The sun still felt way too bright as Rhidi, along with a pack of female Kafya, joined Shorsey on a tarry-lift. These “taxis” were an A.I. driven vehicle that resembled a cargo van, and had enough seats to comfortably transport up to ten people of normal height and weight.

  “Private Shawsey’?” A voice had called out from the tarry-lift when it arrived at the barracks, the A.I. driver from the moon using a classic ‘New York taxi man’ accent. “C’mahn I got places ta’ be!”

  The A.I. then spent the entire ride regaling them with “fun facts about New York City”, as the digital person driving their vehicle was apparently obsessed with the place. Their ride to the Exchange was shorter than the drive to the Mexican restaurant, which was a blessing in disguise as Rhidi was getting tired of hearing how “famous” the pizza of New York City was.

  When the tarry-lift came to a stop outside the Exchange, Rhidi nearly kicked open the door as the A.I. launched into another spiel about some movie called “The Godfather”, and slapped the door shut behind her.

  The Exchange was a massive building with four levels of shopping, and a smattering of other such activities. There were malls off base, but Fort Benning wanted to have the best mall in the area, including a playful “airborne tykes” area, allowing children to ride down on simulated parachutes of old. Then there was the gasoline powered go-kart track, and the sprawling mini-putt range, that gave the mall an odd, amusement park flare.

  In terms of pure density of shops, it would take a full day to see the entire place, not counting the third level cantina area where the whole floor hosted restaurants of all kinds.

  Rhidi had no use for refrigerators or other home goods so the bottom floor was also of no use to her, having been looking up the floor plans on her data-slate during the ride over.

  “Alright!” Shorsey said, popping out of the tarry-lift after paying the fee. “Let’s head to the fourth level, we got clothes to buy! Did you all remember your funding slates?”

  All the Kafya held up their cards, their eyes still locked onto the gigantic building ahead of them as military families and soldiers entered and exited the five sets of revolving doors. None of the Humans paid them much attention; Multiple bulletins had been sent out to make sure everyone treated all alien species with polite disregard, allowing them to enjoy a “normal” experience and not be gawked at.

  Children were not as easy to remind and instill such discipline, however.

  “Space doggies!”

  All the female Kafya and Shorsey turned on their booted feet as a little girl with blue curls came running over, her emerald green eyes bright and legs pumping.

  “Mommy mommy! Look! It’s the space doggies!”

  “Tyr’s love…” Shorsey said with an embarrassed snort as she placed a hand to her cheek, spying the child’s mother sprinting down the sidewalk.

  “Emily, no! We talked about this!” The mother barked out in anger, her face twisted in deep seated annoyance. “You can’t keep doing this!”

  All the female Kafya, including Rhidi, squatted down onto their heels with the approach of the stung-child; It was a common gesture in Kafya culture when a child was approaching, as it showed compassion to the young and impressionable.

  “Space doggy!” Emily cried out as she collided with Saffi, the green Kafya giggling madly as the Human child wrapped her arms around Saffi’s shoulders. “Doggy doggy! Doggy with braids!”

  The embrace was short, though Saffi was wagging her tail as the mother airlifted little Emily away from her with the grip only a frustrated mother could have.

  “I am so sorry!” The mother panted, even as her daughter growled and did her best to resist. “She loves dogs, and doesn’t quite yet understand that you are… people.”

  Rhidi laughed open mouthed, coming to her feet and performing her own role for the throng of female Kafya. “It is quite alright, we understand how children can be.”

  “Thank you.” Emily’s mother said with an air of an additional apology. “Have a wonderful day you guys!”

  Emily, her strength not on par with her mother’s, instead waved both her hands over her mother’s shoulders. “Bye bye! Bye bye, space doggies!”

  “Bye bye!” The Kafya replied, waving back with bright smiles.

  Sure, they did not like being called doggies in any form, but it was hard to not appreciate a child’s fascination.

  “Let’s get inside before a kindergarten bus shows up.” Shorsey said with a shake of her head, pointing to the revolving doors. “And tuck your tails in, they’ll get caught in the doors if you’re not careful.”

  The revolving doors proved to be more of a challenge than Rhidi had figured; It required timing, something that the blue Kafya struggled with, requiring the lot of them to take the doors quite seriously.

  By dashing in and rushing out, most of them managed to not get trapped in the doors, though Inthur and Saffi ended up having to do several rotations to actually escape. Their wide eyed panic and skittering steps proved to be quite popular on Youview, as the security footage was leaked as soon as it was reviewed a few days later.

  The noise of the mall was impressive, a blurring roar of voices, music, and clamor of shops. The simulation paradrop was only a couple hundred feet from the main foyer, and Rhidi found herself and the rest of the female Kafya watching them with interest.

  These false drops were facilitated via miniaturized drop towers, cranking a child up to the top on a pre-deployed parachute. At the top, a large hoop that held the chute would jangle and deploy the child, allowing them to drift down towards a large ball pit, giggling the entire way and screeching out “Airborne!” when they hit the colored spheres.

  “... Well that looks fun.” Imridit said quietly, looking up at the apparatus with her blue eyes bright with envy. She turned to Shorsey, touching her pink padded fingers together. “Do you think…”

  Shorsey had already started walking towards the workers, knowing where this whole thing was going and beating it to the punch. “I’ll just go ask.”

  After a bit of negotiating and consulting their manual, it turned out that only Imridit was light enough to get dropped down, as well as being small enough to fit in the harness. Rhidi and the others watched with amused smirks as the pink Kafya was hoisted high into the expanded ceiling with her parachute, giggling like a loon the entire way up.

