving us a place to stay until our new home is ready.”

“You’re family, and wherever else she goes, my home will always be Sam’s home, too.”

Orla smiled, but it was short lived, replaced by a yawn after just a couple of seconds, which made Sam and her mom both laugh.

“I’ll go and let you two get some sleep.”

“Thanks,” Sam said.

“Sorcha’s in the shower,” Orla said.

“I’ll make sure they get settled in. You two rest.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Sam said.

***

Beth was in the kitchen when she heard the water stop running. She grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and headed upstairs so she’d be ready to meet Sorcha when they exited the bathroom. She wasn’t really sure what to expect. She had at least spent some time with Orla back on Talamh, but Sorcha was a complete unknown, and that made her just a bit uncomfortable. She’d never been good with new people.

She stopped and waited in the upstairs hallway. It was only a couple of minutes before the door to the bathroom opened and Sorcha stepped out, wrapped in a big fluffy robe and carrying their little dog in their arms. They paused for a moment at the sight of Beth.

“I’m sorry, were you waiting for the bathroom?”

Beth shook her head. “No. I have one in my bedroom. Sam and Orla laid down for a nap, but they asked me to make sure you got settled okay.” She held up the bottle of water. “I brought you some water, and wanted to know if there’s anything else you needed before you went to sleep.”

“Honestly, I’m not that tired,” Sorcha said.

“No jet-lag?”

Sorcha grinned and shook their head. “They wouldn’t be jet-lagged either, but you know. Young couple. Long trip. Nothing to do…and you’re Sam’s parent, so I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

Beth laughed. “I gathered that something like that might be going on when Orla started complaining about the bathtub being too small to fit both of them.”

Sorcha shook their head. “They’re so cute together it’s a little nauseating sometimes.”

“So, they’re happy?” Beth asked.

Sorcha nodded. “Yeah,” she said, but Beth couldn’t help but notice they sounded a little sad when they said it.

“Are you okay?” Beth asked.

“I could actually use some food,” Sorcha said. “Re-entry always makes me a little sick to my stomach, so I didn’t eat before we took the shuttle down.”

“Oh. Well, I can fix you some breakfast,” Beth said. “Do you know what kind of food you’d like?”

“The only Earth food I’ve tried is chocolate. I really liked that. I’ve been told I should avoid Kiwi fruit. Apparently, it’s a common allergen for Sionnach.”

“Noted,” Beth said. “Come on. If you like chocolate, I have a couple of ideas. Just don’t feed any of it to your dog. It’s highly toxic to canines.”

“The dog’s a robot,” Sorcha said. “Sam didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Beth said. “Is the other one a robot too?”

“Yeah. Sam designed them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Sorcha said. “That’s actually part of why we’re here.”

“Tell you what. I’ll go make some chocolate chip pancakes. You get dressed, and when you come downstairs, you can tell me all about it.”

Sorcha nodded. “Sounds good.”

***

“This is amazing,” Sorcha said between bites of her pancakes. Beth couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, and the way her ears turned forward each time she took a bite. She was pretty sure that if Sorcha had a tail, it would be wagging happily.

“I’m glad you liked them,” Beth said.

“Very much,” Sorcha said. “I was a bit worried about the food since we can’t import anything from Talamh because of the metal content. Orla told me that Earth food was good, but most of the food they’d imported for Sam was already gone by the time we found out we were coming here, so I didn’t get to try anything other than chocolate before we left.”

“Well, I hope you like the rest of our food as much as this,” Beth said. “Chocolate chip pancakes and maple syrup are a good way to build up energy for the day, but they are missing some pretty important vitamins and minerals.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Sorcha said before taking another bite of their pancakes. They chewed happily for a moment, then took a sip of their orange juice.

“So, how do you and Orla know each other?” Beth asked.

“We were gestated together in the same birthing den,” Sorcha said.

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what that means.”

“Sionnach don’t carry their young anymore,” Sorcha said. “We’ve been using artificial wombs for about twelve thousand Earth years or so. It helps prevent genetic and developmental defects in the young, and eliminates risk to the parent who would have to carry the child otherwise. The artificial wombs are kept in birthing dens based on the day of conception. Orla and I were conceived on the same day and born on the same day. We played together as children, were educated together, and have shared the same social circles our whole lives.”

“That’s a strong connection,” Beth said.

“Between Orla and me, yes,” Sorcha said. “Between most people, not really. Orla and I…I’m not sure how to put it in your language. The term we used back home translates as ‘blood of my soul’. It means someone who you love more dearly than even the family you were born to.”

“Did you not get on with your family?” Beth asked.

Sorcha shook their head. “Not really. I’m a bounty child.”

“Bounty child?”

“Talamh is still in the process of repopulating after the Impact…do you know what that is?”

“Yes.”

“Well, law requires each couple to have four children, but the government pays each couple a bounty for any child after the fourth. It’s a way to encourage larger families, but just because a couple is excited about the bounty doesn’t mean they are excited about the child that goes with it. My care was largely left to the bots, and when I got older, I was used to doing things my own way, so when what I wanted to do clashed with my parents, there were disagreements.”

“That’s terrible,” Beth said. “To neglect a child like that.” Sorcha shrugged and took another bite of their pancakes, chewing more slowly this time. Beth suspected they were taking time to formulate an answer.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about Orla and their family. They definitely had a better relationship with their parents than I did, but Orla was always a little different from most Sionnach. I mean that in the best way. Our people can be reserved and formal to a fault, but Orla was always kindhearted and expressive. There’s a softness about them that makes you feel safe and warm in their company. Honestly, I would gladly trade my entire family for Orla. Which I kind of did.”

“How so?”

“How much did Sam and Orla tell you about why we’re here?”

“That Tadgh got caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing, and that Orla’s grandparent got involved and sent the three of you here to keep you away from the fallout. Sam said that was the short version, and she’d tell me the long version after she’d gotten some rest.”

“I’ll let Sam tell the full story, but Saoirse, Orla’s grandparent, paid off my debts to my House so I could come with Orla and Sam.”

“You owed your House money?” Beth asked.

“Yes. It’s common practice for the House to pay for your education, and then for you to work for the House at a reduced salary until you’ve repaid the cost. Sam’s Aug described it as a ‘student loan’.”

“Ah,” Beth said. “That makes sense.”

Sorcha nodded. “When Saoirse paid off my obligations to the House, they offered me a job with House Leargas. When I took the job, I effectively cut any financial ties with my own House. I left on good terms, and I was good at my job. I saved the House a lot of money, so Great Entle Odhran, the head of House Grasta, would probably take me back if I wanted to go, but the truth is, Orla was the only family I needed or wanted for a long time. These days, that group has expanded to include Sam as well.”

“You care for Sam, too?”

“I love them both,” Sorcha said. “I hope it isn’t out of line for me to say so. It would be back home, but Sam said that humans are more open with their emotions.”

“It’s not out of line at all,” Beth said. “I’m just a little surprised. Sam said the two of you were still getting to know each other.”

Sorcha smiled. “That sounds like Sam. To be honest, I don’t think Sam has any idea of the effect she has on people. If she had been anyone else, I’m sure she would have done everything she could to remove me from Orla’s life, but Sam went out of her way to make sure I was included. I’m not sure she really understands just how much she’s given me, but I can tell you this. Your child has made my life so much better than it used to be. Getting to be her friend is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Just, please don’t tell her I said that.”

“Why not?”

“Do you know how hard it is to…oh, what’s the human phrase? Talk trash about someone when they know you have a soft spot for them?”

Sorcha grinned at her as they cut another bite off their pancakes, and Beth couldn’t help but laugh.

***

Orla stood in the bedroom she was sharing with Sam and looked at herself in the mirror. They were wearing one of Sam’s bathing suits, and they couldn’t get over how dreadfully immodest it was. It left their legs, arms and upper back completely bare, and was cut low enough that the tops of their breasts were showing. They’d seen Sam in outfits like this in the videos Sam had sent along with their application, but seeing something in a video was a bit different from actually wearing it. They felt exposed and vulnerable in a way they couldn’t quite describe. And their outfit was nothing compared to what Sam was wearing, which was just a couple of triangles of cloth to cover their breasts, and a scrap of fabric to cover their crotch and ass, all held together with loosely tied strings.

When Sam had first put the ‘bikini’ on, Orla could barely take their eyes off of her. Somehow, it made them even more enticing than they looked when completely naked, but the thought of going out of their room where other people could see them left Orla feeling a little bit queasy, and any anticipation they’d felt for their trip to the hot tub had vanished. They just weren’t sure how to tell Sam that, since Sam seemed excited about it.

“What’s the matter, love?” Sam asked.

“Nothing,” Orla said. It was a lie, but they hated the idea of disappointing Sam because of one of their own cultural hang ups. Before they could say anything else, they felt Sam’s body press up against their back, and strong arms wrap around their waist. Orla closed their eyes when they felt Sam’s lips brush over the pulse point on their neck.

“Is it your suit or mine that’s bothering you?” Sam asked.

Orla sighed. “How did you know?”

“Look at your ears, love.”

Orla opened their eyes and looked at the mirror, and sure enough, their ears were flattened out to the side. A sure sign of discomfort and distress.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

“What for?”

“This has been one of my favorite fantasies since the day we met,” Sam said. “When you told me about seeing the videos I included in my application, I thought about what it would be like to take you to the beach, and to get you into a bikini.”

Orla shuddered as Sam’s thumb traced a small circle on their abs, and they leaned back, seeking more contact.

“I shouldn’t have pushed,” Sam said before dropping another kiss on Orla’s neck.

“It’s okay,” Orla said.

“No, it’s not. I told you I never wanted you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with, but I pushed you into this so I could play out one of my fantasies.”

“I do like the way that suit looks on you,” Orla said.

“You just don’t like the idea of someone else seeing me in it,” Sam said. Orla let out a small sound of protest as Sam let go and walked away. Orla turned towards her, and saw Sam pulling open one of the drawers where she kept her swim clothes. Sam pulled out a couple of shirts and what looked like short pants and carried them over to the bed.

“Here,” Sam said as they started taking the bikini off. Sam said something else, but the words didn’t register, because Orla was too focused on the sight of Sam stripping bare. Sam must have noticed Orla wasn’t paying attention, because she turned to look at them, and a grin spread across her face. She turned a bit, giving Orla a better view as they started pulling on the short pants. Once they were on, Sam tied a draw string that ran through the waist, then picked up the shirt and pulled it on.

“Is this better?” Sam asked, and without the distraction of a very naked Sam in front of them, the words actually registered this time. Orla looked at what Sam was wearing. The top was thin, and clingier than would have been acceptable back home, but it covered neck to wrist to waist. The short pants ended at the knees, but were loose and not at all form fitting. Orla took a moment, thinking about it. Exposing their calves and ankles might have been considered a bit vulgar back home, but they decided that they could live with it.

“Much,” Orla said.

Sam nodded to the top and short pants on the bed. Orla walked over and peeled off the suit they were wearing, then picked up the short pants. They had a sort of thin fabric liner inside, sort of like a pair of panties, and were made of a slick material. Orla glanced up at Sam, a little unsure, only to find Sam staring at them, pupils blown, and her lower lip caught between her teeth. They felt heat in their cheeks, and looked away, a small grin on their face as they stepped into the short pants. They’d been together for close to a bliana at this point, but it always surprised Orla when they could see the signs of Sam’s attraction to them. They took their time tying off the drawstring and pulling on the top, enjoying the small thrill that came with the way Sam was looking at them, but once they were dressed, Sam held out a hand.

“Come on,” Sam said as Orla took their hand. “You’re going to enjoy this.”

Orla let Sam lead them out of the bedroom, absolutely sure Sam was right. After all, they always enjoyed their time with Sam.

***

Sorcha dug through their travel bag, looking for one of the rarely-used items. Unlike Orla, Sorcha occasionally got called off-world because of their work. As a result, they’d learned a long time ago to pack their carry-on with the assumption that they would never see their checked bags again, because there was a reasonable chance they wouldn’t. That was why Sorcha had a swimsuit tucked away at the bottom of their bag.

Beth had mentioned that there was a pool outside the house, and said they were welcome to use it any time they wanted. After being cooped up on a spaceship for nearly a seachtain, a swim sounded wonderful. So, once Sorcha found their swimsuit, they pulled it on, grabbed a towel, and headed downstairs, looking forward to a nice, relaxing swim.

***

Sam had always thought of the hot tub as hers. That mostly had to do with the fact that, to her knowledge, her mom had never used it, or if she had, it was before Sam was old enough to remember. On the other hand, she had used it almost every day. She’d come home from soccer practice, or one of her martial arts classes, or a day of surfing or swim practice, turn the jets on, and climb in. The heat always helped relax her muscles and kept her from being sore the next day.

When she was older, she’d also taken to inviting Jenny to sit with her while she was soaking. They would talk and laugh, and Sam would do her best to ogle Jenny without getting caught, because she was a big gay mess who was crushing hard on her best friend.

To say she had a lot of pleasant memories tied up in the hot tub was a bit of an understatement, but somehow, when she settled on the bench seat, and Orla settled into her lap, all of those memories seemed to disappear, replaced by her contentment in the moment. It might not have been their bathtub, and Orla might not have been in the bikini Sam had daydreamed about, or even the one piece she’d offered Orla at first, but the weight of Orla on her legs and against her chest, the hot water surrounding them, the dark sky and the smattering of stars above them, and the sound of the ocean rolling in all made it perfect.

She tilted her head to the side and placed a kiss on Orla’s neck, and Orla moaned and pushed back into her. Sam tightened her arms around Orla, thinking of all things she wanted to do the next time they were in their own tub.

“Don’t tease,” Orla whined.

“Sorry,” Sam said.

“You don’t sound sorry.”

Sam laughed. “I can’t help it,” she said. “I’ve missed this.”

“So have I,” Orla said.

“I love you,” Sam said. “In case I haven’t said it often enough the last few days.”

“You have, but I never get tired of hearing it, because I love you, too.”

Sam closed her eyes and leaned her head against Orla’s. She was so tempted to suggest they get out and head back upstairs, but she could feel the tension and the stress that had built up over the last few days just starting to seep out of her, and she knew it would be better for both of them to stay, and let the water work its magic. Knowing didn’t stop her from wanting to feel Orla against her, skin on skin, from wanting to touch her and taste her and make love to her until both of them were too exhausted to move, and then to fall asleep with Orla in her arms.

Before she could get too far down that line of thought, she heard the tell-tale sound of the sliding glass door, and she opened her eyes, half expecting her mom to be coming out to check on them, only to find Sorcha, one foot in the house, one foot on the pool deck, looking poleaxed as they stared at them. She felt Orla tense up in her arms and felt a flush of embarrassment of her own at being caught in an intimate moment.

Except they weren’t really doing anything to be embarrassed about. Sure, back on Talamh, what they were doing would be considered borderline obscene in public, but this wasn’t Talamh, it was Earth. And wasn’t that the whole reason they were here? To give Orla and Sorcha the freedom to actually express their emotions, and get the physical affection they both wanted and needed without the shame and stigma that came with it back on Talamh.

As she watched Sorcha stare at them, she was reminded painfully of the freakout that Orla had the day they had gotten excited and kissed her in front of Sorcha, and she didn’t want to let that happen again. If she acted embarrassed, it would only add to what Orla and Sorcha were already feeling, and that only really left one option.

“Hey, Sorcha,” Sam called out in a bright, cheerful tone.

“Uh…I…um…I’m sorry,” Sorcha said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Sam said. “Come on over.”

Sam felt Orla tense up in her arms and saw Sorcha’s eyes get wide.

“Um…”

“Come on,” Sam said. “You can’t come all the way to Earth and not try a hot tub at least once.”

Sorcha looked just a bit like a kid who had been called to the principal’s office as they stepped out onto the pool deck and slid the door closed.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Come on before we both get all wrinkled and pruney,” Sam said, trying her best to sound annoyed and impatient.

Sorcha picked up their pace just a little, and as they approached, Sam lifted Orla off her lap, and set them down on the bench seat next to her. Sorcha stopped right beside the hot tub, looking down at them, their expression saying they were ready to bolt.

“Come on in,” Sam said.

“I…um…I don’t want to intrude,” Sorcha said.

Sam watched as Sorcha looked down at Orla. She held her breath for a moment, not sure how Orla would handle it, but Orla glanced over at her. She gave a small nod, and Orla turned back to Sorcha and smiled at them.

