Making Contact
© 2022 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  TheTiedTigress


Yerim l’Tavan had been a purchasing agent for Chadan’s agricultural collective for a good portion of his one hundred years of life, and in all that time he’d never married. So when Vorun g’Raf proposed to him, it came as a surprise. She and the kam had been bedding each other for more than a year after her mate had died, poor Dorath, and they both agreed that they would make a compatible couple.

Still, the marriage had been a big step, and married life brought a few interesting things with it.

For starters, his work as purchasing agent had grown more complicated. He’d had to transfer to another region to deflect any whisper that he was giving the g’Raf family farm any preferential treatment. His superiors appreciated that he had come to them about the matter personally.

The other complication was that he hadn’t had any children, and Vorun had three daughters and a son. They were all adults, and so far they had all accepted him and welcomed him into the family.

And one of those daughters had a relationship with a Terran. He wasn’t really certain how he thought about that, despite his new mate’s explanation. Perhaps she was right, and he’d ask Varan about the relationship when she came to Chadan on home leave.

He had his padd tuned to play some music while he prepared dinner, and as he put the various dishes in the oven he glanced at the device to see a small blinking square. The kam ran his tailspur over the surface, and the music never faltered as the message box opened up. “Vorun?” he called out.

“Yes, Yerim?”

“A message has just come for you.”

“Aka?” His mate had been in the adjoining main room; she stepped into the kitchen and smiled as he eyed her appreciatively. Vorun nuzzled him before she tapped at the message to open it.

She immediately looked surprised. “What is it, love?” he asked.

“It’s from Meredidh’s parents.”

Yerim frowned. “Her parents? How did they get your commcode?”

Her tail hiked in a shrug. “It’s not private. Varan speaks very highly of them, and they’ve welcomed her into their home.”

“Very trusting of them.”

The message cleared, with minimal data dropouts or skipping as the Terran format was shoehorned into compatibility with Imperial algorithms, to reveal a dark-furred Terran equine male. Watching him speak was a little disconcerting, as the translation overlaid his mouth movements. “Narchak, Ma’am. I am Javid d’Estcourt, Meredith’s father. I and my wives felt that it was time that we introduce ourselves to you.”

The two shlani watched as Javid introduced Thea and Marie, and Vorun smiled as the three parents showed off their two sons with obvious pride. “Another reason why we decided to speak with you, g’Raf-vī, is that Varan came to us a few nights ago, and spent the night.” He smiled, in Kashlanin fashion. “She told us that she was planning on asking for leave to come home to you.”

It appeared to require more effort to broaden his smile, as if Terran faces weren’t built right. “We Terrans have a sort of tradition, in which we parents will try to embarrass our children by showing images of how they looked as children. I’m afraid we don’t have anything like that of your daughter, but we felt that this is something you should see.”

His face was replaced by a still image.

Yerim’s eyes went wide at the sight of a vir in Fleet uniform, sound asleep, with two Terran children sleeping on top of her. Vorun had her hand to her mouth as her tail thumped against the floor while Javid said, “Amir and Berto seem to like your daughter.”

The rest of the message was various pleasantries and a brief tour of their home before it ended with all three of the adult equines waving.

“Aka,” Yerim ventured, “that was . . . interesting.” Vorun didn’t respond and her mate asked, “Vorun?”

Vorun took her hand away from her mouth, and started laughing aloud.