  The Humans stopped and watched, as they couldn’t miss what would be, technically, the first time an alien would come down to Earth with a parachute, despite it being a kid’s ride. Nearly an entire Platoon of Human Airborne veterans were sitting nearby eating lunch, some of them quite old, but all of them grinning as they watched Imridit rise into the air.

  “Airborne!” Imridit cackled out as the chute-hoop released her, and she happily kicked her pink furred legs as she floated down. Imridit, being the pink that she was, also giggled and shrieked with joy all the way down, letting out another trilling laugh as she landed in the massive ball pit.

  Rhidi’s ears perked as the crowd of Humans all laughed as well, clapping their hands as they smiled brightly at Imridit. Imridit, not missing a beat, bowed theatrically as the attendants quickly ran up to manage her risers and deflating chute. She was lost in the crowd of veterans that had gotten up to laugh with her and pat her shoulders, with one of them pressing something brass and shiny into her hand.

  When Imridit was retrieved after taking a few selfies with some of the watching Humans, Shorsey herded the small gaggle of Kafya towards their first stop: Hot Topic.

  Not normally found in military exchanges, Hot Topic was a cultural holdover from before the war with the Pactless, and was included in Fort Benning’s large “mall”. Ruined and partially destroyed Hot Topics were time capsules for both Pre-Pactless fashion, and music. Dozens of music genres had laid safeguarded within USB drives and SATA drives of Hot Topic stores, as well as being a massive well of alternative fashion choices.

  Rhidi found the store rather… bleak, as far as fashion went, but Oin and Imridit were like excited children as they combed through the store for things to buy. The Human workers of the store were more than happy to outfit both of the Kafya in the height of Pre-Practless grunge fashion, both of them burning a steady hole in their funds as they bought enough clothing to pad out an entire week without washing.

  Oin’s most precious treasures were “cottage core” dresses from the Thorn and Fable series of clothing, which while new, looked to Rhidi as if they had been patched together with random scraps of fabric. One cami dress looked to be literal patchwork, though the expert tailoring embellishments heightened the dress’s presence. This was just one of many, including multiple mushroom and fairy embroidered skirtalls, witch-sleeve day dresses, graphic t-shirts, sweaters, and enough leggings to outfit an entire yoga troop. When Oin popped out of the dressing room with her uniform neatly folded in her arms, she looked as if she had stepped out of a fantasy novel involving a village of odd witches.

  Imridit on the other hand went so hard into the grunge fashion that it almost appeared as some form of visual hypnotization; While some of the workers were explaining to Rhidi and the other Kafya what some of the older cartoon shirts were, the others were making Imridit their magnum opus.

  With her eyes wide and teeth bright in a grin, Imridit dove headfirst into the fashions that dominated the grunge, heavy metal, and classic punk scenes of the late Earthen 1990’s and early 2000’s; First there were of course the chained and brightly edged cargo pants, known for their loud presence despite the subdued main color of black. Pre-ripped joggers and wide legged carpenter pants were the next items that started gnawing at her funding-slate, wrapped in buckles, chains, reinforced false-ripping, as well as splashes of color in the decals of skulls, bats, and other such decorations popular at those times.

  Pre-ripped jackets and wide necked sweaters were next to come out in a plethora of colors, a few skirts of dubious length, and of course, a single pair of fishnet stockings. Due to her pink leg fur the fish nets looked rather ridiculous, but the happiness they brought the pink Kafya seemed to be enough.

  Imridit was adamant on wearing her new clothing, dealing with her tail and showing a little buttcrack if she had to, while Oin was more than comfortable in her dress.

  Rhidi didn’t feel compelled to buy much in the store itself, nor did the other Kafya, so after Shorsey tracked down a cart for Oin and Imridit to share, they tacked on to the next store on her list.

  Shorsey was intent on giving the female Kafya as much choice as possible, something that the Fort Benning mall was quite famous for, as far as military bases went.

  This included her least favorite store: Skate Haven.

  As with all things, Humans adhere to their history with clawed fingers, and nothing was more foreign to other life than Human extreme sports. One in particular that caused a lot of confusion was skateboards and roller skates; The wheels, bearings, and trucks had changed a lot in terms of technology, but very little had actually changed in terms of presentation or usage.

  Rhidi found the store rather boring, but not Saffi.

  Saffi, her uneven, short green braids in constant movement as she looked to and fro along the store, had found her inspiration; Kafya after all weren’t allowed to really do “sports”, extreme or otherwise. Kafya worked, read, learned, advanced, and studied, which barely left any time for eating and breeding as it was.

  Skater Fashion had evolved very little since the 90’s, and had even kept the look well into the time of the war against the Pactless; Oversized shirts with bold, loud graphics and logos, baggy pants and jeans, shorts, and flat bottomed shoes were the name of the game.

  Saffi’s first find had been a large, baggy women’s t-shirt with “Certified Baddie” in odd lettering across the chest, and her giggle had been so loud that it caught the attention of the whole store’s workers. The Humans who worked in the store were beyond themselves when they saw the green furred Kafya geeking out about the graphic t-shirts, and personally gave her a full education.

  It did not take long for Saffi to become loaded down with shopping bags filled to the brim with jackets, hoodies, baggy pants, high cut skating shorts, beanies, and filling out a request for skater shoes made for Kafyan paw-feet. Saffi’s shopping was rounded out by a single skateboard, since she couldn’t wear rollerblades, and chose Tionishia’s Slammer. The skateboard bottom featured a large woman with a single horn jutting out of her forehead, flexing in front of a large suit of armor hitting the “pillar men pose”, according to the Humans.

