Chapter 10: Lahr's Sacrifice

When Mommy Mandy woke me up, I had my arms around a Vix—but not my beloved Princess Silvia. He was Lahr.

"Wha--" I croaked, half-awake.

"Breakfast," Lahr told me through his voder.

"Oh, yeah," I got out of bed, helped by the Vix. He was taller and heavier than me—but not overwhelmingly so. "Shower, first."

Showers were multi-function. I could simply soak in real water—and then air dry. Or I could take a dry shower. I stood in the stall as the thirty-second dry shower cycle cleaned me, and then I padded barefoot to the kitchen. Today I was going to first prepare a large picnic lunch and then breakfast for the family—and at least one guest, it seemed.

Sandwiches. The creativity of bread and meats and cheeses—with vegetables and fruits and assorted sauces! I had to keep the sandwiches' thickness small enough so that a human jaw could bite, but that was just about the limit. Pickles—I managed to make up a few. There was nothing like a pickled cucumber on the grocery website. The meat and eggs and dairy products were artificial—no animals involved. Eggs came in a carton and were poured—except for the ready-made "hard boiled" eggs. The latter made passable deviled eggs. I had a variety of sweets ranging from fresh fruits to cookies and cakes. There was more than simply assembling the lunch—I needed something that would hold the food without the food falling apart. The "lemonade" couldn't simply be put in pitchers because the beverage would slop out. No problem! Consulting with others—especially the twins, Babs and Becky—and I had everything I needed.

Breakfast was custom quiches for everybody. Just in case you haven't caught up on the latest craze in Paxlyn Domain, a quiche is a scrambled egg pie. Different things are scrambled with the eggs and the pie crust and filling are baked until the filling "sets." Poor Lahr had to gnaw on a sandwich (I always make too much when making food—left-overs are a treat, the first "fast food") while his quiche was cooking—and cooling.

Cooking is a good time for conversation, but the kitchen regime had Lahr's full attention. It seems that we primates are not the only "thinking" animal geared to focus on novelty. Silvia, as always, assisted in the kitchen. I noticed that Lahr cast longing glances at Silvia often.

"So you were the one Silvia rejected," I said.

"She is a princess," Lahr said, "and she was my promised," he admitted, "but her name was Nam. In your language, Jewel."

"I am Silvia now," Silvia insisted. "Lahr has a proposition."

"Yes," Lahr's reluctance was obvious. "I have volunteered to undergo the Paxlyn Domain regression to see what it does to Vix."

Silvia and Lahr explained that Lahr had impregnated Garma, and that her kits would live with her mate, Scoo, as would Garma. What Lahr wanted was to impregnate Silvia. When Lahr had been regressed, he would most likely become female for the same reasons that humans became female: that was the default gender. All human fetuses started off with the structures for both genders, but would be born female unless hormones in the womb triggered masculine gender. It was the same for the Vix.

"The next time I'll be making pups on the other side, if I survive," the plucky Vix said.

"I need to research this," I said, "what is best for Silvia, what is best for the kits. I own no resources."

"I asked," Lahr said, hang-dog.

"I haven't said 'no' yet," I countered. "I just asked for time to research. Silvia, are you willing to do this for Lahr?"

"I'll do it for you, Master," Silvia said. "I didn't want to belong to Lahr for the rest of my days. Lahr is possessive. As your property, Master of my heart, I will do as bid. But consider this; you cannot give me children. Lahr will join our pack as either a female or male and grow up again as you permit."

"If I become female," Lahr offered, "I volunteer to become yours, just as Silvia."

"Lahr is a good Vix," Silvia explained, "but I didn't want to be his property. I can tolerate Lahr as a brother—or as a foster son. I would love to have Lahr as my sister. I don't want him to be my Alpha."

The rest of my decision was logistics-based. How could I care for my family? So what if they were "only dogs?" I would ask around.

"Give me two days," I said. "I have to find things out."

Breakfast was satisfying. One reason that I only did a special breakfast once per week was sensory overload. One magnificent breakfast per week, and a corresponding dinner, was a treat. If every meal were special, then special would become routine—much like all the nude bodies in Paxlyn Domain were routine. Besides, there was a lot of work involved. When I prepared breakfasts or lunches or even dinners the rest of the week I would prepare the simple meals that were standard fare in this world. I didn't prepare ALL the meals for the family, just about half—I had to pull my own weight, after all.

"What is next week's treat?" Mother Regina asked.

"Waffles," Silvia answered. "Master is programming the food printer to make waffles. We can sell the program."

"What did you decide about Lahr's request?" Mother Regina inquired.

"How will I take care of the kits?"

"You don't understand Paxlyn Domain," Mommy Mandy said. "All children are cared for—no matter how we get them. You do have permission to breed your Silvia."

That was the information I needed. I formally accepted Lahr and Silvia breeding. Bonding and breeding were different things to the Vix. Humans used to separate love and sex—and sex and breeding were as separate as soon as effective contraceptives were developed—and non-reproductive sex play, of course.

"Then Lahr, I would be honored if you would breed my Silvia," I announced, "and honored to raise your kits as my own. Toast!"

Part of breakfast was sparkling white wine. Non-alcoholic, of course—most of us were children and alcohol was a controlled substance in Paxlyn Domain. No meat, no alcohol—but at least there was plenty of sex!

"Good," Mother Regina said. "Garma will conduct the mating this evening and Lahr will undergo regression as soon as Silvia tests pregnant."

Females discuss things that males shy away from—such as having children. I don't know if it is nature or nurture, and I don't really care. After breakfast I cleaned up alone while the rest of the family congratulated the 'happy couple.' I didn't feel left out. As an assassin I learned to keep my feelings well-hidden, to fake emotions when I had to. I'm quite an experienced actor! Besides, clean-up was easy with lots of labor-saving devices. I've had to scour dishes with dry sand and let them sterilize in the natural ultra violet rays of a nearby star. I've had to carve new dishes and bowls by hand. All I had to do with the dishes is stack them in the recycler, food and all. Clearing the table took all of ten minutes, thanks to the portable nature of the recycler all I had to do is wheel it up to the table and load, then close the top.

That morning I saw more Vix than ever before in my life. Good thing that there was enough food! The morning's picnic preparations included more than a hundred sandwiches. There were sixty people, mostly Vix. We had the park to ourselves since most of Paxlyn Domain was working at the moment.