A Mother's Curse, used elsewhere

Someday, [name], I hope you live to have a dozen subordinates just like you.

(#00595 - A230)

T'reka didn’t understand the curse. Not in her youth, when she’d innocently said, “Oh that would be delightful.” And not now, when she had achieved half a dozen subordinates, one of them human.

Her five Numidid scientists, including one student-underling - Tyrtyr, sought only to perform their tasks as carefully and precisely as possible. Even the human, Wila, endeavoured to keep up with the flock.

Human ingenuity and apparently recreational insanity had invented the Flight Suit. A set of artificial wings that allowed a human to glide once they had sufficient initial velocity. The model Wila wore included an additional set of detachable wings so that she could keep pace with her Numidid flock.

Wila, among the first humans to be born on this planet, didn’t know a life before alien contact. Ze spoke Ulu fluently and adapted the Numidid mannerisms to hir lanky, upright frame. Ze even figured out how to sit on Numidid perches where other humans knelt on the floor.

T'reka did her rounds. “Progress?” it was the only question she ever needed.

“I’ve found the gene-link,” sang Wila, indicating a dancing simulation on hir monitor. “These ribosomes can work in parallel and splice the genomes of Terran biota samples and Hu'lu'a biota samples. Theoretically, it may even be possible to gengineer a Numidid-Human hybrid.”

“Let’s not make any new species before we classify the ones we already have, all right?” suggested T'reka.

“Yeah, right. Hands already full,” Wila laughed and got on with hir work.

Tyrtyr, on the next desk, held up a presentation frame. “This is the third one,” she announced. “Seventeen subspecies of arboreal moth, labeled and arranged artistically as a gift to retired Mayor T'terik a’ Srii.”

“Your grand-uncle will love it,” T'reka examined the display appreciatively. “And they’re cross-coded with their archive reference. Well done.”

Tyrtyr almost glowed with pride.

Lilip had a supplicant’s posture and a presentation display… and an eager gleam in her eye. “I have finalised a plan to investigate the chasm at co-ordinates fifteen, seventy-one, gleep-thirty.” She set up the display and activated it, “With a team of volunteer humans and their s'pee-loonk-aing equipment, we should be able to fully investigate the caves, collect samples, and map the entirety of the cave system. Including the use of aerial and aquatic probes, of course.”

“I assume you have a team of humans already in mind.”

“Er. Well. They’re already going. May I escort them?”

“No flying blind.”

“Yes, Honoured-Teacher.”

T'reka still couldn’t understand the curse. Maybe it had something to do with her leadership style.

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