  Again, Rhidi found the store rather bland, and chose to keep her funding-slate unused with a few of the other Kafya.

  The next store Shorsey herded them into was called “Heritage”, a clothing store that centered around folk fashion and clothing of the deep past.

  Heritage was bittersweet for Rhidi; She had no idea what her people wore in the past, and seeing the wonderful colors of Human history made her heart pang with longing.

  What would they have worn, all those centuries ago? Did they too wear black, baggy clothing? T-shirts adorned with cartoons, or logos?

  Rhidi picked up a hanger adorned with a Swedish “midsommar kl?nning”, and rotated it around in front of her; It was gorgeous, a dress of flowing cream sleeves, modest neck ruffling, and an apron of wonderfully embroidered flowers. As Rhidi held the garment and ran the sleeve through her hand, she felt another pang.

  A pang of… loss.

  She didn’t know what her ancient peoples wore, as this outfit was marked as being from as far back as the 1700s.

  Rhidi couldn’t think of a single thing that old from her culture… not one.

  Despite Shorsey’s intentions, this store of old-age wear bummed out the female Kafya, with Inthur and Pobilo taking it the hardest and having to force themselves not to cry as they held beautiful dresses in their pawed hands, clutching them as if afraid to let go.

  With rapid haste, Shorsey ushered the Kafya clear of the store and pushed them down the row, as the Humans working in the store had begun to become deeply worried they had done something wrong.

  To distract the Kafya, Shorsey steered them towards another remnant store; Amber’s Fitch. While this was not the original name of the store, the line continued on with the future of Amber, the only surviving inheritor of both the brand and company after the Pactless invasion.

  The store catered to more normal, casual wear at an upscale of quality, something that many of the Kafya took interest in. Of course, Oin, Saffi, and Imridit found the store lame, and instead waited out on the walkway while tapping away on their data-slates.

  This store did not snare Rhidi’s attention either, but it did get its hooks in Enflia; The orange furred Kafya fell hard for the split-legged skirts, legion of tops, comfortable pants, ruffled skirts, and more subdued shirts. The clothing was upscale, smart, and formidable without being loud, something that Enflia found herself appreciating.

  With Enflia piling her bags in with Oin, who took great offense to having their clothing “touching”, Shorsey led them to Calamity Janes.

  Calamity Janes was a casual military styled clothing store, boasting designs from World War II, all the way to the seventh Middle East campaign. It was here that Anfilid and Dimili had found their store, and set about gathering their garments.

  Military fashion allowed them to enjoy the Human military combat uniform outside of their actual uniforms, as well as allowing them to savor the history of what they wore. While they could not partake in the gleaming, polished military boots, they did however blow their figurative load on military styled utility jackets, coats, pants of solid and camouflaged patterns, long sleeved shirts, combat dresses, and especially the “uniformed underwear” section. Despite their lack of lust for the general fashion, all the Kafya found themselves buying a small selection of the both goofy, and rather lustfull, underwear.

  Rhidi herself bought several pairs, ranging from a pair of pink boy shorts that said “round out!” along the butt cheeks, to a modest pair of hipsters with different kinds of rifles on them.

  Inthur on the other hand appeared to be choosing nothing but thongs, including a bright orange number with a grenade on the front. Imridit and the rest of the Kafya focused more on tanga and slip styled underwear, as they would be better suited for tails.

  Anfilid and Dimili were bright in the eyes and giggling to themselves as they left with more bags than anyone, requiring a second cart while everyone else held a bag or two for their underwear and bra selections.

  The outdoor stores were heavy in number as they continued down the walking path, including brands old and new. “The Outdoor Store” made the Kafya laugh just due to its name, as while it was brightly lit and held many options, the name clashed with the one next to it, the “Raven Jarl”.

  “Step aside ladies.” Uppil had called out, parting them aside as she took four long steps towards the stores and set her red furred hands on her hips dramatically. “My time has come!”

  Uppil wasted no time, hitting both stores in quick succession; She had been watching hiking e-blogs nearly every day on her data-slate, and she loved the fashion as much as she did the thought of hiking along a craggy mountain. She bought a number of ball caps to have altered, rugged leggings, cargo hiking pants, soft heather t-shirts, and enough plaid long-sleeved over shirts to braid into rope.

  Uppil was one of the few who changed out of her uniform, and came walking out of the back of that dressing room looking like a furry, female Paul Bunyon, something the Human workers adored. Further time was spent taking selfies with the Human workers, and buying a pair of tassely fringe-coats she had missed, but eventually she broke herself free of the store.

  Her bags joined the others, with Uppil breathing out a sigh of happiness as she shimmied her hips; All the Kafya who had changed wore the waist of their pants below the base of their tail, and while awkward, they wanted to wear civilian clothes just that badly. This would be fixed later on with the military tailors, but for now, it was dealt with with gusto.

  Before Shorsey could hide the store, trying to lead them the complete opposite way to hit the Western store she wanted, Inthur and Pobilo’s eyes went wide as they spotted an extremely… colorful shop called “90’s My Bohemia”.

  “Pobilo!” Inthur called out, clapping her pawed hands together. “Look at all the colors! Look at them all!”

  Pobilo’s tail was wagging fiercely, her eyes so focused that Rhidi could nearly see the cartoon glimmer in them. “Look how comfy it all looks! Those pants are to die for!”