“Join us,” Orla said.

Sorcha gave a small, nervous nod, but they set their towel down and carefully lowered themself into the hot tub. Once they were settled in next to Orla, Sam scooted a little towards Orla, pushing them along the tile of the bench seat until they were pressed against Sorcha’s side. Both of them tensed up for a second, though Sam suspected that was more out of habit than anything else, because they almost immediately relaxed into the contact. Sam stretched her arm out, laying it across Orla’s shoulders, and gently rested her hand between Sorcha’s shoulder blades. She gave Sorcha a questioning look, silently asking if it was okay, and got a small nod in return. She flashed Sorcha a smile before closing her eyes and settling in against Orla’s side.

It wasn’t how she’d expected the evening to go, but she could tell from the way Orla leaned against her that she’d done the right thing. Or that she’d done the thing that would make Orla happy, which in her book was pretty much the same thing.

***

Sorcha lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with the last hour or so running through their head, not sure at all what to make of it. They weren’t really tired. Their body was still operating on the longer sleep/wake cycle from Talamh, but going to bed gave them an excuse to avoid interacting with Beth, Sam, or Orla, and right now, they needed that.

They hadn’t expected to find Sam and Orla in the hot tub. They’d expected the pool to be empty, but if seeing them there had been a shock, being invited to join them…Sorcha didn’t have words. They’d thought for a moment that Sam had been teasing, but then she’d told her a second time to join them, and Sorcha wasn’t sure what was happening. They still weren’t, but with Sam and Orla both asking them, there was no way they couldn’t crawl into the hot tub with them. And then Orla was pressed against their side, and Sam’s hand was on their back, and Sorcha wasn’t sure if they were in paradise or if they were being tortured.

Maybe a little of both. It certainly felt that way. Touching Orla always did. They’d dreamed of it for so long, of being able to touch Orla whenever they wanted, but now that they could, they found themself insatiable. The more they touched Orla, the more they wanted to touch them, to hold them. To step past the limits Sam had set when they had given Sorcha permission.

And to make matters worse, it wasn’t just Orla, either. Sam’s touch was just as enticing. They had sat there in the hot tub, pressed up against Orla, imagining the hand Sam had pressed against their back sliding up through their hair and finding their ears, while the hand Orla had rested on their knee slipped up higher.

They grabbed the blanket in their fists, squeezing tightly, trying to push the image out of their minds, trying to forget the ghosts of the touches from just a few minutes ago. They hated Sam for inviting them into that tub, and they hoped it happened again.

Why did they have to keep falling for people who were out of their reach?

Before they could even start to think of an answer to that question, their ears twitched as a sound filled them with dread. It was a soft whine. They felt Choth move on the bed next to them, and glanced down to see them staring at the wall that separated their room from the one Sam and Orla were staying in. Another sound, a low moan this time, carried through the wall, and Sorcha dropped their head back, and picked up the spare pillow, pressing it down over their ears.

The whimper they heard a moment later told them the pillow wasn’t going to help.

***

Sam stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. By all rights, she should be happy and content. She’d had a good dinner. She was relaxed after a nice, long soak in the hot tub. She had Orla pressed against her side, one of Orla’s hands resting on her sternum, and one of their thighs caught between her legs. Her body ached slightly from love making that was maybe just a little too enthusiastic in Earth’s lower gravity, and the two of them were wrapped in a warm, heavy quilt. She was full of good food, relaxed, sated, and warm.

She should have drifted off and followed Orla into sleep, but she couldn’t. Her mind was restless, going back to the hot tub, wondering if she’d made the right decision. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and after their initial hesitation, Orla and Sorcha had both seemed happy, but the more Sam thought about it, the more sure she was that something was off about Sorcha.

It was a hard balance to strike. On the one hand, she didn’t want to come between Orla and Sorcha. She knew how much they cared about each other, and she couldn’t stand the thought of hurting either of them. She loved Orla, and somehow, Sorcha had come to matter to her, too. She hated the thought of coming between them, but she couldn’t get around the fact that no matter what she did, she was between them. Orla and Sorcha loved each other, and they wanted to be together, but Orla was engaged to Sam, and they loved each other and wanted to be together, too.

She felt a little trapped, like whatever she did, someone she cared about was going to get hurt. If she stepped aside so Orla and Sorcha could be together, then Orla would get hurt, and she would get hurt, and she knew it was probably a bit melodramatic, but she wasn’t sure she’d get over the heartbreak if she lost Orla. But if she didn’t step aside, if she stayed with Orla, then Sorcha and Orla got hurt.

She wondered if she had any right to stay with Orla. Sorcha and Orla had been together first. It was made all the more confusing by the fact that she had offered to walk away, but Orla had said she wanted Sam to stay. Except she said that part of the reason she wanted Sam to stay was that she’d made promises to her, but those promises were made under duress, and Sam wasn’t sure a promise made under duress was a promise worth keeping.

Orla had said, over and over again, that she didn’t want to be a burden or a business arrangement, and Sam had done everything she could to make sure Orla knew that she had never felt that way about her. At least, not after she’d actually met them, but she wondered if that’s what she was to Orla. An obligation that existed because of a promise made under duress.

She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to believe that Orla loved her, and that Orla was with her because they wanted to be, but there was a doubt niggling at the back of Sam’s mind.

And then there was Sorcha. Sorcha who was beautiful, and kind, and who, despite all reason, Sam absolutely trusted with Orla. She knew that no matter how much they might want to, Sorcha would never step over the limits Sam had set. Which just made it that much worse, because Sorcha was a good person who didn’t deserve what had happened to her any more than Orla did.

Orla shifted, pressing a little closer and muttering slightly. Sam smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Orla’s forehead.

“Go back to sleep, love,” she whispered.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Orla grumbled.

“Sorry,” she said.

“What’s wrong?” Orla asked.

“Nothing,” Sam said. “My brain just won’t turn off.”

“Do I need to wear you out some more?” Orla asked.

“You’d pass out halfway through,” Sam said.

“Would not,” Orla protested.

She pressed another kiss to Orla’s forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

Orla grumbled a little, but snuggled against Sam’s side. “Love you,” she said.

“Love you, too,” Sam said, biting down a laugh when Orla let out a soft snore before Sam finished the sentence.

Sam pressed another kiss to Orla’s forehead and closed her eyes, deciding she could sort the mysteries of the universe, and her relationship, out in the morning. She had a wonderful, beautiful, very naked person who she loved in her arms, and for now, that would be enough.

Her last thought, before drifting off, was ridiculous. She thought, maybe in the morning, she could talk to her mom. She fell asleep laughing at the idea.

Chapter Sixteen

BETH FROWNED AS SHE descended the stairs Friday morning. It was still early, but she heard sounds coming from below, and she wondered if Orla or Sorcha were already up. She didn’t mind them using the kitchen if that’s what was going on, but she was concerned that they might hurt themselves on some unfamiliar piece of equipment. It never occurred to her that she’d find Sam in the kitchen that early, which was why she was surprised as she stepped through the doorway and saw her daughter dancing around as she carried an arm full of ingredients from the refrigerator over to the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“What’s this?” Beth asked. Sam jumped at the sound and fumbled for a moment, nearly dropping a large tub of Greek yogurt. Sam looked up at her once she’d stabilized the pile of items she was carrying.

“Pixel, pause music,” Sam said. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Pixel?” Beth asked.

Sam set the food down and tapped the side of her head. “The AI that lives in my Aug. I know most people don’t name them, but I didn’t want to spend my whole life calling the voice in my head ‘hey you’. Seemed a little rude.”

Beth nodded. “I forgot about that,” she said. “I’m not sure I’d ever get used to it.”

“I’m not sure how I ever lived without it,” Sam said. “Pixel’s a good person. A little bit of a mother hen sometimes, but he means well.”

“Well, if he helps take care of you, I approve,” Beth said. “Now, what’s all this?”

“Breakfast,” Sam said. “Orla and Sorcha like a meat heavy breakfast, so I was making gyros for them.”

“You cook?” Beth asked.

“I follow instructions,” Sam said. “Pixel is good at finding recipes online. Back on Talamh, I mostly left the cooking to the bots, but right now, they’re all packed up in shipping crates until the house is done.”

“Would you like some help?”

“Oh, God, yes!” Sam said. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Beth laughed and looked at what was laid out on the counter. There was Greek yogurt, English cucumbers, lemons, dill, some packaged, sliced gyro meat, and a bunch of vegetables.

“Tell me where to start,” Beth said.

Sam smiled and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small disk. “Pixel,” she said. The disk floated up out of her hand, and one side of it opened to reveal a camera and a couple of small speakers.

“Morning, Mom,” a male voice said. “I’m Pixel.”

“Nice to meet you, Pixel,” Beth said.

“Likewise,” Pixel said. “Now, let’s help, hopeless here, impress her people.”

“Hey!” Sam said. “I’m not hopeless!”

The disk rotated so the camera was pointed at Sam, and just floated there for a minute until Sam huffed and shot it the bird.

***

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I mean, it’s more of a quick and dirty first-pass prototype based on the selfie drone design I did for House Leargas. I just figured that since most people on Earth don’t have Augs that Pixel can uplink to, having an avatar that he can speak through would be helpful when I want to bring him into a conversation. I wanted to do something a bit more…I don’t know if anthropomorphic is the right term, since I wasn’t thinking of a human form, but definitely something more animated than a floating hockey puck. I thought about a robot parrot, but to be honest, I didn’t have a lot of time to work since we only had a few days to pack, and I had to break down my lab. It was easier to just slap some speakers and an automated dust cover on the design I already had and save anything more advanced for when I got the lab set up here.”

“If this is a quick and dirty prototype, I can’t wait to see what you consider a refined design,” her mom said. “This is amazing.”

Sam felt her cheeks heat up, and she looked away from the holographic exploded view the ‘hockey puck’ was projecting of itself. “It’s not that big a deal,” she said. “Most of the components are off-the-shelf. The only thing I designed myself was the PCB and the housing.”

“That just makes it even more impressive,” her mom said. “Building something like this from existing components is harder than designing everything from scratch. You have to make sure everything talks to each other in whatever languages they speak, then you have to pack base components into a small space. Really, Sam. Don’t sell yourself short. I’ve shipped finished products that weren’t half as elegant as what you’ve got here. You should be proud of yourself.”

Sam looked at her mom and couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t often she got to see her mom looking at her with pride, and it had always felt amazing. Now more so than before she’d left.

“I keep telling her that,” Orla said. Sam turned around to see Orla and Sorcha standing in the entrance to the kitchen. Orla had a huge smile on their face, while Sorcha was smiling and holding Choth with their left arm and petting them with their right hand. Morna was standing beside Orla, panting and looking a little bored.

“Hey,” Sam said. “Come on in.” Orla took a seat next to Sam, and Sorcha sat down across from them.

“I missed you,” Orla said. “I don’t like waking up alone.”

“I know,” Sam said. “But we have a lot to do today, and I figured since I was having trouble sleeping, I might as well make myself useful.”

“Oh?” Orla asked. “What useful thing did you do?”

“I made breakfast,” Sam said.

“Poisoning us all is not a useful way to start the morning,” Sorcha said.

Sam turned and glared at them, but Sorcha just smiled and kissed Choth on the head.

“Fine,” Sam huffed. “I stood around and watched while Mom made breakfast.”

“That does sound a bit safer,” Orla said.

“They’ve got you there, boss,” Pixel said through the hockey puck.

“No one asked you,” Sam grumbled.

Her mom reached out and rubbed Sam’s shoulder. “She tried. Sadly, she doesn’t get her cooking skills from me. Give me a minute. We were waiting until you two came down to actually heat up the meat.”

She watched as her mom walked over to the stove and started putting strips of gyro meat in a skillet, then turned back to Orla and Sorcha. This was the morning of their sixth day on Earth, and Sam still felt just as lost about what to do about their situation as she had their first night. More so since Sorcha joining them in the hot tub had become a nightly occurrence. It was part of what had driven her out of bed so early that morning, and it left her feeling more off balance than she had at any point since she met Orla.

“Have you scheduled the air-car?” Orla asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “It should be here at ten.”

“Where are you guys headed today?” her mom asked.

“The inspector finally came out and looked at the property Friday,” Sam said. “We’re going over to the construction site to have a look.”

“How quickly do you think the house will go up?” her mom asked, and Sam could hear the hesitation in her voice. She understood a bit of it. Her mom had taken two weeks off work, and Sam had been enjoying spending time with her.

“Unless there are any delays, we should be ready to move in by Friday,” Sam said.

“That’s fast,” Beth said.

“It’s a modular construction system,” Sam said. “The frame of the house will go together like Lego, and then it’s just sort of plastered over with a high-tech composite. Since bots do the construction, they’re able to work around the clock. Most of the structure should be finished by mid-day Wednesday. After that, it’s a matter of getting our things unpacked and arranged.”

“What’s Lego?” Orla asked.

“They’re a kind of building toy for children,” Sam said. “I’ve got a few sets upstairs. I’ll show you when we get home.”

“Would you like to come with us to see the house?” Orla asked.

Her mom’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’d love to,” she said. “Will there be enough room in the car?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “The car seats six.”

“Great. I can’t wait to see it.”

***

Beth couldn’t help smiling as she gathered up her things for the trip to the new house. Breakfast had been a huge hit. Apparently, lamb tasted a lot like something called gabhar, which was one of Orla’s favorite foods, and Orla and Sorcha both gushed over the tzatziki sauce. Their enthusiasm had put a huge smile on Sam’s face, and Sam had pulled Beth aside and asked if they could do roast lamb with mint sauce for dinner. It was a simple thing, but Beth felt a warm glow of pride at how much work she saw Sam putting into taking care of Orla and Sorcha every day. That, along with the pride she felt at seeing the work Sam had done on the drone and the dogs, made her think that maybe she hadn’t messed up the whole parenting thing too badly. Sam was turning out to be the kind of person Beth had always hoped she would be. Someone who was better, and more whole, than Beth herself was.

“Car’s here,” Sam called out.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Beth said. She slung her purse over her shoulder and double checked that she had her phone and her wallet inside, then headed for the door. She found Sam, Orla, and Sorcha waiting for her. Morna, as always, was right by Orla’s heel, Choth was curled up in Sorcha’s arm, and Pixel’s little hockey puck floated over Sam’s shoulder.

“Ready?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Beth said.

Sam opened the door and they all filed out. Sam stopped long enough to lock up the house, then they all headed down the drive towards the car. Beth stopped the moment she got a good look at it. A front grill squared off on the bottom and the sides, but came to a point in the middle of the top. A hood ornament that looked like a woman with a pair of wings pointed straight back, and two overlapping R’s right under it.

“Is that a Rolls Royce?” Beth asked.

Sam stopped and looked at her for a moment, then back at the car. “Pixel?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Did you book us a Rolls Royce?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons,” Pixel said. “One, you can afford it. Seriously, boss. I don’t think you’ve quite realized just how loaded you are yet. And two, I figured, if we’re going to ride, we might as well ride in style.”

“Is there a problem?” Orla asked.

“No,” Sam said. “Just a little bit of a surprise. The car is a lot nicer than I could have afforded before I went to work for the House.”

Orla flicked their ears. “Well, if it’s not nice enough, we can find something better next time.”

Sam laughed. “I don’t think that will be a problem,” she said.

Orla’s eyes flicked again. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Rolls Royce has a reputation for making the most luxurious cars on the planet,” Sam said. “But they’re also the most expensive. Not something we could afford before.”

“Ah,” Orla said.

The doors to the air-car slid open, and Sorcha climbed in first, followed by Orla, and then Sam, the three of them taking up the entire forward-facing bench seat. Beth climbed in and sat on the rear-facing seat. The doors slid shut, and Morna lay down on the floor. Almost as if they’d rehearsed it, Sam slid an arm around Orla’s shoulders, and Orla leaned in and rested their head on Sam’s shoulder, but at the same time, they held out their left hand, and Sorcha caught it and laced their fingers together.

It took everything in Beth not to frown. If Orla and Sorcha had been human, she wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but they weren’t. They were Sionnach, and Beth remembered very well how strict the taboos against casual touch on Talamh were. She glanced at Sam, who was gazing at Orla with a besotted expression on her face, and hoped that she was misinterpreting what she was seeing. After all, Sam had lived on Talamh for months, and Beth had only been there for a few days. It was possible that the primer she’d been given on Sionnach culture had left out some of the nuance regarding physical contact.

