Alien Architect Needs a Nanny: Alien Nanny Agency #1 Page 2

  But her dreams were so much bigger.

  “What’s the pay like?” she ventured.

  “For a first-year nanny?” Varsha asked.

  “You were just talking about my years of experience on the phones,” Emilia ventured.

  “Of course,” Varsha said, smiling widely. “We would pay you based on those years, even though you weren’t in the field. And a bonus, I think, if you make it a year.”

  “A bonus?” Emilia asked.

  Varsha’s fingers danced in the air about her holo-disc.

  A moment later Emilia’s bracelet pinged.

  “Consider that your offer,” Varsha said. “Contingent on clearances.”

  Don’t look, Emilia advised herself. You have no field experience, and no right to be in a child’s life just for money.

  But it was impossible to resist the temptation. The numbers on the comm were shocking and she felt herself softening to the idea.

  “This isn’t what I want to do for the rest of my life,” she heard herself say uncertainly. “It wouldn’t be right to go for a year and then abandon the kids.”

  “The last nanny was there for less than two weeks,” Varsha said carefully. “And right now, they have no one. The fact that you’re worried about their stability tells me they will be in good hands with you, even if it’s just for a year. And by the end of the year, we’ll have better trained nannies for the family to choose from.”

  Emilia felt herself caving.

  “Can I think about it?” she hedged. “Just for a little while.”

  “Let me run your clearances while you think,” Varsha said. “They’re different for caregivers. Put your thumb here.”

  Emilia put her thumb on the pad, leaving it until the ping told her the data was received.

  “Not everyone has the chance to work for Ra’as Drayven,” Varsha said softly.

  “How old are the kids?” Emilia asked, filing away the father’s name. It was familiar but she couldn’t place it.

  “Mimi is four, almost five,” Varsha said, reading from her holo-screen. “And Dyrk is about to turn thirteen. It says he’s complicated.”

  “Complicated how?” Emilia asked.

  “There’s no explanation,” Varsha shrugged. “I can’t share feedback from the other nanny, but I suggest you be prepared for anything.”

  “I’ll think it over,” Emilia said. “No promises.”

  “You have fifteen minutes,” Varsha told her. “At that point we’ll have all clearances back and you’ll have to move forward, or I’ll have to choose someone else. Please don’t make me do that. Sending out someone who hasn’t even gone through training would be bad for everyone.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Emilia said as she headed out of Varsha’s office and into the hallway.

  She floated back to her desk in a haze, pulled out her chair, and then couldn’t bring herself to sit.

  “You okay?” Janice asked, looking up at her.

  Emilia nodded slowly.

  “That bad, huh?” Janice said sympathetically.

  “They gave me Employee of the Month,” Emilia said.

  “Oh, wow, that comes with two lunch vouchers for two, right?” Janice asked hopefully.

  “Then they asked me to go in the field,” she said.

  “Why?” Janice asked, looking horrified. “Who’s going to take the calls?”

  “You are,” Emilia said. “Sounds like the client is some very important guy, a friend of Sir Anyx’s. He’s desperate.”

  “Important, huh?” Janice asked. “Who is it?”

  “The name was familiar, but I can’t place it,” Emilia said. “Ra’as Drayven?”

  It hit her that maybe she wasn’t supposed to share the name, but Janice was already typing furiously onto her holo-screen.

  “Star architect,” Janice read out loud. “Top of his class at Bhimani Tech, won the Garr Award at thirty, oh, wow.”

  “What?” Emilia asked, wondering what could be more impressive than winning the prestigious Garr award in architecture so young.

  “He was named one of In Vogue Magazine’s Sexiest Bachelors of the Year,” Janice said. “Let’s find a pic. Oh, wow, yum.”

  Emilia leaned over Janice’s shoulder to look at a stream screen of images.

  There was an undeniably sexy black and white shot of a man in excellent physical shape wearing a half-unbuttoned Oxford, that must have been for In Vogue’s spread. He was a Kotenka, and even though a powerful body and wolflike ears were typical for his race, his sharply chiseled abs had to be beyond the norm.

  But Emilia’s eyes were drawn to his professional headshot, which appeared periodically in the stream. The set of his jaw was determined. He had the expression of a man who was powerful, yet restrained.

  But his pale blue eyes seemed fixed on a place far away and dreamlike - as if none of his worldly success mattered.

  Emilia could imagine that even as the photo was taken, Ra’as Drayven was unable to drag his mind from the unquenchable thirst to build more.

  “Sounds like he’s obsessed with work,” Janice said, having abandoned the image stream to look back at the various bios. “And the wife died in that attack on Nordholm. Man, I’d hate to be his kid.”

  The attack on Nordholm, wow.

  That tragic incident brought up unprecedented images of bloodshed and horror for all who knew about The Armada’s merciless attack.

  After all, everyone in the galaxy feared The Armada.

  The dictatorial governance of The Armada would take over whole systems by targeting the weakest planet.

  Once they conquered that planet, they set up a base on it, where they swiftly installed high level weaponry systems to target the others. This procedure allowed them to efficiently take over a whole system with minimum casualties among their own troops.