  Without a single look backwards, the two blue Kafya went running into the store with a string of eager laughter.

  Rhidi, her eyes nearly stinging from how odd the color and fashion choices were, started reading a handy hanging plaque outside the store; “Bohemian style” as it was called, was a style of dress characterized by the free spirit and more unconventional tailoring ways. Born aloft by the style of dress favored by the Romani peoples, it had grown through the centuries and further evolved after contact with hippies of the 1970’s. When the ancestors of the Romani and other Bohemian-esque countries managed to survive the decimation of the Pactless, there was a resurgence of the fashion with the focus set on preserving clothing styles from before the muddling of counterculture influences.

  Inthur and Pobilo did not care much for the history, merely falling fast in love with how loud the color choices were, the fabrics, the patterns, and they were smitten on contact.

  Spending an eye watering amount of money, both of the blue Kafya came away from the store a full month of outfits richer, sporting everything from hip-hugging leggings, dresses, skirts, tops, bodices, tunics, scarves, and billowy pants that could be tucked into boots.

  Neither of them changed in spite of their excitement, as they didn’t want to mess up their clothing. They both agreed the “logical” path was to get them tailored first, that way the clothing looked its best on them and they could enjoy their new trophies to their fullest.

  Rhidi was still doing a little further reading on her data-slate when Shorsey gave her tail a smack to get her attention. She spooked, launching forward a few steps with short, startled splutters before spinning around.

  “What?” Rhidi barked out, then cleared her throat and tried to smooth down her neck fur.

  Shorsey, eyes wide in playful alarm, grinned and pointed down towards another store along the way. “Sorry about that, didn’t know that… did that. Anyway, all these girls got their clothes and we’re doing my favorite store next. So… maybe buy your mall guide a pair of Levi’s, eh?”

  “If you keep using my tail as a greeting signal, you may be leaving that store missing a finger.” Rhidi said with a puff of nerves, still smoothing down her fur.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  To smack a tail in Kafya society would be akin to a mother Human slapping their child on the back of the head, and had a slew of other social connotations. When fully calmed down, Rhidi and the other Kafya followed behind Shorsey towards this new store, which played music very different from the other stores.

  “Augh.” Inthur said in disgust, screwing up her lip in a snarl as she saw the store loom into view. “What is this? Where is all the color?”

  “More like, what is that music.” Oin growled, pulling down on her ears. “Seriously, what is that accent?!”

  Shorsey spun around in a grand gesture and a bounce of her curly orange mane. “It’s the western store! My home away from home, the Double Barrel!”

  The Double Barrel, a store based around cowboy, western, Oklahoman, and Appalachian fashions, was not as brightly lit as the other stores. Its motif was stained wood, steel, iron, and leather, the smells drawing forth the imagination of hard living and range chic.

  “Yeah, I don’t know why but this was always my favorite way to dress.” Shorsey started, nodding to the store. “Sure we all go through our moody goth phase, but I always found myself coming back to-”

  Shorsey had turned her head while speaking, and when she saw the look on Rhidi’s face, she stopped mid sentence, her eyes taking a shade of concern. “Rhidi? You okay?”

  “What…” Rhidi asked quietly, her nostrils flaring as her ears picked up the music being piped out inside. “What is this?”

  “It’s western wear.” Shorsey said, placing a hand on the taller Kafya. “Did I upset you on accident? The other Kafya don’t seem to like it either…”

  “It’s… lovely.” Rhidi said, walking forward and running a hand down a fringed women’s jacket, letting her padded fingers run smooth along the leather. “It’s… it’s raw.”

  Shorsey let out a sniff of a laugh as the other Kafya backed away from the store. “Well not raw, it’s tanned.”

  “We were never allowed to own leather, not even we yellows… I had heard of it in passing, but I’ve never…” Rhidi’s voice trailed away as she once again ran her hands down the leather, the material gliding under her fingers as if they were designed to do so by nature.

  Imridit stepped forward, her face plain with worry as she realized what Rhidi was touching. “R-... Rhidi, we shouldn’t be touching that. The Elder’s banned leather all that time ago for a reason. I mean… it’s made from beings like… you know. Us.”

  “There’s been Human leather before.” Shorsey said with a shrug. “Read about Ed Gein, it’ll turn your fur white.”

  Imridit was not convinced, and took a brave step forward. “Rhidi, come on, let’s go back to one of the other stores. This kind of material is behind us!”

  “Oldest item of clothing on any planet, you know that much.” Shorsey retorted. “Leather is the cornerstone of any civilization.”

  Rhidi picked up a women’s shearling long jacket and held it in her hands, ignoring the words of Imridit; It was warm, the soft leather plush against her fingers while the interior of the long jacket was softer wool. It had multiple buckles and straps along the waist, giant angled pockets on both the inside and outside of the jacket, as well as a collar cuff in case she wanted to stay extra warm. The waist belt buckle clattered softly as she opened the jacket, leaning in and smelling deep of the hide.

  “Ah, shearling is lovely.” Shorsey said, walking up beside Rhidi and running her hand down a leather sleeve. “Sheep skin, tanned in a way so the wool stays attached.”

  “I’ll take it.” Rhidi said with pleased hum to her voice, breathing in the leather again. “It smells… proper.”

  Shorsey grinned. “Right? Proper. New jacket made in the old ways. Keeps you attached to history each time you slip it on.”

  “Attached to history…” Rhidi murmured as she folded the jacket over her arms.

