Chapter Text
Kalique had not even bothered to contact their younger brother, Titus, for his take on the new Recurrance. She knew he was in the middle of an extended drug-induced hallucinogenic trip, and probably wouldn’t emerge for months. His last such state had lasted nearly 3 years. A “holiday” he’d called it. She would wait until he was properly conscious before informing him of his new mother-niece.
Within hours of their conversation in Carvahal, Kalique’s clipper skimmed through the atmosphere, passing Balem’s planetary guards easily with his permission. The girl was being held at a facility near Manhattan, New York.
Kalique knew little about this Tercie world, beyond its basic stats and values on the market, but she did know that this situation would require finesse. She was no stranger to bureaucracy, and had planned ahead, sending Galactic Advocate Bob along with the “human” couple intended to serve as her distant relations.
In reality, the couple was one felid splice and one bee splice (each wearing a localizer device to cloak their appearance, giving them features closest to the local population), both servitants in Kalique’s household. This had been an exciting assignment for them—travelling to a Tercie planet, and getting to be the very first to see the new Queen. It was truly an honor.
Arriving at the East Harlem Child Protective Services office, Kosha and Miel gave each other a quick up-and-down to check that their localizers were working effectively. They had elected to leave Galactic Advocate Bob in the cloaked ship, as the gears in his android head would be clearly visible and moving even with a localizer.
Instead, they had asked him to provide them with a severe amount of documentation and legalese to support their claim. Despite navigating the maze-like torture of Orus on a regular basis, Bob had truly struggled to work his way through the ancient and convoluted system of this backwater planet.
It had taken him nearly the entire trip to provide them the proper forms, mostly because, as he kept discovering, every form it asked him to fill out would inexplicably lead to yet another, seemingly unrelated form. At one point he was so deep in what the tercies called “paperwork” that his ears popped a good two inches out from the sides of his head with exasperation. But he had completed the forms (to the best of his ability) and used composites of previously accepted forms to make their claim as reasonably fool-proof as possible.
The forms were now tucked neatly into a carrying case in Miel’s hand. Miel felt a strange pride in carrying these thin sheets, and though they were nothing like the sheaves he was used to, he knew they carried distinct value on this planet.
Miel and Kosha stepped forward through the double doors at the front of the offices, and a familiar smell greeted them: bureaucracy. It felt secure, recognizable, and if anything, a little like home.
Though neither were trained to navigate Orus like Bob was, both had extensive experience managing Lady Kalique’s business affairs, Kosha as a secretary, and Miel as a personnel manager. Neither were exactly sure why they’d been chosen for this assignment, but neither wanted to argue either.
Several hours and at least a hundred sheets of paper later, Miel and Kosha walked out of an entirely different building carrying the most powerful Queen in the verse.