Brokering Trust - Hetero Edition

He noted that her coloration had lightened somewhat, her skin taking on a more pastel quality, almost like the saturation was draining from it. Judging by his interaction with the Administrator, it signaled that her mood was improving. Perhaps his sense of wonder amused her. While the circumstances of their meeting could not have been any less favorable, it must be hard not to crack the Broker equivalent of a smile watching someone experience all of this for the first time. She was actually talking now, so he was making progress.

"This way," she said, her flowing blankets flaring out behind her as she whirled around. Beyond the jellies, the floor ended abruptly, something that looked like an empty elevator shaft shooting straight up into the ceiling. It was so long that he couldn't see the top - the haze created by the water masking it from view, like it was fading into a blue mist. She turned to glance at him as he hesitated.

"Your accommodations are on a higher level," she explained.

"I get it," he replied, craning his neck. "No stairs, no elevators, no ladders. There's no need when you're in a microgravity environment and you can just...swim up."

The problem was, David wasn't quite as buoyant as the Broker - especially not with both hard cases clutched in his hands. The tube system had a current that whisked him along, but he'd have to swim up to the appropriate floor under his own power.

The Broker quickly realized the issue, extending a couple of her tentacle arms, the leaf-like hands uncurling to expose her bright blue suckers.

"I can carry one of your bags," she said. "I know that humans are capable of swimming, but you are clearly...not designed for it."

"I mean, in theory there are humans who are incredible divers and swimmers," he replied as he handed off one of the cases to her. "The issue is, I work in a laboratory, and I do cardio on a treadmill. I don't think I even own a swimsuit anymore..."

She coiled one of her arms around the handle, her suckers gluing two more of her hands to its case, giving her a pretty solid grip.

"Sorry about making you carry my luggage before, by the way," he added. "I thought you were a robot..."

The Broker began to swim up the shaft, her leg-tentacles working in tandem to create a wave motion that propelled her along in bursts. David took a moment to consider how he was going to proceed, lamenting that the Navy hadn't thought to include flippers with his suit. He wasn't that experienced of a swimmer on the best of days, let alone wearing boots and carrying a case full of heavy scientific equipment. He jumped on the spot experimentally, floating maybe a meter into the air before slowly descending again, not buoyant enough to float. He tried once more, kicking his legs to no avail. His guide paused some ten meters above him, her tentacles waving to keep her level as she waited for him to follow.

A new idea came to mind, and he leapt into the air again, coasting over to the far wall of the shaft this time. When he reached it, he kicked off, aiming for the opposite wall. Like a free diver, he could push off the surfaces, slowly bouncing his way up the shaft. More than a little pleased with himself, he tucked the case under one arm, using the other to help control his movement.

The Broker gave him a look of bemusement, then continued on, swimming ahead of him. These towers had looked to be a hundred stories tall from the outside, so for all he knew, they had some ways to travel. Looking down at the sheer drop below made his stomach turn, but he reminded himself that his descent would be a slow one if he were to lose his footing and fall.

There were doors lining the shaft, and he surmised that they led into apartments or living spaces for the Brokers. They must be pretty spacious if there were only a couple of thousand Brokers per tower. The walls were covered in more alien markings, perhaps some kind of stylized map with apartment numbers or something.

It was hard to know how high they were when his guide stopped at one of the doors. All David knew what that his thighs were on fire. She lay her hand over a touch display, and the panel slid open to grant her access. David had to angle his next jump correctly to reach the door, hooking his free hand around its lip and pulling himself inside.

When he climbed to his feet, he found himself standing inside a space that would have passed for a luxury penthouse on any human world. It seemed that he had two entire stories all to himself, and the ceilings were fairly high, considering the stature of the Brokers. The suite was open-plan, arranged around the central shaft, which formed a kind of pillar that rose up through the center of the room. The space seemed to span the entire floor of the tower. The second level skirted the periphery of the main area, somewhat like a large balcony, the aquatic environment meaning that no stairs were necessary to reach it. Everything had a flowing, curving, almost organic design that reminded David of some kind of art gallery or upscale office complex.