  “Rhidi!” Imridit whined, and the pink furred Kafya actually stamped her feet. “You’re being a bad Kafya!”

  Rhidi just chuckled, yelling over her shoulder. “Then stay out here with the good Kafya then!”

  Imridit let out an enraged huff, stomping her pawed foot once before crossing her punk-themed arms.

  Despite the reservations of the other Kafya, Rhidi found the store to be an absolute delight; All the clothing she had ever worn had to be bright in color, pure, higher colors from the muddied and mundane. Her mother had never let her dress herself, always picking out her clothes to match those of the highest fashions, constantly purchasing clothing permits so she could further stand out, etc.

  Rhidi, to her mother’s lament, had favored harsher colors, colors of the earth and ground.

  Western clothing seemed to think the same, and she liked that.

  There was still color, vibrant in its own way despite being duller, muted, more realistic. Reds, blues, purples of a setting sun, browns of soil, greens of moss and the deep verdant of the woods… it felt as if Rhidi had found the thing she hadn’t known she was missing.

  What was hard to miss was the store’s love of denim; Jeans were the primary legging of choice, whether that was in relaxed, boot cut, or the other varieties. What pleased Rhidi was that many of the jeans and other clothing items used buttons like her garrison uniform, and she had instantly fallen in love with buttons; Sewn in place with string, slid through a slit in on the other closure. No magnets, no zippers, no velcro, no “frint” devices for fur.

  Just good old fashion buttons.

  Rhidi remembered what her size was in her uniform bottoms, and after a bit of speculation with one of the cowboy hat wearing female workers, picked up six pairs of jeans.

  Boot cut, since she had larger feet than a Human and paired better with her slightly digitigrade legs.

  What Rhidi had thought were extra wide legged pants turned out to be a long skirt with a split down the back and middle. The front of the skirt was closed via sailor buttons at the waist, giving it two rows of five buttons.

  “But I thought skirts were completely together.” Rhidi asked, confused since she had seen the other skirts that had been bought at the previous shops. “Why is this one split down the middle?”

  The attendant spoke up, since Shorsey was humming and looking through racks of jeans for her size.

  “It’s split for better movement and better airflow.” She began, opening the skirt so Rhidi could see. “If it is extremely hot outside, like it is many places, you can wear a pair of shorts underneath without being burned by the sun and still have a little privacy. It also dresses up in the colder months, so you can wear a comfy pair of leggings without the wind biting at you.”

  Rhidi thought over this for a long moment, finally making up her mind to buy three of them once Shorsey started bugging her about a pair of embroidered bootcut jeans for herself. She then bought six pairs of athletic shorts and eight pairs of leggings to wear under those skirts, then turned her eye to the shirts and dresses.

  Western dresses had an oddly prairie vibe to them, as she had seen them before during her study of Earth’s history; They spoke of another older design brought forward through time, dresses worn during hard work and the fight to survive the struggles of life itself. She picked up a few asymmetrical dresses in colors that fit with her fur color best, a few more deep colored, split-leg midi dresses, and a few sundresses since they looked fairly comfortable.

  Rhidi attacked the t-shirts next, filling her offered cart with dozens of the things; She got soft heather colors, long sleeves, short sleeves, and a few that she just thought were cute. These cute shirts in question had little cartoons of cows, a character named “Moomskie”, who appeared to be devious and prone to petty theft. With a modest sale going on with the patterned long sleeve shirts, she gained another mound in her cart.

  She picked up a single jean jacket due to severe urgings from Shorsey, more boyshort underwear, as well as several thick belts.

  Shorsey showed her a few more things to get, iconic items of western wear that were deemed “essential”, such as a long range knife and several shawls, and Rhidi believed she had made a good start at a new wardrobe. She rolled her eyes as Shorsey added two pairs of jeans to her pile, but she had more than enough money to cover it all.

  Paying the man at the register had taken awhile, nearly causing Rhidi to immolate since her card was failing to work, but they had figured it out in the end. With her massive bags tucked into a cart of her own, she walked out with Shorsey.

  Rhidi wasn’t sure if she saw it or not, but before they all stepped off and returned to their previous conversations, Rhidi had seen their eyes look at her in a more subtle way.

  They had looked at her with a momentary heart beat of fear.

  To cure the malaise, Shorsey led them all to their final stop; Victoria’s Secret.

  Left to their own devices, more underwear was purchased along with far more aesthetic bras, though Shorsey had to remind them that lingerie was, in fact, not approved for wear in uniform. That did not stop the devious workers of the store from trying to ply the heavier endowed Kafya with a few interesting choices, though Imridit did find one such bra that she snuck into her bags after purchasing it.

  With grumbling tummies and still more money burning a hole in their pocket, the Kafya decided to try one of the more messy forms of Human culinary arts after urgings from Shorsey; The Boil.

  Eating for more than just nutritional needs in of itself was already a new treat to most Kafya, but the humble boil was like stepping into a new, completely unknown country.

  “So… we just buy stuff and they put it in a pot?” Inthur asked with a cocked blue brow. “Like, what if I want sausage?”

  Shorsey shrugged, tapping her metal straw on the table to break it free of the thick paper wrapper. “It goes in the pot.”

  “What about the skrimps?” Imridit asked, holding up her menu and tapping at the crustacian’s picture with a pink furred finger. “Do they go in the pot too?!”

  Shorsey chuckled to herself, pulling her straw free. “Shrimps, and yes, they go in the pot as well.”

