Summary:
Leshiotra, a curious fungus-like woman winds up on a post-apocalyptic Earth via crash landing. Officially, she helps a local community of humans in exchange for assistance on repairing her ship. Unofficially? Her interests lie a little more in the humans.
_
"Vat number 27, no successful parts. Vat number 28, malformed and must be purged. Vat number 29, failed to bud."
A large figure stared at artificial glass tubes, scrutinizing each one with her nine eyes. Each one marked another day she would have to spend on this planet. Her eyes moved across the dingy room, peering out a window where the world's planet peeked over a weary horizon. It shone through ancient buildings, tall cemeteries of the past.
The sun marked when humans would begin their awakening and begin their daily rituals. The curious orchestra that formed one mind.
"Leshiotra," a voice said. "Morning."
She turned to face her visitor, armored plates flexing. Barclay, her more favored among the human tribe stood there. He was a few heads shorter than her, despite being one of the taller humans. He wore a curious smile as always, the expression that showed a delight and a fascination. Leshiotra enjoyed that one in particular.
"Morning to you, Barclay," she said.
Her eyes ran across him, picking out all his alien features. Despite the woven fabrics that clung to his frame, he still seemed so bare, at least in comparison to her. With how much humans enjoyed the touch of one another, it was surprising that scant clothing didn't inspire such flagrant lust between humans.
It could be said that Leshiotra was almost nude herself. Measuring eight feet tall by their standards and wearing only the carapace that served as an exoskeleton and armor. That armor was white, contrasting against the stark black of her actual body, which could be seen at her forearms and forelegs. Her head was similar, a deep inky darkness with an armored face plate. While more limbs might have been a boon on this planet, she followed the general human body plan.
"You have any luck on the organ things today?" He pointed over at the vats.
"No." She pitched her voice slightly lower to convey a disappointment. "Believe the machinery here is too faulty to inspire much progress in the organelles. They refuse to work in proper order, despite the best efforts to encourage them." Leshiotra walked closer to Barclay, studying his expression as she moved, watching it shift into a subdued awe. She wondered if it was her alien nature that made her impressive, or her size. "Progress on a dead ship?"
"None yet. I wouldn't bet on it, either. I doubt half the people on Earth would still be here if there were any old ships kicking around," he said.
"Were it not pertinent to a mission, would stay here. The whole of me."
"Always free to stay." He shrugged.
Leshiotra shrugged back. "Thank you. The effort must be made to return."
"I get it. I'd want to get off this rock if I were you, get some fresh air."
"The air is stale, yes. Not concerning. Work is pertinent." She took a step back, watching him relax with her movements. The way his face moved was a joy that made her cells ripple.
"Well, brought you something that might cheer you up in the meantime."
Barclay stepped around the doorway for a moment, then reappeared holding a rectangular object. He held it up to her. Leshiotra took it up, letting her formed hands delicately feel up its entirety. Something made from fibrous plant materials. Ancient. In its interior were slices of plant with marks of an ink. Their language in a static form.
"It's a book," he said. "You read it. Well, you used to. Those things are pretty damn old."
"Yes. Almost lost the knowledge that your language cannot be conveyed so quickly."
All of her eyes stared at the ink, finding the pattern in the strokes. These were familiar characters she had seen on other machinery and miscellaneous objects in these towers.
"The markings, they read?" she asked.
"Yeah." He motioned over to a bench, sitting down on it. Leshiotra joined him. "See, each one is a letter, then the letter goes with others, and they all join up to make a word with a meaning. The word then mixes with other words to make a whole sentence."
"How to convey that to one who cannot see?"
"Well, uh, I dunno." He shrugged. "How do you do that in your language?"
"Electrical impulses do not judge. Can always feel them."
Leshiotra reached out and pressed one of her fingers against his arm, feeling the lovely, bumpy skin that made up his form. She sent a signal into him. Barclay shivered and shook his head.
"That's hell on my nerves," he said.
"Bad?"
"Not bad per se, but definitely weird. Feels like I've got bugs crawling in my arms."
Other fingers joined in the probing, wrapping around his arm and gently massaging it. In much the same way she could send signals into him, she could feel the electrical impulses in his body talk back. It was almost a primitive response, but she made sense of it all the same. The sensation of pleasure piqued in his body, and in turn, did so in her own.
"Better?" she asked.
"Heh, yeah, thanks."
Leshiotra let her fingers linger a while longer. There was an enticing haphazardness to his construction that was opposite to her own molded form. She gently squeezed, feeling up his musculature. And even in that strange construction, there was a surprising strength. Barclay's expression shifted again, with his wide, vulnerable eyes digging into her touch. Her greediness had been caught. She pulled her hand away.
"What does this book convey?" she asked.
"Haven't read it myself. I figured we could go over it together. If you want, of course. I know you're busy with the ship thing."
"Enjoyable, yes. First, tend to the cries of the botanical gardens," she said.
"Right, yeah, guess that's more important than story time."
"The trade given for help," she said. "Must assist when this form can. Me." Leshiotra stood up and placed the book on her workshop table. "Join in the walk there?" She stuck out her hand, offering it to Barclay.
"They usually don't like me screwing around in there, but with you by my side? I'll take them on."
Leshiotra nodded. They joined hands, and she helped him up to his feet. A very productive day indeed. She had indulged in her fair share of touching under the guise of social interaction, and there was still plenty of time in the day for more.
Barclay departed, with Leshiotra following, ducking under the doorway as she did so. The hallways were quite open, with large windows allowing views into the grand ancient city beyond. It was impressive imagining all the human hands that must've gone into crafting this massive bulwark of metal and glass. None of the humans here knew what this building was originally, but Leshiotra figured it must have been a large domicile for housing humans. What else would a building need to be this large for?
They moved into a stairway and began their walk downward.
"We should get you a room closer to the actually livable areas," Barclay said.
"Unnerving the others," Leshiotra replied.
"They'll have to get used to you eventually. Especially so they can give you a nice 'thank you' for all your hard work."
"Simple work for a hard trade."
