Corporate Galactic - 2. Symanthus

“And tell the screeners to be more thorough!” Symanthus shouted as she violently swiped the call closed. She couldn’t believe it; the third time this month NewHorizon had infiltrated. Since the recent expansion into Georgia, the competition intensified. This made seven attempts from NewHorizon in the last two months.

She reclined and huffed. Did she need to replace the migration screeners? No, that wouldn’t be the correct move. At least the current ones had some experience. After a moment of thought, Symmie decided to have the board concoct a new and tedious on-boarding process. It may cause disgruntled new citizens, but at least she wouldn’t have to worry about other companies stealing her ideas and programs. Connecting her mobile to the wireless keyboard, she sent out an array of emails to varying board members.

Satisfied with her work, she pulled out a glass and a bottle of the company’s reserve Merlot. Symmie sipped as she kicked off her low-heel pumps, doing everything possible to expunge the overwhelming stress.

“Miss Marrot,” chirped the desk intercom, “Zaltho Cryzk is on line one.”

Letting out a dissatisfied sigh, Symmie contemplated on downing the glass’ contents. She pushed it gently aside, huffed, and straightened her blazer. “Put him through, Richard.”

On the desk, the silver circle in the corner lit up. A miniature projection of the Veklon male appeared. Donned with an elongated robe, the aqua Zaltho rubbed his four tentacle arms in front of his chest. As always, the four solid-black eyes seemed soulless. “Miss Marrot, I assume all is well?”

The gurgled words from the mouthless entity always unnerved her, but she stayed composed. “It would be if you didn’t ask every other day, Mister Cryzk.” She kept her eyes on the tentacles, knowing their movements represented their feelings. “Excited about something, Zal?”

The arms kneaded more intensely. “Yes! Our governing Hrus demanded to expand our original contract. We’ve found your company’s fragrances to be far superior from the others, and at much less of a cost. Can you manufacture twice the amount we’ve been allotted? We will be paying the appropriate amount, plus a ten percent bonus.”

Symmie hid her pleasure behind a genuine smile. “I’ll get it in the works.” She leaned forward and cocked her head to the side. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to adopt our diffusers?”

Zaltho’s arms halted all movement, and became rigid. “No. We have discussed this, Miss Marrot.”

Careful of her next words, she maintained her grin and reclined once more. “My apologies. You know us humans; we aim to please.” Seeing the tentacles resume their dance, she relaxed. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No. I am satisfied. Can we receive the transport at the same requested time and date agreed upon?”

“Absolutely.”

The fluid-like digits prodded one another. “Excellent. I will call again to verify.” In a blink, the hologram dissipated.

Symmie reclined, exhaling. Reaching for her glass, she gulped the dark wine. Handling the quick-tempered aliens took a respectful amount of patience and skill. To make matters worse, the contract between them and her Hellebore Consortium was lucrative. The race obviously had more cash than any of the other off-planet buyers. One wrong tone or word, and the contract could be ripped to pieces!

Sending another flurry of emails, she demanded production to match the Veklon’s order. In the message to the factory lead, she expressed her consent for overtime. “They’ll need it,” she whispered to herself.

“Miss Marrot?”

Glancing at the intercom, her eyes rolled. “What now?”

“It’s Zaltho. He’s back on line one.”

“What?” The Vekl had never called back-to-back like this before. “Put him through.”

Seeing the figure reappear, Symmie was unsure what to expect. She put her game face back on and smiled. “Did you forget something, Mister Cryzk?”

Noticing the arms, she was immediately on the defensive. All four tentacles were flaccid and dropped to the male’s side. Her advisor from the Galactic Relations department hadn’t provided information on this stance or gesture. She was defenseless!

“No. Well, yes I did forget something, but it is not related to business.”

“All right, then how can I help you?”

“I have researched human interactions, but I am unsure if I am acting appropriately. I want to ask you to go on… a date.”

