Page 2 of Loka

Heather buried her flaming cheeks in her hands. “It’s a guess.” She hadn’t strolled along the corridor one lunchtime to see just where Loka went. Nope, she hadn’t been down that way a few times simply to stretch her legs. There’d be no point. It’s not like she wanted to bump into him. What would she say? Nice horns? Can you give me tips on claw care? No, Loka was not of interest to her one tiny bit. It was a simple friendship.

“If I find one more piece of coal outside the office door, I’ll have to assume the two of you are engaged.”

“The coal is nothing.” Heather shut down the files on her tablet. Her query about Superman’s toilet habits would have to wait.

“More friendship coal?”

“Exactly. We’ve developed a bond since he saved my life.” Heather’s insides grew warm as she recalled how Loka had rescued her during an intense battle between Vegas’s partner and a troop of angry Galaxars.

“You mean since he helped you off the floor after the fighting had ended and there was no real danger?”

“There was some danger. More guards could have arrived. Or I could have fainted and fallen to the ground. He was being a gentleman. Well, a gentle alien. Since then, we’ve come to an understanding.”

Vegas laughed. “You have an alien fuck buddy?”

“No!” Heather leaned over and thumped Vegas’s arm. “We’re not doing anything like that. He’s shy.”

“You haven’t even been on a date?”

“No. Well, we had a drink in the café at the same time. We were at separate tables. I caught his eye a couple of times, but I don’t think he wanted to sit with me.”

Vegas groaned. “You two are impossible. You need to get it sorted out and fast. He’s into you. Picars don’t leave bits of coal lying around for anyone to pick up. You know it’s a signal they’re interested in mating. As are the scratches on your door.”

“I told you they weren’t Loka.” Heather had been shocked and flattered when she’d discovered three long scrapes on her quarter’s door. Picars scratched grooves like that to mark their territory. “Besides, he’s not here to find a mate. He’s not in our database.”

“Which is the great thing. It means you can get your hands on him. We can’t go after the aliens registered with My Single Alien. Those who aren’t registered are fair game. Just because he hasn’t registered with us doesn’t mean he’s not looking for a mate.”

“What else can it mean?” Heather jabbed a finger on her tablet. “He won’t want me.”

“He’s interested in you. Stop messing around and ask the alien out. He’s gorgeous. Get past the horns and bellowing, and he’s just about perfection.”

“I’m too busy.” Heather’s gaze went to the picture she had pinned to the wall of the office. It was the dream she’d been working for since she’d joined My Single Alien over a year ago.

Now she knew there were thousands of habitable planets out there, waiting for her just beyond the nearby wormhole, or Glory Hole as most people called it, she longed to explore. That’s what she was waiting for, the freedom to own her own piece of space heaven and see just how incredible the stars were.

“You’re too busy to grab a coffee with a horny alien, who is clearly into you?”

“If he’s the one, he’ll wait for me.”

“For how long? He’s been dropping hints for over a month. Coal. Scratches. He can’t be any more obvious. If you’re not interested in him, you need to let him know so he can move on, find himself a female who’ll appreciate his unique charms.”

“I am interested.” Heather looked down at her hands. “It’s bad timing. Maybe in a couple of years. Or maybe we can be friends for now. I take it slowly with guys.”

“Picars like to take it slowly as well. Their courtship rituals take two months. That gives you plenty of time to get to know each other and figure out if he’s the alien for you.”

“What if he isn’t? I will lead him on, and it will mean nothing other than I’m left with a pile of coal and a repair bill for my door.”

“You could have a lot of fun figuring out if it’s nothing.” Vegas tapped her finger on the tablet. “Now, we need to make more matches. If we miss another target this week, Hardwick will have us working overtime with no pay.”

“She can’t do that.”

“She can’t, but she will. She has the Council of Representatives breathing down her neck. They want more alien matches. They want more alien babies to make sure we keep all races happy, so we pathetic humans don’t get embroiled in the war on the other side of the Glory Hole.”

A little of Heather’s happiness faded. Humans were lucky. Lucky to be primitive and terrible at space travel. They’d avoided all intergalactic conflicts because they didn’t know how to fly spacecraft. They also had the huge bonus that human women were a fertile match with almost every alien race they’d encountered since the stabilization of the galaxy’s wormhole.

There was one thing all warring aliens desperately needed: fertile, available females to breed with. Earth had about four billion going spare. They were primitive but popular.

“If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s making excellent matches.” Heather pulled up the next lot of files. She scratched her chin as she read through the matches. They used a quantum level analytical algorithm process to ensure each alien was suitably matched with a human female. It was combined with a range of genetic and hormonal tests to determine genetic compatibility. The process hadn’t always been so sophisticated, especially not when they’d first started My Single Alien.