  Once the first planet fell, there was no stopping them. Even the most ancient and wealthy democratic societies had fallen to their cruel dictatorship.

  When the Armada set its sights on Ulfgard’s system, they naturally began to orbit its smallest and least inhabited planet, Torgard.

  All available soldiers in the system as well as most other able-bodied men volunteered to go to Torgard to fight off The Armada.

  Comms that were intercepted indicated a likely date of attack, and the men were deployed.

  And at the appointed time, The Armada descended, but not on Torgard. Instead, they surprised everyone by attacking Nordholm, a small planet completely on the other side of the system.

  There was no time for the troops to change course. Nordholm stood completely unguarded and ripe for The Armada to pluck.

  And it was located right next to Ulfgard, the crown jewel of the system.

  Luckily, the women of Ulfgard, though not used in active duty, had all served in a mandatory two-year army training program at the age of nineteen.

  Along with the women on several other nearby planets, they quickly organized themselves and deployed to Nordholm together.

  Nearly all of them were slaughtered on the beaches where they arrived.

  The Armada had the advantage of defending their position from the cliffs, and a head start to set up a convoy of blasters.

  But the women fought valiantly, and their sacrifice held the Armada off long enough for the rest of the system’s troops to arrive.

  Among the slaughtered bodies of their wives and sisters, the Ulfgardian soldiers attacked and won the day. But everyone knew it was the women who were the real heroes.

  The Armada cut its losses and moved on to find a more vulnerable system.

  And the Ulfgardians went home to face their tragedy on their home turf.

  The sudden, unexpected nature of the deaths of nearly every woman of childbearing age at once was a terrible burden for an otherwise fortunate planet.

  And the story echoed throughout the galaxy as another example of the evil consequences of allowing The Armada to continue amassing systems unchecked.

  E
milia shivered, thinking about Mimi and Dyrk without a mother, growing up with a father who was obviously obsessed with his career.

  Her bracelet lit up.

  Your clearances are in. The contract is fully validated on our end. No more contingencies. Are you ready to sign?

  She found herself glancing back at the man on the screen with the faraway look in his eyes.

  Dragging her gaze from his, she quickly tapped on the contract. A digital pad holo-projected in the air above her bracelet, and she held her thumb to it accepting the offer before she could change her mind.

  3

  Ra’as

  Ra’as Drayven studied the blueprint as it spun slowly in the air above his holo-disc.

  There were seven other people in the room, maybe more, if the interns were on this morning. But all of them were silent, reverent almost.

  They knew Master Drayven valued silence when he was deep in his creative process.

  He studied the elegant lines of the Executive Palace as the image rotated. A good design combined the owner’s wishes with the local building codes. A great design included efficiency of materials and local sourcing.

  And Ra’as Drayven’s designs took it all one step above and beyond, giving the owner things they didn’t even realize they wanted. Which was why he was so sought after in the upper circles of architectural design and planning.

  It was said that Ra’as Drayven had a sixth sense for figuring out what his clients secretly craved.

  Technically, if he did have another sense, it would be his seventh. All Kotenka had an extra sense already, but it made people uncomfortable to think about, so most pretended not to know about it.

  Ra’as didn’t think he had any special intuition. Or if he did, he was using it without realizing it. Most times, he simply added elements he personally felt were needed to elevate the structure to its best form.

  So far, his clientele had possessed the good sense to be grateful.

  And now that he had achieved almost celebrity status, he doubted any of them would have the audacity to challenge him, even if they didn’t like his work.

  The floating lines in front of him faded until he found he was looking at the one area of the structure that he knew instinctively needed his eye.

  The newly elected leader of Ulfgard was obsessed with Old-Earth history, especially what was known as Greco-Roman culture and architecture. The entire design for the Executive Palace, to be built to house the leader’s family as well as hold all ceremonial occasions, had been put in the hands of Ra’as Drayven & Associates, with the tacit understanding that the Master himself would have his hands on every facet of the project. Ra’as had done his homework, and decided to imbue the manse with hints of the leader’s obsession.

  Soaring ceilings and echoing arches blended organically with the more modern feel of the drawing. But something still wasn’t right.

  “There,” he said. “Lift the third-floor landing by two feet and open the space under the stairs.”

  “Of course,” his first assistant said, scowling at her holo-screen as she tapped into it. “Space for another powder room?”

  “A circular hall for the second floor,” he said. “The flow will echo the downstairs layout. The flooring in that section above should be composite glass.”

  “It’s under the third-floor skylight,” the assistant murmured in understanding. “There will be natural light without adding a window.”

  Six other voices made sounds of understanding and appreciation. Fingers danced in the air.

  The rotating drawing adjusted to match his vision.

  “Now columns,” he said.

  Knee walls disappeared and were replaced with columns to echo the ones on the facade and in the courtyard.

  “There,” he said. “Yes.”

  There was a smattering of applause, as often happened when he had a breakthrough - no matter how minor.

  The applause made him feel embarrassed for himself and for his staff, but he allowed it. If he wanted to employ the best available minds, he had to indulge them. If they wanted to work for a scary boss, he would intimidate them. If they wanted him to be a star, he would perform.