She hoped that was the case, and that there wasn’t something going on between Orla and Sorcha that Sam was missing because she was interpreting their behavior by human standards. Beth liked Orla and Sorcha a lot, but Sam was her priority, and she would never forgive herself if she'd put Sam in a position that led to her getting her heart broken again.

“Pixel, let’s go,” Sam said. The car lifted off, and Beth did her best to put what she was seeing out of her head so she could enjoy the trip, but she needed to have a talk with Sam when they got home.

***

“Boss, we’re coming up on the construction site,” Pixel said.

“Thanks Pixel,” Sam said. She hadn’t been asleep, but she’d definitely drifted away from the moment. Being in a car with Orla, Sorcha, and her mom felt a little like two worlds colliding. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just a bit of a confusing one. She was so used to…not necessarily being in charge, but to speaking with authority when she was with Orla and Sorcha. When she was with her mother, she was used to being told what to do. Finding herself with Orla, Sorcha, and her mother left her on unsure footing.

She wondered if it was the difference between being a child and being an adult. She’d definitely been a functioning adult back on Talamh. One who made decisions for herself, and for her family, and she was starting to realize that she’d never been an adult on Earth. She’d always accepted her mom’s authority. She might argue for what she wanted, but when it came to it, her mom had always had the final say.

Now, she was back on Earth, living in her mom’s house, at least temporarily, but still someone with a job, a family of her own, and a not inconsiderable amount of personal wealth that she’d earned on her own. She was still an adult, but there was still a part of her that kept waiting for her mom to start giving orders, and she wondered how she would respond when it happened.

She took a deep breath and pushed the thought aside. Now wasn’t really the time for it. She had things to do, and this would be the day Orla and Sorcha saw the house she’d designed for the three of them for the first time.

“Activate the external view hologram and have the car do a slow loop of the property so we can get a good look,” Sam said.

The top and the sides of the air-car seemed to disappear, leaving them appearing to be sitting on bench seats floating in the air with just a floor holding them up. The car tilted as it started a long, slow loop of the property, and Sam smiled as she looked down.

The house was still fairly early in construction. The foundation was laid and the frame was up, but from what Sam could see, it looked like the bots were still working on running the plumbing, wiring, and duct work. None of the walls were in for the main house, though Sam did smile at the progress on the three transparent geodesic domes off to one side, which looked to be nearly finished. The bots were glazing the upper windows.

“That’s big,” her mom said, and honestly, Sam couldn’t really argue. The main house was a large curving building that was a good bit bigger than her high school.

“It is,” Sam said, “But it’s not just a house for us. It’s the seat for House Leargas on Earth. It’s got a small residence for Saoirse, as well as apartments for Orla’s parents and their entles, and a guest wing for other members of the House who might need accommodations. Plus, there are business offices for the House, as well as for Orla and Sorcha, a lab and an office for me, a couple of guest labs, a fully-stocked fabber plant, a banquet hall, a reception hall, a small learning center, a birthing den, and a bunch of other stuff. Honestly, I’m a little worried that it’s too small.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Orla said.

Sam looked at Orla and smiled. “Are you just saying that to spare my feelings?”

“No, they’re saying that because Pixel would have told on you if you got it wrong,” Sorcha said, which made Orla, Sorcha, and Pixel all break out laughing. Sam glared at them for a few seconds before she started laughing too.

“Keep it up, and I’ll tell the bots you’re allergic to chocolate,” Sam said.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Sorcha said.

“Try me,” Sam said.

“We’re headed in,” Pixel announced through the drone.

The holographic display shut down as the car started its descent, coming in for a gentle landing near a small trailer that served as the office for the construction crew. Once the car touched down, they climbed out to find a human woman and a purple-skinned man waiting for them.

The purple man gave them a small bow. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Bandhula, chief architect on this project. This is Payton, the construction supervisor. How may we help you?”

“I’m Sam Murray. This is my mother, Beth, my intended, Orla of House Leargas, and our friend and business associate, Sorcha of House Grasta. We’re here to view the progress on the construction.”

“Of course,” Bandhula said. “It is a pleasure to meet you. With your permission, Payton will conduct the tour, and then I will be available to answer any questions once you are done.”

Sam gave Orla a quick look, and when Orla nodded, she turned back to Bandhula. “That’s fine.”

Bandhula bowed again, then turned and headed back into the office while Payton stepped forward.

“Do you shake?” Payton asked, lifting her hand. “I’m never quite sure with humans who’ve spent a good deal of time around aliens, but I don’t want to be rude.”

Sam gave a small bow. “I don’t,” she said. “I hope you don’t think I’m being rude.”

“No, of course not,” Payton said with a smile that showed a bit of relief. “I know that we’re going to have to make some changes to adapt to our new neighbors.” Payton then bowed to Orla and Sorcha. “Welcome to our world.”

“Thank you,” Orla and Sorcha both said as they returned the bow.

Payton turned to her mom, who bowed to her before she could offer her hand, and Sam did her best not to look surprised. The gesture seemed to satisfy Payton, who smiled a little wider at all of them.

“Come this way. I have a gravity platform for the inspection.”

They followed Payton over to a small platform with a rail around the edges and climbed aboard. Once they were all on the platform, Sam watched Payton move her hands in a pattern that was clearly a control sequence for an Aug implant. She was a little surprised, but the relief she’d seen when she’d declined to shake Payton’s hand made a bit more sense. Payton had probably spent enough time off-world to be uncomfortable with the practice.

“Those are lovely dogs,” Payton said as the platform lifted off the ground and slowly drifted towards the house. “I didn’t realize the Talamhi Sionnach were in the habit of keeping pets.”

“It’s not a common habit,” Orla said. “Though I think that has more to do with the cost than a lack of desire, but these are actually robots, not live animals.”

“Really?” Payton asked.

“Yes. Sam designed them,” Orla said, and Sam couldn’t help but smile at the pride she could see on Orla’s face and hear in their voice. Orla reached down and petted Morna’s head. “She’s an engineer, and a very talented one.”

Payton nodded and looked at Sam. “I’m forced to agree,” she said. “I never would have known they weren’t real.”

“Thank you, but honestly, it was self-defense. I made the mistake of showing Orla a puppy video, and after that, I had to get them a dog. Since Earth fauna hasn’t been cleared for export, Morna here was the next best thing.”

“And what about the little one?” Payton asked, gesturing to Choth.

“Oh, that one is programmed to chew up something important any time Sorcha annoys me,” Sam said.

“Sam,” Orla said in a warning tone.

“What?” Sam asked. “It’s not like it actually worked. The little traitor hasn’t eaten so much as a shoe.”

“That’s because Choth has good taste,” Sorcha said.

“Then why do they like you?” Sam asked. She was rather proud of the fact that it made her mom and Payton both laugh.

***

Sorcha had stopped paying attention to the tour of the residence after about five minutes. It wasn’t that they weren’t interested in their new home, it was just that the home was little more than a poured foundation, some pipes, wires, and framing members, and an augmented reality projection fed through to their Augs, or in Beth’s case, a pair of augmented reality goggles. Orla and Beth both seemed terribly absorbed in the tour, but honestly, Sorcha was more interested in exploring their new home once it was finished. They wanted to make a game or an adventure of it instead of just absorbing a map that would never really tell the full story anyway. So Sorcha spent most of the tour leaning against the rail of the gravity platform, making polite noises in the right places, while their mind was focused on Sam.

They’d expected Sam to be just as focused on the tour as Orla and Beth, but when Sam did ask questions, Sorcha had the distinct impression it was due to a bit of prompting by Pixel, and that Pixel was the one actually paying attention. Sam just seemed impatient, and Sorcha couldn’t help but wonder why. At first, they had thought maybe it was just that Sam wanted a look at their lab. After all, that was where they’d be spending most of their time, but that theory was dispelled pretty early on in the tour when they visited Sam’s lab. Sam had seemed to come alive a bit and had asked a lot of questions, but once they moved beyond the lab space, Sam’s impatience only seemed to grow, leaving Sorcha wondering what was so important.

They knew they were probably only noticing because they’d become hyper aware of Sam lately. Ever since they’d held Sam in their arms that night on the ship. The nights spent in the hot tub weren’t helping, and neither were the little, casual touches around the house. Sorcha might have excused those as Sam reverting to human behavior, since she and Beth also exchanged casual touches without reservation or shame, but the times they had left the house for one reason or other, Sam had been very careful to avoid physical contact with anyone. It hadn’t taken Sorcha long to realize that Sam was doing so for Orla’s benefit. They’d spotted more than a few moments when Sam had started to reach out to shake a hand, or make some similar gesture, only to check themself. There was always a quick glance towards Orla after. At the same time, Sam was also encouraging Orla to be more open about casual touch, doing things like holding their hand or putting an arm around them in front of Beth or Sorcha.

It was all very clever. A calculated approach to ease Orla towards human social norms with regards to touch. Sorcha loved how sensitive it was to both of Orla’s needs. Their desire for physical contact and the lifelong socialization against that contact. There was something so calculated about it, Sorcha wondered if Sam had gotten it out of some kind of instruction book. They made a note to ask Sam about it the next time the two of them were alone.

“I think that just leaves the domes,” Payton said.

Sorcha wouldn’t have paid any attention to the words if they hadn’t had such a profound effect on Sam. Sam stood up straight, and the impatient expression was replaced with a bright smile as Sam glanced over at Sorcha. Sorcha frowned slightly, wondering what was going on.

“I had wondered what those were,” Orla said. “I assumed they were some human thing.”

“Not exactly,” Sam said. “More of a human design for something both our cultures share.” Sam turned to Payton. “Please. I’m eager to see the progress.”

“Of course,” Payton said. They made a small gesture, and the grav platform started down what looked like would be a covered walkway when it was finished. The walkway led into a large geodesic dome, and Sorcha’s breath caught as they took in the interior of the building.

“This is greenhouse one,” Payton said. “We’re installing soil beds, per request. You’ll have a total soil depth of six feet in each planter bed, with the upper soil level at three feet above the access path height. Bandhula took your suggestion, and designed everything to be modular, so if you decide at a later date that you want to convert this greenhouse over to hydroponics or aeroponics, you can just disconnect the plumbing for the soil beds and swap the module out. And you can do the same with the hydroponics modules in greenhouse two, or the aeroponics modules in greenhouse three, if you decide you want to install soil beds there. All three greenhouses will give you a full acre of arable land with the soil beds installed. Of course, with hydroponics and aeroponics, you can have higher growth density, but if you do, you’ll need to start using grow lights instead of relying on natural sunlight.”

“Did you find a botanist?” Sam asked.

“We did,” Payton said. “They prepared a list of everything you’ll be able to grow and created the matched recommendation list based on the holograms you sent, along with packets on how to grow the various plants in soil, as well as in a hydroponic or aeroponic system if possible. I even had the landscape architect work up a simulation for each of the greenhouses based on the plant list and the holograms.”

“Let’s see it,” Sam said.

Payton made an activation gesture for their Aug, and a new augmented reality feed sprang to life around them. The room filled with colors as virtual plants sprang into existence. Sorcha saw vines and brambles filled with berries, beds of greens, squash, gourds and melons, and row after row of flowers in dozens of shapes and colors.

They weren’t the same plants they'd grown back on Talamh, but it was clear that the garden they were seeing was someone’s attempt to replicate their garden, just on a much larger scale.

“And the microclimate greenhouses?” Sam asked.

“We went ahead and did all the inground work and capped it off. If you decide to proceed, we can have them up and running within a day of the building permits being issued,” Payton said.

“Microclimate greenhouses?” Sorcha asked.

Sam looked over at them. “The three main domes will have adaptable climate controls, but they are limited to a single climate for the entire dome. I had them go ahead and put in the underground runs for a pair of greenhouses that can be divided up into up to four individual climates each. I wanted to go ahead and have them built out, but I wasn’t sure Saoirse would sign off on the budget expenditure for any of the greenhouses, so I paid for the domes out of my own funds instead of including them in the residence budget. I figured you could start with the domes, and get used to Earth plants, and then you can expand into the more finicky stuff like orchids and succulents once my royalties start coming in from the camera drones and the robot dogs.”

“You did all of this for me, out of your own pocket?” Sorcha asked as a confusing swirl of emotions washed over them. On the one hand, they couldn’t quite believe that someone other than Orla cared enough about them to do something like this. On the other hand, it was just such a Sam thing to do.

“Yeah,” Sam said, a little hesitation in their voice. “Did…did I do something wrong? I thought you’d like it.”

Sorcha held Choth out to Orla, who took them without saying a word, and once their hands were free, they stepped across the platform and hugged Sam as tightly as they could.

“Thank you,” Sorcha said, doing their best not to cry.

“So, you like it?” Sam asked, still sounding a little confused.

“Sam,” Orla said.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and hug Sorcha back.”

“Right.”

***

Sam couldn’t help but laugh as Orla sat down in her lap and stuck their bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

“Did it occur to you that I’m trying to get some work done?” Sam asked, her voice filled with amusement.

“Did it occur to you that I need my intended to pay attention to me?” Orla replied, their voice low and full of promise.

Sam chuckled. “I’m not going to ‘pay attention to you’ in the middle of the living room, where my mom could walk in on us at any moment.”

“I was thinking you could take me upstairs to our bedroom and pay attention to me there.”

“Someone has itchy ears,” Sam said.

Orla leaned in and nipped Sam’s earlobe with their teeth. “Come upstairs and scratch them,” they whispered.

Sam squeezed her legs together, trying to quench the fire Orla’s tone had ignited between them. The truth was, she wanted nothing more than to carry Orla upstairs and spend the afternoon scratching that particular itch, but there were a couple of things that made her hesitate. One, if she and Orla disappeared into the bedroom for a few hours, she would lose any sort of plausible deniability with Beth. It was one thing for her mom to be aware, in general terms, that she and Orla were sleeping together, but it was another for Beth to know that she was sneaking off in the middle of the afternoon for a not-so-quickie. The second thing was that she was trying to avoid rubbing her and Orla’s relationship in Sorcha’s face. She had hoped that Sorcha was okay with things, but every time she looked at Sorcha lately, Sorcha was wearing that longing look. It actually seemed to be getting worse, because Sam had seen it a few times when Orla wasn’t even in the room with them. She was still hoping maybe they’d find someone for Sorcha here on Earth, but that was going to take time, and she didn’t want to hurt Sorcha in the meantime, which led into the last thing on the list. The fact that after Orla had fallen asleep the night before, Sam had heard a few noises coming from Sorcha’s room that made her realize that without Sionnach-quality soundproofing in the walls, their bedroom wasn’t quite as private as they had assumed.

All very good reasons not to give in to temptation, and all reasons Sam decided she was perfectly willing to ignore as she felt Orla’s tongue sliding over a pulse point on her neck. A moment later, she moaned as Orla nipped at the same skin they had been licking.

“I want you,” Orla whispered, the words whispered in Oriad instead of English. They reached up, and cupped Sam’s breast, and Sam bit her lip and slipped a hand up, reaching for the sensitive spot on the small of Orla’s back.

“Sam?” Beth called out, and Sam froze, the sound of her mom’s voice having roughly the same effect on her nearly out of control desire as a bucket of ice water. It apparently did the same to Orla, who scrambled off her lap with about as much grace as a cat climbing out of a bath.

Once Orla was settled on the couch next to her, she called out, “Yeah, Mom?”

Beth stepped around the corner, and Sam had to fight down the urge to groan, because there was no way Beth hadn’t walked in on them, then backed out of the room before they noticed.

“Hey,” Beth said, a forced smile on her face. “Orla, I was wondering if I could borrow Sam for a bit.”

Orla glanced over at her, and Sam nodded. “Go bother Sorcha,” she said.

“Okay,” Orla said. Sam could feel their reluctance to leave, but they headed out of the living room and up the stairs. Once they were out of sight, Sam turned back to Beth.

“What’s up?” she asked.

Beth came over and sat down in one of the easy chairs facing the couch. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some things. I was trying to wait for a moment when I could catch you alone, but we don’t have a lot of time left before you move to the new house, so I figured it was better to just go ahead and make the time now.”

“Okay,” Sam said, not entirely sure she liked where this was going. It felt way too much like the talks they used to have that ended up with Sam signed up for some new class she didn’t want to take, or some new extra-curricular activity she wasn’t interested it, or some other new something that would eat away at whatever few minutes she had left in a given day to have an actual life. Her heart slammed inside her chest in a way not unlike the way it had during the dinner with Saoirse. Sam took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was an adult. That whatever Beth was about to ask her to do, she could say no.

