Nanny For The Alien Warrior

Chapter 1

Ryker

Even through the pallid screen, I can feel her pride. It practically burns my eyes. I’m not exactly upset about it, but the glare from her intense emotion makes me feel ill at ease.

Well, that and other things.

“My son, my brave son,” she croons, her hands clasped under her chin.

“I know, Mother. Thank you,” I say, trying to change the subject. 

The walls of the cramped holobooth crowd around me. Unlike the booths located near where I live in the city proper, these booths are a little more run down, ragged around the edges.

I’m sitting on the edge of the Kiphian part of the city, where the human neighborhood begins. This no-man’s isn’t pretty but it’s not terrible, either. A dilapidated in-between, you could say. 

We Lake Kingdom Kiphians are somewhat haphazard in our feelings towards humans. We tolerate them in small doses. As long as they can work the ports and be useful to us, they are permitted to stay - in their own areas.

My mother, Countess Karr, looks at me with weepy gray eyes, her hair limp and forlorn. These past few years, those have been the only eyes she’s had. After the death of my sister, it was all she could manage. It was like the light had been snuffed out of her when Gidget died. I know, for my mother and me both, our sister and the unfortunate way she died is never far from our thoughts.

“The Medal of Cytheira,” my mother breathes, almost like a mantra. “So brave. So brave.”

Her fawning is making me squirm a little. I try to hide it from the holocall screen. 

“Yes, Mother, it’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it is! Keeping the city safe is not an easy feat! I’m just glad someone finally recognized you for it,” she says, her voice cracking with emotion. I can see her hands wringing around the delicate handkerchief that is a constant accessory.

I take a breath in. The news of the medal is not why I called my mother today. From this place. 

“Mother, I have something else to tell you. Something that will be hard to hear…” I trail off, trying to bring her around slowly. Talking about Gidget is always difficult, like wading into mizonz-infested waters.

“Yes?” I can feel her steeling herself. Weak as she is, physically and emotionally, she puts on a brave face. Her back gets straighter on the screen.

“I have news about Gidget,” I say, simply and as clearly as I can.

“You do,” she says. I note that she didn’t ask it in the form of a question. 

Was she expecting me to say something like that? My thoughts swirl.

“Yes. I’ve tracked down her children, I think. The ones she had shortly before she…”

My mother nods, finishing my sentence. Even though it has been seven years, bringing up her death always feels fresh, the wound never healing.

“They are nearby. From where I am now. I wanted to call before I went to see them. In person. I wanted you to know,” I stammer, my courage faltering. I may be a general of the Cytheiran forces and a soldier all my life, but breaking news to my mother has always been difficult for me.

To my surprise, my mother’s face changes. It goes from wan grief to something close to elation.

“Oh, Ryker! This news is so…I can’t find the words. I am so pleased. Go to them. Meet them. Tell them who you are and their proud heritage.”

“I will, Mother. As soon as I end this call.”

“And bring them back to us. Bring them back to the family where they belong.”

Her voice has a note of command in it. There is no debate here. Gidget’s children must return to their family, their maternal grandmother. I don’t know who has been raising them since my sister’s death but it is clear to my mother that this is not a consideration.

It won’t be for me, either. I’ve spent too long searching for them. To keep Gidget’s legacy alive, they must be found and raised in a manner befitting their late mother.

“I will, Mother. I surely will.”

“Go now. Go to them. Tell them their grandmother is waiting. And so eager to meet them.”

Her eyes shine with a new emotion: hope and excitement.

Ending the call, I feel infected with that feeling too. I am startled to realize it has been a long time since I’ve felt something akin to it. Between work and searching for the children, a pall had fallen over my life as well, like a flower trying to grow in the dark.

I step out of the holobooth and check the coordinates of where the children are supposedly living. They still baffle me. Why are Kiphian children being raised in the human settlement of Cytheira? It’s the worst part of town.

Squaring my shoulders, I head into the slums. 

And slums they certainly are. Cytheira is a varied city with its fair share of problems. But these human areas are something else. Filth, debris and an overall cloud of sadness and desperation permeate the crowded alleys and streets, rutted with hovels.

How could my sister’s children have ever ended up in such a place? It baffles my mind and I can only think some poor mercenary human has taken them in for profit.

After some time and several errors, I finally locate the dwelling where my source told me the children were living.

My steps are interrupted when two children rush past me. At first glance, they appear to be human but then I see faint characteristic marks of Kiphian heritage, especially in the little boy who appears to be about six or seven years of age.

Squealing while they run, they appear happy though I can see their shoes and clothes are threadbare and they look a little underweight. 

Could they be….?

If they are, my mother will soon fatten them up with her cooking.

Checking my coordinates once more, I confirm: this is the right place. The children, playing some sort of complicated racing game, seem oblivious to my presence. As I get closer, I become certain - these are Kiphian children. But why is their outward appearance so…humanoid?

My thoughts are broken when a woman emerges from the squat and battered door.

Her cheeks are flushed and her hair, a mass of corn-silk, tumbles from a side braid. She ensures her children are well before busying herself with laundry. Hazel eyes sweep the area in front of her house, but I blend in, not wanting her yet to see me.

I feel my breath catch momentarily. She is…beautiful. 

She is mine.