Page 14 of Solan

Solan checked the translator chip in his neck again. The last part of Vegas’s sentence made little sense. “You can see for yourself, my head is not the shape of a pig.”

Vegas threw her hands up in exasperation. “You see! There is much to learn about our culture.”

“I can say the same to you. My mate will need a good understanding of Galaxar customs if we are to be a successful couple and breed quickly.”

“All our females are vetted. They know what they’re going into when they sign up at the agency.”

“They are also rewarded for their services,” Solan said. “If it weren’t for our interest in you, you would all be stuck on a dying planet.”

“Our gratitude is eternal.”

Solan frowned. “I do not see the problem. You receive financial compensation, a safe place to live, clean air to breathe, however much food you require to sustain yourself, and an infant. You are given everything.”

“A second chance is always gratefully appreciated. All us pathetic humans are indebted to the advanced civilizations who want to rent our wombs.”

“Your womb is for rent?”

“No! And if it was, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near it.”

Solan sniffed the air. “I smell your fertility.”

Vegas’s mouth fell open. “You can’t.”

“You must know Galaxars have an enhanced sense of smell.”

“Of course. What I meant is, I’m not fertile.”

“You are mistaken. If I were to mate with you now, you would become pregnant.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Vegas said. “Not only are you trying to convince me that love is ridiculous, but you also think you have a better handle on my monthly cycle than I do. Believe me, I check all the time. Everyone at My Single Alien is obsessed with fertility.”

Solan’s gaze ran over Vegas. The slight swelling of her belly, the faint hint of color in her cheeks, and the puffiness of her lips all indicated she was fertile. “Check your cycle. You will see I am correct.”

Her lips pursed. “Give me a second.” She picked up the tablet on the desk.

“What are you doing?”

“Proving you wrong.”

He leaned back, watching as her fingers danced across the tablet. Her stubbornness reminded him of the females on Miran. They hadn’t always been as dominant as they were now. You only needed to go back a thousand years, and the men had led on all aspects of military prowess.

As the exploration of the stars expanded, and there was a clear need for a race to take over as protectors of the stars, the Galaxars had stepped up. There hadn’t been enough men to fill all the roles, so the women came on board. To begin with, they were given basic roles, never front-line duties. There was always a need to breed warriors.

As demand had grown for their services, the Galaxars turned to their Gods, the Science Makers. Their Scientists were revered for their abilities to cure illness, create endless supplies of crops in monitored, controlled pods, and manipulate the environment to make the harsh terrain of Miran bearable. When they’d suggested genetic modifications to females, there had been no protests. The Science Makers knew best.

As the fertility of females had declined, the Science Makers accused another God of ripping away their females’ fertility. It was a cruel attack on the Galaxars and a sly attempt to stop them from being totally dominant in the stars.

“Oh, crap.” Vegas pulled Solan’s thoughts back into the room.

“I am correct?”

She stared at him, her features sharpening. “My fertility has nothing to do with you.”

Knowing that Vegas could give him a squib filled him with longing. Solan had wanted squibs for years. Not only because it was a demand of the Science Makers to produce squibs, but it was something primal inside him. He needed to be the protector of an innocent being he had a hand in creating. Solan didn’t think he would feel whole until he’d achieved that goal.

“Let’s continue with your induction,” Vegas said, “unless you want to postpone for another day.” There was a note of hope in her voice.

“I still think a practical demonstration will be the most effective way of inducting me.” He watched as Vegas’s gaze ran over him. He resisted the urge to pull his shoulders back. She could see what he had to offer.