The walls and floor were coated in slabs of cream-colored stone that had been polished to a sheen like marble. It was coral stone, he realized - its surface pocked with little indents and impressions left by a fossilized reef. He could see cross-sections of branching tubes and imprints left by some of the brain-like specimens, along with spiraling shells that had been preserved in the sediment. There were no corners, all of the walls blending together into a seamless, curving surface.

As he walked deeper into the room, he turned his visor to the ceiling, seeing that it was covered by a massive aquarium. There were shoals of colorful fish swimming through the tank, making him feel like there was open water above him. Maybe that was the point. There were more tanks around the spacious room - some helping to support the second level like cylindrical pillars, while others were recessed deep into the wall to break up the beige stone in places. They contained living corals and sponges, giving them the appearance of potted plants.

All of the light in the room filtered through the ceiling, creating a dappled effect on the floor reminiscent of sunlight reflected through shallow water. It made the already cavernous space feel all the larger.

"I'm going to be bunking here?" David asked in disbelief, turning on the spot as he took in the lavish environment. "Holy shit. Do you have any clue what a place like this would cost on Earth?"

"This is considered modest by our standards," she replied as she set his case down on the floor.

"Well, I guess you guys must have space to spare with such a low population count. It's like if you took five Toronto penthouses and just knocked all the dividing walls out."

"I think you misunderstand," she continued, her hue darkening again. "This is my property. It was the Administrator's decision that you should stay with me - in the city."

"Ah..."

David would have tugged at his collar nervously if his suit had been equipped with one, settling on fiddling with one of his gloves instead. So, the Administrator wasn't only taking away control of her project and bringing in outside help, but he was forcing her to host an alien in her home. Based on what little he had learned about their culture so far, they weren't the most social creatures, so it was no wonder she was so pissed off. What had she done to draw such ire that her boss would go out of his way to torment her like this?

"Uh, listen," he began hesitantly. "Not that I don't appreciate your hospitality, but I could always go stay at an embassy."

"There are no embassies. No alien governments have a presence in Trappist."

"Oh, of course," he muttered. "How about a hotel? You guys have hotels, right? Hey, two stars, an unheated pool, no room service - I've had worse."

"I suggested that they fabricate a temporary dwelling for you on the island, where you would be more comfortable," she explained. "It was determined that you would need to be supervised during your stay, however."

And, building David a little tropical getaway on the beach wouldn't have the added effect of getting under her skin, she neglected to add. It was obvious enough that she had argued against this arrangement fervently, and it didn't make him feel the most welcome. There was also the fact that she had clearly been instructed to keep an eye on him by her superiors. They certainly were a suspicious people.

"Mi casa es su casa," he muttered to himself, glancing around the suite. "Not to nitpick - I'm sure you have a lovely home - but I can't live in this space suit twenty-four seven. I have to take off the helmet to eat and drink, I have to go to the bathroom, I have to sleep."

"I have researched humans enough to understand your physiological needs," she replied, a ripple of texture spreading across her skin. Was that irritation? Anger? It almost looked like the fur puffing up on a cat. "Our engineers have arranged an appropriate habitat for you."

"Habitat," he mumbled. "I'll give it a look over, but if you start feeding me fish flakes, I'm out of here."

She gave him a quizzical look, those large eyes oddly expressive, but she wasn't invested enough in their conversation to ask him to elaborate. He picked up the other case, then followed her across the apartment, her suckers sticking to the polished floor as she scuttled along. It was such an odd, complex gait, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from it. The way that her tentacles formed a bell shape when they reached her waist made it look like she had hips, though he doubted whether there was any bone or cartilage in that part of her body. Not if she could squish herself into that exoskeleton.

They passed a glass coffee table that was supported by a piece of petrified coral. There were two chairs nearby, both of a similar design to the ones he had seen in the other building. They looked like they were made using 3D printing or some equivalent process, creating strange, branch-like structures filled with holes and empty cavities. Perhaps they were designed to use as little material as possible. Netting was strung between their frames like little hammocks.