“Boss, are you okay?” Pixel asked.

“What did you want to talk about?” Sam asked, ignoring Pixel’s question.

Her mom hesitated for a moment. She looked over at the doorway, then turned back to Sam. “I wanted to talk to you about Orla.”

The tension Sam felt spiked, and she couldn’t stop herself from frowning as she felt a hint of anger. She loved her mother, but if Beth said anything bad about Orla, she was not going to put up with it.

“What about Orla?” Sam asked, not even trying to keep her anger out of her voice.

Beth picked up on it. “Easy, sweetheart,” she said. “I don’t have anything against Orla. The two of you seem really happy together, and I’m glad. I really am.”

Sam felt herself relax, just a bit. She nodded, not quite ready for a fight anymore, just still hesitant to go forward with the conversation. “Then what is it?” she asked.

Beth looked towards the door for a moment. “I’ve noticed things,” she said, turning back to Sam. “I hope I’m just misinterpreting them because of my limited exposure to Sionnach culture, but they make me worry. Sam, please believe me when I say that all I want is for you to be happy. Whether that’s with a woman, or an alien, it doesn’t matter, and you seem very happy with Orla, which just makes me worry about what I’ve seen that much more, because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What have you noticed?” Sam asked.

Beth took a deep breath, and Sam could see her hesitance to say what she wanted to say, but it didn’t stop her. “When we were on Talamh, everyone made a big deal about how the Sionnach didn’t engage in casual touch. The information they gave us on their culture seemed to indicate that touch was reserved for married or at the very least, betrothed couples. You’ve spent more time with them than I have and I’m wondering if I misinterpreted things.”

“No,” Sam said with a sinking feeling. She suddenly had a very good idea where this was going, and it wasn’t a conversation she was sure she was ready to have. “Casual touch is a major taboo on Talamh. Something about a pandemic that happened a long time ago that was passed through physical contact. They eventually cured the disease, but by the time they did, the taboo had set in their culture.”

Beth gave a small nod. “Makes sense,” she said. “But that does make me worry a bit more.”

“About what?” Sam asked. Beth frowned, but Sam didn’t budge. If Beth wanted to bring this up, Sam wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

“Sweetheart, you can’t have missed the way Orla and Sorcha touch each other. Today in the car, they were holding hands, and I’ve seen them touch each other at other times too. I’ve seen them touch each other on the shoulder at breakfast. The other day, I saw them sitting in the living room and Sorcha had their arm around Orla’s shoulders.”

“You’re right,” Sam said. “I haven’t missed it.”

“You haven’t?”

“No,” Sam said. “Sorcha never touched Orla until I gave her permission.”

“You gave her permission? Why?”

“Because I shouldn’t have to,” Sam said. “They love each other, mom. They have for a long time. And the fact that they couldn’t express those feelings through something as natural as touch, which is just as important for their mental health as it is for ours…it was killing them. It’s one of the reasons Saoirse sent us here specifically, when they could have just shuffled us off to a different city for a while. They knew how unhappy the cultural restrictions were making Orla and Sorcha.”

“When you say they love each other?” Beth asked.

“I mean they love each other,” Sam said. “The same way Orla and I love each other. If Orla hadn’t received the genetic diversity token, they would be betrothed to each other.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Beth asked.

“Of course it does,” Sam said. “I worry that I’m hurting them. That I’m getting in the way of them being happy. I wonder if I’m being selfish by not breaking the betrothal. I wonder if Orla would be happier with Sorcha, and I’m taking that happiness away from them.”

“Sweetheart—”

“No, Mom. I know what you’re thinking, but I knew from the first day. Orla told me they had feelings for Sorcha during our first meeting. I didn’t walk into anything blind, but things have changed. Saoirse fixed it so Orla doesn’t have a diversity token anymore. They got it transferred to one of Orla’s cousins who was going to marry an alien anyway. So, Orla can break the betrothal at any time, and be free to marry Sorcha.”

“But they haven’t,” Beth said.

“No. Because Orla loves me, and because I love Orla, too,” Sam said. “God, the whole thing is a mess.”

“What about you and Sorcha?” Beth asked.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Well, the two of you obviously care for each other,” Beth said. “What you did for them today, and the way they reacted.”

“They were just excited about the greenhouses,” Sam said.

“Sam, you’re judging Sorcha’s reaction through a human filter,” her mom said. “You and I might hug a friend who gave us a really special gift, but Sorcha isn’t a human. Their reaction wasn’t a human reaction.”

Sam thought about it for a moment, and it didn’t take very long for her to realize Beth was right. A hug like that would have been perfectly normal if Sorcha were a human, but Sorcha wasn’t human, and when Sam tried to think of the human equivalent of what Sorcha had done that morning, she could feel herself blushing, head to toe.

“Oh,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Beth said. “Honestly, it’s not the first time I’ve noticed that they don’t react to you the way they do other people.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“They touch you,” her mom said. “Sorcha has been here for five days now, and hasn’t touched me once, but I haven’t seen a day go by that Sorcha hasn’t touched you. A deliberate bump of the shoulder. A hand on the small of your back as they pass you in the hallway. They don’t touch you as much as they do Orla, but if I hadn’t seen either of you with Orla, I would have assumed, based on what I know of Sionnach culture, that the two of you were together.”

“We’re close,” Sam said.

“How close?” Beth asked.

“We’re friends,” Sam said.

“Do you want to be more than friends?” Beth asked.

“What? Mom, I’m with Orla.”

Beth smiled at her, and reached out, taking Sam’s hand in her own. “Sam, I love you. And I am really, really proud of you. Not just for the things that you’ve achieved, but for how much you care about Orla and Sorcha, and how willing you are to put their happiness above your own. But I think there might be an option you haven’t considered.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, I came in here to talk to you because I was worried that you were going to get hurt. Based on what you’ve told me, you, Orla, and Sorcha are all hurting right now. You love Orla. Orla loves you. Orla loves Sorcha. Sorcha loves Orla. And you and Sorcha clearly have some kind of feelings for each other, whatever those feelings are. Maybe the best way to deal with all of this is just for all three of you to be together.”

Sam stared at her mom for a minute, not quite able to believe what she was hearing. “Are you telling me to have a threesome with Orla and Sorcha?”

“No,” Beth said. “I’m telling you that maybe you should have a relationship with both Orla and Sorcha. Not just sex, and not just one time.”

“I’m sorry. Who are you and what have you done with my mom?”

Beth laughed and shook her head. “Sweetheart, I came in here to talk to you because I was half convinced Orla and Sorcha were sneaking around behind your back, and half convinced the three of you were already an item and didn’t want to tell me for some reason. I preferred the second theory, because it meant you were happy, and if that’s what it takes for you to be happy, then then do it.

“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. I know that my idea of what that looks like hasn’t always lined up with yours, and I know I’ve hurt you along the way because of that, but this is me trying not to make the same mistake again. If your happiness looks like you, Orla, and Sorcha all being together, then don’t let anyone stand in the way of that. Even yourself.”

“You really mean that?”

“I do,” Beth said. “I love you, and I want you to be happy.” She stood up and pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “I’m going to stop breaking your brain now. Go spend some time with your person.”

“Thank you, mom.”

Beth smiled, and headed for the door.

“Mom,” Sam called out just before Beth walked out of the room.

“Yes?”

“You really think Sorcha likes me?”

Beth shrugged. “I’m not great with emotions. You know that. But when they think no one is looking, they look at you the same way they look at Orla.”

Sam bit her lip, trying to process what Beth had just told her. Beth gave her a small nod, and then left her alone as she turned the possibility over in her mind. Her and Orla, Orla and Sorcha, and her and Sorcha.

She crossed her legs, squeezing them together, the fire her mother’s voice had quenched earlier coming back with a vengeance.

“You know, boss, your mom makes a good case,” Pixel said.

“Shut up Pixel.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Pixel.”

“Sam and Sorcha sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes a threesome with Orla—”

“I will reformat you.”

“And I’m shutting up.”

Chapter Seventeen

SAM LET OUT A low moan as she tilted her head back, giving better access to the thin, flat tongue dragging its way over the pulse point on her neck. Inhumanly long fingers, tipped with swollen, silky pads, kneaded her breast as soft, downy fur slid over her thigh. She felt teeth sink into her skin where the tongue was a moment before, and she slid her hand over soft, silky skin to find a spot on Orla’s lower back she’d long since committed to memory. A needy whimper filled her ear as she ran her nails over the sensitive spot, and the hand on her breast and the one threaded through her hair tightened in response.

A throaty chuckle came from her other side just before teeth sank into her earlobe and tugged. She opened her legs reflexively, and a hand slipped down. Fingers parted her, and slipped inside, breaking whatever focus she had and her hand slipped away from Orla’s back. The hand in her hair pulled, forcing Sam’s head to the side, and she saw Sorcha smiling at her before they leaned in and kissed her. Sorcha’s tongue slipped into her mouth at the same time as the fingers inside her curled up against her front wall and…

***

Sam jerked awake, panting and aching, one hand fisted in the sheets and another digging into soft flesh. Before she was even really sure where she was, she heard a laugh and felt a soft kiss on her collarbone.

“That sounded like quite the dream,” Orla said.

Sam turned to find Orla staring at her. The room was pitch black, but the lingering sight let her see every detail of Orla’s face in all its infrared glory. Everything from the amused grin to the blown pupils that told Sam that whatever else had happened, she’d managed to get Orla’s motor running.

“I hope I was there,” Orla said, their tone half teasing, but half nervous, like they weren't sure they wanted to know the answer.

“Definitely,” Sam said, pulling them close. The smile on Orla’s face got wider and more playful.

“What was I doing?” Orla asked.

“Nibling at that spot on my neck,” Sam said.

“Mmmm.” Orla leaned in and scraped their teeth over the spot in question, making Sam suck in a breath. “What else?”

“Your hand was on my breast,” Sam said.

Orla’s hand slid from Sam’s sternum up to palm her left breast, kneading in gently, making Sam arch her back. “What else?”

“Your other hand was in my hair,” Sam said.

Orla slid their other hand up, threading their long fingers into Sam’s hair, and then pulling the hair, forcing Sam’s head back to expose her throat. “What else?” Orla asked, and this time, their tone was harsh and commanding, which made the unsatisfied ache between Sam’s legs that much worse.

“Your thigh was between my legs,” Sam said.

Orla shifted, pressing a thigh against Sam and grinding. Sam let out a whine as she rocked her hips against Orla’s thigh. It didn’t take long for them to find a rhythm. They knew each other well enough by now that it was easy to fall into familiar moves, familiar beats. Sam lifted her leg, getting her foot flat against the mattress to create resistance for Orla, so Orla could grind against Sam’s thigh, even as Sam rode theirs. Both of them were turned on and neither of them were going to last very long, but Sam knew she was going to spill over first unless she did something, so she reached up and started running her thumb along the edge of Orla’s ear. The room filled with a low keening sound, telling her she was pushing Orla in the right direction, but she wasn’t done. She reached up with her other hand, finding the spot at the base of Orla’s spine and scraping her nails over it. Orla’s hand tightened in her hair, pulling hard enough to bring tears to her eyes as both of them tumbled over the edge.

***

Sam looked in the mirror and wondered how she didn’t have bags under her eyes. It wasn’t like she was getting a lot of sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she had a dream about her and Orla and Sorcha all in bed together. That in and of itself would be bad enough, but half the time, when she woke up, Orla was right there, ready to make at least half her dream come true.

Orla, for her part, seemed to love it, but Sam was having trouble hiding the guilt. She shouldn’t be dreaming about Sorcha that way, and she definitely shouldn’t be lying to Orla about what she was dreaming about, except the only thing worse than what was happening would be telling Orla the truth about what she was dreaming about.

She was pretty sure at this point she was going to kill her mother for putting the idea of a threesome with Sorcha in her head. She just wasn’t sure if she was going to strangle her or drown her in the hot tub, but there was definitely matricide in her future.

She really, really wanted something to take the edge off, and for a moment, she considered calling one of her old dealers and seeing if they could hook her up with a joint or five. The problem with that was she didn’t want to have to explain to Orla why she suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to get stoned out of her fucking mind.

“Are you okay, boss?” Pixel asked.

“I’m fine,” Sam said.

“Sure,” Pixel said. “Because everyone spends ten minutes in the morning staring at the mirror, feeling guilty about having hot sex with their intended three times the night before.”

“Pixel…”

“I’m just saying, I know how rough you have it. Those dreams are terrible. There’s no way I’d ever want to be the filling in an Orla Sorcha sandwich. Perish the thought.”

“Pixel, I’m warning you…”

“Oh, please. You and I both know that’s a lot of piss and vinegar. We share a brain. I can hear your thoughts. I know you’re not going to reformat me.”

“I might change my mind if you keep it up.”

“I’m just saying, you should talk to Orla. Tell them what’s going on.”

“Oh, yeah. Let me tell the person I’m supposed to marry that I’ve been dreaming about boning their best friend. That will go over well.”

“You might be surprised,” Pixel said. “But boss, consider this. Orla told you from day one that they had feelings for Sorcha. They never hid a thing from you. Don’t you think you owe them the same respect?”

Sam sighed and glared at her reflection. “You need a face so I can hate it.”

“If I had a face, you would love it, but you know I’m right. You need to talk to your person, because you love them, and they love you, and this has the potential to get in the way of that.”

Sam closed her eyes. “I’m scared,” she said.

“Of what?” Pixel asked.

“That Orla will be hurt. That they’ll be heartbroken. That they’ll hate me.”

“Okay, first off, Orla could never hate you. It’s not possible. That person loves you enough to basically tell their Head of House to fuck off. Believe me when I say you cannot understand how much cultural programming had to get overridden for that to happen. Second, they might be a little hurt, but I think they’d be more hurt if you kept it from them.”

“You might be right about that.”

“I know I’m right, but also, consider this. Your mom is right.”

“Pixel…”

“Look, Orla and Sorcha want to be together. You and Orla want to be together. You and Sorcha…you might not love each other yet, but boss, you and Orla didn’t love each other to start with, either. You liked them. You were attracted to them. You were willing to give things a try and see where they might go.”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“So, do that with Sorcha,” Pixel said. “You don’t have to jump right into a threesome, though if you do, I’m definitely going to be there with binoculars and popcorn, but just talk to them both. Tell them you’d like to see where things go. The same way you did with Orla. It could be like a three-way betrothal.”

“Is that even legal?” Sam asked.

“This from the lady who was thinking about scoring some pot a few minutes ago.”

“I hate you.”

“Boss, when we get the learning machines set up, you need to take a primer on Hegemony law, but yes, it’s legal. Under Hegemony law, you can have as many spouses as you want. The only restrictions local governments can enforce are based on local incest taboos, and under treaty, Earth is required to recognize Hegemony marriages. You’d have to file the marriage through the embassies or enclaves, but yes, if it works out, the three of you could get married.”

“Wait, doesn’t that mean that all three of us could have gotten married back on Talamh?”

“Legally, yes,” Pixel said. “But boss, there is a difference between legal and culturally acceptable, and on Talamh, since the impact, plural marriages are frowned upon.”

“So, like here.”

“No. Trust me, boss. Polyamory is way more acceptable on Earth than it is on Talamh. Even before the impact, they were a lot more uptight about that shit. After the impact, they kind of went nuts. Honestly, you, Orla, and Sorcha are hardly the first people to flee Talamh because of the reproductive laws.”

“Good to know,” Sam said. “You really think Orla will understand?”

“I think they might be a little hurt at first, but I think once they have a chance to sit with it, they’d be onboard. Like you said, I think your mom is right. It’s a way everyone can get what they want.”

“Okay,” Sam said.

“Great. Let’s go talk to Orla.”

“That was ‘okay, I’ll think about it’ not ‘okay, let’s put our first threesome on the calendar’,” Sam said.

“You’re no fun,” Pixel said.

“And you’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“You wish.”

“I’m penciling the threesome in for next Thursday.”

“Pixel.”

“Right. Sorry. Wednesday. You’ve got no chill.”

***

As Orla cleared off their task list for the day, they began to wonder if Sam had a point about installing a personality module in their Aug. Pixel seemed quite adept at handling the day-to-day minutiae that could sometimes bog Orla down. They weren’t quite ready to give in. There was still something fundamentally unsettling about the idea of having another person, even an artificial one, bouncing around inside their head. They wondered sometimes if Sam had done it out of loneliness. Pixel was always with her, and unlike Orla, Pixel was fully conversant with human customs and culture, so Sam always had someone to talk to who understood her in a way that Orla might take years to reach, if ever.