  For Ra’as, the only thing he cared about was that blueprint, and the building it would become. Everyone and everything around him was a tool, more or less useful at turning the vision into a reality.

  An old-fashioned chime-ring sounded on his bracelet.

  “Go,” he said simply to the people in the room. “Make it happen.”

  They scattered immediately, like a herd of prey running from a rhine cat.

  “Ra’as,” his mother chirped the minute he tapped the screen. “Where are you?”

  His eyes moved to the window. Both suns were already setting. He must have lost track of time again, like he often did when he was in the zone with a challenging job.

  “I’m at work,” he said, trying to project a calm he didn’t feel.

  “Oh, Ra’as,” she sighed. “Dinner is on the table, and two children are waiting for their father.”

  “Don’t wait for me,” he told her. “Just let them eat. You too. I’ll be a little longer.”

  “Have you found a new nanny for them?” she asked. “You know I love them, but I can’t keep taking time off. My employees at the clinic have been working overtime for a week now.”

  “I’m doing my best, Ma,” he told her. “Can you reduce the hours at the clinic for a little while?”

  “I know you don’t have pets,” his mother said sternly. “But if you did, you would know that the only emergency veterinary clinic on Ulfgard needs to be open all night.”

  He sighed and felt a pang of guilt. He understood being passionate about work. Hell, he had probably inherited his own passion from Lynnit Drayven. It wasn’t right to make his mother drop her whole life to be there for the kids.

  “It’s not only that, Ra’as,” his mother added gently. “You don’t just need a nanny. You need some sort of work-life balance. The kids need you around.”

  Sometimes he doubted that. He loved his kids, but his stress about work made him tense and unpleasant. He would never have said it out loud, but he secretly assumed they preferred being with his tough-as-nails but fun-loving mother, or a nanny who had nothing else to worry about but amusing them.

  “I know, Ma,” he said.

  “It’s bad enough they don’t have a mother,” she added softly.

  And there was the pain he had never been able to fully shake - hidden away under layers of distraction, but still raw when the light hit it. Myza had understood and accepted him just as he was. And now she was gone.

  Maybe she was a warrior hero, looking down on them from the hallowed halls of Vallagard, but he would have given anything to have her back, regular and real, running their lives in her gentle way.

  “Tst,” his mother hissed suddenly. “Get out of there.”

  “Don’t use dog training sounds, Mom,” he said, smiling with amusement. “They’re kids, not pets.”

  “Then why is Mimi eating her dinner under the table with no utensils?” his mother retorted. “Mimi, come out from under there right now.”

  Ra’as laughed. Mimi was small and adorable, but she was a spitfire.

  “Just come home,” his mother sighed. But he could hear the smile in her voice.

  “I’ll be there very soon,” he promised.

  His mother clicked off and he lifted his bracelet to get in touch with the Alien Nanny Agency again, only to find that he already had a comm from them.

  Excellent news. Miss Emilia Robbins will be arriving soon, flight plan to follow. Miss Robbins has just received the agency’s highest award for customer service satisfaction. She is excited to meet the children.

  Ra’as’s eyebrows went up. It sounded like the agency was sending their best nanny.

  The last one had clearly been inexperienced and frightened. And they had tried to tell him they were short staffed, something about the nannies and a lotto pool. r />
  But here they were, sending someone exceptional.

  It all went to show that it paid to make a fuss sometimes. Little as he liked throwing around his weight as a famous architect, his call to the owner, Marv Anyx, had clearly paid off, and his children would benefit.

  “Emilia Robbins,” he whispered to himself.

  It was an old-fashioned name. He tried to create an image of Miss Robbins in his mind. She would be ancient, stout, stern, and reliable. She probably had one of those enormous carpet bags, like the nannies in the holo-films.

  The thought of it clicked into place in his head and he imagined the structure of his life floating in the hologram like one of his buildings - elegant and just-right, now that this new element had been introduced.

  Everything was coming together.

  Tenet 14

  Punctuality is paramount.

  - Dr. H. VynFleet, 132 Tenets of Childcare & Maintenance

  4

  Emilia

  Emilia clutched her bags and gazed across the customer service counter at the employee with the nametag that said Gox.

  Gox eyed her back suspiciously.

  “The reservation should be under Ra’as Drayven,” she said for the third time. “He just had me flown here in a chartered craft. I know he wants me to be there on time. Do you really not have a reservation under Ra’as Drayven?”

  “Oh, we’ve got a reservation in his name, Madam,” Gox drawled. “But I can’t say that it’s for you.”

  “Who else would it be for?” Emilia asked, beginning to lose her patience. “Is anyone else here picking up a car for Sir Drayven?”

  The other customers pointedly looked away from her.

  “First of all, it’s Master Drayven,” the boy said. “You would know that if you actually worked for him. He’s a master architect. Secondly, he would never reserve a FleetPace for you.”

  “Why not?” Emilia asked, nervously smoothing down her already smooth plaid skirt. She’d chosen the long skirt, along with a modest sweater, because that was how Pralexx usually dressed, and she had been the best nanny in the agency for years before the lotto incident. Emilia thought it might help her confidence to look the part.