His guide swam up to the second level, and he followed her, pushing off the floor like he was jumping in lunar gravity. It was actually kind of fun in this more familiar environment. The décor up here was much the same as the lower level, with coral stone lining the walls and floor, broken up by the occasional fish tank or piece of exotic alien furniture.

At the far end of the room, sitting on the balcony-like overhang, was a transparent bubble. It looked like an igloo made of plastic, brushing the five-meter-high ceiling at its apex and maybe six meters wide. There was a door that jutted from its near face, bringing to mind images of airlocks on clean rooms. As David approached, he could make out distorted furnishings through the material - a desk and a more familiar chair, along with a bed and some storage lockers.

"Yep, I'd call that a habitat," he said as he appraised his new room. "You've erected some kind of rigid tent and pressurized it - one bar with Earth-norm environmental conditions, I'm assuming? Very impressive."

"Our engineers tried to approximate a comfortable human environment," she explained, hitting a panel in the door frame. "I assisted with the furnishings. Based on my research, you should find it adequate."

The door swung open on a hinge, and instead of the two-way airlock that he had been anticipating, David saw a shimmering barrier of blue light. He reached out to brush his fingers against it warily, watching them slide through.

"I know what this is!" he marveled. "It's not so different from the molecular force fields that we use to keep in the atmosphere on carrier hangar decks. They allow physical objects to pass through, but the lattice of energized particles is fine enough to prevent air molecules from escaping. This field has to be holding back an enormous amount of pressure, though," he added as he waved his hand through it experimentally. "The force of the atmosphere within the habitat trying to escape, and the force of the water trying to flood in. You know, a bell design with a moon pool would have been a hell of a lot simpler."

She ignored his comment, shuffling through the barrier, David watching another ripple of displeasure pass across her smooth skin like a shiver. Like an octopus trying to camouflage itself in the rocks, her papillae rose to form pointy peaks, creating a spiky wave that flowed from her head to her extremities. The control that she exerted over the texture and color of her skin never ceased to amaze him.

"So, they can go on land," he muttered into his helmet as he followed after her.

He stepped through, feeling the barrier pull the very moisture from the surface of his suit to leave him bone dry - a strange sensation indeed. The same didn't seem to be true for his companion, who was still glistening wet. The field must be very carefully calibrated. There were many back in UN space who would kill for the chance to develop a clean room or an airlock that could remove contaminants in such a manner, but he was getting ahead of himself. One thing at a time...

He did a lap around the little room, examining the desk, the chair, and the bed. These, too, looked like they had been printed. They were very close approximations of basic furniture that one might find at any store, but oddly sterile, like their designers hadn't been entirely sure how they were supposed to be used. The chair had no padding and looked more like something one might find on a patio, while the lockers were similar to those he might expect to see in a gym. They'd serve their purpose just fine, but it was amusing nonetheless. At the back of the room was an enclosed compartment that looked like it was made of metal, which was most likely where the bathroom and shower were.

"It's a little cramped," he said, appraising the bed. "More like a prison cell than a hotel room, really, but it'll do just fine."

"I am glad you approve," she replied, the tone of her synthesized voice betraying her insincerity.

"You can breathe on land?" he asked, turning to face her. "You can stand upright without the buoyancy of water supporting you, too. Interesting."

"We breathe through our vents," she explained, gesturing to the holes beneath her mantle with a tentacle arm. Her clicking and whistling sounded even stranger without the medium of water, though her translator had no trouble picking it up. "Much like the capillaries in your lungs, we draw in oxygenated water that passes over our gills, and waste gasses are then expelled. We are capable of absorbing oxygen through our skin as long as it remains moist enough for the gas exchange to occur."

"So, you can survive out of the water for a while, but you suffocate if you dry out?"