It might have made Orla a bit jealous, if it wasn’t so clear how much effort and care Sam had put into their relationship right from the beginning. There had been some missteps along the way, but surprisingly few given how drastically different their backgrounds were.

It was that lack of difficulty that had Orla worried today. Ever since the day Beth had left and Sam had gone to lunch alone, she had made an effort to let Orla know how she was feeling. If something was off, they talked about it. It was something that had come to mean a lot to Orla, but the last two days, something had been off, and Sam hadn’t been willing to talk about it. Orla knew it had to have something to do with the conversation Sam had with Beth. The timing gave it away. Orla had considered confronting Beth about it, but they were still hoping that Sam would come to them and talk about it, and they weren’t quite ready to go behind her back just yet.

“Orla, love?”

Orla waved their hand in a command motion that saved and stored their current desktop state and cleared their field of vision. Without their work in front of them, they saw Sam standing at the door to the main lounge.

“Yes, love?”

“You have a minute?”

“For you, always,” Orla said.

Sam smiled and took a seat next to them. Orla leaned against Sam, resting their head on Sam’s shoulder, and smiling as they felt Sam’s arm wrap around them. They took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing into Sam’s embrace and snuggling up against their side.

“Hey,” they said.

“Hey, yourself,” Sam said before leaning down to kiss them on the forehead. “You have a lot of work left?”

“Not really,” Orla said. “Just housekeeping, mostly. I’ve been considering your suggestion to get a personality module for my Aug to take care of it for me.”

“Well, I can send you a link to the one I used for Pixel, if you don’t mind being annoyed all the time.”

“You love Pixel,” Orla said.

“Oh, God. He heard you. He’s going to be insufferable all day.”

Orla shifted and wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

“For what?” Orla asked.

“The last couple of days. I know I’ve been off.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not quite yet,” Sam said. “My mom said some things to me. Nothing bad. She just made me notice some things that I’d been ignoring, and now that I have noticed them, it’s taking me some time to get my head around it.”

“Can I help?” Orla asked.

“Definitely,” Sam said. “But not yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s like, I want to ask you something, but I’m not even sure how to phrase the question yet.”

Orla shifted a bit closer to Sam and tilted their head up so they could press a kiss to Sam’s cheek. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Sam smiled and leaned in for a kiss. It wasn’t particularly passionate, but it wasn’t chaste either. There was enough feeling in it to make Orla let out a small protest when it was over, but they didn’t chase Sam’s lips the way they often did when a kiss ended.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Orla said. “And I love you, too.”

“I want you to know that staying with you on Talamh and getting betrothed to you was the best decision I ever made, and even though we’re only a few months into the betrothal, if today were the day, I would marry you without hesitation. I don’t want to think about a life without you in it, and I am really, really looking forward to the day we do get married, and to every day after that.”

Orla frowned. “Sam, you’re scaring me here.”

Sam shook their head. “I don’t mean to. I just want you to know how much you mean to me, and how happy I am that you picked me.”

“You promise you’re not going to do anything stupid, like break our betrothal so I can be with Sorcha, right?”

“I promise. I just need a few hours to get my thoughts together. I thought I might go out for a bit.”

Orla felt a wave of relief wash over them as they realized what was going on. Sam was worried about upsetting them like they had the day Beth had departed Talamh. Orla leaned forward and kissed Sam again.

“Okay,” they said. “Could you take Sorcha with you so I know someone is keeping an eye on you while you’re thinking?”

Sam opened their mouth, and Orla was sure they were about to hear a protest, but Sam stopped short of actually saying anything. Orla could almost see the synapses firing as Sam tilted her head.

“You know, that would probably help a lot,” Sam said.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. They pressed another kiss to Orla’s forehead. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Just come to me first, next time. I don’t like it when things are off between us.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

“That’s all I ask. Now go on. I’ve got paperwork to do.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Orla reluctantly pulled away from Sam so she could stand up, then watched her leave. Their curiosity about what Beth had said to Sam to put them in a mood like this was going to eat them up for the whole day, but they would wait until Sam was ready to talk. Or until morning. Whichever came first.

***

Sorcha sat in the guest bedroom with the books for House Leargas’ new Earth-based operations spread out in front of them. So far, everything looked good. The construction of the residence was under budget. The equipment purchases had left them with a bit of a surplus, and the bids from the various vendors to supply the House all looked good. The family stipend for Beth was arranged, and just waiting for Orla to sit down and have the conversation with her. Even the investments that Orla had proposed so far were all within budget. Not that there were a lot. Orla was still trying to settle on an overall investment strategy.

Sorcha had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, it was great that there were no problems to fix. On the other hand, it left them bored out of their mind. They actually missed chasing smugglers through the spreadsheets, trying to find where the extra mass was hidden, or how they were shaving time to make an unscheduled rendezvous. Not the kind of thing most people would find exciting, but Sorcha had loved their work. Now, they were in basic accounting, which was, so far, a lot less challenging. They could only hope that would change as the money actually started to flow in a big way.

They were in the process of closing up their workspace for the day when there was a knock on the door. They finished saving their work and clearing their desktop, then looked up at the door.

“Come in,” they called out.

The door opened, and for just a moment, Sorcha felt like they’d had the wind knocked out of them. Sam stood there in the door, but it wasn’t the Sam Sorcha was used to seeing. Even since they’d gotten back to Earth, Sam had dressed mostly in Sionnach fashion. She did tend to favor things that were considered a bit immodest. Short cut jackets instead of full robes, and trousers that were a bit more tightly cut than was common, but the Sam standing in Sorcha’s door wasn’t wearing anything that had been made or even designed by a Sionnach. She was wearing tight-fitting, black canvas pants over heavy boots, a long-sleeve, green waffle weave top with three buttons at the neck, all open. She’d put some kind of oil in her hair that held it so that all the strands fell down on the left side of her head, leaving the oddly-shaped human ear on the right side of her head exposed, with a small jewel in a gold setting punched through the bit of flesh that hung from the bottom of the ear.

Sorcha swallowed, their mouth suddenly dry as they took in the full sight before them. The long brown hair. The broad nose with the odd bump in the middle and the strange pink tip. The wiry, athletic frame and the small swell of her breasts. The similarities between humans and Sionnach had always made the differences stand out, but there was something about the way Sam was carrying herself in that moment that made Sorcha uncomfortably aware of how attractive she was. It was almost like she’d dressed the way she had to emphasize it.

“Hey,” Sam said. “You busy?”

Sorcha shook their head. “No,” they squeaked, which made Sam smile for some reason. Sorcha took a deep breath. “No. Just finished for the day.”

“Great,” Sam said. “I’m headed down to San Francisco for a bit. I was going to hit Fisherman’s Wharf and get some lunch, then maybe take a walk down the Embarcadero. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

“I have no idea what the Embarcadero is, but sure, why not. Is Orla ready?”

“Orla isn’t coming,” Sam said.

Sorcha frowned. “Why not? Is something wrong?”

Sam shook her head. “No. I just…” Sam took a deep breath, and Sorcha could tell she was working up the nerve to say something. “I have some stuff I need to get my head around, and I was hoping maybe we could spend some time together. Talk for a bit. We haven’t really spent a lot of time together that wasn’t focused on Orla, and if we’re going to be friends, I’d like to change that.”

Sorcha stared at Sam for a minute as a warm feeling spread through them. Sam wanted to spend time with them. To get to know them. The idea sent a thrill through them. They tried to tamp it down, because they knew what they’d been feeling for Sam was one-sided, but they’d never been particularly good at controlling their feelings. Not where Orla was concerned, and now, clearly, not where Sam was concerned. They knew that accepting the invitation would be an exercise in pain, but they also knew there wasn’t any way they would say no.

“What should I wear?” Sorcha asked.

“We’ll be on the bay, so you’ll want to dress warm. Pants and a short robe with a jacket. Nothing loose fitting or dangly.”

“Okay,” Sorcha said, running through a mental inventory of what they had in their luggage.

“Car should be here in about fifteen minutes,” Sam said.

“I’ll be ready.”

Sam smiled again before pulling the door closed, and Sorcha did their best to step on the little flutter they felt in their stomach.

Chapter Eighteen

THE RIDE TO FISHERMAN’S Wharf was spent mostly in silence. Sam suspected that on an actual first date, that would have been a bad sign, but as it was, she and Sorcha had known each other long enough to be able to share silence without it being awkward. Instead, Sorcha spent most of the trip enjoying the sights, and Sam spent most of the trip watching Sorcha.

There had never been any doubt that she found Sorcha attractive. The first time she’d laid eyes on them, she’d compared them to a supermodel, and nothing had changed that impression. It wasn’t that she had found Sorcha more attractive than Orla, either. They were both beautiful, but in different ways. Orla had that girl-next-door, your best friend’s hot sister vibe. Young, fresh-faced, cute. The kind of person who would look at home in the stands of a high school football game. Sorcha’s beauty was sharper, more severe. The kind of thing you saw on the cover of a magazine or in a grand ballroom somewhere. Unapproachably gorgeous, if Sam had to describe it.

Except appearances were deceiving. For all they looked like they should be strutting down a runway in Paris, staring down their nose at the audience gawking at them, Sorcha was kind of a nerd. They loved math, could lose themself for hours in spreadsheets, and they loved to garden. They had spent huge chunks of the last two days talking to Sam’s mom about gardening, since her mother kept a small vegetable patch and a few flower beds. Beyond that, though, she didn’t know a lot, and she felt guilty about that. They’d known each other for months, and most of that time had been focused entirely on Orla, and their relationship with them.

That wouldn’t work. If Sam decided to listen to her mother and Pixel’s advice and see if Orla wanted to open their relationship up to include Sorcha as an equal partner and not just a friend, then Sorcha had to be an equal partner to Sam as well. Not just an adjunct to Orla. The more she thought about it, the more she thought that maybe that could happen. After all, she had a stronger connection to Sorcha now than she’d had to Orla when they had gotten betrothed. She just wanted to be sure, because unlike when she got betrothed to Orla, there was no escape clause. Not without destroying everything she wanted her future to be.

She just worried that one day wouldn’t be enough to really make the decision.

She also worried a bit about the fact that she was essentially going on a date behind Orla’s back. She’d turned that one over in her head while she was getting dressed, and still wasn’t sure she came up with the right answer, but in the end, she decided that spending the day with Sorcha to see if her mom and Pixel were right about her having feelings before she talked to Orla was the kinder option. If she spent the day and realized that she wasn’t interested in Sorcha, she wouldn’t get Orla’s hopes up. And if she spent the day and realized that she did feel something for Sorcha and wanted to include Sorcha as another partner in her and Orla’s relationship, then as long as nothing happened between her and Sorcha before she had Orla’s approval, then no harm, no foul.

Even in her head, that sounded like a bit of a thin justification, but she didn’t know what else to do. She was trying her best to keep everyone from getting hurt, and it wasn’t like she had a guidebook for this sort of thing.

“We’re almost there, boss,” Pixel said.

Sam turned to Sorcha. “You want to get lunch first?”

“I’m not really hungry, but if you are, we can eat.”

“Tell you what, why don’t we start with something else, and I can grab a snack. Then we can get lunch when you’re ready, so you can really enjoy it.”

“Sounds good,” Sorcha said.

“Pixel, have the limo drop us near the Aquarium of the Bay.”

“Will do, boss.”

“Aquarium?” Sorcha asked.

Sam just smiled. “You’ll see.”

***

The limo set them down in the drop off area for the Aquarium of the Bay. Once the limo was down, Sam stepped out and offered her hand to Sorcha. Sorcha gave her a surprised look, but after a moment’s hesitation, they took it and let Sam help them out of the car. Once Sorcha was on their feet, they started to let go, but Sam squeezed their hand, and then shifted her grip so she could thread their fingers together.

“Is this okay?” Sam asked.

Sorcha nodded. “Yeah,” they said, a little hesitantly, but after a moment, a smile spread across their face. “Yeah, it is,” they said with more confidence.

Sam gave their hand a small tug and led them up the stairs to the entrance of the Aquarium. They stopped at one of the automated ticket kiosks and waited while Pixel linked up and paid for their tickets. Sam grabbed the tickets, and they headed inside.

“Do they have Aquariums on Talamh?” Sam asked.

“Not like this,” Sorcha said. “There are a bunch that are part of the repopulation effort. The flora and fauna got hit just as hard by the Impact as we did, but nothing that’s open to the public like this.”

“You’re in for a treat then,” Sam said as she led them towards the first exhibit, called ‘Discover the Bay’. The exhibit had seven massive tanks, each one filled with different species that were native to San Francisco Bay. It wasn’t Sam’s favorite exhibit, but she did love it, and she found herself looking forward to Sorcha’s reaction.

She didn’t have to wait long. Sorcha let out a small gasp as they approached the first tank. It was filled with beautiful, colorful fish. The bright orange Garibaldi, and an absolute rainbow of various species of rockfish, among others.

“They’re beautiful,” Sorcha said. Sam made a small noise of agreement, but she wasn’t actually looking at the fish. She couldn’t take her eyes off Sorcha’s face, and the look of absolute wonder on it.

She let Sorcha pull her forward, right up next to the tank, and she finally turned and looked, seeing the fish swim around the tank in slow, lazy circles. After a brief glance, she turned around and watched Sorcha, enjoying their reaction more than the actual fish.

Sorcha turned towards her. “They’re all from Earth?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “They were actually taken from the bay just outside. The bright orange ones with the rounded fins are Garibaldis, and the others are different types of rockfish.”

“They’re the same species?” Sorcha asked.

“No. Rockfish is a term for fish that protect themselves from predators by hiding in the rocks around the ocean floor.”

Sorcha turned back to the tank. “I haven’t seen anything like this outside of learning modules about pre-Impact ecology,” they said. They let out a heavy sigh. “Sometimes, I forget how much we lost.”

“Hey,” Sam said. Sorcha turned to look at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Sorcha shook their head. “No. You didn’t. Sam, this is beautiful. Thank you.”

Sam smiled and gave their hand a small tug. “Come on. There’s a lot more to see.”

***

Sam wasn’t sure she could remember seeing a single fish before they got to the Touch the Bay exhibit. They’d gone through the rest of the tanks in the first room, and Sam had spent the whole time watching Sorcha’s face as they looked at the eels, anchovies, skates, and perch, and the tank full of just hatched baby fish. She hadn’t done any better when they’d gotten to the jellyfish tanks or walked through the acrylic tunnels that extended out under the bay. She’d gone from holding Sorcha’s hand to slipping an arm around their waist when Sorcha let out a scream at the sight of a giant octopus.

She didn’t want to let go, but she did when they reached the touch pools. Sorcha was a little nervous, so Sam went first, petting the rays, the skates, and the sharks. Even after seeing Sam do it, it still took a little encouragement to get Sorcha to reach into the water, but it was worth it, just to see the look on their face.

The real treat though, was the last exhibit. Sam made Sorcha close their eyes as she led them into the room so the surprise wasn’t ruined, and got them right up next to the enclosure.

“Okay,” Sam said. “Open your eyes.”

She waited a moment as Sorcha opened their eyes, and took in the sight before them, and had to fight not to laugh when she heard the loud chittering sound that came from Sorcha. The noise drew the attention of the handful of other people in the room, but Sam didn’t care. Sorcha was practically vibrating with excitement as they stepped up to the glass and watched one of the river otters dive into the water.

“What are they?” Sorcha asked.

“They’re called river otters,” Sam said. She pointed to one of the otters who was floating on his back. “See that one with the rock?”

“Yeah,” Sorcha said.

“They actually have small pouches of loose skin under their arms. They will tuck their favorite rock in those pouches and carry it with them. They take it out and play with it when they’re bored, and they’ll also use it to crack open shellfish when they are hunting.”

“They’re tool users?” Sorcha asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said. She considered mentioning that the octopuses were as well, but given how scared Sorcha had been of them, she thought that might not be the best idea. Instead, she slipped her arm back around Sorcha’s waist, and held them as they watched the otters play.

***

Sorcha wasn’t sure what was happening, but they couldn’t keep the smile off their face as Sam led them out of the aquarium. The way Sam had been holding their hand, or just holding them with an arm around their waist, stirred up feelings they knew they shouldn’t be having, but they weren’t sure if Sam was actually aware of what they were doing or if such closeness was common for friends on Earth. They didn’t think it was, based on what they saw from other people walking around. There were a few who held hands, but they were the exception rather than the rule. Fewer still walked around with an arm around each other.

