Page 11 of Invasive Species
I unroll the papers in my hand, smoothing out the parts I creased in my fists. The myriad designs piece together to form a structure at the back, facing the garden she spoke about. From what I can tell, the walls are meant to be transparent to let in what little light this planet offers.
The next is a small sketch of the garden in full bloom around the barn, the little additional structure in the center. Despite being monochrome in color, it will make the entrance atrium of the barn bright and airy. I quickly run a simulation in my model for natural light and stare at the results; without something like this, the barn vestibule would have no access to natural light, and it’ll be as dark as clone barracks.
She somehow improved it without access to any advanced building programs, just charcoal derivatives.
“Ah!” Her shriek cuts across the courtyard, accompanied by a rumble as the wood substrate wall topples over her.
Adrenaline surges through my system in response to her cry. I bolt to her side, pulling light boxes and flattened sheets of cardboard away and throwing them behind me. Fortunately, these are neither sharp nor heavy. My hand touches her arm, then her back, and I lean in to scoop her out of the wreckage.
I pull her to my chest effortlessly, turning her over in my arms. I can’t smell any blood, nor can I see any swellings or punctures.
She clings to me, face reddening as she looks at the carnage surrounding us. “Oops.”
My shoulders relax. She’s not hurt at least. She weighs nothing in my arms, an insubstantial mass, but as a female, she pulls everything into her gravity. “What were you trying to achieve?”
“I spotted the wooden pallets. They’d make a good start for giving you guys a bit of privacy, and they’d block out the wind. If we find some tarp or something, we can make you little tents.”
I blink at her slowly. She gestures while she talks, but the rest of her body lies still in my arms. She swings her gaze up to meet mine, intense green eyes sparkling. “I’ve got so many ideas.”
She overflows with them. As I set her back on her feet, I say, “Perhaps exercise a little more caution. Try not to get crushed next time.”
Nodding eagerly, she says, “I’ll be careful. I’ll tidy this up right now—oh. The sheep. I need to feed the sheep.” She runs away while talking, gesturing wildly. I track her movements, trying to predict where she’ll go next, but she’s erratic,bouncing between the lean-to and the farmhouse like an untethered starship.
I should leave her to it, except she’s already nearly hurt herself once. What if that had been the heavy machinery in the shed? I’m not sure how careful she can be, despite her promise.
Sighing, I step toward her, holding up my hand to interrupt her path. She skids to a halt, watching me.
“You are concerned about the wellbeing of the animals, yes?”
Arra-bellah nods, shifting from foot to foot, adjusting her clothes, bouncing on her toes. This female cannot—will not—be still. She blurts, “Can you help me?”
I try not to let my shoulders slump, droning, “Of course, female. What are your first orders?”
She frowns at that. “Not, like, do it. I need help…” Fingers wave in the air, then pull out her communication device. “I need to make a list. Help me put stuff on it, and in the right order.”
Prioritizing tasks? That I can do. “Very well. First, activities vital for life. I assume apart from oxygen, they need nutrition and hydration.”
“Um… feeding.” She types away at her device, loose curls sliding over her forehead as she concentrates.
“Where is food for the creatures kept?”
Closing her eyes, her lips move. She’s silent for such a long time I wonder if she’s even concerned with doing the task anymore. Then she blurts, “There’s another lean-to filled with sweet-smelling dry stuff and pellets. Out by the sheep.” She points toward the house, possibly indicating the fields beyond.
The smile she turns on me is dazzling. Paired with her bright eyes, it makes my breath catch in my throat.
As if she’s looped a collar on me, tightening it under her command.
I shake off the feeling, folding my arms tight. “Next is water.”
“There should be water troughs, but I’ll check they’re working.” Her fingers fly across her tiny device now. Her nails are torn and shredded down to the skin. Casting my gaze over her, I see healing sores on her bottom lip, old bruises dotting her arms. Her bare arms, with small bumps raising all along her skin. Isn’t she cold in this chill wind? I lean closer and hear her teeth chattering: a typical thermoregulation activity.
My healer instincts kick in. I inform her, “You need a covering.”
“Cover…ing…” she murmurs, writing that down. She squints up at me. “What, for the sheep?”
“No, for yourself.” I gesture toward the house. “El-len has many coverings near to the front door. Perhaps you can avail yourself of one?”
“In a minute.” She tugs her hair out of her face. “What else do sheep need?”