  “Seems like an awfully messy way to eat. They just pour it out on the table, look.” Oin said, leaning over and highlighting a picture on the plastic menu. “We all just pluck at it with our fingers.”

  “Our fingers?” Uppil asked, looking down at her clean, red furred hands and her new clothes. “We’re going get so dirty eating this…”

  Shorsey shoved her metal straw into her cola, taking a long pull of it before smacking her lips. “Don’t be a downer, they have gloves and aprons. This place knows how to cater to aliens, those Drafritti come here all the time to eat crabs.”

  “Crabs…” Rhidi muttered, looking around her menu to try and find whatever the hell the animal was. “Wait, are crabs the up-armored spiders”?

  Shorsey snorted. “Yeah, that’s them. You crack open their armor and eat the soft flesh inside.”

  All of the Kafya gave Shorsey a sideways look, and the Human held up her hands.

  “What?” She asked. “It’s how you eat ‘em.”

  Pobilo shook her blue furred head from side to side, talking across the round table to Dimili. “It’s like Humans take the armor of other species personally. They could eat skrimps all day, but find crab a fairer opponent. Look, it even costs more.”

  “I don’t know, I bet it’s pretty tasty.” Dimili said with a tilt of her head, lightly pulling at one of her brown furred ears as she thought. “These scallops also sound rather tasty. They’re just little balls of meat!”

  Anfilid sniffed at her mule, the foaming drink filling her nose with notes of ginger and vodka. “Are we sure we can eat these things? We did all the tests with chicken and stuff but I don’t remember if we checked seafood.”

  Enflia took a large glugging drink of her apple cider, humming happily to herself at the flavor before turning to Anfilid. “I don’t think there even is a poisonous thing on Earth, except for their weaponized peppers that is. All the other planets of the Inner Dolcir Coalition have all kinds of food they can’t share between the races, but Earth is quickly being known as a ‘kind table’.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Pobilo replied, stirring her strawberry daiquiri.

  Enflia shrugged. “All the food of Earth is safe to eat. A Drafritti, Kafya, Pwah, Lilgara, Kojynn, whatever may be, can all share a pizza and no one risks death. I mean think about it; We all came here being able to drink milk, eat bread, lick butter from our fingers, and the most that happened to us was tummy aches.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Imridit said ruefully. “First place I went to when we landed on Earth was a ‘taco bell’, and it felt like I couldn’t leave the latrine for hours…”

  “It always has been a curiosity of mine.” Oin said, setting down her sweet tea after a long sip of it. “The war against the Ur was a nightmare since all races had to bring their own sources of food. Deaths occured all the time due to reckless consumption of rations or desperation to not starve. On Earth, I can crack open anything in a fridge and drink it no problem. I can eat the flesh of any creature, and it’s fine.”

  “I really enjoyed peanut butter myself.” Anfilid said, writing down what she wanted in the boil. “I plan on buying a jar of it to keep in my room.”

  Shorsey let out a long cackle, her shoulders bucking as she snorted once in mirth.

  The Kafya waited for the joke to be explained to them, but Shorsey just waved her hands in front of her flushing face. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing.”

  “So what if we get a little bit of everything?” Rhidi decided, the menu having a large group deal for the “pot of greed”, which appeared to be a massive boil with a smattering of ingredients. “This pot of greed thing has damn near the entire menu in it, and we can get our fingers wet to see what we like.”

  Shorsey barked out another burst of laughter, then turned away as she tried to keep from spraying the table in cola through her nose.

  After a bit of coughing and chest thumping, Shorsey agreed that was the best course of action.

  With their order tucked away in the data-slate of their waitress, the Kafya were burdened with a few more food items Shorsey herself ordered; Fried pickles, deviled eggs, and hushpuppies.

  Rhidi had found the pickles rather sour, and the deviled eggs way too rich for her palette, but the hush puppies were quickly becoming addictive. With a Kentucky mule set down in front of her and another basket of hushpuppies, Rhidi found herself in a rather nice conclusion to her shopping activities.

  “What is it again?” Imridit asked, plucking up another hushpuppy and sloshing it in cocktail sauce.

  Shorsey dusted her hands off after picking out a few more fried pickles for herself. “Fried cornmeal, spices, little bit of fine diced onion.”

  Imridit popped hers into her mouth and chewed happily, wiggling back and forth in her seat. “They’re delicious! Seriously, why did we Kafya give up stuff like this?”

  “The rich don’t.” Oin muttered, biting a deviled egg in half with a wag of her tail. “Ask Rhidi.”

  Rhidi took in a deep breath as she set down her hushpuppy, widening her eyes briefly in annoyance before picking up her mule cup. “Yes, that is true.”

  “How does that work?” Inthur asked, leaning forward to rest her chin on the backs of her hands. “I’ve always wondered how the yellows get away with so much. You can wear special clothing, actual fashions and the like while we have to make do with the usual body suits.”

  Rhidi took a sip of her mule, letting the burning ginger beer and bourbon sear away her tongue and leave it clean. She set the copper mug back down on the table, then puffed out a breath from her nose before speaking. “Well, it starts with connections. You can get a permit for most things, so for large parties, as long as there is another race present, you can get a permit for chefs to make food. Menus are limited, naturally, but it beats eating cubes and rowai bars.”

  “Must be nice living at the top.” Uppil muttered, tossing a ranch covered pickle into her mouth.

  Rhidi frowned. “Not so much. They had wanted me to be a nurse during the war.”

