Page 11 of Dreikx

“I don’t know what or who that is.”

“High voltage engaged. Stand by.”

“Okay, I’m standing.” What in the Serpent?

“You are approaching General Dreikx’s private residence,” the house says projecting the voice outside. “Identify yourself.”

The vehicle flies forward. A faint blue bubble surrounds the house. It crackles like lightning, and the vehicle finally stops, hovering in place beside the bubble, those fans spinning fast. The door opens, revealing a human man holding something in his hand and near his face. It flashes bright white and blinds me. I cover my eyes. When I lower my hand, it keeps flashing. What is that? I tilt my head. It’s not a weapon. It’s not firing, and apparently, it’s not that important because the door closes and the vehicle retreats. Weird.

“Can I go outside now?” I ask the house.

“Perimeter secured.”

That sounds good, so I take the stairs down and exit the home. Under my soles, the bed of grass is soft as I pad toward the blue thing surrounding the house. It crackles with lightning, so I don’t touch it. Looking around, I spot a tree and walk there to grab a fallen branch from beneath it. I throw it at the blue bubble. The branch ignites and burns down to ashes.

Ah. This is a Telean security system, an electric field of some sort. The Alpha males protect us on Regha, though it’s nice to know Husband thinks of my safety while at work. Father would like this. Me? Not so much. I feel a bit imprisoned. The entire house sits at the top of the mountain, and the only way I can approach and leave is by air. I don’t fly or know much about Telean or Earth tech. Perhaps Dreikx will teach me.

I return inside and search for food. Strange boxes and dried food line the cupboards. Powdered things. Preserved nuts. Where is the fresh food? There’s a large object nestled between the cupboards. I open it. Ta-da. Inside, all the items are labeled and dated and separated by human days of the week as well as by type of food. It’s a Wednesday and lunchtime, so I grab the designated container and close the cold cupboard. At the massive old dining table, I open the container. White meat of some sort. I sniff, trying to figure out what it is. It smells like the sea, so I hope it’s fish.

A fork is conveniently attached to the container’s lid. I grab it and taste the food. I chew, swallow. There’s no taste to it. It’s like eating air. Something red and juicy is next. I taste it. It’s sweet, with black seeds. This is good. It reminds me of sweetened water. Next, I eat the white-and-yellow food cut in circles. Oh, I think this is an egg, but it’s not raw or fried. I like this. Not the fish thing. I won’t eat that, and this isn’t enough, so I grab several more containers and eat the things I like, returning all the rest.

My com pings, startling me, and I yelp. It pings again. Sighing, I tap my ear. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Tamey,” Dreikx says.

“Hi.” I lean back in the chair and twirl my hair, propping my feet up on the table and examining my pink nail polish.

“How is your day progressing?”

“Not bad. I’m having lunch.”

“Is everything to your liking?”

Not really. “Yes, thank you, Husband.”

“Excellent. I wonder if you would like me to send someone with ready-made clothes. You brought hardly anything with you.”

“I was hoping I could go shopping.”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

I wait, wiggling my toes and chewing nuts. When I hear nothing, I tap the com unit. “Are you still there?”

“I am.” He clears his throat. “At this time, shopping is more of a risk than it merits. I’ll send someone.”

“I’ll make the clothes,” I say, a bit annoyed.

“You’re upset.”

“Not at all.” I get up and wash my hands, then grab a bottle of water. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The line clicks, and I climb upstairs to continue making my evening outfit.

Time passes quickly when you love what you do. And I love making clothes. I love making them for other people more than for myself, but I only have myself for now. Once done, I dress and descend the steps, then sit on the bottom one and wait for Husband.

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