Symmie gulped. A date? With a Veklon? The advisor never said anything about their race’s interests in this regard! She had little time, but quickly assessed the pros and cons. Not coming up with any arguments, she considered the opportunity. It had been a while since someone considered her personally. “Zaltho, I’m quite flattered. My only concern is our business relationship, but I feel it wouldn’t be an issue.

“However, I have to apologize; I’m not very familiar with your race’s mannerisms.”

The tentacles remained still as Zaltho spoke, “That is fine. I am not versed in human gestures and emotions, but I am willing to learn.”

“As am I. When’s a good day and time?”

“I am able to arrive on Earth tomorrow. Is… is that viable?”

Symmie chuckled to herself, causing Zaltho’s arms to twitch slightly. “That works for me.”

Zaltho curled his arms into spirals momentarily, signaling to Symmie a possible positive reflex. The two set plans after lengthy deliberation of the typical Veklon diet. Choosing a small cafe on her company’s property that served several Galactic dishes, they spent more time learning about each other’s behavior. As she was told before, Veklon emotions were more fluid than their body structure. Zaltho gave his assurance he would be pragmatic with their future conversations. After chatting for nearly half of an hour, Zaltho confirmed his planetary travels and vanished from the projector.

Resting her chin with a hand, Symmie’s mind wandered. It was brief, but she enjoyed her time talking with the Veklon. Time was of the essence though. She palmed her mobile and paged her assistant, “Richard, get my advisor from GR in here! I need every bit of info on Veklon behavior…” Symmie backtracked and corrected herself, “No, I need everything Veklon she’s got!”

***

By the time she left the office, her head was swimming. Symmie told Richard to clear her schedule and had Vary fill her in on every detail about Veklon culture. Having confided in the GR advisor, Symmie was confident. Zaltho’s race was complex, but basic at the same time. Their diets were somewhat similar to a human’s, according to the shared Galactic databases. While having high hopes for the date, Symmie wasn’t exactly thrilled should her and Zaltho become a couple. His people were deathly allergic to a few of her favorite dishes, particularly leafy greens. “At least wine and pizza are still on the table,” she muttered to herself.

She memorized the remaining key gestures Vary provided. Knowing the fact when a Veklon male displayed slacked arms signed attraction forced her to smile. Earlier was the only time she saw it, but assumed Zaltho was smart enough to hide his true emotions during business conversations. Still, it was better than the other men that approached her before. Symmie knew she was a fierce and forceful woman, but to see a man, even an attractive one, stammering away nervously gave her no sense of pursuit.

Zaltho was different. He was unabashed, straight-forward, and poised. From what Vary taught her, males were differentiated by their ability to control their emotions. Symmie watched several videos showing contrasting examples and she determined Zaltho was prime. Despite having angered him once or twice, their previous conversations were more stable than some of the lesser Veklon in the footage.

What disturbed her was the Veklon’s physiology. As an organism, it was a normal function for them to be able to change their physical structure fluidly. A Veklon kept a singular mass to represent themselves, but adopted tentacles to express themselves and their feelings. When their race made first contact with the Galactic nearly a century ago, they formed a facial structure and manipulated their inner fluid to create speech. Oftentimes whenever a Veklon is conversing with a different race long enough, they have been known to assume the other’s body composition.

Vary started to give information on reproduction, but Symmie cut her off. She wanted to know as much as possible but decided to leave that topic for another time. Already knowing of the capability to bend their anatomy, Symmie assumed there would be a time for imagination. But for now, her date was in a few hours. She walked to her Ravver and input her home coordinates. As the vehicle drove, she contemplated her wardrobe choice.

After a relaxing hydro-shower, she selected black slacks, a white blouse, and a pair of kitten-heels; just in case they went for a walk. In a rare moment, butterflies flew in her gut. Nervous? How could she be nervous? Going on a date was just as normal as a business meeting. Hell, she was the owner of her own company, for crying out loud! Shaking off her childishness, Symmie dressed, bunned her hair, and left.