  “Is that why you ended up in advanced operations?” Imridit asked, rubbing her hands clean on a napkin. “Was big news that a yellow of our planet made it into a unit.”

  “Only reason they let me in was because I kept pestering them. They figured I’d be fine in a unit that didn’t rely on stealth.” Rhidi replied bitterly. “I was trying to get into the deep recon units.”

  Anfilid smiled comfortingly, reaching over and patting Rhidi’s hand. “We all relied on stealth, even in the regular infantry. My entire unit was made up entirely of brown and black furs just so we had a chance.”

  “Ur had a steep advantage in their targeting optics.” Dimili said, flicking a cream-ribbed ear. “We had to rotate our orange furs back since they kept getting spotted, and many reds ended up dying themselves black.”

  “Now that I think about it, how the hell did you get into the military, Imridit?” Oin asked, squinting at the pink furred Kafya. “You pastels would have had as hard a time as Rhidi.”

  Imridit shrugged, sucking on a deviled egg for a moment before pulling it away slightly. “Nurse.”

  “Nurse?” Shorsey asked. “You were a nurse and made it all the way through training?”

  Rhidi chuckled. “Pinks have to be tough. If you think grays have it hard, pinks can’t even blend in.”

  “Spent the first five years of my adult life working in labor.” Imridit said, tossing the egg into her mouth and chewing until she had enough room to speak. “No one wanted to hire me except for labor works, so when I found an out as a nurse, I took it!”

  Shorsey, realizing she had just the right people around her to ask the question to, raised a hand up politely. “I have a question.”

  When she had their attention, she continued on. “Why the hell did you even come here?”

  “To avoid having babies.” Rhidi mumbled into her cup.

  Imridit shrugged. “To get away from the Kafya at large for awhile. As soon as the war ended I wasn’t important anymore, and they wanted to push me out of the nursing corps. A lot of wounded Kafya didn’t like having a pink nurse…”

  “To avoid getting conscripted for womb services as well.” Oin muttered, then shared a fist bump with both Inthur and Pobilo.

  “... Did most of you come here to avoid having kids?” Shorsey asked quietly, her eyebrows raised in alarm as she looked around to them all. “I mean you have a choice, right?”

  “Yellows have a choice.” Enflia replied, jabbing an orange thumb over at Rhidi. “The rest of us get, quite literally, conscripted into service.”

  Shorsey actually turned in her seat to look at Rhidi, who was sipping her mule with closed eyes. “They make you have babies?”

  “The Elder Councils will set out edicts.” Rhidi replied, setting down her cup. “The Kafya species was hit hard during the war against the Ur, and the Elder Councils wanted to rebuild those numbers quickly. This meant that if you were an of-age female, you would be partnered with a male and expected to have a child.”

  Shorsey let out a “Huh!” in response, took a sip of her cola, then tilted her head back a little to look at Rhidi again. “You guys don’t just make kids in bags?”

  The table became rather quiet, all of the Kafya staring at Shorsey as if she had blurted out a blaspheme in perfect Kafya-hi.

  “What?” Shorsey said, looking about in confusion. “I’m sure you guys read about the Resurrection Directive.”

  Rhidi looked to Oin, the most likely to have heard of it, but even the black Kafya seemed confused.

  “What is the Resurrection Directive?” Imridit asked, appearing more curious than horrified.

  Shorsey clicked her tongue against her teeth. “You know what, I don’t want to put you guys off your lunch. When we get back to the barracks, you can read about it on your own time, how does that sound?”

  The Kafya looked to each other with rather piqued glances, but there was very little time to talk before their massive boil arrived.

  Spilling the contents out along the prepared table, the man did little more than tip over what appeared to be a giant soup pot, the aroma punching out into the air like a spirited fighter going into the ring.

  It was another new smell to Rhidi, a spicy, savory smell filled with the salt of the ocean, butter, and a round of seasonings that threatened to hurt her and please her, all at the same time. Unlike her beloved Mexican and Texmex, these herbs and spices were unknown.

  “What is that smell?” Rhidi asked as a pair of waiters started handing the Kafya long pairs of tight gloves, or fluffing out aprons for the Kafya in their new clothes.

  Shorsey, not needing to wait, had already snatched up a crab cluster with her hands. “The sauce? It’s cajun seasonings mostly. Lots of garlic, peppers, oregano, paprika, all kinds of tasty stuff in there.”

  “Feels like I’m a baby, eating like this.” Pobilo said as she wiggled her gloved fingers. “I can’t remember the last time I had to get my hands this dirty just to enjoy a meal.”

  Oin grimaced. “Habdolin Three, when the planet flooded and turned into a mud ball.”

  “Ah yes.” Pobilo murmured, holding up a hunk of corn and sniffing at it. “I had forgotten Habdolin Three.”

  Rhidi phased the idle chatter out of her mind as she quickly scooped a school of shrimp and sausage her way. She had been on Habdolin Three, and was the first time she had gotten an Ur kill. Her squad barely came away at all, losing sixteen Kafya just to kill five Ur.

  It was an unpleasant memory, and she shook it from her mind as she picked up a pre-gutted shrimp.

  “We have to peel the skrimps, right?” Rhidi asked, shaking the sauced crustacean at Shorsey.

  Shorsey sniffed in a laugh, setting down her cluster and picking up a shrimp. “Why do you keep calling them skrimps? Peel those legs off, plus the head and tail. You should be left with something like this…”

  Rhidi watched Shorsey peel the shrimp’s orangeish shell, then parroted the same movements to get her own unwrapped. When she tossed the flesh of the boiled creature into her mouth, it was a sensation she had never felt before on her tongue; It was soft with a light chew, and exploded with flavor despite its white flesh.

