Survivors

Metamorphosis

I wake up and a new maid is there to help me brush my teeth, my hair, and get dressed. She then directs me to the banquet hall for breakfast.

Polois is there, but so are three other Gorfonians.

"Dad, can you pass the eggs?" Asks a young male one.

"Rutrine, pass your brother the eggs." Polois says.

"He can get his own eggs!" Grumbles Rutrine. She looks up at me. "Is that Rowannik?"

"Yes." The woman purses her lips.

"Haha, his skin looks weird!" Rutrine giggles. I blush and sit down, getting myself some eggs and vargile.

Neither taste good.

You can't even taste the eggs thanks to all the herbs, and the vargile tastes too different from the store-bought stuff back on the mothership. I don't complain, though, seeing how the chef would probably get killed if I did.

"Put that away." The lady scolds the boy, who is doodling on a pad.

"You never say that to dad!" He argues.

"Your father has very important business!" She snaps.

"Rowannik, are you attracted to males, females, neither, or both?" Asks Polois.

"Um, guys. But I'm in a relationship." I answer.

"Ooh! With who!" Rutrine leans across the table.

"Yellow Cadet of Flight Thirteen, Xavier McAllister." I answer tiredly.

"You have incredibly low standards." Polois notes. "I think you'd like Trikko. He's stuck-up too. Half breed like you. You have so much in common." He turns to the lady. "Diavan, call him up."

"Trikko Forackeces?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Just do it." Polois shoots me a warning look. "This is your last chance."

"Last chance before what?" I ask.

There's no answer.

***

I'm prepared for the public eye over the span of two hours. Most people would pay hundreds to get this done, but I'd pay at least a twice as much to get out of it.

Trikko looks different from other Gorfonians when he arrives.

His hair is grey, and his skin is a brownish-grey. His ears are large like a Gorfonian's, but lower on the head. He also has pupils and irises.

He must be part Kartraean.

"Are you Kartraean?" I ask before I can stop myself.

"Half." He answers. "I'd never be able to tell you were Gorfonian if it weren't for your head structure. Fairly round, with a slightly flat nose." He comments. "Human, I presume?"

"How do you know?" I ask, staring at him. He seems to think I'm starstruck, but I'm sort of creeped out, to be honest.

"I took courses on universal history." He smirks. "How are you enjoying it on Gorfon?"

Last chance, Rowan. You gotta lie.

"It's... great." I tell him.

"Liar." He narrows his eyes. Then he smiles again. "You might change your mind when you see the gardens."

***

I would love to say the gardens were terrible.

But they're amazing.