She was over an hour early, but to her surprise, so was Zaltho. With her desire to have some alone time shattered, she approached his patio table. Seeing the Veklon in the streetlight’s glow made his aquamarine figure shimmer. He was wearing a similar robe compared to the hologram's, but it was more elegantly designed. Navy in color, black and white lines stemmed from the shoulder, leading to the bottom hem.

“A little early, huh Zaltho?”

Glancing up, Zaltho was swift to a standing position. It was interesting to see him move fluidly from the chair without budging it. “Miss Marrot, you are early as well.”

Her comparison of a date being similar to a business meeting burned to ashes in her mind. “This is a date, Zaltho. You can call me Symanthus or Symmie.”

“Symanthus is your first name, correct? Why would I call you Symmie?”

“It’s a nickname.”

One of his arms flicked, signaling a realization. “I read about nicknames. They are to shorten a lengthy name. I believe my initial name is too short for one.”

“Not necessarily,” she argued. Smiling, she admired his willingness to learn. “They can be used as a term of endearment.”

“Interesting. I reviewed some archives on human interactions and behaviors on my cruise here. Would you like to sit?” Asking, Zaltho walked behind her to pull out the chair across from him. “This is a gesture one makes, correct?”

Stifling a laugh, she accepted it. “Yeah, it is. Thanks. So what urged you to ask me out?”

Returning to his seat, he replied, “I find you attractive. Is that not the logical reason?”

The forward answer was simple and flattering, but Symmie needed more. “Yes, but what do you find attractive?”

“I do not follow.”

“Well, if I was to give a reason for agreeing to this, I’d say I’m interested in you because of your blunt behavior. It’s common in your society but sometimes rare in mine. A lot of guys are too timid or skittish to even speak to.”

Swaying side to side, all four tentacles flowed in sync. “I see. Reasons for attraction. My reason is your ability to stand above your fellow man and woman.”

“So you like power?”

“To an extent of the word’s definition,” he explained. “My superiors have me work with several human companies for varying products. Most of the owners are more forward than you, but their words are harsh and filled with anger. Your words are strong, yet pleasant.”

She couldn’t argue with his experiences. Many owners were ruthless, and their greed was to blame. “It’s why I wanted to open my own company. I know I don’t treat my personal staff the nicest, but I don’t let money sway me.”

“You started your own company?” Zaltho’s arms could not maintain a rhythm or stance, as if he had a flurry of contrasting emotions. “I knew you owned Hellebore, but I was not aware you created it.”

“I did. The fragrance industry lacked in my opinion. Most products were mass-manufactured with no care other than making money. They smelled nice, but many are overbearing and nauseating. I worked with several chemists and botanists to develop scents that were natural to the human sense of smell. When the Veklon and Gartin worlds discovered us, you fronted the funds to build our settlement.”

“I did not know this. This was before I was assigned to your contract.”

Symmie nodded. “Yep. You’re my second contract-agreement agent from Vekl. Hellebore just repaid the loan to both planets, and Vekl was the only continued interest.”

“Your oils assist us when visiting arid planets in the Galactic.”

“Really?” She was stunned! “I thought Veklons used them recreationally.”

“Yes and no. Our government provides delegates and representatives with your product when traveling the universe, but it is also used leisurely.”

Hearing her product was being used to benefit a race gave her pride a boost. “That’s welcoming to know our business aids your people, Zaltho. Not to stray away from the subject, but I didn’t come to talk about why our contract exists. I want to know more about you. What do you do in your spare time?”

“I enjoy…” He trailed off as he scanned the surroundings.

Joining him, Symmie noticed a few gatherings across the street. They were all looking at them. She couldn’t blame them; Veklons were a strange sight among human populations. “Would you rather go inside? There’ll be less of them.”

“That is considerate, but they do not bother me. I recognize I am unfamiliar in such a rural area.”

“Maybe that’ll change,” she said with a smile.

