Page 28 of Smart@ss Cyborg

Haltingly, I move for the sink, thinking I will attempt to do the dishes to show her caretaking.

She shoos me away and out of the kitchen.

Thwarted from showing my mate both physical affection and household husbandry duties, I consider the caretaking options available to me.

Hunting, I decide. I know how to hunt. Granted, I haven’t hunted on land before, but I believe the skills I have will prove effective in capturing a nourishing meal for my mate.

One she can enjoy. I know Becky doesn’t care for my seafood preference. Perhaps she will be pleased with a land animal from this place.

A short time later, I set out with Paco loyally trailing me, a makeshift packing saddle affixed to his back. It’s meant for horses and doesn’t fit him well; however, he makes no complaints about the way I’ve rigged it to him and he seems excited to have a reason to walk behind me (and attempt to pull my gun from its holster while he does).

Before midday, I return to our homestead, Paco sure-footedly plodding along with me, laden with the felled carcass of an Oryx.

The Oryx is an arid-dwelling animal introduced to Traxia from Earth. A rather conspicuous-looking creature, I can’t fathom what its native environment must have looked like if it at all blended with its surroundings. Its forelegs have striking bands of black on bright white. Its body is the soft gray color of a bird known as a “dove” that might blend well with some sort of sandscape—except that loud black stripes streak up its belly, throat, chest, shoulders, back, rear legs, and face.

Essentially, if ever this creature could hide in its previous home, it now stands out here.

It was brought to Traxia specifically to be a game species, with the hope that it would be capable of surviving similar harsh conditions and provide massive amounts of wild meat.

It's done remarkably well on this planet. Its size and considerable horns (a pair of straight, incredibly long horns) deters most of the local predators, and it thrives on the various desert plants that manage to push up from the ever-sandy soil.

When Paco and I reach the barn, Becky emerges from the house, holding her hands to her lower back as if it is causing her discomfort.

As I lead Paco into a stall, Becky draws near to me, and I lean down, positioning my face close to hers in the hope that she might see my nearness as an invitation to mate our mouths in affectionate greeting.

Instead, she looks up at me sharply.

Undeterred at having to prove myself worthy of her attentions, I move my mouth to her ear, some instinct insisting that I should speak into the lovely shell of it, where the vibrations from my mouth sounds will hopefully affect her physically. “I'm gratified,” I tell her, my voice a smooth rasp, “to have my mate come greet me and the kill I've made for her.”

Pulling back, Becky grimaces. “That thing is huge. I’m glad you’re gratified. My back is not happy that it’s going to take forever to butcher.”

I experience a crashing feeling inside my chest. “I thought you’d be pleased. This kill is going to make you a fine meal. Many fine meals.”

Brow pinched in pain, Becky squeezes her eyes shut. “Yeah, but all the bending and hunching to chop it up into many, many future meals…”

My jaw works as I consider and discard several statements I feel compelled to say. Finally I settle on, “Do not trouble yourself. Please return inside. I will butcher it.”

Becky shakes her head. “No, I can do it.” She steps forward.

My arm blocks her from forward momentum.“Becky,”I say.

Perhaps my tone is sharp. Her head whips up. Her already knitted brows crash together.

I drop my arm. I turn away from her, facing the kill I made hoping to please her. Although it’s clear that I’ve failed, at the very least I can still provide for her. “Go back inside, mate. I will perform this task without your help.”

“Is there a problem?” Becky asks from behind me.

“Yes,” I say. Paco shifts, looking strangely uneasy. He hasn’t been bothered by the Oryx he’s carrying. As he rolls his eyes at Becky and me, I wonder if he senses some tension.

“Do you want to share what the problem is?” Becky asks. Her voice has a strange quality to it. Stretched thin, maybe even shaking.

I send her a frown over myshoulder.

She looks up at me and bursts into tears.

Narrowing my eyes, I turn to face her. “Other than your back, are you in pain?” I attempt to scan her brain, but I’m too distracted and thoroughly confused to properly make sense of her activity.

She pushes past me until she’s standing at Paco’s side, where she begins unstrapping her Oryx. “You’re hurting my feelings,” she says.

---