The constant contact was making their heart flutter and making it hard to tamp down the feelings they knew they shouldn’t be having. Not for Sam. Kind, beautiful, understanding, generous, brilliant, funny, playful, wonderful Sam. Sam who belonged to Orla. Sam who was just as unattainable as Orla.

They didn’t know why it seemed to be their destiny to keep falling in love with people they couldn’t have, or why they seemed to love torturing themselves with proximity to the unreachable objects of their affections, but when Sam asked if they were hungry, Sorcha said yes, hoping that when the two of them sat down to eat, they’d get at least a little distance from Sam, and a chance to recover their equilibrium.

***

Sam’s mind was running a mile a minute the whole time it took to make it from the aquarium to the restaurant she’d picked out. She was starting to think her mom and Pixel were right, and she’d been a bit of an idiot to not notice that she’d developed feelings for Sorcha. She was also starting to realize that she wasn’t as good at interpreting her feelings as she had always thought she was.

She loved Orla. She knew that. She could feel it in her bones. As much as she was enjoying spending the day with Sorcha, she missed Orla. She ached for their presence. She had thought, once upon a time, that she had been in love with Jenny, but she was starting to realize she’d been wrong about that. She cared for Jenny. She still missed her, but it wasn’t anything like what she had felt when she thought she was going to lose Orla. What she was starting to feel for Sorcha, or maybe what she already felt and was starting to pay attention to, wasn’t as intense as what she felt for Orla, but she thought in time, it could be.

She remembered what it had been like with Orla. Immediate attraction. A little bit of fascination. She’d had to make a choice quickly, but it had been an easy choice. Listening to Orla talk about why they had chosen her. Seeing them so open and vulnerable. By the end of their First Meeting, it had been easy to decide that Orla was the kind of person she could fall in love with.

She wasn’t sure why it was so hard to make the same decision with Sorcha, but every time she thought she was sure, she hesitated. What was she afraid of? Did she think if she felt something for Sorcha, it would diminish what she felt for Orla? She supposed that could be it. Or maybe what she was really afraid of wasn’t what she felt for Sorcha, but what would happen if she opened the door to include Sorcha in her relationship with Orla. Maybe she was worried that if she did, she would end up the odd one out. Orla and Sorcha had a history together that she didn’t have with either of them, and she’d been so sure, given the chance, that Orla would choose Sorcha over her. Maybe she was still afraid of that. Of being the unequal partner.

“Sam?” Sorcha said, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Yeah?” Sam said as she turned to look at Sorcha.

“Are you okay? You seemed to be lost in the Bonding Woods for a minute there.”

It took Sam a moment to process what Sorcha was saying, but when it clicked, the strange expression brought a smile to her face.

“Sorry,” she said. “You remember me telling you I had some things I needed to get my head around?”

“Yeah,” Sorcha said. “You want to talk about it?”

“I think so, yeah,” Sam said. “I think I need to, but I feel guilty because I said I wanted to spend some time getting to know you, and I don’t want to turn around and make today about Orla instead. You deserve better than that. So, maybe we could just spend some time together, and talk about my problems later.”

Sorcha smiled at her, and Sam was sure her heart skipped a beat, because while she had seen that particular smile on Sorcha’s face before, it had never been directed at her, and that made all the difference in the world. Sorcha squeezed her hand.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Sorcha said.

“Tell you what,” Sam said. “Lunch, then dessert, then I want to stop in a couple of shops, and then we can talk about it in the limo on the way home.”

“Okay,” Sorcha said.

***

“I don’t know what to order,” Sorcha said after looking at the menu for a few moments. “There’s nothing here I’ve eaten before.”

“Do you trust me to make recommendations?” Sam asked.

“No, but it doesn’t look like I have a choice, unless Pixel wants to chime in.”

Sam gave Sorcha a mock glare, but it didn’t last. They both broke down laughing. It took Sam a moment before she could get the laughter under control enough to wave over their server.

“You two ready to order?” the server asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Two waters, lemon on the side. Two lemonades. A dozen oysters on the half shell with lemon wedges instead of mignonette sauce, two cups of Clam Chowder and two orders of the Crab Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Okay. Do you want the appetizers all together, or oysters first, then the soup?”

“Oysters first,” Sam said.

“Anything else?”

“That will be it.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

The server headed for the kitchen and Sam turned back to Sorcha.

“So, I don’t really know where to start,” she said. “I’ve never been good at this whole ‘getting to know you’ thing.”

“Where did you start when you met Orla?” Sorcha asked.

“I asked them why they picked my application.”

“What did they say?”

“A bunch of stuff about how I was the only one who showed any personality in my application and everyone else was too boring to even consider, but honestly, I think it was the picture of me in a bikini that sold them.”

“What’s a bikini?”

“Hold on, I’ll show you. Pixel, pull up my surfing gallery.” Sam’s head’s up display filled with images of her surfing or posing holding her board. For just a moment, the whole gallery was there, but then Pixel filtered the pictures so it was just shots of her in a bikini. She selected one of her in a black sports bra and boy shorts style bikini next to her favorite short board. It was a good picture. A bright sunny day, and she’d just come in from riding a wave. She’d pushed her hair back, and the bikini was still wet, so it clung just a bit. She tapped the picture and made a small tossing motion towards Sorcha to send it to her Aug.

It wasn’t until she saw Sorcha turn bright red that she remembered the way Orla had reacted to seeing her in tank top and boy shorts.

“Um…you…that…um…naked!” The last word was a squeak, followed by what Sam had come to think of as a Sionnach hunting chitter. The little sound that they seemed to use in place of clearing their throats. She tried to hide the smile she felt pulling at the edges of her lips, but she couldn’t. Poor Sorcha looked so flustered it was adorable.

“Sorry,” she said.

“No, you’re not,” Pixel whispered in her ear.

“I tend to forget how modest Sionnach culture is compared to America.”

“It’s okay,” Sorcha said.

The server chose that moment to reappear with their drinks and the tray of oysters. Sorcha snatched up their water and took a long drink as soon as the glass was on the table, and of course, Pixel couldn’t let that go.

“Look, boss, you made them thirsty,” Pixel said. Sam really wished he had a neck, because she really wanted to strangle him sometimes.

“Just give me a wave when you’re done with the oysters and I’ll bring out the chowder,” the server said.

“Thank you.”

The server disappeared again, and Sam turned back to Sorcha, who was eyeing the oysters skeptically.

“This is food?” Sorcha asked.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but yeah. They’re really good. There’s a bit of a trick to eating them though.”

Sorcha looked up at her.

“Here,” Sam said. She picked up a lemon wedge and squeezed a bit of juice on one of the oysters, then picked it up. She sat up a little straighter, tilted her head back, raised the oyster to her lips, and tilted it up. The oyster slid into her mouth, the salty brine and tart lemon juice coming with it, and Sam swallowed as it hit the back of her throat, moaning slightly at the flavors. She sat the empty shell back down on the ice, and looked at Sorcha, who was staring at her with dilated eyes.

“You totally did that on purpose, you little minx,” Pixel said, and Sam had to admit that yeah, she kind of did.

“I, um…” Sorcha looked down at the plate again, and Sam made a decision. She scooted over one chair, so she was sitting beside Sorcha instead of across from them, and picked up an oyster.

“Tell you what,” Sam said. “You should try one plain, first, and if you like it, you can try it with the lemon. Okay?”

Sorcha nodded.

“Sit up straight. Good, now, tilt your head back a little. Perfect. Now, the trick is to wait until you feel it hit the back of your throat, then swallow. Do not chew. Just swallow it whole. Okay?”

Sorcha nodded. Sam lifted the oyster to their lips.

“Open for me,” she said. Sorcha blinked, then opened their mouth. “In three, two, one.” Sam tilted the oyster into Sorcha’s mouth, and watched as a moment later, Sorcha closed their mouth and swallowed.

“Oh, wow,” Sorcha said, a little breathless. “That is good.”

Sam smiled and reached up, wiping a drop of brine off the corner of Sorcha’s mouth with her thumb. She almost sucked the brine off her thumb, but realized what she was about to do, and instead wiped her thumb on her napkin. When she looked back at Sorcha, she was pretty sure Sorcha had seen what she’d almost done, and couldn’t stop herself from blushing, so she turned back to the plate. She set the empty oyster shell back on the ice, and picked up a lemon wedge, squeezing a little juice over an oyster.

“Now with the lemon,” she said, turning back to Sorcha. Sorcha straightened up and tilted their head back. Sam held up the oyster. “Three, two, one.” She tilted the oyster up, and but her eyes were on Sorcha’s throat, watching as it bobbed slightly as they swallowed. She set the empty shell back down on the ice and turned back to Sorcha, watching as Sorcha wiped the corner of their mouth with their thumb, and then sucked the brine right off the pad, and God, why had she thought this was a good idea?

“Sorcha has totally figured you out, boss,” Pixel said.

Sam swallowed, and Pixel, the little bastard, started playing ‘Kiss the Girl’ from the Little Mermaid inside her head.

“Um…I think you’ve got it,” Sam said. She started to move back, but Sorcha reached out and caught her wrist.

“I’m not sure,” they said. They let go of Sam’s wrist and reached over, picking up a lemon wedge. They squeezed a little juice onto an oyster, and then picked it up, raising it slowly to Sam’s lips. Sam straightened up, and tilted her head back, staring into cinnabar eyes the whole time.

“Three, two, one,” Sorcha said. They tilted the oyster into Sam’s mouth, and Sam swallowed more by reflex than conscious thought. Sorcha set the empty shell down on the ice, and reached up, using her thumb to wipe the corner of Sam’s mouth. They held their thumb up, stared at the drop of brine and juice on the pad, before slowly wiping it off on her napkin.

“I think I’ve figured it out,” Sorcha said, and Sam had a feeling that they meant more than just the oysters.

“They have got your number,” Pixel said, laughing.

Sam moved back to her own seat.

***

They finished the oysters in relative silence, though there were more than a few flirtatious looks. Then the soup came and went, and happily, Sorcha enjoyed both that and the lemonade, but conversation didn’t pick back up until after Sam finished showing Sorcha how to eat the fettuccine.

“So, how did you end up hunting smugglers?” Sam asked after spending a good five minutes desperately trying to come up with something to talk about.

“By accident,” Sorcha said. “When I was doing my learning modules, the mentor bots flagged me as good with numbers and spreadsheets. When they were assigning my birthing cohort jobs, they had an opening in resource management, so I got stuck doing fuel consumption audits on our fleet. It was pretty boring at first, but I noticed this one ship kept consistently over-burning by point zero five percent. I thought it was pretty odd that it was consistent. Every single run. I did everything I could think of. Pulled cargo manifests and compared them to customs logs to make sure the manifests were accurate. Finally, I got frustrated and just went down to the dock and pulled rank. I wouldn’t let anyone off the ship until I did a full mass audit. Turns out, the captain was bringing in a crate full of Connlach Whiskey every run. The stuff is ridiculously expensive. The import tariffs on a case of it would have paid my salary for a year. My supervisor was so impressed that I caught it, they moved me up to contraband detection.”

“You liked it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Sorcha said. “I loved it. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to be here with you and Orla, but I’m going to miss that job. It was like a fresh puzzle every day, and I love a good mystery.”

Sam smiled. “Well, I’ll be sure to add a few good mystery novels to the entertainment budget each month.”

“What?” Sorcha asked.

“Mystery novels.”

“What are those?”

“You don’t have mystery novels on Talamh?” Sam asked, a little surprised. Mystery had never really been one of her preferred genres, but she had thought it would be pretty universal.

“We have novels,” Sorcha said.

Sam smiled. “Okay,” she said. “We are definitely going to have to hook you up. We have a whole genre of literature here on Earth that’s built around solving mysteries.”

Sorcha’s eyes lit up. “You’re kidding,” they said.

“No. Games too, though those aren’t quite as common. And movies.”

“Okay, you have to take me to these novels, right now,” Sorcha said.

“We’ll get you set up with an eBook account,” Sam said. “But you have to promise to come up for air every once in a while.”

“I make no such promises,” Sorcha said.

Sam shook her head. “Someday, I will learn to keep my mouth shut.”

“That will be a very sad day,” Sorcha said.

“Careful. It almost sounds like you like me.”

“I like watching you try to pull your foot out of your mouth.”

“Oh, burn!” Pixel said.

Sam smiled and took a bite of her food.

“The…you called it pasta?”

Sam nodded.

“The pasta is really good,” Sorcha said.

“I’m glad you like it,” Sam said.

Sorcha looked up at her. “So far, I’ve liked everything about today,” they said.

“I’m glad,” Sam said.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me? Anything else you’d like to know?”

Sam set her fork down and looked at Sorcha. “I want to know everything,” she said. “What you like, what you don’t like, what you want out of life, why you decided to come with us.”

“You know that,” Sorcha said.

“Not really,” Sam said. “I know you care about Orla. I know you want to be close to them, but you uprooted your whole life to move to an alien planet. I’ve done that, and looking back, I didn’t do it for the reasons I told myself I did it for. I told myself I was doing it because my mom was right, because without an off-world education, I’d never be able to compete against any of the aliens. That I’d end up poor as the influx of alien goods and robot labor destroyed our existing economy, but while that might have gotten me on that ship, that wasn’t what made me stay on Talamh.”

“What made you stay?” Sorcha asked.

“It was the first time I ever had a chance to choose my own future. I’d spent so long letting my mom make the decisions, and I finally had a moment where I could choose. I could come back here and spend the rest of my life letting my mom push me this way and that, or I could stand up and start making decisions about my own life. I stayed on Talamh for Orla, but the reason I wanted to stay for them was because they gave me a choice. They offered to send me home with a monthly stipend, a teaching machine, and a mentor bot. I could have gotten that off-world education and come back to the life I already had. Having the choice made me realize I didn’t want that life. I wasn’t sure what life I did want, but I knew it wasn’t that one.”

“But you ended up back here anyway,” Sorcha said.

“I did,” Sam said. “But I ended up back here with a job, with people I love beside me, with my own home, and enough money that I never have to work again if I don’t want to. I ended up back here, but the difference is, I get to choose my future instead of letting my mom choose it for me.

“Are you happy with the future you’ve chosen?” Sorcha asked.

“Mostly,” Sam said. “There are still a few kinks to work out.”

“Such as?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Sam said.

Sorcha nodded and picked up their lemonade, taking a sip.

“I didn’t want to become my parent,” Sorcha said. “I didn’t want to become any of the people I knew. On all of Talamh, Neesa and Fiadh were the only people I knew who were actually happy, and they spent half their time bouncing around other planets.” Sorcha looked Sam in the eyes. “Can you keep a secret from Orla?”

“Yes,” Sam said.

“I had a huge crush on Neesa growing up. I don’t think it’s ever gone away, even if it’s gotten less intense, but Neesa always seemed so brave to me, like they weren’t afraid to go after whatever they wanted. I wanted to be Neesa when I grew up, but I’ve never really found that kind of courage. I think I came to Earth because it seemed like the brave choice. Like the choice Neesa would make. Like the choice the person I wished I was would make.”

“Was it?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Sorcha said.

“You know, humans have a saying.”

“What’s that?”

“Fake it until you make it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if you want to be something, pretend you already are. If you want to be brave, pretend you are. If you’re given a choice, and you think that one choice is the one that someone brave would pick, pick it. Get into the habit of being the person you want to be.”

“That sounds like good advice,” Sorcha said.

“It’s gotten me this far,” Sam said.

“Well, then, I take back what I said about good advice.”

Sam laughed, and shook her head. She picked up her fork and started loading it with another bite of noodles.

“There is one other thing I wanted to ask you,” Sam said.

“What’s that?”

“What do you want in a person?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if Orla wasn’t in the picture, and you were looking to find someone. A partner, an intended. What would you want that person to be?”

“Kind,” Sorcha said. “Brave. Generous. Soft. Fierce. Loving.”

“That’s quite a list,” Sam said. “You sure you can find someone that’s all of those things?”

Sorcha looked right at her. “You’ll notice I didn’t say intelligent.”

It was hard to think of a reply to that when Pixel was laughing in her head.

***

“Did you guys save room for dessert?” the server asked.

“We did, but not here,” Sam said. “They’ve never had Ben & Jerry’s.”