"Correct," she replied. "Our distant ancestors ventured onto land in search of prey, where they hunted crustaceans in shallow rock pools. They gradually evolved more mobility and more efficient gas exchange to prolong their excursions."

"I'd been wondering how you managed to do any real metallurgy or chemistry underwater," he said with a grin. "You didn't, did you? Nobody was smelting ore over hydrothermal vents. Once you could spend enough time on dry land, that's where you really started making advancements."

"Perceptive," she replied, her chromatophores lightening somewhat. "We also developed a rigid internal support structure somewhat akin to an endoskeleton - a vestige of our ancestral shells. The structure anchors the muscles in our torso to give our limbs leverage and helps pull us upright on land. It also forms a protective barrier around some of our vital organs. It is composed primarily of a carbonate mineral known as aragonite."

"Cuttlebones!" David exclaimed, the Broker's skin prickling in alarm. "We have a cephalopod species on Earth known as a Cuttlefish, and they have an internal shell called a cuttlebone. It's primarily used to regulate buoyancy, but it sounds like it could have evolved in much the same way - a mollusk's protective shell becoming an internal support structure."

"Indeed," she replied.

The more he got her talking about subjects that interested her, the less surly she seemed to be. She was a fellow scientist, after all. Perhaps there was a chance that working together might not be so exhausting if she shared his enthusiasm on the job.

He began to stow his belongings, setting the two hard cases down on top of the table. The Broker observed from a safe distance as he flipped one of them open to reveal a rugged laptop, the device humming to life when he hit the power switch, the screen lighting up. It was starkly different from the slick touch panel controls that he had seen throughout the city, designed for fieldwork in a variety of harsh conditions, and it was equipped with a tactile keyboard that was clicky in the way that he liked. He tried to type in his password with the gloves but found them too cumbersome. After checking that the pressure between his suit and the habitat was equalized, he broke the seals at the wrists with a hermetic hiss.

As his fingers danced across the keys, the sound of their clicking filling the habitat, curiosity got the better of the Broker. She dared to inch a little closer, those expressive eyes with their horizontal pupils following his digits intently. To a creature whose equivalent of hands were the leaf-shaped tips of tentacles covered in suckers, the sight of individual fingers filled with bones and tendons must be a strange one indeed. The basic way that the two species interacted with their interface devices was completely different.

"You press physical buttons?" she asked. She must have learned enough about human anatomy to know about hands, but seeing them in motion was a different story.

"We do have touch devices more like yours," he replied, a pair of holographic displays flaring to life to float in the air beside the physical one as the device booted. "I just work better with a tactile interface - it's what I'm used to. How do your...hands...work, anyway?"

She lifted one of her arm-tentacles to demonstrate in the same way a human might raise their hand, giving him a view of its flat underside. There were six round suckers, their light blue hue contrasting with her rusty coloration, the fleshy appendage remarkably flexible as it curled in on itself like a fist. It wasn't hard to imagine how it might function as a hand, its gripping ability and its sticky suckers serving as a suitable stand-in for opposable thumbs.

He reached out to touch it, surmising that she might want to do the same, but she pulled away reflexively.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Guess I'm still running on human social conventions."

"You have done no harm," she replied, scooting back a little.

"Why are you still wet, by the way?" he asked, noting that her skin was still glistening. "My suit was as dry as a bone after I came through that field."

"The field is calibrated to leave my mucous layer intact," she explained. "It helps to trap moisture and prolong the time I can spend above water."

"So, you're slimy?"

"For lack of a better word," she grumbled, her coloration shifting hue into a blotchy maroon. She almost seemed more at ease when she was annoyed.

He reached up to pop off his helmet and set it on the desk, running a hand through his dark hair.

"I've been wearing that thing for hours," he sighed, taking a relieved breath. The habitat smelled like recycled air, along with something synthetic and vaguely reminiscent of polymer. He could also smell the distinct scent of seawater, which was probably coming from the Broker. It wasn't unpleasant or overpowering - more like the breeze that blew in from the ocean. "I don't know how the Marines can march all day in those damned things."