  All in all, shrimps were a tasty treat.

  “I like these little guys.” Rhidi said happily, peeling another one as she looked around.

  Anfilid and Dimili were chewing on sausages and potatoes happily, though this was not exactly odd for browns. Brown and black Kafya received extra rations due to their physical and caloric needs for military service, and were big eaters. Saffi was busily licking clams free of their shells, her odd little green braids wiggling as she chewed happily. This was all while she had a corn cob in her free fist, munching on it when she decided she needed a texture break.

  Uppil, Oin, and Enflia were working their way through everything, though they were more intrigued by the meaty mussels. A small pile of black shells was forming, and Rhidi took that moment to drag a few mussels over for herself. Imridit was busy having a revelation on the taste of potatoes, and so far had eaten nothing but the things, dipping them in the sauce to suck at.

  Pobilo and Inthur were watching Shorsey crack open her crab cluster, and slowly began mimicking the movements. Inthur had figured out how to keep the leg meat intact on her third try, while Pobilo preferred sucking gleefully at the white shoulder of the creature.

  Rhidi decided to take a small poke at a nearby cluster and pulled it over, double checking her gloves to make sure they hadn’t split anywhere.

  The crab was an odd thing, and was truly spider like. Using a small steel cracker, Rhidi moved her way around a leg and pulled the meat free in a large chunk.

  She tossed it into her mouth, chewed for a few moments, then squinted her eyes.

  “... I do not like the sea spiders.” Rhidi murmured, swallowing the meat out of habit but tossing the cluster towards Imridit. “Here, take this one Imridit.”

  Imridit tilted her head at the crab, chewing through her fifth potato, and poked at it.

  “You don’t like the crab?” Shorsey asked, cracking open another leg.

  Rhidi pulled a pinched face, picking up a hunk of sausage. “Way too sweet for me, and the texture is awful.”

  “More for me!” Pobilo cried out happily, a crab knuckle in one hand and strawberry daiquiri in the other.

  As Pobilo crunched back down onto another shoulder to suck out the meat, Rhidi took a large, succulent bite of the sausage, having to slurp a little due to the amount of juices that poured out of it. Unlike the crab, the heavily seasoned meat had a much better texture, the skin still having a little snap despite its time in the boil.

  Following Imridit’s addiction, Rhidi paired the sausage with a small red potato, nibbling at the white flesh of the tuber and finding it just as satisfying as its mashed state.

  The boil did not last for long, and by the end of their meal there was nothing but a mess of empty shells and disabled armor fragments. The cleanup on the other hand took forever, with the women’s restroom filled with fussy female Kafya.

  Rhidi spent a long time cleaning and scrubbing her face and mouth, as the sauce was trying to stain her fur red. Then there was double checking arm fur for shell fragments and sauce splash, resulting in the rather humorous discovery of Pobilo finding a full crab leg in her tail fur.

  As Kholihl, Rhidi had to double check all the Kafya, taking her time in jerking around Inthur’s chin just to make the blue furred Kafya angry. Imridit was growing on Rhidi, the pink Kafya giggling and wagging her tail as Rhidi checked her over.

  One by one she sent them out of the bathroom until she was left with Oin, who then checked Rhidi over for her own stains or fragments of shells.

  “Almost feels like back home doing this.” Oin said with a snarkish snort, fluffing Rhidi’s yellow tail. “Spent half my life primping you yellows, but you’re not as bad as the whites.”

  Rhidi frowned curtly. “Not a lot of love for yellows around here, seems like.”

  “The ones here are alright, they got their pride pounded out of them.” Oin replied, flicking a piece of shrimp shell from her fingers. “Back on our homeworld, they wouldn’t even look me in the eye or hand me my money directly. Always tossed it down onto the counter.”

  Rhidi sighed. “Yeah. There’s a lot of that.”

  “Is your father the yellow accountant that works for Donkirk Weapons?” Oin asked as she checked Rhidi’s hair.

  The question caught Rhidi off guard, and she turned to look at Oin’s passive face. “Do you know my father?”

  “No.” Oin replied with a shrug. “Just met him once. He was nice, looked me in the eyes, handed me my money directly, even wished me a good day when he left the store.”

  Rhidi smiled; That sounded like him alright.

  “Yeah, he’s Kohan Rhidi.”

  “Which means your mother is that fucking viper of a Kafya.” Oin said with open disdain as she washed her hands for the final time. “Icirit Rhidi.”

  Rhidi winced; Her mother, despite her father’s kind soul, was the pinnacle of yellow arrogance. A horrible, biting ying to her father’s benevolent yang.

  “Yeah…” Rhidi sighed out, putting her hands on her hips. “Yeah…

  “She spat on me once, you know.” Oin growled out, pulling out a few paper towels from a dispenser to dry her hands. “Said I was too stupid to do my job and was better off being food for plants.”

  Rhidi closed her eyes, remembering the tirade her mother went on after coming home from the electronics sector and speaking of a black fur that was “dumber than the dirt itself”.

  “I’m sorry about that, Oin.” Rhidi said in true apology, opening the door for Oin and stepping back. “Really.”

  Oin smirked, slapping the back of her hand against Rhidi’s uniform shirt. “I’m glad you take after your dad.”

  “Me too!” Rhidi chirped in exaggerated happiness as she pushed past the door, successfully making Oin laugh as it swung closed behind them.