“Oh,” the server said. “Say no more. You ready for the check, then?”

“Please,” Sam said. “Are you set up for Aug link?”

“Of course,” the server said. She reached into her apron and pulled out a small tablet, tapped it a couple of times, then held it out.

“Pixel,” Sam said. She watched as Pixel linked to the tablet, paid the bill, and added a twenty percent tip.

“Okay, then. We’re all set. You guys enjoy the rest of your date,” the server said before they left the table. Sam stood up and offered Sorcha her hand. Sorcha took it and let Sam lead them towards the door.

“Is that what this is?” Sorcha asked once they were outside. “A date?”

Sam looked over at Sorcha. “No,” she said. “If I took you on a date, there would be a chance that it would end with things that this can’t end with. A kiss, or more, if we both wanted.”

“Then what is this?” Sorcha said. “Because I think we both know it's not just two friends out for a day.”

“No. It’s definitely more than that,” Sam said. “I was going to wait until we were back in the limo to talk about this.”

“We can, if you want.”

“No,” Sam said. “You deserve better than that.”

“Then tell me, because right now, I’m really confused.”

“So am I,” Sam said. “I thought I had everything worked out, but a couple of nights ago, my mom and I had a conversation. She’d noticed that there’s something between you and Orla, and she was worried that the two of you might be having an affair behind my back.”

“Oh,” Sorcha said. “Does she really think that little of us?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “But we hadn’t explained our situation to her, and I think that threw her for a loop. And, well, her other theory about what might be going on threw me for a loop.”

“What was it?”

“She thought that the three of us were all together romantically, and that we were hiding it from her because we thought she might not approve.”

“Oh,” Sorcha said.

“She was actually hoping for that one, which surprised me,” Sam said.

“That does sound a bit outlandish, I’ll admit.”

“I explained our situation. That Orla and I are in love. That you and Orla are in love. That you and Orla aren’t in a relationship, because Orla and I are betrothed.”

“How did she take that?” Sorcha asked.

“Better than I expected,” Sam said. “But that’s where things got confusing. Mom was sure that you and I had feelings for each other.”

“Oh,” Sorcha said, but it had a distinctly different tone, and when Sam looked over at Sorcha, Sorcha was looking anywhere but at her.

“It got confusing, because as hard as I tried, I couldn’t dismiss the idea out of hand,” Sam said.

Sorcha turned to look at her with an expression of pure shock on their face.

“And then Mom had to go and point out that if the three of us would be happier together, there wasn’t any reason we couldn’t be.”

“Beth said that?”

“Not in those exact words, but yes,” Sam said. “And I’ve spent the last couple of days trying to get my head around it. Is that something I would want? Is that something you would want? Is that something Orla would want?”

“And what did you decide?”

“I decided I needed to get away for the day to try and clear my head, but then Orla suggested I take you, and I thought maybe it would be a good way to see what my feelings were. So much of our relationship has been centered around Orla, and I thought, maybe if we could take them out of the picture for a day, if it was just us, I could be sure, one way or the other, of how I feel.”

“So, this is like a First Meeting?”

“Yes!” Sam said, a little shocked the idea hadn’t occurred to her.

“And how do you feel about our First Meeting?”

Sam brought them both to a stop, and she turned and looked at Sorcha. “I’m not in love with you…”

“Oh,” Sorcha said. They started to pull away, but Sam didn’t let go.

“Let me finish,” Sam said.

Sorcha turned back to her.

“I’m not in love with you, not yet, but I think I could be. I’m attracted to you. I care about you. If I’m honest, I care about you more now than I did Orla when we got betrothed. I think maybe the reason I’m not in love with you is because I’ve been holding myself back, afraid that feeling something for you would mean I was betraying Orla. And honestly, I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“I’m afraid that if I invite you into our relationship, once you and Orla are free to be together, I’ll be pushed out. That there won’t be any room for me between the two of you.”

“Sam, no,” Sorcha said. “Orla would never do that to you, and neither would I.”

“I know you believe that,” Sam said. “But you can’t know for sure. Not until the two of you are together.”

“Is there anything we can do to make you less afraid?” Sorcha asked.

“No,” Sam said. “But Sorcha…”

“Yes?”

“You and Orla are worth the risk.”

“We are?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah,” Sam said. “When we get home, I’m going to talk to Orla. Because that’s the other thing I was worried about. I was worried that if I talked to them about this before I sorted out my feelings, that I would get their hopes up, and then realize that I couldn’t go through with it. And now, I feel bad because I might be getting your hopes up for something Orla won’t want. I’m afraid of hurting either of you, while trying to find a way to stop hurting all three of us.”

“You are amazing,” Sorcha said. “You know that, right?”

“I try,” Sam said.

“You know, we could go back home now. Talk to Orla. Then we would know, one way or the other.”

“But we haven’t gotten dessert yet,” Sam said.

“I’d rather go home and talk to Orla.”

“That’s because you’ve never had Ben & Jerry’s before.”

“What’s Ben & Jerry’s?”

“It’s ice cream.”

“I’ve had ice cream before. Beth gave me some.”

“It’s really good ice cream,” Sam said. “But you’re in luck.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. They deliver. Pixel, car, now.”

“It’s about fucking time,” Pixel said while Sorcha laughed.

Chapter Nineteen

SAM SMILED AS SHE spotted Orla sitting on the couch with Morna and Choth curled up next to them. Beth was sitting in one of the armchairs that faced the couch, and it looked like they’d been having a conversation when she and Sorcha walked in. She was about to ask if they’d had a good afternoon, but before she could, Sorcha spoke up.

“Ooorrrlllaaa, Sam tried to feed me to an Uafas,” Sorcha said.

“What?” Orla asked.

“What?” Sam asked at the exact same time.

“There are Uafas on Earth?” Orla asked.

“What the hell is an Uafas?” Sam asked.

“Giant person-eating telepathic octopus,” Pixel said. “The Hegemony fought a war with them about a thousand years ago, and there are still border skirmishes.”

Sorcha burst out laughing, which made Orla glare at her.

“It wasn’t an Uafas,” Sam said. “And I didn’t try to feed Sorcha to it, though I’m starting to think I should have.”

“I feel like I’m missing part of the joke here,” Beth said.

“We went to Fisherman’s Wharf,” Sam said. “I might have made the mistake of taking that one to the Aquarium, where they got scared by an itty-bitty octopus.”

“That thing was five meters across!” Sorcha said. “And it could change colors!”

“What’s an octopus?” Orla asked.

“A baby Uafas,” Sorcha said.

“It’s not an Uafas,” Sam said. “They are not telepathic, and they don’t eat people.”

Sorcha sat down beside Orla and slipped an arm around them. “It was horrible,” Sorcha said. “I was just looking at the fish, and suddenly an Uafas came out of nowhere. Sam didn’t even warm me.”

“I should have fed you to the sharks. They definitely eat people,” Sam said. “Morna, Choth, make room.”

Choth got up and trotted across Orla’s legs to curl up in Sorcha’s lap, while Morna huffed and hopped down onto the floor. Once they were out of the way, Sam sat down next to Orla, and rested her head on Orla’s shoulder. Orla slipped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head as Morna climbed back up and draped themself across Sam and Orla’s laps.

“We missed you,” Sam said.

“I missed both of you too,” Orla said. “Did you get everything you needed?”

Sam huffed. “No. Sorcha made me come home before we even got ice cream.”

Orla laughed and leaned in, pressing a kiss to Sam’s cheek. “Poor thing.”

“There’s ice cream in the freezer, you know,” Beth said.

“Not Ben & Jerry’s,” Sam grumbled.

Beth shook her head. “Would you like me to run to the store and get you some Ben & Jerry’s?”

“No need. I already put in an order. The delivery driver should be here with ice cream, a stupid amount of chocolate, and a cheesecake in about an hour.”

Sorcha perked up at that. “You ordered chocolate?”

“Yes, but you can’t have any,” Sam said.

“What?”

“You’re being mean to me,” Sam said.

“Well, you wouldn’t let me bring home one of the otters!” Sorcha huffed.

Sam responded by sticking out her tongue at Sorcha.

Beth looked at Orla. “Are they always like this?” she asked.

“No,” Orla said. “This is a bit much, even for them.”

Sam closed her eyes, suddenly feeling the length of the day on her. “What did you two get up to today?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

“Mostly just getting Beth squared away,” Orla said. “I got them set up with their family stipend and scheduled them an appointment at the Sionnach enclave in New York to have an Aug installed. I also ordered an ansible for the house, scheduled the installation for a grade three home automation system, and ordered a few domestic bots to help around the house.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah,” Orla said. “Are you okay, love?”

“I’m tired,” Sam said. “Haven’t been sleeping well, and it just hit me all at once.”

“You want to go upstairs and take a nap?”

“Can’t,” Sam said. “Promised we’d talk when I got home.”

“Love, it can wait,” Orla said.

“Orla’s right,” Sorcha said. “It can wait until you’re rested.”

Sam snuggled up against Orla. “Fine,” she said, her voice heavy with sleep. “Nap first.”

“Love, let’s get you to bed.”

“Nuuuuuuu. Comfy here.”

Someone laughed at her, which was entirely unfair.

“You want me to carry you to bed, don’t you?”

“Mmhm,” Sam said. “Cause it's hot when you use your muscles.”

More laughter filled the room, but Sam didn’t notice. She was already asleep.

***

Orla waited as Sorcha turned back the covers on the bed, then gently laid Sam down on the mattress. Before they’d even let go, Sorcha was sitting on the foot of the bed, taking Sam’s shoes and socks off.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen her crash like that,” Orla said.

“She had a rough day,” Sorcha said.

“What happened?” Orla asked.

“You know Sam,” Sorcha said. They set Sam’s shoes down beside the bed and stood up. “Always more focused on other people’s well-being than her own.”

“That does sound like her,” Orla said as they pulled the covers up, carefully tucking Sam in. The moment the covers were in place, Morna and Choth both jumped up and claimed spots on the bed. Sorcha circled the bed and sat down with their back to the headboard on the opposite side of Sam from Orla.

“Sit with me,” Sorcha said, as they slowly stroked Sam’s hair.

Orla sat down next to Sam.

“Sam had a lot on her mind, and I think working it through just took everything she had. Especially since she hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Orla reached down and brushed their hand over Sam’s hair. “Did she work it out?”

“She did,” Sorcha said. “But that’s a conversation the two of you need to have. You and I need to have a different conversation.”

Orla felt a tightness in their gut. Something about Sorcha’s tone told them things were about to change, and they were never a big fan of change. Especially where Sorcha was concerned. Their first thought was that Sorcha had decided to leave, but they tried to quiet that fear. Sorcha had come to Earth with them. Surely, they wouldn’t turn around and leave after just a few days.

“What is it?”

“Something that might hurt you to hear,” Sorcha said. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I think you deserve to know the truth.”

“What is it?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve loved you as long as I can remember, and I still love you. Every time I look at you, all I can think is how much I want you. How much I want to be with you. That hasn’t changed.”

“But something has,” Orla said.

Sorcha nodded. “I didn’t expect it to happen, and I definitely didn’t mean for it to happen. When you told me about Sam, I wanted to hate her. I remember trying so hard to find any reason, any excuse to hate her. So, you can imagine my surprise when I looked at her one day, and realized I’d fallen in love with her.”

“You’re in love with Sam?” Orla asked.

“I am,” Sorcha said. “She’s kind and brave and generous and soft and fierce and loving.” They leaned down and kissed Sam on the forehead. “Not too bright, though.” They sat up and looked at Orla. “I love both of you, with all of my heart.”

Orla watched as Sorcha stood up, not sure what to make of the emotions swirling around inside them. They’d spent most of the day so far trying to distract themself from worrying about Sam, but now they were filled with worry for what this new piece of information meant for Sorcha. Would they leave? Would being so close to two people they loved be too painful for them to stay? Should Orla send them away? Was it selfish to ask them to stay someplace that would cause them pain because Orla couldn’t bear the thought of being without them?

Orla knew they couldn’t do it. The thought of sending Sorcha away, the thought of Sorcha leaving, made Orla physically ill. They wanted to get on their knees and beg Sorcha to stay, but instead, they asked a simple question.

“What will you do?”

“Go to my room and take a nap. Today’s been exhausting. I almost got eaten by an Uafas.” Sorcha said that last bit with the same crooked grin that always made Orla’s heart flutter, but today, the flutter was drowned out by the fear.

“You won’t leave, will you?” Orla asked.

“Never,” Sorcha said. They came around the bed, leaned down and kissed Orla on the forehead, in the same spot they had kissed Sam. “I will be with both of you as long as you’ll have me.” They straightened up, and looked down at Sam. “When you talk to her, go easy. She loves you as much as I do, and she only wants to find a way for all of us to be happy.”

Sorcha scooped Choth up in their arms and headed for the door. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Orla stared after Sorcha for a few minutes, not sure what to make of the conversation they’d just had, but when Sam grumbled restlessly and reached out for them, Orla kicked off their shoes and slipped under the covers, curling up against Sam’s side and resting their hand on Sam’s sternum where they could feel the steady beating of the heart underneath. They focused on the rhythm, letting it wash away the confusion and worry and soothe them into a light sleep.

***

Sam woke up to the feeling of being watched. Normally, that would have scared her, but she figured the fact that Morna was draped across her and Orla, and that Pixel hadn’t broken out the air horns, meant that whoever was watching wasn’t any kind of threat. Given where she was, and who was in the house, that only left two candidates. Her mom, and Sorcha. And given that if it were Sorcha, she would probably have just plopped down on the bed with them, Sam was pretty sure it was her mom.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Beth whispered. “Just enjoying the sight of my baby being happy.”

Sam smiled and opened her eyes. Beth was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against the door frame with a smile on her face. “Come sit down,” Sam said, trying to keep her voice down so she didn’t wake Orla.

Beth grabbed the chair from Sam’s computer desk and pulled it over next to the bed. “You were pretty worn out earlier. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Just had some trouble sleeping the last couple of nights. The talk we had gave me a lot to think about, and you know how I get when my brain won’t stop running.”

“Yeah. I remember. Did you make a decision?”

“I did,” Sam said. “I’m going to talk it over with Orla when they wake up. See what they think, and if they like the idea, we’ll give it a try.”

“And Sorcha?”

“They’re game if Orla is,” Sam said.

“I hope it works out for you.”

“I think it will,” Sam said.

“You know, you two look happy together,” Beth said.

“We are,” Sam said. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”

“Don’t,” Beth said. “I don’t deserve it.”

“You do. If you hadn’t pushed me the way you did, I would have missed out on the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“I know it ended well, but I shouldn’t have done it the way I did,” her mom said. “I should have been honest with you from the start, and let you make the decisions.”

“If you’d told me the truth, I never would have agreed,” Sam said. “So, given the way it turned out, I’m glad you did what you did. Maybe we could both try to do better in the future?”

“I like that idea,” her mom said.

Orla grumbled and shifted in her sleep. Sam pulled them close and pressed a kiss to their forehead.

“I’ll go,” Beth whispered. “You get some sleep. The Ben & Jerry’s is waiting when you wake up.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

***

“Boss,” Pixel said.

“Mmm…go away…” Sam grumbled.

“Boss, Sorcha just sent us a message.”

“Meh…”

“They said your mom is getting ready to start making dinner, so if you want to have that conversation with Orla, you need to do it now, or it will have to wait until tonight.”

“I hate you,” Sam said.

“I love you too, boss. Now, don’t make me get out the air raid sirens.”

Sam took a deep breath, and slowly pried her eyes open. “Orla, love. Wake up.”

“I don’t wanna,” Orla grumbled. They snuggled closer to Sam, hooking a leg over Sam’s thigh.

“Neither do I, love,” Sam said. “But we need to have that conversation I promised you this morning.”

She felt Orla stiffen slightly, so she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to their forehead. “It’s nothing bad, love. At least, I don’t think so. I’m hoping it’s something that will make all three of us really happy.”

Orla opened their eyes and looked at Sam. Sam felt a bit of guilt gnawing at her gut, because she could still see the fear in Orla’s eyes.

“You figured out what was bothering you?” Orla asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “And thank you for suggesting I take Sorcha along. I don’t think I would have worked it out without their help.”

“What was it?” Orla asked.

“You remember the conversation my mom and I had the other night?”

“Yeah. I figured it had something to do with that. I wanted to ask your mom about it today, but I held off.”

“Thank you for that,” Sam said.

