Page 39 of Alien Barbarian's Little Human

The Ishani’s vaunted Voice ability, whatever it is, will meet its counter sooner or later. I just hope to be well away from this planet before that happens. Judging from the unrest, my money is on sooner rather than later.

The Ishani transit system takes me to their botanical garden. Garden is a bit of a misnomer, as it’s more like a dome the size of three football stadiums combined, filled to the brim with verdant life.

I guess the protesters don’t consider a botanical garden to have the same importance as a government office. They are nowhere in sight, not that I miss them. I enter the garden with no hassles.

Inside, I find the atmosphere a bit warmer and more humid, but otherwise pleasant. A myriad variety of scents dance across my nostrils, exotic plants and some eerily familiar.

A robed steward walks elegantly toward me. His golden eyes shine nothing but kindness and patience, but there’s a slight twitch by his lips when he speaks. I think he’s holding back some latent hostility.

“Welcome, Ambassador. It’s always a pleasure to have a first time visitor to our wonderful garden.”

“Thank you, Sir. I believe I’m an expected guest of Varona.”

“Oh, yes, Master Varona awaits your convenience on the succulents level, Rainbow Falls platform. Don’t worry, I’ll be more than happy to guide you.”

His voice seems a bit strained. I don’t think he’s happy about it, but he pretends to be, and that’s good enough for me.

He leads me up several flights of comfortable steps. They must have been put in for visitors, because the Ishani can fly. The brightly-hued tendrils and fronds which unfurl on either side of our path are both threatening and beautiful.

The idea of what is and is not a plant changes defending on the planet of origin. Most of the plants in the garden, though, seem to be of the non-ambulatory type. That’s good. I don’t like having a conversation with an apple tree, I just want to eat the fruit.

The closer we get to the Rainbow Falls platform, the more anxious I become. It’s almost like I can feel Varona’s presence before I can even see him.

A cooling mist born of rushing water envelops us as we round a bend in the walkway. Rainbow Falls gets its name because of its location beneath the largest pane of glass in the overhead dome. The sunlight beams in and creates rainbows in the mist.

Varona rises as we approach, having been seated at a table laden with a grand amount of offerings. My belly rumbles at the prospect. I haven’t eaten much since I got to this world.

“Greetings, Chloe. I took the liberty of preparing some dishes I thought you might enjoy.”

“It smells and looks great, Varona. That’s two thirds of the battle.”

The dining area on the platform is protected by a force field designed to keep out spray from the waterfall. Thus, the seats and the food remain perfectly dry, while the rest of the platform is a darker hue from moisture. You can see the exact dimensions of the force filed by looking at the floor. The line between wet and dry is clearly delineated.

Varona serves me, so to speak. He cuts apart some kind of Alzhon looking bread with a plasma knife and spreads a brownish-gold paste on the resulting slices. When I try it, the flavor reminds me of almonds, honey, and some unnamable thing between savory and spicy.

Varona has Vakutan coffee on ice, and some kind of sparkling green beverage which I take to be native to the Ishani.I go for the coffee to wash down my toast, giving the green stuff the stink eye.

“It is made from the ground up intestines of burrowing beetles,” Varona says.

“Ugh, did you have to tell me that?”

“No. Actually, it’s juice from the pureed innards of one of our citrus fruits. The way you were looking at it fit my first description, however.”

“What’s it taste like?”

“Alzhonions liken the flavor to star berries.”

“Well, I like star berries. Hit me.”

I hold my glass out and he stares. I roll my eyes.

“I mean, fill my glass.”

“Ah. Forgive me for not understanding the human custom. I was wondering if perhaps you wanted me to actually strike you, and if so in what manner.”

“Ah, no, there are very few contexts where that is appropriate.”

“Indeed. A pugilist contest, for example. Or a fantasy role play, which involves striking the bare bottom of one’s partner in a ritual called a spanking--”

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