***

As the night progressed, the two never ceased their conversation, only pausing to give the waiter their orders. Zaltho eventually revealed his hobby in music. He explained how Veklons relaxed from the vibrations sound creates. The male enjoyed constructing melodies that provide soothing pulses and rapturing tremors. Symmie asked about hearing his creations, but was shot down as it wouldn’t be healthy to a human’s ears. The definition of music between the two were entirely different.

When their drinks arrived, she was captivated by Zaltho inserting a tentacle in the cup. Traces of the coffee flowed inside the arm and started to dissipate before being shrouded by his robe. “That’s interesting. Is that how Veklons eat and drink?”

“Yes, though we have little need to eat solid foods. Some taste well enough to go through the laborious task of digestion. Human cuisine is among some of my favorites, particularly the Italian branch. Their sauces are quite addictive.”

Nibbling on a croissant, Symmie flashed a smile. “I agree. Honestly, I haven’t explored much of the different foods the Galactic races have to offer.”

Zaltho’s arms rubbed together close to his chest. “Try the Payot’s meats. They are hard for us to digest, but I have heard some of the humans in Europe consider it a delicacy.”

The culinary conversation continued until their dishes were empty. With the bills paid, Zaltho rose and extended a tentacle. “Would you care for a walk? Humans enjoy them, correct?”

“I’d like that, and some of us do. Our rec park is nearby, if you don’t mind walking a few blocks.” She took the offered gesture, fascinated by the touch of the Veklon membrane-like skin. It wasn’t wet to the touch but Symmie could feel the fluid steadily move underneath. “Is it normal for your race to hold hands? Well, tentacles?”

“Yes,” he answered, “it is one of the few interactions I have found our races share. I believe humanity’s dating process is a shorter one than ours, but overall it is similar. All I ask is for you to keep your grip loose.”

“Oh!” Symmie immediately abided by the request. “Is that better?”

“Yes. Our bodies do not express pain, but the membrane is delicate and can be severed easily. We can reattach the lost portions with no trouble.”

“So it’s just tedious. That seems like an even trade-off; no pain, but vulnerability becomes a nuisance.” She looked up to find Zaltho’s eyes on her. “Was it something I said?”

“No, I was admiring your analysis. It was simple and efficient. It… it was nice.”

Symmie felt her cheeks heating. Contrary to her initial thoughts of how the date would go, she was pleased with Zaltho’s blunt speech and stature. He was acting unlike their previous holo-calls. His tone was less stressed, more emotions were displayed, and actions were compassionate.

Together, they spent a few hours at the lit park. Seated on a bench near the fountain, Zaltho enjoyed the occasional trickle of water that fell on him. The two shared their life stories, but the Veklon’s arms stiffened several times. “Is everything all right?”

“It is a matter of personal opinion.”

“You can share with the class if you want.”

“You speak of your childhood education. It is not my place to say how your world works, but if one were to not possess the ability to strive in the workforce, it leads them to a meager lifestyle.”

Symmie shrugged. “It’s not about ability or inability. Those with physical or mental defections are protected by governing laws to help find use. Nearly every company hires and pays their employees through their work ethic. If they put more effort into their careers, then they can afford better housing and save credits for retirement sooner. Some are content with tier-one housing and minimal base-pay, and will continue to meet the lowest levels of production to remain in the company until they become too old.”

“I do not mean to judge your race’s ways.”

“You didn’t. There’s been many eras of efficiency, and ever since the Galactic entered our lives, companies have found the best model for the products they provide. It sounds depressing to say those with no motivation will live in poverty, but those who strive always have the opportunity to further themselves. At least, in my company. Others, particularly the larger ones, are sweathouses with no light at the end of the tunnel.”

They shared a stare before Zaltho looked away to the fountain. “You make it sound feasible, but it still does not sound correct.”

Symmie sighed and leaned onto his body gently. “It hasn’t been right for a long, long time.”