“So, what was it?”

“Mom was worried,” Sam said. “She saw the way you and Sorcha touched each other, and since she’d been taught about the touch taboos on Talamh, she knew something was out of the ordinary. She came to me because she was afraid you two might be having an affair behind my back.”

“Oh,” Orla said. “Oh, no. Beth really thought that?”

“It was one theory she had,” Sam said.

“What was the other one?”

“That you, Sorcha, and I were in a three-way relationship, and just afraid to tell her.”

Orla buried their face in Sam’s shoulder and let out a groan.

“If it’s any consolation, she really hoped it was the second one.”

Orla lifted their head. “No. That isn’t any consolation.”

“Why not?” Sam asked.

“What?”

“Love, would that really be a bad thing?”

Orla stared at her for a moment, then shook their head. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

Sam took a deep breath. “My mom’s a lot of things. Stubborn, pushy, and always sure she’s right, but she’s not stupid, love. She could tell right away that I love you, and you love me. It took her a little longer to figure out you and Sorcha are in love, but when she was talking, she said that she was sure Sorcha and I had feelings for each other too. At first, I denied it, but Mom pointed something out to me. She said that if the three of us being together was the only way we could really be happy, there wasn’t anything wrong with that. That’s what threw me for a loop the past couple of days.

“I’ve spent weeks thinking about how things are between the three of us. About how much it hurts you and Sorcha that you can’t really be together, even though you love each other, and how guilty I feel for getting in the way, and how afraid I am that someday, you’ll decide that you want to be with Sorcha instead of me. And what Mom said, it made me wonder if we’ve been making ourselves miserable when we didn’t need to, but it also made me wonder if she was right. If I do have feelings for Sorcha. Honestly, that was the hardest part for me because I felt like, if I did have feelings for her, I’d be betraying you.”

“No,” Orla said. “Sam—”

“Wait,” Sam said. “Just, let me finish. This is scary enough, and I need to get it all out.”

“Okay.”

“I was afraid to talk to you about it because I was afraid of hurting you. I was afraid of getting your hopes up, and then realizing I didn’t want to include Sorcha in our relationship, and I was also afraid you’d be hurt at the idea that I might want to include Sorcha in our relationship. I was afraid you’d be hurt if I did have feelings for Sorcha and I was afraid you’d be hurt if you found out Sorcha had feelings for me. I didn’t know what to do, but I did know that right now, we’re all hurting, and I don’t want that to go on.

“So, I thought, if I could get away, get some distance to think about it, maybe it would help, but then you suggested taking Sorcha with me, and at first, I was going to say no, but then I realized that spending some time with Sorcha would be the best way to sort out whether or not Mom was right about us having feelings for each other. So I took them with me, and we talked and had fun and just spent some time with each other, and it made everything clear.

“I don’t love Sorcha. Not yet, but I think I could. We are already closer than you and I were when we got betrothed. I care about them a lot, and I think if I worked at it, the way you and I worked at it when we first started, that I could fall in love with them, too. I also realized that what I feel for Sorcha isn’t going to change what I feel for you. I love you, and the thought of not having you in my life is terrifying. I’m scared that if we invite Sorcha into our relationship, that the two of you will realize that you don’t need me. That I’ll get pushed out, but I want all of us to be happy, and I know you’ll never be as happy as you could be without Sorcha. I know that Sorcha will never be as happy as they could be without you, and I’ll never be as happy as I could be if my happiness comes at the expense of yours and Sorcha’s pain. So, I think it’s worth the risk, and if you want to, I think we should ask Sorcha to marry us.”

Orla lay there in silence, staring at Sam with a look on their face that Sam wasn’t sure how to interpret, especially when the tears started welling up in their eyes.

“You mean it?” Orla asked, their voice cracking.

“Yes,” Sam said. “Orla, I want us to be together. All of us. Forever. I don’t want to—”

Sam didn’t get to finish, because Orla rolled on top of her and kissed her, cutting off Sam’s words, but in the minutes that followed, they made it very clear that they felt the same way.

***

Sam dropped her spoon in the empty bowl and leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh.

“You want any more?” her mom asked.

“No, thanks.”

“You sure? If you’re tired of the Americone Dream, I’m pretty sure I have some Sticky Hickey Crunch.”

“Mom!”

“Strawberry Scratch Marks?” her mom asked.

Sam groaned and turned to Orla. “This is your fault,” she said.

Orla, who was already bright tomato red, turned another shade darker.

“I like your mom, boss,” Pixel said.

“Shut it, Pixel,” Sam said.

“I agree with Pixel,” Sorcha said.

“You don’t even know what he said!”

“Don’t care,” Sorcha said. “I know he was dragging you.”

“It’s not my fault Orla bites when they get excited,” Sam grumbled.

“Technically, it’s not Orla’s fault either,” Sorcha said. “We all do that. It’s instinctive. The difference is, our skin is thick enough to take it.”

“Well, excuse me for being a weak little human.”

“But I’m absolutely blaming you for this,” Sorcha said.

“What? Why?”

“Because I sent you that message so you’d have time to talk. Not so you’d spend the whole time scratching each other’s ears.” Sorcha said.

Sam looked right at Sorcha. “We did talk,” Sam said.

Sorcha went deathly still. “Oh,” she said. “Uh…how did that go?”

Sam gave Orla a quick look. Orla nodded, which brought a smile to Sam’s face. She got up, and walked around the table, and knelt down in front of Sorcha. She reached out, taking one of Sorcha’s hands carefully in her own. Sorcha looked down at Sam, confusion clearly written on their face. They didn’t know what was happening, but Sam had expected that.

“Sorcha, Orla asked me to do this, because your people don’t have a tradition for it. This has always been something arranged by family and House, but part of the reason we came to Earth was to escape the constraints and traditions of Talamh, and I’m going to do this the way we do on Earth. But I want you to know that even though I am the one asking the question, it comes from Orla and I both, and we mean it with all of our hearts.

“Sorcha, child of House Grasta, for their whole life, you have been a source of joy and comfort to Orla. You have been their closest and dearest friend and they have come to love you in every way it's possible to love a person. To me, over the past few months, you have been many things. A rival first, then an ally, then a friend, and slowly, you’ve become something more. You are dear to my heart, and I want you to be a part of my life from now until the end. I love Orla, and Orla loves me, and when the time comes, we will marry each other, but right now, I’m asking you to join us when that day comes. To marry us, to be a part of us, and let us be a part of you as well. To share the rest of our lives as our spouse. Sorcha, will you marry us?”

At some point during Sam’s speech, Sorcha had started crying. Sam wasn’t sure when, she was too busy trying to read the words she’d written earlier off the teleprompter Pixel was running in her head’s up display. She’d been a little worried that it would make her sound wooden, but judging from Sorcha’s reaction, she either did really well, or really, really badly.

Sorcha reached out slowly and cupped Sam’s face in their hands, gently pulling her forward as they leaned down until their lips met. The kiss was soft and gentle, and tasted of tears, but Sam kissed Sorcha back, taking time to savor their first kiss. She let Sorcha set the pace, and decide when to pull away, but when it was over, she looked up to see Sorcha smiling at her. Then Sorcha turned to Orla.

“Get over here, you,” Sorcha said. Orla scrambled to their feet and rushed around the table. Sorcha stood up and wrapped their arms around Orla, pulling them into a kiss that was long, long overdue. Sam watched, and to her surprise, she didn’t feel even a touch of jealousy. Seeing them together was just right.

And hot.

Really, really hot.

When the kiss was over, Sorcha held out their hand to Sam and pulled them into the hug with Orla.

“I take it that’s a yes?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Sorcha said.

They all jumped a little at the sound of Beth’s chair moving back from the table. She walked over and wrapped her arms around all of them.

“I’m happy for you,” she said. “All of you.”

“Thank you, Mom,” Sam said.

Beth let go and took a deep breath. “Now, I’m going to go.”

“What?” Sam asked. “Where?”

“I was thinking about a movie,” Beth said. “Then a hotel. You three just got engaged, and I want to give you some privacy for the night.”

Sam turned and kissed Sorcha and Orla both on the cheek, and then pulled out of the hug. She followed Beth out into the hallway leading to the front door.

“Mom, wait,” she said. Her mom turned to look at her.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Sam threw her arms around Beth and hugged her tightly. “Thank you,” she said, not entirely sure what she was thanking her for. For accepting that she was gay. For pushing her into the betrothal. For welcoming Orla and Sorcha into her home. For pushing her to actually look at what was happening between her and Sorcha. For accepting the best way forward for Sam, Orla, and Sorcha was something different from what even the three of them had expected. Maybe all of it. Whatever it was, her mom seemed to understand.

“You’re welcome,” Beth said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Go on. Don’t keep your people waiting.”

Sam kissed her mom on the cheek, and then headed back to the kitchen, and her future.

Epilogue

SAM SAT ON THE bench, soaking in the sunlight. After a morning full of meetings and ceremonies and shaking hands, she was very glad that she was only there as Orla and Sorcha’s wife, and not as an official representative of House Leargas. Otherwise, she’d be standing in the middle of the square, listening to the University President babble on about something. Honestly, Sam could never keep up with what the man was on about.

Instead, she got to sit down and enjoy the view while Orla and Sorcha traded bows with a number of people who wanted to feel like they were somehow involved in the opening of the first of the Leargas Learning Centers.

“Sam?”

The sound of her name pulled Sam away from her thoughts, and she turned to find herself face to face with someone she’d never thought she’d see again.

“Hey, Jenny,” she said, trying to put a bit of a smile in her voice, even though she wasn’t sure if running into Jenny was going to be a good thing. They hadn’t really parted on the best of terms.

“It is you, isn’t it?” Jenny asked as she walked over towards Sam.

“In the flesh,” Sam said. “Would you like to sit?”

Jenny nodded and took a seat next to her on the bench. “I thought you were still living on Talamh.”

“No,” Sam said. “I only ended up staying about six months.”

Sam watched as Jenny did the math in her head. “You’ve been back a year and a half and you didn’t call me?” she asked. Sam could hear the hurt in her voice, but she stepped on the feeling of guilt that swelled up in her gut.

“You told me you never wanted to see me again,” Sam said.

Jenny frowned and looked away. “Yeah,” she said. “That wasn’t my best day.” She looked back up at Sam. “I tried to call, to apologize, but your number was already disconnected.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Ansible forwarding is really expensive, and I honestly didn’t see the point.”

“Well, I know it’s a couple of years too late, but I am sorry for what I said.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said.

“It’s not. I hated myself for what I said to you. You were just—”

“Jenny…”

“Yeah?”

“It really is okay,” Sam said. “I forgave you a long time ago. And even when it was happening, I understood. You wanted me to stay, and I was running off to a whole other planet just to make my mom happy. Believe me, I hated myself for it.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because my mom was right,” Sam said. “Earth was turning into a colony, and that never ends well for the natives. I thought if I could get an off-world education, I could come back and make a difference. I could help my mom, and you, and other people.”

“I guess that didn’t work out for you, did it?”

Sam smiled. “Oh, I don’t know.” She turned back towards the learning center and gave a small nod. “I think we’re doing pretty well so far.”

Jenny turned and looked at the learning center. “You’re involved with the learning center?” she asked.

“You could say that. I own the hardware.”

“What? I thought it belonged to some alien family.”

“House Leargas,” Sam said. “We’re doing a lot of things like this. We should have another thousand learning centers coming online worldwide by September first.”

“But…how?”

“A few careful investments,” Sam said. She leaned over and whispered. “Humans aren’t going to be able to catch up with Hegemony technology for another fifty years or so, but entertainment…no species in the galaxy puts quite as much effect into goofing off as humans do. We bought up off world adaptation and distribution rights for pretty much every piece of media that isn’t public domain. A few AIs to translate, and for video to do digital lip sync, and we’re making trillions of Hegemony credits. And part of the deal is fifty percent of our profits get reinvested into the uplift program. Not only is Earth going to be one of the fastest uplifts in Hegemony history, but we’ll be the first planet ever to come out of uplift debt-free.”

Sam straightened up and looked back over to Sorcha and Orla. Orla was still talking to the University president, but Sorcha was giving Jenny some serious side eye, which made Sam smile. Jenny followed her gaze over to Sorcha.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Sorcha,” Sam said.

“Any reason she’s giving us the stink eye?”

“Probably just has itchy ears,” Sam said.

“I’m telling them you said that, boss,” Pixel said.

“Go ahead.”

“Go ahead, what?” Jenny asked, at the same time Sorcha made a gesture that was extremely rude with their ears.

Sam laughed and shook her head. “Sorry. I was talking to my Aug.”

“You have one of those computers in your head?” Jenny asked.

Sam turned back to her. “Yeah,” she said. “One of the AIs, too. I could set it to respond to mental commands, but honestly, I kind of like people’s reaction when I just randomly start having half a conversation with myself.”

Jenny laughed. “You always did like to freak people out.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. She looked back over at Orla and Sorcha, who were bowing to the University President.

“How’s MIT treating you?” Sam asked as Orla and Sorcha started her way.

“I didn’t go,” Jenny said. “I actually go to school here. I still live in Santa Cruz with my parents. My scholarship pays for a portal pass so I just portal up every morning. Once you left, I didn’t see any point in going to MIT anymore.”

“Are you happy here?” Sam asked.

“I’m lonely,” Jenny said.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. She stood up, smiling as Orla and Sorcha reached the bench. She gave them both a quick kiss. “I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.” She turned around and faced Jenny. “Jenny, I’d like you to meet my spouses. This is Orla Leargas, and this is Sorcha Grasta. Orla, Sorcha, this is Jenny Ramos. She’s an old friend.”

Orla and Sorcha both bowed. “It’s nice to meet you, Jenny,” Orla said.

“You too,” Jenny said, though she sounded more confused than happy.

“We’ve got to go,” Sam said. “We’re having dinner with my mom, Orla’s entles, and their new cousin, but if you want to catch up, I still have my old email account.”

“Okay,” Jenny said. “See you around.”

“See you around.”

Sam took one of Orla’s hands and one of Sorcha’s, threading their fingers together as they headed towards the nearest air-car pickup point.

“I don’t like them,” Sorcha said.

“You don’t like anyone, love,” Sam said.

“That’s not true,” Sorcha said. “I just don’t like people who look at you like they want to scratch your ears.”

“Well, fortunately for you, my ears are taken.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Sorcha’s cheek, then turned to Orla. “And you’re not allowed to plot her death.”

“I’m not plotting her death,” Orla said.

“Okay,” Sam said. “But no grievous bodily harm either.”

Orla cracked a small smile, and Sam kissed them on the cheek too.

“I love you two,” Sam said. “You don’t have to be jealous.”

“We’re not jealous,” Orla and Sorcha both said at the same time.

“I think they’re jealous, boss,” Pixel said.

Sam didn’t say anything, but she was pretty sure Pixel was right. Fortunately, they had an entire limo ride for her to remind them why they didn’t need to be.

The End

Notes on Sionnach Time Keeping

1 dara = 1.034 Seconds

1 noimead = 100 dara (1.73 Minutes)

1 uair = 100 noimead (2.87 Hours)

1 laethanta = 10 uair (1.20 Days)

1 seachtain = 10 laethanta (12 Days)

1 mionna = 5 seachtain (60 Days)

1 bliana = 3 mionna (180 Days)

Talamh, the Sionnach Homeworld, is locked in a 3/2 orbital resonance with the local star Grian, which means that Talamh rotates three times every two orbits around Grian. A bliana is equal to two orbits of Talamh around Grian, or three day/night cycles. A mionna is approximately one day/night cycle (only approximately since the length of the day/night cycle is inconsistent).

Ardtus – First Day of the seachtain

Arsoicind – Second Day of the seachtain

Artriu – Third Day of the seachtain

Arceathru – Fourth Day of the seachtain

Arcuigui – Fifth Day of the seachtain

Arseu – Sixth Day of the seachtain

Arseachtu – Seventh Day of the seachtain

Arochtu – Eighth Day of the seachtain

Arnaou – Ninth Day of the seachtain

Ardeichiu – Tenth Day of the seachtain

About Molly J. Bragg

Molly Bragg is an autistic trans woman with a degree in Astrophysics and a love of storytelling. She loves science fiction, superheroes, and giant robots. Her hobbies include collecting Transformers, watching way too many crafting videos on YouTube, playing Dungeons & Dragons, and complaining bitterly about the way a certain comic book company treats her favorite superhero.

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